Chapter 28

Til Then

XXXXX

Winter almost preferred her cell back at the Scattered base. That was petulant and she knew it. She had been a metaphorical prisoner at the manor, while under Han's care she had been a literal one. But she couldn't help it; there were so many bad memories associated with this place. At least with the Scattered she had been allowed to fight back towards the end. At least she had been with someone she could lean on. With Schnee Manor there had been Weiss, who had been too young, and Klein, who had to walk a razor's edge to avoid being fired. No one else had been there.

Lowering her scroll, having finally finished explaining the situation to Ironwood, she ended the call. "He's sending someone to pick us up, and he knows we have quite a few guests coming along. They should be here in ten minutes" She, Qrow, James, and all of his friends were packed into one of the rear courtyards of her family home, one rarely visited. Only one was missing, the one called Raul had stayed behind to man the portal. He had evidently volunteered on the basis of his mutation, something Winter still wasn't used to, though she kept her mouth shut. The group had left their bulky suits of power armor behind, James included, and the Super Mutant called Lily was cradling an unconscious Róta Bloodaxe in her hands. Her surgery had been finished and bandages covered her wounds, including one right over her throat. She was also tightly bound. Winter was content to let Ironwood deal with her, though she was feeling sympathetic enough to put in a good word for her.

According to the blonde named Arcade, they had stumbled upon Schnee Manor purely by chance when attempting to make a beachhead into Atlas, and it had become their way in and out. When she had asked why they couldn't simply teleport into Ironwood's office, they had told her the portal required incredibly specific longitude and latitude coordinates. Their first attempt to get into Atlas had nearly ended with them taking a thousand foot drop. So they were sticking to the safe route unless she knew the exact global positioning of an alternative destination. And she did not.

"So you've been here for a few weeks and you're already rubbing shoulders with local generals," the woman in a cowboy hat, Cass, said, looking at James. She sounded half amused, half exasperated. "Do you ever take a day off?"

"I swear these things just happen," James, grinning as Cass elbowed him in the side. "You're not one to talk, sneaking into the most esteemed household in all of Atlas to go undercover. Why here anyway?"

"Well certainly not because we like rich pricks bending over and sucking themselves off," Cass replied. Winter wasn't sure she was mentally prepared for another person operating on the same brainwave as Qrow, and yet here they were. At least she got along with James. "We tried for Vale of course, poked around a bit, got a rough idea of what happened, and learned that you had fucked off up north. No idea where specifically in Atlas or what you were doing there. Though I should've guessed that the what was getting your ass handed to you." Her eyes traced upward to James's new cybernetic eye and bandaged ear stump. Winter felt a spike of irritation, but it softened as Cass's crass demeanor slid away. "You sure you're ok?"

James hesitated before he answered. "I'm good enough." That was a noncommittal answer, and judging by the frown she was now giving, Cass thought the same thing.

"Make sure you mean that," she said, her voice stern. "They don't hand out dumbass awards for overexertion."

James let out a laugh. A genuine, from the gut, laugh. "Cass? Ever since I've seen you guys again, I've felt better than I have in a long time." Winter found herself relaxing. His one good eye had been sparking with delight as he had said that, his shoulders slack, and his smile wide and genuine. It looked like he was telling the truth. Good. She didn't claim to understand it, but somehow Cass was putting him at ease. Gods knew how though, the woman was already giving Winter a headache.

"Uh, Ms. Schnee? Specialist Schnee? Which do you prefer?" Winter blinked as her inner thoughts were interrupted. Veronica, the short one wearing a worn robe, was in front of her. Boone was right behind her, staring from behind his sunglasses. Winter was still forming her opinions on all of these people, but she felt comfortable in saying Boone was unnerving.

"Either is fine," she said, "can I help you?" She wasn't sure what to expect.

"Right," Veronica said. "Two things. Boone saw someone coming out of your father's office while he was undercover, went by the name of Watts. We wouldn't bring it up except your dad looked a bit shaken and not long after he announced the Schnee Memorial Ball."

Winter's full, undivided attention snapped onto the small woman. "Describe him," she said. Watts? It wasn't an unheard of surname, but there was only one Watts that she knew of that could waltz into her father's office.

