The sick bay was quiet, the hallway dark and echoing.
Soul Evans sat in a hard, straight-backed chair. His back was stiff, his feet dead. He stared at Maka, reaching forward to take one of her heavily bandaged hands. He hadn't moved in three days, and Maka hadn't opened her eyes in all that time. His back ached from sitting, he was dizzy from lack and sleep, and he knew he stank. But he couldn't escape the nagging feeling that if he left, something would happen to Maka again. He knew it was ridiculous, she was on high priority, with guards outside her door, tended to by doctors and nurses that looked far too serious to be treating someone who was supposed to be getting better.
He looked at Maka's face, and once again the feeling of guilt-tinged anger surrounded him, heavy on his chest. He was her weapon, supposed to protect her, to help defeat things like that soulless bitch. That thing radiated madness alike to a thousand Kishin eggs, but he had let it hurt Maka! He couldn't stop it taking her from him and using her in its twisted games.
Fury boiled inside him and he gripped Maka's limp hand tightly. Something inside of him was roaring for revenge, and the desire to make that monster pay for what it had done rushed through his veins with every beat of his heart.
But nobody knew where Faye was. Those who could run to the door had seen death in the courtyard, bearing down on her, and they said he just pulled his cloak over her and disappeared, as easy as that. Soul was furious with the unfairness of it all. And though he was constantly being told, he couldn't fight the feeling that if only he had been there, they could have beaten her.
"S-Soul?" a voice broke into his thoughts. He started, realising he had been gripping Maka's hand too tight. He loosened his grip and looked eagerly to her face, but the girl slept on. As a wave of disappointment overtook him, and he realised too late that voice hadn't even been hers. Crona was standing in the doorway, looking very uncomfortable. Soul couldn't suppress a rush of hatred towards him. It wasn't his fault, but at this point he didn't care, he just wanted to blame someone that wasn't himself.
Crona felt Souls stare burn right through his head, and suppressed a shudder. Hesitantly he placed the paper back at the end of the bed.
"Tsubaki made you some lunch," he murmured, and slunk away to sit down by the darkening window. Ideally he would be sitting by Maka too, but he couldn't deal with the constant glares from Soul. The tension in the room was hard enough to bear as it was. He sat in the corner in an armchair, which was much more comfortable then the hard, wooden chair Soul forced himself to sit in day after day. The boy was racked with guilt that seemed to surpass his own, which he could not even imagine, as his heart twisted every time he saw Maka or any bandaged student on campus. He sank into the chair with a sigh, glancing out the window as he did so. From its brilliant view of the city, he could see dark billowing clouds rolling over the desert, and even in the tiny room the air was heavy with the promise of rain. He looked back at soul, who was hiding his face in his hands, leaning his elbows on the bed. Crona hoped he'd sleep soon; it was almost a week ad people couldn't survive on less than an hour of sleep a day, could they? Soul was looking worse every day, refusing to leave and barley eating. No-one knew how long Maka would be asleep for, and it wouldn't only be her that they'd have to worry about if he continued this way.
Turning back to the window, he saw that the clouds had cut out the last of the sun's light, and he could already see the waves of rain hammering the rooftops of the outer city. Within a few moments there came the tell-tale warning drops on the window, which quickly became the hard yet soothing hammering of rain.
Crona sighed quietly, staring at the window, yet not really seeing beyond it at all. They had been taking turns keeping Soul company during the afternoons, but every time it was Crona's turn he could barely stand to look at them. The guilt that he felt was too much; it was if his heart was in a vice. He couldn't help but feel it was his fault it had all happened. He brought Faye to Maka and Soul's after all; he almost felt she was his responsibility. Soul shouldn't be blaming himself, he thought, he should be blaming me. Or Ragnorok. It was our fault.
"Hey! I didn't do anything you didn't make me do!" the little demon replied snarkily inside he head, but his voice had an echoic quality that seemed far away. Crona really hoped he wouldn't decide to come out to be heard; he had a feeling if soul saw one more creature of darkness he would start breaking things.
