Chapter Three: Starcrossed Lovers

Maka inhaled the warm, dry air and smiled. She loved coming back to her home state, especially after being on the east coast during winter. The climate of the east was always too humid and cold for her tastes. She preferred the desert conditions of Nevada; just one whiff of the smell of dust and drought took her back to her childhood, when she had stayed just briefly in the area. She had made her first friend here. He always gave her a hard time when she stumbled back into his roadhouse after a long separation, but Blake Starre, hyperactive and dangerous though he was, forgave quickly. Blake would envelop her in a hug and push her to the bar where his wife Tsubaki already had a shot of whiskey set out, waiting for her. Together, the three friends would toss back their preferred poison, and it would seem as though they had never been separated.

The sound of coughing brought her attention from the dusty building in front of her back to the cause of all of her current problems. After a fleeting moment of concern, Maka rolled her eyes. The idiot was choking on dust of all things. The hunter refused to be held accountable if Soul died from pure, unadulterated stupidity. Demons and ghosts and monsters she could deal with, but how could she save this moronic menace from himself?

Maka turned to Kid to tell him her thoughts on the matter, and was annoyed that he was no longer there. "Bastard," she muttered, shoving a hand in the pocket of her trench coat. Pain shot through her abdomen and the hunter sighed. She wasn't sure she could make it across the parking lot and into the bar alone, which meant she was going to have to rely on Soul, something that put a bad taste in her mouth. He gave off the aura of the kind of man that pissed her right off—unreliable, rude, and more likely to flirt with the next thing with tits up to her neck than to watch his partner's back. The kind of man her father had been.

"Soul." He jumped and turned to face her, trying to discreetly wipe his nose with his sleeve. The man raised an eyebrow in response and she sighed. "I need your help. I don't think I can make it."

His red eyes stared blankly at her before suddenly lighting up with understanding. "Oh! Right, sure." Soul gingerly grabbed her elbow with one hand and, hesitating before taking the plunge, wrapped a supporting arm around her middle. She was stiff with discomfort, every particle of her being screaming at her for allowing someone like him so near to her.

Beggars can't be choosers, though, so she simply mumbled her thanks instead. Together, they took small, shuffling steps across the dusty parking lot. Maka noted that there weren't many cars there; in fact, it appeared as though it was only Blake's souped-up pick up, Tsu's sleek Corvette, and Dr. Stein's sorry excuse for a car, which was more of a moving pile of patched-together pieces of various automobiles than a real vehicle. She curled her lip as she remembered the one and only time she had ridden in the death trap. Stein drove far too fast and had a far too powerful engine for such a shoddily put together machine. The doors and windows had rattled in their frames, and Maka had been sure that the welding wasn't going to hold. Thankfully, the car had made it to the destination in one piece, but she had refused the doctor's offer for a ride home, opting instead to walk back to the motel.

"So," Soul began, breathing heavily from the exertion of towing both of their bodies to the roadhouse. "Where exactly are we?"

"An old friend's place. Needle, Nevada, to be precise. Dinky town in the middle of nowhere, basically." Maka gave a one-shoulder shrug. "Safest place for us to be right now."

"And are these people, these friends of yours, are they…like you?"

"Are you asking if they're hunters?" Soul nodded. The old glory days with Blake and Tsubaki, when they were still in their prime, believing they were invincible, flashed through Maka's mind. Lips flattening, she glared at the dust swirling around their shuffling feet, trying to bury the resurfaced memories. "They used to be."

The two fell back into silence. The hunter was thankful that Soul wasn't completely oblivious and had understood the note of finality in her voice. Together, they took the last few steps to the roadhouse, feeling as though they were completing a journey of self-discovery, which, in a way, they were.

The door creaked when Maka pushed it open, like a scene straight out of a horror movie. When they stepped into the cool relief of the building, both were surprised to find it was empty. Maka wondered what time it was, realizing that she hadn't bothered to check something so insignificant when the freakin' angel of death was threatening her soul. For Maka, the scents of Starcrossed, stale alcohol and a faint fragrance of flowers, smelled as much like home as the warm, dusty air outside. She saw the way Soul's nose crinkled slightly at the odor, and the observation of what was truthfully a natural reaction did nothing to endear the man to her.

"Hello?" Maka called out, her voice echoing in the bar room. She heard feet pounding down the stairs in the back and smiled slightly. The door exploded outward and standing framed there was Blake, muscular arms outstretched in preparation for a hug and face split in a huge grin. As he took in the sight before him, however, the man's face quickly morphed into one of grave concern. Blake was across the room in three very large strides, yelling loudly over his shoulder for his wife to get "that freak of a doctor."

The glare he gave Soul was cautious and measuring. "You a friend?"

Soul hesitated, glancing at Maka for support in the situation. She shrugged. "Sort of?"

Blake grunted, sending him one more look of hesitant calculation before tilting his head toward one of the tables. "Let's get you two over there. Neither of you look like you're fit to be standing right now." The group managed an awkward dance over to the table and both Soul and Maka settled into the hard wooden chairs with sighs of relief. Very gently, Blake grabbed Maka by the upper arms, bending slightly so he could look into her eyes. "Hey, Pig Tails, what'd you get yourself into this time?"

