"Acceptance" – a joint venture between Silent Epiphany and StandingOnTheRooftops
Disclaimer: Nothing owned, nothing gained.
Warnings: Yaoi (as well as het), a pinch of madness!Stein, mild gore, mild language, some various other implications.
Pairings: Stein x Spirit, Soul x Maka
Author's Notes: This is based between episodes 24 and 25 of the anime series. Rating is subject to change, so be forewarned!
*Spirit and Stein are written by Silent Epiphany
*Soul and Maka are written by StandingOnTheRooftops
Did she have to abuse him like this?
Under any normal circumstances, he'd protest-loudly-to such brutal treatment. But circumstances were far from normal, so he kept quiet as his partner and meister attempted to use him as leverage to slow Asura's ascent.
"COME BACK HE~RE!" She screamed up at the demon, gritting against the rocks and dirt that rained down upon her.
And then, in less than the blink of an eye, they were free-falling. Asura flew above them... and they were falling.
No, his mind whispered. Maka, he thought, unaware that he'd spoken her name aloud. She'd never be able to survive this fall; not unconscious. He transformed in mid-air, keeping hold of her hand. No thought for his own self, he just prayed she'd be okay. He tugged her over the top of him, wrapping his arms tight around her and closing his eyes as the ground rushed up at them.
He felt the jar throughout his body as they crashed through a stand of crates. Crates? He thought, a part of him giddy with relief. 'Bout damn time they got some good luck, even if it hurt like hell.
"I have... to stop... th' kishin," she muttered, half-open eyes staring up, a shaking hand reached out.
Even now, half-unconscious, Maka wanted to keep fighting. Unbelievable, he thought. She was truly amazing sometimes with her dedication and will. But he'd never tell her that; not to her face at least.
"You're something else, you know that, right?" He asked softly, holding her close as she finally fainted and gave in to the darkness.
She'd taken on way too much of a beating tonight; even her will couldn't keep her awake even to see the fight between Shinigami-sama himself and Asura. Then again... he doubted she'd have been too thrilled with the outcome. She'd probably insist on chasing the demon down herself.
He shook his head as he gathered up his friend and partner. He might make fun of her sometimes. For something in her appearance, or her book-worm personality. But he did respect her. Hell…he more than respected her. He liked her, admired her. She was brave; how many times did she throw herself head-first into a battle where the odds were against her? She was strong; she was a scythe meister, after all, and so had to be physically and mentally strong. She was smart; top of their class, even if she was sort of a klutz sometimes. She was kind; hadn't she proved that just tonight against the child with the demon sword? And she was determined. She'd won the Crona kid over, and then continued on to try and chase after Asura. And, despite what he said, she was beautiful. When she smiled, her jade eyes lit up like green sunshine.
Their souls resonated perfectly. Not all the time, but there were times. So close, he could all but feel her emotions. So close they were more one being than two. Two fighting as one.
And more than all of that, he thought as he carried her back towards the small apartment they shared. She was his.
His partner, his meister.
His friend.
His…love?
Did he love her? Of course. She was his friend, after all. But…did he love her more than that? Differently?
He looked over his shoulder. Her head was resting there, her ash blond hair falling in wisps out of their usually perfect pigtails. With every step he took, strands brushed his bruised cheek, softer than a feather. Then he looked up at the moon, casting its shadows across the city.
Yeah, he sighed mentally. It was hopeless. He couldn't help but fall in love with her.
…Flashback…
"What're you reading?" He asked, leaning down over the chair she was cuddled up in, trying to read the words of the book in her hands. Call him nosy, call him curious. Or just call it an excuse to smell her. Years of working together…she smelled like home. That was the only way to describe it. She was his home. Within any darkness, she was the light that shined the way, always burning bright. She was his moon, his star. Home.
"It's a fairy tale," she smiled, glancing up at him with those large green eyes. She babbled for a bit about a girl-a princess naturally-in love with a boy-a commoner-and the trials they had to go through to be with one another.
