Winter's POV

Well this was the most persistent hangover I'd had in awhile. Even after what felt like a gallon of water and some aspirin, my head felt like it'd been hit with a hammer. Last night had been a fiasco, after which I'd been hoping to stay home and recover but alas murder never slept. And if nothing else, I'd do my job.

With a sip of my coffee, trying to make the morning more bearable as I read through the file. Woman. Mid twenties. Died from strangulation. Perhaps Weiss would have more insight. I'd just stepped out of the elevator when blonde hair caught my eye. Oh. Right. That was also something I'd need to resolve.

Lavender eyes caught sight of me too, and her brow furrowed. She ran a hand through her curls with a sigh. "Look, about last night-"

"I want to apologize." It was always best just to cut to the heart of the matter when it came to these things. It was quicker, more efficient. And the police station was definitely not the place to be going over private matters.

Yang's lips formed a straight line as she folded her arms. She seemed at least a bit surprised by the apology but also relieved. "Good."

I nodded. "It wasn't my place to say that so publically." And that may have been the biggest blunder on my part. "So I apologize for how I said it, but I won't apologize for what I said." I tilted my head to the side, rubbing at my neck as it popped.

Her eyes narrowed. "Winter, that was crossing a line." She leaned closer so that only I would hear. "And you broke the law doing that. You know they keep track of who we run through the database."

I remained indifferent. "Given her previous history, I could easily say that she was a lead worth checking." Another sip of coffee and a heavy sigh. "Yang, she's not good for you," I told her softly. "You need to stop this trainwreck in the making."

The muscles in her jaw worked themselves, that oh-so familiar fire igniting in her eyes. It honestly brought me back to Weiss scolding me after we'd left the party. My younger sister had been so embarrassed. By me of all people.

"That wasn't your place," Weiss had said as we drove away.

I'd silently buckled my seatbelt, turning my gaze out the window. I didn't understand how I could be the bad guy here. The ravenette was the criminal. She was the one that was going to end up breaking Yang's heart. "It was for the best," I finally said.

With one huge, resigned breath the fire dimmed into a controllable spark and Yang shook her head. She stepped around me and into the elevator. "Just, stay out of my relationship. I... I really like her."

The doors started to close but I caught them. I didn't often get sentimental or whatever, but I felt this needed to be made clear. "You're my family, Yang. You and Ruby both. I'm just trying to look out for you. I don't want to see what happens when she breaks your heart."

There wasn't much to be said after that. A softness had entered her eyes, a fondness. But Yang was nothing if not stubborn when it came to something she really cared about. Then, with a finality, I let the elevator doors close and the conversation was done.

Weiss was hard at work when I stepped into the morgue, handling her tools with precision. "I was wondering when you'd show up," my sister spoke, not looking up from her work. "Staring at me isn't going to make the work go any faster."

I hummed in response and walked inside. "Any updates?"

"You'll get them when I'm done."

The answer had been curt, maybe slightly irritated. Suppose I'd deserved that.

"I was out of line yesterday," I began after a moment. "I realize that." Weiss hummed in response but continued her inspection of the body. "Like you said, it wasn't my place."

My sister raised a brow finally looking up at me. "Oh? And how do those words taste coming out of your mouth?"

"Bitter, like vinegar."

"Did you apologize to Yang?"

"I told her what I needed to."

She nodded, looking relieved, if still slightly miffed. "I won't be done until tomorrow. You'll have your report then."

I sighed. "Fine."

After that, the conversation died pretty quickly. There was nothing left for me to do but get back to work and do my part to figure out who'd killed this young woman.


Blake's POV

I took a deep breath as I pulled up my mask and hoodie before following Ilia out the back of the van. She worked security and had a good relationship with the people at the agencies she worked at. So when she asked to borrow a truck or car to move or whatever they easily obliged. It was helpful too, given what our side job was. Today, for example, no one would find a cable van out of the ordinary.

We'd been trying to cross off various White Fang members and had quite a few successes. Not everything always went to plan but it was nothing we couldn't handle. Today's target would be Cinder Fall. It wouldn't be an easy task given that she was known for her fighting and gun skills. Some even said that she hunted her victims, enjoying their cries of pain and mercy. Her abilities were so known that she didn't even have bodyguards like the others tended to. Ilia had been hesitant to move on such a skilled target but given her availability...I couldn't pass on the opportunity.

We got in the mansion, but even as we moved through the halls I could feel the hair on the back of my neck standing on end, that horrible gut feeling taking root. This was easy. Too easy. Maybe Ilia had been right. The thought easily got pushed away as we approached the main office.