Soul's mouth quirked up at the nickname, and Maka tried to split her glare equally between the two men. Though the name no longer applied to the feisty blonde, and hadn't since she was sixteen and had stopped wearing her hair up in two tails, Blake refused to let it die. She pretended it bothered her, but in truth, it was always a bit of a relief when he used it, reminding her that there were people who still cared about her.

"What about you, Starre," she pouted, gesturing to his mess of neon blue hair. "Blue? Really?"

"I did try and convince him not to do it, but you know how he can get sometimes, Maka." The newcomer's voice, though it held a faint hint of an accent, was as soft and gentle as her large eyes as she gazed affectionately down upon the pair. She was tall and willowy, looking more like a ballet dancer than a woman who used to slaughter nightmares for a living . A little girl of about four or five clung to the woman's leg, peering curiously out from behind. On the girl's head was perched a witch's pointed hat, elaborately decorated to look like a chameleon. "The doctor is coming down now."

"Tsubaki!" Maka cried out, face lighting up in a smile. She noticed the girl seconds after the woman and looked down at her, eyes crinkled around the corners. "Who's this? I didn't know you two were looking to adopt."

The woman, Tsubaki, shuffled her way forward, making faces at her husband when the girl wouldn't let go of her leg. "It was sort of an unexpected thing. Sorry, she's a bit shy." Tsubaki crouched and put her arm around the girl's shoulder. "This is Angie; Angie, this is your Aunt Maka."

Angie looked Maka over with intelligent eyes, making connections and appearing to be memorizing the woman. She apparently noticed the way Maka sat hunched over, arm not trapped in a sling wrapped gingerly around her midsection. "Is she okay, Tsu?"

"Actually, we were just discussing that," Blake said, turning back to the two newcomers. "We don't hear anything from you for, like, a month, and then out of nowhere, you show up with a stranger, decrepit and injured. Explain yourself."

Maka opened her mouth to reply, but was cut off by someone clearing his throat. The group jumped in surprise, and both Maka and Blake's hands flew to their waistbands, looking for weapons that weren't there. Maka's brows furrowed; she had dropped her machete in the alley, and she was sure neither Soul nor Azrael had remembered to grab it before taking them to the hospital. Towering above the group was a scarred man in a patched lab coat. Madly curious eyes glinted from behind oval rimless glasses, and the smile that curved up the doctor's face said he'd like it very much if they would let him dissect them.

Soul stiffened in the chair next to her, and Maka smiled slightly. The doctor often had that effect on people, however, having grown up with the man, Maka had no problem with him. He was about as much a father figure to her as her own father was. Sometimes, she wondered how she grew up to be as normal as she was, what with the eccentric influences she had had when she was younger. She supposed it was just another thing she had to be grateful to her mother for.

"Stein!" Maka exclaimed, grin stretching across her face.

Matching her smile in a gruesome mimicry of hers, scars stretching unnaturally with the expression, Doctor Frank N. Stein pulled a chair from a neighboring table and straddled it, "Maka, it's been too long. Tell me what happened."

Maka shrugged, trying to play it off as no big deal. Her wince gave her away though, and Tsubaki made a concerned noise in the back of her throat, hands fluttering about uncertainly. The blonde sighed, running her free hand through her tangled hair. She really was a hot mess, wasn't she?

"Just the normal stuff, really. I got the vampire I was hunting, as well as the rest of his coven. It was a standard job, and went without a hitch, for the most part. But then I ran into him," she jerked her head over to Soul, "And the goddess Arachne."

Blake gasped, rocking forward on his chair. "No way! What was she doing in New York? I thought arachnes were usually only found in Greece."

"She had a reason to leave Greece, though I'm sure she wishes she never did. Not that she's wishing much of anything, nowadays." Maka's grin was feral as she recalled the way the angel had killed the goddess without breaking a sweat. She slapped a high five with a hooting Blake, feeling more relaxed and comfortable than she had in almost a month. "As for her reasons, well, that's a long story."

"Later," the doctor said, keen eyes trained on his two patients. Strange and obsessed with dissection as he was, he was serious and passionate about what he did. Stein was a phenomenal doctor, known throughout hunter circles as one of the best. "You've been to the hospital already, I see," he said, gesturing to Maka's sling and the splint just visible in the blue material. "What did they say?"

Maka gave him a sheepish smile. "Well, I was told I was stable, so I took that as a thumbs up, good to go, and checked myself out of there. I was sure you could do as well, if not better, than they did, and you do it for free."

"Sometimes," Blake interjected, scowling at the doctor. Tsubaki, having moved into the chair next to her husband, nudged him with her elbow. He grinned back at her, winking, and plucked Angie out of her lap. The little girl squealed as her hat was knocked awry, but quickly settled down again once it was returned to its proper position.

Maka smiled as she watched the interaction, unused to seeing such a tender side to her typically boisterous friend. She had known for a long time that he was a softie under his brash exterior, and she was glad that he met and married Tsubaki and, now, had Angie to raise and love for the rest of his life.

