Vieux Carré

Throw equal parts rye, cognac, and vermouth in a mixing glass, followed by a bit of Benedictine and a few dashes of bitters. Fill with ice, then stir and strain. A rich and decadent little drink.

It was the smell of eggs and toast that woke her, accompanied by little notes of cheese and what her groggy mind identified as two or three different kinds of fruit. Forcing her eyes to open, Ruby rubbed away the sleep and blinked up at the towering figure above her. Weiss stood by the bed, tray in hand and a shockingly genuine smile on her face.

"Good morning."

The tray had to be set aside so Ruby could hug her girlfriend. It was the only response she could think of to a wake-up call like this after a night like that. Then Weiss joined her on top of the covers, the tray was settled over Ruby's knees, and the two women dove into their breakfast.

It was perfect. Everything was the true-to-recipe, timed-down-to-the-second way that Weiss approached cooking, ever since she'd graduated. The toast was just right, the eggs weren't too thick or too runny, and as much as Ruby liked the home-style slapdash way Yang could throw a breakfast together, this was a nice change. Especially coming from Weiss.

Still, something at the back of Ruby's mind needled her. It wasn't anything new, just something that had stuck there in the middle of their conversation the night before. Set aside during Weiss' very well-motivated attempts to make her happy, and forgotten by the time Weiss had her on her knees. But now, hours later, with their passions spent and the remnants of toast and jam on her tongue, it was back.

"Can I ask you something?" Ruby asked mid-bite, then set her fork down.

Weiss paused in the middle of her own breakfast. Whether it was the tone of Ruby's voice, or the way she'd actually stopped eating, she seemed to realize this wasn't normal breakfast conversation. Setting her own utensils down, she patted her mouth with the napkin, then turned to face her girlfriend.

"What you said, last night," Ruby started, then paused. She needed to say this right. The last thing she wanted was to hurt Weiss after the night before. "You being scared of hurting me or doing anything I didn't want ... that wasn't the only problem, was it?"

Ruby watched as Weiss blinked and began to frown, eyebrows coming together in a way Ruby had seen a hundred times before—the way they always did when Weiss put up a walls around herself.

"I'm sorry. You were perfect, and this is awesome, but-" Ruby rambled, trying to say what she could before Weiss pulled away. "Yang and I told you about Mom and Dad and Raven. About what happened. Raven leaving, how Mom helped Dad raise Yang, them falling for each other. Well, I think Mom and Dad worked because they were better partners than Raven was. They worked together, relied on each other."

"I barely remember her, but the way Yang talks about Mom ... she and dad were a team. They talked about whatever was bothering them, and when they needed it, they were always there for each other to lean on." Biting her lip, she turned to look over at Weiss. "I want that. I want to be that, for you. You don't have to talk about anything, right now, but I just ... I want you to know I'm here." She trailed off, running out of things to say.

No, that wasn't true. There was more. Like how alone she felt whenever Weiss pulled inside herself. How obvious it was sometimes when Weiss was hurting, and how frustrating and horrible it was to know she couldn't do anything about it. How much she wished she could help, could do something, but still didn't even know what the problem really was.

I need her to let me in. If we're really going to be something, if this is gonna last, I need her to let me in. Trying not to show it, trying not to guilt her into anything, she looked back at Weiss, keeping her eyes locked on the other woman's, hoping she could tell how much Ruby wanted to help. Wanted her trust.

Please.

For a long moment, Weiss just looked back at her. "It is ... complicated."

A sad, wry smile broke over Ruby's lips. "I wouldn't be dating you if I had a problem with 'complicated'."

Weiss just stared for a second, taken aback, before a smile of her own spread over her mouth. "Fair enough." Shaking her head, Weiss looked down at her hands, smoothing the bedspread beneath her.

"I hardly remember much from when I was young, so most of what I have to go on is guesswork. But you know my parents' relationship was not ... good."

Ruby nodded. As far as she could tell, 'not good' was a massive understatement.

"I don't remember when my mother started drinking. It is the same as every other childhood memory. Blurry. Uncertain." She sighed, a frustrated look in her eyes. "Winter refuses to talk about it, but ... Father was not pleased when she was born. He was even less happy when my mother had me."

"He didn't want kids?"

Weiss shook her head. "He was set on a son. Probably why they stopped having children after Whitley. Later, he hated that Winter defied him, that she gave up her inheritance to join the military, but I think he saw the silver lining—she was out of the way. Not being able to control either of us infuriated him, but that lack of control gave him the excuse he needed. He wanted Whitley as his legacy. No matter what either of us did, to him Winter and I were always our mother's daughters."

