A/N: Hope you all had an enjoyable holiday season. My plate was a little fuller than I had initially planned, inhibiting my ability to work on the things I actually wanted to like this fic and my actual novel. With Christmas behind me however, I've finished two major projects that have clogged up my writing schedule and I should be able to pump out the rest of the chapters this season with decent regularity. Thank you all so much for the positive comments and continued interest even though it was a bit between chapters.
Hope you enjoy this one.
The day General Ironwood surprised the kids with probationary huntsmen licenses was a unique experience for all involved. It was, for all intents and purposes, a triumph for the kids who had worked so hard and had made it to Atlas despite multiple hardships. It was a reason to celebrate.
Just shy of seventeen, Ruby would have been the youngest licensed huntress in Vale's history had anyone been paying attention. She'd overcome her age and inexperience to finally achieve her goal.
Yang had done the same, overcoming her amputation and the trauma that had come with it.
Blake was finally able to put her past behind her and move toward making a positive change with her life rather than the negative one she had with her life in the White Fang. Ambling out the arena in her walking cast, she was happy to finally be out of her hospital room and back where she could eat real food. Not caring who saw, she made her way to the refreshment table for her third serving of chicken salad.
Oddly enough, her injury had been the avenue for Team RWBY to re-bond as a team. Hanging out in Blake's room and deliberately trying to keep each other in good spirits, the girls were able to reconnect away from the crazy circumstances and the looming threats of the outside world. They hadn't had this much time to themselves since they roomed together at Beacon. Blake was able to catch the sisters up on her visit home, Sun and what brought her to Haven the night of the attack.
Ruby was able to relate her journey through Mistral with JN_R, Ren's village, meeting Oscar and the terrifying encounter that was Tyrian Callows.
Yang's story, though far less plot driven, contained just as much growth as she had come to grips with her new arm and had confronted her mom before rejoining the team at Haven. Being able to talk about everything so freely was relaxing and healing for everyone.
While the celebration was happening in the Amity Arena, there was an almost melancholy air among the kids and adults alike. What should have been a joyous occasion was marred by the sobering realization of why they couldn't have gotten their licenses the conventional way at their own academy.
Jaune was particularly conflicted as his emotions vacillated from excitement to guilt to apprehension. Ren could sense the inner turmoil even as his team captain smiled for photos and indulged himself on cake.
"Being a huntsman not everything you imagined?" Ren asked quietly as the two stood awkwardly behind the punch bowl.
"It's nothing like I imagined," Jaune confessed, putting his fork down on his plate. "I knew I'd be making tough decisions and risking my life, but now I feel like I'm playing chess with other people's lives while feeling like a pawn myself."
"You're a good team captain," Ren assured him, pausing for a moment before adding. "Even Pyrrha thought so."
"You know...I'm not even sad about it anymore." Jaune shook his head. "That isn't what I feel when I miss her or something like this happens when I think that she deserves to be here."
Ren gave a single nod. "I know," he said, "You're not sad. You're angry."
"It's not fair," Jaune said, the disdain in his voice now apparent, "Ozpin couldn't even...and he made her promises...and of course Pyrrha would have said yes to be a hero: to do what she thought would help other people. And I don't even want to do this: I don't want everything we do, every accomplishment to be dampened by her death; she wouldn't want that for any of us...but who knows who Ozpin's going to sacrifice next?"
Ren put a hand on his shoulder. "You and I both know Pyrrha would have fought to the death at Beacon no matter what. You can't blame Ozpin for Pyrrha's choices. Ozpin didn't sacrifice her; she sacrificed herself."
"I know," Jaune sighed.
Ren's grip tightened. "And you can't lay blame on Ozpin's actions on Oscar. I know Ozpin lied to us and put us in a bad position, but Oscar never has. Oscar's innocent.
"I know it's just...when I look at him, I never know if it's ever just him, or if Ozpin is spying on us." he looked over at Oscar and Ruby who were deep in conversation. "I promise it's not personal, I just can't trust him right now…" he realized his own words as he spoke them, his eyes going wide. "I sound like Ironwood."
