I never thought I'd remaster this story, but it has been over 10 years since I first posted it, and it definitely needed the upgrade. This fic is ALSO A FULLY-CASTED AUDIOFIC, with myself as the narrator. You can listen to it by looking up "Little Moose Noises" on YT. Hope you enjoy this new and improved version!

"I did this. The White Fang is here because of me. So, I have to be the one to stop them."

It was strange, hearing her own voice echoing in her mind, watching the scene unfold as if from far away – watching Yang pat the desk, beckoning for Blake to sit, too. There was a kind of heaviness in the air, somehow devoid of gloom – instead, the rays of the setting sun were shining through the tall windows and bathing the lecture hall in dusty yellows and oranges.

It was silent. So silent.

Blake was both there and not – both standing in front of her partner but also floating from above like a ghostly spectator. Yang's lilac irises kept shimmering, but the memory was off-kilter, trying to focus on different parts of her face – her mouth, her cheeks, her brows.

"But you have us, now, Blake. Don't run yourself into the ground."

Something cracked. Tilted. It felt like it could have been Blake's heart, but it might have been the entirety of Beacon Academy, too. Had the windows always been so broken? But then she realized she was speaking again, saying something she'd either said two years ago or maybe even in some other life. "You have nothing to do with this. It's not your responsibility."

Yang shifted on the professor's desk, and Blake was staring at her eyes again. Blond eyelashes slowly blinked over striking violets and mauves. "Let me tell you a story, then."

But before Yang could start telling that story – a story about recklessly going out in the woods in search of her biological mother, if Blake remembered correctly – a rumble in the distance started up. It quickly got louder and louder, but Yang wasn't reacting. It was as if she had become frozen in time, she was so still.

Frustration, regret lingering there in her eyes.

"What's your story, Yang?"

An urging whisper. If only to get her talking again. Moving. Anything.

Blake knew exactly what was coming.

But her voice hadn't come from her mouth.

She was frozen in time, too.

And then the rumbling became an explosive roar, and the entire room caught fire. The windows shattered and the air filled with black smoke. Flames engulfed the floor, the walls, crackling up the curtains, devouring the tiered-seating benches. Parts of the ceiling collapsed.

Blake was sucked back into her body with a gasp, and the clock started up again. Panicked, she immediately searched for Yang – she wasn't on the desk anymore. The faunus pivoted from one side to the other, then jumped over some rubble, avoiding a crashed pillar...but almost ran straight into a beowulf after landing. It growled and swiped at her, and she dodged out of the way. She clenched her fist, felt Gambol Shroud suddenly in her grip.

Instinct took over.

Blake cleaved the Grimm in two at the chest, and it evaporated into a mist the same color as the smoke.

Heart pounding now, Blake called out hoarsely, "Yang!"

But with the beowulf out of the way, Blake didn't have to look much longer.

There, a little further ahead of Blake, was Yang, lying on the broken floor through the debris, and standing above her with his red sword ready to slice down –

"Blake, wake up. Wakey, wakey, Blakey."

Blake startled awake, immediately sitting upright in her chair, but warm and gentle hands on her shoulders kept her from standing and lashing out.

One of the hands was metal.

"Hey, hey, it's okay. I think you were having a bad dream." The hands left her shoulders.

Blake groaned and angled her torso around. Yang was there, looking sheepish. She massaged the back of her neck and gave Blake a half concerned, half encouraging look. Only Yang could pull that strange combination off so well.

Blake's heartbeat continued to palpitate, but reality slowly came back to her. She turned back towards the desk she was sitting at, finding her crumpled homework paper in front of her history book. It appeared she'd fallen asleep while trying to complete it. The rays of the sun were still brightly shining in through the window facing her, so there couldn't have been that much time that had elapsed since her eyes had closed, but the patch of sunlight certainly explained why she'd passed out so fast.

She frowned and looked at Yang again. "Yes...I was. About, um," Blake's eyes gravitated to Yang's right arm, glancing only briefly at the bicep, knowing exactly where flesh stopped and where metal started under the light leather jacket the blonde was wearing. "Sorry. Thank you for waking me up."

Yang's expression fell. She glanced at her right bicep, too, eyebrows creased.

Before she could say anything, Blake murmured, "Weiss and Ruby are coming." She could hear them arguing about training or weapons or something further down the hall thanks to her cat ears – even if they were covered by a bow still.

"Oh." Yang's shoulders drooped before immediately straightening, and Blake watched the practiced mask of carefreeness slide onto her partner's face. "Thanks for warning me."

The door opened and Ruby strode in with Weiss. Ruby was shrugging hard while being in the middle of a complaint, "...practice my hand-to-hand when I have Crescent Rose?"

"I feel like you, of all people, would know why," Weiss muttered, putting her study books away while Ruby hopped onto Yang's bed.

Blake watched her partner's face brighten up even more, all hints of vulnerability gone. Yang put one hand on her hip and turned to face her sister and Weiss. "Can't believe I'm saying this, but if Weiss is telling you to put in more effort in learning how to fight without your weapon, I agree with her!"

