It didn't matter how hard Jaune scrubbed, the blood was everywhere. Under his nails, scarring his knuckles, dripping down his hand, forming a great big puddle by his feet; the blood would remain and it would be fresh. He didn't remember how far he ran, how long it had been or even where he was. All he knew was that there was a sink here and the rushing streams bursting full power from the faucet weren't enough. The world around him had faded into an unimportant blur, no walls, no floors, no people, just a trail of blood at his back, tethering him to the corpse he left behind.

Jaune wasn't a killer. That's what he told himself. No matter how desperate, no matter who it was, he couldn't bring himself to be an executioner, not when the victim was far from an active threat. He wasn't supposed to be a killer.

When he finally raised his head towards the mirror, catching glimpses of his haggard features in what remained of the shattered glass framed by mould and rust; that was when it all became real. There was no longer room to doubt, no avenue to distance himself from the whole affair, no disconnect to use as shield for his sanity, no long line of middlemen to lay the blame upon. An innocent man had been murdered tonight, by Jaune's hands, due to Jaune's actions, caught in the sights of Jaune's direct involvement. Torchwick didn't need to physically put a gun to his head, no one had to go out of their way to remind him he had no choice, there was no circumstance of accidents; there was nothing he could use to deny the responsibility, nor numb the guilt.

He murdered an innocent man because he panicked, because he failed to control himself.

He heard the banging on the bathroom door, but he didn't answer it's call. He wanted to run to it, throw himself at it, brace himself against the door and yell at whoever was on the other side that he wasn't safe to be around, that the face of a murderer was an ugly one. But he didn't move, not a single inch. It was true cowardness, too damn scared to move, too damn weak as he knew his bones would buckle and moan if he tried to walk any further.

A muffled voice was trying to make it's way through, maybe announcing themselves, maybe complaining, he couldn't bring himself to try and parse any of the words. Why should he care what the voice said? Why should he care about anything around him? It was all just white noise now, no purpose, just existing for the sake of taking up space in the world.

Biting down on his lip, using the pain as a forceful tide to push back against the temptation to cry out, he found his body trembling, ready to collapse any minute. Was he to be trapped in this spot for the rest of his days? It wasn't like there was anywhere else for him to go from here. His mind turned to every face he knew, the faces he'd looked towards for stability, for control just before he broke. Little Junior's face hurt the most, he'd promised himself he'd be a guy his kid could look up to or rely on; now he wasn't sure he'd ever be able to look back, to stomach any more of the underserved reverence his kid would have for him.

And what about the others? His eyes widened, the raw dread setting in. Would they ever look at him the same? He hadn't stopped to watch how Ren took it, he didn't open his ears to listen to whatever Ren had to say, and Ren wasn't here right now. What did Ren think? Was he looking for Jaune right now? Jaune could see in his head that image of Ren calling in Ruby and Blake, unable to hear just how Ren would explain what happened to them. He could picture their shrill screams etching a horrified expression across their faces, but that dread kept him wondering if that horror would be because of him or for him.

No, no, that's not right. Jaune dry heaved into the sink, all the pain of vomiting with none of the mess, too empty inside to puke anything up. One hand dared to let go of the sink – leaving himself barely holding on to his sole source of stability – to reach up and clutch at his chest. They'll understand, they have to understand. They know I wouldn't… I couldn't… They know me!

He couldn't deny the sound of the door opening. It was a violent sound, an echoing burst of thunder shattering his muted defences. He realized, with a heavy groan, that it hurt his ears, made him jump on the spot, made his cry out. Pathetic. How can I be so pathetic after what I've done? Now, he had no choice but to listen to the slow, monotonous, heavy footsteps as they approached him. With every step, he found himself cringing, just imagining based on the sound alone the perpetrator's heels digging into and forcing apart the cracks in the floor panels. He could feel the material skin displacing, he could hear it's silent shrieks, he could see the worthless and ugly gunk that would be revealed under the surface.

The footsteps stopped. The person directly behind him now, he could just feel their breath cut across his arm. There were not words exchanged, the person just stood there – presumably staring at him, presumably disappointed with the pitiful sight.