Ren nodded.
"I'm so sorry. I didn't even realize how crazy that sounded."
"Neither does Ironwood," Ren replied with all gravity.
The general had elected not to stick around for the cake and celebration, but Winter stayed at Penny's request. She'd worked so hard at putting the entire event together and was so proud of her work, Winter could hardly say no.
She poked at her cake, feeling all the invisible pressures of her situation while everyone cake and offered their token condolences.
"I'm sorry you couldn't be here with your sister.
"Weiss should be here with the rest of us."
"She'll get her license one day and we'll throw a big party for her, too."
"I know you miss her."
Qrow sent her a sympathetic look, but kept his distance. Ironwood's presence or not, they couldn't risk anything other than strictly professional behavior in public
The only truly comforting comment came from Penny of all people. Amid the laughter, sparkling grape juice and selfies, the military specialist found herself isolated across the arena, just watching her sister's team and Qrow when she felt a reassuring hand on her shoulder, gentle but devoid of human warmth.
Penny.
"I know Ruby, Winter. If anyone won't leave Weiss behind, it will be her team. They miss her a lot, too. Weiss is probably trying to fight to get home, too."
Winter looked at the three girls making small talk, taking selfies and poking fun with their fellow teammates. At least when this was all over, they'd be free to leave Atlas and go about finding their own battles to fight. If she couldn't help Weiss, at least they could.
"It's so good to see you out and about again, Miss Schnee," the receptionist said, "And it's also good to see you showing an interest in your father's company."
Weiss put on her best "business professional" smile as she took the personnel file. "Thank you, Millie. I have always been invested in the family business, but it's just been awhile since I've been able to get out and be hands on the way that I want."
"Will we see you at the gala on Saturday?"
"Of course," Weiss said with enthusiasm, "I really want to get back on my feet and back into the swing of feeling…normal. I want to start participating in society again."
"That's a relief seeing as your father won't be able to make it. It will be good for the investors to see that the Schnee children are preparing to take the mantle, as it were."
"Well, I will see you there on Saturday then," she said with a hint of finality before bidding the woman behind the desk farewell and heading out the door, file in hand.
"How did it go?" Adam asked the instant she came through the door of the hotel room. He was fidgeting with a garment bag hanging up on a hook, immediately abandoning whatever he was occupied with to the far more pressing issue of Weiss' reconnaissance mission from which she'd returned. She insisted he not go with her so as not to cause any issues of someone at the SDC offices recognizing him or asking too many questions, so he had to wait in the dark for Weiss to do this on her own.
She held up the file folder as proof of her victory. Without any courtesy, Adam snatched the file from her hand and pulled out the paper. Weiss glared at him.
"Is she at least still working for the company?" she asked impatiently.
Adam's eyes scanned the first page, found nothing and flipped to the second, then the third, then the fourth. With each page his face hardened as his eyes narrowed.
"Is it possible she married or divorced and changed her name?"
Adam looked up at her sharply, his brows furrowed. "It's possible." He flipped back a page or two.
"How many women do you know named Siria?" he asked.
"None," Weiss replied.
"Then this is probably her: Siria Hummell. She's still here…and she's moved from advertising to HR." He looked up to meet Weiss' expectant gaze. "This is it. If I can get to her the night of the gala, I can slip in unnoticed and make contact, she can provide us with more than enough evidence to bury your father." His lips spread into a wry smile. "You're amazing." He leaned forward and kissed her cheek.
Weiss rolled her eyes. "What were you fiddling with when I came in?"
Adam used the papers in his hands to point at the garment bag, "I was trying on the tuxedo you had delivered for the gala. I'm not exactly used to tying bowties and cummerbundts."
"It's all things you'll learn in time. I had to adjust to my new life, you will have to as well."
Adam's smile dissipated as he pressed his lips together.
"And you are sure you absolutely need to go to this gala?" he asked as he redressed himself in the casual clothes he'd purchased in Mistral. Despite having the resources now, they still roomed together at Weiss' request, creating even more buzz around the higher circles about Jacque Schnee's daughter sharing a room with her "bodyguard".