"You believe in this?" He asked, tapping the book.
"Of course," she said, looking at him quizzically. "Everyone believes in love, don't they? Everyone has someone out there that's perfect for them."
"Everyone?"
She nodded. "Everyone. Even a lazy-bones like you," she added with a grin.
…End flashback…
What would she say if she heard his thoughts now? A perfect someone… a soul-mate. She was his soul-mate. He couldn't doubt that for a moment. Had she ever thought that..?
No. He wouldn't go there. Not now. He'd only torture himself with those thoughts…and his thoughts were full enough of things that tormented him as it was.
He'd meant it when he told her he'd die for her. In a heartbeat. She was his soul mate. She was home, and she always would be. She muttered something against his cheek. He couldn't tell what, but it didn't matter. At least her dreams seemed peaceful, he thought, arriving at their home.
It was awkward, trying to get into the apartment with her supported across his back. But he managed somehow, both with the front door and the door to her room as well.
As gently as he could, he lowered her down onto the softness of her bed. She let out a small sound, somewhere between a moan and a sigh, and he could almost feel the tenseness seep out of her. She really should sleep more, he thought. Without thinking, he took off her gloves and unbuckled her boots, slipping them off along with her socks. He moved up, unbuttoning her coat. Supporting her as gently as he could, he slid it down her shoulders before laying her gingerly back down.
He paused, observing her quietly as he pondered calling Tsubaki to come change her into her night clothes. He didn't feel like enduring the Maka Chop that he was bound to receive if he dared undress her himself, but he didn't think she'd be very comfortable in these dirty clothes. And really…who was to say she wasn't injured? But no. He couldn't call Tsubaki. She'd be tending to Black*Star right now. Emotionally and physically, he suspected. Star had taken a beating from what little he'd seen, and Tsubaki would likely have to talk him down and patch him up. Liz and Patti would likely be doing the same for Kid. Keeping up with those two boys were full time jobs for those three poor girls.
At the end of his internal battle, he decided on gently taking the bands out of her hair to keep it from getting even more matted than it already was, and removing her vest and her tie and un-tucking her shirt. At least she'd not be as constricted. And he could always check her over for injury tomorrow. Since he was calling her in, after all.
Oh, she'd have a fit, he smirked, turning her alarm off. But she needed her rest, and he doubted any teacher would really blame them, after the night they'd had tonight. It'd probably be best to call and let them know what had happened to them, anyway. He was surprised that that crazy Papa of Maka's wasn't banging on the doors already.
That's when he started to wonder what happened to everyone else. Kid, Black*Star, Tsubaki, the Thompson sisters. Professor Stein, Maka's father, Sid. Even that annoying little demon-swordsman. So many people were involved tonight. So many people probably hurt. Had anyone been seriously hurt? What about Medusa? Had Stein and Death Scythe held her off? And where the hell was Blair? What had she been doing tonight?
His mind reeled with thoughts of friends and companions. This had to be one fucked up night. But through all of that…he came back to one thing over and over again. Despite the uncertainty surrounding tonight's events and the fates of the people he knew…there was only one thing that mattered. He wondered if it made him less human, or more so, that the only thing he cared about was Maka.
She was safe, she was here. He had Maka. Did that make him a bad friend to everyone else? Not that they mattered less...but that she mattered more? He sighed, trying to shake off those depressing thoughts.
He turned back, looking down at her. She'd moved restlessly, just a bit. One hand tossed up by her head, the other sprawled blindly across the bed.
He couldn't help but smile. Yeah, she was important. Yeah, she was beautiful, with the moonlight streaming in over her, making her glow. He might not tell her, now… or ever…but she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen. He picked up the hand that was sprawled towards him, kissing the bruised knuckles softly before setting it back down on the bed.
"Sleep well, my Maka," he sighed, then turned and left the room. Left her, and left the words…
Those words he couldn't say to her, wouldn't say to her. Those words he wanted to say, the words he needed to say. They wouldn't come out. Except in quiet times like this, where she couldn't hear.
