Chapter Four: My Own Doppelganger
Petals in the Ash
Allison Illuminated
Chapter Publish Date: 4/26/20
Cinder's vision spun as she looked at Weiss, wishing the heiress' presence wasn't a cruel joke the universe had decided to play on her. Her voice cracked. "Weiss?"
Weiss gave Cinder a cold sneer. "You're pathetic."
Everything was wrong.
"Ruby!" Yang had screamed, rushing to her side the second Cinder and Weiss had staggered out of the forest together. Pyrrha had gasped in horror at the blood already starting to dry on the side of Cinder's head. Weiss had been single-handedly holding off the Beowulf pack with her dust and rapier, all thoughts of form completely blow to the wind.
People didn't become other people.
The Nevermore screeched in pain when Yang's semblance-power fist shot into its head, propelled by Weiss' glyphs and Pyrrha's semblance. Cinder sat, useless, protected by useless blond kid, too dizzy to pick up the stupid, oversized pig sticker hanging at her side.
People didn't travel back in time.
"Congratulations to Team PWYR, led by Weiss Schnee!" Weiss lit up, beaming at the assembled students proudly. Cinder stood at the far end, head turned away from the student body to hide the bandage over her head wound as if the entire school didn't already know that Ruby Rose had been fucked up by a Beowulf.
And Cinder Fall never cried.
Yang held her tight as she sobbed into her chest, rubbing circles in her back and whispering, "Shh, shh, it's okay, Rubes. I'm here for you, okay? See, we're on the same team, just like you wanted. You just got overwhelmed, it'll be okay." And Cinder cried hard, because she wasn't okay, she wasn't okay, she wasn't fucking okay, SHE WAS DEAD AND THIS WAS HELL.
Never.
The lighter was Cardin Winchester's, some pigheaded bully with orange hair and a superiority complex. When Cinder had come up to him asking for it and a cigarette, he had laughed at her. One well-placed kick and some convenient blackmail Mercury had dug up during their time at Beacon later, Cardin had happily decided to gift it to her.
Cinder tossed the cigarette in the trash. Power was a far better drug than nicotine.
Ruby Rose's backpack burned like tinder in a wildfire. The flames licked at the edges of her handcrafted rose emblem, curling the edges and turning the petals to ash. The flaming burlap burned against the dark night, sending flickering reflections dancing through Cinder's eyes. Beacon loomed behind her.
Extending a slender finger into the flame, Cinder recoiled when it burned her pale skin. Cold flame, she thought. Flames that only love their master.
And Cinder Fall was not the Fall Maiden anymore.
The embers licked at the ruffs of her combat skirt, which fluttered into the late night wind. She held her bare arms close to her too-flat chest, feeling impossibly small, her outlook too bleak for her to cry again. Flickers of light danced through the shadows of the bushes around her. I have to do something. Somehow, someway, I have to get this situation back under control. A desperate desire to understand her situation sparked to life in her chest; she needed a rational explanation, a reason, that she might have been transported backwards through time. She believed in magic. She believed in the Gods. She believed in destiny. There must be a purpose to her presence here, in Ruby Rose's body, and Cinder intended to find it out.
What if Ruby Rose is trapped in my body?
The thought stopped Cinder cold in her tracks. A shudder of revulsion worked its way up her back – the mere thought of that bubbly, foolish, imbecile of a girl in her body, with her powers, made Cinder want to gag. More importantly, if anyone found out, she would be dead. If Cinder couldn't pretend to be Ruby, Ruby sure as hell couldn't pretend to be Cinder. Roman would find out, or Mercury, or, Gods forbid, Salem. One shot later, and the little rose would be dead, and her body along with it. I'd be dead. But I'm already dead. What gives?
Think, Fall, think. If Ruby was in her body, things got simpler. It would be a simple problem of swapped consciousnesses. Maybe. Of course, Future Ruby had just killed her, so she probably wouldn't be jumping at the bit to reconcile. Is that it? Is the universe telling us to make friends and be done with it? The idea was foolish enough that it might be right; it certainly seemed like the sort of fantasy solution Rose would appreciate.
Moreover, if Future Ruby was in Cinder's body, she was, most likely, Cinder's best and only shot at getting her original body back. They'd be stranded in the past together. There was already magic involved, so what difference would a little body swap make?
There were problems there, though.
