Part VII

Yang's eyes shot open as a cry split the night, attempting to roll away from the warm embrace of her wife before strong arms pulled her back in, much to her protest. "Snowdrift-"

"It's my turn," Winter replied firmly, rubbing at the sleep in her eyes as she sat up, the wailing from down the hall pushing her to fully alert. "Stay in bed. I'll attend to her."

She watched as the woman got out of bed, grabbing a robe they kept at the ready just for situations like these. Winter had returned the day before from an arduous mission in the remote Atlesian north, bereft of the most basic comforts, so Yang had reacted to their child's cry without a second thought.

"Are you sure?" She fidgeted with the sheet, pulling it up to cover her chest. Her breasts ached a bit, already almost full again despite her using the pump just before bed, and she felt a maternal twinge as the cries continued. "You need your sleep-"

"What I need is to spend some quality time with our daughter." Winter smiled softly, pride evident in her eyes. The past two months away had worn on her, as evidenced by the enthusiasm with which they'd celebrated her return- though gently, considering Yang still hadn't fully recovered. Her wife had taken up every duty pertaining to their daughter since she returned, so she really shouldn't be surprised. "Stay in bed and rest. I'll warm up a bottle from the fridge."

Reluctantly, Yang settled back into the sheets- relieved, to some extent, because caring for a four month old alone seemed so much easier in theory- but sleep eluded her as Winter slipped out of the room and down the hall. Zephyr's cries calmed some and receded as she was carried downstairs to await a warm bottle, which should've eased the new mother, but relief turned to restlessness. With her wife and baby not in the room, she found it difficult to remain there herself, tossing and turning as she tried to get comfortable.

Eventually, she conceded the fight and got out of bed, pulling an oversized t shirt over her head and a pair of panties up her legs before leaving the room. It didn't take her long to find the two loves of her life. Winter sat in the rocking chair in their nursery- a room she'd hardly used while the woman was away- with their child swaddled in blankets, holding a bottle as Zephyr drank.

"She's gotten so big," her wife said, tone filled with wonder. "She has your eyes."

"Last I checked, mine aren't blue," she replied with a smile, entering the room.

"I don't mean the color." Her expression softened. "They shine like yours."

Yang didn't see it. Perhaps in the chubby curve of her cheeks, but the blue eyes and wisps of white hair were trademark Schnee genetics showing strongly. In her mind's eye, she saw Zephyr fully grown- a spitting image of Winter, but with wider shoulders and hips, a bright smile and an uplifting laugh.

"She's beautiful," she said, crossing the room and carefully sitting in her wife's lap, the two readjusting until they were comfortably fit in the chair with their daughter between them, still wholly concerned with her meal.

"She truly is," Winter replied, looking at her and smiling. "I love you."

"I love you too." She chuckled softly, tracing a finger along Zephyr's cheek. "Who do you think she'll be when she grows up?" Yang used to not concern herself with the future too much. It would come in time; no reason to stress over it. But now… everything was different.

"Knowing her momma like I do…" Her wife flashed a smile her way before looking down at the babe. "She'll grow into a strong woman with a heart big enough for the world. She'll love freely… and she'll get hurt, but she'll pick herself off the ground and be all the stronger for it. She'll make her mistakes- she'll do foolish things, like all Schnees do, but the Xiao Long in her will find ways to overcome, to be a better person." Then Winter paused, looking up at her with the most adoring expression Yang had ever seen- and she thought their wedding day could never be topped. "If I'm being honest, I'd be rather happy if she's at least half the woman you are. Then, I think, we've done a good job."

She shook her head, leaning down for a light kiss. "You're not so bad yourself, you know." Her gaze fell to their child, who seemed to be done with the bottle. It wasn't quite empty, but close, and she seemed to be feeding purely because the milk was still there. "Can't we keep her like this forever?"

"Come now- you want her grown, too." Her wife chuckled, leaning her head into Yang's shoulder. "You'll teach her to ride a bike and play lacrosse. You'll teach her to run and jump and play in the fall leaves, and you'll talk to her about her crushes and pop bands and you'll love every minute of it."

"Just because you're right doesn't mean I have to like it." She leaned her head against Winter's. "When's your next mission?"

"Not for another month at least." A sigh slipped past her lips as she pulled the bottle away. "Are you certain staying in is a good idea?"

"Can you see yourself doing anything else?" Yang pressed a kiss to white hair- fuller, coarser than those atop their child's head, but that would only last for so long. "Running around the woods being a hero and coming home to a loving wife and child. It's not a bad gig."

"There's a time I believed that having a family waiting for me at home wouldn't be an issue, but my thoughts have changed." Winter shifted Zephyr, adjusting the burping rag as she gently patted their daughter's back. "These long stretches away… I'm not sure if I can do them."

"Long stretches? It was only two months."

"This time. Had the mission come in a few months earlier, I would've missed her birth altogether." Her wife shook her head. "I love my career, but I love you two more. I feel like I have to choose."

Yang breathed in deep and let it out slowly. "Whatever choice you make, I'll support you. Just know that I believe you can make it work. It doesn't have to be either or."

Winter looked down at their child but said nothing. They would likely have the conversation again, with clearer heads. But for the moment, they watched their baby girl drift into a peaceful slumber in adoring silence.


Part VIII

Winter jerked awake at the sensation of someone touching her shoulder. Normally, it would be the familiar touch of her wife, but she'd fallen into a fitful sleep in the woman's absence as she usually did when she went to their bed alone. She'd nearly raised a hand in defense before snapping to her senses, two sets of wide eyes blinking at her in the moonlight.

"Zephyr? Zise?" She sat up a little, frowning at the little girls standing at her bedside. "What are you two doing out of bed?"

