Chapter 105 – Atlas – Through the Fire
Year 74VE, February
Cover Art by Mi Chumi
One week turned into three, and Rhodes had barely even seen Jacques Schnee. The man simply didn't visit the family wing, instead shuttling between the SDC's Corporate Headquarters and his own personal offices in the opposite side of the massive Schnee compound. From time to time, when he felt the urge, he summoned the two younger children to have a meal with him.
He never invited Willow.
The man was apparently an ass.
But Willow continued to gradually improve. That she was an alcoholic was clear, and Rhodes wasn't prepared, nor trained, to really fix that. His goal had been more limited: to turn her from a self-destructive one into a functional one.
Baby steps.
For Willow's part, she was coming to terms, slowly, with being part of a functioning family again. One that consisted of her and two children.
But not Winter, and that still hurt.
She was also developing a fascination with watching Rhodes evening sparring over the security system.
And then one day, the bastard arrived.
"Where is Willow?" Rhodes heard a dismissive voice say outside the dining room. "I've already checked her parlor." Rhodes looked up from his place near the door to see both children go very still, and Willow's face pale. She turned wide eyes to Rhodes, who had taken to dining at the small table in the corner at Winston's insistence.
"Master Schnee, my apologies. Mistress Schnee is dining with the children," came Winston's voice in the hall.
There was a long silence. "Is this a jest?" Rhodes shifted his chair back, folded his napkin and put it on the table, and moved to stand next to the inside of the doorframe. He held Willow's eyes for a moment, gave a small reassuring nod and a 'downward' gesture with his left hand.
"No, Master Schnee, they-"
. . .
The dining room door abruptly opened, and Jacques Schnee rolled into the room, the ruler of his domain. His narrowed eyes scanned the room as his impressive white mustache twitched. It made it difficult to read his expression. He took in the children, sitting with hands folded in their laps, eyes locked onto him and waiting to hear his instructions.
As they should.
And his useless wife, already sloppily drunk at noon, as was her wont. Pathetic, he scoffed internally, but didn't let it reach his face. Appearances were important, in front of the children.
"Weiss. Whitley. I need to speak with your mother."
"Yes, father," they both intoned, and smoothly exited the room. Weiss managed a quick quizzical glance at her mother, who had only minutes before been alert and animated, but now appeared to be swaying slightly at the table, even with one hand supporting her head and elbow planted on the flat surface.
A presence in the corner of his eye caught Jacques' attention, and he turned to see Rhodes for the first time. He scanned him up and down. "And what manner of servant are you?" Rhodes was dressed in Schnee colors, with only a few accents of his own added. Willow's staff had been very accommodating in assisting him with that.
Rhodes nodded respectfully, keeping his face neutral. "Mister Schnee. I was contracted to provide additional security for your wife after the… recent incident."
Jacque froze for a moment, jaw working, then he frowned. "I don't remember approving that."
"Sir." It was a nice neutral response that said basically, 'you probably didn't', or 'you did', or 'someone else did, what the fuck do I know?'. It was a very useful reply in the face of authoritative assholes.
"Hmph. You are dismissed."
"Sir." Rhodes managed to catch the tiny motion of approval from Willow, behind Jacques' back, nodded to the man, and slid past him through the doorway. Jacques closed the door behind him, but didn't notice when it didn't latch completely.
Jacques turned his attention back to his wife, who could yet serve at least some purpose. "I'm surprised you are mobile enough to dine with the children," he sneered. "Though I can't say that I approve in your state. You set a poor example." He moved over next to her, grasping her jaw, and turning her to face him. "As usual."
"Jacques…"
"Jacques. Jacques. Jacques. I don't want to hear it. Wheedling and whining. What is it this time? More tutors? Do you want a trip to the cabin to 'calm your nerves'? Have you thrown up on the maids again?" He pushed her head away, and she nearly fell, catching herself on the edge of the table. "I. Do. Not. Care." He glared at her. "There is a dinner this evening with the Heulandines. I expect you to be dressed and functional from 7 to 10PM. The car will be waiting at the drive and will depart at 6:30." He grasped her shoulder, painfully. "Do not think to be late." Willow mumbled, and he shook her. "Do not test me! There are still things I can deprive you of."
"Yes." She slurred slightly, eyes watering. Jacques shook his head, and stormed out of the room, stopping only to relay much more detailed instructions to Winston who had been waiting in the hall, and giving Rhodes one last disapproving look.
But then, Jacques seemed the type of man who disapproved of pretty much everything that wasn't immediately providing him lien.
Rhodes waited until Jacques was well out of hearing range and re-entered the dining room.
Willow Schnee was shaking, lips pressed together so hard they had become a thin white line. She was attempting to pour herself a glass of wine, splashing much of it on the table, and refused to meet Rhodes' eyes.
Rhodes carefully took the bottle from her, poured a half glass, and handed it to her.
She drank greedily, finally meeting his gaze with rage-filled eyes, and drained it completely.
Rhodes refilled it.
And again.
He saw Winston at the doorway, shook his head, and the butler disappeared. The children had been sent to their rooms, thankfully.
Rhodes moved beside Willow, gently pulling her upward with one hand, and grabbing the wine bottle with his other. "Come on. Let's get you to your parlor. You've got five hours to get roaring drunk and then sober enough to keep him from getting suspicious."
"That… unmitigated… son of a whore," Willow seethed as she levered herself up.
"There's my Mistress, let's get you somewhere where you can safely express exactly how you feel about things."
She started to wobble a little by the time they made it to the parlor, not surprising since she'd quickly consumed almost half a bottle of wine by then. He could still feel her shaking where he held her arm as he eased her into her loveseat.
