A/N: this is not a happy story. You all needed to know that. Originally posted on Tumblr. Figured you might want to join me in my newfound depression from this story. One-shot, and AU from everything.

Atlas was never a warm place to begin with.

The mid-winter blizzard set the city into a deep frost. Scowling, hands in pockets, the middle-aged man trudged through the deep snow, his scarlet cape whipped in the wind. Due to the blizzard, the vast majority of the vendors were closed down, and most Atlas citizens were shut up in their homes. In his early-forties, slim and brooding, Qrow Branwen was quite capable of turning younger heads, and often took advantage of it. However, this day, all he wanted was something to warm his bones by, and an even warmer meal. As he rounded a corner, his eyes grew wide, unmistakably identifying the woman at the nearest stall picking over the vegetables. Her white cloak was now fur-lined, and there were smile lines at the corners of her silver eyes, but there was no doubting her identity. Quietly, he stole up behind her, a small sad smile on his face. As she pulled out the lien for her purchase, the huntsman reached over and beyond her, handing his lien in replacement. The dark haired woman startled, and spun around, her produce spilling out of her grasp. He smiled down at her.

"Hey, Short Stack."

His unmistakable gravelly voice startled her out of her shock, while he stooped to pick up her scattered things. Hands full, he straightened himself, but had no time to offer the items back before being enveloped in a tight hug.

"Qrow!"

An awkward pause passed between them, and Summer Rose abruptly separated herself. Reaching out, she snagged the items from his hands, avoiding his gaze, her cheeks pinking.

"Hey," the huntsman started again, "How have you been, Summer?"

"Um.. well, I'm good…" she opened and closed her mouth multiple times, before finally sighing and dropping her shoulders. "How about you?"

The lanky man shrugged, a sideways smile on his lips. "The same as always. Off to one mission or another, sleeping in crappy beds at rat-hole inns, fighting off Grimm, consistently staying drunk."

Her silver eyes shifted away from him again, seeming to dull in the light.

"…I wouldn't mind that." her words were soft, barely audible over the sound of the falling snow.

Qrow raised a brow.

"Being drunk?"

A sardonic chuckle escaped her lips. "Sure."

He narrowed his eyes at her vague answer, but decided not to pursue. "Well, I'm sure we can find an open bar."

Summer looked up at him, her eyes filled with melancholy.

"I'd like that."

A few hours and a bottle of whiskey (or two) later, the two sat at an empty local park under a pavilion, Qrow's arm over her shoulders, and her head resting on his chest. There had been no open bars, but they found an open liquor store and made their way to where the park they inhabited. They had talked and talked over the last seventeen years, and the years fell away. The years of marriage to a man of comfort than a man of love was gone. Years of loneliness and a drunken haze were gone. They were back in Beacon, laughing and jesting, drinking and reminiscing. In an unguarded moment, Qrow found himself getting lost once more in her silver eyes.

"You've only become more beautiful, Summer," his fingers brushed her cheek of their own volition, "if that's even possible."

Their faces so close, an almost tangible electricity in the air, and they both took a deep breath. His heart hadn't raced this way since that night so many years ago. The last time he had seen her. Qrow shook his head to clear it and turned aside, trying to control his overwhelming feelings.

As the moment sobered, the huntsman tried to move the subject matter more to the recent.

"So, how's Jimmy been?"

Summer's gaze dropped and away.

"He's gone most of the time. Always at the school, or on some mission somewhere else."

His mouth turned down, "I'm sorry."

"Don't be." She pulled away, and sat up, freeing herself of any of his touch. "It's peaceful in the house when he's gone."

"Oh."

Suddenly awkward, he tried to shift the subject again.

"How's the kid? What's her name?"

"Ruby. She's good." the petite woman threw a small smile over her shoulder. "She's almost 16. Not so much a kid anymore."

The lanky man whistled. "Hard to believe you could have a kid that old."

"So could you." She cocked an eyebrow, "I wouldn't say anything if I were you, Mr. Huntsman."

He chuckled, and a pause filled the space.

"She wants to be huntress." her voice startled him.

"Really?"

"Yeah."

"You try to dissuade her?"

"Hell no."

Qrow's head jerked towards her, surprised by the venom in her voice. Deciding that this would once more be a subject that would lead to treacherous ground, he tried to defuse the conversation.

"She going to go to Atlas?"

"HA." She shook her head, a sardonic smile across her lips. "No, she'll go to Beacon."

