Breaking Hazel
While walking he recognized the low, vibrating thump as a heartbeat; Salem had created some massive, monstrously sized Grimm, no doubt, at least as big as a dragon. Ozpin's eyes darted everywhere, taking in the musculature, the bones, the pulse of the walls, creating a map in his head.
Oz, Oscar said, pressed to his back. Our aura is back.
He knew that, but mentally nodded in acknowledgement. There were several options with aura, but his overwhelming priority was healing Oscar's body. His partner didn't deserve the injuries and there was a limit to how much pain he could hold away from Oscar. Moreover, as the length of their imprisonment grew the more injuries Hazel would inflict and the more risk there was of Salem attacking again as she grew frustrated. Oscar's idea of sewing dissension had merit but there was a finite amount of time to carry out that goal before he was beaten too badly to move, meaning Ozpin had to work fast.
He held Oscar's aura in check, letting only a trickle of it out to his ribs that needed the highest priority. That would change with time, and he'd rather have a pool of aura at the ready in case the worst happened.
They entered a great chamber, a scorpion Faunus and two children trying very hard to keep away from him already there. The hound that had captured them walked in from somewhere - curious. Ozpin's mind started to formulate possible hypotheses on why a Grimm - normally mindless - would even understand an order to assemble, and none of them were good. His killer, the new Fall Maiden, arrived with an old associate of Roman Torchwick, and all of them spread out and took a knee, Ozpin and Oscar on the far end with Hazel holding him down. He was forced to take a knee as well, and he did so without complaint, eyes taking in the fully assembled team Salem had created.
The young combatants from the Vytal Festival were the most interesting, they were just children, and the girl was utterly terrified of the hound, while the boy kept glancing at her, seeing if she was alright. Torchwick's associate rolled her eyes before falling into place, contemptuous of what she was expected to do. The scorpion Faunus only had eyes for Salem, however, fanatically unable to look away and smiling to be in her presence.
There was a lot of dissension to sew, it appeared: the girls looked the most likely candidates after Hazel, and possibly the boy. He asked Oscar what he knew about them.
I only met Neo Politan the day before yesterday, Oscar confessed, she's the one who took the lamp, but she wasn't at Haven. Who's Roman Torchwick?
That would take a lot of explaining, and Oz silently promised to do it later when they had the time; for now he needed to concentrate. The hound… if it could comprehend to this degree, it was either very, very old, or very, very new. Ozpin knew just about every type of Grimm imaginable, and while new ones did crop up and surprise him… if his thinking was right… Salem, just how far could you fall?
"... Cinder."
His concentration broke as the Fall Maiden broke into horrified screams, clutching at her arm as it shifted and bubbled, wobbling in and out, undulating and inhuman - black with white claws. Damn you Salem first the hound and now this…! Adrenaline started to flood him again as he realized what he was actually watching.
"You chose to disobey my specific instructions," Salem was saying, "just to fail again. And I've realized, it's all my fault."
Salem released her control, and the screaming stopped, the Fall Maiden a trembling, shapeless lump on the floor, panting for breath. Oscar was cringing deep inside, clutching at Ozpin's back and pressing a nonexistent face into his shoulder, trying to unhear the screams. Ozpin couldn't hold the pain, direct the aura, focus on Salem, and comfort Oscar at the same time, and he shut down healing the ribs to soothe his partner, even as he watched Salem manipulate another child into doing her bidding. Again.
"You've fought your whole life unwaveringly for what you want," she said, voice gentle. "And here I am holding you back, instead of lifting you up." She offered her hand to the Fall Maiden, warm and comforting in a way that made Oscar cringe deep inside of Ozpin. "You deserve so much more than I've given you."
With a shaking hand, the Fall Maid-Cinder accepted the offer. And Salem smiled.
"Go to Atlas," she ordered. "Recover Watts. He can lead you to the girl. Whether you or my hound get to her first, you will finally have the winter maiden's power, and I will have my staff."
