A/N: I intended to just kind of make this an expansion to Chapter 7, but then it took on a mind of its own. It's way more sentimental than I wanted it to be especially since I don't see either Qrow or Winter as being particularly romantic or sentimental, but I wanted the sweetness to be there. I sincerely hope you enjoy this story that's supposed to be Frostbite but has so far had more Snowbird moments than actual Frostbite ones. As long as y'all are fine with it, I'll keep going.
Mistral was a sight to behold from the skies. Beautiful oriental style architecture blended with the natural grandeur of the mountain ranges. It was a sight Winter had only seen from above twice before, but the magic hadn't worn off.
"It's late but I can see if the refueling service is still open. If not we'll have to wait until morning."
"Either way is fine, we have a day to spare," Winter replied.
The docks were well staffed with a welcome center at the entrance to the city. Winter stopped to pay the docking fee and gather some basic information."I'd like to track down any huntsmen or huntresses in the city, if any are available." Huntsmen traveled frequently, it was possible someone had reported seeing Weiss or just encountered her in passing that they'd remembered. She knew she was grasping at straws but it couldn't be any worse that the luck she was having at the moment.
A dark look came over the receptionist's face as she searched the computer database. "It looks like none of the registered huntsmen of Mistral are available right now. Several are hunting and several are not reported in, but yeah, nothing in this immediate area."
"Except for the one in the infirmary." A woman called from the back office.
Winter knit her brows. "Infirmary?"
"I guess that's true," the receptionist admitted. "There is a huntsman in the infirmary. Poisoned during a fight. Not sure if he'll make it."
Something in the pit of her stomach told Winter who it was, but she still needed to confirm it.
"Qrow Branwen?"
"I don't…yes, actually. How did you know?"
"I know his luck," Winter replied, clenching her fists. "Can you direct me to the infirmary?"
The receptionist gave some basic directions to follow. It probably would have been faster and cheap enough to buy a cab, but Winter walked, hoping and praying that her worst fears weren't being realized.
It was a building that looked more like a private residence that had been converted into a convalescent home: no whitewashed walls and smell of bleach, but rather a homey environment with medical supplies in the rooms. Winter asked to be escorted to his room as discreetly as possible.
"The students he was chaperoning are being housed here as well if you'd like to talk to them," the nurse on duty offered.
Winter shook her head. No thank you. I just want to check on him." She stopped walking. "He's going to pull through, right?"
The nurse stood in front of his door and sighed. "He had the toxin in his bloodstream for over twenty-four hours on top of all the injuries he sustained during the fight in which he was poisoned in the first place. If he hadn't been a hunter with some extraordinarily aura, he would have been dead before we even got to him. Right now, we've done what we can. It's up to his body and his aura to get him through."
"But do you think he will?"
"In my professional opinion? Hunters don't die from stuff like this. If he's survived this long, he'll pull through." The nurse sounded so resolute, Winter firmly believed her.
"I know you're not really up to visitors but I won't be here tomorrow morning, so you'll have to wake up in the next few hours or you'll miss me." She sat in the armchair next to his bed. "And since you're unconscious, I can sing and you won't hear it and you won't be able to accuse me of never singing when you're around." Her voice was a soft alto with a rich but feminine timbre. Not a powerhouse vocal like her younger sisters, but with every bit of compelling quality and tone.
Beneath this snowy mantle cold and clean
The unborn grass lies waiting
For its coat to turn to green
The snowbird sings the song he always sings
And speaks to me of flowers
That will bloom again in spring
When I was young my heart was young then too
Anything that it would tell me
That's the thing that I would do
But now I feel such emptiness within
For the thing that I want most in life's
The thing that I can't win
Spread your tiny wings and fly away
And take the snow back with you
Where it came from on that day
The one I love forever is untrue
And if I could you know that I would
Fly away with you
The breeze along the river seems to say
That he'll only break my heart again
Should I decide to stay
So little snowbird take me with you
When you go
To that land of gentle breezes
Where the peaceful waters flow
Spread your tiny wings and fly away
And take the snow back with you
Where it came from on that day
The one I love forever is untrue
And if I could you know that I would
Fly away with you
And if I could you know that I would
Fly away with you.
She removed her glove to put a hand on his. It was warm: a sign of life, but completely limp.
"I know I'm being selfish right now," she mused, "But I don't have anyone else to talk to, and you're the only one who will listen, so here goes. I failed. I can't find Weiss. She wasn't anywhere I looked and no one I talked to has seen her, and now…" she took a minute to regain her composure as if loosing it in front of him, even unconscious was showing some kind of weakness. "Now I have to stop looking because I have to go home. Ironwood is closing the borders and I won't be able to look for her anymore. And if I'm not looking for her, I know no one is. And losing her would probably be the most painful thing to me in the world right now. Which is why," a single tear rolled down her cheek. "I need you to wake up. Because if I lose you too, I'll have nothing left. I'll have no one left. And I don't think I could live like that. Every decision I've made up until now is to protect the people I care about and what would I have if I lose everything now? Before the real battles even begin?"
Why was she even telling him this? He couldn't hear. Even if he could, the last thing he'd want to hear is that they'd both broken their initial premise of their biconditional relationship: they'd remain as they were so long as neither got attached. The future was too precarious for them both afford that level of commitment.