It was the anticipation of an action hitting him once more, but this time it was far less potent. He wasn't worried about the outcome anymore. He didn't care if the stranger behind him was out to gut him, waiting to tell at him or was just some creep dead set on unnerving him. He just didn't care enough to be scared right now. Maybe in a couple of hours, after he's had time to gather his senses, then he'll have the fear of god back in him. If only he had steeled himself with this apathy back in the boiler room, things would have gone differently, they would have gone right.

Finally, he couldn't keep it in anymore, or he realized that this apathy meant there was no reason to keep it in anymore. His eyes stung his skin red, lashing out with tears and sweat mixing together to bring his face into utter disarray. He cried, he let the tears rush free, he tried to say something but found his throat choking on every syllable.

And then, arms wrapped around his shoulders, yanking him into a soft, wordless embrace. He looked down to identify his stranger, expecting Ren to have finally found him, to have snapped out of shock and arrived to tell Jaune everything he wanted to hear. The disappointment when he noted the arms were thinner, exposed, and splashed with warmer colours was immeasurable. It remained so when the body that pressed against his back as the hug tightened was distinctly feminine.

"Blake…" He choked out in a quiet, weak whimper. He recognised the limited view of her black maine stained with Schnee white falling over his shoulder. "Blake, I- I-…"

"It's okay, Jaune." Her voice was even, measured, calmer than it had any right to be in this situation. She was experienced in being an emotional anchor, he could tell. "You're safe. You can fall apart now. There's no need to hold yourself together."

There was no thought, just instinct, his entire body falling limp, letting his surprise saviour catch him and hold him. "Blake." His lips found words again, found someone to express them too despite how much his body ached to talk. "I didn't mean to."

"We know, Jaune." She said

"I swear- Oh god, I swear."

"It's alright, Jaune." She kept using his name, keeping him focused, reminding him that all her attention was on him.

"I'm sorry." He could barely get through the words without saliva spitting out, his throat collapsing and shooting back gusts of haggard breath back up his air pipe to make him splutter. "I'm so sorry."

"We're going to get you home, Jaune." Her fingers reached for his head, smoothing out his hair as his mother once did to comfort him. She cradled him as if he were the most valuable and fragile thing in the world. She wasn't Ruby. She wasn't Ren. He wasn't Ruby. He wasn't Ren. And yet she held him, comforted him, like he was as important to her as any of her teammates. He'd remember to thank her some time later. "Alright? Home. Get you some rest. Clear your head." She moved to hold him by the cheeks, directing him to complete his turn and meet her eyes. "Then we can… Process this properly."

Suddenly, he broke his gaze, shuffling in her arms, his eyes desperately searching the room as a sudden fear spiked in his heart. "W-Where's Ren? Is he safe? Is he alright?"

"He's in the car." Blake looked away, but Jaune still caught the fearful look she was trying to hide. "He's… In the car. He's the one who called me."

"And… Ruby?"

"Sleeping. Doesn't have a clue. Yet." She threw that one out straight and fast, recited like a line from a script. It gave Jaune a measure of relief, his breathing calming down to a gentle rhythm that still carried the occasional wheeze. It offered him a few more hours to ready himself at least, he already had Ren and Blake's reactions weighing down on him, to pile on Ruby's on top of that; he knew he'd break easy.

"Do you think…" They started to walk, Jaune babbling through small gasps and strained wheezes. "Will Ruby understand? She has too, right? She'll… She won't…"

"She'll understand, Jaune. She won't think any less of you. We're… Me and Ruby will be here for you." He didn't catch the awkward pause, the swerve in pronouns completely missed his head, he was just happy to assure himself that Ruby would still be there. He couldn't bare the thought of losing any of them, let alone the cause being his own putrid failure.

He squeezed his eyes shut, pushing out the tears, hoping to drain them dry. He only opened them against when the night chill grazed his wet cheeks, a ghostly hand caressing his face and pulling him back to the world of the visible. They were outside now, in front of Ren's car. In fact, the bathroom he'd stumbled into was nowhere in sight, their walk shuffling him out of view in the time it took his exhausted mind to blink.

Blake silently yanked the back door open, trying to pull herself away from Jaune as she ducked into the vehicle. However, halfway through the movement, she came to a stop, Jaune's hand, firmly squeezing his arm, remained in place, making every attempt to move forward awkwardly tugging him along with her. She remained in place for a few seconds waiting for him to let her go, but he never did. He couldn't. There was no sink anymore, only her, he needed something, anything to lean on and keep him together.