Slowly, I crept toward the chair that had been facing the window, only to find it empty. I frowned and noted the cellphone sitting on the seat. I looked over at the red head who shook her head, gesturing for us to leave. I hesitated and made a move to do so when it started to ring. I stopped. It stopped ringing only to start again and again until I reached for it and answered it.

"Hello, my darling."

From the first syllable, my blood turned to ice in my veins. Air got caught in my lungs. There was no way. He couldn't have known...

"I must say that you've been causing us some serious problems," he continued without concern.

My mouth opened but no words came out. I...I just... He... My heart was beating in my ears at this point, everything around me fading into the background.

"What exactly are you hoping to accomplish here?" Pause. "If you wanted me dead, surely you would have come for me directly by now. So that can't be it. Are you just trying to get my attention, my love? You want me to come find you, is that it?"

Still, nothing. I could feel Ilia's presence next to me, her hatred for Adam rolling off her in waves.

"Oh, Blake. You can't even imagine how much I've missed you, how much I'd be willing to pay to have you by my side again. Do you remember what it felt like? That rush, the power. You have to miss being mine, even just a little."

I feel like vomiting, and I can't keep listening to this. The phone is snatched from my hand, startling me into gasping. She grabs my hand and practically drags me from the room just as an explosion rings out into the air, knocking me into a wall. It's disorienting, and when I've managed to gain any semblance of order Ilia has somehow managed to get me back to the van.

"Hey."

I blinked, looking around. Home. We were home. How? When? I was just... Where had the time gone? Ilia pressed a cloth against my temple.

"Are you okay?" she asked softly. "Can you hear me?"

I felt my eyes water. "He knows," I finally choked out. He knew.


Yang's POV

I sighed tiredly as I turned off my truck, grabbing the bag of groceries from the passenger seat. Blake had come over as usual for her weekend stay. However, she'd been restless, distracted. I'd woken up a couple times to my girlfriend's side of the bed empty and the lights on in the living room, only to discover her asleep on the couch.

I'd been called into a briefing today so I'd had to leave her in bed. She'd texted me while I was on my way home asking if I'd be cooking. It made me laugh, remembering how she'd told me that without Ilia she'd have probably survived only on takeout or starved.

"Hey, sorry I'm late."

I spot Blake sitting at the bar, still in her robe and hair still a mess. "You know, I almost considered cooking breakfast myself," she comments dryly

I chuckle, putting my gun and badge away in their drawer, before hanging my jacket on the rack. "Did you now?"

"Mhmm. But I figured you were fond of your apartment so I decided against burning it down."

I laugh, walking up behind her and kissing her cheek. I loved that I could do that now. I loved that it made her smile. She turned her head and gave me a proper kiss.

"Ah. These are for you, madame," I say, presenting the bouquet of red roses I'd picked up proudly. "So, what do you feel like eating?" I ask as she takes them from me and I start toward the stove.

I don't get an immediate response and I turn back around. Blake just stares at the flowers now grasped in her hand. Then, they drop to floor, Blake letting them fall. Her hands are trembling.

"Blake? Do you not like roses? I can get something else next time?" I approach carefully because I've never seen Blake like this before. "Hey, babe, what's wrong?"

There's a shuddering breath as she tries to inhale.

"Blake?"

Golden eyes are faded, looking passed me. "You're just like him, aren't you?"

Him? I don't understand. She's not making sense. "Blake, what are you talking about?"

"You gonna hit me too? Well go ahead and try but guess what I hit back now." Her hands are still trembling at her side but now they've formed fists, her shoulders cocked back. Blake, still dressed only in a robe and a serious case of bedhead, looks like she's ready for a fight. Ready to scratch and claw and bite.

I'm starting to get a picture in my head about what's happening, about what this could mean. But now's not the time to ask. I put my hands up in a placating gesture.

"Come on. Just try it. I dare you." These words are more assured, coming out harshly on each syllable. It's different from when she's bouncing people at the bar. This is defensive, angry. Violent.

"I'm not going to hit you." The words are firm. The very idea of striking Blake makes me sick to my stomach. The very idea that anyone ever did makes my blood boil, but again, that's for another time.

"Then what do I even need you for! Why are you so useless?"

It feels like I've been struck. The words echo in my head, playing on loop. Useless? Is that what she thought?

Useless.

She doesn't need you.

You're letting her down.

I thought you were going to make her happy.

I swallow, taking a deep breath as I step toward her. I see her eyes narrow, but there's some fear in the response. "Blake," I say her name. "I need you to breathe for me."

