So, it's been a couple months. Sorry about that. Better than three, right?


Laurel dipped her head, idly toying with the cuffs around her wrists. She had lost track of how many times she'd worn them in the last week, all the interrogations and meals and bathroom visits. As if she'd be crazy enough to try and escape from an Atlesian warship. Then again, apparently the last guy did pretty well…

She didn't suppose she could complain too much, though. They'd been keeping her in private quarters rather than a cell, so they at least didn't consider her too much of a threat. Maybe, after all this was over, they'd even let her go. With what was happening now, she wasn't going to hold her breath.

About an hour ago, a soldier had come into her room without notice and slapped the cuffs back on her. She had presumed that meant she was up for another round of questions but, instead of leading her to the cramped room they had used for all her other interrogations, they took her to a small hangar and loaded her onto one of their transport shuttles. She got no answers to where they were taking her or why, but the pessimist in her assumed that she was being turned over to the Valian Council.

They didn't go to Vale, though, not exactly. When the ship landed and the doors opened, she found they had taken her to Beacon. She was being turned over to her employer, then. Being fired was marginally better than being jailed, she supposed.

Sighing, she dropped her hands into her lap. She didn't know if it was intentional or not, but they had placed her in the same room they had after Aspen attacked Team RWBY. Then again, she doubted Beacon had many rooms like this one available for this purpose, even before it got wrecked by the Grimm. Schools had to assign detentions, sure, but there were better ways to punish huntresses-in-training than locking them in a room with a metal table and chairs. She frowned. There were three chairs, just like last time…

As if anticipating her suspicions, the door opened and Oliver was escorted through. Despite the soldier guiding him by the arm, he paused when he saw her, expression blank. She hadn't seen him since they had been taken into custody, and while his injuries must have healed by then, there was no denying the toll the stress of the week had taken on him. Bags sagged under his eyes, and hairs of varying lengths poked out of his week-old beard. Laurel wondered if she looked anywhere near as bad as he did.

The guard gently pushed Oliver forward, and he obliged the unspoken order to sit in the empty chair beside Laurel. Laurel dropped her gaze to the far side of the table. He was still upset with her, or at least still hurting from what she'd said—been trying to say—about Gray. How was she supposed to clear this up? The last time things had been this tense between them had been right before they broke up and the positions were reversed. Just… say something to break this stupid silence.

"You and me alone together is starting to get a little too familiar." Oh, gods. Anything but that. Oliver stiffened and looked away, and Laurel wanted to tear her hair out. "I meant with the... handcuffs..." AAAGH! Releasing her breath at once, Laurel shook her head. "Look, I… I'm—"

"Don't." Oliver's voice was emotionless, killing off any chance Laurel had for an apology. She fell silent, watching him from out of the corner of her eye. He opened his mouth to speak once, twice, before hardening his face. "You told them, didn't you? About the man in the forest."

Laurel bit her lip. Oh. There was no point denying it. If they'd been interrogating him like they had her, the questions would have changed the moment she admitted to recognizing that the man they'd called Deirean was the same one she'd seen in the forest with Aspen. "I already lied about it once, Oliver." It was surprisingly difficult to get the words out. "I couldn't do it again."

"Because he killed people."

"Yes."

Oliver still refused to look at her. His jaw twitched. "And so did Aspen."

It took Laurel several seconds to realize his implication. "I… Seriously? Do you honestly think I wanted to throw her under the bus?" She'd been well aware of what linking Deirean to Aspen would mean for the girl and, despite everything, it had hurt to do so. It was nothing compared to the idea that she had completely lost Oliver's trust.

Oliver's eyes were emotionless, gazing down beyond the room. "Maybe I do." Those three words tore Laurel's heart in half, but he wasn't done. "Maybe I think you were so determined to be proven right that you said to hell with the consequences and did it anyway."

