Chapter Text
[January]
(Hours after the world lost meaning.)
Weiss loves her sleep.
It’s a fact known by few, and not for the reason they believe. Beauty sleep wasn’t entirely a top priority when it came to training to fight monsters and saving the world. She lost track of caring about luxuries like that.
No, she loves to sleep because she can dream.
Dreams had been her only way of escaping the difficulties of living in Schnee Manor with a manipulative father and an absent mother. Especially after Winter left (and Weiss has never blamed her for leaving. Perhaps at first, but as she took her place and grew into the role of heiress- it was either grow or be crushed- Weiss would have left as well. She did leave).
In the dreamland, she can be whatever she wants. It can change constantly and there was no one who could tell her to stop otherwise. A princess, a warrior, a hero, even once just a simple life in the middle of the woods. When she unlocked her aura and obtained her semblance, her dreams exclusively were centered on being a huntress.
Here, she was in charge. Where her daily life was filled with suffocating rules and impossible expectations, in her dreams, there was none of that. Only the rules she made, that she can change at any moment.
(It was nice having control of at least one aspect of her life.)
Dreams were the only thing that was exclusively hers in that house.
The only thing that kept her sane.
Moving to Beacon felt exactly like one of her dreams coming true, it threw her for a loop. But she took it in stride. And they changed, she changed. Mostly for the better. She found people to call her own, a family just for her- so when it fell and she was taken back to that prison of white painted walls in an opulent manor, it very well ripped her in half. (She honestly didn’t know what kept her together.)
(...well, that’s not entirely true… She knows one reason. One person.)
She persevered (because what other choice did she have but to persevere). Rejoining the others, finding her family again, saving the world. That last one made sleep and dreams more difficult to come by, (saving the world was more important than dreams), but it only made her savor each moment of rest even more.
Then, she would envision peace. In a world filled with pain, dreaming about the future where they triumphed and lived in a peace that they earned and fought so hard was enough to give her strength and hope.
Weiss loves her sleep. She loves to dream.
But now…
Even sleep has betrayed her.
(Her body, her mind, her emotions, her dreams- What else can hurt her?)
…Weiss is running.
She does not know why or where she has to go. But she’s running. The only thing she can truly comprehend is the sheer amount of panic coursing through her system- and when her surroundings become familiar, hauntingly familiar, she understands now.
Atlas Academy. She races down the halls in search of something, of someone, and she has to get to them. She has to. Because if she doesn’t… if she doesn’t…
(She doesn’t.
She knows she doesn’t make it.)
There is the sound of distant cries, so muffled and so chilling. Death and agony and fear. And she should be trying to stop it. She is a huntress, for crying out loud. Her duty is to defend the innocent from harm no matter what shape that harm takes. It’s coming from every direction, all around and nowhere. She can’t pinpoint where or what’s causing such frightened screams.
And most of all…
They aren’t important to her right now.
Because as she leaves the winding hallways of the academy and finds her way into the open courtyard, Weiss remembers why she’s been running and it is infinitely more urgent. More significant.
Being a partner is more important to her than being a huntress.
She remembers this scene. Quite well, at that.
Knows what’s coming just a split second as it happens. The red cloak and the red scythe and the girl in red speeding around to avoid the ever-expanding darkness. Scarlet petals fall like droplets of blood and they are creating an ominous ocean of impending death on the grey-slate ground that’s cracked with tendrils and arcs and claws of black shadows radiating from the witch that controls them at the center of it all. A dark star or a black hole in the middle of the universe, and Weiss is nothing more than meaningless dust trapped in the orbit.
Dust can’t make a difference here. It’s tiny. Inconsequential. Weak.
What are specks of dust to an all-consuming star? Nothing.
So she can do nothing as the shadows meet their mark. Nothing but stand there, nothing but watch. The scythe is torn away, swallowed by the shadows, the girl in the cloak losing all sign of momentum and landing hard on the ground.
The movie plays out exactly as it always does.
No matter how fast she runs down the halls initially, she can never make it here on time (and oh does this dream play constantly for her, she’s had many, many, many opportunities to try). She’s not fast enough to save her.
So, again; she has to watch it happen. Again, she has to meet silver eyes filled with tears and fear and hopelessness. Again, she can’t move a single fucking muscle in her direction no matter how much Weiss tries to fight against the invisible restraints and the imaginary barrier in front of her.
Again, she is witness to the tears that fall, as the last word her partner ever told her echoes in her mind like the screeches from earlier.
“Help…”
And just like so many times before…
Weiss wakes up.
Or perhaps it’s more accurate to say that she trips into consciousness for only a moment. Only long enough to have a vague awareness of what’s happening around her and the one word to describe everything is chaos. Her body is numb and motionless (and some part of her is grateful for that), but her lids crack open heavily. Blurry, but it’ll have to do.
