Qrow opened his eyes with the distinct realization he didn't know how long he'd had them closed for.
A hot poker dug into the space between his eyes. It wasn't a novel sensation. He'd had migraines just as bad before, if not worse – except this time, his breath didn't smell of booze, and he wasn't lying on the floor of some hotel, inn, or injudicious partner's bedroom, but rather on cold hard stone. The lights were dim, the air musty.
Slowly, he put the pieces back together.
Haven. Tunnels. Fall. Sustrai. Bad. They were going to get away.
Grunting, Qrow pushed himself into a sitting position.
Or he tried to. Instead, his right arm came up and smacked him in the face. He flinched and lowered his arm, but his left leg rose off the ground and hovered there awkwardly. In trying to turn to the left, he promptly teetered in the opposite direction and fell on his face.
What in the actual hell.
Making a concerted effort to not move another inch of his body, Qrow focused on what was right in front of him. After blinking a few times, he saw another figure lying not far from him. They had their back to him, but the broad shoulders were hint enough.
"Clover," he whispered. Oh good, at least he could speak without biting his tongue off. "Clover. Hey!"
There was no reply, nor any sign of movement.
"Branwen?" another voice called out instead, a moment later.
"Winter!" Qrow instinctively went to move his head. Luckily, that only had the effect of rolling him onto his back. "You good? What's going on?"
"All pertinent questions." She grunted somewhere behind him. "Can you come to me?"
"I would, but it would seem that my wires are a little bit crossed right now." Qrow breathed out evenly. "Courtesy of our least favorite runaway, I think."
"That is not ideal. Keep talking. I'll come to you."
Qrow looked at Clover from the corner of his eyes. "Your fellow tin soldier doesn't seem to be doing too hot."
"Ebi? What happened to him?"
"Another pertinent question."
Winter appeared next to Qrow. She tripped on his shoulder, bracing herself at the last second and settling on her knees beside him.
"Why are your eyes closed?" Qrow asked.
"If I open them, I will experience what I imagine a psychedelic trip to be like," she replied tersely. "I would rather spare myself the repeat experience."
"She screwed with your vision?"
Winter sighed. "If you must phrase it so vulgarly, yes."
She opened her eyes slightly.
"The effects seem to be wearing off, at least," Winter said. "Do you need immediate assistance?"
"I'm gonna not risk it and keep still for a couple more minutes. Check on Clover."
Winter shuffled off. A moment later, he heard her yelp and swear under her breath.
"What was that?" Qrow asked.
"Static shock when I touched his neck," Winter said. "He has a pulse and is breathing steadily, but he's unresponsive, and his temperature is running hot."
Qrow felt a buzz on his thigh. "Reach into my pocket."
"Branwen, this is hardly the time for-"
"For my Scroll! Just do it."
Winter returned to his side, and with a grimace on her face, dug the buzzing device out of his pants. She looked at the screen and frowned, her disquiet only growing as she pointed the Scroll at Clover.
"Why is he giving off readings equal to a small Dust engine?"
"The two of us are full of pertinent questions today, aren't we," Qrow muttered. "I thought you'd know the answer to that one."
Winter put down the Scroll next to him, confusion and consternation warring on her face. A moment later, the Atlesian professionalism kicked in, and she rose to her feet.
"He's stable for the moment, but we should not count on that for long. I suggest we leave at once and get him medical attention."
Qrow felt a twitch on his leg. Carefully, he pushed himself up. His arms obeyed him, and he managed to get himself sitting. "Fall and Sustrai?" he asked, rubbing his temples.
"Long gone, Director."
He blinked. "Black. He's-"
"Right here, birdbrain."
Qrow jumped to his feet, just as Winter conjured a glyph in front of them both.
Black sat with his back against a wall, handcuffs still on. He was trying to put on a tough face, but even in the near darkness, Qrow could tell how pasty he looked.
"Didn't get a chance to run, did you?" Qrow sneered. "Your partner in crime got you just as bad as she did us. That must sting."
Black shrugged. "Fair's fair. And hey, it wasn't all that bad."
His lips parted in a shit-eating grin as his eyes lowered from Qrow's face. Qrow followed his gaze and jumped back, cursing as he realized he'd been standing on a puddle of vomit for the last minute.
"Let's see how long you keep up the funny act." Qrow turned towards Winter and nodded in Black's direction. "Don't take your eyes off him."
Shaking his foot, Qrow walked in the direction Fall had been running towards, or what he thought was that direction. Turned around as he was, he wasn't sure of much right now.
He found the remains of Clover's Dust pistol on the ground. Pain that hadn't been there a moment before suddenly thrummed to life, enveloping his right hand, as if triggered by memory. He bunched his fingers into a fist and knelt down next to the sizzling ruins.
He had shot to kill. He had no illusions about it. No shame about it, either, even if a part of him wished he had. Luck had stepped in at the last moment. The work of Clover's Semblance, saving a life, even of someone who didn't deserve it? Or had it been Qrow's own, sabotaging him catastrophically as it so often did?
Whichever force was responsible, the outcome was the same. In hindsight, better than what he had intended. Cinder Fall would be dead by the end of the day. The only difference was that now, she would die slower.
Maybe things had worked out just the way they needed to.
Brushing the destroyed pistol aside, Qrow stood up and looked farther down the tunnel. He smelt burned flesh, and the blood was hard to miss.
He turned back the other way.
When he returned, he found Black hadn't moved an inch. He looked livelier, and that only made Qrow more suspicious of him for not having tried to escape yet. Maybe he was just clever enough after all to know how that would work out for him. Still, Qrow kept an eye on him just in case.
Clover was sitting up now, with Winter crouched before him, checking up on him. Qrow walked around the two to get a look at Clover's face. He seemed awfully aware of his surroundings for someone who had been out cold a minute earlier.
"Director," Clover said, looking up at him as Winter moved a finger in front of his eyes. Qrow wasn't close enough to see, but his reflexes seemed fine to him. "Sorry. Qrow. Sustrai sure did a number on us, didn't she?"
"She did a number on you," Qrow said. "Her, or whatever's going on inside you, pal."
"I feel just fine. A little woozy, sure." He threw Winter a mildly annoyed glance as she prodded at his eyelid. "But fine. Say, Sustrai and Fall can't have gotten far. If we give chase now, I think we can catch up and seal the deal before they get their guards up."
That was a more tempting proposal than Clover knew. Depending which way Lady Luck swung, he might even be right.
"No. After what just happened, I'm not risking another confrontation again so soon," Qrow said. "We fall back. Regroup. Get you to a proper doctor, toss our first prize in a jail cell." He gestured at Black. "In the meanwhile, we close the circle around the other two. Slow and steady wins the race and whatnot."
Winter paused her ministrations. "A pity that we couldn't have discovered this philosophy any sooner." She stood up, beating her palms together. "Regardless, I concur, Director."
