Shortly after Qrow's mini interrogation, Blake left for the library, claiming she had to go forge her note from the White Fang. True, that was what she ended up doing, but it was far from the real reason she left.
Yang's eyes, trailing her from the moment they could. It hurt her, and she knew it hurt Yang, but Blake couldn't face her yet. Maybe it should have been the other way around, but running away was what she always did.
Always.
The library was nearly empty by now. The clock read seven, so it was getting later than most students would study. Team JNPR was there, Jaune stuck in a book, Pyrrha subtly throwing hints about questions at him. Nora and Ren were, somewhat surprisingly, studying peacefully, with only the occasional comment from the orange haired girl at his side.
She sat down at one of the computers, launched up a word processor, and started to type. Half-forgotten memories of time spent writing reports in the White Fang slowly floated upwards, and she tried to remember certain details of formatting and font.
Her plan was simple. Fake a report, attach a note stating what it meant, and forward it to Qrow. It wasn't too hard, the Fang didn't have very strict rules regarding these things, but…
But things had changed here. Her memories were of a world different from her current one. For all she knew, the Fang had created some specific format, and Ozpin would be breaking down their door and demanding answers.
She let out a loud sigh, lowering her head to the keyboard. Why did she think this was a good idea? She began to feel a headache building, and she slowly cradled it. She needed sleep, not this!
Slowly, agonizingly, she started to type once more. Falling upon an old habit she gained learning how to hunt, (Animals, not Grimm) she stopped thinking about what she was doing. She focused on her movements, the soft hum of the keyboard as it registered her fingers.
Slowly, steadily, a page grew in front of her. Before long, or at least before she actually had to acknowledge its existence, there was a vaguely correct looking document in front of her. The information was all there, the only issue was whether or not it was believable.
A thought came to her, and she quickly saved the document, closed the program, and opened the file's data in a program she found when she was younger. Millions of odd symbols and letters filled the screen. Blake had… no clue what any of them did, but she quickly deleted a large chunk of the letters, hoping it would have the effect she wanted.
Sure enough, when the doc was open again, it looked partially corrupted. A few tweaks to ensure the names got through, and voila, a perfect faked document.
A quick message later, and her job was done for the night. She checked the time.
8:34.
Yang would still be up, everyone would still be up. Her work was done, but she wished it wasn't.
"Penny for your thoughts?"
Blake jumped, reaching for a weapon that wasn't there. The chair was kicked backwards, and she cringed at the disturbingly loud screech it made.
The desk barely shook. Apparently they built these things tough.
"Nora!" Blake shouted, her pounding heart returning to normal speeds. "Sorry, you surprised me."
Nora beamed. "It's okay! I do it all the time to Ren!"
"It's true."
"By the way, have we met?" She tilted her head, "Because I kinda sorta recognise you, but I don't think I actually know you, so I don't know your name and—"
"Blake," She interrupted, her hand shooting out. Nora grabbed it, shook hard enough to rattle her teeth.
"Nora! Although you already knew that! And this," She gestured towards the rest of her team. "Is my team! Ren—"
"—Pyrrha and Jaune, right." Blake smiled softly, "You're the girl Ruby was having so much trouble talking to."
"Um, yes," Pyrrha said, blushing. "That is me." She looked around, elbowed Jaune in the side.
"Hm?" He said, before his eyes locked on to her. "Oh! Hi!" He got up, grabbed her hand.
"Sorry, I was—" He coughed, "I was, um, distracted by your wonderful…eyes?"
Wow, now she knew how Weiss felt. Just… how to make him stop?
"Okay…" She said, slowly creeping away from the boy. Maybe if she made him think girls were creeped out by that, he wouldn't do it.
Then again, last time it took a dance, a few hundred Grimm, and Pyrrha to knock that habit off…
"So… whatcha doing here?" Nora asked, leaning over a chair.
"Just some school work," Blake answered. It was technically true, seeing as Qrow was a teacher…
"Oh, okay." Nora tilted her head, "Is that it though? Cause it seems like there's something else."
"Well, there isn't, so I'll just head back to my dorm and sleep." Blake said, turning around and speed walking out the door. Before she could leave however, Nora had somehow gotten in front of her.
"Ah ah ah! You aren't leaving until you start talking!"
