AN: Wow, yeah, this took bloody forever. However, the good news is, I'm going into my last week of heavy duty Army training. After that, I'll be home, and more able to write without worrying about various projects and inspections and what have you. So, yeah, sorry this took so long, and thank you for being so patient!

This chapter does have nudity and bodily functions in it, and starts going into the psychology of being on the ICU. You'll see what I mean. Hopefully you all enjoy! 4,210 words without the Author's Note, so it's another long one. Read, enjoy, and please review!

The Hunting Dragon

Yang was in a bad mood. Hands jammed in her pockets, she barely remembered nodding to the hospital's receptionists as she made her way to the ICU. Stupid freakin' underground contacts, couldn't find their way out of a wet paperbag! How hard was it, really, to find any info about the Crimson Claw? They had to have a base of operations in Vale to do something like the bombing! It had been too large of an attack, too organized, so why couldn't her contacts find anything?!

Maybe after I visit Ruby, I'll go beat some information out of Junior, she grumbled to herself as she got on the elevator. Even if he doesn't know anything, it'll relieve some bloody stress. The elevator dinged cheerfully as the doors closed, and she resisted the urge to punch the control panel. Stupid thing shouldn't be so freakin' happy. She knew academically (ha, see, Weiss? I do know big words!) that her anger and frustration were caused by inaction, and that went against her very nature. She wanted nothing more than to go out there and make the bastards who hurt her sister pay for what they did, but there was no target for her to attack, no way for her to vent her frustration.

The elevator dinged again, and the doors slid open. Huffing angrily to herself, Yang stepped off onto the fourth floor, not even paying attention as she made the necessary turns through the corridors to reach the ICU.

"Oh, hey, Miss Xiao Long!"

She stumbled, startled at the sudden voice. She looked up, taking in the two Beacon students standing guard at the doors leading into the ICU. She had to fight the urge to roll her eyes at the looks of poorly disguised heroic worship in their eyes. Save Beacon and Vale, and what does it get you? Fans. "Hey, guys!" she replied, heavy with the false cheer. "How are things going?"

"Eh, pretty boring, really," the stocky, muscular male replied with a shrug. "Kinda wish that something would happen, just to give us something to-oof!"

His female classmate, a willowy girl with dark brown hair and a tanned complexion, elbowed him in the side with a worried glance at Yang. "I'm sorry, he doesn't mean anything by that…Xavier just isn't the smartest guy, and he sometimes has issues with waiting. And with social grace!" The last sentence was hissed warningly at the boy, who had opened his mouth, an annoyed look on his face.

Yang just sighed heavily, hand going to her brow. "Guys, chill out…it's okay. I hate waiting, too. Heck, I wish that the Crimson Claw would be stupid enough to attack the hospital, might give us a trail to follow." An awkward silence followed her words, and she shifted from one foot to the other. "So, uh…I'm going to go see my sister now." The way that they scrambled to get out of her way might have been comical, in other circumstances. But instead of laughing, she had to fight the urge to roll her eyes. However, as she was about to pass the threshold into the ICU, she shot the two of them a glance. "Listen, they probably aren't going to attack. You guys can stay in the breakroom, do some homework or something. You'll be close enough to react if something does happen, but there's no reason for you to be uncomfortable, just standing at these doors for hours, okay?" They nodded, and she grinned crookedly. "Don't forget to let all the other teams know, alright?"

Once more they nodded eagerly, and she shook her head to herself as she fully entered the ICU, doors swishing shut behind her. To have such youthful optimism and energy once more…yeah, she was still in her twenties and pretty darn young herself, but she had already seen things, experienced things that made her feel old and even jaded. The smile fled from her lips, all mirth gone from her mind as she walked down the corridor, hands once more jammed into her pockets, careful to not look around her.

She hated it here.

It wasn't one thing in particular. The staff members were nice and efficient and they obviously cared for their charges, so it wasn't them. The floor was kept immaculately clean at all times, and the lighting was excellent, with no sense of darkness or impending doom about this place. But all the friendly people and the best kept floors didn't change what this place was.

