She thought she had done everything right this time. Still, she sat on the floor of her bathroom sobbing into her hands, her clothes soaked with blood.
The chill of the floor tile snapped at her feet and backside as she held her knees to her chest, but she barely felt the bite. Her body ached from heaving with muffled sobs. It was still hours until sunrise, and Blake didn't want to wake her, sleeping soundly in their bed.
She must have done something wrong, something awful, something unforgivable to have deserved this- her mind flashed and her stomach dropped. Sharp memories of youth, of darkness and crime and explosions. So many things she wished she hadn't done, people she wished she hadn't hurt. Fighting and clawing through battles that she should have never been a part of. The uncomfortable sandy touch of hard, calloused fingers against her skin, a touch she never welcomed but that she believed she had a duty to allow. A sharp knock pulled her roughly from her thoughts.
"Blake? Are you okay?"
Yang's voice was thick and rough and slow from sleep, but still carried lightly through the wood. Blake's ears flattened against her hair as her lungs seized and sobs grew deeper, swelling and crashing and throwing her body into deep and painful shudders as guilt forcefully ploughed through her. Yang tried the door handle and found it unlocked. She pushed the door open inch by inch, her eyes squinting at the harsh lighting that was reflected off every bright and stark surface in the room. Her eyes widened as she saw Blake's body slumped on the floor, bloody clothes, red streaked across her hands and curled over pale cheeks like war paint. Yang immediately dropped onto the cold tile beside her wife, ignoring the chill crawling up through her knees and infiltrating every cell in her body. She wrapped her arms around Blake and she rested her head against the offered chest. Cold, bloody fingers grabbed fistfuls of her shirt, pulling them closer together.
"I- I..." She hiccupped between sobs, her mouth refusing to let the words pass them, but Yang simply ran her fingers through hair as dark as the sky beyond the window.
"Shh..." She whispered into silken black ears, "I love you, kitten. It'll be okay."
Blood smeared from Blake's hands onto the bright yellow of Yang's shirt as she grabbed and pulled, and the clash of colour was both familiar and shockingly alien. It gripped tightly at her heart and crushed.
"I'm s-so s-sorry." Blake huffed into her neck, hot breath painting the words onto her skin. Yang swallowed and shushed her again, pressing feathery kisses to the top of Blake's head, mussed strands tickling at her cheek and chin.
"It's not your fault, never your fault." She whispered, touching her fingertips to the back of Blake's hand and loosening the grip on her shirt. She interlocked their fingers and brushed her thumb against the quivering palm. Blake pulled their hands down, sliding them under her sleep shirt and pressing Yang's hand firmly against the slight swell of her abdomen. Hot fingertips grazed a familiar scar and Yang frowned into her wife's hair, the contact pulling more unpleasant thoughts into her head. "You didn't do anything wrong."
Blake sobbed into her, hot tears dropping from her chin to Yang's chest, gradually evaporating as they sat against heated skin. She always believed crying to be a soothing balm, a frenzied outpouring of the most negative of emotions, but the tears that flowed from her left no empty space inside her. Instead, they filled her with choking and fierce agony, every tear that fell from her face replaced by a licking flame of burning hatred for herself.
"C'mon," she skimmed her hand over the shirt from Blake's stomach to under her arm, and gently eased her to standing, "let's clean you up."
"No, I-" don't deserve it.
"Blake, please?"
Blake paused and her wide eyes took in Yang's face, blanched and taut. She swallowed and nodded, and Yang gently lifted the hem of her dark shirt, pulling it up and over Blake's head before dropping it onto the floor. Her own bloodied yellow shirt and shorts followed next, leaving her pale and bare in the jarringly bright room. She slowly drew her palms down Blake's sides, careful not to brush her stomach, and tucked her fingers into the waistband of her pants and underwear. She tugged, they fell. A wet slap against tile echoed and caused them both to flinch. Blake stepped away and Yang moved the clothes to the rapidly growing pile and noted to throw them out as soon as she could.
With one arm wrapped around Blake, she reached and turned on the shower, trying and failing to avert her eyes from the crimson mess swiped and dribbled down porcelain thighs. She stepped into the spray and guided Blake in beside her. She pulled her wife into her body, a hand on inky hair tucking Blake's face into her neck as hot water rinsed down her trembling body, snagging at red and streaking it down pale shins and feet and across striking white ceramic below before twisting and curling down the drain. Yang silently begged Blake to keep her eyes shut, the water carrying away every ounce of hope in her body- there's so much blood .
