AUTHOR'S NOTE: The aftermath. The pieces continue to move on the board.

I don't know if the part about filling out forms to clear out someone's stuff if they die is still done, or if anyone can be listed on the form. It was during WWII: my grandfather had his bunkmate (who was considered mildly psychotic) and Admiral William Halsey. By law, Halsey would've been required to come to my grandfather's carrier and help clean out his stuff. It more than likely is still true that a pilot's stuff is cleaned out before the personal effects are sent home, so nothing bad, compromising or nasty ends up landing on his or her parents' desk-or worse, a spouse's.

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Building 111415 (Visiting Officer's Quarters)

Joint Base Beacon, Wisconsin, United States of Canada

10 May 2001

Cinder returned alone to her room. She placed the Do Not Disturb sign on her door; she needed to think, and she'd had enough of people expressing their condolences. She took off the dress uniform, took a shower, then lay down on her bed in a towel to think.

Losing Ruth Lionheart was regrettable and dangerous, and Cinder was surprised to find herself missing the Cockney Faunus. Nonetheless, what was done was done. The worst part had been calling Leonardo to tell him his daughter—his last living family member—was dead. Cinder did feel sorry for the old Faunus, but again, it was not her fault. She had obliquely warned Leonardo not to reconsider their "deal," and was confident that he wouldn't. At the funeral, faking sorrow had come easy to her; Cinder Fall had long ago learned to disguise her emotions, to become a completely different person on the outside. What had been done to her had ensured that.

The phone on the nightstand abruptly rang. Cinder stared at it murderously for a moment, then picked it up. "Hello," she said, not bothering to disguise her annoyance.

"Cinder? Greetings. It's W."

She sat up. W was Arthur Watts; even if his initial wasn't a prearranged codename, his accent was unmistakeable—even if it did make her think about Ruth. "Hello, W. It's been awhile."

"We've been on a long journey, unfortunately. I'm on holiday with Will Fetters at Cousin Hector's. Still close to where you are, though, if you want us to visit." Cinder translated that. Watts was still with the White Fang; the Cousin Hector she would have to figure out later. If they were still close enough to "visit," that was good news.

"Not a good idea at the moment," she replied. "I'm swamped here with the exercise and all. You can watch it on TV, you know. We'll be on tomorrow morning."

"Our reception isn't so good here, but we'll try to get it on the telly. How are things with your flight?"

"Not so good. Ruth Lionheart died this morning. In her sleep."

There was a pause. "I'm very sorry to hear that. Will you be recalled?" Watts sounded concerned. This was not part of the plan.

"No, the show goes on. Might even get a chance to use one of Uncle Art's tricks tomorrow. You remember the old switcheroo he used to do when we were kids?"

Watts laughed. That was code as well. Before they had all left Europe, he had made some alterations to Emerald's Mirage. She hadn't had an opportunity to use them yet—it wouldn't have helped against the GRIMM, and Cinder had not wanted to show too much of Creamer Flight's hand against Juniper Flight. "I'm definitely going to have to see if we can tune in. Any other tidbits you'd like to share?"

"We're going to have some Creamer in the Coffee tomorrow." Cinder doubted anyone was listening in, but in case they were, whoever they were would likely pick up the easy reference: Creamer Flight was fighting Coffee Flight the next day. In cracking a ridiculously easy breach of operational security, they wouldn't think to look for the real breaches. "Hey," she said, as if suddenly thinking of something, "how did that chess game go you were telling me about? That big one against Uncle James. I had money riding on that one."

"All right. I used the Scandinavian Defense."

"Nice." Cinder nodded to herself: the Black Queen was still in play. Uncle James was code for Ironwood. Again, it was simple, and they were hoping that simple would pass by for people looking for the complicated.

"You really should play again."

"Maybe," Cinder said. "Next time we play for pennies, though. Too rich for my blood otherwise."

"Play for pennies?" Watts chuckled. "If you want. Awfully small stakes, though."

