Chapter 30

Hey Jude

XXXXX

Weiss winced as she squeezed the handgrip the doctor had given her. Ever since she had gotten out of surgery, her pinkie finger had been unbearably stiff. It was a miracle she hadn't lost it, and compared to Blake and Yang, she had gotten off easy. She had even gotten lucky, it had been her right pinky, not her left one. But all those platitudes didn't make it any easier. Every time she clenched, a deep, primal feeling of unease and frustration seized her. A week ago she had been able to flex all ten of her fingers with ease. Now it took so much effort to move this one. It felt wrong, like something she had always taken for granted had been robbed from her.

"Stop whining," she muttered to no one in particular. "You're not an amputee like Yang. You're not a prisoner like Winter. Not an abuse victim like Blake. Even Ruby has more to deal with." As she rambled, she looked up. She had been discharged not long after her finger had been successfully reattached. But Blake and Yang were still hospitalized, Blake to make sure she was stable and Yang because she kept drifting in and out of consciousness. As such, she had effectively been living in this hospital room for the last few days.

Yang was tossing and turning in her sleep, her face clammy and coated in sweat. It felt wrong, everything about it felt wrong. Yang, for how grating she could be, was supposed to be loud and brash, the one who spoke her mind and filtered nothing. This wasn't Yang. Fate had to be cruel to reduce her to anything like this, so unlike her.

Slowly, wanting to look away and yet finding it hard to do so, her gaze onto the chair next to it. Ruby was sitting there, her hair a mess, her eyes puffy and red, and her gaze firmly locked onto her sister. Ruby had spent so much of the time since the battle crying. Weiss couldn't blame her. More than once she had tried to imagine Winter in that bed, mangled and feverish. Every time the thought broke after a few seconds, too horrible to bear. A few times Weiss had tried to speak with her but had gotten nothing in return but silent nods. It left Weiss feeling hollow. Something, there had to be something she could say. But no matter how hard she tried, the words wouldn't come.

Finally, her gaze fell on Blake. Blake was lying in her bed, looking healthier than Yang, but no less miserable. Half covered by sheets, an open book was lying on her lap. Weiss had brought it in for her, but even from here Weiss could see she was still on a page that read "chapter 1." Not that Blake was even pretending to read, her eyes instead locked firmly on Ruby and Yang. Her eyes were bloodshot and her eyelids heavy, Weiss wasn't sure how much sleep she was getting.

It had been like ever since they had gotten here. The bitter sting of their defeat was inescapable, beyond just their physical injuries. Weiss wouldn't dare to voice it, but she was certain the same thing that was eating away at her was also clawing at her teammates. They had failed. In a vital operation, they had been granted a task that had turned into a lynchpin of the entire deployment, and they had been unable to rise to meet the challenge. The two mixed into a twisted, cruel beast. Their injuries had been because they were inadequate, almost like they were punishments for stepping into a field they were woefully unprepared for, a position they had never been worthy of.

Shame burned at her. She had thought they were ready for this, they all had. They had ventured out into danger before, facing Grimm and the White Fang. But now she was questioning everything. Never before in her life had she felt like such a stupid little girl.

Silence, broken only by the beeping of machinery and the occasional wet sob, pressed in on them. Weiss wished someone, anyone, would say something. But what was there to say? And so it continued.

That is until the echo of someone shouting out in the hallway reached her ears. "I'm sorry, but visiting hours are over. I already made special exemptions and I can't push it any-ma'am? Ma'am! You can't go in there!" But the door burst open. Weiss looked up, the kernels of annoyance starting to form in her, only for them to be smashed as she saw who was standing in the doorway. Winter was heaving as if she had just run a mile, looking tired yet full of fire despite it. Within a second, her eyes had fallen on Weiss.

Weiss stood up without conscious thought, her heart hammering. Winter was here? She had escaped? Relief flooded her, but it was accompanied by burning guilt. Winter, always the dependable one, the stronger one, had succeeded where she had failed. Standing there tall, while she was in the hospital, licking her wounds. Always the one to push her to be better. She had failed to live up to those expectations.

"Winter," she said, her voice cracking. "I tried. I swear I-," but her sister was on her before she could get another word out. Powerful arms wrapped around her and pulled her close, her face pressing into a dirty and worn uniform.

