Break My Fall
"What the-"
Qrow does not allow Jaune to finish his sentence, pure instinct guiding him to reach forward and yank the young man's collar backwards. The wall which Jaune had been standing beside crumbles a mere heartbeat later, the cracks left after their scuffle with the Grimm clearly having done their damage.
Harriet blinks at the crumbled wall in this empty, abandoned Dust processing facility, cocking her head to the side as she surveys the damage, an uneasy frown growing upon her lips. The Ace Operative mutters, "That damage shouldn't have been enough for the entire foundation to be affected…"
As Jaune casts Qrow a warbling smile in thanks, clearly shaken by the fact that he would have been covered in rubble had Qrow not lent his aid, Clover does not hesitate to lift a hand up to his earpiece and announce across their shared channels, "There may be more structural damage in this facility than we thought. Take care as you proceed."
Qrow's footsteps slow to a halt, guilt rocking him to the very core. Silently, he waves Clover over rather than proceeding with their team. The younger's eyes widen in alarm as the rest of their squad proceeds, Jaune included. "What is it?" Clover murmurs as he comes over to the elder, thick brows furrowed in wary concern.
He stops over a metre away from Qrow, though. Qrow's heart both aches and glows at the sight of Clover's trepidation. The words the younger had spoken to the crow had not been a lie; the guilt which Clover bears over what he has done to Qrow is not mere lip-service, and Clover is struggling to find a firm foothold in this mess they have found themselves in, too.
The mere thought of that one-sided conversation is enough to ignite Qrow's face, his ears burning to the touch. It has been two days since his accidental midnight rendezvous with Clover Ebi atop Atlas Academy, listening to the younger rattle on about his sorrow in regards to the new Huntsman he has so ignorantly wronged. Two days, and Qrow still does not know how to face Clover- nor does Clover know how to face Qrow, it seems, the younger man's stance impatient and uncomfortable.
Now that time has passed since he had first awoken in Clover's bed, Qrow still feels wary of the younger. Yet, two days has been more than enough time to reflect upon the absurdity of their situation; to live one's whole life in Atlas Academy surrounded by rules and rank, where seniority and position are the ultimate factors of one's worth, the thought of saying no to a senior or more experienced officer probably never would have crossed Clover's mind, especially if the task given to him was favourable to his own interests.
Fucking Qrow, apparently, certainly had been.
James trains his soldiers too well, it seems. They've forgotten how to use their reason when faced with a command.
The thought makes him laugh, but the taste upon his tongue is sour, acrid. A few years earlier, and he might've taken that as a compliment- he was so attractive that he could even defile the head of James' elite unit. Sleeping around when drunk wasn't exactly something foreign to him, after all- it is only since the Fall that he has kept his bed cold. If he had seduced Clover before then, though, it would've been a joke; one he would have brought up at the most inopportune time when talking Oz and Glynda-
With a heavy sigh, Qrow says, "I should… I should go wait outside."
"Why?"
Gritting his teeth, Qrow points at the crumbled wall, then back at himself.
To his surprise, Clover throws his head back and chuckles, shoulders shaking in amusement. "What are you talking about, Qrow?" he asks lightly, propping one hand upon his hip. Some of the tension in his shoulders eases at the comment, the sound of his laughter ringing through the hallway warmly, raising the hairs upon the back of his neck- feathers yearning to be touched by that sound.
Qrow shoves the thought away. It was two nights- two nights with Clover's touch. Yes, it had helped him sleep, but he does not need more. He can do this alone, without Clover.
Completely unaware of the reason behind all of Qrow's distraction, Clover gestures with his other hand towards the wall. "If it was your Semblance that did that, then why didn't the entire mine go down around us back during that first mission together?"
The answer to that question, of course, rests upon the tip of Qrow's tongue. My drinking isn't numbing my Semblance. My Aura isn't inhibited right now. After all, Qrow has managed to last a few days without consuming anything, and the results are clear; his Aura is practically nonexistent, he's exhausted, and he is not ready to focus further upon the mission. However, the alcohol which has dampened the effects of his misfortune for the past twenty years are beginning to fade, and the results are clear.
People are going to get hurt, and it won't be just him.
The taste upon his tongue turns to ash- chalky, bitter. The only thing keeping him going is adrenaline and the fierce desire to not allow any of the children to get hurt; his visions swims, Clover's face blurring in and out of focus as he struggles to try and keep himself upright.
He cannot admit to these things, though. Weakness is not allowed in Atlas.
Clover isn't cold, though.
Chewing on the inside of his mouth alleviates some of the dizziness, adding only pain to the roster, but amidst the headache which has been his constant companion for days the stinging in his cheek is inconsequential. When he is ready, he takes in a deep breath and tries his best to straighten up, to show more confidence than he feels. "I should wait outside," he says, voice only wobbling a little bit.
Clover walks past Qrow, clapping the elder's shoulder as he passes. "We need your help in here, Qrow," Clover says quietly. "I… if it's because of me-"
"No," Qrow sighs, shaking his head. "It's not- it's-"
The expression on Clover's face proves that he does not believe a word which Qrow says, guilt settling into the lines around Clover's mouth as if they have become comfortable there, the set in his jaw and the tension in his eyes almost… suited to him. That burden had not existed upon Clover's features before Qrow's arrival to Atlas, Qrow realizes.
Hesitantly, Clover nods, then turns back to follow the others down into the abandoned facility. "I'd appreciate it if you watch my back, Qrow," he says without meeting Qrow's gaze. "I could do with a reliable partner on this mission… if you're okay with me, after it all."
Before he knows what he is doing, Qrow raises a hand, reaching out for the younger's back. Clover is too far away, his broad shoulders moving in time with his tall, confident gait, a swagger to his steps that Qrow almost recognizes in his own past now shadowed by a sense of shame which hangs heavily over Clover's figure.
Clover expects nothing from him, he realizes. He is simply allowing the pieces to fall where they may.
Qrow gulps. If that is the case, then this game has never been fair to begin with. Clover was always set to win.
His feet carry him towards Clover, his hand grabbing gently onto the younger's shoulder before he can stop himself. Clover's face instantly flushes at his touch, the younger man freezing mid-step.
"I'll cover your back," he says, squeezing firmly muscle, shoving aside his dizziness and fatigue to focus solely upon Clover's reaction.
The way Clover's face explodes in a brilliant smile, the green of his eyes disappearing behind puffy, curved eyelids, is shocking, the quiet, restrained trepidation the younger had been trying to hide melting away instantly.
"…Thank you, Qrow," Clover breathes.
Qrow's heart seizes. He walks ahead. It's just the lack of alcohol, he tells himself- just the lack of alcohol, and not that Clover Ebi's smile still makes Qrow feel far safer than it should. Clover is just a dog of Atlas, after all- a dog that doesn't understand its own limits or boundaries, following only its routines taught by its master.
As they meet up with the others, however, Qrow cannot help but wonder if he could train it. The hairs on his arms and the back of his neck won't settle, and his hand where he has touched Clover remains warm, the sensation lasting through the rest of the mission, providing one point of clarity amidst all of the pain and weariness haunting every step. The world spins, but that warmth is steady.
By the end of the mission, his body almost yearns for that warmth more than it does his flask.