Creature of darkness… is that how I'm describing her now? Crona wondered. He should hate her after what happened, and yet… he couldn't. He was worried about her, though he would never dare admit it to anyone, and even put up with Ragnarok's beatings for not telling him what was on his mind, which resulted in a few nasty bruises.
His worrying was really wearing him out, so much so he could barely sleep at nights. Sleepily he wondered how Soul could stay awake the whole time in this room; it was so warm, especially with the gentle pattering of rain at the window. Crona was powerless to stop his drooping eyelids, but just before he closed them he thought he saw something dart across the corner of his vision outside the window.
There was a room. A room with high, arching walls, with a ceiling so high it disappeared into blackness. And they were dancing, their feet making no sound on the black, glittering marble, so highly polished that it was as if a mirrored couple were dancing beneath their feet. A single violin played a enthral song, its delicate notes echoing off the walls. Crona twirled his partner, and her dress floated, elegant and light, as she spun, her blonde hair fanning around her. Crona wondered how he knew that steps, for he had never danced like this before. His partner turned to face him, her face unreadable beneath a blank mask. As they turned gently, a stand of hair, long and black, brushed across his face. The music stopped and Crona let go of the girl brushback his hair, but the locks slid between the silk of his gloved fingers. There was no doubt now that the hair that framed his vision was not the lilac tresses he had come to know.
He looked in confusion at his dancing partner, still standing opposite him. There was a long silver dagger in her hand that hadn't been there the moment before. A feeling of cold dread stirred in his chest.
"Wha-?" he hadn't even time to form the first word of his question before the girl moved like lightening, and plunged the blade into his stomach. He staggered, and she caught him with a slap that sent him crashing to the floor. Something fell from his face and skidded across the floor, the black tresses flying with it. A pale, porcelain face with hallow eyes, and a shock of black hair. Faye's face. Blood was spreading across the marble, back on black, like a pool of starless night on the glittering surface.
He held up a shaking hand, to ward off the girl, but she still approached the now blood-slick dagger dripping blood onto her dress. She removed her own mask and let it fall, the –tink- against marble echoing across the space. Maka's face was almost as expressionless as the mask that went before, her green eyes glassy and heavy lidded, like a sleepwalker.
"Ma-Maka?" Crona stuttered, his voice breaking as blood leaked though his lips. Maka paused for half a second, her eyes momentarily focusing, but as she looked at him they reverted to their blank gaze. He tried to sit up but the pain was too much. He could feel his vision blurring, there was so much blood.
"Maka, what have you done?" he cried, his voice rising in panic.
"It's all your fault..."
It was a murmur; it seemed to come from all around him at once. Maka was still approaching, her movements slow and dangerous. Crona tried to move again but was stopped by the pain now shooting across his chest.
"I didn't-I didn't mean for this to happen." He gasped, trying to meet her eyes. They were suddenly blazing in fury, her face contorted into a snarl.
"IT WAS ALL-YOUR-FAULT!"
Crona awoke with a gasp to a flash of lighting. The rain was hammering against the window so hard he feared it might break, but even the sound of thunder could not overpower the screams that were filling the room. Jumping for his chair, he rushed towards the bed where Maka was now withering and screaming as if in agony. The high beeping of the many machines they surrounded her bed added to the din, and for a moment Crona could only stand and stare. Soul, already trying to calm Maka, glanced up at him and yelled:
"Help me man, she's gonna hurt herself!" jumping into action, Crona grabbed her arm, and tried to pin her to the bed as Soul was doing. They struggled for a moment and it was enough to make Crona marvel at the strength of such a seemingly fragile girl. Soul turned towards the door and then looked at Crona with panic in his eyes.
"I'm gonna call for Stein, you ok to take her?" he yelled, and Crona nodded firmly, knowing it was a big thing for Soul to leave Maka in this moment. The minute he left Maka's spasms redoubled, and he could hear Soul running down the corridor shouting for stein between screams.
"Maka, Maka it's ok, you're safe now, ok?" he tried to shout above her screams. Her eyes opened at the sound of his voice and for a moment his heart soared, but upon seeing the look of terror in her eyes it plunged again. Just as the door burst open again and Stein ran though Maka looked dead in Crona's eyes and screamed:
"IT'S…ALL…YOUR...FAULT!"