Chapter 10: No Church in the Wild

"I promise, I'll keep going till I find whatever makes you fuck off."

— 18 —

Watching Jaune wake up was consistently one of the most interesting parts of Blake's day. Her nonconsenting day, just to be clear. He woke up just before four in the morning, nearly every day, even Saturdays like this. She was fairly sure his alarm was set to go off in a couple of minutes, and he woke up on his own just to silence it.

Of course, him getting up always woke Blake as well. With her better than average ability to see in the dark, even bleary-eyed and head-empty she was able to stare at him to help slowly wake up, or go back to sleep, whichever she was feeling.

The routine deviated only slightly as he made minor improvements. Today, he got up, took a couple of vitamin pills, used the bathroom, came out fresh-shaven, and did push-ups. Probably a hundred, although her head still wasn't able to do math this early. Jaune, like a complete sociopath, made his bed and tossed out onto it the various outfits he would wear for the day. A set of workout clothes. Sweatpants and an undershirt. And something a lot more colorful with a jacket she thought Coco and him might've gotten together.

Then—there! She could barely hear it. He was being surreptitious, but she had great hearing, and it was very quiet but for the hum of the dorm AC. Jaune was humming to himself, sometimes even singing. He didn't even seem to know he was doing it. Just humming as he worked. Once, she'd thought they were just obscure or old songs. Nowadays?

"Where's that from?" Blake asked, voice creaky from the first syllables of wakefulness.

"Hmm?" he hummed, stopping his below-the-breath singing. His blue eyes went right to her, and for some reason Blake felt like diving under her covers. "Heck, sorry. I'mma be quieter."

She groaned back. "No, no, it's fine. Couldn't sleep much either. I have that planning meeting with Velvet later about the dance."

"Ah," Jaune said softly, one hand on hip. His voice got sillier. "The dance."

"Daaaance," she repeated, contorting her face and making a noise like she'd been punched in the guts.

He snorted. "Sucks to suck, Blake."

She threw one of her pillows at him. "Shut."

"Help, help, I'm a trained Huntsman; I can't handle violence!"

Blake laughed, covering her mouth to try not to wake the other two. "I hate you." But despite herself, for some reason, she found herself giving him an almost hopeful look.

Jaune just grunt, tossing her pillow back to her bed. "Go back to sleep. Finna go me 'a the gym. Opens early. Saturday stuff."

She sighed. "I know. If it was a run day, you would have woken us all up to go with you."

"Stop predicting my every action before I do it."

"Stop arranging your outfits so I can guess your entire day."

Jaune folded his arms. "I refuse."

"For a boy who likes to go on and on about change and self-improvement, you sure do the same thing every day a lot."

"Routine is not the antipode of progress."

Blake scowled. "'Antipode'? Now I know I've gotten under your skin. You only use the fancy words when you're upset."

"I have a lovely diction."

She laughed. "Dick-shun."

He put a hand to his breast in mock offense. "This is sexual harassment and I don't have to take it."

"Oh, please. Try being a girl and you'll see real sexual harassment."

"Ugh, why do you think I'm really so afraid of dying? Who knows who or what I'll be next time."

"I…" She didn't really have a response to that. "Okay."

Jaune rolled his eyes, grabbing his workout clothes and going for the bathroom. Blake somehow felt a little worse. He came out a moment later, at least. By then she'd snuggled further under her covers. One of her ears twitched as he looked her over.

"Get some rest. Ya girl finna need her it," he said, and went for the door.

Then he was gone. Blake was alone, awake, but barely. Too tired to get out of bed, too awake from talking to him to fall back to sleep easily.

She remained there and tried to sleep. All she really did was blink a couple of times. Every time she did, she'd check her scroll and find minutes had passed.

Blink.

Time.

Blink.

Time.

Blink.

Jaune was back, covered in sweat, and singing under his breath. "Last night I saw that beauty queen—she's getting high on Revlon." She watched him take his relax-wear off the bed. Listened to him shower. He took them quickly. Most of his time in the bathroom was just heating the water, toweling, and changing.

By the time he got out, everyone was waking up. As if Jaune's time in the shower was everyone's weekend alarm.

Shamrock was indeterminate this morning. Sitting up and staring at the window. They met Blake's eyes and said, "Ugh."

Blake agreed. "Ugh?"

"Ugh," Shamrock said thoughtfully, nodding.

A good conversation with them.

"Jaune," Weiss said, rubbing her eyes, "make us breakfast."

Cracking his knuckles, he glanced at her, frowning. "Don't eat breakfast. My blood type is protein shake; there's no need for 'food', Weiss."

"Yes, but I told you to make it," Weiss said groggily. "That means do it. I know you'll actually eat something if I make you make it, too."

"I'll eat food," he said uncomfortably.

"I want to see you do it, Jaune," Weiss said patiently.

"You really not trust me like that?"

"Emphatically so, Jaune. And in any case, Shamrock and I have work in the café this morning and don't have time to make our own."

