Just a Moment

One of the upsides of being a nobody on the street is that hardly anyone gives a shit about you. Unfortunately, that's also it's downside. The few shits who do give a shit generally aren't the kind of shit you want to deal with. These are the kinds of thoughts that float through the young Roman's mind as a couple goons in goofy red shades back him into a corner.

"Look kid," one sneered, "we're not trying to make trouble. Yet. Just give us what we came for and we'll walk away."

"I gave you what you came for a few days ago. Per our arrangement, what I steal and who I steal from on my turf is my business." He lit himself a cigarette. It's hard to look terrified when your smoking a cigarette. "And that's if I had this thing you've been going on about. Which I-AGH! HACK! Haaa-don't." That's mostly because you can hardly concentrate on anything besides the surface layer of your throat being burned away. At least it looked better than biting his lip.

"Alright twerp," they boxed him in, blocking any escape, "you've got until you black out to say something."

"Aw shit."

Who built these streets anyway? Why did they make them so confusing? All the buildings look the same and none of the streets go anywhere. Or at least, that's what it felt like for Ruby, running from one corner to the next trying to find where she'd started from. At first it was an adventure, like something mommy would've told her before bed, but now it was getting dark and scary. She didn't want to be out here much longer.

This place looked a bit more familiar didn't it? Or at least less unfamiliar. There was a red building on her left like that when she decided to wander off. All she had to do now was get to the other side of the block, and she'd be where she started from. Surely that was where Uncle Qrow would be waiting. She'd just squeeze through that little crack between the buildings.

All of a sudden, a weird noise started coming from just ahead of her, past a turn in the path. It went: smack smack! What if it was a monster? A wolf, smacking its lips, waiting for little girls to pass by without their parents. She knew how this stuff worked, mommy told her all about it before bed. But... if she went back she'd be lost again. Then it would get dark, and even worse things would find her. She'd just have to walk past it. As long as she didn't do a thing it said, she'd be fine.

Torchwick was seriously considering giving up now. After another minute he'd probably lose his charming face and speak with a lisp for the rest of his life. It was just some quick cash anyway. Then, something happened. He heard the guy who was standing watch say: "Hey, scram! Get lost kid." There was a whining sound, he ran towards it and the one punching him got distracted.

A moment's weakness was all it took to kindle the fire in him again. He launched himself forward, ramming his head straight into the thug's stomach. With a moment to breath, he reached for a lead pipe he kept lying around for emergencies. The one who ran turned around just in time to see his partner take a full blow to the head. As he rushed back, Torchwick jumped aside and aimed a strike at his legs. It hit, shattering a kneecap. Another strike knocked him out cold.

For a moment he just stood there, catching his breath and making sure his face was still in one piece. Every bit of it seemed to be accounted for, if the pain was anything to go by. And his arms felt like he'd pulled a muscle swinging so hard too. And that toenail he broke the other day was smarting again. Everything hurt.

"That..." a tiny voice to the side reminded him someone else was still here. "That was so cool! You were all WOOSH-WOOSH and then: WHACK!" In her exuberance the girl nearly knocked herself over. Roman had no idea how to feel right then. He'd never had someone look at him the way this girl did now. "It was sooo awesome!"

"No problem kid." He smirked, and barely even noticed the spike of pain. "Nothing I can't handle."

Before she could gush any more, another voice called out from the streets, "RUBY!"

"I'M OVER HERE!" The girl was distracted for a moment, and Roman took that as his cue to leave. Wouldn't do to be caught surrounded by unconscious bodies after all. Even if her parents didn't assume he was dangerous, they'd definitely make him wait for the police. Nope, wouldn't do at all. He found a nice, comfy pile of garbage nobody was likely to find him in and went out like a light.

Ruby lay quietly in her room that night, dreaming.

She stood in a sunlit field. Before her was a bundle of roses, each in a different color. Looking past them, she saw that there were many other flowers growing around her, every kind that could be imagined. Not a single pair were alike. Even when she saw two of the same color and type, she just felt that they were unique somehow. She couldn't explain it, but then again, she didn't need too. Her joy bubbled through her into laughter as she flitted through the flowerbed with the butterflies.

But without warning, something about the dream changed. The sun wasn't shining. Silence blanketed the field. A single rose wilted and turned black. Following it, the surrounding flowers blackened and rotted. A wave of decay swept across the land, threatening to engulf Ruby. She ran. Quick as a bullet she sped through the garden, only to find herself cut off at every turn. She stood in a small patch of still living flowers, trying in vain to shield them with her cloak. But all she could do was watch helplessly as they rotted around her feet. Everywhere she looked to, she found the same things. Death and silence. She collapsed into tears.