She didn't sigh, nor did she make any more to try and encourage him to release her, she just kept moving and went with it. Sliding into the far end of the car, she made no indication of her thoughts, whether positive or negative, when Jaune arrived next to her, clinging to her arm like a scared child.

Ren, stiff as a corpse in the front seat, neglected to make a comment. He didn't greet Jaune, nor did he make any move to observe Jaune, a dear friend that, last he saw, was covered in blood and fleeing a traumatic and terrible event. The only acknowledgement of the man who returned to the car was how Ren, despite knowing exactly what Blake was doing, despite watching the two make their approach, jumped in his spot, how his breath hitched, how the unnatural chill of danger battered his spine.

Jaune didn't notice this. No, that's not quite right; Jaune refused to notice this.

The car lurched into motion, beckoning silence into the confines of the vehicle, it was as if a void of words grew into an overwhelming waterfall that dragged them under, drowning out not just speech, but all forms of expression. All faces were stuck, frozen in a limited range of restrained pain. Ren stared ahead, Blake was simply blank and Jaune couldn't dare himself to take in any of his surroundings. For him, there was nothing there, not even himself, just the echoes of his terrible deeds.

"It's karma, isn't it? Setting things right." The others still didn't exist back in his own litte world, he couldn't picture their faces in that moment, he was just a disembodied voice rationalizing what he couldn't comprehend. "Settling in, starting routines, trying to move forward: We were getting too comfortable." It felt like he was leaving his body, floating in an incomprehensible abyss while his body sunk into the depths. "We thought because we didn't remember the past that we could just leave it behind."

His sight couldn't move no matter how much he tried to make his eyes dart around, leaving him unable to check, unable to see his body. He couldn't even feel his limbs anymore, he tried to will his fingers to move, but there nothing to receive his mental desire. "But I get it now, I think. It's how this place works. Every time we get close to being happy or start questioning how this all works to try and dismiss it all, this place… It reacts, it reminds us." The world around him shifted, the darkness inching ever closer, pushing his vision into a spin. "It really is a sort of hell."

Truthfully, if he was of better mind, he would have remarked on how his voice seemed to shift. Pitches shifted, one source turned to many, words slurred like he lost their pronunciation, it no longer sounded like Jaune. "We are terrible people. That's how we ended up in that simulation. We act like we accepted that, but we don't, we pretend that Larry or Wither or Kuriyuri were just different people we could stick with the blame." The darkness was coming in quick, it could swallow him whole easily, and yet he felt nothing compelling him to resist. He just wanted to finish it, let it consume him, let it purge him of all these bothersome burdens and contradictory thoughts. "These things happen to make sure we never forget what we've done."

"Is that how you're spinning this? Cosmic Karma made you do it to teach you a lesson?"

Jaune gasped, the world flooding back into view as if he'd just broken through the surface of water, coughing out imaginary sea water from his lungs. Ren's voice, so sudden and tinged with uncharacteristic aggression, stabbed through him like a harpoon and pulled him back to shore. Back to where he could feel the shame battering his already broken heart. "I… I didn't mean it like that."

"Then what was all that? Just…" Ren's voice was harsh, hard words spat out through a shredded throat. "Just trying to stir up a pity party?"

Blake was suddenly unsure whether taking the window seat was a fortunate move or a problem. It allowed her to be on the sidelines rather then being caught in the middle of the two's confrontation, but at the same time she was quickly finding that giving the two a direct line to each other was only laying the groundwork for an explosive argument. "Uh, Ren, I know you're-" But her words fell to the wayside with ease.

Jaune shot forward with little thought to guide him, face flashing through several different expressions as he internally struggled against whether or not to back down. "Hold on, what's that supposed to mean?!" One part of him wanted to argue fiercely, to take offense and tell Ren he had no right to say the quiet part out loud. The other part of him reminded Jaune that he had been agreeing with Ren's rage and was telling himself how inexcusable his actions were just minutes prior, telling him to lie back and take it because otherwise he'd be admitting that his own morals are all talk.

"You heard what I said."

"I can't believe you." Naturally, when it came to such emotionally charged situations, the ease of blaming another and fostering the weight on anything but your own shoulders always won out over consistency and vulnerability. Jaune was sick of being vulnerable anyway, it just kept making it easier to get hurt. "I'm not making this about me, I'm just saying that as much as we've been digging into our past, I don't think any of us have really come to terms with who we used to be."

