Chapter Seven

I Am Hell Bound

Stein had a large number of shady dealing under his belt.

Throughout his life, he strove for understanding. It was only way to insure that he would be able to completely understand those around him, as he lacked a certain amount of empathy, that had been replaced with two parts apathy. It had never actually bothered him until he'd made his first friend, almost twenty years ago, down in the Pits. Reaper, with his flaming hair, and annoyingly arrogant fighting style had been handed a new one, and Stein, uncharacteristically had helped him after that fight. He didn't have any other reason for helping the fighter, other than curiosity about what would happen if he did.

He hadn't realized he was going to end up with a friend.

Of course, once one relationship stemmed, others followed, and he had met Kami, the shorter, blonde woman with wide green eyes who'd take his eccentricities in stride, and offered him her friendship, along with the friendship of her fighter boyfriend.

Because of them, he'd been tied to Shibusen. He could still remember the shock he'd felt with the masked face of Lord Death seem to smile at him, and tell him he had a home among his ranks, should he want it. He aligned with Lord Death, with the Crime Lord's strange brand of purifying evil, because he felt like it was a point of view he hadn't ever considered. It was exhilarating, something that had thrown him into his work.

However, Stein was susceptible to the lure and appeal of the darkness, he always had been.

He'd been destroyed once he'd discovered darkness incarnate in Medusa Gorgan. She was of a scientific mind herself, and they'd found common ground in a desire for understanding, for power, and the comforting heat the darkness would wrap around their souls. She brought him deeper and deeper into her insanity, his layers of composure shedding away as easily as his clothes in her apartment, the darkness between them dwelling in dangerous levels. They were flying to fast, they had too much darkness between them to combine, yet they didn't walk away.

His mind was his gift, and he gave it to her, at her leisure. His understanding and danger were hers to control, and he began helping her. He did it all, switching out compounds, playing with the structures, testing potency, until they'd done it. They'd created 'Black Blood', a drug that had completely obliterated all before it. It was never intended for the use of an everyday junkie. It had to be saved, for the fights. Because even though Shibusen ran as much under the table as anyone else, with strip clubs, drug rings, gambling, but a large source of income for that particular syndicate came from the Arena. Stein and Medusa had created it to help those who could afford it get their fighters to the top.

The drug itself was shot up, similarly to heroin, but its effect was completely different. It was created to jack up the fighter with energy, heightened senses, and it made the effect of adrenaline feel like euphoria, making the brain want to produce more and more, keeping the fighter up and at peek longer. At first, Lord Death had been open to the idea, more concerned about the side effects than anything else.

As it turned out, the side effects were hell.

A fighter on the drug would excel, more powerful than they had ever been, but when they were faced with the come down they would break apart. Massive headaches, nausea, a pain that settled deep into the bones would plague the fighter, and the smaller the fighter, the worse the pain would be. When it seemed like the side effects wouldn't actually kill the fighters, they kept their experiment going, keeping the supply open to some fighters, and slowly tapping other fighters off the drug as they went.

The fighters that were kept on a steady stream of Black Blood showed some disturbing long term effects. There seemed to almost be a split in the mentality of the fighters. They would do things while high, and wouldn't remember doing them when they were sober. It wasn't just the hazy forgetfulness of being inebriated either; they honestly had no memory of their time when they were high. It progressed in some fighters to the extent of two completely detached personas inhabiting a single body.

The fighters who went through the withdrawal were even worse off. Few escaped with their lives, and even fewer with their sanity. Without the Black Blood, the body would shut down. A fever would spike that burned the hands of anyone who touched them, they would vomit until blood was expelled from their mouths, and they would tear at their skin, screaming about the demons that would come for them, poking their skin, scraping their nails over it. The bodies just weren't able to handle it, and they burnt out. It took an exceptional fighter to survive such a painful experience, not to mention walk away with their sanity.

Which is why it worried Stein that Medusa's name was literally too close to Eater's to make him comfortable.

He leaned back in the barstool, and observed the women dancing on the stage, twisting and gyrating to the deep bass. He stuck his finger in his drink, and placed it against his tongue, testing the flavor before he brought the glass to his lips, and took a deep swig, the changing colors dancing across the stitching on his skin while he waited for the woman to join him. He'd chosen Chupa's as their meeting place because it wasn't owned by either syndicate, therefore, was considered natural territory. Normally, he didn't worry about things like territories and the overlapping of the Families, but that had been before Medusa had joined with the Kishin, and had become their queen. She was the most feared member of the syndicate, and she was never going to let anyone forget that.

Finally, the air crackled with power, and a familiar pull of insanity, before Stein looked up from his drink to the door. Standing tall, no care in the world was Medusa, her golden eyes slowly scanning the club before resting on him, and a smile crossed her features. Beside her, a shorter woman with long mint colored hair, and the circular scarring of a shamed Kishin soldier surrounding the corners of her mouth, and a tall man, dressed in an old prison uniform with a tattoo above his obviously blinded eye. Medusa started toward him, and she sat herself down next to him, her entourage sitting in the closest booth there was. "Hello, Handsome."

