Chapter 61
"Ruby?"
There was the soft knocking at her door again. She tried to ignore it, pulling her pillow tighter over her head. She didn't want anything. She didn't want anyone either. She just wanted to be left alone until she faded away.
"C'mon, sweetie. You can't stay in your room forever."
Yes, she could. She was an adult, she could do whatever she wanted. She dug her shoulders tighter into the sheets, burrowing down like a mole would in the dirt. She wanted to yell for him to go away, but her mouth and lungs refused to comply even in the slightest. Nothing but a depressed whimper came out, entirely muffled by the pillow.
"Sweetie? We're worried about you. You've been in there for two straight days."
"Nnn..."
There was a silence. For a long while. She listened to the sound of her alarm clock ticking quietly on her bedside table. There had been too many ticks to count that day. She just didn't have the energy to care. What felt like five whole minutes clicked quietly by.
"Well, when you're ready, Yang made omelettes. There's one out here with your name on it."
Omelettes? Hmm. Maybe she would made a journey outside of her room today. Maybe. She had been sufficing on the leftover candy in her bag for he last forty hours or so. Her mouth tasted so bad at the moment. She certainly had ten new cavities. Her body rolled unconsciously over to her side, pulling much of the thick comforter with it. Another deep sigh escaped her lungs as she finished the roll onto her back. With the hand that wasn't trapped behind her back, she flung her pillow off her face and onto the floor, where it landed with a quiet whump. She stared at the ceiling in vain. It stared back, white stucco creating weird patterns in her vision.
Blegh.
A spot on her chest itched suddenly, and she reached up to scratch it over the yellow hand-me-down cotton t-shirt. Ruby liked this shirt. It was Yang's old housework shirt, and it always smelled a little bit like bananas. It was loose on her, as Yang wore a women's medium to account for her long torso and bodacious frame. Ruby liked it because she could hide in it. It was like a security blanket she could wear, and she had been wearing it since the moment she arrived.
She sat up slightly on her elbows, her right arm numb from her lying on it. Her boobs, unrestrained by any bra, bounced aimlessly around under her shirt. She winced. Two days of sleeping without one was making her chafe. Perhaps she should have put one on. The soft and supportive mattress refused to let her get all the way up, hugging her down in its cavernous warmth. She wiggled her body around, trying to get her legs over the side of the bed. Unfortunately her boy-shorts had bunched up uncomfortably into her butt, and she made a pained noise quietly.
The floor was cold-ish, her socks sliding around on the polished hardwood. She elected not to get up just yet, content to sit on the edge of her bed. The room was dim in the mid-morning light that came in around the edges of the heavy curtains. She sighed, scratching the back of her head kind of distractedly. Her eyes, adjusted to the dim light, panned around the room she once called her own. Like, ten years ago. It was a mess of sorts, clothes from her bag strewn around the room, the lamp she knocked over on her way to the bathroom last night, six plates and associated cutlery stacked haphazardly on her old writing desk. It looked like a broke college student lived here, not the world's most powerful manic-depressive huntress.
Yeugh, blegh, and fech.
She stuck her tongue out. Even the air in her room tasted stale. Her face scrunched up as she went to rub her nose on the back of her hand. Her face hurt. She tried once to stand, but after a brief moment of resistance from her legs, she gave up, falling onto her back again. Her arms fell akimbo, her right landing on a pair of neglected pants, her left falling on a small stuffed toy near the foot of her bed. She grasped at it, picking it up and placing it on her face without looking. It felt like her favourite, a stuffed kitten with a large head she had been given as a baby by her mother. It made her happy.
Finally sitting up again, she looked down at the toy. Old, rough around the edges, two resewn seams, a little worn out from the many trips through the washing machine. But still in one piece, and still with the little feline smile on its face. Its black plastic eyes still held all the joy and childish wonder that they always had. Ruby remembered a time she had lost this little cat while playing outside in the woods as a little girl. She had cried for a whole week, and no amount of ice cream or hugs from her dad had helped. She had felt so alone without it. A weary smile fell on her face, and she hugged the toy tight to her breast, wrapping her arms tighter over herself. After her mother had found it on that fallen tree two weeks later, she had promised to never let it out of her sight. This poor toy had been through hell, but it always remained smiling.