There's no response this time as she continues stuttering breaths, apparently all her anger and resolve visibly draining from her body the longer this goes on, when it's clear I'm not going to give her the fight she's after.

"Blake," I say again. "Please just breathe for me."

There's some clarity coming back into her gaze as she seems to do as I asked. Her breath catches every once in a while but ultimately, she picks up a steady pattern. Her shoulders sag. And as she looks at me, I watch her eyes widen.

"Are you okay?" I ask.

Blake looks down to the ground, but not before I see the tears in her eyes. My heart pangs. She nods. "Yang, I-"

"I'm going to call Ilia." It's all I say as I leave the living room to go back to my bedroom, shutting the door behind me. My hand itches to reach out and grab the guitar that sits back in the room I just left but I can't now. Taking my own steadying breaths, I call my girlfriend's roommate.

"Need me to pick up Blake already?" she asks, and her voice is light.

"I... We had a fight and she-"

"Is she okay?" Any friendliness in her voice was gone, replaced by a layer of protectiveness. It's not surprising.

"She's fine, she just," I sigh, rubbing my face to make any tears that may or may not being staining my face disappear. I'm glad Ilia can't see through the phone. "I bought her roses and she got very defensive."

"Oh."

And just like that I know what set her off for certain. That single word carries so much that I have to bite my lip from screaming in frustration at myself. "I didn't know she didn't like roses." There was a lot of things about Blake I don't know, I think and I hate that the thought sounds as bitter as it does.

A sigh. "Listen, Yang, this isn't about you. Whatever she did or said, don't take it to heart," the redhead began.

Useless.

Unnecessary.

Not needed.

"I know it's easy for me to say but Blake hasn't been herself lately. Well, if I'm being honest, she hasn't been herself ever, for as long as I've known her. She's told you bits about her past but I assume not all of it. There's a reason for that. Some wounds just never healed, and picking at them is... unpleasant."

I nodded as I listened. Made sense. Didn't take away the sting. "What can I do?"

"Give her some space. I'll pick her up in an hour. I'm sorry, Yang. I'm sure she is too."

I stay in my room for a bit longer, regaining my composure and calming down. There was still so much I didn't know, so much going on that eluded me about the woman I had grown to like a great deal. We'd made strides, definitely but... I wanted to know more. And maybe that was selfish. Maybe asking for too much was pushing her.

But Blake was hurting, and I wanted to do everything I could to make sure that didn't happen again.

With one last deep, cleansing breath I opened the door and walked back out into the living room. Once again, I found Blake sitting on the counter, this time with her head in her hands.

"Hey," I say softly.

She bolts upright immediately, facing me. "I'm so-"

I hold my hand up. "Don't. It's okay. I mean, it's not. But."

She shakes her head. "I didn't mean to say those things," Blake began quietly. "I...I just..."

"I didn't know you didn't like roses," I say, my voice barely even there as if I don't want to spook her. "Is there anything else you don't like?"

She doesn't say anything, shifting her gaze away. I reach out to her but she flinches, curling away from me and I drop my hand to the side. "I'm not going to hurt you."

Her mouth opens then closes when there's a knock on the door. I go over and open it, seeing Ilia standing outside as expected. I nod at her and let her come in. Blake doesn't move from her spot as I go to the bedroom and grab her overnight bag, handing it to her friend.

"It's okay," I tell her. "You can go."

There's no hesitation in her exit as she pulls on her sneakers and steps around Ilia. She does stop at the door however, hand on the frame as if to brace herself. "I am sorry, Yang. I'm so sorry."

I close the door behind them, then slide down to sit on the floor. I feel so drained.

I'm sorry too.


Weiss's POV

The hospital was busy today, I couldn't help but note as I signed my name into the visitor's log. My eyes landed on a familiar name a few entries above mine and I had to brace myself. That wouldn't be good. It never was. Nevertheless, I straightened myself up and walked down the maze of corridors and into the east wing.

Voices carried down the sterile halls and already I could feel exhaustion creeping in. They weren't yelling, which was at least a little promising, but there was definitely agitation to the words I could pick out. It was only a matter of time before it festered into something ugly.

"Darling, please," Mom's voice carried outside the door. "This isn't... necessary." There wasn't much to her voice these days. Just a lot of sadness, resignation, most days we were treated to indifference as if her mind was fully processing the situation. It's one of the reasons she was even in this place after all.

"I think it's plenty necessary, Mother." And yes, that was Winter.