Catching Stein's raised brow, Maka's cleared her throat and sat up a bit straighter as she prepared to give her report. "Two fractured ribs and a ruptured spleen, which has been stitched up already, and I was told as long as I was careful and didn't move very much for a few days, I would be alright. A broken wrist," she held up her left arm, "already splinted, though I was scheduled to have a cast put on in a couple of days. Severe bruising to the upper dorsal region, but no fractures I was told. Also, a concussion, which is giving me one hell of a headache right now, I'd like to say.

"Oh," she pulled the bottle of pills from her pocket, "I stole these from the hospital. It's the medication they said they were going to put me on. I don't know what your opinion is on the prescriptions, but here. Whatever I don't need, you can keep."

The doctor looked like Christmas had come early, and Maka gave him a fond smile as she tossed the bag to him. "Use them to come up with some super drug, okay? I'd like to take as few pills as possible."

He dumped the bottles out onto his lap, squinting at the tiny lettering on the labels. Some of the tubes he slipped into the pocket of his trademark lab coat, some he scribbled instructions on before handing back to her. "Vicodin will become your best friend while everything starts healing, and make sure to supplement it with an acetaminophen. This should help keep the swelling down and help with your concussion. I'm not going to tell you bed rest, because I know you won't listen to it—"

Blake snorted and Maka punched him in the shoulder.

"—But try to keep any twisting or lifting motions to a minimum, would you? Ask for help for once in your life. Beyond that, I don't have any more suggestions. If you have any concerns, you know you can ask me."

"Thanks, Stein." Maka turned to Soul, remembering that she wasn't the only one to have been in the hospital. "What about you? Did the doctors tell you anything?"

Shifting in his seat as four pairs of eyes focused on him, Soul rubbed the back of his neck. "Said they couldn't find any explanation for my memory loss. Mainly prescribed physical therapy to remember how to walk and stuff."

"Can someone explain to me where the heck you came from?" Blake asked, eyeing Soul with distrust once more. "I've never seen you before, and Maka doesn't do partners. So who are you?"

Soul turned to Maka for help, eyes wide and panicked.. Her head gave a particularly painful throb, and she closed her eyes for a second, ignoring Soul's distress. "Tsu, d'you have some Tylenol or anything?" The dark haired woman jumped to her feet. Seeing her leave, Angie squirmed her way out of Blake's lap and chased after Tsubaki, clutching her hand.

As they waited for Tsubaki to return, Stein leaned forward in his chair, examining Soul. He made an interested noise, reaching forward as though he wanted to touch the younger man.

"Uh, the fuck're you doing?" Soul asked, inching back away from the doctor.

"Yo, Stein, you're doing that thing again," Blake said. The doctor looked up, the light reflecting strangely off his glasses. It appeared as though it took him a minute to focus back on what the roadhouse owner was saying, but when he did, a slight smile carved its way across his face.

"Ah, my apologies," Stein said, straightening up in his chair while adjusting his glasses. He held a hand out in greeting, which Soul hesitantly took. "I'm afraid that my curiosity often gets the better of me."

"The fuck does that apply to me?"

"Is your coloring natural?"

Soul was at a loss for words for a second or two. Maka cracked an eye open, barely stopping herself from laughing as she watched his mouth flap open and closed while he tried to decide what to say. "I—Just—You—What?"

"Your coloring, your white hair and red eyes, are they natural?"

"Uh, I think so? I mean, my grandmother and brother looked just like me."

Stein's eyes widened, seeming to find Soul intriguing. "You must be among the outliers for OCA1b, although I've never heard of any cases with people being as tan as you are. And it doesn't seem as though you have any problems with your vision, which is another interesting fact. Your teeth are another strange feature; I've never seen the likes of them, if they're natural, of course. Hmm, you are quite a rare breed, aren't you …? I would very much like to discover what makes you—"

"Doctor Stein!" Tsubaki cut him off, her tone uncharacteristically sharp. Slowly, he moved his gaze from Soul to the tall woman just re-entering the room, glass of water held in one hand and pills in the other. Taking in her glare and raised eyebrow, Stein offered a sheepish smile.

Blake scoffed. "Sh-ugar, man." Seeing Angie was back in the room, the man modified his sentence at the last second. "With respect and all that garbage, you can't just go around to people asking if they'll let you perform an autopsy on them before they're even dead."

"It wouldn't be an autopsy if they're not dead yet, idiot," Maka said, rolling her eyes. Tsubaki apparently had decided the language being thrown around in the room was inappropriate for anyone not this tall, because after she had handed the pills to Maka, who smiled her thanks, she grabbed Angie's hand and led her out through the back room. Maka heard muffled voices coming from behind the swinging door; the child was complaining loudly that she didn't want to go play with her stupid dolls, she wanted to be out there with Black Star (the three adults giggled at the little girl's pronunciation of Blake's name; he flipped them off but was smiling all the same) and Stein and everyone else!

Seeing Blake's expression, she leaned in and nudged his shoulder with her own. "How long?" She asked quietly, tilting her head the direction Tsubaki and Angie had left.

"About a month and a half now-little over a week after you left on the trail of that vamp."

She shuddered, grabbing her midsection with a wince. "Oh wow. Wanna tell me how?"