Rose would never have worked with her people. She was a child, not a leader. Even if she tried to assume Cinder's role, she wouldn't so much as be able to command Emerald, forget Roman Torchwick, craftiest thief in Vale. Ruby might flee. Cinder would bet a million lien that she'd already run to Ozpin, if that was the case.
Cinder had no love for Salem. But she despised Ozpin.
That was a best case scenario. If Ruby wasn't in her body… If Cinder was all alone in the past, in the body of a sworn enemy, too dangerous to be underestimated, no matter her age, with no way back to her dead future or her present body, which would be inhabited by… herself. Fuck. I would kill myself in a heartbeat. I mean my doppelganger. Anything that would challenge me so directly.
Suicide was a tempting prospect for a moment, but Cinder divorced the notion. There were worse hells than Remnant; she had no desire to claim her place in them yet.
That white light sent me to the past, Cinder thought, pacing back and forth in front of the smoldering remains of Ruby's backpack. The light came from Rose's eyes. No, not white… Silver. And Rose had silver eyes.
In spite of herself, Cinder threw back her head and laughed. I have magic eyes now. Magic, time traveling eyes.
Who the hell is Ruby Rose? And why am I willing to bet Ozpin knows all about this?
No wonder she got into Beacon early. Cinder curled her lip up. Ozpin likes to collect his special projects.
Her, now. Disgusting.
No mattter. Whether she liked it or not, for the moment, Cinder was firmly entrapped beneath Ozpin's thumb, as surely as if she'd been under Salem's thrall. She was working with a deficit of skill and information, an incomplete set of tools, and a reputation she'd managed to damage beyond all saving in the first two days in the past. The entire school saw her either as weak or favored, a state of affairs that was unacceptable to Cinder. She would accept no less than perfection and nothing more than fear and awe – if that meant mastering Ruby Rose, then that was her prerogative, her prime directive. She needed to know the state of her body now.
So, Cinder kicked out the fire, tossed the ashes of the backpack into a nearby trashcan, and got onto the next late-night shuttle into town, careful to avoid patrolling teachers and wayward looks.
Ren and Nora were… interesting. Blake had to admit she hadn't been prepared to deal with Nora's constant, loud, overwhelmingly chaotic energy; not the way Blake's first interaction with the girl was a giant hug the second they'd gotten off-stage at the team selection ceremony. "We're gonna be the best friends!" Nora had exclaimed. "Right, Ren?!" That had earned her a grunt. Blake wasn't comfortable with that level of intimacy, not by a long shot, but before she'd gotten a chance to 'set boundaries,' like her mother Kali used to say, Nora was off talking Jaune's ear off, dragging the whole team off to their room. She hadn't been ready for the warmth or the bubbly enthusiasm or the off-handed comment about how her bow was so cute, and how did she get it to twitch like that? Not her wheelhouse.
Ren was quiet, more Blake's speed. As far as Blake could tell, he and Nora came as a package deal- Nora had babbled something about sloth sounds and secret messages, which Blake had mostly tuned out. He balanced her well, and mercifully drew most of her energy away from Blake and Jaune, who spent nearly the entire time Nora was talking to him in nervous laughter, obviously unable to get a word in.
Their dorm room was plain, but nice. She appreciated a real bed and a nice bathroom as well as the next person; so did Nora, evidently, because her eyes had lit up and she'd dragged Ren off into the bathroom, where the duo were unpacking and talking about… the toilets? Blake tuned them out.
I wonder if they also didn't have access to these kinds of amenities all the time, Blake thought. It's hard to see them that excited over a bathroom for any other reason. Jaune's certainly not gushing over the sink.
"Hey there, partner."
Speak of the devil, and he shall appear…
Blake gave Jaune a dry smile when he plopped down on the bed next to hers. "Better," she told him. "Are you unpacked?"
"Yup. Got my guitar, got Crocea Mors, got my clothes..." Jaune gestured over to a pile of armor and his sword on a nearby dressed, sheepishly grinning, scratching his head. "Maybe I underpacked."
"I like the bunny sweatshirt," Blake said, gesturing at the cartoon bunny emblazoned across his chest. Jaune eeped, throwing his arms over his chest. "It's a class act. Hoodie and armor's a good look, although when we're training for real, you might want to invest in a more flexible under layer."
