She knew what was going on long before any normal patient would have. Before she could feel the heaviness of her eyelids, the rawness of her throat with every breath she took, even before she could hear the muffled voices of people that were mildly familiar: she knew.

Maka was lying in a hospital bed, arms taped up to her shoulders, a thick and cool stack of gauze and what she guessed was a cooling agent on her neck. She had been taken to the hospital, and she had been sleeping for longer than a day.

She peeled her eyes opened and almost instantly regretted it, but made a conscious decision to not be the patient that made everything out worse than it was. She was fine.

That's when she started choking on the breathing tubes running down the back of her throat. She sprang up in bed, pulling them out in a few scrambled motions, coughing loudly.

Waking up in hospitals was never graceful, so she wouldn't worry about how stupid she probably looked right now. She especially would ignore the jolt of pain from her neck.

Like she said. She was fine.

Besides, even if she wasn't fine, she'd know just as well as any other nurse in this hospital what to do and how. Actually, she'd probably know better.

She glanced around the room, breathing heavily, still coughing now and then, fighting the sandpaper-esk excuses for lungs hers were currently being. A tall glass of water was sitting on the side table and she grabbed it slowly, careful not to bump her forearms against anything. She downed the whole thing in one long draw, sighing loudly when she was done.

The voices just outside the room were getting louder.

One was particularly familiar…

It sounded like…

Her eyes widened, searching the room for a place to hide or run away or anything at this point—

The door slammed open before she could even haul her legs over the side of the bed.

"MAKAAAA!" A flash of red hair and green scrubs flew into the room, knocking over one of the fake plants near the door in the process. He didn't embrace her, but stood uncomfortably close, whimpering.

"Go away, dad."

"But my beautiful daughter! How could the boss send you to such a dangerous place! Away from my hospital, away from me!" he was frantic, tears and snot and the whole shebang.

"Are you kidding me?" She snapped, "You didn't even notice I was gone until now?"

But he didn't seem to hear a word she said, continuing on, now pacing in front of her,

"And now look what's happened! You almost DIED. Died Maka!"

"I'm fine." She hissed. He finally turned toward her,

"You are not!" He shouted. The sound made her head spin, ears ringing. Why was he always so loud? "You're the furthers thing from fine and as your PAPA I should have—"

"Mr. Albarn!"

Maka didn't expect it to be Tsubaki standing in the doorway. She didn't expect to see the woman anywhere outside something that wasn't strictly work related, of course. Like everyone else.

But there she was; dark hair in a high ponytail, hands crossed angrily across her chest, a sort of strict authority Maka didn't imagine the woman could ever have.

Spirit paled when he saw her, shutting up instantly.

"I know Maka is your daughter, but she needs rest right now! You're disturbing her." Tusbaki's voice had this strange ability to cycle between sweet and 'I fucking mean what I'm saying'.

"Yes Tsubaki, I'm… I'm sorry," he cleared his throat and Maka rolled her eyes. Either he'd had some sort of weird history with the woman, or, and this was probably much more realistic; her rather large… ahem… assets were probably keeping her father in line.

"I'm sorry baby!" Spirit said, turning to his daughter once more, "Papa loves you! I'm going to get you transferred out of that fire hall right away! Don't worry!" he sang over Tsubaki's shoulder and she forcefully shoved him outside the room.

"I won't hold my breath." Maka mumbled, pulling the covers off her legs. Tsubaki was back in a flash, scolding her for trying to get out of bed.

"Did you take this out yourself?" She asked, holding up the discarded breathing tube.

"Well, yeah."

"You still need oxygen." Tsubaki wheeled over a small tank, flipping a few switches she handed the mask to Maka. She was annoyed by it all, still willing herself to ignore the burn of every inhale.

"Thanks." She gritted. Tsubaki just smiled at her, and they stayed in silence for a long moment.

"So…" Maka finally said, uncomfortable, "Why uh… are you here?"

"Hm?" her head cocked to the side in complete innocence, "I'm your partner now! I need to look out for you, right?"

Maka blinked at her a few times, confused.

"What about… your shift? Or mine for that matter…"

"Jackie and Kim were happy to cover for you," She waved the idea off, "you just need to get better! You've been out for almost a whole day."

For the first time Maka noticed the crumpled uniform the woman was wearing, her slightly dishevelled appearance,

"Have you…" She was shocked to even be asking this question, "Been here the whole time?"

Tsubaki blushed a little, rubbing her hand on the back of her neck,

"Well, I mean, things didn't look… so good for you for a bit." Her expression hardened, "You know Maka… you really shouldn't have… done that." She winced, waiting for what Maka assumed was her to defend herself.