"We've been facing our past life just fine, thank you very much." There was a lull in the conversation for Blake to make her position known, but she decided to remain silent, wide and fearful eyes darting between the two best friends. "What it looks like to me is that you haven't been able to face who you were, that you have all this baggage you're dragging along, and you can't accept that everybody else had move on." Uncomfortable, that's how Blake would describe it, not just the air, not just heated exchange; hearing such venomous words come out of either of them was such an uncomfortable thing to witness.

"Oh." Jaune's face flinched, shock and hurt obvious across his features, recoiling as if Ren had physically smacked him across the cheek. "Oh!" He repeated in a lower tone, chuckling darkly. "That's just so easy to say, isn't it, Ren?" He clapped his hands together, his tone conveying control while his body communicated how hard it was to keep himself composed. "Good thing about your guy is he doesn't leave anything to confront, does he? Nothing to really think about. I mean, all his things are conveniently off-the-record. The only person he had in his life to tell you what he was is currently in the car with us, and-" He laughed, a painful laugh that sounded more like crying. "Oh yeah, she doesn't know shit!"

"Jaune, please…" There was a small part of Blake that was offended, but she pushed that to the side, moving in-between the two, just desperate to get the fight to stop. "Neither of you are in the right state to be talking about this. We all need to calm down."

His arm shot out in front of her, his eyes no even glancing in her direction as he blocked her from intervening physically further. "No, no, I need to say this. We all need to be honest with each other, yeah?" Jaune used his free hand to beat his finger incessantly against his chest, his limbs shaking furiously; the only thing keeping him in his seat was the seat belt. "'Cus me? I got to meet all the colourful characters that Larry knew. I didn't get to wonder about it or consider what he'd done from a distance. I got to see his wife break a little more inside every time she looked at me. I got to see the son he abandoned. I got to tolerate the utter scum he had for a buddy. You're not moving on, Ren, because you still don't know what you're supposed to be moving on from."

They all felt themselves yanked about their seats as the car took a sharp turn, Ren's vice-like grip pushing the car to the limits, tearing up the roads as his sole outlet for their argument's turmoil. "I'm moving on because I'm resolved to do better and right my wrongs." His slow, methodical breath as he sucked it all in before pushing back out could have stretched for hours for all they knew. "You're stuck in the same place because you're scared of being anything more. Your failures are you see." From their position in the back seat, Ren's head moved out of view, just barely giving them a glimpse of his exhausted frown in the reflection of the front window. "Then again… Maybe you proved all your fears correct tonight."

There was no longer room to doubt, no avenue to distance himself from the whole affair, no disconnect to use as shield for his sanity, no long line of middlemen to lay the blame upon. An innocent man had been murdered tonight, by Jaune's hands, due to Jaune's actions, caught in the sights of Jaune's direct involvement. Torchwick didn't need to physically put a gun to his head, no one had to go out of their way to remind him he had no choice, there was no circumstance of accidents; there was nothing he could use to deny the responsibility, nor numb the guilt.

He murdered an innocent man because he panicked, because he failed to control himself.

"Ren…" Suddenly, all the fight left Jaune's body and he suddenly felt how horse and scratched his voice was. "I just don't know how to deal with any of this. I keep thinking I've gotten a handle on it all, but I never do." There was no reply and Jaune couldn't bring himself to try and peer over at Ren's face again, fresh dread dissolving the adrenaline from before. "Blake's right, we're too out of sorts to talk about this. We need some rest."

After a long silence, Ren finally spoke. "I think we need some distance."

That night never ended for Blake. Even long after the three had gone their separate ways, after she had stumbled back through the SDC building until she collapsed at the foot of her bed, after the night had dissolved into day; she still felt like she was back in the car, watching a friendship fall apart, wondering if it was an omen of worse to come. Jaune's words still sat in the back of her mind.

"Are you sure that's enough berries?" At the front of her mind, she grounded herself in Adam's voice as he peered curiously over the clipboard. She appreciated how much more comfortable he seemed around her today, not even stuttering or halting when attempting to question her judgement. If she dared to think about it, she was sure there was some comedic irony to being fearful of her closest friends and feeling comforted by the presence of the man who had been her deadliest enemy for much longer.