"No such thing, W." That was the next phase of the plan, one added hurriedly weeks ago, as a distraction from the White Fang assault. The attack was on hold, but Cinder had let Watts know she was going to use the distraction plan, which would probably pay even higher dividends than before. "You know me. I always play to win." Cinder paused. "How's my doggie doing?" She referred to her F-22.

"Fine, fine," Watts said. "That little Italian girl has been taking her for walks." Neo, Cinder thought. She better not wreck my plane. "She wanted to ask you how Alex was doing."

"Alex is fine, but he's tied up with work. Not sure when he's going to get out there to see you." Alex was their codeword for Roman Torchwick. "I understand he's here for the exercise, though. If you make it out, I'll make sure we get together again."

"Ah, that's good. The poor thing has been worried sick for her Alex." Watts yawned; Cinder wasn't sure if it was faked or not. "Damned sorry to hear about poor Ruth. I'll talk to Mother about sending her father something as soon as I can, poor man."

"He'd appreciate that."

"I'll ring off here, Cinder. Take care of yourself."

"I always do, W. See you soon." She hung up, then leaned back on her pillows. Unseen by anyone, Cinder Fall smiled.

A few hours later, Ruby and Nora trudged down the hallway of the VOQ. Both had returned to the barracks, only to be notified by Goodwitch that they were required to clean out Ruth Lionheart's personal effects. It was a surprise, but by regulations, they had to do it. When a pilot began flying combat, they were required to fill out a form in case they were killed. It would list where any personal effects should be sent, and who would be required to do the packing. The pilot could name anyone to do it, so long as they were military and they were still alive. Ruby knew Yang's form listed her sister and General Luna, the head of the Joint Chiefs of Staff. If something happened to Yang, Luna would be required by law to fly to Beacon and help Ruby clean out Yang's locker.

"This is really weird," Ruby said. "Why us? Usually you pick your flight to clean out your stuff."

"I know," Nora agreed. "I've got Ren and Pyr for my stuff." She smiled in spite of herself. "If something happens to me, Pyrrha's in for the shock of her life. How about you?"

"Yang and Weiss." Ruby shrugged. "I got nothing that's shocking."

"You don't?" They reached Ruth's dorm room. "No dirty books or bad stuff on your computer?"

"Nope. We've got dial-up. Even if I wanted to look at that stuff, it would take three hours to download."

"That's true." Nora knocked on the door. A man in a suit answered. "Hi," she greeted him. "I'm Lieutenant Valkyrie; that's Lieutenant Rose. We're here to get Ruth's stuff."

"Oh. Hold on." The man closed the door. They heard muffled voices, then the door opened again. "Yeah, sure, come on in. We're all done here." He left the door open, and the two pilots walked in.

Ruth's room was clean; the bed was made. There were two men in the room; both wore suits, but one walked over and put out a hand. "Lieutenant Valkyrie? Lieutenant Friedman, OSI." They shook hands. "We're all done here, so you ladies can get started. The only things we took out were things that could be used in an investigation."

"Investigation?" Ruby asked incredulously. "But Ruth died of natural causes, right?"

"It's routine, Lieutenant."

"Oh." Ruby looked at the bed. "Can we…see her?"

"Once the autopsy's done, we'll be sending her body on to her dad in the UK. Maybe then." He looked uncomfortable. "We're gonna miss her. We over in OSI don't get to mix much with you pilots, but even we knew Ruth."

"Yeah. Thanks, Lieutenant." He waved to them, took the other man—who had never been introduced—and left the room. Nora closed the door behind them. She and Ruby shared a look. "Well," Nora said with a sigh, "no point in putting it off."

They went into the bathroom first. Her toothbrush was gone—probably OSI had taken it—but the other toiletries were present, along with some feminine hygiene products. Nora tossed those into a paper bag; they could be divvied up among the female pilots.