"Was that really necessary?"

Ruby fell backwards on Yang's bed with a huff, Weiss immediately ignored. "Okay, but what are my fists gonna do against, like, a deathstalker? I don't have guns on them like you do, Yang." And then, before anyone could reply, Ruby sat up again with purpose and hammered in her point, "I'm literally a Grimm killing machine with my scythe, and it's not like I haven't been practicing my hand-to-hand at all. I know enough to pass!"

"Yeah, and Weiss is practically untouchable with her glyphs, but you don't see her dragging her feet to her daily butt-whoopin'."

"Ughhhh," Ruby groaned.

"Why do you have to make it sound like that?" Weiss grumbled, taking out one of her classes reading books – the same history book Blake currently had in front of her – and settling down at her own desk with it.

"Just saying it like it is," Yang giggled. "Anyway!" She motioned at the window with her hand, getting ready to change the subject. "It's a beautiful day outside. We should enjoy the weekend and go to the beach!"

Several pairs of eyes widened, for several very different reasons. Ruby, who had barely just sat down, jumped off Yang's bunk and exclaimed, "Yeah, great idea! We've already gotten some of our work done, we can continue tomorrow or something."

"I'm not sure we can afford to do that with the end of the year coming up in two months," Weiss rebutted, although she looked outside, past Blake, like her words were halfhearted. It really was a nice day outside.

And Blake hadn't returned to her own schoolwork since Ruby and Weiss had walked into their shared dorm room – when all three other girls were there, it was nearly impossible to concentrate. But Blake had still been fairly entertained by their bickering back and forth. And Yang's idea was kind of tempting, too. Blake imagined herself laying in the sun, continuing her history paper for a while before falling asleep again to the sound of the waves crashing. It was almost perfect.

…And also unrealistic. Her friends would try to get her to play or take a swim with them first. And that was…a lot less tempting.

"Aww, c'mon, Weiss," Yang insisted with a knowing smirk, because she knew she'd already won, "our grades are already through the roof. I'm gonna go see if JNPR wants to join!"

And, with that, Yang left the room without waiting for a response.

Blake shared glances with Weiss and Ruby, and then Ruby zoomed over to the dresser on hers and Weiss' side of the room. "Get ready, you two. Or else we're leaving you all by yourselves in your party pooper, uhr, party!"

This time, Blake had to smile a bit. With an affectionate shake of her head, she stood from her chair, raising her hands high for a languid stretch. "We might as well go, Weiss."

Weiss only closed her history book and sighed.

There were a lot of people at the beach. RWBY and JNPR still found a spot with a couple vacant beach umbrellas and loungers to set up at, but Blake was already somewhat regretting her decision. She did not like crowds, and the entertained screaming of children and adults alike while they had fun was not part of the calming ambience she'd anticipated. Her friends were already quite the loud and excitable bunch when they were all together as it was, and today wasn't an exception.

"Slather me, Ren!" Nora demanded, arms extended and…eyes closed.

Ren glanced nervously at everyone else. "Nora…"

This caused Yang to smirk and giggle, and she leaned over towards Pyrrha to say, "She definitely screams that in bed to him."

"Hurry or else I liquify!"

Pyrrha slapped her hand over her mouth, somehow looking both amused and horrified. "I wouldn't know."

"Uh-huh."

"Ewww," Ruby made face while extending a bottle of sunscreen at Yang, "Help me put this on instead of being perverted."

Yang laughed an apology and went over to help her sister.

Blake had sat down on the edge of one of the loungers, and she could only share a fond eyeroll with Weiss at their friends' antics. Out of habit, out of mild anxiety, she then gave the beach another cursory scan. She couldn't see very many faunus. A family, over there – the parents had horns, the two children had tails. Was it Blake's imagination, or were they being given a wide berth by the humans nearby? And what about those two friends in the distance playing frisbee? Had one of them just received a look of disgust as he jumped exceptionally high to catch the disc?

Blake's own cat ears reflexively strained against her bow, wanting to flatten. After the attack on Beacon, there had been awful backlash against the faunus, especially in Vale. A lot of humans didn't make the difference between members of the White Fang and…just regular people trying to live their lives. Because sometimes there was no difference.

Sometimes their names were Blake, and the past and the present didn't matter.

Only labels. Only race.

All the progress, gone up in Beacon's flames.

Blake took a short breath to calm herself and retrieved her own sunscreen from her belongings. She applied a bit to her face and shoulders but didn't worry too much about other areas where her skin was showing. She tanned easily and rarely burned – an advantage of being from a tropical area, she supposed, and being outside a lot growing up.

"So, should we play volleyball first to make sure we don't wash off the sunscreen right away?" Jaune asked the group as he removed his shirt, and Pyrrha was almost instantly on him to apply said sunscreen.

"You're such a nerd, Jaune," Nora cackled.

"It's a valid point," Pyrrha offered mildly. "I'm down for volleyball."

"I am as well," Ren added in – doing exactly as Nora had demanded earlier. She was so slathered she was shiny.