"Zise had a nightmare," her eldest said, biting her lip softly. A habit she'd picked up from Yang and a sign she wanted to ask a question but didn't know how, having reached the age where she was more mindful of the requests she made.

Her sister, however, lacked that concern. "When's Momma comin' home?"

"Next week," she replied with a soft smile. It wasn't often Yang was called away to supervise trips so she didn't take it to heart, especially since she suspected exactly why they were looking for Momma. It remained one of their few disagreements, mainly because she could never imagine going to her parents' bedside looking for comfort. It seemed… a ludicrous thought, though her wife assured her that letting their children sleep with them on occasion- to settle nightmares or ease loneliness- wasn't a bad thing. "It's just us until then."

The wind outside howled, the patter of rain against the window starting soft before becoming much harder, a crash of thunder quickly following the flash of lightning- a sudden, summer storm that had both girls jumping where they stood. Were she her mother or father, she'd send them back to bed with a chiding remark about acting their age, but she'd grown so much since leaving that awful place. As rare as it remained, she perhaps had to concede the point to her wife.

"If you want, you two can sleep here tonight." She scooted back a little and lifted the covers. "There's plenty of room." Without hesitation, both of her daughters clambered into bed, Zise first followed by her older sister. They shifted for a few minutes to get comfortable before settling down, though neither seemed particularly intent on sleeping as they watched Winter with wide, hopeful eyes. "Momma usually tells you a story to chase away the bad dreams, correct?"

"Yes, Mom," the replied in unison, their voices soft but excited nonetheless.

"Very well. I believe I know just such a story."

She then launched into a fanciful tale about a knight and a dragon, though it went much differently than the usual stories. Rather than locked in mortal combat, the knight found the dragon to be a rather endearing creature and became enamored with the beast. The two became companions and travelled the land, fighting bandits and brigands and all manner of terrible creatures, and eventually falling in love. When they wed, the whole kingdom turned out to celebrate their union.

"Did they have any babies?" Zise's voice was soft and the words sluggish, but she somehow remained awake throughout the telling.

"They did," Winter replied with a soft smile. "Two little dragonlings, with sapphires for eyes."

"Mom, is that really how you and Momma met?" The skepticism- though entirely warranted- in her eldest daughter's voice gave her pause. Normally, she'd object to outright lying to her children, but Yang insisted some fibs became better with age.

"It is," she replied with a soft smile. "I may be a different sort of knight than I used to be, but Momma is every bit the dragon she's always been. And the same goes for you two."

"But we can't breath fire." Zise pouted. "I tried."

"Never let the absence of success discourage you." Although not necessarily applicable in this particular instance, the advice remained sound. "I believe with all my heart you have what it takes to achieve anything you set your mind to."

"Okay."

With that, Zise seemed content to close her eyes, murmuring a quick 'night mom' and snickering before sleep seemed to take hold of her. Of all the things for them to inherit from Yang, puns seemed to be the most obvious of the traits, and it brought a smile to her lips.

"Mom?" She looked over to her eldest, blue eyes swirling with uncertainty. "May I ask a question?"

"Of course, Zephyr."

"Will you be home for my birthday this year?" It seemed to pain her to ask and that made Winter's heart clench tight, as much because her daughter obviously seemed reluctant to voice the query as due to her answer.

"I'll try my best." Switching from the line units to a more sedentary job should have imbued her with far more time to spend with her family, but circumstances over the past two years had made that sporadic. It truly pained her to have missed the last one and she'd nearly jumped down the throat of a man senior to her over the whole ordeal. Were it not for a timely intervention by General Ironwood and Commander Cotta, she likely wouldn't be in the military at this point, and she hadn't decided how to feel about that. "I will do everything in my power to be there, Zephyr."

"Promise?"

"I swear on my honor as a knight," she said, recalling a silly little gesture Yang had done with Ruby a time or two. She offered her pinky up. "I'll do my absolute best." A tiny pinky wrapped around hers as her eldest daughter smiled. "Now, get some sleep."

"Yes, Mom. Night." Zephyr closed her eyes. "Love you."

"I love you too." Leaning over, she pressed a kiss against the foreheads of both children. "Both of you."

As they both fell into blissfully untroubled dreams, the storm outside raged and Winter absently hoped Yang was experiencing better weather.


Part IX

Yang crept through the house, trying hard to keep hold of the presents she carried in her arms while moving down the stairs. If she so much as made a peep, both of her daughters would be out of bed and charging towards the living room to check beneath the tree, and she'd like to keep the mystery going for a few more years. Winter thought it a touch ridiculous but she got a kick out of the letters they wrote, asking politely for presents from an imaginary figure. At least they'd gotten past the phase where Zise asked why Zephyr got presents again a week later; she'd had enough birthdays to understand that proximity to the holiday didn't have any bearing on the gifts one received. Fleetingly, she had a thought about how much easier this would be with a little help, but she dismissed it.

Winter had gotten tapped for a mission- a long one at that- three months ago and likely wouldn't be back until the following year. It broke their hearts- and the woman raised hell with everyone who would listen- but it worried them more than anything. Zephyr had reacted to the news with a startling amount of grace for a child so young, and knowing that Winter had promised to be home made it worse.

Yang wanted to be mad. Truly, she did, but she also knew that it was just her inherent desire to protect her children at work. Her wife had promised to try and she did; sometimes, things didn't fall in their favor. It wasn't anyone's fault and she really didn't think the woman would fit into a regular nine-to-five. The desk job she'd taken already chaffed at her sense of wander and she tolerated it well for the sake of her family.