"Nora—"
"No Ren! There is something wrong, and we must assist our friend in resolving it!"
Jaune got up and quickly pulled Nora away, telling her "Sorry." He started some speech on personal space, and was quickly, albeit quietly, joined by Ren.
Blake began to leave, and was nearly out the door when Pyrrha said, "Is everything okay?"
She turned to face her. "Yes. Why wouldn't it be?"
"You seem troubled."
Blake grabbed the door frame. "It's nothing, just…" A psychopath wants me dead, I should be dead, I yelled at my best friend, she lied to me.
"Some issues with my team." She said instead, "It really is nothing. Don't let me interrupt your…" She actually stopped and looked at what they were doing. Jaune's book wasn't one of their textbooks, rather it was fiction, some fantasy tale she barely remembered reading when she was younger.
"We're not doing all that much. Really, do you want to talk?" Pyrrha asked, pulling out a chair.
Blake let out a breath, and for a moment she was tempted. Pyrrha was a friend, a good one, and she knew she could trust her. She helped her, and never judged her on her race. She was kind, cared about everyone, was always so confident, had red hair…
No, talking about anything with her would be a bad idea. So Blake shook her head and told her she was fine, said goodnight, and walked off towards her room.
It was getting late anyways.
Jaune eye's trailed Blake until she left. Immediately afterwards, Pyrrha turned to him.
"Somethings not right." She said, "I don't know her that well, but there was something…"
He nodded. "I get it." He frowned, and glanced over at Nora and Ren. "Now that I think about it, I think I've seen that look in her eyes before."
"Really?" Pyrrha asked.
"My granddad, after the war." He explained, happy to have something he could teach his teammate. "You'd ask him these questions about, well, anything, and sometimes I just saw him…" He paused, struggling to think of the right words. "Shut down."
Pyrrha sighed, and glanced at the empty door. "What can we do?"
"Um…" Jaune scratched the back of his head. "I don't know."
"Oh." She said, "What did you do with your grandfather?"
"He has Alzheimer's."
"Oh. I'm sorry!" Pyrrha closed her eyes, and cradled her head in her arms. "I'm terrible at this."
Jaune grabbed her shoulders. "No! It's okay! Alright? You didn't know."
"Thanks Jaune." They both smiled, "I'm just not really used to… well, this." She gestured towards the four of them.
"Well, I'm not very used to fighting." He said, laughing slightly, before he turned back towards the door.
"He used to say that he liked spending time with us, so… maybe let's just try being there?" He coughed, "I mean, if they want to tell us, we should show that we trust them, right?"
"Right." Pyrrha yawned, "Although I believe it's time we retired for the night, don't you?"
"Yeah, sure. Just…" He pulled out his book. "One more chapter!"
It was nearly nine when Yang heard Blake slowly open the door and creep in. She didn't dare move, afraid that she'd scare away her partner and rob her of any chance of sleep. Ruby and Weiss had both long since fallen into the sandman's grasp, leaving her alone to totally not sulk.
She was trying to sleep, but all Yang could do was run through her actions the past few days, and wonder about Blake's. Her own actions the past few days had not, admittedly, been the most well thought out.
The subject of her thoughts had quickly gotten changed, and quietly slid into her bed. Yang strained her ears, listening to her partners breathing. She didn't fall asleep.
If all else fails, they could still bond over mutual insomnia.
Slowly, Yang eased herself out of her bed. The frame creaked, but there was otherwise no noise. She landed with a muffled thud, and before Blake could react she jumped into her bed.
They were going to talk, even if Yang had to tie her to the floor.
"Yang, what are you doing?" Blake asked, faking drowsiness. She rubbed her eyes, but they remained alert and focused.
"We need to talk."
Blake shook her head. "Go back to bed." She commanded, flipping over to face away from her.
Yang didn't twitch. She lied down next to Blake, her arms placed awkwardly in front of her.
"I'm sorry." She said, without any trace of her normal energy.
Blake was silent, but she turned again to face her. "What for?"
"You know what."
She sighed. Slowly, she whispered, "Yang, I get it, you didn't want to tell me, and I really shouldn't have pried, and—"
Yang covered her mouth. She shook her head, yellow hair battering Blake's face. "You didn't do anything wrong. I'm the one who screwed up, okay? I should have…" She reached out, grabbed Blake's hand.