"Well yes, of course you do," Qrow said. "The Director is always right."
He hoped so, anyway.
Cinder breathed shallowly on Emerald's ear. She felt at the same time heavy and impossibly light, her feet dragging limply across the floor. Emerald took on Cinder's weight for them both and did not complain.
Her head was pounding and her eyes blinded by tears, but she kept them moving at all costs. One step after the other. No clue where she was going. No destination. Just away.
If that bastard caught up to them, she'd stop just short enough to kill him.
Her foot caught on a rock. Emerald turned as she tumbled, keeping Cinder above her, but the landing still sent them both rolling across the rocks.
Emerald scrambled to her knees immediately and crawled over to Cinder, calling her name. She shook her by the shoulder - Cinder's eyes fluttered, but did not open fully.
"I'm sorry," she grunted, taking Cinder by the arms. She pulled her to a pillar, gently laying her to rest against it. "Are you okay?"
Cinder only just barely reacted to her voice, but Emerald could hear the answer as clear as day.
"Right, stupid question," Emerald said. "I should take a look at your wound. I'll have to touch you, okay?"
The wound was partially hidden by Cinder's vest. To get it off, that involved pulling her forward, and then sliding it off her. Emerald went as slow as she could, but that still had Cinder hissing and squirming in her grasp.
With the vest finally off, Emerald laid Cinder back down, carefully turning her on her side. She looked down and felt her stomach roil.
The round had caught Cinder from behind, and her lower back was a canvas of charred skin and pus. She was bleeding, not profusely, but enough that Emerald's hands were crimson after handling her for just a few seconds.
The only thing to bring Emerald any hope were the little flares of Aura around the wound. They were weak, barely visible, and certainly not enough to heal damage this grievous. But it was keeping her alive, for the moment. Anyone else would have died by now, if not instantly.
Anyone else, Aura or not. Cinder was still the strongest person Emerald knew.
Emerald drew back and wiped the sweat from her brow, inadvertently replacing it with blood. With a grimace, she wiped her hands on her pants, continuing to stare at the wound until she could no longer bear it.
"Cinder, talk to me," she asked, voice wavering. "You're not gonna last long like this."
Cinder stirred. Still with her back to Emerald, she slowly moved her hand down her side, stopping short of the wound.
"So it would seem." Her voice was just short of a rasp, a pale mimicry of her usual commanding tone. "What are you going to do about it?"
Emerald leaned forward, hands clutching her knees. The words caught in her throat, barely getting out with the little air she had in her lungs.
"I'm going to fix this. Fix you. I didn't come all this way just for you to die."
"How?"
"I don't know yet," Emerald said. "But first I'm gonna get you somewhere safe. See what I can do to patch you up for now. You must have supplies in your place, right?"
It was almost imperceptible, but Cinder nodded.
"We'll start there."
Did she remember the way back? Before, Emerald had been more occupied worrying about Cinder's well-being than keeping track of where they were going. Stupid. But if she focused, she was sure she could get them there.
If not, she would have to depend on Cinder to guide her, and that meant keeping her awake. That was a good idea in general.
"Okay. I'm gonna get you up now, okay?"
Emerald grabbed Cinder by the arms and carefully rose to her feet. Cinder wobbled, her face frozen in a pained grimace, but Emerald managed to get her arm around her shoulders and steady her.
"I'm gonna need your help. You help me, and I help you," Emerald said. "Mercury stabbed us in the back, but we don't need him. We have each other, and he was just getting in the way anyway."
Cinder grunted. "Good riddance. He was beginning to test my patience."
"Exactly."
Emerald looked back, afraid of who or what she might see there, but there was still no sign of Beacon. Maybe they weren't being chased after all.
Ahead, the tunnel sloped down before going to the left. They were closer to the surface here and there were plenty of crystals lighting the way, but the further down they'd go, the rarer they would become. Visibility would become a problem soon. Emerald would worry about that when she got there.
"Alright, I'm gonna start moving," she said. "It's gonna be a long way, I think. Are you going to be okay on your feet, or should I carry you?"
"I'd sooner expire," Cinder said. Subtly, she squeezed Emerald's shoulder. "I'm counting on you, Emerald."
"I know." Emerald nodded to herself. "I won't let you down."
"Shoot it to me straight, doc," Qrow said. "Is our Atlesian guest liable to blow up HQ anytime soon?"
Clover smiled at him from the examination table. He didn't seem to mind that Qrow was breaching privacy here, even under the guise of making sure he wasn't a health hazard to everyone around him. Qrow wasn't about to point it out or complain – if he had the choice, he would rather not end up collateral damage from a spontaneous combustion – but it was disconcerting.
"We've not finished analyzing all the test results," the doctor said, glancing down at her clipboard. "But if you want my initial assessment, physiologically, Mr. Ebi is in peak condition for his age and field."
"See?" Clover gestured. "I did say I'm just fine."
"I did not say I don't have concerns," the doctor interjected sharply. "I've seen my fair share of Dust contamination cases, some very bad ones. With the materials Beacon agents are used to handling, it's not an uncommon affliction in our line of work. But I've never seen a case quite like yours, Mr. Ebi. It shares some of the same symptoms, but otherwise your condition is entirely novel to me."
"So are you saying he will blow up the building?" Qrow asked.
"For now, I would not worry. The flares have died down. At the moment, we wouldn't even detect any Dust in his system if we performed an external scan." The doctor paused, and Qrow realized the distance she was keeping from Clover was conspicuously greater than what was common courtesy. "Still, as I stated, we've not finished analyzing everything."
"I guess that'll have to be good enough for me," Qrow said. "Thanks, doc. Keep me posted."
"Director."
She nodded to him and Clover and left the room with hastened steps, head bowed as she immediately shifted her attention to her clipboard again. Qrow closed the door behind her and leaned his back against it, putting his hands in his pockets.
"That one's a good doctor," Clover said, resting on his elbows.
"Sure is. Hope she sticks around," Qrow said. "Got anything you wanna tell me before she reports back to me with the full details?"
"I would love nothing more than to give you a full rundown, Qrow, truly I would. But I'm afraid that's all confidential," Clover said. "You're gonna have to take that up with the General."
Qrow sighed. He should have seen that one coming.
"I guess I'll have to. Can I at least know if this has happened before?"
"Not as far as I'm aware. And if I can be frank, my gut feeling is it won't happen again," Clover said. "Sustrai hit us each in different ways, right? Maybe that scare was just the gift she left me."
"Just a scare. Sure." Qrow shook his head. "She's still out there. When it comes time to bag her, I need to know that I can count on you. No offense, but I've got Winter, and she could probably do this job solo if it came down to it. If you're too much of a risk, I won't think twice about leaving you on the bench."
