AUTHOR'S NOTES: Time to catch up with the Belladonnas. Zootopia fans might get the in-joke with Ghira's secretary. The character of Charles Tabey is borrowed from the classic anthropomorphic comic "Omaha the Cat Dancer," though it's a much older version.

Office of the President

Glasgow, Lower Scotland, Menagerie

7 June 2001

Ghira Belladonna sat down behind his desk, and cracked his knuckles. The sun wasn't far up over the mountains, and he was looking forward to the workday. Ghira enjoyed work, even if the paperwork necessary to run Menagerie wasn't the most interesting thing in the world. His title of President was more symbolic than anything else; the real power in Menagerie was in the Council, and his job was more to act as a referee to keep the factions from bogging things down too much. Still, there was work to be done, and with the fiscal year coming to a close, he needed to work on the budget. That was a cure for insomnia if there ever was one, but nothing was getting Ghira down today. Blake was home, and all was right with the world.

Someone knocked on his door. "Aye," he called out.

His secretary opened the door. She was short, with fluffy white hair, a sheep Faunus that acted as Ghira's filter, younger than Blake; she knew computers, which he didn't. "Mr. President, someone to see you. She doesn't—"

"—have an appointment." The secretary was gently pushed aside, and Sienna Khan stood in the doorway. "Hello, Ghira. Been awhile."

Ghira took back his initial thought: if there was something that would get him down, it was the appearance of the High Leader of the White Fang. "Sienna," he rumbled. He looked past her to his secretary. "Do I have any appointments this morning?"

"No, sir."

"Then it appears we have some time to chat, Sienna." He motioned to the seat across from his chair. "Belle, bring us some coffee." Though Ghira did like his tea, he preferred coffee at work. And he had a feeling he was going to need it.

Sienna walked into the office like she owned it—something that Ghira knew she fervently wished to do. She wore an expensively-cut women's business suit, black edged in red, that ended in a skirt below her knees, a red cloak thrown over her shoulders. She took it off and draped it across the back of the seat, and said nothing until coffee was served. Neither took milk or sugar. Belle closed the door.

"What brings you here?" Ghira asked. "I'm impressed at your courage, walking around in the open like that."

Sienna smiled. "I'm not wanted for anything."

"Not here, no. The Americans are a different story. There's a rumor going around that the CIA wants you dead. And I imagine MI6 would like a word with you as well."

She sipped at the coffee. "Are you planning on extraditing me, Ghira?" Before he could answer, her smile became a smirk. "It doesn't matter, does it? The Council makes that choice, and half of them favor the White Fang."

"They wouldn't if they knew what you have been up to recently." She raised an eyebrow innocently, and Ghira set down his mug. "As the Americans would say, cut the bullshit, Sienna. You were at Beacon. You led the assault."

"I have no idea what you're talking about." To Sienna's credit, her face was unreadable, but as far as Ghira was concerned, that was an admission of guilt. An innocent person would have been noticeably shocked at his accusation. "I was in Menagerie during the Battle of Beacon. I heard about it on the BBC, same as you."

"Can you prove that?"

"The Albains will vouch for me, among others."

Ghira snorted. "I'm not surprised your pets will vouch for you." He ran a clawed finger around the rim of his coffee cup. "I have witnesses as well, Sienna. People who saw you there."

"There are other tiger Faunus." Sienna cradled the coffee cup in her hands and continued to smile. "May I assume that your daughter is one of the witnesses?"

"I see the Albains reported her presence here." He wasn't surprised.

"Mm-hm. I'm glad to see she's well—despite the best efforts of Adam Taurus." Sienna shook her head. "He led the assault on Beacon, not I."

"He was in the air, in his Moonslice. He did not lead the ground assault. You did." He said it with finality. "I listened to that message that was broadcast after that Penny Polendina was killed. That was you. I know your voice."

Sienna shrugged. "Believe what you want, Ghira."

"It's not what I believe. It's what the Council will believe." He tapped the desk. "Because I'm going to tell them."

"You may wish to hurry, since I intend to tell them myself." Sienna took a drink and set the cup on his desk. "That's what I came to tell you. I request time to address the Menagerie Council myself, regarding these heinous attacks by Adam's rogue group. I have a plan to bring him to justice."