"Dammit, you weren't there!" Tears burned at Laurel's eyes, visions of blood and fire replaying in her mind. "You didn't… You didn't see…"

The door opened, and Laurel sat up with a start. A man she didn't recognize slouched in the doorway, one hand still on the handle. He wore a gray dress shirt and black pants, with a tattered red cloak and various pieces of jewelry in accessory. It was the blank, red-eyed stare that captured Laurel's attention, however. "You two need me to give you a minute?"

Laurel pursed her lips and shook her head, not trusting herself to keep her voice level quite yet. Oliver sat up straighter, but didn't otherwise respond. The man in the doorway shrugged and stepped in. It may have simply been the mood of the room, but it seemed to Laurel that he moved deliberately slowly, drawing out the chair opposite her and Oliver and easing himself down into it.

"If this is about the attack on the Vytal Festival or Daylon Whats-his-face," Oliver said, keeping his eyes fixed on the table, "I've already told you people everything I know."

The man regarded Oliver with a contemplative expression, as though attempting to solve a puzzle he'd solved once before. He shifted his gaze to Laurel, and she had to fight the urge to look away. "Huh," was all he said before rocking back in his seat and reaching into his shirt to pull out a flask. Twisting off the top, he took a swig of something that definitely smelled alcoholic. "You two are not what I expected."

Laurel blinked in surprise. What? She glanced toward Oliver, just catching his eyes flicking away from her. "Who are you?" she asked, turning her head back to the man.

He sniffed. "Qrow Branwen, huntsman." He held up his free hand to wave, and Laurel could now see the sway in his movements. "I'm not with Beacon or Atlas or anything. Just consider me… a concerned third party."

Laurel narrowed her eyes. If he wasn't with Beacon or Atlas, he must have had significant clout with someone important. "Concerned with what?"

A thin smile spread across Qrow's face and the chair legs snapped back onto the floor when he sat forward. "Aspen Gray."

"Aspen had nothing to do with the attack." Laurel could have predicted the fire in Oliver's eyes and, once upon a time, probably would have rolled her own.

Qrow held up his hand again. "No need to get defensive. No one thinks she had a part in anything." He sat forward, any trace of a smile gone from his face. "There's only one thing I want to know, and it's very important you tell me everything you can."

Laurel had to admit, the intensity with which Qrow was staring at them made her nervous. She glanced at Oliver, and he seemed to be in the same situation. "Uh, okay."

"Who is she? Y'know, as a person?"

Laurel sat back in her chair. Okay, that… That was not on the list of questions I thought he would ask.

"Why ask us?" Oliver asked. Figure him to be suspicious of anyone asking about Aspen, not that Laurel didn't have her own questions about this Qrow Branwen person. "I'm sure Atlas has already put together a comprehensive character profile on her, and you clearly would have access to it if you're even talking to us right now."

Qrow drummed his fingers on the table, his nails clicking on the metal. "You're right, I could've gone to them but… Well, let me put it this way…" He leaned even closer, close enough that Laurel could smell the alcohol on his breath. "There's no cameras in here. No listening devices either. Everything you say stays between the three of us." Laurel wasn't quite following, and it must have shown on her face because Qrow took one look at her and sighed before slumping back in his chair. "What I'm saying is that you can feel free to say the things you didn't want to say in front of some Whitehead interrogator."

Laurel shook her head, still trying to catch up. "Hold on, sorry." She looked at Qrow through narrowed eyes. "Why should we tell you anything? What the hell do we get out of this?"

"You get to leave," Qrow said, gesturing toward the door.

That definitely sounded too good to be true. "How can—"

"What about Aspen?" Oliver said, cutting Laurel off. "Is this going to help her in any way?"

"I can honestly say that you won't be hurting her chances."

"Oliver…" Laurel tried to caution, but the man had gone back to not looking at her.

"Okay." Oliver sighed. "Aspen's not a bad kid. I'm not going to say she doesn't scare me sometimes, or that she doesn't have her violent moments, but that's not her fault. She's a product of her circumstances."

Qrow raised an eyebrow. "Is she now?"