Blake shook his head, expression darkening. "That's a story for another day.; wouldn't want the tale of a big guy like me overshadowing your adventures." Eyeing Maka's injured form and Soul's slightly unfocused gaze, he amended his statement. "Or, misadventures, I should say. What exactly happened out there in New York? And I don't want to hear any of your bull shit that it was just a typical hunt." He did a poor imitation of her voice, fingers forming air quotes. "I know East Coasters have a reputation for being ruthless, but, damn, Maka, I haven't seen you this banged up since-shit, since you turned 21."

The lines around the blonde's eyes softened as she smiled at Blake and reached up with her good hand to ruffle his blue hair. This was the soft side of her friend that was shown only to a select group of people, of which she was honored to be included in. It was the side that she knew had been the tipping point for Tsubaki, and the side that made Maka absolutely positive Blake would be the best stand-in father Angie could ever hope for.

Cocky smirk back on his face, Blake raised an eyebrow, and Maka sighed, knowing it was back to business. "It's-well, it's not really a long story, but it's extremely convoluted and confusing, and I only know half of it." She glanced at Soul, surprised to see he was watching her, unreadable burgundy eyes peering out from beneath his mop of white hair. "Soul knows more about it than I do. I mean, I've already given you the annotated version, so maybe he could tell you more."

"Wha'?"

Maka rolled her eyes. "Look, if I'm going to be babysitting you until that idiot comes back, the least you could do is pay attention to what's going on around you. Otherwise, you'll never survive Medusa. I'm still not entirely sure why she wants you, of all people; you seem to be pretty fuckin' useless to me."

Soul looked down to his clenched fists at the verbal abuse, grinding his teeth to keep from snapping back at her. Watching him fight with himself, Maka felt bad about being so rude to him; assuming he had enough brains to be concerned about Medusa, he had enough going on without her being a bitch to him. "Sorry," she sighed, massaging her temples. "Could you just tell us what you remember from your...er, car days and about Arachne?"

The doctor leaned forward in anticipation. With the hiss and pop of a bottle opening, Tsubaki announced her return, pressing the chilled bottle into his hand and kissing her husband on the cheek. Maka watched them as the Japanese woman leaned in and whispered something to Blake, who frowned a little, but nodded. She wondered briefly why they had left Angie unattended, but then thought back to the little girl's gaze that had held more wisdom than her years should have allowed. Of all the five year olds Maka had known-and, she would admit there weren't many-Angie was the most mature. Besides, her partner, as it was easiest to think of him, was speaking again, and Angie wasn't her responsibility at the moment.

"I-well, I honestly don't remember much before Arachne did whatever the fuck she did to me. Mostly sounds."

"Your memories are auditory, in other words?" Stein interrupted, scribbling on a small notebook. Soul seemed confused as to where the book came from, but Maka knew from experience that Stein always kept something to take notes with on his person at all times.

Blake scoffed. "Yeah, that's just what he said. Go on, dude."

"Like, Maka, I remember your voice more clearly, but I think because you were an almost constant presence, I know what you look like? Almost positive Blake and Tsubaki had been around, but I couldn't remember them or this place. I can't really explain it. I remember the highways always stretching in front of me, no end to them in sight. God awful music stands at the forefront of a lot of my memories." He looked up at Maka through his bangs, teeth flashing in a quick grin. "I'm assuming now that it was yours? Dude, you need a serious education."

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with drums and bass!" Maka huffed, glaring at him. She was tired of having to defend her music, and she knew once Blake was given the opportunity to rag on it, he would seize it.

The blue haired roadhouse owner guffawed, holding his fist out to Soul. He looked at the proffered fist in confusion, not understanding what Starre wanted him to do with it. "Pound it, you li'l shit! I've been trying to tell her that since before she grew tits."

"Blake!" Both women exclaimed at the same time, though Maka's angry tone almost drowned out Tsubaki's gentle reprimand.

Steeling himself with a smirk, Soul took the plunge and tapped his knuckles against Blake's. With that one action, he had just pushed himself up a few spots on Maka's shit list. It seemed that deeply instilled reflexes were all that saved him from a severely bruised shoulder, as he leaned back and caught Maka's fist in his opposite palm. Despite the lingering effects of the morphine, she could tell by the way Soul's eyes narrowed that she still had enough force behind the punch that the contact stung.

The sound of flesh hitting flesh seemed to linger in the air as everyone watched Maka and Soul glare at each other warily. It was Stein who eventually broke the stalemate, the click of his lighter drawing everyone's attention. He inhaled, eyes rolling back when the smoke reached his lungs.

Stein turned his disconcerting gaze back to Soul once more. "That was quite impressive. Not many people can stop one of Maka's attacks." The woman in question huffed, crossing her arms and glaring. "Do you have any formal training, Soul?"

He shrugged. "That's what Kid told me."

"Kid?" Tsubaki asked, looking for clarification.

Soul looked to the blonde, panicked expression telling her she needed to take over. She raised a shoulder, twisting a thin silver ring she wore on her middle finger. "Nickname he thought up for the angel. Azrael is a conspicuous name, and he does look like a teenager, so it's actually pretty smart, I guess. Easier to remember, too."