"You heard…"
"I eavesdropped. Part of the job, I think." He refilled her glass, yet again, and went to get a second bottle. "Your husband is a dick."
"He is a fiend in human form. He is…" Willow grabbed a pillow from the seat beside her, pressed it to her face, doubled over, and screamed.
And screamed.
And SCREAMED until her voice began to crack, and she nearly threw up with the force of it. She finally pulled back, looked at the wine and spittle staining the expensive white fabric, shook her head, and dropped it to the floor beside her.
Then she put her face in her hands and began to sob.
Oh fuck.
Rhodes was at her side in a moment, repeating what he had done in the back room of the Broken Grimm after she'd been attacked. Just resting an arm across her shoulders and calmly speaking to her. Nothing in particular, just talking. This time, she leaned into him, seeking to draw some strength from his presence.
I'm surprised you were mobile enough to dine with the children
You set a poor example. As usual.
Wheedling and whining.
Have you thrown up on the maids again?
I. Do. Not. Care.
I never loved you.
The words cycled through her, souring the wine in her stomach even as they demanded she drink another glass. And another glass. And another glass.
It was some minutes before she could even speak.
"Worthless," she finally muttered, wiping her face.
"He sure as fuck is…"
Willow turned red eyes and ruined face to Rhodes, mouth gaping. "Wha…?"
"I said, that dude is a worthless piece of shit." He looked at her. "I know that hurt you. I can guess, based on how you're reacting, what's going through your head right now. It's not my job to tell you what to feel, but you know damned well your behavior in the dining room was an act." He shook his head. "Not a thing he said to you in there was true."
"It was, before."
"Maybe some of it, but fuck him anyway. If he'd been half a husband, he would be helping you, not making himself feel like a god by shitting on you." Rhodes refilled her wine glass and handed it to her. "If you need to get drunk right now, I'll sit here with you while you do." Willow grasped the glass with both hands and stared at the rich red liquid. "And if you want to talk while you do it, I'll listen. Think of me as your personal bartender. All I'm missing is the crying rag." He smiled, but his eyes held concern. "Or if you'd rather stay mostly sober, and just talk, we can do that too. Your call."
Willow Schnee had been strong for almost a month. She had been careful and guarded her alcohol intake like a drill sergeant metering out praise.
She proceeded to get blackout drunk.
. . .
She awoke hours later, laid crossways on the loveseat, with a pillow under her head and a throw tucked around her. Rhodes sat in the armchair nearby with a bucket next to him, and she mortified herself by taking it from his proffered hand and emptying her stomach into it. He didn't say a word in criticism. He just offered her a glass of water.
She remembered drinking. Drinking and raging and sobbing some more and then just talking in an emotionally exhausted voice and then… waking up. She couldn't remember most of what she'd said.
Rhodes would have told her that, despite what he'd expected, most of it hadn't been about Jacques. Most of it had been bitter self-loathing. She hated Jacques Schnee. But she apparently hated what she'd become more, both for being so gullible as to fall for his initial false charms, then for allowing her father to hand over the company to him, and then for her weakness in allowing him to destroy her and her relationship with her own children.
"Feel wretch-ed," she mangled the word. Her head still felt fuzzy.
"I can imagine."
"I fear I've ruined any respect you'd gained for me." She took another gulp of water and grimaced as it slid down her abused throat. She glanced at Rhodes, and was surprised to see him shaking his head and laughing softly.
"Nah. You've never seen me and Claude drunk." His expression fell. "There was this one contract… we were supposed to protect a village from a suspected Grimm encroachment." He swallowed. "We got there too late. What we found was…" He quieted for a moment. "So we found the nearest intact town, crawled into a tavern, and stayed there for four days. It was pretty ugly."
"That's… different," Willow blinked, taking another drink of water.
"Different people function at different levels, Willow. I wouldn't expect you to fight Grimm. I expect you to be a head of a household, or a businesswoman, or a mom. It tracks. It's the same effect."
She was still somewhat drunk, and was having a hard time seeing the sense in what he was saying. But he was- "You are… a very…" She inhaled and breathed out through her nose. "…insistent man."
"Comes with being a Huntsman. Most of us have a special kind of arrogance. Sometimes it turns us into assholes. Sometimes it just makes us really charismatic. I like to think I have a certain special charm."
Willow scoffed. "I can well believe it." She felt uncomfortable. "Can you fetch Winston? I need to use the facilities, and I think I'll fall if I try by myself." She gave him a look. "That is not part of your job duties."
He put his hands up defensively. "Fine by me." He stood. "You gonna be okay now?"
"As well as can be expected," she began to pick at her wine-stained clothing.
"Alright. I'll be waiting here, when you're done. We should talk strategy about tonight, and future situations like it."
She nodded, and he knocked on the hallway door, summoning Winston, who escorted her to her chambers, taking the offending bucket with him.
Rhodes poured himself a quarter glass of wine, and drank it while leaning back into his chair with a sigh.
Holy shit. That bastard has really done a number on her.
He spent a good thirty minutes thinking about what he was going to do about that.
And realized with a shock that he fully intended to do something about that.
Willow returned an hour later, having showered and dressed with Winston's assistance, looking amazingly composed as she sat gracefully on the loveseat and accepted another glass of water. She gave the wine glass beside him a long look and crooked a white eyebrow at him. Rhodes looked back at her carefully.
A mask. A front. She's still hurting.
"You handled the dining room well," he offered.
"Did I?"
He hesitated, "I mean the part where you played the drunkard until he was gone." He leaned forward, and gripped her arm gently. "I'm serious. The things you told me before you passed out. It's not a good idea for him to see that you've suddenly sobered up."
