Exhaustion is a leaden weight in his limbs. It drags down his body and makes it a struggle for Qrow to put one foot in front of the other, a great effort needed for him to walk in a simple straight line. Slipping out of Atlas without being seen will be difficult in this condition, and he lacks the necessary energy to fly down anyway. Crashing in Mantle would have spared him from dealing with two particular people, but it would have done nothing for his sleep. Loath as he is to admit it, he is safer here than he would be in a random hotel room.
For the time being, at least, until everything goes wrong again. Because it will eventually, just as it always does. It is inevitable, and he will have to deal with the consequences.
Now, though, he slinks back to his room in defeat.
How could he have not seen the signs? Yes, it had been a while since the farm incident, but he should have recognized what was happening, even with his lack of sleep. If he had been unable to grab his Scroll, would they have found him in time? He can barely remember what happened between pressing the call button and feeling the cold air once Clover dragged him outside, other than vague voices and movement.
Who knows? Maybe it would have been better for him to let it happen. Though death by Apathy isn't exactly pleasant, it is a far cry from most of the ones he has experienced.
But if he had opted out of the mission and stayed behind, things wouldn't have gotten worse. The girls wouldn't look at him like some poor lost soul, and Clover wouldn't treat him as if he is made of glass. How many times this past week or so has Clover begged Qrow not to push himself? To stay behind and get the rest he so obviously needs? The only reason Clover didn't try today is because he knew Qrow would lash out at him. Was it any wonder that both Clover and Ironwood wanted to talk and stick by his side when he acts the way he does?
Just this once he will concede that he should have listened to Clover. Admitting that makes Qrow want to bang his head against a wall.
Not that he would ever say it aloud.
The first thing he does once he enters his room is clean his mouth, desperate to rid himself of the vile taste plaguing him.
Next he showers, because even if he did manage to avoid vomiting on himself, he still feels absolutely disgusting. The warm water is nice after spending so long in frigid temperatures, and it does help him relax enough that the oncoming headache eases off. The only downside is that he isn't able to stay there longer, as he starts to feel he might fall if he continues to stand, and he doesn't know whether or not he could get back to his feet if he sat down. Begrudgingly, he shuts off the water, dries himself off enough that he isn't dripping wet, and drags himself to bed.
He knows sleep will evade him, but he still tries, tossing and turning, drifting off and snapping awake again and again. More than once he finds himself wishing for a swift hit to the head to knock him out, if only to get his mind to quiet for once.
How sad is it that he can't remember the last time he was able to sleep without nightmares?
Maybe I should just ask Yang to punch me, he thinks with a sour laugh. It would be easy to rile her up enough to hit him, but he doubts he could bring himself to do it. While he hasn't exactly been of sound mind these days, he isn't that far gone yet.
Yet.
The best he can do is doze. It isn't near enough to get the rest he needs, but he prefers a little sleep over not sleeping at all.
Until a loud ping jolts him awake.
Groaning, he presses a hand against his eyes and slaps the other onto his Scroll. Why didn't he think to turn the notifications off? He shifts his hand enough to glare at the screen.
Oh. The anger ebbs once he reads the message. Of course Ruby would still be worried.
At least there is nothing he needs to lie about this time, though he doubts he stays in bed much longer. No point when he has barely managed to sleep, even after turning in early. After he responds to her, he notices another message, one he apparently managed to sleep through. A message from Ironwood, no less, and a spark of anger passes through him.
A day off. Great. He groans again. Either he stays here and puts up with being around Clover and Ironwood, or he heads down to Mantle and gets reprimanded for pushing himself.
He turns off his alarm and buries his face in his pillow, only just stopping himself from screaming out a stream of curses. Tempted as he is to smother himself, he pulls himself away before he can and rolls onto his back to glare daggers at the ceiling.
Moping it is then, since he is in no mood to get yelled at. It would probably be smarter to try to sleep more, but he knows he won't be able to, especially after being startled awake. There is that book he still needs to finish thanks to Clover interrupting him the other day. Better than nothing.
