AUTHOR'S NOTES: Kind of a shorter one, but after a wedding and a funeral, a scene of "enhanced interrogation" really felt out of place, so that will have to wait. The next chapter will flow better than way anyhow. For a chapter that includes Emerald's funeral, there are some surprisingly funny parts. There's also some distinctly sad parts. I guess it says something when the guy writing it starts tearing up while doing so.
Originally, this chapter was going to be from the POV of Ruby, rather than Weiss, but after I realized that Ren didn't have a best man, I added Marrow to the chapter...and that just changed everything, so it switched to Weiss. It worked out much better, actually.
Base Chapel, Luke Air Force Base
Phoenix, Arizona, United States of Canada
30 April 2002
The traditional Wedding March began as the organist practically laid down on the keys to start it; Weiss wondered if the organist really wanted to break out into a New Orleans jazz version. All the same, she stood and came to attention as Nora began to slowly walk down the aisle, her face somewhat hidden behind a white lace veil. The dress was a rental, hurriedly found in a downtown Phoenix bridal shop that had been replacing its windows after the Kobold attack. Still, Weiss thought, it was stunning on Nora: a confection of lace and frills, ruffled shoulders and a wide dress that almost hid the fact that Nora was wearing tennis shoes rather than heels. She had loudly proclaimed to Ruby Flight the day before that she was not going to trip over high heels, something Ruby had been quick to second. A bouquet of roses was clutched in her hands.
Speaking of Ruby, Weiss thought, she was moving slightly faster than Nora, scattering rose petals ahead of her on the aisle, a wide grin on her face. As an orphan, Nora had no one to give her away, so Pyrrha, acting as the maid of honor, had volunteered. The tall redhead was oddly stoic next to Nora, wearing a new USAF dress uniform, with—as Yang had said—more ribbons and decorations than Patton.
Similarly, Ren had no idea who to pick as his best man. Luckily, Marrow Amin had flown in from Europe to ferry back a new F-35 from Luke the day before—and, Weiss thought with a distinct thrill—to see her. Once he had learned of the ceremony, he had asked Ren if he could stand as his best man. Now Ren waited at the end of the aisle, in his dress Chinese Unified Air Force uniform, with Marrow standing next to him in USAF dress blues. Behind them, on the raised dais of the nondenominational altar, was a picture of Jaune Arc—there at the wedding of his friends in spirit, if sadly not in body. Roses were around his picture as well, and Weiss remembered the old fighter pilot jingle: no lilies or violets for dead fighter pilots.
Because Buddhism was fairly laid back on wedding ceremonies, and because Nora considered herself a nondenominational Christian, the two had decided on a civil ceremony rather than a religious one. This left the issue of who would marry them. The base commander at Luke could in theory do so, but Nora had gotten a crafty smile and named who she wanted to officiate the ceremony—which, as a notarized public servant, she had the authority to do so. Standing on the altar dais, looking as uncomfortable as Weiss had ever seen her, was Rissa Arashikaze. She still wore the severe cut black-and-red business suit that she always seemed to, which made her look more like she was going to a funeral than a wedding.
Ruby stepped aside and took up position next to Weiss. "I didn't skip," she murmured out of the corner of her mouth.
"Good. Your legs will not be broken," Weiss replied. Ruby had joked that she was going to skip and pirouette down the aisle, scattering the flowers, only to be met with a glacial stare from Nora.
Pyrrha stepped aside as well, bowing to Ren, who returned it. He then took Nora's hand as she stopped in front of the dais. Rissa bowed deeply to them both and had it returned. Weiss didn't remember this from any of the weddings she had been dragged to as a child, but this ceremony was nothing if nontraditional, made-up-as-they-went-along...which made it seem oddly more wholesome. It combined the quiet dignity of Ren with the crazy randomness of Nora.