She’s on her back on something moving, a gurney if she is to guess. She can faintly hear the wheels, the roar between realms, vision directed upward to distinguish the change between the blue sky of Menagerie to the black-speckled ceiling of the inside of a building. People in white coats and light grey scrubs rush around, and as her head lolls to the side, there is the full force of the pandemonium.
People are running everywhere. The seriously injured wheeled off to operating rooms, surgeons and nurses and medical staff spread about to assist. Off to the side, the portal of Raven Branwen- the last of her strength to get the critically injured here- flickers and dies and Weiss knows she’s trapped here now. (How unfortunate.) There’s an oxygen mask on her and people pushing her along and she wants to tell them to stop because… because she can’t be here.
She has something she needs to do.
But what? She can’t remember. Everything is so numb and her mind is sluggish. Is this what dying is like?
It’s hard to put names to faces. Huntsmen and huntresses are only noticeable by the state of their injuries and the gear they wear. Allies.
Allies for what? She can’t remember, she can’t remember. It’s coming back too slowly. Thoughts try to push their way through the haze of unwanted sleep and fail, noise muffled and sensation muted. She can hardly see, can hardly feel, can hardly hear.
“Let me go!”
But fuck can she hear that. And it’s probably because she’s always attuned to listening out for her teammates, her family, her people. Always prepared to jump to their aid, should they need it.
And it sounds like Blake definitely needs it.
There’s a moment of pause, a traffic jam of gurneys as the conga line presses as close to the wall as they can for others who need to rush by faster. It gives Weiss the time to try and locate where Blake is and it takes a lot longer than she wants it to. But at last, she finds her.
It’s kind of hard to miss a group of people trying to restrain one individual in the middle of the room.
Even as Blake reacts with the sluggishness of someone just coming out of a previous sedation, she struggles with the frenzy to be set free from the many hands grabbing onto her. Aggravating her injuries even more. Weiss wants to tell her to stop.
But as one of the gurneys comes by, she understands the reason for her friend’s freakout. Sympathizes.
Because Yang is on that gurney… and one of the doctors is desperately doing chest compressions to get her heart started again. To revive her.
Oh.
That’s... not good.
(If her mind wasn’t so riddled with exhaustion, perhaps she’d have a stronger reaction, but be that as it may, the only thing she can do is watch.)
(Just like before, just like before.)
And now she remembers everything going on. What they’ve been doing before coming here, why she’s in the kind of pain that makes her entirely numb, why Yang’s heart has stopped and why they’re in a hospital and why there’s so many wounded.
The gurney speeds by and it’s the last image of Yang that Weiss gets, the train of other injured people- including herself- continuing after she is assumedly around the corner. Another glance down at Blake and her teammate is being forced over to her own bed by some of the stronger staff members when trying to calm her down with words fails. There’s only so much hysterical strength panic can give to someone and the sedatives from earlier remain in her system, debilitating her more and more.
But fuck, does she fight as much as she can.
It makes Weiss want to do the same.
She should be doing the same, damn it. Blake is trapped and needs help to be set free because if they can just get to Yang then maybe, maybe, maybe...
But consciousness is slipping again, back to the realm of dreams, and as she rounds the corner, the last thing she comprehends is Blake being lifted off her feet, dragged over to the bed, as she produces a primal, raw, visceral scream. It frightens Weiss, honestly. A shiver runs down her spine.
It reminds her of-
Her eyes drift shut.
And when she opens them again, the sky is red. The ground is too, she’s on her knees with a hand covering the freshly made crack on her chest. In an agony unlike any other but more focused on the fact that her partner just attacked Blake from behind.
More focused on the fact that her partner is even attacking them at all.
There she is. Ruby. Walking to her with her scythe at the ready and ribbons of shadows swirling off of her and eyes an entirely wrong color. The curved blade of her weapon shines with dull scarlet and Weiss is a puppet in her own body, going through the same motions.
Grab Myrtenaster, keep a hand to her chest to protect the sensitive crack, dodge to the side of an aura slash. Roll to your feet, don’t stay on your knees no matter how much you want to. Get up. Ruby materializes in front of her, off the ground, withered rose petals surrounding her (how she missed that scent despite the taint of something not Ruby in it). Dodge back. Block.
She listens. She obeys. There’s nothing else for her to do but fight- and despite it all, she can’t retaliate. Even now. Even reliving it a second time.
Here’s your chance, this twisted nightmare cackles, taunting, What would you have done differently?
Everything.
But who knows? She could have changed every decision she made and it still would’ve ended the same way.
Ruby advances, wild and out for blood, her blood, and Weiss has just enough time to activate a forcefield around her as the scythe comes swinging. She can perceive every hit deep within her very soul, rattling her bones, scorching her from the inside out. The strength of her defense infuriates her corrupted partner and she attacks harder and harder and harder.
She’s crying and Weiss can’t stop herself from repeating the same fate like she’s rehearsed lines from a play.