"Flattery will get you everywhere." He promised, before looking over at her friends, who were shooting him glares from where they were sitting. "I didn't realize we were bringing friends."

"Oh, you know. I got a little more popular since I've seen you. I need to have some friends with me wherever I go."

"Oh, of course. I do wonder though, why is your group of choice a shamed Kishin Soldier, and a half blind man?"

"Ah, Eruka, as you can see, is paying for a great transgression against the Kishin."

"What did she do?"

Medusa's eyes cut to his, and flashed in the red lights that flew across the club. "She tried to kill me."

"Oh. And she's still breathing."

"She's mine now, she's marked as one of the Unforgiven, and she isn't about to continue along in her fights with that face." Medusa looked back at Eruka, and gave a massive grin, which the younger woman only ignored, and gave her order to the man at the booth for a drink. Stein watched the way the man moved, how he was constantly checking over his blind spot, how the dark spotting along his wrists looked familiar.

"That's her Weapon, then?" Stein asked. Medusa followed his train of sight at the burly man.

"Ah yes. Free."

"What is?"

"His name, silly. It's Free." Medusa rolled her eyes. "Well, at least that one is named Free. He's long since forgotten his real name." Her words stab him in the darkness, and he realized just what those dark spots were.

"How long has he been on?"

"Since he's been out of prison." The Queen answered him, ordering a drink before she returned her focus to him. "How long has it been since prisons around here have actually had black and white strips, huh?"

"Impossible, he should be burned through right now."

"That's the thing with formulas Handsome. They change." Medusa shook her head and looked over at him. "Losing you was the biggest setback of my career. It took much longer to modify without you."

"You know I didn't approve of it. The side effects were too cruel."

"They just needed to be tampered with."

"They haven't gotten any better."

"Well, that's what you think." Medusa huffed, and stuck up her nose. "I'll have you know that Free, while he might have killed the persona in him that wasn't a fighter, is perfectly stable, even if just a little violent." She shrugged, and accepted her drink from the bartender, taking a pull. "He's still considered one of my better experiments."

He needed to stop, he brought her here for a reason, and he needed to get back to that. Stein understood she was baiting him, dangling the obvious question in his way, and all he had to do was take it. "Not your best?"

"No, my best experiment was given to me by a man who gave me what you wouldn't."

"Oh. You got a man to give you a child?" Stein acted unimpressed, unsure of where she's taking this situation. Medusa only smiled over the rim of her glass and she shot her former lover a look from the corner of her eyes.

"He's such a good boy too. They both are."

Stein stared at the ice in his drink, his stomach dropping as he considers her words. "Only child?"

"Oh his mother never found it in her to have another. He's just so perfect."

"Both of them?"

"Well, one's pretty shy, not sure what I'm going to do with him. But the other is Mama's Little Angel. Does everything she asks him to do, and with a smile." Medusa spoke fondly, like a mother would a child, but Stein can only feel rage bubbling up in his bones.

He doesn't know much about children, doesn't know how to treat them. But he does know that he'd never seen Reaper so happy as the day Maka was born, and he knew that the look he saw in the man's eyes was known as love. A pure, incorruptible love that nothing would ever replace.

He saw none of that in Medusa's eyes.

"How did you stabilize two personalities?"

"I raised the inherent persona to be completely codependent. He can't do anything on his own. Then, once he seemed strong enough, I started shooting him up. He went crazy, as they all do, but the two personas solidified into a set hierarchy. The one created by all of his trips into the drug world, it's the dominate personality. They're, not to brag, the perfect fighter." She licked her lips before she turned all of her attention on the Mad Scientist. "But, I'm sure you didn't call me to talk about family life."

"No," Stein agreed. "I actually came to talk to you about a body that ended up in my morgue."

"Oh?"

"Yeah." Stein tossed the balled up prescription written out to Eater onto the table, his face a mask of indifference. "Found this in the poor kid's pocket." He watched her face as she unfurled the crumpled, and now bloodstained, paper, and scanned her eyes over it. Anger flashed across her face for a mere second, before she turned back to him. She toyed with the edges of the paper, before putting her saccharine smile back on her face.

"Oh? In your morgue huh? What happened to him?"

"What are you doing working at a school so heavily influenced by Shibusen?"

"Kicks, of course. A girl's gotta have her fun." A snake-like smirk crossed her features. "But, I need a real job as a front, and if it just so happens to be the place where the little children of Reaper and Death go to, then so be it. Besides, I'm not stepping on any toes here."

"You would make such a stupid move at a place in Lord Death's pocket?"

"The state paid for that school, even if he did throw in a gym or library. If my credentials pass, and they do, and I'm the best candidate for the job, why shouldn't I work there?"

"You're playing a dangerous game, Medusa." Stein warned, motioning for the bartender to refill his drink. "You have to know that."

"That man is just angry that he didn't step up to accept my drug when it was new. The Kishin saw a good opportunity, and he took it. Besides, it's not like that man can say he's any better. His fighters are just as hopped up as ours. There's no being 'clean' in the Arena. All we have between us is a sour business transaction that ended up working better for me anyways."

"And that's why you put a hit out on this Shibusen kid?" Stein asked, tossing his head in the direction of the note. Medusa shook her head in response.

