Chapter 9

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Hugs'n'shit

Vichalmers

The debrief with Lord Death went surprisingly well, the only hiccups were when Spirit got overly emotional, crying and clinging pathetically to Maka, wailing incoherently about his little girl. For the sake of everyone's sanity and for the good of Spirit's health, Lord Death had him removed before is daughter took him out with a book.

Kid filled in Maka and Soul on what had happened after they went unconscious. Tsubaki and Blackstar had smashed in literally as the Witch was delivering a devastating blow to their friends. Because all her power and attention was focused in one place, she was completely vulnerable on all other fronts, a fact which Blackstar took complete advantage of. With one easy blow he took Jenifer the Witch out, permanently, but not before a wave of power hit Maka and Soul, sending them into their respective comas.

"She was working alone," Kid concluded, leaning back in his chair with a sigh, dark circles rimming the bottom of his eyes. All of their friends looked haggard and sported matching looks of exhaustion. It was no secret that little rest had been had since Maka and Soul had been found, days and nights spent waiting by their phones to hear word that they're friends had woken up. All anyone wanted to do was go home and sleep but there was one more important issue to be taken care of before they were dismissed.

"The little matter of your partnership." Lord Death said, his voice as jovial as ever but with an undertone of seriousness. Maka immediately stiffened up, her back going ramrod straight and her eye's trained on a spot just above Patty's shoulder. To say she had forgotten would have been a lie but the dissolvement of their partnership hadn't been something Maka had yet shared with Soul.

Oops.

Soul frowned, unable to get his Miester to look at him. In fact, all his friends had suddenly become uncomfortable and shifty, eyes fitting around the room, landing anywhere but on him.

"What- what do you mean?" Soul stammered, searching for answers in the unreadable face of Lord Death. "Our partnership? What-?"

A single sheet of wrinkled, worn paper taped haphazardly together, slide across the table, from Patty, who had on an unusually serious expression.

"You ended it so the Witch could be your Miester instead." All of the air in the room stilled. No one moved a muscle. It felt as if time was even holding its breath, stunned at Maka's bluntness. The Miester turned her head, and looked Soul straight in the eyes, unapologetic and steely, the normal warmth and emotion Soul was so familiar with gone, hidden away beneath layers of pain and a rock-solid resolve not to break.

His whole world fell away from under him.

"No-I would never, I-" Soul stopped and took in a shuddering breath.

"I'm sorry."

And he was. He was so very, very sorry. Even if Maka wasn't a prodigious soul reader, she still would have felt the throbbing anguish of his soul, screaming out in apology, begging her not to leave him. Because Soul was still human, he still felt fear, and disillusion, insecurity and self loathing. But he also radiated unwavering love and faithfulness to his Miester, something Maka felt so strongly it nearly doubled her over and brought her to tears. She missed Soul so much. So much that she could hardly stand it, but Maka held resolute, focusing all her energy on remaining unreadable and cold, holding Soul's gaze for a long agonizing minute, so maybe he could revel in a fraction of her pain and what he made her feel in turn.

Finally, just before the tension nearly overwhelmed everyone, Maka slowly nodded, eliciting a vicious, shaky exhale by Soul and relieved smiles from everyone, save Patty who jumped to her feet and threw her hands into the air.

"YAY! MAKA AND SOUL ARE BACK!" And no one could help but laugh.

Soul Eater

Maka and Soul's partnership might have been reinstated but things were far from back to normal. Two weeks had passed and Maka still failed to wield Soul in his weapon form, day in and day out they tried to merge their souls from the time the sun rose to the time the sun set to no avail.

Uncharacteristically, Maka didn't get upset or frustrated. As her hands singed and burned she powered on, giving Soul reassuring smiles and insisted quietly that they would get it, eventually.

It was like a flame inside her had died out.

Soul was positive that it wasn't that Maka didn't want them to be partners, no, of course she wanted things back to normal. But her confidence had been snuffed, blown out by his lust and need for attention leaving her to pick up the pieces, all the while feeling like she needed to support him, help him piece together him self. It was selfless and kind and mind blowing and Soul wasn't sure he could do it all with out her. But watching Maka beat her self up, seeing her with out that signature spark and telltale flame was like a punch to the gut, over and over and over again.

For the hundredth time Soul, in weapon form, reached out his wavelength to Maka, silently begging her to connect with him. But for the hundredth time her soul shied away from him, pulling back at the last second as if she was afraid he would yell "Sike!" and push her away. She didn't trust him. It was as if that first day after they had woken up was a fluke, like Maka had temporarily forgotten all her hurt and mistrust and once Death had made them partners again she remembered it all.

The smell of burning flesh and the hiss of pain shook Soul out of his musings, and focusing on the issue at hand, literally.

"Maka your hands are burning," Maka grit her teeth, ignoring Soul's concern and focusing hard on connecting their wavelengths. But the more she forced her soul to connect the more it rejected the bond, flaring up the heat until the smell of burning flesh permeated the area and Soul forced him self to turn back, not willing to let Maka ruin her body in a fruitless attempt to do what the very core of her being was refusing to do.