The staff? The staff? How close were they to Atlas that she could make such an order? She was with her puppets on the field, she was doing the work herself? Danger flooded Ozpin's senses as he realized how dire things actually were. The staff, the staff she was going after the sta-!
Ozpin shot to their feet, desperate to stop what he was seeing.
"You'll only be helping her bring about the end! For all of you!" They had to know! They had to understand what her endgame wa-Hazel smashed him to the ground, his face cracking against the floor.
Oz! Oz, calm down, what's going on? What do you mean the end I feel so much-
"You're too late."
Ozpin looked up through matted hair, and Salem was smiling down at him before turning and moving to her throne, sitting and her entourage turning to the far side of the chamber, where the magic swirled to show the outside. To show Atlas.
"It's time," Salem said.
And she declared war.
Hazel dragged him back to his organic cell, Ozpin fighting to calm himself down as Oscar pressed, invisibly and intangibly, to his chest. He hadn't been on the other side in weeks, he didn't really understand how Oz was able to do all the touching, and all he could figure out was to be near as the old wizard fought back his panic. Oscar could see a lot of pictures, and he wasn't completely sure how they made sense, but they did to Ozpin, and whatever flashback he was having was making a lot of… was noise the right word? His overly tight sense of self control was gone, and Oscar could sense how much pain his body was in without the professor holding it back.
Hazel threw Ozpin to the ground, Oscar trying to watch but Oz was lost in his own mind, eyes open but not really seeing.
Oz, he said, Oz, please. Do you need a minute? Should I be taking over?
The question made Ozpin freeze, his focus shifting, and he could finally take a deeper, calmer, breath.
… And thus the warrior realized: winning a war began with winning one's heart.
Was that… a quote? Oscar didn't recognize it, and he thought he knew all the fairy tales.
The Tale of the Red War, Ozpin replied, taking another shaky breath. From when Ozma was a child. It was his favorite. He closed their eyes and took another breath, and Oscar felt the pain pull away; Ozpin was compartmentalizing again, and he felt a pull on their well of aura - probably healing again.
His thoughts were interrupted when Hazel filled their field of vision again, grabbing first one hand and then the other, tying them together and then lifting them up. Ozpin kept their body limp, dead weight, making Hazel do the work. Oscar distantly felt them be lifted off the ground but Ozpin cut that off as well as they were… hung? From something above them.
That was how the second beating started.
Ozpin didn't do anything during the abuse - Oscar had at least tried to duck or flinch from the blows, but Ozpin did nothing of the sort, just held their body still and let themselves swing from whatever hook they were hanging from. He was loose enough to absorb the impacts, but stiff enough to not dislocate anything. Oscar didn't know what to do, locked away as he was. Was this a plan?
Yes, was the soft reply. He is too angry right now to listen; it's not worth wasting the breath. I have a second idea, too.
Darkness was attached to that thought, and Oscar didn't know how to offer comfort. He tried to press into Oz's back, having no idea what he was doing, forced to watch as Ozpin was punched and cursed at. Hazel couldn't do permanent damage, but that didn't mean he didn't know how to inflict pain, and he did. Oscar knew Ozpin felt the pain, he could sense the twitch, or sometimes Ozpin couldn't grab the pain fast enough and put it… wherever he put it. Oscar dreaded having his body back, but he wanted it more and more as Ozpin silently, calmly, willingly, allowed all of the abuse.
Ozpin was starting to lose track of the blood loss. The split lip, the bruised eye, all the work on their abdomen, that perfectly timed assault on the hip - right where Ozma's old psychosomatic injury was. He was not looking forward to walking, whenever that next happened. That would be where he would focus Oscar's aura next, once he was certain Oscar's ribs were okay.
Where was he? Right, the blood loss. Ozpin had decided to use the number of blood spatters to gauge when Hazel was ready to be talked to. The man had said little since dragging him back to their torture chamber. Then there had been three successive blows to the head and it was harder to concentrate now. That was worrying, and a sign that, ready or not, he needed to start playing his cards.