Jaune sighed. "Damn, G, why you gotta do me dirty like that?" But he did leave the room, looking bitter.

Blake, of course, was the last of three to be able to use the bathroom and change. Meaning she was the last to leave their dorm room and enter the common area. Shamrock and Weiss sat around the kitchen island wearing work uniforms. Seeing Weiss like that was almost an out-of-body experience.

Jaune was at the stove. Next to him, of all people, was Ruby Rose. She was just sort of jostling her shoulders and shadow-boxing beside him.

He bumped her with his hip. "The heck is with that little wiggle, girl?"

Ruby scoffed. "Because if I am cute and adorable you will also make me food. I can't sleep because of tonight. I need the caloric energy to be at my worst self!"

"You're always at your worst, Ruby," he said. "I've never once seen you be even barely par."

She whistled. "Cringey. Think of better insults. I'm just not feeling you this time, y'know?"

"Nothin' cringey about me, girl," Jaune huffed, flipping something over in a skillet. "I'm a quirked up white boy who can bust it down real sexual style. You ain't nothin'."

Ruby gagged. "With just one sentence you've activated every nerve in my body and set them to cringe."

"You can't cringe if I remove your central nervous system!" he said, lunging for her.

Ruby turned into a storm of rose petals and appeared several feet away. She stuck her tongue out at him. With her now out of his reach, Jaune merely shook his head and returned to cooking.

Blake sat down beside Weiss in an empty chair. There was a little pot of coffee already brewing on the kitchen island and she poured herself a cup. Idly, she watched Jaune work. She smelled meat and eggs. As usual, his shirt was a little bit too tight. It made his back stand out through the fabric.

"Are you okay there, Blake?" Weiss asked, glancing away from the scroll she was using with one hand.

Blake added sugar and cream to her coffee. "Ask me again in five minutes when the caffeine hits."

"Mood," Shamrock said, adjusting their work uniform. Despite being gender ambiguous at the moment, the uniform was clearly for girls.

The cream helped cool the coffee down. It still burned Blake's tongue. "So aside from you apparently ensuring nobody on our team starves to death, what exactly did I just walk in on?"

"Just that and nothing else, Blake," Weiss said simply.

"Soon to be burned bacon," Shamrock said, propping their head up on their elbow.

"Wounding Jaune's manly pride," Ruby added happily. She just sort of appeared beside Blake, who nearly jumped out of her skin to find the girl just that close.

"Hardly," Jaune scoffed.

"Please. You're just angry I beat you at, uh, a sense of humor." She folded her arms, nodding safely. "You're just not funny and you can't cope."

"I'm hilarious. I made Blake laugh already today," he said, clearly trying hard to focus on cooking.

Ruby side-eyed Blake hard enough that Blake felt uncomfortable. "Pity laughter," Ruby concluded. "Men just aren't funny. Facts!"

Jaune slammed down his spatula, spinning around. He started tearing off his apron. "Alright, Ruby, that's it! You ever experienced toxic masculinity before? 'Cause you're about to!"

Ruby made a high pitched noise as he sprinted around the kitchen to chase her down. She turned into flowers again and appeared on the far side of the room. Blake was sure this was about to get messy. Then Weiss looked up from her scroll, frowned, and actually grabbed Jaune's arm as he ran past.

Weiss' Aura flickered for a moment to give her the strength and presence needed so that hitching her ride to the boy didn't drag her across the room. Jaune, who wasn't using his, jolted to a halt.

"Mmm, no," Weiss said with an air of tired finality.

"Ow, pinching!" he whined.

"I swear, Jaune," Weiss said, "you are constantly finding more and more creative ways to avoid cooking and eating."

"I wasn't—huh?"

She let him go. "As I was saying before Ruby showed up, the bagels are in the vegetable crisper, bottom left of the fridge because I don't know where to put bagels."

He scowled.

Weiss didn't break. "Well, go on. Look, we'll even sneak you a free drink if you stop by work today."

"We will?" Shamrock gasped. "What about our tip money! They can't know we give people preferential treatment."

Weiss sighed, but smiled. She took Shamrock's hat off their head and bopped them with it. "Jaune is saving us from one of the cafeteria's breakfasts. I think that's worth something at work."

Shamrock sighed. "Yeah, yeah."

Jaune stepped back and went to the fridge, and then back to cooking.

Ruby appeared beside Blake suddenly, and Blake jumped. For the second time this morning.

"Gah! How are you quiet!?" Blake asked.

"Use your nose," Ruby said, swatting a loose rose petal from the air. "But for real, Weiss, how did you do that?" She nodded at Jaune. Then to Shamrock. Then shrugged. She didn't know what she was talking about, the gesture said. "Food, I mean. I thought I was doomed, but then you made him go all domestic. I feel like someone stole my fun, and all I'm getting is breakfast from it."

Weiss set her scroll down as Jaune assembled the food. She had this little impish look, a smile at the corner of her lip. "Honestly?"

Blake expected Weiss to say something about respect, showing spine, or being bossy. Something Weiss-like.

