Chapter 2: Windows

When Yang became aware again, she felt cozy—that was a good word for it. Everything was light and fluffy, from the bed beneath her back to the sunshine on her skin. She couldn't see these things, of course, as she was trying to return to her slumber after having just woken up, but she knew everything was good. Good and peaceful.

Her nose tickled, though, and that was a problem. There were also songbirds outside, keeping her awake, but Yang didn't have a problem with them. She liked birds. They were fluffy and light, too. It was summertime—May—and Yang felt wrapped in a familiar airy blanket with a realer, stuffier one draped across her legs. She shifted a little uncomfortably but found the action a bit too difficult, so she stopped. But then that tickling on her nose worsened and began to move. Yang twitched her nose, and the tickle moved again, faster. Her eyes shot open in alarm.

Bug.

"Gack!"

Yang slammed her hand onto her face, wishing death upon that thing that had disturbed her peace. Unfortunately, that thing had won. Yang, in fact, missed the bug, which decided to flutter away casually, and ended up hitting her own nose with all the force she could muster.

The blonde released an ugly, guttural, moaning, and argh-ish noise as she curled in on herself. She found, however, that the pain did not end there. Yang realized her joints were sore—really, really sore—which set a fire that made her curl up even more, even though this further exacerbated everything. Life was suffering. Her muscles were in so much pain.

Through this pain, however, Yang could hear some not-long-to-live girl's laugh from beside her bed. "Oh, my God. Yang!" Well, maybe the girl would live for a little bit. "You gotta see this! I took a great picture of that!"

Yang, in her searing agony, wrenched her eyes open, burning crimson locking on her sister. "Ruby Rose! This is not the time! I am dying!"

"Same!" squealed Ruby, rushing over to the side of Yang's bed and bringing her head and scroll up to the blonde's face. "Look! You see? I got a picture of you almost slapping that little butterfly. You look so constipated!"

They were in a hospital room, it seemed. Ruby was leaning against the arm rest of Yang's bed—which turned out not to be her bed, after all—and the window was open—which was probably where that pest had come from. Not Ruby, though; the other pest.

"I'm in pain, Ruby! I just punched myself in the face, and my entire body is on fire because of it, and you want to show me a picture? I could be dying!"

"Well, good thing you're in a hospital," Ruby chirped. She had a dumb smirk on her dumb face as she moved away from her sister—a smart move. Ruby put her scroll away and pouted a little. "Don't think they can do much to fix your melodrama, though. I'm afraid it's terminal."

Yang groaned, forcing herself to uncurl and get back to her previous lying position with a "Blargh."

She could see her surroundings better now. The window was open, the bed was not her own, and both pests were still here. Ruby had that same, low-key serious expression she had formed during her time at Beacon, but her usual cheer and that stupid smirk on her face proved that she wasn't completely serious. Plus there was that pink sweater of hers, featuring a bunch of puppies playing around. She had brought flowers, a bug-bringing breeze shifting them in a vase beside Yang's bed. Everything seemed normal and taken care of…which reminded Yang of why she was here in the first place.

A shock of pain coursed through her body as she tried to sit up. Immediately, she clutched at the sensation's source but found the rough material of a cast covering her right arm. Yang relented, but the pain lingered and flared in the rest of her joints.

"Probably don't wanna do that," said Captain Obvious. Yang, breathing heavily, lay down again—again—and stared daggers at her sister. "You kinda broke your arm. Twice. But the good news is that it isn't your writing hand."

"I'm right-handed, Ruby."

"Oh. Huh. Well, at least you'll be able to go home today!"

"How long was I out?"

Whatever positivity Ruby had in her expression and sweater faded. She bit her lip, fumbled with her hands, and looked away. Yang's heart sank.

The mission had been fairly straightforward: take out a Petra Gigas that was getting too close to a village just outside of Vale. Yang knew the monster well, as she, Ruby, and the rest of their team had defeated a couple back in the day. As such, she felt comfortable facing this one solo—but only after she had been begged into accepting backup. As it all turned out, her plan hadn't worked. Ruby looked more…seasoned than when Yang failed her mission. Maybe Yang had been in a coma. Between Ruby's existent fashion sense and the confident-ish way she carried herself, it seemed as though she had led a decent life without her sister. So much must have happened to her. The thought stung Yang more than her arm ever could. She must have missed so much.

Ruby released a shaky breath. "It's been…" she said before swallowing hard, "twenty-five years."

Suddenly, that stinging sensation didn't hurt so bad. Yang squinted. "Twenty-five years."

Ruby nodded, not bearing to look her sister in the eye. "It's been so hard not having you around, Yang. You've missed so much."

"Uh-huh."

"Dad found another wife, Auburn and Elly were killed, and…I'm getting married, Yang!" Silver eyes found lilac, shining with conflicted emotion. She was such a bad liar.

The blonde stared blankly at her sister. "Ruby," she said. The young girl flinched at the cold sound. "How long was I out?" The girl in question tried to answer, but Yang cut her off. "And don't tell me 'twenty-five years' again because I know you, and it would take so much longer for you to start liking anyone."

"…It's been a day."

Yang brought her good hand to her face and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't care if I'm right-handed. As soon as I get out of here, I'm disowning you."

Ruby pulled out her scroll again, panicked. "But Yang!" she said, scrambling. She shoved the scroll in her sister's face. "The butterfly!"

Whatever relief Yang felt at realizing she had missed nothing—and that what she did miss was probably for the best—disintegrated with Ruby's fleeing from her fate. That girl was gonna get disowned so hard. "I don't care about the butterfly!" Yang swatted Ruby away with her left arm, and the younger sibling got the message, backing away and laughing.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry." Ruby snickered. Upon seeing Yang's narrowed glare, though, she physically tried to wipe the grin off her face with the back of her hand. Ruby cleared her throat, and although her smirk somewhat remained, the look in her silver eyes did become more serious—maybe even a bit sad. "I was actually worried about you for a while, there. You were…" Ruby sighed. "You were in really bad shape when they brought you here. The doctor said you almost died."