Ghira laughed, slapping his thigh. "Oh, that is rich. What are you going to do-give him a seat on the Council?"

"Actually, that's my plan, Ghira."

Now it was Ghira who raised an eyebrow. "Care to explain?"

"Well, you do know that Charles Tabey is getting on in years."

Ghira laughed again. "You mean ancient. And yes, I'm aware he's has COPD, cirrhosis, and gout. But he's beaten cancer, had more surgeries than Michael Jackson, and will probably outlive all of us. And unless you know something I don't, he's not leaving the Council. He's been there since it started." Ghira knew Charles Tabey well, though it was not a friendship. Tabey ran Menagerie Oil Limited, and was the wealthiest Faunus in the world. He had bought Edinburgh Castle and turned it into his home and personal fortress. Tabey supported the White Fang, though Ghira suspected it was more due to fear than actually agreeing with the White Fang's goals.

"How strange. He told me he intends to step down next month. And I intend to stand for his seat, with his endorsement."

Ghira could not keep a scowl off of his face. The area of Edinburgh that Tabey represented was gerrymandered to ensure Tabey would get reelected every year. If Tabey instructed his constituents to vote for Adolf Hitler, they would do so. Sienna would easily win an election there. "It will be…interesting to have you on the Council, Sienna. I've always believed in the old saying about keeping your friends close and your enemies closer."

Sienna stood. "We're not enemies, Ghira. We shouldn't be. Both of us believe in Faunus rights."

"I believe in Faunus rights. You believe in Faunus domination."

"I believe in taking a hard line with the humans, yes. It's the only way they will listen!" Her voice rose, and for a moment, Ghira saw the fanaticism in her eyes. It had always been Sienna's weakness.

"Which is why you attacked Beacon," Ghira stated.

Sienna sighed. "I see you're convinced, Ghira. Well, it won't make a difference. When I present Adam Taurus to the Council, giftwrapped on a silver platter, you're going to look like a damned fool."

"I'm not holding my breath."

"I would think you'd been keenly interested in bringing to justice the Faunus that tried to kill your daughter." Sienna made a show of thinking about it. "No, that's not correct. He crippled your daughter's friend Yang Xiao Long. He spared Blake because the stupid fool still loves her. Though I must wonder if she still loves him. Perhaps she spared him?"

Ghira stared at her. "Sienna, I know far more about my daughter's relationship with Adam Taurus than you do. Of course she still loves him—she loves the boy he used to be, not the monster you turned him into."

"I did nothing. That was all him." She shrugged. "You can ask him when I bring him in front of the Council in chains."

"We'll see."

"Yes. We will. Because you're not the only one who sees that maniac as a threat, Ghira." Sienna settled her cloak around her shoulders, although Glasgow was actually suffering from unseasonable summer heat. "I request time to present to the Council this afternoon. An hour will suffice."

"Not today." He looked at his schedule. "Three days from now. You can have two hours then. We're debating the budget this week."

"Ah." Sienna walked to the door and opened it. "Thank you for the coffee, Ghira. In three days, then." She bowed slightly, and left, closing the door.

Ghira watched the door for a long while. He wasn't sure which was more disconcerting: the fact that Sienna was running for a seat on the Council, or the fact that he actually believed her about Adam Taurus.

That night, Blake leaned against the balcony, trying to get her courage up, and looked at the stars. It was still warm, and the air smelled good, the wind coming off the pines to the south. When it shifted and came off the River Clyde to the north, it was not as pleasant. She looked at the low mountains in the distance. I should go hiking while I'm home. I haven't done that in years. Blake smiled, thinking of when she was a kid, chasing the sheep around the foothills while her parents tried to stop her. There were some good fish ponds up there too. The water would be cold, but she remembered skinnydipping with Adam in those ponds...

Dammit. Her good mood evaporated instantly. She hated Adam, and yet she could not deny that they had wonderful memories together. There was a time when she had been waiting on this very balcony, and saw him climbing up one of the trees to make the leap. It had been insane—Ghira and Kali had warned her to stay away from Adam Taurus, as he was trouble, but that just made it sweeter at an age when most teenagers like to defy their parents. He'd barely made the jump, almost racking himself on the railing, but then he'd seized her and kissed her like it was their last night on earth. They'd managed to sneak past her parents and made very passionate, very quiet love in her bed, the experience enhanced by the thrill of maybe getting caught, and doing something her parents had forbidden her to. Even now, it sent a shiver through her, and she felt a little pang of the old desire for him.

