Ruby's unexpected slumber forced Weiss to call off the appointment she had scheduled for that afternoon. Weiss needed to keep an eye on the girl, since it was the first time she'd ever been unconscious. Ruby could react to this new experience in any number of ways. Best-case scenario, she would be a bit confused; worst-case scenario, she'd suffer a severe panic attack. Whatever happened, Weiss would be there to help her through the distress.

The time passed slowly, Weiss checking on Ruby every few minutes. She tried to be productive in the meantime, but the day's events made it impossible. She couldn't stop thinking about it all—Junior, the twins, Ruby's semblance. She could still hear the gunshots as clear as day, and the sound they made bouncing off their hero's shield.

The Protector of Vale had saved her—again. What were the odds? She'd been keeping her ear to the ground about the vigilante for weeks, but their one and only appearance had been the incident that gave her her scar. And now they showed up at the exact time Weiss needed help again. It couldn't be a coincidence. Who were they?

Though her mind dwelled on little else, she couldn't come up with any plausible theories. Eventually, her thoughts wandered elsewhere, to the things they had to discuss as soon as Ruby awoke.

She hated how peaceful the girl looked. The way she curled up under the blanket Weiss had draped over her, how her eyes fluttered beneath her eyelids, the occasional tiny snores—it all made her innocence more pronounced than ever. Weiss found herself struggling to stay angry with her, though she had every right to be.

Mostly, though, all she could do was worry for her. Weiss had an irrational paranoia that Ruby would never wake up. But nothing bad happened. Ruby appeared comfortable, her breathing remained steady, and she even looked to have entered a REM stage. She seemed perfectly healthy and might've slept the rest of the day. But, two hours after she'd slumped over, she began to writhe. Then she abruptly jolted awake, shouting and terrified.

"Mom! Mom! Mom!"

Weiss, who'd been on her scroll in the kitchen, hurried over to her. "Ruby, calm down!"

Ruby's frenzied eyes snapped onto her, bemused. "Weiss? But . . . I . . ."

"It was just a dream," Weiss told her.

"No, I saw her. I saw her—" The girl choked on her words, and her silver eyes became watery.

"It was just a dream, Ruby," Weiss repeated soothingly.

"I-it was so real." The tears were streaming down her face now. "It was her. I w-watched her . . ."

Ruby began to sob, so Weiss did what she thought was appropriate—she hugged her. Ruby buried her face in her shoulder and wept freely, while Weiss awkwardly patted her back. And for a while, they stayed like that, one friend comforting another.

Weiss thought she understood now—the reason why Ruby so adamantly refused to let anyone else take this investigation away from her. Two years have passed since Summer Rose's death, but her daughter still hadn't accepted it. Finding the killer was all Ruby had. She believed that bringing them to justice would make things better—cause the pain to end and lessen the loss. It was possible, even, that she subconsciously thought that if she took down the murderer, it'd bring her mother back.

It wouldn't. And that was a dangerous mentality that needed to be brought under control before she descended into a downward spiral. The longer she gave herself that false hope, the tighter she'd hold onto it, and the more devastating the inevitable disappointment would be. For her own sake, she needed to learn how to let go and accept what had happened. Ideally, this dream was the first step toward that goal.

"I saw her die, Weiss," Ruby whispered, once her crying had begun to slow down.

"I know," Weiss said empathetically.

Ruby pulled away and began to wipe her face with her hands. Weiss stood and retrieved two tissues—one she gave to Ruby, and the other she used to dry her own shoulder.

"Are dreams always that vivid?" Ruby eventually asked, her face still blotchy.

"More often than not," Weiss said, standing a reasonable distance away from her now with a warm feeling in her face. The level of intimacy they'd just shared she'd only ever experienced with her sister, and only on one occasion. "Most of the time, you forget them before you even brush your teeth."

Ruby hugged her knees to her chest, and it took her some time to speak again. "I thought sleep would be an escape from this."

The words struck Weiss like a punch to the gut. "Wait, that's why you wanted a 'cure' so desperately?"

