Ruby finally stepped out of the interrogation room and took a seat next to Weiss. It was a minor boon that, in all the uncertainty, they weren't being kept in semblance inhibiting chambers.

"You feeling better?" Ruby eventually asked.

"Unfortunately," Weiss said. Penny had cured her concussion, but the memory loss would have been more of a blessing than a curse right now—she could do without the vivid picture of her brother's throat being cut open.

"Hear anything about Watts yet?"

"No."

Weiss had caught a single glimpse of him as Elm and Vine escorted him through the hall in handcuffs. He had appeared so calm and at ease, bearing no signs of the head trauma Ruby had given him. Penny had treated him as well, sparing him from the same agony he'd inflicted on Weiss. He held his head high with every bit of arrogance he'd shown in the wine cellar, as if all was still going according to plan. His eyes, however, told a different story, with a single glance in Weiss's direction showing the burning fury hidden within. That same glance carried an unspoken promise, one that Weiss found unlikely to go unfulfilled.

"It's not over, is it?" said Ruby, mirroring her train of thought.

"If it's not him, it's Cinder," Weiss said. "If it's not Cinder, it's something else."

"Things could have gone a lot worse. We survived. I think that counts for something."

Weiss almost wanted to resent her for her unceasing optimism. Ruby had endured a state of absolute, petrifying fear for an extended period. All things considered, she should have taken an equal or greater mental toll than Weiss. Yet here she was, being Ruby.

"I'm sorry I couldn't do more," Ruby said. "I couldn't stop him. The gun was in my hand, and I . . ."

"It's not your fault," said Weiss.

"I would have done it . . . if I could. I tried to do it. Is that wrong? I mean, I read these comics and watch these shows and movies where the hero has that line they don't cross. And I knew— I know real life isn't that simple. I mean, Pyrrha died to kill Salem. I guess I just never prepared myself for that part of this. It's not something I ever wanted. But I was still ready to do it."

"Of course it's not wrong. When I looked at you there, I—" Weiss paused, knowing she would regret what she was about to say. "I saw maturity. It's an awful choice to have to make, but only people like Pyrrha can. Those comic books paint a dangerous, idealistic view of life and death scenarios. The people who try to emulate that in real life are the ones who either end up arrested or dead before they even understand what it is they're signing up for. But down in that cellar, that wasn't you. It was the first time that I realized that—maybe—you might have what it takes to be like her."

Ruby whipped her head to stare at Weiss. She looked surprised, but there was no excitement or immaturity that Weiss usually associated with her vigilante aspirations, further validating Weiss's words.

"That doesn't mean I suddenly approve of it," Weiss hurriedly continued. "It doesn't matter what your semblance is or how capable you are. Paragons are just as human as everyone else, and humans are fragile. That's why real life isn't like any of those superhero comics you read—why the Protectors and Grim Reapers of the world are so rare and short-lived. That level of fame and power incites challenge, and sooner or later you're going to face one you can't win."

"You realize that goes both ways, though, right?" Ruby said. "Salem, Tyrian, Torchwick—if there's no one to stand up to them, then the world becomes a whole lot darker. That's why people like me and Pyrrha need to do what we can. I'd probably be dead along with everyone else in Vale if she hadn't done what she did. If I just stand by and do nothing when I could be doing something, then that sacrifice means nothing."

"She didn't die so you could throw your own life away."

"And I wasn't born with this semblance just to throw away the lives of the people I could have saved."

Weiss tried to meet her eyes, but the girl kept shifting her gaze and making it impossible.

"You honestly believe in that kind of thing?" Weiss said. "Destiny?"

"Of course."

Weiss's first instinct was to scoff, but she found that it wasn't so easy. It'd been such a ludicrous concept before the word left her mouth, but now she was realizing it wasn't something she'd ever properly considered before. Weiss and Ruby's semblances had brought them together by pure chance because Ruby's happened to have a problem that she thought Weiss's could solve.