She stood slowly, placing the little orange and white cat on her shoulder and trying to balance it there. Pacing slowly over to the short oak dresser on the opposite wall, she kicked a few carelessly strewn bits of clothing around the hardwood floor. She grabbed one of the brass handles that lined the front of the dresser, yanking open the second to top drawer. Underwear. She reached in, pulling out a pale pink bra she had long forgotten she owned. It seemed like it was too small in her hands, so she flipped it around and thumbed the little cotton label. Thirty-two B.
"Ha!"
She scoffed, tossing the garment back into the drawer and pulling out something she knew would actually fit properly. It was grey, strapless, and very minimally padded. She sighed, turning away from the dresser without closing it. It would close itself, right? Her butt fell back on the foot of the bed as she spun around, facing the mirror against the wall. Carefully placing her little velvet-skinned friend onto the bed next to her hip, she fiddled with the stupid triple-hook clasp on the back of the old brassier. Once unhooked, she slid it up under her shirt, hoisting her boobs upward and into the comfortable silk cups. The clasp was harder to do up behind her back than she remembered. But, she had it back together quickly, standing up and grabbing her stuffed cat from the bed.
"You're coming with me today, okay?"
The toy simply smiled at her question, its big ears flopped backward. Ruby sniffled, flipping the ears back the right way with her thumb. She caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror as she went to stand again. Her hair, brown like a dark walnut sheet, was long and unruly, and had curled itself around the ends. The two straight days of sleeping had given her hair that looked very much like her sister's except brown, and greasy from not being washed. Her face, however, didn't have a girlish charm like her messy hair did. The bags under her eyes could have transported at least three weeks worth of groceries. All of her carefully applied makeup was gone! She snorted at herself. She didn't even wear makeup, save for special occasions for her other work. She was a radio DJ for her regular job, after all. It still looked like she had been in a fist fight with the Sandman. She approached the mirror. Gods, her pores were a mess. Served her right for never cleaning her face properly. It looked like the surface of mars on her cheeks and nose.
"Goddamn it."
Cursing in her own general direction was all she could do. A trip into town would have to be made to buy toner and face wipes. Maybe some concealer too, just to mask it for the time being. She sighed again. She looked like a mess. But, an eighteen-hour train ride and an immediate twelve-hour flight wasn't supposed to be good for you. Her fingers squeezed down again on the stuffed cat. She looked at it again, not wanting to put it down. It was still smiling. At least someone still could.
"Alright. Let's go."
She tried to sound reassured of herself. She pulled the neck of her shirt away with a finger, and tucked the little stuffed animal's legs and tail down into her cleavage. She let her collar snap back, tucking the fabric under the animal's arms so it would stay in place. She sighed with a more contented air about her. It felt kind of nice to have something so soft between her breasts, so close to her heart. Like a hug from someone who cared unconditionally. She placed her chin on the top of the cat's head, nuzzling between the little velvet ears. It felt good.
She reached for the doorknob. With her fingers wrapped loosely around it, she sent a cursory glance back over to her bed. In all of two steps she could be back in it and asleep again. Then she wouldn't have to face anyone. However, she remembered the omelettes. Maybe that was better than sleep and isolation. Well, Yang's omelettes were delicious. She turned the knob and pulled.
The light from the hallway flooded her vision, as the curtains at the end of the hallway were open to the morning sun. She squinted, fearing a sunburn. The quiet shade of her room seemed considerably more attractive now. Real life was just far too well-lit. The hardwood creaked and groaned underfoot as she made the slow walk towards the kitchen, her chin resting comfortably on her stuffie. The smell of onion being cooked along with the sound of sizzling made her feel instantly more comfortable. She braced herself against the wall, moving as quietly as she could on the hundred-year-old floor. She stopped on the threshold, peering anxiously across the living room toward the kitchen. Nobody seemed to be in the kitchen, and the frying pan seemed to be unattended.
