Days went by before Yang managed to find the energy to get out of bed. The house was silent, with her dad out again, trying to hunt down leads on his youngest daughter's whereabouts. Yang knew he was wasting his time. Ruby was long gone, off somewhere using her special powers to save the world. She tried not to fault her for it. If things had been different, Yang would probably have been out there fighting beside her.
Wandering into the kitchen, she flicked on the lights. She paused in the doorway. The room was too clean. She supposed it hadn't been getting much use lately. In all of her life, she had no memory of seeing the kitchen without so much as a stray glass out on the counter. Summer's favorite place in the house had been the kitchen, and throughout her childhood, her mom kept their home in constant supply of baked goods.
Yang had loved helping her mom bake. Ruby would have also told you that she loved helping, but mostly she loved being around to lick the spoons clean. Every time Ruby would sneak a taste, it would make Summer laugh, without fail. It was a soft laugh, and Ruby never caught on, but Yang would notice. Summer would catch her eye, and wink at her, like she was letting her in on the joke, before the pair of them resumed their baking, trying to get cookies to the oven before their little monster could devour the dough.
Moving to the refrigerator, Yang opened the door, only to stare disinterested at its contents. She wasn't hungry. She didn't ever seem to be hungry these days, but went to the fridge more out of habit than anything, and ultimately closed the door without taking anything out.
The pristine state of the kitchen made her feel like she was moving around a dream. Dragging her hand across the counter top, she let the feel of the wood grain ground her. Reaching up to another shelf, she dragged her fingers slowly along the spines of their family cookbooks, pausing over an old favorite. She pulled the book down, flipping idly through pages as the nostalgia pulled her back years into her past.
The afternoon they came home from the funeral, Yang went straight for the kitchen. Taiyang watched from the doorway, as his little girl determinedly pulled a chair across the kitchen so she could climb to the higher cupboards. Standing on the counter, she was just tall enough to reach the recipe books. After deciding she was ok, he left her be, heading off to comfort his youngest daughter.
Yang had gone straight for a well loved red book. She flipped through till she found a familiar, dough stained page with one of her favorite recipes on it. Taking a deep breath, she skimmed over the list of ingredients, pulling things out onto the counter as she worked.
Parts of the recipe were familiar. She had always been the one to crack the eggs, and dump in the sugar, but on the steps that Summer had always taken over for, Yang paused, being more careful as she tried her best to mimic what she'd watched her mom do. Butter was harder to measure than Summer had made it look, and eventually she just dumped her best guess at what should be a half cup into the bowl. The butter was hard to mix, but it was nice to direct her feelings into something physical. Channeling her ever growing strength into the bowl, she effectively pummeled the butter into a smooth mixture. A few more ingredients, a cup of chocolate chips, and she was ready to turn on the oven.
She had looked over the buttons on the appliance nervously at first. This part had always been her mom's job. Her and Ruby had never been allowed to touch the oven, because it was hot, and they might burn themselves. Reaching out for the knob, she twisted the temperature higher, and set the oven to bake.
Hoping she had set everything correctly, but with no one around to ask, Yang set herself to rolling out balls of dough, and placing them evenly across the baking sheet. There was less cookies than the recipe usually made. She had probably made the cookies too big, but if that was the only thing that was wrong with them when they came out of the oven, she'd call that a win.
The oven beeped it's readiness, and she slid the tray inside. Turning on the oven light, she sat down on the kitchen floor to watch them bake.
The heat of the oven quickly heated the cookies, making the dough glisten on the tray. Staring into the oven she had let herself get lost in her own thoughts, before she even realized that's where she was going.
Summer was gone. That part she had grasped fairly quickly. What she still couldn't wrap her head around, was how her life was going to just keep moving on without her. She needed her mom. If she was gone, who was going to teach her how to use the oven? For all she knew, she could be about to burn the house down over a batch of chocolate chip cookies.
Tears began to slip out, as she watched the little balls of dough slowly melt and morph into cookie shapes. They molded against each other, becoming more square as the cookies pressed into the same space on the pan.
Summer always made perfectly round cookies. Yang could too, with her mom there to help.
The smell of baking drew her sister into the kitchen, with their dad right on her heels. Ruby's eyes were red and puffy from crying, and she seemed surprised to find Yang in the kitchen.
Yang patted the ground beside her, and Ruby shuffled over, the two of them watching the cookies in their last few minutes of baking.
The timer went off, and before Yang could do anything, their dad grabbed the oven mitts, and pulled the tray from the oven. Turning off all of the knobs, he grabbed a knife, and moved all of the cookies onto a plate to cool.