She stared at the door to her father's office. Ghira had not been in a good mood when he'd gotten home. He'd said nothing during dinner, while Kali chatted away with Blake and Sun about the day. Sun, who was never one to be a homebody, had gone exploring, taking in Paisley's market and checking out a little of Glasgow proper. Ghira had eaten sparingly, excused himself, and retreated to his office. Blake wanted to know what was wrong; he had left this morning in a good mood, laughing over breakfast, giving her a noogie, and even being civil to Sun.

Blake loved her father dearly, although she'd always been closer to her mother and lived in some fear of Ghira. However, while she had been sweating out the drill instructor at Parris Island and withstanding officers' training at Lejeune, Blake realized how much she was like her father. She'd inherited his same toughness of mind and spirit, the same stoic willingness to endure. The choice of the US Marine Corps for her hiding place was not so strange after all. He had been stern with her, but never rough; disciplined her, but never maliciously. That discipline had stood her well in training: she could take anything the DI could dish out, and both of them knew it. When other trainees fell out, unable to go on, Blake kept going. She'd never been coddled, and in the Marines, it was weakness to have been coddled.

Blake had graduated alone in both places, watching as other trainees and new officers were congratulated by their families. She knew her mother was proud of her, and had forgiven her a long time ago, but despite his words and actions, Blake still wasn't sure about her father. He'd been warm enough when she'd returned, but there were still things between them.

"You know, you can always go in and talk to him." Blake jumped, startled as Kali walked onto the balcony, carrying a tea tray.

Blake smiled wanly. "No, it's okay. I don't want to bother him. He's got a lot on his mind."

"A father is never too busy for his daughter," Kali assured her.

"Not all my friends would agree with you on that."

Kali leaned forward and kissed her daughter on the cheek. "Your father is hardly Jacques Schnee." She handed her the tea tray. "Here you are."

"What? No, Mom!" Kali began to walk away. "Where are you going?"

"Your friend Sun is regaling me about the heroics of Ruby Flight—and himself, of course." Kali winked, and went inside.

"Half of what he says is bullshit, Mom!" Blake called out after her. Then she looked at the tea tray, sighed, and went to the office door. She opened it with her rear, and walked in.

Ghira was looking over some paperwork. He'd taken off his suit and donned a pair of jeans and a bathrobe; a pair of spectacles was perched on his nose. He did not look up. "Kali, is that you?"

"It's me, Dad."

Ghira put down the paper and took off his glasses. "Blake! Well, that's a nice surprise." He got up and walked down from his desk to the table that sat in front of it. There was a couch and a recliner next to it, and he dropped into the latter as Blake set the tea on the table. "Sit, sit. I'll get the tea."

"I don't want to keep you if you're busy."

Ghira waved it off. "Trust me, I could use the break." He picked up the caddy and poured two cups, then put a cube of sugar in hers. "You still take sugar, right?"

"Actually…well…"

Ghira looked embarrassed. "Sorry."

"No, it's okay."

He handed her his teacup. "Here, take mine."

"Really, it's no big deal, Dad."

"Are you sure?"

Blake nodded. "Yes, sir."

Ghira stopped and set down the tea. "You know…I think I might have a better idea than a spot of tea." He got up out of the recliner, walked over to the shelf, and opened the liquor cabinet. "How does a little Johnny Walker sound?"

"Dad?" Blake asked. "You're offering me scotch?"

"I think you're old enough." He paused. "Marine."

Blake stared at him, then laughed. She pushed aside the tea tray. "Liquor me up, Dad."

He laughed too, and poured both of them a glass. He handed hers to her, and sat down. Ghira raised his glass. "To our wives and sweethearts."

Blake raised hers. "May they never meet." Then both took a swig. It went off like a bomb in Blake's stomach, but it was a pleasant explosion. "Whoof."

"I'm sorry. I forgot you've probably never had any scotch."