Yang's frustration immediately cooled. She couldn't stay angry at Ruby, especially not like this. And she remembered bits and pieces now of her fight with the Petra Gigas and how dire her situation had been. She was lucky to have had backup—and stupid to have resisted it in the first place.

It was the blonde's turn to sigh. She motioned weakly for Ruby to come closer. "Hey, get over here."

Ruby looked up, surprised, but when she saw her sister's tired but affectionate expression, she smiled and came back over to Yang's side, even climbing onto the bed and cuddling up to her. This caused more pain to shoot through Yang's muscles, but she clenched her teeth and managed to wrap her good arm around the smaller girl. She could only imagine Ruby's fear—had their roles been inversed, Yang would have felt the same, if not even more frightened. "I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, sis," she murmured.

"I know," Ruby replied. "You're a tough cookie."

Yang found herself smiling. "And don't you forget it."

They were both silent for a moment, and the brawler's thoughts began wandering to her failed battle. Her smile faded. It had started out well enough. With Team SSSN as her backup, Yang had made her way to Sandhurst, the little village a couple dozen miles outside of Vale, and after getting proper rest at the only inn in town, she'd gone out in search of the Petra Gigas—alone, promising Team SSSN she'd send a distress signal if she needed help. It hadn't taken her very long to find the monster, maybe a couple of hours at most. She'd been absolutely ready for it, and the initial encounter had Yang at an advantage. Thanks to her strength combined with the brute force of Ember Celica, Yang had rendered the creature limbless pretty quickly.

What she hadn't expected was a massive boulder catapulting out of nowhere into her back and knocking her to the ground. The Petra Gigas found its limbs again and did not give Yang the chance to recover. She had barely gotten on her feet again before a tree trunk slammed into her front and sent her careening into another rock.

It was sadly ironic that the more damage she received, the more powerful she was supposed to become. And, normally, she would have been. Her semblance had flared up no problem. But the Petra Gigas threw her around like she was some ragdoll, incapable of reciprocating the damage, and Yang's aura ended up…

Well, it broke. And so had her arm.

Yang closed her eyes.

Ruby eventually interrupted the silence, though, somewhat to Yang's relief. "Funny story, actually. This isn't the first time you woke up. I mean, like, you probably don't remember this because you were so high on morphine, but last night you grabbed my arm really tightly and gave me this super serious look and told me you didn't want Jell-O. And then you went to sleep again. It was…a thing."

"I still don't want Jell-O."

Ruby giggled. "Okay. I'll tell the nurse to stop feeding it into your veins."

"Oh, God."

"It's a joke. Nobody gave you Jell-O. But those drugs were really effective."

Yang opened her eyes. "Not effective enough, apparently, because I'm still hurting all over."

Ruby sat up to look at her older sibling in concern. "But other than the pain, are you okay? You're looking better today thanks to the aura boosters, but you were covered in bruises and cuts yesterday."

"I'll survive. I'm okay, Ruby."

The younger girl nodded, a somewhat grave expression on her face, but then she smiled again. "I'm glad you're all right." She stood up, adding, "I have to go, but Sun said he'd be around to pick you up. Make sure you get some rest while you can."

"Sure thing," Yang replied, watching as Ruby started for the exit.

She stopped by the door, though, and looked back, hand on the knob. "Love you."

The corners of Yang's lips twitched upwards. "Love you, too, Rubes. Take care."

Ruby grinned and then left the room.

Yang was once again by herself. She stared at the door for a moment longer, but then her gaze drifted to her other side, towards the open window. The birds were still chirping, the butterfly still fluttering nearby. She dragged her hand over her face, wincing, and suddenly remembered that her mission hadn't ended with a broken arm.

She had passed out. And then woken up in someone else's house…and in someone else's body. Yang blinked a few times, instinctually looking for a mirror somewhere, but then relaxed. Ruby had recognized her—she was herself again. But that begged the question. Had it even been real? Yang had been convinced it was. Yet Ruby had also mentioned the morphine. But that didn't explain how Yang was saved. She passed out before getting anywhere close to the village. Had it been a dream, after all?

Honestly, Yang was just confused. For all intents and purposes, that dream could have been a really vivid out of body experience. But the drugs made it hard to validate. Yang would have to ask Sun what had happened. In the end, he and his team were the ones who probably got her out safe and sound. They might know more.

Before Blake was a class of about twenty-five students. She was not entirely certain of the number yet, as the whole everything about this situation was still a bit unnerving. But Blake felt confident, or at least more confident than she had at the beginning of the period. Standing at the center of the amphitheater lecture hall, Blake felt a little exposed, first- and second-year teenagers watching every move she made. The class was not that attentive to what she was saying, but she found that they did listen to her and without as much required effort as she had anticipated. It was a surprisingly forgiving situation, all things considered, and it allowed Blake to find her teaching legs.

She had just finished discussing the syllabus—all the major assignments, test dates, and course expectations—and no one had any questions. Either they understood and the syllabus did its job or they didn't care to understand and didn't ask anything accordingly. Only forty minutes had gone by, but there was about a half hour left until she would let them go early, being that it was Syllabus Day in a normally three-hour summer semester class and no one actually wanted to be here, so Blake proceeded with her plan.

The Faunus, clad in a white off-the-shoulder sweater and black everything else, leaned her lower back against the front of the room's central desk and crossed her arms. She smirked a little, feeling mildly pleased with the question she was about to ask, but then she uncrossed her arms to place her hands behind her, on the desk. She then re-crossed her arms, preferring the first position over the second. Her smirk was difficult to maintain.

"So," Blake started, eyes scanning the room for both interest-gauging purposes and to see if anyone had thought she was awkward. She wished she didn't feel so self-conscious. The tank-top under her sweater did not make her feel any less naked up here. "As this is an Ethics class, and you are all here to learn about ethics, I want to ask around and figure out why you want to learn about this subject. What is Ethics? I would like to hear your thoughts."