The three of them moved to the kitchen table, where they sat silently watching the tray of baked goods.
Yang wasn't exactly a patient child, and it was only a few minutes before she reached out, and took one of her misshapen cookies from the plate. It was still hot, and soft, threatening to break as she held it. It didn't look right. Her mom would have done a better job.
"Thank you."
She looked up to find Ruby, biting into one of the cookies. Melted chocolate smeared itself around her sisters face from the very first bite.
"They're good," Ruby said, gobbling up the cookie in record time. She looked sideways at their dad as she reached for another. When he made no move to stop her, she grabbed another two, and kept munching away.
Then another hand reached out, taking a cookie from the plate. Yang looked at her dad in surprise. She had always assumed he didn't like cookies, because he'd always give up his for either herself or Ruby. Taking a big bite, he chewed slowly, thoughtfully. His smile was sad as he looked to his oldest daughter.
"They taste just like your mom's," he praised.
It wasn't what they all needed. What they needed, was to have Summer back, but with everything considered, those cookies were the best any of them could have managed.
After that, Yang taught herself the parts of their lives that used to be filled by Summer. Yang's messy print joined Summer's elegant scrawl in the margins of the recipe books. She quickly learned all of Ruby's favorite bedtime stories, doing her best to imitate the voices their mom had used. It wasn't even a passable substitute, but the sound of her little sister giggling was worth the effort.
Yang wasn't cut out to be a substitute mom for Ruby, but she worked hard to be the best big sister anyone could ask for. She treasured the little girl that had her mom's eyes, like a piece of Summer that had been left behind with her. Over the years they became inseparable, but Yang wanted to be a huntress, and had been well aware of what the two year age gap between them would eventually mean.
It was harder to pull the book down with her non dominant hand, but Yang managed eventually. Looking through the red cookbook, she paused on her favorite cookies. Well, maybe they weren't her favorite, but they were Ruby's favorite, and they could always make her dad smile, so she had made them the most. The page was stained with smudges of little chocolate fingerprints. The edges were warped from old spills. In places, the pages were stiff from caked on flour that had been pressed between the paper for too long. Running one finger down the list of ingredients, she went about the familiar patterns of starting the recipe. It was only a minute before she had assembled all of her ingredients. Pausing to look over the things, she turned back to the fridge and pulled out a beer. So what if her dad got mad at her for drinking. What was he going to do. Ground her? She popped the bottle cap open against the edge of the counter, and drained half the bottle before putting it to the side and measuring out sugar.
Once she had received her acceptance to Beacon, she would have been content to just ignore the problem entirely, but there had been no avoiding it the day Ruby did the math, and realized her sister would be moving away, and it would be two years before she could even think of joining her. She had watched helpless as Ruby tried to suppress her sadness, attempting to cover her pain with excitement for her sister, but Ruby had never been a particularly good actress.
Yang sort of knew how she felt. She didn't want to leave her behind, but waiting for her didn't seem to be an option either. Still, she was very aware of how it felt to be the one left behind, and no matter how good the reason, she hated to be doing that to her sister.
By that point, cookies had stopped becoming a staple of their kitchen. Both of them grew up, and cookies came out for celebrations, but they rarely made the time to bake them on a regular basis. Life got in the way, she supposed. But when faced with the idea of having to leave her sister, and not having any idea of how to make things better, Yang had found herself once again in the kitchen, mixing up Ruby's favorite sweets.
When Ruby wandered into the kitchen, and found Yang surrounded by pastries, and covered in flour, she couldn't contain her laughter. The nostalgia combined with the ludicrous picture broke the ice between them, and they laughed, hugged, and cried until they were ready to talk it out. They both sat on the kitchen floor, facing the oven the way they used to do as kids.
"It's going to be weird," Ruby sighed, "not having you at home. I don't know what I'm going to do without you."
"Meh, you'll be just fine," Yang smiled down at her, before tilting her head to rest on top of her little sister's. "You still have Dad, and Qrow. I'll be home on the holidays. Vale's not that far. I'm the one who's going to be lost without you."
"You're just saying that," she dismissed her with a small smile. "You're amazing! You're so strong, and cool, and you're going to be a great huntress. Beacon's going to love you."
The praise was too much. Ruby was the special one. Everyone could see it. Someday, she was going to be something extraordinary. Leagues ahead of her own class, she could take on most of the students in Yang's year without any problem whatsoever.
