Hangman's Blood - Redux

Doubles of gin, whiskey, rum, port, and brandy. Add a small stout and top with champagne. Not for the faint of heart.

The wafting smell of roasted beans, joined by cooking meat and frying eggs, drew Blake from her room with the promise of a morning meal. Struggling to rise, she wrapped her large coal-black bathrobe tighter around her, smiling as the soft, fuzzy cloth surrounded her. Her normal kimonos were far too thin for the winter months, and something about the thick robe always made her feel more awake. Tying the tightest knot she could, Blake checked herself in the mirror, fluffing her messy black hair into some semblance of order before exiting the room.

"Is it safe to look?" Yang drawled, her back to Blake as she slaved over the kitchen stove. "You like your eggs scrambled, right? It's about all I can do with them."

"It is, you know I do, and thanks." The sleepy Faunus sat down at the table only to find another cup of coffee waiting for her, the steam still rising from the brown mixture. Yang had outdone herself, sculpting the creamy covering of the espresso into the Belladonna crest. She took a moment to admire the effort, then destroyed the painstakingly-carved symbol, feeling energy jolt back into her limbs as she downed the mixture.

"You're still the only person I know," Yang quipped, stirring the eggs, "who can down six cups of that in one sitting and not explode."

"If you're going to criticize, stop enabling me." Blake drained the cup only to find another being slid across the table by the attendant blonde. "You know you don't have to go to all this trouble."

"Call it my way of apologizing for catching you half-naked," Yang slid the eggs and bacon onto the groggy woman's plate before serving some for herself. "I can say you look really attractive in the morning."

"Flatterer." Blake dug into the food, doing her best to forget the embarrassment. "You should have woken me."

"I'm not gonna go in a lady's bedroom without permission." The taller girl quipped, drowning her eggs in pepper. "Unless she's crying."

"I wasn't crying."

"I know." The blonde smiled, kind and understanding, absent any hint of her usual mocking grin.

Scowling, Blake grabbed her fork and speared the largest piece of bacon she could find. The last few days had been nothing but Yang catching her off guard, taunting and teasing her at every opportunity.

Time to turn the tables.

Thrusting out, she placed the bacon against Yang's open mouth. The blonde's eyes wide, and Blake worried for a moment that she might have made a mistake. But no, Yang bit the food off the offending fork, and even managed to – mostly – keep from giggling.

"It's good," Yang laughed around the meat. Swallowing, she looked back at Blake, that mischievous glint sneaking back into her eyes. "Think it'd be easier if you did it by hand though. Less chance of me getting stabbed."

The Faunus girl watched as Yang opened her mouth wide, looking just like a baby bird begging for food. Dammit.

Tentatively, Blake grabbed a crispy morsel and placed the end of the strip gently in Yang's teeth. The blonde bit it off, piece-by-piece, slowly eating through the crispy meat. Blake was about to put the last piece into Yang's mouth when she gently wrapped her lips around Blake's fingers. Swallowing the last of the bacon, Yang continued kissing Blake's hand. Grinning, Yang pulled away, but not before pressing her lips to the backs of Blake's fingers. Both girls met each other's eyes, Blake's set and stubborn, violet ones infinitely playful and enjoying every minute of it.

"So ... that happened." Blake cleared her throat, biting into her eggs as an excuse to stop talking.

Still grinning, Yang dove into her own meal, finishing quickly. "Get dressed," she said once Blake finished, already clearing the table. "We're going out."


Weiss groaned as she woke, her head aching. She turned, and found the bed empty apart from her. With no reason to wake, no reason to move, she settled back into the covers, refusing to begin the day.

Something exploded, followed by the clatter of metal smashing together. Trying to sit up, she cried out as she put pressure on her right hand. Rolling onto her side, she breathed, waiting for her sore palm to stop screaming. Looking down, Weiss removed the bandage, and winced. A number of short, deep cuts ran across her hand where the glass had cut her the night before. Careful to avoid putting any weight on her injured limb, she pushed herself from the bed. Wrapping a nightgown around her, Weiss staggered out into the main room of her apartment, Myrtenaster by her side.