The two were hunkered down in Wither's kitchen, overlooking a long table stacked with various ingredients. For one reason or another, Blake didn't question it herself, she woke up with the overwhelming desire to bake. Adam had no reservations about being her assistant/test-taster for this sudden venture, mentioning that Wither had always been very insistent on cooking her own meals, was the one thing she seemed to enjoy that wasn't work related; though she rarely cooked or baked for anyone but herself.

In her hand, Blake nursed a tiny bowl of fresh blueberries, slightly moving it up and down as if she were trying to get a good feel of the weight. "It's the exact amount we need." It was an old recipe for blue berry pie, one her mother favoured; in the Belladonna household, it wasn't a special occasion if a pie wasn't involved. "It may seem like a small amount, but these little guys have so much more to give than their appearance lets on." Kali was very particular about measurements, if you were one berry over or under, the pie might as well have been gunk. The memory managed to bring out a nostalgic smile.

Adam's eyes widened with almost laughable curiosity, leaning closer to look over the 'miracle' berries. "Huh, really?"

"You'll find that many things aren't as small or large… Or as simple or as complex as they look." She tipped the bowl over, dropping a berry into her palm. She rolled the single berry down, holding it between her forefinger and her thumb. "It isn't until you really open it up and look inside that you get a clear idea of what it's made of." Lightly, she squeezed her captive fruit, the bottom end bursting open and letting a stream of dark sticky juices freely drip back into the bowl.

And you don't really know what's going on inside someone's head until they snap. The thought took her by surprise, but she didn't let it interrupt her work. She placed the bowl down on the counter, perhaps with a bit too much force, and reached for a wooden spoon. Seconds later, she found that watching the berries getting ground under the flat end of her spoon elicited an oddly satisfying feeling. Maybe it was just the simple comfort of giving her body an action to occupy itself with while her mind stumbled, but it was such a comfortable action.

She thought she'd known Adam and all the grizzly details that surrounded him. She didn't know what he was capable of, what was bubbling under the surface, not until she became his enemy, the object of his anger. That's when he stopped keeping everything inside. She was never confident she knew Jaune entirely, but at least, maybe in her own ego or dismissal of the man, she thought she had him figured out. She thought of him in the same vein she thought of Ruby, relatively simple people who, in spite of their little quirks and styles, had the same simple aspirations of being a hero; they were heroes, in her eyes at least.

She simply couldn't imagine Jaune being driven to what Ren described to her over the phone.

Then again, the idle thought was right, how would anything she know be accurate? At first, she wasn't there for the hard times, when they were pushed, when they were breaking. She fled long before Ruby woke up after Beacon's fall, she wasn't there to see Jaune mourn Pyrrha, she didn't get to see how either of those two dealt with their whole lives turning upside down on their journey to Mistral. By the time she returned to them, they were leaders again, their eyes always looking forward while no one asked them what they kept with them.

But then she was there, right next to them as their worlds came crashing down. She merely ignored the signs or dismissed them as something to get over. Jaune had always been the most vocal and obvious about how this situation was getting to him. She'd watched him break off from the girl he loved the most because of it, she'd been there to listen to him bitterly remark about who he had turned out to be, she'd heard Ruby voice her worries over Jaune's state of mind. Jaune had been slipping since they'd awoken in this world, but she hadn't wanted to believe it.

"I'm just saying that as much as we've been digging into our past, I don't think any of us have really come to terms with who we used to be." As much as she took offense to Jaune's words, as well as knowing said words were partly fuelled by Jaune wanting to lash out at Ren and shift his own guilt, she couldn't deny an element of truth to them. He may have been directing it towards Ren, but didn't it also apply as well to her? She cast her gaze across her lavish, if gawdy, apartment/office, adorned with all the convenient amenities, expenses and adoring company.

Yes, she was aware that Wither was involved in less-than-moral deeds, she knew she was in some way connected to the corrupt aims and actions of the SDC Company. But there was no avenue to see those elements in person, the difference between being told you did something and actually being there to see yourself take part in it all was so drastically and viscerally far apart. Jacques was a voice on video call who deliberately tip-toed around Wither's activities with corporate speak, Klein was a sweetheart who'd never speak a bad word of her and Adam didn't know any better. No one was here to tell her what she did personally, nothing to slap her in the face with the direct consequences of her actions, just stories and implications.