“Ruby!” She calls out because- because what if she just has to try one more time? Will she get through to her? The first time failed, but what if… “Please, stop!”
Well, something certainly changes here.
Because Ruby doesn’t just scream incoherently, revealing her anger and agony to the world and to them with each yell.
There are words now.
“Help me!” It’s so strange. To hear those words in an enraged tone. More of a threat than a plea, punctuated by another strike. And another. And another. Ruby doesn’t let up.
“You are,”- Strike- “supposed to,” -After strike- “help me!” After strike.
It’s, arguably, worse than the real thing. Worse than what actually happened.
“I can’t,” Weiss sobs, flinching at the next hit. Her barrier ripples, growing frailer with every slash of the scythe. “I can’t if you don’t let me!”
Please, let me. Please, Ruby.
I can’t beat you. Not like this.
No matter how hard she tries, Weiss is not strong enough to get through to Ruby. To defeat her in this state. Maybe if she was at full strength and the simple idea of striking her partner didn’t kill a piece of her just imagining it and Blake and Yang were standing- maybe she could have turned it around.
But that’s not what happened then… and it doesn’t happen now.
Their eyes meet, red and black with blue, and for just a second- there’s a flash of an image. And she swears, she swears she’s right there. Her Ruby.
Bleeding and tired. Suspended in chains of shadows and corruption. Silver, silver, silver.
Though she doesn’t scream in fury, her whispered plea of “Help…” is so much worse to hear.
Then Weiss blinks.
And she’s in a room. Somewhere.
Black-speckled ceiling, the sound of people working together to keep her alive buzzing around, (Doctors, she remembers apathetically, I’m in the hospital), the beeps of a heart monitor already set up just so they know she’s alive. They work quickly and there are many hands on her. Sections of her combat gear are cut away- with quite the effort; medical scissors and scalpels are a lot duller than Grimm claws and horns and teeth and Ruby’s scythe- so they can understand what they’re working with. Until she’s down to her thinner layer dress, someone off to the side getting a hospital gown ready to put on her (that atrocious thing).
They don’t know where to start. That much is obvious.
Some emphasize her burned left arm and the stab wound on her shoulder, others point out the crack on her chest, even more want to prioritize the black veins on her broken right arm.
What a mess she is.
There’s arguing, those of the same rank and experience butting heads, (so prideful people from Atlas are. She should know), the only thing they can concede to is setting up the IV drip and the heart monitor.
It’s… disconcerting, honestly. If she were more aware of everything going on- if she cared enough- she’d be worried that this is what the best of the best is capable of. Arguing over each other, not listening to one another.
Perhaps she should cut them some slack.
With a body so battered and broken, she wouldn’t even know where to begin either.
They set her up directly underneath one of the lights on the ceiling and it’s blinding her, so she tilts her head to find something else to look at and-
There’s a trick of the light. A faint image. A mirage. Or a hallucination.
It has to be one of the above.
Because there, standing in the space the doctors don’t bump into… is Ruby. Her Ruby, not the corrupted one that tried to kill them and was forced to do Salem’s bidding. Just out of the corner of her eye. Watching over her.
So incredibly sad. Weiss can’t remember Ruby ever being that sad.
She wants to reach out to her, to touch her, to convince herself this is real and she’s here, but both of her arms are out of commission and the doctors restrain her when she tries to turn her body. They speak to her soothingly, trying to keep her calm, telling her where she’s at- (I already know where I’m at, stop touching me)- and why she’s here.
Ruby observes her with such a heartbroken expression. Not meeting her eye, taking note of her injuries, committing them to memory. And for the most part, it remains that way. The mirage doesn’t change location, features despondent and guilty, unable to meet pained blue despite how much Weiss wants her to.
But then…
A flicker of panic. Pure, unadulterated panic. Ruby flinches and now she meets blue, her eyes widening, and she lunges forward as though to grab her-
And dissipates. (Just like the dream, just like the dream.)
Weiss is nearly too distracted by whatever that was to realize that one of the doctors- who wanted to assess her burn injuries first- uncurls her fingers that had been clenched and snatches the petal from her palm. So simply. Just like that. Handing it off to one of the nurses, telling them to throw it away.
No… She can’t speak, the agony in her chest won’t let her, and she can only manage a groan the doctors take as one of pain. Attention glued on the nurse walking away with the petal, straight for the garbage bin by the open door. No, don’t take her from me.
Weiss struggles more- now realizing just how Blake was able to fight back so hard despite her injuries when it came to her partner- and they continue to restrain her. Pushing her down, one of them wraps a cable to secure her to the bed around her sternum (and that hurts too because her skin smarts from being zapped by the kitsune’s lightning), holding her steady. She lifts a hand to paw at the mask to try and speak but they stop her from doing that too.
No, no, no.
