Later that morning, Ruby slouched over a plate of microwaved waffles, poking at it with a fork. She was not as hungry as she thought she would be.
"I'm gonna have you do the same thing you were doing," Roman said, breaking the silence.
Ruby lifted her head. "What?"
"Following Red around."
Ruby raised an eyebrow. "I already know what happens, though. What gives?"
"That's exactly why." Roman stood, gathering his belongings into his bag.
"Oh," Ruby realized. "You want me to see if anything changes."
"Exactly."
Ruby raised a hand to her mouth. Thinking back, she remembered that this was around the time when the Beacon dance happened. A couple of days beforehand, they found him at the White Fang rally. "Hey, Roman?"
"Yeah." He slung the strap of his bag over his shoulder.
"Have you been to any White Fang rallies yet?"
This caught Roman off guard. He tensed and watched her warily. "How do you know about that?"
Not yet, then, she thought. "Blake is going to be there for when you unveil the paladin."
"What do you expect me to do about it?"
"I don't know," Ruby mused. "Something different?"
"Like what?"
Ruby scratched her chin. "Um, I don't know."
Roman shuffled over to her, reaching up to touch his own chin in kind. "What would doing anything differently help?"
"That warehouse was a White Fang thing. We only figured you would be there because we knew you had something to do with them."
"So what, then?" he said. "Don't show up?"
"I guess," Ruby muttered.
He shook his head, clicking his tongue. "Can't do that. I take orders from someone else. They wouldn't be too happy about that."
"I wouldn't be so worried about Cinder," she said.
His head perked up, but his expression quickly morphed into deviant amusement. "I didn't expect a little brat like you to figure that one out."
"I probably know more than you do if Cinder threw you into a shit pile she couldn't clean up," she shot back.
"You better watch it, punk." His eyes narrowed.
"What, asshole? What are you going to do about it? Oh, that's right—nothing. Because you were stupid enough to get yourself killed." Ruby matched his stare with equivalent intensity.
He answered with the flattened palm colliding with her cheek. Quickly pulling her head back, she saw that his fists were balled up at his sides, his face growing more agitated by the second.
"Is that all you got?" she growled.
"Not even close," he seethed.
They faced each other in a standoff, Ruby scanning his movements. His fists were shaking now, but he contained it to his arms. His face contorted with the shapes of rage moving over them, his mouth hardened in a defined line. The implications of what he wanted to do were presented themselves so clearly on his body, but for some reason, he restrained himself, waiting it out.
He ceased, stringing his fingers around the strap across his front. He raced to the door of her apartment, flinging it open and disappearing without another word.
Ruby stalled, mouth hanging open, until the sound of the door crashing against its frame jostled Ruby. She shook her head and examined herself in the mirror. There was a vague red imprint on the flesh of her skin, but it didn't sting like most slaps do. In fact, the shock was more of an impact that the pain it left behind.
She decided not to dwell on it any further, leaving her reflection in the mirror, and turning to her work.
Two days have passed, and in that time, Roman had not said a single word to her since. As far as she knew, he was carrying on at his own place, dealing with the same predicament as she was. The only time he had even remotely made contact was when he slid an envelope under her door, enclosing a multitude of forged identification—a passport, driver's permit putting her at twenty-two years old, and a license for carrying a concealed weapon. She laughed at that last one.
In the early afternoon on a standard Tuesday morning, Ruby sat outside Beacon Academy, trying to pinpoint exactly what she was doing. In the thirty minutes she had spent on the bench, she had written out an elaborate time sheet that should have been able to predict where she would be when. Sleep schedule, studying habits, classes—all alongside her…extracurricular activities.
Ruby set the pen down and rubbed the cramps out of her palm. The ache for rest cried out to her from her marrow, reaching deep and making it difficult to stack her spine in an upright position.
Without thinking, he opened her bag once again, wrapping her fingers around the cold plastic of Roman's burner phone. He had not used it once to call her, and neither did she. Ruby sighed, reaching instead for the metal water bottle.
She screwed off the lid and cringed—the smell came out in the same tones as nail polish remover. Steeling herself with a breath, she brought the rim to her lips and tipped the bottle back.
The taste burned her tongue, worse than any other medicine she had taken in her life. When she finally swallowed, shivers ran through her arms and chest, and for a moment, she thought she was going to throw up right there in Beacon's courtyard. The feeling faded, and she decided she would try again, bringing the bottle back up.
The second time was easier, Ruby remembering how her uncle Qrow used to throw back a swig from his flask. She swallowed immediately, and the only feeling she could register was the lingering sensation in her mouth.
Sealing the bottle, she looked around for passersby who might have noticed her struggling with a couple of shots, but no one paid any attention to her.
Ruby let out a sigh of relief. The last thing she wanted was to find out if her forged ID was good enough to show to a police officer. Though, one thing did unsettle her: Ruby Rose, in the flesh.