"And he failed." Ruby said, quietly. "You're the one who got the company, not your brother."

"Not for lack of trying. No matter what my father announced, the rumors he spread, he needed meto give up my birthright. Sign it away, same as Winter, in front of notaries, and witnesses, and the board." A small, vindictive smile slipped across her lips. "I followed Winter to Mistral before he had the chance to force me."

"I'm sorry."

"That is ... not the point." Weiss shook her head, then looked back up into wide, worried eyes. "Ruby, I desperately do not want to turn into my father. After we slept together, when I thought I'd taken advantage of you–"

"You didn't," Ruby cut her off, her voice firm.

"When I thought I had. It felt like something he would have done. Caring only about what he wanted. Using others, trampling over them to make sure things turned out his way." She swallowed, and closed her eyes, hands clenched in white-knuckled fists. "That scared me more than anything."

"You aren't your dad, Weiss." Ruby said, trying to keep any quiver out of her voice. "You're not your mom, too. I'm not mine. I love her, and I still miss her, but I remember how angry Yang was when she died. I know how much it hurt Dad. And me. It wasn't her fault and I never blamed her, but I don't want to be the kind of person who vanishes and leaves a hole in someone's life. I don't wanna hurt Yang like that. I really don't want to hurt you like that."

"You say that like you think I'd let you," Weiss said softly. Then Ruby saw the smile teasing the corner of Weiss' mouth, and the humor shining through the sadness in her eyes.

She laughed, ignoring the wetness she felt on her own face. "That's the deal then," she said and held out her hand. "We've both had a whole lot of examples of what we don't want to be. So now we get to get to be something new. And if anything happens, we'll handle it. Together. Like the best partners ever. Okay?"

"Alright." Weiss' hand was warm as it wrapped around her own. "Together."

The next few days were filled with prep work. If their ersatz dust train was going to work—if they were going to draw Adam out—they needed to be careful. They could afford no mistakes. No slip-ups. Word had to be let out, carefully, that the SDC would try to send a dust shipment. The right people had to have the information seem to fall into their laps. As much as she would have liked to track down the chain of informants leading back to the Fang, there wasn't time, and if Adam couldn't corroborate the story, he might not show.

So Yang, Blake, Nora, Ren, and a few locals—the ones Weiss insisted they could trust—got to work slowly spreading the rumor. Official memos were sent. Meetings were had. Nora spoke just a hair too loudly in a bar after pretending to have one drink too many, while the foreman started arranging for the actual train to arrive.

Within the week, everything was in place. It was a wet, rainy night in Vale as the two pairs slipped off to their own hideouts, to rest and gather their gear for the morning's operation.

The knowledge of what awaited them settled over Yang and Blake like an over-stuffed quilt, heavy and smothering as the Faunus unlocked the door to their room in a semi-reputable motel on the edge of Vale. The place was a little run-down, but at least it was clean (Blake had made sure of that) and far enough away from the city to give them some sense of safety.

Even Yang's famous cheer couldn't quite survive the tension as the two got ready for bed. She kept double-and-triple checking her gauntlets, testing her arm to make sure it was as ready as the rest of their gear. Blake was guilty of cleaning her Shroud a few too many times, nerves and a mounting sense of paranoia making her want to check the chamber just one more time.

Finally, the two fell into bed, more from knowing they needed sleep than actually feeling tired. It took a long time, long moments spent staring at the ceilings or walls, but eventually, the air filled with the sound of Yang's slow, steady breathing. Comforted by the sound of her girlfriend beside her, Blake managed to close her eyes, and a few minutes later, drifted into sleep.

When Blake opened her eyes, all she saw was fire. Everything burned, sending smoke spiraling up into the rafters of the high-ceilinged hall around her. Screams filled her ears, enraged and frightened humans and Faunus answered by the howls of hungry Grimm. The night air resounded as the monsters snarled, spreading across Beacon like a tide, crashing furiously into the students trying desperately to hold them back.

Without warning, a sharp pain lanced through her side. She cried out, and looked down to find a familiar crimson blade extending from her side. Blood spilled as Adam ripped his sword free of her, mocking her weakness as she lay there, helpless to stop him.

Then the dread hit her. She knew what was coming, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't move. Couldn't run, couldn't even raise herself off the ground. Every word out of Adam's mouth was another digit ticking down on a clock she couldn't see. A timer running down the seconds until the worst happened.

And then it did. Yang arrived, eyes red with rage as she saw her partner lying bloody on the ground. Blake tried to speak, tried to make her leave, to save herself, but nothing came out. Her throat was too tight to speak, seized with grief and fear as she watched Yang leap into the air.