After a few moments, Blake pulled her head up to look at Yang, her eyes shadowed and bloodshot and exhausted. Tears raced silently down pale skin, streaking and smearing the clashes of scarlet on her face. Yang reached up with both hands, wiping away the marks from ashen cheeks with contrasting thumbs and feathered kisses, but Blake's face stayed stony. Detached. Amber eyes blinked slowly and focussed on the tiled wall behind Yang, and the blonde took the chance to reach away, snatching a washcloth and gently wiping it over her wife's hands and arms, kneeling down on the hard surface to reach her legs, helping the water wash away all traces of their-
She swallowed again, but the lump in her throat was stuck fast.
Yang touched her fingertips against Blake's hip and the slim woman flinched, her body jerking at the light contact. Hot lips were pressed against a hipbone and calculating hands drew the washcloth across her soft belly gently, trying to acclimate the woman to the sensation. Moments passed before it started to gradually slide down her skin until Yang used the material to swipe between Blake's legs. Hands and nails grasped desperately at Yang's shoulders, a weighted sob escaped her lips, but Blake didn't stop the woman from carefully and methodically washing away the thick, hideous redness. Kisses frequently grazed her skin and filled her with something other than the hot stabbing pain in her abdomen and the serrated edge of guilt against her heart, instead trickling grains of absolute adoration into her flesh.
The washcloth made its way onto the pile of stained fabric as they stepped from the shower, and Blake couldn't help but stare at the mess of their bathroom- it looked like a massacre, her own bloodied handprints and smears from her fingertips marred the snow white floor tile, and a part of her wished that a gunshot or blade torn through her had caused the scene instead of her own body destroying the most precious of gifts.
Yang carelessly grabbed towels from the shelf, her hands clawing at the soft fabric with impatience. She wrapped one around Blake, one around herself, and tucked more under her arm. She carefully put one arm around Blake, careful not to surprise her with the touch, and led her away from the gruesome sight and down the hall into their warmly lit bedroom. As they stepped through the door she threw the extra towels onto Blake's side of the bed, trying to cover the large dark stain on the sheet before golden eyes could notice yet more evidence of their loss. She helped Blake around the bed and tentatively lowered her to sit on the towels before stepping away. The woman had never looked so small and helpless, pale and wrapped loosely in dark blue fabric with wet hair falling limply over her shoulders, ears quirking backwards sporadically in time with dying sobs.
Yang raised her own body temperature, the emotions coursing through her veins more than enough to allow for the slight use of her semblance. The water on her skin and hair evaporated quickly, and as soon as possible she pulled herself into clean clothes and turned her attention to the stationary figure sat on the edge of the bed.
Blake barely noticed she was shivering until she felt heat envelop her. Yang tucked herself behind her, arms gently snaked around her body, legs pressed against the outside of her thighs. She relaxed into the warmth, leaning back into the soft embrace to rest her head against a shoulder. Yang breathed into her ear- that's a good girl . The heat against her back felt heavenly, warmth and comfort softening the edges of sharp cramps in her pelvis. She was so frustrated- over a decade later and he was still stabbing ruthlessly at her insides, but Yang was still there to stop it, to save her. She sighed and touched her fingers to the scar on her abdomen, thicker and angrier than many of the others littered across her body despite the number of years that it resided there.
"What do we do?" She muttered, lifting her hand to grasp at Yang's forearm. She clung uncomfortable tight, hoping the woman would have an answer.
"We go to the hospital-" a kiss behind her ear and a spoonful of stress left her body "- and we get you checked out-" another "-and when you're ready, we try again." Yang's voice was small and quiet, and Blake could hear the pain she hardly tried to mask. It was hard for the blonde to see her in pain, so difficult to witness the devastation in golden eyes, but the loss also crept over her and weighed her down. She tried too hard to shrug it off and find someone to blame, but a voice at the back of her thoughts told her that maybe they just weren't good enough.
Blake sighed. It had been so easy, so effortless for Nora, for Weiss, for Ruby. Why was it so difficult, why did her body fight her? She wanted, so much. She ached. For herself and for Yang.
She breathed.
She waited.
She hoped.
"Okay."