half moons
"Hey, James," that rough, raspy voice he knows so well murmurs.
When he hears those words, there has never been more relief in James' body in his life.
He has never been one for emotional reunions; the desire to weep and fall apart when seeing a familiar face has long been trained out of him, for life in Atlas does not allow for such frivolity, and he has an image to maintain. Being at the top of the world's greatest military force puts restrictions on him, after all- restrictions which he is happy to maintain, but restrictions nonetheless. He takes pride in what he does, but it comes with a cost.
And yet, the desire to fling that all away the moment Qrow Branwen steps into his office, leading the youths from Beacon Academy who have haunted his thoughts for so many moons, is shattering.
It takes all he has to maintain his calm as he checks in with the former students. His mind is focused on the task at hand, yes, but there is also a part of him that cannot help but marvel at the changes he sees in them. Little Ruby Rose looks older, wiser, than the rambunctious child who longed to play with Penny; her older sister looks far calmer, more grounded, than she had in the tournament. The shadows under Blake Belladonna's eyes have lessened, and Weiss Schnee looks powerful despite her ragged appearance, for she is finally back with people who treat her as an equal, unlike her father.
He does not look too hard at the other children, though. Jaune Arc, Nora Valkyrie, Lie Ren- he knows this names, has carved them into his very bones. He remembers Glynda weeping afterwards about what they were going to do to Team JNPR's emotional core, their strongest teammate. He remembers the moment they broke Pyrrha Nikos' heart by signing her death warrant.
He looks at Oscar. He envies Ozpin's slumber, in a way, for he remembers Ozpin's regret.
Maybe the aching in his bones as of late is right. Maybe he is growing old, fallible- he never would have been so damned sentimental in the past.
To keep himself calm, he allows his gaze to finally settle upon Qrow Branwen. Brothers, he has never felt more at ease when seeing Qrow's face. How long has it been? Have they not truly met since the Fall? Before everything had occurred, seeing the younger's red eyes, gaunt cheeks, unkempt hair- it would have annoyed James beyond measure, for Qrow had always been nothing more than a comrade who always managed to one-up James no matter what. Despite all of his flaws, his rampant alcoholism and his unprofessional nature, he knows that Qrow was preferred by Ozpin. He knows that Qrow has always been the better Huntsman.
He hates it. No amount of cybernetic enhancement could ever make him stronger than Qrow.
But as James looks at him now, his heart twinges in concern. Qrow does not speak much, his eyes cast downwards. There is a seed of guilt in his brow, sewn deep in seemingly-permanent furrows- wrinkles etched in pale skin that had not been there before, as if the man has forgotten how to smile.
Listening to the children talk, James can understand where that fatigue has come from. As usual, Qrow has managed to one-up him. He kept these students alive across Anima, saved the Spring Relic. He has managed to win.
No, James scolds himself as he stands, gesturing for the children to file out the door and follow Penny to their quarters, it's not a competition. They are allies. The childish games of trying to defeat each other in a match which no one is judging are over.
…perhaps age is a good thing. This sentimentality has wizened him, even just a little. That realization is rewarding.
xXx
As Qrow stumbles out of the room, shoulders hunched more profoundly than James remembers, James cannot stop himself from calling out to Qrow. His footsteps carry him down from his office before he realizes it, his arms wrapping around Qrow as if the action is the most natural thing in the world.
It… it feels natural. It feels right. Qrow fits perfectly in his arms, much to his surprise. In the back of his mind, he vaguely wonders why he has never done this before when they have been comrades for so long.
However, it is only when Qrow relaxes in his embrace, his own wiry arms reaching up to hold James close and pat him on the shoulder, that James realizes that he has missed Qrow Branwen; missed the scent of the man's cologne, the rumples in his blazer- even the light scent of alcohol and the shape of the flask pressing into James' chest through their embrace. He has longed to see this old ally again for so, so long.
He is a little jealous of Qrow. Qrow is still handsome, despite all the wear and tear on his body, on his heart.