She couldn't look away. She wished she could, wished she didn't have to relive the moment when Yang's loyalty to her partner ruined her life. Adam's blade swung, and an unconscious Yang crumpled to the ground, her aura spent, her severed arm lying several feet away.

She hated this. Hated seeing this, again and again, knowing what would happen and knowing there was nothing she could do to change it. But at least the worst was over. Now she would grab Yang and they would make their escape. At least this time she knew Yang would forgive her, that Yang wouldn't blame her for being the reason why Adam targeted her in the first place.

Only this time, Blake wasn't fast enough. Horror slowly set in as she realized she couldn't make it to Yang in time. She tried, clawing at the floor as she pulled herself along, desperately trying to make it to the blonde she knew meant more to her than anything. She had to make it to her, had to try, had to save her...

She had a perfect view as Adam brought his blade down and sliced clean through Yang's neck.

Blake woke drenched in sweat. A scream threatened to tear itself from her throat, and only the sight of Yang—safe, sound, and asleep beside her—kept her quiet. Chest heaving, she tightened her hands on the sheets and forced herself to breathe.

She's fine. Blake told herself, glancing over at the sleeping blonde. She survived. I survived. It's just a dream, brought on by nerves and the fact that Adam's back. That we might be fighting him today. That's all it is. Just a nightmare.

Slowly, she got her pulse under control. When her fingers stopped shaking, she reached over, and tucked some of the long golden locks to rest back behind Yang's ear. The warmth coming off of Yang helped banish some of the lingering shakes, helped convince that still-panicking part of her mind that it really was just her mind dredging up old memories. See? Blake thought to herself, running her hand down Yang's hair. She's fine.

But she wasn't.

An icy hand wrapped itself around her insides as Yang mumbled something in her sleep, shifting in her sleep as she pulled her pillow closer. That was the truth, wasn't it? Yang hadn't been fine. She'd nearly died, ended up losing an arm because Blake hadn't been strong enough, sure enough, to stop her former mentor. Yang was maimed, all because she hadn't taken responsibility for the Fang. Because she hadn't stopped them.

Just like now.

Shaking her head, Blake pulled away from the blonde beside her. No more sleep. Not tonight. Especially not if all that waited for her was flashbacks of the worst moment of her life. Instead, she glanced at the clock and grimaced—it was far too early. In total, she'd ended up with three, maybe four hours of sleep.

Gritting her teeth, Blake slowly eased herself out of motel bed, grateful that Yang was splayed face-down across her side of the mattress, rather than draped over her. If the blonde had been holding her when she finally closed her eyes, Blake doubted she would have been able to slip out, short of using her semblance to escape.

It almost seemed like fate.

Quiet as a cat, Blake slipped from the bedroom, moving out into the thin excuse for a living room that the place had provided them. Still silent, she quickly changed into her cover identity's clothes and started packing her combat gear, those last few moments of her dream playing over and over in her mind. Adam taking Yang's arm again and again. Blake unable to get to her in time. His blade cutting deep into Yang's neck ...

Her hands were trembling as she unzipped her bag.

Barely even breathing, she set it aside and slipped back into the bedroom. Yang was still there, just as she'd left her. Safe. Asleep. Frowning, she reached over and turned off the alarm. It was the only thing that made sense. No reason for Yang to wake up now. She deserved a few extra minutes of sleep while Blake busied herself with getting the gear together. She'd wake her up herself before they needed to leave.

If Blake noticed that the only equipment that ended up getting packed was hers, she ignored it.

For a little while, she busied herself with thoughts of the coming mission, running over plans and strategies while she packed her gear. There were any number of strike points the Fang might hit. She knew the ideal spot along the train's route, the perfect spot for an ambush, but they might not pick it, just in case the train was waiting for an attack. She'd run enough of these missions herself to know Adam's playbook by now. They'd pick the second-best one, or the third, try to catch them unawares.

Before she knew it, her combat clothes and weapons were all packed away, secure within the little black duffel she had brought with her from Atlas. Moving to sit on the couch, she glanced at her scroll. That had to have killed a good chunk of time...

It had been seven minutes.

Cursing under her breath, she turned off her scroll and stared about the darkened room. Without something to do, without a task, the memories came rushing back—Gods, she could still smell Yang's blood, or at least thought she could. Adam's laughter still echoed in her ears, the threat that he would take away everything she loved to satisfy his twisted need for vengeance. Starting with Yang...

Resisting the urge to snarl, she sank her fingers into the arm of the sofa. I hate this, she thought, cursing her own mind for bringing up those memories before a fight. Especially this fight. I hate putting her in harm's way. I hate needing her to help with something she shouldn't have to deal with. Something I should have taken care of a long time ago.

