written in the stars
The top floor of the archives is just a little bit below James' office at the top of the Academy. With this in mind, Qrow double-checks the floor plan projected on the wall of the fire escape, studying his next route in detail before pushing open those doors, bracing himself for what lies within. Just a few more floors, and they shall have reached James.
He is ready, he thinks. He is going to end this, once and for all.
…he was naïve to think it would be that easy. He is not ready for what he finds.
It is as if the river of Grimm he had seen outside of Mantle has been multiplied, amplified and extending over this entire wide room; the catwalk above it all barely hangs above the level of Tar which floods the lower levels, the network of raised walkways looking like a spider's web hung over a black, gaping, roiling void. The sea ebbs and flows around the tall pillars of data littered throughout the room, all within arm's reach of the catwalks, providing the scholars who had undoubtedly used this room only a little while before the ability to properly look through specific files in the myriads of data stored within this facility.
Faintly, his brain supplies, This is more Grimm that I've seen all day… how long has it been here? How long have they been infesting this place?
The smell burns his nose, but the feeling of cold, yet oddly gentle hands is what truly alerts him of danger. He looks down at his ankles, a silent scream tearing from his throat as a white bone skull that looks far too human looks back up at him, a humanoid claw wrapped around his ankle.
Clover's clock face lights up after a moment of silence. "Qrow, you need to go," Clover roars as Qrow slices the monster's hand clean off, freeing his leg. He shakes hooked, long fingers from his ankle as Clover continues, "They're called the Apathy- they don't need physical contact to process you."
I'm going to die here.
More and more white humanoid masks lift out of the roiling sea, their glowing red eyes shining sickly lights from within deep black sockets, that glow reflecting off their Tar-stained, boney teeth. They are too human, too recognizable- almost to the point where Qrow misses the dragon. At least that monster had been identifiable as a monster. These harrowing creatures and their knowing, haunting smiles just look wrong.
His feet remain true, however, picking up from a jog into a dead sprint. He thunders down the path, ignoring a terminal to his right- if Clover is correct, then he needs to get away from these spindly, skeletal creatures as soon as possible. Whatever message James or Glynda wanted to leave him shall have to wait in his inbox until the next terminal. If these Grimm trap him, after all, they might get into his head. They might devour him from the inside out. Those cold, soothing hands might drag him off the catwalk, and Qrow does not want to know what the bottom of the sea of Tar below him looks like.
He races across web-like pathways, interlocking corridors slowly growing covered with more and more Apathy Grimm as the creatures realize that their prey has fallen into their lap. The room itself is like a maze; even with the look at the map outside the door, Qrow struggles to maintain his bearings, his sense of direction completely thrown to the wind as he attempts to figure out where to go.
After what feels like hours (but is likely only a few minutes) of slicing through grabbing hands and sickly grins and emaciated, Tar-covered masks of bone, Qrow finally spots the exit, a glowing sign hanging above the door in the distance shining with such incredible light that he would have sung in exaltation if he could have. However, something else catches his eye halfway down this straight-shot to the exit; leaning against one of the data pillars, he spots a slumped-over figure processed from the waist down.
Fuck, he thinks, breaking into a jog towards the person, someone must've gotten trapped here-
And then, he sees it. The outline is faint in the dim lights hanging from the ceiling above. It takes him a moment for him to make it out, and even longer for the symbol to register its shape, its curves and angles and edges, in his mind. Then, it takes him a moment for the shock to rise up into his throat, ripping through him with enough force to shake the entire world around him- at least, that's how it appears in his suddenly blurry vision.
He sprints forward, no longer paying attention to the numerous Grimm slowly clambering onto the catwalk from the sea of Tar behind him. His eyes are focused on one thing and one thing alone- the shining, crimson rose brooch upon the shoulder of the slumped-over figure.
Qrow slides onto his knees once he is close enough to reach her, all but tossing the Harbinger down in favour of grabbing her shoulders, lifting up her face frantically. The site which greets him is absolutely horrifying: hollowed out, emaciated cheeks; collarbones so sharp he wonders if they would have cut through her skin itself had they been in the real world; lips which are cracked and all but shrunken in; hair limp and stained with black obsidian and dripping Tar and grease.
