NOTE: Hello, everyone. This isn't a new story. Rather, this is a short spinoff/omake of my other story Archangel which is centered on Jaune and Weiss. For those of you who haven't read it, it's fine. This can be read as its own one-shot as well.
Five weeks after the Fall
Winter was grieving.
She would always put on thicker make-up to shield the tear tracks drying on her cheeks but Ironwood could tell she had been weeping—her eyes were almost always bloodshot and she could never hold in an errant sniffle. Her duties remained the same, albeit heavier with the way Remnant's politics were going in light of the blight on Vale. She still did her job, did it to the same standards, but he could see the edges of her fatigue.
So one morning, when she reported for duty, he gave her extended leave to mourn properly, despite her protests.
"You have done more than enough, Schnee. Go home."
"... Y-yes, sir," she managed with the stiffest salute she could muster. A few stray strands of her hair came loose from the tight bun she always wove.
Ironwood did not need to see the surveillance footage from the ground floor to know that Winter had melted into an isolated corner to weep like she had never wept before.
Winter was drinking.
It was not that much of a surprise as Qrow had long since confirmed that the specialist had grown up sneaking wine from the cellar of her family mansion. That and the Schnee matriarch was herself was a former sommelier now closeted brandy addict.
He couldn't blame her really. He was grieving, too. First Summer, now Ruby and Yang. Tai was devastated and literally fortified the cabin at Patch to the protect his severely incapacitated daughters. There could never be enough liquor in the world to numb the pain that they were all going through. But that did not stop them from trying.
He went back to his glass, shaking the ice, and watching the mix slosh. Then he heard sniffling. She was sniffling. She was sprawled over the bar, her head buried in her hands with her neatly tied hair coming loose. The bartender had given her a wine glass only for her to take the whole bottle. Her shoulders were shaking. She was crying.
Qrow would admit that he was too. On the inside. He was still aching over the shit that went down over a month ago. Yang not only lost her arm; she lost her spirit. Ruby pulled something big up on that tower; she had yet to wake up from that, if she could wake up at all. That made him one of the lucky ones.
Because unlike him, Winter had lost the dearest person in her life: her little sister Weiss. The poor girl was one of the many casualties that were the result of Ozpin's asinine last-minute 'trick' to rob Salem and her cronies of their triumph over Beacon. The bastard insisted it was for the best.
Pfft. Yeah, right. My ass, Oz.
Pyrrha Nikos was dead, caught in the cross fire between Ozpin and Salem's bitch. Weiss Schnee was dead, eaten up by the immediate consequences of Ozpin's gambit. Jaune Arc was dead, nipped while trying to save the first two. And that was not to mention the countless more civilians, policemen, soldiers, and Huntsmen who had become statistics literally overnight. He never forgot the stinging reality of loss when all that could be recovered was a tiara, a Dust rapier, and the Arc heirloom Crocea Mors.
Qrow sighed into his empty glass. Before he knew it, he made his way down the bar to the empty stool next to her.
"Hey, Ice Queen," he heard himself call out.
The sniffling stopped. And Winter looked up at him. With puffy eyes and hair sticking to her damp cheeks. "What do you want, Qrow?" she grounded out hoarsely.
Qrow wanted to say something only for nothing to come out for the next three minutes. He just stared at her and she at him until he planted a handful of lien cards on the bar top. "On me."
"... I don't need your charity."
"... You're welcome."
Winter clearly wanted to snark back but she was so...broken...that what followed was her head dropping back between her arms as she cradled her glass. Then the muted crying began again.
Qrow loved pushing buttons, especially Winter's. But there was always a limit, a method to his madness. Spiting people like her was his favorite past time and half the time he drove home a point that neither Ironwood nor Winter could argue against. Now was not one of those times.
They were both grieving.
And drinking.
So Qrow stayed with Winter until closing time and he ushered her drunk ass outside where he hailed a cab to take her back to this apartment she had rented downtown. Of course, she was out before the driver could step on the gas so he got in to spare the poor guy the trouble of hauling her out of his vehicle. He unlocked the door, carried her inside—even while weeping, she managed to keep the place spic and span—towards her bedroom where he gently laid her on the bed.
He slowly slid off her coat and hung it up on the rack. Then he undid her boots so he could tuck her in. Afterwards, he wiped her face clean with a towel. And there was that modest Schnee face. Solemn, peaceful, pale. Just like snow.
Qrow shook his head as he made his way to her fridge. He was expecting alcohol but not this much. With one less bottle of brandy in her kitchen, he locked the door and flew out the window until he came back to the flat that had been his safe house in the week since relocating here.
Seven weeks after the Fall
Winter was recovering.
