Hhhhh okay. Yeah. It's uh... it's this chapter now.
Content warning for, well, Adam Taurus—abusive and manipulative fuckery, gaslighting, etc., and suggestions that this kind of behavior extends into sex. With that said, I would rather jump in a river of fire ants than write a sex scene for this chapter, so I didn't. There's nothing graphic here aside from canon-typical violence (like Adam getting stabby on a couple humans).
Adam
Blake is a coward. She can't help it—it's written on her aura. His semblance is all about embracing the torment the humans want him to suffer, and making them choke on it. Hers helps her escape. Let someone else take the blow. Run. Hide.
At his worst, it makes him angry. Now, when he finally has her back after all this time, he finds that forgiveness comes easily.
There's no time to enjoy the reunion—they have work to do. She's been in the camp less than an hour before they set out to infiltrate an SDC refinery. It feels so right, fighting with his right hand by his side again. His shadow guarding his back. He's forgotten what it was like.
He's forgotten he has to be careful with her.
It's not the catastrophe it might have been. He twists at the last second and sinks his blade into the guard's shoulder rather than her chest. Better to kill her, now that she's seen their faces, but he stops himself.
He remembers Blake doesn't want to know about that.
She's quiet as the Fang make their escape, and quieter still while they celebrate their victory. A critical piece of machinery is now broken, and the SDC won't be getting any of their blood money out of this refinery for at least a few days before they can replace it. They camp out in an empty apartment, drinking around the empty space where a holoscreen used to be.
At around midnight, he notices Blake staring off into space. He gets to his feet and offers her a hand. "We'd better get to bed." There's a quiet thrill to saying it out loud like that and seeing only teasing grins, to having their own room and privacy when before...
But before doesn't matter. Sienna won't meddle with them again.
Blake definitely prefers it in here, away from the crowd. Some of the rigidity of her stance melts away. She sits down on the bed, and he sits beside her. "What's wrong?" he asks.
She hugs her arms around herself. "That woman. You... you didn't have to do that."
Adam stares at her, incredulous. "What are you talking about?"
Blake bites her lip. "When you—when she—" Even when the human is probably still breathing, she can't bring herself to say it.
"I was careful. We didn't do any permanent damage."
"There was so much blood..."
"It wasn't that serious. I've been hurt worse. Hell, you've been hurt worse. The cut was wide, but it was shallow. She'll be fine."
"But—"
"You're not used to this kind of work. I know that. But..." He leans in close to whisper, "Your semblance doesn't have to define you, Blake. I can help you learn to be brave."
"I don't—I don't understand. She wasn't even armed, we didn't have to—"
"She had a gun, Blake. Remember? It was in her other hand. We had to do it, or she might have hurt you."
"I didn't see the gun..."
"It happened fast. Like I said, you're not used to combat. You'll get better at keeping your head."
He moves his hand down to the small of her back. She turns away.
"I'm sorry. I don't want—I can't stop seeing her face."
"Is that really what this is about?" he asks softly. "You've been distant ever since you got back."
She ducks her head. "I don't mean to be."
"We were apart a long time. Maybe there's someone else."
"What? No!"
"Or maybe..." He brushes his fingers against the edges of his mask, feeling a phantom itch in the ruined flesh beneath. "Maybe it's about this."
"No," she insists. "Of course not."
He stays silent. Waiting.
Blake finally looks at him. Her ears are still flat with discomfort, but her expression softens as she cups his cheek. "I love you," she says, and kisses him.
There are moments like this one, when they're alone together and everything feels just right again. But they flicker past much too quickly, growing fewer and further between. Their people need them. How can they rest until the humans are cast down?
"We can't be selfish, Blake," he says, when she nods off over the maps they're studying in their tent. He has to remind her again, when she wastes precious lien on battered books full of stories written by humans, worthless to the cause. It's hard for her to change, but she's trying and he does everything he can to help. He even thinks she's improving. Until over a year after she was returned to him, when the opportunity of a lifetime falls right into their laps.
"Brothers and sisters!" he calls out, raising his hands for silence as rapt faces watch him from around their fire. "We have incredible news tonight. One of our informants has just told us that the SDC will be landing an airship only fifty miles from here. An airship carrying Laurel Price, the regional manager for the kingdom of Vale."
There's a murmur of excitement. Not quite the same reaction a Schnee would've earned—he'll figure out a way to snatch one of them out of their ivory tower someday, but today is not that day. Even so, the regional manager is nothing to sneeze at. "This time tomorrow, we'll have an executive at our mercy. And this time next week, we'll be putting their blood money to good use buying supplies." He smiles. "It's been too long since we had decent coffee out here."
Several eyes glaze over at the thought. Blake goes stiff where she sits at his right hand, glancing around the circle as if to gauge the others' interest. "Paying ransom is against SDC policy."
He frowns. "Since when do you trust the SDC's policy? What do you think would really happen if Jacques Schnee's precious little birdie went missing?"
"That's different. This is some executive, why would he break policy just for her?" Blake shifts uncomfortably in her seat. "I just... I can't see this paying off for us. We might be able to capture her, but the police know we're in this area. She's going to be under heavy guard. Why risk our lives when the Schnees probably won't even pay out?"
More murmuring around the circle. His eyes narrow as he sees a few faunus glancing at her, hesitation kindling in their expressions. Cowardice, it turns out, is dangerously contagious—and Blake is not above undermining him in public.
"Why risk our lives?" He throws an arm out towards the camp. "Why come out here and take a stand?"
Her ears flatten. "I didn't mean—"
"I know you don't like to fight, Blake, but this isn't like you. You're not so selfish."
