Soul shutters himself into his apartment for a little under a week, plagued by his regrets, his anger, and especially his revulsion towards himself. He is receiving daily messages and calls from his friends, Tsubaki more than the others, but he shuns them all; misery is the only company he wants, the only company he deserves.

Maka has finally lost it. And it's his fault.

The cracks were spreading further and further up and down his body; he had gotten the first one when Maka had been committed to the hospital. He had felt that crack deepen when they told him he should find another partner. Soul had felt himself breaking at that request, but he had sewed himself back together for her. Always for her.

But now, nothing could stop him from shattering. Broken pieces of him were scattered across the apartment; parts on the couch, where he and Maka used to sit, her reading, him watching TV; in the kitchen, where they had cooked together; his room, which she had always rushed into early in the morning to wake her up. Soul is lost without her, broken beyond repair.

In the middle of the sixth day of his own banishment, someone knocks rather loudly on the door. Soul, who has rarely slept, starts at the noise. The only people who have been here lately are the carry out deliverers, and they only came at night. So it has to be one of his friends.

Soul slips back into his bedroom, determined to ignore whoever it is. He doesn't need their pity, he needs Maka. And they sure as hell can't bring her back. So he sure as hell is going to ignore them.

Bent on getting some sleep, Soul shuts his eyes and pretends to be deaf, which is becoming increasingly hard as whoever is out there sounds like they've brought in the S.W.A.T. team to batter down his door. Finally, the banging on his door lets up and he breathes out a sigh of relief. His eyes close once more; he is determined to get some rest.

But then a loud BANG emanates from his front room and Soul sits up with a startled yelp, wondering if someone is about to storm into his room and murder him. "What the hell?!" He shouts, untangling himself from his covers, attempting to see what exactly has just happened. Soul throws open his bedroom door, about to charge out, and comes face-to-face with none other than Black Star.

Once he realizes his best friend is behind all of this, Soul slumps into a slouch, almost-permanent scowl stretching across his face. With a glance over Black Star's shoulder, he also realizes his best friend has broken his door down. No, he's not about to get murdered; but he might do some murdering.

"You idiot," Soul seethes, seeing red. There's a small part of him, tiny really, that is surprisingly happy to see Black Star, but the other 99% is pissed as all get out. "You broke my damn door!"

Black Star blinks, and then his mouth stretches into a maniacal grin. "You should never prevent your rightful God from entering where he wishes!"

Soul is really not in the mood for this. He barely puts up with Black Star's antics on a good day, and today is certainly not a good day. "Black Star, I really don't want to be around anyone right now. So please leave me alone."

Something about Soul's frankness throws Black Star off, and his smug grin slowly fades. "Soul, as your best friend, I need you to understand something. You need to get off your ass and keep living."

It's Soul's turn to be surprised, and then angry. "Keep living? Keep living?!" Soul shouts, lips pulled back in a snarl, and Black Star blinks but weathers the storm. "How could you even say that to me? The one person that keeps me alive, that breathes life into me, is fucking insane and it's my fault! I took her to that point and pushed her past it! How can you tell me to keep living when Maka can't?!"

Soul stops to take in a breath and continue, but Black Star stops him with the simple gesture of placing his hand on his shoulder, and suddenly Soul is breathless and cracking even more and tears begin to leak out of his dull, crimson eyes. Black Star has the grace to not look disturbed, although he does look mildly concerned and frightened by Soul's tears. Soul can't blame him. He's never cried in front of Black Star before.

Black Star isn't much of a hugger, at least where Soul is concerned, but he does try. He wraps an arm around Soul's shoulder and awkwardly pats his shoulder, and lets Soul cry. And cry he does. The dam behind his eyes has finally cracked wide enough to break.

It hurts. It hurts so god damn much that he can barely stand it. Maka, his Maka, is gone and will probably never come back. He did that. Andithurtssomuchhewantstodie-

That thought is finally what brings him back to the surface. Die? No, he doesn't want that. Maka wouldn't want that. He needs to be better, and stronger, for her. For her sake, if not his own.

With that realization, Soul pulls back from Black Star's awkward hug and dries his eyes. Normally he would be embarrassed, but there isn't time for that now. Slowly, Soul meets his best friend's eyes. Something has changed within his eyes, and it shows. Black Star lets out a whoop of happiness, pure elation.

"Soul Eater Evans is back, baby!" Black Star yells to the ceiling, pumping his fist in the air. "Now go save her, dude!"

Soul knows exactly what to do. With a sharp nod at Black Star, Soul pushes around him and starts to run, past his broken door, out of the apartment building, and to his bike. He slips on it, throwing caution to the wind, and bolts for his meister.