Pulling away, he smiles, sheepish and weary. "C'mon, Qrow," he murmurs. "Let's have a drink- on me. We can talk about what's gone on, now that the kids aren't-"
But there is a sense of alarm in Qrow's eyes, a distance the man immediately puts between himself and James. "Uh, I'm gonna have to pass on that," Qrow mutters, avoiding his gaze. "Thanks for the offer, Jimmy- James. If you can direct me to where I can pass out and shower, though, I'll take you up on that."
It stings. He does not know why. Even more concerning, however, is the hint of fear, the twisting of Qrow's face into a worried, uneasy frown, as James says those words. There is nothing to fear, though- James is an ally, so why…?
Still, he steps back, giving the younger man room as he smiles, nodding. "Of course! I'll take you there myself. We can chat along the way."
Qrow's eyes relax slightly- only slightly. James swallows thickly, suddenly unsure of himself. Why would Qrow look like James has done something wrong?
As they walk to the Huntsman's new quarters, James finds the words dying as he tries to form them in his mouth. He longs to ask about what is going on- where all of Qrow's bravado has gone is a mystery, and he has never so desperately wanted to unravel the truth, for as they turn the corner into the lift and pause, light conversation fading to reveal nothing but the painful distance between them, it is clear that something within Qrow Branwen has changed. Broken, maybe.
He places his right hand on Qrow's shoulder. "You look tired. Get lots of rest, okay?" he says at last, keeping his smile affixed on his face. It feels false, emotionless.
It is the best he can do, though. There is a lot to take in.
Oddly enough, Qrow shivers for a moment, shying away slightly from James' touch. Then, he sighs, haggard, weary. "…yeah, will do."
He wishes he could say more. The silence lingers between them, hanging heavily upon their shoulders- by James' side, hidden from Qrow's view, he clenches and unclenches his cybernetic fist, re-enacting the movement silently of holding onto Qrow's shoulder.
Maybe age hasn't changed him after all. Even when gloved, when guarded, when made as human as possible, his touch is still too cold, it seems.
xXx
He is the one to assign Clover to fight alongside Qrow. Their Semblances should match each other, cancelling them out; Qrow shall not fear hurting his nieces, nor any of their other allies, whilst working in Atlas. There is always a solution in Atlas.
That statement rings far truer than he could have ever expected, though. Qrow does not fear Clover.
James regrets. What, he doesn't know; all he does know is that he wishes he didn't feel this way- he does not need feelings complicating matters. Things are already complicated enough as is. He misses the days when he could just yell at Qrow for his behaviour, and Glynda would yell at them both, and Ozpin would calm them all down. He misses being able to jab at the younger, only to have the younger jab back, for there was nothing separating them other than their values, since their goals aligned perfectly.
He misses a lot more than he ever thought he would have. It's a little humiliating. He shoves it down, locking it away, for it isn't useful- not now.
xXx
"I'm quitting drinking," Qrow confesses to him. "I… I messed up on Anima, James. So I told the girls that I'll quit."
His breath catches in his throat. What could you have possibly done that was bad enough to warrant quitting after all these years?
He does not need to ask, though, for the shame glistening behind a layer of unshed tears is proof enough that Qrow does not want to relive his suffering verbally. It is clear that no one needs to remind him of his sins, whatever they are.
"Okay," James murmurs at last, clasping Qrow's shoulder. "That's amazing, Qrow. I'm proud of you."
The strain in Qrow's face does not go away. It does, however, spell out Qrow's response, loud and clear.
I wish I were proud, too.
James does not ask more- he simply returns the bottle of scotch he had been planning on giving to the other man as a small gift, for he does not need it anymore. It would be too pitiful to drink alone. His control over his heart will be enough to numb this feeling of betrayal to which he has no right.