"Blake, you're my best friend. You matter to me, as much as Ruby does. All I want to do is be there and help you, but…" She swallowed, and Blake saw small tears growing in the corner of her eyes. "But that's what you're trying to do with me. You came for me, talked to me because you wanted to help. I…I should have let you." Her eyes met Blake's, and she realised just how hard it must have been for her to say those words. How many years of staying strong for Ruby she just went against.
"But I got… I got scared." Yang continued, "You asked why I was angry, and I—I didn't know." Her voice started to shake with her words, and Blake, without conscious thought, grabbed her partners other hand. Yang didn't notice.
Yang calmed somewhat, and resumed speaking. "It's like little, random things worm into my head and stay there and…" Her grip on Blake's hands grew to an almost uncomfortable level, but she didn't dare let go. "Then I flip out and I can't control myself and I hurt people. People I care about."
"Yang, no one's hurt!" Blake hurriedly whispered, "Besides, we're all huntresses, you're not going to hurt anyone!" At least not permanently, she thought.
"But what if I do?" Yang asked, "What if one day, someone says something stupid and then I hit them and they die and-"
"It. Won't. Happen." Blake firmly said, "And if it does, we'll be there, right by your side."
Yang didn't respond, and Blake hoped that she'd gotten through to her.
"…What if you're the one who gets hurt?" Violet eyes met yellow, pleading and terrified at the same time. That's when Blake realised why Yang talked to her about this. If she had shown this vulnerability to Ruby, even for a second, she'd never think of Yang as the strong one again. It would kill her.
"You'd never hurt me Yang. I know that, you know that." Blake insisted. "You're not him." She had to know that. Despite what she had said, so long ago, she knew that Yang wasn't like Adam, would never be like him.
She felt an itch, as if an insect was crawling on her hand. Blake absently scratched the offending part.
"Stop that!" Yang shout-whispered, her normal smile returning. "I'm trying to be all glum over here and you're…"
Blake laughed softly, "Good! It's weird when you're all serious like this." A yawn escaped from her lips, and she was suddenly aware of just how exhausted she was.
"So, you all done blaming yourself?" She asked.
Yang beamed at her, and said, "I'll try. Just…" Help me? Don't blame me? Be there?
"What?" I won't go anywhere. Not anymore.
"Thank you." Yang eventually finished. Blake nodded. Why did it take her this long to do this?
Yang's eyes slowly started to close, and Blake found being pulled into sleeps hold as well. Neither of them felt any desire to move off Blake's bed. Without either one being aware, the two girls slowly began to slide together.
It reminded Yang of long ago nights spent with Ruby.
"You know what I just realised?" Blake mumbled, and Yang cracked her eyes open, just enough to make sure she wasn't talking into a pillow.
"Hm?"
She smiled, and said, "We missed classes today."
"…Glynda's going to kill us."
"Maybe." A soft breath left her lips, "Night Yang."
"Good night Blakey."
"That cannot be comfortable."
"I don't know Weiss, they look pretty happy…"
Yang cracked open her eyes to glare at whoever dared to wake her up. The early morning light made her hiss, actually hiss, and she pulled her pillow over her head. The fabric felt like silk to her surprisingly tired mind, and the very heavy blanket only made it better.
"Go away." She mumbled, tasting the cottony cotton of the pillow case. "Too comfy." And she was. It was as warm as a summer day, and she felt more relaxed than she had in weeks.
Ruby snickered. Weiss rolled her eyes and said, "It's almost eight, and we still have classes today." She looked away, and Yang could swear she was blushing.
"You're also…" She coughed, "Just a little close to Blake."
"What are you…?" Yang eyes widened, and she turned to look at her 'blanket'.
As far as she could, at any rate, since Blake's head was on her shoulder and prevented her from moving too much. Swallowing down her yelp of shock, Yang looked over her teammate. She was still asleep, soft breaths lifting strands of her hair. Her clothes were still on, thank God, but it was a small comfort. Blake had seemingly glued herself to her partner, not a single atom of air between her and Yang. Her whole body was pressed up against her, and it was a struggle for Yang to ignore how much she could feel.
