Hi all, I'm still on my RWBY kick. As you may or may not have gathered from my previous fics, I've got... complicated feelings about the end of volume six - and no, I don't mean the giant robot. I imagine Blake's emotions would be just as complex, so this was my attempt at delving into her head in the aftermath of the Adam fight. Hope you enjoy!

The others were asleep. The rooms Ironwood had assigned them when they turned up in a stolen atlas jet were nice, just not nice enough for them to forget they were all under house arrest until the morning and he could figure out what to do with them all.

It was a barracks. Two bedrooms, men and women, with a conjoining living space. Maria and Qrow were their adult chaperones. Nora had been the most annoyed, but Ren had soothed her with assurances that it wouldn't be for long.

He didn't know that. None of them did.

Atlas. They'd only seen a few people – all human – other than Ironwood on arrival for how late it was, but she'd had her ears pressed flat to her skull more often than not when she caught the looks they gave her.

That had only been less than an hour. What would it be like tomorrow, or the day after that, or after that? What had it been like living here, looked down on, spat on, whipped, abused, branded-

For all his scars, he'd never looked small before. Young, innocent even, but never small. He had on his knees, blood beating out of his back, shoulders shuddering as he fought for breath – for his last-

Blake grabbed her furred ears and pulled, hard, her lower lip trapped between her teeth so she wouldn't make a noise to disturb the others.

The pain eased, but it hadn't chased away her thoughts the way she'd hoped. All it had done was bring the tears trapped in her throat since he'd fallen out of view back to her eyes.

He would have killed you. He would have killed Yang, and Weiss if he'd found her, and if them then why not Ruby. Everyone, he'd said, and everyone except her parents, Ilia and Sun had been there…

But it was still Adam. The boy she'd admired, the man she'd loved, the hero she'd worshipped, and it was his blood that had trickled down the shattered remains of Gambol Shroud to track down the creases between her knuckles and the fold between her thumb and forefinger. His blood that had picked out the tiny lines in her skin, staining them until they had reached Atlas and Yang had gently pushed her to the shower first.

She'd wanted to scour her hands until it was her blood running, not his. She'd wanted to leave his blood there, untouched, because once that was gone so was he, and how, how, how-

A hand touched her shoulder.

Don't be Yang.

In an instant she knew it wasn't; the hand too small, too delicate, with calluses from a sword. But that feeling had been true, and strong, and was followed with relief.

It was stupid. Yang would understand. She had understood, when the strength had gone out of her legs and she'd grazed her knees through her trousers on the stone ground and the only reason she hadn't screamed was because sobbing hadn't left her with enough breath.

But that had been in the moment. This was hours later, when the adrenaline had died, when she should be relieved, nothing more, and instead tears were rolling across the bridge of her nose to soak into her hair.

Weiss was standing over her, a finger pressed to her lips, her head tilted to the bedroom door. It led to the small living room that conjoined the two bedrooms.

She couldn't really say no.

They padded barefoot out of the room, leaving the bunk beds so reminiscent of Beacon behind, and closed the door behind them.

Weiss guided her to the sofa – entirely unnecessary, Blake could see better than her in the dark even with conjunctivitis – pressed her down onto one of the sofas then headed for the kitchenette.

The kettle was quiet, as kettles go, but in the silence it sounded too loud. Blake tensed, hands clenched in her lap, waiting for one of the bedroom doors to open and for someone to come out, wondering what all the noise was at- where was the clock- four in the morning.

But the doors remained closed, and soon the smell of coffee rose. Coffee, and more subtle-

'Tea. No milk, no sugar,' Weiss murmured, voice pitched low to match the quiet of the room.

'Thanks,' Blake whispered, voice hoarse.

Weiss settled neatly on the sofa beside her, graceful even after only three hours sleep. 'Do you want to talk about it, or should we finish these and go to bed?'

Blake stared into her drink, watching the tiny ripples as the water settled.

She didn't even bury him. Didn't think of it, didn't even try to find his... him. Didn't try to find him, pull him out of the water, just let him get washed away like the garbage and waste pumped out by so many Dust processing plants to flow away to the ocean.

He didn't deserve that. For all he'd done, for what he'd become, he didn't deserve that. He deserved something better, even just a cairn of stones over him. Something peaceful, instead of being battered to pieces by the current.

'I know he was an awful person. I know he'd become a monster and refused to change. I know all that, I know it wasn't my fault, but I can't help but think I should have done more, or done something differently. I can't help but think he didn't deserve what happened. And I feel guilty for feeling that way.'

Weiss nodded, hands curled around her mug. 'You loved him?'

Her heart clenched, her eyes burned. 'I did. Even at Beacon, before... before the fall. I always loved him; I just couldn't condone his actions anymore. I'd hoped he'd change, I wanted the best for him, but that best couldn't be me. I tried to move on, and hoped he would too.'

'Well, your rapscallion was an improvement.'

She expects grudging, she expects censure, but all she sees is Weiss' gentle, teasing smile. The word doesn't hurt anymore.

'Or should I say 'is' an improvement?'

Blake sipped her tea, trying to hide her hesitation. 'I don't know. Not... not yet. Maybe when we see each other again. Right now...'

