Chapter Sixteen
It was ten milles to Higanbana. Walking there would take well over three hours if one ignored that it was also uphill. By horse it would be an hour and a half to get up here, assuming the streets were clear and one could trot. The only thing they had going for them was that they were in a hospital wagon and most people knew to get out of the way.
Qrow couldn't stop scowling. This may be the best hospital, but it was also the furthest. Honestly, what the hell did Ozpin see in this Ironwood guy to make him a friend? The guy was all about control and power.
Along the way, Oscar stood at one point, reached over and put his palms over Oz's like he had that morning. When he sat back down he was pale again, and had to wipe sweat from his brow.
Qrow's jaw clenched. "Hey, Jimmy," he called to the front. "Given that we haven't even had breakfast yet, I'd hope you have something for starving apprentices when we get there."
"It's okay, Qrow," Oscar said quietly.
"Fye and filth, it is not."
Oscar simply lay a hand on Ozpin's ankle, the only thing he could reach where he was sitting, and watched his father.
"I am confused," Penny observed. "You are not in contact with Professor Ozma's hands, yet you knew to modulate the localized fever."
Oscar blinked heavily, dark smudges dragging at his eyes. "Hands are the most sensitive. It's not the only way," he replied, keeping his hand on Ozpin's ankle. Qrow reached out and lay a hand over Oscar's. That at least got a tiny twitch of a smile.
"Localized fever?" one of the hospital workers asked.
"It's a soothsayer thing," Qrow replied.
They drove through the entrance and around the hospital to the back, the teamster expertly backing the wagon up to a raised platform that went right into the hospital. A team of hospital workers was clearly waiting, and once they saw the masks in the back, they all pulled up their waxed masks and pulled down their goggles.
Ozpin was gently pulled out, and the wagon workers helped Pietro get his chair out of the back.
"Now Oscar, Qrow, this is the part where you two need to wait," the old doctor said gently. "Ozpin needs an exam far more thorough than what we can do in the field or what I can do in my home."
Oscar worried his hands, staring quietly.
"We aren't going anywhere," Qrow said.
"No you won't," Pietro agreed. "But you'll need to wait outside. I'll have a nurse come by. We don't want any other infections around Master Ozma, so you two will need some precautions as well."
"Can I… stay with him?" Oscar asked softly. "I know I have to wait, but… just until the door?"
Pietro gave a gentle, understanding smile. "Of course."
Oscar immediately went to Oz's side, reaching out to hold a hand.
Qrow stayed by the kid's side. There was no sign of Ironwood, which was just fine for Qrow. If the bastard didn't have a mask, all the better.
They went down a long hall, passing various wings before they entered one that was labeled "Infectious." They were just starting to turn into a room when Oscar said, "Stop."
No one did, until Pietro repeated what Oscar had said.
Oscar leaned over, palm to palm again, and all Qrow could do was put a hand on the kid's shoulder, offering any support he could. Oscar pulled back looking like a ghost, but he nodded and Pietro took them into the room. Qrow and Oscar stayed outside.
A quick glance around, and Qrow spied some soft couches. "Come on, kid, let's catch you up on some sleep. It's going to be another wait."
Oscar nodded numbly. Qrow sat at the end and Oscar, clearly exhausted, just lay down, head next to Qrow's leg, cap over his eyes, feet up and dangling over the other arm of the sofa. The kid was asleep in moments. Qrow watched the door. He lost count of the number of hospital workers who came in and out, sheets and bandages, splints and vials of medications were brought in.
An Atlesean officer came by but was turned away for not having a mask. Instead, the mountain of a woman came over to them.
"Are you the ones who came with Master Ozma?" she asked.
"Yeah," Qrow bit out. It had to be midmorning and he was getting impatient.
"The general said something about you needing a meal?"
Qrow looked to Oscar and bit his lip. The kid needed sleep. Whatever sleep he'd gotten the night before was clearly not enough, but what he'd gotten this morning was broken up. Finally, he let out a sigh.