Clover's expression turned steely, the smile vanishing from his lips. "I have one job here, and half of that is catching Sustrai and bringing her home with me. So rest assured, you can count on me to see this through to the end."
That was far too close to a James response to Qrow's liking. And yet, Clover had proved cooperative so far, and his Semblance had been invaluable more than once. If not for the aftermath of Sustrai's tantrum, Qrow would have had no complaints.
"I'll trust your gut, then."
Qrow withdrew his flask from his pocket and took a sip, before offering it to Clover. He refused with a polite shake of his head.
"This Semblance, Dust thing," Qrow said, gesturing at Clover. "You don't have to share any precious confidential bits. But at least tell me this, did you volunteer, or were you chosen?"
"All of the above," Clover said. He paused, as if considering how much he could say. "I was selected, and I gladly accepted. Wasn't really a decision at that moment. At least, not one that I hadn't already made twenty years ago. Serve my country, serve her people. Whatever form that takes."
"Even if that meant putting your own life on the line?"
"That was always the deal. The stakes just got a little higher." Clover grinned. "And we both know something about stakes."
Qrow shook his head. If it had been him, he would have been a pile of ash and bones minute zero.
"How about you?" Clover asked. "How did you get to be here?"
Qrow found himself at a loss for a moment. It wasn't often that people asked him his life story. Maybe they got the correct impression that he wasn't one to share details like that.
He could lower those walls for a minute here. Just this once.
"Was a bad kid. No prospects. Sister and I got in trouble with Beacon. Her fault more than mine – I was more tagging along with her bullshit, I swear," Qrow said, and Clover chuckled. "Anyway, maybe an authority figure who's worth a damn can be good once in a blue moon. Got shown a better way. And here I am. Still am a bad kid, but at least I get to do a little good in the world."
"That's inspirational," Clover said. "But I was more asking about how you became Director. What's the story behind that?"
That story, huh. Things had been catching up to Ozpin, his position at Beacon's helm was compromised by the choices he himself had made. Ozpin had been on his way out already. And maybe, Qrow suspected, he had seen his own death coming ahead of time. Embraced it, even. Qrow would never discount that old wizard. Someone had to take up the mantle and steer the ship back on the right path. Qrow had been willing and capable.
Those were all the things Qrow wanted to say, but the truth was much rawer.
"The previous guy asked me. I accepted."
He took another sip from his flask.
The door rumbled behind him as someone knocked. Qrow pushed off it and opened it. An agent he didn't recognize walked in, Scroll in hand.
"Director. Got some news for you."
"Sustrai poke her head out already?" Qrow asked.
"Ah, no. Not yet, sir. But this is related to her, or so we're assuming," the agent said. "Her, and the one we've already got in the base."
Qrow shared a look with Clover. Why did he have a feeling he wasn't going to enjoy this news?
The sound of running water was music to Emerald's ears.
"We're there!" she said out loud. "See, I knew we could find our way back."
Cinder mumbled something in response, something Emerald couldn't make out even though she spoke it directly into her ear. Reminded of how dire Cinder's condition was, Emerald took a firmer hold of her and pushed through the last steps.
The chamber soon came into view, with the soft glow of the crystals leading them directly to it. Emerald pushed Cinder by the waist to her sleeping cot, and laid her down on it, making sure that she didn't rest on the injury.
Emerald took a second to recover from the trek. Her legs burned from calves to thighs, and her shirt was drenched with sweat.
"The supplies," she said, surging to action again before the killer migraine could come back to the fore. "Where?"
Cinder propped herself up on an elbow and pointed behind her. "Crate."
Emerald half-ran, half-crawled to it, all but tossing the lid away. She dug in. Food, most of it stale. She popped a piece of jerky into her mouth and bit down without pausing her scavenging. A plastic bottle, empty. White linen wraps – the ones Cinder used to bind her chest, she assumed.
Emerald searched for another minute, but there was little else of value to find. She drew back, dispirited.
"That's all? I thought you said you had supplies," Emerald said. "Alcohol, pills, nothing?"
Cinder raised her head just enough to look at her. "Do I seem like I'm drowning in riches down here in the fucking caves of Mistral, Emerald?" she hissed, rubbing her side. "Take that bottle. I need this wound cleaned."
"Got it."
Emerald ran to the basin at the corner of the chamber. She filled the bottle up to the brim with water, then sprinted back to Cinder, kneeling by her side.
"This will probably hurt a lot," she said, hesitating.
"Just do it."
Emerald nodded and tipped the bottle over, being careful to angle it so the water only ran down the edges of the wound at first. Cinder slammed a fist on the ground, her face twisted with pain, but she didn't make a sound. Once she was sure Cinder was prepared for it, Emerald moved on to washing the wound itself.
The sight made her nauseous. The smell only made it worse. But this was helping. Right?
"This is better," Cinder said between harsh breaths, once the water stopped flowing. "Thank you."
"Yeah," Emerald said, and she was so frazzled that she nearly missed the fact that Cinder had thanked her. Verbally. Earnestly. "Yeah."
Emerald wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.
"But I can't move with this thing exposed," Cinder said. "That's inviting an infection."
"Right." Emerald stared helplessly. "I wish we had gauze or something."
"I have spare clothes in there."
"Right!"
Emerald went back to the crate and fished out an old shirt she had seen earlier. She set about tearing it until she had a square of cloth just big enough for her need. After that, she ran back to the water and used the bottle to wash the cloth. Wait, should it be dry instead? No, she didn't want a dirty thing on that wound.
"Okay," Emerald told Cinder, taking a deep breath. "This is definitely going to hurt."
Cinder's chest rose and fell unevenly as she looked up at her, eyes half-lidded. "Just do it."
Emerald nodded, and figuring it was better to just rip off the band-aid, pressed the wet cloth down on the wound.
Cinder's whole body spasmed, a raw cry tearing its way out of her throat. Her eyes opened wide, and suddenly her hand was around Emerald's neck, her fingers shedding an incandescent glow as they tried to melt through Emerald's aura.
"Cinder!" she gasped.
"What is this?" Cinder spat out. "Are you trying to finish me off?"
Emerald lifted the cloth off her. "I'm trying to save you."
Cinder's eyes fluttered closed, and she slumped face-first into the cot again, that surge of strength and clarity gone as fast as it had arrived.
Emerald must have stared for minutes, watching without blinking as Cinder breathed so weakly it was hard to even tell if she even was. If Emerald stopped looking, Cinder might stop altogether. And Cinder was counting on her.
"Gentler," Cinder mouthed at last, eyes still closed.
This time, rather than pressing down with it, Emerald gently touched Cinder's back with one tip of the cloth, and slowly let it drape over the wound. Cinder flinched and gritted her teeth. But she didn't scream or lash out again.