Every significant aspect of Weiss's life right now had snowballed from that one tiny happenstance. She'd met a girl who'd turn out to be one of the most important people in her life; she'd reunited with Blake and found the path to reconciliation, even if she hadn't yet begun to walk it; she'd discovered the cure for her mother's condition; and, as strange as it was to admit, all the mistakes she and Ruby had made and all the terrible things they'd been through had prepared them for that wine cellar.

Without any of that, Partridge would have still happened, but things would have ended very differently. Did she have destiny to thank? Was it just luck? Was there even a difference?

"I can be better," Ruby said. "Pyrrha had to have made mistakes when she first started off, right?"

"You have been better," Weiss admitted. "You've made good choices throughout this whole Partridge ordeal. It was me making the reckless decisions this time around while you . . . You've saved my life multiple times now. You saved my brother's life, and my sister would likely be dead too if you hadn't gone back for that inhibitor. If . . ." She bit her lip. "If nothing else, you've been a hero to me."

Ruby finally let Weiss meet her eyes. A very strange look lingered within them that Weiss couldn't identify. After several oddly tense moments, the girl opened her mouth to say something.

"Don't let that go to your head," Weiss interjected before she could, hearing internal alarm bells going off. "That's the only time you'll ever hear me say that."

Footsteps caught their attention as Elm and Vine appeared around a corner down the hall and approached. Around the time they arrived, the same door Ruby had recently exited opened again and Marrow and Harriet emerged. Harriet pocketed the small notebook she'd been taking notes in while it had been Weiss's turn to be questioned.

"There he is!" Elm exclaimed, punching Marrow in the arm with a wide grin on her face.

"Ow!" Marrow said with a scowl, rubbing the spot where she hit him. "What was that for?"

"You're the man who killed Tyrian Callows!" Elm said, clapping her hands on his shoulders. "Come on. Take some credit!"

"It was a free shot," Harriet said, "but . . . we couldn't have tracked them without you. You did good—I'll admit it."

As much as Weiss had been told, Elm and Vine had still been occupied with the Schnee Tower incident while Harriet split off in response to another of Tyrian's victims. She'd been close enough to Old Mantle to arrive at the scene of the van crash soon after it was reported. Her deductions led her to suspect that the charred corpse in the driver's seat was planted, and the vehicle had been set ablaze to destroy evidence. Marrow had been searching for Weiss and Ruby with Winter when Harriet called him there. His semblance allowed him to follow the trail to the home Jacques Gelé had once lived in before marrying into the Schnee family. They all arrived not too long before Tyrian made his ill-fated attempt to flee.

"The time for celebration is soon, but the work is not yet done," Vine pointed out with a gesture toward the two women still seated.

"Right," Marrow said, failing not to come off a bit abashed and pleased. "Give us a sec."

He and his colleagues took a few steps down the hall to converse in low voices.

"'Give us a sec?'" Ruby muttered. "What's that mean? Are we about to be arrested again?"

"Would it be that surprising?" Weiss said.

"I mean, sort of?" Ruby said halfheartedly, shortly followed by a dejected, "No."

After a few minutes, the Ace Ops finished their exchange and returned to them.

"Your stories line up," Marrow said. "A good enough lawyer could still spin Watts as the victim, but—"

"Victim?" Weiss repeated in disbelief.

"Whitley Schnee was our leading suspect until two hours ago and you both were alleged to be cooperating with him," said Harriet. "Watts wasn't even on our radar and fits in perfectly with all of Callows's other victims. On the surface, it's not a good look for you."

"You found my brother lying in a pool of his own blood," Weiss said. "His heart stopped."

"You said yourself you thought Watts wanted to make it seem like Tyrian suddenly turned on him," Marrow pointed out. "And that's pretty believable. But the key words are, 'on the surface'."

"Loss of consciousness from a blow to the head typically lasts no longer than a few minutes in cases where permanent brain damage is not present," Vine said. "Arthur Watts regaining awareness not long after our arrival proves that you—" he nodded toward Ruby "—struck him around the time you both claim you did. His lack of any other injuries indicates that he must have entered the premises without a physical struggle, which is a telling contrast to the states of the three of you. The firearm, also—"

"We don't need to go too deep into it," Marrow cut him off. "The point is, there's plenty enough evidence for us to start building a case against him. But that's going to take time, and we can't fully clear you until we prove all your claims."