Smells like egg.
With a quick scoot, she moved across the house to the small breakfast table that sat right next to the sliding glass door at the back of the house. The chair slid out silently against the tile floor in the kitchen, and she dropped herself into it. Her shoulders slumped forward as she tried her best to hide from everyone while still appearing to make an effort. Where was everybody, anyway?
"Ahh, poopy."
Some commotion from the pantry alerted her attention. The luscious blond locks, tied up today into a ponytail, bounced out of the door backwards, attached to her chef for the omelette she was promised. Yang spun around, a bag of flour in her arms and half of its contents all over her green apron. Ruby tried to hide even more. It was for moot, however, as the instant that Yang's eyes turned from the bag in her hand to her sister, her sour expression lit up and she gave the warmest of smiles in her direction.
"Hey, baby sis!"
Ruby's face cracked, despite trying to appear reserved and brooding. Yang had that effect on people.
"Hello."
"Sleep well? Still nursing that hangover?"
Ruby frowned.
"I'm not hung over."
Yang shrugged dramatically, dropping the broken bag of flour onto the counter, and placing her left hand onto her hip, just above the frayed jean shorts she wore far too often. She swung said hips to one side.
"Okay, not hungover anymore?"
Ruby slunk further down onto the chair.
"I wasn't!"
"Oh, so the mysterious disappearance of two whole cartons of chocolate milk two nights ago and your refusal to come out of your room except during the nighttime is a complete coincidence?"
"Probably."
Yang let out a hearty laugh, brushing a few errant bangs out of her face and back behind her ear. She prodded over, her long, tanned legs carrying her in no more than three elegant steps. Ruby's eyes traced down them as her sister moved closer. Odd. Yang had painted her toenails red. That seemed stra-
-and now she was getting hugged. Yang's muscular arms squeezed around her upper body, pulling her into her large and flour-covered bosoms.
"Oh, Ruby. Never change."
"Mmmff!"
Yang released her, giving her a second to take a breath. Yang placed both of her hands onto her shoulders, holding her at arms length. Yang's soft lavender eyes looked her up and down, as if looking for problems that may or may not have hidden beneath the surface. Ruby lowered her shoulders under her sister's hands. Wait, hands? Something didn't feel right. The hand on her right shoulder felt fine, but the one on the left seemed different. She looked down at her shoulder, expecting to see the black aluminum fingers that were on the end of Yang's robotic prosthesis. This is not what she saw, however.
At the end of a quick-release wrist joint was a short, wide, plastic spatula, coated in butter and egg residue. She stared at it. It was warm from the grill, and while it clearly served a practical purpose, it made her feel very uncomfortable to see anything other than a hand at the end of Yang's wrist. The spatula was removed from her shoulder as her sister returned to the sizzling frying pan, lifting it off the stovetop in her left hand. It was weird to watch Yang pick up a plate using only the spatula-hand, placing it down on the table before her. She tilted the pan towards it, effortlessly picking up the folded-over egg pancake and depositing it onto the little blue plate. Ruby watched, perplexed. How was it that Yang was able to turn such a tragic occurrence into a practical and culinary tool?
"There you go, hun! One of my world-famous cheese 'n onion omelettes! Need me to grab you a fork?"
Ruby nodded, still a little distracted by the arm. Yang retreated into the kitchen, placing the pan into the sink and shutting of the gas stove with a loud click. She watched as Yang clicked the quick-release and popped the spatula off of her wrist, tossing it as well into the sink, before picking up her actual hand from what Ruby guessed was a protective case and clicked it back into place. After a few test wiggles of her fingers, she grabbed a fork out of the cutlery drawer and handed it to her, sitting down across the table. Ruby twirled it in her fingers.
"So are you gonna eat my food, or are you gonna let it get cold?"
As an answer, Ruby shoved a large forkful of omelette into her mouth. Her whole body melted in an instant, as the hot cheddar cheese warmed her from the inside out. Nothing short of magnificent, she thought.
"Oh my god, Yang. How're you such a good cook?"
Her sister shrugged, placing her elbows on the table and resting her chin in her hands.