The room went silent for a moment, but Blake felt assured that she had not yet lost her students. She, too, had paused when Professor Foret asked this question, almost six years ago. But, after a moment, a brave hand rose out of the tiered seats. The young huntress-in-training was an immediately shy-looking girl with curly, ruddy hair and striking hazel eyes. She seemed a little ashamed of her hand being up. Blake made the effort to smile at her, cueing her to speak.

"Ethics are moral codes…and conduct, um," she looked down and scratched at her syllabus, looking for any kind of help within, "that may be defined by…culture, politics, religion, background…" Her eyes cast even lower down. Her face was burning red. "I'm sorry, I don't—"

"That's quite all right…Faraday, was it?"

"Yes ma'am."

"You're on the right track, I think. The definition of ethics is still up for debate in a lot of circles, so being uncertain about what it means does not reflect poorly on you at all." Blake looked to the rest of the class. "Does anyone else have ideas?"

"It's morals."

"Good business practices."

"A social construct."

Blake nodded along to every response she was given. As the answers numbered higher, so too did student interest, some quieter students speaking up when they otherwise wouldn't and some who already answered wanting to correct themselves based on their classmates' insights. But there was one boy whose answer would make Blake shudder. She had heard a scoff from the far corner of the room, and her initial instinct was to avoid whomever made the noise and pray that whatever he had to say would never reach her students' ears. Unfortunately, she was a teacher, and it was her duty to encourage classroom engagement and hear every voice. With a steeled resolve, Blake smiled at the boy and welcomed his opinion.

"Actually," he began, his voice as snide as Blake had ever heard, "I see ethics as a sort of social force that regulates and deregulates the morals and social principles within the subaltern when faced with issues of their own existentiality. Some would like to say that it's a method of proving what is right and wrong, but that is a myopic opinion that only distracts from the true, utilitarian reason: defining things as per their pragmatic functions which conduce to a better society."

Blake blinked. Then she blinked again. So did the rest of the class. That was one way of saying a whole lot of nothing. "Thank you…Jasper—"

"I'd prefer to be called Ouron, thank you."

That boy…had a problem.

"Like the video game character?" asked another classmate, tone a little disbelieving.

"Certainly. It is the mark of a true man to live his life after his role model."

Blake had to stop leaning against her desk for a moment. It took an inhuman effort not to cringe at…Ouron's introduction. Nevertheless, while her face did not betray her pain, it felt as if all of her insides were turning over and in on themselves, and her cat ears, uncovered for all the class to see, were leaning back against her head in empathetic shame.

"That's…That's great. Thank you for contributing," Blake had to control herself. It was only her first day on the job, and she couldn't afford to call this student out for being pretentious or downright stupid, but goodness did she want to. Instead, she looked at the time and decided that five minutes before her anticipated limit was a good time to let everyone go—if not for their sakes, then for her own. "Okay. Well, those were great answers, everyone. I hope you'll be able to figure out what ethics is by the time we're finished with this course. Make sure to do the reading for the next class, and I hope you all have a good weekend."

Her class sprung to life with students gathering their books and papers, rising from their seats, and beginning to chat with one another. Blake watched them for a moment, staying where she was long enough to say goodbye to the few of them who thanked her as they walked out the door. Eventually, though, Blake turned and took a seat at her desk as the class emptied, scooping up her own papers and putting them in order.

She was surprised, though, when the last three students in the class stopped in front of her desk instead of continuing on their way. Blake looked up, finding two girls and one boy, with one of the girls leading the charge. They were three out of the four members of Team AFTR—Argent, Faraday, and Tope—and Argent, with her big, knowing blue eyes, gave Blake a cheery smile.

"Thank you for your class today, Professor Belladonna! Your method of teaching is super clear and concise. I liked it, and my teammates and I look forward learning more from you."

Blake was almost taken aback. She glanced at Tope and Faraday, the former nodding in agreement and the latter blushing a step away from the others, not looking Blake in the eye. The Faunus returned to Argent. "Um, thank you, Argent. I appreciate that." She found that she did mean this—it was nice of them to go out of their way to stop and genuinely compliment her.

"Yeah! Our pleasure. We'll see you on Monday!" Argent beamed and started walking away, followed by Tope.

"See ya, Miss B.," he waved back with a warm grin.

"…Have a nice weekend," Blake replied, somewhat uncertain at the shortening of her last name. She then found Faraday still lingering, still not looking at her, clutching her books to her chest. "Are you all right, Faraday?"

The girl seemed to blush again, and she glanced at Blake before nodding vigorously. "Um, yes! Have a nice weekend, too, Miss Belladonna!" And then she hurried out after her teammates.

Blake watched her go, slightly confused, but then she slowly shook her head and returned to her papers. She was by herself in the amphitheater now, the hall somehow eerily quiet without the students populating it. Blake allowed herself a long sigh—out of relief or satisfaction, she wasn't sure yet. She had just taught her first class ever. It had gone by smoothly, all things considered, despite her initial nervousness. And she thought she would enjoy her role, too. It really hadn't been all that bad.

There was that Jasper—er, Ouron—boy, who made Blake want to smack a student already, but she gave him the benefit of the doubt. This had just been the first class, after all.

Her gaze was drawn to the syllabus she'd written and the introduction of herself that she had settled on. It read, 'Welcome to Philosophy 102: Intro to Ethics. My name is Blake Belladonna, and I am a huntress, teacher, and former member of the White Fang. As hunters dedicated to the protection of Remnant, we are united by a noble mission, no matter what lives have brought us here. Tolerance, open-mindedness, and a willingness to be a member of a team are requisites of success, not just for a student of Beacon Academy but for any hunter or huntress in the real world. My goal for this course is not to teach you right from wrong but to give you the tools to effectively communicate your ideas with others and productively discuss them.'