But she wasn't alone. A presence washed over her, chasing away the void. It was the ginger boy. He took her by the hand and led her over to the first wilted rose. Plucking it by the stem, he shook it over her palm. Seeds fell out. Ruby took in a breath and scattered them to the wind. Tears poured from her eyes as they fell, each sprouting new life and colour back into the world. As she looked back, the boy tossed her rose into her hands before vanishing into the wind. Taking heart from this gift, she skipped through the foul, rotten garden, bringing life everywhere she touched.

Torchwick woke the next morning with what he imagined a hangover would feel like. He groaned, stretched, regretted it, and got himself out of the dumpster he'd crawled into. The alley looked just like it did every morning: garbage cans here, garbage dumpsters there, just plain garbage everywhere else. No goons, no little girls, no police tape; almost like the night before didn't happen at all. For a second of morning optimism he let himself think there wouldn't be any repercussions whatsoever.

"Hey!" That was not a good 'hey.' Nothing nice ever follows that kind of 'hey.' And the man giving it was not the sort you'd expect nice things from in the first place. He was tall, broad, gruff, and most definitely in need of a shave. That and someone to tell him that bow ties have been out of style since, like, forever.

"One of Junior's goons? I'm already paid up, and whatever you're looking for, it's not here."

"First, you're talking to the man himself. Second," Junior strode over, towering above Roman, "I heard you messed up a couple of my boys."

"...I didn't kill them."

"Yeah, but you did quite a number on them. Honestly, I'm not sure if I should be impressed or disappointed." He pulled up a garbage can for a seat. "They've given me their story already. Now I want to hear yours."

"Well... actually I don't know a lot. These official looking guys came running through my alley with their arms full of boxes. Then one of them tripped and a bunch of shiny, new, valuable canisters started spilling out. So I snatched a few. A while later, those goons showed up and started getting in my face about it. I offered to make a deal, but negotiations went a little south when they started pounding my face in. I counter-offered with a lead pipe. If that's a problem, I'm sure I can find a way to pay you back."

"Nah, any business like this is supposed to go through me. If you didn't do it I would've. You want a deal then? Start talking."

"Well, I was thinking..." he started going through his planned sales pitch, but for some reason he was getting second thoughts. This was his chance to make a big score, finally have enough bread to last a few months instead of scraping by day by day, and maybe even get in good graces with the boss. So why was he hesitating? "Actually, I've been thinking they might not be for sale anymore."

"Don't get cute with me." He leaned forward, getting right in Torchwick's face. "I know every fence in this city. If you try to sell it behind my back, I'll see that you starve in a gutter."

"Nah, I was thinking about keeping them for decoration. Make this place a bit more homey, you know?"

"Right, you just do that." Junior got up to leave, dusting the filth off his clothes. "But remember, if I hear anything about some kid trying to sell huntsman gear you're finished."

That felt good. Stupid, but so good. The stuff in those canisters wasn't full-fledged gear yet, just parts. Parts he barely understood and had no idea how to turn into anything. If he couldn't figure them out he really would have to use them as decoration; no way Junior was cutting him a deal after this. But if he could manage it? His days of answering to people like Junior, living off garbage, and being nothing but discarded scrap in an alley would be over. After all, if a distracting little girl and a metal pipe could take him this far, how much further could he go with some real gear? Now that he knew what it was like to be somebody, he had no intention of giving it up. Nothing would take this feeling away. Nothing.

Author's Note: Kept you waiting, huh? All... (checking statistics)... eighteen of you, at the time of my writing this. Sorry about that, life got crazy.

Anyway, about the story. Man, this was a long time in the making. I think I rewrote this eight times over the last couple years, changing around characters, events, concepts, and all that cal. That must mean it's really good now, right? Originally I was going to use some OCs of mine for the role of the crime lord Roman answers to, but then I realized it was a perfect place to start including Junior. Isn't it funny that these two were only on screen together for, like, five seconds and have never even shared a dialogue scene, yet almost everyone immediately assumed there was a ton of backstory between them, even after it was stated otherwise? I'm not sure why that is, but I support it wholeheartedly.

In other news, I just noticed that Rosewick Week got cancelled a few days ago. That was really sad to hear, and it reminded me how many other things have been changing around this fandom lately. It's one of the reasons I specifically wanted to finish this idea, because even though things change it's the feelings they leave behind in the moment that stay with us, change us, and take us into the future. So thanks for the memories honorable shipper! I dedicate this story to you.

Safe travels everyone. Hail crack ship!