As Yang set the presents beneath the tree, her brows drew together. Sometimes- when she was missing her wife and the doubts took hold- she feared Winter would leave, that she would take the balance between the military and her family as absolutes, where only one could exist, and she would be on the losing end. It was, perhaps, one of the chief reasons she didn't want Winter to make that distinction, but trying to balance the two seemed to be rubbing her raw. Nights like these… she worried. Though she wouldn't be there to open them, Yang tucked the gifts to her wife under the tree- some from her, some from the girls, and two mailed from Weiss and Blake, who would be bringing their own family up to Atlas the following week for Zephyr's birthday.

The rattling of the lock on the front door drew Yang's attention, hopping to her feet and rushing towards the foyer; it wouldn't be the first time Zephyr or Zise tried peeking out in the middle of the night, hoping to catch a glimpse of the mysterious deliverer of presents and eater of cookies. When she made the last turn and saw the front door opened wide, she panicked and started running towards the snowy night, a shout rising in her throat.

It never left, though, as a hand clamped over her mouth and an arm wrapped around her waist just before she hit the threshold.

"Sundrop, it's me." Her eyes went wide, turning her head to see her wife smiling, cheeks red and snowflakes caught in her hair.

"Snowdrift, what're you-"

She was silenced by a kiss- probably for the best, seeing as she'd spoken loudly, the surprise and previous panic doing little for her volume control. With ease, Yang fell into it, turning in her wife's arms to throw her own around the woman's neck and pull her deeper into the embrace. When they broke apart, words escaped her, too relieved to see Winter again.

"I'm sorry I'm late. I was supposed to be here yesterday morning, but the flight got delayed," she said in a soft voice, leaning so true foreheads rested together. "For the next two weeks, I'm yours and the girls' and no one else's."

"You always are," she replied, sneaking another kiss and kicking the door closed, all too happy when her back was pressed against it. "The girls'll be thrilled."

"I brought some last minute gifts, all the way from Mistral." Winter's expression faltered. "Do you think Zephyr will forgive me?"

"Of course she will. You kept your promise." Yang chuckled. "You just wait. When they wake up-"

"Mom?"

"Mom!"

They both turned to see their daughter pressed up against the banister, one absolutely stunned and the other obviously excited. Zephyr and Zise quickly descended the stairs as Winter pulled away to kneel down, arms open wide as their daughters rushed in for a hug.

"Girls, I missed you so much."

"Did Santa bring you?" Zephyr was almost on the verge of tears as she clung tightly to Winter's right shoulder. "I told him he didn't have to bring anything else for me. Just you, Mom. He said he'd try."

"It took both of us but, yes, he did," she replied, pressing a kiss to the side of her daughter's head. "I'll be home for your birthday, as promised."

"Did he bring my big thing, too?" Zise squirmed, looking around excitedly. "I told him that it was all I wanted and I wouldn't ask for anything next year, either. Please, did he bring it?"

"Uh, I don't know, Zise." Yang shrugged discreetly at the curious look her wife gave her. "Maybe if you tell me what it is, I can find it? You know he likes to hide things sometimes."

"A baby sister!" Zise giggled, still looking around as she wiggled away from Winter to look herself. "I wanna be like Zephie! That means I need a little sister! She has to be here somewhere."

Her brows shot up, surprised at the request- it hadn't been in their letters to Santa, and the one at the mall she'd taken them to last month made no mention of either wish.

"Really? When did you ask him that?" It was a stall tactic that worked as Zise's expression screwed up in thought, turning to her sister for help. Meanwhile Yang leaned in close to her wife. "Think we can swing it? We're batting two for two."

"Our odds are good." She spoke flippantly but the twinkle in her eyes was hard to hide and Yang could hardly believe she doubted, however briefly, how much the woman loved being with her family. "I think we should try."

"Oh! It was at school!" Zise piped up, clapping her hands together. Her sister pointedly looked away, as if she hadn't whispered the answer into the little one's ear. "I told him and he said he'd keep it in mind."

"Well, Gumdrop, you did tell him it's your only present for the next two years." Yang offered a sympathetic smile. "I'm sure he's just spacing it out."

"We'll keep an eye out for your present," Winter said, keeping her tone as reasonable possible despite the excitement hiding just behind the facade, something her wife could only see from years of being with her. "In the meantime, be a good girl and go get some sleep. You too, Zephyr. Mom's not going anywhere for two weeks."

"Can we go sledding tomorrow?"

Their eldest damn near begged, and Yang almost cried- for whatever reason, Zephyr would only ask to go sledding when Winter was home. She'd tried and tried to coax her into going over the past few months to no avail; Mom was the one who took them out the first time and it seemed that activity remained her domain.

"I'll make cookies for when you get back." She offered, reaching out to ruffle the girl's hair.

"Can you come too, Momma?"

Yang paused for a moment before smiling wide. "Of course."

"Then it's settled." Winter pulled their daughters in for an embrace and a good night kiss, passing them off to her for the same before they took themselves upstairs- they didn't even try to sneak a peek into the living room. Once they were gone, Yang found herself caught up in her wife's embrace once more, recognizing that curl to her lips. "We should start working on 'finding' Zise's gift. Don't you agree?"

She smiled, tilting her head in that special way that invited Winter to scoop her up in her arms and take her to bed. "Fuck yeah."


Part X

Winter paced the length of her CHU, curses falling from her lips with every step. Twelve hours. Twelve fucking hours they'd been on lockdown, completely blacked out from the world just beyond the perimeter. Details were sketchy but only a handful of situations could prompt such measures and some part of her knew that it was entirely selfish to be angry, yet she couldn't help it. Ever since returning from her leave over the holidays, she hadn't missed an opportunity to call home and see her girls, even celebrated the confirmation of Yang's pregnancy with a more… private exchange- and she swore one of the communications guys had tapped in for a little while because there seemed to be one younger soldier who could not look her in the eye when they passed each other in the chow hall- but now she was seven hours late. The girls would be asleep by now, disappointed but ultimately not surprised, while Yang waited up as late as she could, and it killed her inside to be the cause.