"Strong," Emerald muttered, rubbing Cinder's shoulder. Carefully, she raised her off the cot by it, and with her other hand started to roll the linen wraps around Cinder's stomach.
She went slow, slow as she could, and when she was done, she pulled the linens and tied them as tight as she could without hurting Cinder.
It was a hack job. It barely helped with anything. But Emerald almost sobbed in relief. It was enough for now. It had to be enough for now.
"What do we now?" Emerald asked Cinder. "I'm not a doctor."
Getting her to one was the obvious solution. But that meant a hospital, and that was a no-go. Beacon would be on their asses faster than Emerald could spell her name, and then they'd be tossed back behind bars. Cinder would break out soon enough, obviously, and the first thing she'd do is kill Emerald for putting her there.
It would be fair. Cinder didn't like confined spaces.
A back-alley doctor? No. She didn't trust anyone in this city not to turn them in for a reward, or to not stab Cinder in the heart while she wasn't looking. Malachite was out of the question too, that backstabbing hag. Not that Emerald shouldn't have been expecting it.
Cinder's fingers danced up Emerald's leg, light as feathers. "Mercury."
Emerald scowled. "We already talked about this. We don't need him."
"Doctor," Cinder mumbled. Her hand fell gracefully back to the ground.
Emerald frowned. What was she trying to say?
It dawned on her.
"The doctor who did Mercury's legs!" she said. "Doctor – Doctor – what was his name?"
Mustache. Dark eyes. Looked at Emerald like she was worth less than the dirt under his boots. Most people did, but somehow his stare had been that much worse that it still stuck out in Emerald's mind.
Unlike his name.
"But how do we get to him?" she asked, giving up. "I thought he was Atlesian. Had that air about him."
"He owes me a favor," Cinder said. "Won't refuse me. You just need to get me to the surface."
Right. That was going to be peaches.
"Should I let you rest first?"
Cinder opened one eye, then closed it. "Only if you want me to perish."
"That's the last thing I want, ma'am," Emerald said.
"Me too." Cinder's head lolled to the side. "Ma'am. Madame."
Her voice rumbled out of her as if from the depths of a deep sleep. Emerald rubbed her eyes.
"Yeah," she muttered. "Definitely no rest."
Qrow dropped the file in front of Winter. He walked past her chair, turned his back to the interrogation room window, and leaned against it. Arms crossed, he locked eyes with Mercury Black on the other side of the desk.
For someone who had been cuffed to a chair by his arms and legs in total isolation for two hours straight, he looked oddly relaxed. Then again, it wasn't as though he had put up much of a fight to not end up here. Still, Qrow would think he would look uncomfortable, at the least.
Winter took the file and perused its contents. Her eyes narrowed as she flipped over to the photos taken at the crime scene, but otherwise she didn't so much as wince. Done, she put the file down and looked at their prisoner.
"You must be wondering why we're speaking with you now, Mr. Black."
He met her gaze for a moment, then let his drift away, a finger drumming idly on the arm of his chair.
"At approximately a quarter past twelve this afternoon, a Cascade District resident reported loud noises coming from her neighbor's apartment," Winter said. "Security was called, and upon entering the apartment, they found its tenants in varied states of unconsciousness and physical injury."
She paused to gauge his reaction, but he seemed utterly uninterested in what she was saying.
"The injured party turned out to be a section of a local gang, the Jackals. They were taken to the nearest hospital and admitted into urgent care with speed, but one was well enough to give a description of the culprits behind the attack. There was a woman, he said, but he was not able to get a good look at her as she seemed to be there one moment and gone the next. The other was a man, tall, silver hair. I quote, 'He hit me like a mother-flipping freight train on legs'."
Qrow snorted, wondering if Winter was censoring the actual quote. She would do that.
"Two of their victims were found dead at the scene," Winter continued, not missing a beat. "One, a woman, appears to have had her chest ripped to shreds by a shotgun blast from point-blank range. Died instantly. The other, the reported leader of this group, had his head stomped into a paste."
"Yup, that was me." Black straightened up. "Both of them. Boy, imagine the air you could have saved if you had just skipped to the point."
Winter frowned. "You admit it?"
"You described me, then a double homicide, then I said 'that was me'," Black said. "Do I need to put this down in writing?"
Winter hunched her shoulders, her lips forming a rigid line as, for once, she was displeased beyond the point of a sharp retort.
"Why?"
"Same reason I surrendered to you chucklefucks. I can tell a sinking ship when I'm on it," Black said. "Do you only ask stupid questions?"
"I meant why did you attack and kill those people, Mr. Black," Winter replied coolly.
"Oh, right. Because that bitch Malachite put me up to it."
Qrow pushed himself off the mirror. "You willing to put that in writing?" he asked, stepping closer
"Shit, give me a pen and I'll write you a whole novel." Black started to lean back as if to rest his feet on the table, only to be stopped short by his cuffs. "Emerald was the one who roped me into the job, just to be clear. But the killing? That was all me."
"You left her high and dry back in the tunnels, but you're still protecting her. Interesting," Qrow said.
"No, I'm not protecting her. I'm just making sure you get that in the hierarchy of crimes committed here, I'm very much at the top," Black said. "Actually, can I strike the part about her being there? And about Malachite. Maybe I just did it on my own for shits and giggles – what will that get me?"
Winter pushed her chair back and stood, turning on Qrow.
"This has gone far enough," she said. "I'm not being a part of this, and I suggest you remove yourself at once as well. We shouldn't have been doing this in the first place."
"Really? You didn't seem to think that when you invited yourself to this interrogation," Qrow said.
"Because I never expected him to start incriminating himself with ludicrous falsehoods," Winter said. "He's blatantly acting against his own interests. He doesn't even have a lawyer present."
"To be fair, I don't think he wants a lawyer," Qrow said.
Black raised a hand, or at least as much as he could with it cuffed to his chair. "He's right, I don't want a lawyer."
Winter's nostrils flared. "This is absurd, Qrow, and you know it."
Qrow nodded, then gestured at the door.
"We will talk about this later," Winter said imperiously, before storming out of the room.
As she slammed the door behind her, Qrow turned to Black and shrugged. He pulled back the chair Winter had vacated and sat down.
"For the record, there's no point in making shit up here," Qrow said. "You were already on a life sentence for aiding Cinder in Vale. After breaking out of prison, fleeing to another country, and now this whole fiasco? I can tell you that your chances of getting that sentence revoked are now a very round zero."
Black sat back, his face contemplative. "Good," he said. "Can I still take Malachite down with me? And Cinder. I'll give you any dirt on her you ask."
"Appreciate it, but frankly, I don't think you have any dirt on her," Qrow said. "Besides, it's pointless now. As we're talking, she's either already dead, or she's about to be."
"Hmm. Guess I'll have to be happy with that."