"I'm sorry," Winter said, her voice shaking. "I'm so sorry. You did so well, even with the odds stacked against you. I couldn't be more proud." Winter's voice never shook. She always spoke with firmness, whether it be gentle, strict, or angry. There were only a handful of times Weiss could remember Winter showing any degree of vulnerability, and they were all from before she had left home. It all rattled something inside Weiss. How had it all gone so wrong? How had they all ended up like this?

She didn't burst into tears, she didn't have the strength to do so. But, as her own arms weakly reached up to return Winter's hug, weak gasps escaped her as the occasional tear leaked down her face. Vaguely, she registered Winter guiding her into a sitting position as she tried to collect herself, failing miserably each time. Eventually, she just gave up, holding onto her older sister like she was a lifeline, her gasps turning into sniffles that were unbearable to listen to, reminding her of just how far she had sunken.

Time slipped by as they sat there, Winter silent and Weiss softly crying. Slowly, mercifully, Weiss gathered up the strength to pull back and look up. "But. But I failed."

Winter gave her a sad smile. "So did I." She pointed. Weiss hadn't seen James come into the room. He was halfway through the door, frantically whispering apologies to a nurse on the other side. As he was talking, Qrow slipped in behind him, earning a glare from the nurse and something that sounded awfully like "another one?" Qrow paid her no mind, taking a seat beside his nieces, at once putting a comforting arm around Ruby. James muttered one more apology to the nurse before stepping fully into the room.

Weiss's stomach dropped as he closed the door behind him and she got a look at his face. His ear was gone, his eye now glowed a bright green, and half of his face was a mess of burn scars. "I was supposed to keep him safe. I didn't."

Her attention flew back to Winter. There was a smile on her sister's face, but one that had been worn by exhaustion and tiny hints of shame. "But. But," she said, scrambling for some kind of counterargument. Winter didn't wait.

"General Ironwood told me what happened. That you fought the Legion's leadership. The very best that they had to offer," Winter said. Her voice wasn't motherly, Winter had never fully taken Willow's place as a source of comfort for her, but there was warmth and understanding. "We all did too, Qrow, James, and I. We had to run. There were no other choices. Our only victory was escaping with our lives. Meanwhile, you captured Vulpes Inculta. Was it you?"

Feeling off-balance, Weiss shook her head. Without conscious thought, she pointed at Blake. The Faunus girl recoiled at once, as if she was afraid Winter's attention would burn her. James slid a reassuring hand onto her shoulder, patting her gently. Winter, however, smiled at her. "I knew my sister wouldn't be on a team with anyone who didn't deserve it." Blake looked away, her face crawling with shame.

"I'm alive because of your sister," she said, her voice raspy. "She deserves the praise, not me." A twinge of irritation crossed Winter's face for half a second, one Blake thankfully didn't see. Mercifully, her sister fought it down.

"Blake, do you have any idea what kind of a monster Vulpes is?" James said, injecting himself into the conversation for the first time. "I'm not even comfortable telling you half the things he's done back on Earth. But I'll say this, everyone was terrified of him. He was the core of Legion intelligence, his face was plastered all over anti-Legion propaganda, and easily one of Caesar's most dangerous allies. And you took that all away from him." Despite everything, a grin of jubilation overcame James. "Caesar's spies were the best asset he had, bar none, and now they're leaderless. You did amazing work out there."

"But…but Yang," Blake said, her eyes wandering over to the unconscious blonde subconsciously. "I tried to get her away from Lucius, he was rotting her arm. I ripped it off." Both James and Winter followed her gaze, their resolve noticeably faltering. After a minute, however, they collected themselves.

"You know how I got these?" Leaning forward a tad, James brushed his hairline back, revealing two small scars on his temple. "I got jumped. I was heading down the road, got whacked in the back of the head. Woke up just in time to get shot and then dumped in a shallow grave." He sighed as he let his hair fall, his face grim. "Sometimes, things just go wrong. You do everything you can to prepare, take every precaution, and it still all goes wrong. It doesn't make you a failure, that's just how it is sometimes. Winning every fight and securing every outcome? It's impossible. So please, both of you. Don't be so hard on yourself." He paused long enough to give both of them pleading looks. Blake started to speak again, but James cut her off.

"Blake, we talked to the nurses on the way in. Whatever Lucius did, the decay was advanced. Even after the break, they had to debride to prevent infection." He looked down at her, his expression apologetic. "Whatever happened after he got to her, her arm was beyond saving."

