AUTHOR'S NOTES: Short one this time, but important, as we finally meet the Fall Maiden...kind of. Amber's injuries are based loosely on Howard Hughes' after the crash of the XF-11.

Still no reviews? You're killing me, Smalls. This is what makes me write smut on AO3.

Building 71414 (Commander's Office, JRB Beacon)

Joint Base Beacon, Wisconsin, United States of Canada

11 May 2001

Ozpin rose as Rissa Arashikaze, Deputy Director for Intelligence for the Central Intelligence Agency, walked into his office. He got up to get around his desk, but she anticipated him, walked briskly to him, and to his surprise, hugged him. "Well, now," he smiled.

"We go back too far," she explained. Rissa motioned him to his chair and took the seat across from it. "Your call was a bit of a surprise. We were planning to meet, but I was going to fly in tomorrow."

"I'll address that first. I'm sorry," he said, "did you want some coffee?"

"Oh, no. I had three cups this morning and on the flight. Thank you, though." She laughed and shook her head. "You still make that Navy style, don't you?"

"Once a sailor, always a sailor." He toasted her with his coffee cup. Ozpin had known Rissa Arashikaze for a very long time, and she never seemed to change—a remarkably short woman, barely five feet tall, who had risen through the ranks of the CIA through sheer competence and complete ruthlessness. He also knew her petite form and affable personality had a dark side: someone who, in her day, had been an assassin herself and tortured without remorse.

"Oh hell," Rissa said, got up and poured herself a cup. She took a sip as she leaned on the sideboard, and smiled. "That's good." She took another sip. "Okay, Oz. Let's have it."

"One of my pilots died yesterday—Ruth Lionheart."

"Air Commodore Lionheart's daughter?" she asked. At his nod, she sighed. "Poor man. What did she die of?"

"The autopsy is being done today. I'd like you to be there."

Rissa shrugged. "I'm not a doctor, Oz. And the CIA isn't supposed to operate on US soil outside the Dead Zones."

"No, but our base doctors are not trained to look for more than the obvious foul play." He steepled his fingers. "And since when have you cared about jurisdiction?"

"True," she admitted. "It's a wonder I haven't been arrested. You think she was murdered?"

It was Ozpin's turn to shrug. "Probably not. I seem to have a tendency to jump at shadows these days. However, Ruth Lionheart was a very healthy young female Faunus. People like her don't often just die in their sleep." He held up a report. "Results of her last physical. She was in, for all intents and purposes, perfect health."

Rissa cradled the coffee in her hands. "Why would anyone want to kill her?"

Ozpin was silent. "I honestly don't know. She wasn't privy to any sort of secret knowledge. Her family doesn't have any enemies that I know of, and they were never involved with the White Fang. So I'm probably just being paranoid."

She took a drink. "Okay, Oz. I'll be there."

"I appreciate it."

"I want something in return," she said.

"All right."

"I want to see Amber."

"Now?"

Rissa nodded. "If at all possible."

He took a deep breath. "Very well." Ozpin got to his feet, and Rissa followed him.

They left base headquarters, and crossed Arryn Avenue to the base hospital. Once inside, they walked down a corridor, moving aside for doctors and nurses. Occasionally, both would surreptitiously look behind them, to make sure they were not being followed; Ozpin noticed that Rissa had done this when she walked into his office, and smiled. Once a field agent, always a field agent. They turned down another, much less used corridor, and entered a doorway marked QUARANTINE-GOWNS, MASKS AND GLOVES REQUIRED. In the small antechamber that separated the room, they did as instructed, putting on sterile gowns, gloves, masks, and booties over their shoes. Then they walked into the room…where there was nothing. Rissa gave Ozpin a quizzical look, and he turned and almost casually put his hand on the wall. A hidden fingerprint reader ran over his index finger, and a door marked as a closet opened. The interior indeed looked like a closet, filled with cleaning supplies, but as they walked in and shut the door, Ozpin took a card from his wallet, pushed a gown aside, and ran it through a reader. There was a hiss as another set of doors closed in front of them, and then the elevator descended.

"Interesting," Rissa commented. "How many people have access?"

"Glynda, myself, and the chief doctor here at the hospital—Dr. Thomas. He's trustworthy."

She gave a short nod, and then the elevator lurched to a stop. "We're two floors down," Ozpin explained. "This actually used to be the freight elevator, and this sub-basement is where the boilers and emergency batteries are located. We walled off this section from the rest of the basement, and it draws power directly from the hospital. There is an uplink here, and one in my office."

"One in your office?" Rissa asked. "That seems risky."

"I'm the only one who knows the password. The uplink computer is separate from my office computer, and has no connection to the internet. If we ever had to use the Fall Maiden, I doubt I would have time to get down here."