Amused, Blake switched her attention back over to Jaune and Pyrrha when she heard them chuckling quietly. "Hey, you're kind of handsome," Pyrrha was murmuring.

And Blake watched them, how careful Pyrrha was in the way she rubbed lotion on her boyfriend's cheeks so she wouldn't get any in his eyes. How Jaune looked at her, adoration in the sparkling of his gaze, and how easily they smiled at each other, how comfortable they were being so close.

And how Jaune could only stammer in reply, "Well, hey, you're kind of – uh, hey, you're really pretty."

It made Pyrrha giggle again. They were like the picture-perfect couple, standing together like lovebirds in the sun. It caused a longing ache in Blake's chest as her attention was drawn to Yang, who was just finishing up with Ruby. She was so beautiful with that mirth in her lilac irises, hints of those joyful, endearing crinkles at the inside corner of her eyes, towards the bridge of her nose, blonde hair shining white gold in the sunlight. Maybe she was the sunlight.

But Blake didn't allow herself to linger, didn't allow her heart to shatter, instead leaning over to pull her schoolwork from her bag as if everything was fine.

"Really?"

Blake halted, glanced up, caught Weiss' critical stare. "What?"

"I saw that."

She wasn't able to stop the wince, but Blake nevertheless finished getting her papers and book with her pencil, affecting a dismissive shrug. "So, you saw that."

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Be that way, Blake. See how far it gets you."

There was a silence between them, like Weiss had expected Blake to take the bait and have some kind of reaction. But Blake had already made peace with the situation, already come to terms with the fact that she was hopeless, and it was just sad that she hadn't moved on yet. So, she did nothing more than flip through her textbook for the page she needed.

She wasn't usually so obvious, though.

At least, she hoped.

Weiss huffed a sigh. "Anyway. You're not going to play volleyball?"

Blake looked up at her friends, saw that they were all finishing up and already starting to head out towards an empty volleyball sand court. She shook her head. "No. I'm not feeling it." More like, she was anxious about it. Like she could be recognized if she stayed out in the open too long, or, at the very least, seen for what she was.

"I'm not, either, but at least I'm making the effort."

Amber met icy blue, narrowed and questioning, like, 'Why are you doing this?' Blake was already here, wasn't she? She hadn't been the one to protest the outing, either.

But Weiss didn't say anything else. She left Blake there and made her way towards the others.

Blake watched her go for a moment, still not understanding. She did figure Weiss had a point, but why the guilt-trip? Like she was annoyed about something or…something. Frustrated, Blake creased her eyebrows and tried going back to her work. She'd just have to ask later, if Weiss didn't confront her again first.

"Hey, Blake, you should come play!" Ruby called out.

"Yeah! The teams are gonna be unequal and I need my partner to kick butt," Yang added.

"Ruby, Yang…" Blake sighed and made the mistake of looking up again. Yang had stepped just a bit closer, grinning, and had a far too hopeful look in her eyes. She hadn't stripped down to her bathing suit yet, still wearing a baggy T-shirt and shorts. It was strange, almost – for those who had known her before the attack on Beacon. Where Yang had once been so confident in her body, so ready to flaunt her guns, as she'd put it, she was now always the last one to undress, hesitant and self-conscious even in the locker rooms after team training sessions.

And, suddenly, Blake understood Weiss' snark.

Because Yang was trying. Yang was scared, too, part of her fears very much related to the way people would look at her now. And maybe she didn't put herself on display like she used to, but she didn't hide completely, didn't stop herself from living.

Guilt gnawed through Blake, that she even needed Weiss for the reminder, that she didn't just naturally support Yang in a heartbeat. But seeing how happy it would make Yang if Blake said yes had the faunus closing her textbook and putting everything away. "I'll play one game." She could at least do that, before the pressure became too much, before the anxiety of it made her sick.

"Heck yeah," Yang beamed, and they made their way towards the volleyball court together with Ruby racing on ahead of them.

"Blake! Hey, Blakey!"

Blake peered up from her schoolwork, blinking as her eyes adjusted from staring at a paper for so long. She was almost done. And then she'd be able to take a nap – a real one, comfortably settled in the sun.

The voice calling for her was Yang's. Blake would recognize it anywhere, friendly and clear and warm. Yang was making her way over to Blake at a light jog. She had tied up her thick hair in a wild ponytail, and her skin was pearled with sweat. It seemed she'd really been giving those last few rounds of volleyball her all.

"Hey," Blake greeted her with a small smile when she was close enough. "How'd the game go?"

Yang beamed and slowed out of her jog. "A lot of fun!" She grabbed her water bottle nearby and took a couple long swigs, almost emptying it entirely. Then she licked her lips, screwed the cap back on, and gave Blake a wink. "Thanks for playing at the beginning. It means a lot. I know being around a crowd is tough for you."

Well, that was a little crushing. Blake's smile faltered, but she managed, "Of course, Yang."