"No, it isn't. And I'm shocked we did not get more warning. I shall have to take additional precautions."
"Does he usually give you six hours warning that he expects your company on something like this?"
"Sometimes less," she replied, and Rhodes cursed again. "But regardless, you are correct. I put on a farce so that he would not suspect me of suddenly reforming. It's not in my interest that he suddenly see me as a potentially coherent rival in the household." She chewed her bottom lip, and it was… surprising to see Willow Schnee do something so normal and pensive. "I have not before given thought to where my recovery might lead, but I shall have to be more cautious."
"Alright. Well, keep doing that. But we need some kind of code word, a safe word, so that I can intervene if he goes too far."
"How very… cloak and dagger, Rhodes."
"Blame Reggie. He's been filling my head with this crap."
"I shall have to meet him some day." Rhodes felt a flash of both joy and wariness. Like Garek had said, he wanted to build ties. But Reggie was… a retired Atlas Specialist. Mature. Tough. Charismatic in a quiet way.
What the fuck are you thinking, Rhodes?
He shook his head. "Right. Yeah. In the meantime, that safe phrase."
"My drink is bitter. I need fresh glass," she gave him a careful look.
"Ooooo that's a good one."
"It appears I'm an apt pupil."
Rhodes snorted. "Which leads us to the other issue. This dinner. I have to be there.
"Jacques will not be pleased."
"Screw him. You hired me. Tell him it's because his SDC goons are useless little bitches."
"Rhodes…"
"Well they were. You should never have been able to make it out of that banquet hall. They should have had two men at every exit. And that staffer you mentioned. I don't think that was an accident, Willow."
Her blood went cold. "You believe they have… infiltrators?"
"It's possible. I need to be there. This isn't negotiable. If you need to throw a drunken screaming fit come 6:30, do it."
Willow gave a smile that held zero humor. "Oh… I would look forward to that." Her face fell… "Unless Jacques-"
"He won't lay a hand on you. I swear it."
Willow blinked.
And believed him. "Very well." Rhodes saw her draw up slightly, seeming a little more confident.
"And we have one more thing to discuss, and it's important too. You'll have to talk to the kids about what just happened. Weiss is what, twelve?"
"Physically, almost. Mentally she is at least three years more mature and observant than she has a right to be." Willow smiled. "My father once said I was similarly troublesome." Rhodes grinned. "Ah, you do put your thumb on it. She will have surmised what I did, and is likely making assumptions regarding why."
"Yeah. You need to make sure they don't say anything to Jacques that would cause suspicion."
She sighed. "That will be difficult. Weiss will likely understand. But Whitley is young, and he adores his father."
"I think he's growing to adore you more, Willow. He adored Jacques because…"
"Because I was absent…" The pain broke through again for a few moments, and her eyes grew glassy. She inhaled and exhaled tremulously. "I am unsure that I can-"
"I've told you before, you can do this. I'll help you." He glanced away. "For selfish reasons of course. If you and the kids are working together, it makes my job easier."
Willow sat for a few minutes, observing her newfound minder, and considered the final missing piece of the puzzle of her life.
"Very well, then. I will speak with Weiss." She hesitated, "Rhodes, I would like your advice on a related matter."
"Shoot."
"Yes. It is my… my relationship with my eldest… is rather poor. I suspect at its core, it was my inability to support her after…" She shook her head. "For the last two years. I don't know how to… reopen communications. I have tried to speak with her now, twice, in the past month, but each time it seems to devolve into silence and subtle insults."
"Ah. Yeah, that's difficult. I'm really not the best guy for dealing with kids like that. But I know someone who is." He grinned. There was some amusing story there, she would wager.
Willow found she liked his rakish grin, but the idea of bringing another person into her confidences made her wary. "Oh?"
"Selene. She has a way of getting into your head and just… I dunno how she does it. Really, she's the one that shoved me out of the box about Cinder. She's a miracle worker." He rubbed his hands together.
"Hmm… and she can be… discrete?"
He laughed. "Makes me look like a shameless gossip."
She considered this for a long moment. She should be able to discuss the matter in general terms, without providing detail that could be used against them. It was already common knowledge that Winter was not on good terms with the family. "Very well. Do you mind calling her?"
"Sure. How about now?" Willow nodded, and he moved over to sit beside her on the loveseat. His presence there felt reassuring.
When the woman picked up, she was clearly glad to hear from her friend. "Rhodes! How does your new job proceed?" Willow could see her on the screen, though she herself was outside camera angle. The woman had light auburn hair, fair skin, and bright blue eyes.
And a very kind face.
"Funny you should ask that, Selene. I've got the boss right here, and she wanted to ask your advice on handling an interpersonal matter."
"Oh?" The other woman's face projected a sort of happy eagerness. "Well, I am happy to help." He turned the scroll so the two could see each other fully.
"Miss Selene?"
"Ah, Mrs. Schnee, I presume? It is a pleasure to meet you. I hope you are well?"
"I am, thanks in large part to Rhodes' intervention."
"Yes, he's been known to always come through when things are dire." She gave a crooked smile, and raised an eyebrow. "After he's fought doing so for as long as possible."
"Selene!"
"My apologies, Rhodes, Garek's sense of humor is wearing off on me." She gave a wicked smile. "And my apologies to you as well, Mrs. Schnee. You have something you desired my advice regarding?" Willow filled her in briefly. "Ahhh yes, I have experienced that issue several times now. It's actually somewhat straightforward, I would wager."
Willow felt both insulted and hopeful. "How?! I've tried to speak with her-"
"And that is likely the issue. You have tried to speak with her. Explain yourself, correct? I would guess that she does not wish to hear your explanations."
