~Walls that we just can't break through~

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He thinks that things have gone back to normal. Well, normal for them, at least. Since her outburst about his scar and her perceived failure and getting stronger, Soul had assumed that everything was all right. Apparently, he had been wrong.

"Soul." He stops at the sound of her voice because he knows that tone, and he tries not to think about the fact that he's dripping water on the floor and that she's probably going to start yelling at him about that in a minute, too.

"What?" he asks, eyes narrowed, voice guarded.

"Does it hurt?"

He blinks. "Haah?" And then she's in his face, mouth set in a grim line. "What are you talking about, crazy?"

"Does. Your. Scar. Hurt." She says it slowly, pointedly. Before, Soul thinks, he couldn't force Maka to look at his scar. Now, her eyes burn a hole into his chest. He shifts.

"Noooo, not really. Why?"

She's still staring at his scar; he touches a hand to it and rubs it self-consciously.

"Because you keep doing that!"

"Huh?"

"Touching your scar!" Her voice is starting to get shrill, and if he didn't know better, panicky.

He blinks again and looks down at his hand. "Oh. It's just...something that I do."

She scowls at him-full on glare time. He really doesn't want to mention that the damn thing aches pretty much constantly, because it isn't really a problem, and she looks like she's about to rip his head off for no reason that he can grasp. "It's a nervous habit," he offers instead. "Like you chewing on your lip." Her scowl deepens, and said lip pops out in a familiar pout.

"I do not."

Soul raises an eyebrow and his hand darts out to her chin, thumb brushing across her lower lip. He can feel every inch of gnawed skin. The intimacy of the gesture isn't lost on either of them, but it doesn't distract her like he had hoped it would. Instead, she presses her palm against his chest, and he tries not to have traumatic flashbacks from the last time she did this.

She demands, "This doesn't hurt?" Her face is scarlet, and Soul can't tell if it's from anger or embarrassment-either seems pretty likely at this stage.

"Uh, no." And it's maybe not the whole truth, but the damn thing certainly doesn't hurt nearly as bad as it used to; the ache is something he barely registers anymore.

She jabs one finger into it. "You sure?"

He winces. "Ow, what the fuck, Maka?"

"AH-ha!" She makes to poke him again, but he snatches her hand.

"Of course it fucking hurts when you stab it with your boney finger, woman!" She tries to tug her hand away, but Soul won't let it go. He scowls. "What is wrong with you?"

Her lip is jutting out again. "Nothing!"

"Bullshit, nothing. It's like you're trying to find something wrong with me and pick a fight. You want there to be something wrong with me?"

She stills in his grasp. "No...I-I'm not, I don't-"

"What is it then?" His eyes are earnest as they bore into hers. She looks away first.

"I want to fix it," she says finally, voice barely audible. He loosens his grip on her wrist in surprise and she tugs her hand back, but not before he recovers and tangles his fingers with hers.

"Maka, there's nothing to fix. It's all healed up." Healed, he supposes, is relative thanks to Stein's inability to not leave horrifying scars; in the long run, Soul is just grateful that Stein didn't take anything else out while his chest was open market.

She stares at their hands for a moment, brow knitting. "It's not healed, Soul. Not really. You've still got the black blood in you, and I can't-"

"You can't what? Deal with it?" She nods and he scoffs. "Well, that's too bad, 'cause you're going to have to. Stein says there's no way to get it out any time in the near future. And besides," he continues, watching her face cloud over. "I've told you before. This wasn't your fault. This was my fault."

It was, he realizes a little too late, the exact wrong thing to say. Her fingers tighten on his, and it's absurd that he might have ever forgotten how strong her grip is. She pushes him back, never letting go of his hand.

"How can you say that? How is this not my fault? Cause I keep thinking about it and thinking about it and I can't sleep because I've thought about it every possible way, and it all adds up to my fault."

"Well, it's not, so stop it. I made the choice-"

"You wouldn't have had to make the choice in the first place if I hadn't fucked up!" She screams it, and he can't pretend that he doesn't see the tears in her eyes.

"Jesus, Maka," he says, voice quiet. Her chest heaves with rage, pain...Soul can't tell, and he's not really sure that it matters in the end. He tightens his own hand. "I don't care." Her face darkens. "Even if you hadn't frozen, I would have been there. Maka, I will always be there, in front of you, even if you don't need it or want it."

"That's stupid! I'm your meister, Soul, I'm supposed to keep you safe, to make you stronger-"

"And that's fucked! I'm your weapon; I'm the one who is supposed to protect you. You stubborn-"

"I'm stubborn? You can't admit that I'm right!"