The girl nodded.

"Ruby, that isn't healthy. You're searching for a way to avoid your grief when you need to be facing it head-on."

"I can't. I just can't. Every time I try and move on, I have to imagine a life without her in it—to accept th-that I won't see her again the next time I visit Dad, or he visits us. And I just can't do that or it'll b-break me." She seemed on the verge of tears again, but this time was holding them back.

Weiss pulled a chair over from the kitchen and sat facing her. "Sometimes, you have to allow things to break, or they'll never be fixed."

"You don't know that."

"I do know that. I'm the only qualified person in your life to tell you that."

Ruby said nothing.

Weiss crossed her legs. "Have you never seen a therapist about this?"

"I don't need a therapist." She paused, then suddenly stood and gave Weiss an accusatory glare. "And I don't need you to therapize me. What I need is to know why I can sleep all of a sudden, and why I now have a superpower." She focused on a spot across the room.

"Wait, Ruby, don't—" Weiss started.

The girl teleported with a faint whoosh.

"It'd be wise to exercise a bit of restraint with your new ability," said Weiss.

"Why?" Ruby Blinked—as she called it—again.

"Ruby, stop. You're going to over—"

Whoosh.

"—exert yourself."

Ruby was getting better at her landings; she didn't even need to grab onto anything on that last one. But she lost her balance when she tried walking back to the lounge area, now that she was finally done faffing about, and fell to her knees. Weiss didn't even bother getting up.

"I told you so," she said.

"Okay, okay," Ruby said sluggishly. "I see your point." She managed to get up and make it back to the couch, then promptly fell back asleep.


After another couple of hours had passed, Weiss began to suspect that Ruby might be asleep for a while. She was beginning to consider just calling it a night herself when she heard Ruby's scroll ringing. The girl didn't stir. Weiss hesitated before carefully extracting the device from her pocket to see Yang's name on the screen. She decided to answer it, not wanting Ruby's sister to worry.

"Hey, sis," Yang said.

"This is Weiss, actually," Weiss said. "Weiss Schnee."

"Where's Ruby?" Yang asked.

"She's at my place, and currently in the shower." Weiss didn't like the idea of lying to Ruby's sister, but this news wasn't hers to share. The truth would also likely worry Yang. So Ruby would just have to explain everything when she returned to her own apartment. "She might not be coming home tonight."

There was a pause. "Ohhh. Are you two . . . ya know?"

Weiss furrowed her brow. There was an implication in her tone that she didn't understand. "Um . . . I don't know."

"Well, I would say 'sleeping together' but that phrasing doesn't really work with Ruby, now does it?"

"W-what?" Weiss sputtered. "No! Why would you—? I'm not even— Wait, is she?"

Yang's laughter came muffled from the other end, like she'd temporarily moved the scroll away from her face. "Figured you knew. You two have been spending a lot of time together."

"We're friends. And I'm straight."

"Alright, alright. Just make sure she knows that."

"She does."

"Good. So what are you up to, then? Just having a little slumber party or something, minus the slumbering?"

"I . . . suppose that's accurate."

"Alright. Well, I was gonna ask her about dinner, but I guess that doesn't matter. Tell her to text me tomorrow if she doesn't get home before I leave for work, will you?"

"I'll tell her."

"Thanks. See ya."

"Goodbye."

With the call ended, Weiss returned to the living room and placed Ruby's scroll on the coffee table. She stared at Ruby's still sleeping face for a brief moment, then quickly looked away, her cheeks hot. Suddenly the girl's comments about Weiss's ponytail being "cute" and Neptune being quick to ask out "pretty girls" had entirely new connotations.

Weiss pushed the subject out of her mind. Those compliments were completely innocuous. Ruby was far from the first woman to call her pretty, and likely wouldn't be the last.

She sat down at her dining table, facing away from her friend, and pulled out her own scroll. She typed "Junior's" into a search engine for about the dozenth time, and finally got results. She'd heard the police sirens pass by not long after Ruby first fell asleep and figured it was only a matter of time before the media caught wind of what happened.