Maka made a face at him when she caught his smug expression, knowing that his poorly-concealed smirk was a result of her words. She wanted to tell him not to get used to it, because he was sure he wouldn't be receiving very many more compliments from her, but then, the doctor de-ashed his cigarette on the floor, and Tsubaki made a quiet conflicted noise, and Maka decided to simply let it go.

"Right. Soul, could you continue on with your story?" Stein asked, and Maka smiled as he blatantly ignored Tubaki's concerns.

He nodded, running a hand through his hair. "Like I said, I don't remember much. When I do, it feels like my brain's try'na self-destruct. Kid said somethin' about Arachne accidentally putting a wall between me and my memories?"

"It happens, though it's not very common. Arachne doesn't often perform magic, so it would make sense she wouldn't be able to fully control her spell. You're fortunate she managed to put you back together in one piece. In fact, I wonder if everything was put together correctly…" The hungry gaze was back in Stein's eyes. Blake flicked a beer cap at him, hitting him with uncanny accuracy right in the center of his forehead. The doctor blinked, and nodded his thanks to the roadhouse owner.

"So what do you know for certain?" Tsubaki asked, looking genuinely interested.

"Uh, my name is Soul Ev-Eater. I was 25 when Medusa fucked my life up. I was a car—Maka's car, apparently—for eight years, which I don't really remember much. Before that, I had—have, a brother and grandmother who believed I was dead until some nurse chick told them I wasn't." He glanced over at Maka and she quickly looked away, not wanting him to see the conflicted emotions in her eyes; she hadn't expected him to have had any sort of trouble in his life. "I had been gone two years before being changed, I think. I heard Wes and Gran talking—"

"When?" Maka's voice was sharp, her gaze accusatory. "Where did you meet up with your family? You gave the impression that you were alone, and now you all of a sudden have a whole family who miss you and care about your safety?"

"I didn't even know I did until I met Heather after the MRI, and it wasn't like you were exactly lucid for most of our interactions. So you can stop looking so offended, like I intentionally didn't tell you."

Maka narrowed her eyes at him. "Who's Heather, and why haven't you mentioned her until now? We're supposed to be partners, Soul Eater."

"Well, that's news to me. Last I knew, you were just my babysitter, putting up with me because it's either that or an eternity in hell!"

"Oh, come on! You—"

Blake slammed his chair back onto all four legs, getting to his feet and slapping his hands on the table in one smooth motion. Glaring back and forth between the two of them, he snarled, "You two need to get your shit together, because I'm getting real fuckin' sick of your pansy arguments. Maka, stop being so fuckin' hostile; Soul didn't do anything to you besides exist. Soul, just…try not to give her anymore reasons to be pissed at you."

"He started it!"

"She started it!"

They glared at one another over their pointing fingers, both pouting childishly.

"Jesus Christ!" Blake threw up his hands. Snatching up his beer, he pointed the bottle at the two and said, "I'm going to go check on Angie, because I cannot deal with you two toddlers throwing tantrums. In the meantime, I hope the two of you grow the fuck up." Shaking his head, he stalked out of the room, trying to slam the swinging door behind him.

Tsubaki was the first one to laugh, trying to stifle it at first, covering her mouth and snorting quietly before throwing back her head and clutching her stomach. Maka tried not laugh, to keep her juvenile pout, but was soon giggling with the other woman; Soul cracked soon after. Even solemn-faced Stein smiled.

Trying to get her breath back, Maka looked up at Soul and stuck her hand out. "Look, Blake's right. I've been unfair to you, so I'm apologizing." He raised an eyebrow, looking between her and her hand. "Just accept it, idiot."

He grinned crookedly at her and grasped her hand. It was warm and small in his, calluses covering almost every part of it. She was a little bit disgusted with herself, with the fact that she felt comforted and reassured when she held his hand..

"Truce, then," he said, voice rumbling up from deep in his chest. Even if she hadn't been able to see him, she could have heard the smile in his words, the uneven curling of his mouth.

"Deal," Maka said, shaking his hand once. She wasn't sure how well they would work together, but she was willing to make an effort, despite what her gut told her. Her instinct usually never failed her, but, on the other hand, she was aware of her prejudices and was going to trust Blake's call on this strange man.

It would be a change for her-and a drastic one at that. For five years, since she stopped hunting with her father, she had worked alone, taking on jobs intended for partners by herself, because she hadn't met anyone she had trusted enough to watch her back better than she could. She knew her stubborn refusal worried her friends, but she had never found it to be a problem. Confident in her ability to take care of herself, she had never been concerned about not being able to handle the jobs she chose; she was responsible in regards to always knowing what she was up against. Besides, it would have been rather difficult to explain to a partner that sometimes her car stopped in the middle of the highway, so she had to turn around and go back to the town she had just passed through, only to find, with strange coincidence, that there was a job there.

"Now that you've cleared that up," Stein said, lighting a new cigarette from his old one. Maka and Soul jumped, tearing their attention away from each other and their thoughts. "You were saying something about your grandmother and brother, Soul?"