Opening the door, Weiss's jaw dropped at the destruction in her kitchen. Several skillets were heating over the expansive stovetop, the smell of maple syrup and coffee pervading the room. Piles of used pans lay stacked in the sink, black char crusting most of them. A bag of flour lay upturned on the counter, the thick white powder spilling onto the floor. A tornado had hit her apartment, turning her cookware into debris and leaving one frying pan impossibly lodged into the wall.

All of this was still overshadowed by the small figure bustling around the room. Ruby was clad in an apron, a very tight pair of shorts Weiss had last seen in one of her own drawers, and little else. Her back was bare, apart from the apron's straps, and her cute butt wiggled as she worried over several skillets at once. Flour smeared across her hair and face, and one of the apron's shoulder straps had slipped down and dangled by her upper arm. Her eyes were wide as she ran between burners, sliding on the flour coating the floor.

Closing the door as quietly as she could, Weiss shut out the chaos trying to consume her kitchen. She breathed, trying to calm her nerves, before opening the door again and hoping that she was merely hallucinating. But Ruby still stood there, racing to keep her latest attempt at breakfast from exploding. A plume of black smoke heralded another failure. Accepting that it wasn't a delusional fever dream, Weiss stepped into the room, making just enough noise to let the other girl know she was awake.

Ruby whirled on the spot, her face half-covered in flour, hair akimbo, the only clothing over her chest capable of falling at any time. Dimpling at the sight of the older girl, Ruby bounced, quickly hiding the half-melted spatula behind her back.

"Good morning," Ruby cheered, giving Weiss a little curtsy.

"What are you wearing?" Weiss croaked, her voice still ragged and raw.

Ruby blushed. "That's not the first question I was expecting."

The heiress scanned the room a second time, noting the repairs that needed doing. "Honestly," Weiss forced her face to stay straight, "I expected worse." Making her way over to a chair, she grabbed the back with her good hand, leaning most of her weight on the sturdy wood. "Now, what are you wearing?"

Ruby pouted at Weiss' estimation of her cooking skills. Shuffling her foot in the flour piling around her ankles, Ruby started wringing her hands. "Well, I knew last night was ... hard on you. I just thought I'd do something nice and make you breakfast."

"That explains the mess, not why you're wearing half a maid outfit."

Ruby bounced nervously, the thin apron struggling to contain her chest. "After last night, my clothes were kinda soaked. From when I just barged outside in the snow."

Weiss rubbed the bridge of her nose, trying to suppress the headache Ruby's evasion was causing. "You could always have borrowed a shirt. Or pants"

Ruby's dimples returned, her expression just a little too innocent. "I thought you might like this." Bouncing back to the skillets, Weiss was treated to an excellent view of Ruby's tight little ass. She smiled in spite of herself, appreciating what Ruby was doing. She just didn't think she deserved it, the ache in her hand reminding her of the younger woman's expression from the night before.

"Ruby, you didn't have to do this."

"I know." Weiss watched as Ruby's face fell, the puppy-love expression she'd worn slipping from her face. "I'm not happy about how this started, but after last night ..." She looked sadly at the cuts on Weiss' hand. "I'm willing to give it a shot if you are."

Weiss wrapped her arms around the younger girl's shoulders, feeling Ruby's warmth spread into her. "If that's what it took for you to forgive me, I'd do it again and again." Ruby laid her head back against Weiss' arm, accidentally bumping one of the cuts on her hand. The heiress winced, opening her eyes to find Ruby staring up at her with concern. Ever so gently, the taller girl lowered her lips to Weiss' hurt and kissed it.

"Any better?" Ruby asked. Ignoring the pain, Weiss smiled at the adorable little gesture.

"Much."

"So," Ruby bounced again, the change in topic returning the energy to the young woman, "Do you like it?"

"I really do." Beaming, Ruby sprang back to her latest attempt at a meal, managing to break the half-cooked flapjack mid-flip. Moving behind the other girl, Weiss took Ruby's hands in hers, guiding her through the process, pressed against Ruby's near-naked back. She had to stand on tiptoe just to see over Ruby's shoulders, reminding her of how much the younger girl had grown since they'd first met.

Watching Ruby try the trick on her own, Weiss let her fingers wander, tracing the outline of the girl before her. Falling to the hem of the outfit, her fingers slipped beneath the cloth, tickling up Ruby's sides.