"Oscar," he said softly, nudging with his leg. "Wake up."
"Nnngh…" Oscar tried to turn and fell right off the couch. "Oww," he muttered. Looking up, his eyes met Qrow's.
"No word yet, kid," he said before the question was even asked. "But we need to eat."
"But… Oz…"
"He'll be here when we get back and you know Pietro's going to keep us updated."
"But…"
"Come on kid. If you're going to do your soothsaying thing, you need something in your stomach."
"Okay…"
"I can show you to a small mess hall," the Atlesean said.
Oscar stiffened, having not noticed the official. "Oh, hello," he greeted, shifting almost automatically behind Qrow. Qrow was happy to be bodyguard for this.
But the woman gave a warm smile, "Aww, you're shy, how cute. It's nice to meet you, I am Major Elm Ederne."
"Ma'am," Oscar said softly.
"Food?" Qrow prompted.
"Single minded, aren't you?" Ederne smiled. "This way." Oscar kept looking back. They left the infectious ward where a nurse stopped them and insisted that they all wash up. Hands, face, as much as possible. The soap was gentler than what Qrow usually made back home, and he almost wished he'd shaved that morning, just so that it was easier to clean his face. Once rinsed and clean, Ederne took them out of the building and across a garden filled with the medicinal herbs and plants that Oscar had been growing on their roof, before they entered a separate building and brought to some sort of restaurant or cafe. Make that "mess hall" for these military types.
Once inside, Qrow scowled horribly. Sitting at one of the long tables was Ironwood. The general stood with an easy smile, waving in greeting. Ederne gave a small smile, and positioned herself at the entrance. Across the large hall, at the other entrance, was a skinny, narrow-chinned bald man, also guarding the door.
Fye and filth.
"Let's get some food into you," Qrow said.
Oscar numbly nodded.
They sat down at the general's table, Qrow making sure he was between Ironwood and Oscar.
"Not a word," Qrow said before anyone else could speak. "You don't get to say a thing until Oscar has food in him and isn't about to keel over."
The meal was simple fare: warm toast, jam, an apple and a decadent cup of hot chocolate. Qrow remembered Midwinter, Oz admitting it was his guilty pleasure, and he had shared his last portion with Qrow and Oscar to make the holiday memorable. Qrow was evenly split between aching pain of the memory and incandescent rage that the general casually drank something so expensive. Oscar hummed to drink it, Qrow could see his mind also drifting back, and he put an arm around the kid's shoulder.
"If I may ask," Ironwood said, blue eyes flat, "what is your relation to Master Ozma? He has no living family, and as his apprentice young Mr. Pine here is legally his closest relative. But what exactly are you?"
Qrow was not going to give this man an inch, his very face was pissing him off. "I'm the crowmaster of the building," He said, leaning forward and glaring. "If it wasn't me it would have been Maria or Pietro or goddamn Leo at the office building. Oz has a lot of friends, and we're all going to look out for him and his apprentice when shady people start coming out the woodwork."
Ironwood's gaze, already flat, narrowed even more, and for a second Qrow very much hoped for a fight. But, the general took a breath and sighed, pinching his brow.
"I understand why you would think that," he said magnanimously. "You don't know me, I'm from Atlas, you saw me escort Master Ozma up the mountain. Of course I look suspicious. I understand. But please believe me when I say I've been friends with Master Ozma, Oz, since I was at university."
"Tch, some 'friend,'" Qrow countered. "We all saw how upset he was when he came back."
"He didn't like my proposal," Ironwood said smoothly. "We don't always agree on everything. I'm sure you and he disagreed in the past."
"Not on a Brothers-damned thing," Qrow said, defiant.
"Hm. Then you must not be much of a friend," Ironwood said.
"You piece of-!"
"Qrow."
It was Oscar's voice, but it was Oz's tone, and for a second Qrow froze, turning to see the boy looking in his direction but not really focusing, staring more past him. His color looked better with the food, and he held the hot chocolate in both hands. Light Brother's fye. Qrow shut his mouth and looked away, admitting to himself he had lost that round.