I stepped into the room to find my older sibling looking away from our mother, arms crossed tightly against her chest and fingers diffing into her arms. Her jaw was clenched. Everything about her just screamed how much she hated being here. Mom, on the other hand, sat in a chair next to the window, aging, tired eyes fixed on her eldest. She always looked so sad when Winter was here.

"That's enough, Winter."

The younger of two finally notices me, and there is a moment of softness in her expression. It's quick but it's there. I go over to the nightstand and replace old flowers with the ones I brought today. Lilies, Mom's favorite. "You're only making this more painful for her," I continue carefully. I don't want to argue with her. Escalating the situation any further means when she goes home she'll drink until she's numb.

And just like that there's an edge to her eyes as she turns her attention back to the woman in the chair. "Cause pain?" she grinds out. "That's all she's ever done. All either of them have ever done."

The vague mention of our father twists my chest.

Family dinner was always such a tense affair when we were kids. Most nights we could dine without much incident but sometimes Father saw it fit to make it more of an...event. Mother would have been cooking all evening on the nights he actually deemed it appropriate to get home from work and sit down with us. He spent a lot of time in the apartment he'd bought that was close to the SMC.

Of course, even at the age of five I knew he was only there for a particular reason. Father only showed up when there was something that needed addressing, or if a much firmer hand than Mom's was needed on us. It never ended pretty. We both had the scars to prove it.

Winter's fork scrapped against her finished plate as she set it down. "May I be excused?" Her voice was always so small when in the presence of one Jacques Schnee.

Father gestured with his hand for her to remain sitting. "In a moment, perhaps." Even now I could hear his voice, so slimy, so smooth. It made me squirm in my seat. "Willow." He didn't even spare his wife a glance. "I feel like having some bourbon. Would you be a dear and go fetch me some."

Mother spared us a glance, before standing with nod and departing from the dining room. The silence was deafening. Smoke curled out of his mouth as he pulled the cigar away. I watched it swirl and disappear into thin air. Just like the only real buffer between us and him.

"I found something interesting today," he started suddenly. "Or perhaps it would be more appropriate to say that I noticed something was missing."

I glanced from Father to Winter, but she kept her face impassive as they stared each other down. I could only look down at the table, trying not to shake.

"I'm suddenly short a bit of money. Do either of you know why that may be?"

We both shook our heads but it was Winter who spoke. "No." The firmness in her voice as she grabbed my hand under the table gave me some comfort. Still, even I knew that this wouldn't be so easily resolved.

"Weiss?" Father called as he turned his gaze on me. "Have you been in my drawer?"

I shook my head.

His eyes hardened. "Well it didn't grow legs and walk away now, did it?" He put the cigar in his mouth again and drew in a long inhale. He took a few puffs from it before focusing his attention on us again. "Which one of you did it?"

The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. Alarms were going off in my head. The air in the room practically vibrated with ill intent. This wasn't good. This was so very bad.

"Who took the money?" he asked again deliberately.

"It wasn't us," Winter responded again, and I felt her hand shake in mine despite her brave front.

He scoffed, only for something like pity to twist his expression. "I can't believe you two, putting your mother through all of this," he cooed, as much as someone like him could. "She's done her best to teach you how to be proper young ladies, and you want to put her through the heartache of realizing she's an utter failure? You know how she gets when she's...upset."

I saw something flicker in my sister's eyes and I could feel tears threatening to spill but I pushed them back. I didn't want to be a crybaby about it. Father wouldn't like that.

Again, Winter was the one to answer. "Of course not."

"So then who took the money?"

And again, neither of us answered. I couldn't tell if it was Winter or I that had the sweaty palms but neither of us let go. It was a grounding presence, something to keep us from trying to bolt toward the door. Then, he stood, his beady, icy eyes shifting between the two of us until they landed on me.

Suddenly he grabbed me by the shoulders, shaking me violently and I was forced to let go of Winter's hand as I was pulled out of my seat. "You think I haven't seen you sneak into my study before? What did you do with the money?"

Winter stood abruptly. "Stop, leave her alone!"

"She needs to be taught a lesson!" he snapped at her.

"Weiss didn't take the money!" she said after a moment, sharing a look with me and my stomach fell. "I did."

The silence that overcame the room put the ones before it to shame. Father's claws retracted from my shoulders as he turned his attention onto my sibling. To Winter's credit, she stared up at him without flinching, though the fear was visible in her stance.

"So, you've remembered to be an honest thief."

Winter nodded.

Father grabbed her arm roughly, lowering the long sleeve of her shirt to expose her wrist as he took the cigar out of his mouth. The end of it seemed to glow a more ominous red as he held it over my sister's exposed skin. "This is so you don't forget."