"Has this not gone on long enough?" he asked, relieved that his words were not slurred.
"It goes on until you tell us how to use that lamp," Hazel replied, his voice low and dangerous.
"No," he said, risking shaking their head. His vision greyed around the edges, and he took a moment before he continued. "I meant the punishment."
Hazel scoffed. "That stunt you pulled," he growled, rubbing his knuckles as he took a small break. "She'd have killed you if you didn't just pop up somewhere else. Still, you can make things easier on yourself if you start telling the truth."
Ozpin took a breath and started to play his cards.
"You never wondered why she recruited you?" he asked. "You, specifically, to help her find the relics?"
Hazel was nonplussed at first, moving back toward them and a dark look in his small eyes.
"We share a vision," he replied. "She's gonna create a new world order. No kingdoms, and no huntsmen academies." He said the last while leaning in, trying to hurt Ozpin with his words.
Like the academies were his ultimate goal. That was laughable. It was all laughable, how little Hazel knew, how little any of them knew. Ozpin kept his secrets, yes, but he liked to think there was a difference between holding something back to protect someone and holding something back to manipulate them. Only recently had he learned how little difference there was in the two objectives. The power of truth was world shattering - another thing he had learned, and Ozpin sought to wield its power.
"A new world order," he repeated after his chuckle. "No. When Salem gets all four relics, there will be no world left at all." He took a moment, let the sentence breath, let Hazel process what he said. "Don't you get it? She's been alive longer than you can comprehend. All she craves now is release. Death."
Hazel growled. "Stop lying!"
The punch was vicious, straight to Oscar's skull and Ozpin was left spinning both physically and mentally, ears ringing as he tried to grab the pain and shove it to his designated corner. There was less in him than he thought.
"Salem can't be killed!" Hazel shouted in denial. "When she came for me I killed her over and over again! The longest she was gone was only a few hours, before she put herself back together."
Really? Oscar asked. She comes back that fast?
Hazel looked down at his hands, Ozpin starting to get his wits back, and he lifted Oscar's head to watch more carefully. "When I couldn't lift my arms anymore," Hazel said, lost in his own memory, "She promised I could have the vengeance I needed."
"Oh, Hazel," Ozpin said, putting it all together. He could picture it all too clearly, her revealing herself, challenging him to kill her and watching his horror and wonder as she came back. Several times had she performed that trick when introducing the pair of them as gods. Oz had hated the display, uncomfortable with watching her so callously absorb pain. He should have known then something was wrong, another mistake on his unending list. She would have let Hazel have his way, try bigger and bigger things, until he was spent. And then she would offer what he wanted most. "Don't you see that is why she came for you?" he said, "Because she could make you see that this is what you needed?"
Hazel didn't want to hear that, didn't want to know that he was manipulated. He clung to his truth, the prize Salem had promised him:
"This is what you deserve!" he shouted.
"Yes!" Ozpin agreed, ignoring Oscar's gasp deep in his mind, "But Oscar? The people of Atlas? Remnant?"
Hazel turned, staring.
"You haven't done what you've done for justice," Ozpin explained, holding the man's gaze, putting his full professorial weight in his voice, the gravity of a lead huntsman and silent quester for the betterment of humanity. "You've done it for yourself, because she pushed you to think it would help you. Well? Has it?"
"You don't know what you're talking about!" Hazel said, lifting a fist.
Ozpin took the hit, under their ribs, and coughed up saliva. "Look at what you're doing," he moaned, once he could make himself articulate. "You berate me for sending children to their deaths, but look at what you do right now. You're beating me, yes, but you are also beating Oscar, and he is even younger than Gretchen was. Do you find pleasure in that? Do you glory in knowing that all the pain in this body is his? That all the blood about this chamber belongs to a fifteen year old? He's too young even for an academy, but you would draw his blood just because I'm here."
"You're the one hurting him!" Hazel shouted, leaning in and spittle flying out of his mouth. "If you just told us how to use the lamp the boy would be spared!"
