AUTHOR'S NOTES: Back from my trip, which was a lot of fun. I think that's it for the year, so back to the story.

London Heathrow International Airport

London, United Kingdom

9 June 2001

Weiss Schnee sat in the boarding lounge for Menagerie Airways Flight 2417, trying to ignore passerby and concentrate on the book she'd bought at the Munich airport. It was Ninjas of Love III: One Night in Edo, the third in the series of trashy romance novels that Blake enjoyed; Weiss found it to be overwritten in some places and filled with hair-raising sex scenes in others. Ruby was right, Weiss thought to herself, this is filth. Still, it was just interesting enough to occasionally get her mind off the fact that she was now a fugitive, AWOL from the Luftwaffe and probably a woman without a country. And that everyone was staring at her, although in actuality, no one was.

The escape from Germany had actually gone without a hitch. After Whitley had dropped her off at the Munich airport, she'd passed through security without much difficulty; even the pistol in her luggage had not seemed to bother the Bundesgrenzschutz, since she'd presented her license for it when she'd arrived at the checkpoint. Customs at Heathrow also went smoothly. Weiss remembered the lessons she'd gotten when she'd appeared in plays growing up: she'd become the part. Pearl White was an American expatriate headed back to her home in London after a sightseeing trip to Germany. The security men at both airports were bored and tired, and Weiss knew that they would pay no attention to her unless she acted nervous. And there was no reason to be nervous: Pearl White would be bored and tired as well. Once through customs at Heathrow, she'd purchased her ticket on the flight to Glasgow—the second flight that morning. By now, her father would have noticed her missing, and he might figure out that she was running towards her nearest friend—Blake Belladonna. If he did, he would assume she had changed planes quickly, not sat in a Heathrow boarding lounge for four hours in the early morning. It was risky, but Weiss figured she'd already risked everything else.

Over the book, she saw a Faunus in Menagerie Airways' blue uniform move to the ticket counter, and started putting everything into her carry-on; they were clearly about to announce boarding for the flight. It was then that she noticed two policemen walking directly towards her. Weiss glanced around, but there was nowhere to run—and if she started running, she would immediately confirm her identity.

"Miss White?" one of them asked. "Can we have a word with you?"

Weiss acted surprised, as Pearl White would have been if two airport security men walked up to her. "Sure," she said, doing a fair imitation of Ruby's high-pitched, slightly nasal accent. She'd been using that voice since Munich. "What's up, officers?"

The policeman smiled apologetically, and lowered his voice. "It's about the, ah, gun in your luggage, ma'am."

"I have a permit. The cops in Germany cleared it."

"Yes, ma'am, of course. But we do need to see it." He shrugged. "It's routine, ma'am. We'll make sure you don't miss your flight."

There was no real reason to protest, which would attract attention. "Well, okay," Weiss said. "Lead on." She followed both of the police to a nearby office, but noticed a third taking up position behind them. That set off alarm bells, just as it would if she'd looked behind her in Myrtenaster and saw a GRIMM sliding into her six o'clock. But again, there was nowhere to run.

The office was bare bones, just a small security office. She heard the door shut behind her. There were a few chairs and a table. Behind the table was an older, heavyset man, with graying hair and a thick beard. He was dressed in a RAF uniform, with the blue rings of an Air Vice Marshal on his cuffs. Just for a moment, Weiss saw the swish of a tail behind him, that of a lion. It reminded her of someone, and she knew instantly who this was. And knew just as instantly that she'd been caught.

Weiss came to attention. "Air Vice Marshal Lionheart, sir."

He nodded and smiled. "I don't think we've met, Hauptmann Schnee, but I'm glad you recognize me. It saves the trouble of you trying to convince us that you're someone that you're not."

"No, sir." Weiss couldn't keep the disappointment out of her voice.

Lionheart looked to the two policemen. "That will be all, gentlemen. Thank you." The two men gave a brief bow and left the office. She and Lionheart were now alone. "Before you think about running out the door," he advised her, "those two gentlemen are waiting outside. And there's others as well."

Weiss set her carry-on down and took a seat, feeling oddly defiant. "When did you know?"

"When Pearl White passed through customs, it warned MI5 that a Schnee was in the country. Given your family's targeting by the White Fang, you're entitled to a security detail. MI5 was quite surprised to find you in disguise—took them awhile to track you down."