"He's not Shibusen. He's a piece of shit pit fighter, who got lucky against Rasputin and cost the bidders quite a bit. He had to be punished for that." Medusa rolled her eyes. "Then he disappears, comes back and kills Jack the Ripper. It was only dumb luck I found him at the school. I guess he's the Albarn Crime Princess' lapdog."

"He was the lap dog." Stein corrected, and Medusa lifted a brow.

"Oh yes, that's right. He showed up at your morgue. Tell me, what took him down?"

"Oh, I would have to say, among other lacerations, it was the massive cut that ripped open his torso."

"Don't act like it wasn't fun to clean up."

"I'm not saying it wasn't." Stein answered honestly. "But it just seemed a little brutal for some unknown Pit fighter."

"Yes well, sometimes, there needs to be an example made. And it just so happened that Soul 'Eater' Evans was a prime subject. You understand. The kid just drew a bad hand." A shrug graced her shoulders. "He was just a pit fighter. It's neither here nor there."

"Right, neither here nor there." Stein agreed as another drink was placed in front of him.

This was going to become a problem. He knew that look in her eyes, ambition, a power trip, she was planning something terrible, and right now, these steps she was taking would be enough to construe exactly what the woman was planning.

But…from where he was sitting, the attack on Eater had been completely unrelated to Maka's standing as Shibusen Princess. He was missing something, something incredibly obvious. Oh well, he'd have time to figure it out. Assuming she had a mole in Shibusen (which he was sure she did), and her mole in Shibusen was doing a half assed job, and even if they were, it would be some time before Medusa realized that Eater was still alive. After all, the boy had seemed pretty smart; he obviously didn't throw around his fight name like some had been known to do. Soul could keep the news of his corporeal return quite hush and shush, as long as he stopped going to school.

Which he could do, and Maka could still remain safe. After all, Death the Kidd attended that school, and the protection that had been snuck in along with that gym and library, and her own personal relationship with Kidd, she'd be just fine. If they could be trusted to keep this ruse up long enough, Medusa would have to show her hand.

Eater and Maka weren't unrelated, and Stein only needed to figure out what exactly was bonding the two more than Wonderland and hastily stitched scars.

Stein may have had a point, Soul did drool a lot when he was sedated.

Spirit sighed as he found himself back in the young fighter's hospital room. The albino had an arm curled under his head, and while he was still favoring sleeping on his side, the bandages had been removed from his body, leaving the angry red skin of what would soon be a very thick scar across his body. Soul had no worries of these things, however, the boy was so incredibly sedated that he didn't even flinch when Spirit walked in, something the younger fighter would have picked up on quickly. The only sign Eater was even alive was the impressive stream of liquid cascading from his mouth.

Yeah, it was definitely the teeth.

Well, if Soul was this out, he was going to have absolutely no chance of finding out where Blair ran off to after she had finished speaking to Soul. He'd already gone and checked the church, but there was no sign of Blair, and Justin had explained he hadn't seen her since she'd left with him a few nights back, when they'd taken Mizune to the hospital. Dragging a hand over his face, the retired champion took a deep breath. He'd just have to come back later, maybe when the nurses realized the sheer amount of drugs that were being pumped into the boy's system. He was going to need the kid's help. Blair was the only one who knew where Mizune got the bad powder, and she had a two day head start on him.

Spirit had turned to leave, when he saw the boots shoved under Soul's bed, and tiredly placed them as the boots he'd gotten his daughter for her last birthday. Looking around, he didn't see hide or hair of Maka, and wondered exactly where she could be. It was almost ten in the morning, and he couldn't recall if his daughter had an early class or not. Behind him, he heard the shuffling of the paper slippers that the hospital gave to their patients, and looked behind them. Here he found his daughter, in her usual get up of skirt, tights, and a button up over some tank top. Her eyes were bleary, and her still regretfully black hair was pulled into its pigtails. She stared at him tiredly, trying to place him, before it hit her. "Oh! Morning Papa."

"What are you doing here?"

"I don't have a class until two. So I figured I'd check on Soul."

"…What's with the shoes?"

"Nurses don't want me trekking around in my boots. Something about scuff marks and a picky janitor? I don't know." Maka yawned, and shuffled into the room with him, heading for the plastic chair by the side of his bed.

"You know sweetie, you can go home and get some sleep. He's out."

"No he's not." Maka snorted, and looked over at the hired hand. "If he was actually out, he'd be drooling more. And he wouldn't be sleeping on his hand. It would bug him too much when he woke up. Watch, give it…ten…maybe fifteen minutes and he'll be up and bitching about how hungry he is."

Spirit could only stare at his daughter, and the certainty in her voice. He'd forgotten sometimes, how very much like her mother she was. Maka could read people, much better than most, and she was incredibly perceptive. She could see patterns in chaos and the unconsciously memorize the sleeping habits of a man she really hadn't known that long. She had never said much about it, and Spirit didn't like to bring it up, it was just another way his ex-wife had driven him and his daughter farther apart, but she had her mother's same skill of perception, and she apparently had honed in on how to use it. Her obvious skill had taken him by such surprise; he didn't even remember to reprimand her about the swearing. "Impressive."