"Wha—oh, right. Um, well, long story short, they said I was missing for ten years, but I was only with you for eight. Kid said that I was a hunter, like you guys, and the two people I saw most definitely couldn't have been so it being a family thing is out of the question. Between when I left my family and was turned into a car—fuck, that's still weird to say—I became a hunter. That's really all I have."

"That would explain how you blocked Maka so calmly. Fighting must have become second nature to you during those two years, and as muscle memory is different than visual and auditory—they're controlled by different segments of the brain—you wouldn't forget how to defend yourself. As for the wall in your mind, I'll do more research, but right now the only solutions I can think of are either waiting it out or going to a psychic. I would recommend the former option; psychics are an odd sort."

Maka snorted in a decidedly unfeminine manner, giving Stein an affectionate, but sardonic, glance. He smiled lazily back at her, blowing smoke in her direction. Maka was one of the few people who could tease the doctor and not end up ribbons of their former selves. Only the traumatic experiences they had undergone together could have created the comfortable relationship they had; neither of them were particularly good around people in the beginning of a relationship, always worried about the other's ulterior motives.

"Well," Tsubaki chirped, getting to her feet. "In the meantime, can I get anybody anything to drink?" Stein opened his mouth, but she instantly rounded on him, putting hands to hips and narrowing her eyes in a matronly fashion. "No, you are not allowed to have any vodka, Doctor Stein—no, nor gin, nor any other kind of liquor you are going to ask about. Do you want to die before you even reach forty?"

Stein harrumphed and pushed back from the table, muttering under his breath about overprotective women who put their noses into other people's health, maybe he did want to die, thanks. He stalked out the front door with one last affronted look over his shoulder at the still scolding Tsubaki. They heard his monstrosity of a vehicle roar to life, and Tsu shook her head, easy smile back in place.

"Anything for you two, then?"

The nextcouple weeks at Starcrossed were busy as both Maka and Soul reconnected with the outside world in their own fashions. Maka spent most of her time talking with the various patrons who came into the roadhouse, many of whom she knew by name. She was rebuilding her network as she helped Tsubaki waitress and tend the bar, always keeping an ear out for any mention of Medusa or strange magic. About five days into their stay at Starcrossed, when Maka saw him poring intently over a book with a sober mug of coffee in front of him, she almost dropped the beer she was carrying. A giggling blonde woman at the table Maka was passing caught the bottle before it hit the floor.

"Shit," Maka said, blinking back to focus on what she was doing. With a grateful smile she took the bottle back from the woman. "Thanks so much, Patty."

"Not a problem!" Patty grinned, shooting Maka the thumbs up sign.

Her sister, Liz, leaned across the table with a conspiratorial look on her face. "It's easy to get distracted by a fine piece of ass like that one. He yours?" She asked with a wink. Maka's face was on fire, and she tried to splutter out something along the lines of "wha'—no way—he's not" before the sisters cut her off with loud laughter.

"He may not be hers, Sissy, but she sure would like him to be!"

Liz sent Soul an appreciative look. "Can't exactly blame her, now can you? The things I would do to that man…"

"Liz!" Maka gasped, nose wrinkling in disgust. "That's so wrong!"

"But it's true," the woman sang back. Shaking her head with a sigh, Maka thanked Patty once again for saving the beer before heading to the proper table.

Maka kept an eye on the puzzling white-haired man for the rest of her shift. As soon as she was released, though, she got carefully to her feet and pulled out the chair across from him. Now that Liz and Patty had pointed it out, Maka couldn't help but focus on how attractive Soul was. It both pissed her off and made her face burn red, which made her even angrier. Waiting for him to look up and see her there, she watched some of the older hunters clean their weapons as they sipped coffee of varying degrees of blackness. It occurred to her that the stockpile of guns and knives and stakes she had gathered in the trunk of her Toronado had not materialized along with Soul, and she turned abruptly to him, jerking the journal out of his grasp and upsetting his coffee in the process.

"Jesus-shit-Maka, what th'fuck?" he snarled, trying to mop the burning coffee out of his lap with a handful of cheap napkins. The blonde ignored him, frantically flipping through the tattered journal to the front. Not seeing what she was looking for, she threw the book back onto the table, mouth flattening.

Furious green met guarded red. "Where is it?"

"Where's what?"

Maka beckoned him closer with a crooked finger. After staring at her for a couple of seconds, obviously trying to decide whether heeding her command or ignoring it would hurt worse, Soul leaned in toward her. As soon as he was close enough, she leapt at him, fisting her hands in his shirt and jerking him close to her. With twisted satisfaction, she watched him struggle to get out of her grasp, his pupils dilating in fear.

"Where. Is. My. Mother's. Journal?" Maka said it slowly, so there would be no misinterpretation on what she was asking for. Soul gulped audibly, glancing between her and the journal that still lay open between them.

"I-I don't know; I've never seen it, I swear!"

She let him go, pushing him back away from her in disgust and frustration. Getting to her feet again, she pushed a hand through her hair and sent one last glare his way before stalking outside. She couldn't believe this was happening to her; it was the absolute worst thing she could imagine. Her mama's journal was gone, and with it, her last connection to the woman she idolized. For eight years, it had been a physical form of her mother's presence, the only thing Maka had left from her. No longer could she flip idly through the pages, tracing Kami Albarn's careful lettering, imagining her mother painstakingly copying everything from her grandfather's journal. The pictures that had been paperclipped to the inside of the back cover were gone, too, and with them, any record of what Kami had looked like, except in Maka's memory.