Before she could say anything else, though, Yang continued, "They all want to go in the water now. I mean, I do, too, but…well, I gotta take this thing off." She raised her prosthetic arm, gave a shrug. Then she set herself to removing her T-shirt, followed by her shorts.

Blake lowered her eyes, refusing to make things weird by ogling. Pretended to keep reading her textbook for a moment.

"I suppose you don't wanna come swimming?"

"…No. I'm sorry. If I get saltwater in my ears, I'm not going to have a good time for the rest of the day."

"Yeah. I get that." Yang paused. Blake thought she wouldn't say anything else, but then she started talking again while she continued undressing. "Like my arm – if saltwater floods the circuitry, I'm not gonna have good time for a while. But, I mean, you can't take off your ears. Man, can you imagine if your ears were removable? Like a little headband or clips you'd wear in your hair. I – hello? What's wrong with me? Just – don't worry about it, Blakey."

There was another pause. Blake was grinning at her textbook. Yang had stopped shuffling, too, so Blake assumed she was done stripping down to her bathing suit and putting her clothes away. She dared to raise her eyes and set her smile on Yang. "Really let the worm wiggle a bit there, didn't you?"

Yang laughed, looking off to the side and rubbing the back of her neck with her hand. "Sorry. I'm dumb."

Blake shook her head. "It's okay. You're not."

Her forgiving tone had Yang checking her expression, as if making sure Blake really wasn't offended, and whatever she found there made her beam. Blake's heart immediately pounded harder. Except it didn't last. Yang quickly became a bit hesitant, a bit concerned. "If you're not gonna go in the water…do you maybe think you could keep an eye on my arm for me?"

Blake arched her eyebrows, surprised. "Um, sure. I'll keep it safe."

Yang gave her a grateful smile and a wink – but Blake saw the strain in it, how it verged on being a grimace. Or how she hadn't made a joke about her arm doing tricks, as she might have done in more private circumstances. Yang still struggled with dysmorphia, with or without the prosthetic right arm, Blake knew. It was something Beacon's counselor had encouraged Yang to open up about with her team – or at least with one person she trusted. They couldn't just…fix it, obviously, no matter how they all felt for Yang, but at least they could accept her and support her and keep treating her like she was the strongest member of Team RWBY – because she was.

Yang's expression tightened even more as she disconnected her prosthetic. But then she stopped, stared at her metal limb for a second, and then held it up and tried giving Blake a small wave with it, accompanied by another smile. "The great thing is that I can give you a hand with anything while doing something totally different somewhere else."

Blake couldn't help it, she chuckled, tried to hide it with the back of her hand. But her reaction caused Yang to grin wider. For some reason, it also seemed to reassure Yang enough that she got herself moving again, fetching the box for her prosthetic from her bag and then carefully storing it inside. "Thanks, Blake."

"Anything for you, Yang." Oh, that was too obvious. Blake hoped Yang didn't catch the slip-up. And she recognized there was trust being placed in her, too. Maybe even more-so than if Yang had been handing her arm over to Weiss or Ruby or even Pyrrha for safekeeping.

Blake was the one who'd been there when Yang had lost her arm, after all.

She was the one who'd failed to stop it from happening.

But Yang just slotted the box next to the lounger Blake was on and gave the faunus another quick thanks. She then stood, took a step towards the others already getting into the water, but then hesitated again. She glanced back at Blake. "You're sure you don't want to come?"

It was all Blake could do not to let her eyes linger on dipping line of Yang's strong abdomen, or the defined curves of her waist and hips. The sweat on her chest, the toned muscles of her shoulders and biceps. She was hotter than she'd ever been, the results of Yang consistently training harder than she ever had, and it killed Blake that Yang didn't stand proud, didn't own every speck of dripping temptation her body had never once stopped radiating, regardless of training. And Blake couldn't say a single thing about it, either – as if her opinion even mattered here.

Heat creeping up her neck and into her face, Blake instead squashed her useless pining and just focused her attention downwards at her schoolwork. "I'm sure. You don't need me to have fun."

"But it's fun-er when you're there," Yang rebutted, a smirk in her voice. "But it's okay. Anyway, I'll be back for my arm later. See ya!"

Blake watched her go, allowed herself a short moment to admire the blonde's back as she walked. "See you." But then Blake's gaze dropped, slowly finding the box next to her. She sighed, thoughtful, and reached down to gently brush her fingers on the lid.

Any and every part of Yang was enough. And Blake just hoped that, one day, Yang would heal sufficiently to realize it.

Blake felt the sting of her own hypocrisy, quickly followed by the heavier weight of guilt. She immediately pulled away from the box with a frown and tried focusing on the last few sentences she needed to write for her history paper. Unfortunately, the words in her textbook just kept blurring, and when Blake tried to reread herself to get her mind back into the zone, her eyes just kept skimming the same sentences over and over again without processing anything.

She leaned back on the lounger for a moment. Ugh. The effort was already giving her a mild headache. The only thing, person, her mind wanted to think about was Yang. Except Blake couldn't do that. It was a slippery slope, one that spiraled down forever with no end in sight. There was nowhere for her feelings to go. And that hurt.

