Old Wounds

[The Beacon Tavern]

"Hello" the greeting was polite and casual, a word that could have easily left the lips of anyone on the planet.

"Hello to you too" Sun replied cheerily, glancing up from the glass he was cleaning. Any further words he might have spoken were instantly forgotten. Standing before him was a man who looked very much like Jaune, yet clearly wasn't. His shoulders were too broad, his blue gaze too intimidating, his dress too formal for him to have been Jaune.

"I'm here to see the proprietor, Qrow Rose" the man informed him.

"Wh-who should I introduce you as?" Sun asked, shakily putting down the glass and towel. He had a very good idea of who this man was, but still asked for politeness' sake.

"Just tell him an old friend has come by to make amends" the man told him, taking a seat at the bar. "And bring me a bottle of whiskey and two glasses while you're at it." Sun nodded, quickly retreating through the kitchen door.

"Qrow?" he called, interrupting the blur of black rose petals mid-stride. "You've got a visitor..."

"Who?" Qrow asked, pausing at Sun's nervous tone.

"An 'old friend who wants to make amends', or so he told me" Sun said. "And he looks a lot like Jaune."

"Damien..." Qrow muttered, enough venom in his voice to make the word sound more like a curse than a name. "Go out there and clear out the patrons with Ruby. I don't care if you have to be rude, do it."

"Um..." Sun cautiously broke in, Qrow's dark expression not helping his confidence. "He mentioned something about a bottle of whiskey and two glasses...?"

"I'll take care of it" Qrow grumbled. "Just get everyone else out." Sun nodded and hurriedly ducked back into the bar, grabbing Ruby by the elbow as she conveniently passed by to deliver orders.

"Hey Sun, what's..."

"No time to explain, just help me get everyone except that particular gentleman out of here. Qrow's orders." Leaving Ruby with a slightly surprised expression, Sun slipped out from behind the bar and began making the rounds among the tables.

"I'm sorry sir, I don't understand it myself..."

"I respect that you have been a long time patron, but please be accommodating..."

"You will be reimbursed, I assure you, madam..." Any stragglers or protesters were instantly silenced after Qrow's arrival, the black-clad chef commanding instant respect with his imposing figure and baleful expression.

"Out." He demanded, glowering at the few that remained. "Now." The bar instantly cleared out, the disgruntled patrons fleeing through the door and Sun dragging Ruby into the kitchen with him.

"You always had a way with words, old friend" Damien said carefully, looking up from his seat at the bar as Qrow went over to the door and locked it.

"Whatever it is you want" Qrow stated, striding back to sit down a few stools away, deliberately sliding a bottle of beer across the counter. "Make it fast and get out."

"And your manners still need work..." Damien muttered good-naturedly, catching the sliding beer and popping the cap with his thumb.

"I'm not in the mood for games" Qrow spat, looking at the impressive collection of spirits behind the bar.

"Alright, alright" Damien agreed, the smile bleeding off his face as he realized that any attempt to reignite their friendship was doomed to fail. "I came here for two reasons. First, I wanted to thank you for looking after Jaune for me..."

"You're welcome" Qrow broke in impatiently, his right hand unconsciously curling into a fist.

"...and I know that you were a far better father figure than I could ever have been" Damien finished, eliciting a surprised grunt and a suspicious glance from the corner of Qrow's eye.

"Unlike me" Damien went on after taking a swig of his beer. "You had time, fewer responsibilities, and a bigger heart. He became the man he could be, rather than the one he should have been, and that in of itself is the greatest gift you have given me."

You're blind, Damien... Qrow thought to himself, relaxing his hand enough to reach for his own beer. The man Jaune became will be the man who brings you, along with your entire unjust world, low... Still, even if he would never forgive or forget Damien's sins, he couldn't help warming a little to his old friend. Perhaps somewhere, deep within the recesses of Damien's twisted and ravaged heart, a faint glimmer of remorse for his past had taken hold...

"You're welcome" Qrow repeated, his overt hostility temporarily muted. "And the second reason you came was?"