Maka ran a hand over her mouth, fighting back tears as she stared up at the cloudless sky. It was mocking her, the bright sun shining cheerfully down on her as her world, once again, fell apart. With a scream she couldn't hold in, Maka whirled to the building and slammed her fist into the pole supporting the porch roof. The contact stung, but she felt something and she reveled in it, hitting the wooden beam over and over again as the tears finally fell, until she couldn't see anything and her hand was a bloody mess. Knees giving out, she leaned her forehead against the worn wood, watching the dust beneath her turn to mud. Fucking incompetent witches, she thought, fingernails digging into her palm. They just had to waltz into her life and fuck everything up. She never asked to get mixed up in a familial feud, never asked for her car to have really been a human all along—especially not one she couldn't simply pass off to the highest bidder. No, the fucking angel of the Lord had named her Soul's official babysitter, which really put the cherry on the top of the steaming pile of shit.

A large, warm hand between her shoulder blades made her jump and spin around, grabbing the man's wrist. Seeing it was Soul, she released him, trying to surreptitiously wipe the tear tracks off her cheeks. "What?" she croaked, glaring up at him.

He crouched down beside her, chewing on his lip. "I'm sorry, Maka. I really am. I know I'm nothing but an…an inconvenience and a headache to you. Neither of us asked for this, and now you're stuck with me. I'm gonna do my best not to be a total deadweight, though. Promise."

"It's not your fault, idiot." She looked up from her hands, throat closing briefly when she saw him watching her closely. His gaze was steady, focused entirely on her and her distress. It surprised her, the way he could devote his attention completely to her, the way he actually seemed to care about how she was feeling. It should have made her uncomfortable, having someone around her who was patient enough to potentially work past her barriers, but it didn't. She ran a hand through her hair before clearing her throat.

"You shouldn't be the one apologizing, Soul. Shit, look, I've been a complete bitch to you and you don't deserve it. You're here as reluctantly as me, both of us victims of being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I'm just—I was just really upset about my mama's journal; it was all I had left of her. That doesn't excuse my attitude toward you, and I know that. I..." she sighed and forced herself to say what was needed, "I don't trust easily or readily. It may not seem like it, but I'm working on trusting you."

Soul smiled at her, losing the guarded look she hadn't even realized until now he had been wearing. The expression transformed his whole face, eyes crinkling in the corners and lines forming around his mouth; with his fearsome teeth on display, he was an odd combination of terrifying monster and harmless puppy. Getting to his feet, he held a hand down to her, as though inviting her to take the first step in trusting him. Maka hesitated just a moment, knowing that the first step was always the most important, before closing her eyes, taking a deep breath, and placing her hand in his.

She didn't consciously know it then, but some part of her was aware that this was the end of an era of loneliness and terror, that, through some cosmic joke or a twist of fate or whatever you wanted to call it, she had found the man into whose hands she was putting her life.

And yet, as she watched him scoop up a squealing Angie later that week, pretending to chomp on the little girl's stomach, Maka couldn't find it in herself to be scared of how easy it was to settle into a daily routine with him. In the early afternoons, when it was generally slow, she would help Angie carry her toy or activity of choice down from her bedroom, and the two would set up camp in a quiet corner of the main room. For the next hour or two, giggling—and occasionally roaring and squealing—would be all that was heard from either the child or the woman.

She usually avoided children like the plague, but there was something about the child that called Maka to her, something that reminded her of herself. She didn't know if it was the girl's stubbornness or something else, but when Angie had come to her, eyes shining with excitement, and asked if she wanted to play with her, Maka couldn't find it in herself to say no. Even though it was embarrassing at first, she quickly forgot about the many eyes watching her as she focused on the joy Angie seemed to get from having someone new to play with. The little girl was interested in everything from tea parties to mock-hunts, reenacting stories Blake had apparently told her as he put her to bed. Only in a hunter family, Maka thought, shaking her head with a smile.

When Angie wanted to play hunters-and-monsters, as she called the game, Maka would have to call Soul over to play the part of the monster. The first time she asked him to help out, she was reluctant, not sure how well it would go over with both him and the child. But, after a couple of awkward minutes where he tried to figure out what the game was about, Maka discovered that Soul was a natural with children. And since Angie had decided hunters-and-monsters was way more fun than tea parties now that Soul could play the bad guy, Maka had even more opportunities to get to know a different side of Soul than she had before. She liked this side more than she thought possible—liked to watch him stomp around, hunched over and hands turned into claws, liked to watch him try and fail to fight back a smile as he tossed a giggling Angie in the air. But what she liked the most was when his face would flush a brilliant red as the various hunters called out corrections to his acting. It told her that he hated being ignorant, hated not knowing things he was positive had been second nature to him.