"Oh, um…" Yang looked at Weiss, "This is strictly platonic."
"Right." Weiss snorted, her hands on her hips.
"It is!" Yang insisted, feeling Blake beginning to stir behind her. "We were talking, and then we got tired—."
"Talking? About what?" Ruby asked, her face completely innocent. But a sister knows when they've just been suckered.
"S-stuff." Both her teammates raised an eye brow. "It was nothing like that!"
"Yang?" Blake asked, slowly pushing herself upwards. Her eyes remained closed, the room still far too bright. "What's going on?"
Yang opened her mouth to speak, but Ruby beat her too it. "We're just talking about—"
"What me and B-Yang did last night." She finished, the room turning silent. "And Yang was telling you we didn't do anything—which we didn't—and then I woke up, and I was asleep."
Ruby blinked, "Um, yeah. That's, that's it exactly." She nervously laughed. "Wow, didn't realise you were listening in!"
Blake let out a breath. "I…I don't think I was." Quickly she turned so that her back was to Yang and held up four fingers. "Yang, how many fingers am I holding up?"
Yang started to twist around, but Blake elbowed her in the stomach. (The matching pain in her own torso was ignored) She opened her mouth to protest, but Yang seemingly thought better of it and responded.
"Four."
She held up one.
"One."
Five.
"F-five." There was a tremor to Yang's voice now. Blake curled her thumb and pointer into a zero.
"…You're making a circle."
Blake turned around and faced the rest of her team. Weiss had her mouth covered with her hand, and sat down on her bed. Her face was pale, and she was staring at her. Ruby seemed to have almost frozen, before she tentatively reached out and poked Blake on the nose.
"Did you feel that Yang?" She asked, her voice small in the dorm room.
Yang swallowed down a mouth full of spit. "Yeah."
"…Okay." She said, her voice echoing. Yang tried to look at her sister, but she was seeing double. It was like a bad 3-D movie without glasses, or two translucent photographs overlaid on top of each other. Gradually, however, the image stabilized into one picture, her own view. If she focused for a few brief seconds, she could still easily see what her partner was viewing.
She became aware of the feeling of breathing twice, or something like that, in her lungs. Yang reached out a hand towards her heart, and felt both her own pulse, and the faster beat of her partner.
Blake bit down on her finger, not hard enough to draw blood, but enough that Yang can feel both the pain, and Blake's lips touching her finger. It felt almost muted however, like the hand was frozen by a dentist.
Yang looked away from Ruby, and Blake nearly followed her movements out of muscle memory that she cannot remember creating. Although struck by a brief wave of dizziness, Yang could still focus on what was in front of her, at least well enough to reach out her arm and touch the bed post.
Weiss cleared her throat. "What happened? Last night, I mean." She closed her eyes and sighed, eyes glancing at their intertwined hands. "I don't care if it's embarrassing, we need information."
Blake spoke up first, "It's like she told you; we talked." Eyeing the incredulous looks from Weiss, she groaned. "That's all we did! Really!"
"Well, I talk to people, and I don't wind up… whatever is going on with you!"
Blake got up, intent on doing something to her teammate. The moment she got up however, there was a few seconds of the worst feeling of vertigo she'd ever had. She fell, letting go of Yang's hand in the process.
Just like that, it was over. The dizziness, the sensations of viewing reality through four eyes, and the warmth disappeared. The room, despite the early morning sunshine and Blake's clothes, feels colder than a refrigerator.
Ruby rushed to her side. "Blake! You okay?" She asked, slowly pulling her to her feet. Yang got up and came to her side, but stopped short of actually touching her.
"I'm fine." She growled, before wincing and apologizing, "Sorry."
Weiss grinned, her shoulders slumping into a more comfortable form. "It's quite alright. Just…" She checks the time and frowns. "Fantastic. Class begins in twenty minutes." She stares at the two. "Don't…" She pauses, uncertain of what she should say. "Don't do whatever you did last night to cause this."
Yang snorted, and rose her hand into a two-fingered salute. "Yes ma'am."
"Good." Weiss sniffed the air, "And Blake… How long have you been wearing those clothes?"
"Since…" She closed her eyes and thought back. "I last changed… yesterday morning."