Secrets kept between him and the paper moon hanging in the sky.
Failure was an unfamiliar feeling for Death Scythe. Even paired with his old partner, who was touted as the most skilled ever to graduate from Shibusen, their best hadn't done. Sure, they'd defeated their enemy, but she was just an obstacle in the way of their ultimate goal. A goal they hadn't met. Asura had awakened, and now they were all in grave danger.
Because of that, Spirit figured the best thing to do would be to return to Shinigami's side, where he should have been from the very beginning. But as soon as he arrived, he found himself sent away just as quickly. As if the unusually cutting tone of the Reaper's voice wasn't disconcerting enough, the instruction he'd given was worse.
"Go to him," Shinigami commanded gravely, "With the madness wavelength spreading, he can't be left alone. We'll handle things here."
The order had made Spirit grumble to himself under his breath. But, as much as he hated constantly being assigned as the one to watch over Stein, Shinigami had a valid point. With the reemergence of Asura's madness wavelength, there was no telling what would become of the scientist if he was left to his own devices. His sanity was fragile enough on the average day, after all.
Pushing back his blazer, Spirit stuffed his hands into the pockets of his slacks and grudgingly made his way toward his former meister's laboratory.
Though he'd been spending entirely too much time with Stein lately, he couldn't deny that being in his grasp again as his weapon was a familiar sensation a part of him had missed. They had stopped being partners ages ago, long before he became Death Scythe, yet they resonated just as strongly as they had in the past, if not more so.
Maka's mother, Kami, had dismissed Stein as not just a lunatic but an inherently evil man, and had little trouble getting her then-husband to see things similarly. Over time, her influence distorted Spirit's perception of the scientist, erasing all he previously knew to be fact and replacing it with fear.
And so it remained until they found themselves partnered again. But, when their souls reconnected for the first time in over a decade, Spirit could feel the old memories flooding back.
The closer he and his former meister got, the higher they resonated, and the more he began to recall what Stein was truly like. Was he deranged? Yes. Sadistic? Probably. But evil? Not a chance. At the core, they were actually strikingly similar. Both of them shared the same hedonistic nature, with the defining difference between the two of them being that Stein's pleasures came from a much different source. But despite his deviously brilliant mind, the scientist had a kind heart. Spirit had sensed it on more than one occasion, since everybody felt something when they resonated with their partner.
…Everybody except Stein, apparently. But that was in the past, and perhaps it was better if he didn't know, since it wouldn't make a difference anyhow.
…
"Stein?" Spirit called with a knock to the heavy doors. "Stein, it's me. Open up."
There was no answer. Good thing Stein never kept his laboratory locked.
Pulling open one of the doors, Spirit's eyes immediately fell upon a disturbing sight: Stein, only clothed from the waist down, was soaked with blood, along with the scalpel he still held in one trembling hand. Instead of suturing the deep gash he'd suffered during the fight with Medusa, he was worsening it—exploring it…digging in it. So that was what the madness wavelength was truly capable of doing to Stein. In which case, Spirit had definitely arrived far too late.
Seeing the silhouette of his partner fall along the floor of the laboratory, the scientist froze. The round overhead lights he used during his dissections glared off the lenses of his glasses, hiding his eyes from view as he stared back at the weapon. Spirit felt a chill crawl up his spine as his former meister's mouth slowly pulled upward into a frenzied grin that paralyzed him on sight.
And in the bat of an eye, Stein was upon him like a wolf on prey.
Spirit felt the oxygen rush from his lungs as the crazed scientist abruptly shoved him against the wall of the laboratory with bruising force. The tip of the bloodied blade he held pointed directly at his carotid artery, millimeters away from piercing the flesh that concealed it.
"What are you doing? Get a hold of yourself, Stein!" the human weapon snapped, but the words fell on deaf ears.
In just the short time they'd been apart, Stein had been consumed by the madness within him. His green irises were tightly constricted in a manic stare. Their piercing gaze cut straight through the lenses of his glasses as though they weren't there. Though he'd been the mad scientist's informal caretaker nearly since the day they'd met, Spirit still found the sight of Stein in such a state deeply disturbing.