Give her back…
There are too many hands on her. It’s too much, too much, too much. Sensation is slowly returning to her, just enough for her to register the pain, especially as they touch her arms. Her shoulder. The strap around her is too restricting and too tight and she is trapped.
Her visit to the shadows had been brief- shorter than the other two, as far as she’s aware of- but the one thing she can blaringly remember isn’t the cold or the suffocation.
It’s the paralysis. The restraint of the darkness holding every part of her body hostage for it to start tearing her apart. (Not that it had the chance).
And these doctors…
Give...
...holding her down, taking her petal away…
...her…
It’s overwhelming.
...back!
There’s a piercing- tearing pain at her chest, but she ignores it as her eyes narrow. Determined, annoyed, infuriated. The pressure at her skull increases and she can taste blood in her mouth, but she pushes through, pushes through, pushes through. The doctor on the right side by that arm, closest to the wall, calls out in alarm and staggers away.
She doesn’t need to turn her head to know what’s happening there.
All at once, the hands against her body retreat as the staff rear back (and she sighs mildly in relief), startled as a ghostly arm breaks through the (cracked) summoning glyph beside her bed. Hovering over her body to shield her from any further unwanted touches. Armored, chipping, but somehow holding the strength needed to grasp the strap holding her down and snapping it apart with nary a sign of exertion.
Now able, she tears herself free of the oxygen mask, sitting up in her bed as the rest of the Arma Gigas emerges from the fractured glyph, panting heavily.
Weiss keeps her glare on the nurse holding her petal hostage. Who drops it and bolts at the first sign of trouble, and she growls. Many of the other nurses and doctors leave, only the brave few trying to talk her down, telling her to call off her summon. But she doesn’t listen to them, only has eyes on the petal that these people step on.
The audacity of them.
Her fury is mimicked by the Arma Gigas who, though staggering, releases a chilling cry. Like wind against steel, sharp and aggressive. The greatsword is formed and it makes even more people run out of the room. Only two remaining. The lead doctors who had been arguing over what part of her to start working on first.
Wild blue flicks from the petal and to the man who took it in the first place, backing away to the door. Stomping on it. She scowls.
First, he steals Ruby away, and now, he’s sullying the last piece of her Weiss will ever have.
…Unacceptable…
“Wait, wait, don’t-”
Too late.
The Gigas lunges, around the bed and straight for him. And with a mighty swing, she cuts him down. Blood splatters against the wall to the side- and on a normal day, Weiss’s actions would scare her. To strike at an innocent person without hesitation.
But it’s not a normal day.
She remembers now.
It’s so far from a normal day.
Today is the day she lost it all.
Today is the day they fought and fought and fought so fucking hard and still failed.
Today is the day where she lost the first person who ever believed in her. Her, not Weiss Schnee. Just Weiss. Who saw her even when Weiss couldn’t see herself through the blindfolds of an image she had to uphold because of her father.
Who knew her even before Weiss did.
And now, they failed. She failed.
Ruby is gone.
The remaining doctor rushes over to his colleague, grabbing under his arms and beginning to drag him out of the room so Weiss or the Gigas can’t attack him again, shouting for someone, anyone to help.
Ruby is gone…
The knight stumbles over to the petal, limping, picking it up in an armored glove with surprising gentleness. Holding it reverently, protectively to its body as it wanders back over to her. Mourning, crying. She knows its grief as well as her own. There is a tickle in the back of her throat and she’s vaguely aware she coughs up blood, a slight trickle of it down her nose. Even more dribbles down her arm as she orders the Gigas to tear out the IVs connecting her to the machines from her veins because she can’t do it herself.
Her knight obeys every order, kneeling in front of her and presenting the petal to her. She accepts it with a quivering, burned hand. Somehow getting it to work when she needs it most. Weiss inspects it closely for any sign of damage.
Surprisingly enough, it’s completely fine. Spotless, as though it hadn’t just been trampled by so many rude staff members.
Ruby is gone…
Her fingers clench around the petal and she lifts her scrutiny to the door. A tug to her being, urging her to get moving.
...and I have to find her.
They took off her heels and it’s a shame because the ground is so sleek and slippery- and because she doesn't expect to be so weak, too weak that she can’t even fucking stand on her own- she falls. Torture sparks at every part of her body, her shoulder with the stab wound especially that she lands on, and she can’t catch her cry as it slips from her mouth. Pained and grieving. She wants to curl up here and stay, but…
But she has to find Ruby.
She has to, she has to.
Get up.
She can’t. Not on her own.
So, she orders the Gigas to help her. It ambles over, but now that she’s aware of it, now that she looks at it, it shocks her enough to stop entirely. Her knight, her strongest and most trusted summon… so cracked and seconds away from falling apart. Moving with rust between its hinges, lethargic.
But loyal.
It extends a hand to her and she uses it to push herself up. First to her knees, and that already takes so much, but she grits her teeth and gets up the rest of the way. Finds her way to the blood-splattered wall to slant against, following the trail of it on the floor.