"Weiss!" Giggling madly, Ruby smacked Weiss with a dishtowel, mostly missing her cuts.


"Was there anything you actually wanted to do?" Blake asked, her hand in Yang's as the two walked the holiday streets. Well-trimmed hedges peeked through the packed snow, hardened by layers of ice and cold. The crowds were heavier than the day before, everyone lost in their shopping, their errands, their dates. Hordes of couples filled the town, spending the daytime hours with each other, avoiding family and friends to simply be together. Blake caught a glimpse of one young couple kissing in a doorway under the mistletoe, the two blissfully oblivious to the world around them. Gold eyes twinkled as she added another item to her shopping list. If only to give them another excuse.

"I thought it'd be fun to get out for a bit." Yang looked down at Blake, looking as playful as ever. "Is it weird that I want to spend time with my girlfriend?"

"I'm your girlfriend now?" Blake said, arching her eyebrow.

"I thought it was a safe bet." Yang leaned down, blonde head resting against jet-black hair. Suddenly, she stopped, jerking Blake to a halt. "Unless you don't want ... I mean-"

Chuckling, Blake kissed her bruiser's nose, smiling as the taller woman perked up. "It's fine."

Yang still looked worried. "You sure? It's not too soon?"

"Yang, we've known each other way too long for anyone to call this 'soon.'"

Yang laughed, slipping her arm around the Faunus' shoulders as the two moved on. Blake let Yang lead her along, happy just being with her ... girlfriend? The thought still sounded strange, an odd step from her 'teammate,' her 'partner.'

At least she didn't have to worry about how Yang's family would react to their daughter dating a Faunus. Their father shared his daughters' lack of prejudice, and Blake had liked him from the moment they'd met. She'd seen where the sisters got their strength, their kindness, and he'd treated the girls' teammates like family.

I guess we really are together now. Still, it felt weird to say. She'd never really had someone like that, someone to call hers, in any sense of the word. There'd been dates in the past few years, nothing lasting long enough for her to consider them a couple. Even Adam had ... well, Adam was Adam. That couldn't even be called a relationship, just some twisted mockery of emotion.

Dammit. That was the last thing she wanted to think about. Not with Yang next to her, being so perfect. Pushing away the memories, Blake sighed and laid her head on Yang's shoulder, smiling as the blonde noticed and squeezed her hand.

It was going to be a good day, a happy day. It had always been nice to hang out with Yang, but now ... it was different. A different energy to it. A different closeness. A chance to try out a kind of physical intimacy they had never tried before. Despite her worries – that it would awkward or uncomfortable, or just weird doing these sorts of things with Yang – Blake found herself liking the feeling of Yang's hand resting in hers. Her scent on the leather duster.

She was almost completely relaxed when she froze. Only for a second, but it was long enough to catch Yang's attention. Shaking her head, she forced herself to unwind, annoyed that her mind was playing tricks on her. It was the old memories coming back to haunt her, letting her see her old partner in a stranger's back, the man passing them on the opposite side of the street. Something about the way he moved revived those old memories, ghosts of the dead and buried coming back to haunt her. Closing her eyes, she let the feeling go, breathed until her heart rate resumed its normal pace, and opened her eyes.

The man was still there, black skullcap hiding his hair, scarf across most of his mouth, oversized shades covering his face. He was only a little over average height, around average weight, his pace matching those closest to him. Overall, he seemed almost perfectly average. The clothing was concealing, but not odd. Bundling up was the normal response to the biting cold of the past few days. Even the shades were explainable: 'twas the season for partying, and more than a few pedestrians were bound to be nursing a hangover.

There was no reason for anyone to pay attention to someone so clearly insignificant. Something that to Blake simply screamed danger. She had learned quite a bit about moving unseen during her time in the White Fang. There was no way he was just another shopper on a last-minute run. The only people that anonymous were the ones who didn't want people noticing them. The ones who wanted your eyes to just slide away, disregard them as background players in your own, much more important story.

There. The man turned to dodge a speeding baby carriage, and Blake saw him move. Not the quiet anonymous walk, but the small movement drilled into one's bones over years of training. The way he shifted on his feet, the dip of his shoulder as he stepped aside, appearing all at once and disappearing once the obstacle was gone.