A feeling of pity welled in his stomach, and he couldn't keep it off his face.

She spotted it, and she dropped her head. "I've missed you, Qrow. I've missed the adventures we would have- in the world, and," she smirked, "in the bedroom. I've missed the comfort of being with you."

He remembered the night he left, truly left, seventeen years before. She had been engaged to Jimmy even then. That had happened not long after he left the first time. But then he had shown up a week before the wedding, and after a night of drinking with his old leader, partner and lover, it led to a night of sharing the same bed. He remembered the letter he had left.

Dear Summer-

As he looked at her now, he realized the damage he truly had done. The huntsman couldn't help but wonder if the damage he had done in leaving was more than it would have been if he had stayed.

I love you. I always have. I always will.

She shook her head, as if clearing the air of her confessions. "Speaking of Ruby: she'll be back from school soon. And I should be there." Summer's eyes were firmly focused away from him.

Please don't forget that. I know by saying that, I'm asking you to hurt.

"The snow's really coming down. I'll hail us a taxi, okay?"

To carry a burden that's not really yours to have to carry. It's mine.

He nodded mutely.

I know you're going to marry James next week. And I know you won't want me there.

The ride was a silent one. He wasn't quite sure who did it, or when it occurred, but he noticed about halfway through the ride that their hands were tightly clutching each others, as if hanging on to their last cord of sanity.

In the long run, Summer, I just want you happy and safe. With me, that'll never happen.

They pulled up to a large, imposing house, white and sterile as the snow swirling around it. Finally gathering enough strength, she turned and met his eyes.

"Walk me to my door?"

Which is why I'm leaving before you wake up. If you wake up, I'm never leaving.

"Okay." His words felt forced through stiff lips.

And I'll never forgive myself when something happens to you. Because it will.

The taxi waited at her driveway, but out of the sight of the door. They walked hand in hand to the door. Never reaching for the door, she turned back to face him.

"Do you still…" She paused, and dropped her eyes again. Heaving a deep sigh, she brought her eyes up to his again.

It always does.

"Do you still love me, Qrow?" Tears gathered in the corners of her eyes.

And I love you too much to see you hurt.

Steadily meeting her eyes, his tears matching hers, he answered her.

"Always."

In a synchronous motion, they both took a half step forward and in the same motion, their lips met. Longing, loneliness, and melancholy filled their kiss, all blended with a buried love. Even as the kiss grew in passion, they both knew this was a goodbye.

As their lips parted, their eyes met again. Dulled, her silver eyes looked tired, and the smile lines at her lips were turned down. She fought to bring her lips into a small smile, even as she bit the inside of her lip to keep her jaw from quivering.

"Goodbye, Qrow."

I'm sorry.

"Goodbye, Summer."

Turning quickly to hide the tears that reached his eyes, he shoved his hands into his pockets, and dropped his head. His long strides were not long enough to outrun the impending sense of failure on his heels.

As he climbed into the taxi, a black and red bundle of energy came bounding up the driveway. He watched as the young silver eyed girl swung a ridiculously large weapon around herself. Finalizing her motion, she stuck the edge of her scythe into the front turf, a familiar sideways grin on her face.

His.

Qrow's breath caught in his chest, and stared her down as the taxi pulled away. All of Summer's words bounced around in his skull along with the calculations, and when he reached the inevitable conclusion, the huntsman dropped his head into his hands and wept.

Ruby Rose retracted her scythe back into it's traveling size, finishing her practice, and bounded the rest of the way to the front door and her mother.

"Mom! Who was that?"

Her eyes were sad, but dry. "An old friend."

"Friend?" she tilted her head to the side. "Like teammate friend?"

"Yeah."

"Wait. Was that Qrow Branwen?"

Summer smirked. "Yeah, it was."

Her daughter let out a low drawl, hands on both sides of her face.

"Uuuughhh…. Mom, why did you let him leave? You know I want to train to be a scythe wielder like him!"

A twinge of pain struck her at her daughter's words, but she fought hard to keep it off her face.

"You'll train under him, I'm sure."

The girl scoffed. "If I can convince Dad to let me go to Beacon."

Summer's face grew hard.

"You're going to Beacon. Let me handle Dad."

"Really?!" her voice raised in pitch. "Honestly," she dropped it to just above a whisper, tilting her head closer to her mother, "I was going to find a way to get there, one way or another."

I'm so sorry.

The older woman smiled. "I know. You're too much like your father not to."