"Best case scenario," said Harriet, "you're put on probation until then. Might even be able to go back to Vale and attend the festival under supervision. That's all up to Clover."

"He'll probably go for it," said Elm. "He's a softie."

"What about . . .?" Ruby trailed off, glancing at Marrow. It was clear that she was thinking about the fact that they were one hundred percent guilty of breaking out of jail, but didn't want to say that part out loud.

"Mitigating circumstances," Marrow said. "Fact is, you went straight from our custody to life-threatening captivity. You're victims. Don't give anyone cause to think otherwise, and we can leave it at that."

"And, conveniently, no one needs to know it was you who they got away from," Harriet smirked.

Marrow crossed his arms. "They got lucky."

"And Whitley?" Weiss asked.

"His condition is still stable, and there appears to be no immediate threat of that changing," said Vine.

"You can go see him right now if you want," said Marrow.

Weiss immediately stood. "Please."

Marrow gestured down the hallway as the other Ace Operatives set off in the opposite direction. Weiss took his lead, with Ruby hesitantly hurrying to fall into stride beside her.

"Meet you back at HQ!" Elm called back to Marrow.

The military hospital was almost on the opposite end of Amity Base, so Marrow had to drive them there. Weiss climbed into the back seat of the same vehicle he'd taken her to see her mother in, hesitant to get in at first with the van crash still so recent, but she felt safe beside Ruby. Even still, she couldn't help her mind wandering back to the wine cellar, failing to be content waiting in silence.

"I haven't asked you about that trick you pulled with the Key yet," Weiss said in a low voice.

"What do you mean?" said Ruby.

"Right after we were arrested. You teleported it into my pocket."

"Oh, right. Well, I've been trying to better understand my semblance, and it just seemed plausible, so I tried and, well, it worked. It makes sense that if I can Blink things with myself, then I could also do it without myself, right?"

"It is interesting," Weiss said. "I've been thinking that there's more to your semblance than just disappearing and reappearing somewhere else. It's . . . I don't know."

"Semblances are confusing. I mean, you thought yours was just the ability to cure mental illness, right? But now you're seeing into people's pasts and weird things happen when you use it on people who don't want you to. It's just one of those things like dark energy and black holes and consciousness that we might just never be able to fully understand. How can time have a beginning? How did the laws of physics come to be and why does the universe follow them, and why can some of us seemingly break them?" She shrugged, seemingly at peace with the limitations of human knowledge.

Weiss stared at her for a moment. It was easy to forget that Ruby, only twenty until the end of this month, was a semester away from finishing a degree in electrical engineering. Weiss wondered whether it was a conscious choice to keep that intelligence hidden, to maintain an unassuming appearance, or if it was true humility. Maybe it just came and went, unable to coexist at one time with her childish ambitions. It was hard to say. The girl was full of many surprises.

Another of which was how comfortable she seemed with a weapon in her hand. Her grip on Watts's revolver hadn't been that of an amateur's, and it took practice to disassemble one the way she had the soldier's who'd taken them to Schnee Tower. That familiarity wasn't something Weiss recalled her having ever mentioned before.

"When did you learn how to use a gun?" Weiss asked.

"Hm? Oh, Uncle Qrow started taking me and Yang to shooting ranges as soon as we were old enough. So, since like middle school, I think."

"Middle school?" Weiss said. And that was the man who'd lectured her on being irresponsible.

"Uh, yeah? It's Remnant."

Weiss sighed and shook her head. She recalled how often she'd stared down a barrel as of late. "I hate guns."

With a knowing and sympathetic look, Ruby said, "I get that."