Riding is like flying. Even though he's going twenty miles over the speed limit, it takes Soul a good five minutes to reach the hospital. He parks haphazardly in a handicapped spot, prays to Shinigami he won't get a ticket, and rushes inside the hospital.

The nurse knows him by sight, and doesn't bother to wave him over to sign in; he's already running past her anyway. She doesn't yell for him to stop, either; he's been noticeably absent since Maka's breakdown, and they were expecting him back any day now.

When Soul finally reaches Maka's room, he's afraid, and that fear slows him down to a jog, and eventually to a slow walk. Soul reaches her door and hesitates with his hand on the handle. Everything is quiet in there, but he can sense his meister's bizarre, insane soul, and the soul of the kind nurse within.

Last time he was here, Maka was screaming.

Still, something is off. Maka's soul isn't sending off the crazy vibes they usually do. Instead, those wavelengths seem almost…repressed.

Soul knows that this time, he will not back down. He will fix his meister, or he will die trying. With a deep breath, Soul pushes down the handle of the door, and steps inside, quietly shutting the door behind him.

His first instinct is to duck, and he does so; Maka has thrown things at him before. Warily, he stands up and looks around, and is surprised to see Maka calmly lying in bed, asleep. With small, timid steps, Soul walks to the edge of the bed, sharp teeth pressing down into his sensitive tongue. He doesn't want to wake her up.

She looks so odd, not even moving, which sends an alarm bell ringing in his head. They had shared beds before in the past, so he knew how she was asleep. She usually tossed around like a fish out of water, but usually he could settle her down just by putting his hand in hers. This, however, is not normal. Even while she was in here, she tossed around and disturbed the sheets. Now they're neatly tucked around her shoulders.

"We had to put her under sedatives." Soul starts at the sound of another voice, and only relaxes a slight amount when he realizes it's only the nurse. "She was…hurting herself, tearing up the bed, and in constant fear of, well, something. It was for her own good."

Soul notices the cuts and dark bruises on his meister's pale skin, along her hands and arms and even her face, and even though he isn't happy about it, he knows deep down that the sedative is probably for the best.

"That's fine," Soul says, dragging a chair up next to Maka's bed. "I just need to…" Soul reaches for her hand, because her hand is still her hand, long, strong fingers and a small wrist. He's always loved her hands, because they're strong and beautiful like the rest of her. "I need to save her."

The nurse (the name on her tag says Ramirez, he realizes) studies him for a moment. Her brown hair is pulled back in a tight bun, and her blue scrubs have pens in the breast pocket. She has been watching Maka for weeks, during the day shift, and Soul feels a sudden burst of gratitude towards her.

"So save her." Ramirez settles back into her seat by the monitor's and machines that are keeping track of Maka's vitals.

With a deep breath, Soul interlocks his fingers with Maka's. He's nervous, breath puffing quickly past his lips. He can feel her soul if he concentrates on it. His eyes close and he reaches for her, pressing his lips together. Without even realizing it, he leans down to press his forehead to hers. As skin touches skin, soul touches soul, and he is sucked within himself, into the void between two souls.

Deep within herself, Maka Albarn stirs.

When Soul opens his eyes, he is in total and complete darkness. The absence of light. He can feel that he is not contained anywhere, so he drifts, freely.

It feels like hours as Soul floats through the dark, but in reality, it's probably only seconds. He doesn't really know where he's going, he only knows that Maka is his destination.

"Where are you, Maka?" Soul grumbles, thinking that only his meister would be this difficult to find. She's been difficult since day one, but he would never change that. Besides, it might not be her fault; the black blood has devoured most of her. Is there any Maka left to find?

Soul is determined though, so he'll search for the rest of his life if he has to.

After what feels like ages, Soul senses something. With a flash of excitement (it has to be Maka!), followed by a crushing drop of depression, he realizes it's himself. How lovely, another chance to be disappointed and angry with himself.

It's eerie to see his own soul. He looks a little more beaten down than he thought he would, and worn out. He's dark blue on the inside, lightening closer to the edges, appearing faded. His soul mirrors his body, really. Exhaustion makes his entire body droop like a wilted, dying flower.

But this isn't about him.

"I'll find her," Soul confidently tells himself, and drifts off once more, his resolve hardened. As he did when trying to save her in his first botched attempt, Soul releases his feelings: his fears, his insecurities, and the strong as hell love he feels for his meister. He lets those feelings guide him home.

It's slow going now, which Soul takes to mean he's getting closer, and the black blood is slowing his approach. But he can't feel a thing; a brilliant light emanates from him, protecting from the madness he's swimming through. His love for Maka protects him.

Finally, up ahead, he sees it; a tiny wisp of a soul, smaller than his one hand. Just a sliver of his meister is left.