Willow felt her stomach sink. "Oh…"
"Mhm. What is required is to not speak, but to listen. Call her, and inquire about her. Ask her how she has been, what she is doing, what she wishes to do."
Willow found herself doubting. "And if she won't answer those questions?"
"Then ask the questions a different way. Start with general, then switch to specific, then back to general. You are attempting to draw her out, to show you care. And then, you should go to her, to visit with her in person. Do not expect her to come to you. If you must, apologize. It matters little what you apologize for, often. Again, it shows that you care. You are the mother." Selene smiled gently, remembering past conversations with her own mother. "It will be up to you to mend this."
"I… I see. Yes, when you put it that way, it does seem simple. But I couldn't see it. Thank you, Selene, you have been helpful."
"My pleasure. And please, call me any time. Especially if you require a break from this one's goading." Rhodes growled even as Willow laughed.
After the call ended, Willow sat with the scroll in her hands, staring into space.
"Gonna call her?"
"What, now? I haven't prepared."
"I think Selene just told you, there's nothing to prepare. You don't have to think about what you're gonna say, because you're gonna be listening, not talking so much."
"Oh… yes…" she shook herself. "I need a drink." He gave her a baleful look. "Ah, after. After."
Winter Schnee answered on the fifth ring. She was sitting at a desk and wearing a smartly appointed Atlas military uniform. She looked collected and businesslike.
"Mother." She said, flatly.
"Hello Winter. How are you?"
There was a pause, as Winter took in her mother's face, and found it neither flushed nor logy. "Adequate. And you?"
Damn, cold response, thought Rhodes.
Willow considered this for a moment. "Sober…" she swallowed. "…and repentant."
Winter's jaw worked for a few moments. It was clear she was shocked. "That is… an improvement."
"Yes. You have joined the Specialists formally? That is their uniform?"
Her daughter's eyes went sharp, wary. "Yes," was her curt reply.
Willow took a deep breath. "Excellent. I am proud of you. Will you tell me about it?"
If before Winter had been shocked, now she was gobsmacked. "Why?" she said softly.
The fact that she had to ask that question hurt. "Because I care. Because I wish to know. I have… not been supportive. I wish to correct this."
"Father-"
"Doesn't matter here. Are you happy?"
Winter sucked in a deep breath, answered on the exhale. "Yes. Yes, I am."
"Good. I am… attempting to correct my mistakes. May I come visit you? Perhaps for a lunch?"
Winter regarded her mother for several long seconds. "I'm very busy, mother."
"I understand. I will work within your schedule."
Winter was still for over a minute before she finally responded. "You're making it… difficult to say no to you."
"Then don't do so. Say yes, and I will ensure you have no regrets."
The moment held, and Rhodes found he wasn't breathing either. Finally Winter answered. "Very well. Lunch on Thursday? I will send you the location."
"I will have my private security detail there. One additional person to stay with me, if they require a reservation. He will sit at a separate table."
"Yes. Of course. I'll see you then, mother."
The call ended, and Willow looked at Rhodes, wide-eyed and smiling. He thought he'd never seen her so vibrant. "Was it this easy?"
"Apparently so," he said. But in his head, all he could think of was how beautiful Willow Schnee was when she was truly happy.
When six-thirty rolled around, Rhodes found himself wearing a formal uniform that was similar to, but not quite the same as, the standard dress uniform that SDC Security wore. White fitted-trousers, white fitted overshirt that had a broad black bar down the front and back, with a white collar featuring black bars at the front, buttoned high across the neck. There was a sort of utility belt-looking area built-in that buckled across the waist.
The primary difference was that instead of the SDC stylized Snowflake, they had copied his BAST Security logo on the shoulders, a black arrow, broken into a V-shape, on a white background. They'd also incorporated a back harness for his twin maces across the back. He opted to use his own belt and sheath for his sword.
As he admired his reflection in the mirror, he couldn't help but smile. "I make this damn thing look good." Reggie would have wept to see him looking so sharp. And then cursed him for knowing it.
Willow, on the other hand, looked beaten down. Oh the dress, a lovely pattern of white and black with pale blue accents, looked incredible on her, and her makeup and hair were immaculate. But her spirit was clearly broken, and she was wobbling slightly as she stood in the doorway of the mansion.
She made sure that Jacques had gotten a good look at her, and he gave her a glare that would have quailed half the Atlas Council.
At Rhodes' side, she grasped him momentarily for support, and then slowly drew herself up, apparently marshalling all of her energies and putting them into walking the remaining distance with poise, grace, and cold propriety. Jacques' glare decreased to a low simmer, and he grunted as she entered the limo next to him. And then scowled when she beckoned Rhodes join them.
"He is not required for this evening."
"I require his protection," Willow said carefully enunciating each word.
"We have SDC Detachments for that."
Willow paled, and began to hyperventilate. "No… no… the Banquet…"
Jacques glare returned, and he reached out, and Rhodes caught his eye. Witnesses. "That was… an unfortunate oversight. It won't happen again."
"I cannot… I cannot…" Willow began making loud swallowing noises. "I…"
Rhodes gave Jacques a questioning look, and the man actually growled at them both. "Fine. This once. But you will cease this childish yammering." He sat back and turned away from them both, muttering as he glared out the window.
Rhodes only caught the tiniest hint of one side of willows mouth upturned before Willow curled around herself, making soft sounds as if trying to self-comfort. He entered the limousine, seated himself at the far end, and stared out the opposite window from Jacques.
Fucking. Asshole.