Noticing his determination to relearn the information, Maka helped him, quizzing him on the basics like how to ward off and kill a ghost. She taught him tricks to remember the Latin to exorcise a demon, giggling at his piss-poor accent and ignoring his glares. At first, it frustrated her that she couldn't help him practice fighting, but after watching a tipsy encounter with Blake on day eight of their stay at Starcrossed, Maka stopped worrying about him being out of practice when they finally went on a hunt.

It started out like a normal day, until Tsubaki put Angie to bed and the hard alcohol came out. Blake slammed a bottle of whiskey and two shot glasses down in front of the white-haired man, a challenge in his eyes. "To prove if you're worthy of being my minion—"

Soul sent Maka a confused glance, and she rolled her eyes in response.

"—we will see which one of us can hold the most alcohol!"

"Blake…" Tsubaki began, her expression one of loving patience. "I don't think that's a very good idea."

"It's alright, Tsubaki," Soul said, nodding his thanks to her. "I think I can hold my own against him. And I'd love to show him up."

Maka sighed, propping her chin in her hand as she watched the two idiots take their third shot. She was fairly certain that Soul actually didn't stand a chance against the blue-haired man, knowing from experience that Blake could drink his way through an entire bottle of whiskey and barely feel the liquor. It was downright unnatural, his tolerance for alcohol—although, she thought, Blake had been preparing for moments like this since he was roughly fourteen years old.

It began to get a little ridiculous when they reached the eighth shot, and neither Soul nor Blake showed signs of slowing down, other than the insults they were flinging back and forth. Maka and Tsubaki rolled their eyes at each other, muttering about men and testosterone. The tenth shot, however, brought trouble. Soul had apparently said something that Blake found highly offensive, and the blue-haired man pushed back from the table with a roar, knocking his chair over in the process.

"Wanna say tha' t'my face, you li'l bitch?" Blake snarled, bracing his palms on the table as he got in Soul's face.

Too cool for the other man's threat, Soul raised an eyebrow and leaned back, crossing his arms and ankles with a smirk. Maka hid a smile behind her hand, though she must not have been quick enough because Soul sent her a wink. "I think I alrea'y did, Starre. Or is the alcohol makin' you deaf and stupid?"

"I'll take y'down, Eater! Pound yer face in so hard ye'll know what your stomach looks like from th'inside!"

"That doesn't even make sense, Blake," Maka drawled, swirling her glass of wine.

Blake was silent for a few moments, going over the sentence multiple times in his head before crossing his arms and stamping a foot. "You stay out of this, Albarn. Eater knows what I mean!"

"Yeah, I do. An' I say bring it, y'blue haired monkey!"

"Soul!" Maka exclaimed, half rising out of her chair when she saw Blake move, but sshe was too late to stop either of the men. She was left with her mouth hanging slightly open when Soul ducked to the side, rolling off his chair to avoid Blake's lunge. Tsubaki gasped, hands flying to cover her mouth, but Maka was simply impressed that he had perfectly executed the evasion.

Settling back down and crossing a leg, the blonde took a sip from her wine as she watched the two men fight. She liked Soul's style, appreciated his controlled movements, the way his eyes never strayed from his opponent, constantly tracking Blake's hands and feet, and the way he shifted his weight. Soul fought like an expert, she realized, keeping his center of gravity low since Blake was bigger than he was. Every move Blake made, Soul had already anticipated and reacted to, usually before Maka even realized the blue-haired man had moved.

"I've never seen Blake so evenly matched," Tsubaki whispered in awe to Maka. And it was true; Blake usually dominated a fight, pounding his opponents into the ground in the first couple minutes. But he and Soul had been feinting and lunging at one another for a good fifteen minutes now, and Maka would swear that Soul had successfully landed more hits on Blake than the retired hunter had on him.

Almost immediately after Tsubaki's comment, however, Soul's luck turned on him. It appeared to Maka that Blake had underestimated his opponent in the beginning, but after gauging Soul's skill, began attacking in full force. Maka had to give Soul credit, though, because he kept up with Blake's barely visible swings, his defense almost as good as his offense. Half the time, she only knew he had missed a block when he grunted in pain. The longer Blake stayed on the offensive, however, the less frequently Soul successfully dodged the other man's attacks.

Soul's final mistake was falling for Blake's feint, intending to duck under the hunter's right hook but ending up taking a left uppercut to the jaw instead. He went sprawling. Seeing Soul's head slam into the corner of the table he landed on, Maka gasped, leaping from her chair and rushing to his side. Carefully, she lifted his head, feeling the backside of it for any blood. She sighed in relief when, not only was there no blood, but she saw his chest move in shallow gasps and his eyes roll in their sockets. Vaguely, in the background, she could hear Blake's raucous laughter and Tsubaki's gentle attempts at scolding, but she was too focused on Soul's condition to worry about either.

Soul groaned, stirring in her grip. His eyes fluttered open, and Maka had never been so relieved to see red in her entire life. "You're an idiot," she told him flatly when his gaze finally focused on her.

He grinned, shark teeth on display. "But I'm your idiot, right?"

She scoffed in disgust, dropping him and getting to her feet, nose in the air. But if his quiet chuckles were anything to go by, she hadn't moved quickly enough to hide either her blush or her grin.