Author's Note: Hey all, this is the last RWBY fanfiction I'll post for a while. I'd feel wrong continuing on after what happened.
This idea settled over me and became a way to walk myself through the grieving. No really; I did grieve, and had to pause while writing the end scene. The idea wanted to go in a few different directions, but ultimately I went with with my instincts.
And I really don't know what Neo is doing here. My heart just wanted her in, so I listened.
"Go visit the grave."
Yang stared at Blake, the bags heavy under her eyes. She didn't think she heard right.
Blake didn't avert her gaze. "Go visit the grave," she said again, and Yang's eyes blazed. What right did Blake have, telling her what to do?
"I do what I want," she said, putting her hands on the table in the middle of the room. She waited for Blake's expression to change. It didn't. The girl stayed deadpan and silent.
"I said," Yang repeated, "I do what I want."
The table rattled. Yang had slammed it, Ember Cecilia fastened around her wrists. She leaned into Blake's face. Not even a blink.
Yang gave up. "Go away," she said, and Blake heeded the exile from their room.
When the door clicked shut Yang sank. Her head hit the table with a thud. She was shaking, grasping the corners with curled fingertips. A bird twittered outside somewhere in the cloudless sunny day. Yang pressed herself harder into the table, wishing it could obliterate her from existence. She smelled dried ink, felt the cold hard plastic on her nose. Cheap invention. She hated it. She almost threw it, but then she'd see again. She couldn't see. She willed herself to not look up, to not drift to the bed hanging haphazardly from the ceiling, the way its outer cover made a tent that Yang didn't deserve to crawl under and hide and hide and hide.
Ruby Rose had been dead for three weeks.
Neo came next, like the shadows in a dream. Yang squinted at the end of the hallway, bringing herself into focus.
They had both gone into the administration building long after evening arrived. Yang wandered, aimless; she might not have known where she was. Neo had sat against one of the wooden triangles that arced along the ceiling. When Yang heard the thump it connected instantly. She'd turned, fists clenched.
"You were waiting."
She was still adjusting to the lack of light. Neo remained motionless as the night washed over her, face blank, parasol low in her hands. Somewhere in the building a generator hummed.
Yang wasn't dreaming. "Why did you follow me?" Neo said nothing. "I don't need to be followed, Neo," said Yang. "You don't need to check on me. I'm fine on my own." There was a tremor in her chest. "You want to go keep an eye on somebody?" said Yang. She stepped forward, pointing right at the bridge of Neo's nose. "I'll tell you. I'll tell you who you should have followed, who you should kept an eye on…"
The words choked through her teeth. Neo blinked. Yang sighed impatiently and turned away.
Neo was in front of her. "What—" Yang whipped around, saw an empty void. She turned back to Neo, scanning her up and down. The parasol was in one hand now, pointing to the floor. But Neo's head stayed tilted, never leaving Yang's face.
"Move, Neo," said Yang. Neo didn't. "What, are you another illusion? I said move." Her feet were planted, stationary as the tile they stood on.
Yang pushed her. It was a mild push; Neo only moved out of reflex. Yang did it again, and again, forcing her out of the way. Neo stumbled at each thump, but still her gaze hung.
Her back hit the wall. Yang stared down on her, lines of red branching her eyes.
"Go. Away."
With a twirl of the parasol Neo disappeared, leaving Yang in the dark.
She expected Weiss. She still wished she wouldn't show up.
The heiress found her on one knee in the back of an alley, fingers in the roots of her hair. Flies buzzed around the twin dumpsters against one of the apartment walls. Weiss ignored them, stopping a few feet from Yang.
"There are better places to mourn."
Yang lowered her hands. She felt dizzy when the light went back to her eyes.
Weiss continued. "This isn't you, Yang. Limping into alleys, shutting down and acting out, it's consuming you." Yang grit her teeth at Weiss's tone. When she looked back Weiss's arms were crossed, but there was something sad in her eyes, something that flitted for just a second before the steel returned.
The twinge stayed in her voice. "You weren't there," she said gently. "You couldn't have known. We all know you would have done something if you did."