She wanted to end her extended leave but Ironwood denied it on the grounds that she was still mourning. How could he tell? Well, while she stopped outright bawling her eyes out, she remained extremely sensitive to mere mentions of her sister's name. She had come close to pummeling one of the sentries after he had mentioned Weiss's reported demise in the Fall to his squad mates. And the man was only explaining the event with no malice.
So here she was back in her apartment. Doing nothing for the most part. She still retained her daily schedule. Chores done by mid-morning so she could be free to work. Except there was no work. Aside from training, she went on walks, browsed shops, and frequented the dairy shop across the street.
It helped get keep her mind at ease. And the ice cream was proving significant helping her cope with the loss.
Still, Winter never forgot that morning when she woke up back in her apartment after sobbing pathetically at a bar. The bartender told her everything when she visited. With all that had happened, Winter was unable to let her pride get in the way of thanking Qrow for his act of kindness—she could forgive the theft of the brandy, too.
If only she could find him...
"Didn't think I'd see you here, Ice Queen."
Speak of the devil.
Winter wheeled on her heels to face the man in question. He was sitting on a park bench with his flask in hand. The rest of the park was empty given that it was a cold, cloudy working day, hence her coat. She walked up to him, her posture unchanging.
"Qrow. Thank you."
He raised his brow at her. "... What?"
Ugh, this idiot could not have forgotten. Or maybe he did. Winter had to remind him lest her time be wasted and her heartfelt apology be painfully for naught. "You brought me home after I had...been thoroughly intoxicated. Thank you."
He stared at her. And a small smile crept at the edge of his lip while he leaned back. He took a swig then answered, "I remember. You're welcome."
Winter did not move. She wanted to leave; she had already said her peace. Yet, something nagged at her that there was more to say. So she stammered, "You...you did not take advantage of me...y-you...behaved in a...gentlemanly manner."
"I did?"
Her eyes went wide. "Wha— You didn't!?"
Qrow laughed. "Relax. I didn't. Why would I do that? Especially to you of all people?"
"I... Well, knowing you..."
He waved her off. "You needed help and I helped. And now you're feeling much better."
Winter nodded thickly. "I am."
She wanted to leave. Once more, her gut rooted her to the spot. Qrow spotted this easily and scooted over, tapping his hand on the space beside him. Was he asking her to take a seat? Next to him? What for? To talk? What else was there more to discuss? The weather?
"Come on, Ice Queen. I won't bite."
One hesitant foot in front of the other until she planted herself on the bench, a mere arms length away from the man who had for a long time been the bane of her existence. They were silent for what felt like an eternity, never once to look away from the empty pond before them.
Then she heard him ask, "How've you been?"
"Better."
"Uh-huh. What've you been up to?"
"Nothing much. I have enough to get by."
"Right. You still on leave?"
Winter sighed. "Yes. Unfortunately."
"'Kay."
Cool northern breeze brushing against them both.
"Ruby's still out and Yang hasn't been the same," he suddenly piped, taking another long swig.
Winter now looked at him. Thicker stubble. Heavy bags under his eyes. An expression that radiated defeat, a rare sight a man whom she believed would take great pains to never show any hints of it. Qrow was as hurt as she was. She had lost family and he was on the verge of loosing his. On a different day, probably in a different universe, she would have savored every moment of his suffering. But this was their reality and it had taken a toll on them all.
"Tai won't let them out. Won't even let visitors in," Qrow continued with a haughty—bitter?—laugh. "Can't blame him but I say he's doing too much."
"Have you talked to him about it?" she asked.
He met her gaze. "Never got me anywhere. In fact, he blamed me."
"And you believe him?"
"Partly," he admitted.
"That's preposterous," she found herself protesting. "You have done your very best during that day. How can you give more when you have already been exhausted?"
Qrow chuckled again. "I don't take it that seriously, Ice Queen." He threw his head back to catch the last drops from his flask. "I let him grieve. He's still hurting. And hurting bad."
"That is...I guess so," Winter conceded.
Silence again.
"Hey. Sorry about Weiss."
Her fists tightened but the specialist bit on her tongue. Oddly, Qrow waited until her nerves were under her control. "... Condolences appreciated."
"You want to talk about it?"
Winter blinked open to study his face when he asked that. He could not be pulling her strings. He would not stoop that low just to spite her. Would he? No. Because the look he was giving her was genuine concern. He wanted her to open up. In fact, had she? She had no one to talk to; no one had ever heard her vent or wail about Weiss...for the reason that she never did.
She opened her mouth only for her breath to hitch in her throat. No words could come out and her brain was a mix of signals that contradicted each other.
"It's fine if you don't want to," he said, snapping her out of her fugue. "Just don't bottle it up for long, okay?"
She nodded.
Qrow smiled. Then he got up and bade, "See you 'round, then."
Winter sat on the bench, watching him until he disappeared back into the city.
Eight weeks after the Fall
Qrow wondered how Winter got his address.