She was almost skipping through the courtyard, headphones bouncing with her. Knowing her own behavior, Ruby figured she was heading to the air ferry station to take her across the lake to the city—probably to shop for more dust cartridges.
I used to be so wasteful with ammunition, she thought. Precision proved to be a tough learning curve.
She passed her without even looking at her older self, but then again, situational awareness was never her strong suit. Especially in social situations. Diverting her thoughts from a strange trail of self-awareness, she realized that she would not have carried herself that way if the White Fang rally had already happened. So as far as she knew, nothing should have changed.
Ruby quickly removed her camera and snapped a quick photo. It was an older style of camera that immediately printed out the resulting image. It was somewhat blurry, and she hardly envisioned any prospect of usefulness for it, but nevertheless, she scribbled down a couple of details to keep up a timeline on when things would begin to divert from normal.
Taking her time in packing her things away safely, Ruby stood and proceeded to the Beacon library. Scroll in hand, she began typing a report for Roman when she noticed what two shots was doing to her system. She was not nauseated, but she did feel a slight degree of dizziness that she would just have to work with. No alcohol in the library, she remembered.
She hammered her fingers on the keyboard.
Looks like nothin hds changed yet. Rubys still walking around qs normal, and there's nothing new. Not tht I notice. Nothing has changed. Rmember that the white fang rally is important plz.
She took photos of all of the pictures she had accumulated that day and pasted them into the document she was working on. Once she finished, she walked up to a print station and punched her old ID number on the ten-key, holding her scroll face down on the scanner.
The page printed out in a few moments, and upon examination, Ruby noticed a few spelling errors. With a vague disregard for professionalism or whatever would have made her care in any other situation, she ignored it and turned to leave.
Ruby remembered all of the things she was fighting for. Yang, Blake, Weiss...all of her friends. She didn't know what she would be able to do or if it would be enough, and the weight of it came crashing down like a tidal wave onto her soul. Once she was outside again, she removed the bottle from her bag.
"For crying out loud, I know the guy upstairs," Ruby slurred. "Just let me up, holy shit." Ruby caught herself on the counter.
"You are clearly intoxicated," came the reply. Ruby strained to hold her head up high.
"Whatever," she grumbled.
Despite the receptionist's protest, she made her way over to the elevator, punching the up button repeatedly. The lobby was not small, but she still managed to attract the attention of everyone inside. She hardly cared, stuffing her hand back into her bag. Screwing off the cap, she held it up to her face, but only drops poured out.
The doors opened, and she stepped inside just as the receptionist decided to run after her. Ruby waved with a jovial smile, metal sliding shut between them. The elevator began moving with a grating thud, and she keyed in the floor number.
"Was it that floor?" she wondered aloud. "I dunno. I can always make more copies." Ruby trailed off.
A hazy thought occurred to her while she struggled to put her water bottle back in the bag. What if he was home when she delivered it? Maybe the schedule she had tried to establish was a total load, and he would not be there. But on the other hand, he would be there. None of it really mattered because for all she knew, he was at as much of a loss as she was. Schrodinger's cat was a hard man to pin down.
She stumbled through the opening doors and identified the proper door number down the hall, slipping the page beneath. As she was bent over, she bumped into the door.
"Shit," she muttered.
She grabbed the doorframe, steadying herself back on her feet and pushing off to take steps toward the elevator.
Ruby heard a sound behind her, followed by a voice. "Ruby?"
She turned her head, letting her head sling over her shoulder at a crooked angle. Roman leaned out of the doorway with her report in hand.
He covered his nose. "Are you drunk?"
"What gave it away?" The awkward angle at her neck made her hiccup.
"Get in here."
Ruby idled, trying to think. Her thoughts came in gibberish.
"Now." He wasted no time in waiting for her to gather herself and walk inside, stepping out and grabbing her by the arm. His grip around her bicep was vicious, but she hardly felt the pain. Instead, she felt the nausea creeping back up inside her until it grew overwhelming, shaking all the way to her fingertips and tops.
He pushed her in, and she failed to keep herself steady. The impact of her head on the ground was enough to send her over, and before Roman could say anything, she threw up.
Fun fact about me: let's say Ruby drank about the equivalent of eight shots in this chapter...first time I went to a party, I had no idea how much to drink, so I just chugged a bottle...twice. Mega hangover. Lasted all day. Oh boy. It was not fun. So here's a fun new thing you should try if you start drinking: start out with beer or wine, and if you do graduate to shots (ew, not worth it) space out shots by AT LEAST twenty minutes so you can pace yourself. If you're at a frat party, ONE HOUR BETWEEN SHOTS. I have been drugged, and oh my goodness. No. Drink responsibly, friends.
cipher111996: It's been a while. How ya been?
Rosewick4ever: Thank you so much! And I thought a plot dump in a fanfic would drive everyone up the wall.
Bisous, chatons!
-Mima