A knocking at the door drew her attention and she pulled it open with a sharp motion, scowling at the person standing just outside the door.

"Commander," she said, a thread of warning in her tone. "I'm on downtime."

"You are," they replied with a nod. "But I figured you were still up. Lockdown just ended."

Some of Winter's anger bled away, noting the heavy slump to her old friend's shoulders. "We lost one."

"A full squad." Commander Cotta sighed. "The General and I just finished the notification. The fighting's getting worse along the border."

Her expression tightened, a pull deep in her chest tugging her two different ways. Part of her- the part that had found a home in the rank and file, that lived and breathed regulations and discipline- felt a new surge of rage fill her, the urge to grab her rifle and jump on the next convey, to fight on the front lines until the war was won coursing through her veins. But a different, equally strong stab of terror gripped her then, because it could just as easily have been her going home in a bag and Yang on the other end of the line as the General and Commander gave their sincere condolences.

"Terry," she said, for just a moment reaching out to the person she'd considered her best friend before Yang entered her life, who'd been there in one way or another over the past decade and more. "I think this is it for me."

Reaching up to pull of their helmet, Terry looked up at her with a neutral expression. "Is this where you draw the line?"

In her mind, she saw Yang, tears in her eyes as she tried to remain strong, two little girls clinging to her legs as a swaddled newborn laid in her arms, standing in front of a flag covered casket.

"Yes. I've been considering it for years now." She paused, then shook her head. "I love being a soldier, but I can't keep doing this to my family."

"Winter Schnee, the family woman." The Commander chuckled. "You really grew up, huh?"

"You could say that." She nodded, then glanced inside her CHU. "I-"

"Have your priorities, I understand." Terry tapped their fingers against their helmet. "I'll assemble the paperwork. You've got, what, two years left in your contract?"

"About that." For a brief moment, she thought about stopping her friend. "Thank you."

"You have to tell the General, though."

"Fair," she replied with a chuckle, already dreading the conversation- not because he would attempt to dissuade her, though. Frankly, she expected he would try to hurry the process along as much as possible without compromising her abilities, but it would be a bittersweet conversation all the same.

Before she turned to close the door, Winter raked her gaze across the far flung base near the front lines, the hasty constructions and soldiers milling about as the sun began to set. Years ago, she loved the view and the pride it instilled in her; now, all she wanted was to see her own front porch with her kids playing in the yard and her wife resting against her side.

Tapping the keyboard to bring her laptop screen back up, Winter waited with a bouncing knee for the program to dial her wife, already expecting the chiding lecture when- or if it got picked up. With the time difference, it was the middle of the night back home, and some part of her worried-

"Snowdrift?" Her voice came through before Yang's visage filled the screen, marks on her cheeks shining bright with fresh tears. "You- you're-"

"I'm here, right here." Tears pricked at her eyes. "I'm sorry, I-"

"I saw it on the news." Fresh tears fell from lilac eyes. "They said twelve were lost but they didn't give the names and when you didn't call-"

"I'm sorry," she said, feeling the urge to cry as she reached towards the screen, unable to provide the comfort her wife desperately needed. "We were on lockdown until they did the notifications; I called as soon as I could."

"I know, I know, but I've just been so worried, between this and the baby-"

"The baby?" Another shot of terror tore through her. "What's wrong? What happened?"

"It's stupid." Yang scrubbed at her eyes, trying to calm herself down, but her voice remained watery as she offered a goofy little smile, a hand coming to rest on her belly. "We're two for three now."

"Two for…" Shocked, she connected the dots as her mouth fell open. "We're having a boy?"

Her wife nodded, laughing and crying a little. "A little boy. Yeah."

"I can't wait to meet him," she said, laughing breathlessly. "We're going to have a boy!"

"But what are we going to tell Zise?" Yang ran a hand through her hair. "I know it's dumb but it's been just- she asked for a baby sister and we're having a boy and I'm too scared to tell her, and then I get home and see the news-"

"We'll just tell her." Easier said than done from half a world away. "I know you're worried but we have good kids, good girls- they'll understand, especially Zise."

"But what if she gets upset?" She scrubbed at her face. "I'm gonna wait, at least until she-" Her head snapped up, eyes going wide before she got up. "Girls, what are you two doing out of bed?"

Winter waited, worry creasing her brow, until her wife reappeared with their daughters in her arms, both wearing their pajamas. "Girls, you promised to be good for Momma."

"But we missed you!" Zephyr frowned, ducking her head slightly. "I'm sorry, Mom."

"They don't have school tomorrow," Yang said, though her voice turned chiding. "But they both know better."

"Sorry," the two said, Zise lightly nibbling on her knuckle.

"Well, Mom's sorry she didn't call earlier." She did her best to watch Yang's expression from the corner of her eye, judging that the girls didn't have an idea as to why. "But next time, listen to Momma." Once they responded affirmatively, she paused, noting the way their eldest didn't look up. "Zephyr?"

"Momma was sad," the little girl blurred out. "At dinner, she was trying not to cry and then she did when we went to bed. We didn't know what to do! We didn't mean to be bad; we just wanted to help."

"We just didn't know how," Zise said, coming to her sister's aid. "Mom, when are you coming home? Momma's never sad when you're home."

"It's going to be a little while longer." Her brows knit together. "But when I come home next, I'm staying." Little girls shouldn't be worried about stopping their Momma's tears, shouldn't be listening to sobs from down the hall. Winter had that childhood and she swore her children would never know that; she failed this time but, soon, she'd fix it for good. "But, there's been a… bit of a problem. I'm sorry, Zise." She frowned and shrugged. "There's a little complication with your present."