Boone snapped crisply into action. "Tall, thin, slight tan, black hair, thick mustache, well dressed, looked like he was carrying a twenty cylinder revolver," he said. "Maybe late 30s, early 40s." That was close enough to worry Winter. Opening her scroll, she punched in a quick search for Arthur Watts. As his image appeared on screen, a somber man in a lab coat that matched Boone's description, minus a decade, she showed it to him. Boone flicked his glasses down as he studied the picture. "That's him," he said, not missing a beat. "That's the man who saw your father."

"Is he bad news?" Veronica asked.

"Possibly, but I can't say for certain," Winter said, her mind racing ahead. Arthur Watts was supposed to be dead, a tragic fatality of the first Paladin testing gone horribly wrong. It had been national news, her classes had ground to a halt over it. What was he doing in her father's office? Already, she was connecting threads.

Arthur Watts had been one of Atlas's top minds, there had recently been a virus designed to compromise Atlas cyber security, and he had known about James and her being kidnapped. The evidence wasn't airtight, but the implication it painted was a grim one. Over Boone's shoulder, Qrow was looking at her with concern. "Thank you for telling me this."

"Sure, no problem," Veronica said, sounding surprised and a little pleased at how well her information had been received. "There's just one more thing. Your mom has been taking your disappearance badly. I know you need to get back to report in, but maybe you could spare a few minutes to-," Winter interrupted.

"My mother will be fine," she said coldly. "She'll find a bottle of vodka or two and the problem will solve itself. Three if she wants to forget my name." Veronica stepped back as if she had been slapped. There was a tiny twinge of guilt in the pit of Winter's stomach, but she ignored it. Veronica seemed well intentioned and good natured, but she didn't understand. Her mother felt sorry for herself? She had felt sorry for herself for Winter's entire life. Let her mother drown herself in cheap liquor and waste away in self pity like she always did.

"But," Veronica began. Boone gently nudged her in the back and shook his head. "I…ok." Veronica didn't sound happy with it, but she said nothing else. Winter nodded in gratitude at the sniper.

"We're going to have to move up to the front," Winter said, raising her voice just a bit so that everyone could hear her. "If anyone gets in our way or tries to stop us, just say we're on official Atlas military business and direct them to me. Otherwise, we don't stop to chatter, we don't tell them anything we've learned, we just head straight for the cars." All eyes were on her now. "And, Lily is it? It might be for the best if you turn invisible on this one." She hesitantly looked the giant blue woman up and down. The others would get strange looks, but nothing too out of the ordinary as most of them could pass for Huntsmen. Lily, on the other hand, could induce a panic.

"You got it dearie!" she thundered, before disappearing in the blink of an eye. Winter winced as her eardrums were assaulted. James vouched for the giant's stealth capabilities, so Winter just had to assume this was some odd quirk of hers.

"Are we all ready to move out?" James asked, looking around at everyone with ease and calm.

"God yes," Cass said. "No offense Winter, your dad's a stuck up prick with a micro prick. And yet somehow he manages to bend over enough to suck it up to the root every time he opens his mouth." Winter had no words for that. No words at all. She took it back, Cass wasn't anything like Qrow. She was Qrow's sarcasm and lack of respect, combined with James's sailor mouth, and with a great big helping of anger issues on top of it all.

"And the confusion if people start asking about why a presumed dead woman is wandering around?" Arcade asked. That was her father's problem. He had gone and made himself the center of attention on the world stage because of a falsehood. It would blow up in his face and she couldn't care less about the consequences or the fallout he'd have to deal with.

"Same thing as before, Atlas military business and direct them to me. It's nothing we're liable to talk about," Winter said. It was all perfectly true. They were dealing with delicate intelligence and transporting a POW. In fact, the sooner the better. "Ok, follow me."

"You heard her, everyone," James said. Privately, Winter wondered if James was considered the leader of this little group. They seemed to respect him enough. The moment they spoke, they all fell in line with her as she began to march along the edge of the courtyard. Well, she'd have time to get to know them and get the full story when they were safe and sound.