Weiss sighed. She'd stepped out of one trap and then right into another, of her own making. She should have known that MI5—Britain's internal security force—would have her passport and those of the other Schnees flagged. Yet if she had boarded the first flight out, she would be in Menagerie by now and out of MI5's reach—and her father's. But she'd outthought herself, and now she was truly trapped. "I see. So will I be sent home on the next Lufthansa flight, or in chains?"

Lionheart laughed. "Neither."

"My father knows I'm here?" Weiss made it a question.

"Not likely. Oh, he knows you've left—in fact, he seems to have learned it while you were in flight between Munich and here. But he made the mistake of accusing Ironwood of helping you. Naturally, the good general denied everything, but figured out that you would not be so foolish as to attempt to fly to the United States. No, you'd come here—to throw your father off the scent and to travel to see the Belladonnas." His smile got wider. "I didn't realize that the Luftwaffe gave their pilots training in skullduggery."

"It comes with the territory when you're hunted by the White Fang," Weiss said.

"Quite. Ironwood contacted MI5, learned about the legendary yet dowdy Miss Pearl White arriving at Heathrow, and then asked me to speak with you—once we found you, of course."

"I don't understand," Weiss told him. "I'm absent without leave from my post. At the very least I'm facing court-martial."

"At the moment, yes. You are indeed absent without leave. However, General Ironwood and myself are working on orders that will temporarily detach you from your 'duties' at Herrencheimsee to my post…at Yokota, Japan. It seems the Japanese Air Self-Defense Force plans on equipping its F-2 force with DUST. And who better than Hauptmann Weiss Schnee to advise them on how it works?" Lionheart leaned back in the chair. "Given that your input will lead to the JASDF buying DUST, even your father might forgive you, if it puts millions of Deutschmarks in his pocket. Does that sound adequate, Hauptmann?"

Weiss found herself grinning stupidly. She was no longer a fugitive at all. She was not only escaping her father, her own superior officers were going to help her do it. "It does indeed, Air Vice Marshal."

"There is a hitch." Lionheart stared at the ceiling for a moment. "The orders won't be drawn up for awhile yet. I could keep you here under wraps, but your father is, as you know, a very powerful man. He could put enough pressure on Her Majesty's Government to hand you back over, and both Ironwood's and my own hands would be tied. So we need to get you off British soil as soon as possible, and unobtrusively as possible. Flying direct to Japan, commercially or even militarily, would cause issues. Your father can put pressure on the Japanese government as well. So instead of flying you east…we'll fly you west."

"To the United States?" Weiss found her heart beating faster. The United States meant a lot more friends than she had here. Ruby was no longer there, but Yang was, as were a lot of other Beacon veterans.

"Yes, but by the time you get there, Captain Xiao Long may be on her way to Japan as well. It would be best to avoid contact. You'll stop there once or twice, then make your way across the Pacific." Lionheart folded his hands in front of him. "I will be honest, Miss Schnee. You'll be flying in a cargo aircraft—an old Russian one at that. It would be the last type of aircraft a Schnee would be found on, which is why you'll be using it. The pilot is a dependable one, an old friend of the family, if you will. He will get you there, no error…but it won't exactly be British Airways first class, mind. It will be cold and noisy, but your father won't be looking for you on it—nor will your sister." Weiss grimaced; Winter might be looking for her as well, and not necessarily to protect her. Winter despised their father as much or more than Weiss did, but Winter also could be very strict when it came to regulations, and Weiss had violated pretty much all of them. "By the time you reach Haven—that's what we're calling the base at Yokota nowadays; it's something of a codename—your orders will be approved, and Jacques Schnee can whistle for his dinner." He smiled again. "Any questions?"

"You've given this a lot of thought," Weiss remarked.

"Not the first time I've worked on the shady side of the street, Hauptmann."

"Then I have only two questions. The first is, why are you doing this? Why help me?"

Lionheart's eyes, which had been twinkling like a Faunus Santa Claus, suddenly went granite hard. "For the same reason I came out of retirement. Whoever attacked Beacon also killed my little Ruth. She was all I had left, and the bastards took her from me." At Weiss' expression of shock, he nodded grimly. "She was murdered, Hauptmann. The CIA confirmed it to me. Whoever killed her I will see dead, I swear by God and all the saints. If helping you gets me one step closer to Ruth's killers, then I will gladly throw away this uniform and my career. Luckily, it seems my government and others won't make that particular sacrifice necessary."

Weiss gave him a solemn nod, then smiled herself. "My second question is…when do I leave?"

The hard look on Lionheart's face instantly disappeared, replaced by a toothy grin. "Immediately."

