AUTHOR'S NOTES: This turned out to be longer than I thought it would be. I originally wanted to write two interludes and get away from the courtroom for a bit, and do some character building (and foreshadowing) with not just Ruby Flight, but Pyrrha, Ren and Nora as well, who are in Europe at this point. Tonight was going to be Weiss, Blake, Oscar, and Ruby and Yang, but it ended up just being Weiss, Blake and Oscar. But that's okay (I hope)-we'll get to Ruby and Yang. and our surprise guest star, next week. The plan is from there to catch up with Ren and Nora along with Pyrrha, and then finish up the trial-so maybe about another 4-5 chapters until it's over with. Maybe by then we'll know if canon RWBY V10 is greenlit...
The Xiao Long-Rose House
Patch, North Carolina, United States of Canada
29 September 2001
Weiss Schnee's nose wrinkled as the coffee hit it. Her eyes stayed shut, because even the siren call of coffee could not make her get out of the very comfortable bed she had slept in. After a few days of switching with Blake between the couch and a sleeping bag, Ruby had taken pity on her and told Weiss to take her bed—especially since she had been sleeping in the tent with Oscar. As a result, Weiss had slept dreamlessly for the first time in weeks.
"Weiss, get up. It's time to get up, dear."
Weiss' eyes scrunched up, because that was very weird. None of her friends would call her dear, and Taiyang Xiao Long definitely wouldn't. Moreover, the voice was female, and it had spoken in German, which none of her friends spoke. Finally, realizing that she wasn't going to solve the mystery with her eyes shut, Weiss opened them.
She was staring into the face of Willow Schnee, who was holding a cup of coffee. Weiss' not-quite-awake brain wondered if somehow she was back at Herrencheimsee, but the cup had the angry bird emblem of the 334th Fighter Squadron on it. She blinked. "Mutti?"
"Guten morgen."
Weiss sat up in bed and wiped her eyes. "Mother?" Willow nodded patiently. "What are you doing here?"
"Surprise." Weiss looked over to Taiyang, who leaned against the doorjamb, grinning.
Willow set aside the cup and held out her arms, and Weiss hugged her mother. "What are you doing here?" she repeated.
"I came here to see you," Willow explained. "I didn't call because I wanted it to be a surprise."
Weiss got up as Taiyang politely closed the door; Weiss had borrowed one of Ruby's pajama tops, but wore only her panties below the navel. Weiss opened her suitcase and found some clothes. "You didn't have to do that, Mother."
"I wanted to." Willow turned away as her daughter dressed. "I needed a vacation, and since Whitley seems to be handling things with the resettlement well enough…well, here I am."
Weiss slipped a T-shirt and shorts on. Summer was making a last, desperate attempt to return to North Carolina, and it was warm out. "It's not the best time with the trial and all…"
"Your friends' or your father's?"
Weiss rolled her eyes. "Mother, at the risk of not honoring my mother and father…I really don't care what happens to that man." She didn't even want to call Jacques her father any longer.
Willow held up her right hand. Weiss noticed her mother's wedding band was gone. "I didn't want to start off with this, but I'm divorcing him." She handed Weiss' coffee to her. "Something I should've done years ago…if I hadn't been too drunk to realize it."
Weiss sat down on Ruby's bed. "Well, it's a good thing you weren't here last night. We got a little tipsy." No one had wanted to think about the court-martial, so Yang had suggested a Bad Movie Night. After Zardoz and Return of the Living Dead—all three of them-mixed with more than a few beers, the girls, Taiyang, and Oscar had staggered off to their beds, giggling and snorting over the sheer idiocy they had just watched. None were drunk, but none were exactly feeling any pain, either. "Are…are you—"
Willow shrugged. "I'm trying to stay dry, Weiss. I haven't drank any liquor since that night you, Whitley and Klein put me to bed in front of your friends. The night…well, you know." Weiss nodded: it had been the night the Hound had attacked Schnee Manor in Poland. Willow had killed that night, emptying both barrels of a Holland and Holland Royal Double elephant gun into one of the Hound's minions. It had dislocated her shoulder, but she had killed a man. Weiss wondered if that had been the catalyst to stop her drinking. "It wasn't easy…especially on the flight. They offer champagne on Lufthansa, first class."
"There's beer here. I'll let Taiyang know."
"I imagine he already knows, Weiss," Willow told her. "He was a perfect gentleman, driving me from Asheville to here. I think he knows about my drinking problem." Willow got up to stare out the window. "It's so lovely here. I've never been to this part of the United States."