And yet, here they were: severely attached. Ensuring their paths crossed at every available opportunity. He'd deliberately pick missions in Mantle or Atlas, and she'd always volunteer for TDY to get out of Atlas when she could. What started out as a few chance encounters ended with the pair of them actively seeking each other out.
Winter's scroll vibrated. It was a message from her pilot
"I have to go," she said, standing and pulling her gloves back on. "But I'd better see you in Atlas sometime…hopefully, General Ironwood would make an exception to the closed borders." She leaned forward and kissed his forehead. "I'm going to miss you," she whispered into his hair. "Please don't die."
Her phone buzzed again, pressing her to leave. She stole out of the door and closed it quietly behind her, leaving no evidence that she'd even been to see him. She walked back to her ship with her arms behind her back, head held up. She could cry her eyes out when no one was looking but her escorts couldn't see her in any kind of disarray. Not over a drunken old Qrow like him: there would be rumors.
"I saw you called," Winter said to her pilot as soon as she got on board the ship. "Ironwood putting the pressure on us wanting to know where we are?"
"No actually," her pilot extended a headset to her. "Ghira Belladonna's daughter contacted us. She said she found something about Weiss. She's been waiting on the comm for you."
Winter wordlessly snatched the headset, flopping into the co-pilot's seat haphazardly. "This is Military Specialist Schnee," she said with a little too much force.
Her heart was racing. This was the first clue she'd gotten in months of searching.
"Um…this is Blake Belladonna," the voice crackled on the other end of the comm. "I'm not sure how long our connection will hold out, but my home was attacked last night by the White Fang."
"I'm so sorry," Winter said. "Is everyone all right?"
"My family is fine. They weren't expecting us to fight back as hard as we did. We managed to drive them off. They left in such a rush they even left their campsite up, but managed to get away via airship before we could capture them."
"And how does this relate to Weiss?" Winter asked, not mincing words.
"We found Weiss's weapon locker," Blake replied. "It was at the campsite. One of our men even saw it land.
"Her weapon locker? From Beacon?"
"We're not sure how it got here, but Weiss's locker was right next to mine, so it was one number lower." Blake explained. "We opened it up and it was empty but the foam padding definitely is cut out for Myrtenaster. If the locker is here, it means Weiss was too which means…"
Winter finished the sentence for her. "Weiss is with the White Fang."
The battered huntsman was used to waking up from blacking out or from nightmares, but this morning he was displeased upon awaking. He was having a pleasant dream. The stiffness of his injuries made it difficult to move. Slowly he flexed his arms and legs: they all worked, but his side still ached. He remembered the fight with Tyrian, the slice of the scorpion's stinger as it tore the flesh of his lower torso, but beyond that pain, the events of the last few days became more and more hazy until they blacked out altogether. Looking out the window, Qrow's room gave him a view of oriental roofs peeking out of evergreen trees, kissed by the morning sun.
They'd made it to Mistral.
Qrow breathed a silent sigh of relief. Downstairs in the commons area, the kids were bustling about at full tilt.
"Did you guys hear anything last night?" Ruby was asking.
"Honestly, I'm surprised you heard anything with the way Nora snores."
"I heard that!"
He could almost hear Jaune flinching and ducking behind the counter. "Please don't kill me!"
"I could have sworn I heard Weiss singing last night."
"Like on the TV?"
"No. No. Like here. In the building. You remember when she'd sing quietly to herself when she was getting up in the morning and she didn't want to wake anyone else up? It sounded like that."
"That's weird."
"I know, but I swear it sounded just like her," Ruby insisted.
"Nora! Stop stealing those when I'm not looking and come help me cook!" Ren said at a normal volume level, his own version of shouting.
"Am I interrupting your fun morning?" Qrow asked, leaning on the door frame.
"You're awake!" Ruby squealed. Before he could blink, she was at his side throwing her arms around his chest in a tight hug.
"I'm still healing up from that, kiddo," he said as he playfully pushed her away.
"But you're doing OK? You're going to heal?"
"Eventually. We'll just take it one day at a time."
"At least we're safe for the time being," Jaune said.
"Would you like something to eat?" Ren offered. "I made pancakes…and Nora doesn't need to eat all of them."
"That actually sounds nice," Qrow said taking a seat. Nora expertly slid a short stack of pancakes to him complete with butter and syrup.
"You kids have been taking care of yourselves alright?" he asked between bites.
"We really haven't gone anywhere or done anything," Jaune said sitting beside him. "We mostly just took turns watching you and relaxing."
"It's been nice to have some quiet time," Ren agreed.
"But now that you're awake, we can go to Haven Academy and contact Professor Lionheart!" she almost swooned through the hallways with excitement, half humming, half singing the tune she'd heard in the middle of the night. "And if I could you know that I would fly away with you."
The food almost fell out of Qrow's mouth.
He hadn't dreamed it.
Winter had been there.
"I need a drink," he said flatly, pushing his plate away and standing up, dropping the napkin off to the side.
"Are you sure?" Ruby asked genuinely concerned. "You just woke up."
"I know." Qrow said. "I am going to celebrate not dying."
He pulled the door closed behind him and didn't look back. Strolling to the bar he cursed his poor luck in the lost opportunity.
He missed her.