"It's not just me I'm worried about—"
"It's okay to be afraid." He puts a hand on her shoulder. "But an opportunity like this won't come again. If we decide it's too dangerous to move on their executives when they're out in the open, how will we strike at the Schnees themselves? Would it still be too dangerous if it was Jacques Schnee himself on this ship?"
She looks down and mutters, "No..."
"Don't ask me. Tell them."
Her shoulders curl in on themselves, like she's trying to fold herself out of sight of the ring of staring faunus. "No."
He smiles and puts a hand on her head, brushing his thumb over her ear. "You won't be alone," he promises. "We're in this together."
When he makes a promise to Blake, he keeps it. They're side-by-side at the landing point, so close that he instinctively matches his breathing to hers. The telltale hum of the airship shivers through them, until it finally crests over the treeline and settles into the landing strip just outside town. Not that Creekhollow is much of a town. It's got as many two-storey buildings as it has faunus—none.
He signals to the rest to wait outside. Their job is to keep any of the humans from getting out—he and Blake will find the manager. They slip in through one of the rear windows, with a guard going down without so much as a gasp with her ribbon around his throat. She kneels to check his pulse after she lets go, and Adam hisses at her to keep up.
It's too easy. They walk right through the lower level of the airship, leaving a trail of unconscious guards in their wake. Fighting with Blake is effortless—like having a second set of limbs, always moving just where he needs them at just the right time. It feels perfect.
But Blake isn't perfect. The hilt of her sword smashes into the faceless helmet of one of the guards, knocking it askew. He rips it off and charges at her, and in the instant she sees his face, she hesitates. His gun is in his right hand, coming up towards her chest.
Adam is faster. Wilt's tip slides through a chink in the boy's armor, then between his ribs. He chokes, spits out blood, and slumps to the floor. He twists the blade as he pulls it out, the quiet shik of steel on flesh sending a jolt down his spine.
Blake is his, and no one will hurt her. Especially not a weak, pathetic creature like this one. His lip curls as he looks down at the body, savoring the thunder of his own heartbeat in his ears. No one will take what's his again. No one will make him kneel and hold his arms behind his back and yank on his hair until he raises his chin—
He breathes in the scent of iron and turns, his whole body flush with rage and relief, adrenaline and victory. His hand finds Blake's chin and tilts it up so he can kiss her.
The shove catches him so off-guard that he falls flat on his ass. He stares up at her—there's a red smear on her jaw that his thumb left behind. Then she dissolves into shadow.
Adam lurches to his feet and rushes to a nearby hatch that's still hanging open. Blake is sprinting towards the cover of the woods, past the bushes where their people have taken cover. He hesitates, one hand on Wilt's hilt. Then he swears viciously and jumps out after her. The airship takes off while he's running.
He finds her just behind their line, leaning against a tree, panting and holding a hand over her mouth. She's been sick once already, and looks about ready to do it again. The others are staring at her in concern.
"What happened?" the Lieutenant rumbles.
Adam glances over his shoulder. The airship is already little more than a speck in the distance. His hands clench into fists. He strides over, seizes Blake by the shoulder, and slaps her across the face.
There's a long, ringing silence.
"I knew you were a coward," he snarls. "But this? This was our only chance to take such a valuable hostage, and you threw it away!"
She hardly seems to notice being struck. The others are all staring at them, and their gazes harden when Blake makes no attempt to defend herself. She knows she's guilty, and they can sense it.
He turns away in disgust. "Come on. We need to get out of here before the police show up."
It's a long time before they're alone. He has to speak to the rest of the camp—he doesn't mention Blake by name, but the others that were with them will talk. Everyone will know by morning.
His anger has cooled by the time he reaches the quiet of their tent. He's ready to accept her apology—until she turns on him and snaps, "What was that?"
"What was that?" he repeats, in disbelief. "You're asking me?"
This time, she doesn't flinch. Just meets his eyes, her arms folded protectively around her stomach.
"Do you want me to let them kill you, next time?" Adam demands. "Should I have saved us all some trouble and left you there for the police?"
"That's not what I meant and you know it." Her hand comes up to her mouth.
"I was relieved."
"You didn't look relieved."
"If you have something to say," he grits out, "just say it."
"Do you feel guilty?"
"Do I feel guilty for saving your life?"
"No. Do you feel guilty for killing someone?"
"It's the same thing."
"It's not." She bites her lip. "You've been so... so angry, lately, I don't—"
"Angry." His voice is flat, but she must read something in it because she tries to back away. He catches her wrist. "That's what this is, then."
"That's not what I—"
He rips off the mask. Blake turns her head, her eyes squeezed shut. "I know you have good reason to be," she murmurs.
"Look at it."
"But it's—it's different when you're hurting people, Adam. I can't just—"
"Look at it."
She raises her gaze, slowly, like she's the one shouldering a great weight. He can see his ruined eye reflected in hers. Their mark. Their fatal mistake.
"Is that it?" he asks softly. "You want to be just like them, huh? Treating me like a mad bull whenever I hit back?"
Her eyes flick down. "That's not what I meant."
"Look!"
"I know!" She tugs at his grip on her arm. "I know, but—"
"You think they'll spare you if you act like a good little pet? Like your parents?"
"No," she whispers, and shuts her eyes. He squeezes her wrist and she opens them again.
"Do you think I should roll over and let them hurt me? Let them hurt you?"
"No. But..."
"Tch." He drops her arm. "You don't care at all, do you?"
Her eyes drop back to the floor. "I do. It's why I came here."
"It's alright, Blake. You don't have to lie to me. I know what you are, and I love you anyway."
"I didn't ask you to," she mutters, and walks out of the tent.
It's the first time she hasn't said it back.