It wasn't like she deserved Yang, anyway.

Or that Yang saw her as anything more than a friend.

But…maybe there was something Blake could do. Something slightly more productive that sitting and fretting, something to distract herself from the present, something she could pour some of her romantic energy into by being completely honest somehow.

Blake grabbed another loose-leaf paper from her binder in her bag and stared at it for a moment. She worried at her bottom lip, thinking, imagining, before glancing down at the box beside her again. Finally, Blake lowered her pencil to the paper and began to draw.

It passed the time. She didn't have any of her proper erasers or shading pencils, so she didn't worry too much about perfect guidelines for the proportions. Instead, she sketched lightly at first, until she was satisfied with the shape of the face, and darkened the lines. She started working on the eyes – big, laughing eyes, with mischievous crinkles at the inner corners. Blake found herself smiling softly just thinking about them, how easily they made her heart fill up with warmth.

She drew an approximation of the nose – straight and angular – but Blake still had trouble getting noses right. This one didn't turn out too bad, she thought, despite the lack of details. And then Blake began forming the mouth, sketching longer lines because the expression was grinning. But her pencil lingered, shading, trying to render justice to the full lips, the little divot on the bottom one like its own small, upside-down cupid's bow, because Blake had never seen a more beautiful mouth. She traced out the teeth, the two inner incisors just slightly more prominent than the outer ones, and the canines coming in to balance out the smile.

Yang was adorable when she smiled.

Blake paused, taking a break so she wouldn't get too frustrated with it, too frustrated that she couldn't capture the image in her mind just right. It was mostly good so far, she believed, but she was always her own harshest critic and, if she rushed, she might get discouraged with it. She was just trying this outlet, to help lighten the weight in her chest. And she did feel somewhat better already.

Blake's gaze gravitated to where her friends were playing in the water. Jaune and Pyrrha were chasing each other, splashing and catching each other – it made her smile sadly watching them, how openly affectionate they were together. And, Yang, meanwhile, had Ruby up on her shoulders, facing off against Ren and Nora in some kind of battle that seemed to involve not letting the waves topple them over. It looked like a lot of fun, and Blake cursed the feline appendages on her head for being so sensitive.

Like a little headband or clips I'd wear in my hair, huh?

Instead she just wore an annoying bow all the time. She didn't even like the water.

But seeing her friends laugh together like that, seeing the joy on Yang's face…

Was it worth the fear and the pain?

Blake saw Weiss, too. The heiress was building a sandcastle. A very well-made and extravagant one, by the looks of it. She'd even drawn the attention of a tiny crowd.

Blake shook her head.

She returned to her drawing, leaving the lips for now to give this head some hair. Hair was both easy and hard for Blake – the first bunch of lines came naturally, getting the thick, purposely disheveled shape without too much issue, but then trying to fill in the details, how the bangs rested on the forehead or how longer strands framed the neck, was a different story. And Blake knew how much effort Yang put into her hair, how much difficulty she probably had with it every morning in the bathroom, herself. It seemed only fair for Blake to struggle with it, too.

If it hadn't been a weird thing for a friend to do, Blake would have helped Yang with her hair every day. But just imagining being in such close proximity to Yang so often, hands running through those blonde locks, made Blake sigh lowly. It was a bad idea.

The drawing was probably a bad idea, too. Blake shouldn't have been entertaining anything more than platonic with her partner.

She stopped, hand hovering over her paper as she fought this nagging urge to crumple it outright. After taking a few breaths, she decided to instead put it away in her binder, in her bag, along with her pencil and other school items. She settled back down on the lounger, on her stomach this time, and tried to get into a comfortable position, using her towel as a pillow. Her hand hung off the side, touched a metal casing.

Yang's box.

Instead of pulling away this time, Blake let her hand rest on top of it. Brushed her thumb over the sleek surface slowly. If she was going to sleep, she'd make sure nobody else would feel inclined to touch or take it. Yang had given it to her for safekeeping, was trusting Blake with something she had no business trusting Blake with, and so Blake would protect it and keep it safe, just as she'd said.

It was the least she could do.

Watching the sunset on the beach was an entirely different experience than watching it from a dorm window. Blake was more than content to sit there on the sand, thighs pulled up against her chest, enjoying how quiet the area had become this late into the day. Even the waves retreating to the ocean were less violent. There was still the occasional cry from a seagull, but, for the most part, this was the ambiance Blake had in mind before they'd even left Beacon much earlier that afternoon.

The view was very scenic, too. Blake considered herself not a half-bad artist, but trying to recreate the absolute masterpiece the sky was right now would have been a fruitless endeavor. Streaks of orange, red, and yellow flowed across the horizon, the sun a crimson ball kissing the ocean and setting the water on fire.

It always seemed to be like this, ever since Blake had returned from Menagerie when Beacon had reopened its doors after its repairs. She felt…apart from everyone. It had been especially bad at the beginning, because Yang had been angry with her, of course she'd been angry with her. And Weiss, while understanding of Blake's reasons, had had a few choice words for Blake at first. Even Ruby and Pyrrha had been a little weird, and that made everything awkward when the two nicest people of the group tiptoed around certain subjects.