"Snap out of it, Stein!"
"So glad you came, Spirit," Stein hissed, his lips pulling back into a sinister snarl full of perfect white teeth. "Now we can pick up where I left off..!"
Spirit had no idea what to do. If he struck Stein, or somehow transformed and otherwise injured him, he'd be dead for certain. Attacking him was a fool's errand, and traditional methods wouldn't work in this situation.
The scientist lurched in closer, his breath caressing Spirit's cheek as his fingers dully clawed at the sutured walls of his laboratory. Stein was far too gone this time; it would take something drastic to pull him back from the depths of his insanity. Spirit could feel his heart slam against his throat as the tip of the blade began to tickle his skin.
There was one thing he could try. Something he'd always longed to do…something crazy and unexpected enough that it just might work.
As Stein leaned in ever closer, Spirit closed the remaining gap between them and pressed their lips together.
It wasn't as Spirit had hoped or imagined a kiss between them would be, but it did do its job. The scalpel once aimed at his neck clattered to the floor, and the pressure on his shoulders that pinned him to the wall gradually rescinded. Unconventional as it was, Spirit's plan had worked.
Stein's eyes were wide and unblinking as the madness that once engulfed his consciousness progressively dissipated and he began to fade back to reality. What had he been doing? When had Spirit come in? He vaguely remembered suturing his own wounds, and he'd most definitely been alone when he was doing so. Furthermore, why did he have the human weapon—his companion and partner—pinned against the wall? He could never forgive himself if he'd let the madness overtake him to the point where he hurt Spirit. Thankfully, it didn't appear as though he had. But then why were his companion's sapphire eyes downcast? Just what had gone on..?
Through the torn, ragged flesh on Stein's abdomen, Spirit could see a steady flow of blood dribbling onto the floor, pooling around their feet. If it was truly all his own, he'd lost far too much. The fact that he was even still standing was a testament to his strength.
"…Senpai?"
His partner's voice was calm but more than a little confused, which was the norm for incidents such as these. It was reassuring to hear.
"Stein…" Spirit's face was fraught with worry, "…you're hurt."
Stein's jade gaze dropped to the crimson puddle they stood in, and, startlingly enough, he let out a small chuckle. "Don't worry. It's not that bad."
The weapon gave his companion an incredulous look. "Coulda fooled me..."
…
Spirit watched as the scientist cleaned and sutured his wound with no anesthetic, and no assistance. Though the sight of it made his stomach turn, he couldn't look away. How anyone was capable of such a thing was mind-boggling. But, from the looks of Stein's upper half, he'd had plenty of practice beforehand.
In the past, Spirit had been there to save him from himself; to ease him down from the brink of insanity. In the wake of his absence, Stein had gone off the deep end in his experimentations. Every time they bumped into one another it seemed he had more scars, more sutures. Without someone else to dismantle…to dissect…he used himself as his own test subject, eventually going so far as to drive a screw through his own head. Spirit couldn't so much as fathom the dynamics of such, but if anyone could do it without killing themselves, it was Stein.
Despite the blood loss and the pain he had to be feeling, when finished with the procedure the scientist nonchalantly climbed down from his table and went about cleaning up the rest of the mess. There were few words between them, even as Stein retreated to his quarters to change out of his blood-soaked clothing and settle into bed.
Though it'd been over a decade, the situation was déjà vu. Thus, as his companion settled himself down under the heavy blanket on his bed and rolled onto his side toward the wall, Spirit knew what he needed to do.
Silently, he retrieved the wheeled office chair from another room and took a seat on it in the manner Stein always did. Folding his arms over the chair's back, Spirit lay his cheek down on the sleeve of his blazer. Once again, he'd found himself roped into another long night.
…
All was quiet and still. So Spirit had gone?
No. He hadn't left. Stein could still feel the warm, familiar presence of his soul nearby.