She did that.
...She doesn’t entirely care right now.
Perhaps later, when her mind is clearer and not bombarded by grief and agony and fear, but not right now.
All that matters is that she has to find Ruby. She has to find her because… because it can’t be over. Not like this. This isn’t how things are supposed to end. They are supposed to win, they were supposed to get her back. They weren’t…
They weren’t supposed to lose her.
So, no. Ruby’s not gone. She refuses to accept it.
She has to be out there, somewhere.
And Weiss has to find her.
Go, she directs her Gigas first and it stands straight, preparing its greatsword. Ready for battle. Find her.
Tear the whole world apart if you must.
No matter what it takes, we have to find her.
The Gigas hesitates, wanting to change its mind. But it is a construct under her control and it bows its head, something somber but resigned about the action. Clearing the distance and right out of the room, leaving her alone for just a second.
But she hears the screaming.
And the sound of glass shattering, walls breaking, floors being ripped apart. Can experience it deep inside of her, every strike resonating within. Giving her strength. Move forward. You have to keep moving forward.
Ruby would want you to.
Ruby needs you to.
Walking is a punishment in itself but she grits her teeth and bears the affliction, taking so much longer than her Gigas to make it to the open door. Finally, she has made it, and as she treads outside, she’s already panting. Coughing up blood, vision spinning, the world teetering this way and that. It takes everything within her to stay centered, to keep going, to not give in to the temptation to fall and stay down.
People are running down the hall to the left, her knight wreaking havoc off to the right, and as she scans the crowd trying to get to safety and out of range of the recklessly swinging greatsword and flying fists and armored boots, she spots someone familiar at the corner of the corridor, huddled there. Hands over cat ears to block out the noise but staring at the mayhem in front of her. Unable to turn away.
Blake… (She managed to escape her medical team after all. How sneaky of her.)
Funnily enough, gold eyes aren’t directed at the Arma Gigas or the tears in the ground or the flickering lights or Weiss.
And as Weiss follows her gaze, she understands.
Shadows. The broken lights leave many shadows in their wake and the cold pierces through her just noticing them. (Okay, so she’s more affected by her instance in the darkness than she expected.) Shadows everywhere.
Protect her. You have to protect her. You have to protect her!
She will not let the darkness take her family from her again. (They took Blake first- How long was she in it for? Certainly longer than Weiss…)
Following her desires, the Gigas stops marching forward in search of an exit and instead swings at the neighboring swathe of darkness. Breaking down walls and doors. Attacking wildly to fight them off, but with each strike, there are only more and more forming. (She can’t quite make the connection- in her pain-addled mind- that she is the one causing the darkness to form with every light she breaks from the ceiling.)
Weiss turns away from Blake, leaning heavily against the wall with her uninjured shoulder and using it to help her limp in the direction of the enraged knight. Blake can stay in that corner; she’s safe there, the darkness won’t catch her.
She’ll make sure of it.
Protect Blake. Find Ruby. (Yang… We’ll get to Yang soon.)
If those things just happen to coordinate, it’s only because of luck.
(And certainly not her luck. Who the luck belongs to is questionable, but it can’t be hers.
Hers is rotten.)
Something in her mind tells her to stop and it might be logic trying to talk her down. Think clearly, stop what you’re doing. Get some rest. There’s no need to fight, you’re safe now. But the emotional side of her is running rampant and it’s echoed by the Gigas hacking away at the shadows, breaking everything around it.
Emotion outweighs logic.
Find Ruby, you have to find Ruby.
It can’t be over. It can’t.
Because that means Ruby is gone.
She’ll never get to watch her smile again, so bright and alive and contagious. She’ll never get to hear her laugh just to share her glee to the world or hug her tight enough to know she’s safe or be subjected to another one of her ramblings about nothing important just because Weiss liked hearing her voice. Never get to savor her warmth on nights where they would rather share a bunk because the day had been scary and their dreams were plagued with horrible imaginings. Never get to take in her scent of roses Weiss can drown in for hours and continue to want more. She’ll never get to see her eyes again; beautiful silver that didn’t need some kind of mythical power to be magical.
She’ll never get to tell Ruby she loves her.
(She’ll never get to know the way Ruby loves her.)
So, no.
No.
Ruby can’t be gone. Because that is… is…
She can’t stand that.
A life without Ruby Rose is not a life she wants to be in.
Weiss has stopped walking, no matter how much she wants to keep going, at the end of her strength. But the Gigas continues, and the screams have stopped because everybody has escaped from this area. From her. She is the danger they run from and she can’t even recognize that.
And where there is danger, a threat…
Someone is always trying to stop it.
This time, it comes in the form of a Beowolf that Weiss can barely discern from her position, but can see crystal clear through the Gigas. Her vision is tinged with blue and white as she shares sight with her summon- and for just a second, the knight stops its assault. Registers what’s in front of it.