Weiss sipped her coffee. "How long will you stay?"
"Only a few days, then I must be getting back." Willow turned back to her, a melancholy smile on her face. "We have more investors than ever now, with Jacques out of the company. People feel better about investing in SDC." She used the old English and German mishmash title that Nicholas Schnee had used: Schnee Deutsches Company.
Weiss took another drink, set aside the mug, then went over and put her arm around her mother. "Just don't let the company take you over, Mother."
"That you don't have to worry about. As soon as Whitley's ready, he can have the company. I'll help, but it will be his…" She glanced at Weiss. "Unless you want it. I don't think you would have to twist Whitley's arm much."
"No, Mother." Weiss smiled up at her mother. "I'm a fighter pilot. That's where I belong."
"I see." Willow looked out the window, at the Great Smoky Mountains. "So you're following Winter, and making a career of the Luftwaffe?"
"Or whatever air…" Weiss stopped herself. She hadn't made that decision yet. "We'll see, Mother."
There was a soft knock at the door, then Taiyang opened it a little. "Ladies, breakfast is on. Miss Schnee, you're going to get a Southern breakfast: pancakes, eggs, biscuits and grits. Plenty for everyone, with everyone else gone for the morning."
The food smells drifted into the bedroom, and Weiss' and Willow's stomachs rumbled simutaneously. "Where did everyone else go?" Weiss glanced at the clock: it was ten in the morning. She had slept almost twelve hours.
"Ruby and Yang went down to Asheville to get a little stick time in." Weiss translated that: Ruby and Yang had gone flying. She was a little disappointed the sisters hadn't asked her to come along; even sitting in the backseat of a Cessna was better than nothing. "Blake and Oscar drove down to Parris Island in South Carolina…Blake wouldn't say why. Oscar went with her. She got permission from Judge Beck."
"Well…we're not exactly flight risks. No pun intended." Weiss went and got her coffee and followed her mother out the door.
"Mr. Xiao Long?" Willow asked. "What are grits?"
Marine Corps Recruit Depot Parris Island
Parris Island, South Carolina, United States of Canada
29 September 2001
Blake Belladonna watched at parade-rest, hands behind her lower back, feet slightly spread, and smiled: she had adopted the position quite unconsciously. She wore fatigues, her green cap stuffed between her shoulder boards and her shoulder, Israeli style. Next to her, Oscar stood in the same position, mainly so as not to stand out, wearing his dungarees.
Thirty feet in front of them, two dozen of the latest recruits to the United States Marine Corps alternately filled out paperwork and endured the attention of six drill instructors: three male, three female. None were spared the ire of the DIs, not even those recruits that did everything they were asked. Sweat streamed down their foreheads, and Blake resisted a smile, knowing the recruits' throats were raw from screaming "Aye, sir!" and "Aye, ma'am!" at the top of their lungs. The DIs were careful not to touch the recruits, but had no problem with getting within inches of their faces as they screamed orders, sometimes conflicting ones, in the prospects' faces. They were rushed to and fro within the large room. From here, they would go through processing, to have their heads shaved, issued uniforms, and to cast off the last vestiges of civilian life. If they didn't wash out, in a few months they would be Marines.
Blake followed one blonde girl—a Faunus, with wolf ears—that simply could not do anything right. When the DI had ordered her to raise her right hand, she had raised her left. When she had been told to empty her purse into the red bin in front of her, she had dropped everything on the floor. Finally one of the female Dis demanded "Why in the hell did you come here?"
The girl, obviously flustered, replied in the worst fashion possible. "Because I couldn't get into the Air Force, ma'am!"
Six pairs of DI hats came around at that, like GRIMM sensing prey, and now the girl was subjected to even more verbal abuse. "Jesus," Oscar whispered.
"They didn't do this to you at Great Lakes?" Blake asked.
"God, no. They were tough, but nothing like this." Oscar shrugged. "I guess that's why you're a Marine and I'm not. What are we doing here, again?"
One of the female DIs seemed to finally notice Blake and Oscar standing there. She left off smashing the recruit's ego into small pieces to stare at Blake, then detached herself from the other five. She marched over to Blake, checked the gold wings and the nametag, and came to attention. "Captain Belladonna." She took in a lungful of air to announce an officer on deck, but Blake put up her hands. "I'm here unofficially, Gunny. So's Ensign Pine."