There was no love lost there, Qrow could tell. Which made him wonder the reason why he had stuck with Cinder for so long.
Qrow had an inkling why.
"I don't buy the act, by the way," he said. "The killer without remorse? It's wearing thin."
Black smirked. "What, you think I'm gonna lose sleep over killing a couple thugs?"
"No, that part, I'm sure you don't give a shit about." Qrow raised a finger. "But the killing itself. The way it makes you sick. The fact that it doesn't make you sicker. That part eats you up inside, doesn't it?"
The smirk vanished from Blake's face.
"Your daddy was a killer for hire, wasn't he?" Qrow said. "Marcus Black. Best of the best. He train you up to carry on his legacy?"
"Biggest mistake he ever made," Black muttered.
"From what I recall, he used to ask for a whole lot of money. Always money. Couldn't even spend it anywhere, being most wanted and all." Qrow paused. "What's your asking price, Mercury? Or does someone just gotta tap you on the shoulder and point?"
Black barely moved now, watching Qrow as if waiting for the moment to pounce and wring his throat. Qrow didn't doubt he might try. Might even break those cuffs in the attempt.
"Yeah. I get it." Qrow nodded. "That's what he taught you, and now that is all you can ever do. Maybe your best prospect is to sit in a cell for the rest of your life."
Black leaned forward, venom in his eyes.
"You don't know anything about me."
Qrow smirked. "Sure I don't."
He crossed one leg over the other.
"My father was a piece of shit as well, you know," he said. "Whole family were bandits, in the literal sense of the word. As far back as I can remember, I was already involved in some truly awful stuff."
What was he doing today? First sharing personal details with Clover because he'd asked; now he was sharing with this good-for-nothing killer who hated his guts.
"There was this one trick they used to force us to do, except my sister was always too proud to play the part, so it was always up to me. The lost kid on the side of the road begging for help. Classic bait. You'd think people would know better, but there were always a few who fell for it every night."
He shook his head.
"I used to feel terrible about it, but there was a part of me that thought those people deserved it, didn't they? For being gullible. And once I thought that, I could allow myself to think it was fun. Because what else did I have going for me? Except for my sister, when she wasn't miserable like me."
Qrow sighed. And he wasn't even including the bad luck.
"Anyway, I used to think those nights would be the highlights of my life." Qrow gestured at himself. "But here I am! I didn't end up in prison, and I'm not even swindling people anymore."
Black stared at him in silence for a moment. "So the point is that there's still hope for me?"
"Oh, no. Buddy, you straight up killed people," Qrow said. "But maybe you can start a knitting club in prison, and that'll be fulfilling."
Black frowned. "Fuck you. You need therapy."
"You think? I'll go if you go."
Black kicked the leg of the desk.
"Great talk," Qrow said. "I'll take you up about Malachite later. Don't keel over dead while I'm gone."
Qrow stood up and moved towards the door.
"Hey, Director Dumbass!"
Qrow looked back with the door half-open. Black stared at him, a serious look on his face.
"That thing about Cinder being dead? If I were you, I'd be hoping I was wrong."
Qrow turned. "Yeah? Why's that?"
"Because, you thought Emerald's little freakout when you shot Cinder was rough?" Black said. "What do you think she'll do if you actually killed her?"
Qrow paused.
"Noted."
One. Two. One. Two.
Emerald took it one step at a time. Cinder's grip on her shoulder was her anchor, frightful and fortifying – a reminder of Cinder's condition with every passing second, and the only thing to keep Emerald going.
Cinder was stronger now. Her steps surer, her eyes a little less nebulous as she looked ahead. Emerald's improvised wound dressing, hack job that it was, was doing its job for now. Still, she had to fight the alarm bells ringing in her head, telling her to pick Cinder up in her arms and move faster.
The tunnels stretched on forever. She knew she had delved deeper than she ever had before to get to Cinder's hideout, but had they always been so vast, the rocks always so rough on her feet? It didn't matter. All that mattered was that they were getting closer to the surface.
"Beacon will be watching the exit," Cinder said, her voice bouncing off the walls and burrowing into Emerald's ears. "You'll have to hide us from their sight."
"I can do that," Emerald said.
"After that, you'll need to find a safe place for me to call the doctor and wait for his arrival. He's likely not in the country, but he'll make his way here fast… if he knows what's good for him."
"I can do that too. Easy-peasy." Emerald took a shuddering breath as she adjusted Cinder's arm around her neck. "Will you make it that long?"
"Do you doubt me, Emerald?"
"I never have, ma'am."
The fabric of Cinder's dress rubbed against Emerald's side, brushing the exposed skin under her shirt. The closeness was intoxicating, but she ignored it the best she could. Lose herself in it, and they would never get out of this darkness.
Easier said than done.
"You haven't been using your fire," Emerald said. Putting it out there felt like a betrayal, but it was better than dead silence.
Cinder took a second to respond. "You noticed, did you."
"You were using a lamp before. And you could barely fight back when Beacon attacked us. A single gunshot, too, and… this." Emerald's throat tightened as she put the facts together. "You've been doing way worse than you were letting on before, haven't you? Cinder, what happened after you broke out?"
Cinder didn't look at her. Her eye was hidden from Emerald's vision, but she could picture it in all its ruined glory. If it made Emerald's heart ache, she could only imagine how Cinder felt. To have a painful reminder of her defeat marked on her face permanently? No wonder she had retreated to the shadows.
"It was those costumed twerps from before, wasn't it? The same idiotic bunch from Vale." Emerald pursed her lips. "I wish you had brought me with you. I could've helped."
Cinder grinned terribly. "They laid me low at the peak of my power, and you think you would have made a difference?"
"Probably not. But I could have protected you. I wish you had let me protect you. That would have made a difference, maybe not a big difference, but maybe then you wouldn't be hurting so bad."
"You believe that, do you?" Cinder blinked, and her good eye seemed to regain some of its warmth. "You may not be wrong."
Emerald's eyes stung. "Why didn't you bring me, then? I was right there. I would have gone with you anywhere."
Cinder turned her head to look at her. "You already know the answer to that, Emerald."
Because you didn't care, you never did, a voice inside her head immediately answered. Emerald dismissed it outright. It sounded too much like Mercury's voice, and she knew the real reason besides.
"You always saw more than I wanted you to see," Cinder said. "Everyone's got someone to answer to."
"The woman with the Grimm eyes."
"You just didn't have a face to put to it until now," Cinder carried on. "You understand now, why I didn't want you to see. Some things are better left alone. And my battles, they are my own. They involve bigger things than you can conceive."
"Screw what I can conceive," Emerald snapped. "I would have fought any battle for you. You just had to let me in."
"What good would that have done you?" The question hung in the air for a moment, before Cinder spoke again, her voice weak with, unbelievably, shame. "Sometimes I think you would have been better off had I never rescued you in that alleyway."