It wasn't a long trip, even though it had been awhile she remembered the way well. She decked through a few gates, sidestepped a few party guests that had wandered out. A few of them double took as she passed by, blinking as they tried to process what they had just seen. Winter paid them no mind, striding on. She could see the front gates now, a line of black tinted sedans and one van lined up out front. Several security guards were arguing with the drivers, who were remaining stony faced and firm. It seemed they wanted the uninvited drivers to leave. The gate was open though, that was what mattered.

"We were just leaving, we won't bother you any longer," Winter said briskly.

The guards turned, arguments already forming on their lips, only for them to die as they saw her. "M-ms. Schnee?" one of them spluttered. Most of them were staring at them wide eyed. One in the back, however, had pulled out a walkie talkie that he was whispering into. "Wait, aren't some of you wait staff?" the first guard asked. And it was time to go.

"Official Atlas military business, step aside," she said, not missing a beat as she flashed her license. The first guard took it in, uncertainty in his eyes. But there was also fear, the uncertainty that came with the prospect of holding up federal business. After a few seconds of fidgeting, he relented, moving to the side. All of the other guards followed his example. "Everyone, move. Take our special guest to the van," she said. Coming to a halt, she began to shepherd the others.

James's friends were evidently as eager to get away from Schnee manor as she was, for they marched forward with the speed and rigidness of a forced march. Veronica was the only one who looked back, a look of regret on her face. It was only for a minute though, after which she fell back in line. The drivers, like clockwork, rose in response, opening their passenger doors and the back of the van. Winter hung back, making sure everyone was accounted for. She had no intention of making a second trip. Thankfully, she counted everyone as having found a seat, even spotting the van shifting under Lily's invisible weight. As each car filled up, the engine roared to life and it drove away. The only one delaying was James, who had paused to look back at her. "You coming?" he asked. His voice was playful. "I'm just saying, I'm pretty sure there's room. You know." He grinned. "For short people."

Oh, oh he wanted to start something. He would regret that. "Let me get something straight," she said, walking up to him and poking him in the chest. "When we're back at HQ and we've dealt with everything, we're settling that once and for all. I was trying to ease the tension back at the Scattered base, but now that we're out of there? I don't need to hold back from destroying you, Walker." Despite everything, there was a big, stupid smile on her face. She wasn't mad at him. She was going to crush him under her heel, but she wasn't mad.

"Let's make it interesting then, shall we?" James said, smugly folding his arms and leaning into the finger. "Some stakes?" He just kept digging his grave, didn't he? That was fine, it would make victory taste all the sweeter.

"We'll talk later," she said, a few ideas rolling around in the back of her head. Cruel and nasty stakes were out of the question, but maybe getting to keep something of his for the day. Like that helmet of his, it would pressure him into getting a proper shave if he couldn't hide it behind a mask. "Let's get out of here." She began to turn. And then she heard it: doors swinging wide open, footsteps, and a voice she hadn't heard in person in nearly ten years.

"I was about to give my closing speech! What was so important you had to call for me personally and not...oh. Hello Winter." Winter's entire body tensed up, her hands balling into fists. "You're not dead then?" Jacques Schnee said, in a tone that made it clear he did not particularly care one way or another. "I suppose I'll give everyone the good news. Congratulations by the way. You've finally contributed to the family name and society as a whole."

She couldn't stop herself, she rounded on the spot and glared at him. There he was, standing in front of the doors to the manor, firmly closed behind him, wearing that white suit he loved so much he never seemed to wear anything else. The remnants of his once black hair was gone, replaced with a white that made it hard to tell he wasn't a natural born Schnee, something that left an irrational pang of anger in her mind. And those eyes. Those cold, uncaring eyes looking right at her.

"You promoting yourself with this sham is doing some good?" she said scathingly. Gods. This happened every time. She wanted to avoid her father, get on with her life, and avoid wasting her time on his nonsense. And then he'd start speaking to her and she'd be unable to help herself. Arguing with him was like trying to argue with a toddler that was screaming while its fingers were stuck in its ears, unlikely to yield results and ending with a headache. But the thought of him belittling her and getting away without a challenge to it was an unbearable thought. And so here she was, stuck in the same loop she had left home to get away from.

"Winter?" James said from behind her. He sounded concerned. "Everything ok?"