"Dad," Blake grinned, "I have actually drank quite a bit of scotch. In fact, about two months ago, everyone except Weiss got so drunk that we had to be carried back to our rooms." It wasn't quite true; Weiss had dragged Ruby back, and Yang had been dragging Glynda Goodwitch the width of the sidewalk while singing the Macarena. Blake remembered none of that, since Cardin Winchester had carried her back to the dorm like a sack of potatoes. She'd also woken up next to Yang. But Ghira didn't need to know any of that.

Ghira put down his glass. "Blake, sometimes I forget that you're not ten anymore. That you're a grown woman." He looked at her. "Speaking of which, aren't you cold?"

"Sir?"

He motioned at her. "It just seems like your outfit…doesn't cover very much."

Blake self-consciously covered herself. None of her wardrobe had survived Beacon, so she'd been forced to make do with whatever she could buy at Patuxent River and aboard the Reagan. At the moment, she was wearing a pair of her mother's shorts and a sleeveless T-shirt with the globe and anchor of the USMC on it. Kali was shorter than her daughter, so the shorts were more than halfway up Blake's thighs. "Well, it was a bit hot outside today."

Ghira sighed. "Sorry. Again." He smoothed his beard, something Blake recognized as an old nervous habit. "Blake…you've grown up to be such a fine young woman. It's a…a Dad thing." He got up again, went to his desk, pulled out two framed photographs, and handed one to her. It was Blake when she had graduated from Parris Island, an unsmiling shot of her in Marine dress blues. "One of my friends in the American Marines sent us these. I have never been more proud of you than when I saw this picture. Unless it was when I saw this one." The second picture was Blake in her flight suit, leaning against a F-18. She was only faintly smiling in that one, the bow in her hair; the sunlight had caught her lieutenant's bars just right. "So you don't have to call me sir, Blake. You've earned the right. Hell, now you outrank me." He smoothed her hair gently. "Though you'd better still call me Dad."

Blake set down the pictures, leaned forward, and put her hands to her eyes. She shook her head, but the tears still came, and she began sobbing. Ghira drew back. "What? What's wrong, Blake? What did I say?"

"How can you still love me after what I did?"

He came around the couch and sat next to her. "What are you talking about?"

"You were right, Dad!" she cried. "You and Mom were right. And I shouted and yelled and cursed you and called you cowards."

"Blake, that was years ago—"

"When I came back—after I left the White Fang—we were in such a hurry, and I was in such a fog. I don't even remember if I said I was sorry."

"You did," he reassured her.

"But I've had time to think about it. I wasn't just staying away because I was hiding from the White Fang, Dad. I was ashamed. I didn't want to talk to anyone. I hid. That's why I wore that ribbon. Not that it did any good, because Weiss found out…but she forgave me for being White Fang. And I forgave her for being a Schnee. And we were such a great team and I loved those girls and I fucking ran!" She reached down, snatched the glass, and would have thrown it in pure frustration, had her father's beefy hand not grabbed hers, and gently taken it out of her grasp. She turned and buried her face in her father's chest. "I ran, Daddy. I ran. God help me, that's all I've ever done. You should hate me. I hate me!"

Ghira hugged his daughter. "Blake, your mother and I could never hate you."

"Why didn't I listen to you?" she sniffed. "You warned me, and I didn't listen…"

"Blake, you were so young. You were in love, and not just with Adam Taurus." She looked up at him with reddened eyes. Her father rarely spoke Adam's name. "You were in love with the idea of the White Fang. But even then, we never hated you. We were just afraid you would go down the wrong path."

"But I did, Dad—"

"And you pulled yourself out of it. You realized what you were doing was wrong, and you stopped yourself. And then you turned your life around…and look at you now."

Blake laughed humorlessly. "Yeah, look at me now. A wreck. A coward."

"Wrong. A Marine." He drew back from her, both hands enfolding her shoulders. "We might not have been able to communicate with you, but we followed you—on the telly, on this internet thing, and occasional phone calls from people I know in America. You fought the White Fang over Lake Michigan, at La Crosse, and at Beacon. You fought the GRIMM too. Battlefield promotion to captain, and a Navy Cross." Blake looked at him in shock. "Oh, we know about that. Captain Ozpin called us. We were over the moon about that. Kali and I almost flew out to Beacon to see you, but we were worried that the White Fang would follow us. Which was stupid, since they obviously already knew about you."

"I still ran away," Blake repeated.

"A good Marine knows there is a time to fall back from an indefensible position, Blake."