But all Weiss did was say, "He and I are just cool like that, Ruby. I guess you're just not cool enough to get free food."

Ruby flinched. "Ah! Ice Queen! I'll never be as cold as you!"

Weiss laughed.

Jaune set down four plates before them all. "Breakfast on a bagel à la Weiss, egg, bacon, ham, cheese, and some béchamel I had lying around from a failed recipe the other day. Bone ape tit."

"Bon appetit," Blake corrected.

"Gesundheit," Jaune said.

"And your own sandwich is…?" Weiss asked.

Jaune shrugged. "Leaders eat last. Old custom from where I'm from."

Weiss glared.

"And also I didn't have enough space on the pan for mine," he said quickly. "I'll get to it now."

Blake saw the look on Weiss' face and spoke before her. "Nah, Jaune," she said. "This is more than I can eat. I'm probably going to have lunch with Velvet or something today. Here." She cut her bagel in half and offered it to him. "Don't make me shove it in your mouth."

"My mouth works too for shoving things into," Ruby said, devouring hers. "Food, I mean. Only food."

Jaune regarded Bake, then smiled softly. Their fingers touched as he took the half from her. "Alright, bet. Saves ya boy some work and clean-up."

He still seemed to wait until everyone had at least taken a bite. It actually wasn't that bad. It was kind of a slap dash croque madame but on a bagel and a bit more homemade. They occasionally served a version of this in the cafeteria, but it was always kind of soggy and the ham wasn't very good.

For what it was worth, and these small little moments, Blake allowed herself to just enjoy it all. Herself, her team, and that little runt Ruby. No one said anything of particular interest. But they didn't really have to. Just a gaggle of friends enjoying each other's company.

She still sighed in the end, running a napkin across her mouth and her fingers to get some of the bechamel off them. Blake just didn't know what else to do.

Weiss and Shamrock left for work, both looking like a curious pair of birds that didn't quite belong. Then it was just them three left in the common area; still a little too early for everyone else to be awake. Food just did that to people, Blake supposed.

Jaune stood across from where the girls were sitting, drying his hands after quickly cleaning the dishes. "Velvet won't be that bad," he said.

"Ooh, you're doing stuff with Velvet?" Ruby asked, head tilted, hands behind her back nestled in that cape she was always wearing.

"Don't make me sigh again," Blake said as the boy took away her plate to clean it, "I've already used up my agonizing sigh quota for the morning."

Ruby hopped up under the chair next to Blake, where Weiss had sat. Her silver eyes had this peculiar quality to them. They seemed to examine Blake in a way which left her feeling a little bit naked. Just in the way Ruby was focusing with intent on her.

"Okay, now you're getting a little bit too close to me again," Blake said dryly.

Ruby frowned. "I'm part of this friend group."

"I don't really know you. You're Jaune's friend."

"Platonic stalker," Jaune corrected. "But be nice, Blake."

Blake scowled. "I am—" Then sighed. It wasn't worth arguing. "To answer your question, yeah, I am working with Velvet. We've got some logistics and whatever to plan for this school dance thing. I don't know. I don't really care. She seems to think it's a big deal, but I really don't think it is."

Ruby frowned thoughtfully. "Interesting. Me and Jaune and Coco are doing something similar tonight. Field research into party stuff."

"The girl invited herself," Jaune added, finishing up his cleaning.

Ignoring him, Ruby asked, "You got a problem with Velvet? You don't look happy."

Blake made a face. Was she being that obvious? "No, it's… I don't really think much of
Team CVFY. We did a mission together, but, yeah."

"Why's that?" she asked. "I saw you all together on the TV. You looked like you fought well together."

Blake looked to Jaune for help, but he wasn't saying anything. "It's, I don't know, like trying to decide which famous film producer you're most afraid to leave your child alone with. They're all really bad choices, but one is obviously the worst."

"And that's you and Velvet?" Ruby asked, frowned. "That's a really mean metaphor. Velvet is nice. She takes photographs and is just really sweet. You just need to really talk to her and she's great."

"Look, I don't have to explain anything to you, Ruby, no offense."

"A lot taken," Ruby said pointedly. "Velvet's my friend. I talked to Jaune about this the other night. His reasons are stupid, but he doesn't like her, I think, because you don't. And since you don't like one of my friends, that means you got a problem with me. Friends stick together, Blake."

There was something hot in Blake's cheeks. This just felt so weirdly personal. She wanted to slap Ruby. Tell her to mind her own damn business, away from Blake and Jaune's.

"Look, I know you like to act tough and distant and your team is sometimes hard to get along with," Ruby said, hands on hips like some stern mother, "but talk to me."

"Leave me alone!" Blake said sharply, standing up.

"No!" Ruby said. "Friends help friends figure things out. I'm Velvet's friend. I want to be your friend, too. So—"

Jaune's hand landed on Ruby's shoulder. She jumped, turning into a burst of petals. A moment later she was several yards away. Teeth grit, she looked first at Blake, and then towards Jaune and his long, even face.