Two sets of doors opened, admitting them to a room bare of paint, with just drywall. There were machines along the wall, and the inevitable beeping noises of an intensive care unit. A curtained bed took up the center of the room. Ozpin walked forward, pulling up his mask, and drew the curtain back. Another, transparent plastic curtain still walled off the patient. Rissa came forward and looked down on Amber Tardor.

She lay on a diagnostic bed, an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. She was attractive, with short brown hair and a pleasant face. Below the neck, however, was horror. Tanned skin gave way to burns, her naked upper chest reddened as if by a bad sunburn, but deepening to dark red before her lower half was hidden by the covers. Her left arm was gone below the elbow, ending in a stump of angry red skin; beneath the covers, Rissa could see both legs were gone, one at mid-thigh, the other below the knee. Around her remaining wrist was a large, watchlike device that listed her heart rate and blood pressure.

"I'd heard she was badly injured," the CIA woman said, "but not how bad."

"She was shot down over the Nevada Dead Zone," Ozpin told her. "Qrow Branwen was nearby, heard her engaged with air pirates of unknown origin. By the time he got there, she was already down—she crashlanded her F-16 on the desert floor next to a deserted highway. AWACS warned him that there were a large number of GRIMM headed in his direction, but they never did pick up Amber's attacker for more than a few seconds—we believe it was some sort of stealth aircraft. Amber never did get off a contact report, only that she was being engaged by long-range missile shots and could not get a lock on her attacker."

"That could be anything," Rissa said, "but that red F-22 Goodwitch engaged over Ohio and the one Captain Long fought over Minnesota would fit the bill."

"It would." Ozpin touched the plastic curtain. "Qrow was able to land his modified F-117 on the road, and found Amber. She had managed to crawl out of the wreckage—she had apparently been too low to eject—but had been badly injured, as you can see. He called in SAR and she was flown to Hill Air Force Base. Her legs were crushed in the crash, and her right arm was so badly burned that both legs and the arm had to be amputated. She had third degree burns over her pelvis, but the doctors were able to operate successfully and give her skin grafts." He picked up her medical chart. "It's what you don't see that is worse. Her chest was crushed by the instrument panel, collapsing her left lung and actually shifting her heart to the right side of her chest. Still, the doctors were able to save her life—temporarily."

"Why not permanently?"

Ozpin sighed. "Her liver and kidneys were also badly injured. The medical staff believed they might recover, but her kidneys failed soon after her transfer here." He pointed to the tubes coming out of her side, leading to a dialysis machine. "Amber's body has simply taken too much damage. These machines are the only things keeping her alive right now."

"Is she ever conscious?"

As if summoned, Amber's eyes opened slowly, and looked around, unfocused. Rissa could see the whites had turned yellow, which meant jaundice was setting in. "Who's there?" she whispered, barely audible.

"It's Ozpin, Amber." He reached through the plastic curtain and took her remaining hand in his. She squeezed it, but there was no strength in it.

"Oh…hello, Oz." She smiled and blinked. "Who's that…with you? She's…kind of cute."

Rissa smiled. "I'm a friend," she told Amber.

"Must be a pretty…high-ranking friend…to see me." She turned over to look at the wall. "Is the sun out?"

Ozpin let go of Amber, walked around Rissa, and switched on a large monitor. It flickered to life, and showed a view of the flightline. Amber's smile got larger. "Oh…that's nice. Can…you leave that on?"

"Of course."

"Thanks." Amber stared at the monitor. "Don't…let me stop…your story." She had to pause between words to get her breath. "Heard…it before."

Rissa dropped her voice so only Ozpin could hear. "How long?" she asked.

Amber had heard her. With effort, she turned back to Rissa, the tired smile still on her face. "Oh…not too much…longer." Then she turned back to watch the monitor again.

Ozpin sadly nodded. "She's right. She could go into systemic failure at any time. It could be tonight; it could be three months from now."

"Kinda…fucking doubt that," Amber put in.

"Do you have a replacement?" Rissa obviously hated to say it in front of Amber, but it had to be asked.

"I do."

That got Amber's attention. Weakly, she reached out her hand. "Oz…who?"

He reached in and patted her hand. "Don't worry about that, Amber."

"Let me…meet them…before I go."

"I will. Now get some rest."

"Okay…music?"

"Certainly." Ozpin went over to a radio and switched it on. Soft, classical music filled the room. Amber's eyes narrowed. "Not…that…soft…shit," she growled.

Ozpin chuckled and switched the station. Metallica blared from the radio now. Amber gave a thumbs-up, then threw a small wave to Rissa before the hand fell back to the bed. She continued to stare at the monitor as they left, and a single tear made its way down her cheek.