She was proud of it, actually. It revealed something real and true about her without focusing on what she was, but rather on who she was, and it worked for all three of the subjects she was teaching.

…Still, she was a bit disturbed by how she had managed to come up with it. Why had it taken a vision that forced her to face her own mortality to realize this message? What had that vision even been? How had it happened? Blake had yet to find any answers for those questions. And she feared that the event could happen again at any random moment and ruin the reputation she had carefully reconstructed piece by piece after leaving the White Fang. Her body had moved without her knowledge from one room to another—who knew what else could happen during any similar episode?

It was unsettling. There was no guarantee it would happen again, of course, but the possibility made her anxious. Would she have to see a therapist? That was an option she didn't want to consider just yet. She had just started teaching. She wanted to keep her job.

Blake let out another sigh. She gathered her papers and neatly tucked them into her bag before standing up and pulling the strap over her shoulder. After giving the amphitheater one last glance, she headed out.

The walk from the Academy to the teachers' housing area was about twenty minutes in all. Unlike yesterday, the weather was beginning to clear up, the clouds not perpetually hiding the sun or pouring rain. The air was a bit too humid for Blake's taste, not entirely comfortable in the warmth of summer, but she liked the opportunity to stretch her muscles.

That's what she would do. Once she got home, she would work out. Blake would jump on the monkey bars she had set up last week, train her core and her balance, and wear herself out until the memories of her class, Ouron, and Team AFTR could be shoved into a tiny memory compartment in Blake's mind-attic that she could look back on fondly. Today had been a good day, she decided, and all the little hiccups would be eliminated by endorphins. That's what she would do.

Blake pulled her bag's strap tighter against her shoulder and hurried down the hill of Beacon Academy, through the entrance to the Emerald Forest, and into her house in the teachers' village.

Yang didn't like hospitals. Sure, waking up in that bed with the flowers and the stupid bug earlier might have been nice, but now that she was out of her room, she was reminded why she didn't like this place. Everything smelled faintly like peroxide, and everybody seemed to be in some mood ranging from meh to bleh. However, if nothing else, Yang was contented by her wheelchair. She liked wheelchairs. She wouldn't get to keep this one past the exit, but she was excited to zoom around until then. As it was, the discharge nurse was having a hard time stopping Yang from wheelie-ing. Yang probably couldn't do it anyway, but that didn't stop her from trying.

"Miss Xiao Long, I'm serious," the nurse said. "No stress on that arm for a month—no weight lifting, no punching, no wheelies—"

"What about sex?" Yang asked. "I have a lot of sex."

"Congratulations," the nurse deadpanned. "Your cast should come off in two weeks but only if you make sure to meditate and stay active—active like us normal people, not like you all." The nurse, seeing Yang's grin start to bubble up, clarified, "Like huntsmen. You can have sex so long as you're careful. Try going on walks, exercising your left arm, doing careful core exercises, and going swimming if you make sure you're gentle about it."

"Can I remove this sling when I go to bed?"

"Of course, just so long as you're careful."

Yang's smile persisted. She wanted to joke a little more, but the nurse had been nothing but kind to her. Plus, she was still kind of in pain, hence all the drugs she had in her body and on her lap beside Ruby's flower vase, and all of that made the thought of exercising repulsive. Just awful. "All right," she acquiesced. "Fair enough. I'll try."

The nurse was able to smile at this. "All right. I'll hold you to that. And you," she looked over, gaze turning to the open-shirted, chisel-y muscled, feathered-haired hunk of a Faunus leaning against the desk behind her, "I expect you to keep a close eye on her. Someone needs to be responsible, and while I do think Miss Xiao Long has the capacity for it, we gotta make sure."

Sun Wukong genuinely grinned at the woman, not at all teasing or double-meaning or lascivious like Yang. "You've got my word, ma'am. I'll treat her like a princess."

The nurse looked back at Yang. "Congratulations." The two shared a laugh, although Yang's was quite a bit louder.

As soon as the paperwork was taken care of and the discharge was finalized, Sun finally wheeled Yang out of the hospital. It was not an easy trip for him, as Yang kept insisting he speed up. "Push me faster," she had said, eyes trained on the distant exit with glee.

"No, Yang, I don't want you to get hurt."

"Push me faster, monkey boy!"

Being that Sun was basically Yang's partner in crime despite his unwillingness to admit it in public, it was only natural that the monkey boy did push Yang faster, if only marginally. This earned Sun a side-eye from the blonde, but they were happy to reach the exit in little time at all, quickly or not. Well—correction—Yang's happiness was a little iffy. The exit meant she had to relinquish her wheelchair to a nearby attendant, but at least she was free again. But no more wheelies. But sunlight!

It was bright and warm outside. Yang found herself momentarily blinded as she looked out at the adjacent parking lot, the sun reflecting off of hundreds and hundreds of windshields and mirrors, and she felt her skin begin to slick with the humidity in the air. But that was just how Yang liked summer: unabashedly summery. Sun had been kind enough to pick up all the things in Yang's lap while shouldering the backpack Ruby had brought for her, and this left Yang to her own devices. "Come on, slowpoke," she said, beginning to hobble forward, each step making her wince a little but all the progress making her smile. "Time's a' wastin'."

"Yang, you're really high."

"Psshhhhhhhh," Yang waved with her good hand. "I'm just holding it for the doctor."

Sun laughed. "What does that even mean?"

He was following close behind Yang, seemingly ready to catch her at a moment's notice. But she wouldn't need catching. Yang was just too good at walking. "It's a drug joke!"

As it turned out, the drugs were definitely making Yang a little more excitable than usual, and she was not unaware of this fact. She just resisted the fact and denied that it even existed. She was Yang Xiao Long, survivor of a one-on-one Petra Gigas fight, owner of two broken bones, and walking—by herself—not a day after. She was feeling pretty good, believe it or not.

