footprints in the carpet
The headaches refuse to cease. And yet, even Qrow has to admit that despite all of his heartache and bitterness, he is getting better.
It has been almost two weeks since his last drink. Two weeks, and he has fought off the urge every single night- every single voice in his head which screams, begs, pleads for him to just give in has been silenced, whether through sleep or meditation or training or simply by living as a corvid. There are days when the moment he is out of sight, he simply transforms and burrows himself in under his bedsheets, for there is no way a crow can gain access to liquor no matter how much he longs for it.
No matter how he avoids alcohol, however, it does not take away from the fact that he is doing it at all. That is something to be proud of, he knows it.
…if only he could feel proud of it, too. Perhaps it is the lack of benchmarks to go off of which is making him feel so despondent on top of everything else happening amidst their race to finish building Amity. He has no idea how to calculate his journey on the road to success without an idea of what 'success' even looks like- will he just one day no longer feel ill all the time? Will he wake up and be magically better?
Is there even such a thing as not wanting to drink?
He wishes to go to the garden. At least there, the fireflies are beautiful and the world is tranquil, the circulation of air blowing through the leaves close enough to the sound of wind rustling through the canopies of the forests of Mistral, of Vale, of Patch. The tiny piece of greenery in which he can surround himself is utterly tantalizing, for the mere ability to breathe in that warmer, humid air would give him strength to stay sober another day. After all, Atlas is too cold. Whiskey was always good at warming him up- he needs something to replace that warmth before he loses his mind.
Despite his desires, he dares not risk going to the indoor garden, though- the thought of having to endure more of Clover's curious eye, more of his rejection right after, cuts him to the core. Why, he does not know for Clover has clearly indicated that Qrow will never be anything but a colleague by happenstance- never an ally, nor friend. Qrow is a liability. Qrow is a hazard. There is no warmth reserved for him.
Qrow cannot even blame him. If he had the choice, he wouldn't work with himself, either.
So how did we get here? he thinks in exhaustion, running his hands through his hair as he watches Ruby stir in yet another sugar cube to her coffee. "Ruby, kiddo, you're going to get sick if you add so much," he says gently, drawing the box of sugar cubes away from her. "Besides, you're gonna be bouncing off the walls all night if you add anymore, and you have a supply run starting early tomorrow, right?"
Ruby rolls her eyes, but obeys anyways, stirring her coffee happily. When she finally does take a sip, a slight grimace pulls her lips, but Qrow's hand rests upon the sugar cubes, barring further access; seeing that, she sighs and takes another drink of her coffee, then places it down to rest upon the table, wrapping her thin hands around the mug calmly. She opens her mouth, raises a brow, and waits for him to respond.
So, he does, giving her a small nod.
Her expression melts happily into a smile as she launches into a recounting of her recent adventures. This is a habit they have fallen into; Qrow and Ruby find a corner booth in the mess hall in which they can sit and drink coffee or tea or cocoa or whatever Ruby would like, and Ruby fills him in on what has happened whenever he is not with her on a mission. The tales are long and convoluted, filled with endless tangents and even more mistakes.
Qrow does not mind her rambling, nor does he mind the fact that he barely speaks during these little get-togethers. Qrow does not pay much attention to these stories at all, if he is being honest. His purpose is not to know every detail; all he wants is to be distracted for just a little while, and sitting with his niece seems like the best way to do just that.
It also alleviates his guilt, although he will never tell her that. He hates the fact that he has left her alone to suffer so many times. He detests himself more than words can say, for his little niece has gone through hell and back, protecting him more times than he feels like he has truly protected her.
He will never admit this to her. Based on the gentleness of her smile every time she tells him goodnight at the end of their little meetings, however, he has a strong suspicion that she already knows.
Halfway through an excited story about Nora and Jaune's explorations of Mantle, Ruby seems to run out of steam, her eyes dropping to her mug. Snapping out of his stupor, Qrow says, "Hey, kiddo, what's up?"
She smiles, shaking her head, withdrawing for a moment as she collects her thoughts. "I just- I'm happy we get to do this, Qrow," she admits shyly. "I know that I'm not exactly- this isn't exactly how you'd like to spent your free time-"
"Hey now, I'll spend time with you any day," he cuts in quickly. "Just because I'm not corny about it like your dad doesn't mean I don't enjoy this, Ruby."
She is quick to giggle and beam back at him, but her knuckles are still white, wrapped tightly around a mug that has long-since lost its warmth. "I… I'm just happy you're here," she says. "It's like a dream- after everything that happened with- with the Relic, and then at the farm-"
She really thought I was going to leave her to fight alone.