Oliver's forehead creased, and Laurel couldn't quite blame him for his reaction. After he'd gone out of his way to separate himself from typical Atlas interrogators, she hadn't expected Qrow to start questioning their answers. "I… Well, yeah. She was on her own in the middle of the desert. I can't imagine that was easy for her."

Qrow frowned and muttered something under his breath. After a moment, he sat back and waved toward Oliver. "Sorry. You were saying?"

Oliver rolled his fingers on the table once. "She's a product of her circumstances. She might come across as emotionless, but she's just… naïve. She doesn't know how to interact with people. Again, she gets it wrong sometimes, but if we just give her a chance and help her figure it all out, I honestly think she can be a good huntress. A good person."

Qrow nodded gently, his mouth twisted into something unreadable. "What about you?" he asked, turning his eyes to Laurel. "I'm sure you've got your own opinions."

Laurel certainly did, but did she want to simply offer them to this man they knew nothing about for an uncertain promise? The simple answer was no, she didn't. She was still hurting from Oliver's accusation and didn't particularly feel like telling either of them what she was thinking at the moment, but the quiet, rational part of her brain told her this wasn't the time to be petty. Swallow your pride. You wanted to clear things up? This is your best opportunity.

"There's… something dark inside Aspen." Though she stared at her hands, Laurel could see Oliver deflate beside her. Qrow didn't react, his gaze pressing down on her chest. "I don't know what it is, or where it came from, but I've seen it. I saw it when we sparred and she pointed our own weapons at us. I saw it when she attacked Team RWBY, I saw it when she was killing Grimm in the forest, and I can only imagine I would have seen it when she attacked her team. It wasn't until I found her in the cafeteria that I saw just what it was that's inside her, and I saw her for what she really is:

"A girl, terrified of herself."

Laurel could feel Oliver's eyes on her now. It didn't help make what she had to say any easier. "Aspen is easily the strongest person I know, and not just physically. She once told us that she would walk to the Vytal Festival if we didn't take her, and I honestly believe she would have done it. She is stubborn to the point where I wonder how we can ever convince her to do anything.

"That thing inside her that's been driving her to kill—I imagine since before we even found her—she's been fighting it this entire time. I can't imagine what that's like, and I can't blame her for what she did to those terrorists." Wide eyes and hushed stammers surfaced in her memories. "Oliver's right. Aspen needs our support. She certainly doesn't need our suspicions."

Laurel's heart beat in her ears, the only sound in the room. Based on how Oliver had talked to her when he came in—hell, based on how their relationship had slowly deteriorated over the last two weeks—she imagined he was reeling from her admission. And Qrow… Who the hell knew what he was thinking or why he was even asking about Aspen in the first place.

"Well, that's certainly something." Qrow rubbed his chin, staring out into the middle distance. In one motion, he rose to his feet and slipped his flask back into his shirt. With his other hand, he pulled a simple steel key from his pants pocket and tossed it on to the table. "I'll let you two take care of yourselves, just try not to take too long."

Laurel snatched the key from where it landed, but delayed unlocking her cuffs. "What does it matter to you how long we take?" she asked, narrowing her eyes at the man.

Qrow stopped halfway out the door, locked mid-step before releasing his breath in a sigh. He looked over his shoulder. "I'm supposed to take you to see Glynda—er, 'Acting Headmistress Goodwitch.' She said she's got some school business for the two of you." Preempting any further questions with a shrug, he stepped fully out of the room, the door clicking shut behind him.

Ah, that figures. We're still technically under Beacon's thumb, though… Acting Headmistress? What happened to Ozpin? Deciding that whatever questions she had were better asked later, Laurel twisted her hands to unlock her cuffs.

That was, of course, the moment Oliver found his voice again. "Laurel, I—"

"Don't." Laurel winced at the harshness in her voice. She paused her work on the cuffs, only her left hand free thus far. "Sorry. I'm not mad at you." She wasn't sure she even could be mad at him anymore. "I want to talk, I do—more than anything—but now isn't the time for it, alright?"