"Dunno. Maybe it's the last five years having to cook for dad. Guy never learned how."
Ruby turned her attention to her sister, taking another large bite.
"He what?"
"Yeah, I thought the same thing. I guess we don't remember how he never cooked for us before we went to school. I had to pick up some skills so we wouldn't die of vitamin deficiencies."
"Huh."
There was a short, sweet silence as Ruby noisily shovelled more of the food into her mouth. It was excellent. She felt a little bit of regret as she realized she wasn't savouring it.
"I see you brought Francis out of hiding, Ru."
Ruby pulled her chin down, pressing her stuffed cat deeper into her shirt. Yang made that face again. The 'you're my adorable baby sister' face. What a meanie.
"Yeah? What of it?"
"Ain't nothin' about it. Just mentioning it."
Ruby reached up with her free hand and pulled the stuffed cat, Francis, out from her shirt. The warm feeling of the stuffed toy between her breasts was quickly replaced by the cold of the air in the house. She placed Francis onto the table, carefully positioned so her sister couldn't swipe it from her. She sighed, fiddling with the toy's little ears. Francis was a good friend. Named after a philosopher her mother used to quote. Reading maketh a full man, and all that.
"Yeah. I dunno, I just thought I needed a little cuddle. Maybe I'm different."
"Probably."
Ruby continued to play with Francis' ears for a moment, finishing the remnants of her omelette. Her fork scraped loudly on the ceramic plate, which had just been emptied. Her fork was released from her grip onto her place, clattering loudly, louder than she had intended. She winced, before standing up and collecting her plate. It took a second to stand all the way up, as her hips had decided to lock up and groan back at her. Her feet slipped on the tile, but she eventually got to the sink, dropping her plate into it. She felt a spot on her stomach itch. Gosh, everything was getting itchy recently. She slid her shirt up on her wrist, digging her nails into the itchy spot that sat a few inches above the long horizontal scar.
"Speaking of different, might you enlighten me as to the reason you have neglected pants, Ru?"
Ruby looked down.
Oh shit.
Her face went fully red.
"I, uh..."
"Don't worry, I'm just teasing you, hun. I forget to put pants on far more often than you, probably. It's fine if you wanna sit around in your man-panties."
"They're not man-panties!"
"They so are!"
Ruby wanted to toss something, but there was nothing soft within reach. Well, that wasn't fully true. If she threw Francis, Yang would probably grab him and book it out of the house to try and encourage a childish chase. She elected to instead pick up the little kitten toy and retreating to her room, her arms angrily held above her head. She slammed the door to her room as she entered, returning to the dark silence she had been enjoying. Now Yang couldn't tease her. She sighed deeply. Her room seemed smaller now that she was standing up, but it magically hadn't cleaned itself in her absence. Pity.
A pair of faded and ripped blue jeans hung out of one of the drawers on her dresser. She grabbed it, turning around and flopping down onto her bed. Her legs didn't want to go into the godawful denim sleeves. She pulled even harder, threatening to rip the fabric. She stopped with the pants pulled only up to her knees, laying back onto her bed again.
"Darn."
With a few well-placed kicking motions, the pants were off again and tossed against the window. She sat up again, digging through the closest drawer to herself, pulling a beige pair of cargo shorts from the very bottom. Another hand-me-down from her sister. She placed them against her hips. They seemed considerably larger in size to her old pair of jeans. A lot wider than most of the other stuff, too. She frowned, looking around. Perhaps she should have bought new clothes, seeing as she had grown up a little.
The cargo shorts went on without any hassle at all, easily sliding up her muscular legs and up over her wide and womanly hips. The shorts were still a little loose on account of Yang being still a little bit of a larger person on the whole. She stood up, holding the waist of the shorts with her left hand as she fiddled around in the drawer again for a belt. Finally satisfied, she left her room again. Not that she really wanted to, though.
Her sister was still in the kitchen, scrubbing soap into a pan and humming something to herself. Her right hand sat detached from the wrist on a little towel by the windowsill. Ruby sniffed, grabbing the other girl's attention.