The Belladonna Lodge

Paisley, Menagerie

9 June 2001

Sun Wukong slowly woke up. At first, he couldn't remember where he was, then he realized he was laying on the couch in the spacious living room of the lodge. He blinked and looked across at the recliner, where Blake Belladonna sat. He grinned at her. "Take a picture, it'll last longer." He'd fallen asleep with his shirt off.

Blake blinked herself. "Sorry. I wasn't staring."

"Then why did you say you were sorry?"

Blake looked away. "Shut up. You're such an asshole."

"Ow. That hurt worse than your friend kneeing me in the balls." Sun moved on the couch, and winced as a little tendril of pain rolled upwards from his groin. "Okay, almost worse." He'd actually had to go to the hospital, after one of his testicles had swollen; Ilia had done some real damage to him. It still hurt, even a few days later.

"Are you all right?" she suddenly asked.

"Sure. It only hurts when I breathe." He saw the alarm on her face and waved his hands. "I'm just kidding, Blake. It doesn't hurt hardly at all, honestly." He sat up to prove it. "It could be worse. Didn't you say she was the one who almost nailed Weiss over Mountain Glenn? She could've shot me down. Now you want pain…" Suddenly he realized what he'd said. "Oh, shit. I'm sorry, Blake. I'm sorry. I didn't even think about Yang."

Blake was quiet for several minutes, as Sun tried to think of a way to make up for his faux pas. Then she spoke, in a low voice. "This is why, Sun. This is why I ran."

"Huh?"

"I'm done, Sun." Blake's voice rose, and she slammed a fist into the arm of the chair—which was heavily upholstered, so the effect was somewhat muted. The rage in her yellow eyes was not. "I am done seeing my friends get hurt because of me!"

"Blake, c'mon. It's not even the first time I've been kneed in the nuts—"

"Shut up!" she exploded. "It's not all about you!" She jumped to her feet, teeth bared. "Every day, Sun. Every fucking day I think about Ruby, and Weiss, and Yang. They were my friends! They were the first people outside my own family that I knew I could trust. I loved them like I've never loved anyone, except my parents." She collapsed back in the chair, hands pressed to her face, the tears falling and hating herself because she couldn't stop it. "What the hell is wrong with me, Sun? Why? Why do I do this? Why do I always run?" She began sobbing, smacking a fist into the arm of the chair. "God, they hate me. I hope they hate me. I don't deserve friends."

Sun stood and walked over to her. He tried to put a hand on her shoulder, but she drew away. "Blake, please," he said. "You know that's not true."

"It's true," Blake insisted. "It has to be." She stood and put distance between them, back to him. "Don't try to help me, Sun. Everyone thinks they can, but they can't. Everyone's better off without me." The words were spilling out now, words Blake had been saving for a long time. She couldn't stop them. She didn't want to. She wanted to cry and cry and cry until there were no tears left. She wanted to smash her fist into something, anything, most of all herself.

Blake was surprised when Sun grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her around. She raised a hand to hit him, but was stopped by the anger in his eyes. She'd never seen Sun angry, but he was now. His tail curled around her wrist tightly. "Now that's enough," he snapped. "Blake, what the fuck? You think you're being selfless by keeping everyone away? Well, you're not. You're just isolating yourself. I don't hate you and Ruby Flight damn sure doesn't. I think the only person that hates you is yourself." He gripped her shoulders tighter, enough that it hurt. "I don't care if your chameleon friend had shot me, Blake. I don't care if she tries to shoot me the next time. I'll still do it if it meant that you're not hurt." He let go one shoulder to poke her in the chest. "And I guarantee Yang would do the same."

He let go of her and stepped back, shaking his head. "You can make your own choices, Blake. You don't get to make ours. When Yang jumped Adam in that fight, it's because she wanted to. When I tackled Miss Crotch Kicker, it was because I wanted to. Stop pushing us out, Blake. That really does hurt worse than anything."

Blake was quiet again, massaging her arms. Then she said, "I guess you've been wanting to say that for awhile."

"Maybe a little. Someone has to." He looked away from her. "Granted, it would've been better from Yang maybe. But you've got to stop this, Blake. It's not healthy. You want to rest here for awhile? Okay, great. You've earned that. But if you want to stop running…then stop running."

"It's not that simple."

"Yeah, actually it is. You need to realize you've got a lot of people who like being your friend." He massaged his scalp. "What was it that Professor Ozpin told us one time? That someone can feel strong and courageous around friends? I know I do."