Ruby's face twisted, before she impotency stomped. "This ain't over, Blake! We will all get along and that's that!" And then she was gone in another storm of her Semblance.

Blake just stood there, before looking back at Jaune. Her cheeks were still flush. "I don't like her, either," she said.

"She's good people," he said in a lazy drawl. In a way that made her think he was somehow extremely annoyed at her. "You do got a meeting with Velvet. I know how strong the instinct is to double down when ya feel attacked, but for me?"

"For you what?" she asked, arms folded.

He stepped forwards. Blake nearly squeaked when he gave her a quick hug. She didn't know what to do with her arms. He smelled of soap and breakfast.

"For me," he repeated, letting her go.

Blake's cheek didn't feel better. Her skin itched. "I…"

He just looked down at her.

She sighed. "I'm not the bad guy here, Jaune."

"Never implied ya girl were. But there ain't no church in the wild. Ya gotta build the house of the Lord with your own bare hands, to abuse a homey metaphor."

Another sigh. "… Okay."

The boy nodded. "Now then, I gotta run me a couple errands afore I git going tonight. Make sure Cardin remembers how to breathe, check up on Ruby, remind Coco we gon' be alright. All that teenage drama crap. Bling my hotline if you need backup out there, yeah?"

She looked away. "You just have to phrase it in the most obtuse way you know how, huh?"

A small laugh. "Only way I know how."

But with that, he walked off.

And Blake was alone.

— 19 —

"Las Vêpres: 'Here Comes Vale's New Boss (Same as the Old Boss)'", "The Need for a Regent? Parliament Debates", "Atlas-Valean Mutual Sanctions Tighten."

No news was good news, someone once told Velvet. But as she sat in the library, waiting for Blake and bouncing her foot, all Velvet could do was sit there and watch the stream of news. Articles, opinion pieces, op-eds, clips from Lisa Lavender, press statements from Damecrown, hot takes from social media. New and legacy media fighting for the most dire headlines possible.

She grabbed one of her rabbit ears and tugged. At this rate, Velvet was going to go bald. This was all she could do. Read grim tidings and wait.

Idly, she flicked to another tab of the school computer. They ran terribly slowly this year, and the room was hotter than it should have been. If she had tech knowledge beyond her camera and weaponry, maybe she could parse the reason out. Whatever the case, she went to an online radio podcast thing broadcasting from the boonies. Some crazy conspiracy show Ruby had told her was great to listen to.

She hoped that truly off the wall doomsaying might ease her mind. But after seeing that fake world, the woman with the porcelain skin, she wondered if all conspiracy theories were more true than they realized.

Velvet removed her overshirt. She was alone, leaning back and staring at the ceiling for several minutes, listening to the radio host arguing that Montluçon was very likely a ploy by the global shadow government to gain absolute power to deal the death blow to the world's last open social- and communists, who were the only people the secret global cabal of elites still feared.

She stuck out her tongue. Even the crazy news was all about the crazy mess of Vale in ways that weren't funny. But at least the musical break between the DJ's talk-show were indeed bangers.

"Gods, why did you pick the hottest room on campus to do this?"

Velvet jumped. Blake was standing there in the doorway to the library computer lab. Already she looked uncomfortable, and a small part of Velvet took a weird sort of cathartic enjoyment seeing her that way.

"Because this is where the computers are," Velvet said. "I can't really use spreadsheets on my scroll; it's useful for organizational purposes."

Blake just stood there, wearing that hair bow that hid her cat ears. "Is this really a spreadsheet kind of affair?"

Velvet huffed. "I should think so. Here, while you were doing whatever, I was looking into how many students typically go to these dances. A couple of articles from the student paper I managed to dig up going back a few years. We're planning the logistics so this helps since there isn't exactly an RSVP we can rely on."

She gestured for Blake to get closer and look at the screen, but the girl just continued standing.

"How many do we expect?"

"It's mostly an affair for the first and second years," Velvet said, blowing air through her lips. "Most of the juniors and seniors tend to be out on missions. We're only expecting the ones who have downtime, which is a fluctuating number, although the school attempts to accommodate them."

"That doesn't answer my question, Velvet."

"But my spreadsheets do!"

"How long have you been doing this?"

Velvet made a vague gesture with her hand. "A little over an hour. I got here early and got to work. I'm taking this seriously, Blake."

"So what do you need me for?"

"That's a very good question!"

"No need to be snotty about it," Blake said, crossing her arms.

"It's called a professional pride in one's work ethic," Velvet said deliberately. "Team CVFY didn't make it to the top of our class just on combat prowess alone. What are the rankings for team BASS again? I'm sorry, I don't pay enough attention to the minor leagues."

Blake uncomfortably adjusted her shirt. Ran a hand through her hair. It came back damp with sweat. It really was an awful room.

"I know what you're doing, Velvet."

Batting her eyes innocently, Velvet asked, "What do you mean aside from my job?"

The girl seemed to take a long moment to consider her answer. Eventually, she stepped forward, pulled up a chair, and sat beside Velvet. A little uncomfortably close. "Did you know 'faunus' as a monolithic identity is a fairly new idea?"