"Oh hey, you got dressed!"
"Yeah, I guess. Nothin' fits me anymore."
"That's because you're a woman now. Do you want me to take you shopping?"
Ruby scoffed.
"Please, Yang. Shopping is like, your least favourite activity."
The blond at the sink shrugged, pulling her hands from the sudsy water. Her right hand was replaced by a scrubbing brush, using the same quick-release wrist attachment as the spatula from earlier. It made her giggle to herself.
"Yeah, whatever. You still need new clothes."
"So where's dad?"
Yang pointed out the window with her brush-hand.
"Outside. Cutting firewood. S'posed to be cold-ish tonight."
Ruby leaned herself against the picture window, gazing out onto the back yard. She could hear the quiet thudding of an axe against the chopping block coming from the clearing a little ways into the woods. She sniffed, rubbing her nose on the back of her hand and staring out the window. The trees swayed in the late-summer breeze, signs of the coming autumn present in the yellowing leaves of the large sugar maple at the edge of the fence. Yang appeared behind her, placing her left elbow down on her shoulder. Ruby made a face, trying to wiggle away. Yang didn't let her, wrapping both her arms around her, brush-hand still attached.
"I ain't lettin' you go, sweet cheeks. You're gonna have to try harder than that."
She did as requested, trying torque her torso out of the woman's robotically-enhanced muscular grip. It was for naught. Yang was somehow actually stronger, even if she wasn't a trained soldier. And what did she mean 'sweet cheeks', anyways? Had she been staring?
"Yaaaaang! Let gooooo!"
As much as she was trying to protest, she didn't really want Yang to stop. Her struggling subsided for the time being, and she slumped herself into her sister's all-consuming hug. It felt nice. Just to be held, even for only a minute. Tears threatened to flow.
No, please... I want to be normal...
One broke free. It slid down her face, coming to a stop on the edge of Yang's left forearm.
Oh. Okay.
Before she had a chance to let the rest go down her face, the hug tightened, and her ears were filled with the sweet, soft voice of her hugger.
"Hey hun, don't be upset..."
Yang stepped back a little, cupping her cheeks in her hands. Ruby's gaze was brought up to her sister's soft, reassuring eyes and lovely blond hair. It felt good to have someone here to hug, even if she didn't know why she needed one. She lay her cheek into Yang's right hand.
As quickly as she had felt upset, she suddenly perked up again. Yang's right hand seemed...prickly. Ruby's brow furrowed.
"Yang..."
Catching on, Yang let go of her face, laughing brightly as she retracted her hands, one real and one brush. She once again pulled off her false hand, turning back to the kitchen and depositing it in a drawer. Her regular hand was clipped back into place with a very amused smile. She hooked her arm around Ruby's shoulders.
"Hey, you got a little..."
Yang wiped a smudge of soap off her cheek.
"There you go, hun. Wanna go outside?"
"I guess so."
The patio door slid open, bringing in the warm summer air into the kitchen. Ruby stepped out, into a pair of rubber boots sitting on the step, Yang following suit. It was much too bright outside, making her squint, and bring her hand up to her eyes. The dusty ground was a lot harder than she remembered, the clay baked by the summer sun into an almost concrete-like surface. The buzz of the cicadas filled her ears, the smell of maple trees and corn filled her nose. Just the sight alone of the barn next to the house made her smile much wider than she had in a while. She was home. And it felt great. They made their way down the gravel path that lead to the woodpile.
Their dad came into view, in the little clearing. A pile of split wood sat in the back of his crappy old truck, with a much larger pile of yet-to-be-split wood lining the edge of the clearing. He saw them approach, placing his axe down next to the large stump he was using as a chopping block. He smiled, wiping a line of sweat off his forehead and replacing it with a smudge of dirt.
"Hey, it's my two favourite people in the world!"
His enthusiasm was contagious. Her face couldn't not smile at her own father's cheerful attitude. He pulled his hat off his sweaty blond hair. Yang bounced over, slinging her arm around is shoulders.
"I'm glad you were able to convince the hermit to come out of her cave!"