With a yawn, he climbs to his feet and stumbles around as he tries to gather up his clothes. Not an easy task when he barely has the energy to keep his eyes open, and he nearly face-plants twice during the process before he even gets his pants on.
He's starting to think he should go ahead with asking Yang to knock him out.
Eventually, though, he manages to get dressed and leave his room without hurting himself, and staggers down the hallway.
It comes as no surprise when the handful of people inside the lounge scurry out at the sight of him, each glancing at him warily as they pass. Seems to be the same group he ran out last time. He should apologize for his attitude, but he's not going to. It means he won't have to deal with anyone, and in turn none of them will have to deal with him. It's for the best. Less of a chance for him to open his mouth and say something he shouldn't. A win-win situation as far as he is concerned.
After he snags the book off the shelf, he settles into the chair to read. Thankfully he remembers it well enough to find where he left off. The walk here helped to wake him up a bit more, enough that he can keep his eyes open and make sense of the words he's reading, which he considers to be an improvement.
He has peace for a short while. There is only a quarter of the book left when the sound of the door opening cuts through the silence. His hope that merely seeing him will cause the person to leave is dashed as footsteps begin to approach, and he sighs.
He is never going to finish this damn book.
A quick glare and growl should drive off whoever it is, but as he raises his head to do just that, he pauses.
Winter, hands stiff at her sides, comes to a stop near the table and regards him with furrowed brows.
Today just isn't his day, it seems.
"What do you want, Ice Queen?" he asks, tired.
Winter doesn't react to his attempt at riling her up, her face settled into a stone mask.
In a somewhat curt tone of voice, she says, "General Ironwood wishes to speak with you."
Scowling, he tightens his grip on the book, only taking care not to damage the pages. If he were to talk to Ironwood right now, he can't be certain he wouldn't snap, and considering the mere thought of seeing his face is enough to make Qrow feel like throttling the man, it would be a guaranteed disaster.
He can't help the irritation that creeps into his voice. "Tell him to fuck off."
She doesn't react to that either, beyond a slight twitch of her eye.
"Ruby and Yang are with him."
That causes him to freeze, the uneasy weight settling in his stomach dulling his anger. Anxiety spikes his heart rate, and he tosses the book onto the table as he hurriedly climbs to his feet. Startled by his haste, Winter steps back as he brushes past her, letting her surprise slip onto her face for a moment.
Qrow can barely keep himself from running down the hallway once he is out of the room. Why are Ruby and Yang with Ironwood, and why would he want to talk? Did something happen? He shouldn't panic when he knows nothing about the situation. Ironwood hasn't done anything yet this time around, he knows that. He can't help but remember their confrontation with him, though, and what it all led to. All the destruction. All the deaths. The grief. Nothing good ever comes from it, because of who Ironwood is as a person.
He falters when he reaches the office. There, deep in conversation with Ironwood just as Winter said, are Ruby and Yang, but it is the fourth person in the room who ultimately catches his eye. Clover is there as well, arms folded against his chest, the expression on his face reminding Qrow too much of himself. He has only ever seen Clover look that stressed when dealing with him, and he has a sinking feeling about what this will lead to.
Taking in a deep breath, he fights back the unease and steps inside with his head held high.
"I really don't think this is—"
Ruby cuts herself off when he enters, guilt twisting her face as she stares at him. It isn't just her; Yang and Clover mirror her guilt, both glancing away so as not to meet Qrow's gaze, looking as if they have been caught doing something they shouldn't. The unease surges back to the surface of his mind, roiling his stomach, and worsens when he hears the door shut behind him. He glances over his shoulder to see Winter position herself in front of the door, placing her hands behind her back. Acting as a guard.
What the fuck?
Why would Winter be guarding the door? Just what is Ironwood up to?
Trying to calm his whirling thoughts, Qrow turns back to the group.
"What did you want to talk about?" he asks, failing to keep his voice even.
Ironwood draws himself up, straightening his back, and regards Qrow with a conflicted expression on his face. It leaves Qrow torn between wanting to storm out and wanting to start a brawl.