When the convoy arrived at the restaurant, it was a scene of appropriate chaos. Atlas Police had the street blocked off on either end, and the limo, flanked by three SDC armored vehicles, roared in, halting in the street before the business. SDC personnel, most in full armor but a handful in formal dress uniform similar to Rhodes', fanned out into the street and restaurant.
Only then did the Schnees exit, Jacques with Willow carefully on his arm. The perfect trophy for the ultimate financial giant of Atlas. Rhodes walked stone-faced, following behind with adrenaline roaring.
This was his actual job. And he realized he'd missed it. Escort detail. Guard contracts. Extractions. Grimm Hunts. Geez, am I going soft?
They were greeted with exaggerated deference and whisked away to a private dining room where the Schnees, the Heulandines, and apparently a third influential family were seated. Rhodes quickly realized he was welcome to do whatever it was that private security did, after being warned by the Matre'd not to interfere with the servers or staff. He looked around, and caught several SDC fucks in a similar situation. Three of them sneered at him. A fourth gave him a shrug after eyeballing the weapons across his back. They found spots where they felt they could see the room without interfering.
I should have eaten beforehand, Rhodes thought glumly. This is gonna suck.
The first half of the dinner was boring. The couples made polite talk. Willow walked the line they'd agreed on regarding her sobriety. That is to say, she was relatively sober pretending to be relatively drunk pretending to be relatively sober. She replied when asked, but avoided conversation. Jacques seemed to feel it was as much as could be expected. Adequate. Servers came and went, bearing dishes and drinks, refilling glasses, and removing plates.
Rhodes' stomach bitched at him. He saw one of the SDC men grab an offered tidbit from a tray, then a second followed suit, and he frowned.
Garek would kick his ass if he did something like that. And he knew damn well why too. He was offered one as well, and was tempted to take one anyway. Gods he was starving.
"Waiter, my drink is bitter. I would like a fresh glass," Came a familiar voice from a few feet in front of him. The waiter only blinked once, then immediately whisked away the glass, and left to fetch her a clean one.
Rhodes felt his blood go cold. There had been nothing. Not one thing to hint that Jacques was being an asshole or abusive. Everyone had been very polite.
"Excuse me, I must visit the washroom," Willow said to her husband, enunciating carefully.
"Of course, dear." Jacques said, with a touch too much syrup in his tone. But his eyes were hard. He fully expected her to have a hidden flask of vodka on her, and to come staggering back to the table.
Rhodes immediately stepped forward, and held her chair back as she rose, and offered his arm, escorting her from the room and asking for directions to said washroom.
Her arm was shaking against his.
"That server…" she whispered urgently as they walked, not looking at Rhodes, "the one with the gray eyes who was offering the hors d'oeuvres. He was at the Banquet Hall." She shuddered.
"He was the one outside the bathroom?"
She nodded slightly, and he felt himself grow angry, then worried. That guy had specifically been serving tidbits to the SDC Security Detail.
Holy fuck.
Rhodes sped up slightly, reaching the washroom and noting that it locked from the inside. "Get in there. Lock the door behind you and stay back from the door. Don't come out until I come get you. Understood?"
Willow nodded, pale with fear, but trusting him completely. "I will do as you say."
He turned and headed back to the private dining room, staring straight ahead, but trying to take in as many people with his peripheral vision as he could. He saw one of the SDC men from the dining room hurrying toward the men's bathroom.
He wished he'd had a hand in setting up security for this. Hell, he wished he'd known about the gods-be-damned thing more than seven hours ago. He made it back to find the private dining room down not one but two SDC guards. The remaining one, one of the ones who'd sneered at him, was frowning. He sidled over to the man and leaned in.
"Staff's infiltrated. Food was laced. Got a panic protocol?" Garek said with a smile, and leaned back like they were just chatting. "I should have had some of what that guy was offering," he said more loudly. "I'm starving." That got him an angry glance from Jacques.
To his credit, the guard didn't react, eyes carefully forward. He laughed and said clearly. "Not my problem." He grunted. "I gotta hit the head, stomach's doing a number. Keep an eye on things here?"
"No problem. Take your time."
Rhodes saw the guard's hand reach up and tap the side of his helmet as he made it to the door.
Three seconds later, all hell broke loose. Someone in the restaurant yelled "Snowstorm! Snowstorm!" and there were the sounds of gunfire and small explosions in the street. That was followed by additional gunfire and booms from somewhere further away behind the restaurant.
The nobs at the table froze, except for Jacques who looked both angry and worried, and immediately took in the fact that Rhodes was the only man in the room he knew for a fact was security, and bolted to stand next to him. "What is the meaning of this?"
"Your wife recognized one of the servers and alerted me, Mr. Schnee. Stay close."
Gunfire erupted into the next room, and armored SDC guards poured into the dining room. "CLEAR!" One yelled. "PRIMARY SECURED!"
Rhodes bolted toward the exit of the hall, and two SDC guards made to stop him. "I'm tasked with protecting Mrs. Schnee. Move the fuck out of the way!" They jerked back, and he found the main room was now a wreck. Three bodies lay on the floor among destroyed furniture, riddled with bullets. An SDC medic was tending to two guards who had suffered minor wounds, and a third guard, one of the formally dressed ones, was throwing up into a trash can. They glanced up as Rhodes ran toward the washrooms.
He knocked twice on the door, then once, then twice again. "Willow, it's Rhodes."
A quiet voice spoke from the other side. "Rhodes?"
"It's clear, Mrs. Schnee. You can come out. Though there are bodies out here. You might want to wait a bit."
The door unlocked, and cracked open. Willow stood, looking pale. "I will… perhaps you could guide me? It was terrifying in there. The gunfire and screams."