Eventually, she stumbled her way to Sun's car. It was a beat-down, worn-down, hand-me-down brown sedan he had apparently bought for a great price, and he had since put a lot of love into it. As had Yang. Especially in the back seat. Yang found herself giggling for no particular reason by the time she got there, leaning on the car's roof and loving the way it didn't burn her cast. It was like an arm-sized oven mitt. Baking would never be the same. Soon, the trunk opened for a moment as Sun carefully set Yang's belongings inside, holding on to the flowers to be held by her eventually.

Yang did her best to strike an attractive pose as he came around to her side of the car, and she likely succeeded, considering she was Yang, but all that amounted to was being pulled into a gentle hug. Sun had set the vase on the roof and was now kissing Yang's forehead. He didn't say anything, much to Yang's surprise. All he did was squeeze her tighter and let out a deep, heavy, and relieved sigh. It sobered Yang's mood and medication a little, and she hugged back as best she could, making him the same promise she had made Ruby: she wasn't going anywhere.

Sun was a sweet guy. They met during Yang's first year, during the Vytal Festival. Ruby, Yang, Auburn, and Elly had welcomed him when he arrived by himself ahead of schedule, and, when the rest of his team followed, everyone became fast friends. Or, rather, Ruby, Yang, Sun, and Neptune did; everyone else was kind of awkward and ended up ghosting each other. After graduation, some mission brought Sun back to Vale, he decided he liked it here, moved all his things, found a part time job with a moving company, and took up a modelling gig from Hunky Hunts, the world's premier hunter and huntress modelling magazine. The dude was working three jobs, and he always had energy to spare. That's what initially made Yang fall for him.

However, as reliable, energetic, and hunky as he could be, Sun could also be kind of thoughtless, too, and failed to take into account that Yang had a broken arm slung across her chest as he hugged her. She was in searing pain.

"Sun, babe, honey, baby, sweetie, please. I'm happy to be here, too, and I want to hug you as well, but could you maybe ease up a bit? I'm not as durable as I usually am." Yang winced through every word but maintained a semblance of a smile. She knew that if she really showed the pain she was feeling, it would absolutely kill Sun. As it was, he scrambled back, hands out and eyes wide.

"Holy crap. I'm so sorry, Yang! I didn't realize—"

Right on cue. Yang amusedly shook her head and stepped forward, wrapping her good arm around Sun's neck and gently pressing her face into his shoulder. As for her other arm, she left a good, safe amount of space between them. "Don't worry about it. I've got drugs to take the edge off," she joked. "Plus, you smell good, so the pain's worth it."

Tentatively, Sun patted Yang's shoulder like a good, frightened friend would—like he frequently would with Neptune, only stoking the homoerotic embers against his best wishes. Yang was beginning to understand how far down the pain-killer high went. She nuzzled into Sun for a second, pulled away, smiled, and pecked him on the lips. "Okay," she said, forcing herself to be at least a little serious for a second, "let's get going."

Sun nodded and moved to open the passenger door. Once Yang was inside with her seatbelt on, he handed her the vase, which Yang hugged and placed in her lap, and closed her in. It was at this point that Yang realized how not-good her state was. Sitting down in the suffocating heat of Sun's car and with roses in her face, Yang finally felt how nauseas she was, how pain radiated from every part of her body. She groaned a little as Sun plopped down into the driver's seat, shaking the chassis.

"Hoo!" he exclaimed, exhaling shortly. "I'll get those windows down."

The engine took a while to turn over, and Sun kept his word the moment it did. Suddenly, all the lightness and levity of Yang's opiate-induced world turned sour, and everything seemed sickeningly detailed but frustratingly fuzzy. The windows squealed as they inched their way down and the air conditioner spat hot air through the flowers and onto her face. She felt the car lurch once, twice, and once more before Sun got them out of the parking lot.

As soon as they were on the road, Sun released the shifter to place his hand at the end of Yang's cast. She grumbled but accepted the gesture, being that it was suddenly the only nice thing around her, and intertwined their fingers. She could smell the roses and she could thank Ruby for them, but she did not want to do either right now. She just wanted to…

"Sun?"

"Yeah, babe?"

"What…happened?"

"On the mission?"

"After I passed out." She creased her eyebrows. "I don't remember you saving me."

Sun glanced over at Yang, meeting her concern with his own, and squeezed her casted hand before looking back at the road. "Everybody in Sandhurst came out to help you while me and my team took on the Gheist. Do you remember that part?"

"N-no, how did you all find me?"

"It's more like you found us. You ran out of the forest, holding your arm and yelling at everybody to stay back. The Gheist was right behind you before you passed out." He frowned. "It seemed like you didn't even recognize us—or me. You just wanted everybody to run."

"Wait, wait, wait. Slow down." If Yang didn't have a cast on with a sling over it, and if she didn't need her good arm to hold on to the flowers, she would have scratched her head. "I passed out in the forest, after that thing slammed me into the ground. I was definitely not in the town."

"You definitely were in the town. You were literally screaming at us to get away."

No matter how hard Yang tried to jog her memory, she had no recollection of warning Sun and his team to get away. But she did remember passing out. Just…not at the time Sun was insisting she had. Yang leaned her head back against the seat and let out a sigh. Maybe she had been hallucinating the whole time—although she didn't really believe that. "All right. I guess I lost a piece of my life, then. That sucks."

Sun was immediately reassuring. "Hey, it's okay. It wasn't all that much, right? And the important part is that you're safe now."

Yang closed her eyes. There wasn't much to be done about it now, anyway, and Sun was right. Still, no matter how small, it was a part of her life gone… "I had this really weird dream," she eventually muttered.

"Dream?" he prompted. "While you were unconscious?"

She tried to shrug, but found the movement impossible. "I guess so. I was inside this other girl, in some unknown house with some cat…" Her voice trailed off, thoughtful. She opened her eyes and added, "I touched her boobs a few times."

Sun glanced at her, appearing unsure if he should laugh. He settled for something that resembled a smirk. "How'd that go?"

Yang, although still feeling somewhat miserable for no apparent reason—drugs, probably—found herself grinning. "It wasn't bad at all, TBH."