Yang, much like Jaune, was not much of a morning person. It always took her at least an hour and a pot of coffee to wake up, a habit that her sister would mercifully never have to pick up thanks to her seemingly unlimited supply of energy. However, even her sluggish morning brain was able to tell that something was wrong after seeing Sun and Ruby huddled against the kitchen door, pressing their ears against it while trying to prevent anyone on the other side from knowing that they were eavesdropping.

"What's wrong?" she whispered tiredly, her feet mechanically taking her towards the coffee machine.

"Damien Arc" Yang instantly tripped over her own feet at Sun and Ruby's instant reply, the result of her upper body trying to spin around while her feet were still moving forward.

"What?!" she demanded as she scrambled over to the door, the shot of adrenaline in her system more than making up for her lack of coffee.

"Shh!" Ruby pulled her sister away from the door, followed a moment later by Sun.

"Damien kinda just walked in this morning and asked to see Qrow" Sun told her, his mouth set into a firm line.

"And they're not killing each other?" Yang gaped, glancing at the door as if it would suddenly burst inward, Qrow and Damien at each other's throats.

"Why would they want to fight?" Ruby asked innocently. "I thought they just had a falling out over Qrow leaving the military..." Yang mentally facepalmed, she had worked hard to keep both her sister and Qrow from knowing that she knew of the true rancor between the two men.

"Me and my big mouth..." Yang muttered, already crumbling before Ruby's slowly widening eyes. "Fine, I'll tell you, but you didn't hear it from me." Both Sun and Ruby nodded, and Yang nodded back, noticing that they had instinctively sat in a close circle.

"Qrow left the military just under four years ago" Yang began somberly. "It was a few days after Summer died at Fort Castle. He had decided that, since both of our parents were dead, Ruby and I would move in with him. He was a lot moodier then, though he kept it under wraps around us. It wasn't until the funeral that it all came out."

"Summer's?" Sun asked for clarification.

"Yeah" Yang replied, nodding. "Qrow, for whatever reason, was dead-set against Summer receiving any military honors. He didn't mind soldiers paying their respects, but he wanted no medals, no posthumous promotions, no Vale flag draped over her coffin. Sadly, Damien thought otherwise. I shook his hand when he showed up, I could see the neatly folded triangle of cloth tucked under his broken arm. I tried to tell him to put it away, but he brushed me aside." Yang glanced up at Ruby, her younger sister's face rapt with attention. She hadn't attended the wake, Summer's death was still too raw in her mind and she had locked herself in her room, crying endlessly. When they had returned home, both she and Qrow had reassured her that it had been a quiet, respectful event.

"So Damien started walking towards the coffin, and it wasn't long before Qrow noticed" Yang continued. "Long story short, Qrow took Damien aside to have a 'conversation' that I kinda eavesdropped on, the conversation escalated rather quickly into a fistfight, and it took four men to pull Qrow away. The two have never spoken since." Ruby's and Sun's eyes were as wide as saucers. Both had known that Qrow had a tendency to be grumpy at times, but they only now realized that they had never seen him truly angry.

"WHAT?!" the violent exclamation caused all three teens to jump in guilty surprise, their gazes locking onto the door.

[In the bar...]

"Qrow, please let..." Damien pleaded, internally biting back a curse at his lack of tact.

"No!" Qrow shouted, rage and venom bleeding into his voice in equal measure as he stood up so violently that his barstool crashed to the ground. "Did you come here to insult me, Damien? This only proves that you don't want me, you want the Demon!" He had been a fool to believe that Damien had felt an ounce of remorse...

"I didn't give you that title and you know it" Damien shot back, planting one hand on the dossier he had handed Qrow as he slowly rose.

"But you obviously agree with it, otherwise you wouldn't be asking me to accept a new commission and kill people!" Qrow spat. He had been a fool to think that maybe, just maybe, his old friend could have been brought to see the error of his ways...

"I don't agree with it!" Damien roared, for the first time sounding aggravated. "I never agreed with it! We both know that Fort Castle was an ugly clusterfuck, and the media descended on the first prominent figure they could."

