The rest of the day crawled by at a snail's pace. Weiss's request to leave the facility had been denied and she still wasn't allowed to see Winter until the doctors had finished with her. Weiss wasn't tired, Ruby was still asleep, and apart from asking them to keep quiet about Ruby's semblance, she didn't want to disturb the Polendinas. She had nothing to entertain herself with except her scroll, which she could hardly even focus on with everything swimming through her head.
The longer she bored herself to death in that quiet medical ward, the more she realized just how angry she was. She was angry with Ironwood for keeping her locked up like some misbehaving child. She was angry at whoever was behind this whole mess. She was angry at whatever sick, twisted god decided to turn her entire life into a giant circus act. And, as unfair as Weiss knew it was, she was angry with Winter for leaving her behind and nearly getting herself killed without so much as a final glance at her.
Weiss pocketed her scroll, having been blindly browsing through news articles without comprehending a single word. She didn't want to waste any more of its battery, since she no longer had a way to charge it. Her cord was burning somewhere in the woods along with the rest of her luggage—something else she was angry about. She should have been glad at least to have service again, but she wasn't making any real use of it.
She'd managed to overhear why it'd been lost in the first place from some soldiers passing in the hallway. By the sounds of it, right before the crash, the plane had completely vanished off their radar. That's why it took so long to send out rescue teams. The working theory is that the person behind this attack managed to establish some sort of artificial dead zone just outside the city, then waited for the plane to enter it before initiating the sabotage. Perhaps the hope was that any potential survivors would get eaten by a wolf or something before anyone realized they needed rescuing. Whatever the case, it further solidified just how dangerous and capable this unknown enemy was. Weiss doubted that Torchwick could have pulled off anything of the sort.
Having grown tired of waiting, Weiss got out of bed and strode across the room. It'd been hours now and she'd still not heard anything about Winter's condition, and there was no way she was waiting until morning; she wouldn't be able to fall asleep even if she tried.
Halfway toward the hallway, a bit of movement from Ruby's bed gave her pause. She could have sworn she saw her eyes open for a second, but the girl was apparently still in a deep sleep. Deciding she might have imagined it, Weiss continued on her way.
Out in the hallway, she turned the same corner she'd seen General Ironwood turn, then began glancing through every door's window. She got to the end of the hall without seeing Winter in any of them.
"General Ironwood instructed us to remain in the ward," a voice said as she debated whether to turn left or right.
Weiss jumped and found Penny standing behind her, a curious look on her face.
"What are you doing?" Weiss demanded. "Don't sneak up on people like that!"
"General Ironwood instructed us to remain in the ward," Penny repeated. "You appear to be disobeying those instructions."
"I'm looking for my sister."
"General Ironwood said you would be permitted to see—"
"I know what he said! And I don't care."
Penny tilted her head, staring contemplatively at her for several moments before finally saying, "I saw a sign pointing intensive care toward the east side of this floor."
"I— um, thank you," Weiss said warily, still not certain the girl wouldn't try to stop her. She turned back toward the intersection, but still had no idea where to go.
"That way." Penny nodded toward the right.
"Thanks." Weiss set off again, then paused once more when she realized that Penny was still following her. "You're . . . coming with me?"
"Yes."
Weiss waited, but she offered no elaboration. "Why . . .?"
Penny frowned. "Do you not want me to? I'm sorry, I merely wished to express my gratitude to her, should she be awake."
"Oh. Well, fine, just please stop walking behind me. It's creepy."
Together they proceeded until they spotted another sign showing they'd reached the ICU. Weiss grew nervous when a couple more soldiers passed by going the opposite way, but neither paid them any mind. Before she could start looking through windows again, Penny spotted a room up ahead with a partially open door. Weiss reached it first.
Inside, Winter was lying awake in bed. Her leg was in a sling and her stomach wrapped in bandages, but she looked less pale than before. She was talking to General Ironwood who sat in a chair beside her, wearing an expression that one could almost describe as soft. Neither noticed Weiss watching them, unable to hear the words being spoken.
Weiss felt two emotions: a heavy sense of relief, as well as a strong desire to get as far away from this room as possible.
"Where are you going?" said a confused Penny, struggling to match her pace.
"I saw what I needed," Weiss said. "I'm going back."
"But don't you want to speak with her?"
"No."