Crumpling under Weiss's disapproving glare, Blake quickly moved to grab new clothes. Maybe it was nothing, but Weiss was pretty sure her hands went to Yang's drawer before they went to her own.
And she was positive she wasn't mistaking the way Blake and Yang both grinned like idiots when they brushed up against each other.
Nor did she miss the small sparks they gave off.
Torchwick was beginning to hate warehouses. It wasn't the smell of urine or fish that always seeped into the walls, nor was it really the company. The White Fang was surprisingly easy to work with for a bunch of animals.
No, it was the fact that every time his life went to hell, it was in a warehouse. He met Cinder in a warehouse, he met his first partner in a warehouse, and of course, there was that time with the undercover cops…
Today was no exception to that rule.
"Cinder sent me. You needed men?" Adam had said, his frame stiff. Of course she did, why else would he be here?
Deciding against any long interaction, he simply told him and his men to start packing boxes. No complaints, nice change of pace from his normal assistants.
Eventually everything was packed, and he and Adam had to have a sit-down and figure out what was next. Cinder had been, as always, incredibly vague with her plans and what she wanted done.
They met in an office overlooking the main floor of the warehouse. It was nearly empty, containing only a few chairs and a table. Soft moonlight flickered through the cloudy sky, providing the only illumination aside from the dirty bulb softly swinging above their heads.
"So, Cindy's pushing us together again." Torchwick began, snorting. "When is she going to learn that you're just not my type?"
Amazingly, Adam didn't rise to his taunt. "She said you had a mission. I assume you didn't need us to pack boxes."
It was true, he did have a mission for the faunus gathered below. How Cinder already knew about it…
Well, maybe it was best not to dwell on that question.
"Right you are." He pulled out a paper map. Hey, he liked the classics.
"Our employers want's more dust," He explained, "Far more than I can get knocking over corner stores. My first thought was to hit a few trains…"
"My men can get that done in their sleep." Adam boasted, his posture straightening.
"Ah, yes." Torchwick smiled, "But then I learned you were on your way, and I got a wonderful idea." He leaned back.
Adam's mask made it difficult for him to get a read, but he seemed interested. "What do you mean?"
"Well, Cindy want's dust, enough to fight an army. But if I keep doing small time hits, we're going to attract some unwanted attention."
"You mean like the Schnee's team?" Adam scoffed, "They're nothing."
Torchwick scowled, and leaned forward. "Don't get cocky, bull-boy. Those four hit way above their weight level. Besides, they aren't the only Grimm in the forest."
Adam crossed his arms. "So then what's your plan?"
"It's simple," Torchwick explained. "Instead of grabbing the dust in transport, we hit the mines." He pointed at a circle on the map. "You ride in, fight off the robots or whatever they've got, and then declare yourself a savior of all the poor, misunderstood faunus workers."
Adam nodded. He seemed to be following along so far, or perhaps he simply liked the idea of actually doing what he joined the White Fang to do.
Surprisingly, he did start to argue. "Will that work? I can't imagine the government will allow us to control that much dust without a fight."
Torchwick grinned, and leaned back in his chair. "That's the beautiful part. Before we do any of this, we'll film everything. Then we send it into the world, everyone gets all up in arms, and tada! No one can touch us without the public losing it!"
Adam snorted, "You really think anyone will care enough? People know about the conditions, and they do nothing!" He was yelling by the end, his feeling on the issue seeping through despite his attempts to control it.
"A fair point," He conceded, "But the thing is, they'll pretend to care. They have to." He frowned slightly, "They all want you ground beneath their feet, yet not one of them will admit it." His tone was surprisingly serious, and Adam wondered if he had stumbled across something new about the man in front of him. Something he wasn't supposed to see.
Torchwick sighed, and he got up. "See who you can get in there with a camera. This mine," He pointed towards a circled dot on the map, "Has a guard rotation in a month, and if my contact comes through, we'll have five hours with only robots to deal with." He started to walk away, noticeably leaning on his cane.
For a moment, he was worried Adam would ask him if there was something wrong. Friends they were not, but it wouldn't be the first time an 'ally' had showed concern over his capabilities. But the faunus was silent, and Torchwick was able to quickly limp away, towards the office that he had converted into his sleeping quarters.