While Nora handled that, Ruby opened the refrigerator. If there was a typical fighter pilot fridge, Ruth's was it. There were some scattered ketchup packets, two frozen burritos guaranteed to cause an explosive combination of diarrhea and acid reflux, and two bottles of Coors. Given that Ruth was always disparaging American beer, Ruby was surprised at that. "Hey, Nora. You want a beer?"

"Hell yes, I want a beer." Nora walked back into the main room. "We need to give Ruth a proper wake."

Ruby tossed Nora one of the beers, then pulled out her handy Swiss Army knife, and popped open the top on her own. Nora simply ripped hers off. They took a long drink. Ruby still didn't like beer much, and this wasn't going to change her opinion, but she was thirsty and this was for Ruth. In that spirit, she raised the bottle. "To Ruth."

"To Ruth," Nora answered. They took another drink in silence, then it was back to work.

The dressers were next—clothes, underclothes, some books—mostly manga, Ruby saw. They threw all that into boxes to be sent home. Under one stack of underthings Ruby pulled out a long, black cylinder. "What's this?" She thumbed a switch under the base, and it vibrated in her hand. "Oh."

Nora looked up and whistled. "Damn. That's bigger than mine." She pointed at Ruby. "You'd better keep that. I don't think her papa needs to see that Ruth owned one of those."

"What do I do with it?"

"Pitch it. Unless you wanted to keep it or something. Ruth probably would get a laugh out of that. I'd wash it first." Nora wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

"Er, no." Ruby stuck it under some towels that would replace Ruby Flight's tattered ones. Someone would acquire it. "Besides, I don't think…I don't think it would fit."

Nora laughed. She tossed more clothes into another box, but heard a thump when she did. She turned and reached into the box, rummaged around, and found a package inside Ruth's peacoat. "Oh geez. This is probably porn; I'd better take it out." She turned over the package and was startled. It was addressed to her. She held it up for Ruby. "Check this out. This is for me."

"You going to open it?"

Nora weighed the package. She'd kept it together so far, but if she came upon anything personal, that would not last long. "I'll open it later." She put it on a stack of things she was keeping for Juniper Flight.

A half hour and the rest of the beer later, they were done. Ruth Lionheart's things filled two boxes for shipping home, while the donated items filled two bags. Ruby looked around sadly. It wasn't much for a life, and when they left, Ruth Lionheart would have disappeared from Beacon as if she was never there, alive only in memories. Her body and her boxes would be sent home, and eventually someone in the RAF would collect her Jaguar. Ruby had noticed that, oddly, there were no pictures of Ruth's family.

"Well," she sighed, "let's go." They tossed the beers into the garbage, took one last look, and left the room in darkness.

Unknown to Ruby and Nora, Weiss was also in the VOQ, upstairs from Ruth's former room, and down the hall from Cinder. She was also enjoying a beer, but it was Lowenbrau, and it was with her sister. Weiss took a drink and smiled. "Now that's good. The Americans just do not know how to make beer."

Winter nodded. As a rule, neither she nor Weiss drank—not after seeing what alcohol did to their mother—but occasionally they enjoyed a beer or a glass of wine. German beer was hard to get at Beacon, as one would have to drive to Wisconsin Dells for it, so Weiss indulged herself. Winter leaned back against the cushions of her bed, and tried to avoid thinking about who had been there the night before, and what they had been doing. She wasn't sure how Weiss would react—with revulsion, or with merciless teasing. That brought on another drink.

"So what did you find out from home?" Weiss said. Winter had been wondering when it would be asked. Her younger sister had been dancing around the subject for half an hour.

"It's not Father paying off the White Fang. It's Mother." Winter saw no reason to sugarcoat it.

"What?" Weiss exclaimed. "Mother?"

"Yes." Both Schnees took a drink. Careful, Winter warned herself. "She's doing it to protect us. Specifically Whitley."

Weiss bit back what she was going to say, which was that Willow Schnee was doing a bang-up job so far—after all, Weiss had been nearly killed by the White Fang at least once since coming to Beacon. Whitley, however, was attending school in Great Britain, and even under an assumed name, he was vulnerable. Menagerie was far away from Eton, but not too far. "And she believes the White Fang will abide by that?"