Laurel didn't think either of them breathed for several seconds. She certainly didn't. "Alright," Oliver said, releasing Laurel from her state of motionlessness. With one hand already uncuffed, freeing the other was simple work. Silently, she passed him the key and walked around the table to the door. The handle unlatched easily, but she took a moment to steady her breath before opening the door completely. Things… Things were going to be okay.

Gods, she hoped things were going to be okay.

(- -)

541,686… 541,687… 541,688…

Aspen felt the buzzing again. It was not as widespread as it had been after Yang's breakdown during the tournament, but denser. Wherever Aspen was being held, there were comparatively few people surrounding her. Those few, however, rippled with fear and anger and grief. She didn't know what caused these emotions, but she knew that something was wrong. If not from the emotions, then from the fact that no one had come to feed or sedate her in almost a day.

Someone approached Aspen's cell, and the way the guards grew nervous caught her interest. She didn't recognize the person's aura; like… the ocean. Lifting her head toward the door, Aspen drew herself as straight as her restraints allowed. The door clicked and ground open, revealing a woman standing on the other side. She was maybe a few inches shorter than Aspen herself, and the outfit she wore was reminiscent of James's: a white coat over a gray vest and white pants with knee-high boots. Unlike him, however, she was openly armed, wearing a holstered weapon on her hip. Graying brunette hair hung just below her shoulders. Gray-green eyes looked down impassively. The two stared at one another for several heartbeats before the woman turned to one of the guards. "Release her, and remove that tube from her throat."

With nervous hesitation, the man followed the order, kneeling down and grasping the tube attached to her cheek by a pair of thin adhesive strips. The glue pulled at her skin and the tube itself felt like a snake slithering its way up through her throat, but she didn't make a sound, nor did she move when the heavy cuffs fell away from her hands. The soldier stepped away, leaving Aspen in the unobstructed view of the woman. "Please come with me, Miss Gray." She stepped back from the cell, making a small gesture with her arm.

Aspen remained kneeling, looking down at her hands. The loss of pressure left an ache in her bones. "Why?"

The woman's aura shivered with annoyance. "This is a military vessel. I cannot allow you to wander freely unaccompanied."

"That is not what I meant." This… This wasn't right. It didn't feel right. Aspen lifted her head. "Why are you releasing me?"

Surprise skittered across Aspen's skin before the woman tamped down on it, and even through their scorn, Aspen could feel the guards' confusion ever so briefly. "Do you not believe you should be?"

"I… don't know." In the time since she had been placed in this cell, the idea of being released had never occurred to her. Why would it? These people knew that she was a monster. It would be better for them to keep her locked up and sedated, or simply kill her. She knew that either of those options was the right thing to do. But… they were letting her go?

The woman didn't speak, simply inspecting Aspen on the ground before her. Aspen could feel her emotions twist and turn, confusion and annoyance and sympathy and disgust. Finally, she addressed the two guards. "Leave us." The two men hesitated, but obeyed and walked away from the cell. Aspen looked up. "I know what you are," the woman said, the corners of her mouth twisting into a frown. "I know what you've done, what you're capable of. Were it up to me, you would be thrown into the deepest, darkest hole we have and never thought of again." She let out a long sigh. "However, you are technically not under Atlas jurisdiction, and General Ironwood has ordered you be released back into Beacon Academy's… care. As the highest-ranking officer currently in Vale, I thought it best to escort you personally."

So, James was the one who was having her released, but that still didn't answer why. Instead, it just left her with another question. "Where is… General Ironwood?" she asked, deciding it best to use the version of his name the woman had used. "Why is he not here in your place?" It was Aspen's understanding that James was in charge of this military force—the woman even said it had been his order to release her—and yet she had also said that she held command now.

The woman's aura surged up over Aspen, momentarily drowning her in worry and sorrow and frustration directed somewhere else. It soon turned back to her, scalding her with anger before snapping down to a dull heat. "General Ironwood was injured attempting to arrest the other rephaim, Deirean. He was lucky. Almost two dozen soldiers with him were killed."

Aspen frowned. "Rephaite."

"I beg your pardon?"