And so did I, Blake thought. She realized that, after leaving the White Fang and before Ruby Flight, she'd merely been existing. Maybe that was true when she was with the White Fang as well. But at Vytal Flag, in the club during the drunken blowout after Lake Michigan, in the dorm room joking around with Yang, even in combat itself…she had felt alive. She hadn't been just existing; she'd been living.

Blake walked to Sun, stood on tiptoe, and kissed his cheek. He started in surprise. First she'd been screaming about how everyone hated her, then she'd been ready to slap him, now she was kissing him. Blake's mood swings were something to behold. "Thank you," she said.

"For what?"

"For telling me what I needed to hear, not what I wanted to hear."

He looked at his bare feet. "Sorry if I hurt you."

"You didn't hurt me."

Suddenly both of them realized that they were close to each other again. She was staring at his face, and he looked up into those yellow eyes, bright and beautiful. Sun decided that he couldn't criticize Blake for mood swings, since a minute ago he'd been yelling at her, and now he really, really wanted to kiss her. Hesitatingly, he brought up his hands to her cheeks. She didn't move away. "Sun," she whispered. "I don't…I don't know if…"

He bent down. Her eyes fluttered closed, and her lips opened. He was close enough to taste her breath, to feel it…

Both of them nearly leapt into the ceiling when the door crashed down. In the doorway stood a blushing Kali Belladonna. "Oh my!" she said in an utterly synthetic act of surprise. "These blasted doors. We really do need to have them replaced. Why, they fall in at the slightest of touches…"

Blake covered her eyes. "Mom…" she groaned.

Sun sighed and waved. "Hi, Mrs. B."

Vauxhall Cross

London, United Kingdom

9 June 2001

Ghira Belladonna shook hands with the head of MI6. Movies would have had the man be the quintessential British gentleman: a short, older man with a pipe, perhaps, or even female, a grandmotherly type with a voice of steel. Instead, Stewart Menzies was tall, and if he was pushing fifty, he didn't look it. Under the business suit was a musculature that rivaled Ghira's own. For a second, he and Ghira tested the other's grip; neither was disappointed. Menzies motioned Ghira to a seat, and walked behind the impressive desk. "Mr. Belladonna—or is it Chief?"

"Mister is fine," Ghira replied. "Should I call you Mr. Menzies…or M?"

Menzies laughed. "That's actually a joke around here. Shall we compromise? You can call me Stewart."

"Then you can call me Ghira."

"A drink?" Menzies opened the sideboard and pulled out a bottle of bourbon. Ghira nodded, and Menzies poured both of them a glass. Once Ghira had his, the head of MI6 sat down himself, reached into his desk, and pushed across the cell phone. "Let me begin by saying that this was very interesting listening—if not interesting viewing."

Ghira nodded. "I agree. The video and sound quality was very poor. That's why I brought it to you."

"And we appreciate it." Menzies took a drink and sighed. "Sadly, I'm afraid it's not enough to have Sienna Khan arrested."

"It is her voice," Ghira protested. "For that matter, it was her voice in the broadcast before the Battle of Beacon."

"I know that, and you know that," Menzie agreed. "But a court of law won't know that. If we were to arrest her, Ghira, she would beat the charge. As she's had before. Interpol has been following Sienna around for years, and they've tried everything. Oh, we know that she slipped away to the United States, shortly before the White Fang launched their attacks—both of them. The failed one from Mountain Glenn, and the later one that was successful. It's strangely coincidental that Sienna drops off the face of the earth before all this happens, and then just as suddenly returns after it's all over. We can match the voice, perhaps we could even trace her movements…but she has good lawyers. The most we could do is not allow her to visit the UK. And even then it might not work."

Ghira felt like throwing the liquor glass against the wall. He'd thought that Ilia Amitola's cell phone would be the smoking gun that he could use to finally destroy Sienna Khan. Menzies read his expression. "I'm sorry, Ghira. I suppose this is personal now."

"My daughter says Sienna was at Beacon. I believe her."

"And so do I. But haul Sienna in front of a court in Britain, and she'll claim that there are dozens of other tiger Faunus. And she'd be right." Menzies stirred the glass. "Even turning her over to the World Court in the Hague would do nothing. She'd have them tied up in procedural issues for decades." He looked up at Ghira. "That leaves Menagerie."

Ghira sniffed a bitter laugh. "Menagerie's Council will do nothing for fear of alienating those Faunus who support the White Fang. She's probably going to stand for election later in the year. Supposedly Charles Tabey plans to step down due to health reasons."

Menzies chuckled. "I'll believe that when I see it. That old cat is immortal."