Gunnery Sergeant Lynn Brisby glanced from Blake to Oscar, who had the distinct, uncomfortable feeling of an ameoba under a microscope. Brisby was a Faunus as well, who resembled an older, taller, darker-skinned and much more muscular version of Little; Oscar had a feeling that anyone who made fun of her mouse ears would be summarily executed. "Why?" she finally asked.
"A reminder," Blake replied.
Brisby looked at her coldly again, then turned on one heel and mounted a dais in three steps. There was a male DI up there who had been barking commands at the recruits, and the two briefly exchanged whispers. Brisby saw that her fellow DIs were done tearing apart the blonde girl and raised her voice. "Look at me now!" she shouted. Everyone in the room did exactly that; two or three that were slower than the others instantly were pounced on. "Aye aye ma'am!" the recruits responded.
"You see this female Marine right here?" She pointed to Blake, and Oscar tried to edge away a bit. They continued to look at Brisby, afraid to do anything without being ordered—which was the whole purpose of the first day. "Look at that Marine right there and say 'aye aye ma'am'!" Blake had the very discomforting feeling of twenty-four pairs of eyes centered on her as the recruits roared acknowledgement. The DIs were looking at her too, and she knew they recognized her. "That is a Marine!" Brisby snapped. "She was once like you—a scared little bitch! Now look at her! She wears wings of gold and the Navy Cross! That can be you someday—if you do what you're told and don't foul up! Now look at me!" They all looked at Brisby. "Now look at the red bin in front of you!" Each time was a chorus of "Aye aye, ma'am!" She nodded to the other sergeant. "Carry on." She stomped down the dais and was back in front of them. "Is that what you wanted to see, Captain?" She said it in a low voice.
"Partially, Gunny," Blake replied. "I'd like to talk to you—when you're finished with these poor bastards."
Just the ghost of a smile quirked Brisby's mouth. "Wait outside, ma'am, unless you like to watch."
"Thanks, Gunny." Brisby came to attention, and Blake and Oscar walked out a different door than the one the recruits had come in. As they left, Blake's eyes met the blond Faunus'. Blake gave her a small nod and a smile. The blond wisely did not respond, but Blake saw her shoulders square up just a little more.
They waited out on a sidewalk painted with yellow footprints, where recruits would line up after coming off of the bus. "You went here?" Oscar asked.
Blake found where she had been standing and knelt. It had only been a few years, but it felt several lifetimes ago. She traced her fingers across the footprints. "I did. Gunny Brisby was my DI."
"How hard was she?"
Blake straightened up. "She hated my guts. She found every little shit detail she could think of. She was in my face every chance she got. If I farted wrong, she made me do push ups until I puked. I was going under an assumed name then—Emily Grey—but Brisby knew who I was. She knew I was former White Fang. I think if she could've killed me, she would have. But she didn't. I graduated second in my class. The only time I've ever seen her smile was when I walked out of this hellhole."
"I guess you graduated alone," Oscar remarked.
"I had to. I didn't get to become Blake Belladonna again until I was with VX-4. I guess the Navy figured that by that time the White Fang had stopped looking for me. They didn't know Adam very well." She smiled at Oscar. "I appreciate you coming with me, Oscar. I don't think Judge Beck would have allowed me to leave North Carolina alone."
"It's all right. I enjoyed the drive." They had left Patch at four in the morning. He had brushed a sleeping Ruby's hair back and kissed her forehead, and she had mumbled something about not taking all the covers. "Besides, I wanted to talk to you as well."
"You could've said something on the way down."
"You looked like you were lost in thought."
"Or lost in a hangover," Blake laughed. She hadn't really drank in awhile, and even the beers she had consumed were enough to give her a bit of a headache. It was gone now, but she was glad Oscar had volunteered to drive down. "Did you get some sleep?"
Oscar blushed. "Yeah, some." He had discovered that a tipsy Ruby was an amorous Ruby. Usually, she was shy about asking for what she wanted, but the night before, she had been rather forceful about it, to the point that he wondered if she and her sister had switched bodies. Worse, while she had dropped off into an exhausted but happy sleep, he couldn't sleep, which was unusual for him. "But if you don't mind driving back…"
"Not at all."
Another five minutes passed before Sergeant Brisby stalked out of the building. Her eyes fell on Oscar, and she gave him the pitying look Marine gunnery sergeants reserved for non-Marines. She still came to attention and saluted both of them. "Gunnery Sergeant Lynn Brisby, reporting as ordered, ma'am—sir." Her eyes dropped to his two rows of medals, and his wings. Oscar knew she'd noticed the two Distinguished Flying Crosses...and the Purple Heart.