"James, please wait in the car," Winter said. "I'd like a few private words with my father." There was a pause, doubtless taken up by James taking the situation in. Not long after, she heard the telltale noise of boots crunching asphalt, a sound that slowly grew more distant. Good. James didn't need to deal with this after everything else. And, judging by the footsteps, the guards were dispersing too. Within minutes, they were alone.

Winter glared at her father, hatred burning white within her core. She hadn't always despised him, but the happy memories where he was involved were few and far between. Meanwhile, the horrible ones had grown in number every year. It seemed impossible to think that when she was younger, so young that Weiss had been a barely noticeable bump in her mother's belly, she had loved her family. She had thought she was the luckiest little girl alive. She knew better now. She knew far better now.

"It was a ball in your honor, Winter. For charity," Jacques said. His body was relaxed as he walked forward, idly swirling a glass of brandy in his hand. His tone matched his body, carefree and only mildly irritated. To him, Winter wasn't a threat, only a disobedient child that had to be lectured. The fire inside her surged and roared, but she held it at bay. He wanted her to lose control; it would be proof that she wasn't a grown woman, only a little girl throwing a tantrum.

"We raised millions for veteran funds all over Atlas, in a single night," he continued. "Do you want me to call them all up and ask for the money back? For shame Winter, I thought you of all people would care more about your struggling brothers and sisters in arms. But if petty grudges are more important, that's your decision." It had been a while since Winter had seen this old tactic from him, guilt-tripping her into thinking his cruelty was all for the best. But the days of it working on her were long gone. She wasn't twelve anymore.

"Your spontaneous concern for the wellbeing of soldiers might seem more sincere if you had contributed more," Winter said coldly. "You and I both know that a million Lien is little more than pocket change for you. Hardly the type of donation someone of your means would make if they were serious about helping struggling veterans. And where was this concern for the emotional and physical health of soldiers the last near-decade of my life? I seem to recall you making several choice statements about the military being for, and I quote, 'high-school dropouts, drug addicts, the homeless, Faunus, and anyone else who realized they had no future elsewhere.' So please don't insult my intelligence with fake sympathy."

"Oh, come now Winter," Jacques said. "That was to keep you from making a mistake in throwing your entire life away. A mistake that you went and made anyway. You never call, you never write, you shun your father, your brother, and your mother. Only talking to your little sister? Is that what a healthy, well adjusted young woman does? I'll have you know I called my father every day after I moved out, even the days I was deadly sick. It's a cruel person who neglects their parents, the people who raised them with care and love."

He had completely dodged her point to attack her from a new angle. Arguing with her father was one of the most frustrating things that Winter had ever encountered. The conversation never stayed in one place longer than it suited him, he twisted words, shifted topics, outright lied, anything to stay on the offensive and never concede anything but the most minor of points. But she stood her ground. She was not going to shirk in the face of his tyranny, not anymore. Not one more step back.

"I'm better off without this family," Winter said. "Weiss is the only good thing about it. Whitely lives and breathes to lick your boots, he hasn't had a thought that you didn't specifically put in his head for him his entire life. You're a self-serving snake who never did anything if it didn't benefit you directly, and evidently being a father didn't fit the bill. We were always puppets for you, pretty little things for you to put on display and build you up. And Mother." Her hatred peaked to heights she hadn't known it was capable of reaching. "She was an amazing woman once, but she drowned herself in her own misery instead of having the gall to divorce you. The coward. What she saw in you I'll never know. I'm astounded that her father ever allowed her to marry you. He would've hated you if he knew who you really were."

Mother. Willow Schnee. Nothing she ever did reached the levels of Jacques's cruelness, or Whitely's collaboration, but her inability to act hurt in a special way. A master class Huntress, the daughter of Nicholas Schnee. She could have done something, anything, to stop the horrors happening to her children right in front of her. What had she done instead? She had retreated to the bottom of a bottle. Her husband had admitted to her face, at her youngest daughter's birthday no less, that he had married her for the family name and company, nothing else. It should have been all she needed. A real mother would've made it clear he had 24 hours to get out of the house and never come near her family again. But it seemed Winter didn't have a real mother.