"... what do you want, general?" Oscar asked, his voice dead.
"To help," Ironwood said, voice warm and soft in a way he had not earned. "I don't know if Oz told you this, but I was the one who found him when he caught the backbreaker the first time."
"I know," Oscar said, staring at the empty plate. "He says you saved his life."
Ironwood smiled, and Qrow didn't trust it. "When word came to me that he had taken ill again, I wanted to make sure he had the best medical care Haven could provide."
"... that's very kind of you," Oscar replied, going through the motions.
"And how did you know that the professor had 'taken ill'?" Qrow asked. Someone had to look out for this kid, he was too tired to do it himself.
"Because he's my friend," Ironwood said, gentle. "We've been through a lot together. He predicted my promotion to General of the Round Table, he showed me how diverse a soothsayer's readings can be, he taught me how to be a good friend. When Mistral asked for help with the war, I looked forward to catching up with him."
Oscar looked up, a hint of fire in his eyes. "You asked him to say the war as soon as you knew he would survive the fever," he said.
Ironwood looked down, and then away. "Yes, I know," he said. "I've regretted that decision for a long time. Sometimes I get so lost in the big picture… he still manages to teach me even now. I respect him greatly. I respect his opinion greatly. You're not the only ones who worried about him."
"Still doesn't explain how you knew," Qrow said.
"I was getting there," Ironwood said, throwing an irritated glance at Qrow. He smirked in victory over this round. "When he fell ill that first time, the soothsayers and Ozpin in particular were under attack. The war hadn't started yet, he made an easy target for people to vent their frustrations on. His home and office were vandalized, he was assaulted on the street more than once I'm told, the faculty had turned on him. When he got sick on top of everything…" His eyes drifted off, in a memory before shaking it off. "I have some small influence here," he said, locking eyes with Oscar. "I had his situation monitored in case he needed help."
The words blew over Oscar, the boy too tired to really hear the undercurrent, but Qrow was beside himself. "You spied on him?" he demanded, slamming a fist on the table. "Dark Brother's filth where do you get off - are you so far up the Dark Brother's asshole you don't see what that sounds like?"
Ironwood gave a condescending sniff, turning to Qrow with another flat gaze. "It sounds like a friend making sure a friend doesn't struggle too much in life. He's too proud to ask for help himself, far better to be near when he needs it. And it's a good thing I did, given the last twenty-four hours."
"You piece of filth!"
"Qrow, please," Oscar said, reaching up and rubbing his eyes. "Not so loud."
His heart broke three times over to hear that quiet plea, and Qrow growled, low in his throat, and hunched forward to keep his mouth shut.
"What do you want, general?"
"Exactly what I said: to help Oz. I know you don't have a lot of reason to trust me, but instead please trust what I'm offering. He'll have the best care here in Higanbana, and I've already messaged some doctors in Atlas to come and monitor his condition. I'm told there have been some advances with backbreaker, he'll be in the best hands."
"They don't know everything," Oscar said, trying to straighten out, trying to focus. "As a soothsayer, his magic keeps opening up. That will sap a lot of energy from him."
"Fria and Winter told me something similar," Ironwood said with a grave nod. "I have some soothsayers on call, they can visit and close his magic as needed."
Oscar stared for a long time, Qrow sensing there was something there that he was missing about other soothsayers. That made him even more suspicious, and he glared at the general with all his might.
"I need to see him," Oscar said. "Every day."
"Done. I'll arrange transport. Where do you live?"
Oscar blinked slowly, his eyes still owlish; Qrow could tell he was thinking with everything he could muster. Finally, he shook his head. "No, that won't go well. I'll… I'll meet you at the brownstone, that's closer than the office."
Light Brother's fye this kid was smart. Qrow bared his teeth in a knowing grin.
Oscar let out a sigh and rubbed at his eyes. "I don't even know what to ask…"
Well, Qrow could at least help with that. Oscar only had a year's worth of apprenticing. He probably wasn't dealing with finances yet, or he didn't know enough.