"You're wrong." Emerald stopped in her tracks. "Without you, I am nothing."
Cinder missed a step. She tumbled, but Emerald grabbed her before she hit the ground. Emerald propped her against a wall.
"Say that again," Cinder said between ragged breaths.
"Without you, I am nothing." Emerald stepped closer and pressed her forehead to Cinder's. "You saved me that day. I'll save you for the rest of my life. I don't care if you never let me in."
Cinder slid a hand up Emerald's side, warm fingers brushing along her stomach, her arm, her shoulder, coming to cup her face, where she rubbed small circles around her cheekbone.
"You want to know the real reason I saved you?" Cinder said, her voice no more than a whisper. "You and I are cut from the same cloth. Two people born from the earth others trample on. I never could have forgiven myself if I had looked the other way, like so many did when I needed saving."
Her lips ghosted the corner of Emerald's mouth, breathing hot air in her ear.
"I'm sorry I didn't bring you with me," Cinder said. "You deserved better than to be forgotten."
Emerald buried her face on Cinder's shoulder and sobbed.
She sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed. With every gasp of air everything inside of her coiled and grew taut, her very essence seeming to vibrate at the edge of her skin. She feared what would happen when she stopped – that she might unravel, come undone, wither and die – and so she kept crying until she was wrung dry of tears.
When Emerald finally fell silent, she felt Cinder's fingers combing through her hair. The sensation startled her, the tenderness of it. It kept her together a moment longer.
"What are we going to do?" Emerald asked, her voice muffled by Cinder's shoulder.
"Survive, I should hope," Cinder said. "One of us shall have a harder time with that task, I'm afraid."
"I mean when this is over. After you're patched up and we get away from Beacon." Emerald frowned, realizing there was a snag in her thinking. "If you want to get away, I mean. You probably want revenge first, right?"
"I am a creature of spite, true." Cinder stopped her caresses. "What do you want, Emerald?"
It killed her to do it, but Emerald pulled back from Cinder's embrace.
"What do I want?"
"I've always been the one at the reins," Cinder said. "Letting you take them for once – perhaps that could be a good first step in atoning for leading you astray."
"You've never led me astray," Emerald said, but she supposed there was no arguing with Cinder. The concept was bewildering nonetheless. Her, deciding things for the both of them? "I guess I… don't want revenge. Not yet, anyway."
If Cinder was disappointed, she didn't let it show.
"We could get away from the city. Mistral entirely, if need be. But I don't know where we else we could go. Vacuo's horrible, and Vale seems like a risk," Emerald said. "Atlas-"
"Not Atlas," Cinder interjected. "That's my one stipulation."
"Yeah, I'm right there with you," Emerald said. "I guess Vale's our best bet if we don't wanna stick around in Mistral. It's a big place. We can find somewhere quiet, away from people."
"And?"
"I don't know. We lay low. Wait for things to blow over."
"Things will never blow over for me, Emerald."
Emerald took Cinder's hands in her own.
"Then we'll just stay there indefinitely," she said. "I know you've always said that we're meant for bigger things than just surviving, but maybe, just maybe, there's an existence for us where we can live meaningful lives without trying to end the world."
This, it seemed, was a difficult concept for Cinder to grasp.
"A quiet life, you mean."
"It wouldn't be that quiet," Emerald reasoned. "Beacon would still be hunting us. We'd have to always be ready to run. Also, we would probably need to figure out how to grow our own food, and I have no clue where to even start with that."
There was a suspicious glint in Cinder's eyes as she stared at her. "It would appear to me, Emerald, that you are proposing I live out the rest of my days in a cottage in the woods with you."
Emerald braced herself for the rejection.
"I suppose such a life would be slightly more bearable than what I've subjected myself to these past couple months," Cinder said. "I'll go along with this plan. That said, I reserve the right to change my mind if I grow bored, or if the call for vengeance is too great."
Emerald's legs would have buckled under her if she weren't depending on them to keep Cinder on her feet as well. "That's fine! I'd go with you then, obviously!"
"Obviously." Cinder ran her thumb along Emerald's jawline. "Where would I be without you?"
It felt foolish to smile when they were still so far from being in the clear, but Emerald couldn't help it. She was so elated that she even went a bit too far, kissing Cinder's fingers as she drew her hand back. But Cinder, maybe keeping to her repentant streak – maybe having enjoyed it a bit – didn't complain.
"Okay! We'll, uh, we'll figure all that stuff out when we get there, then," Emerald said, blushing. "Before that, I still need to get out of here. Can you still walk? Here, let me help."
She grabbed Cinder by the wrist and gently pulled her off the wall)
the full weight of Cinder's body slumped against her.
Emerald stumbled back, and then she was on the ground. Her eyes grasped the ceiling above her head for a half-second before her vision went blank.
As she felt the rocks digging into the small of her back, Emerald had the sudden realization that her head had been killing her just a moment before – and now there was nothing, no throbbing, no dizziness, as if she had crossed some pain threshold so great that her mind had numbed itself to it out of some last-ditch self-preservation act.
That didn't mean the pain wasn't there, nor the underlying cause of it. The thought should have alarmed her. Instead she just lay there, imagining that she was floating on a bed of clouds, slowly drifting away.
She exhaled, and Cinder's weight shifted on top of her.
Emerald sat up with a jolt, her vision returning to her in a flash. She grabbed Cinder and lifted her off of her, arms trembling. Cinder's limbs splayed out limply as Emerald set her down beside her. Her lips were parted in a breathless gasp, her hair plastered to pale, clammy skin.
Her eyes were open but didn't see Emerald.
"No. No no no no-"
Emerald made to turn Cinder over, only to scream as she realized her own hands were soiled with blood up to her wrists. She felt the taste of something metallic on her upper lip – she brushed it away, and her hands came away with more blood. She couldn't tell whose was whose. The metallic taste hit her lips again.
It's from when she touched your face, a voice said. She was so sweet.
She never touched you, said another.
As if brought out by that thought, the headache came back with a vengeance.
Her vision went blank again, infinite bright white assaulting her senses. It returned as she fell to her hands and knees. Whimpering, she crawled over to Cinder.
"Cinder!" she wheezed. "Talk to me. Keeping talking to me. I don't know what to do."
She cupped Cinder's face and gently shook her. Cinder's head lolled to the side, her eyes and mouth closing with a shudder. Emerald heard the tiniest exhale and almost cried.
She's still alive.
Is she really, or are you clinging to a corpse?
Alive. Can you keep her that way?
She wiped her nose and mouth again, then lowered her trembling hands to her knees as she stared at Cinder, trying to focus on her face and nothing else. Emerald could scarcely look at the wound. It looked worse than before. Had cleaning and dressing it not helped at all?
Focus!