The conversation lulled, but Weiss had run out of things to talk about. She'd yet to ask her how she was doing with all of this, but it was such an empty question. She remembered how many times people had asked her that after her mother had been committed. It became grating very quickly. She wouldn't want to hear it again right now, and she knew Ruby wouldn't either. Weiss already knew the answer, regardless—both the one Ruby would say aloud and the one she'd keep to herself.

Without making a conscious choice to do so, Weiss found herself leaning her head on Ruby's shoulder. It was comforting, but not as much of a distraction as she'd like. "Please keep talking."

Ruby tensed at the contact, and said, "About what?"

"Anything."

Seconds passed in silence. Weiss pulled away to see Ruby stare at her with that same strange look from before. It vanished as the girl glanced at Marrow in the front seat, who was paying them no attention. She crossed her arms. "I don't know what to say."

"You're still avoiding me."

"I'm right here."

"And you're still avoiding me."

Ruby tried to meet her eyes, but quickly looked away. "I'm really not trying to."

"Then just say it. Whatever's been distracting you can't be as bad as anything else we've had to deal with."

"It's not. It's just . . . not the right time."

"Is there ever going to be a right time?"

"Heh. That's the question, isn't it?"

"I just need to know that nothing's going to change between us."

"Nothing will change. That's the funny thing. I know that nothing's going to be different when I . . . you know, because, you're . . . you know."

"No. I seriously haven't got a clue."

Ruby gave a half smile. "I know."

Weiss rolled her eyes. "You are so annoying."

Ruby said nothing, turning her head to stare out of the window. Weiss worried she'd taken the comment too seriously.

After taking a deep breath, Weiss said, "I do love you, though."

It took a full two seconds for Ruby to process what she'd said. She slowly turned back to meet Weiss's eyes with what almost appeared to be a bit of panic on her face. "W-what?"

"My brother said it to me," Weiss said, "right before Tyrian . . . did what Tyrian does. He thought it might be his last chance, and it would have been if not for Penny. And I would have missed my chance to say it back. I don't want to make that mistake again with anyone else. You're my best friend, and—despite everything—my life is better with you in it. I want you to know that."

Weiss had never been good at opening up and being truly vulnerable with people. Being raised by Jacques and a mother in a deteriorating mental state—and the only person she had complete and unerring faith in leaving her to join the military—caused her to put up a barrier between herself and everyone else. That barrier only got thicker the older she grew, to the point where it even blocked her from being too honest with herself.

Ruby was the first person to succeed in chipping away at that barrier and had made significant progress over the course of their friendship. Weiss had thought that now was as good a time as any to push it aside herself—even if only for a moment—but was growing self-conscious the longer Ruby remained silent, maintaining eye contact with an unreadable expression on her face.

When the tension stretched on for too long, Weiss said, "Ruby, did I—?"

That was when Ruby kissed her.

For all of a heartbeat, Ruby's lips were pressed against hers, and then they both jerked back from each other at the same time. Ruby clasped her hands over her own mouth, her eyes wide, just as shocked with what she'd done as Weiss.

"I'm sorry," Ruby breathed.

Weiss just stared. She wasn't sure what she was expecting, but it absolutely wasn't that.

"I'm sorry!" Ruby said again, her cheeks bright red. "I'm sorry."

She proceeded to repeat the two words over and over again, until—

Whoosh.

She was gone. Weiss remained rooted to her seat, unmoving and staring at the space Ruby had been a second ago. Her brain had short-circuited, unable to form a single coherent thought in that moment.

"Wha—?" Marrow did a double-take over his shoulder, noticing Ruby's disappearance. "Hey!"

He stopped the vehicle and took a quick look around, opening his door so he could sniff the air while unbuckling his seatbelt.

"Stay put!" he ordered Weiss as he stepped out and ran off in whatever direction Ruby had gone.

Weiss wasn't going anywhere.


Marrow found Ruby not far away standing at the side of the road. She refused to come back with him, so he sent her back to the room she'd been staying in and called one of the other Ace Operatives to check on her. Weiss could only nod in response to him telling her this once he was back in the driver's seat. He finished the drive muttering about "babysitting".