Now Sun actually laughed. "So, you pass out in the middle of battle and dream about touching girls?"

"Are you jealous?"

"What if I want in on the action?"

"Oh, my God, Sun. You're so jealous."

Sun scoffed. "Why would I be jealous when I have you?"

Yang started to feel her pep return. She waggled her eyebrows. "It's the boobs, isn't it?"

Sun looked over at her, and Yang batted her eyelashes at him, using the sturdiness of her cast and sling to prop her chest up, before slowly licking her upper lip.

"Stop that!" he exclaimed, quickly returning to the road, but his laughter joined Yang's. "How can you be so flirty this soon after coming out of the hospital?"

"Um, hello? Have you met me?"

"Hi, Yang."

She giggled. "Hi, babe."

They shared an affectionate look, and Sun squeezed her hand again. The young couple fell into a comfortable silence, Yang's gaze drifting out the window, watching the buildings flash by, one after the other, cars in the other lane interrupting intermittently. Sun was driving her to the harbor and then to her home on Patch, where she lived with Ruby and their father, Taiyang. Yang doubted the next day or two would consist of anything more than healing, but she was anxious to recover, if only to be done with this medication and return to her usual workouts.

Something else was bothering her, though. It wasn't just the pain she could still feel in her muscles. The mission had almost killed her—and between the strange out of body experience and nearly dying, Yang was feeling a deeper uncertainty that she tried not to think about. But it existed nevertheless, and Yang thought about taking all the time she needed to recover fully—and then some—before putting herself out in the field again. She was scared, honestly. And maybe she recognized it within herself, but she wasn't willing to share that fear with anyone else—not with Sun and definitely not with Ruby. She was Yang Xiao Long. She wasn't supposed to be afraid of anything.

After going through the hassle of loading Sun's car onto the Patch ferry and offloading it once they got to the island, Yang's mood improved a little. The air was cooler on Patch, and Sun's car felt breezy, finally, instead of suffocating. Of course, the whole thing still rattled, and even more so on these uneven roads, but it was nice to be among the wide-canopied maples and oaks and the soothing ocean breeze.

They pulled to an eventual, whining stop in front of the log cabin that Yang had long called home. She found herself simply looking at it, feeling happy to be here but unenthused about how long she would likely be bedridden, stuck doing nothing with her life. But she was able to relax when Sun put his hand on her shoulder, thumb kneading reassuringly into the knots that had formed. She looked at him, smiling a little sadly.

"Ready to go?" he asked.

"Promise me you'll visit?"

"Every day."

She leaned in, and he met her halfway. Their kiss was short but thankful, and Yang kind of wished it lasted longer, but her back spasmed and she had to pull away with a wince and a knowing smirk. "This means I owe you a kiss next time you visit."

"The only thing you owe me is you getting better." Sun smiled back at her, squeezed her aching shoulder one more time, and left the car, coming around the other side to help Yang out. "Though I'll be sure to take you up on that when you can actually kiss me."

Once Yang was on her feet, she slugged him in the arm. "Actually kiss you? Whatever." She shook her head mirthfully but looked up to him. "But fine. I'll get better. I'll be sure to drink as much orange juice as I can."

"I feel like you're not taking the nurse's orders seriously."

"Meds, sleep, and exercise. And unhealthy amounts of sex."

"Okay, I feel like you're taking the nurse's orders seriously."

"What can I say? I have a great respect for the medical profession."

Yang tried to shrug all cool-like while saying this, but she once again realized that her arm was broken. Mistakes or not, she was the epitome of cool. At the very least, Sun thought so. He returned the vase he had taken so Yang could get out and then went back to the trunk to retrieve her things, chuckling all the while.

With backpack and medication in hand, Sun helped Yang hobble up to her front door. By the time they reached the end of the flagstone walkway, though, that door had opened, and Yang's father appeared at the foot of it, concerned.

Taiyang did not rush out, but he did hurry to reach his daughter, half-jogging the distance between them. "Yang!" he said, a little hoarse. "I'm so relieved." Yang was anticipating a fair amount of drama, considering her dad was her dad, but she surprised herself at how relieved she felt, too.

He came to a stop some three feet from the couple, and he looked like he would close that distance and hug Yang. But he showed restraint. Instead, a hand reached out and held Yang's shoulder as his eyes glanced over at her arm then up at her eyes. "I didn't know until Ruby told me, but…thank God you're in one piece."

"Well," Yang corrected, a smirk on her lips, "technically it's three pieces."

"I can see that!" Taiyang let out a weak laugh. It seemed he didn't actually want to do so but he and Yang both knew he needed to humor her, for both their sakes. He looked to Sun, still uneasy. "And thank you for the support. I don't want to think about what would have happened if you and your friends weren't there."

"Oh, it's nothing, sir. Just happy to lend a hand."

Taiyang's affectionate eyes turned on Yang again, and the hand on her shoulder moved to her cheek. With her good arm, she reached up to hold that hand. It was her way of saying she was okay, and her dad seemed to understand that.

Sun, meanwhile, released his arm from around Yang's waist. "Um," he said, stepping away, "yeah, I'm just gonna set this stuff down inside…"

He started to distance himself from them, but Yang let go of her dad's hand, which he dropped, and gently touched Sun's arm. "Hey, wait. Gimme another kiss before you go."

Sun's blue-grey eyes lit up, but then he glanced at Taiyang, who was beginning to cross his arms, and proceeded to look sheepish, letting out an awkward chuckle. "Uh, how about just a hug?"

Yang narrowed her eyes at her dad, daring him to argue when she said, "No, a kiss. Ignore my dad."

Taiyang cleared his throat, expressing his disapproval, and Sun approached Yang cautiously. "Let's not push it. Just a hug."

