AN: I stayed up late to finish this last chapter-figured you all deserved a break-and a conclusion!-after chapter 11's cliff-hanger.

Chapter 13:

"Not Paper Words"

But apparently he doesn't hide the letter well enough.

"Who are the Evans, anyway?" she asks, one hand still on the doorknob, the other holding a soda.

He leans back in the chair, surveying her coolly from the cushion of his arms. It's been years since she walked into the apartment with that first letter and the same question. He wonders if the things he'd written about her then are still true. She's still liable to put him in a wheelchair, still worships the mom that abandoned her, still takes top score on every test.

(And kicks his ass when he deserves it.)

(And keeps him from flying to pieces when the allure of madness starts to creep back in.)

But she isn't quite so flat and hard and skinny as she'd once been. He's dragged her out to play in the sun with their friends when she'd rather be reading a book indoors, and in return she's built him a stage quite unlike any other that has ever existed in the meister-weapon world. One that he chose to step onto. One not built beneath his feet.

"Ah, you know; I've already told you—my family. Every one a musical genius, every child a protégée for the last 100 years. The goddamn musical dynasty, basically."

She waves her hand impatiently, undaunted by this in a way only Maka can be. "I mean, what are they like? Your mother, your father…your brother…" She tacks this last one on hesitantly. It's a touchy subject, easy to get shut down on.

Instead, Soul shrugs. "Pretty much like you'd expect. Over-involved where they shouldn't be and completely aloof from where a kid would need them. Wes is a bit different—a bit, but not enough…and worse and some ways…" His mouth sets in a grim line. "Anyway, that's about all they are," he finishes.

Maka crinkles her nose, sets down her can of soda and falls onto the bed behind him. Soul swivels his chair lazily to face her, slightly exasperated at how quickly she always makes herself at home in his room.

"Families…they're weird things, aren't they?" muses Maka, staring at the ceiling.

Soul grunts and props his feet up on the bed beside her. "Like some kind of weird experiment that keeps going wrong but no one bothers to fix it." He takes a swig of her soda.

"I wonder if Professor Stein is involved," Maka giggles. Then,

"I suppose we're a family, aren't we, Soul?"

He struggles to swallow. But—

"Tsubaki and BlackStar, Liz and Patti and Kid, I mean. All of us," she continues, and he can breathe again.

They're silent for a few minutes. A warm breeze wanders in from the cracked window. School will start again in a few weeks officially, even if it never really seems to be out for them with all their "extracurriculars".

From where she's lying, Maka extends her hand to Soul. A smile quirks at his mouth. Their hands slap together in a practiced, firm grip, and they pull each other to a stand in one fluid motion. For a moment, they're standing so close that they exchange a breath.

Rattled, Soul throws an arm roughly around his partner's thin shoulders. She grins and winds hers around his waist in a way that really doesn't help.

"Come on, the other halves of the family have dinner plans."

AN: Does that sound too much like the Mafia? That sounds too much like the Mafia. Ggggh. That was totally artistic and on purpose, okay? Cool. Bedtime.

Thanks for sticking with me and my story, everyone! I've had so much fun with this one, in large part because of your guys' continuing enthusiastic response to it. In gratitude, I will name my first born child after you all! Feel the love.