And Blake knew it was her fault. She knew what she'd done – abandoned Yang in her greatest time of need without saying a single thing about where she'd gone. And with the CCT's offline for three months, she'd run too far away for anyone to blow up her scroll with calls and messages for a long enough time that when Remnant-wide communications were back up, the only person she'd received a single text from was Ruby.

Just Ruby.

Being far too sweet and forgiving, as Ruby was.

Hey, hope this reaches you. And I hope you're okay. Beacon's gonna be open again next year. It would be really awesome to have Team RWBY back together again. We miss you, Blake.

The message had sent Blake spiraling further into her guilt. She hadn't had the courage to respond, and the longer she didn't, the harder it got, until she'd given up altogether.

But the olive branch had been extended. And when it came time to reenroll, Blake had progressed towards a sufficiently level enough headspace to make the decision to come back.

To Vale, to Beacon, to Team RWBY.

To Yang.

Blake rested her forehead on her knees for a moment, tension twisting up her stomach.

She'd made amends. She'd earned forgiveness. And things had, slowly, taken on a new normal. She knew everyone was fine with her now.

Yet Blake always, eventually, drifted off on her own. They'd had a great time at a soup restaurant for supper together, and they'd all agreed to come back to the beach afterwards to play more games on the sand, and Blake had participated for a little while – until the ache in her chest was too much to bear and she'd said she wanted to relax and watch the sunset for a bit.

She tried to brush it off as just needing to recharge her batteries after spending so much time socializing – which wasn't a lie, really – but the truth was that there were voices in her head whispering that she was taking advantage of their kindness by sticking around for that long. That she should distance herself sometimes, so that it didn't seem like she was trying to impose herself back into their lives.

Demons of her own making, she knew.

But the rational side of her couldn't choke out the feelings.

And they all seemed to still be enjoying themselves now, either way – Blake could hear them, further down the beach, having some kind of friendly war with only themselves and their semblances.

She was happy, in a way. With or without her, they'd always be fine.

But maybe Blake hadn't learned anything, after all.

She heard Yang approaching almost as soon as she'd started making her way over to Blake. Blake had recognized the casual fall of her steps, and, as she got closer, the strong beat of her heart. And when Yang sat down beside Blake, legs crossed, the faunus felt the perpetual warmth radiating off her partner's body and smelled the vanilla and gunpowder on her clothes, too.

She welcomed all of it.

Yang had a beige jacket on now, and jeans – the outfit she'd put on before heading to the restaurant earlier.

Blake hadn't even seen her pack a second set of clothes.

Yang didn't speak, at first. She seemed happy to stare out at the water and sky for a little while with Blake. Which, really, Blake was grateful for, but she found herself struggling with feline instincts urging her to cuddle up against the source of heat near her. And because Blake had come to associate Yang's scent with things that made her feel safe, Blake also very much wanted to bury her nose against Yang's shoulder, or even the crook of her neck.

It felt like wrestling a creature that was too small and too agile for its own good, constantly finding ways to slip out of Blake's grip, and it was all she could do to catch it by the scruff of its neck and force it back onto her lap.

Where the struggle continued.

"Do you want to talk about it?" Yang murmured.

Blake glanced at her, hoped the problem she was having wasn't written all over her face. "Talk about what?" Yang didn't know, right? Blake hadn't ever been forthcoming about the more inward cat-like traits she had. The ears were a source of shame enough as it was.

"Well, the dream you had back in our room. I dunno, maybe I'm off, but you've been pretty distant today. And you seem…sad."

Blake instantly froze over. She clenched her jaw. It was naïve of her, to think she could hide herself away from Yang, to think that Yang didn't see when Blake wasn't quite herself. Yang had proven her emotional intelligence and sensitivity over and over again, and it only made Blake fall harder each time.

Faced with Blake's lack of response, Yang seemed to guess she'd hit the nail on the head. "You're still experiencing guilt about my arm, aren't you?"

Blake curled in on herself further. Said nothing.

"I don't understand, Blakey. We talked about it, like, a lot. And I know it took a little while, but we got through it, found our rhythm again. I thought we were fine."

Blake had to shut her eyes and lean her forehead on her knees. Her heart was pounding so hard. This wasn't something she could try to lie about or brush off – they'd been clear with each other, about a year and a half ago, that if they wanted to keep being good partners, good friends, that they had to be honest about how to deal with each other and their feelings when it came to Yang's arm. Anything less would harm them beyond repair.

And Blake was terrified. She'd already come so close to losing Yang permanently that nightmarish day. She'd almost lost her friendship by running away afterwards. It felt like she was forever walking on the precipice of a deadly fall, and one misstep would be the end of all she held dear – and not because of Yang, but because of her own past and cowardice breathing down their necks.

What if she lost Yang for good revealing this one last terrible secret?

"I still…get dreams like that, too, you know," Yang eventually said into the silence stretching on between them. Even the waves crashing in offered no comfort now.