Soft, she had to be so soft. Talk about someone not being herself! Yang gripped her hair, pitch rolling through her head. Weiss moved closer.
"Go—" Yang couldn't say it. "Don't. I'm okay." The words pushed out like chunks of rock.
Weiss leaned over. "Are you sure?"
Her arms were still crossed. Yang wanted her gone. "I'm sure," she said.
Weiss lingered a moment more, analyzing. She turned to leave. "This alley is filthy," she remarked on the way out.
The click of her heels faded. Yang put her hands back over her face.
They were all standing in the middle of the dorm room when she came in. Weiss spoke first.
"Yang, we're really worried about you."
"Don't be." Yang started closing the door.
"Yang." It sounded sharper than usual. "Get back in here," Weiss commanded. After a hesitation Yang obeyed.
"Close the door." Yang turned away the second after, fixating on the lamp by a bookshelf.
"Yang, you're a mess," said Weiss. "You can't go on like this." Green base with a chip in the center, sitting on a wooden end table. The lightbulb hadn't been changed for a few months. "You didn't just lose a sister, Yang," said Weiss. "It's the hardest for you, but Blake lost a teammate. And I lost a partner."
Yang whirled at them, seeing red. Neo and Blake flinched. Weiss stood between them, arms folded again.
Yang felt infuriated beyond measure. "Well, if you're her partner then you should have been there for her!" The words kept coming, lava broiling from her lungs. "You should have helped her. You should have saved her. You should have been there to protect her!"
"Do you think I didn't try?" yelled Weiss.
The room fell silent.
"It was so fast." Weiss's breath sounded ragged. She blinked rapidly at the floor. "I didn't even see it until it was too late. A-and I rushed over but I was still…too…late." She was shaking. Blake put her arms around her. For once Weiss took the embrace.
Neo was still looking at Yang. The blond contemplated them, eyes narrowed. She shook her head and turned to the door.
"Yang, please," said Blake.
The doorknob's rattle echoed through the room. Yang spun to them glaring, heat simmering along her skin.
Weiss clung to Blake, hidden in the crook of her neck. "There was so much blood," she said. "So much. And I didn't even—" Saliva spilled from her tongue. "I didn't even say that—that for some reason I started to l-l-li—"
"You liked her?" said Yang.
Her tone was hushed. The others stepped back.
"You liked her?" Yang's vision blurred. She started storming down the room. "All this time we've been at Beacon Academy, and it's only now you'd say you liked her?"
"It wasn't that long! I wouldn't have done anything!"
Weiss shrank back as Yang bore down on her. She wasn't finished. "You were partners with my sister, and you liked her? Why the hell didn't you say anything?" Her hands burst into flame.
"I didn't want to hurt her!"
"Well, you didn't do a good job with that, now did you?" Yang's grin twisted an inch from Weiss's face. She saw the fear and her eyebrow lowered. Yang leaned back, still venomous. "Looks like the perfect little Schnee finally messed up, now didn't you! God, what kind of creep likes a fifteen-year-old? There's something wrong with you, Weiss."
"Yang, please," said Blake, moving between them.
"Don't you 'Yang, please' me, Blake! You're the ones who keep bothering me!"
"We're trying to help!"
"I don't need help!"
"Yes you do!"
"No one can help me!"
"Yang—"
They were stopped by the sight of Neo right next to them, a pillow held to her chest. For a moment Yang didn't register; then she saw the rumples in her bedsheets.
Neo kept her eye contact. Yang's mouth opened, then closed, then barely parted. Neo didn't move. Her head was bowed.
Yang reared her arm back, and the world became that target. She roared, flying forward with all her might.
Neo vanished the instant Yang hit the pillow, fabric and feathers exploding where she stood. The material floated to the floor torn and frayed. Yang breathed loudly and deeply in front of the scraps, her shoulders rising. There was a sizzling smell in the air somewhere.
All of a sudden Yang felt listless. She looked at Weiss and Blake standing shocked by the window. Yang made a noise and left the room.
Three days later she sat by the window, watching airships lift into the night.
Blake was behind her. "I hope you at least said goodbye to Neo."