Too much like that situation last month.
"Sorry, come on, let's get you out of here."
The SDC mooks were covering up the bodies now, probably to spare the gentle sensibilities of the rest of Jacques' guests, and he was pleased to see the guards were evacuating them quickly from the dining room as well. Four more in full armor took places around him and Willow as he guided her out, her eyes closed.
She only opened them when they were safely in the limousine, to find Jacques looking pissed and nervous as the convoy roared off. Neither man said a word as Willow opened the cabinet next to her seat and extracted a bottle of wine. Rhodes opened it, and she began drinking directly from the bottle, shaking the entire time.
Fucking SDC Security.
0 0 0
The fallout was pretty spectacular.
For one thing, it turned out that the third family in the dining room had been the owners of the restaurant, and they had personally vouched for the staff, and were completely disgraced now. From that standpoint, it wasn't directly the SDC mooks fault. They'd been told the staff were vetted.
It was still their fault. Garek would have fucking agreed.
And Rhodes had almost fucked up. He wouldn't ever again.
A side effect, however, was that Jacques stopped giving him glares after that, not that they saw each other more than once or twice. He'd generally get a nod of acknowledgement, and that was about it. Apparently the SDC Guard Rhodes had alerted, a certain, Lieutenant Daneel, had made it clear to Jacques that without Rhodes' warning, things might have gone much worse. The terrorists apparently had a set of cars ready to pull up at the rear of the restaurant and fully intended to make off with one or more of the guests that way. It was Willow's recognition, and Rhodes' warning, that had set off a hornet's nest and halted the vehicles before they could reach the restaurant.
But only just.
Rhodes hadn't even gotten to bust any heads. All the terrorists were dead by the end of the fight, either by SDC bullets or their own hands.
Pity that.
Willow lost the next full day to alcohol. Rhodes couldn't blame her much. Too many shocks too close together and too soon after she'd found sobriety. Winston had explained matters to Weiss and Whitley, and they had proven remarkably understanding.
. . .
By Wednesday, Rhodes was actively working on Willow, trying to recover lost ground in preparation for her lunch with Winter. This was important. He knew it was important to Willow. He pushed her, and she verbally cursed him for it, which shocked him a little. But she did what he instructed, and that was important too.
So it was that a relatively sober and jittery Willow met her oldest daughter for lunch on Thursday. Rhodes walked behind, again doing his actual job, scanning the crowd for threats. A full SDC security detail was posted a discrete distance away, and for the first time they answered to him as having first responsibility for Willow's safety. He even had one of those fancy earpieces and knew three separate panic codes.
But it would be his job to throw himself on top of Willow if anything happened.
That… sounds different in my head when I say it like that.
Winter stood in full Atlas dress uniform when her mother arrived, and was again shocked when Willow stepped into her, and gave her eldest a brief hug.
"Mother?"
Willow laughed, feeling a little of the tension drain away. "Yes, I am indeed your mother. Despite not being blackout drunk and barely coherent." She looked sad for a moment. "Though I admit I did have a drink on the way here, to steady my nerves."
"Yes… I… could smell it on your breath. But you… I've not seen you so alive. What has happened?"
"Ah, well, I was almost abducted and murdered by terrorists, twice, and Huntsman Rhodes," she nodded toward him, "has been kind enough to intervene. He has been… minding my well-being since."
Winter's mouth dropped open. It seemed uncharacteristic for her, and she closed it with a snap. Her blue eyes flicked back and forth between Willow and Rhodes. "I had not been told."
"It has been… kept quiet."
Several emotions washed across the young adult's face. Finally she turned to regard Rhodes, "And so, you are my mother's… minder?"
"Private Security Professional. Glorified bodyguard, Specialist Winter." The inclusion of her title made her smile briefly. "I think you may know my boss's former CO. Goes by callsign Charlie now?"
Winter gasped and steadied herself on the edge of the table. "You know Charlie?"
"Only by reputation. My boss, Reggie, says he's a hell of a leader."
"I wouldn't put it that way, but yes. He's exceptional. Your superior was a Specialist then?"
"Yah. Not my story to tell. Charlie knows, might ask him."
"I may." She paused. "Thank you for your service to my mother. I can see it has benefited her."
He tipped an imaginary hat. "I'll be sitting over here if either of you need anything." He moved to a table a bit away and sat, letting eyes roam over the café, and watched the two order, and then talk.
He ordered and ate, and the hour and a half ticked past. Finally Winter stood, and Willow followed. He watched the two embrace with actual warmth.
Good. That's good.
Winter nodded to him, and left to return to her duties.
Willow practically glowed. The whole drive back, she kept her arms wrapped around herself with a soft smile on her face. She almost forgot to request a drink.
Almost.
When they reached the Manor, he escorted her to her suite, and she had forgotten herself so much that before they parted, she leaned in and embraced Rhodes as well, murmuring her thanks, and held on much longer than intended.
She gave a small gasp, then pulled back, red-faced. "My apologies Rhodes, I forgot myself in my relief. You have helped me rebuild my relationship with all three of my children. I am… beside myself."
"It's fine…"
She apologized again and escaped to her rooms.
Rhodes, having nothing else to do for the moment, retreated to his own, still wondering what the hell had just happened. Willow had been… soft and warm and lithe and smelled faintly of evergreen and vanilla and alcohol… and…
Oh fuck.
Things did not get easier over the next few weeks. If anything, he felt they became more complicated. Every time they bumped into one another, or accidentally locked eyes, he felt a surge. She became beautiful… desirable, to him. And he wasn't supposed to be doing that. Reggie would kill him for fraternizing with a client. Garek would yell at him for risking alienating Jacques. Selene would laugh at him. Or maybe he had all those mixed up?