"Snowdrift." The warning tone of her wife cautioned her, but she knew her girls- she believed she did, anyway.

"What, Mom? Momma?" Zise looked at them body, twisting her tiny body around. "What comprication?"

"You're not getting a little sister, Sweetheart." She paused. "You're both getting a little brother."

For a few moments, both little girls watched the screen.

Then Zise blinked, processing the information, before her eyes lit up.

"A brother!" She turned to her sister. "Zephie! We're getting a brother!"

"I know Zizi!" They both began squirming. "We gotta make sure he grows up right!"

"Uh huh!"

"Wait," Yang said, relief still visible in her expression despite the curiosity in her tone. "What's this about him growing up right?"

"Boys are terrible," Zephyr said, followed by her sister.

"Aunt Weiss told us so."

Her wife immediately shot her a look. "That's your sister."

"I'll talk to her," she said with a grin. "And we'll make sure he's not terrible."

They talked for another thirty minutes before the girls' eyelids became too heavy and Yang put them to bed again. While they were gone, Winter thought about the coming conversation, and settled her thoughts into a concise explanation. The moment her wife returned, she spoke.

"I'm being serious about this being my last tour. I don't want to put you and the kids through this again. I'll beg for change on a street corner if I have to; I'll find some job to help support this family, but doing this…" she gestured to her accommodations and sighed. "I love the military. But not enough to do this again. I'm coming home, getting out, and I'll find my place elsewhere."

"If that's your decision, I'll support you," Yang said. "We're doing well, ya know, saved up a bit. You don't have to run into a new career right off the bat." She paused, swallowing once before sighing deeply. "I… I'm glad, though. I said I'd support you whatever you choose, and if you change your mind, I'll still support you." Her shoulders dropped. "But having you home means a lot. Just get back home safe." Lilac eyes darted down. "You'll probably be home in time for him to be born. We'll have to figure out names and-"

"We'll talk about that soon." She smiled. "But you need your sleep, too."

"Hey, I spent a few hours thinking you were dead." Her wife crossed her arms over her chest. "I'll deal with a little sleep loss; don't take this from me." Her expression faltered. "Unless you-"

"I have all the time in the world for you."

"Good." Yang nodded. "Cause we gotta talk about a few things, like what you're going to be doing between now and when you get out."

"Does 'missing and loving you' count?"

"Don't try to butter me up; I know you can get very focused on things and the last thing I want is you distracted while you're out there with bullets and mortars flying."

And then began a small lecture born from the woman's worry and she weathered it with a smile, allowing a few daydreams to fill her mind about perhaps even becoming a stay-at-home mom, though Yang teasingly suggested she learn to cook, first.


Part XI

The roar of an engine, the wind on her face, the sun setting on the horizon- a beautiful ride. The green light ahead of her, easing on the throttle so she doesn't hit the dip too hard, because she's older and has so much more to lose than when she got the bike.

The screech of brakes.

The flash of headlights.

Then the impact.

Yang jolted awake, arms pinwheeling to protect herself as a scream caught in her throat. In the blink of an eye, a weight appeared as Winter tried to stop her thrashing.

"Sundrop, it's me, listen to my voice." She spoke softly but with a firmness, trying to break through the fog in her wife's mind. "You're safe, you're in bed, you're okay."

Her breathing slowed as she blinked the world into focus, taking in the master bedroom. "I…"

"You're okay," her wife said, her voice calming and soothing. A kiss pressed against her shoulder- the left one. "You're here, with me. You're okay."

She looked down at the stump of her right arm, still wrapped in bandages, as she caught her breath.

"No… I'm not."

Before Winter could argue, a cry echoed from down the hall, and she took her opportunity for an escape without hesitation, throwing the covers off herself and getting out of bed.

"I can-"

"It's my turn." Immediately after the words left her mouth, she winced. Her tone was too sharp, snapping at the woman for no reason out of wounded pride, but she brushed out of the room without uttering an apology. The words seemed so hard to put together now; if felt like nothing that came from her was ever good, not anymore. She entered the nursery while pulling off her night shirt as best she could with only one arm. It took a minute, more than a few curses falling from her lips, but once she got it off, she reached down into the crib to rub her thumb along her son's face, trying to calm his crying.

After two kids and four months with a third, she shouldn't be hesitating to pick up her child and nurse him. However… fear gripped her heart as he kicked out with tiny legs, hardly soothed by her touch.

What if she dropped him? What if she couldn't get him to nurse? What if he refused to be comforted by her touch?

Two months past her accident and the fears remained.

She muscled past them to lift her son into her arm, carefully making her way over to the battered rocking chair to ease herself down into it, which never failed to bring a sigh of relief pushing past her lips. But he still cried and guiding him into nursing sometimes took more than one try and her frustration mounted as her son continued to wail rather than latch on.

"Zachariah, stop that," she said softly, habit bringing her right arm around to try and help, but her useless stump did nothing more than bump against his little feet. She should've attached the prosthetic rather than storm out of the bedroom. "Zach."

"Sundrop." She looked up to see Winter hovering at the threshold. "He can't understand you-"

"Don't you think I know that?" Mentally, she cursed, looking away in shame as her anger continued to seep out when it was least warranted. "I can do this."

"I know you can. You're his mother." Slowly, she entered the room to kneel beside the rocking chair. "You can do this."

She glanced at her wife, whose encouraging smile sent a pang through her chest. Without a word, she tried again, angling her son's head just right to get him to latch on and begin suckling, a hiss slipping past her lips as a hand soothed the tense line of her shoulders. She shivered, the cool night air nipping at her now that she wasn't moving around or distracted by her anger. Almost immediately, Winter fetched a blanket from the closet they kept for just this reason, draping it over her with tender care, and it brought tears to her eyes.