"Oh, you're not far off, your grandfather never liked me very much," Jacques said, with all the air of someone telling a favorite story for the hundredth time. "That boy is no good for you Willow. I can see it in his eyes. He's a vile boy, he's got poison in his soul." Jacques rolled his eyes. "But he was a tough obstacle to get around. Hard to marry someone whose parents hate you, regardless of how head over heels she is for you. I tried so many angles. Accusations of elitism for not wanting his daughter to marry someone of a lower class, appeals to your grandmother, even offering to work directly for your father. But he was an unbudging wall. For a time, I thought all my time courting Willow might go to waste."

He sipped his brandy, looking at it fondly. "Yes, everything seemed lost. For a while, I thought I had lost Willow too. I overheard conversations here and there, Willow wondering if maybe her father had a point about me. But then a miracle happened, something that broke down Nicholas's walls and led to him accepting me as his son-in-law. Grudgingly, I must admit, but when it comes to snatching victory from the jaws of defeat, I'm not one to be picky." He smirked at her from over his drink. Winter hated that smirk, it was the smirk of a man who was lording some previously hidden bit of knowledge over her to prove his superiority. It was all to prove that he knew better.

"You look confused, maybe even a little lost. Did Willow never tell you?" he asked, faux concern flooding his tone. "That's odd. She said it was the happiest moment of her life at the time. I thought she'd waste no time in telling every last one of her children what happened. It's why I kept my silence on the matter, I thought she had already done the honors. But if she hasn't, well, you deserve to know about a moment that brought years of joy to your mother's face."

"Do you have a point to make or are you just blathering now?" Winter said harshly, but there was a gnawing unease eating away at her. What was he talking about? Part of her wanted so badly to believe that he was simply trying to waste her time, prattling on about nonsense. But far too many years of painful life in this house had taught her better. Lies could be disproven, the venom could be taken out of their sting. When her father wanted to hurt someone, truly hurt them, he used the truth. He would corrupt it to his own ends, but the core of the matter would always be an objective, undeniable truth. Even if you peeled away the garnishes he put on them, in Jacques's hands they still cut to the bone. Something horrible was coming.

"So impatient Winter," he said idly, "always the same with you. Very well. Nicholas Schnee, for all his stylings, had a few old fashioned trappings that would make youngsters nowadays turn their head in shock. It almost seemed trivial, but I finally managed to find a way to earn his blessing. After a long talk with Willow, I went to his office, waited for his secretary to let me in, and got down on my knees. I blustered and begged for his forgiveness, told him I had lost myself to passion to escape from my grief, that I had been so terrified I would lose my Willow forever that I had acted without thinking."

He was stalling for dramatic effect, Winter could see that without trying. But she had a vague idea of where this was going. It terrified her. She clenched her teeth, tightened the fold of her arms, and glared at him with all the boiling hatred that she could muster. Jacques noticed, his eyes looking into hers.

And then he crushed her.

"I told him that Willow was pregnant. The baby was mine and that I wanted to raise it with Willow. And that she wanted to name it Winter." Jacques paused dramatically as if wanting to let Winter soak in the effect of his proclamation.

A tiny fear had taken root in Winter as she had listened to her father talk, a fear that the conversation would go in this direction. It was a fear that had done utterly nothing to prepare for the horrible reality of it all. Her anger at him, which had been raging without rest since she had entered his office, faltered for the first time. "I think he was rather moved by my performance. After a long talk, he put his hand on my shoulder." He gestured around him. "In front of this very door. He said that he had judged me all wrong, that a true man took responsibilities and provided for his family. And that was what brought everything together. We were married within a week."

He gave a melodramatic sigh. "And yet, despite it all, now she's a miserable wreck who can't make it outside without her wine. Some people can't handle the responsibility of raising children, I suppose. She's barely talked to Whitely at all in the last few months. And she was so happy when we heard the news, especially the first time." He tutted disapprovingly. "Seems she wasn't ready to be a mother of one, let alone three."

"You're lying," Winter said on instinct. She regretted it the second the words had left her mouth. They sounded weak and feeble; with it being all too clear that she was trying to convince herself and not making a defiant declaration against Jacques. Her mother had married Jacques because she was pregnant with her? No. No. It couldn't be.