"You're a fool if you think that," Ozpin said.
Oz, let me out for a second, he heard Oscar said.
No, he answered. I almost have him.
Please, I have an idea. Let me out. Just for a few minutes, and leave the pain there.
Ozpin stiffened. Absolutely not!
Oz! Trust me.
"... he wants to talk to you," he said, looking up at Hazel. And he let Oscar touch his shoulder and take control.
Oscar knew what Ozpin was going for, and what he was building to, but the first part was the hardest part: breaking Hazel out of thinking Salem's plan was worth following. Ozpin had pushed against it, using his own knowledge of Salem to shake him, and bringing up Gretchen had been a stroke of brilliance that Oscar wanted to capitalize on.
Taking over left him gasping as he reentered his own body. Ozpin was already holding him, running cool hands along his forehead - a fever? His core felt better but something was wrong with his leg and oooooh everything hurt so bad how had Oz gone through all of this without passing out…? His entire body cringed with the pain, and he coughed, saliva mixed with blood leaking out of his mouth and his shoulders ached with being forced to hold his weight for so long. He moaned, unable to articulate how much everything hurt, and struggled to breathe - not because of the ribs, but because of the tears that welled in his eyes as he realized just how bad the beating had been.
A hand, not Ozpin's, reached for his chin and lifted it up, and Oscar saw Hazel, his eyes wide. Actually horrified.
"My name," he said, feeling blood on his lips. "My name is Oscar Pine... I'm fifteen.. years old... I grew up... on a farm... in Mistral... with my aunt."
His vision greyed out, and he thought his eyes might have rolled back before Ozpin put a hand on his forehead, breath Oscar, focus on breathing, and when he came back he was a panting, shaking mess.
Hazel's eyes were blown open, mouth slightly agape. At least it looked that way, his face was blurry and almost doubled.
That's enough, Oz said, the hand on Oscar's forehead tracing down to his cheek. I'm taking the pain back.
"He's… he's taking the pain… you know," Oscar explained, trying to focus. "He's been doing that… from… the start."
Hazel hardened, straightening and pulling away from Oscar. The sensation of swinging over open air made him dizzy.
"He's manipulating you, boy," he said. "Don't believe him."
"Hard not to… when he's the one… trying to make the pain stop," Oscar said, feeling his words come true as some of the pain started to lessen. "He said… it's his burden… to bear. He said that at… Haven… too."
"Ch. At least he got one thing right."
Oscar's head lolled forward as Ozpin took more pain. He could see clearer now, and he stared at the black mess of his chest, afraid of what it looked like under the cotton. "Hazel," he said, "Whether either of us… like it or not… we're both here. In my body. He feels all my pain… and I feel all of his."
The physical pain, yes, even now as Ozpin funneled it away to wherever he stored it - but also the emotional pain, too. His first memory of Ozpin was waking up from a nightmare of the professor's death. There was the anxiety when he had first met Hazel, and the concern turning to outright impotence when Oscar tried to fight the mountain of a man. After: the guilt at taking over, the exhaustion, the soreness of an overused body.
"I was bedridden for a week," he said, "after Haven. Ozpin… he overtaxed himself fighting you. And that came to me." He looked up. "I was like that because you wanted to fight him so bad... you didn't care if it hurt me."
"Shut up," Hazel said, looking away.
"No," Oscar said. "You need to know what Salem has turned you into." Ozpin was hugging him from behind, a calm presence at his back as he finished drawing out the pain. Oscar… he could feel tension there, intense concentration, and there was a trickle of aura at his hip. Even when not in control, Oz was trying to help and heal him. Oscar took a breath, then coughed. "I never knew Gretchen. But… I know she was a huntress." Oscar licked his dry lips. "That means… she wanted to protect people." He looked Hazel in the eye. "Are you doing the same?"
The giant man was wide eyed, but he scowled. "You don't get to speak of her, boy. Neither you nor that headmaster. She was my sister. And now she's gone. Because of him."