It couldn't be. It couldn't be. He was dead, gone, and buried. Still ... somehow, Blake had just seen the one person she'd hoped to never meet again.

Blake tried to run after him, only to jerk to a halt as Yang's hand stopped her. Crap. She'd forgotten about the girl standing next to her, now staring puzzled down at her suddenly moving date.

"You okay?"

"Yeah, there's just ..." she paused, not sure what to tell her. "It's something I need to do. It'll be quick, I promise."

Yang shrugged, giving her hand one last squeeze before letting go. "Call me when you're done."

Blake kept herself to a brisk walk, making sure she was out of sight before she burst into a run. It can't be him. Whoever the hell this was, they weren't going to get away with this. Whoever revived this specter was going to pay, and pay dearly.

Slipping around the corner, Blake let her boots skid on the ice, using the momentum to throw herself forward. Dodging pedestrians, Blake ran until she could see that black cap among the heads in the crowd. Another minute and she was fifteen feet behind the man, slowing to a normal walk as she slipped into the crowd.

She needed him alone, needed him to move away from the onlookers and the bystanders. Even if it wasn't Adam, she wasn't willing to risk the holiday shoppers. And if it was ...

Blake watched as the man turned down an alley, slipping into a darkness too deep for anyone but a Faunus to see through. She followed, one hand near the weapon at her back, staying just far enough not to draw attention. One shortcut gave way to another, and another; the trail zigzagged across the city, slipping from crowded streets to darkened alleys, finally ending at a small building on the edge of town.

They were near the waterfront, the run-down warehouse reeking of fish and motor oil. A cannery? She was not pleased. The fish oil staining the area made it impossible to get a read on the man's scent. She'd have to keep him in sight, or risk losing him in the maze of buildings.

Blake stopped at the end of another warehouse, the corrugated steel wall hiding her from view. The footsteps came to a halt, shuffling as her target dealt with the off-kilter door. Finally, the angled panel yielded, and he slipped inside, Blake yanking her head back around the corner as he made one last sweep. The door slammed, as close to shutting as it could, and Blake took the distance to the cannery at a run, moving from one hiding spot to another.

Sliding to a halt against the sheet metal wall, Blake tried to peer up through the window. The glass was nearly opaque, covered with grease and smears and god-knows-what. She kept moving along the wall, staying as low as she could. Whoever this was, the last thing Blake wanted was to get caught. Muffled voices came from the other side of the wall, growing louder and more indistinct as the conversation continued.

Finally, she found a hole in the wall where an air conditioner once sat, the square space open and inviting. She crawled inside, finding herself in a small walled-off room, graffiti covering the frosted glass and broken desk. The door to what had once been the manager's office was shut, the knob missing, ripped from its seat in the dark wood. It made for the perfect peephole.

Peering through the cedar door, Blake watched as two men stood in the abandoned cannery, arguing in muffled voices. The man she had followed stood with his back to her, the dark glasses still covering his face. She wasn't surprised. Adam couldn't wear his mask in public and not expect someone to recognize him, not after the shit he'd pulled.

The newer arrival wore a plain, if clearly cheap, business suit. He looked every bit the part of a boring office worker, tired and ordinary with a gut spilling out over a belt that was barely managing to hold onto its last notch. He was nearly identical to any of the other business owners and mid-level managers Blake herself had 'visited' during her time with the Fang. He kept clutching his briefcase, white knuckles clasped around the stainless steel handle. The two men were arguing about something, the walls too thick for her to make out much without giving herself away.

Voices raised, the suit getting more agitated as he looked around the empty room. Without warning, the man she'd followed decked the suit, heavyset jowls wobbling as the businessman's head snapped to the side. A skittering sound filled the room, his eyeglasses sliding across the concrete floor, one side twisted and bent.

The suit swung the briefcase at Adam, the roundhouse swung slow and clumsy. Not bothering to dodge, Adam grabbed the case, twisting it free as the other man lost his grip. Using the momentum, Adam twirled, backhanding the man with his own briefcase, the stainless steel colliding with his skull. The businessman went down, collapsing to the ground as Adam kicked the case aside.