James had given words to the thoughts that had been struggling to take concrete form inside Weiss's head. He was right. Yang's arm couldn't be saved. She cleared her throat. "She'll forgive you. I told you, and I meant it." Blake shot her a nervous look but didn't say anything else. It wasn't easy to maintain that stance after all these days. No matter how much the logical part of her mindknew that Yang hating Blake for anything was preposterous, the wait had proven to be unbearable.

"How do you know?" Blake whispered. Weiss hated that doubt so much. Despite everything, she wanted to do nothing more than reach into Blake, rip out that little worm whispering insecurities into her mind, and crush it in her hands. Blake didn't deserve this.

James's one good eye, however, lit up. "You could always ask her." Her heart jumping into her throat, Weiss looked. Yang was stirring in her bed, weakly looking up at her sister. Ruby pounced, throwing herself at her sister and holding her tight, babbling something too fast for Weiss to understand. Qrow merely stayed silent, kneeling down and pulling them both in close. Weiss smiled in spite of herself. All of her issues with Qrow aside, she couldn't deny how genuine his love for Ruby and Yang was.

"I…she's with family," Blake said, looking away. "I…I don't…," she trailed off.

"Blake," Weiss said, as firmly as she could manage. "She's looking for you." Blake's head snapped back up. Weiss had spoken the truth. Even with direct blood relatives holding her close, Yang's deep, lavender eyes had drifted in their direction. Half lidded, barely able to focus, but the focus was undeniable.

At once, Blake trembled. "Go," Weiss said softly. "Talk to her. You both need it. I'll be fine, I've got Winter." For one final time, Blake hesitated. Then, taking a deep breath, she swung her legs out of her bed. Slowly, gingerly, she headed across the room, towards Yang. Weiss smiled.

"Weiss? Can I ask you a favor?" Weiss blinked in surprise. Instinctively she had looked at James when she heard the question, but then her common sense caught up with her. It had been her sister. "I'd…like to call Mother." Winter asking her for a favor had been odd enough. Saying that she wanted to call their mother was enough to make Weiss's mouth drop open.

It took her a few seconds to find her tongue. "But. But you hate Mother." Part of her was aware this wasn't something she shouldn't be saying in front of James. Despite everything, she had only known him for a few weeks and this was a deeply personal family matter. She was simply caught off guard by the situation.

Winter, despite this, didn't seem to mind. If anything, she seemed oddly dour all of a sudden. Her expression was sunken, and for a second Weiss could've sworn she was staring at nothing. "For a long time, yes," Winter said bluntly. "But now? Things have gotten complicated. I'm not quite ready to forgive her for all the mistakes she's made." For the shortest of moments, burning hatred flashed across her eyes. It was quickly quelled. "But I've learned things I need to talk about. With you and her, and I'd rather not do it twice. So. Please."

Something was wrong, Winter didn't just ask for things like this, she was usually more strict and straight forward. "Of course," she said. "Now?"

Smiling gently, Winter got to her feet. "It's rather personal, I'd rather do it outside." Nodding, Weiss followed her sister. They were at the door when she stopped and looked back. "James? Are you coming?" Weiss blinked. Wait. What?

James looked as confused as she felt. He had, naturally, stayed seated and was now awkwardly pointing at himself. "Me?"

"Yes you," Winter said, a familiar briskness coming back into her voice. Weiss barely had time to look at her sister questioningly. After hesitating for a second, James got up, following them out of the room. Weiss wanted so badly to ask what was going on, but she couldn't help but notice something. Winter relaxed ever so slightly as James fell into line with them, her shoulders lowering just a tad. It seemed minor, but Weiss knew enough about how her sister carried herself to realize a change like that. The feeling was contagious. For whatever reason, her sister was comfortable with James, and without conscious thought, she herself was more at ease with the older man.

It wasn't that she distrusted him, she liked him, but she couldn't claim they were particularly close. But she trusted her sister. Now that she thought about it, it made sense. She and James had been captives together, a shared trauma. Winter doubtless wanted to talk to mother about that, and doing it with someone who understood what she had been through would of course make it easier.

Reaching a waiting room, wide open, sparse, and thankfully empty at this time of the day. Night had truly fallen over Atlas, only the shattered moon and bright lights of the city skyline cutting through the darkness. Taking a seat on a couch with Winter, she leaned in as Winter took out her scroll. James chose to forgo sitting, instead standing behind them and leaning in.