"Am I now?" Jacques said devilishly. "Well, if I'm that much of a liar, run along and ask your mother then. Ask her why we married in the first place. She gave up her Huntress career to raise you while I ran the company you know. Such a disrespectful and ungrateful child, denying the sacrifices made for you." As he spoke, Winter could feel something slithering around her throat, choking her. This couldn't be happening, this couldn't be how it had all ended up. The back of her eyes stung as she stared at Jacques, floundering as she desperately tried to regain her footing.

"No my daughter, it's the truth and nothing but the truth. Basic math is all you need to compare your birthday to our anniversary and notice how close they are. But you really should know better by now Winter. You're far too old to be running to mommy because you want to ignore daddy." On top of everything, he was choosing now to infantilize her. It was all too much, everything was pressing in on her from all directions at once. She couldn't breathe, her breaths were starting to become short and shallow.

And with that, Jacques delivered the finishing stroke. "So. You say that I ruined your mother's life?" He raised his glass in a mock toast, a cruel smile on his face. "I couldn't have done without you. Thank you oh so much Winter. You were always my least favorite child, but always my favorite mistake."

Tears were now streaming down Winter's face. He had won. No matter what she did, how old she was, or how much she had grown, he always won. Bitterness and shame both smashed into her like a tidal wave, quenching the rage that now felt petty. She felt like she was a child again, impotently wailing her fists against the leg of a giant that barely even considered her an annoyance. But it was made all the worse by the horrible truth.

It was her fault. She was the ball and chain that had attached her mother, her family, to Jacques.

"Now. Get out. I've wasted enough time on you."

Desperately, she grasped for a desperate last scrap of self-control. All she wanted was one tiny victory over Jacques, to be able to turn and leave with the dignity and stature of a woman befitting her post. She failed. The thoughts of a reserved march away had barely even formed in her head when broke into a run, losing all poise. The last thing she heard behind her self-congratulating "hm" from her father. Grabbing at the door to the car sent for her, the only one still waiting, threw herself into the still open door, and smashed it shut.

And then the dams truly burst. Before she could stop herself, her head was in her hands. Guilt, shame, fury, helplessness, all of it came pouring out. It was pathetic, a fully grown woman reduced to tears so easily, like she was a little girl that had been scolded. All the progress she had made, all of her achievements, decorations, and honors, what good were they? She couldn't even properly run away from the mess she was responsible for.

"...Winter?" Her eyes went wide. James was right next to her. Disbelief was carved into every corner of his face as he stared at her. Panic consumed her mind. What was she supposed to do now? James already had so much he had to deal with, how could she justify piling her self pity on top of that?

"It's nothing," she said, furiously wiping away her tears. Not now, she couldn't afford to be weak right now. James didn't respond verbally. Words half formed on his mouth before dying, unable to properly communicate his thoughts. So he took a different course. Leaning in, before Winter could react, he pulled her into a tight hug. Blinking in surprise, guilt seized her. "James, please, I'm fine," she said, wishing she could will it to be true.

"I'm so sorry Winter," he said. One of his arms slid around her back, the other cupping her head. If she wanted, she could've easily pushed him off. It was James, the slightest bit of pushing and he'd probably let go and apologize. Part of her wanted to, to save one last scrap of dignity. But his warmth pressed in on her, his words echoed with genuine regret and compassion, and it made everything just a little bit more bearable. The last of her self control slipped from her. She returned the hug.

Things became a blur after they hugged. She clutched onto James like he was a lifeline and felt his own arms squeeze her tight. She couldn't remember how long she had been crying before her hard, deep sobs were peppered with strangled coughs. She didn't remember when they had pulled away long enough to look eye to eye, his puffy eyes, one soft hazel and the other a glowing green, looking into hers. That one hazel eye, filled with concern, desperately searching for the right words to say. But she did remember what happened next.

Softly, with tenderness that she had not felt in a long time, his lips brushed against her forehead. Her heart hammered against her chest, confusion spiking through her head. A thousand different conflicting feelings coursed through her, leaving her to sift through them all. There was confusion, anxiety, and a little bit of guilt. But there was also warmth. It didn't ward off the horrible, smothering feelings of humiliation her father had left with her. But it did lessen them.