People died here.

Yes, many of the patients recovered, but some of them didn't. She glanced into a room at the sound of deep, painful coughing, looked away again, hunching down into herself. How could the staff handle it? The old woman with that terrible, deep, wet cough…she looked like a living skeleton, with sunken eyes that peered lifelessly into the hall. Yang shuddered, her step quickening.

"Miss Xiao Long, how are you today?"

Cerul, at the Nurse's Station, giving her a kind smile.

"Eh, could be better, I suppose," Yang replied, glancing back at room twelve. "She's…she's not getting better, is she?"

Cerul glanced at the room, smile leaving her face. "I'm sorry, but I can't discuss patient information with anyone either than family or someone who has been cleared by the patient." The words were gentle, and well used, probably repeated so many times that Cerul didn't have to think about them. But the eyes didn't lie, that look of tired defeat, of a sadness that went soul deep.

This was a place of pain, not only for patients, but also for those that worked here, Yang reminded herself as she walked away, empty condolences given to the young secretary at the desk. What did her pitiful 'sorry' do to alleviate the situation? It wouldn't make the old lady better, wouldn't take the pain away from Cerul. Her words did nothing, and were contemptible for that.

She wished Weiss was here, even if only to mockingly congratulate her for using the word contemptible. Her biting wit would be appreciated, make a distraction. She passed the nurses, some intent on their work as they stood at the mobile computer stations that kept track of patients and their treatments, others giving her a nod or friendly smile. They knew her face and name by now, more than a week after Ruby had been brought here. She returned the gestures, now painfully aware of the exhaustion noticeable in some of their faces and forms, of the tired sadness in the others.

It was different here, harder than the ER, in some ways, she realized. In the ER, the patients came in and left quickly, rarely staying more than eight hours, according to the statistics she had noticed on a poster the other day. But here in the ICU and on the medical floors elsewhere in the hospital, patients could stay for weeks, even months, slowly withering away until death finally came for them. The workers here…they really got to know their patients, were there to witness their fear and pain as their final hours drew to a close, or to see their joy and victories as their bodies mended themselves. Ruby would be the latter!

Speaking of…Yang frowned at the drawn curtain that covered the entrance to Ruby's room, puzzled at it. She mentally ran over the schedule of tests and doctor visits that had been given to her yesterday by Cerul, and there shouldn't be anything going on right now. Stepping forward, she gently tugged the edge of the curtain to the side, revealing-

"The fuck are you doing?!"

The young man bent over the side of the bed, and more importantly her younger sister's naked body, jerked back as though scalded, washcloth in one hand. Ruby's body slumped from where it was laying on its side, the complicated tube system that went down her throat disconnecting with a hiss, and immediately after, an alarm began to go off. Shooting her an annoyed glance, the man moved quickly, slipping around the bed so that he could get to the respiratory tubes more quickly, reattaching them.

The curtain jerked to the side, one of the nurses stepping in. "Everything okay, Michael?" he asked, a curious glance taking in Yang.

"Yeah, sorry, Rod, Miss Xiao Long startled me while I was cleaning Miss Rose, and I let go of her. Her vent disconnected, is all."

"Do you need any help?"

"No, I'm good, thanks."

Rodney, that was his name! He glanced at the ventilator's control panel and at Ruby's heart monitor screen, and, apparently pleased, nodded. "Once you're done in here, I need you in room four. She needs to be wiped, and is rather insistent about it."

Michael sighed heavily at that. "Of course she is. Right, I'll be there in a few."

"Thanks."

The curtain closed again, leaving only the three of them in the room. Michael shot her an unamused glance as he made his way back around the bed. "As I already told Miss Rose, I'm washing her up. If you want to help, that would be much appreciated."

Yang crossed her arms over her chest. "You were touching my sister's butt. And you want my help?"

Michael shrugged. "Whether you help or not doesn't really matter, miss. I'll still get my job done, it'll just take longer. My name is Michael, I'm the Nursing Assistant on until 10:30 tonight."

"Isn't there a female that can do this job?" she huffed at him.