"How, exactly, are you expecting Oz to pay for all of this? Higanbana is a private hospital. They expect payment. Expensive payments because the only people here are the filthy rich."
Oscar's eyes widened and his jaw dropped. Yup, when they got back, Qrow was going to need to talk about finances. The filth that no one ever thought of until they were out on their own.
"Let's not forget taxes are coming, and Oz is about to be stuck here for however long with being unable to make money," Qrow stated. "You doing this great favor is making sure that Oz will end up in debtor's prison when he's finally healed."
Next to him, Oscar let out a pitiable sound, burying his face into his hands. Qrow put an arm around his shoulders and the crow that had been on his shoulder since they'd left the apartment flapped down to the table, picking at the leftovers of their breakfast.
Ironwood looked coolly at them. "Unfortunately, I am a foreigner. There is little I can do about taxes or income. However, you don't have to worry about medical expenses here. I'm paying for it out of my own pocket."
Qrow gaped. "How filthy rich are you?"
The Atlesean gave a small, smug smile. "I am a General of the Round Table. I do get a small stipend. As for the rest, I'll think about what I can do. I promise, I'll do everything in my power to help Master Ozma."
They sat there for a moment, Qrow's bird picking the plates clean. Qrow and Ironwood were in a glaring contest, or at least Qrow thought they were. Finally, Oscar let out a soft sigh. "Can I see the Professor now?"
Ironwood's face was soft and gentle and Qrow didn't buy it for a second. "Have some more bread first. You're still pale."
Oscar numbly took another roll.
Ironwood himself brought them back to the infectious ward, but the nurse at the door refused to let the general in without a mask.
"Your major snuck by earlier," she growled, "but that's not okay. Everyone here needs a mask. You two, clean up before I'll let you in."
Another thorough rinsing with soap on their hands and faces, masks up, Qrow and Oscar were let back into the infectious ward. Oscar looked around lost, but Qrow remembered enough landmarks to guide them back to Oz's room. They arrived just as Pietro was rolling out.
"Ah, good, you're here. I was just coming for you, come on in."
Oscar didn't need to be told twice. The kid went right to Ozpin, and in less than a moment was putting his palms over Oz's.
"Magic again?" Qrow asked, stepping over.
"Yeah," Oscar said tiredly, stepping back and pale again. "I remember when he was teaching me to open my magic. I'm not exactly sure how he could close my magic if I'd opened it too long. I know I can do it, but I'm guessing every time."
Qrow didn't know what he could offer, but he just put a hand on the kid's shoulder and reached out to old Oz's hand. At a glance, Qrow could tell bandages had been changed, the makeshift splints that Pietro had done the previous day were still on Oz's broken arm, but the leg looked different under the sheets.
Qrow looked at Pietro. "He's still unconscious."
The doctor nodded. "As I said last night, head injuries are always the most dangerous," he said gravely. Then he smiled. "But once we were here we were able to do something I couldn't last night. We just finished surgery."
Oscar blinked tiredly. "Surgery?"
Pietro nodded. "One of the ways we found to deal with backbreaker during the Lost Summer, was to drain the acid build up from those bulbous protrusions. It prevented complete immobility and stopped a lot of paralysis. I don't have the tools for that back home. But I can safely say that Master Ozma's knee has been drained. If he doesn't have a recurrence of backbreaker, all we have to worry about is letting his bones heal. It won't be easy, he'll have to relearn to walk again, but it will be one less worry."
Qrow smiled broadly under his mask. "That's great news!" He squeezed Oscar's shoulder. "You hear that kid? Oz is going to be fine once he wakes up."
Unfortunately, Oscar didn't look convinced. "That's only if he doesn't have backbreaker again, right?"
"Sadly, yes," Pietro said. "There's no way of knowing at this time."
Oscar shook his head. "I'm pretty sure he'll get it again. His magic keeps opening. Soothsayers don't just get random visions in sleep or anything, we learn too early how to control our magic."