"I can't find the doctor if you don't tell me his name or how to get in contact with him," Emerald said. "So please, Cinder, just talk to me again. Be strong for me."
But Cinder was silent. Unresponsive to her touch. She had spent the last of her strength getting this far.
That happened a long time ago.
No doctor. She would have to find another way.
Emerald could barely bring her own body to move like she wanted. She was drained of all strength, of mind, of soul. Laying down or drudging on – the difference seemed negligible, she felt she would die either way before she got anywhere. And Cinder along with her.
She couldn't let that come to pass. There was only one choice.
If you do that, she'll never forgive you, the caustic voice whispered in her ear as Emerald slid her arms under Cinder's knees and back. With a heave, she rose to her feet. Emerald stood unsteadily. The blood had stopped flowing from her nose, but some still dripped on Cinder's face.
"I know," Emerald said out loud. "I don't care."
The voice didn't have a rebuke for that.
Emerald moved.
Police cars surrounded the hospital. Their sirens were turned off for the moment, but that did nothing to alleviate the tension in the air.
Qrow spotted a few Beacon vehicles stationed in their midst, and gave a hand signal to their personnel as he landed in front of the building. His sudden appearance got a startle out of a group standing by the doors, but he could not bring himself to worry about keeping a low profile right now.
Winter caught up a minute later, dropping Clover off at the sidewalk before hopping down from her glyph herself. Qrow gave them a curt nod before strutting inside.
The hospital lobby was filled with police officers, Beacon agents, and security staff coming and going from the upper floors. Emergency protocols would have been initiated as soon as shit hit the fan, with staff and patients being evacuated en masse, while those that couldn't be moved were locked in their wings for safety. This being the biggest hospital this side of the mountain, though, the process seemed to not be going half as smoothly and quickly as it ought to.
Qrow was glad to not be in charge of all that. He was here to resolve the situation before it got any worse, nothing else.
He identified the head of security standing by the front desk.
"Director Branwen," he introduced himself as he walked over, and for once the title didn't trip him up. "You the one in charge?"
The man had been listening to a walkie-talkie, but lowered it fast when Qrow stepped up. "Thank the stars you're here. Yes. What do you need?"
"I didn't get a full report of what's gone down, so you'll have to fill me in on the details," Qrow said. "How'd she get inside?"
"Security cameras caught her entering the building through a side entrance, carrying the injured in her arms. Guards went to check, found bloody hand prints she left on the doors, but no sign of her. Cameras caught her on the second floor next, but again no one could find her in person. It's like she was a ghost."
"She'll do that."
"We discovered one of my guards unconscious in one of the hallways. He wasn't injured, thankfully, but she'd taken his gun. That's when I heard it over the radio, just moments later - she barged into one of the operating rooms as it was being prepped for a surgery, took one of the nurses as a hostage, and demanded they fix her friend."
"And?"
The head of security paused to wipe his brow. "The doctors got to work, what else?"
That was, somehow, better than what Qrow had been expecting. No one was dead, at least.
"Where's this happening?" he asked.
"Fifth floor. We've cleared it the best we can. Room number is 5-2."
"That's all I needed," Qrow said. "You keep doing your job while I handle this."
The head of security nodded in relief. "Best of luck to you, Director."
Qrow walked past him and stepped into one of the elevators. He pressed the button for the fifth floor, and as they started to ascend, he glanced at Winter and Clover beside him.
"Thoughts?"
"Sounds like our perp may be having a bit of a manic episode," Clover said. "Any aggression is bound to set her off even worse. We're not going to solve this by confronting her physically."
"Agreed. Any attempt at subterfuge will only incur more risk as well," Winter said. "Dialogue, I'm sorry to say, is the best tool at our disposal here."
At that, she looked very pointedly at Qrow.
"No problem. I've de-escalated plenty of hostage situations before," Qrow said. "Matter of fact, this isn't even my first one this year."
He just hoped this one went better than the last.
The elevator opened, and they stepped out into the fifth floor.
"You grabbed a piece before we moved out, did you, Clover?" Qrow asked, and Clover lifted his shirt to show the pistol holstered on his belt. "Winter, hold that for him and hang back. Stay out of sight. We don't want to give her the impression that we're ambushing her."
Winter accepted Clover's pistol, but her reservations were clear. "If a rash reaction is what we're worried about, you ought to be the last person to take lead on this, I should think."
"You're not wrong, but I'll have Clover with me for insurance," Qrow said. "And if things go wrong and she tries to explode our brains with another tantrum, you'll be ready to jump in, brain strategically intact."
"She would be suspicious if she saw us without Qrow," Clover added helpfully.
Winter nodded and put Clover's pistol away. "That is the closest we'll come to a sound plan, I suppose."
Qrow looked at Clover. "You sure you're good to go?"
"Yeah." Clover rolled his shoulders. "All good. On your word, Director."
Qrow took the lead, navigating the hallways by the room numbers. As promised, the floor was clear, and tense as he felt, the silence was just what he needed to clear his head.
He saw Sustrai as he rounded a corner, and put an arm in front of Clover to stop him.
She sat on a bench in front of the operating room's double doors, leaning forward with her head tucked between her arms, the stolen pistol rattling in her hands. Her hostage, a twenty-something male, sat stiff by her side, his face as pale as death.
He noticed them first, and his gasp alerted Sustrai. In an instant she was on her feet, lugging the nurse with her. She shoved him in front of her and held him by his collar, pressing the gun to the back of his neck.
"You."
Sustrai was covered in blood and grime, and he could tell she barely had the strength to stand on her own two feet, but the moment she looked at him, she seemed to become more centered, her breath steadying as her nostrils flared. Her eyes were naturally red, but that was made more striking by their bloodshot state and the murder that shone in them as she glared at Qrow over the nurse's shoulder.
Maybe Winter had made a good point. Too late now.
"Me," Qrow said. He started to raise a hand.
"Don't move!" Sustrai barked. "One step, and I blow his brains out."
As if her point wasn't obvious enough, she dug the barrel of her pistol into the nurse's neck. The man's eyes widened, pleading silently.
"Don't worry, son, we'll get you out of this," Clover assured him.
"You try anything, and the only way he's getting out of this is in a body bag," Sustrai said. "Hands in the air. I'm giving you one second or I'll shoot."
Qrow complied with a huff. Sustrai's eyes narrowed.
"You're carrying something."
"You must know something I don't, because last I remember, I'm not," Qrow said. "Neither is he. And ask yourself this, if we were hiding guns, do you think we could get them out faster than you could pull the trigger?"
"I don't know." Sustrai tapped her finger on the trigger. "Maybe we should find out."
Qrow caught Clover shooting him a side-look. Right. Don't provoke the mental chick.