'You need to figure things out. You need to heal. And, Blake, feeling like this is part of it.' Weiss sighed. 'My father is a... difficult man. Cruel. It took me a long time to realise that. I want nothing more than to take the company back from him, erase every sign he ever held it... but he's still my father. The idea of him dying is hard to deal with. The idea of being responsible for it makes me terrified. I can't see it coming to that, our situations are too different in that respect, but... I understand the way you feel. How complicated it must be, how easy it is to feel guilty for feeling anything but anger or hate towards him, because there was a time when you loved him and it's hard to forget that.'

'Thank you,' Blake said quietly, shoulders dropping. It didn't make it easier, the ache in her chest and the churning guilt hadn't faded, but it helped. Weiss understood. That was at the heart of it. Weiss understood, and the others-

'What is it?'

Her ears tilted back, she turned away. 'I feel like I shouldn't say it.'

'That's never stopped you before,' Weiss said gently.

She took a breath. Another. 'The others wouldn't understand. Yang in particular. Adam was never a person to her; he was a monster and a nightmare. She was wonderful when it happened, but I feel like if I went to her with this, she wouldn't... I... I don't want to talk to her, to trust her with this, and then see in her face that she doesn't understand why I'm upset about it, even as she tries to help. Especially when she said-' she stopped, stifling her rambling, reaching for composure.

'During the fight, Adam said something about how I promised I'd always be by his side, and that I'd broken that promise. Yang said that I'd promised that to the person he was pretending to be. But she didn't know him. She barely knows anything about him, she just assumed that. He was like that once. He wasn't always a monster. He changed into something horrible, but he did change. And I feel so ungrateful for feeling angry about it, because she saved me, but she didn't know him and I can't-' she closed her eyes, tears rolling free again. 'I can't forget what he used to be like. And that he will never be that way again, because of us. Because of me.'

Weiss' hand landed on her knee, squeezing. 'Because he didn't give you a choice. Because you did what you had to do to survive. No one is saying you should forget him, Blake, or that you should throw away the good because of the bad. But you should forgive yourself for what you had to do.'

'But I didn't,' she whispered. 'I panicked. But I got there first, I could have stepped away, I could have stabbed him somewhere else to bring him down but leave him alive, I could have-'

'You could have died trying to do any of those things. You ended the fight as quickly and as cleanly as possible, and that meant fighting to kill someone who pushed you into that situation in the first place.'

'What if...' she swallowed the lump in her throat, tried to clear it. 'I spent so long acting out of anger, and out of hate. I stayed with Sienna's White Fang for so long because it was the easy choice. We were fighting so hard to break the status quo, but I spent so long trying not to upset the internal one, because they were all older, they knew better, and they were getting results. It took me years to do what was right, not what was easy, and what if that's what I did yesterday? What if I killed him because it was the easy choice? If this was the right one, why does it hurt so much?'

Weiss was quiet for a long moment. 'I don't know,' she said finally. 'I think only you can answer that, in time. All I can say is that whatever choice led to you being here with us, safe, was the right one. And that I'll be here for you for as long as you need me.'

Her vision clouded over completely. She put her cup down on the coffee table, fumbling for the edge. It had been easier when Dad had been there to do that for her. She turned for the pale blue and white blue that was Weiss, heard the second clunk that was Weiss' mug tapping the wood, then sank into Weiss' arms with a stifled sob.

The Ice Queen was warm.

'Thank you,' she whispered into Weiss' hair, not minding that strands were tickling her nose or getting in her mouth. 'And I'll be here for you, the whole time. Being back here can't be easy for you.'

They both pulled back, Weiss with a put-upon grimace. 'Yes, well. I'd have to come back at some point to reclaim the company. I just didn't expect to barely arrive in Mistral only to turn around and head straight home. Father will have barely finished ranting.'

They both shared a small, pained smile. But Weiss had brought up something important. Something she needed to know.

'Your father... do you know what the company has done, under his control? Do you know the worst of it?'

Weiss closed her eyes, resigned, before reaching for her mug again. 'I know it's bad, but I don't know the full extent. I'm not allowed access to certain files, even before I was disinherited, and a lot of it simply isn't on record. All I've heard are rumours, and seen how people – particularly Faunus – react to the SDC. You were a big part of why I started looking into it more,' she admitted, before taking a healthy swig of coffee. She wouldn't be sleeping tonight, unless that was decaf.

Her smile felt hollow. 'I'm glad you did. Weiss... can you promise me something?'

Weiss' eyes narrowed. 'I can try. Am I going to regret it?'

Blake chuckled. 'I hope not. You're already planning on taking back the SDC. That's part of it, but...' she faltered, trying to find the words forward. 'Adam was from Atlas, you know. Couldn't tell you where. He was born in the Dust mines. To two Faunus slaves for the SDC.'

Weiss' expression had frozen, her eyes cast down at her coffee. Only the steam moved.