"Not really, I've been here a week. I just picked up what I've seen." Maka sighed, and looked over at her father. "Nurses were talking about letting him go soon."

"Oh yeah? Well, he is healing up a little better. Still might take another few weeks to scar over. End of the month, it should at least be healed up enough for him to act normal. Whatever normal is for him."

Maka nodded and bit the inside of her lip. "Have you found the attacker yet?"

"No." He sighed, and ran a hand through his hair. "Our closest trail was Mizune."

"And they buried her yesterday." Maka finished his thought, and sighed. "I don't get it. The kid didn't have any signifiers of a syndicate. Was it random?"

"Nothing's random in this city, Maka."

"This seems to be." She argued, crossing her arms over her chest. "We weren't in a territory that didn't belong to us, we weren't enticing a fight. We were just walking, it was quiet. And this guy comes out of nowhere." Her teeth scraped over her bottom lip as she thought about it. "It wasn't like he was going straight for Soul, but it also wasn't like he didn't go for me either. I've never had an attempt on my life go like that. What if they were after him?" She finished up, and Spirit frowned.

"Why would they be after him?"

"Weren't you the one who told me he pissed off the Kishin? Papa, he's already more than proved his worth as a guardian. You need to talk to Lord Death, look into getting him Marked."

Her request surprised Spirit, and it took him a while to articulate an answer. "You really think so, huh?"

"He stood in front of death for me." Her voice was soft, but the determination in her eyes hard. "The least I can do is offer some back up, if he wants it. He gets Marked, and should anyone do this again, it'll be grounds for a war."

"Are you sure about this?" Spirit questioned again, curious to see how well his daughter understood the politics behind her request. He wanted Maka to be stronger than Shibusen, he wanted her to live somewhere else, and not be dragged into this family, but he had lately understood that he couldn't keep her out of it. One day, she's replace her father as the right hand of this family, and they'd both accepted that fact. Especially with Kidd taking over some day, there was no way for Maka to get out. Not now.

"Soul has thrown his life down to prevent the loss of mine. On that stance alone, Shibusen owes him a great deal, wouldn't you say?" Her eyebrow cocked up and Spirit nodded.

"Oh of course, not even speaking as your father, you know Lord Death looks at you as another child, and he is already more than pleased with what this fighter has done for you."

"But?"

"But he's still reckless, still a little too much in the mentality of the Pits. If we can figure out how to break him of that, then Lord Death will be able to trust him unreservedly, but a kid with as much desire to fight as he has, he could be dangerous until then."

Maka's mouth was set in a grim line, her eyes on the boy in the bed. "You said 'we'."

"Sorry?"

"You said if 'we' can figure out how to help him." Her eyes went from the fighter to the champion, and she gave a small smile. "You'd help? You won't even let me go to the store alone because you don't trust any male. Ever."

"I already told you, I see a lot of me in this kid, and I could have had a devilishly handsome stranger come into my life and offer me a job that would allow me to walk away from that life, I would have ended up a much better man." Spirit explained, shoving his hands in his pockets. Maka nodded at that, playing with the ends of her hair.

"You've killed a lot of people, haven't you?" Her voice isn't hard, or judgmental, or even angry, it's only curious.

"Yes."

"Papa…how do you break someone away from that?" Her teeth were scraping against her lip again. "You can see it when you look at him, all he knows is the Pit…but…when I look at you, I don't see it. I don't get it."

"Ah, that's an easy one Sweetheart. I'll leave you to figure it out." Spirit smiled, walked over to his daughter, pressing a kiss against her forehead. "Go to class."

"I always go to class." Maka mumbled, turning back towards the boy, who jerked once, and shot his head up, line of drool abruptly ending as he looked around, red eyes hazed with sleep.

"'S'ere any food 'round here?" He slurred, and Maka just looked up at her father and smirked.

Yeah, more and more like Kami every day, that one.

Soul didn't trust Patchy's smile, and the way the man had all too easily agreed to let him check out.

Something had been off with the man since he had come into check on him, and Soul had bitched about getting out, like he had been bitching about since the first day he woke up, but this time, Patchy had only stared at him long and hard, and agreed it would be for the best.

Every instinct he had was going off in his head, something was wrong, that much was obvious, but now…Soul couldn't really place what it was. He just watched as the doctor spent an ungodly amount of time poking along his still healing gash, pressing extra hard in the places that made Soul hiss in pain. "You seem to be healing alright."

"Seriously, a license. Can I see it?" Soul spat angrily, before pulling himself into a sitting position, shoulders slumping in on themselves.

"Sure. Walk with me down to the morgue, I'd be happy to show you."

"You-wait-no way-what?!" Real, genuine fear was on his face, now, and he was pretty sure the blood had drained from his face completely. "Fuck no, seriously?"

"So yes, I am an 'actual' doctor."

"YOU PLAY WITH DEAD PEOPLE!"

"And you send them to me." Stein countered, and Soul flinched. Fair enough point. He actually never really stuck around long enough after a fight to see what they did with the bodies. He just collected his winnings and left, trying to spend as little time there as possible. So…actually the chances of this crazy man getting some of his handiwork weren't that far off.