"I don't—what are you—where is this going, Blake?"

Blake shrugged. "You're a city girl, aren't you? Mixed race. Throwing your lot in with the faunus despite living among humans probably your entire life. I'm bringing this up because I'm from Menagerie. It's only 'faunus' by cultural convention, I think the word is. If you go far enough into the jungles, the tribes who live out there don't see themselves as faunus; that's a human word the urban faunus reclaimed from an earlier slur that grouped all of us together. Used to be if your parents didn't share the exact same trait, whatever you were, you were considered mixed race too. A lot of faunus still think that way. And it's always weird to meet them, to see someone you think is one of your own, and they see you as an other, an alien, no different than humans."

Blake gave Velvet a very pointed expression. "So I'm looking at you. I see a mixed race girl who won the bunny girl genetic lottery from her mother. Who talks extremely human. Who could pass like me with just a hat or something. But who throws her lot and worldview in with a people she doesn't exactly belong with, and who doesn't like me because I don't fit her mental preconception of what a faunus should be. Am I accurate?"

Velvet reared her head back, teeth grit. "That's got nothing to do with this. You're just some doe whose life is all ears. You choose to hide who and what you are and I don't. Stop pretending like you have some kind of moral high ground over me. It's really grating. I'm trying to be polite so we can get this done and go on our way and continue to ignore each other thereafter."

Blake sat up a bit straighter. "I don't think I'm better than you! That's not—that wasn't ever on the table."

"You act like it," Velvet said. "You're even trying to approach me with some metaphor about not fitting in and culture and race and all this stupid stuff that just makes you sound like you have some imagined moral high ground that really just makes you sound like a tool. You don't, Blake. You aren't better than me."

The girl looked like she was really trying not to get offended. "Is that really what you think I think about you?"

"Well, there's that, there's your general bad attitude, there's the fact that you said I wasn't 'real faunus,' and a host of other petty gripes I have against you." Velvet shook her head. "If you want me to spell it out, I will. I do not like you. And you do not like me. I'm not fooled by you trying to be diplomatic."

Blake's hands balled into fists on her legs. "I'm not trying to fool anybody!"

Velvet pointed at her own rabbit ears. "That so?"

"Lots of faunus do it!"

"Okay, and?"

"And?!"

Velvet nodded politely. "And indeed."

"Ugh!"

"Temper, temper."

"It's like you're deliberately trying to paint me in the worst possible light in your own head, Velvet!" Blake threw her hands up. "Like you made up your own mind and anything different just doesn't gel. Meet me halfway here?"

"I am. I am trying my best to work with you and be professional. Here you are, dragging everything back to the mud and making it about you and how you feel and how you think instead of getting this job done."

"It's just a stupid school dance; nothing about it matters! It's not even a job, just something that fell into our laps."

Velvet scowled. "Right now, this school hosts a multinational group of hormonal, quirked up teenagers armed to the brim with weaponry and Aura. This is a chance to mix together and unwind. Some of our home nations are probably going to go to war. Everything is balancing on the razor's edge. Maybe you don't think it's important. But if there's even the slightest chance something goes wrong here, some incident being a student from Atlas and one from Vale, and it—look, nothing right now is okay. I don't want to add fuel to the fire."

Blake scoffed. "And here you've gone, turning a simple school dance into some theoretical major world event in your own head. Just like you've turned me into some villain in your own head. You can't be convinced otherwise despite none of these things being true."

"Villain, no," Velvet said with a sneer. "I would personally use a more concise, more choice word to describe you. But it isn't exactly conducive to a healthy working environment."

"You're making a mountain of a molehill."

"Are you quite done rambling and ranting?"

"What will it take for you to just meet me halfway, seriously, none of this passive aggressive stuff, just talk to me, with me, try to level? What do you want from me?"

Velvet let out a sigh, running her hand on her face. "Why do you think—do you know how arrogant you sound? You're making it out to seem like there's just one thing I want you to do and then I'll be happy and will be best friends. As if I'm standing in the way of things."

"You are! And I'd really like to resolve this without the last way I wound up making an enemy my friend. Because I really don't feel like punching you in the face!"

Standing up sharply, Velvet hissed, "You wouldn't dare."

Blake stood up too. "No, I wouldn't, and that's the point! You're just obtuse and arrogant and focused on the dumbest things, and none of this matters! How can you act like some simple dance is the most important thing in the world? We both had our skin melted by things we can't understand. Both came face to face with some ancient evil woman monster thing. Both of us saw a city burning, people screaming, bombs flying. And now that we're back here, the only thing that matters is some dance? How do you not have some kind of perspective after all of this?"

"Because at least here I have some control! There's a terrible potential outcome I can avoid if this all just goes right. Trapped beneath the ground, in an dank chamber, some weird wacky reality of evil? Those were horrible things and we were just along for the ride. But here, with this?"