"Qrow," Ironwood begins slowly, "you understand that this can't go on any longer, don't you?"
That makes Qrow narrow his eyes. "The hell are you talking about?"
"You know what I'm referring to, Qrow," Ironwood says. "This self-destructive behavior of yours has to stop."
Anger is quick to replace the unease, boiling his blood.
"Shut up," Qrow growls. "My problems are mine to deal with."
"This affects more than you, considering the concerns raised by Clover and Ruby."
Concerns? He flicks his eyes to the two, but their refusal to look at him continues.
"Oh, yeah? What concerns?"
"The panic attack you felt the need to hide from everyone, for one."
His stomach drops. Even after saying he wouldn't, Clover went and opened his mouth. Dropping his gaze to the floor, Qrow swallows, a subtle shake in his hands. What did he expect would happen? How could he have ever thought it would be kept a secret? Of course the ever-loyal Clover told his beloved General. Still, he can't help the stab of betrayal he feels, and his disbelief is clear on his face when he raises his head to stare at Clover.
"You told them."
Clover shifts, drawing his arms closer to himself. "I'm sorry, Qrow."
A low, dark laugh leaves him, and each of them look at him in concern. Really, he was an idiot for ever having high expectations. With how much Clover has been pressing him, it was only a matter of time before things boiled over. He has no one to blame but himself, no matter how angry he is, but knowing that doesn't change the fact that Clover still went back on his word.
"Figures," he mutters. "Can't really trust anyone."
Ruby flinches. "Uncle Qrow—"
"So, what? Is this an intervention?" he asks.
Now he sees what this is. Bring him in to "talk", tell him how much they care about him, and get him to tell them why he's become so pathetic. Like it would do any good. Why would he ever tell them when he knows what the result will be? It never ends well. Not like it could with him involved.
"We just want you to be honest with us."
"Don't think you're one to talk, Ruby," Qrow mutters.
She goes rigid, staring at him with wide eyes. Under different circumstances he might feel bad for it, but right now his anger is front and center, crushing any semblance of regret he feels. Preaching about honesty? What a joke.
"You really think cornering me is gonna make me want to talk? Great plan there."
Those harsh words make Clover tense, squeezing his arms in a tight grip. "We're not cornering you."
"You're not?" It takes a lot of nerve to deny what is right in front of him, and he glances over his shoulder with a scowl. "Then why is Winter guarding the door?"
Though Winter manages to keep her expression mostly neutral, he can see the subtle widening of her eyes.
For his part, Ironwood reacts by pinching the bridge of his nose, his eyes closed. "Because you'll run, like you always do," he says, hovering between exhausted and annoyed. "You may have stopped drinking, but that doesn't mean you won't find something else to drown yourself in."
After everything Qrow has been through, he is damn well justified in feeling the way he does. No one in this room has experienced a fraction of what he has.
"You try being a living embodiment of misfortune and see how it makes you feel."
Ironwood lets out a weary sigh. "You aren't at fault for your Semblance."
"Don't start. I hear that shit enough from the girls and Clover." Qrow glares down at his hands and digs his nails into his palms. "Saying it over and over doesn't make it true."
Even if he does wish it would. No one in the world wants it to be true more than he does.
He is met with silence until Yang, eyes flashing red, throws her hands up. "Seriously? What happened to working on that?"
"You haven't had to deal with it your whole life!" Qrow snaps, a growl in his voice. "I'm the one who has to live with it!"
Unlike her sister, Yang refuses to back down, instead looking at Qrow in defiance. "What, you don't think you're making it worse trying to deal with it alone? I mean, look at you! You don't eat. You don't sleep. You won't tell anyone what's wrong. And look where it led. You could've died yesterday, you know! We could've lost you!"
It takes every ounce of Qrow's self-control not to laugh at how pointless her anger is. If only they knew how little any of it mattered. Even if the Apathy had killed him, he could have just started over again. With how things have gone, it would have been for the best. At least then he could try to stop himself from getting to this point. None of them would remember once he woke up anyway, so there would be no reason for them to be so concerned about his issues.