Yang sighed and rolled her eyes, accepting Sun's hug as he wrapped his arms around her—softly this time. "All right, fine." Her lilac gaze found a glaring cobalt one, and Yang, as an act of defiance to both her father and her pain, raised one foot into the air behind her, pretending to swoon by Sun's embrace. And then she whispered into her boyfriend's ear, "See ya later, babe."

"Take care of yourself," he replied, seemingly oblivious to the silent confrontation between his girlfriend and her dad. The young couple then pulled away, and Yang must have won some kind of battle against Taiyang because he stepped forward and oh-so-kindly took the medicine and backpack from Sun.

After an uncomfortable goodbye, Sun went back to his car and was soon driving out and away on the dirt road. Yang waved with her good hand until she could not see him anymore. And then, because of the drugs, she felt like waving some more. Her dad had to stop her.

They started walking back towards the house. As they did so, Yang mulled over the previous interactions in her mind, and finally asked, sobering, "You know I just turned twenty-four, right?"

"So?" Taiyang opened the door and let his daughter in first.

"So, why do I need your permission to kiss my boyfriend?" She glanced at him and then attempted to kick off her barely tied boots, only managing to do so with an annoying amount of effort.

Taiyang waited until she was hobbling towards the kitchen to answer. "Because you live here, and as long as you live here, I still consider you my baby."

Yang snorted, putting the vase down on the kitchen's center island. "Ruby's your baby."

"Ruby's not in a relationship."

"Ugh, whatever." Yang decided to let it go. It wasn't like the subject was anything new, and it wasn't like her father had an issue with Sun, specifically, anyway. Taiyang was just protective, and he generally distrusted any guy Yang dated—like they were all some sort of predator or something. She turned back to face him. "Anyway, so speaking of the devil, where'd she go?"

"Well, it's Friday, and your sister's twenty-two, so she's in Vale for the evening with her friends."

If Yang could have thrown both her hands up in outrage, she would have.

"Why are you giving me that look?"

Yang's eyes widened. "Why does Ruby get to use the age excuse but I don't?"

Taiyang smirked. "Because you're not twenty-two, Yang."

"You…"

There was a pause, both adults engaging in a pointed staring contest with each other. Yang had a boyfriend and things to do. And, often, these two overlapped. For the longest time, Taiyang had not cared what she did or who she did it with, but now, after she had graduated, he had apparently decided to flip the switch on being a father again. Despite her flirts and inappropriate sense of humor, Yang was far and away the most responsible member of her family. For this reason, she steeled her lilac gaze and bore her deepest frustrations—namely, not being able to kiss her boy toy—into her father's face.

And then, when the staring became too much and Yang decided she wanted to blink, she cracked first. She grinned. "Whatever. I'll beat you next time, old man."

Taiyang chuckled, the tension in the air dissipating. "Maybe. But your old man's got a few tricks left up his sleeve, so don't count on it."

"Uh-huh, yeah. Well, anyway, I'm gonna go lie down for the next month or two because my back is killing me. Lemme know when dinner's ready, please."

Taiyang's voice followed her up the stairs. "Isn't it fun getting old, grandma?"

Yang would've bashed her head against the wall if she wasn't already in so much pain. "You're a walking contradiction, dad!" she yelled back at him, finally reaching the top of the stairs. "Make up your mind! Either I'm your baby or I'm the other mother around here!"

"Sleep well, sweetie-pie!"

"Shut it!"

There was something inherently disturbing about a pair of aquamarine eyes staring suspiciously at Blake, unblinking. They somehow made Blake feel self-conscious about hanging upside-down, and she found herself glaring at her cat, daring Silver to protest her exercises.

But Silver just kept staring from the window, as if she were angry at Blake for leaving her inside the house while her mistress continued her gymnastics on the monkey bars she had in her backyard. Blake wondered what it said about her that her own cat managed to make her feel inadequate. This had to be a joke. The not-funny kind of joke.

The Faunus internally rolled her eyes and then set about continuing her exercises. With forearms crossed over her chest and core and back muscles pulling her up, Blake breathed evenly and focused on her inverted sit-ups. She held at her apex for about two seconds each time before lowering herself back down. In this way, and in this routine, she brought herself into a sort of meditative trance. The movements became automatic, and although she did feel the exertion this workout put on her body, she felt like a kid again—before the White Fang—running around with the neighborhood children on Menagerie, having the time of her life and staring down at the sand from the monkey bars of a mostly forgotten playground.

She was fortunate to be here, she thought—Beacon. Out of the four academies, Beacon had a reputation for being the best. She had studied here for both of her graduate degrees, and while this academy's world-renowned rigor had almost beaten her multiple times, Blake came away happy with what she learned and how confident she felt with the information. Atlas Academy was known to have a similar level of rigor, and it had a great reputation, too, but Blake knew it to be a school that churned out military officer after military officer. Atlas made hunters quickly, but their overall ceilings were lower than the students of Beacon due to their lacking tolerance of different fighting styles. Haven, where Blake had become a huntress in the first place, was a very good school, too—as were all the academies, really. But it had been her last-resort option and it had been fairly lax in a lot of ways. Beacon was difficult and prestigious, but she found it to be so rewarding and, more importantly, supportive.

Getting a job here had been more than she could have ever asked for. She could barely believe it when Headmaster Ozpin called her to his office that late-spring day and asked if, when she finished her teaching degree, she wanted to stay at Beacon. Blake knew she was an exemplar of calmness and stoicism, but she figured her expression must have looked somewhat uncharacteristic back then. That she was getting a job offer before her degree was over, that she was getting the opportunity to teach her desired subjects, and that she was getting the chance to teach at Beacon was unreal—and, on top of that, it had shattered whatever despondency she had built up around her undesirability as a Faunus and as a former member of the White Fang. It was a dream come true, really, and now she had a class full of good, bright children and the opportunity to shape their developing minds.

Blake was out of breath by the time she decided to stop. Whatever number of sit-ups she had gotten to didn't matter; all that mattered was that she felt the burn and knew she'd get those abs she longed for one day.