An alpha Beowolf. Familiar. Shining white and blue, just like her summon. Ears folded down and gingerly bowing in front of the knight, but ready to spring into action. Even from down the hall, she can hear it let out a low whine in place of a growl.
Winter…
She must be close. Someone must have gone to find her, knowing no one can possibly hope to stop Weiss right now but her.
It almost succeeds. Almost makes her stop entirely. Almost makes her call back her summon.
...almost…
But not quite.
Because the alpha is in her way.
And Weiss has to find Ruby. She’ll stop for no one. Not even her own sister.
She has to find her partner.
So with a reverberating cry that shakes her fragile, brittle bones, the Gigas lifts its greatsword over its head and comes swinging down at the wolf. Her sister’s summon jumps out of the way, the ground splintering with the impact of the gleaming blade, and lunges forward. But it doesn’t slash at her protector with wicked claws, only shoves the knight back. One step, two; the Gigas regains itself and swings again and again and again.
The wolf is agile- though probably just as tired as Weiss, considering Winter was in that fight too- and the Gigas is incredibly enfeebled but desperate. There are a lot of things someone can do when they’re desperate enough. And though it misses with every strike, the environment surrounding them suffers the damage in place of the alpha.
It’s frustrating. She keeps missing and can’t even grab onto the Beowolf to slow it down. And the only thing it does is shove the Gigas back, back, back. Trying to knock it down, to pin it, but not clawing at it. Winter doesn’t want to bring any harm to it, to her.
It’s rather insulting.
Weiss’s knees buckle and she has to stop again from advancing. The exit is there, just pass the dueling summons. If she can just make it there, then…
Then what? Ruby’s not magically going to be right outside the door.
She’s gone.
No, her head bumps against the wall, another coughing fit taking hold of her, a foul copper tang in her mouth. No, no, no. She can’t be- She can’t be!
Weiss is… She was supposed to… She has to…
She can’t fail, she can’t fail!
How is she supposed to be the best partner ever if she lets Ruby die?
She’s dead, she’s dead, she’s dead.
She watched it all. Ruby’s struggle, Ruby’s fall, Ruby scattering into a million rose petals into the wind. She just watched, that’s all she’s ever allowed to do.
(Weiss is hardly aware of it, but with every passing second, her aura crackles. Not trying to heal her, but escaping from her body. The hairline crack has grown to the size of her thumb nail.
As it passes by there, it fizzles like a light sparking out. And the crack grows, and grows, and grows the longer she keeps the Gigas fighting.)
Her knight collapses to a knee, unable to stand again no matter how much she tells it to. But even still, even still, it tries attacking the Beowolf around it. Swiping at it with an armored hand, trying to throw a punch, using its minimal strength to swing the greatsword. The momentum always makes it fall even more, unbalanced.
The end is here.
And there’s nothing Weiss can do about it.
She has hit the climax of her strength, far past that even. To keep fighting would be expending the rest of her life force itself and she damn near wants to do so. Down to the last breath her lungs will ever expel. She’s not allowed to give up.
The wolf, taking advantage of the Gigas not moving for a time, leaps onto it, pinning it onto the ground and laying on it, trying to give a hug. Stop, her sister’s summon conveys, please, stop.
It’s okay, it’s okay.
It’s over now.
No, Weiss senses the trickle of tears on her cheeks now, a strangled whimper escaping her. No, I don’t want it to be over. It can’t be over!
Not like this...
How did it come to this?
How can things end so horribly?
That had been her all, their all, and… They failed. Ruby is gone because-
You weren’t enough. (It sounds like her father’s voice.)
Not enough, not enough, not enough.
Just like before. Back in Haven and her defeat against Vernal. When she almost died from Cinder’s spear and it was only dumb luck and stupid chance that saved her. And even now…
Has she learned nothing since then? Has she not grown at all?!
She must not have.
Because if she did, then Ruby would be here.
Not good enough.
If she had just been stronger, then she could have weakened her partner enough for them to take her back home, she could have stopped the shadows from taking them, she could have defeated the darkness instead of losing everyone to it.
If she had just been faster, then she could have found that place sooner, she could have rescued Ruby before she became like that, she could have reached her in the courtyard back in Atlas Academy and none of this would have happened in the first place.
If she had just been smarter, then she could’ve figured out a way to get Ruby through the portal and out of Salem’s grasp so they can heal her, she could’ve come up with a better plan to get them to the castle quicker instead of barging straight for it, she could’ve tried to find the Ruby that she knew and loved trapped in the clutches of corruption.
If she had just been better… then she would have been enough to save Ruby!
...but she wasn’t…
That had been her all.
And if even her all couldn’t do a damn thing, then what was the entire point of leaving home years ago in the first place? What was the point of training to become a huntress when she couldn’t even save the one person she loved the most from darkness?
What was the point of it all?!