"Then why?" Qrow demanded, only somewhat less aggressively. Yes, why, Damien? Why do you dare spit these lies in my face?

"Because I need someone I can trust!" Damien yelled, taking a few deep breaths to calm himself. "I am working with kids, Qrow, and no matter what their credentials say, none of them have fought in any real conflict. Not like we have."

Now there was a word he hadn't heard in a long time. Trust. It was a word that Damien, and most other hunters and huntresses of their generation, used sparingly. They more often 'relied on', 'depended on', or 'had come to expect' certain behaviors from people. Once one had truly trusted someone, let that person hold your life in their hands as you fought side by side, and received that same trust in return, it was very difficult to apply that word to anyone else. It was that word more than any internal force of will that allowed Qrow to temporarily wrestle his emotions under control. Once such a bond was formed between two people, it was nigh on impossible to truly break.

"What's more" Damien went on, his voice growing more serious as Qrow warily nodded. "I'm not certain they're all loyal."

"They work for the VCT" Qrow said carefully. What reason would a highly trained and disciplined soldier have to turn his back on a very well-compensated job? More importantly, what had happened to cause Damien to doubt them in the first place? "Aren't they supposed to be the best of the most patriotic?"

"They are" Damien said. "But the Vale PD was infiltrated last night, and it was clearly a professionally executed inside job. Every last faunus prisoner was set loose as a distraction, one human prisoner was freed, and the technicians are still trying to undo the damage done to the network. To top it all off, the only evidence left behind was a collection of unlicensed firearms and a munitions crate rigged with a gas bomb. It reeks of professionalism, and the only professionals present are the VCT officers I'm expected to command."

"Then it seems like you have a problem" Qrow admitted, folding his arms and leaning against the bar. If what Damien said was true, then perhaps it might be worth looking into as Damien's adjutant.

"So what do you say?" Damien asked, a glimmer of hope bleeding into his voice.

"Fine" Qrow said after a few moment's deliberation, his gaze on the ground. "But this doesn't make us friends, Damien. Just colleagues. And when we're done, I'm never speaking to you again."

"I'll take those terms" Damien said, visibly relaxing and extending his hand. "Can I count on you from tomorrow morning on at the main precinct?"

"Sure" Qrow replied shortly, pointedly leaving his arms folded. "Now take your beer and get out of my bar."

Qrow didn't relax until the door had swung shut behind Damien, and even then he still felt off. In the absence of anything else to think about, he finally noticed old wounds reopening and old emotions resurfacing. Why had he even let Damien into his bar? He should have taken the opportunity to finish what he had started during that coffinside brawl. At the very least, he should have thrown the miserable bastard out without a second thought. But here he was, staring at his palms after metaphorically shaking hands with the devil and keeping a tight grip on his soul...

"Qrow?" Ruby's voice drifted into his mind, that innocent, hopeful voice that reminded him so much of Summer.

For one blazing instant, Qrow demanded of the universe the reason that she had been the one to break his reverie and not Yang, the older, arguably more mature, and decidedly less Summer-like of the sisters. Then he felt ashamed of this irrational moment, and that shame was what pushed his latent emotions over the edge. Grinding a portion of his cheek between his teeth to distract himself from the tears standing out in his eyes, he pushed his way past his youngest niece and into the kitchen. The look Yang was giving him was one of utmost concern and worry, an open and honest look. Gods, she was exactly like her father in that respect, always wearing her emotions on her sleeve... Not knowing if the heat in his body was from his shame or the horrible memory of Taiyang's last stand, Qrow fled up the stairs and bolted his door behind him. He tried and failed to make it to his bed, falling to the floor while clutching his head and biting his tongue to keep from screaming until his throat was raw.

He felt only the flames of his fury within him, and before that potent mix of anger and pain, neither bullets nor knives nor collapsing buildings held any sting...

He saw only red, his hate-tinged vision blurring everything except the bodies of his foes, outlined in sharp relief with their blackened auras...