Silver was still staring at her. It was still awkward. However, being that Blake could not be controlled by any animal, and being that her confidence could not be shaken by any single look, she stared gloatingly back at her pet, swung herself backwards, then forwards, and launched herself into a tight forwards backflip, ending with a flourishing but three-point landing. Nonchalantly, she raised herself up, dusted off the nonexistent dust on her outfit, and teasingly stuck her tongue out at Silver.

Her tongue snapped back into her head at the sound of a doorbell, though. Silver, all too excited by the moment, scurried away from the window and likely towards the front door.

Blake momentarily panicked, her previous confidence gone and feeling once more self-conscious, only this time it was because of the sweat covering her body and the outfit she was wearing. She debated whether or not she should actually answer the door, tempted to pretend she wasn't home. But Blake knew better, unfortunately. It could be important—she lived on campus, and she doubted anyone would knock at her door for the fun of it.

Unless it was a student. In which case, they would knock for the fun of it. But Blake hadn't been here long enough for students to want to play that prank on her.

Resigning to the fact that she would show herself—and quickly before it was too late—Blake, still somewhat breathless, hurried back into the house and grabbed the bottle of water on the kitchen counter. She took a swig and then went to the front door, doing her best not to trip over Silver in the process, who insisted on getting in the way several times.

Blake took a calming breath in, trying to gain a semblance of coolness and composure despite her awkwardness, and then gripped the handle before opening the door.

She was met with the sight of a man starting to turn away. When he realized someone was home, he turned back towards Blake in surprise…and then his eyes widened in even greater stun when he actually saw her. "Oh! Um…"

She didn't miss the way his gaze traveled down her body, and Blake's hold on her bottle suddenly tightened—much to her horror, because it made water spill onto her chest. Blake cussed under her breath, a blush creeping up her neck out of embarrassment, and although the guy scrambled to tell her it was okay, she hid behind the door a little and told him to wait a moment, which he thankfully agreed to.

Blake went back into her kitchen, set the stupid water bottle back down on the counter, and went to the bathroom to grab a towel and quickly wipe herself off. She then rushed to her bedroom to find the first sweater she could put her hands on, slipped it over her torso, and scowled internally at the uncomfortable heat before making her way back to the front door.

The man was still waiting, and this time he made sure to keep his eyes on her face—although he looked just about as ill at ease as Blake felt. "Hey, sorry about that. I didn't mean to interrupt anything," he said.

Blake narrowed her eyes a little but looked him over as well. He was a bit taller than her, and maybe a few years older, too, with purposely unkept brown hair and warm, chocolate brown eyes. He wasn't rippling with muscle, but he did have a strong frame. He looked familiar.

"No, um…I was just finishing up, anyway. Are you…Professor Sycamore?"

At this, he smiled genially. "Yes, that's me! But you can call me Dane. May I call you Blake?"

Still dealing with her embarrassment, Blake didn't give the question much thought and automatically replied, "Um, yeah, sure, you can call me Blake. Can I help you?"

The little she knew about Dane Sycamore was that he had started working at Beacon Academy the year prior to Blake's being hired. And that was all. She had sort of seen him around, but they had never spoken until this point, and she had no idea what he could possibly have to say to her.

He continued to smile, though. "I'm glad you're home. A few other teachers and I are going out for some drinks tonight, since it's Friday. I thought I'd extend the invitation to you, help you feel welcome to the group!"

Blake's eyes widened just slightly. She had not been expecting this development. And the thought of socializing with a group of strangers—in a drinking environment, no less—was not her idea of fun or a way she wanted to spend her Friday night. Plus, this situation was awkward enough as it was. So, Blake attempted to refuse politely. "Thank you, but…I had plans for tonight already. Maybe…some other time."

Dane looked disappointed but for a fleeting second before he smiled again. "Yeah, no problem! How'd your first class go? Pretty nerve-wracking, right?"

Blake had thought she would be able to say goodbye and get back to finishing her workout, but apparently Dane wanted to keep chatting. She made an effort to be pleasant, though. "It was nice, actually. I was nervous at first, but I think the students are going to help me keep it interesting. Thank you for asking."

He nodded, and just when the silence was verging on very much unwanted, his eyes lit up. "Well, I'll leave you to your plans! Enjoy your evening." He made this kind of small salute motion with his index finger and then turned around to start walking away.

"Um, you, too," Blake replied, uncertain. She didn't watch him go, instead quickly closing her door, relieved that he had decided not to stay for too long, after all. But she stood there for a moment, hand still on the handle. She had no idea if Dane's interest was a good or a bad thing. Nevertheless, she shook her head, removed the sweater, and then went to her living room to stretch her muscles for another ten minutes or so before putting an end to her workout for the day.

Blake then showered, spending no more time than was necessary under the water, and once her face was washed, her hair was dry, and she was dressed in her pajamas, she fetched a piece of bread from the fridge and a bowl of ice-cream from the freezer, and went to set her laptop up on the living room's coffee table.

Indeed, she didn't really have any plans for the evening, but Blake was much more comfortable with this. She would spend the next few hours watching a show she was following, tucked into a warm blanket on the long side of her sectional with Silver snuggling up to her, and Blake would eventually get drowsy enough to shut everything off, brush her teeth, and then go to bed for the night.

It was relaxing, and Blake liked it that way.

AND THEN BLAKE AND SILVER HAD SEX? MAYBE? IDK. NAH. "That's gross, YWU. Why would you ever suggest that?" you say. WELL, IDK, BECAUSE THIS IS FAN FICTION AND THERE ARE TOO MANY SHIPS AND I DON'T HAVE TIME TO WEED OUT THE BAD ONES. ALSO ROAR I'M AN ALL-POWERFUL AUTHOR.

Speaking of me givething and takething awayething, you might notice that the central gimmick that probably brought everyone to this story was absent this chapter. If you did notice this, then A+. I'm very proud of you. 3

Anyway, hope you liked that chapter. See you lovely birdies in the next one~~~~