Ozpin was rubbing a comforting hand through Oscar's hair, unseen and Oscar had a flash of a memory. Oscar narrowed his good eye. "Was it really because of Oz? Did he send her on that mission? Or did she choose it off the mission board? Did Oz interact with her frequently, or was he just the headmaster she had?"
Hazel leaned forward, all contempt and anger. "Don't mince words with me, boy. He set up the academies."
"No," Oscar countered softly. "The King of Vale did. Not Ozpin."
"It doesn't matter," Hazel growled. "They're one in the same."
Got him. "Then," Oscar said, trying to lift his head, "By that logic, I am Ozpin, and you should be striking me."
Hazel did lift a fist, and for a moment Ozpin was worried he would be watching Oscar be beaten again, but the big man stopped short of a strike. It didn't stop Oscar from ducking, feet jerking over open air to try and get away, and both of them watched Hazel stare, wide eyed, at the boy in front of him.
My turn, Ozpin murmured.
Okay.
They switched places again, Oz taking the pile of pain with him, not wanting Oscar to feel any of it this time. Their body ached, and he had to quickly repackage the pain and put it away.
"I'm sorry," he said softly. "I've said it before, so perhaps repeating myself is moot. But still: I'm sorry. I'm sorry you lost her."
Hazel was stock still, but his face reflected rage as he realized who was in front of him now. But he never restarted the strike, just stood there frozen, unable to hit Ozpin because of the knowledge that he was abusing Oscar as well. His frame was shaking again - feeling so much but unable to express it. He finally saw what he was doing, and now it was time to widen his view a little more. But first:
"We all grieved, when word came in."
Hazel finally lowered his fist, snorting, but he looked away. "No you didn't," he said, and his voice was quiet.
"I grieve for them all," Ozpin said, looking down. "Every student, every partner, every ally, every person who was ever close to me. They were never meant to suffer as I do, they were never meant to bear my burden. I try to push them away, it's never enough. In the end I'm weak, and I know the value of working together."
"You say that," Hazel muttered, "but you lie to all of them."
"... yes," Ozpin confessed. "Ignorance is a bliss I was not blessed with when this curse was given to me." He lifted their head, looked through their half-swollen gaze. "They are all children to me; barely alive a fraction of what I've lived. And like children I chose to spare them the darkest truths until…"
"Meeting you was the worst luck of my life."
"I'm not mad that you left, I'm mad that you came back."
Ozpin looked down. "I suppose it doesn't matter now," he said. "The truth came out, and here we are."
The conversation finally lulled, the silence spreading out between them. Ozpin was so tired, and conversations like this were hard to begin with, but even harder for him. The Indecisive King had never really left him, nor had the tragedy of the Infinite Man, nor Ozma - so naive to accept a curse without thinking through the consequences, all for the chance to see the love of his life. Only to learn that she no longer existed.
Salem was not the only one who longed for release. Some days Oz was just so tired…
Oscar pressed against his back, humming slightly, unable to do anything else. How do I hold you the way you hold me, he asked.
The kindness warmed him, and Ozpin smiled.
"Even if you don't believe me," he said, "I'm still sorry."
Hazel... Didn't say anything. That was probably the most he would ever get, and Oz decided to be grateful for it. Time for part two.
"If I may ask," he said, more careful in his wording now. "How old are those two children? What were their names? Mercury. And Emerald?"
Hateful eyes snapped back to Ozpin, his muscled body straightening and his fists once again closing. "Leave them out of this," he growled.
"How can I," Ozpin asked, "when Salem brought them in? Those children fight in the war we wage on each other. They were recruited by Salem, and do her bidding. They are just as likely to die, and I was not the one who recruited them."
Hazel scoffed. "That's different," he said.
"Is it?" Ozpin asked, lifting Oscar's head up. "Am I to believe that they didn't have a hand in the fall of Beacon - and the loss of so many students, so many children that night? Is Oscar wrong to remember them at Haven, fighting for their lives just as he was? You were there, perhaps your memory is better than mine."