Both returned the salutes. "Gunny," Blake said, "this is strictly informal. I wondered if we might walk a bit."
"Yes, ma'am."
"Oscar, would you mind waiting here?" Blake asked.
"Of course, Captain." In Brisby's presence, Oscar treated Blake as a superior officer, not his friend.
Blake turned and began walking down the street, and Brisby walked alongside. "At ease, Sergeant," Blake ordered. She had replaced her cap on her head, and Brisby wore her so-called Smokey the Bear hat, down over her brow, with her mouse ears sticking out either side. Even when she walked, the sergeant's back was ramrod straight. "Like I said, this is informal."
"Yes, ma'am. May I ask what the Captain wants?"
Good question, Blake thought. "You know what I'm going through right now, Gunny."
"Yes, ma'am. The Captain is being court-martialed for disobeying a direct order, missing movement, conduct to the prejudice, and mutiny, ma'am."
Blake could hear the snarl beneath the voice. "Permission to speak freely, Gunny."
"Very well, Captain." They stopped between the recruit pool and the base chapel. "As you might've guessed, part of my job is living and breathing the Corps. Those kids in there today—my job is to turn them into Marines. I thought I had turned you into one, Belladonna. Now I hear that one of my Marines is being court-martialed." The eyes were hard. "And frankly, Belladonna, it makes me want to puke."
"I can't discuss the particulars of the case—" Blake began.
"I don't care, ma'am. You hurt the Corps. When I pointed you out to those kids, I wanted them to see what they could be. I doubt many of them recognized you, if any. But I wanted them to see your wings and that Navy Cross. Not you. Because if I can be frank, Belladonna, if you weren't an officer and I wasn't a sergeant, I'd beat the dogshit out of you for what you've done." Brisby came to attention. "I apologize for my words, Captain, but you did say to speak freely. Now may I return to my regiment, ma'am?"
Blake was tempted to tell Brisby to meet her on the nearby beach, where they would take off their ranks and go at it. Of course, that might get them both in trouble, and despite her White Fang background, Blake wasn't sure that she could take the sergeant in a fair fight. "I can't get into worse trouble, Gunny. Let me say that I was given an unlawful order and leave it at that."
"Do you believe that, ma'am?"
"I do," Blake said firmly.
Brisby was silent for a moment. "Then I hope the Captain is right," she finally said. "I sincerely as fuck hope so. Because if the Captain was given an unlawful order, and the Captain told the General to shove it up his Air Force ass, then the Captain learned something while she was here at the Island. She learned something from me. And I am damned proud of her. But if the Captain is wrong, and she disobeyed a direct order because she's former White Fang, and a fucking Huntress, and thinks she's better than everyone else, then I hope the Captain is hanged, literally and figuratively, for what she has done to the reputation of my Marine Corps. Ma'am. Will that be all, ma'am?"
"One more thing, Gunny." Blake looked down the street. About half a block down was a reproduction of the Marine Memorial at Arlington. The original memorial had melted when Washington DC was hit by several nuclear missiles. Like the original, this memorial showed the six Marines raising the flag on Iwo Jima in 1945. The recruits had been paraded before it after the grueling 54-hour final test known as the Crucible, and Blake had been forced by Brisby to scream out the names of the Marines the statue depicted. Then Brisby had pinned on the eagle, globe and anchor on Blake's lapels, signifying that she was now, and forevermore, a Marine. Those gleamed on Blake's lapels now. "I came here to see those kids because I want to know if it's still worth it."
Brisby looked confused. "I don't understand, ma'am."
"I was offered a deal," Blake said. "Before the trial. It's not a secret or anything. I could just resign my commission. No court-martial, no Leavenworth. Just take these off—" she tapped her wings "—and it would all be over. I got offers—we all did—from the Happy Huntresses, and from other units. Go mercenary." The look on Brisby's face was one of utter disgust. "I didn't. I didn't because, dammit, you taught me what it meant to be a Marine. For the first time in my life, I felt like I belonged to something. Not the damn White Fang, but the US Marine Corps. And I've been proud of that. I still am. I just wondered if I was worthy of it, or maybe I should take the easy route out, not be a Marine anymore." Blake shook her head. "I can't. Even if I go to prison, I can't. I came down here to figure that out, and I have. Looking at those recruits, hearing you…I have." Blake felt tears in her eyes. It was so strange, she reflected, that she had found a home far away from her birthplace, away from Ilia or anyone she called friends, and that the Marines-and Ruby Flight-had given her something that the White Fang never had, or could.
