John walked through town, his head full of things he had to do and things that he could do. He needed cat food, he needed to find a night job, he needed a resupply on dust. He started to go over the classes he had for the next week and started to review all he learned on them. At the same time he paid close attention to his surroundings. His mind was stretched to its mental breaking point. And to top of t all off he had a splitting headache.
"And Blake is going to chew me out when I get home." He muttered to himself as he dodged past a group of people. He had busied himself with as much as possible when they had gotten home, trying to distract himself from that question.
Blake on the other hand started to slack off. She had stopped doing homework all together, spending more time with John. He had gladly taken on her work, but still found the time to worry about her change in behavior.
"Speak of the devil." John said as he passed a book store. Blake was slinking about in the romance section, avoiding eye contact. She must be looking for another one of those books. He leaned against the brick wall and waited patiently. About 20 minutes later Blake emerged from the store with a paper bag hugged tightly in her arms. John, who had turned on his semblance, grabbed her shoulder and whispered ghoulishly, "hello, my kitty."
Blake literally jumped 10 feet into the air, dropping her book. John picked it up and began shuffling through the pages as if nothing had happened. "You asshole." Blake said, slapping him gently on the shoulder. He handed her book back and began to make his way down the street, Blake by his side. "What are you doing out here? I thought you were locked up in your room again."
"It's only 8:34." John said, checking his watch. "I got plenty to do." He wasn't going to admit he could no longer sleep without tumbling through a forest of guilt. Ever since she had died again, Carmon would visit him in his dreams. Damb it. I thought about her again. He could feel her presence start to creep into his head, causing him to freeze.
Blake stopped walking. John was frozen mid stride, his eyes locked in place. A cold sweat started to appear on his skin. "Are you ok?" She asked, pulling on his hand and breaking him free of his thoughts. He blinked several times before nodding bleakly. Blake knew something was wrong but let it slide.
John wandered through the town, his mind still whirling. Blake occasionally pulled him in one direction or another, but otherwise his feet took him wherever they pleased. He would have wandered straight into the pond if Blake hadn't caught him. "Thanks." He said absentmindedly as he started to wander away.
"Spill it." John stopped and looked over his shoulder. Blake had him by the upper arm, preventing him from leaving. She had a stern look in her eyes. "You've been spacey for almost a week. Spill it."
"This is my problem. Stay out of it." He broke her grip and continued to walk. All of a sudden, Blake's weapon flew out and wrapped itself around his neck. She yanked and John was dragged across the ground. She then proceeded to lay down on top of him and pin his arms down.
"You did this for me when I was out of it on catnip. Your actions pulled me back into reality. I am going to hold you down until you come back yourself." She glared down at the gloomy teen with determination. John sighed and closed his eyes. He flooded out his consciousness, enveloping Blake with his thoughts.
Blake was in John's mind. There were dozens of thoughts and strands of thinking all over the place, the information was overwhelming. Then her vision shifted. The thoughts weren't random. In fact, they formed chains. The chains swirled and wrapped themselves around something, and whatever it was had a huge negative energy to it.
"If you really want me to come to reality, then you should know what I am hiding from." A wave of grief and anxiety washed over Blake as John dropped his chains. A dark, grieving, female presence exploded out.
Blake scrambled backwards, releasing John. John immediately started throwing up his chains again, focusing on thinking of anything but her. "That was Carmon." Blake said, storming about in a panic with her hands on her head. "I thought I killed her. What is she doing here?" Rage lined each one of her words as she paced back and forth.
John was as still as a statue as he struggled mentally to tie his sister down. "You can't exactly kill what is already dead. Especially when they don't want to leave." He spoke through strained teeth. Carmon was fighting tooth and nail against him.
Once his head was a tornado of thoughts and complex equations again, John got up and grabbed onto a still pacing Blake. He held her to his chest and started petting her, calming her down and out of her rage.
"Why?" Black asked, tears flowing into John's shoulder. He leaned forward and rested his chin on her shoulder, humming. "Why can't she just stay dead?" John held his distressed girlfriend as she wept for him. This went on for half an hour, Blake seeming so fragile the whole time. John wanted nothing more than to take away her grief and make it his own, but it already was.
"The fight may be over, but mine is not." He whispered into her ear. "I will deal with it, I promise. You don't have to get involved." Blake had stopped crying and was now holding onto him tightly. She was shaking slightly in the cold.