"I abandoned my friends, though!"

"Did you? Where are your friends now?"

Blake paused, then realized her father wasn't asking a rhetorical question. "Well…Ruby's gone somewhere on a secret mission or something…Weiss is in Germany, at her parents' place…Yang's at her dad's place, recovering."

"And is there a law that you can't leave and see them? Aside from Ruby, of course."

"I can't," Blake said. "Dad, Yang lost her arm because Adam came after me. She was trying to help me fight him. It's my fault."

"I should think it was Adam's fault." Ghira gently poked his daughter in the chest. "You didn't fire the shot that took Yang's arm off. Adam did."

"I know, but he wouldn't have been there if I wasn't!"

"Do you know that? I'm pretty certain the White Fang would've attacked Beacon even if Blake Belladonna wasn't there." He kissed her forehead. "Blake, you have to stop blaming yourself for Adam Taurus. He created himself. Sienna Khan helped, but ultimately it is his fault, his responsibility. He fought monsters until he became one. You recognized that and left. You can't save him. You never could." He leaned back in the couch, still keeping an arm around Blake. "You know I'm rather a fan of Winston Churchill."

"I hadn't noticed," Blake chuckled. There was a bust of Churchill on Ghira's desk, next to his picture of Kali and Blake. There was a painting of the legendary prime minister in his office.

"Remember what he said about victory and defeat?"

"'Victory is never final, and defeat is never fatal.'"

"'It is courage that counts,'" Ghira finished the quote. "You have courage, Blake. You wouldn't be a fighter pilot or a Marine if you didn't. You wouldn't be my daughter if you didn't. Rest here, recover, and then go back out there. Go to Germany. Go back to America. Find your friends, and fight. Your mother and I will be behind you all the way." Ghira raised his voice. "And why don't you come in and join us, Mr. Wukong, instead of eavesdropping?"

There was a commotion outside the door, then it suddenly fell inwards and crashed to the floor, bringing Sun Wukong with it. Blake sighed. "You really need to fix that door. It's never been right since that day you kicked it off its hinges. You were so angry that day."

Ghira got to his feet as Sun struggled to do the same. "I'm starting to feel about that way now." He towered over Sun.

Sun scratched the back of his head. "So sorry—thought this was the bathroom—didn't meant to interrupt a tender family moment-"

"Which was why you've been out there for the past three minutes? Do you think that I'm so old that I don't hear what happens in my house?"

"No, sir, I don't, it's just that I, uh…"

"I really don't like you," Ghira grunted.

Blake sighed, grabbed the scotch and quickly knocked it back, then jumped up and dragged Sun onto the balcony before her father obliterated him. She shoved him into the corner furthest away from her father, for Sun's protection and her own. "You stupid ass!" she hissed. "What were you thinking?"

"I heard you crying! I was concerned!"

"So you eavesdropped?"

"I didn't want to interrupt! I didn't know you dad had such good hearing!" He looked away from her. "Dammit, Blake…I'm sorry. Okay? I'm sorry. It was dumb. You're right."

Blake rubbed her eyes. She wanted to be angry at Sun, but wasn't sure if she was displacing her anger at herself onto him. And he was just looking out for his friend. "You're not my bodyguard, Sun. I can take care of myself."

"It's not just that," Sun said, after a pause. "Your mom said something weird about the White Fang."

"Like what?"

"Sienna Khan. She's here in Glasgow. Walking around openly!"

Blake held up a finger. "Stop."

"But she—at Beacon—"

"I said stop, Sun. I'm not here to fight the White Fang. I'm not here to hear about the White Fang. I am here to rest and figure out just what the hell I'm doing with my life."

"I'm just trying to help, Blake," Sun protested.

"And I appreciate it, but please…stop." She tried a smile. "Okay?"

"Okay." Sun smiled back.

That left them staring at each other. Both suddenly realized they were close to the other, and Blake found herself staring into Sun's blue eyes, that handsome face. God, he's attractive, she thought. From the look in his eyes, she knew he was thinking the same thing about her.