Weiss sat on the bed and turned the tv on, hoping to see if there was any recent White Fang activity or any relevant news coming out of Atlas in the local news."
"I have no way of contacting my sister," she replied. "I tried her scroll number from my burner, the hotel scroll and when I was at the SDC offices, and I couldn't get through. The only way I'm going to tell her and possibly my team that I'm ok and need passage to Atlas is if it's so public, it becomes newsworthy."
"But why do I have to come as well?"
"Because me showing back up isn't newsworthy enough. We need a story that will sell: and Weiss Schnee being seen returning to the public with a hot new guy will create a buzz even the Atlesean military can't ignore. Also, the bigger and more dramatic we make it, the farther it will spread, plus the less likely my father will try to silence me. I have to ensure he won't try to have me declared insane again." While all of this was true, she also wanted to be sure Winter knew Adam was with her so as to arrange passage and clemency for two. She needed her sister to know exactly where they stood and what she was getting herself into.
Adam didn't seem very pleased. "Are you certain it's wise to put me in the spotlight?"
Weiss raised an eyebrow. "You really think there's going to be White Fang operatives at a SDC gala that would also kill you in public. Besides, once this goes public, Winter is going to come for us and we'll be in Atlas by the end of next week."
"Where Artis is?"
"The White Fang doesn't operate on Atlas proper, they mostly organize in Mantle, particularly in the crater, and if Ironwood has tightened security, you know there's no way they're sneaking up to the floating island. You won't be in any danger."
"That isn't my concern," Adam replied, "You may be trying to restore your image, but remember, that mine is at stake as well. If I'm seen by former White Fang loyalists at a SDC gala with you, I'm not confident I can keep their loyalties."
"It might push them toward Sienna Khan," Weiss offered. "It might even work for the best. If people are forced to choose between two charismatic high leaders, it might be more difficult, but if Sienna can create a united front against Artis, the White Fang might stand a better chance of surviving a schism."
"There's also the issue of my having absolutely no knowledge of your social circles," he added, his voice as always measured, "I am not going to blend in with your kind of people. I can't talk politics; I don't know any of the popular culture or fashion, music or celebrities; I can't dance."
"I can teach you," Weiss said, sliding off the bed. "You don't have to do anything extravagant, just some basic steps. Here," she held her arms out. "Let me teach you some basics."
"Is this really necessary?"
"What's that supposed to mean?" She crossed her arms, slightly annoyed.
"I mean, are we really expected to go all out like this? Tuxes and limousines and...dancing?"
"Yes," Weiss said emphatically. She stood and grabbed his hands in hers. "Yes it is! You are going to dress up in black tie attire, and you're going to have a sharp hairstyle and you're going to have that eyepatch that makes you look like a war hero and you're going to look like a vision out of an erotic romance novel and you're going to have me on your arm and I'm going to look like a princess, and everyone is going to stare at us, and talk about us. And then, when the dancing starts and you twirl me around and hold me, every woman in that room is not just going to be looking at me, they're going to wish they were me, and every man is going to look at you and wish they had what you had. I will be the envy of the entire gala, and no one, not even the fear-mongering propaganda peddlers, will be able to talk about anything but me, I'm going to be such a big deal, it's going to overshadow the rampant dust shortages, my own father's political campaign, and even the military exploits of General James Ironwood. Now, stand up, give me your hands, and let me teach you how to dance a waltz!"
Adam's lips pulled into a satisfied smirk.
"What?!" Weiss said, not having yet come down from the energy of her speech.
"I pegged you as a strategist, but not a puppet master," he mused. "All of this, the buildup: going around town to announce your return to form, ensuring they're all curious about you and us, but also acting secretively by having the majority of things delivered to our hotel room. You're literally building media intrigue to apex at the gala and I didn't even realize it until now. It's impressive. And you, of all people know how rarely things impress me."
"Thank you?" She squinted skeptically, unsure of the compliment.
"How long did it take you to think up this mass charade?"