"The singular of rephaim is rephaite."

The woman's aura burned with anger, but this time it did not dull. "I could not care less what a single rephaite is called. As far as I'm concerned, a single rephaite is one too many."

Aspen's hand hurt. She looked down to find her left curled into a fist. Disused muscles and ligaments burned within her, a physical pain that pushed away the woman's fiery aura. It gave her clarity. Beneath the woman's anger and hate and scorn, something else lapped against Aspen's legs. When it ebbed away, it left her skin feeling dry before rising up even higher. It took her a moment to recognize it as that same worry the woman had felt when asked about James. Rather than submerse her as it had before, however, it simply washed over her. Even in her anger, this woman felt concern for her commander. She mourned the soldiers that had died, and she was taking her frustrations out on her. That, Aspen could take. It was her fault. She uncurled her fist.

The woman noticed the action, however, and had taken a step away. Her aura was now piercing fear, and her hand had gone to the firearm at her hip. She stood motionless, breathing shallow, waiting for Aspen to move.

"What is your name?"

The woman blinked, and surprise once again crawled over Aspen. "W-what?" Aspen frowned. She wasn't sure how to phrase her question in a way that would be any clearer. Fortunately, the woman seemed to come to an understanding on her own. "Rea Silvia. Colonel Rea Silvia.'"

"Colonel Rea Silvia," Aspen repeated, carefully dissecting the syllables as they left her lips. "Colonel" must have been her ranking, as she called it, her title or position. Aspen focused her eyes on the woman. She still had her hand by her weapon, but her expression was firmly one of confusion. "I… am sorry. For what happened to General Ironwood and your soldiers." Aspen bowed her head. "You are right to blame me for what happened to them. It is because of me that Deirean is free. It is because of me that he has been allowed to kill." She let out a long breath. "I do not deserve to be released."

The woman—Colonel Silvia, as she likely preferred to be called—stayed silent for awhile. Her aura fluxed between confusion and anger and doubt and sympathy. It flowed over Aspen, at once soothing and searing, before draining away into a muted warmth that brushed against her skin. The Colonel's holster clicked as she resecured her weapon. "You may be right," she said, voice more level than it had been only a minute ago. "If you truly are responsible for Deirean's presence, maybe you don't deserve to be released. I don't see how you could possibly make things worse, however, and I have my orders." She stepped aside, and the cell grew brighter. Aspen hadn't even noticed that the woman was blocking any light. She looked up to Colonel Silvia holding an arm out toward the exit. "Perhaps returning you to Beacon will give you a chance to redeem yourself."

Redeem… Redeem… Redemption. The Rephaim did not have a concept of redemption, not really. Justice was dictated by strength, and weakness meant death. There was no such thing as a second chance. These humans, though… Three times now she had been given this opportunity. First, after she'd attacked the Ruby Team, then again after she attacked her own. Only now did she understand what it was she was being given: a chance for atonement.

Aspen rose to her feet. The joints in her legs felt stiff and her muscles, weak. Something popped in her back when she straightened it, taking some of the pain away with it. She slowly worked the ache from her joints, rolling and twisting them until they cracked and released their tension. Satisfied, she took one final breath and stepped out of her cell.

542,105.


I'm really glad I got to this chapter. Despite the fact that it took me so long to write it (no excuses there), there are some emotional beats here that have been rattling around my head for a while (and some that came spur of the moment). Y'all remembered that Oliver and Laurel had a fight, right? I thought about including that in the recap last chapter, but figured it was long enough that something like that wouldn't be a huge issue.

Also introduced a new minor character (whose rank I put way too much thought into). Not sure how much I'm going to use her in the future, but I did need someone to deliver information. I honestly considered using Winter in her place, having her come back after hearing about Ironwood, but I couldn't really justify having her be the one to let Aspen go without it feeling too contrived.

I keep saying I'm going to do better about updating in a timely manner, and I really am trying to take myself to task on it. My self-discipline is just kinda… bad. I'm working on it, though. Anyway, that's all for today. Au revoir!