"Whatever."

"You can't do it again, you realize that right?" Stein had met Soul's eyes, and the younger man scowled.

"I know that, I'm not stupid."

"I'm serious. You come back from the dead enough times, and the Kishin will stop playing games, and strike you down in broad daylight. You do that, you'll be putting Maka, and all of her friends and family at risk too. Like it or not, you're officially a gateway to the second most powerful family in Shibusen, and you can't be hanging around the Pits anymore."

Soul was silent, tugging on the tape that held in his IV. "Why would I go back?"

"That's my question. I'm more curious about the several answers you've already got for that question in the back of your head. You can't do this anymore. Let Eater die, he's had his run." Stein sighed, and readjusted his glasses before looking back at the scowling kid. "To let the sleeping dogs lie is no sign of weakness."

The fighter only snorted before he ran a hand across his face. "You think they're sleeping? There's no way. They're up, and jumping at the bits for a chance to rip into me. How do I know they won't come for me if I don't go back to the Pit?"

"And the excuses start." Stein gave him a pointed look, and Soul only looked away, grumbling. "They think you're dead. Take this gift, and say out of the Pits."

"…How would you know that?"

"Spirit trusts me, what does that tell you about me?"

"That you've earned your place among the ranks, I've never doubted that."

"So, can I ask you to trust me when I say that they're convinced you're dead, and you need to trust me on that?"

Soul weighed his options carefully. Spirit did trust Patchy, and apparently, by extension, Lord Death did as well. Whatever insight this bastard had into the Kishin family was probably enough to honestly tell him that they thought he was dead. And if that were true, then he really did have an excuse to walk away from the Pits, for good.

Okay okay! Bu-Tan will skip meals this week; if Baby is absolutely sure he wants to fight again…Bu-Tan could always just work the Dark District

No, there was no way he could let Blair make up the money lost by working the Dark District. The money there would be high, wads of cashed thrown at a girl like her. But she'd come back covered in blood and bruises. He'd only seen her like that once, and she hadn't said a word to him, she'd only gone into her bathroom and cried while the shower had poured over her head. After that, he'd decided then and there that Blair would never have to go back to the Dark District.

Fuck, fuck, fuck. Go back on one path, and it immediately fucked the person on the other path over. This wasn't fair, he was just trying to do what was right here, but no matter what, someone got fucked. He shook his head, realizing that it came down to Blair and Maka, and his loyalty stretched between them. He couldn't win. Of course he couldn't, the Pits weren't set up to win, they were only set up to survive.

"Okay." He finally answered the doctor, and sighed, head pounding as the red man sensed his struggle, and woke up. "Okay, I'll listen. I'll trust you." He held his hands up in surrender. "I won't do anything to fuck anyone up."

"You have to understand how important it is that you never go back to the Pits. Or even the school for a little while, stay hidden."

"…That makes protecting Maka a little difficult, wouldn't you say?"

"She's safe at the school. If you insist, walk her there, walk her back, but don't go where they might have seen you with her before. Do not stay there, alright?"

"Alright, alright fine." Soul agreed, and rubbed his eye. "I'll follow the rules okay."

"I mean it Eater."

"I won't hurt Maka." Soul frowned, eyes locking on Patchy's. "You have to know that. There is no way I'm going to hurt Maka, and if keeping her safe means doing everything you're saying, then fine. I'll do it all."

Stein leaned back in his chair, and smiled, pulling a paper cigarette out of his pocket, and tossing it to Soul. The scarred fighter grabbed it, and brought it up to his nose, a small smile on his face. "Awh, for me?"

"Just do what you have to, keep her safe."

"Ah, you know I will." Soul shrugged, sliding the joint behind his ear. Stein only nodded, before looking up to the door, a few seconds before Soul did, and Maka walked into the doorway, spinning a set of keys on her pointer finger.

"You ready to go?"

"Please, save me from this hell."

Black*Star apparently was quite persuasive.

At least, that's the most polite word Maka could use to describe the blue haired ball of energy as she followed Soul down the hall to his room, making sure he got there just fine. He'd been out of the hospital twenty minutes, and he was already sick of his new little shadow, promising he was fine. Maka still followed him though, and it somewhat reminded Soul of how his mother used to follow him and his brother around, making sure they didn't get into anything they shouldn't.

The thought made him angrier.

Finally, once he was in the room Spirit had given him, empty except for an old duffle bag, and some dark blue sheets that adorned the guest bed, which Maka immediately crawled too the foot of, and sat there, watching as he threw the pills Stein had given him on the dresser, and leaned against the wall, staring at his charge. "Do I have to?"

"Well, please?" She grinned up at him, her smile making her eyes brighter. "He was pumped to hear you were getting out of the hospital, and convinced Kidd to throw a party."

"Yeah…but why?"

"What do you mean 'why'?" Maka rolled her eyes. "Because, we're you're friends, and we're glad you're okay, and if Black*Star is involved, then he's planning on getting you shitfaced tonight."

"Swearing just doesn't sound right coming out of your mouth."

"Oh, sign language better?" She made a face, and lifted her middle finger at him.