Weiss watched as Winter flicked through menus. Her heart sank a little as she pressed blocked numbers, as opposed to contacts. Both of their parents's numbers were on the short list that popped up. Father she understood. Mother had always been a complicated and upsetting affair. Weiss still loved their mother, she couldn't deny that. But she made it so hard sometimes. So often she just wasn't there, and half of the time she was it was a miracle if she was fully lucid. Was Winter truly wrong to have cut her off for so long? Weiss couldn't truly say so. It hurt, everything about it hurt, but she couldn't bring herself to condemn her sister.

But then why did Winter want to talk to her out of nowhere?

Removing the number from her block list, she thumbed it for a second, as if delaying as long as possible, before pressing it. A video chat opened, ringing as it waited for the other end to pick up. One ring. Two rings. Three rings. Unable to help herself, Weiss glanced at Winter. It was taking time for Mother to pick up, and she could see doubt crossing her sister's face. Five rings. Six rings. Winter looked down at the time, sighing in frustration. Eight rings. Nine rings. Without a word, her thumb moved to the end call button.

"I'm here! I've got it!" The screen flashed to life. Willow Schnee's face filled it, her face rosy red and heavily lined, but her eyes were wide open. Frantically, they darted back and forth. "Winter? You're ok? Is this a ransom-Weiss? What's going on? Who's that behind you?"

She had been drinking. Weiss could tell. Even with adrenaline making her more awake and focused than she normally was, there was a slight slur to her words and sluggishness to her movements. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Winter's jaw tighten ever so slightly. Panic shot through her. But when Winter spoke, her voice was level.

"I'm fine, Mother. I can't talk too much about it, it's classified, but I was a prisoner for a few days before escaping. This is James Walker." She pointed. "A…co-worker of sorts."

Willow's eyes focused on James. At first, she looked confused. After a few minutes though, a light ignited behind her eyes. "Oh! Jacques mentioned him. His friends were at the manor, looking for him. V-Veronica, that was her name! She…," Willow paused before leaning closer. "She snuck into Jacques's office to try and find you two."

James let out a snort of laughter. "Gotta say, I thought Cass would be the one to break and enter. But anyway, it's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Schnee. You've got some amazing daughters here. They've both pulled me out of the fire more times than I can count."

Winter nodded. "A lot has been happening. But I didn't call just to say hello." Winter tensed up, prompting worry to blossom inside Weiss. She was about to find out what happened. But nothing could've prepared her for the harsh reality of what she was about to hear. "I spoke to Father. About the matter of my conception."

Weiss blinked. Conception? What was going on here? Had it been anyone else, she would've assumed this was a joke, but Winter had never had much of a sense of humor. Despite that, no one else seemed to share her confusion. James fidgeted ever so slightly in barely restrained frustration. The exact opposite happened with Mother, whose face fell with a look of utter dread. "What did he tell you?"

Winter began to recount her conversation with Father. Horror and disgust crashed into Weiss like a tidal wave. Winter was an accident baby that Father blamed for everything that had happened to Mother? She had known Father could be spiteful and petty, gleefully crushing anyone who stood up to him, but this was a new level of cruelty.

James's hands tightened around the couch, his face taught and looking as if he was holding back a slew of cusses. Mother looked devastated, even through her haze, and at a loss for words. Winter was mostly unreadable, but there was a slight crack in her armor. She gave a small sniff. "I'm…I'm sorry. For everything."

"Winter. Snowdrop," Willow said. "Please don't. I've made so many mistakes over my life, so many things I can never take back. My children are not one of them." There was a fire in Willow's voice, a life Weiss hadn't heard in a long time. But it wasn't a raging, roaring fire, nearly the opposite. It was a sputtering, barely hanging on flame. Her mother wasn't devoid of energy, but she didn't have much to spare, her words lacking the full impact she had most certainly meant them to have. But still, it was something, and sadly, something was beyond the norm for Willow Schnee.

She seemed to understand this, for she stumbled for a moment with uncertainty in her eyes. However, she pressed on. "I know you're upset with me. I know I haven't been there when I should've been, done what I should've done, and I can't take it back. But I'm proud of all three of you. You've all blossomed in your own way." Her head tilted to look at Weiss for a second. "Your father wanted you to come back home when Winter went missing. But you're not, are you?" Weiss was startled at being put on the spot but shook her head. Willow didn't respond, but Weiss could swear that her eyes lit up just a little bit more.