"I'm sorry." She closed her eyes to try and stop them but she couldn't hold it back. "I'm sorry-"

"Don't apologize." Winter resumed her kneeling, intentionally laying a hand on her right bicep, just above the bandages. "You don't have to explain yourself. I understand you're frustrated and tired and you're doing your best. I know that, the girls know that, even Zachariah knows that. You're struggling, but-"

"Stop." She shook her head. "Stop being so understanding, I can't- I can't accept this." Yang bit down on a sob, not wanting to upset her son's nursing. "Don't act like this is okay. Don't act like this is- is just something small. It's not."

"It's a big change, a nigh insurmountable challenge, but it doesn't change how much I love you, Yang." She opened her eyes and looked at her wife, her pleading expression. "I am here for you. It's not an easy adjustment for you but I'm right here with you and it doesn't change a thing for me."

"Don't lie to me," she said softly as the sob broke free, tears streaming down her face. "Don't act like I'm the same woman you married. I'm not." Her breathing became quicker as the fears coalesced, chest heaving as the words tumbled from her mouth. "I can barely feed our son, I can hardly hold him, and when he gets bigger I can't- I can't play with the girls, I can't cook, and if I put that- that thing on me, and I hurt them-"

"You would never do that," Winter said, a hardness to her voice as she reached up and cupped her face with both hands- a gesture she could no longer repay. "You're their mother, Yang. They know Momma would never hurt them and they aren't scared of your prosthetic. They're just happy to have Momma out of the hospital, like me." Thumbs brushed away her tears, a futile effort as more fell. "You aren't the same woman I married or the one I fell in love with- you're far more than you were back then. You're the mother of two beautiful girls and a bouncing baby boy, you're my loving wife who puts up with far more than anyone ever should, and you've done everything through pure grit and determination- you are my hero, Sundrop, and this just proves it, because I know there's some part of you that wants to give up, but you don't, you just keep fighting and I've always loved that about you." Winter leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. "I love you, Sundrop. I still believe that if our girls grow up to be half the woman you are, they'll be magnificent. Because you are so much more."

She didn't want to believe it. Every morning since she woke up in the hospital, she'd looked down at where her elbow should be and saw nothing. It wasn't fair- she had the green light, she wore all her gear, he was the drunk one- but there was nothing she could do, and the helplessness mixed with rage and sorrow.

"I'm not," she said, shaking her head slightly. "I don't believe you."

For the first time since the incident happened, the brave mask Winter had worn crumpled in front of Yang's eyes. Some part of her dreaded this moment- because she knew her wife, and she could tell when she was holding something back. Now, it had happened, and she would lose the last tether she had to that old life.

But nothing could prepare her for what she heard.

"It should've been me." Winter hung her head, shoulders falling with the words. "You've been here for them, been the best mom and the best partner, while I've been away fighting a war. I wasn't here for you when you needed me but you shouldered the burden anyway, and you've been so strong." She looked back up, obviously holding back tears of her own. "It should've been me. You didn't deserve this- I go to war and come back without a scratch, but you go and ride your bike for the first time in a year, and some drunk does this to you- it's not right."

"Don't say that." She remembered, vividly, the terror that griped her every time she turned on the news, every time an unfamiliar number called the house, that night when she waited up nearly until dawn fearing the worst- it wasn't something to say lightly. "You wouldn't want this, or worse- we couldn't lose you."

"And I can't lose you, Yang." Winter leaned forward, their foreheads touching. "But I feel like you're slipping away from me and I just- if I had the power, I'd switch places with you in a heartbeat."

"No you wouldn't."

"Would you stop loving me?" Her voice was soft. "If I came back without an arm or a leg, or if I could barely speak or didn't remember you or the girls, would you give up on me?"

"No," she replied instantly, because she'd thought of that before, when she volunteered to welcome back Atlesian soldiers, when she saw some who came back broken in body but not yet in spirit, she confronted the possibility that one day, it might be her wife coming back like that. "I wouldn't."

"Then believe me when I say I'm not giving up on you." She took a shuddering breath. "I'd give the very breath from my chest for you, for the kids- no hesitation. Seeing you in pain like this- I want to help you, I want to take it all away, but you're not letting me, Yang."

"I don't know how." She squeezed her eyes tightly closed. "I don't know how to deal with this."

"I know. So let's find out together." She opened her eyes to see the conviction in her wife's expression, the unwavering loyalty and love shining in her eyes. "You've done so much for so long. You've been holding down the fort by yourself and you've been so strong. Now it's time to lean on me. I'll support you. I mean our vows just as much now as I did when I said them. We're not the same people as we were then but we've grown together. And we'll keep doing that. That hasn't changed." Lightly, she was guided into a kiss- and it suddenly occurred to her that she'd turned away from affection since being discharged from the hospital, too ashamed of her loss to accept much, especially when she kept snapping at the woman. "I love you, my sweet Sundrop."

"I love you, too," she replied, voice thick as the urge to cry surged again. This time, the tears didn't come from anger or sorrow. Instead, she just felt a deep well of affection surge forward, and wished she could wrap an arm around her wife. Somehow, Winter could tell what she wanted, and showed no hesitation in dipping low and lifting her right arm up, sliding beneath and nuzzling into her shoulder.

"Is he still nursing?"

"Yeah," she said, sniffling. "He's gonna be a big boy at this rate. He's been like that the whole time."

"You mentioned he was always kicking and punching. He's going to be an active one," Winter said, sliding her arms around her waist, halfway sitting on the ground and half in the chair.

"Can you… move the blanket a little?"