The look he gave her was dry as the desert. "Unfortunately, no. I'm the only assistant on right now, Cerul has to stay at that desk, and the female nurses are all busy taking care of their patients," he explained as he gently, carefully rolled Ruby back onto her side. "See? Miss Rose had a bowel movement, and I need to clean her up to prevent skin irritation and possible infection." Picking up the washcloth again, he began to wipe, motion gentle but firm. "Miss Rose, I'm cleaning you up right now, I should be done in a few minutes, okay?" he said, pitching his voice a little louder.

Yang stepped forward at that, hands going out to support Ruby. "Why are you talking to her? The Doctor said he was going to keep her on a medical coma until the end of the week, to help with the healing process."

With a well-practiced scoop, flip, and fold, he removed a particularly large piece of…that…from Ruby's crack, dropping the soiled washcloth over the brown stain on the pad that lay between her body and the sheets. "Well, yes, we want to reduce the chance of her agitating the wounds by moving too much, but we always talk to our patients. We don't know when they can or can't hear us. Better for us to always explain what we're doing, right?" His gloved hands went to a wash basin filled with soapy water and other washcloths. He wrung out another washcloth, and finished the cleaning, explaining the entire process to her comatose sister. "Do you have her?" he asked. "I've got to switch out her pads."

She nodded, and watched as he quickly rolled up the soiled pad, producing another one that he partially unrolled, tucking the rest under the soiled pad. "Okay, now I want you to very, very carefully move her wounded arm so that it won't be pinned under her body, okay?" She nodded, did so, and with confident hands, he removed the soiled pad and unrolled the rest of its replacement, smoothing out any wrinkles. "You can let her down now, thanks." The gloves came off, and were tossed in a garbage as he emptied the basin in the sink.

He was silent as he did a fast inspection, checking the many bandaged areas, the almost countless IV sites, the catheter and the half full bag of urine that it was attached to, and her ventilator before nodding, satisfied. Tossing the soiled clothes into the dirty linens basket, he produced a hospital gown that he proceeded to put on Ruby. "See, that wasn't so hard, was it?" he asked her, warm brown eyes dancing with mirth. "Your sister is clean, dressed, and none of her wounds opened, and now I get to go wipe the derrier of a four hundred fifty pound woman because she literally cannot reach down there to clean herself." He shrugged, a carefree smile on his face. "Gotta love it. Anyway, if you have any questions, feel free to ask, and if you need anything, food, water, a more comfortable chair or blankets, just stick your head out the door and call for me, okay? Thanks!"

The curtain was pulled open, and he whisked off down the hall, a bounce in his step. Yang watched him go, and she scratched her golden locks, puzzled. "The hell just happened?" she asked herself quietly. What a character, she mused to herself as she sat down in the chair next to Ruby's bed, settling in for the long vigil. If she was forced to wait, she could think of no better place to be. "Hey, Ruby, how are you doing? Yeah, I think your new assistant is a bit cracked." She pulled out her headphones, sticking one of the buds into her ear. "Still, he seems like a nice enough guy, though I'm not too happy that he's seen you naked." She paused as she loaded the playlist up on her scroll. Music blaring happily in her ear, she leaned back in the chair, sighing contentedly. "But, as long as he doesn't do anything improper, I suppose I can't complain too much." She glanced over at Ruby's still body, wishing more than ever for an over-energetic response. "I miss you, Ruby," she whispered, hand tightening around her scroll. "Come back to us, please." Nothing but silence answered her heartfelt plea.

Her scroll vibrated in her hand, and Yang jerked awake, wincing as she straightened, neck protesting. Huh. So she had dozed off. Wincing, she rolled her shoulders and tilted her head just so, groaning in relief as her neck popped several times, relieving the pressure that had built up while sleeping with her neck crooked. The orange light filtering in through the blinds told her that it was early evening now, and she blinked the grittiness out of her eyes as she smacked her lips, that sour taste that seemed only to come from naps heavy in her mouth. Then she glanced at the message, saw it was from Junior. Frowning, she opened it…

And froze.