She wished she could find someone else. Anyone else to fight with her, to help her take down Adam and his cronies one last time. Coco, or Yatsu. Fox, Nora, Ren, anyone. Hell, she'd find Cardin and bring him with her if it meant Yang would stay behind. If she would just stay safe. Literally anyone other than Yang. Someone ...

Someone whose death wouldn't break her.

Her feet carried her to the door before she knew what she was doing. By the time she realized, her bag was slung over her shoulder, her hand on the knob, before she stopped. This was it. If she opened the door, if she stepped outside, if she just left ...

It was the best way. Maybe the only way. Yang ...

It was so simple. All she had to do was leave, and Yang would be safe. She'd be safe from Adam, safe from the Fang, safe from whoever was working with him. It would buy her a few hours. By that time, the train would have left, and Yang ... Yang would be safe.

Safe from her.

That's the real problem, isn't it? Blake thought, her spine ramrod-straight as her fingers tightened around the doorknob. She was in danger because of me. She is in danger because of me. And I'll never forgive myself if she gets hurt after I put her in harm's way.

And she would never forgive her.

Snarling under her breath, Blake hung her head, slumping until it thumped against the metal door of their hideout. If she left, Yang might never speak to her again. No. She would never speak to her again. And she'd be right not to. Blake knew how much being abandoned by her mother had hurt her. How Summer's death had made everything worse. How she ... how abandoning Yang after Beacon had broken her as much as losing her arm had.

Worse, if she got hurt, if the worst happened, if she didn't come back, Yang would blame herself, wouldn't she? For not stopping her? For not knowing she would leave and try to keep her safe?

Of course she would.

Blake forgot how long she stood there, head pressed against the door, her hand on the knob. They couldn't run; Adam's thugs had already tracked them down more than once. If they just vanished, left him and his problems for someone else to solve, he'd find her eventually. They weren't just his problems, either. She was responsible for helping him. For enabling him as long as she had. The damage he wreaked, the people he hurt—that was her fault, too. If she brought Yang, she didn't want to think what might happen.

There's no good option here, Blake closed her eyes and let her head thump again against the door. If Yang comes, she'll be in danger. I'll be putting her in harm's way and she's already suffered far too much because of me. If something goes wrong, if something happens ... she's already given up her arm to keep me safe. But if I don't bring her, if I leave her behind ...

I'll be hurting her just as much.

That was it, she supposed. No way around it. No way through it. Just the simple fact—the person most likely to hurt the woman she cared about most, was her. Whether it was Adam, his thugs, or if it was just the impact of Yang being abandoned one more time by someone she trusted, someone she loved, someone she'd given herself to ... it would still be her fault.

She couldn't ask her to stay behind. Yang would never let her go off on her own, not for something like this. Even with Ren and Nora there, she wouldn't let Blake out of her sight until this was all over.

Maybe that was it. Maybe, if she spoke to the others, they could figure out a way to keep her safe. No one had to face Adam alone. If they fought him as a team, as three full-grown huntresses and a huntsman, maybe even he wouldn't stand a chance. And if they knew he'd target Yang, that he'd go after the blonde just to twist that knife a little deeper, maybe the two of them could be ready.

Blake wracked her brain, trying to find another option, something that didn't put Yang in danger, and found nothing. There was no solution that fixed everything, but with Ren and Nora ... at least it was something. Something that wouldn't break her heart.

Glancing down, Blake checked the time on her scroll, and gave a short mirthless laugh. She'd been there over an hour. It was almost time for their alarm to go off, when it would have gone off.

With a sigh, she shoved the scroll back into her pocket. She could be the one to wake Yang up at least. Give her something good before she dragged her into hell alongside her. Shaking her head, she let her bag slide off her shoulder to the ground, and turned heading for the door that led back to their bed. To Yang.

Then she looked up, and froze, that icy grip settled back around her heart as she looked up into the face of the blonde staring at her from the doorway.

"Yang ..."

The blonde just shook her head. Even in the dim light, Blake could see her perfectly. Yang hadn't changed, her hair still a glorious mess so soon out of bed. It was a sight she'd found she loved, now ruined by the crimson eyes looking back at her behind a stony, impassive expression.

"Give me a minute." Yang said, her voice hard and cold. "I'll grab my gear."

The bottom of Blake's stomach dropped and kept falling. Gods, of all the times for her to wake up early. "Yang, I didn–"

Before she had a chance to speak, Yang turned and shut the bedroom door in her face.

Author's Note: Hey folks. Sorry for the wait till after RTX. As normal, I've got a bit of a backlog of reviews and comments, so I'll be trying to get to those in the next couple days.

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