The march died out with a whimper rather than a bang, and Rissa cleared her throat. "Friends…and family, if not in blood," she began. "Thank you for being here today to share in this beautiful occasion." Weiss stole a glance behind her. There weren't that many here: besides Pyrrha and Marrow, there was herself, Ruby, Yang, and Blake, of course, along with the four men and women of Lancer Flight, who Nora had invited as they had fought in what was becoming known as the Battle of Las Vegas. Raven Branwen had been invited, but declined. It wasn't much, but, Weiss reflected, in a way it was all of whom Ren and Nora knew as family.
"Together we are here to unite Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie in marriage. This is where I ask if there are any objections to this marriage." Weiss noticed Blake's immaculately shined shoe turn and lightly press down on Yang's, who was biting her lip not to say something silly. "Seeing none, I shall proceed." She took a deep breath, and for a moment, Weiss saw something sorrowful cross Rissa's face. Didn't she mention at one point she was a widow? Then she must be remembering her own ceremony. It was hard to think of Rissa Arashikaze as a flesh-and-blood woman with fears and loves; so often, Weiss thought, she didn't even seem to be human at all.
"Lie Ren. Do you take this woman, Nora Valkyrie, as your lawfully wedded wife, to live together in matrimony, to love her, to comfort her, to honor and keep her, in sickness and in health, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?"
"I—" Ren had to clear his throat. "I do."
Rissa gave him a nod, then turned to Nora, who was shaking—with anticipation, Weiss guessed, rather than nervousness. "Do you, Nora Valkyrie, take this man, Lie Ren, as your lawfully wedded husband, to live together in matrimony, to love him, to comfort him, to honor and keep him, in sickness and in health, to have and to hold, from this day forward, as long as you both shall live?"
"Oh, hell yeah!" Nora exclaimed, bringing laughter through the assembled. "I mean, I do, I do!"
"The bride and groom have informed me of a tradition they would like to perform rather than the traditional exchange of rings. Marrow Amin, Pyrrha Nikos, please step forward. Lie Ren, Nora Valkyrie, press your right hands together, please." They did so, palm to palm. Marrow and Pyrrha both withdrew a red string from their pockets and bound the hands together up to the wrists—not very tightly. They then gave Ren and Nora's hands a gentle tug; the string remained in place. They then stepped back, leaving Ren and Nora tied together. "This red string represents destiny. According to Ren and Nora, it has been their destiny since they were children to be together. What fate and karma have deemed to be unbreakable shall not be broken. And though the physical string may be unraveled, the string of marriage shall never be." Another nod, and Ren and Nora together untied the string, then took each others hands. "And now, Lie Ren…you may kiss the bride."
Weiss was now the one biting her lip, as she felt tears fill her eyes. Ruby's mouth was trembling, and Yang loudly sniffed; Blake's ears were laid back with emotion. On first glance, Pyrrha was as stoic as ever, but Weiss could see her eyes shining with tears as well. Marrow's tail was wagging, and for once he didn't try to stop it. Ren was fighting emotion himself, but though his hands were shaking, he gently raised the veil. Tears were streaking down Nora's face, but she closed her eyes and offered her lips. Ren cupped her cheeks and kissed her.
Rissa's mouth quirked for just a moment, then she said as Ren and Nora parted, "Then, by the authority vested in me by the United States of Canada, I now pronounce you husband and wife—Lie and Nora Ren." She gave them another bow. "These proceedings are closed."
As Ren and Nora kissed each other again, Blake suddenly barked like a Marine drill sergeant, "Ruby Flight! Sword parade!" Ruby and Weiss immediately about-faced on one heel, strode across the aisle, and executed another turn. Yang and Blake took up position on either side. "Attention on deck!" Blake snapped, and they came to attention. "Draw…swords!" All four women drew the ceremonial sabers they had hurriedly borrowed from the base drill team. In unison, the four sabers were put together to form a steeple of steel above the aisle. And with that, the processional hymn began—except it wasn't a wedding march but the Imperial March from Star Wars. Nora burst into snickers and Ren, for once, began to laugh. Not at all solemnly, they walked down the aisle, hand in hand, underneath the blades; as Nora passed Yang, the latter yanked down her saber and swatted Nora on the rear end. Weiss had to grin at that, an old tradition that supposedly guaranteed the bride many children. Once Ren and Nora had passed beneath the sabers, Blake ordered Ruby Flight to about-face again and follow, and the four of them, plus Pyrrha, Marrow and Rissa, marched behind the bride and groom.