Weiss shrugged. "Three, maybe four days. About as long as it took me to arrange for Sienna's escape."
"Another work of your genius."
"Flatterer," she held out her hand. "Now are you going to learn willingly, or am I going to have to make you?"
The faunus pressed his lips together and put his hand in hers. She smiled. He scowled at her.
"Waltzing is actually super easy," she promised, placing his hand in the proper posture to take hers. "It's just like this: you're going to lead off with your left foot so I can follow with my right, and one, two three, one, two three…just like that."
He followed stiffly. He was a coordinated fighter, the footwork wasn't difficult, but the entire thing still made him uncomfortable and it was written all over his face as he fumbled through her instructions on how to lead her around the floor.
"And if that's all you do is go back and then forward again and then lift your arm every once in awhile to twirl me around." He complied, letting her glide underneath him effortlessly. "You'll be golden."
"If I'm going to play the part, I'm going to do it right," Adam said with determination. "I just need practice."
It started as something spontaneous, but evolved into an all-afternoon affair. After he understood the basics, she moved onto teaching him different steps like the box step and scissor step, promenade and then began using them in combination. It was awkward at first, but they worked together, laughed at their mistakes and became more comfortable in each other's arms.
Throughout their stay in the hotel, they'd made good use of the bed. Weiss was nigh insatiable, but this somehow seemed every bit as intimate, as she rested her head on his shoulder and let him lead her all around the room, weaving around the furniture and through the doors to the receiving area and back again. It was the closest thing he'd come to enjoying something since they'd been in Argus. But he didn't have time to lose focus: a mission was a mission.
"I think you've pretty well mastered the basics," Weiss said, finally breaking from him and sitting on the bed. "We can practice some tomorrow and Friday before it starts."
Adam nodded, grabbing his boots by the door before sitting down next to her.
"You going somewhere?" Weiss asked, genuinely confused. He'd spoken about wanting to keep a low profile and had refused to leave his room alone until this point, going so far as to not even make use of the hotel amenities such as the pool and dojo.
"Siria needs to know about my plan in advance," Adam said as he put his boots on, followed by his gloves and jacket, "If we're to make the most of our time Friday night, I'll need to have plans with her in advance. I figured she's probably off work by now and I have her address," he picked up the employee roster, "I think the best time to meet up with her and coordinate would be now."
Weiss nodded. 'Do you want me to come with you?"
"No." His voice was firm, but not accusatory. He stood, grabbed his wallet with their remaining lien that he had in cash and made his way toward the door.
"Be careful," Weiss called after him."
He released his hand from the doorknob and returned to her, kissing her on her forehead.
"I will. I promise."
He made his way toward the door again, putting on his eyepatch and securing it before he opened the door and disappeared into the hallway.
She sat on the bed for a moment by herself, then picked up the hotel telephone and began making some calls. If Adam had his contacts he could tap into, so did she.
About thirty minutes later, Adam stepped off the trolley onto a well lit street on the north east side of Argus where the land had levelled out before meeting the coastline. He found the address he was looking for and approached the small cluster of buildings to find the right door number. After just a few minutes, he stood in front of Siria Hummel's residence. He hesitated before walking up the narrow sidewalk.
It was a modest apartment on the first floor, easily within walking distance of both trolley and train station, ideal for someone who didn't own a vehicle themselves. He knocked on the door, nervous about the reunion and a small part of him would have been relieved had she not answered the door.
The few seconds between the knock and it being answered was just enough time for him to compose himself and regain control of his emotions. His face hardened into its usual façade, he was ready when the door creaked open and a face peered out at him.
She was middle aged, matronly in face, but not in figure. Her prominent black horns, set atop each of her ears were short, barely extending in height over the crown of her head, but easily contrasted with the platinum blonde of her hair, which assumedly came from a bottle as her roots were showing.
She opened the door a little further, then jolted, physically startled when she saw the high leader's face and realized who he was.
"Adam?" Her voice betrayed how shocked she truly was. "I…how…your hair."
He sighed. "Mother. May I come in?"