He heard only a great roaring in his ears, the sort of self-inflicted sound that protected what was left of one's sanity from the screams of the dying and the damned...

He knew only the midnight scythe that he wielded, feather-light in his hands, the keen edge slicing all it touched...

And he knew, deep within the recesses of his own ravaged soul, that both times it had all been his fault...

[A few minutes previously]

"WHAT?!" the exclamation caused both Jaune and Velvet to jump in surprise, having been lounging around waiting for Damien and Qrow's conversation to be finished.

"The hell?" Jaune muttered, glancing into the Tavern just in time to see Qrow stand and angrily face Damien.

"Did you come here to insult me, Damien?" Jaune quietly closed the door, pursing his lips in thought. He knew that his father and Qrow were barely on speaking terms, and to a certain extent, he knew why.

"What's going on?" Velvet asked, her brown eyes wide with worry as her far more sensitive ears twitched at the continued shouting.

"Qrow and my father don't really get along..." Jaune winced as he vaguely heard his father's voice rise to match Qrow's. "One the one side, Qrow says that he will never forgive Damien for letting Summer die in the events leading up to the Battle of Fort Castle. On the other, my father says that her death was out of his hands and he barely escaped with his own life. Throw in the fact that they're both soldiers and former Hunters, and everyone expects them to butt heads whenever they meet." Velvet nodded in understanding, anger was one of the few emotions she wished she knew a little less well.

"Jaune?" the two teens spun around to face Damien, the elder Arc letting the door to the Tavern close behind him.

"Good morning" Jaune said politely, Velvet hurriedly giving a deep curtsy.

"Good morning" Damien returned. "Why are you here?"

"It's my last day" Jaune explained. "I have to pick up a few things and say some goodbyes."

"Ah" Damien replied, satisfied. "Well, be sure to be thorough, alright? The rest of the week is going to be very busy for everyone. Also, make sure to wear your engagement ring in public. The Press may have left you alone for awhile, but with the wedding so close at hand, I'd prefer to avoid any tabloid-related smears."

Jaune nodded in acceptance, and watched as his father casually walked away. He wasn't quite sure how to take his father's calm behavior, hadn't he and Qrow just fought? Shouldn't the elder Arc have more pressing concerns than whether or not he chose to wear a stupidly expensive band of metal around his finger? Huffing in frustration once he knew his father was out of earshot, Jaune unlocked the Tavern and gestured to Velvet to follow him inside. The first thing he noticed was that Qrow was no longer in the main room, his barstool still tipped over on the floor. Absently setting it straight, his face clouded with concern when he heard the pounding of many feet on the stairs. Quickly vaulting the bar and straight-arming the kitchen door, he turned and almost ran straight into Sun as he made for the stairs.

"Sun" he said, regaining his balance after a second. "What just happened?"

"I dunno" Sun replied. "But whatever Damien said shook Qrow pretty badly, that was the first time I've ever seen the boss look afraid."

[Somewhere under the Vale PD...]

Blake was bored. After she had gotten over her initial surprise at being abducted from the Pit and had settled into the abandoned break room, she had whiled away the hours by taking a very long, very restful sleep. Now that she was awake, however, she found herself wishing for something, anything to occupy her mind. She had already examined the bundle of clothes that had been thrown to her. They were well-made, black, and seemed to be in her size. She had broken into the rest of the lockers with the aid of the discarded crowbar. They had only contained more of the same airtight packets of ageless food. She had sat in a corner and thought about who had done this and why. The obvious answer was, of course, the black-clad military officer who seemed to have more than a few skeletons hiding in his closet. As for the why, she could only assume that his reasons stemmed from those metaphorical skeletons and would be explained, insofar as he deemed it necessary for her to know.

"Your mind is quite active" Blake nearly jumped out of her skin, her head whipping around to face the voice. Standing in the doorway to the break room was the officer she had just been thinking about, his pink-violet eyes glowing unnaturally in the darkness.

How did he...? Blake wondered, taking an experimental sniff at the air. Nothing.