Meanwhile, Weiss mentally berated herself for being the world's biggest dunce. This was what's been bothering Ruby this entire time—this was what she'd been trying to tell her before Winter barged in with news of Jacques's attack. Weiss had no idea. She had a master's degree in psychology and couldn't see that her own best friend had feelings for her.

Maybe I should have gone for that doctorate after all, she thought with hollow amusement.

In fairness, she had fast-tracked her studies and hadn't done any clinical training. She also hadn't really put a whole lot of what she'd learned to use since graduating, as her work with her semblance required very little of that expertise. She'd only gotten the degree to satisfy the CAB's stipulations. Still, it was a rather paltry excuse for missing what she was now realizing were quite a few obvious clues.

There was a very brief time after Weiss first learned that Ruby wasn't straight that she worried whether Ruby might be interested in more than just friendship. Weiss had dismissed the idea at the time, but she was now wondering why, and why she'd dismissed it so thoroughly. Was it that she had simply been right that Ruby hadn't felt that way at the time, and didn't notice when that changed? Had she been too distracted by all the other more pressing things going on that it hadn't seemed worth giving a second thought to? Or was it simply a show of how inexperienced Weiss was when it came to romantic matters?

It could also be a little of all three, but if she was being honest with herself, it was the last one more than anything. But it hardly mattered in the end. The question now was, what happens next? Nothing will change, Ruby had said. It was naive to think it'd be that simple.

"We're here," Marrow said.

Weiss distractedly got out of the vehicle. Her brother had been inches away from death and she had to go see him with this on her mind. She tried to be annoyed with Ruby for that, but it was Weiss who pushed her on the subject. Ruby had said it wasn't the right time, and she was right.

"Need a visitor pass," Marrow said to the receptionist once inside. "Weiss Schnee here visiting Whitley Schnee."

"Of course. One second." She typed something into her computer, paused a moment, then wrote onto a sticker before sliding it over the counter. "We've moved him out of the ICU and up to room 213."

"Thanks," Marrow said, setting off toward the elevator.

Weiss stuck the tag with her name on it to her shirt—a clean white t-shirt she'd been given to change into once they'd arrived back at Amity—and followed him.

On the second floor, they arrived at Whitley's room. The door was left partially ajar. Marrow stepped back and leaned against the opposite wall, and Weiss didn't hesitate to go inside. Whitley was lying in the hospital bed, a needle linking his arm to a blood bag. Winter sat in the chair beside him. Their conversation ended at Weiss's interruption, and a tense silence followed as she refused to meet her sister's eyes. The last time they'd spoken without Weiss being delirious from a concussion had been the argument they had after Weiss's arrest. As grateful as she'd been for Winter coming to her rescue in the wine cellar, that friction hadn't gone away.

"Sister," Whitley said with a smile, attempting to break the awkwardness. "I had been wondering when you might show up here."

Weiss noticed the distinct lack of scars on his neck, neither from the knife laceration nor the emergency cricothyrotomy incision. Penny's semblance could not regenerate lost blood from nothing nor magically remove the blood that had obstructed his airway, but it had done an excellent job at mending severed arteries, closing wounds, and even restarting his stopped heart. Weiss now had that girl to thank for both her siblings' lives.

"We will speak more later," Winter said to Whitley. She stood and crossed the room, pausing next to Weiss. "The same goes for you as well, sister."

She left, closing the door behind her. Weiss claimed the chair she'd vacated.

"I would ask about what's occurred between the two of you, but I doubt you'd answer," said Whitley.

"It doesn't matter."

"And I'm proven correct."

Weiss glared at him, then quickly lost the will to do so as the image of his bloodied form flashed before her eyes. "I'm glad you're alive."

"That makes two of us. All things considered, I believe this to be the best possible outcome."

"I never took you for an optimist."

"I'm a realist. We shouldn't have survived. Watts had every advantage, but I suppose no plan survives contact with the enemy. Just enough lined up in our favor that we managed to pull through, else we wouldn't be having this conversation."