"Don't patronize me," Hazel growled.
"Then do not insult me by insinuating they are any different," Ozpin countered. "They are children, just as Oscar is, just as your sister was. They were recruited to fight this battle, they risk their lives to do so. Do they enjoy it, I wonder? Do they wake in the morning excited for the destruction they will commit? Did they break down which of them was responsible for which death at Beacon?" Ozpin paused, letting the question breath, before pressing the point. "Two hundred eighty-four people died at the Fall of Beacon, either in the city during the Grimm attack, or at the academy itself in its defense. Mercury and Emerald, they were responsible for that in conjunction with the new Fall Maiden, Cinder Fall. You and I both know how unstable Cinder is, but are those children similarly beyond repair?"
"Shut up!" Hazel shouted, and he raised a fist and struck, forgetting for a moment what that blow would do. Ozpin lost all air in his lungs, and he was left gasping, unable to breath, unable to think. All of his concentration broke and the pain he had been ignoring flared through poor Oscar's body, and he could not remember how to grab it all again. Their entire frame shuddered, and Ozpin couldn't even find enough oxygen to moan as everything shook in reaction.
Oscar was in his ear, but Ozpin couldn't understand it, all he wanted was air, his vision was blacking out and he couldn't pass out, not yet.
Finally, he caught a breath, and he sucked in air greedily, exhaling in an ugly, wet cough before breathing in again. He closed their eyes - he couldn't afford to tune out Hazel but he had to, had to focus on the pain and put it into a pile and shove it aside. He couldn't deal with it until they were alone, but at the same time he could only hold off so much of the pain before the proverbial corner was just… too full.
Then use our aura, Oz, Oscar said at his back. We're almost back to full capacity.
No, Ozpin replied, not until we're alone.
But why?
Please, trust me.
A meaty hand grabbed Oscar's face, and Ozpin's half swollen gaze found Hazel, vision blurry. Their captor's face was filled with conflict, recognizing what he had done. His rage at Ozpin had not subsided - would never subside - but his compassion for Oscar had increased, and Ozpin took solace in that.
"They don't belong here," he whispered. "Not any more than Oscar does."
"You don't know what you're talking about," Hazel growled.
"Don't I?" he asked - not coy or accusatory, but rather as an honest question. "Do they want death the way Salem does? Do they want to summon the gods to that end?"
Hazel shook Oscar's head, Ozpin holding his breath as vertigo telescoped his vision, but his captor let go aggressively. "Remnant has no gods," Hazel countered with a sneer.
"No," Ozpin agreed. "But once upon a time they did, and they were the ones who cursed us."
Oscar wasn't sure he had ever been more mentally active than he had in the last hour. He had always been a focused child growing up - reading bred an active imagination and brothers knew he'd learned how to use different parts of his brain when he was training to use his aura, but even on the other side of the soul as he was now, he felt like he was flooded with adrenaline as he and Ozpin tried to work Hazel. There was so much to keep track of: every eye twitch and pulse of muscle on Hazel's face, what expression meant what, body language, tenor of voice and intonation - their very lives depended on their ability to read Hazel. Mistakes lead to punches, and a new detail to track was how much of the physical pain Oz was holding and how close he was to it being too much - he had absorbed so much already, and he jealously held it close to him - away from Oscar.
The times his concentration broke - when there was a blow to the head or just too much pain for him to hold - Oscar knew his body was severely broken. Ozpin had very slowly used their aura to heal the ribs, but there was the pain in his leg and hip, the aching damage to his head, and so many bruises as to be too many to count. Oscar couldn't feel the pain outright, where he was, but the sensation of it was overwhelming. Then, too, there was the time he had switched places, asking Ozpin to leave all that pain with him. He needed Hazel to see him as vulnerable, victimized; he needed Hazel to feel the urge to protect him the way Nora did with her hugs and "cute boy Oz!"
But… the pain of that moment. How was Oz able to stay conscious through this? How would Oscar when it was his turn again?