Her wife complied easily, allowing both of them to gaze lovingly down at their son, faint wisps of blond hairs on his head. Between that and the blue eyes, he looked like a spitting image of his grandfather, though she was assured he acted just like Yang did at that age. Zephyr and Zise were ecstatic about their baby brother, and their enthusiasm in playing with him made the past few weeks much easier, but it shouldn't be on their kids to raise each other. She knew that pain all too well. As their son finished feeding, Yang shifted him away with a slight wince- he rarely wanted to stop- and silently handed him over to Winter for burping.

"Do you need help with your shirt?" Winter offered, gently.

"I got it." She picked her shirt up and pulled it over her head.

"Okay." Her wife paused. "How about you head back to bed?"

As she got her arm through and pulled the other sleeve over her stump, she looked over and saw the little twinkle to those blue eyes. Meaning, she had an idea and wanted time to execute it. "Sure."

She went over and gave her son and wife kisses on the cheeks before retreating to the bedroom and sliding beneath the covers. It felt weird, leaving Winter to handle everything, but she supposed it helped to think of it as payback for years of long nights waiting for the woman to come home. A few minutes later, the bedroom door pushed open fully as Zephyr and Zise shuffled into the room, crawling into the bed as Winter carried Zachariah in after them.

"Hey, what's this?" She raised a brow as the girls settled themselves against her sides.

"Mom said Momma needs hugs," Zise replied sleepily, already dropping back asleep.

"Night Momma," Zephyr said, only a murmur coming from her sister as Winter eased into bed after her, leaning over to set Zach on her chest.

"There." Winter pressed a kiss to her temple. "Now we can sleep. Together, as a family." She settled down, draping an arm across Yang's stomach. "It's how we'll get through this."

She blinked, staring up at the ceiling for a moment before smiling down at her family. "Yeah. G'night, Snowdrift."

"Night, Sundrop."

Closing her eyes, she fell into a peaceful sleep for the first night in a long while.


Part XII

Winter sighed, scrubbing at her eyes as she tried to read the page for the third time with little success. A glance at the clock confirmed it was late into the night, the kids were asleep in their bed and her wife had yet to get home. It made sense, to some extent; the school had graciously given Yang a two year sabbatical after her accident, and coming back meant a lot to catch up on, but… still, her mind wandered and she worried. They'd come a long way between her transition to civilian life and her wife's physical therapy. It wasn't the future she'd imagined those last few months in a war zone, counting down the days, but they'd smoothed over the rough patches as best they could. Yang had adapted to using her left arm for most things and asking for help rather than stubbornly trying to do things herself. Meanwhile, Winter had lost some of her rigidity, no longer snapping awake at four thirty or wearing her hair up every minute of the day. She'd thought about picking up a job to fill her days but honestly couldn't justify it; Atlas paid their teachers very well and Yang could comfortably support them, plus it helped being flexible enough to pick up and drop off the girls while taking care of Zach during the day. But the idle time preyed on her mind sometimes, filling it with possibilities…

She was being foolish, she knew that much. They'd been together for over ten years and she loved Yang with all her heart, they had three beautiful children together, and she didn't doubt that her wife still loved her. She could feel it in their kisses, their embraces… but their intimacy had lacked recently.

It made sense- three small children weren't conducive to an abundance of privacy- but she'd started to suspect an ulterior reason for the absence. They'd made an effort- at first enthusiastically, right after Winter returned from her last trip to the war zone, and then sporadically after Yang's accident- but it tapered off as excuses became more available.

With a frown, she picked up her scroll. The last message said her wife would be home two hours ago- she'd even left a plate out for her- but the delay… perhaps she was reading too far into it. A quick message to ask if her wife was okay, though, wouldn't be remiss.

The front door caught her attention, relief flooding her as she set the book aside to greet Yang as she shuffled inside.

"Welcome home, Sundrop," she said, opening her arms wide.

"Hey, Snowdrift." Yang gave her a tired smile, walking straight into her embrace and holding as tightly as she dared. "Sorry I'm late."

She held her wife, sensing the tension bleeding from her shoulders. "Rough day?"

"Yeah… you could say that." She drew away, frowning and tucking an errant lock of blonde hair behind her ear. "Just… really rough."

"Well, perhaps dinner will make you feel better?" Something was off, but she couldn't put her finger on it. "I could warm it up."

Distractedly, Yang nodded, bending down to untie her boots. "Sure."

She pressed her lips into a thin line before moving to the kitchen, taking the plate from the fridge and putting it in the microwave for a minute or two. Meatloaf with mac and cheese and mashed potatoes- one of her wife's favorite meals. She could hear the woman sighing with relief as she removed her prosthetic, though she found it odd that her wife would do that outside the bedroom. She usually preferred to keep it away from the kids, always worried something might activate while detached and hurt them. When Yang finally entered the dining room and plopped down at the table, setting it next to her, it constituted another red flag.

"Do you want to talk about it?" She prodded gently, taking a seat beside the woman and setting a hand on her shoulder.

"Nah, nah, it's- it's just a bunch of boring stuff." She shrugged, offering a smile that wouldn't pass as convincing to even the worst judge. "Nothing to get worked up over."

Winter remembered the days when her wife- then girlfriend- had rambled on and on about her career choice, about the things she learned, and then after she moved to Atlas and established herself as a teacher, every day brought with it a new story until she felt like she knew Yang's students just as well as she did. It stood to reason that the lack of information now didn't have anything to do with Winter's presumed disinterest in the subject.

"Okay," she said, running her wife's shoulder idly. "But if you want to talk, I'm always here. Even if it's boring."

"Yeah. Thanks."

Picking up her fork, Yang started eating, though her mind seemed miles away. She only got halfway through the plate before she started pushing the food around, the metal scraping across ceramic.