Penny was smart enough not to press it further. They continued in silence, not slowing down until they were back in the hallway right outside the ward where Ruby and Pietro still remained.
"I noticed your friend was pretending to be asleep when you left," Penny said, showcasing her complete lack of social awareness. "Why was that?"
Weiss couldn't answer her.
The next morning, they were moved to Amity Base where they'd be staying for the duration of their time in Atlas. Weiss, Ruby, Penny, and Pietro were all given tiny rooms in a building near the perimeter. They were also forbidden from leaving the grounds without express permission and a guard to accompany them.
"Any single person aboard that flight could have been the attacker's intended target," Ironwood had said. "Until such a time as the culprit is apprehended, you will all be treated as if there is still someone aiming to kill you and be granted the utmost protection. That crash should never have happened and stands as a failure on my part to keep you safe during your journey. So you can consider yourselves my personal guests while you are here, though I know it can't even begin to make up for what you went through."
The base was basically a small city in and of itself. There were buildings scattered in every direction, all connected with paved roads constantly in use by various military vehicles—Ruby was enamored by the tanks driving by. In sections of the base on the way to the quieter part where their accommodations stood, you could see troops jogging while raising their knees to their chests, practicing their shooting, and running through obstacle courses. These were the well-trained men and women the people of Atlas trusted to protect them, not vigilantes.
Weiss saw Winter once that morning, right before they left. It was a brief interaction where Weiss was more closed-off than her for once, and then they were loaded into separate vehicles. Weiss's behavior did not go unnoticed by Ruby, who made one attempt to pry before accepting that Weiss did not want to talk about it.
Ruby didn't notice that Weiss was now also mad at her, however, as she was too invested in the Skeleton Key and behaving unusually distant even when the device was stowed away. Weiss didn't understand why her friend was acting like this, but she had too much on her mind to give it much thought. That's why when she went to Sergeant Clover Ebi—the man in charge of overseeing them—with a request to go into the city, she went to him alone.
"Okay," Clover said without taking much time to consider it.
"Really?" Weiss said, having expected some resistance.
"Yes. Marrow here will be your guard."
"What?" said a darker man with long, green hair who had to be only a handful of years older than Weiss. "Clover, surely my time is better spent—"
"The rest of the team has already got the other leads covered," Clover cut in. "This is directly related to the case, so perhaps you'll learn something useful." It didn't sound like he much believed his own words.
All further protests shut down, Marrow reluctantly led Weiss to a truck and opened the passenger door for her, all the while muttering about "babysitting", "grunt work", and "beneath my rank". Weiss abstained from commenting, as she was just glad to be getting what she wanted.
The psychiatric hospital was only a twenty-minute drive away. It was a medium-sized building with two levels and was about a block down from another, much smaller base. Marrow parked at the back of the parking lot next to a group of several more military trucks.
"As you can see," he said, "it's well-guarded. We've had it like this for the past few days. No one who doesn't belong here is getting in. That alleviate your concerns?"
It did. But she'd already come this far.
"I still want to see her," Weiss said.
They exited the vehicle and approached the building. Weiss harbored a small contempt for the building. It shouldn't have to exist. If it were up to her, she'd go inside and cure every last one of its residents. But even though she hadn't been treating the law with too much respect lately, there were still some that she couldn't break. She can only use her semblance on people who consent to it. In the case of those not well enough to do so themselves, the decision falls to their family . . . family who'd rather let their sick relatives continue to suffer than allow a "lusus naturae" touch them.
A lone soldier armed with an assault rifle manned the entrance, who gave Marrow a nod and let them through. Inside, there were several more either patrolling the hallways or stationed at various locations throughout the building. On the upper floor, there were two flanking the entrance to a large room that had music coming from within.
Inside, there were tables, chairs, and couches strewn about, occupied by the building's various patients, tended to by the staff. There were a couple of televisions mounted on the wall playing soap operas on low volume—the patients in front of them either showed no interest at all or watched with rapt attention, nothing in between. A piano sat at the far end of the room by the window, which was the source of the music—a slow yet happy melody that Weiss knew. She could almost feel the keys against her fingertips as the notes met her ears.
And there, isolated from the others with two more soldiers to herself, was a middle-aged woman with snow-white hair, empty eyes, and a sad expression permanently etched on her face. She sat upright with perfect posture, her hands folded over her lap, but didn't look at all present in her own body. She had an uncanny resemblance to a porcelain doll.