Then there came an evening when he'd tried to shift past Willow while leaving the dining room, and had brushed against her on the way past. She'd gasped quietly, but not said anything. And he'd rushed off to his room, changed, and went to the sparring arena early, hoping to burn off some of the resulting… tension.
With no one watching, he stripped down shirtless, and beat the living hell out of some sparring automatons, then returned to his room, strewn off the rest of his sweaty clothing, and stalked into the shower, returning minutes later, clean, dry, naked, and still frustrated.
Rhodes proceeded to flop down onto the overly soft bed, and deal with the problem at hand. And since he was alone, he felt safe naming the cause of his frustrations.
Willow Schnee, currently a mostly sober forty-year-old scorned wife, had in the past two months rediscovered joy. She had felt oppressive pain and regret slowly fall from her mind like scales from her eyes, piece by piece, and she had worked hard at this.
Of course, she also realized that she'd not done this alone. First there had been a broad back, sheltering her and taking blows from those who would have taken her life. Then later, a hand, ever gentle, at her elbow. Not pushing, not pulling, but guiding her ever so subtly back to her children.
Now, Willow Schnee had rediscovered desire.
There was a man on the screen of her scroll. A man that she had come to see as attractive, despite his coarse nature and lifestyle. A man whose station was clearly below hers.
A man who was moaning her name.
Her name.
Her husband had declared two years ago that he had never loved her.
Her husband had not touched her with even feigned desire in ten years. Not since Whitley had been born, the male heir that he had required, she realized.
This man, a hallway away, desired her, broken and used thing that he had found. He was not faking his feelings for anyone's benefit. He did not know he could be seen. She had never intruded on his privacy before. The cameras had been installed for her protection. To capture evidence perhaps of one of Jacques' business associates plotting activities that she might use as a last resort to protect herself if Jacques tried to divorce her, tried to leave her destitute.
But Willow had watched Rhodes sparring shirtless in the Arena, and when he had returned, sweaty and half clothed, from there to his room, she had yielded to curiosity, which had given way to a warmth that pooled deep in her belly, then to outright desire of her own.
For the first time in two years, Willow Schnee felt wanted, and as she lay on her bed, she also gave in to that feeling. And when a man's name passed her lips in a gasp, it was not her husband's name.
The next morning, Willow Schnee awoke early. She dressed a little more casually, yet perhaps a touch more provocatively, showing a bit more leg, the neckline sweeping modestly low to draw attention, rather than hugging her neck. She considered her hair, and left it in a loose ponytail. She frowned at her wedding ring… and left it on. It would not do for Jacques to arrive unexpectedly, however unlikely, and notice it missing. And that bastard would notice.
She spent some time, sitting in front of the fireplace, thinking about all that had occurred recently, and what she was considering occurring. She weighed risks and rewards. She thought about her father's company. Not Jacques' but her father's. She thought about her children. And she thought about herself, selfish though that might have been.
She purposed to not drink.
She tried and failed. But she tried, regardless. She wanted to be sober. She began to see that. Alcohol was no longer a refuge, but a demand. She didn't want that soft filter against her current world. She needed sharp focus.
Willow Schnee had awoken, and discovered that she wanted things again, and that she was a Schnee, and a Schnee was stubborn and devious, and she would have them.
When she exited her bedchambers into her parlor an hour earlier than usual, Winston started in surprise. She saw his eyes take in her appearance, and the expression on her face.
A slow smile crept across his features, and he gave her a light nod. "Mistress Schnee."
"I would like a drink. Something light. I would prefer to have my wits minimally compromised, Winston."
"Of course, Mistress."
. . .
The entire day, Rhodes felt personally attacked.
Willow was dressed in a way that accented her figure. She acted like a woman on the prowl. And she kept brushing up against him in ways that could be written off as accidental. Moving in ways that lit his veins on fire.
She brushed against him far too frequently for it to be accidental.
She had to be doing this on purpose. Had to.
The only break, really, had come when they'd come upon Whitley and Weiss having a discussion. It had been about Winter, sort of.
"It's not fair," Weiss said, as Willow and Rhodes had turned the corner of the hallway. Weiss gasped when she saw who it was.
"What's not fair, Weiss?"
"Nothing, mother."
"Weiss is mad because she has to be heir, and Winter gets to do what she wants."
"Oh… that is… you're right. That isn't fair. But we can't force Winter nor your father to change what has been done."
"I could become a Huntress," Weiss pouted. "I would excel; I am sure."
"I'm sure you would."
"But then I'd have to be heir, Weiss! I don't know how!"
Willow was watching them with an expression that was both sad and bemused. Rhodes dared to step in. "You kids aren't thinking right about this. Who says you have to pick? Who says he gets to force any of you?"
That stopped all three of them, they were suddenly looking at him.
It was Weiss that spoke first. "What… what do you mean?"
"Well, if I'm not wrong, it's your dad that's all focused on picking one of you as heir. Seems to me like he needs you more than you need him. What if you all just… shared the load? Huntsmen work as teams," Well, smart ones do. "So that they can watch each other's backs, and specialize, and make sure things work smoothly. Who says you can't do that, too? Pick any one of you as heir, and bring the rest on board then, or just tell him it's an all or nothing package." The three Schnee's stared at each other for a few moments before turning back to Rhodes. "Did I say something stupid?"
"No…" Willow breathed. "No that was… remarkable. Jacques will despise it." Her face said that this was an added benefit. She looked at her two younger children. "What do you think?"