Adam called out to her again, but it just came out as white noise to her brain. Even still, her body responded to him, navigating her beside him with her bowl of crushed berries, pouring them into a mixture of sugar, salt and cinnamon. All her senses could parse was the smell, the sweet aroma taking hold of her nose and dragging her back to better times, to simpler times.

Was that why she was so enamoured with this version of Adam? Nostalgia? Guilt? She looked at him again, taking in that sweet, but subtle smile she'd only ever see by pure luck in the old days. He was the boy she always imagined to be imprisoned behind Adam's spiteful, passionate front, the innocence and compassion that never got to blossom because the world cut it out of him. It wasn't just a chance to be with the man she had loved once again, it was a chance to make things right, wasn't it? His presence helped her cope, helped keep her mind from wondering, in a way that even her friends couldn't do. On some level, she wasn't entirely sure that such a thing was either healthy nor ethical, using him like this.

And truly, the heart of the issue was that this made Jaune's words even more terrifying for her. Adam was her servant, no matter how she tried to dress it up in her mind she couldn't deny this; he was primed to enjoy her company and to desire to fulfil his role. It made him the perfect well of information, she knew he was incapable of lying to her and she'd long since decided she trusted him to not bring any damaging information back to Jacques.

And yet she never asked.

There were no worries about how to approach it stopping her. It wasn't that there was never a good time. She knew all the good questions she should have been asking. There was nothing stopping her. It was simply fear, such a staggering fear of what those answers could be. Jaune was right, she found so much comfort in keeping up this distance, turning a blind eye to the past she was supposed to be moving on from and any revelation she could no longer look away from could shatter it all.

Every few seconds since that revelation had the same thing happen: she'd pause what she was doing, whether that beating the bowl with a whisk or directing Adam on how to prepare certain ingredients, stare at Adam as he attempted to mimic her for far longer than was acceptable, open her mouth to dive down that wretched rabbit hole, only for her words to be snuffed out from her dread as her body language tightened.

It was only when Adam was fiddling with the dials on the oven, forcing him to duck down behind the cover of the table and out of sight to reach them, that Blake found enough courage to press on. Her voice was timid, almost silent and her eyes kept themselves locked on the table, but she managed to get the words out this time. "Adam… You've been… In my service for a long time, right?"

She could picture it in her mind, his hair flapping as his head shot out over the edge of the table to fix her with a curious gaze. "Gosh, I never kept count, but I'm pretty sure it's a big number. We were kids back then, I remember that."

"God, has it been that long?" A long sigh shook her voice, she'd always been on the SDC's case about Faunus Worker Abuse, but she'd never thought about them taking actual children as servants.

"I was different back then." Adam's tone grew distant "I was so ungrateful when you picked me over everyone else, didn't realize how lucky I was." And then, with the subtlety of an anvil dropping on your head, his tone bounced back into a cheerful laugh. "You really saved my life back then, Blake."

She couldn't shake the bad feeling simmering in the pit of her stomach. "I did?"

"If you hadn't picked me, why, I'd probably still be in the slums. Dead, or worse." Blake dared to look at him now, her gaze hesitantly traveling up his body, from his hand idly tapping his knuckles against the table, to his stiff forearm, to his face. Struggle, that was the word that immediately came to mind. His face seemed to hold that same irresponsible joy and ever rushing compliance with his wide smile and shining eyes. And yet, ever second or so, there was a slight tick Blake could barely catch. His smile strained, his eyes darkened and his shoulders shook. Like he was holding something back. "And the fact you still kept me even after what I did to you… I… I'll never forget your kindness, Miss. Never."

The pie was still in the oven, baking. There was no convenient distraction she could think to cling to at the moment. Even as her breath struggled to make it's way through her throat, she had to ask. "…What you did to me?"

Adam just stopped. For the first time ever, his face was shamelessly uncomfortable. His eyes widened until it looked like they could just roll out of their sockets, fresh sweat swept over his forehead and his mouth hung open so she could see how his harsh breathing made his insides shake. "Is… Is this a test, Miss?"

"Adam." It pained her to speak with such firmness on a subject matter that managed to dim even this Adam's spirit, but she needed to know. "What did you do to me?"