"Senpai…"
At the sound of the soft whisper, Spirit lifted his head. "Hm?"
"You don't have to stay."
"And leave you alone after all that?" the weapon scoffed, lowering his chin down onto his folded arms. "Like hell."
Unseen by his companion, Stein allowed himself a smile, and let his eyes slide closed.
As the room fell into complete silence once more, Spirit's gaze ambled about the area, pausing at the nightstand where Stein's glasses sat idly. As he stared through the lenses, he gave in to the memories that flooded his consciousness.
For five years, he'd lived with this man. He claimed them to be torturous, but in truth, it wasn't all bad.
Contrary to what others would believe, there truly wasn't a malicious bone in Stein's body. There were, however, many demons. In their time together, Spirit had spent many a night charged with the task of watching over his meister, making certain those evils dwelling within him wouldn't have their way. He couldn't lose Stein to the madness…he meant too much to him to allow that. And so, night after night, he would help chase away the demons. In his mind's eye, he could still clearly see Stein as he was before they parted ways; the way he looked before the years—and the madness—drew lines across his countenance. Only when his face was slack and peaceful did his innocence truly show. Despite the madness dwelling within him, there was something nearly angelic about him as he slept.
Those five years of spending every waking moment together, joining and unjoining their souls, watching him sleep on nights when the madness dwelling within him chased him to insanity, or when he was ill or injured…they meant something. Maybe not to Stein, but surely to Spirit. It was impossible to spend so much time with one person and not feel something; especially considering the degree of their involvement. Together, they were the most revered—and the most feared—partnership in all of Shibusen history. Their souls harmonized to an uncanny degree, making them capable of amazing feats.
Those days together were some of the happiest in Spirit's life. His time with Stein only truly became hell when he began to come aware of his feelings for the scientist.
The one and only time he thought his partner might have felt similarly—or at least understood—was also one of the few times he consciously recalled being Stein's patient…
…Flashback…
It was while they were procuring one of their final souls. Thinking their victory was sealed, Spirit returned to his human form.
…But it was just a bit too soon for that.
The blow had been intended for Stein, and it would have blindsided him had Spirit not pushed him from its path, almost eviscerating himself in the process. Nearly simultaneous with the shove, the young meister could hear the familiar sound of the tearing of flesh, and the tell-tale choking gasp of pain. Whirling around, he could see mortally wounded Spirit sag to his knees, the hot, sticky crimson of his blood pouring onto the concrete.
"Spirit!"
As their cowardly foe escaped, the meister retrieved his partner, sweeping Spirit up into his arms without hesitation. At the rate he was hemorrhaging, Shibusen was too far. But his personal laboratory wasn't.
As he made haste to get help for his injured partner, words between them were surprisingly scarce. Despite his actions meriting such, Stein made no disdainful remarks, no mention of his weapon's foolishness, or anything of the like.
Spirit's breath hitched in his throat and he coughed hoarsely, sending out specks of blood. His vision began to swim as the life rushed from him, making him weaker; defeating him more with each passing second.
"Stay with me, senpai!"
Stein hauled his partner's limp body back to the laboratory, both of them soaked in his blood by the time they arrived. In his haste, the meister brushed everything from his table onto the floor to make room for Spirit, immediately tearing back the weapon's clothing to see the full extent of the wound.
There was no glee in his eyes then. Despite the fact that he was getting to do what he loved to do, he didn't appear to take any joy in it. Instead, his face was grave and serious.
Spirit's consciousness wavered, beginning to fade in and out.
As the pain and shock of injury pulled him under at last, the final thing he remembered discerning was concern—no, panic—in Stein's jade irises as he worked fervently to mend the wound…
And the next thing he knew, he was within the warmth and comfort of a bed. Clean white sheets were pulled up to armpit height, with only one limb lying exposed atop the sea of colorless fabric.
Stein seemed to know the exact moment he came to.
"Ah, so you're awake..."