To Blake's utter surprise, Brisby smiled. "Then, Belladonna, I did my job. I rode you because I wanted to see you quit. I wanted to see a White Fanger get dragged through the fucking mud. I wanted to see you run. To walk up to me one night and said you wanted out, you wanted to go home to your rich-ass parents, or better yet, try to go AWOL so I could hunt your ass down. You didn't. I gave you every shitty little job I could think of. But you just said 'aye aye, ma'am' and you took it. I spit in your face, I deliberately made sure you were the last in line at the chow hall, and I made you scrub toilets with a toothbrush…and you took it. And son of a bitch, if that didn't make me proud." She poked Blake in the chest. "Because if you're guilty as hell, and you can still go to prison and take your punishment for what you did, then you're still a Marine in my book, because you're not running." She didn't add the ma'am. Blake didn't mind.
Blake returned Brisby's smile. "Thanks, Gunny."
"Is that what the Captain needed? A pep talk?"
Blake shrugged. "A little bit, I suppose."
Brisby nodded. "That's fine, ma'am. We all need a kick in the ass, now and then."
"True, Gunny. Dismissed. I'll walk back with you, if you don't mind."
"I don't, ma'am."
The two walked back. "Don't get me wrong, Captain," Brisby said into the silence. "I meant what I said about you disgracing the Corps. I just hope you didn't."
"I hope so too, Gunny."
"Well, the judge is a Marine, so he should give you a fair shake. Better than some squid." She nodded at Oscar, who waited patiently at the yellow footprints. "Who's he, anyway?"
"A friend. We flew together in Europe."
"Oh, yes. Ensign Pine. Now I remember." Brisby gave him another once-over. "All due respect, Captain, he looks like some boot kid. I don't know whether to salute him or burp him."
"He got captured by Salem. Her goons shot him in the stomach and then beat on him for a few days. He didn't break," Blake explained.
"Then I beg the Captain's pardon." Brisby walked up to Oscar. "Ensign, I heard you got captured by the head bitch herself. She tortured you, but you didn't break, sir."
Oscar scratched the back of his head self-consciously. "Well…I tried not to, Sarge."
Brisby gave a crisp nod, came to attention, and saluted. "Thank you, sir! A pleasure to meet you, sir!" She spun around on one heel. "Captain, request permission to return to my regiment!"
Blake snapped off a parade ground salute. "Permission granted, Gunnery Sergeant. And thank you."
"Doing my job, ma'am!" In a lower voice, she added, "Keep the faith, ma'am." Then she marched back into the recruit processing center.
"Was I just insulted?" Oscar asked. "Man, you Marines are hardcore."
Blake's smile was wide. "No, Oscar. She just gave you one hell of a compliment."
They began the four-hour drive back to Patch. Oscar slept for the first two, while Blake drove. It had been awhile since she had driven anywhere, but luckily the rental was easy enough; she still found that she had to break herself of the desire to get in the other lane—being on the right side seemed wrong, somehow. They stopped for gas and lunch, and Oscar was awake as they left Columbia. "So what did you want to talk about?" Blake asked.
Oscar took a deep drink of soda. "I think I might be in love with Ruby."
Blake was not in the least surprised. "I'm pretty sure you are. Is she in love with you?"
"I don't think so."
Blake thought about telling Oscar that Yang was in love with her, but that was something that was between Yang and herself; it wouldn't help Oscar. "Wartime romances are always hard to figure out."
"You saying Ruby and I are only together because we're at war?" Oscar said angrily.
Blake's ears went back. "Whoa, easy! You want my help or not?"
"Sorry," Oscar apologized.
"But yes, that may be why, Oscar. 'Tomorrow we die' and all that crap." Blake sniffed. "God knows that's one reason why I hooked up with Sun Wukong in Menagerie. Figured I might as well get laid one last time…even though I didn't think I was going to get killed, there's still that thought, you know?"
Oscar looked out the window. "I think that's why Ruby and I started this whole thing. It was just a fling. We were, um, both virgins…and we didn't want to die virgins." He laughed, a little bitterly. "So stupid and cliché, huh?"
"Clichés exist for a reason, Oscar. But then it got serious for you?"
"And for Ruby…at least, I think so." Oscar let out a long sigh. "I just don't know. I thought that…as a girl…maybe you knew."