Jaune blushed. Aw, he's adorable, Blake thought. Too bad he's not a girl, I'd be down… "I traded in for it," he mumbled under his breath, looking away. "The labels. On the Pumpkin Pete boxes. I won the top prize."
When Jaune worked up the courage to look back at Blake, she was giving him a genuine smile. "Money well spent, I'm sure."
He relaxed, easing his arms off his chest, leaning back against the headboard, a pillow supporting his back. "Yeah. It was. I know it's dumb, but – aw, I shouldn't tell you this – the bunny makes me badass, okay? Did you not see those Kung Fu Rabbit cartoons as a kid?"
Blake laughed as Jaune puffed out his chest, shaking her head. "Can't say I have."
"Oh." Jaune shrugged. "They're on the ScrollNet. You've got to see the way this bunny kills Grimm. Exploding carrots."
"I love Kung Fu Rabbit!" Nora shouted from the bathroom over the sound of running water. "Hell yeah! I'll watch too!"
"Not now, Nora!" Jaune called back. "I kinda… lost my scroll in the woods!"
Stifling another laugh, Blake buried her hands in her face, trying not to let her ears move too much, and wondered how she'd gotten where she was. Half of her still expected to wake up every morning to the harsh shouts of the White Fang camp, Adam's breakneck routine. More than that – her books were still packed up in their boxes, her clothes in her suitcase, and she'd made no move to start unpacking. It had been a long time since Blake had bothered going out of her way to make a new friend; usually it took a long time to warm up, but something about Jaune and his persistence wormed through her defenses and had her laughing. She'd never made a friend so fast – only Ilia had come close.
Partners. She could live with that. The idea had a bitter aftertaste, given how Adam had twisted their work relationship into something darker, but Jaune was so clueless and innocent… How would he even react if he knew Blake was a faunus? A criminal? The only person at Beacon who knew was Ozpin. Maybe…
No. Absolutely not. Her true identity was a secret for a reason.
But keeping secrets didn't stop Blake from keeping friends.
"Man, what is up with that Ruby girl?" Jaune asked. Slouching, he looked over at Blake, frowning thoughtfully. "I mean, I feel kinda bad for her, but she's also so mean. You heard her crying after initiation, right?"
"She was almost killed by the Grimm," Blake said, her voice flat. She didn't have much sympathy to muster for Ruby Rose, not after the nasty performance she'd watched her put on for Weiss Schnee. The two of them deserved each other. "That's what being a hunter means. If you're not willing to put your life on the line to help people, you have no business being here. She's young; she better have learned a lesson today."
Jaune was quiet, musing what she'd said over in his head. "That's why I'm here," he said, tone strangely hushed. "To help people. Sometimes you have to do the right thing, even if you don't know how. Beacon will teach how to do it right. Even her."
There's something more there. But Blake didn't pry. She'd been plenty social today – no need to start inviting her brand-new teammates to dig through each other's secrets.
"Yeah," she said. "I think so too. I believe anyone can learn."
Even Rose. Even Schnee. Though Blake didn't want to be anywhere near either of them while they figured it out.
"Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck fuck."
Cinder found herself trapped in the awkward position of clambering over top of a shipping crate in a skirt, which had gotten stuck on a loose hook. Her forearms were covered in grease and bruises, miscalculations where she'd expected to be taller than she was and had banged against things, and her knees smarted something fierce. Warehouses, shockingly, weren't designed to be playgrounds for fifteen year olds; Cinder was deeply, deeply aware that a wrong move or noise might get her busted and dead, so she moved with as much silent deadly caution as she could muster, her useless pigsticker of a scythe at her side. In reality, if she was caught, the scythe was all but useless to her, but she'd brought it anyways.
A door slammed shut. "Here we are, boys!" Roman Torchwick crowed. "Make yourselves look pretty, we've got company! Don't you dare provoke her, she bites!"
Fuuuck. Crawling faster, Cinder inched toward the crate's edge, trying to get a sightline on the master thief. I bite, do I, Torchwick? I hope you like it when I can gut you like a fish with my sword once I get back to my body. See how that bites.
"Who's comin', boss?" a grunt asked.
Cinder made it to the edge, and cringed as she realized she and Torchwick had rolled their eyes in nearly the same fashion.
The door slammed open again, and Cinder's eyes widened. She shrank back against the crate at the sight of herself sauntering into the room, cool and collected, a hint of fire in her amber eyes and a lick of flame in her red dress. It's me. Or past me. Past Cinder? Other Cinder?