They exited the chapel, and outside was gathered a small crowd of fighter pilots from Luke, as well as a number of A-10 pilots from Davis-Monthan AFB to the south, who launched firecrackers in honor of one of their own getting married. Applause broke out, and Nora shot her fists in the air in triumph. Ren's laughs became utter guffaws, the loudest anyone had ever heard him laugh. Nora tossed her bouquet high and behind her. Taken by surprise, all seven of the people behind her—six women and one man—did not leap for it, and instead it landed in the hands of Rissa Arashikaze. "No, thank you," she said, and handed the bouquet to Ruby. "I believe this belongs to you."
That night, Weiss lay in bed in the Visiting Officers' Quarters, which greatly resembled the VOQ at both Jacksonville and Beacon. She wondered if the American armed services simply had one pattern they applied to all of them. The only way one would know they were in Arizona from the decor was because there were Southwestern-themed prints on the walls. A ceiling fan lazily stirred the air above the bed; even in late April, Phoenix and its suburbs were hot—at least to Weiss, used to the more temperate European climate. The bridal shop owner had told her with barely concealed glee that this was the cool part of the year—Phoenix regularly topped 110 degrees Fahrenheit in the summer. Weiss wanted to be far away before that happened.
Right now, however, she wanted to be right where she was. Next to her, his face buried in a pillow, was Marrow Amin. During the wedding reception at the officers' club, where the eating and drinking had commenced at top speed after they arrived, she had kept meeting Marrow's eyes. Weiss had found that her knees had started to tremble as much as Ren's hands had been. It had been awhile, and she was hungry for more than just the lobster, wedding cake and champagne laid out for them. She summoned all the considerable self-control she had to keep herself composed, given her heartfelt toast and speech to Lie and Nora Ren, and waited for the appropriate time to excuse herself. Luckily, given the ravenous looks Nora kept shooting at Ren, they didn't have to wait too long. After mashing the cake into each other's faces to the amusement of all, Nora had proclaimed loudly that everyone could stay and eat—she was going to break Ren's pelvis and wanted to get on with it. Ren had straight-faced replied that he wasn't going to give her the chance, swept her off her feet, and carried her out the door of the O-Club, with people singing ribald fighter pilot songs behind them. They had climbed into the limousine chartered for the wedding and driven off to the swankiest, fanciest hotel in the greater Phoenix metropolitan area.
With the bride and groom off to their marital activities, Weiss and Marrow had slipped out as Yang began singing I Love My Wife, one of the filthiest fighter pilot songs imaginable. They had walked across the street to the VOQ, and were barely in the door of Marrow's room before they were all over each other. Weiss laughed to herself, remembering trying to lick Marrow's face and chest while simutaneously trying to undress and not rip her formal uniform—while he nibbled at her ears and tried not to trip over his dress pants and boxers, which were around his ankles at that point. Somehow they had made it to the bed, giggling and fondling and finally naked, and now here they were, relaxing in the pleasant, sleepy afterglow half an hour later.
Marrow stirred and turned over, half-asleep. One hand reached over and took hold of Weiss' right breast. She looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. "Really?"
Marrow's eyes opened. "What's up?" he grinned, and squeezed the breast. "Honk, honk."
"Ugh," Weiss sighed. "Are you sure that you and Yang aren't related somehow?" She didn't make him move his hand, though after one more squeeze he let go and turned over to sit up. "Would you mind terribly getting something for us to drink?"
"Sure." Marrow rolled out of bed and walked naked to the room's kitchenette. Weiss admired the view in the dim light of the bedroom lamp. Marrow did not have the bodybuilder tone of a Sun Wukong or Cardin Winchester, but a lean build of someone who might not work out much but threw around high-performance fighters at high-Gs. And stone the crows, Weiss thought, remembering Ruth Lionheart's favorite expression, does he have a gorgeous butt. His tail swished back and forth lazily, and Weiss found something strangely erotic about that. Oh, Father, she laughed to herself, if you only knew that your youngest daughter ruts with a Faunus…and loves every minute of it.