She could hear him gulp, his body language now mimicking hers when she was trying to distract herself with anything except what was in front of her. "If… If you need me too." There was genuine fear washing over him, his eyes darting about as if he expected someone to jump out and attack him for giving the wrong answer. "As you'll remember, I used to be a lot more… Rebellious." A hundred emotions, all orbiting dread and shame, passed in an instant, registering only as his brows twitching back and forth. Blake wanted to move up to him and try to give him some sort of support, but the moment she took even a step forward, she noticed him flinch, expecting punishment. She would have to stay still for now. "I said such cruel things to your face, talk back to you like a pig. Gosh, sometimes I wouldn't even use your appropriate title."

"You were oh so kind to me, you only berated me for it a few times, but otherwise you didn't seem to mind." His gazes flickered over her for a split second, and in that second, she felt a sickening sensation strangle her stomach. She didn't like the direction this was heading. "And I… I was an idiot and took that to mean it was fine to do and not simply that you were able to put up to it. I even dared to get… Comfortable with you."

"Comfortable?" She managed to not let her fear seep through, her tone stayed neutral, curious, like she was asking about the weather.

"Well, for a time, I acted like was more than a servant. You even gave me a nick name." He smiled, a fond memory leaving him breathless. Then he frowned, his eyes narrowing to scowl at himself in disgust at his own audacity to smile about such a thing. "Uh, you might say I grew q-quite fond of you, Mistress." His hand slapped against his chest, a retching sound emerging from his throat. "I'm sorry, b-but do we really need to go through this all again? I-I thought I was forgiven, I knew what I did was wrong."

"Please," She herself shared his breathlessness, the tension forming a tight bubble around the two, suffocating them until she was willing to burst it for air. But she couldn't stop here, she needed to know. "I… I want to- Need to know your side. This isn't a test, I don't mean to make you feel uncomfortable, but I really need to know this."

Adam held his hand over his eyes, sniffling back a tear. "Even when talking about my terrible, unacceptable behaviour, you still consider my feelings? Oh, Mistress is too kind. Too kind!"

"Blake." She said a bit more firmly. "It's just Blake."

"Yes, Blake, Miss." He coughed into his hand, perhaps a little calmer than before. "You were always so clever, so naturally you already knew about my growing fondness. Some nights, we would- You would- You would invite me to remain in your office during the nights." He paused, then shook his head vigorously, stumbling over his words again. "Well, no, that's ridiculous, I know now you'd never do that. I must have invited myself."

Blake found herself staggering over to the sink, her stomach threatening to unleash her nausea as the implication set in. Of course. Of fucking course. She gripped her head in frustration. How couldn't she have seen it before? Why else would Wither have imagined Adam as a spurned ex obsessed with her? Of course she had a relationship with her servant. Is that Wither Schnee's dirty little secret? Blake was on the verge of vomiting all over the sink, only held back by the sudden anger rushing through her. She had a thing for taking advantage of her helpless servant? And I… I was using him as well, wasn't I? To keep me company, to be my emotional support without any regard for… God damn it.

"Continue." She commanded through gritted teeth, throwing her hand out as she knew he stopped to observe her reaction.

"Shamefully, I got it into my head that we were… Well… Together. I still can't believe I could have possibly thought someone of my status could be worthy of such a thing." He knocked his knuckles against his forehead, muttering 'stupid, stupid Adam' under his breath. "One night, I crossed a line. I kissed you. I was so foolish I didn't even think to check if anyone else was there."

"It was only when I saw how mortified you were when your friends asked if you were an 'Animal Lover' that I understood." And in that moment, it became all too clear to Blake too. A Schnee having an affair with the help? A faunus no less? Naturally, Wither needed an alibi. "It was so obvious, really. I forced myself on you."

All she could was stare at him as he buried his face in his hands, all energy, all willpower leaving her body. "You had me beaten mercilessly, as I deserved, but no punishment was enough to make up for what I did. I'm forever in your debt for you allowing me to return to your service after some much needed re-education and taming. They've made me so much better."

"Adam…" She could barely speak above a whisper,

"B-Blake?"

Silence hung between them for a long time, Blake unable to summon the energy to speak the words and Adam imprisoned in her hesitation. It was only when the sounds of her surroundings deafened until she could only hear her own heartbeat that she found her ability to speak. "May I hug you?"

It was a simple request, yet to Adam it was akin to a bomb dropping between them, consuming any sense of professionalism or societal boundaries in an emotional fire. "That is highly… I mean, that would be- Uh, if that is what you order me to do, Miss."