"Yes. I think, deep down, that she knows the White Fang are playing her for a fool. But our mother desperately needs something to hold onto." Winter took one last drag at the beer, then threw it into the trash. There were four other bottles, but she did not get another. "Which is why I'll be returning to Germany tomorrow."

"So soon!" Weiss cold not keep the sadness off her face. "I was hoping you'd be here a little longer."

"I came back to make sure the IRIS missiles were delivered, and to deliver my report to Captain Ozpin." Inwardly, Winter smiled. And to see Qrow. "As per our agreement, Weiss, he needs to be kept in the loop."

"Then the CIA knows," Weiss sighed. "Ozpin will tell them about Mother."

"Yes. He's going to brief one of their representatives personally tomorrow, here at Beacon."

"What will they do?"

"I don't know. I suspect nothing," Winter said, "but I don't know." She saw her sister staring at her feet, hands clasped around the beer bottle. "They need to know, Weiss. We can't even trust the BND with this, because I don't know who's reliable there." She used the acronym for the Bundesnachrichtendienst, the German Federal Intelligence Service. "Ironically, the Americans are more trustworthy now than our own people."

"I never should have done that research," Weiss said quietly.

"Yes, you have. I'm glad you did. It's better to know." Winter decided to change the subject. "Do you know who you're going up against in the 2V2 competition?"

"It's supposed to be secret, but it's the worst kept secret on the base." Weiss smiled. "Yang and I will be up against Funky Flight." She said the last in English, which caused Winter to chuckle.

"Funky Flight?"

"Three Americans—Flynt Coal of the USAF, flying a F-15, and Neon Katt and Kobalt Ivori, both US Navy, flying a F-14. It's going to be a difficult fight." Weiss had been gaming it out in her head since she had learned it from Emerald.

Winter raised an eyebrow. "Neon Katt?"

"That's her name."

"With a name like that, you hardly need a callsign." Winter glanced at the clock. "I very much hate to break this off, Weiss, but I must get some sleep."

"It's only 9 o'clock."

"You know I'm not going to sleep on that C-130. I doubt I'll sleep on the C-141 from Charleston to Laage, either." In reality, Winter wanted to get Weiss out of the VOQ well before ten. She loved her sister, but Qrow was supposed to come by at ten. She suppressed a shiver of anticipation. Qrow might drink too much, might be flippant to a fault, but if there was a way to please a woman that he didn't know, Winter hadn't discovered it yet. "Laage is on the other side of Germany from Herrenscheimsee—" Winter defiantly used the old name for Schnee Manor "—but it's close enough that I can see Mother or Whitley if they need me."

"Whitley doesn't need anything but his video games," Weiss snapped.

Winter got up off the bed, went over, and embraced Weiss. "Yes, he does, Weiss. He may not realize it now, or may not want to admit it. But he needs us, and we need him. He's our brother. And Mother…"

"Mother is Mother," Weiss answered, returning the hug. "I still love her. That's the sad part of all this—her money probably financed the purchase of that F-5 that almost killed me, but I can't hate her for it, Winter." They separated. "I wish I could love Father. I still can't believe he's cut me off."

Winter shook her head. "That was his choice, Weiss. Not ours." She shrugged. "You could call him. Given the proper amount of…" She almost said begging, but while that was accurate enough, there was no reason to anger her sister further. "…filial piety, he would reinstate your funds."

Weiss was silent for a moment. "No," she answered simply.

"Good," Winter replied. "He cut me off as well when I joined the Luftwaffe. Learning to live on a salary was difficult, but I think I'm the better person for it." She handed her sister the carton of beer. "Share this with your flight, and be safe. That's a good group of people you have there." Winter laughed a little. "Now how is that for irony? The Belladonnas' daughter, being your friend. Perhaps there's hope for us after all."