She tapped on an article published twenty minutes ago titled, Vigilante Attacks Nightclub in Broad Daylight, then began to read. She got angrier and angrier with every sentence. Not only was Junior not facing any charges, he was being painted as a victim. The official story was that Junior had been preparing his establishment for busy hours with two part-time workers, who chose to remain anonymous, when a vigilante snuck in through the vent system and attacked them. The workers, who happened to be paragons, attempted to use their semblances in "self-defense" but were struck by strange devices that seemed to somehow inhibit their powers. Junior fired his own personal firearm when that failed, but didn't damage anything other than his own walls. The Protector of Vale impersonator fled the scene before authorities arrived, but witnesses spotted them sprinting across the rooftops away from the club. Motives are unknown, but speculation suggests that the vigilante could've been after the workers, driven by some sort of anti-paragon agenda.

Although the blatant lying was infuriating, it did have one benefit—Weiss and Ruby had been omitted entirely. No one who wasn't present knew there'd been any visiting patrons at the time of the incident, which meant they were in the clear. Unfortunately, the gunmen had also been left out of the article; presumably, they'd run or hidden before Junior called the cops.

The question was, why did Junior call the cops? It could only have been him or one of his goons. Weiss hadn't done it, and Ruby hadn't been awake to do it. If he'd wanted to avoid suspicion, the smart thing to do would have been to cover up the ordeal entirely. The gunfire wouldn't have reached the streets through the soundproof walls the club most likely had. Had he just wanted a chance to defame the new Protector?

It was just more to theorize about. But soon, it likely wouldn't matter, if the impending conversation with Ruby went as poorly as Weiss was anticipating.


Eventually, Weiss could neglect her own rest no longer. So, after checking on Ruby one last time—still fast asleep—she changed into her nightgown and got into bed, leaving her bedroom door open to be safe. It took her a while to drift off, unable to stop ruminating over the day's events, but she managed in the end.

Weiss woke to the sound of her alarm; she hadn't dreamt much that night. She got up, not feeling well-rested at all, and made her way to the living room. Ruby was awake and watching TV on low volume, a steaming mug in her hands. She'd tossed her hoodie over the arm of the couch and taken off her shoes, but kept her socks on. Her sunglasses were half folded on the coffee table.

"How long have you been up?" Weiss asked.

Ruby started. "Oh! Morning, Weiss. A few hours." She glanced down at the drink she'd nearly spilled on herself. "Sorry, I helped myself to some coffee. I just really had a craving for it. I can pay you back for it, if you're mad."

"Is there enough for me?"

"Yeah."

"Then I don't care. How'd you sleep?"

"Better, but it's still really weird and confusing."

"Obviously. And your dreams?"

Ruby wouldn't meet her eyes when she said, "None."

Weiss didn't buy it, but she had to use the bathroom too urgently to press it further. "I'm going to take a shower, then we'll talk."

"Okay. Your radiator's broken, by the way. I'm pretty sure I could fix it, but I couldn't find any tools."

"You could?" Weiss was pleasantly surprised, but then the rest of what Ruby had said sunk in, and her eyes dangerously narrowed. "Wait, what do you mean by 'couldn't find'?"

Ruby's eyes widened. "No, I wasn't invading your privacy, or anything! I just looked around and checked the obvious places, like under the sinks. I wasn't trying to snoop."

"Ask, next time."

"Sorry."

"And I don't have any tools."

"Oh. Well, if you want, I could come back sometime with mine and take a look at the radiator for you. I'm pretty handy."

"That'd . . . be great. Thank you," Weiss said with little conviction. She turned toward the bathroom, then paused. "Oh, your sister called last night. She said—"

"I know. I called her after I woke up. Thanks for answering it for me. She would've worried why I didn't come home."

"You're welcome."

Twenty minutes later, Weiss had freshened up and gotten dressed, having taken a shorter shower than she usually would have. She prepared herself a cup of coffee then sat down beside Ruby.