Blake grinned at him. "Hate to tell you this, Oscar, but we girls don't all think on the same wavelength. My first lover was a psychotic terrorist, and I convinced myself I could fix him. Ruby or Yang wouldn't have fallen for someone like Adam, but I sure did." She reached over and patted his shoulder, keeping the other hand on the wheel. "I bet Ruby thought you were experienced, right?" Oscar nodded. "Girls tend to think that all men are, and for some reason society reinforces that, that you're less of a man if you haven't boinked someone."
"That's not why I started this with Ruby," Oscar said defensively.
"Ruby seduced you, remember? Or that's the rumor." She glanced at him; he gave her a nod. "Then she wanted you, Oscar. She's stayed with you, too. And I can tell you that she thought of you the whole time we were running for our lives in Slovakia and Romania."
"I know," Oscar said. "Ruby doesn't really want to talk about it, which I understand. I went through a lot less than she did with Salem, and I can't even talk about that."
"I think that shows she thinks very highly of you," Blake replied.
"But does she love me, Blake?"
"I don't know." Blake was silent as she passed a tractor trailer. "You'll have to ask her."
"I'm afraid to. I'm afraid she'll say no. And maybe…it would be better if she did say no," Oscar said miserably.
"Why's that?"
Oscar's head drooped. "I know Forrest says we're going to win this, and after day before yesterday, it kind of feels like it. But what if we don't? We'll be faced with either Leavenworth prison or resignation…and then we either go mercenary or we go something else, like the old rubber dogshit out of Hong Kong route." He raised his head and tapped his wings. "We both worked hard to get these, Blake. I don't want to give them up any more than you do."
"No, of course not. That's the main reason I drove down to Parris Island today."
"That's what I figured. Didn't think you wanted to relieve old times with Gunny Brisby running you up and down the beach." They laughed at that. "But have you thought about what happens even if we win? I don't know if you've been following the news, but I have."
"I've been avoiding it," Blake admitted. She didn't need to see the talking heads on CNN or Fox alternately praising or condemning them, according to whatever political trend was best. Blake shared the typical military disdain for reporters.
"So we were told it's this Senator Brighton who wants us dead, right? That she wants our heads on her wall because it gets her reelected? It's not just that, Blake. A lot of people in our own military think the Huntsman/Huntress thing is a bad idea. That it teaches pilots to be too independent, and then they tell generals to shove any orders they don't like. So if we get convicted, they can ditch the whole thing."
"They have a point." Blake had always thought the Huntsman/Huntress system was a bit flawed—for any armed service that promoted teamwork, the Huntsman/Huntress system didn't really fit into it.
"Sure. I mean, I never wanted to be one, really." Oscar let out a long breath. "So maybe we win, but we lose our Huntsmen/Huntress status anyway. That means I go out to some fleet squadron, and Ruby…she probably gets assigned somewhere stateside. And then what? I'm gone six, nine months out of the year. Our relationship won't survive that." The words came spilling out; Oscar had evidently given this a lot of thought. "And dammit, I've got to be more than who I am now, Blake! Right now, everyone looks at me and thinks 'That's Oscar Ozpin's kid,' or 'That's the guy that's screwing Ruby.''
"Oscar, that's crazy," Blake scoffed. "No one thinks that. You're projecting your own worries on everyone else."
"Okay…maybe," Oscar conceded. "But I just want to be more than Ozpin's kid, or the guy that dries Ruby's tears and makes love to her." He smiled a little. "Though that last part...that's not bad. I want to be…me. Not Ozpin 2.0 or Ruby Rose's bedwarmer. Not just that, anyway."
Blake gave it a little thought herself, as she acclerated past a few left-lane hogs. "It almost seems like you two need to take a break."
"But what if Ruby doesn't care anymore?"
"Oscar…" Blake glanced at him again. "She does. But she just went through complete and utter shit. She almost died. She did die, in some ways. Neo made her think she killed herself."
Oscar's eyes were huge. "Holy shit."
"And I'm not saying anything else. That's Ruby's story to tell." Blake tapped her fingers on the steering wheel. "Oscar, right now, drying Ruby's tears and making love to her is the absolute best thing you can be doing. She needs that—and so do you. You both got tortured. Maybe what you need is to just…talk about it. Lay out everything. And see what goes from there." Like Yang did with me, Blake added to herself. She still didn't know what to do about that.
"Yeah." Oscar slowly nodded. "Yeah, I guess you're right." He wished he felt as confident as he sounded.