"The hell you are! This is a partnership, Maka!" Their voices have been steadily rising again, and he drops his suddenly. He's tired of them screaming past each other. Soul squeezes her hand and forces her to look at him. "If you think for one minute that I would ever let you get hurt just to save myself-what the hell kind of man do you take me for?"

She won't look him in the eyes, the fire going out of her, shoulders slumping and she halfway collapses on him. Her head fits perfectly into the hollow of his shoulder, and Soul wonders if they've finally reached the truth of the matter. "It's not you, ok. I...I'm not fit you be your meister, Soul. It is a partnership, but I can't fulfill my end of the bargain." He's silent for a moment.

"So that's it, then." She remains quiet, still, and he can just barely make out the shallow feel of her breath against him. "You're just going to what, leave me? Is that it?" She looks up at that he notes, heart sick with satisfaction. It's not enough. "You know, I never took you for the kind of girl who would leave her partner. If I had thought you were a quitter-"

"I'm not quitting!" she protests, but it's half-hearted at best.

"Really? 'Cause that's exactly what it sounds like. It sounds like you're giving up, and you're leaving me and all because you can't deal with the fact that I care about you enough to try and protect you."

"I'm releasing you from your obligation to me-that's different."

"The fuck it is. You can dress it up anyway you like, but you're still the one leaving."

She looks up at him then, and there is no hiding the wetness of her eyes, though she doesn't sniffle or sob. "I guess I am, then." She pulls away from him, her body tense with defeat. This is not what he had had in mind. She gets as far as turning away from him when he blurts out,

"What makes you think this is an obligation, Maka?"

She stills, and he'll take it because at least she's not walking away yet. "Because we're partners."

"Are you, like, using some kind of nerd-brain alien definition of 'partners' that I don't know about? Because this is a partnership, not some kind of shitty business arrangement." He can see the line of her spine shift slightly, and he presses his advantage. "Is this a business arrangement to you, Maka?"

She spins back, and he likes that the fire in her eyes is coming back. "Of course not!"

"Then stop treating it like one. I don't know about you, well-I thought I did, but I was apparently mistaken-but this isn't some sort of obligation," he spits the word out. "There is no force in the world that could keep me here if I didn't want to be here, Maka." He watches her swallow harshly and steps forward slowly, cautiously. She doesn't bolt, and he moves forward again, snakes a hand out to grab hers again. "You know what that means?" She shakes her head, unable to look away. Soul grins a little, "Yeah you do. It means there's no force in the world that can make me leave, either."

"And if I leave?"

He refuses to look away. "Then you leave. You give up on our partnership, on our mission. You give up on us."

"Us?"

"Us," he says, tugging on her hand until she's practically leaning into him again. "I can't make you stay, and I won't. There is no...obligation, just you and me, and us and our partnership."

Her free hand, trapped between them, traces down his scar. "And when I get you killed?"

"You won't."

"I already nearly did, Soul."

He rests his forehead against hers. "Stop being stupid. We live in a world where death is always a possibility. If it's not me in danger, it's you, and I at least have a higher chance of surviving if I get creamed."

"I can't deal with you getting hurt, especially because of me. If I freeze again like that-"

"You won't."

She pokes at his chest. "You don't know that, Soul! You have no idea what I will or won't do-hell, Idon't know if I'll freeze up again."

"I know you, Maka. You won't."

"Goddammit, Soul." She pulls her head back and thumps it against his lightly. "Stop acting like this is a joke."

"Does it look like I'm laughing?" He sighs. "You can leave. I said I wouldn't make you stay. But you're throwing us away if you do-you're throwing your dream away."

"My dream doesn't mean shit if you're dead, Soul."

Soul can't decide if he wants to shake her or scream more. It's a toss up. "Trust me," he says instead. "You've trusted me not to leave, to have your back-can't you just trust me on this?" He cups her jaw with one hand, pulls back to tilt her face towards his. "That's all I'm asking. Trust in me to stay alive. I'm not trying to throw my life away."

"God," she says, eyes searching his for something. The corners of her mouth twitch slightly. "I don't know which of us is more of an idiot-you for saying it, or me for believing you."

"I'd go with you," he says, lips quirking as Maka glares at him. He feels almost normal again, looking at his meister's scowl. But there's still doubt lurking in her eyes, and he doesn't know how to fix it. He can't make her understand that he would die for her, that she's strong enough, that he's the one who needs to be a better weapon, that she didn't do anything wrong-

He just smirks at her, though. It's all he can really do.