"Zephyr's soccer game is this weekend," Winter said, hoping to pull her wife's attention back to the present.

"Hmmm."

Well, that didn't work.

"And Zise wants to try judo."

"Sounds good."

"Zach learned what the color purple is today. He's rather fond of pointing things out when they're purple."

"Cute."

Obviously, this wasn't getting her anywhere. Pulling her hand back, she got up from her seat, arranging the words in her head before speaking. She stepped behind her wife's chair and draped her arms over the woman's shoulders, pressing a kiss behind her ear.

"Sundrop, I know something's going on with you. I don't know what it is or why you don't want to talk about it, but just know I'm here for you." She stood up tall, rubbing at the woman's shoulders. "Take the time you need. I'll be here."

She turned to give the woman some space, heading towards the bedroom and taking the prosthetic with her; at least it would be one less thing for Yang to worry about.

"Wait." Looking back, she could see a flash of panic in lilac eyes. "Do you… promise not to think less of me?"

Brows furrowed, she turned back and tried to keep the confusion from her voice. "Of course."

"Okay, cause it's… dumb." She sighed, shaking her head and putting her face in her hand. "It's… it's so dumb."

"If it's affecting you this much, it's not dumb," she said, reclaiming her seat and putting a hand on her wife's shoulder. "I'm here to listen. Just let it out."

"You remember that… new teacher they brought on last year? The one who teaches sign language?"

Vaguely, she recalled the conversation. "I think you said her name was Neo?"

"Yeah, her, she's the leader of our department this year and… she…" Yang paused, glancing her way before hanging her head in shame. "She calls me Lefty."

Winter blinked. "She calls you Lefty?"

"I told you it was stupid." She slumped. "It's just a name, and yeah, I should be pissed that she just dropped a whole bunch of new requirements on us mid term, and we're busting our asses to get the outlines turned in by the end of the week, but her coming in all 'got those assessments ready, Lefty?' it just- it-"

"It reduces you to something you're neither proud of nor entirely acclimated to yet," she said, trying to catch her wife's gaze. "It's your first year back and you've been doing your best to deal with the reactions from your students, you shouldn't have to deal with your colleagues on top of it." She slid her hand across the woman's shoulders to pull her into a one armed hug- something she'd started doing more often whenever her wife didn't have her prosthetic attached. It seemed to soothe her some, putting them on equal grounds when it came to simple affectionate gestures. "It's not dumb to be upset over someone hurting you. It's not wrong to still react to a sore spot. You're still healing and it's a long road. Have you brought this up with the Headmaster?"

"No," she replied, leaning into Winter. "It's just a name."

"It's not 'just a name' and, even if it was, it's still drawing attention to a recent injury that you're trying your best to cope with in your own time." Anger started to rise in her as her expression soured. "It's bullying, that's what it is."

"Snowdrift, I'm an adult-"

"Which neither precludes you from being bullied nor means it's any more justified." She shook her head. "Being an adult doesn't mean you accept other people treating you horribly and it doesn't mean it's okay. If anything, she is an adult, too, and should know better than to tease someone she hardly knows about something without talking about it first." She shifted, trying to keep her anger contained and cool. "If you'd prefer, it also qualifies as harassment, and it's obviously creating a toxic work environment for you."

That earned her a curious look before dismay overtook her wife's expression. "I've been acting weird, haven't I?"

"I've had my suspicions for a while now, yes, but I didn't want to press."

Yang cringed, hanging her head again. "I just- I didn't want to come home bitching because someone called me a mean name. We tell the girls not to get upset when someone calls them names, to take the high road- I just… don't want to be a hypocrite."

"We also tell them to talk to us when someone calls them a name," she said, nodding towards the staircase. "We tell them all the time they don't have to go through anything alone, that we'll be here for them. That includes you, Sundrop." Winter paused, deciding to bite the bullet. "It's starting to affect your self image, isn't it?"

Her wife looked away. "It's hard to feel beautiful when the first thing people see is a hunk of metal."

Mentally, she replaced the word, but instead of going that route decided to let things simmer a while longer; they could deal with their lack of physical intimacy later. Right now, she needed to see her wife smile and laugh.

"Well, I see your eyes first," she said, earning a glance and a brief chuckle. "And I still think you're beautiful, but I must admit I fell for your disarming personality rather than your smile."

"Oh no." She started to laugh. "Don't go there. I am the pun master here."

"Sorry if my jokes are difficult to handle."

Her shoulders shook as she tried to keep her amusement under control. "Stop. I- I need to finish eating!"

She held up the prosthetic. "Need a hand with that?"

Finally, Yang busted out laughing, shaking her head. "I- I love you, and you're horrible."

"Luckily, I love you, too, and you're part of the reason I'm this bad."

"Oh no, there's proof, not one Schnee is good at telling jokes, there's science for these things."

"And yet, I can still make you laugh." She leaned in, drawing her wife into a kiss once her laughter had calmed. "Will you at least talk to Neo, explain that you don't like the name?"

"Yeah," she replied, stealing another kiss. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, Snowdrift. I was just…"

"It's quite alright, but you did have me rather worried." She stood up. "Now, finish your dinner and come to bed. We'll forget all about your terrible coworker."

She could see a twinkle in lilac eyes. "Hey, Blake and Weiss are coming to town soon, yeah?"

"Next month, for a weekend."

"Think they'll take the kids for a few hours?" Her lips curled into a smirk. "They should spend some time with their Aunts and cousins, yeah? We can even trade off- one day each."

"I think they might be amenable to that." She smiled, getting another kiss before heading towards the hall. "I'll talk to Weiss about it."

"Thanks. And Snowdrift?" She turned to see her wife's smile, just as bright as the day they met. "I love you."

"I love you, too, Sundrop."