"It's not going to end here. As long as he's still alive, he's going to keep plotting against us. And we're not just collateral anymore—he's got a reason to hate us now."

"You aren't wrong, but that is a problem for the future. No use dwelling on it just yet."

Weiss said nothing.

"That device," Whitley said in a way that implied it'd been on his mind for a while.

"Semblance inhibitor," Weiss said. "It belonged to Pyrrha."

"I gathered as much. You said it was the cure for Mother."

"It is. Tyrian's semblance didn't work on me. Do you know why?"

"You told me your semblance made you immune to his."

Weiss nodded. She didn't remember telling him about that, but she blamed the head trauma.

"And you believe that if Mother's semblance is inhibited, so too would be her immunity to yours."

"It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"It does." He absentmindedly stroked his hairless chin, deep in thought. Weiss had expected more excitement from him, even with how close he usually keeps his emotions to his chest. "I believe this is the most likely chance at curing her as we've ever seen."

"It'll work," Weiss asserted. "It has to."

Whitley didn't seem as convinced, but there was a glimmer of hope in his eye. "Where can we get another of these inhibitors?"

"They're in Vale," Weiss said. "I don't know when I'll be allowed to come back. The Ace Ops said we'll probably be on probation while they investigate Watts."

"I'm sure Winter could pull some strings."

"I know. I just . . . have to talk to her."

"She doesn't know, then?"

Weiss shook her head.

"I never thought I'd see the day that I'm on better terms with the both of you than you are with each other."

"I didn't get the chance to tell her," Weiss defended. "I only found out right before the Schnee Tower debacle."

"My point still stands."

"You used to hate her."

"We're not children anymore. I meant what I said about mending what Fa—" he cleared his throat "—what Jacques destroyed. Besides, she helped save my life—it was her call to bring the Polendina girl along. Granted, she did it out of concern for you, but I'm still grateful."

Weiss hadn't known that, but it made sense. Penny had already saved Winter's life, so why not send for her in case of the worst?

"How are you faring?" Whitley asked.

There was that question again, but Weiss couldn't hold it against him—she was grateful for the change of subject, anyway.

"I'm tired," she said.

"It's been a long day."

"That's not what I meant."

He studied her for a moment. "I can only imagine what you've been through as of late."

Weiss laughed humorlessly. "Me?" He was the one who'd hemorrhaged enough blood to fill a pool. She shouldn't be the one gathering pity.

"This was only my first near-death experience—one that I don't even have a recollection of, as I instantly went into shock," Whitley pointed out. "Based on what little information you've given me, you've suffered worse than I."

"But I'm not the one lying in the hospital bed. I never am. I keep getting away with more than I should, and it's the people I love who . . ." She trailed off, the word bringing what just happened with Ruby back to the forefront of her mind. She felt her face heating up at the memory and had to cross her arms to stop herself from bringing a finger up to her mouth to touch where Ruby's lips had met hers.

Why me? she found herself thinking.

"Sister?" Whitley said, shaking her from her thoughts.

Weiss slumped back in her seat. She really could go for some sleep right now, even though it wasn't even noon yet. She looked at her brother, noticing how pale he still was—paler than usual, that is.

"You're feeling alright?" she asked.

"Moderately light-headed, but that's to be expected." He glanced at the IV pole. "The blood bag's nearly empty."

"I can go get a nurse," Weiss said.

"Are you that eager to leave my company?" he said lightheartedly.

"I'm not. Really. I . . . don't know where I would go right now."

"You could talk to Winter."

Weiss didn't know if she was ready for that right now, not when so much had already happened in just one day.

"Please," Whitley said. "There was a time when I would have given anything for a fraction of what you two shared. I would hate to see it disappear."

"It isn't like that," Weiss said. "I just miss her. Even when I'm with her I can't remember the last time I felt like I truly had her."

"Tell that to her, then, not me."

Weiss met his eyes, so closely resembling their mother's. Compassion was still such a strange color on him, after so many years of only ever seeing him wearing a mask, but she could get used to it.