James pulled back, eye wide. He looked as if he couldn't believe what he had just done. "I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have done that," he said, his voice full of self loathing. "I just-fuck. Winter I'm so sorry, I wasn't thinking. I'm a stupid old man and I wish I could take it back." Through it all, the tangled maelstrom she was stuck in, anger rose above it all. Before she could stop herself, she pressed a finger into his lips.

"Don't," she choked out, "you dare talk about yourself like that." What had happened had shook her, she had no idea what she was feeling, but she knew enough that she hated to see James flagellate himself. Whatever that kiss was, whatever it meant, she knew it had come from a place of kindness and good intention. It left her uncertain and scared, her heart beating and her mind a mess. But she didn't hate it. She couldn't.

James looked at her, caught off guard from her response. She could still see the hurt in his eye, the hatred at himself. It wasn't fair. He was so much quicker to provide comfort, so much faster to offer a shoulder to lean on, than she was. It came naturally to him, while for her it was stilted and awkward. Frustration filled her. It drove her to action.

Her hand slipping behind his head, she forced him down an inch before crushing her lips into his forehead. It was more forceful than she had meant it to be, there was a small jolt as they met. But a tiny pinprick of delight shone inside her as she did. It was another one of the myriad of things she didn't understand about whatever this was, but that would come later. Lifting James's face back up, she forced her words to be as calm and steady as she could manage.

"If you did something wrong, then so did I."

Silence fell over them after that. James merely stared at her, dumbstruck, while she forced herself not to look away. She wished he would say something, because she had no idea how to follow up on her declaration. Sadly, it seemed he shared her plight. Seconds stretched by into minutes as the car carefully rolled down the streets of Atlas.

Awkwardly realizing that the conversation wasn't continuing, Winter straightened herself out in her chair, facing forward. She was still pressed into James from the side. She felt no strong urge to fix this. Even with all the turmoil, his warmth was oddly comforting. There was an awkward pause. Then he ever so subtly leaned into it. Despite everything, a nervous smile flitted across her lips.

One thing broke through all the rest. She wasn't alone.

XXXXX

Author's Note: I've been sitting on the scene where Winter talks with her father for months now. Inspiration struck me and I've been working towards. Particularly the bits about the true nature of her birth. This is very much an original concept on my part, but I do like the idea as a way to explain how such a broken family got started. As well as a way to force Winter to re-examine her relationship to the rest of the family.

And. Well. I guess I can finally tip my hand about a certain pairing. Ladies and gentlemen, let me introduce you to Desert Flurry. (Props to Chaos Spartan for coming up with the name). They've been on a major slow burn these last few years, but I think it's finally time for them to let their wings spread. I've been working towards it since the day they met in Ozpin's office, with the goal being a slow, slow burn. So much so that James barely even registered her the first time he saw her because he had more important things on the mind. I fell in love with these two after planning their relationship after so many their years, and I hope you enjoy it as much as I do. And they are aware they're getting into a May-December romance (though consider James is fifty-one maybe May-November would be more accurate) they'll be discussing that when they've had time to calm down. Age gap romances ended up being an accidental theme in the story, since Servius is nineteen and Tullus is in his mid to late twenties. And other things that I'm keeping under wraps (though smart viewers can probably figure out what I mean).

Those of you who were hoping for JamesxWillow, I'm very sorry. I did think about it, but Desert Flurry always had a special place in my heart, the way the two have strong personalities that clash but still make it work. Though I do have some good news for you. Willow is a character I adore and I do have plans for her.

Thank you for your patience. I'm dealing with a lot of personal crap (as a friend of mine once said, if you didn't have a depressive or anxiety disorder before COVID, you will be issued one by the end of it) so writing has been hard. But when I can force myself to sit down and do it, it's an incredibly rewarding experience, particularly when I know I'm making awesome people like you just a little bit more happy. Thank you all so much.

I would like to thank my legacy Patrons, SuperFeatherYoshi, xXNanamiXx, RaptorusMaximus, Davis Swinney, Mackenzie Buckle, Ryan Van Schaack, ChaosSpartan575, and LordofNaught for their amazing support.