"We don't know that yet," Pietro said softly. "Give us some time. I'll give you a few minutes with him."
Pietro wheeled out, leaving them alone with Oz.
"It would make sense if he has backbreaker again," Oscar said softly.
"Why's that?"
"Isolation and misery. It would be the worst possible thing for Oz. To have backbreaker again."
All at once, Qrow remembered something that Oz had said after their tumble, when he'd been panicking and trying so hard to explain why he was panicking. Isolation and Misery. This has been my curse for twenty years. We can't without becoming makers ourselves. Brothers curse the maker!
"Fye and filth, this is because of the curse, isn't it."
Oscar nodded sadly. "He was so happy to have fallen in love with you."
Rage built up in Qrow like he'd never known. "Breaking legs isn't enough," he growled. "I'll need a knife."
Oscar jerked up from where he'd been unintentionally sleeping at the desk at the office.
What?
There was a knock at the door and Oscar rubbed at his face. He took a moment to straighten out the papers he'd apparently been asleep on, and went to the door, letting in Leo.
"You wanted me to remind you?" Leo asked softly.
He blearily nodded. "Yes, thank you. I've just been finishing up."
"Oscar," Leo said softly, putting a hand on his shoulder, "you don't have to do all this. You've only had a year of apprenticeship. You can't run the business by yourself. People will understand."
That was the problem, Oscar reflected. People were too willing to understand. They saw someone who was about to be sixteen, assumed he hadn't been trained enough, offered a pittance of pay for taking up his time, if even that, before leaving to find another soothsayer. Oscar could do it. The regulars who knew that he did the readings with Ozpin, they were the only ones who were bringing in regular money. After one week, Oscar had already seen a dip in the weekly finances. It didn't take much to see that winter was going to be...miserable. Plus, this had all happened the first of the month, when invoices were due. Oscar had gone around the day after Ironwood had brought Ozpin up to the hospital just making his usual rounds paying off their usual suppliers and explaining what had happened, as well as sending out another round of invoices for clients that hadn't paid yet.
As it stood, Oscar didn't have enough money for food for the week, let alone any other supplies that were needed. He wouldn't starve because of the gardens and all the harvesting he'd been doing, but there just wouldn't be meat in his diet, nor would he be able to buy another barrel of flour or salt. They had also been running low on lye and needed to make more soap.
"Thanks, Mr. Lionheart," Oscar said. "There were two walk-ins today." Normally they had closer to eight or ten between appointments. And there weren't as many appointments now that word was getting out that Ozpin was ill.
Leo just sighed. "Still no sign of Ozpin waking?"
Oscar shook his head. "The backbreaker deposits are leaking. They're planning on draining his knee again this weekend." He had been going up to Higanbana every morning. He'd get up before dawn to meet Lieutenant Armin, who brought a horse down the mountain. Oscar was absolutely terrible on a horse, something he'd never gotten to learn on the farm, and made the ride up to visit Ozpin. He spent an hour with him, usually just keeping his palms on Ozpin's in case his magic tried to open again. He talked about what he was doing, what he learned from the doctors and nurses. Qrow always sent one of his birds with him. Dr. Polendina couldn't come up every day, but Ironwood had also arranged for him to be brought up once a week to check his patient. Then came the long ride back. Lieutenant Armin at least brought them to the building, so Oscar would head up the four flights and just open the office.
Needless to say, he was exhausted by the time he actually started work. And with so few clients, that meant sitting in silence for a lot of long stretches. For the past few days he'd just taken to doing an inventory of the files, slowly tracing back the twenty years of readings that Ozpin had done, papers published, old student essays that made Oscar smile sadly as he recognized Oz's mischievous teaching style.
"I'll be back again tomorrow morning," Oscar said, locking the last of the files up and heading into the hall with Leo.
"You're too young for this," Leo said. "Surely there's another soothsayer you can visit while Ozpin's recovering?"
There wasn't. They were all up with Ironwood trying to read a war.
"Have a good afternoon."
Oscar left.