"Yeah, and it only took a little egg-based bribery!"
"Guess you could say it was an eggcellent idea, then!"
Her sister and her father burst out laughing at their own little exchange, the two blonds clutching their chests and doing the 'slapping knees' thing she didn't quite understand. Ruby dropped her face into her hands. Even by Yang and Dad standards, that was terrible. Horrible, even. Rife with inadequacies only the worst comedians were capable of. She let out a deep sigh into her hand, rubbing her temples roughly with her index finger and thumb. The were not funny.
"Ugh, you two. Why am I related to you?"
Her dad held his hat to his breast, a morose expression crossing his face as he pulled his taller, blonder daughter closer to his side.
"My one regret in life is that there are only two of us... I don't know Xiao-much-Longer the world can live with so few good jokes in it."
Another, more powerful sigh escaped her lips. What a joke they were.
"Your puns make me bleed."
"Yeah, well..."
He slapped his hands together, putting his hat back onto his head. He let go of Yang, pointing his attention back to the woodpile and his axe.
"Right. You two are gonna help me load up the truck. Work'll go a lot faster if we all do it."
Ruby shrugged, pulling her hands out of her pockets. The pile wasn't so big, big enough to fill the truck once, if that. She stepped slowly over, looking idly down at the pile of timber. The splits were even and precise with the sort of accuracy only found in the sort of people who had been woodsmen their whole lives. Her dad, however, was not a woodsman. He was just a good shot with an axe. A scary good shot. He could probably cut a rose in half with the lights off.
I mean... isn't that how you were made?
Ruby dropped the piece of wood in her hands directly onto her toe, her stomach turning. She looked over at her dad, who was chucking piece after piece over the side of the truck bed without stopping. She shuddered quite hard, not wanting to think about him... 'splitting a rose'. Instead of knocking herself out with the log like she so desperately wanted to, she tossed it into the slowly growing pile in the back of the faded and rust-covered blue truck.
After a short while, as she was reaching for another split log, she found there was no more. They had finished up quite quickly, and now the pile was loaded into the tired vehicle. It sat very low on it's rear springs, the fenders almost resting on top of the tires. Ruby kicked her feet a few times in the loose dirt, watching her sister and her dad tie a tarp down over the load. With that done, Yang bounced off back towards the house, leaving just her and her dad. They stood in silence for a moment, the calm breeze encircling their feet with sawdust and dried leaves.
"So Yang's hand is super weird, right?"
"Oh my god, totally. She's had the thing for five years, and I still can't look at it when she puts on a utensil or something. She's my daughter. Not a folding multi-tool. It's creepy."
Ruby laughed, reaching for the passenger-side door handle on the crappy work truck. Even being a veteran hunstman, with twenty-something years of experience killing Grimm, seeing weirder and scarier creatures every foray into the fray, somehow the simple act of his daughter clipping stuff to her wrist was enough to get under his skin.
"You know what the worst one is?"
"What's that?" she asked, pulling the door open.
"She has this one, that's like an air-powered ratchet, but it still needs an air tank to power it, so she still has to hook her wrist up to the air lines in the shop. It's not natural looking! Like, I get that the arm is a result of a bad guy, but she's turned it into an opportunity, which I'm all for, by the way, but the route she went is just weird-lookin!"
Ruby had no problem snickering at her father's expense as she climbed up into the tall cab of the old truck as her dad did the same on his side. She settled into the slightly ripped but still comfortable couch-like cloth bucket seat, reaching over her shoulder for the seatbelt.
"Oh, don't bother sweetie. The belt on that side doesn't work. I won't drive too fast, don't worry."
True to his word, the fabric belt was missing from the hanger, and lying on the floor behind the front seats. She shrugged, turning back around. Tai neglected his own seatbelt as well, which wasn't strictly against the law as they were on private property and this truck wasn't road-registered nor did it even wear license plates. He pulled the long stick-shift lever out gear, giving it a few test wiggles to make sure it was in neutral, before turning the key that stuck out of the broken plastic column. The motor wheezed breathlessly, turning over far too many times than it should have, before finally lighting off with a cough of blue-ish smoke out of the tailpipe. Ruby frowned. Something didn't sound right about the engine.