Other Cinder smirked and held out a palm to Roman, Mercury and Emerald slinking into the shadows after her like dogs. "Hello, boys."
Oh, no… A wave of nausea struck Cinder and she had to grind her forehead against the steel container to stave it off. I remember this. I remember this conversation.
"Ah, Cinder, so good of you to join us," Roman said. "Are you here to help, or does using my time for your amusement suit you better?"
"It looks like you've got all the help you need," Other Cinder said, and Cinder mouthed along each word, in time, even mocking the little flourish of the hand Other Cinder made at the end of her sentence.
Roman scowled. "I need more men."
"The dogs aren't enough for you?" Cinder whispered, eyeing the White Fang lieutenant lurking in the corner. She truly disdained the Fang, and not because it was a bunch of mongrels who'd gotten slapped on the wrist too many times. They dripped with hypocrisy – masking their actions as just when they were nothing more than a power grab, no different than the rest of Salem's network. Taurus was a truly unpleasant spiteful man to work with.
"The dogs aren't enough for you?"
The White Fang lieutenant jumped to his feet, reaching for his weapon. Roman lazily waved his cane at him. "Stay."
Other Cinder laughed, and so did Cinder, amused by the expression of hatred that came across the lieutenant's face. That was a mistake. Razor sharp, Other Cinder's gaze whipped up toward where Cinder was hiding, and Cinder pressed as flat against the shipping container as possible, cursing herself for such a novice mistake. That didn't happen last time, she thought. I'm changing the past. Holy shit, I'm changing the past.
That gave Cinder so much power. She shivered in pleasure at the thought.
If Other Cinder didn't come up and murder her first. Didn't Torchwick already have it out for Rose by now?
Cinder was confident of one thing. Other Cinder was Cinder, not Ruby Rose, and, given this conversation, hadn't the slightest inkling of Cinder's time meddling. It was younger her. Which meant… so many things. It meant Cinder's best and only lead at reversing her situation was dead. It meant Cinder had a deadly and terrifying enemy – and what does that say about me if I'm an enemy to myself? It meant Ruby Rose – past Ruby Rose, the Ruby Rose of Cinder's current body – was MIA.
It meant nobody knew Cinder was in the past. Nobody knew her situation but her.
The crippling isolation struck first. Once Cinder fought down the panic attack and made sure she wasn't about to die, the plotting arrived. What to do, what to do?
I can't be alone.
She'd been alone before.
"All of our plans are running smoothly," Other Cinder and Cinder said together, and Cinder wanted to laugh at how comically wrong she was. How could their plans be running smoothly if Cinder had gotten zapped backward in time by a fifteen-year-old?
A desperate urge nearly overcame Cinder, not so much an urge as an inclination, that she should reveal herself to Other Cinder and Roman and tell them everything. We could tear Ozpin to the ground so much easier. I know where the maiden is, I know how to kill Ozpin, I know they want the Nikos girl, I know so many things that would make it so much easier. Cinder knew when Rose's team would be in Mountain Glenn, easy to pick off and kill. She could do off with the Bimbo and Nikos and the Schnee brat – especially the Schnee, who dared to call her pathetic, who Cinder hated more than anyone else on the planet (that had been Ruby, once, but it was hard to hate someone whose body you inhabited).
A twinge of guilt stopped that thought train in its tracks. Cinder tried to change gears. She could play the double agent, make herself useful to, well, herself, Other Cinder. She would have full use of her apartment, her money, her things, Salem's assurances, Emerald and Mercury. But I would be a pawn. To myself. The idea was untenable.
But I don't want to play Ruby Rose, Cinder thought desperately, losing an argument to herself. I don't care how 'evil' it all seems from her perspective; she doesn't know Salem, doesn't know what Salem wants. Why am I in a position where either I get a bastardized version of everything I've fought for, or I have to stand in absolute opposition to my own cause?!
She didn't budge. Roman begrudgingly agreed to use the men he had.
Do something! Say something!
Other Cinder smirked. "Then we're done here."
We are. Cinder closed her eyes, slumping against the shipping container in defeat, everything she'd worked for in the last several years slipping through her hands like grains of sand in an hourglass. We're done here.
Cinder couldn't be herself. So she had to be Ruby Rose.