Then there was movement in the woods behind them. If Blake had not been looking at Sun, she would not have noticed it. In the light from the house, it was merely a shadow. Blake leaned closer, and Sun audibly swallowed. "Blake?" The figure shifted again. It was definitely human…or Faunus. "Blake?" Sun repeated. He wasn't sure if she was trying to kiss him or not. Her eyes were fixed at a point behind him, but she kept getting closer. He looked down, and wished he hadn't: Blake's breasts were getting uncomfortably close to his chest; two more inches and they would be touching. If her father came out right now-Sun had a vision of himself floating face down in the river.

Suddenly, Blake shoved him to one side, jumped atop the wooden balcony railing, and leapt into the woods. Sun spun around, and saw a shadow leap out of the tree to another, and then to another, heading for the front. Blake pursued, making each jump out of memory; she'd played in these trees since she was a child.

But so had someone else.

Sun almost pursued—after all, monkeys were the world's best tree-climbers—but had a better idea. Instead, he ran through the house, nearly bowling over Kali. "Excuse me!" he yelled. "Blake's after a, uh, ninja!" It was the only thing that came to mind.

Kali's eyebrows raised. "Ninjas? Well, that's a first."

Blake saw the shadow drop to the ground, just outside the Belladonna Lodge's low wall, short of the stairway. It was a long drop, but the figure rolled when they reached the ground, back to their feet. Blake took a breath and followed, remembering her parachute training. She hit the ground hard, prayed nothing had broken, and rolled as well.

The figure was staring at her through the white mask in the dim moonlight; here, there were no streetlights and the house lights were too far. By its curves, it was feminine, dressed in a black jumpsuit, but even its skin seemed black. Blake knew only one person who could pull off that trick.

But before she could speak, the shadow was suddenly tackled by a blur of white and blonde. Sun had covered the steps out of the house three at a time, saw his chance, and threw himself outwards in a spear that any pro wrestler would be proud to call their own.

Sun was a good deal bigger and stronger than the person, and he got hold of something that felt like arms, though they were squirming around so much that he wasn't sure if they had two or four of them. He finally got it pinned down by throwing himself on top of them, using his body weight, and then realized the mask had come off partially in the scuffle. A pale blue eye looked up at him; beneath it were freckles, a small nose, and full lips. Against his chest were the unmistakable swells of female breasts. Not as impressive as Blake's, but definitely female. "You're a girl?" he asked incredously.

The lips twisted into anger and she brought a knee squarely into his groin. Sun let out a noise between a choke and a squeak, collapsed, and rolled off, hands going to cradle himself as fiery tendrils of pain radiated out across his body. More pain rolled through him as the girl got out from under him and planted a boot in his shoulder on the way.

"Ilia, stop!" Blake shouted.

Ilia Amitola pulled her mask up over her forehead. There was no mistaking it was her. Blake had known her since they were children. They'd played in that forest, shared secrets, stolen a first kiss, cried together in Blake's room, joined the White Fang together. "Ilia," Blake said. "What are you doing here? Why were you spying on us?"

Ilia's skin flushed green, which Blake knew she did when she was sad. "You shouldn't have come back," she said. Then she turned and ran. Blake could have pursued, but knew it would do no good. Ilia had always been faster.

She turned to Sun, who was trying to sit up, still holding himself. "You okay?" she asked.

"No!" he gritted out, then followed it with a spate of angry Chinese curses. She knelt next to him, and on impulse, kissed his cheek. "My hero."

"Ha ha ha." He was sucking in his breath. "I think she busted one of my balls open. Son of a bitch!"

Blake patted his shoulder in sympathy, and he sucked in his breath at that, too. Then she saw something silver in the moonlight, and reached out.

It was a cell phone, a flip phone. Blake turned it over and, to her surprise, saw that it had a lens embedded in it, part of the phone. "Sun, is this yours?"

He painfully looked over his shoulder. "Nope!" He gingerly twisted around. "That's one of those new ones with a camera. I thought…ow…those were only in Japan?"

Blake turned it over. It wasn't cracked, and looked intact. It must be Ilia's, she thought. Sun must have knocked it out of her pocket when he tackled her. If it has a camera, then she was taking pictures. But why? Ilia knows my house better than her orphanage. And I still regard her as a friend; she knows she can talk to me. Why was she spying? "Sun, is there a way to get the pictures off of this?" she asked.

"How should I know? Neptune knows that shit, not me!"

Blake held the phone. "I wonder if Dad knows someone."