Blake was breathing just a little bit heavier now. Her eyes went a little wide. "That's it, isn't it? You're scared. You've never really had any control. Trapped between two worlds and the faunus side was willing to take you in. Dying and alone and afraid beneath Montluçon. But here, you have some control, you have some influence, and you're strangling yourself with it just to keep yourself anchored. But it's all just—just mistaking starlight for the moon."

"I—" Velvet nearly did it. She felt the muscles in her arm tensing. An overpowering urge to just lash out and smack this bitch across the face. But she stopped herself, nostrils flaring, ears standing straight up. "How dare you, you arrogant bimbo!"

"Name calling, how original," Blake said, as if getting exactly what she wanted, some sick sense of satisfaction at Velvet's expense.

"Do you just get off on being the nastiest person you can possibly be, Blake?"

The girl's eyes narrowed to slits. "You bring out the worst in me."

"Is that supposed to make me feel better?!"

"I feel better knowing I'm right," Blake said, voice low. "I'm right. Again. And you're just angry you're not some complicated complex story with depth and layers. You're just a scared little girl going with the tides who's finally got some agency in her life and has gone drunk with it."

"Is everything just some kind of sick, bloody competition with you?" Velvet hissed slowly. "Like you're just so desperate to eke out any kind of victory here? Prove some obscure point only you care about?" She shook her head. "You're sad, Blake. And you make me sick."

"That's not—you're not—!" Blake's fists balled.

Velvet scowled. "Just leave me alone, Blake. You're not here to help. You're here for your own little vendetta so you can just project all over me to try to make yourself feel better, and I do not care. I'll get all this work done on my own. Not that you were very helpful in any case."

Blake stared. Just stared and glared and stared some more. Before she grit her teeth and just ran away.

Her legs seemed to collapse beneath her. Velvet fell back into her hair, cheeks flush, breathing hard, and just exhausted. All of this stupid drama from that stupid freshman. She didn't need this. Didn't need Blake. She just had her team and they were enough for her.

She looked back at her computer and groaned. Spreadsheets to assemble. Work was never done.

— 20 —

Blake just doom-scrolled. Jaune was off with friends. Velvet couldn't be talked to. Weiss and Shamrock were still working their shift. The lights of the city in the distance taunted her somehow. Almost as badly as the images from Ruby and Coco's social media feeds. She saw Jaune in most of their pictures. He didn't look the most comfortable in all of them, but he seemed to be having fun.

And there Blake was, retreated to the isolated spot on the roof she often found herself when she didn't know where to go. What to think. Just some chilly, fresh air and the distant lights of Vale and the campus beneath her.

She put the scroll away and hugged her knees to her chest. This was pathetic. Everything about her was pathetic. She felt like somehow her life had done a complete three-sixty. Where once people got along with her and hated Jaune, now it seemed like he got along with everyone and she was the odd woman out. Like an out of body experience beneath her own eyes.

Velvet? Hated her. Ruby? Upset over Velvet. Weiss and Shamrock? Working. Jaune? Off doing his own little adventures. Oh yeah, and the world was on fire, but whatever. It couldn't all be her fault. Things were awful. Everyone was stressed. But this just—it felt like so many things just weren't playing out like they should. Reality was broken. All that was left was for her to pick up drinking and start sexually harassing people and her metamorphosis to the worst person on Beacon would be complete.

How could she fix this? How did she solve this problem and make things work and be normal and happy again?

Blake almost wondered if she should light a cigarette and use it as a help me beacon like Jaune did.

The thought made her chuckle. Stupid, stupid.

But somehow the intention seemed to be all the universe needed. She looked up sharply as she heard something scratching just over the ledge. Someone grunted. Blake stared with a weird expression, wondering just what in the hell was going on over here, before a large hand grabbed the ledge, and Cardin freakin' Winchester hauled himself up and over.

He rolled over the edge, ending up on his back. He clapped his hands over his head. "Alright. Went up too far. But I got this."

Blake gawked. "Cardin?"

Still lying there, he looked over at her. "Who dat girl, who him is?"

She stood up sharply. "What are you doing up here?"

The large boy seemed to consider for a moment, scowling at the sky. "Oh, I used to be really big into rock climbing. I like finding tall things and climbing up them. Tall things just speak to me. Tall girls, too." He shrugged.

"What?"

"Yeah, so, it's life's greatest tragedy. Started to like taller girls when I was a kid, but then I grew up into the tall, heroic ideal of a man. The gods themselves are trying to, like, grind me down. But I don't let them. Your name's Blake, right? Jaune's girl or something?"

"Oversharing, much?" she asked, feeling like she should bolt.

Cardin sat up, rubbing his face. "Am I? I've gotten way too used to having to speak for two people. My partner—Mistrali dude named Lie Ren—doesn't speak much. So I decided to do funny voices in his accent to speak on his behalf and now I just, like, don't know when to stop. You are Blake, right?"

"I guess."

He nodded. "Cool. Can I borrow your scroll?"

She felt a surge of something down her spine. "What?"