"That doesn't sound like eight cylinders, dad."
He shrugged, popping the transmission back into gear and coaxing the heavy vehicle into forward motion.
"Eh, it's fine. Seven is okay for what I need it to do. I mean come on. I bought this from an army surplus auction for eight-hundred lien like ten years ago. When it dies, I'll just go buy another one. I have a pair of cowboy boots more expensive than this."
Her shoulders slumped. That sucked. She liked this truck, having learned how to drive on it when she was fourteen. This truck was what she used to be taken to school in when she still attended Signal. It would be a dark day if Tai got rid of it. It was practically a family member! However, to his credit, it was falling apart. Like wet tissue paper. The radio? Broken. The four-wheel-drive system? Sketchy. The air-conditioning? Well, it had never worked since before they bought it, so, broken. Even the usually reliable fuel-injected overhead-cam engine was only working to eighty-seven and a half percent of it's usual amount. A shame it was.
They came to a stop, next to the large cellar doors that stuck up out of the ground like the entrance to a tornado shelter. Lucky that they were not in a tornado-prone area. That hadn't stopped her and Yang from calling the basement 'the bunker' whenever they went to play down in it, spending hours upon hours of their childhood pretending to be in some form of apocalypse. She smiled.
"Hey..."
She turned, as he shut the noisy, broken motor off. His face no longer displayed the happy-go-lucky expression it always had. He placed his hand on her left knee, looking into her eyes. Ruby's mind hitched for a second, concerned.
"I'm glad you're home, sweetheart."
He had a lot more remorse in his voice than normal. Oh no. He was quiet for a moment, flicking an errant bang off of his forehead. He normally got like this when he had bad news to tell or he was upset about something or other. He squeezed her knee in his fingers.
"I heard about your friend. I'm sorry."
Oh.
Oh.
This is not where she hoped the conversation would go. In fact, this was the specific reason she had not come out of her room for the last two straight days. Her face fell. Avoiding the topic had been all she wanted to do. That 'problem' was seven thousand miles away, on another continent. This was about as far as she could afford to run away to. She sagged into her seat. Her voice got lost somewhere in her throat. Again.
She made a silent, pained sound, leaning her head against the window. Maybe she would just fade away and become nothing if she stayed quiet. Then they wouldn't see her anymore.
"I know how you're feeling, kiddo. I know what it's like to see people you love leave."
Did he, though? Had he been in the room when mom had died? Had he held her hand when she took her final breath? Had he watched children get slaughtered during an actual terrorist attack? How many times had he almost died?
Pitiful.
She felt like shit for even thinking about it. What kind of scummy person used the misfortune of others to measure themselves. All of the feeling left her body at once. And for what. Some kind of pity party?
"Hey..."
She felt herself getting pulled towards him gently. His arm found it's way around her shoulders, pulling her against his chest across the folding armrest. She sighed instead of letting herself start bawling. How childish that would have been.
"You made the right choice, Ruby, coming home like you did."
His shirt smelled like maple. His heartbeat was very loud in her left ear, thudding dully from inside his chest. His normally stiff dad-hug was much more sincere today. He pushed his face against the top of her hair, mumbling into it.
"No one should have to go through that alone. We're here to help you. Both of us. Okay?"
Help? She didn't want help. She wanted to be alone. Forever. She tried to wiggle free, but his muscular arms refused to let her go. She gave up quickly.
"I remember a time. A time when my team was still whole..."
Some tears fell out of her eyes, on their way to stain his shirt.
"Now, your dad's a strong guy. At least I like to think so. Your uncle likes to say otherwise. But hey, what does he know. He used to not be able to do anything without Raven with him. Gosh, they were like two halves of a whole idiot sometimes..."
She sniffed back a large amount of sadness in her face, clogging up her sinuses.
"Anyway. So we're out on mission, right? First year students, full of enthusiasm, full of drive. Full of ourselves, really. You remember when you guys got to go patrol Mountain Glenn?"