Marrow brought back two orange sodas, and handed one to her before getting in bed. They cracked open the cans at the same time. He raised his can to her. "Prost," he said in German.
"Sante," she replied in French. They drank. "And merci."
Marrow waved it off. "I'm from Alberta, not Quebec. And why are you thanking me?" Weiss raised both eyebrows this time. "Oh. Well, you're welcome." He took a drink and leaned back against the headboard. "Glad it was good for you. I didn't really last too long…it's been, what, about three months?"
"Thereabouts. And you lasted long enough." Weiss also leaned back, making no move to cover herself and feeling comfortable in doing so. They were at that stage of the relationship, she realized, where being naked in front of the other wasn't necessarily sexual, but simply was part of life. She surreptitiously looked at him. Marrow was above the covers, with everything on display. Weiss wondered if she could wake up to that sight for the rest of her life. She wasn't sure she could…though she also couldn't think of anyone else she could do so with. Enough, Weiss, she told herself. Marriage is not something to think about right now. Not with Ruby probably next down the aisle.
"So you said Ruby's probably getting married next?" Marrow's question startled Weiss, who wondered if they were at that stage of the relationship where they started thinking alike. It actually frightened her for a moment.
"Um, yes. More than likely. Oscar proposed to her. She didn't accept, but I think Raven and Pyrrha talked her into it." You're not about to ask me, are you? Weiss almost added.
"Huh. Well, good for Oscar, eh? He always did hold a big torch for her. I figured that out the moment I first saw them. I smelled it."
Weiss rolled her eyes good-naturedly. "No, you didn't." Marrow liked to boast that his canine genes gave him an enhanced sense of smell.
"I totally did!" Marrow took another drink. "And what about Blake and Yang?"
"Aren't you nosy tonight?" Weiss admonished him.
"Hey, I've been out flying boring-ass patrols with Elm, Harriet and Violette for the past few weeks. I need to catch up on all the gossip from all you lovely ladies." Marrow winked at her. "Speaking of which, do you know how hard it's been to fly with all of them and not have you around? I mean, even Harriet's been looking good lately."
"Down, boy." Weiss knew that Marrow, like most Faunus, would not tolerate that sort of condescending animal-talk…unless it was from her, because then he just laughed. "I don't think I'm ready to go again just yet, you randy beast."
"To be honest, me neither." He set aside the can. "So…what about them?"
"They're not lovers. Blake told me that."
"You believe her?"
"It's none of my business," Weiss said, with a note of warning in her tone. Blake and Yang were a complicated mess that she really didn't feel like talking about. She believed Blake that nothing had happened between her and Yang, but they were sharing a VOQ room. Then again, Ruby and Weiss would have been as well; the VOQ was actually overbooked. Marrow had somehow talked Base Personnel into giving him the last single. There were a lot of pilots in town, more than there would've been normally.
"Okay, okay." Marrow dropped the issue. "Wish I could stay longer than the day after tomorrow, but I'm leading that flight of F-35s back to Ramstein. They're really pushing the 86th to reequip with Fat Amy ASAP." He used the nickname for the F-35.
"General Gale has got to be worried about Salem launching a spring offensive," Weiss told him.
"Or he's thinking about launching one himself. The frontier's been quiet, Weiss. Still. Either Salem's gearing up for something, or maybe she's still trying to replace what she lost in Poland."
"Or her next offensive is here. Though I definitely think we hurt her last week…" Weiss waved it away. "I don't really want to talk shop, Marrow."
"What else do we have to talk about?"
Weiss paused. "Good point." But then she lapsed into silence, because she wasn't really sure what to talk about next. They could talk about their friends, but there wasn't much to talk about there. Ruby was likely getting married, Blake and Yang were either lovers or just close friends, and Ren and Nora were probably currently breaking the bed. Pyrrha was as quiet as usual—though she had seemed to be smiling more lately, Weiss noted. Winter was due with her child any day now, which would make Weiss an aunt. I'm far too young to be an aunt.