"Pitiful." John looked past Blake at the sound of a voice. Carmon stood watching him, leaning on her halberd. "She gave me such a cold hearted look as she plunged that dagger into my chest too." Blake gave no sight of noticing Carmon, so John came to the conclusion that she was in his head.
"What do you want?" He asked as he rocked back and forth, cradling the faunus.
"I want a rematch." Carmon stated. "I will be waiting until you fall asleep. Stop running, if you don't want to keep hurting her." Damb, she really knew how to bend him to her will. Carmon turned around and walked away, fading into the shadows. As her form disappeared, so did her presence. John let out a sigh of relief as he let his chains disintegrated. Mental exhaustion finally set in, making him feel like he hadn't slept in years.
Blake let out a little "eep" as he picked her up and slid her onto his back. "Come on. Let's go home." Blake held onto his neck as he started to walk back to the school. For the first time in days, his mind was completely empty.
Carmon was waiting for him. As soon as John drifted to sleep he found himself in the woods that were near his house. "Brings you back, doesn't it?" Carmon asked, looking around at all the familiar trees.
"Yeah. I thought that if we were to fight, we might as well go all the way back to when we first started." He picked up a long, crooked branch that had been worn smooth in some places and tossed it to his sister. "You used to beat me up into a nice mush with this."
Carmon smiled with melancholy at the piece of wood. "This was my first halberd. Brings back memories." She spun the branch with expert skill, the movements as fluid as water. Mid swing the branch turned into her weapon, ending the stroke by pointing it at John. "I had the devil himself make it into my weapon. But it was thought full of you." John's gear had appeared. His shield was strapped to his arm and his sword was held in front of him. Carmon raised an eyebrow at the shield.
"Before I was equipped to take on large groups. The shield would have slowed me down." He shrugged off the unasked question. The two stared at each other, watch closely. Neither combatant dared move a muscle.
John blinked. Carmon lunged forward, moving to impale him. John side stepped behind his shield, the blow glancing off it. John counter attacked with an upper cut with the sword, which was deflected by the spin of the halberd. He dodged backwards as Carmon launched a series of savage cuts from both sides of her body, her weapon blurred. John noticed the sway of a little bobble of red string that connected to the back of the blade. It suddenly flicked from left to right. John slid across the ground as the slash came from the left. He remembered that the Chinese monks who used the weapon would use that red string to distract their targets, making them raise their guard on the wrong side.
"You've learned!" Carmon shouted as they continued to exchange blows.
"I had a good teacher!" John shouted back as he twirled his blade forward, slipping his sword behind the halberd and between her arms as Carmon tried to block the hit. He lunged forward and disarmed her, locking his hilt with her staff handle and kicking her in the stomach, breaking her grip. Carmon rolled with the blow, shaking off the hit easily. John tossed her her weapon back.
John dashed in swinging his sword from the left at her head. Carmon set her weapon to deflect the blow and at the last moment John changed the trajectory and landed a long cut up the front of her body. John disengaged.
Carmon fell to her knees, blood flowing from the shallow wound. The cut started on her right thigh and went all the way to her left shoulder. John could tell that it stung like hell.
"Get up." He ordered. "The fights not done yet." Carmon got to her feet and steadied her weapon. John waited politely for her to strike first. They had an unspoken rule to fight to the finish, never striking each other when they weren't fighting. It would leave a bad taste to finish the fight early.
Carmon strikes at his feet, forcing John to jump to avoid the attack. She started to do consecutive slashes again, slower this time due to being injured. John parried, dodged, and sidestepped the attacks, watching as her stamina slowly faded every passing minute. At one point he parried a blow and landed a deep cut on her right shoulder. Carmon flinched.
John waited patiently while she regained her composure before renewing his fight. He had collected a nice set of bruises, so he also had to decrease his speed. They exchanged blows for hours more until the fatal moment came to happen.
They were in the middle of exchanging a rather vicious series of blows when Carmon's leg gave out. As she stumbled, John shot forward and stabbed her in the chest. Carmon collapsed, John drawing his sword out of her chest. "Your fight is over, Carmon." He said, kneeling down next to her as her life quickly ebbed away.
A single tear ran down her face as Carmon looked up at her brother. "Thank you. You have made me proud." Just briefly, John was able to see his sister again. Not the violent, crazy one, but the caring sister who enjoyed a good fight.
"Sleep well, my sister." He whispered. Carmon started to glow, and then faded away. John was glad that she had been able to keep her warrior spirit until the end. The fight was over, and both sides found their better place.