'He never told me the fully story, but I know the conditions were horrific. And I saw the scars. Burns, whips... but the worst was here.' She swiped her fingers across her left eye; spread enough to encompass her eyebrow and the top of her cheekbone. 'SDC. Branded onto his face, blinding him in that eye for fighting back against an overseer when he was barely more than a child. That's why he always wore a mask. Everyone would stare, and the skin was so badly damaged it shouldn't be exposed to direct sunlight for long. So he covered it up, and he escaped, and he struck back at the SDC at every chance he got. But he got out. There are hundreds of Faunus, undocumented, who don't officially exist, hidden at these mining sites and abused and exploited by your father's employees, encouraged by his policies, and it needs to stop. You need to stop it.'

That jerked Weiss' head up. There was a burgeoning look of panic on her face.

Blake took her hand. 'Not alone,' she said. 'I'll help. The White Fang needs to change too. I love my father, but his methods didn't work. That's what hurts. Sienna Khan's and Adam's did, until Adam went too far. But even Sienna's led to too much death and pain. There needs to be a middle ground, and we need to focus not just on our rights in concept, but on our people who are alive and suffering now. No more Adams. All the pain he caused was his fault. He could have chosen differently, and he chose to continue the cycle of abuse he was born into. But the cycle didn't start with him. It started with Jacques Schnee's SDC. So I want to help you take the Schnee Dust Company back, and to free my people while we're at it.'

Weiss' hand was warm from her coffee. She set the mug back on the table and grasped Blake's hand with both of hers. The panic was gone. In its place were determination, and that familiar defiance. 'I promise. When I take back my grandfather's company, I will find all of those sites, and I will free the Faunus there and help them in any way I can. Integration into society, housing, anything.'

Blake smiled, squeezing her hands. 'And in the meantime, I'll contact the White Fang here in Atlas. Adam wasn't the only one to escape over the years. There's bound to be people who know where some of these sites are. If we can organise the White Fang, rally them to the cause, we could start making a difference much sooner. If we can liberate even one site, then we'd have the bulk of evidence needed to prove this is happening. It's easy to dismiss individual people trying to tell the truth, but hundreds? If we have photo and video evidence? The world can't ignore that.'

'And the staff members there?' Weiss ventured, concerned.

Family, friends disappear. Board members… executed.

What about the crew members?

'Will be given the choice to surrender. We will strive to restrain, not harm or kill. But…'

When you fight, people get hurt!

People hurt me long before we met... All sorts of people in all sorts of ways...

There were so many scars on his body. It had taken a long time for him to trust her with even seeing them; for the defensive hunch of his shoulders to ease when he realised she wasn't going to mock or treat him like some charity case. He'd told her bits and pieces, never details, never everything. But enough for her to tell the whip marks from the marks left by squeezing through too-tight gaps in the mine tunnels. To spot the pale white stars of small burns left by stray embers or cigarettes, long healed and hard to see. The slightly crooked set of his fingers on his left hand, easily disguised by his gloves. And the brand. Always the brand. The skin had been so tight, shiny, but fragile beneath her fingertips. The bone had felt scarily close to the surface, like there was no fat there to cushion it. In some places there hadn't been. 'This is what happens when you resist,' he'd said. 'But I was alone then. Not anymore. Together, with the White Fang at our backs, we'll strike back twice as hard, and when they resist they will just have to pray we're feeling merciful. Just like we did.'

'But I won't pretend that this will be easy, or bloodless. The overseers there, Weiss... they're the worst of humanity. As bad as Cinder or worse. So if they try to stop us freeing slaves, if they refuse to stand down... yes, we'll fight. And they may get hurt, or die. But there was one thing Sienna and Adam were right about. Sometimes peaceful protest isn't enough. My parents tried so hard to do things peacefully, to prove we deserved equal rights because we were doing things their way, by their rules – we weren't embodying the stereotype we'd been branded with. But it didn't work. Sometimes you need to fight for what is right. I don't agree with Sienna or Adam's methods, and I think their focus was misdirected, but if we must use violence, then using it to liberate our people is the best cause. The Great War wasn't won by appealing or peaceful protest. Neither was the Faunus Rights Revolution – and that's what we need. A revolution – not a plea for better treatment, because they aren't listening.'

Weiss nodded; her mouth still in a troubled moue but her resolution firm. 'I understand. And if this is what the Faunus have been dealing with all along, if this how bad it was... I don't like what they did in response, many of the people they killed – my family – didn't deserve what happened to them, but I can see why they got so desperate to resort to that.'

They both sank into a contemplative silence. Their drinks were cooling, but they sipped them anyway. The clock ticked to itself until their mugs were empty and the first birds started singing.

Blake roused herself first, silently collecting their cups and rinsing them in the sink. They headed back to the bedroom, pausing only for a tight, grounding hug before they had to sneak back in and pretend tonight had never happened.

'Thank you,' Blake whispered, holding the girl she had once blamed for so much, and grateful to her bones that she was here.

'You're welcome,' Weiss said, but there was none of her old haughtiness anymore. Of all of them, she'd probably changed the most.

Together they slipped back into the room of sleepers, to the two empty bottom bunks. They shared a grimace at Nora and Maria's snoring, and slid under the covers. They fell asleep facing each other, reassurance only a glance away.

Whatever tomorrow brought, they would be together, and they would be ready.