…it's been three weeks since Qrow came to Mantle with the rookies. He tells himself that he is not upset that Qrow hadn't told him earlier. By the time Qrow waves goodbye, heading off to check in with his nieces, James almost believes it.
xXx
The gathering is small, comprised just of those who have been working in the inner circle to make the Amity Project a reality. Even though Oz is not present at the moment, his teachings have always rung true for James; the importance of celebrating moments of peace is a lesson which he shall not forget. So, he sets aside time to invite them to the officer's mess, booking it out for them to enjoy a relaxed, rare evening off-the-clock. They all join without complaint, for free alcohol (or juice for the young ones) and food is always a good deal.
The atmosphere is light, but Qrow does not speak to him. He wants to ask why; every time he tries to approach the younger, Qrow leaves, eyes shifting away, crimson nervous and unsettled.
He always goes back to Clover.
James does not understand.
It is only when the night is nearly over that he realizes that the beer in his hands contrasts perfectly with the soda in Clover's- the soda which Qrow also drinks, the two clinking glasses in a peaceful corner to avoid the hubbub which follows the children and the intoxicated Ace Ops. James had not even given it a thought earlier, so used to his own routine in this place.
Maybe it is good that Qrow never told him about his goal to quit. James never meant to hurt him, though. He wants to help, truly.
…that's not good enough, and he knows it.
xXx
He pretends to not see it, but the urge to scream out against fraternization and inappropriate behaviour crashes into him without restraint as he watches Clover embrace Qrow. Qrow is not hesitant in his movements, does not even think twice in wrapping his arms around the neck of the Ace Operatives' leader; he simply responds and engages as if the other man is but an extension of him, as if they are two halves of a whole that had never even been visibly missing parts.
James says nothing, for there is a glint in Qrow's eyes as he does this; brave, daring, gallant. Crimson bears the same level of confidence that James has seen time and time again in the past, a level of self-assured, undeniable charisma that oozes from every pore.
Qrow looks like a different man, a man which James remembers far better than the willowy, wary creature who has been haunting Atlas. Then, he wonders if he has ever known Qrow at all, for when lips connect in the shadowy corner of Atlesian halls, James' chest rings hollow, empty.
He walks away, and Qrow does not notice- he has never even known James was there at all.
xXx
"Thank you."
The words are clumsy and rushed, but they catch James unawares due to their sincerity more than anything. He pauses, glancing up, baffled by the shyness exuded from hunched shoulders and wayward eyes. "For what?"
"For being supportive. For helping the girls, just- thanks, James." And Qrow smiles, and that smile is the most breathtaking thing James has ever seen- wide red eyes creasing into thin crescent moons, that furrowed brow relaxing, removing years of pain from a face that seems to light up simply from the action.
It takes a moment for him to steady himself, too awestruck by the gentleness in that smile. "Anytime," James answers at last. "We're not just allies, Qrow, we're-"
What are we?
"-friends," he finishes, keeping his smile as true and guarded as ever. "Let me know if there's anything I can do, okay?"
Long fingers run through silver-streaked hair. "Yeah, sounds good. Thanks. You too, okay?" And he lopes away now that the report has been finished and the work for the day is done.
He does not look back as he exits James' office. For just one heartbeat, that image stings- then, through the opened door, James catches sight of brown hair, a strong, stoic face melting at Qrow's appearance, green eyes creased into drooping crescent moons. James understands why Qrow keeps going, keeps leaving him behind.
Clover deserves Qrow. James hasn't smiled like that in years. Qrow deserves someone who can match him, too. That person has never been James.
xXx
He wishes Qrow's heart hadn't been given to someone in Atlas. He had always thought they would never get along because of his upbringing, their difference in values and morals. Atlesians were too different from those who lived outside of the military bubble, who lived outside of the ice and snow.
Clearly, that isn't the case. James clenches his cybernetic hand, reaches up, touching his cheek. It doesn't feel cold- not to him, at least.
Maybe the problem has been him all along, he wonders idly. Maybe he's been at fault all this time. He smiles, snorting at that thought. It's bittersweet, slightly painful in its weight.
…his eyes don't crease, though. They never do.
So, he moves on.
-fin-