"So please, Winter. Both of you." Willow swallowed. "Don't blame yourselves for me not being brave enough to raise you alone. It would've been hard, but the four of us would've been happier, I know it. But I was scared. Too scared to act until it was too late. You're both…you're both far braver than I could ever be." In spite of her best efforts, Weiss felt a small flutter of pride at the compliment. It felt like she was a child again and Mother was praising her for some simple task that was only impressive as part of a maturity milestone. A faint sense of longing for simpler times crept into her. Despite this, caution seized her just as fast. It was too late to just turn back the clocks now, not after all the hard years.

Thankfully, she was broken out of her thoughts by Winter clearing her throat. It sounded like she was trying to swallow something. "Mother. I. Thank you." The words awkwardly trailed from her mouth, leaving an awkward silence in its wake. It crept through the room for a moment, Weiss uncertain of how to follow up or how to breach a new topic. Willow broke it.

"Winter," Willow said. "Please call your brother, let him know that you're ok." At once, Winter's neutral, guarded expression sprang back up.

"Whitely has doubtless already heard from Father, not that I imagine he lost any sleep over my disappearance," she said, her voice so icy that Willow flinched. Slowly, Willow collected herself. "I'm sorry. I don't think I'm ready to be on speaking terms with Whitely just yet," she said, sounding as if keeping her voice level was a great effort. "If you think he should know, I trust you to do it." There was a pause. "Does he still talk to you?"

Willow didn't reply. Though, she didn't need to. The droop of her eyes and the ever so slight lowering of her head spoke deafening volumes. Weiss felt a little sick. Mother had no one in the house anymore, with the possible exception of Klien. It was a feeling she was uncomfortably familiar with, having dogged her for years after Winter had left.

"Um," Weiss said. Both sets of bright blue Schnee eyes were suddenly on her. "Winter? Mother? Do you, well, think it would be ok if we met up for lunch sometime this week? If we're all free?"

This was a long shot, a frantic hope. Winter was talking to their mother for the first time in years, and their Mother, clumsy as it was, was trying to meet her halfway. She had to seize it. If she didn't, things might slide back to the old status quo when feelings weren't running high anymore. Winter could fall back into her comfortable hatred and Mother her protective cocoon of numbing intoxication.

At once, Winter looked uncertain. "I'm not sure," she said slowly. For a moment, terror siezed Weiss. But then Winter took a deep breath. "Would it be ok if James was there too?"

Willow blinked but didn't falter. "Of course," she said, sounding a tad confused. "When works for you?"

"I'm not sure, Weiss and I are both very busy with classified matters. I can't say much, but it involves the White Fang. I promise we'll be in contact when we get an opening."

Willow nodded and Weiss smiled. The conversation continued for a little bit after that, but it was quickly becoming apparent that the list of topics they were comfortable discussing had run its course. Before too long, they were all sitting there in silence, waiting for an icebreaker that was never coming. Thankfully, Willow broke it. "It's good to hear from you girls. I love you both and…I'm sorry. I'm sorry for everything." Before Weiss could get another word out, the call ended.

Winter sighed as she leaned back into the chair. Weiss wasn't sure how she felt. That had been good, better than she had feared it would be. But at the same time, there was this feeling of gnawing emptiness inside her. Winter and Mother were on speaking terms again, but none of the problems that had caused a wedge between them had been solved. Weiss would be over the moon if she learned that, because of this, Mother was going to give up drinking, but she wasn't so young anymore. She knew better now, she knew just how deeply dependent her mother was on drink.

It left her feeling frustrated, like more should've been done during the call. Yet when trying to consider alternative developments, nothing came to mind. This process of healing between them was going to be slow and painful, and that was assuming it even worked. What if Mother showed up to their gathering drunk? What if Winter lost her temper? What if she herself did something to ruin the moment? Would everything go back to square zero?

She shook her head. There were enough problems she had to deal with, dwelling on how this little moment wasn't as grand as it could've been was little more than self-flagellation.

Winter's voice broke her out of her inner thoughts. Blinking, she saw that she was talking to James. "Sorry to put you on the spot," she said. "Meeting with her in person is going to be harder than a call."

James cocked his head. "Snowdrop?"

Winter made a small noise. "Mother had a theme. I was Snowdrop, Weiss was Snowflake, Whitely was Snowdrift. It was cute when we were younger, but I've outgrown it." Weiss rolled her eyes. Winter didn't lie often, which was good, because she was awful at it. That old nickname had brought a ghost of a smile to her face, even if she had tried to hide it.

