He was vaguely aware of Maka screaming his name, and a harsh laugh coming from somewhere above him, but it all so far away from where he now lay crumpled on the floor. His head was fuzzy, as if someone had shoved a bunch of cotton balls in and around his brain, a soft ringing sound could be heard coming from all directions that would relent no matter how hard he pressed the palms of his hands to his ears. The dim light that had once flooded in through the open doorway was now gone, and nothing remained of the brief ounce of warmth it had given. Maka's black trench coat, now nothing more than rags lay discarded on the floor where it had fallen. Pulling himself up of the ground where he had been slumped against the wall, he reached out for the mess of fabric, clasping it in is cold large hands and drawing it close to his face. Taking in a deep breath, he breathed in the smell of Maka, cool like a summer night in the desert, squizzing his eyes shut he allowed on single tear to fall, no more no less, he dare not show his pain, he had to be strong for her, to be the rock she needed every time she came back from that dark room. For him to show the slightest inclination to her that he two was withering away, what would happen to her? What would that knowledge do to her? No he would be her mountain, her support for as long as they both continued to live.

He became aware of a warm sticky substance making its way down the back of his neck and through his hair into his eyes, reaching up into the white mess of his hair; he felt a deep laceration to the back of his head

"That explains the fuzzy feeling" he said out loud to no one in particular, his words slightly slurred and strained due to the loss of blood. Stretching out his hand across the wound and applying pressure Soul worked on a way to stem the blood flow, but the laceration itself was too deep and with every passing second Soul could feel the dark strings of unconsciousness drawing in closer and closer, knitting its way around his mind. Just as he began to fall face first to the hard cell floor, that door once again swung open and large familiar hands grabbed him around the shoulders, bringing him down steadily to light face down on the floor.

"Oh Soul" the voice of the Professor, seemed to travel down to him from a great distance, as though he was standing at the top of a mountain and he was far down the bottom "why do I always seem to be patching you up, if you keep going like this you going to end up looking like me." From where he was lying on the floor, Soul could feel the slight pulling of a needle and thread at the back of his skull working the torn pieces of skin back together. In no time at all the professor was done and was once packing up his equipment.

"There now Soul that should do it" he stated, placing the last pieces of equipment back in his bag, pulling a cigarette from his pocket placing it in his mouth. Soul heard the soft flick of a lighter, and slowly pulled himself up to look at the man who he had once considered to be one of the greatest misters, a genius in fact (despite being somewhat mad). His face illuminated by the soft glow of the cigarette, Soul could make out the hollow and sunken eyes of the Professor, his check bones protruding in strong sharp angles from his face, consequences of the years of struggling with the madness inside him, before its final victory in the past year. Since the reign of the Kishin, and his trade mark stitched together lab coat now hung of his small frame, he had always been skinny, but never to this extent. Soul moved his way over to the wall opposite him and looked at the one great man.

"Yup" he thought, "times have changed".

They sat there like that for a while, on opposite ends if the cell, the only source of light being that of the soft blue glow that was always there within the small confined space and the warm glow for Stine's cigarette. Right now, at this very point in time, they where both at piece, well as much as one could be when you're in a mad house. The comfortable silence they had fallen into was disturbed by a sharp knocking on the door signalled to Stine that it was time for him to go, without a word the man pulled himself up of the floor and made his way to the door. Knocking three times the door swung open and Medusa could be seen standing in the light of the outside hall, her figure powerful and intimidating. The once great Stine staggered though before being shoved in the direction of where he was next needed. The door slammed shut behind him, and Soul was once again alone.

He sat there for a while, just looking at the door, thoughts running through his mind. They where the same thought everytme, like a broken record playing thorough his head. Why? Why? Why? So many lives had been lost, so much harm done. Kid, Liz, Pattie, Black Star, Tsubaki…. Maka. No sooner had her name entered his thought that he felt it, a blood curdling scream through there link, so high pitched and full of pain, sure there weren't in a resonance but when you had lived with someone for so long, been though what they had been through all the while together, the link becomes so strong that you don't always need to be resinating to know what the other person is feeling no matter what the distance. The pain ripped right through Soul, down to his very core.

"Maka" he winced clutching at his chest he's face contort with pain and worry, and then nothing. He couldn't feel Maka's soul, the pain that had been coursing its way through there link had stopped altogether as well and in its place was… nothing.

Worry and panic overcame him, what had happened, what had the Kishin done!

"Maka, oh please oh please" he though "don't be dead Maka, oh god please don't be dead" His mind whirl wind with idea's and emotions. What had happened to Maka? After what seemed like forever, footsteps where once again heard coming down the hall, and a shadow passed under his door. With a soft click the door was unlocked and slowly swung open after what felt like eternity. A limp body was then chucked, into the room. A body lay still on the floor, unmoving with no signs of life, eyes staring up, unseeing at the dark expanse of the roof.

One word, pained, strained and full of loss echoed down the dark halls of DWMA halls and resinated around the small cell…

"MAKA!"

RDG x