"Hey, as long as you ain't talkin'…"

"I'll kill you."

"Would hardly be a good kill." Soul snorted, and gestured to his front. "I've gone and done most of the work for you." She smiled, but he saw the guilt flash across her face for a second, and he felt worse than he already did. "Oi. I'll go to your little shindig. But you have to do me a favor first."

"Sure?"

"I'm bone tired, and I wanna pass out on sheets that don't smell like hospital. So go get the freakin' Wonderland book, and get back here, alright?" Maka only blushed but she did leave the room, giving Soul the opportunity to ease himself down onto the bed, without irritating his torso. His back had healed a little but still stung when he tried to lay on it, so by the time Maka returned, he was back on his side, body curling into himself. She frowned when she took in his appearance, and set the glass of water on the dresser next to the pills.

"I don't think you should be out yet."

"And I disagree with that statement wholeheartedly." His voice was muffled from shoving it into a pillow that didn't smell like hospital; rather it smelt like laundry detergent, and a linen closet, and a faint trace of Maka's smell that just reminded him of the color pink.

"There's no point in taking you out early if you're just going to end up back there."

"It's like you have no faith in me."

"Of course I have faith in you." Maka answered, no sarcasm in her voice, and Soul freed enough of his face from the paradise of scent to look up at her. She had a red tint to her face, her arms crossed behind her back. "I've been betting on you for about a year now, it's not like that's gonna change because you're cuddling a pillow to avoid taking your medicine."

"I ain't cuddling!" he argued, pulling his face from the pillow. "And you ain't my mom; don't tell me what to do." His charge only scoffed at him, before she motioned for him to scoot over. Knowing full well she meant his feet this time, Soul pushed his body over, making room for her next to him. Maka blinked at him once, before she took her spot from a few days ago, tucked against his body, his forehead against her shoulder, and his arm around her waist.

"Where were we?"

"Hookah Caterpillar." Soul released a massive yawn, showcasing all of his strangely shaped teeth before he settled back into the pillow while Maka flipped through the pages in the book, using the artwork penned there to figure out exactly what Soul was talking about.

"This book is so weird."

Soul only scoffed, before his eyelids started drooping, and (he'd deny this later) nuzzling his head into Maka's arm. She grinned behind the pages, and found the start of the chapter, where Alice was conversing with a rather snarky Caterpillar, with a hookah hose in its mouth who seemed to know better than she did about what was going on, but wouldn't clue Alice in.

Maka didn't understand the appeal to this book, she really didn't. None of it made sense, and it wasn't for little Alice's lack of trying, the little girl was trying just as hard as Maka to piece together exactly what was happening, but none of the people she ran into were trying to help her. They just sent her around in circles, and Maka was finding the whole thing quite frustrating.

But, when she was reading was really the only time she got to see Soul curled up like a little kid against her, his mouth open slightly, and the distinguishing line of drool already starting at the corner of his mouth. It was endearing, even if it was also slightly gross. It did seem to work for him, though, and the way he twitched in his sleep was something she hadn't noticed when he had been too sedated to move. Now that he was off the drugs, he was a much lighter sleeper, and every twitch she made, he responded to. So, once the chapter was finished, and she didn't receive any half away orders to keep going, she simply marked their spot, set the book down, and sunk deeper into his bed, and his arm tightened his grip more, before she thanked Lord Death for keeping her father working late, because this…this was surprisingly comfortable.

Apparently, they partied underground.

Soul stood next to Maka as she gripped his hand, and pulled him across the massive, meticulously landscaped yard of Lord Death himself, to the guesthouse that was on the other side of the property. "Why are we going underground?"

"Because Liz and Patti have a massive basement, and it's just the easiest place." Maka explained as she looked back at him. "You okay with underground?"

"Yeah, 's fine." He shrugged, and swallowed the panic that came with the idea of underground. Most of the holdings in the Arenas had been underground, and after a year of that, most fighters get pretty claustrophobic. Panic settling in because they're in the room, surrounded by other Weapons, and knowing that someone is there is going to be your opponent, and you're going to have to kill or be killed. Soul shook his head, clearing it. It was just a basement. He'd be fine.

Maka gave him another look under her fringe of black bangs, and tilted her head. Her hair was loose, and fluttering by her shoulders. Her tank top was bright pink, and covered by a sheer black button up. Her black skirt strained against the pale skin of her long legs that ended in her faithful boots. Not that he'd been looking…he just liked to know he had a handle on what his charge looked like so he could keep an eye on her.

He had just pulled on a black shirt with a clean pair of jeans, and called it good. Maka had given him a good once over before the left and she had deemed him acceptable. Now, they stood at an old cellar door on the side of an extravagant guest house as Maka pulled the door up. Inside was already hazy with smoke, and the laughter of their friends. They had been a little late, because Maka had ended up falling asleep curled up against Soul, but luckily had woken up before he did, and she set them both off to get ready.

Maka bounded down the stairs, still holding Soul's hand as they reached the bottom of the steps.