Not good enough, it sounds like her voice now, so quiet and resigned and shattered, You will never be good enough. You will never be enough.
No matter how hard she tries...
Weiss is always destined to fail.
Even now. With trying to get to the exit. Trying to beat Winter’s summon.
She has lost too much blood- She has left a trail of it behind her from the droplets dripping down her arm without healing- and her strength is leaving her bit by wretched bit. Her breaths come in dry pants and croaking wheezes, heart about to burst from the crack on her chest, her broken arm with the veins throbbing and the burn marks on the other tingling with immense pain with every draft of air brushing by it.
She goes to continue, but her body has had enough. Enough, enough, it’s over. It’s over now. Her knees wobble and she starts to fall backward, half-aware of it all. Losing her grip on the petal, it drifts away from her. Blue eyes squeeze shut-
I’m sorry, Ruby. I’m so sorry, I’m so sorry, I’m sorry; please, come back. Please, don’t leave, please-
-and she braces for impact, knowing the cold ground is going to hurt to land on.
…But surprisingly enough, her back meets steady warmth instead of the cold, hard ground. Familiar arms wrap around her securely and she wants to make sure she’s right- so surprised because she usually doesn’t get hugs from this person- but she can’t do that either.
“I’m sorry, Weiss,” Winter’s voice sounds by her ear, a soft puff of air. Strained, raspy; has her sister been crying recently? She has no time to question anything, a faint pinch at her neck and the coolness of some kind of liquid entering her bloodstream makes her shiver. Numbness rapidly returns to her body and part of it is relieving and the other part is terrifying. “Get some sleep, snowdrop.”
Snowdrop. It’s been years since she heard that little nickname. When Weiss would cry after their parents' arguments became so loud it shook the walls and Winter held her to calm her down, brushing fingers through her hair, sharing reassurances and lullabies.
She doesn’t want to sleep.
She wants to find Ruby.
But she’s tired. Too weak. Too slow. Too fragile.
Not good enough. Not enough. She’s not enough.
The threads of sleep come to take her away and she gives a final whimper, a last struggle against those arms, but Winter holds her as comfortingly as when they were kids. Unwavering.
I won’t let you go. You are safe here. No harm shall come to you.
But the harm has already been done. It’s too late to save her from it now when it has already passed and she is never going to recover.
Recovery is meaningless without her partner.
With the remaining ounces of consciousness she has, Weiss mumbles. Pleading, grieving, desperate.
“Ru...by…”
She sleeps.
...
(The chaos settles and Winter remains kneeling on the ground, her little sister held securely in her arms as her eyes sting with tears that she doesn’t want to allow to fall. Panting, she raced over here as quickly as she could once she heard what was going on. Before the soldiers and Ironwood could arrive, they would’ve made Weiss’s sedation so much harsher.
Weiss didn’t deserve that.
She already suffered enough harshness tonight to last endless lifetimes.
And even if Winter can’t get rid of her grief or take away her pain, at the very least, she can give her gentleness.
She has forgotten what it is, has forgotten how to show it, but just for her sister, she’ll remind herself again.
Her attention lifts from the ground over to where her wolf keeps the Arma Gigas pinned. Weiss’s knight makes a dying, mournful sound that makes a tear slide down her cheek as it begins to vanish. The Beowolf remains standing over it, even after it's gone, and only approaches after a handful of minutes. Whining low as it ambles over, sad. It carefully inspects her sister, nudging its muzzle against Weiss’s cheek.
Winter scratches between its ears, just taking a second to savor in the slow breathing of her little sister. She’s alive. I made it on time.
“Thank you,” she murmurs to the wolf and it bumps its nose against her forearm to express a voiceless, No problem.
And despite her own exhaustion from this entire night, despite her own aches and pains, Winter adjusts Weiss in her arms to carry her, getting to her feet and surveying the damage with a wince. So much destruction; she has very little doubt Weiss would have kept going right to the exit and past everyone who tried to stop her if she hadn’t interjected.
She can’t entirely blame her. Only feels sorry for her.
Their summons are a part of them. A manifestation of their soul in every aspect. Not just with strength and ferocity; but emotions. It’s very hard to hide their feelings when a summon acts out in accordance with them.
And what Winter can detect here- from what Weiss has shown, from what the Gigas has done- is that her sister is in so much pain. Emotional, physical, mental. Spiritual.
It makes it very difficult to keep from crying, but she holds it together. Just as she’s about to go down the hall, the wolf creates a curious sound and draws her back. It sniffs at something on the ground, grasping whatever it is carefully between two claws and pacing over to her, presenting it.
A petal.
She heard one of the frightened nurses screaming about something like that. What set Weiss off to begin with, while others more logically argued it had just been the built-up of stress from the night coming to a breaking point. Winter doesn’t entirely know which side to believe…
But if it really was because of this petal, then perhaps it’s better to keep it in a safe place while her sister rests.