"Yeah, I did," said Yang casually. An ankle rested beneath her calf, the ultimate sign of breeziness. She leaned on the windowsill. "It's important for me to say goodbye to her anyway," Yang went on. "I mean, it's a long way home for some of those exchange students. Something could happen, you never know. Their airships might catch fire and they could crash to the ground. Or maybe they'd be attacked by Grimm once they landed. Or maybe lightning would strike them." Her words flooded together. "Maybe they'd be caught in a huge storm and get swept away. Or there's a gas leak and they all get poisoned. Or maybe for no reason there's a black hole and it sucks them up and no one ever sees them again, ever, ever…" She stifled a sob. Her body trembled on the chair.
"Yang," Blake said.
"What?" Yang snapped, rims around her eyes. "Don't tell me how I feel. You don't know how I feel!"
"You're right. I don't," said Blake simply.
Yang stopped shaking. Slowly her hands lowered to the chair.
"It will always be the hardest for you," said Blake. "But you're not alone."
Her face remained impassive. Yang stood, their sight on the other never straying.
The will gave out. Yang collapsed onto Blake's shoulder.
They held each other for a long time. Blake gazed out the window, patient. Finally Yang spoke.
"I should have been there." It was tight and pitiful. "I should have been there. I should have been there."
"And you weren't."
"No."
Yang mashed herself back into Blake. There was another pause.
"I wish I was there," whispered Yang.
"Of course you do."
A choke stopped at Yang's lips. She squeezed Blake harder.
Blake didn't kiss her.
That wasn't what she needed.
Yang's head traveled over Blake's chest. Her ear crooked toward the skin. She heard heartbeats, and her breathing slowed.
Blake's fingers trailed down her neck. "Go visit the grave."
"Go visit the grave," Yang repeated.
"Do it."
"Yes. Yes."
The wind was light on her way through the woods. Yang only felt it a little; she didn't bring a coat.
"Go to the grave," she mumbled. "Go to the grave." It was snowy on this side of the mountain. The trees stood scentless under the biting cold, frozen in time.
"Go to the grave," said Yang. "Well, I'm going."
The wind picked up, chilling her bones. She covered her shoulders with her hands. "I'm going. I'm going," she resolved. "Can't stop me."
She trundled through the woods. The clearing was up ahead. Yang raised an arm against the howling wind, not wanting to look away. It buffeted her up the last few meters, making her stagger. She walked in a straight line, the air stirring up red snowflakes on her way to the grave.
She reached it, and the goosebumps flared. Placed neatly in the ground was a flat silver headstone, mounted five feet behind the one that had weathered with the years. Yang glanced at it, distracted, then stared down at Ruby's.
She shuddered. Then she broke, crying horribly on the cliff. The wind descended in all directions, whirling like a tornado and as Yang finally looked around she was hit with a snowflake. It smelled sweet and when she peeled it off her cheek she stared in wonder, because she was holding a rose petal and they surrounded her, flurrying and flurrying out of nowhere. Yang let go of the petal and it blew away. She lurched for it desperately and somehow she knew which one was hers, the way it almost seemed to float before joining the others and coalescing into the typhoon.
The petal grew, and suddenly Ruby was there, a windy transparent Ruby, smiling down at Yang. She bounded through the air before Yang could even speak, lively and spirited and free. She paused for a moment and the petals outlined her clear as day. The beauty of it all was so incomprehensible, Yang laughed through her tears.
Ruby stopped then, silent cape flapping weightlessly. She looked over her shoulder, saw Yang burst into a beam, and rushed over faster than could be glimpsed, sending more petals in her wake. Yang shakily held out her arms and Ruby entered them, holding for a long moment before she faded into eternity. The noise dimmed away. The petals fluttered down. Yang sank to her knees, the wind whisking past her ears.
When Weiss and Blake found her she was curled against the headstone, legs bent up, arms around the silver. They saw the roses and decided what transpired. They looked at each other, and then walked into the clearing. Along the way Weiss picked up a petal and tucked it behind her ear.
They put a blanket over Yang and stood on either side of the grave, keeping vigil through the night.