There was also tracking the conversation itself. Ozpin had said more in the last hour than he had ever admitted in all of their conversations together in the last year, and the things he said…
"... So long as this world turns, you shall walk its face," the wizard said, and Oscar knew he was mentally and emotionally exhausted. They had been up for hours, beaten for hours, and even Oz had a limit, it seemed. "That was the curse cast upon her. And if Salem can divide humanity beyond repair, and bring all four relics together, she believes that maybe her curse would be broken, the gods will rule against us, and destroy Remnant, once and for all."
Oscar watched Hazel digest the fairy tale, almost literally chewing on it before his face filled with disdain.
"Nice story," he muttered, "But if Gretchen's death taught me one thing, it was never to trust you."
This was his chance - he pressed as close to Oz as he could: Please, let me.
But Oscar-like before, the old man didn't want Oscar to suffer. Didn't want him to bear any of this. They didn't have time.
You want him to trust us? he asked, Then trust me.
Ozpin ceded control, and somehow took all the pain with him - Oscar barely felt anything beyond a bone-deep ache, and he took a breath, working quickly:
"Her name is Jinn," he said, keeping his voice calm even as his body flooded with adrenaline at being back.
Hazel blinked, confused."Huh?"
"You want her to come out of the lamp?" Oscar clarified. "Just say her name. She can still answer one more question."
Hazel was incredulous. "After all that, you're just going to give Salem the password?" He grabbed as Oscar, lifting him up nearly off whatever hook they were hanging from. Even with Ozpin holding so much, Oscar felt his entire body jerk, phantoms of what he was supposed to feel flaring through his body. His internal temperature rose - a fever, to fight the injuries - and he fought back a wince, instead holding Hazel's gaze, willing his voice to be even tangentially heavy as Ozpin's when he was at his most grave.
"No," he replied, hoping his earnestness got across. "I'm giving you the password. And hoping, you'll find the truth for yourself."
The shock Hazel displayed seemed to reverberate out, filling up the room. Oscar held the man's gaze as long as he could, but the fever started to drag, and Ozpin wasn't placing a cool hand on him like he had up to now, somewhere on the other side where Oscar could barely sense him. His whole body ached, and he moaned, feeling himself going limp.
"Hey," Hazel said, but his voice sounded far away. "Hey, boy."
Oscar didn't have the strength to reply, his vision was telescoping, and he was getting lost in his own head.
Then all at once the pressure on his shoulders disappeared, and oooooh that felt so much better. He still felt like he was floating, and it made him dizzy, but then there was pressure along his back. He had been set down. That made him open an eye, and he saw Hazel, straightening and getting up. His face was full of… something… but Oscar couldn't concentrate. The rest was silence.
He drifted, he didn't know for how long, locked in his own head and flitting from one half formed thought to the next. They had done a lot of hard work today. Maybe he should rest. He was really tired, but the aches in his body wouldn't let him get comfortable, and he hadn't heard from Oz yet. That made him worried. Had he left?
No. I'm here, I'm sorry.
The cool hand was on his forehead, and it made Oscar hum in relief. "Where… did you…?"
I'm sorry, Ozpin said again, and Oscar could feel himself being held: an intangible squeeze of his shoulders and a tight, strained sigh. I should have started talking to Hazel much earlier. There's a lot of pain here for me to deal with, and I can't work on that and… I'm sorry.
"'S okay," Oscar murmured, too heavy to move. "You're… doing… a lot…"
… Not nearly enough. Rest Oscar. We're alone now, and I can work while you do.
Author's Notes: The way the conversation should have gone...
And it's not like we haven't said it before but guys. Ozpin needs like all the therapy in Remnant. Is anyone in a future volume going to address that he thinks he deserves all the abuse Hazel is giving him, or the unhealthy guilt complex he has, or his unbearably negative self-image? Oscar shouldn't be expected to be Oz's therapist when he's got his own stuff to work through. I mean we love him for it but still...
Next chapter: More Oz and Oscar talking. Because twins are gonna twin...