"SOUL!" Black*Star flew from where he had been sitting next to Tsubaki on a massively plush couch. Soul notices that plush furniture and pillows were everywhere. And to his surprise, there were two hookahs set up. Kidd waved at him from where he was situated next to a large black hookah, his two body guards on either side. He pulled the hose from his mouth and smiled, smoke welcoming Soul just as much as the man was. Liz and Patty both offered a wave too as they grabbed their own hoses, and starting copying their charge by inhaling.

Black*Star held out his palm, and Soul grabbed it, and threw his arm around the other in a manly display of affection. Maka rolled her eyes at the display, and Black*Star reached over and flicked her. "Nice job, Nerd. Took good care of my stooge here."

"Oi!"

"Nerd!?"

"Ugh, you two. Much too sober!" Soul noticed then that his friend's face was well beyond flushed, and he swayed as he stood. "Patti! You, me and Soul! Drinking contest!"

Patti squealed, and threw her arms in the air, grabbing a bottle from the top of a piano in the corner, and rushing over to them. The bottle in her hand was deep amber, and Soul knew it was Southern Comfort before he even saw that bottle. He was fucked, hardcore. Maka had already snorted, and was heading over to Tsubaki, who was already getting up to help mix Maka a drink. For all he could tell, this place was as safe as a fortress.

So why not relax?

"Tha's…tha's 22 fer me."

"Ya fuckin' idiot." Soul rolled his eyes, hands trying desperately to somehow bring the lighter in his hand to the joint resting in his mouth. Around him, he watched as Maka drunkenly tried to explain to kid why he should recite 'Old Father William', and the son of the crime lord only laughed at her logic, and tried to maneuver his drink into his mouth, without losing his hookah hose. Tsubaki and Liz had their arms around each other's shoulders, and they sang to the Moulin Rouge song that was blaring over the speakers. "Ya didn' take 22 fuckin' shots."

"A'least I can still work a fuckin' lighter!" Black*Star snorted, laughing at his friend struggled with flicking the damn flame to life."

"I can do it." He mumbled around the weed, and Patti snorted and threw back another shot. The youngest of all of them, and she held her liquor the best. Soul had made it seven shots before his world had started tipping on its axis, and he was unable to move. He blearily wondered if he should've checked his medicine about taking with alcohol, but from the way he was spinning, he assumed he got his answer.

Patti rolled her eyes, and snatched the lighter from him, and deftly lit it before holding it against the paper, and he inhaled, the heated smoke instantly filling his mouth, and he closed his eyes in euphoria, the taste alone giving him a sense of peace. He released the smoke and passed the joint to Black*Star, who ripped a hit, and tried to pass it to Patti, but she just shook her head, and took the mostly empty bottle of SoCo with her.

Good fucking riddance.

"Oi. Soul. You okay?" Black*Star asked, and Soul shrugged, sucking on the green again.

"'M fine."

"Had worse?"

"…Not particularly no…" He smirked and shook his head. "'M fine though."

"How long you out on the fights?"

"Oh, I don't know. Tomorrow?"

"What?!" Black*Star spat out his smoke and stared at his friend, shock on his flushed faces. "Are you crazy?"

"Nah. I got a friend. Owe her. Big. Like, owe her my life big. She needs some money."

"And you think yer ready for the Pits?"

"Fuck no," Soul shook his head. "Ain't gonn' be Pit ready for a while. But some outside street fight? Yeah, tha'll be no problem."

"'S a fuckin' bad idea dude."

"Yeah, I know." Soul smiled and inhaled again, his head feeling as hazy as the smoke that passed between his teeth. "But, gotta do what I gotta do." The fighter looked over the blue hair of his friend, and smirked. "Looks like yer girl might be ready to puke."

"Wha!?" Black*Star looked behind him, and sure enough, Tsubaki didn't look so good. Liz was holding her up and Black*Star sighed, getting up to help his pretty charge. Between Liz and him, they managed to drag her to the bathroom. Soul laughed at the spectacle, taking back his dragonesque features as the smoke roiled out of his mouth as he did so.

"Hey! Guard Puppy!" Looking behind him, Maka had ended up by herself next to one of the hookahs by the piano, Kidd and Patti now trying to make a card house at the table. "Com're."

Soul scoffed, and stubbed out his smoke on an ashtray and forced his shaky body down beside Maka. His head spun as his center of gravity changed, and he exhaled slowly, not really sure if he could get up again. Maka reached for his hand and tugged on it, her face dusted with a red flush. "Hookah, I wanna do hookah."

"Wha'chu need me for?"

"My hands aren't working." She pouted. "Com'n Guard Puppy. Make the thing. Do the thing! Fuck, I don't even know." She growled into the air, and Soul snorted. While she figured out what she wanted, he wasn't going to waste time. He placed the hose in his mouth, and sucked up smoke that tasted like watermelon and mango, and swallowed, holding the smoke in his lungs. The injured look on her face that followed watching him steal her hit made him want to laugh, while simultaneously breaking his heart. He reached for her face, and brought it closer to his. Her mouth opened, and her lips grazed his, and he nearly lost the vapor held captive in his mouth.