Whitley was nodding happily, though frankly at ten, he probably didn't fully understand what was being proposed. He just knew that this meant he wouldn't be stuck alone doing something that he didn't understand, that made his father absent for weeks at a time.
Weiss's eleven-year-old brain, which was functionally working at age sixteen or higher, was grinding away in seventh gear. Suddenly she gave a single curt nod. "Yes. That makes sense," she tapped a cheek. "I'll message Winter." Willow's eyes widened, then narrowed and her face took on an even more predatory expression.
"Children, believe we should avoid discussing this with your father, at least for now. This is our plan, and our secret. Let him designate whomsoever he wishes as his supposed heir. We will decide how to implement that. Are we agreed?" Rhodes was surprised at how quickly Willow had settled the matter.
. . .
The reprieve from Willow's prior behavior that morning was short-lived.
Rhodes had just made it to his room, intending to change into loose clothing for another punishing bout of sparring, or perhaps some other type of relief, when Winston knocked on this door. "Master Rhodes, Mistress Schnee wishes you to join her in her parlor immediately." He coughed. "My apologies for the abruptness."
Rhodes groaned, but complied.
When he entered her parlor, Winter was lounging on the sofa wearing a lavender-gray blouse and a knit skirt that reached just below the knee. Her feet were bare, a set of slippers next to her. The blouse's top two buttons were undone, showing an expanse of soft, pale flesh. Her hair was still gathered back loosely. She had a glass of wine in one hand, and beckoned him to sit next to her with the other.
She was… radiant? Glowing? Yeah. Those words worked. Also…. Attractive? Sultry? He swallowed and sat down. She looked at him through her eyelashes, but he could see her hand was trembling.
"Rhodes…" He nodded. "I have told you that I owe you a debt. One that cannot be repaid with money."
Rhodes swallowed. He wasn't an idiot. He was no naif. Everything about this moment told him that he was about to be propositioned. Usually he was the pursuer. He recognized now what it felt to be the pursued. It was arousing and terrifying all at once. "You don't have to…"
"Do you desire me?" she interrupted. "If I offered myself to you, right now, would you take what I offered?"
"I do. That… doesn't make it a good idea, Willow…" he protested weakly.
"I'm afraid I'm out of good ideas," she leaned forward, searching his eyes, then leaned back. He cursed himself quietly. "I… am working off an assumption, that you do not need my employ, Rhodes. That you are able, and willing, to tell me no without fear." She glanced at her glass, and took a sip of wine. "If my advance is unwelcome, you can say no. You've done so much for me, I wouldn't be so cruel."
Rhodes shook his head in denial. "No. It's not that. I'm not afraid of you." He gave a rakish grin. "Though maybe I should be…" She gave him a sultry look that broke some of his false attempt at being cavalier. "Gods… I'm just… you're married and my situation is… complicated."
"I think we both know our situations."
"No, mine is more complicated than you know." How to explain this without giving something away. "My friends, Garek and Selene. We're involved in… something dangerous. Nothing illegal!" he added quickly when she frowned. "There's a terrorist group that we're trying to outmaneuver. That's all. And if you and I were… involved, I'm afraid it would drag you and your family into it."
Willow watched him carefully for a moment, took another sip of wine in contemplation, and set it on the table. "Rhodes, I appreciate your candor. But I am Willow Schnee. My children are Schnees. My husband is one of the most hated men on three continents, including by me. I believe we are already inured to such threats. And your honesty… makes me more sure than before of what I desire." She tilted her head. "Which leaves the risk to you. Do you fear my husband? You have managed to bind together myself and my children into a unified front. I do not fear him. Not any longer. I have taken steps…" She halted.
"What?"
"Since we are being honest, I have a confession to make." She tossed her head, moving bangs out of her eyes. She looked younger, determined and fragile at the same time. "Before alcohol blurred my senses, after I learned the monster that he is, I took steps to protect myself, my children. I placed cameras throughout the manor, to document his abusive nature, and to capture any illicit business dealings, as leverage should he seek to put me or them away." She glanced down momentarily, then back up. "I let my curiosity get the better of me, and saw and heard you after your… spar." She leaned forward, blue eyes darkening with desire. "I am past shame, though I will apologize if you ask me to."
Screw it, Rhodes thought, and leaned in.
The kiss started off soft and warm, and blew right past passionate and buried itself up to the fletching somewhere around scorching. Ten years of forced celibacy and most of a day in anticipation had left its mark on her, and she seemed determined to impress upon him exactly that.
Who dragged who to Willow's bedroom is likely up for interpretation, and subject to disciplinary review.
[A/N] Thanks as always to my regular reviewers AtomicR4y, Rookie80, and Shadowstorm-Vash!
And so we have another Schneebling Chapter, focusing heavily on Willow Schnee's gradually improving mental state and the realization that something she wants is... well right there in front of her for the taking. There is a bit of an age gap here. Willow is about 40 at this point, and Rhodes is 30, so not a huge age difference, but I'm not sure she's exactly thought things through that far anyway. Besides, get bent, Jacques, Willow Schnee is waking up, and is discovering that there are many things she wants out of life. And screwing over Jacques is merely one of them.
Regarding last chapter's comments:
AtomicR4y: Yep. Nora has big ideas. Sometimes they aren't good ideas. And yes, very much a sibling moment.
Rookie80: Thankfully, Qrow has his own character arc coming up in about (checks notes) 20 chapters, lol. And remember, he's always just a Raven away! And you are correct, there's some obvious ways to get Jaune and Pyrrha to Menagerie (assuming that happens!) but Weiss is a bit of a head-scratcher. Let it be known that I have sketched out at least one possibility.