Weiss started toward her while Marrow hung back by the door, but then the pianist finished his song. A couple of patients clapped, most didn't notice, and one continued to sway on the spot as if the music were still going. It was when the man stood from the piano bench and took a small bow that Weiss realized it was her brother. He sported the same main physical features as his sisters—white hair, blue eyes, and fair skin. He was shorter than Winter but taller than Weiss—though not by much—had a slender build, and his face naturally rested in a polite yet confident expression. He constantly gave off the impression of someone trying to act humble but was unable to completely hide the fact that he believed himself superior to you. He caught her gaze and gave a warm smile.
Weiss hesitated for a few moments before changing course and crossing the length of the room.
"Keine Lossprechung," she said. "I thought you hated that song."
"I also hated olives, at one point," said Whitley. "You learn to appreciate things as you get older. It reminds me of simpler times, when my biggest annoyance was something as innocuous as you playing the same song at every single practice. I see you've dyed your hair." There was a a bit of disdain in the way he looked at her black ponytail.
Weiss chose to skip past the comment. "I wasn't expecting to run into you here."
"Nor I you. I wasn't confident you'd come at all."
"Of course I came! Father's attack concerns me just as much as it concerns you."
"More so, it seems. I'm not much concerned by it at all, personally."
"Excuse me?"
"It was another inmate who made the attempt on Father's life, and he's expected to make a full recovery. Honestly, the tightened security around this place is an unnecessary precaution. You needn't work yourself up over this."
Weiss was so taken aback by literally everything he just said that she almost couldn't decide what to address first. "Work myself up? Winter and I nearly died in a plane crash yesterday, only two days after Father's attack. She's still bedridden. But that's nothing to 'work myself up' over, right?"
It was Whitley's turn to be surprised. "This . . . is the first I'm hearing of this. I'm sorry, that must have been dreadful."
"Someone is out to get us. This security is more than necessary. And what makes you think it was another inmate that attacked Father? No one's said anything to me about that."
"I pride myself on keeping well-informed. But honestly, the timing of this accident of yours could very well be happenstance."
"It was sabotage. Even Ironwood thinks so."
"And who's to say you and our dear elder sister were the intended victims? Was there no one else aboard that plane?"
Weiss thought of Pietro, but who'd want to kill a harmless old scientist? "Yes, but—"
"By the sounds of it, there was hardly any time between you deciding to come to Atlas and actually departing. It's highly unlikely anyone with malicious intent could have even known you were aboard that plane. Coincidences aren't uncommon. There's no evidence your crash and Father's attempted murder are in any way connected, nor that any more such events are yet to come. Put it out of your mind, and try not to do anything . . . ill-advised." By the way he was talking down to her, you'd think she was the youngest and not him.
"What's that supposed to mean? Don't you even care that Winter and I nearly died? What am I saying? Of course not—you always hated Winter."
He looked genuinely hurt by that. "Winter and I may have never seen eye to eye, but don't think me so cold-hearted."
Weiss brushed him aside. "And what about Father? You were always his favorite."
He had a steely look in his eye as he said, "And thus the one whom his actions have hurt the most. I'm done talking about this. Listen, this chance encounter affords us an opportunity. There's something I've been meaning to discuss with you. Will you meet me at the old family manor later today?"
"What? Why there? We don't own the place anymore."
"That's not a problem. Does one o'clock work for you?"
Weiss, becoming increasingly suspicious, only just noticed how costly his clothes looked. "What have you—?"
"One o'clock," he repeated. He turned toward the entrance, then hesitated as their mother entered his line of sight. When he spoke next, his tone was softer, more sincere. "Don't expect too much from her. I've been here every morning since I arrived, but . . ." he sighed. "Do let me know if things turn out differently this time."
Marrow stopped him on his way out, but their interaction was brief. Then her brother was gone. For a moment, she just stood there, flooded with mixed feelings about that conversation. She checked her scroll—it was only nine. She pushed the thoughts out of her mind. There were still four hours before she either met Whitley or stood him up. There were more pressing concerns at the moment.
Weiss approached the two soldiers, who moved to give her a bit more privacy with the solitary patient. Weiss pulled up a chair and sat directly across from her, and the woman continued to stare blankly, oblivious to everything.
"Hello, Mother," Weiss said awkwardly. "I'm back."