Blake watched as Adam knelt beside the whimpering man, closed those calloused hands around his throat, and began to squeeze. Not daring to move, not daring to make a sound, she watched in horror as the man died in front of her, his pudgy legs kicking weakly.

Finally, he stopped. Adam released his hands, rising to his full height. Stepping across the corpse, he reached down for the blood-stained suitcase. Suddenly, he froze, his head snapping up and glancing about the room, his covered eyes finally coming to a stop, looking right at the hole in the door.

She ran.

She ran and ran, diving through the bodies filling the streets, running until she was sure he couldn't have followed her. She ran until her lungs burned and her legs ached. She ran until her body refused to run any further. Then, and only then, did she collapse against a lamppost, her breath reduced to ragged pants, her heart pounding in her chest. She looked around, frantically searching for a single sign of that man in the black cap.

Nothing.

She was safe, at least for now. He couldn't have seen her. He couldn't have known it was her.

Violet eyes that promised warm arms and armored fists flashed in her mind's eye. Yang. There was nothing she needed right then more than Yang.

Blake slowly made her way back across town, finally finding Yang waiting where she'd left her. The blonde was sprawled across a bench, looking perfectly comfortable as flurries of snow fell around her.

"You want to tell me what that was all about?" she drawled, dusting herself off as she rose, her eyes still twinkling playfully.

Blake paused for a moment before answering. She was glad Yang didn't seem angry over her abandonment, but ...

There was no reason to tell Yang what she'd seen. She was not even sure she believed it herself. Blake had seen Adam die, impaled on Ruby's scythe in that last fight. He was dead. Nothing more than a memory that still sometimes woke her in a cold sweat. A hundred impossible explanations that deserved plotlines on daytime soaps filled her mind, each one more implausible than the last.

Shaking her head, Blake quieted her overactive imagination. No, there was no reason to tell Yang. What he had done ... Yang didn't need that reminder right now. She deserved to be happy. No reason to tell her at all, at least for now. She needed to make sure. When it came down to it, Adam was her problem, not the team's, and not Yang's. She would handle this.

Later.

Blake forced herself to smile back at her date. "Just had to run an errand."

Yang cocked an eyebrow, clearly not believing the obvious lie. Blake hoped the girl would come to the conclusion that she wanted her to.

"Keeping secrets?" Yang feigned offense, her humor falling on deaf ears. "It is the season for surprises." Her eyes wiggled suggestively, but she let the matter drop. Blake relaxed, knowing Yang wasn't about to press the issue.


Their date lasted until winter descended upon the town, turning the frigid city into a frozen wasteland. Snow whipped in the faces of nighttime shoppers, driving many back into their homes, businesses closing behind them. The snow was already half a foot deep in places. Pedestrians dodged as the wind knocked icicles into the street.

Oblivious to the storm, Yang laughed as she slipped and slid on the ice, dragging Blake behind her. The wind whipped their clothes around them, forcing the two to cling together for balance and warmth, something Yang had absolutely no problems with. The two girls finally darted from the near-empty street to Blake's apartment door, the wind tearing at their hair as the storm worsened. The two jumped inside the room, Yang slamming the door against the cold while Blake cranked the thermostat higher with shaking fingers.

The two stood, breathing heavily as the whine of the wind echoed through the building. Taking off her coat, Blake hung it on the wall, only to find Yang bundling herself up tighter.

"I really have to head home," Yang apologized to Blake's quizzical stare, "Ruby gets all worked up when she's worried."

"Send her a text. It's a blizzard out there."

Yang grinned and kissed Blake's cheek. "And if I don't leave now, I won't make it home."

Blake shook her off, refusing to be ignored. She looked ... worried. Way to worried for the short walk back to the sisters' apartment. "Yang, you're going to freeze to death."

"I don't feel the cold," Yang joked, forcing the door open against the wind. She only made it halfway outside when Blake's arms wrapped around her torso. She stopped there, wind whipping the bottom of her coat, biting into the exposed skin of her hand. Every breath stung as the cold air hit her teeth.

Blake shivered against her back as she whispered, "Don't leave me alone tonight."

Yang turned, and found Blake staring up at her. Her ears pressed back against her head, golden eyes wide and locked on violet ones.