"Yeah, you're right." She huffed, taking another long inhale from the mask. That's when it suddenly struck her. "The boy?" She sat up quickly startling the other woman.

"He's fine!" She hummed, "you saved him, you know?"

Maka lay back in relief and closed her eyes.

Thank goodness.

The two were silent again for a long moment before Maka sat up once more,

"I'm fine now Tsubaki, really. You should go home and get some rest."

Tsubaki smiled,

"I really don't mind, honestly, I was just—"

"Go home Tsubaki."

Neither of them had noticed him standing in the door frame, his voice startling them both.

"S-soul!" Tsubaki greeted. The man walked into the room, hands buried in his pockets as he looked down at the girl planted in her hospital bed.

"Go home." He repeated. When she opened her mouth to protest he said, "I'll hang out here for a while."

"I really don't think that's—" Maka tried to protest, but Tsubaki just looked at both of them and smiled slightly,

"Okay. I'll come back tomorrow." She chirped, "Take it easy, Maka!" She was halfway out the door before turning around, serious, "Soul."

He grunted in response.

"Go easy on her."

And with that she was gone, leaving the two of them to stare awkwardly at each other. Maka fixed her face into her most 'don't lecture me I'll kill you' expression, while Soul's bored looking, half-lidded eyes traveled down her bandaged arms.

She was painfully aware that he was using her own injuries to make his point. She made a silent pack with herself to not use the oxygen tank in front of him.

He stared at her for a second before grabbing a chair and pulling it up next to her bed. Wordless, he sat and continued his silent interrogation.

Not falling for this shit.

Maka thought, holding his gaze with a ferocity that she knew would make him glance away almost instantly.

But he didn't.

He continued to look at her. His expression didn't change, but the more she stared back, the more she started to unravel what was behind it.

He wasn't bored, he was curious.

He had something he wanted to say, but he was waiting for her to say it first.

Well, she knew what he wanted her to say and it wasn't going to happen. Maka Albarn didn't apologize to anyone. Least of all when it involved saving a life.

She wasn't going to. No amount of this somehow-less-awkward-than-it-should-be stare off was going to change that.

Her eyes flitted down to his mouth for what was probably a split second but she knew it was too late. He had seen her do it. The mask of curiosity peeled away slightly.

She still wasn't going say sorry.

"Sorry." She huffed.

Betrayed! By emotions she didn't even… What?

"Yeah." He replied, voice husky.

"Are you… mad?" She asked quietly.

"Yeah." Again.

She looked away, lip jutted out in a show of stubborn indifference. A show of stubborn indifference. She tried to ignore the plea of her chest for oxygen. She couldn't right now, it was like… admitting he was right.

"Well, whatever. I don't care." She lied.

"Maybe you should," he exhaled, finally uncrossing his arms and resting his elbows on the side of her bed, hands rubbing his forehead. Stressed? Tired? Maybe. She didn't reply and it took him a few moments before continuing, "You can thank me anytime now."

"Thanks." She said. Wait, she hadn't wanted to do that either. Alright, now her lungs were starting to hurt. She was sure he didn't notice the little gasps of breath she was taking instead of normal people stuff. He looked up at her, almost as if reading her mind and gave her an icy stare that would rival her own.

She swallowed thickly, glancing down at the oxygen tank on the ground. Before she could protest he was to his feet,

"You're supposed to be using this, idiot." He took the mask from her hand and she turned her head away,

"I don't need it, I'm fine!" Her voice shook dangerously, and she braced for having to push him off: he was going to force her to wear it. He was going to hold it onto her face like so many other doctors and nurses and hell even she had done to unruly, stubborn patients.

She had promised not to be one of those.

Well….

C'est La Vie I guess.

But he didn't grab her forehead violently, didn't even touch her at all. He just held it in front of her face and waited.

"Don't be like this." He said, more annoyed than anything. She eyed him for a moment before turning back, now only a few inches away from the mask. He gave her an expectant nod.

"I know you're stubborn," he said, "But you're not stupid."

She leaned forward, the mask pressing against her nose and mouth and took in a long, easy breath. Her body relaxed involuntarily, and she leaned forward. Her eyes slid shut and her hand came up to steady herself. She didn't mean to grab his wrist to do so, but he didn't shy away. In fact, the opposite. He sat down on the bed, still holding the mask against her face.

They stayed like this for a little, her breathing steadily the oxygen, hand still gripping his wrist, eyes still shut.

She wouldn't know that he was watching her intently, something a little more than concern and a little more like affection pulling him closer to her.

The realization of her exact situation was kind of like being thrown into a cold lake. Her eyes flew open, hand retracted and she snatched the mask from his hands.

"Whoa whoa whoa!" he said, standing off the bed quickly, raising his hands in defense, "relax, holy shit."