Willow Schnee made no sign of having heard her.
"I know I said that the next time I came here, I'd be able to help you. I . . . don't think I'm able to keep that promise." Weiss mourned the loss of her notebook—the one containing all the knowledge she'd gained of her semblance, both from her own experiences and from the woman in front of her. She'd always held out hope that that notebook held the answers she sought—that if she cured enough people and learned enough about her semblance, she'd have enough clues to piece together how to heal the mind of the one person she wanted to above all others. Now that notebook was little more than a pile of ash somewhere in the Atlesian forest. She feared that when she got around to trying to recreate it, she'd forget a crucial detail.
"I'm settling into Vale alright," Weiss said. "It's a lot more exciting than Atlas, though that's not always been a good thing. The people are generally more accepting, even though the bar was set pretty low. I've been able to help a lot more people than I could've done here.
"I . . . I also met someone. Her name's Ruby, and I'm not sure how it happened, but she became my best friend. She's literally saved my life multiple times. I think you'd like her. I ran into Blake again, too. She's dating Ruby's sister, funnily enough. I still haven't forgiven her for leaving the way she did, but . . . we'll get there, I think."
Weiss's words caught in her throat as the vivid image of a pristine gravestone came to mind—someone else's memory of another time a daughter spoke about her life to a mother who did not hear her. Weiss stared into her mother's face, as hollow and lifeless as that framed picture of Summer Rose, and her will to keep talking died. She no longer wished to be here. And yet, it wasn't until a couple of minutes later that—startled by an unexpected voice—she stood.
"Miss Schnee! What a positively splendid surprise to see you here. Nearly didn't recognize you with that hair."
Klein was a balding, portly man with a large mustache and stood even shorter than Weiss. He was her mother's main caregiver here. Back when her mother was first admitted and Weiss came to visit regularly, his jovial and benevolent nature had become one of the sole highlights of her life. He was among the few things that actually made her sometimes miss Atlas.
"Klein!" Weiss had to recompose herself. "I didn't see you on my way in. I thought you might not be working today."
"Perish the thought! If I wasn't, I couldn't have stumbled into you here, so unexpectedly. I trust I know why you are here?" He side-eyed the soldiers, then lowered his voice and put on a playfully serious expression. "These ones have been a real pain in my backside."
Weiss giggled, but she quickly grew somber again. "I take it you heard about my father, then."
"Indeed. Although, it appears there's plenty I still haven't heard about." He gestured toward her face. It took her a second to realize he was talking about her scar.
"Oh, right," she said, habitually running a finger along it as she often did whenever she remembered its existence. "I hardly think about it anymore."
That was true, although she still couldn't keep her mind from wandering to the same dark places every time she looked in a mirror.
"I'd be delighted to hear all about it, but I'm afraid I'm on the clock and have a schedule to keep," said Klein. "Your mother's due an appointment with her psychiatrist. If you're sticking around a bit longer, we can talk more some other time."
"I'm not sure how long I'm staying. I didn't think that far ahead. I just know I plan to be back in Vale in time for the Vytal Festival."
"Then we'll have plenty of time. But as for right now . . ."
Weiss looked back at her mother. "Can I just have one more minute with her? I . . . I need to try . . . at least once, while I'm here."
"Of course, of course." Klein stepped back to give her some space.
Weiss sat back down and scooted her chair closer to her mother. Already bracing herself for disappointment, Weiss slowly raised her hand and touched her mother's cheek—the woman didn't seem to notice. Weiss closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and . . . nothing happened. And the promise was broken.
Weiss sighed and lowered her hand, an icy dagger finding its way into her heart. She felt the tears about to well up, but she had long since learned how to fight them back. Weiss stood and turned her back to the woman. She saw Marrow had crossed the room and was now staring out the window across the parking lot.
Klein gave her a sympathetic look but knew better than to make any reassuring comments. "Come, Willow dear. It's time to go."
Weiss's mother moved obediently at his touch, allowing him to gently guide her into a standing position and lead her to the door, but her gaze never shifted and her expression stayed the same. The two soldiers followed after them.
Weiss waited until they had plenty of time to have traveled and vacated the hallway before catching Marrow's attention so they could finally leave this depressing place.
A/N: Credit to my beta readers: 0neWhoWanders, Bardothren, and I Write Big. They're great writers who are a huge help with making this story as good as it can be.