"Stop lying to us and tell us the truth," Yang demands.
"I haven't been lying—"
"Qrow," Clover says, pleading, "enough. What is the point in going on like this when we already know you have been?"
"And what do you think I've been lying about?"
"Everything."
His mouth snaps shut, rebuttal dying in his throat.
"I understand why you wanted to keep the panic attack a secret. Had it just been that, I would have looked the other way." Clover shakes his head. "The mess hall was only the beginning. You lied about your knowledge of the abandoned mine. You lied about your reaction to James in the hangar. You deflect when asked questions and often outright refuse to answer anyone."
Clenching his hands into fists, Qrow grinds his teeth together and glares at the floor.
"I want to believe you have a good reason for doing all this," Clover continues, "but you need to tell us. This affects everyone. Whatever is going on, you don't have to go through it alone."
Qrow scoffs at that. "Right. Like you could do anything."
"Why don't you trust us?" Ruby asks, voice almost too quiet to hear.
Trust is a difficult thing. Before, when he clawed his way out of the shadow of his self-loathing and took that first step forward to bettering himself, he had been more willing to give it. Not easily; after everything with Ozpin came to light, putting his trust in others and relying on anyone left him feeling exposed, as if he were opening himself up for a knife to the back. Arriving in Atlas had done him good. Even with his reservations about Ironwood's actions, at least some of his concerns had been abated, and it was enough for him to feel that he could lean on someone again. To feel some modicum of safety.
He knows better than to do that now.
Funny, thinking about just how furious he had been with Ozpin back then. Keeping secrets. Misleading people. Not out of malice, even if it had felt like it. No, he had been justified in doing what he did. Hope kept them moving forward, after all, and the only way for them to have that hope was to think they had a chance. Qrow understands why Ozpin did what he did. Now that he has first-hand experience with never-ending cruelty, struggling to find the strength to continue the fight, he is the same.
"You know," Qrow says, flexing his fingers. "My life has always been shit, from the moment I was born. Every time I think I'm doing good, I'm proven wrong. One step forward, a hundred back. And you know what I realized? Nothing I do matters."
Pity shines in their eyes, and he hates it.
Clover shifts, uncertain if he should approach or not. "Qrow, that's not—"
"I thought that if I put one foot in front of the other, something would eventually change. That things would somehow get better if I just kept trying." He lets out a bitter laugh. "Like that would ever happen. When have I ever been so lucky? I tried, over and over, and nothing ever worked. All I ever do is fail. So really, what's the point?"
The first time he had woken up, he tried his best to see it as a good thing. A second chance was something many people wished for, and he had gotten it. An opportunity to try again, to make better choices and save lives. To protect the people he cares about most. A task he failed to accomplish at every single turn. Each subsequent cycle only proved to be a punishment rather than a blessing.
What hurts the most, though, is that it proved to him just how worthless he is. A man like him, born to bring misfortune to all those around him, could never hope to make a real change to the world, and he was a fool to have ever thought otherwise.
"I'm just...so tired of it all."
"You think it's not worth it," Yang says. "That's why you won't tell anyone."
Because he remembers being regarded with suspicion, cold eyes watching his every move, waiting for him to prove that he had turned against their cause. Remembers his own family turning their backs on him.
He wishes he could trust them more.
Ruby takes a step forward, then stops, conflicted. "You might not think it is, but we do. Please let us help."
"You can't help me," Qrow mutters. "No one can."
There is no point in continuing this. Nothing they say during this little intervention is going to change anything. Words won't free him from his fate. It isn't going to fix him, and it won't take away the pain. All it does is remind him of all the worst moments of his pathetic life.
Having had enough, he turns and storms towards the door.
"Qrow, stop."
He does, just long enough to glare at Ironwood with contempt.
"Or what? You gonna shoot me if I don't?"
Ironwood flinches, mouth dropping open in shock. The hurt look on his face might have been satisfying to Qrow if he had the energy to even care. He just wants to leave.