"I forgot my scroll and room key and need to find a way back into my room. That's why I climbed the roof. There's a door up here no one ever locks for some reason. If you have the student call roster I can give Ren a ring and ask him nicely to stop being sexually harassed by that shortstack that stalks him and let me in."

"I don't, no," she said, feeling even more out-of-body than before. Like she and the boy were almost having two different conversations.

Cardin hunched over, frowning. "Alright. Well, door-related violence it is to get back in. Hey, why are you up here alone? It's freezing."

"I wanted to be alone."

He scowled. "That's a stupid reason. Find a better reason."

"I don't have to tell you anything!" And suddenly she felt a hot rush of embarrassment. It was like Sun or Ruby all over again. Blake wasn't the bad guy. Why was she just so angry lately?

"Oh, okay," he said passively. "Can I tell you anything?"

"Could I stop you if I wanted?" she asked dubiously.

"Depends. How much you bench in the gym?"

"I don't."

He made a face. "Ew, cardio bunny. No wonder you're so skinny."

Blake folded her arms uncomfortably. "Something against rabbit girls? Still a bigot over there, I see."

"What? No. Cardio itself. Shit kills your gains. And large muscles and that superhero build are what gives you the ability to just say whatever you want without repercussions. My partner has the build of a Kuchinashi child prostitute, so I think that's why he never says anything."

All she could do was gawk at him as he idly picked up a handful of snow from the roof and formed it into a ball.

"So, what, you just got cured of racism, Cardin?"

Sitting there with the snowball in hand, he looked up at her with this confused expression. "It's not bigotry to hate an entire people and their way of life. It's like bullying the loser kid so that he goes to the gym and gets strong instead of eventually shooting up the school and using Mistrali cartoons as his online profile pic. It's a very productive exercise."

"Gosh, no wonder everyone wanted to kick your butt."

He threw the snowball off the roof at nothing in particular. "Difference between want and does. Only people who ever tried to knock that impulse was you and Jaune. Everyone else was just happy to act offended but do nothing."

She shook her head. "I don't—are you defending being an asshole?"

Cardin shook his head. "Not really. It's more..." And he just stopped mid sentence. Seemed to reconsider something. "More explaining a bad thought process. There's still something to it, but it was misaimed. Petty and unproductive and suicide-like. It made enemies when I didn't need them. Screwed with people's heads when it was just sort of harmless fuckery that went too far. And then Jaune broke my nose and I think something clicked there along with the taste of blood, y'know?"

He shrugged. "So now, when I find a girl with a poor excuse why she's alone on a rooftop in the evening, I don't go like, not my problem. But more ah shit, I'm the good guy, what do good guys do? And my answer is to, just, iunno, jabber on. See what's up. You're my buddy's partner so I think there's some kind of sixth-dimension sorcery that means I'm obligated to at least care a little bit."

"You know Jaune. You don't know me."

Cardin scooted forwards until his legs were dangling over the room. "I'm pretty sure you don't like me. And people say your team is a bit standoffish. Perfect place to start."

She bit down the urge to grimace. "I'm good, thanks. I don't need to have a heart-to-heart with some meathead I don't even know."

"We know each other. We went to a birthday party together that one time. May have been yours. I don't know. Wasn't paying attention. You are terrible at karaoke."

"That supposed to make me feel better?"

He idly kicks his legs. "Nope. I'm negging you. Classic talk-to-girl move."

"So you're hitting on me?" she scoffed.

"Also nah. I'm not into girls who only do cardio and are shorter than me. Aren't you paying attention?"

Blake compressed a breath. "You're like a terrible knockoff Jaune."

"Sticks and stones may break my bones, Blake," he said, "but words will leave lasting scars that therapy just won't be able to fix. I hope you know that."

"Counting on it."

"Awesome," he said happily. "But for real, who's got your panties in a bunch so bad you're out here?"

"Do you really care, or are you just pretending to because you want to be the 'good guy' here, Cardin? I've never known you as a 'goodness of his own heart' kind of guy. There's a lot of talk of you, and that's how we're all pretty sure you are, even if you are trying to pretend to be nice."

The big lunk of a boy actually paused to consider that. "There's… this story in the little place I'm from. A man goes to a priest, rich man, wants to use his money for good. Priest offers him an idea. That philo-whatever it is. Giving money to people. So he does that. Things work out. But he comes back all stressed out. Asks the priest for advice. Says something feels wrong, just what he's doing. So the priest gives him an idea for something else. Orphanages. Helping rebuilt homes lost to Grimm attacks. All's good, yeah?

"Then the man comes back. He says, 'Père, this is even worse. I am helping these people, but it is not out of the good of my heart. I am building homes and homing children because I am selfish and because it just makes me feel good. I enjoy the praise and goodwill, not because it is simply the right thing to do.'

"And the priest, he—get this, this matters—thwacks the man over the head and goes, 'You dumbass, do you think it matters to the children you're helping, the families you're rebuilding? Feeling good because you did a good thing is the way it's supposed to work, fuckface. Get out of my sight and keep doing what you're doing.'"