It was beautiful weather out, like it had been the day Ozpin had fallen down the stairs. Oscar scowled at it. The autumn equinox would be coming soon, and with it all taxes were due. Oscar had no idea how much they would pay. For now, he just had to get to the bank and figure out what Ozpin's savings was and pull from that.
He'd only been to the bank once and that was part of the adoption process. Ozpin had brought him with their adoption papers to declare him his heir. But Oscar knew it was near the market. Once inside he straightened out his waistcoat, adjusted his jacket, and made sure he was as presentable as possible. He pulled off his cap enough to try and finger his hair into a semblance of neat and tucked his cap under his arm.
"Mr. Pine?"
"Yes?"
"Mr. Albain will see you now."
Oscar nodded and entered the small office set to the side of the tellers.
"Hello, Mr. Pine," said Mr. Albain. Dark brown hair, pale brown eyes, tanned skin, the banker stood tall over Oscar, ears long and slightly pointed. "How may we help you?"
"Uh," Oscar sat down, nervous. "Um, hello. Ah, I'm Professor Ozpin Ozma's son, Oscar Pine."
"Yes," Mr. Albain said smoothly. "I pulled your file when you made the appointment. Normally your father takes care of the account."
"Yes. I mean, er, yes," Oscar said. "Uh, last week he was hurt."
"Oh, how sad," Mr. Albain said, his narrow eyes showing nothing. "We hope it's not serious?"
"His backbreaker came back," Oscar said sadly.
That actually had Mr. Albain's eyes widen. "Professor Ozma has been with us for fifteen years. We were very saddened when he was first struck down with the fever. I remember we watched his accounts dwindle at a depressing rate."
Oscar could only nod. "Um, I'm also his apprentice… I'm… I'm trying to keep things going…"
"Oh? You must only be fourteen."
"I'll be sixteen in a few weeks."
"That's still not enough training," Mr. Albain said. "We don't even let our apprentices work the teller's windows until they've had four years of apprenticeship."
Oscar closed his eyes to keep from rolling them. "Well… that's why I'm here," he said. "I need to make a withdrawal. Word is still getting out that Professor Ozma is ill. I'm doing everything I can…"
"Ah... I see."
He frowned. "Is there a problem?"
Mr. Albain frowned heavily, looking like he'd eaten something sour. "Professor Ozma is Valean."
"Yes. So?"
"You've clearly not heard." Mr. Albain stood and opened a file, pulling out a declaration from the emperor. "Last week it was declared that all Valean and Vacuoan assets were to be frozen due to suspicion of being spies for the war."
Oscar blinked. The words washed over him. He blinked again, jaw dropping. "What?"
"We were going to discuss this with Professor Ozma when he next came in. We have paperwork that he could sign making you the executor of the account, letting him keep access to his accounts through you, since you're his heir."
"But he's in the hospital," Oscar said, shock running through him. "He's not even conscious…"
"And you're not of age," Mr. Albain said. "You can't sign the papers either."
"So… I can't access his savings?"
"No, Mr. Pine. I'm afraid not."
Oscar was rather certain that the floor was dropping out from under him. He felt light-headed and so very, very small against a huge world that just was not fair. Isolation and Misery. Oh Oz…
"I… What… How…" Oscar scratched at his eyes, trying to stop them from watering. "What can I do?"
Mr. Albain looked through more of the file. "It seems that Professor Ozma has been setting aside money regularly for you since he adopted you, from his savings. It's not much. But you can pull from that today."
Oscar gulped, blinking rapidly. "Um.. yeah, I can do that. How much…"
They went through the file and after an intense internal debate, Oscar withdrew half of what he'd originally been planning. He'd just have to make it last.
Somehow.
It was a long walk home.
Nana Calavera was, unsurprisingly, waiting for him when he came up the five steps.
"The way you're trudging along, I'd say the bank decided to be pieces of filth."
Oscar sighed and explained.
"I can't much say I've ever cared for an Emperor," she said with a huff. "The Shah of Vacuo seemed to be able to handle things much better. "
"How so?" Oscar asked, looking for distraction.