Winter hesitates when he nears, then slowly steps out of the way, eyes locked onto Qrow as he walks out.
Not caring where he goes, he continues to walk until his chest feels fit to burst. He takes a moment to assure himself that the hallway is empty before he lets himself fall against the wall, trying to force his lungs to work, and sinks to the floor. A headache builds in his temples, a dull throbbing pain that makes him close his eyes. Biting back a groan, he draws his knees to his chest and drops his head into his hands, taking in a shuddering breath.
He needs to leave. Needs to—do what? What can he do at this point? Even if they don't outright believe he has betrayed them, his mistakes have left them suspicious of him again. If he leaves, they might just decide he doesn't deserve the benefit of the doubt. Staying here is only going to make things worse, though. He knows it will. They will watch him like hawks, making him all the more aware of how little they trust him. Just like last time.
How did he let it get to this point? How could he have been so stupid? So weak?
Why can't he do anything right? Why does he have to be such a failure?
"Qrow?"
His heart drops.
Just his luck, he thinks, to be seconds away from having a complete meltdown and be found by Oscar of all people.
"Are... are you okay?" Oscar asks softly.
Qrow can't find his voice. Can't even bring himself to move his head.
"Do you care if I sit down?"
When he receives no answer, Oscar slowly takes a seat beside Qrow, giving the man ample time to object. Qrow would, if only he could catch his breath.
To his relief, Oscar is silent. No questions, no small talk, nothing, just staying there to ensure that Qrow isn't alone. While he would prefer no one be there at all, he is glad not to have someone incessantly pestering him. It lets him focus his efforts on calming his erratic breathing, pushing through the pain in his throat and chest.
Eventually he is able to take in a breath without it hurting, and he drops his hands to his knees.
"Want to talk about it?"
"No," Qrow rasps.
"Okay."
How long will it take for one of them to come looking for him? That they haven't yet is somewhat of a shock. Given what he said, though, should he be surprised? Ranting about his lack of self-worth like that, it's to be expected. It had taken them all by surprise, to the point that none of them reacted to him dodging their questions again. It hadn't even been intentional; he had just gotten so fed up that it came pouring out.
The worst part is that none of it helped. Getting things off your chest is supposed to be cathartic, isn't it? And yet he feels much worse, as if his very soul has been ripped out and torn apart.
"Do you feel better?"
"Not really."
It hurts to still care so deeply about people who have abandoned him in the past. Things would be easier if he didn't.
"Is there anything I can do to help?"
Qrow winces. He has heard enough of that word today, and he bites his tongue to keep from snapping. Not like Oscar is to blame, since he has no way of knowing. This isn't the same as the others. There is no judgment or suspicion in his voice, just genuine concern. Even though Qrow hurt him in the past, Oscar decided to check up on him anyway, willing to reach out a hand to help as if Qrow never lashed out at him at all.
Running a hand through his hair, Qrow leans back and sighs.
"You're a good kid."
Oscar blinks a few times, confused by the random statement.
"Huh?"
Oscar deserves an apology, and so does Ozpin. His current headspace has Qrow doubting he could make a decent one. Later, whether he continues on this path or if the cycle starts anew, he will take the time to give both Oscar and Ozpin the apology he owes them.
"Is Oz..." Qrow swallows, digging his fingers into his knees. "Is he listening?"
"Yeah."
"I get it now," he says, voice distant. "Why you kept so many secrets."
He has lingered here too long. Sooner or later they will seek him out. Regardless of whether their plan is to continue pressuring him to talk or put him under house arrest, he has no desire to stay and find out. Pushing himself to his feet, Qrow shakes his head and starts off down the hallway. Seems that he is going to go to Mantle after all, being the one place where he can put space between him and Atlas.
"Qrow."
The sound of Ozpin's voice makes him slow to a stop. Though Qrow can't bring himself to look back, he tilts his head to let Ozpin know he's listening.
"Don't do anything reckless."
Qrow's hand twitches, fingers curling inward. No doubt Ozpin has noticed the movement.
That is a promise he can't make.