"I know," Blake whispered. It woke her up sometimes. Not as often before, Yang had done a lot of healing, but…Blake always woke at the smallest, unusual sound. She still heard it when Yang struggled in her sleep. Still felt helpless and awful at not knowing what to do because what she knew she wanted to do wasn't quite what a platonic friend would do. Or, at the very least, felt too guilty to try because of how deep her feelings ran, too afraid that Yang would guess or that Blake would mess it up.

And then Yang would eventually wake up on her own, sometimes crying so quietly Blake had to wonder, other times getting up to drink some water and pace outside their dorm room for a while. There'd been a couple times where Yang had checked if she'd woken Blake, followed by a glum apology when Blake said yes.

And all Blake could do was just stay lying there under her blankets and tell Yang not to worry about it.

What a horrible friend I am.

Yang glanced at her. Hesitant, a little torn. "I didn't know that you had them, too."

Oh, Yang. It almost broke Blake. Made her want to scream until her throat turned raw. Instead, she found herself muttering, "He saw the way I looked at you, Yang. I relive that memory over and over again, in different ways, different settings, different events leading up to it, but always right before watching him sever the arm from the person I care about the most. I can't not feel guilty about it."

There was a pause. It was too late to take back, and Blake knew what she'd said. But Yang wanted the truth.

So, there it was.

Yang slowly leaned forward, put her hand on the sand. "Blake…" Her eyes turned to meet her partner's, uncertain, nervous. "What do you mean – the way you…looked at me?" She shook her head a little, like she was saying no to something Blake wasn't privy to. "Why was – is – that important?"

At first, Blake was too frozen in fear to answer or even react. But Yang was already putting the pieces together – that much was clear in the gradual widening of her eyes. So, Blake pushed her legs away from her chest and crossed them instead, took a grounding breath in and shakily exhaled. The blood was rushing in her ears, her heart hammering so hard she wasn't sure how her thorax kept it contained. And, finally, she swallowed against the knot in her throat and forced out, "Because I'm in love with you, Yang."

Yang just stared at Blake. Searching. Stunned.

But now the dam was broken. Blake rushed on, "He might have just toyed with Weiss or Ruby if they were the ones that had showed up. But it was you." Her voice hitched. "…Of course it was you. I was horrified. I knew Adam would lose his mind with jealousy and hatred. He would have killed you – because you had what he couldn't keep." A sob suddenly racked Blake's body, and she covered her face with her hands, leaning over again, hiding away, desperately trying to keep control over her terror. "I'm – sorry. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

"But you never – what? Blake, I…" Yang's own voice trailed off, quiet and disbelieving. "I don't –" She stopped again. "I didn't know. Gods, I – you're shaking so much. Let me hug you?"

Blake felt Yang's hand gently touch her arm – and the gesture shattered her heart. She really did start crying then, immediately bringing her knees back up to shield herself. How could Yang be so kind, so selfless, especially after this? In what world did Blake ever deserve Yang's warmth?

Faced with Blake's lack of response – and lack of clear consent – Yang just sat closer against her side and ever so gently rubbed circles on Blake's back. "I'm sorry, Blake. I'm not really good with my words." She laughed, dismal, and her voice sounded a little thick, like she was upset, too. "I usually just try to make my hugs be the best in the world. I, uh," her tone turned a bit hopeful, "I think I've reached the final boss level with them, anyway?"

And Blake – Blake sputtered a laugh through her sobbing because it was just so Yang, so unexpected but so sincere and comforting in a way videogame references shouldn't have ever been. "You've beat the world's high score with them, Yang," Blake managed in a croak before half-laughing, half-crying against her legs some more.

Yang joined Blake in that, her hand reaching around the faunus' shoulders and giving an affectionate squeeze before returning to brushing slow patterns on her upper back. "Thank you for recognizing my hard work."

The lightheartedness had its probably intended effect – as inconsolable as Blake had thought she'd been, she found herself breathing easier already. Somehow, even if Yang was shocked by the news, she gave no judgement. Only support, only care. Within just a few moments, Blake was able to wipe her eyes and start calming down.

Just another reason to find Yang so incredible.

Blake couldn't help it – she leaned against Yang's side, let her head rest against Yang's shoulder. The blonde was so warm, a living space heater, and her clothes smelled like vanilla and gunpowder, her skin like the ocean. Yang even held Blake by the shoulders again, and they were both quiet for a little while as they watched the setting sun sparkle on the water and bathe the beach in orange and red.

If this was the one memory Blake could keep before their friendship burned to ashes, she would store it more preciously than she'd ever stored anything in the organized attic of her mind. She'd place it there with all her other tender memories of Yang – Yang smiling, Yang winking, Yang's arms around her, Yang's red eyes in her protective anger – front and center on the mantle of her love, somewhere Blake could easily revisit and touch at the tip of her fingers as if it had been real, and place a sunflower underneath, because those were Yang's favorites.