"Okay," she said. She had no idea what she was going to say and was dreading this conversation, but if she didn't rip the bandage off now, she'd be avoiding Winter forever. There was still a fifty percent chance she'd change her mind the instant she stepped out of the room.

She stood, then carefully hugged him as if he might break. "Get some rest."

"I have little else to do," he said, stiffly accepting the embrace. "Be sure to get some yourself, when you get a chance."

"Of course," she said as she pulled back.

"And sister?"

"Yes?"

"You harbor too much guilt. We are both victims of one man's ego, and not for the first time. Arthur Watts is solely to blame, and he will face justice."

Weiss didn't know how to respond to that, so instead she said, "I love you too, Whitley. I'm sorry I never said it before."

With a sad smile, he said, "As am I."


Weiss didn't have to search long to find Winter, who was just outside the hospital with Clover, General Ironwood, and a belligerent Director Cordovin. Weiss caught a glimpse of the small woman through the door as she crossed the lobby with Marrow, who held out his arm.

"Wait here," he said, annoyed. "I'll give you two guesses who she's after."

He left to join the conversation as Weiss stepped away from the door, managing to avoid being noticed. She couldn't make out anything being said, but it was clear Cordovin wanted inside and wasn't being allowed. Eventually, the General held out an arm in an invitation to accompany him somewhere. Cordovin didn't seem satisfied, but wasn't willing to refuse him. Once the two were out of sight, Weiss took that as her cue to leave the building.

"Ah, Miss Schnee," Clover said. "I'm glad to see you in good health. I wanted to apologize for how things went down. You were under my charge, so everything that happened is on me."

"It's fine," Weiss said, though he wasn't someone she'd even thought to hold responsible.

"No, it's not. But the evidence against Watts is out there and my Ace Ops will find it—they always do."

"Thank you."

Clover turned to Marrow and gestured with his head. "Marrow."

"Sarge," Marrow said with a casual salute.

They left, and then it was just Weiss and Winter.

"The General will placate the Director as best he can," Winter said, "but he can only do so much. She has her sights set on both of you, but your friend mainly. She will not give up easily."

"Why?" Weiss protested. "Is it because she's unregistered, or does she just have it out for all paragons?"

"That is a frivolous question."

Weiss balled her fists.

An awkward silence hung in the air, and it lingered for all too long. Winter studied her, her arms crossed behind her back as they so often were, disappointment clear on her face. Weiss felt the urge to crumble under her gaze, but her indignance for the CAB and its director mixed with years of suppressed emotions emboldened her.

"Stop that!" she said.

Winter cocked an eyebrow.

"You don't get to judge me," Weiss said. "You weren't there. Not in Vale, not here, not then, not now—never when I needed you most. So you have no right to criticize any of the choices I've made."

Winter was taken aback, the cracks in her expression beginning to show. "Weiss, I—"

"You left!" Weiss said, tears welling up in her eyes. "I was twelve and I needed you. You were all I had, and you left—you left me with him. And since then, I've only ever had half of you at best for only moments at a time. Is this job really that much more important to you than me?"

Winter's arms fell to her sides. She took a step forward, and Weiss took a step back. The facade of the tough, infallible big sister who had all the answers was gone. There was no strict demeanor meant to counteract a younger Weiss's spoiled and brattish tendencies; no aura of rigid yet achievable expectations nor the stern disapproval for when Weiss failed to meet them; no sturdy resolve put on in the face of their grandfather's death or their mother's mental decline. There was only Winter, a woman as human as anyone, and just as capable of feeling and showing pain.

A heavy sigh escaped her. "I'm sorry."

Weiss waited.

"It wasn't easy for me to leave."

Weiss scoffed.

"It wasn't," Winter insisted. "I relied on you back then far more than you know. I didn't require an authority figure to look up to nor a shoulder to weep on—all I needed was my strive to be the person you saw me as. Your faith in me was more than enough to guide me through all the hardships I endured. So, convincing myself that I was ready to continue on and forge my own path without you was the most difficult thing I ever had to do."