In Ruby's words, Yang was special because of her ability to channel damage back on her attacker. Her little sister had been amazed by it from the first day her semblance had started to manifest. It was easy to see why she was so impressed by it. Like most things with Yang, the ability was very flashy, and it made her next to impossible to beat in school. It was what had cinched her admission to Beacon.
Yang knew better. Her ability to take a hit wasn't what made her special. What made her special, was this kid, who was going to change the world some day, thought for some reason that she was most amazing person in the world.
If she was being honest, Yang wasn't even sure who she was without Ruby. Her whole identity felt forever wrapped up in being her big sister. Beyond that? She was terrified that she was going to show up at Beacon, only to discover that beyond being a big sister, she wasn't much.
"No, I'm not just saying that," she assured her. "You have no idea kid. Leaving you behind is going to be the hardest thing I've ever had to do."
"You'll always come back for me, right?" Ruby asked her, voice small, on the edge of tears.
"Always," she promised, wrapping the girl in the biggest bear hug she could manage, and kissing the top of her head. How could she ever leave? Ruby was her home.
Ingredients assembled into familiar doughy texture, Yang quickly rolled out a tray full of cookie balls, and slipped the sheet into the oven with a shaky hand, sinking down onto the well worn kitchen floor, trying to not let the memories consume her.
The oven light wasn't on, but she wasn't really watching the food anyways. The dark glass on the front of the appliance reflected her image back to her, with most of the color muted out. She looked tired, which felt impossible, because all she had done for weeks was sleep. Being depressed was exhausting. The misery was taking it's toll on her hair as well, with the mass of curls tangled and wild around her face. It would take her hours to sort out, if she could even still manage it with one hand. Such a basic task felt too daunting to even consider.
She was a mess.
Leaving Ruby behind was never a fear she had to conquer. Weeks before the start of school, Ruby was in the right place, at the right time, and caught the attention of Professor Ozpin. Their dad had been surprised. Yang hadn't been. Ruby had been ready to become a huntress for such a long time. It was the world around her that had trouble reconciling the incredible power she possessed with her tiny frame, and soft eyes.
She had barely been able to contain herself when it finally sunk in that she would get to take her baby sister to Beacon with her. It was obvious that she was embarrassing the younger girl, so at her first opportunity, she left her to make friends of her own, giving her space. Ruby had been furious at her for that, but the anger didn't last. It never did with her.
That was Yang's thing.
The first night in their new dorm, Yang had crept quietly out of bed, stepping gingerly on Weiss's mattress to shake her sister awake. Quickly silencing her protests, she led her through their dorms, and down to the common kitchen area available to students.
"We need to celebrate," Yang had insisted in a whisper, rifling through cabinets for bowls and baking ingredients. "How do you feel about chocolate chip?"
"I'll get everything from the fridge," she said in answer, moving fast enough to litter the floor with rose petals.
Yang turned on the oven while they mixed together the dough. By now the recipe was second nature, as ingrained in their history together as the bloodline they shared. With all but one of the ingredients mixed together, Ruby upended the bag of chocolate chips in the bowl, loading the cookies up with two or three times the amount of chocolate the original recipe had called for.
"Just what do you two think you're doing?"
The sister's jumped, as the sharp voice that had been chiding them for one thing or another for the last two days cut into the quiet. Weiss was frowning at the pair of them, arms crossed indignantly across her body. "You're breaking curfew. You're going to get our team in trouble before classes even start!"
"Easy Snow Pea," Yang teased. "No one's gonna get in trouble as long as you don't rat on us."
"I would never," she pouted, moving further into the kitchen. "I'm not going to be that girl."
"Perfect," she grinned. "Then you can grab a cookie sheet from that cabinet over there and help us roll these out."
Weiss looked startled at the command, and no less so when her feet seemed to move without her consent into the kitchen to help.
"What are these anyways?" a soft voice rumbled, and the three girls jumped again. Blake had wandered right into the middle of their conversation without any of them noticing.
"Chocolate chip cookies," Ruby announced proudly. Her smile lit up the room, thrilled to be sharing this family tradition with two girls that would become part of their family over the next few years. They'd make friends with other hunters and huntresses, but your team was special. They might have hit a rough start, but she knew she would love them already.
"Is there any cookie in that chocolate?" she asked curiously, reaching out to snatch a chip from the bowl.
"Just enough to hold together the chocolate chips," Yang smirked, stirring in the pieces. "What are you doing here?"
"You're all not as quiet as you think. When all three of you left, I followed to see what was happening. I must admit, this isn't what I had expected." Golden eyes glowed with their suppressed excitement.