Feeling lower than the White Fang gutter rats, Cinder slid off the container and set about sneaking out the same way she'd come in. A bitter taste sat in her mouth. She'd lost everything: her powers, her body, her age, her life, and now her ambitions and loyalties. I have nothing left.
Clumsy fifteen-year-old bodies evidently didn't have much in the way of stealth either, because as Cinder was creeping away from the shipyard, a White Fang goon spotted her. He primed his rifle. "Hey! You!"
One thing after the other. Sucking in a violent breath, Cinder took off running.
"Come back here!"
Rose was in pretty good physical shape, Cinder would have to give her that. Mercifully, her aura seemed to have adopted Ruby's red as opposed to her usual orange, which would have been a dead giveaway otherwise. Seeing her arms and legs cloaked in hazy red was disconcerting, sure, but Cinder didn't buy the mystic mumbo-jumbo about aura being the color of your soul. Clearly this experience was proving her right. Whatever determined aura color, it was physical, not spiritual.
That didn't change the fact that Ruby Rose was fifteen, and Torchwick's goons were much older and much taller. She stood no chance in a fight and she wouldn't outrun them for long, which meant she had to lose them.
"Slow down!"
A dust round flew past overhead; Cinder ducked a second. Shit, shit. I need to go faster. I need to go faster!
Something strange happened. Subconsciously, or at the very least, on instinct, Cinder drew down into the mass of aura, which was where it always was, and pushed. Her body became light – and all the lights around her turned to blurs. Panicking, Cinder rolled out of the way of a building – rolled? wasn't I running? – and took a sharp right turn, then a left, then shot down an alleyway, where she tumbled to a halt, falling to one knee. Her chest burned – she felt as though she'd run a marathon.
What.
Gasping for air, Cinder staggered against a dumpster, trying to comprehend what had just happened. One second she was running across the shipyard. Now she was in an alleyway in the middle of the shipping district, blocks from the harbor, unscathed. Ruby's semblance, Cinder thought. I must have Ruby's semblance. That was her speed.
But it couldn't be speed. Cinder hadn't run any faster – she'd stopped running altogether. It was something else, something stronger…
Drawing on all of her experience and practice manipulating her maiden's powers, Cinder dipped into her aura again and pushed it out, this time without a goal or destination in mind. The light feeling returned and took Cinder's breath away – she was overcome by a wave of joy, a sense of freedom, like she had become a part of the wind, a genuine happiness she hadn't felt since she'd arrived in the past. She floated into the air, and- She floated into the air.
Cinder looked down.
She was floating six feet off the ground, and her body was gone. In its place, a swirling mass of rose petals spun in a tight vortex, whipping up the stale salty air around her. Her arms and torso seemed to be flaking off into petals; Cinder swept her dissolving arm through her body and returned to normal, sinking back to earth, Rose's body coming back into focus as it was before.
In her hand sat three rose petals. When Cinder tapped them, they dissolved into dust and blew away.
Maybe, Cinder mused, inspecting her new body in a new light, a hand coming up to press against her eyes she knew were silver, I'm not so powerless as I thought.
Who are you, Ruby Rose?
Where did you go?
[A/N] Two and a half years later, I reread this story and this chapter just flows out. I'll never understand how these things work. Inspiration is such a funny thing. This is coming from a place of sheer procrastination on an English paper, but, hey, I've been thinking about writing this chapter for years so I'll take it. I even wrote the first scene and a half in 2019, and never managed to finish it.
I love the implications of this crazy AU. Cinder is so logical, which makes her an absolute joy to write. Antiheroes are also so fun. Granted, her logic isn't always correct, but you gotta cut a supervillain some slack, y'know? Also, Jaune and Blake would make great friends in canon, and nobody can change my mind.
To those who read re:Bound – I'm working on it. Circling back to it, and this is what came out. I hope this can tide my RWBY folks over until I can get my feet under that project again.
Anyways, thank you to merendinoemilano, Diamond1234, For Spite, AngelofSol, curious viewer, TacoKing23, Avid reader, FirstEcho, Lecxx, CCstar01, Majisk, EnderCreeper11, Mr. G0D, and a guest for reviewing! The reception on last chapter in Feb 2018 was great, y'all rock. Hope this fic roaring back (for a chapter, at least) from the dead is a nice quarantine gift.
Stay safe, everyone. Cheers, Allie