"But why? Why did you have to go so soon? I wasn't ready."

"I was selfish. You told me you would be fine without me, and I chose to take you at your word. We both knew I wouldn't always be there to protect you, and when the first opportunity to distance myself from Father was presented to me, I had to believe I'd prepared you enough."

"I told you that because I knew it wasn't fair to ask you to put your life on hold for me. But I was just a kid. I didn't know what I was talking about. And what about everything since then? The phone calls, the visits—they weren't enough. You became even more closed off than before. I feel like I'm nothing more than an obligation to you now. I was maimed by a group of thugs and you flew all the way out to Vale just to pay my hospital bills, talk to me for a second, and then you were gone again almost immediately. You promised me on the plane we'd talk more once we got here, yet the first time I really see you is after I'm being framed as an accessory to murder."

Winter opened her mouth, but no words came out.

"Say something!"

"I wish I had an excuse," Winter said. "I had thought you adapted well enough on your own, that you didn't need me anymore. Making friends with the Belladonna girl, dropping out of business school to aid people with your semblance, forsaking your place in the family company—you did all of that without my input. It wasn't until the Torchwick incident that I began to doubt whether I had failed you."

"It's not your responsibility to keep me out of trouble or stop me from making my own mistakes. All I ever needed you to be was my sister."

A look of regret took over Winter. "Then I have failed."

Weiss felt compelled to say something to console her, to assure her that that was wrong, but she couldn't. So, she remained silent.

"Is it too late to fix that?" Winter asked.

"I hope not."

Winter straightened her posture and lifted her chin up, almost returning to normal, but without hiding anything this time. She met Weiss's eyes with a look of determination and a different kind of resolve. "I will strive to do better."

"How?"

"I will be speaking to the General about taking some of my vacation time on short notice. There are seven days in the Vytal Festival. I imagine we can spend at least a few of them together?"

Weiss, the anger dissipated, considered her offer—considered it for a while. She loved her sister so much, and the idea of spending multiple entire days with her was more than she could have wished for, but a rift like this couldn't be so easily fixed. It would take a lot more time to get to where she wanted to be. Still, this was the first step, and there was a tiny flicker of hope blossoming within her that it wouldn't be the last.

"I'd like that," Weiss said, unable to suppress a small smile.

Winter returned it. She took another step forward, and Weiss didn't retreat this time, but it wasn't the right time for a hug. Winter was able to read as much from her body language, so the two sisters left it there. Despite that, it wasn't an uncomfortable departure.

Later that night, Weiss laid awake in bed, unable to fall asleep. So much had happened, and she knew there were more terrible things still to come. But it wasn't those anxieties that kept her mind occupied. Her life had just entered a calm, and she had no idea how brief it was going to be before the storm, but she was going to enjoy it while it lasted.

She'd established an actual rapport with her brother, started the process of closing the gap she'd been too blind to notice had grown between her and her sister, discovered the cure for her mother—which she still hadn't told Winter about, but there was time enough for that tomorrow—and might even be ready to try forgiving Blake for abandoning her the way she did. And she had no idea how Ruby's revelation would change things between them, but Weiss was determined not to let it ruin their friendship.

Eventually, though, sleep did take her. And of all the things that could occupy the night's dreams, it was reliving that kiss that she'd wake up thinking about.


A/N: Credit to my beta readers: Bardothren and I Write Big. They're great writers who are a huge help with making this story as good as it can be.

And that's the final chapter of Volume 2. Thank you to everyone who's kept up with the story this long and continues to leave comments/reviews. I really do appreciate each and every one of you. An interlude chapter will be coming soon, and then there will be a bit of a hiatus as I begin work on Volume 3. I hope you'll stick around until then, and I am very grateful for your patience with the delays between chapters.

P.S. As you may have noticed, there is a new cover art that is much, much better than the old one I had made myself. I commissioned this new one from mmcmystery on Twitter. I could not be more pleased with it. Please go check them out as they do incredible work.