"Sorry I missed the funeral. It was the day before I got in." Marrow said into the silence, which was probably the worst thing he could've said at that moment.
Weiss set aside her can of soda, got out of bed, switched off the lamp, and walked to the large picture window. She opened the blinds a little. They were on the second floor, so no one was likely to see her, and in any case she did not open them enough to be seen. The lights of Phoenix bathed her in bands of amber. Luke Air Force Base had been built far away from the city during World War II, but sixty years later, the city and its suburbs of Glendale and Peoria had crept up to it with the influx of tens of thousands of refugees from the California and Nevada Dead Zones. She stared out at the city and glow of lights reflected in the deep desert night.
She felt Marrow's hands on her shoulders. "I'm sorry. I said something wrong, didn't I?"
Weiss sighed and leaned back into his embrace. "No…just hit me at the wrong time." He put his arms around her middle. Weiss was 5'4", barely tall enough to make the Luftwaffe minimum height requirement; Marrow was a bit over six feet. It felt safe. She was quiet for awhile longer, then said, "You know…none of us really knew Emerald, did we?"
"Not really. I mean, she and I talked one night after we went out on a CAP. I think she just needed to tell someone her life story. She was an orphan, just like Ren and Nora. Grew up on the streets of Madrid, and I guess she ended up getting kind of adopted by some local thieves. She got really good at it, but she pissed off the local Mafia or whatever, and they came after her. She was hiding in the Madrid airport when Cinder Fall found her." Weiss couldn't stop herself from tensing at the name; a little tendril of pain rolled up her leg, a reminder of when Cinder had shot her down over the Sea of Japan.
"Emerald saved me, Marrow. Did I ever tell you that?" Weiss asked him.
"No, but she told me. She said she couldn't just float there and watch you drown, so she held you out of the water. I told her that was when she should've known she wasn't like Cinder or Neo or the rest of Salem's merry little band. Anyhow, I guess Cinder got her out of Spain, but later trained her how to fly so they'd have someone else for the Beacon job. She really liked flying. She had a natural talent for it." Marrow rested his chin lightly in her white hair. "I know she did some really shitty things when she was working for Salem, but…I never could just bring myself to hate Emerald, eh? It wasn't because she was pretty. She just seemed like she ended up on the wrong side and realized it, and then was doing everything she could to make up for it."
"And she did…at the cost of her life," Weiss observed.
"How was the funeral?" Marrow wanted to know. "Weird conversation to be having with a naked girl, but…"
"It was…it was good," Weiss said. Was it? she asked herself. She had been to several funerals during her life. Her grandfather Nicholas had died when she was little, and she had cried bitterly throughout that ceremony. She remembered Nicholas Schnee as a kind old man, with a graying beard that reminded her of St. Nicholas—his namesake, he had told her, which delighted Weiss to think of her grandfather as. It was one reason she had reacted so angrily to Blake telling her that Nicholas was little more than a war criminal in the Faunus' eyes.
All the same, she described the funeral to him. Weiss had not cried then...possibly, she reasoned, because she had not been there for the ceremony itself. Emerald was buried at the Phoenix National Cemetery, under her own name, with the inscription Hic Requiescit Honoratus Amicus—An Honored Friend Rests Here. It was far from Spain, even if the climate would have felt familiar to her. Her burial service had been read by a local Catholic priest, in Spanish. Her pallbearers had been Ren, Nora, Pyrrha, Raven and Rissa Arashikaze; the five had managed for six. Wendell Metzger and his Marines had fired the saluting volleys over her grave, and a Marine trumpeter that had played Taps. It had been Ruby Flight that had flown the Missing Man Formation.