With a roar ripping through his throat, Soul lunges forward, but the black blood is fighting against him; he can barely move now. The black blood is holding him close, and Soul already knows that at this point, if he doesn't save Maka, he is doomed to insanity himself.

Like hell he's going to give up now.

"Maka!" Soul screeches, hands reaching for that small slip of a soul. A growl rips through his throat as he visibly vibrates, straining to reach her, every cell in his body aching to reach her, to save her. But he can't move.

Soul reaches deep within himself, to that place he goes when everything becomes too much for him to bear; when there are too many people around, terrible music, and all of the other extremities that keep him up at night. In this place, Maka is what keeps him company; he can hear her voice and feel her touch on his hand, and he aches within himself because he is so in love with her and he ruined her. Soul would do anything to save her; he would give up himself, he would die for her, just to let her live.

As soon as Soul has that thought, he hears something. Straining his ears, Soul listens again, and is startled to hear it again.

"Soul!"

It's Maka.

Maka.

Makamakamakamakamakamakamaka-

"Fuck, I'm coming!" Soul shouts, and with renewed vigor, strains against the black blood. To his own surprise, he shoots forward, the black blood barely able to hold him back anymore. In no time at all, he's right in front of her, and the force of warmth emanating from her precious soul is staggering.

"Soul. Bring me home," her soul faintly whispers, and because she is Maka and he is Soul and he can deny her nothing, he reaches forward and envelopes the slip of her soul in his arms and holds her close.

He is home.

In the hospital, two pairs of eyes open at the same time, and meet. One pair is a dull crimson, so pale and worn out, they look like a ghost of their former shine. The other pair is a lively green, awake, alive, and sparkling after slumbering for two years.

The crimson eyes do something that is – to him, anyway – considered uncool. They water up with tears, and when those eyes close in a blink, the tears spill over and trail down his pale cheeks.

Maka reaches up and lets her hand brush against his cheek, and she catches one crystal tear on her finger. She pulls her hand away hesitantly, and eyes the wetness on her pointer finger skeptically, like it is fake. But it isn't, and she knows that. She rubs her thumb against her pointer finger, spreading the wetness.

Soul hasn't taken his eyes off of her.

And he never will, ever again.

"Hi," Maka breathes out, eyes meeting his, her voice rough from screams and sore vocal cords. But it's music to Soul's ears; he could record just that little 'hi' and put it on repeat for years. Soul knows, deep down, that this time she will be okay, he will be okay, and they'll be okay together. Lips trembling, he leans down and brushes a kiss to her forehead.

"Hi," Soul answers back, voice wavering, breathless. "You're okay, oh my god, Maka, you're okay, thank Death, I thought I lost you, I thought you were gone for good-"

"Don't be an idiot, Soul. I'll always find my way back to you. I would be a pretty crappy meister if I didn't come back for my weapon." Maka smiles in a way that lights Soul up inside, and god, he's thankful. He's even thankful that he's being called an idiot, because it proves that it really is Maka – he will take being called an idiot for the rest of his life as long as it's Maka saying it.

With a stupid grin on his face, Soul sits back in his seat, the weariness in his eyes fading.

"Okay," he says.

They learn, together, that nothing will ever be like their old normal again. They will have to make a new normal, and deal with the scars that the black blood left on Maka. Nightmares plague her every night. In the hospital, Soul does what he can to calm her down and wake her up. They stay up for hours, just holding each other and breathing.

Things are different back at home. First, Soul has to enlist in the help of the ever-patient Tsubaki to help him clean up the atrocious apartment. It really is disgusting, and Soul will never forget the look on Tsubaki's face when she first walked inside. But, thankfully, she helps without even saying anything rude. (And, yes, Soul manages to put the door back on its hinges.)

Maka also moves into his room to sleep in his bed with him. Soul holds her at night, comforts her when she wakes up, and loves her with every beat of his heart. She does better when she sleeps next to him, and Soul briefly wonders if it's because her soul reaches out to his while she sleeps. He feels it, sometimes, in the dead of night. And he always reaches back.

Once things are more concrete, things are easier, but Maka's nightmares never fully go away, never really will. Sometimes, Soul gets sucked into them too, from their soul wavelength's melding in their sleep.

Soul teachers her how to reach deep within herself and find that special happy spot that keeps her grounded, that anchors her to sanity. Maka always shudders when she finds it, and her lips part in a sigh of relief.

Months later, Maka tells him that he's always there in that happy spot, just like how she's always there in his.

Soul isn't surprised. He's felt what comes off of her soul, felt her emotions, and he knows that she's felt his own feelings off of his wavelength. They gravitate towards each other like they always have. This time, though, lips brush each other's and the hand holding means a little more to them.

As long as Soul and Maka are together, they'll be able to reach deep within and find what keeps them grounded. And they live out the rest of their lives, comfortable with that knowledge.