"Wait, you have cream?" Ruby exclaimed after taking one glance at Weiss's mug. "I thought you liked it black!"

"Not all the time," said Weiss. "It varies."

Ruby stared down at her own nearly-empty cup. "Well, I wish I'd known that. Here I am drinking coffee with nothing but sugar in it like an idiot."

Weiss just rolled her eyes and took a cautious sip. She watched the TV—it was playing some cartoon she'd never seen before—until Ruby picked up the remote and shut it off.

"So . . ." the girl said. "Do you know why I can sleep now?"

Weiss lowered her mug to her lap, cupping it with both hands, and took a moment to consider her reply. "I've actually put a lot of thought to it, and I have a hypothesis."

"And?" Ruby said eagerly.

"I think it's your price."

Ruby's brow furrowed. "My . . . price?"

"The price of your semblance," Weiss explained. "That's what my mother used to call it. Semblances seldom come freely; they require something from you in order to use them. Some feed on emotion, or cause pain or hunger—it differs. Mine physically exhausts me, and it—"

"Wait, it physically exhausts you?" Ruby cut in. "Wouldn't it make more sense for it to, I don't know, give you a headache or something?"

"Semblances rarely make sense, Ruby. Now don't interrupt."

"Sorry."

"As I was saying, mine physically exhausts me and can even leave me with a fever if I push it too far. I believe your semblance tires you."

"Okay . . . but why would that keep me from being able to sleep before now?"

"Paragons' bodies work differently than most people's. They have to adapt to their semblance. It's possible that your body has to produce more energy than normally needed to make up for what your semblance drains. So unless you use it, you're producing energy faster than you're spending it, which effectively means that you'll only get tired if you teleport."

"So, all I have to do is Blink around my room at night and I'll be able to sleep like a normal person?" She sounded disheartened, like the thing she'd once longed for had lost its appeal.

"That's my educated guess."

Ruby said nothing. It was strange seeing her this somber; it was like Weiss was looking at an entirely different person than the light, enthusiastic girl she'd met a month ago. Weiss suddenly respected her more as a person. She could see that Ruby was more than a reckless, often annoying, bundle of joy and purity—she was human.

"Ruby," said Weiss, "what did you dream about last night?"

"Nothing," Ruby said without meeting her gaze.

"Don't lie to me."

"I'm not." She stood. "How come I can only Blink a few times, and then I just pass out? That's so lame."

Weiss sighed. "You've never used your semblance before. It'll get easier over time. The first time I healed someone, I was severely fatigued for two days. Now I can do three in a short time and fully recover within twenty-four hours. Now, what did you dream about?"

Ruby pretended not to hear the last part. "So, I just need to practice and it won't tire me as much?"

"Yes. Stop prevaricating."

Ruby had a blank look. "What?"

"You're being purposefully evasive and avoiding the main issue here."

"I don't want to talk about it, alright?"

"Ruby, I'm telling you—as your friend and as a psychotherapist—that this kind of behavior is self-destructive. The longer you keep going like this—"

"But you're not a real therapist, right? It's just a title for you to use your semblance. You haven't gone through any of the training, or whatever."

Weiss gritted her teeth. "I have a master's in psychology; I know what I'm talking about."

"Well, I don't care—that's not the point. I said I don't want to talk about it. It's been two years; I'm fine."

"You are not—" Weiss started, but Ruby stubbornly spoke over her.

"There are more important matters at hand! Like what happened at Junior's."

Weiss narrowed her gaze and tightened her hold on her coffee. Just like that, Ruby was back to her usual, aggravating self. Weiss did not want to drop the subject, but knew further arguing would be pointless—Ruby would just sink deeper into her own incorrect view, as was the wont of man. Weiss had said all there was to say, and that was all she could do for now. Plus, she needed to conserve her energy for the next argument they were about to have.

"Fine," Weiss relented. "Let's discuss you ignoring my warnings and nearly getting us abducted."