"Well then," Yang announced to the lot of them, "sleeves up girls, we have cookies to make."
At first Weiss wrinkled her nose at the idea of shoving her hands into food, but once they got started, she seemed to relish in the rebellious glee of it. When Ruby sneaked a bite, she got an elbow in the side from her sister. "Some of them need to get into the oven."
"Yeah, Ruby," Blake smirked, rolling a tiny ball between her palms. "If we eat all of these, then we'll need to start all over again to make more!" Popping the unbaked cookie into her mouth instead of onto the cookie sheet, she didn't seem disappointed about the idea at all.
There had been a dozen cookies that made it safely into the oven, the rest of the dough falling prey to it's natural predator; the teenage girl. Pouring themselves glasses of milk, the four of them sat around the little table, eating the finished product of their work. Their conversation was superficial, but they laughed together all the same, and it felt like home. Or at least like a place they all wanted to be able to call home. That would come with time.
Yang closed her eyes, no longer willing or able to look at her miserable reflection any longer. She had been right that night. In time, she had learned everything she needed to know about those girls. Not everything there was to know about them, that was still something they were working on, but she knew that she could trust them with her life, and that was enough. Her team claimed their place in her heart, rooting so quickly it scared her.
Weiss was her best friend. Normally she wasn't a big believer in opposites attracting, but once their bantering found a friendly rhythm, the two of them became the worlds best team. Their work together in the Vytal tournament was a declaration of their friendship. Weiss sacrificed herself for Yang. Yang pulled out everything she had to win the match for Weiss. Her and Weiss were solid. Then, Weiss was taken from her, whisked away in the chaos of the attack.
Blake was something else. Maybe it was all in her imagination. She had been second guessing herself since Sun told her that she had run, but she did think that there was something more between the two of them. It happened in small, fleeting moments of electricity across her skin. Then Blake had left her wondering if it had all been one-sided, unrequited from the beginning.
But neither of them compared to what it felt like to lose Ruby. She wasn't reminded of Weiss, and Blake as soon as she opened her eyes every morning. Signs of her monochrome partners weren't scattered across every room in her house. She didn't like to think about what her life was going to be without Weiss and Blake, but she couldn't even remember what life had ever been like without Ruby. She didn't know how to get through this all without her.
She flicked off the oven, making her best guess at a timer she forget to set. Bare handed, she reached in, grabbing the sheet, letting the shock of the burn move through her hand, and fuel her fire.
Flames melted through her numbness, and the full weight of everything she'd been pushing away came crashing down, heavy around her shoulder. She didn't cry so much as she screamed, trying to get the painful pulling at her chest to stop. Her tears came streaming out of her eyes faster than she had thought possible, like dam's unleashed.
Ruby had left her. She had told her that she wasn't ok, and her sister had still gone. Her whole body ached with the loss of her. It wasn't just a hole in her heart she was feeling, it was the very core of every nerve in her body that ached with the absence of her. Ruby was such an intricately woven into the pieces of her life, that with her gone, there was nothing left to hold her together.
That's how her dad found her, late that night when he finally returned home; a sobbing mess over a sheet of chocolate chip cookies. Her hand was red and raw, resting palm up at the side of the baking sheet.
He ran to her, folding her into his arms and letting her cry into his shirt. Wrapping himself around her, like he could physically shield her from all of the tears in the world if he could just hold on tight enough, he murmured softly against her hair. A broad hand moved in a comforting circle across her back. Yang had fought for her independence at such an early age, he couldn't remember the last time she had let him hold her like this. Like she was something delicate and small, and she wanted him to protect her.
As much as it killed him, he knew that he had to put a hold on his hunt for his youngest daughter. Yang had always been his strong, brave little girl. Physically, and emotionally, he'd watch her embrace challenges well beyond her years. For so long he had seen Yang as unbreakable. It was reassuring as a parent, to have a child that routinely climbed out of trouble without so much as a scratch. He still worried, he figured that was an inherent part of being a parent, but it had been so long since he been concerned for her safety.
Now it was painfully obvious, how close to destruction his oldest daughter really was. He had taken her at her silence, assuming she needed time to process, and grieve before she was willing to open up to anyone. From the looks of things now, he couldn't have been more wrong. He had almost been too late to notice that she wasn't strong enough for this.
"Dad?" she sobbed, a desperate plea. She wasn't sure what exactly she was asking him for, but it was something she knew, deep down, he was incapable of delivering. He would try, attempt to hold together the broken parts of her so she didn't fall apart, but Yang had already shattered. There was nothing left of her to save.