"The Shah passes from generation to generation, but the Council of Advisors are elected from each guild," she explained. "There are always fresh faces with fresh ideas every decade or so. The guild representative stays long enough to amass power, push for what's needed, and then steps down for whoever is elected next. They never get to be a representative again. Every two years, a few of the Council step down, so it never stagnates."
"Huh. Interesting."
"Oscar!" Ruby shouted, running down the hall. "Welcome home! So how'd it go? Come on, Uncle Qrow's already started making dinner! He picked something from one of your cookbooks! It smells good!"
"Go on," Nana Calavera said. "You've had a long day."
That was another thing that had changed. Qrow came down every evening to make sure Oscar had a meal, usually dragging his nieces down as well. Ruby pulled Oscar upstairs to his apartment, and he had to admit, it did smell good. Not as good as what Ozpin would cook, but… more like the farm, in a way.
"Hey, Oscar," Qrow greeted, using a towel to shake the cast iron pan and whatever was in it. "Wash up, grab a seat. Tell us how it went."
Nope, Oscar's eyes weren't watering again. That was just because of the dimming light as the autumn equinox got closer and closer.
"Whose ass am I kicking," Yang said, after she saw Oscar's face.
"It's fine," he said, sitting by the wash basin to start cleaning up. "It's… I suppose I should have predicted it."
Qrow looked over with narrow eyes. "Isolation and Misery?" he asked.
He could only nod.
"If I ever find out who that soothmaker is…."
With a heavy sigh, Oscar started to explain how it had gone at the bank.
"Wait, you can't access your own lien?" Yang hissed. "Just because the Professor is Valean?"
Oscar nodded. "There's paperwork to make me the executor, but Oz can't sign it right now."
"Fye and filth," the blonde growled. "By the brothers, I wish Blake was here."
"Blake?" Ruby asked as she helped Qrow dish out the meals.
Yang's face reddened. "Yeah. She could probably do something or would know who to go to for this."
Ruby brought the plates over and poked at her sister. "Really? Really? How do you know this Blake person?"
Yang glared. "Not now Ruby. Besides, I haven't heard from her since I got to Haven."
"Oooh! I sense a story! Come on, Yang, you have to tell us?"
"Lay off, Ruby," Qrow said, setting the pan aside to cool before cleaning. "We're going to eat now."
Oscar sat down, the table he and Ozpin usually shared now pulled out to the middle of the apartment, empty crates brought down from the Branwen apartment to sit on while Oscar kept his usual chair and Qrow took Ozpin's.
"Okay, we know Oscar's day sucked the water out of mud to make sand," Qrow said. "How about you two?"
"Day laborer stuff," Yang said. "No one wants to hire me because I'm so obviously Valean, but they don't mind cheap labor. But I don't even get the harder work because all they see is the missing arm. I'm so much stronger now, but no one's seeing that."
"I keep telling you, Yang, you're going to have to show that strength somehow. I got really sick from the alcohol once; lost a lot of weight. The foreman only believed I could do anything when I grabbed a bucket of stones up like it was nothing and carried it across to where they needed it."
"Yeah, yeah."
"Oh, oh! Me next!" Ruby said brightly. "Uncle Qrow let me work with customers today!"
Oscar actually looked up. "Wait, what? I thought it was just the residents here."
Qrow gave a sly look. "Word seems to have gotten out that because I'm training my crows, I'm not charging as much. Maria has no problem letting anyone in and come to me for a cheap message. People are worried. Most of the messages are pleas on if family is safe in this war, where they've gone, stuff like that. I think I'll go up a lien or so, but I'm still going to be way cheaper than a proper crowmaster."
"And!" Ruby drew out. "People might eventually figure out that Uncle Qrow's birds aren't registered. That's privacy! No one knows who the crow is coming from. I already sent a crow to Dad to let him know how things are going."
"Oh."
"So don't stress the lien, Oscar," Qrow said gently. "We've got you."
"Another worry, lessened!" Ruby said brightly.