Ruby's eyes shifted toward the floor, and there was some hesitation before she said, "I'm sorry."

Weiss was taken aback. "You're sorry?"

"Yeah. The guy has been working with the cops for ages! I never thought he'd do something like that."

"I warned you—"

"I know, I know. I should've listened. But it worked out in the end, didn't it? It wasn't all bad."

"Not all bad? The only reason we're here right now is sheer luck. And now we're on their radar."

"They'll never be able to ID us. We were disguised, remember?"

"But now Junior's going to tell whomever he's working for that two women—one with a memorable semblance—are prying around where they shouldn't. It's over, Ruby."

Ruby's eyes widened. "My semblance . . . I can't report this to CAB. Then all the bad guys have to do is break into their database like they did the County Clerk's and they'll know who I am."

Weiss paused; she hadn't thought of that. "First of all, it's 'the C-A-B', not 'cab'. Secondly . . . yes. You're going to have to be very careful about who knows. And don't even think about keeping this from your sister."

"I wasn't going to! I saw the lies on the news. The police have no idea someone with my semblance was there."

Weiss stared at her. "And if they did, your answer would somehow be different?"

"Well, duh. I still can't have her knowing about—"

"You are unbelievable." Weiss set her mug down on a coaster.

"What?" Ruby said defensively. "It'd bring up way too many awkward questions. And the only one I'm worried about right now is, where do we go from here?"

"What?" said Weiss, hoping she'd misheard.

"I said, where do we go from here? Junior knows the killer—"

Weiss abruptly stood. "Are you out of your mind?"

She wasn't surprised. This was perfectly in-line with everything she knew about the silver-eyed girl. But Weiss had allowed her the benefit of the doubt. She'd thought that, perhaps just this once, Ruby would be sensible instead of actively insane.

"Huh?" Ruby appeared genuinely confused, which was all the more infuriating.

"There is nowhere to go from here," Weiss asserted. "It's over."

A look of betrayal passed over Ruby's eyes. "You're giving up on me, too?"

But Weiss would not be guilt-tripped. "I said, from the very beginning, the instant we run into any form of danger, we're going to the police."

"But we're so close! We've learned so much—"

"And look at what it nearly cost us! The entire point of doing this ourselves, quietly, was to avoid the chance of the killer knowing someone was on to them. Guess what? Now they know. And if they manage to track us down, they'll kill us, and everything we've discovered will die too."

"They can't possibly."

"You don't know that! It's time to give this up and let the people trained to do this take over."

"But what if telling the cops is what draws attention to us?"

"Competent authorities are more than capable of protecting us."

"Not if these people have spies inside the VPD."

Weiss hesitated. "There's no evidence to suggest that."

"They'd be pretty bad spies if there was."

"And Yang would be a terrible detective if she didn't suspect anything. Don't you have any faith in your sister?"

"Of course I do!"

"Then what's the issue?" Weiss exclaimed.

Ruby said nothing. A long moment passed where all she could do was stubbornly stand her ground, failing to come up with a response. But they both knew the argument was over, so Ruby silently picked up her shoes, slung her hoodie over her shoulder, and marched toward the door.

"Ruby, wait," said Weiss.

The girl froze.

Weiss pointed at the coffee table. "You forgot your sunglasses."

Ruby huffed back over, retrieved them, then left, slamming the door on her way out.

Weiss sat back down; Ruby's flowery scent lingered around the couch. She placed her head in her hands, her breathing shaky from the shouting.

It was times like these that helped her realize why she was incapable of maintaining lasting friendships. Did normal people just concede in their quarrels, even when they were right, in order to preserve peace between friends? Perhaps the only reason she was still close with Winter was that they only saw each other on occasion—there were too few chances for explosive debates. Weiss had shared her entire childhood with her brother, and that hadn't done their relationship any favors. Maybe it was just best for everyone if she kept her distance.


A/N: Credit to my beta readers: 0neWhoWanders, Bardothren, and I Write Big. They're great writers who are a huge help with making this story as good as it can be.