And Blake could pretend, just for a small while as she remembered this moment, that she wasn't the reason why Yang's smiles didn't reach her eyes as often anymore.

"We could…try dating, you know," Yang suddenly said into the comfortable silence they'd lapsed into.

Severe whiplash might have been less surprising. Blake stiffened. She sniffled and moved away from Yang to properly look at her – give her a disbelieving stare while she was at it, too. "You can't just suggest things like that."

"Well…why not? You're my friend, my best friend; a really great partner, and an amazing person in general. I trust you with my life."

It was so naïve. Too naïve. Blake's heart had gone right back to pounding, but this time she was upset. "But you're straight, Yang. None of what you just said implies romance." And Yang had to know that, too. She'd been in a couple relationships with men before. She knew the difference.

"I mean, I think I have liked looking at a few girls in the past. And I do, you know, like looking at you, too." Pink dusted Yang's cheeks, and she suddenly sounded a bit shy – but maybe it was just uncertainty at talking about something Blake had absolutely never heard her talk about before. "You are really pretty, Blake. And I really like hugging you, more than I've liked hugging anyone." Yang cleared her throat, tried a tentative smile. "I think what I'm trying to say is that I'm not, like, totally put off? I think I could learn to reciprocate your feelings."

And all Blake could do was let out a long exhale before bringing her hands to her face to cover the sides of her nose and mouth, closing her eyes for a moment. This was…not what she'd been expecting. At all. And while the things Yang had just said were a little better than the first thing she'd said…

Blake's drowning heart had been a thrown a lifeline. Except the line was made of paper and silk.

Not nearly strong enough to save her.

But before Blake could find what to say, something about promises that couldn't be kept, no doubt, the two young women heard footsteps approaching. They turned, saw Weiss making her way over to them. Yang leaned back on her hands, so easily switching into a more casual and laid-back position.

"Hey, Weiss," she greeted her with a smile. "What's up?"

Weiss stopped a few feet away and arched her eyebrows. "I hope you two are okay over here. And I don't mean to interrupt, but we're going to miss the last airship to Beacon if we don't leave in the next five minutes."

"Right! Well, tell the others you can start heading out without us. We'll catch up before the airship leaves."

Weiss paused, took in Blake's probably still puffy eyes, and seemed to grow more concerned. But then she shook her head and said, "Fine. Just don't be late or worry Ruby." And then she turned on her heels and started walking back towards the group.

Blake and Yang watched her go, and once Weiss was out of earshot, Yang returned her attention to Blake. "I do want you to be happy, Blake. And I'd like to keep having you in my life one way or another."

"Then I think you'll understand when I say that you can't do something like this just to see if you can." Blake took a calming breath in, tried to keep her tone level despite her distress. "I love you, Yang. I've loved you since before the attack on Beacon. And I never stopped loving you, even after that." She dared to put her hand on Yang's arm, dared to move just a little closer, so Yang would see how important this was. "I don't get giddy butterflies or bouts of excitement just from being near you. I don't worry about how I look to you or do things just to get your attention. And I'm not sitting here, wildly hoping all my dreams are coming true. It's not a crush, I'm not infatuated."

Blake had to stop for a second, swallow back the tightness in her throat. Even her heart felt like it was trying to rip itself apart inside her chest. Their friendship wouldn't be the same after this – because that was just how things worked. It was inevitable. And Blake couldn't do much else except mourn now. She managed to meet Yang's beautiful lilac irises, saw only hurt and incomprehension reflected back at her. So, Blake gathered the scattered pieces of her courage and finished more softly, "I just want you to be happy, Yang. That's all I care about."

Yang stared, as if Blake had grabbed her by the collar and jostled her – except she hadn't. The silence stretched on, and Blake moved away, shook her head. Blinked fiercely. They had to go. She stood and offered her hand to Yang.

Yang took it, allowed herself to be hauled up. But just as Blake was loosening her hold and beginning to walk off, Yang gripped a bit harder before letting go. "Wait. Where does that leave us, then?"

Blake forced herself to breathe, tried to bring forth some pretense of aloofness – if only to help free Yang from having to consider Blake's own feelings. "Anywhere you want it to leave us, Yang. But we really need to go. Maybe we can talk about it some other time." It wasn't what Blake wanted, but they couldn't miss the airship. And continuing this conversation in front of the others was out of the question.

"I… Fine, you're right," Yang sighed shortly. She slid her hands into her pockets. "Let's go, then." She started walking.

Blake followed a few steps behind her, stared down at her own feet. "I'm sorry. Bad timing."

"No, it's –" Yang came to an abrupt halt, and Blake almost bumped into her. She turned around, gave Blake this frustrated look. "Just, it's not your fault. I see you still blaming yourself. Not about the stupid airship, obviously. But anyway, we'll talk."

Blake nodded. She still couldn't meet Yang's eyes. "We'll talk," she agreed.

They stayed standing in front of one another for a moment longer, as if Yang had something else she wanted to say, but then the blonde pivoted and strode off again.

Blake trailed behind her without another word.

Lemme know what you think! I'm always open to feedback.