"Blake, what's wrong?" Stepping back inside, Yang shut the door behind her.

"I ..." Blake swallowed and looked down at her hands. "I thought I saw someone I knew from the White Fang."

Anger riled in the pit of Yang's stomach, sending heat coursing down her veins. Of all the times, why now? Why couldn't they just ... "You know his name? We'll send to the police, make sure they can-"

"It wasn't him, Yang." Blake shook her head before looking up at the blonde. "He's dead. I just ... bad memories. Right now, I-I don't want to be alone."

She looked ... forlorn. That was the only word for it, that expression of deep-seated sadness, loneliness, and ...

Need. The need to have someone else there. The need for some sense of closeness, support. A need for ... something else. Something Blake couldn't, or wouldn't, ask for.

"Are you sure?" Yang asked, leaving the rest of the question unsaid.

Blake nodded, her lips twitching in a small smile. "I think we've waited long enough."

Yang embraced her girlfriend's begging body with every fiber of her own. She lowered her mouth to Blake's, and they kissed, thin fingers twining in Yang's yellow curls. Kicking the hallway door shut, Yang lifted Blake into her arms, the smaller woman curling against her chest as thin fingers slid down to cup Yang's face. Blake broke the kiss, and nuzzled into Yang's chest, causing the blonde to laugh as jet-black hair tickled her skin.

Yang laid her girlfriend on the bed, her thin body resting atop the comforter. Yang went back to close the bedroom door, only to hear the unmistakable sound of rustling clothing behind her. She waited until the rustling stopped, then let the door snap shut.

"Yang, turn around," murmured Blake.

She looked at the figure on the bed. There Blake sat, covered only by her long black tresses, her skin glowing in the warm light. Her ears bent back, honest about her nervousness despite the cool expression she wore. The same breasts she had been so embarrassed of that morning sat high on her chest, their curves gleaming.

"Turn off the lights."


"H ... how did you l-learn that?" Blake asked, her voice still unsteady.

"The same way anyone gets good at sex. Practice," Yang half-joked, cuddling her nearly-naked body against her girlfriend's soft curves. Kissing Blake's forehead again, Yang stroked her body, feeling Blake lean into the touch of her left hand, her hips shivering again as she brushed her skin.

"Thanks," Blake gasped, grabbing Yang's hand. Golden eyes stared into violet as Blake forced herself up off the bed. "I don't think I can move."

Yang drew Blake back into her embrace, hugging the girl with all her might. Yang stared down into those gorgeous golden orbs, loving the way Blake's eyes angled, so unlike the human norm. Blake snuggled into the hollow of Yang's chest, tufted ears tickling Yang's skin as she burrowed between her breasts. Yang pulled Blake into her, their hips locking together.

Snuggling into her lover, Blake fell asleep in Yang's arms, too tired even to dream.


"Did she see everything?" an unmistakably feminine voice purred, her flats clicking on the concrete floor. The petite woman melted out of the shadows of the abandoned building, gray clothes hiding her surprisingly well against the concrete and sheet metal. Blonde hair swayed near her chin, the bangs pinned up out of her face.

"Everything she was supposed to," the man growled through his scarf. "You're lucky she ran. I might not have been able to take her like this."

"There was very little risk." The woman stepped forward to grab the case, one gloved hand gingerly gripping the handle. "Ex-mentor, ex-lover, old enemy, older ally – imagine everything you hated about your past all personified in a single man." Her voice flickered with humor, the same kind that pulled the wings off grasshoppers and left them to die.

"Taurus is her own personal Mephistopheles, a corrupting devil she barely managed to escape from. Confrontation would mean admitting how close she was once to becoming the man she hates."

"She managed well enough a few years ago."

"Her teammate had to deal the killing blow. Plus, you did just come back from the dead," the blonde said dryly. Her smile never touched her eyes, the light brown pools cold and dead.

"So glad you're amused. We done here?"

"Of course. You've been such a good boy ... Adam." The blonde giggled, a tinkling little sound reminiscent of someone being murdered with a wind chime. Briefcase held jauntily over one shoulder, she stalked off towards the entrance, the heels of her flats clicking rhythmically as she left.

"Be a dear and clean up the mess, won't you?"