Before his eyes would focus, he could hear the sound of a wheeled chair rolling toward him, and smell the unmistakable scent of cigarette smoke. Pushing back the section of scarlet hair that always hung in his face, Stein's slender fingers danced over his forehead for all too brief a moment, checking for fever.
"Don't try to move," he stated in a hushed voice. "The wound is healing fine, but you need to rest."
As the world came back into clear view, he could see Stein draw in a breath, taking a long drag from a cigarette and blowing smoke up toward the ceiling. There were lines of fatigue drawn across his face. Had he gotten any sleep at all? Just beyond him on a nightstand was an ashtray overflowing with various oddly smashed cigarettes. If he had rested, he hadn't gone far to do so.
Just as Spirit began to groggily ponder his meister's motives for being so vigilant, Stein gave the back of his exposed hand a brief pat.
"Try to go back to sleep, senpai."
...End flashback…
For Spirit, the very definition of true torment was loving someone who knew nothing of the concept. The scenario with Stein, however, was far worse than just that: Not only was the meister completely ignorant of love, but he hadn't the slightest desire to learn anything about it. He was far too consumed with science, his studies, and his experiments.
Seeing no point in pursuing the idea further, Spirit found himself taking an approach similar to that of his oblivious companion. He preoccupied himself with the company of multiple women, reveling in whatever love and attention he could garner.
But everything changed when he met Kami.
Spirit still hadn't forgotten the look on his meister's face when the woman who would become his wife came to say she was going to become the scythe's new partner. Stein had dismissed it with a small chuckle as he pushed his glasses up on the bridge of his nose with a slender index finger.
"Fine," he'd said, and acerbically turned his back. "Good luck to the both of you."
But in the split second before he spoke, Spirit swore he could see hurt in his eyes. Then again, clouded judgment made it tough to discern between what he wanted to see and what was actually there.
Stein's work with the scythe had been nearly complete when she entered the picture. He had strived for years to gather the souls necessary to turn his weapon partner into a Deathscythe. In the end it was Kami who completed the task and got all the credit when she'd only finished a job forged on Stein's own sweat and blood.
After the new partnership's great achievement, things between them soured remarkably quickly. He was never truly Spirit Albarn anymore after she completed him…he became Death Scythe to everyone, including her. The more time passed, the more Spirit began to see that Kami loved him not as an individual, but as an accomplishment of hers. One she'd moved on from.
To make matters worse, Stein had moved on as well. Though he'd never admit it for any reason, seeing his former meister with a young woman on his arm evoked far more emotion than just surprise from Spirit.
Everything had happened for a reason, though. Had he never left to be with Kami, she wouldn't have given birth to the most important person in his life: their beautiful daughter Maka.
At the thought of her, an unsettling feeling crept into his gut. He hadn't heard anything about her whereabouts since Stein mentioned her during the battle with Medusa. Had she been injured? Was she okay? His pulse began to race. He wasn't blessed with the ability to sense souls like she and Stein were, and he wasn't about to attempt to wake the sleeping scientist to ask that favor of him. He'd just have to go and confirm it for himself. Sure, he had strict orders not to leave Stein's side, but he'd already angered Shinigami-sama, so what did he truly have to lose?
Springing up from his patchwork seat, he briefly tugged his black blazer up onto his shoulders and headed for the door.
As his hand grasped the knob, a soft noise from his slumbering companion as he sleepily rolled over stopped him in his tracks.
Spirit's head drooped. Just as much as he needed to go and see that his darling daughter was safe, he knew Stein needed him to stay. The difference was that, much as he hated to admit it, Maka did have someone to look after her.
Sapphire eyes turned to his resting companion, and that serene face that he'd missed the sight of so dearly. Just the same as he himself was obligated to look after the scientist, Soul had a duty to protect and care for Maka.
Settling back down onto the sutured chair, he sighed softly to himself. He had no choice but to trust in their partnership and try to ease his worried mind, since, for the time being, his place was with Stein.
ANs: Read and review! ^_^ Please? Because we love it when that happens!