Instinctively, Qrow cowers, folding within himself at the mere mention of it. He does not want to think about what happened at Brunswick Farms; he does not want to ever have to recall losing himself so thoroughly in alcohol in the middle of a blizzard halfway up northern Anima that he almost allowed Ruby and Yang and everyone to be killed by a pack of Apathy Grimm. It does not matter if it was not his fault- it does not matter if he had been reeling from Ozpin's betrayal, and if the Apathy had been sucking dry his will to live. None of that matters, for Qrow had still almost let Ruby die, and he will never forget that.
She can read him far too easily these days, though. Maybe drunk me was a better liar, he thinks bitterly as he watches her expression morph into pure empathy. "Don't worry, Uncle Qrow," Ruby says gently, reaching out and grabbing his hands. Her hands folded over his are so small, yet reassuring, wrapped around his own; the strength exuded from every pore of her visage demonstrates nothing but pure faith. "We all put what happened at the farm behind us. Those Grimm were a huge part of it, too. And," she adds, squeezing even more tightly, "I'm proud of you. I've said it before, and I'll say it again, but in Atlas, you've been doing so well, it's amazing."
He wants to cry, for not only does he feel like nothing but a liar in the face of her absolute, unwavering trust, but he also can see nothing, hear nothing, feel nothing other than the presence of Summer Rose so unmistakeably engrained in every fiber of her daughter's being. He feels as if his former leader is the one comforting him, her tone soothing and unmistakeably proud, all traces of her usual exuberance replaced by the sage calm of someone who knows nothing but faith.
Her Scroll beeps before he crumbles completely, helping him save face. "Yang's starting the movie soon," she says, quickly scooting out of the booth. "You wanna join us, Uncle Qrow? The ladies in it all have-" and she cringes, the words sour and embarrassing to even say, "-women in mini-skirts."
He shakes his head, already feeling colder without her immediately across the table from him. "You go have fun, kiddo," he chides, "but make sure you go to bed early, okay?"
Something in her face falls. Two years earlier, he would have eagerly joined, making terrible jokes and teasing her and Yang all the while. As it is, though, they both know he cannot do that; so, she laughs as heartily as she can while she walks away, waving over her shoulder with a smile on her face that guarantees she'll be sleep-deprived come morning.
He barely has a moment to collect himself before his jumbled thoughts are cut through so cleanly that he jumps in his seat. "What's this about a farm?"
Instantly, Qrow straightens up, glaring over to the source of the voice. Clover stands at the entrance to their booth, his eyebrow raised in confusion and silent judgement.
He retreats further away from Clover before he even realizes it, bristling in the man's presence. "How much did you hear?" he says, voice low and strained.
Clover stares at him for a long moment, evaluating his next move. Finally, he explains, jabbing his thumb to the next booth, "I was in the booth behind you. If you're so worried about being overheard, then I suggest you keep private conversations somewhere private." Before Qrow can retort, Clover continues, "I heard something about a farm. Some Grimm. Is there anything we should know about?"
"Back on Anima," he growls back, bringing his gaze back down to look at his crumpled napkin. "It's not any of your business."
"Certainly didn't sound like you've let it go, whatever it is," the younger comments dryly.
He snarls back before he can help himself. "Keep your nose out of it, Ebi. I'm not one of your men- I don't report to you."
"You're right," Clover replies icily, turning his back onto Qrow. "If you were one of my men, you wouldn't have the audacity to talk back like that."
"Sorry that I have more spine than your subordinates," he mutters under his breath, eyes dropping to his hands still curled on the table, missing Ruby's unconditionally-loving presence. "Pity they don't make them like they used to."
Clover's smile is professional as always, but the heat in his glare is enough to burn. However, that expression quickly morphs into something akin to worry- almost reaching the level of discomfort- as he realizes that Qrow's energy has drained away completely, his emotions already too much in a haze after Ruby's mention of his fall on Anima.
He does not want to think of the time he spent crumbling during their journey to Atlas. He does not need anything else to remind him that he is weak.
Clover seems to understand that this is not the day to bother him, thankfully. When Qrow finally looks back up, Clover is already gone to return his dinner tray to the kitchen staff, and Qrow is alone. It is better that way; the moment his emotions sort themselves out, Qrow finds that all he can focus upon is his bitter, ashamed frustration, and he does not need Clover Ebi watching him cry, too.