Sometimes I can still hear the scream my sister let out in some of my nightmares.

Now Winter is no longer ten, I am no longer five, no longer trapped in that horrible mansion with that monster, and Mom is here, stuck in this facility until the end of time.

"You never stopped him," Winter says, and it's scary how emotionless the accusation comes out. She tugs absently at her shirt sleeve. "You ran, and you have the audacity to tell me what you think is necessary or not? We needed you, and you left."

"Winter," I try again and she looks over at me. "Please." I grab her hand, squeezing with purpose.

It looks like it takes everything Winter has to suck in air, to take a deep breath. She shuts her eyes tightly before turning toward the door, pulling her hand from mine. Mom is watching, blinking slowly. She hadn't said a word against Winter's accusation. She'd stared and tilted her head but not a word had been spoken. Winter leaves when it becomes clear neither of us are going to say anything else.

"I'm sorry about that, Mom. She's just been...so stressed lately."

Her eyes, blue and clouded finally land back on me. Then Mother's gaze is pulled toward the window as the silence envelops us.


Velvet's POV

It's four o'clock in the morning when I open my eyes. I count each breath I take in, trying to calm down. The dream from what I can remember wasn't anything exciting. Quite the opposite if I was being completely honest. Vague notions and shapes moving in no particular way. It's just the feeling of loneliness and helplessness that persists long after I'm awake.

I look over to Coco's side of the bed where she still sleeps. Her hand is reaching out toward me in the middle of our bed and I feel a wave of affection. I think about reaching out and grabbing that hand but think better of it at the last second. Instead I curl my knees up to my chest, still counting breaths. It's been awhile since I've felt like this. Can't say I missed it.

The drumming in my chest gradually subsides and I force myself to get out of bed and move to the nursery. I open the door to see Madeline sprawled across her bed as usual, laid out like a starfish and her blankets kicked onto the floor. It makes me smile and I sigh as I pick the sheet off the floor and cover her back up, making sure Benjamin Bunny is still clutched in the little munchkin's hands.

Then my eyes move over to the crib and I can't help but laugh when I spot Jack standing up against the railing, pacifier still in his mouth and his eyes following my movement. He giggles happily as I walk toward him, the night light making things clearer despite the darkness outside. I take him in my arms, kissing his temple before shifting him to give him his bottle.

After a few moments of gentle rocking and let him drink he's out like a light again. I hum to him, to myself, and I'm so focused on his sweet little face that I don't even notice when Coco enters the room until her arms are wrapped around my waist carefully.

"Hey," she drawls with a yawn.

It takes all I have to not jump as I instinctively want to, though my hold on Jack tightens slightly. "Hey."

She rubs her face tiredly against my cheek, always so affectionate when she's half asleep. "Is Jack okay?"

I nod, looking down to him. "Yeah. Yeah I just...I needed to check on them."

She hums knowingly in response and I bite my lip. My wife was always good at picking up on changes in my moods, had learned over the years when to pull back and let me work it out myself, when she needed to step in. When I just needed her to hold me and let me know everything would be okay. There had been a lot of trial and error, but we'd learned, we'd grown.

"He's so small. So...vulnerable..."

My wife places a hand on my shoulder but the urge to flinch has lessened some, my muscles not as tense. Still, she sees and I feel a bit of guilt at the reaction. I know better, that it's just a response that can't really be helped, even after all these years. Doesn't make it less difficult.

"He may be tiny but he's fierce. Like his mommy," Coco answers, and that swell of affection turns into outright love.

"Yeah. Yeah I guess." I move to set Jack back down in his crib before turning to face my wife fully, leaning into her with heavy sigh. "I'm sorry."

I feel her shake her head. "No, don't be. It's okay."

I press a kiss to her jaw, praying she can feel all my love and gratitude. She answers in kind by pressing a kiss to my temple and finally all the left over tension I'd been carrying since I woke up seems to evaporate.

"You think this will ever go away?" I whisper, resting my head on her shoulder.

"Maybe," she answers. "I think the more you talk about it, the less it'll be in your subconscious."

I laugh. "When did you get so wise?"

"When I married a philosophy major."

I cover my mouth to restrain my laugh, pushing her shoulder lightly before leading her away back to our bedroom, back to the bed that's calling me back to sleep. Maybe I'd always have these feelings, but as I gripped Coco's hand in mine, I could be convinced that there would always be a way through to the other side.


A/N: Sorry for the delay. Here's a new ch. Thank BG-13 as always.