This wasn't something Maka could force her way through with sheer determination like she usually did. This time it was Soul's turn to fix the problem using every ounce of tact, thoughtfulness and patience he possessed. He had to prove to Maka all over again that she could trust him, that he was the partner she had fought with and beside for years and years. The same man she had gone through everything with, the highest of highs and the lowest of lows from their earliest of tween day into their twenties. The person she had shared everything with, where there were no secrets, no fears ever separating them. Soul now realised that he had been putting up walls between them for months now, distancing their trust and leaving them both emotionally homeless.

He had created the human-shaped holes in each of their souls, now it was his job to mend them.

"Maka," Soul breathed, scrambling to his feet and rushing over to where his partner was bent over her hands, hissing in sharp breaths between her teeth and exhaling in short, thinly veiled pants.

"Don't" Maka grit out, stiffening as Soul reached out to touch her shoulder. "I'm fine, don't worry." She turned to half towards him, a strained smile slapped across her face in a blatant lie of injury.

For a split-second Soul retracted his hand, unsure of what to do, before he rolled his eyes and steeled himself, putting both hands on Maka's shoulders and turning her towards him. Of course, he knew what to do, when was he ever afraid of Maka's retribution, her bark was worse than her bite, usually. It was a risk he was always willing to take.

"Baka, you aren't fine. Drop the act and let me see," Soul said, gently prying her hands away from where she had them cradled against her chest, uncurling her fingers to he could get a look at the damage.

When they had started training together, Maka had stopped wearing her gloves, hoping that direct skin to metal contact would help them re-connect. And while Soul was left wondering where she pulled that logic out from, he didn't question it, figuring she had read it in one of the endless books she had her nose stuck in. But now, looking at the angry red of her hands, blistering painfully as two giant burns, Soul wondered if she was really doing this as punishment to her self.

Soul's stomach roiled and his heart twisted at the sight of Maka's mangled hands, forcing a calm he didn't feel across his face and into his voice.

"We're done for the day," Soul declared quietly, taking Maka by the elbows and guiding her up onto her feet. "We're going to take care of these and let them heal before we try again." He left no room for argument in his voice and frankly, Maka didn't want to fight. She wanted to lie down, sleep, wallow in her failure and misery.

She wanted to let Soul take care of her.

Nodding, Maka followed along, climbing silently onto the back of Soul's motorcycle with a total look of defeat and pain raging through her. Awkwardly, she wrapped her arms around Soul's waist, gripping him with her wrists, hands facing palm upwards in an awkward attempt to keep her self from aggravating her hands. It was anything but easy or comfortable and Maka was forced to be pressed right up against Soul's back, her mind and body at war. On one hand she still felt wary and betrayed while on the other her insides were turning to warm mush and a host of butterflies were mosh pitting in her stomach.

Soul drove more carefully than he had in his entire life, easing slowly around corners and refraining from gunning the gas at greenlights. He wanted to minimize Maka's pain and make sure she was secure. The absolute last thing he wanted was for her to go flying off the back of his bike.

It took longer than it ever had to get home but neither one minded too much. Soul led Maka to the bathroom where he sat her down on the edge of the bathtub while he rummaged underneath the sink for the first aid kit.

"You're wearing your gloves next time we train," Soul said, pulling out burn cream and bandages. "And we aren't training until we've gotten our selves figured out. It was insanity to try and jump back into things as if nothing had changed." He squeezed the cream onto the tip of his index finger, then gently began to dab it onto the palms of her hands, rubbing in tiny circles as gently as he possibly could. Still, Maka winced and scrunched her face in pain, biting into Soul each time she did.

"We don't need-" Maka tired to protest but Soul cut her off with a fierce look.

"We do!" Soul snapped, cutting the guaze off the roll with more force than necessary. "We do, because you don't trust me. Our whole partnership revolves around trust, Maka. If we can't figure this out, if you can't learn to open your self up to me again and place your life in my hands," He bowed his head, unable to look Maka in the eye. "Then we're hooped. Our partnership, our friendship, our whatever we almost had, is over. And I can't accept that Maka." He looked up at her through the fringe of his hair, his eyes shining with unshed tears. "I can't lose you Maka. Not like this. Not ever. But definitely not like this."

A tear streaked down his cheek and Soul looked down, busying him self with the gauze and wrapping Maka's hands with the utmost care and caution. Watching him, Maka couldn't get out the words she needed, the burn in the back of her throat to great and the tingle of tears threatening to spill so overwhelming it took all her strength not to let the floodgates spill. Finally, as Soul was finishing up on her left hand he caught the slight tremor running through Maka's arms down to the tip of her fingers.

"Soul," She croaked, voice cracking at a high pitched whine that trailed into guttural sobs, a rush of hot, heavy tears breaking loose, making her shoulders shake and breath gasp.

She would try. She would try so hard. Forgiveness was in her nature, even if it was buried deep down. And as Soul pulled her into his lap on the tiled floor of their bathroom, rocking her back and forth as she cried, Maka knew they could do it. They were Maka and Soul, a legendary team. Their bond wasn't broken, it was just strained and cracked, frayed around the edges but repairable.

Quietly, almost unknowingly, Maka reached out a tiny tendril of her soul to his. For a moment there was nothing and then-

A spark.