He never gave it to anyone, not even to Glynda or James. But somehow, Winter was banging on his door with the ferocity of a bear and the irregularity of a girl scout. Thankfully, he had the whole building to himself and the rest of the bloc were either decrepit ruins or forestry. While no person heard her wailing, her grief may attract the Grimm. And she was too smart for that. Unless she was drunk.
Or not. She wasn't drunk. And he wasn't either. He opened the door to let her in and she basically threw herself into him.
She was bawling now. Messy head of hair under his chin, face buried his chest, tears soaking his shirt. Her arms were wrapped tight around his shoulders, fingers digging into his back as though her life depended on it. What the hell happened to Ice Queen?
She melted, duh.
Qrow shut the door and pulled back, peeling her off of him. "Ice Queen. Ice Queen! Hey! Winter!"
Winter sobered slightly to look back up at him. Her lips quivered.
He took a deep breath and asked calmly, "Hey. What's the matter?" How the flying fuck did you find out where I was hiding?
"... I can't...I can't get her out of my head..." she mewled.
"Get who out of your head?"
"W-weiss..."
Oh fuck me. Qrow resisted the urge to pinch the bridge of his nose. This woman was grieving again and through some witchcraft that is known only to Atlas, she zeroed in on his safe house—which he was sure only he had knowledge of—and came over so she could have a place to wail like a banshee. The fuck happened to her apartment!?
"Hey, hey. Listen to me," he ordered, gripping her arms as he sat her down on the only couch in the living room. "You did your best. You did all you could."
And she threw herself at him again. This time, he caught her and he ended up having to hug her back while he reclined against the old velvet. Now she was crying softly. Hiccups and irregular breathes coming off as soft heaves. His hand ran down her unkempt hair over and over again as his voice dropped to a near whisper.
"There, there, Ice Queen."
They stayed that way for what felt like an hour. Then her finally unlatched herself and wiped her face. "I'm sorry...I apologize...I was..."
Qrow exhaled. "Look. Did you get it off your chest?"
"... Yes. Yes, I think I did. For now," she replied more sternly, though she still looked haggard.
"What triggered this?"
"I had a dream. A nightmare, to be honest. I felt so...helpless." She was close to tears again. She held it in though. "I'm sorry I bothered you with this."
"Nah, nah, it's fine." So why did you come to me? "Shouldn't you be consulting a therapist for this?"
Winter chortled dryly. "I don't think it would have helped."
"Really now," Qrow shot back, "'cause last time I checked, I wasn't a shrink."
The specialist-on-leave let out a long sigh. "Qrow... I don't...you are... You are the only one I could talk to for this. There was no one else better suited..."
The man was wordless for a long moment. Part of him wanted her out; she pretty much jeopardized his safety by tracking him down when he did not want to be tracked down. There enemies were growing by the day. The rest of him, though, overcame his decision making and he scooted over to let her sit properly.
"You want to talk about it?"
Winter processed the offer before she responded with a pained, "Yes...please..."
So they talked. Winter cried again only for Qrow to take her in his arms and soothe her. They later detached and Qrow, with a tinge of frustration, gave her his bed while he slept on the couch.
The following morning, Winter woke him up for breakfast.
"Nice cooking," Qrow remarked after a few solid bites. He meant it.
"Thank you," she answered, finishing her own plate. He was still eating when she added, "Thank you for talking to me. It means a lot."
Qrow smirked. "You're welcome. You owe me a new safe house though."
"I haven't compromised your location."
"Then how the fuck did you find where here was?"
"I have my ways, Branwen."
"Of course, you do," he exhaled. "This isn't going to be a habit, is it?"
"I can't say." She was fidgeting with her fingers. Seriously, was this woman so devoted to her military career that she was this socially awkward? How stiffer than this can at Atlesian get? "I don't mind having someone to casually converse with."
Qrow deflated. Weiss probably filled that role. Just his luck, he was the new puzzle piece for that landfill. Can't say he didn't like it. "Yeah, sure."
"I will be ending my leave soon," she announced. "Until then, I'm sure you would mind not the occasional visit."
"Don't be too obvious. I'm in hiding for a reason," he said, "And if you're bringing booze, I'm drinking them all. I don't want to deal with your drunk ass again."
Winter rolled her eyes. "Finish your breakfast."
"And a good morning to you too, Ice Queen."
ORIGINALLY DRAFTED: October 16, 2018
LAST EDITED: October 16, 2018
INITIALLY UPLOADED: October 16, 2018
NOTE: I've had this idea bouncing around in my head while I was writing Archangel. Finally, on one sleep-deprived night, I started writing it down. For those who were expecting something more between Qrow and Winter, I am sorry to have disappointed you. I have seen and read enough Snowbird that I wanted to try an amicable friendship between the two.
Hope you enjoyed.