Ruby Rose, his little niece, used to have silver eyes. The way that those eyes had always creased into tiny, shining crescent moons with every single sweet smile had been one of his favourite things in the world. Now the only thing staring back at him are glossy black pools of Tar dripping down her cheeks.
…her brow isn't even furrowed. She looks like she is smiling, just like the Apathy.
His shoulders shake with the effort to keep down the water which he had consumed earlier, every fiber of his being rejecting this reality. This cannot be his niece. How could she have even gotten here? What would she have been doing here? He has not seen her in so long- how in the world did she end up in these archives to be turned into this-
Has Ruby been here this whole time? It has been five months since he has last seen this little girl- this young woman- his little kiddo-
The Grimm infestation within this level of the archives is not one which could have simply appeared in one day, he realizes slowly. Guilt matches the horror washing over him beat by beat. If this is where they have been cultivating these monsters of shadow, then has she been trapped here this entire time, praying for her uncle, for anyone, to come save her?
He clutches the emaciated figure in his arms, the fat, thick droplets rolling down his cheek settling into the hollows of her own. Kiddo, I'm so, so sorry, he sobs silently.
He can hear the Grimm creeping closer, and yet, he does not move.
I deserve to die.
"Qrow, we've got to go," Clover whispers urgently.
I just left her here all this time. I can't leave her here again.
"Qrow, c'mon."
I've left her alone for long enough.
"Qrow," Clover suddenly snaps with more force than ever before, "let's take her data and run!" After a moment, Qrow can hear Clover's voice crack into a sob as well. "Please. She's our little girl- we can't leave her here. Please, Qrow."
Clover loved her, too.
That was what had attracted him to Clover first, after all. Clover has always loved his nieces just as Qrow did. Now, he can hear Clover trying not to scream, every note of his normally melodic voice stained with pure rage and grief.
Qrow vomits although nothing spills from his lips, dry heaves naught but misfiring neurons and data which has never been programmed in. Then, he stands up, retrieving the Harbinger with fingers trembling so fiercely he almost drops it in its entirety. He can hear the creeping, low groans of the Apathy behind him, moving closer and closer down this hallway, their very voices sending a wave of nauseating fear crashing into him once again.
There is no time to hesitate. I love you, Ruby. I'm so sorry. And with that, he stabs his broken little girl in the chest, closing his eyes, blocking out the sight of the Harbinger glowing, the world lighting up, and Ruby Rose's scant, processed data filtering into the Harbinger's databanks at last.
He does not remove the blade, nor does he open his eyes, until he hears Clover murmur, "Hey, sweetheart. It's me. Baby girl, you're home. Come here. We've got you." A sigh of relief, a glow of green lighting the way forward from the clock face. "It's me. That's it. I've got you, and your Uncle Qrow's protecting both of us. Let's protect him, okay?" A pause, a shuddering sob. "I know. I'm so, so sorry, Ruby. We're never letting you go again. I swear to you."
The amount of love and heartbreak and longing in Clover's voice tears the sobs out of Qrow's throat, the man lifting up the elegant blade, clutching it to his chest. His younger niece is there now- at least he has a part of her, even though the form which he had held in his arms is on the floor, unrecognizable with its chest cut open and body shrunken thanks to the Grimm's processing. And as he runs forward, this blade held tightly in his arms, Clover continues to whisper words of love and comfort to his niece in Qrow's place. You're alright. We've got you. We don't know where Yang is, but we'll find her. Welcome back, Ruby. We love you. We missed you, too. We won't let you go.
Qrow stumbles multiple times as he runs, shoulders wracking with sobs too grief-filled to focus upon his path. The first time he falls, however, he retches again, for as he picks himself up off the floor, he casts a glance behind him. There is a trail of rose petals shimmering brightly as they fall upon the floor left behind in his wake. When one Apathy Grimm touches a petal, it recoils, screaming in pain as the petal seems to explode lightly, burning off the creature's pitchfork-like hand.
His younger niece has been reduced to some kind of power-up in the Harbinger. She has become another tool in his belt, another weapon. She is just-
After that, each time he stumbles, he does not look back. He does not need to- not when the only thing he needs to look for is James Ironwood, so he can spear this blade through that man's body once and for all for doing this to the people he loves.