"It isn't an order Adam." She shimmied towards him, leaning entirely on the counter to keep herself from falling, her strength almost entirely gone. "May I hug you?"

Adam's gaze narrowed into a sharp, critical look. She knew how such a request would ring all sorts of alarm bells in his head after the story he just told her, but she couldn't resist asking. There were no words strong enough to cut through this new dreadful revelation. It was only actions she could think had the power to disperse the tension that threatened to suffocate them. "…Yes. I would like that, I think… Blake."

She almost knocked him right off his feet, her body losing all sense of control and just falling into him. Her arms wrapped around him, trapping him against her as she secured her chin against his shoulders, his broad, stiff frame better masking how much her body shook. There was no stopping the tears that flowed down her cheeks and utterly ruined Adam's spotless shirt, no smothering the cries of anguish escaping her throat, no denying how tightly she clung to him.

"I'm sorry, Adam." Through tearful hiccups and pained gasps, she managed to make those words come out crystal clear. "I'm so sorry." She didn't give him a chance to argue back, to regurgitate the cowardly lies the company would have used to convince him his life was inherently worth less. "I know they told you, and that I told you, that you deserve the worst, but that's just not true."

"Blake, I-"

"No!" Her fingers threatened to tear apart the fabric of his shirt as they curled into a furious claw. "I was the one in the wrong. I used you. I've used you again. And then the moment it was inconvenient, I threw you away and encouraged others to treat you like trash." This time he didn't reply, he just let his arms drop in around her, sinking into her embrace as she continued. "I know it sounds farfetched, but something has changed. I… I don't want to be that person anymore, not Wither Schnee, not an heiress, not Jacques' daughter. I want to be better; I'm trying to be better."

There was no logic to her action. There were a million ways this could go wrong, and she had an inkling that later she'd realize this wasn't the best way to go about confronting a borderline slave about how their indoctrination into accepting abuse is wrong, but she didn't have the fortitude, the patience, to stand it any longer. She needed him to know everything, she needed him to know she was going to be there for him, that he didn't have to be scared anymore.

"I don't expect you to accept my apology, nor do I expect you'll believe a word I've said, but I need you to know things are going to be different." She pulled back, letting her head tip back and meet Adam's gaze. His eyes had softened, but there was still plenty of caution in that gaze. "I won't let anyone hurt you again."

The world won't take away that boy again. I'll protect you this time. I'll protect Ruby, and Jaune, and Ren. We're going to make sure this company burns. This I swear.

So, yeah, we're starting to get a more detailed image of our characters' supposed dark deeds and how they connect with their canon couterparts. Jaune's been getting up front and eprsonal with his demons, Blake's finally realized hers, all that's left is for Ren and Ruby's confrontation/realizations.

The difficult part of writing Jaune here is that I wanted him to be kind of pathetic and intentionally contradictory without making it look like I was forgetting he was just literally saying one thing and is now going against his own words. I feel like we've all had that moment where we can perfectly explain to ourselves how something we did was wrong or how something is an obvious conclusion only for our emotional defences to kick in when that conclusion is being pointed out by someone else. As well as trying to naturally have Ren and Jaune build up some friction naturally so this entire ordeal isn't a 'started and ended in one or two scenes' sort of conflict.

Another note about my original plan for this story (does anyone even read these? I think it's just an excuse for me to ramble to myself): Wither's past with Adam was originally going to be one of those dystopian 're-education' type surgeries where Adam had the agressive parts of his brain either cut out or drugged, some real body horror shit when the reveal would hit. I ended up changing it because focusing on the ethically quetionable and abusive romance felt like it tied much more neatly into Blake's story, as well as having a stronger reflection of why Canon Adam would turn out the way he did from 'Wither's' perspective, that in a way she was trying to rationalize her own misdeeds and 'shameful' attraction. Having Adam practically labotomized didn't really feel like it offered anything other than just being a terrible thing to happen.

I also have to admit that, looking over my work, I can see how a lot of the characters' inner-monologue or described monologues can feel a tad unccessary at times, but they're mostly there just to communicate that the characters are thinking through these complex situations and showing off their train of thought. I feel like without them, it can easily make the situation less engaging because it comes off like our main characters don't really care about what's happening around them and the implications some evenets bring.

Okay, I'm done talking your ear off. Let's just hope the author notes don't start getting as big as the chapters themselves.