He pulled open the door, took two steps inside, and collapsed onto his cot. Even with the relatively soft surface, his left hip briefly felt like it was on fire, burned by magma or the sun itself.
With a sharp hiss, he pulled himself over to a small freezer. He opened it, slowly, everything slowly, and pulled out an ice pack. He lied back down and set it on.
Turned out Blondie ripped a few muscles in her assault. He hadn't noticed at the time, but once he got back here he nearly collapsed on the door step. It was only thanks to Neo that he didn't get nabbed by some overweight security guard. Perhaps he should have gone to the hospital, but his medical records weren't up to date, and he really didn't feel like straightening them out with the good policemen.
The pain receded, and he felt his eyes begin to droop.
It had been a reminder, he later realised. He'd been doing this, running around, fighting huntsmen for nearly twenty-five years now. When he was younger, an injury like this wouldn't even slow him down, but now…
Well, warning received. He would be fine, of course, aura would make sure he recovered at full fighting capacity, but he was forced to slow down. He couldn't keep knocking up dust shops and risk running into more fights, so now he was going to go for the source, and maybe the bad PR would keep the police off his back.
And once this mess was over, he was going to retire. Maybe buy a house on some island somewhere, and a few thousand robots to stave off the Grimm. He was getting too old for this line of work. Hell, if he got really board, he could always take up one of the many job offers he'd gotten from mob bosses over the years.
…Assuming he survived this.
Taiyang hated swamps.
He hated, hated, hated swamps with an unholy passion. Everything he owned got wet, and it never dried. The plants made it nearly impossible to spot threats, the ground was never stable, and he didn't care what anyone said, the mosquitoes were Grimm and wanted him dead.
"How do you do this Qrow?" He asked, apparently forgetting that he was alone. He glanced down at himself, "And why didn't I think to grab some different clothes?"
Sighing, he continued to trudge forward. Three days in this mud hole had turned up nothing so far. Nothing about who killed Amber, or what she had been doing in the last few days before she died.
Luckily, a few kids told him there was something out here in the swamp. They didn't know what exactly, or where it was, but it was a lead. The first he'd found in two days.
So onward he trudged, sloping through waist high water and the sticky remnants of wildlife. The moon, at least, was full, and the night was well lit. But the mosquitoes, the mosquitoes just never quit!
Suddenly his foot was caught on something in the water. He stumbled, but caught himself before he got a mouthful of swamp juice. He turned, puzzled. It wasn't the first time he'd hit a root, but it was the first time it moved with him. He carefully reached down, his hand finding some scrap of cloth. He pulled it up.
It was a tent. Looked cheap, the kind meant more for sleeping in someone's backyard than actual camping in the wild. The poles and the string were tangled up, and the local wildlife had decided to leave a message.
In itself, the tent didn't say much. But maybe…
He got out of the water, pulled apart the strings. Turning the tent inside out, he searched for a tag, a barcode, something to go off.
There was nothing. Whoever owned this tent had removed it, or it was destroyed during it's time in the drink. But he still found a brand name and a model number, stitched into the fabric in such a way as to be unmovable.
It wasn't much, and it was unlikely it belonged to his suspect, but if he had a name he might be able to compare financial records. Wouldn't stand up in court, but it's not like Ozpin worried about that.
With a sigh Taiyang got up. Scanning the horizon, he started walking towards the CCT tower. This far out in Mistral, getting a signal was nearly impossible. He'd have to move closer to be able to send his report.
Because unlike some people, he actually talks to the people he works for.
He didn't think the tent would actually tell him anything, but screw it, CCT means people, and people meant showers. Glorious showers!
Taiyang stepped out of the water onto a grassy field. He can hear a quiet buzz of animal activity rustling underneath him. A cold, biting breeze causes him to shiver slightly. The ground squelches while he walks, and he can still feel the leftovers of his time in the swamp sticking to the ground and pulling up dirt.
The CCT grew closer, and his scroll dinged. He's got a connection again. More dings sounded out from the device, and he pulled it out. Most are normal spam or ads, but Ozpin's left a few. He opened it up. It's only a few words, fits what he knows about the man.
Taiyang
You're mission has been cancelled. The intel you've been searching for has been located, and we're consolidating our resources. Return to the school at once.
Ozpin.
Well. How about that.
Sayonara swamp.