It had been the third time Weiss had flown or seen that particular formation. The first had been for a Luftwaffe pilot she had barely known only a few weeks out of flight school. The second had been for Ruth Lionheart at Beacon. Ruby Flight had come over in a finger-four formation, so named for appearing like the spread fingers of a hand, and as they came over the cemetery, Blake had suddenly lit the afterburners on her F-18 and climbed away into the deep blue sky, representing a fighter pilot's soul going to heaven. It left a gap in the formation between Ruby's F-16 and Yang's F-15—Weiss' Typhoon to Ruby's left—showing where a friend was now forever missing.
They had landed at Luke, Blake rejoining the formation on final approach, and taxied into the transient tarmac. As Weiss had climbed down the ladder from her aircraft, she saw Ruby curled up at the base of hers, bawling like a baby while the Luke ground personnel stared at her, unsure of what to do with an officer uncontrollably crying. Weiss had handed her helmet to an enlisted man and dashed to her friend's side, and unashamedly held Ruby while she rocked against Weiss, unable to stop weeping. Weiss knew why: Ruby's first experience of a Missing Man Formation had been for her own mother. It had been Yang and Blake who had finally gotten them to their feet.
And describing that was what caused Weiss to turn and cry into Marrow's chest, for the woman who had saved her life. But not just for her, Weiss thought, as Marrow gently cradled her closer and smoothed her hair. She cried for Jaune, who should have been there today, standing as Ren's best man, or in his formal uniform and Pyrrha the one in a bridal gown. She cried for Penny, both of them, who would have clapped and probably said something so charmingly naïve that everyone would have laughed—with her, not at her. She cried for Clover Ebi, the best friend of the man that held her, who had deserved happiness of his own and never gotten it. She even cried for James Ironwood and Oscar Ozpin, two men that had been more fatherly towards her than her own father, however misguided they might have been, whatever they were responsible for.
Finally, after awhile, Weiss dried her tears with her hair and leaned against Marrow, who continued to hold her. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"For what?"
"For all the damn crying. It's so…" Weiss paused, then laughed a little. "So girly."
Marrow pushed her back a little, examining her from head to toe. "You look like a girl to me." Then he drew her back into the hug. "Hey, I cried like a damn toddler when Vine got killed. Same with Clover. Sometimes you got to cry. You hold it in, and then you're going to get all kinds of screwed up. Let it out, eh? Nothing wrong with that, girl or guy. No shame in it."
Weiss sighed again, this time happily. "Thank you for that. That makes me feel better."
"Anytime."
Weiss stared up at him. "Do you think it's inappropriate to ask you to make love to me now? It seems…weird. Like I shouldn't, after talking about a funeral. But I just need…I need to feel…" She groped for the word. "Alive. I need to feel alive."
"I'm okay with it. Pretty sure Em would be too." Marrow reached down, and to Weiss' surprise, he picked her up. She was a little mortified that Marrow grunted with noticeable effort, which made her wonder if he just wasn't blessed with a lot of upper body strength, or maybe she had gained weight. "Now then, my lady…" Marrow grinned down at her, his black hair, unbound from its bun, shadowing his face. "You asked for it."
Weiss pecked at his lips. "I believe I did."
AUTHOR'S OTHER NOTES: The Missing Man is really one of the most beautiful and sad things to see. It used to hit my dad particularly hard. I based Ruby's reaction really on Dad's. One of the first times I ever saw him cry was the ceremony for the Challenger astronauts. I know I've used the 'she cried for" scene before with Ruby, but it seemed to be appropriate here, too, with Weiss. (People sure do cry a lot in my stories. And get naked. Oh well, that's kind of life.)
"I Love My Wife" is actually one of the grossest fighter pilot songs I've ever heard (and I have heard it, live), just beating out "Brown, Brown," which is what Yang was originally going to be singing. Both of them get very scatological. The term "no lilies or violets for dead fighter pilots" comes from the song "Bless Them All"; both it and "Brown, Brown" are originally Royal Air Force songs that the Americans adapted. (We can't blame the Brits for "I Love My Wife.")
Next chapter: Hanlon Fifestone is going to meet up with Rissa Arashikaze...and Blake. That will swing us into the last few chapters of this story arc.