Her teeth flashed in the dimming light as a predatory grin stretched her lips wide, eyes crinkling with the savage joy of reading the short message.

Anticipation thrummed.

She had a target.

She shivered as she hit the speed dial for Ren's scroll, barely able to contain her excitement.

"Hey, Ren? Yeah, we have a lead. It's shaky, but better than nothing. You know where my bar is? Good. You and Nora meet me there in forty-five minutes. Alright, see you then." She ended the call, glanced at Ruby. "Sorry, sis, but I've got to go. Just got a heads up on a possible lead. It would be terrible if we didn't get the chance to meet and get to know one another." She lay a gentle hand on Ruby's forehead. "Don't worry, we'll make it right again. This is just the first step. I'll be back tomorrow, I promise."

The curtain swished open and closed, and silence reined once more in the room, broken only by the sounds of the many machines connected to the young woman lying comatose in bed.

Vern hurried down the street, nervousness goading his frantic pace. He needed to get out of this damn business! Sure, he'd been saying that for years, but when he started working as a messenger and errand boy for the White Fang, it was never this bad. Even when Adam, psychopath that he had been, was in charge it had never been like this. He glanced over his shoulder, trying to see any patterns that didn't fit, trying to see anyone matching his pace or looking at him too intently.

Nothing.

But his instincts were all screaming that he was being hunted.

It all freakin' started when I had to go see Junior. If that scumbag sold me out…well, I won't do anything, but the Crimson Claw might.

The Crimson Claw. He shuddered, taking an abrupt left down an alley. Ruthless monsters, the lot of them, and that was saying something, coming from him. He used to believe the propaganda, way back when he was a scared little boy, afraid of merely being Faunus. The horror stories were constant. Humans hated people like him, forced him to work in dark mines until he wasted away, his tortured ghost remaining deep underground for all eternity. He had gone to the protests, and wasn't even the youngest present at them. He had seen the hate in the faces of the humans. He had borne the burdens of his kind, and had rejoiced when the White Fang finally started fighting back. Hell, he had even been proud when recruiters came for him, noting that he was fast and quick thinking, traits common to Rabbit Fauni. Good eyes for ambushes or bad situations, as well, and he had used them to his advantage for all the years he had worked for the White Fang, and had never gotten caught once, and every single one of his messages were delivered.

And then Adam had to get stupid, teaming up with that filth Torchwick and that psycho bitch Cinder. Oh, the White Fang had suffered greatly on that day, and Vern was never happier to be a messenger and considered to be too valuable to be on the frontline. Oh, he had been busy, delivering messages, enduring the cutting insults from Torchwick and the disinterested dismissal from Cinder, but when they had made their big move, he hadn't been there. The White Fang lost…badly, and many of the more radical members were lost.

And Vern had hid.

Oh, there was no way he was sticking his head out of his bolt-hole once it was clear what was happening. He was a messenger, one of the best, and to be one of the best, he had to be a survivor. So that's what he did.

He glanced back once more, but no one had followed him into the alley. Gathering his strength, he leapt the three stories up onto the roof of the building to his right. He knew this part of town like the back of his hand. He could navigate it blind, sick, near dead…whoever was following him was going to have to work to get him!

Unless…he froze, long ears twitching as he carefully listened to the sounds of city life around him. Gang members, cops, even federal investigators…they didn't worry him. But there were others…

He took off running, leaping from roof top to roof top, letting instinct guide his route. He wasn't panicking, not yet, but fear definitely was near. Bloody Crimson Claw! he snarled to himself as he dropped down to the street near the warehouse district. Just HAD to pick a fight with the strongest Huntresses in Vale…maybe even in all of Remnant!

And he was caught up in it because of his own stubbornness. If only he had sought out the White Fang after more reasonable leaders took charge again. Being their messenger would have been far safer. Instead, he had lain low for too long, until the Crimson Claw sought him out, eager to use him to deliver their cursed messages. He shuddered again, fear making his skin crawl, and his stomach tightened at the memory of seeing their eyes, filled with hatred and rage more potent than he had ever seen before as they made it quite clear that they weren't asking him to be their messenger. He would either work for them, or die.