Cardin spread his hands mildly. "Y'know?"

Blake didn't know how to respond to that. It was more words from Cardin than she'd ever heard before. She wanted to interrupt him several times. But the way he got into the story, gesturing and explaining, she had a hard time. When it was all over, she found herself leaning against a rooftop AC unit, currently off due to the cold weather.

She looked down at her hands. At the little jacket she was wearing. Back to the boy and his friendly expression on a face she'd once fantasized about strangling the life out of.

"It," Blake said slowly, very slowly, staring at her own feet, "is a story about… I don't know. Intention not mattering so much as results?"

Cardin nodded. "Got it in one. People confuse intent with, like, iunno. They just think intent is what matters. They don't care about results. If I do a good thing because it makes my dick hard, what does it matter if what I do helps someone out of a bind?"

Blake stood in silence for a long moment. Thinking about his words. Until she cracked a smile. The laughter bubbled up harder.

He frowned. "What's up, Blake?"

"I'm—" Another laugh. "I've fallen so low I'm taking a heart-to-heart from Cardin freakin' Winchester. Gods!"

He shrugged. "Can't pick who we love. Can't pick who gives us good advice. Sometimes it pays to not know jack. I literally have, like, zero idea what your problem is, so I'm just throwing how I feel at a wall. Seems to be working."

"Yeah, who needs nuance?"

"I agree. Life is black and white. Kill everyone who holds opinions you don't like because they're evil for thinking differently." He raised his fist into the air and whooped.

She couldn't believe she was actually enjoying the company of this asshole. "It's just… I tried that today. Someone I don't get along with I have a project with. I thought I'd go to her, try to patch things up, and it'd all work out. Now we hate each other more than ever."

"Intent to get along. In practice, maybe you just don't. Happens." He shrugged a single shoulder, then distracted himself by puffing misty cold breath into the air.

Blake looked away, out towards the lights of Vale. "It's just, people I always thought were worse than me have a better time of it. You, Jaune for example. Nobody likes either of you, but you two fit in pretty well. Often together. And I feel more and more like I'm screwing up. I'm making myself an outcast. Pushing everyone away and getting angry."

He leaned back, hands on either side of him, head upside-down to look at her. "It's not the intent that matters, bro. It's what you do. You can justify it however you like. End of the day, if you're still kicking a kid in the nuts, no matter your reasons, to that guy it's still a kick in the nuts. I didn't get 'better' because I'm some paragon. I just realized none of the shit I wanted to do was doing anything but digging a grave and making me out as a complete cock-weasel. If you're trying to fit in and make nice but all you're doing is being a mega bitch, then you're a mega bitch. Simple as."

She gave him a lopsided little smile. "So I should, what, roll over and be nice?"

"I think you should let me borrow your scroll and give Ren a call. It's cold out here and I bumped my knee on the wall pretty bad climbing here. But also I think that no, don't roll over. Don't, like, go with the flow. Dead fish and garbage do that. Can't be afraid to ask for help when you're stuck."

Her eyes widened a hair. "You, asking for help?"

"No man lifts everything alone. Eventually he needs a spotter. Same deal with emotional weight."

"I hate how you can make something so stupid also be so deep."

"Wow, you and my imaginary girlfriend both say that exact same thing to me."

She laughed, and sighed. "I always get the best advice from idiots. One of these days I'm going to ask someone smart for advice and they're going to tell me to, like, suck it up or something. Be totally unexpected."

"Either way," Cardin said, shrugging, "even when you got a spotter, you still gotta lift the bar yourself. Just helps knowing you got backup."

"Hmm," she hummed. "No church in the wild, I suppose."

He stood up, and man, was he tall. He stretched, pulling on one of his arms. "But for real, you seem to have settled on some course of action. Can you help me call Ren? I'm hungry and he sometimes helps with my meal prepping. It's this or I just break the door or window and Ren said he'd kick my ass if I did that again. He don't talk much, but when he does, it's usually business."

Another laugh. "Yeah, yeah sure, Cardin. Do you know his number?"

"If we start by pressing all 1s we'll eventually find it," he said with such confidence she was blown away. "I've got all night."

It was going to be a long night. Blake was continuing to fail and spiral. That'd been the way of things since she tried to kiss Jaune, in a way. Maybe even earlier in the caves. Hard to pin it all down.

But she remembered Ruby offering to help with Velvet. On her own, Blake had never been too much. She'd always been part of something greater than the sum of its parts. Her partnership. Her team. Her time with the White Fang, in more bitter times.

Ruby it was, then. She'd ask the pipsqueak for advice and help with Velvet. Because, intent or not, she was determined that her actions hit paydirt here.

There was no other way forward.

No other way to build her church in the wild.

But for real, what the hell was Lie Ren's scroll number?

a/n: You're mad I'm back, big mad. He's mad, she's mad, big sad. Ah-hah, don't care, stay mad.

But for real, be so much easier in my role leading soldiers if my leadership would stop catching diseases, going on paternity leave, or just straight up dying on me.