Ruby made a tiny nod, wiping her nose on his shirt a little.
"Well, we got to do something similar. Oz always picks a first year team to go on an away mission. Said it was because we were the strongest team in the school. Probably the wrong thing to say to a bunch of cocky teenagers in hindsight."
He paused, brushing his fingers into her hair. Some of the thick tangles caught them like trapping snares. She tried not to wince too hard as he tried to comb out the tangles.
"There's this little town. About four hours east of Vale. Or, there was. That was our assignment. The village of Pastorville. Not a large town, by any means. A little quaint farming town. Nice and tucked away. We were supposed to go in, kill some Grimm, and try and get the CCT link back up and working."
Another pause. This one longer. Almost like he didn't want to remember.
"Our chaperone was a Professor Smith. Real serious guy. Wore a black suit and tie to class every day. Used to yell at the kid in the front row all the time, always going 'Mister Anderson, I'm very disappointed in your work', and generally being kind of stuck up and a dick to the students. But man was he scary in action. Moved faster than anyone I've ever seen. So we get to the town, and he has one rule for us. We work as a team, or we become Grimm food. Seemed like an arbitrary rule at the time."
His voice wavered, and he took another pause. His hands stopped playing with the messy mop of hair on her head. He had to take a few deep breaths before continuing.
"We were stupid kids, thinking we could do everything ourselves. We were so... arrogant. And that was our problem. Instead of working together, Qrow and Raven ran off, and your mother and I were stuck together in a crowd of beowolves. I tried to tell her we needed to wait for backup, but she wouldn't have it, trying to take down a whole pack herself. Told me repeatedly she didn't want my help. We all almost died that day. There was just too many for us to handle by ourselves."
He sounded like he was on the verge of tears. Ruby let herself get hugged tighter to his chest.
"Because we refused to help each other, three quarters of the town suffered because of it. That was ninety-eight people, Ruby. Ninety-eight people died because we were too stupid to get help from each other. To work together."
He sniffled, tears evident in his voice.
"The hardest part was having to bring home Mister Smith. Having to explain to his wife. His family. That we were the reason they no longer had a husband and a father."
He brought her back up into a sitting position, holding her shoulders and looking her in the eye. His were red, she noticed, on the brink of breaking open like a dam.
"I never want to see that again. After that, I vowed to help people who were in danger whether they wanted it or not. That's why I'm a teacher. To make sure I can help people in need. Forget about what they want. Nobody knows what they want, sweetie."
She wiped her leaky face on the back of her hand, trying to not look so broken in front of her father. Eh, who cared if she did anyways. He was her dad. She let one sob out. He wrapped her in a hug again.
"Do you understand, sweetheart? Your team is your family, and your family is your team. We're supposed to help one another. Back at Beacon, that was your team. Your family away from home. Here, though? You have your sister and me. We're your team now. And teams work together. So we're going to help you no matter what. Whether you want us to or not. Okay?"
Ruby sniffed, wiping her nose on her arm.
"Okay dad."
"I love you, sweetheart. So much."
She mumbled her 'I love you too' into the fabric of his shirt, leaning her full weight into him. Maybe he was right. Maybe she didn't know what she wanted. She didn't want help. But perhaps she needed it. And maybe help from her dad and from Yang is what she needed right now. A little bit of isolation, but not too much. She smiled, still crying a little. He let go of her, letting her sit back in her seat. His face looked apologetic, but sincere.
"I'm glad you came home."
She nodded.
"Me too."
He reached for his door handle.
"Good. Because from now on, you will be working on the farm. We need all hands on deck this time of year. As long as you're home, you're gonna do your share around here."
His expression was a lot more energetic again. Back to normal, she thought. It made her smile again. She wiped the last of the tears out her eyes, nodding.
"I can do that. Thanks, dad."
He slapped her on the shoulder with one of his wide, muscular farmer hands.
"No problem, kiddo. You can start by re-stocking the woodstove room."
She nodded, stepping from the truck.
The first step.
It was time to rebuilt.
A hint of doubt coiled inside.
Could she do that?
She certainly hoped so.