"Lessened?" Oscar asked, something niggling at the back of his head. "... lessened…"
"Look at how you've diminished. How you've lessened yourself."
"The general will deal with you."
"Professor!"
"No. There is nothing more to say."
"Do you have a lover? I see that you do. Good. They will suffer, too."
Oscar stood up horrified, his chair falling backwards, sweat on his face and gasping for breath.
"Oscar? Oscar, stay with us, what's going on?" Qrow was in front of him, hands reaching out slowly. "Oscar?"
He looked around, trying to remember where he was. Home. Apartment. Not the office. Brother of Light and Dark, that had been his first vision. The one that had given him his apprenticeship.
"She pushed him," he gasped, eyes wide. "She pushed him down the stairs. The soothmaker pushed him down the stairs!"
"Fye and filth, what?" Qrow demanded. "Back up, kid, start at the beginning."
"It was my fist vision," Oscar said, hands grasping at Qrow's forearms, breath coming in shorter and shorter gasps. "I didn't understand it at the time, it was too blurry. But she pushed him! The soothmaker was there! She pushed him down the stairs! She's going to try and curse you, Qrow. 'Do you have a lover? Good. They will suffer.' Qrow!"
"I'd like to see whoever that bitch is try," Qrow said. "She doesn't know who the hell I am. Can she really do anything to me if she doesn't know?"
The question cut through Oscar's turbulent thoughts, giving him something to focus on. Yang came over to his side, cautiously running a hand up and down his back gently. "Ah, I don't know. Making is such a taboo. You always need a person on the other side of a reader. No soothsayer can ever do more than just one person because that's too much to track." Oscar looked over to the books. "Oz was collecting soothsaying books for decades, trying to learn more about makers and the curse he's under. I haven't gone through all the books yet…" But now he would. Starting tomorrow, he was going to look through every book both here and at the office for soothmakers, but also if someone could do a reading for someone they didn't know. "I wish the sand reader was here…" He wanted to get on this right away! Right now! He had to know!
"Don't you worry," Qrow said softly. "I'll meet you at the office tomorrow. Use me as an experiment or something. I want to ask Leo a few questions now that we know the maker was there. I'll bring my knife."
"I… what?"
Qrow gave a warm smile. "I told your dad we'd figure this out. That's still going to happen."
In that moment, Oscar realized the enormity of what Qrow must have felt for Ozpin. He knew that Oz loved Qrow, that's what had triggered the curse. But Qrow always joked and flirted. In this moment, however, Oscar realized Qrow's commitment to Ozpin. His blood hummed in an insight and confirmation. These two loved each other. The same way Oscar's mom and dad loved each other.
And Oscar could only fall into Qrow's arms in relief.
Oscar wasn't alone. He wouldn't be isolated and miserable.
Author's Notes: Someone keep a checklist on all the bits of bad luck the Grimm throw's on Oz. For now we have the fall and all the medical stuff, now we his assets being frozen because he's a foreigner, with him just missing signing some rights over to Oscar prevent being totally locked out of his savings. More is coming.
But first we start with Qrow and to a lesser extent Ironwood. We tried to channel Qrow's belligerence from volumes 2-3 into this moment, with the gimmick being Oscar is the one to reign him in instead of Oz. Oscar is very much still in crisis-mode and is just trying to keep his head afloat and Qrow is more than happy to be guarddog for every little thing he can think of. Both of them are trying to protect Oscar after Oz's blatant hiding of Oscar's relation to him from before.
And, like, Ironwood isn't a bad guy. He is Oz's friend and has been for years, and he's at least a little bit aware of how he comes across and is trying to be magnanimous. But spying on Oz at his office to know about his fall... that's a little yikes.
And poor Oscar. He's trying so hard to keep up with everything but in this fic he's always been slow to process big events like this. He's catching some things but not all of it, but that's why Qrow is there. He does, finally, figure out Oz was pushed, and now he finally has something to focus on.
Next chapter: Qrow asks Oscar some questions.