Ghira tossed off the rest of the drink. "Well, Stewart, I do apologize for wasting your time."

"Not at all. You didn't waste my time whatsoever." He held up a hand as Ghira started to get up. "Ghira, we didn't find enough to put Sienna in the dock. We did learn plenty else."

Ghira resumed his seat. "Go on."

"It's Most Secret, but in this case, you should know. I can trust you to keep this to yourself—and your immediate family? Blake Belladonna is cleared Top Secret in the United States, so I believe I can trust her. As for you and your wife, you would be bound by the Official Secrets Act."

"You can trust me, Stewart."

"Very well then." Menzies pulled out a folder and handed it across to Ghira. In it was a transcript of the recording on the cell phone. Ghira squinted, cursed silently, and pulled his reading glasses out of a case he kept in his pocket. He scanned the document and looked up. "You were able to filter out all the background noise?"

"There were two female voices on the recording—one of which we're fairly certain is Sienna Khan. The other we haven't identified, but we believe it's Ilia Amitola. The male is Adam Taurus. I'm willing to stake my life on the latter. It appears they were in a sauna when the recording was made; the steam would degrade any bugs, and accounts for the hissing. Sienna may have had a white noise generator of some kind as well, but if she did, it was a primitive one, as we were able to filter it out, as you say. They're discussing the success of the attack on Beacon, and that the next target of the White Fang is Japan."

"I don't see Japan mentioned in here," Ghira said.

"They used codenames. Beacon isn't mentioned either, but they do reference 'Vale,' which was the name of the air defense sector there. Haven is mentioned several times, and we know from our American cousins that Haven is a codename for Japan." Ghira knew that Menzies referred to the CIA. "What we don't know is why the White Fang has targeted Japan. It makes little sense. The Japanese have never mistreated the Faunus; their record tends to be better than most in that regard. In fact, I would wager that the Japanese have an odd fascination with Faunus. Other than the odd cat maid café, there's nothing there that the White Fang would be angry over."

"There was nothing at Beacon the White Fang would be angry over, and they attacked anyway." Ghira rubbed his beard. "The attack on Beacon was an effort to embarrass and humiliate the Americans in the eyes of the world."

"Which largely succeeded—the EU has slapped the United States with an embargo."

"Could they be trying to do the same to Japan?" Ghira asked.

"To what end?"

Ghira shrugged. "Some people just want to see the world burn, Stewart."

Menzies nodded. "That is true, but we here at Six tend to look for other reasons than mere anarchy and revolution for the sake of revolution…though such a thing would fit into Adam Taurus' personality profile." He smiled. "Still, at least we know where their next target would be—assuming the message is legitimate." At Ghira's bristle, Menzies put up a hand again. "Come on, Ghira. The cell phone was found after a White Fang operative tussled with your daughter and her boyfriend—"

"Sun Wukong is not her boyfriend," Ghira snarled.

Menzies actually looked a bit afraid of that. "Of course. Pardon me. But the phone was found after a fight with this Ilia Amitola? Who's to say it wasn't a deliberate plant to throw us off the scent of their real target?" He finished his own drink. "That said, given Sienna's efforts to disguise her voice and prevent eavesdropping, I'm convinced enough to think it's genuine. Perhaps Amitola was pushed too far by the attack on Beacon, and is now trying to help us. Though God help her if that is true and she is caught." He put down the glass and stood; Ghira did as well. "Again, Ghira, thank you. Some information is better than none at all." He came around the desk to shake hands with the Faunus again, but the phone suddenly rang. Menzies excused himself and answered it, smiled, and acknowledged before he hung up. "Before you go, Ghira, I think you know my next appointment." The door opened to admit a heavyset Faunus with a graying beard as thick as Ghira's. "Air Vice Marshal Leonardo Lionheart is our contact in Japan. Unofficially, of course."

Lionheart shook hands with Ghira. "Good afternoon, Ghira," he said with a smile. "It has been awhile. When did we meet last?"

"Norway? Where I met Kali." Ghira was surprised. Leonardo Lionheart was around the same age as Ghira, but was far grayer, and looked much older than he was. "I was very sorry to hear about your wife…and your daughter. Blake spoke very highly of her."

There was pain in Lionheart's eyes, but he smiled slightly and nodded. "Thank you, Ghira. I was glad to hear that Blake was all right." He noticed the file on Menzies' desk. "I hope I am not interrupting anything—I am a little early."

"Not at all," Menzies assured him. "What I was telling Mr. Belladonna was what I wanted to talk to you about. Not to mention that thing at the airport..."