Finally, he opened his, and pressed their mouths together to create a seal. She inhaled, stealing the breath from his lungs, and he gripped her hair. It wasn't a kiss, it was shotgunning, and his world was spinning so fast, he needed something to grasp onto. She pulled away and exhaled, her head rushing beyond believe, and the slight scrape on the side of her lip from one of his teeth stinging. The smoke drifted between the two of them, and she grinned. "Good Puppy."

"Ya know I'm not actually a dog, right?"

"Tha's not important right now, what's important is tha' the smoke is in the hose, and not in my mouth." Her finger drunkenly trailed from the hookah, to her face. "Comprendo?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Good." She affirmed, and took her own hit, Soul's lips only inches from hers. She took a pull, feeling the vapor dance down her throat before she dropped the hose, and closed the distance between her and her Guard Puppy. He opened his mouth to hers, and inhaled. She remembered his teeth and she poked her tongue out just a little, just graze the edge of one of his teeth. He froze and she pulled away, her face completely indifferent as she watch him exhale. His eyes are glazed, and he's staring at her intently, not entirely sure if he imagined what happened or not. She only smiled wide and him, and giggled, reaching for the hose again. He listened to her inhale, and closed his eyes to wait for her again, but this time, it isn't smoke that snuck past his lips, it's his charge's tongue.

He knew he should probably do something about it, but fuck she tasted like mango smoke and vanilla vodka, and the hand he had gripping her hair only tightened. She leaned forward, pushing him back slightly, and Soul fell backwards, remembering too late about the piano bench.

His head meets it with a crack, and he snorts as he lies on the floor. Maka hovered over him, worry in those wide green eyes. "'Re you okay?!"

"Psh." He snorted. ""S only a piano bench. Pianos won't hurt me." Maka looks from him, to the piano bench, and he can see the moment the idea reached her brain. She crawled over him, and squirmed under the bench. "Th' fuck're you doin'?"

"If we can't see them, they can't see us."

"Not sure tha's how tha' works."

Her green eyes rolled slowly. "Jus' get under the thing."

Soul wants to shake his head, but instead he finds himself crawling under there with her, supporting himself on his side. He met her eyes again, and she held his eyes for a second, keeping her gaze on his. Slowly, she placed her hand on his face, and leaned towards him. Their lips met without the pretense of smoke this time, her tongue tracing his bottom lip, and he opened his mouth, that same tongue from earlier coming to rest against one of his teeth, testing it herself to see if it was real. His hand came to rest in her hair again as he pushed closer to her, his hand settling in the loose silk of her hair.

Her hand made its way to the front of his shirt, her fingers light and hesitant. He pulled his mouth from hers, and pressed their foreheads together, and she slowly trailed her fingers down until she heard him hiss, and she went to pull her hand away. He grabbed it before she could retract completely, and just held it there. She laced her fingers with his, and he brought their hands between them. He leaned back a little more, leaving room on the arm that was supporting his head for her to put hers too. She welcomed the offer, and moved closer to him. Her world was spinning, and her head felt fuzzy. "I'm sorry." Even her whispers were slurred, and he had to force an eye open to see if she had actually spoken.

"Wha'fer?"

"You gettin' hurt."

"Don't be."

"But-"

"Don't be."

"Fine, I'm sorry fer callin' you a puppy."

Soul snorted, and squeezed her fingers. "No you aren't."

"No, I'm not." She agreed, small smile playing on her face.

"'S fine." He yawned, outside influences finally catching up with him. God he needed some stability, his head had been spinning before he hookah-turned-make out, and he didn't have it in him to keep fighting the darkness of sleep. "I wanna be yer Puppy."

"Shut up, no you don't."

"I always know wha' I want."

"I think you jump in front'a death too much to know what you want."

Soul scoffed this time, and closed his open eye. "Yer jus' scared I might want you."

Her hand clenched his, but he didn't even react, he was so far gone into the lull of sleep, she could've walked away and he wouldn't have noticed. "Shhh, go to sleep, Puppy, you're drunk."

"Would it bother you that much, if I wanted you?"

"You don't know what you're saying, sleep now Puppy." Her voice was soothing, and he finally lost his consciousness, his body going completely slack, and he pulled her a little closer, his lips almost grazing hers.

"Ya'd be a pretty blonde, by th' way."

"Sleep Soul."

"Yes ma'am"

Oh my God it's so long. I'm so sorry guys! My bad, I tried to skim some stuff, but nothing wanted to leave. I'm so sorry!

Odat: Oh, you and your Wonderland cuddling. I am too good to you ;D Seriously though love, thank you for all the help you've giving me with this, and I'm glad you're still enjoying it!

Silly Twin Stars:

PATCHY. Yes, I love Patchy, and Soul really really really isn't a fan of Patchy. Awh yes, his wondering arm…apparently when you add alcohol to that, he gets excessively cuddly. Ah yes, Soul and Blair are going to be a huge part of the future. ASS AND TITTIES FOR LIFE!

ThatOneChickWhoWritesFanfic:

Yes! I'm glad you like Blair! She doesn't seem get much love!

Sheepeater(x6):

Can I just say thank you for taking your time to review every chapter, I can't even tell you how much you made my day! I'm glad you're enjoying it, and I hope you keep enjoying it! thanks for reading!