Yang held a glass of water in her hand as she watched Neo sleeping on the grey couches. A pile of folded blankets lay at her feet on a side table, but she neglected to pick one up before falling on the couch and passing out as soon as her head hit the cushion. She slept peacefully with one leg tossed over the edge of the couch. Neo's breathing filled her lungs so thoroughly that Yang could watch the movement, a reflection of the kitchen light off her boots.

To occupy herself for the last few hours, Yang attempted to learn as much as she could through his belongings and his way of life. In the cabinet she found at least forty different bottles of liquor (Yang did not bother to count them all). Most of the brands she recognized, but some of them were obscure choices that Yang had never seen before. Each of the bottles shared one common trait: each of them were opened, none full, none empty. Yang speculated the possible interpretations, but the open-ended nature of her investigation discouraged further thought. She managed to learn one thing: Torchwick is a god damn alcoholic.

She looked around the room at the carefully selected pieces of furniture. A glass top table, a two-piece set of leather couches, and a dining set between the living room and the door. They were stylish choices, and no doubt that when someone picked these out, they paid careful attention to the floor plan, the lighting, the color scheme, and the overall layout. But when she looked around the room, all she saw was dark brown, a cream color, and white, and not a single detail was out of place. The apartment did not look like something lived in; it was just something that outsiders could look into and that would provide some semblance of a regular life.

When she asked, Junior informed Yang that there was no TV, no computer, and no landline in the apartment.

Why not? She had asked.

We never really intended for someone to live here, Junior responded. And either way, we wouldn't want to get on the map.

Wouldn't it be strange if no reported electronics were in a residence? Yang questioned.

It could just mean whoever lives here is looking for privacy. It's not unheard of. Even some of the dead-media TVs have cameras on them, which can be disturbing for some people. But activity on a device with an anonymous source code immediately raises a red flag, so we don't plug anything in here. Heck, we bring Roman some of those power blocks so he doesn't have to plug his scroll into the wall to charge it.

Is it really that bad?

Well, yeah, Junior scoffed. Ironwood wants him dead. We have to go pretty far to keep that from happening.

Yang fidgeted. She wanted to comment, but she decided not to.

You think it's wrong, don't you? Junior drawled.

Yang set her jaw, not saying anything.

Junior sighed. The law isn't always right. Junior rubbed his chin, stubbles of hair bristling against his fingertips. Roman deserves a lot of things, but not death. He has hurt a lot of people, but despite popular belief, he isn't a sociopath.

Yang whirled her head around. You're kidding.

Junior waved his hand in the air to suggest the futility in convincing her otherwise. I know you think it's absolutely false that he could be anything else, but he's not a sociopath. He cares about other people-he cares about Ruby. He experienced a psychological break in prison. He won't say anything about it, but I know it happened. Three months in solitary confinement with hardly enough to keep him alive-I'm surprised he came back in one piece. But he's been acting differently. He's even quicker to anger, less disciplined, and thoughtless about the long-term consequences of his actions. Did you notice how he lost thirty pounds?

Yang opened her mouth to protest, but she held her tongue and reconsidered what she was about to say. She isn't a medical professional, and she has no proof to falsify Junior's claims-not to mention that he hardly has any reason to lie to her.

I would talk to him about his mental health, but he would just shut me down and keep on moving. But it's hard to talk to someone about their problems without it turning into an intervention.

Isn't talking to someone about their problems just an intervention?

No, Junior chuckled. An intervention is a group assault on the person dealing with real problems where they tell the poor sucker all about how their illness, addiction, mid-life crisis, or whatever is a problem in their lives. Invented by sensitive people with a hero complex.

So what would be a non-intervention?

Well, that's offering up something constructive. Give them an outside perspective on their situation, show them the objective consequences of their behavior without giving your opinion on them, and tell them how they can get help for their situation. Properly done, never once does one's own feelings come into play.

So why would Torchwick give you hell for doing that stuff? Wouldn't it be nothing but helpful?

Well, yeah. But to accept help is to admit that he has a problem in the first place. He's never been good at swallowing his pride. And either way, what would we do? Every therapist in Vale is a mandated reporter, so if they see him, they have to say something to the police, or they could go to jail for up to ten years.

Ten years?

Yep. Second-to-the-top shelf of all of the felonies you can commit in this wonderful kingdom. For keeping your mouth shut.

Can't you do at least something for him? Get a self-help book?

Junior bellowed. He'd sooner throw it out the window.

What about-Ruby. Yang's eyes flickered with the spark of realization.

Junior nodded. One of the reasons we aren't turning her in as an accomplice to a wanted criminal.

Yang's eyed flashed with rage, the same kind of rage she displayed when Neo suggested Roman would rape her sister. Yang's blood boiled under her skin.

Junior threw his hands up. Whoa, what'd I do? He waved his arms in front of his face. Just a joke.

You two have poor taste in humor, she spat.

Oh, Junior buzzed. I can tell you right now that she did not mean that he would rape her.

What would you know?

She was just exaggerating how much his actions spoke for how he felt about her. She did not mean that he would sexaully assault her. I don't know if I can be any clearer.

Yang exhaled forcefully though her nose, punctuating her reaction with a large gulp of water. She saw the blankets folded neatly on the end table, cream, white, and brown. Not a detail out of place. The couches themselves looked brand new, and from what she understood, they had been here for years. And when she had looked around the room after Junior spoke the last words he would say to her that night, that was when she noticed the careful mix of color, coordinating shapes and textures.

Reflecting back on her conversation with Junior, Yang realized one thing: Torchwick was living out of his bedroom, eating barely enough with little contact with the outside world. In a way, he was still in prison. Except he wasn't fighting maximum-security prison for control; he was fighting himself.

Ruby was the one thing standing between him and self-destruction.


Hello! I am so tired and to think I could have spent my time doing work for my other classes! Ugh. Oh well. I love writing, I love you guys, and I love SLEEP. (One of those is not like the other.) No but seriously thank you.

D C JoKeR H S: Same. That was the first draft, though. I'm so glad you enjoyed the way it turned out :) (I'm sorry I can't offer meaningful responses to these-I'm shitty at accepting compliments! But dw ily)

BrololRandom: You must not have been subscribed to me for long...I hate to inform you of this, but my taking unannounced absences from publishing chapters to this story is normal behavior. I'm so happy I still have you around though! (See below I'm gonna address this in a sec)

HenriettaPotterLeFay7: Thank you! I'm really thankful for your support. It means a lot to me that someone would message me directly (does that happen often to other fanfic writers? I dunno) and just openly talk about my work. That sounds like bullshit but hey I really appreciate you and you deserve to know.

Yeah, so, I constantly leave for several weeks/months without notice, and I would like to STOP. Luckily, school ends on the third, and I will have plenty of time after to sit around, do nothing, and write, and read, and eat, and SLEEEEEP.

And if there are any other Rosewick fanfic writers out there reading this right now, take this as full license to hit me up! DM me on , DM me on tumblr, or DM me on...I don't have any other social media. But DM me! Please. Or I will DM you. Maybe. We'll see. (I'm so sorry I am so tired right now)

I also want to add a minor disclaimer: I do not condone sexual violence. If any sex is portrayed in the future, absolutely ALL of it will be 120% consensual. Sorry if you have a kink for that shit, but you'll have to find it elsewhere. I have to be considerate of the few people out there who need to steer clear of triggering content as such. If there will be assault of any kind, it will be the emotional trauma I hope to leave you all with once I'm finally done writing this story. Let's NOT crack two years on this bitch (don't check-the two-year mark is August 2017).

I hope you all get a good night of sleep. I will live vicariously through your healthy decisions. I love you all :)