"I have trained myself to be all but invisible to the senses" the officer said, his face infuriatingly blank as he again showed off his uncanny ability to read people.

"Congratulations" Blake said sarcastically. "You've officially broken all known laws of physics."

"It's not all that hard" the officer shrugged, stepping into the room and kneeling comfortably on the floor. "Tea?" Blake looked suspiciously at the thermos that the officer had just produced, unsure if it was poisoned or not.

"If I wanted you dead" the officer said, leveling his gaze at her as he poured a cup of green tea. "I would have shot you on the curb back at Junior's." Nodding in agreement, Blake warily took the proffered cup.

"What do you want with me?" she asked, carefully taking a sip of the hot liquid as she sat down.

"An excellent question" the officer said, pouring another cup and setting the thermos on the ground. "And one with many answers. The first of which is your name."

"Without even knowing yours?" Blake countered. She knew it was unnecessary, but being able to attach a name to this officer would reduce him from his current mystical image to a more human one.

"Lie Ren" the officer replied without hesitation, his voice firm and confident.

"Blake Belladonna" Blake said, becoming nervous when Ren's cup froze just in front of his lips, his eyes suddenly piercing her with a burning intensity.

"Blake... Belladonna..." he mused, setting the cup down. "Partner to the infamous Adam Taurus?" Blake swallowed. The way Ren had said her late partner's name had brought back a fuzzy memory. Adam had once mentioned something in relation to the Lie Clan...

"He was my partner, yes" Blake admitted, her grip on the cup tightening. What had Adam done?

"You were not present that night" Ren said, and the intensity of his gaze held Blake immobile, his pink-violet eyes boring into her amber ones. "So I will have you answer me honestly. What was your role on Day Zero?"

Blake sat frozen, her memory jogged by the official name for the opening of the Second Human-Faunus War. Adam had been sent in the guise of a negotiator to Haven, in order to assassinate diplomats and well-known hunters. He hadn't shared the details of his hit list with her, but it must have contained members of the Lie Clan, why else would Ren react this way? And yet, no member of the Lie Clan had died that day. What did Ren want? Blake felt certain that her life depended entirely on her answer.

"I was thirteen" Blake slowly replied. "I was still in training. I wouldn't enter the war until its second year." She swallowed again, unable to look away from Ren's gaze. His expression was unreadable, but there was an undercurrent of pained anger just behind his eyes.

"His sins are not your sins" Ren finally said, finally looking away and releasing Blake from her frozen state. "I will not hold you responsible for the actions of that monster."

Blake felt a flash of anger at Ren's statement. Adam had been a violent individual, there was no denying that. Still, she hardly thought that his actions merited the title 'monster'. What of the countless grievances done by the faunus race since the First Human-Faunus War, the peace treaty of which had been intended to ensure equality? She had fought for the White Fang during the Second Human-Faunus War in order to eradicate decades of injustice done to her people. And while drawing a drop of blood with the sword for every drop of blood drawn by the lash may have been an inelegant solution, she had learned through sad experience that while diplomacy brought temporary or false relief, only violence brought respect and legitimacy. Whatever this Lie Ren had suffered, he could never hope to hold a candle to the suffering she had shouldered for her people.

"Your anger is not fully misplaced" Ren quietly admitted, and Blake's concentration was broken.

"Your pain runs far wider and deeper than mine" Ren continued, his gaze now boring into the ground. "And yet, we are both creatures of hate. Yours is directed against all those who had slighted your race, while mine..." He trailed off, seemingly wrestling with an internal question. He glanced up, and Blake could clearly see the pain and anger in his eyes, the two potent emotions giving rise to a hate that only seemed to be barely held in check.

"Mine is directed against those who tore my family apart" Ren stated flatly. "Some have already paid a dire price for their sins. Others..." Blake again felt her gaze lock with Ren's, though instead of paralysis, she could feel a subtle shift in her emotions as she recalled the deaths of her own parents and many of her friends. She could not deny that her willingness to fight was motivated, at least in part, by a desire for revenge. A desire apparently shared by Ren.