"I don't know, I kinda like Snowdrop." He winked at Winter. "Snowdrop."

Right on cue, a faint smile bloomed on Winter's face, despite her best attempts to fight it down. Sticking a finger right in James's face, she did her best to sound forceful and intimidating. The results were mixed. "Don't you dare."

"I dare. Snowdrop," James said, his voice very "I'm going to get in trouble for this, but it's worth it."

"James." Grabbing his collar, she pulled him close. "I can and will end you. Don't forget, you have Semblance training on the docket, and I can make it very unpleasant if you don't watch your mouth." Weiss shuddered. Training with Winter: not a prospect she ever wanted to go through again. It was effective, but Gods did she push you.

"Sounds like a challenge. Let's hope you're not all talk." Weiss was confused again. This had all the trademarks of a fight, but it didn't feel like a fight, not a proper one anyway. It was more like a play fight, something she had never seen Winter do before. So what was happening here?

…OH!

Well. It did make some sense. They had been through a lot together. Unfortunately, that meant that this is what their honeymoon phase looked like. That was going to be annoying. Really the whole thing was a little weird, heck, more than a little weird. But Winter was smiling, even as she tightened her grip. She was happy. Despite everything, despite all the pain the Legion, White Fang, and their family caused, she was smiling. That was the important thing.

"I'm gonna go back and make sure the others are ok," she said. Sliding in, she hugged her sister, who let go to return it. "I love you. Don't apologize for being born." Softly, Winter nodded. "And I'm glad you two make each other happy." It wasn't often that she left her sister utterly flabbergasted, the disadvantage of being a younger sister, but it seemed this was one of those rare, precious moments.

Winter's jaw dropped, a strangling noise coming out of her mouth that vaguely sounded like words. James handled it marginally better, merely starting to blush and averting his gaze. Weiss felt just a little bit smug about this. Eventually, Winter found her voice. "How?"

Weiss shrugged.

"I know my sister."

James let out a noise similar to what Weiss imagined dying animals sounded like. "Winter, the girls probably haven't gotten a decent meal in a while, I think we should make a food run for them."

Winter promptly sprang into a standing position, far too aggressively for it to be natural. "That is an excellent idea. Weiss, go back to your friends and ask what they want to eat, we'll go get it." Weiss smiled. Both of their mouths were going a mile a minute. And their scramble to get out of the front door of the hospital was more akin to a mad dash to escape. Despite everything that had gone wrong, it was comforting to find some warmth in the middle of it all. Winter was in a better place now, she could tell.

It was like she had said. She knew her sister.

XXXXX

Author's Note: This was freaking hard to write. I had two core pillars going into Winter's phone call to Willow. Number one, I was going to start establishing ties between Winter and Willow, showing that this was a point that would lead to old wounds starting to heal. Number two, I was going to show that those wounds were deep and that it's going to take a while for them to truly heal. If there's one thing I truly love about RWBY, it's the way that the Schnee family is messed up, because there's more to it than "one person is abusive, everyone else is miserable." Weiss has been shown to be visibly hurt to see how distant alcoholism makes her mother, and Winter has always been the type to be less accepting of obvious flaws.

Wait, I lie, there was a third pillar. This is a scene where James shuts up and takes a backseat. The worst thing you can do with an OC, and characters in general really, is make them the most important person in the universe. The one who butts into every conversation, who gets included in every little thing, wins every fight, and who can't let everyone else get a chance to breathe. This isn't James's scene, it's Winter's and Weiss's. It's her family, their personal baggage that they're dealing with, and James as a whole only has the cliff notes version of what's going on. Now, he can be in the background ready and willing to give Winter a shoulder to lean on, but he's not in the driver's seat for this one. To do otherwise would make the world feel small and like I'm jerking James off.

Sorry about the stupidly long break, a lot of crap happened. Between the 2020s continuing to be a never-ending conga line of "oh god why, oh god why", I just needed some personal time to myself to help recover from exhaustion from work. Oh, and I caught COVID. Can't recommend it.

I hope you're all doing well. Considering…current events, I need to pause and make sure they don't derail my writing too much. Emotions are running high and I need to be cautious. But…yeah. I might need to rethink a few things with the lessons modern events are teaching me. But we'll see where that goes.