He broke out onto the main street again, noting that the crowds were far smaller now. He glanced left, blinked, froze. Almond eyes, black hair, magenta highlights. Features that he knew he had seen before. Oh, God!

And he was off, cutting across the road, bounding over a honking delivery truck, ignoring the sound of squealing tires behind him as he fled. Hunters were after him, it was the only explanation. No one else interested in catching him would have been able to keep up. A quick glance had him veering his course once again, heading deeper into the warehouse district. The young woman with the light brown hair may have been smiling, but her eyes were filled only with the promise of pain, the glint to them purely psychotic.

The next few minutes passed by in a blur until he found himself on the roof of an abandoned warehouse. It was only a passing hope, but maybe he could hide and lose them…maybe they'd think that he kept running. He ducked through one of the large windows that had no glass panes covering it, and scampered down into the dark depths of the dusty, creaking building. His eyes were sharp, however, and he could see well enough to make his way, something that the humans wouldn't be able to. Maybe he'd lose them in the darkness! His footsteps muffled by the thick dirt and dust covering the floor, he found a small niche in between some machinery that probably hadn't been run in years.

Settling into a tense hunch, he calmed his breathing, trying to relax so that his pounding heart wasn't the only thing that he could hear. I am small, insignificant, nothing. There isn't a scared Faunus here, just broken down machinery and dust. I'm not here…only darkness and emptiness are here. As mad as he sounded, convincing himself that he was part of the machinery in the empty building, it had worked before.

But it wouldn't work this time.

"Silly little raaaaabbit, thought we couldn't traaaack it…"

The voice was low, crooning, almost sultry as it called out the words in a sing-song manner, and seemed to come from everywhere and nowhere, setting his skin to crawling, the horrified sob that tried to claw out of his throat only stopped at the last second by an extreme twist of will. But the words still echoed through the dark, mocking him.

His hand flew to his pockets, where he had two Flame Dust vials, and the holster was still there, reassuringly heavy against his back, but he knew that he didn't have anything that could even slow down, much less hurt, a true huntress.

"Thought that you could loooose us, but you didn't foooooool us…" the voice continued, breaking off into a giggle that was made all the creepier by how girly it was.

She doesn't know exactly where you are! he told himself, cold sweat breaking out on his brow as he nervously lick his lips, ears twisting, searching for sound beyond the twisted lyrics.

"…And now…you're…found," the voice crooned right behind him, and he jumped, spinning, seeing his true opponent for the first time. Yang Xiao Long. Who didn't know what she looked like, after what she had done for Vale and Remnant? But above that twisted, eager grin on her face, her eyes glowed a fierce red, glimmering like hot coals through the shadows cast by her bangs.

Desperation guided his actions as much as anything else. Even before landing, both hands crushed the vials that he had been holding so tightly, and he welcomed the pain as the glass cut into his palms, burning power running up his forearms. With a fierce yell, he threw out several punches, fireballs erupting from his hands, streaking through the air, and he saw that she didn't move, or even try to block the blows before they struck, exploding into howling infernos.

He landed, one bloody hand reaching back, drawing his pistol, and for a brief moment, he dared to hope that he had managed to get her. But then the fire died down enough for him to see into the heart of the blaze, and for a second, his heart stopped in terror.

She still stood, Semblance activated, protecting her from the flames. The smile was gone, but she was staring at him with deadly red eyes, her hair shining like a beacon as it flowed in the air like a living being. "Silly little Faaaaaaunus, thought that it could huuuuurt us," she sang over the roar of the flames, voice still sickeningly sweet as she crouched down, flames caressing her body like a lover. "But dragons…don't…BURN!"

With the last shouted word, she burst forward, flame trailing behind her, and he only managed to fire once before she was on him, the round almost contemptuously swatted away like an annoying fly.

The last thing he saw was the look of seething rage, all taunting gone as she drew back her fist, torso twisting in preparation for the heavy blow, gauntlet forming over her fist. She twisted and the fist flew forward.

Flashing impact.

Then oblivion.