"Others I cannot touch without help" Ren finished. "I need you, Belladonna. I need your skills and I need your desire for vengeance."

"Why should I help you?" Blake asked, realizing now that Ren had wanted to talk as equals.

"Because if you help me, I will help you" Ren replied. "No piece of information is beyond me, no fortress impregnable. Who is it that you want dead most? A Schnee? An Arc? Maybe a Winchester or Nikos? Perhaps a member of the Rose family? For every person you help me kill, I will help you kill another."

Blake was speechless. Ren was beyond serious, she could feel it in the weight of his words. He had spoken with a degree of hatred that was impossible to fake, with a pain that was sympathetic to her own. He was truly willing to break every law that he had sworn to uphold in the name of his own vengeance, just as he was truly willing to pay for her aid with his own. Blake did not believe in fate, but she did believe that they had been thrown together for a reason. Both desired a settling of old scores, both needed assistance. Each could be of great use to the other. Slowly, Blake extended her hand. Silently, Ren took it. No words were needed, for they both understood that in that dark room, far from the eyes of the law, they had agreed to continue together down a dark path of blood and violence from which there was no escape.

[Qrow's Room, The Beacon Tavern]

Qrow slowly shifted, rolling from his side onto his stomach. His head still hurt, and his mouth was dry. Still, neither could compare to the dull throb that still beat in his chest, his heartbeat a daily reminder of his past failures. Gathering his limbs under himself, he slowly rose to his feet. He felt drained, and his outfit clung to him with the stickiness of sweat. He hoped he hadn't cried out during his episode, Yang and Ruby were worried enough over his health as it was. He managed to stagger into his bathroom, leaving the door open as he flicked on the lights and leaned heavily on the counter. He looked up at his reflection in the mirror. His hair was still midnight black, his eyes still grey, his goatee still speckled with white strands. But he looked older than he had this morning. The few lines that had been slowly forming on his face were more pronounced, his eyes were duller and his complexion more grey than they used to be. With a sigh he undid the buttons on the front of his chef's jacket, laying both it and his undershirt carefully aside. Again he looked at his reflection. He was still fit, his muscles still clearly defined, if a touch smaller than they used to be.

Satisfied that his age wasn't catching up to him too quickly, he steeled himself for the next part of his examination. Slowly, almost painfully, he looked down at the inside of his forearms. Two tattoos greeted him, and he grit his teeth as a fresh lance of pain pierced his heart. He looked at his left arm first, where a single, well-drawn raven in flight facing his palm was drawn. A single midnight feather fell from the raven that, upon closer inspection, held a thin cursive word written in red: 'Branwen'. Just looking at that name and into the raven's one visible red eye brought the bile to the back of Qrow's throat. He had last seen her at Fort Castle, a fragile shell of the warrior she had once been. Biting back a curse, Qrow forced his eyes to turn to his right arm. A two-part tattoo lay there, two entwined roses. The first was long and slender, its delicate white petals accentuated by the lack of thorns on the stem. Written carefully in small, neat script around the edge of the largest, foremost petal was the phrase 'Honesty and Purity'. The second rose, evidently added after the first, was twisted and heavily thorned, its black petals slowly drifting away on a phantom wind. Written along the dark grey stem was the phrase 'Death before Dishonor'.

He choked back something that was between a sob and a bark of self-deprecating laughter. He hadn't lived for himself for four years. When push had come to shove, he had chosen dishonor over martyrdom. It was a decision that haunted him every day, a decision that was one of the major reasons he was willing to support Jaune's vigilantism. He wanted to give the next generation a chance to do better than he had, to stand up for what was right. Once they were ready, he would give them everything he had, push himself beyond all limits to support them. He would pay whatever penance fate demanded for his sins, so long as fate agreed to right them.

Don't let me down, Jaune... Qrow thought, stepping into an ice-cold shower reminiscent of those he took when the water heater broke back in Atlas. Don't ever lose sight of who you are, of who you can be...