Things were silent beyond the operating room's doors, but staring at its opaque windows, Qrow could almost imagine frenzied movement at the other side of it. A lowly part of him, the same part that made his fingers twitch for his flask even now, was telling him to barge right in, Sustrai be damned. He shut that down fast.
"Cinder's in there, huh." He looked at Sustrai again. "You really saved her ass."
Sustrai's teeth showed in a snarl. "I should shoot you for what you did to her." She took the gun off the nurse and pointed it at Qrow – then abruptly switched to point it at Clover instead. "Or maybe him. Maybe I should unload the whole fucking magazine on him in front of your eyes, so you know how it feels."
"I watched my niece nearly bleed out after what Cinder did to her, so trust me, I already know how it feels," Qrow said, his voice gravelly even to his own ears. "Not that this and that are remotely the same. Cinder got what was coming to her. You should be thankful my aim was off."
"Also," Clover raised his hands higher and wiggled his fingers, "not that I mind, but I think you're vastly overestimating the current nature of mine and my good friend Qrow's relationship here."
She was overestimating her relationship with Cinder as well, Qrow wanted to say. But he didn't, because miraculously, he found some self-control again.
"You can shoot me if you want, though," Clover finished. "If it'll get the anger out."
Sustrai shook her head. Her face twisted in a painful wince, but before Qrow could take advantage of it, the moment was gone and she had the gun on the nurse again.
What the hell was his angle supposed to be here? Exhausted as she was, evidently Sustrai was still too clever to take the bait and attack them, so that wasn't going to work. Appeal to her sense of decency? He almost laughed to think of it.
Sustrai's eyes darted to the operating room doors, and it clicked. He'd already figured it out. Hell, she'd delivered the answer to him on a silver platter.
"All this for Cinder, huh," Qrow said. "I'd admire your loyalty, if you hadn't made dumb decision after dumb decision. For one, I guess it never crossed your mind that you could just walk into the hospital and get her help like a normal person."
Sustrai scoffed. "As if they would have helped her."
"They're doctors, so yes, they would have. They have a whole oath about it," Qrow said. "But you knew about that, didn't you? Which brings into question the ingenious idea of taking a hostage."
"All this talking and you still can't figure out that maybe I don't trust those doctors and their stupid oath."
"If that were true, you'd be standing in the room with them to make sure they're doing their job right, instead of sweating bullets in the hallway outside. You know they'll fix her up, which means the hostage is leverage for something else. For after."
He watched her jaw tighten and knew he had her dead to rights.
"So the plan, I imagine, is to wait for the doctors to finish stitching Fall nice and good, grab her, walk out of the hospital with the hostage, flee Haven, flee the country even. All this while the whole of Beacon and me especially are chasing you, and while you yourself are looking… not good." Qrow clucked his tongue. "Does that plan sound far-fetched to you at all, Agent Ebi?"
Clover looked from him to Sustrai, smiling but not quite smiling. "That sounds very far-fetched to me, Director Branwen. Surely she has a better plan."
"Surely she has, and she'll start boasting about it any second now."
The anger slowly drained from Sustrai's face. The tip of the pistol slipped from the nurse's neck as she shrank into herself, but it was still too close for comfort.
"You don't have a plan, and you never did, because you knew no matter what you did, you weren't getting out of this one," Qrow said. "But even knowing that, you still started this mess. You're desperate, but you haven't shot anyone or tried to run. You stuck around, and the way I see it, the only reason someone would do that is if they wanted it to look like they had tried everything."
He gestured at the doors.
"When Cinder wakes up in a cell, do you think that'll make any difference to her? You think she would have done the same for you?"
"Shut. Up." Sustrai let go of the nurse's collar, sweeping her hand back through her hair, her face red. "She saved me. I'm saving her."
The hand holding the pistol lowered, the finger on the trigger twitched – pressed it, not intentionally. Qrow watched it happen and flinched, ready to jump into action, but no gunshot followed.
Jammed.
The nurse gasped, and even as Clover shouted a warning, started to run forward. Sustrai swung back around, her aim veering wildly as she pointed the pistol at him again.
"I said don't fucking move!"
The nurse froze.
"Sustrai," Qrow said. "Let the man go. What use is he to you except delaying the inevitable?"
Sustrai stepped backwards, nearly stumbling over her own ankles before she hit a wall. She braced herself against it, still aiming at the nurse.
After what felt like an eternity, she slowly lowered the gun.
"He can go," she muttered.
The nurse looked from Qrow to Clover, and only after they both reassured him with a nod, he took off running, passing between them and rounding the corner where Winter would be waiting.
"Now the gun, Sustrai," Qrow said. "Slide it over."
She pushed herself off the wall, taking trembling steps as she backed away, though there was nowhere for her to go. "Do you think I'm an idiot?"
"Not exactly, which is how I know that you know that gun isn't going to do anything to stop us from taking you in," Qrow said.
"What I know is that the moment I let my guard down, you're going to go in there and hurt Cinder," Sustrai said. "I mean, that's what you're really here for, isn't it? To finish what you started."
"Trust me, as much as I'd like to do just that, it's off the table." Qrow gestured at himself. "Wouldn't befit a man of my station or something like that."
"I don't trust you." Sustrai stopped. Moments before, every word had come out of her mouth like she was spitting venom. Now, her voice seemed drained of all strength, almost hollow. "I don't trust anything."
She lowered the gun, then lifted it again, bringing it towards her head. Qrow started forwards, Clover running even faster beside him, but he already knew neither of them would bridge the distance in time.
Her face twisted in an ugly grimace, Sustrai pressed the gun to her head, the barrel pointed towards the ceiling, as if she could dig the pain and anguish out of her skull with the cold metal. Her eyes rolled inwards, her legs kicked out, and she fell.
Clover slid onto his knees, catching her an instant before her head would have hit the floor. The gun clattered next to her.
"Good grief." Clover passed his hand over her eyes, closing them. Blood poured out of her nose like a fountain, and his glove came off stained red with it. A smaller trickle slipped from her ears. "She needs a doctor stat."
"Get her to one," Qrow said. As Clover rose to his feet, he corrected himself, "Scratch that. I'll take her. You go in there and tell the doctors that it's all fine now, and make sure things continue to go smoothly."
"You sure?" Clover looked at him, all furrowed brow, and damn him for that. If not for that look, Qrow could have brushed off that decision as a spur of the moment thing.
"Yes," Qrow said. "If I go in there, things will not go smoothly."
Clover transferred Sustrai to his arms, then turned and walked inside the operating room. Qrow caught just a glimpse of surgery utensils over a knocked out Cinder Fall before the doors swung shut.
He looked down at Sustrai. "I guess neither of us got what we wanted."
He propped her head up by the neck so it didn't hang totally limp.
"We'll just have to settle with getting you that doctor instead."
Qrow walked away, her weight heavy on his arms.