She winced, her forearm must have collided with him accidentally in the quick movement and now the very apparent burns on them stung painfully. She dropped the mask, fine for now with her oxygen level and prodded gently at her right arm.

"Fuck."

"Yeah, you're burned idiot." He plopped back into the chair, infinitely more nonchalant than before.

"And it fucking hurts." She wanted to change the bandages, to feel the cool air against her skin even though she knew it wouldn't help in the long run.

"Well, that's what happens when you run into a burning building without any gear." He hissed.

"Why do you care so much anyway?!" She hadn't meant to sound so angry, but she was a little preoccupied, a little annoyed, and a lot confused about his appearance at her hospital bed. Actually, she was pretty confused about why he ran into that building in the first place.

"Are you seriously asking me that?" He seemed offended, mostly pissed.

She paused for a moment, looking away defiantly.

"You don't want to get in shit with Sid." She muttered, "I'm part of your job description now." She sneered but when she looked back he looked even more disgusted.

"There's something wrong with you," he gritted, "If you seriously think I risked my life to pull you out of a building I knew was about to go down so that I wouldn't get in shit at work."

She blinked, her expression softening but his only getting angrier,

"I was in shit with Sid the second I fell out of a fucking window like a rookie. I then continued my decent the moment you decided to be Wonder Woman, but that's not why I went in after you."

"Then…"

"Because you had the balls to do what I didn't!" He shouted it loudly, fist colliding with the mattress in front of him. His hand stayed fisted against the sheets. It was only then she realized he wasn't angry at her, he was angry at himself.

"You wanted to… go save that little boy?" She whispered. He just shot her a look and she smiled, "I mean, yeah, I know you did."

"But this," he gestured to her… everything, "This is why I wasn't supposed to. The building wasn't safe. I didn't just make that shit up. You're just lucky you're even alive, pigtails."

She could have scolded him for the use of the nickname, could have told him to get out, but instead just sighed.

"It's a lot less to do with luck I think," Her hand was possessed, she would swear to god, or maybe it was the drugs or something but it still moved over and lightly rested on top of his, "and a lot more to do with a certain reckless firefighter I know."

He smirked despite himself,

"You're one to fuckin' talk, kid." He grunted back.

She just smiled at him for a moment before he sighed, stretching his back and rolling his neck over his shoulders. He spoke through a yawn when he said:

"Sid's gonna tear you a new one."

###

It was only a few days after that that she was cleared to go home. She wished she could say she was surprised to see it was Soul who came to pick her up. He leaned against her doorframe in a way that she knew was feigned nonchalance.

It hadn't taken her long to figure out this was mostly an act with him.

The snowy haired firefighter sure worked hard to seem passive, disinterested, cool. Not that he wasn't cool, but Maka noticed the way he rolled his shoulders uncomfortably. She noticed the twitch of his mouth when someone said something that bothered him, the way his hands knotted through his shaggy hair when he wanted to leave a social situation—

He was shy. And more than that, he was anxious.

Confidence was a mask, and one that in the few days he spend sitting next to her bedside started to fall away.

"Ready?" he grunted at her, holding his keys up. She nodded, slinging a backpack of her belongings over her shoulders and following him out into the parking lot.

"I'm just over here." He pointed to something. Something horrible.

"You've got to be fucking kidding me." Maka gritted

"What?"

She point to the offensive object.

A bright yellow motorcycle sat in its too-big parking spot.

"Oh god, don't start with me." Soul slung his leg over the bike and kicked up the stand. She just stood, arms crossed tightly, fuming a few feet back. His key turned in the ignition and the bike roared to life.

"I'm not—"

"Just get on," he groaned, pushing the bike towards her, "don't be like this."

"Do you know how many mangled bodies—"

"Do you know how long I've been riding? Maka, its fine. You're going to like it." He smirked at her, eyes mischievous.

"I can't believe you. I saw this—this—thing on my first day at the hall. You know what happens to people! You've seen it!" She knew she was making a scene. In all actuality, she kind of wanted to know what it would be like.

Wait. She did?

She stopped for a second, looking at the empty seat behind Soul.

Ah.

So that was it.

She felt her face heat up, something that she knew must be visual as well because Soul cocked his head, curious.

It wasn't so much the bike but the opportunity to be so close to him.

"What is it?" His tone was playful but it still startled her a little. She knew it was only a matter of time before she got on.

"FINE." She roared, starling him. He forgave it quickly, forgetting they even argued at all when she pressed firmly against his back, her arms twining around his waist.

He knew she was embarrassed, and, honestly, he was a little bit too. But it was too good an opportunity to pass up. He grinned, looking back at her. When she smiled sheepishly back, he gunned it out of the parking lot, her protests drowned in the wind that whipped past them.