She accepts it from her summon, giving a grateful bow of her head and finally allowing it to leave. Spinning around, the ruin continues, only coming to a stop when she passes by what was meant to be Weiss’s room. A quick peek inside reveals it equally as decimated, a puddle and an arc of blood against the wall. She grimaces but continues, making a mental note to check on whoever had been on the receiving end of the greatsword when she has the chance.
Weiss is so fragile in her arms. Head resting against Winter’s shoulder, wounded arms tucked against her. Like she is just snuggling up for a nap. The state of her injuries stirs a wave of white-hot anger in the pit of her stomach, wanting to keep the whole world away but knowing it’s better that she gets the help she needs.
As she comes to the end of the hall, Winter comes to an abrupt stop, fingers tightening where she holds her sister and body stiffening.
General Ironwood stands there, as stern and proper as ever. Arms held behind his back, shoulders straight, a deep frown evident. His careful scan trails over the grooves in the ground, the slash marks across the ceiling, the holes in the walls, the broken glass on the floor. Finally, they land on her.
Or rather, they land on Weiss, and then they lift to meet her directly.
And though every instinct in her being borne from working under his command for years tells her to back down…
She stands taller. Not loosening her hold on Weiss whatsoever.
She will not let her sister go without a fight if it comes down to it. Not when Weiss is this vulnerable.
Weiss is capable of holding her own by herself- but when she needs help, Winter is going to help her with everything that she has and then some. She will fight tooth and nail until Weiss is ready to do it herself.
In the meantime, Winter will make sure nothing can touch her.
“She needs a new room,” she’s the first to speak, to break the silence of their stand-off.
The General must sense that it’s better not to push her right now. He knows when to back off. This is not a fight he wants to start because it’ll only end badly for everyone involved.
“There’s plenty set up already. Go pick one,” he tips his head to the side, motioning to the corner of the hall that would take her to the rest of the base. He peers past her and to the damage once more. “We’ll clean this up.”
Winter exhales in relief, continuing and moving past him as he strides over to assess the full force of the devastation. It’ll take a while; and considering there are so many wounded here, it will probably be even longer until repairs can actually get started. A whole section of rooms, now no longer usable.
When she arrives at the corner, she spots Blake there. Huddled against the wall, hands linked on top of her head to cover her ears, knees drawn in close and staring blankly at nothing. Trembling.
Winter frowns. What horrors did her sister and her team have to experience? She knew they were separated by the Grimm- and Winter had been torn between wanting to just rush on over to Weiss and helping the critically injured safely cross back to Menagerie- but no one saw what happened. In the chaos of getting everyone here, there was very little time to digest and talk about it all.
Perhaps later, she can better understand.
But something tells her, that no matter what she learns or no matter if they tell her… Winter is never going to truly understand and that rubs her the wrong way.
“Belladonna,” she clears her throat and calls out to her, but just as she expected, Blake hardly reacts whatsoever. There’s blood on her face from the cut on her cheek, tears rolling down. Winter swallows lightly, glances down at Weiss in her arms and back again. Tries one more time, as reassuring as she can be, “Blake. You should head on to your room. Get some rest and let the doctors help you.”
“Blake!” Someone calls from down the hall, a boy with a monkey tail rushing over. Limping, incredibly so, but more concerned over Blake than himself. He kneels beside her and his entire demeanor sags with relief. “Here you are, I’ve been searching everywhere for you. Come on, we gotta get you to your room so the docs can-”
He reaches out to her and Blake finally has a reaction.
An entirely negative one that sends a spark of sympathy shooting through Winter’s heart.
She presses more against the wall, veering out of his grasp and baring her teeth. Not facing him, so it’s questionable whether the words are meant for him or not; “Don’t touch me.”
For his part, the boy hardly winces, quickly holding his hands in surrender and sitting with his back to the wall beside her. A short distance between them, remaining within arm's length. Never truly leaving her.
“Okay,” he acquiesces. “Okay, I won’t. We can chill here until you’re ready. No sooner, no later.”
“Do you have her?” Winter checks, just to be sure. If only because this is Weiss’s teammate and she knows just how much Weiss cares for them.
The boy quickly peeks over to her, notices Weiss in her arms and grimaces, and waves her off, “Yeah, yeah, I got her. I’m a friend. You… take care of that one.”
As if she needs to be told to do so. Nevertheless, Winter gives him a nod, leaving Blake in his care and heading on down the hall to find a new room for her sister.
Weiss stirs, whimpers. Even in sleep, she fights the heavy sedation. So small, so fragile, so wounded. So scared, so hurt, so sad.
“I’m not always going to be around to save you, Weiss.”
Oh, how she wished she had been. Just this once.
I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry, Weiss…)
… ... ...
[February]
(58 days after the world lost meaning.)
The sky is broken.
The first thing to welcome her upon waking is a black canvas of misery far above her. It reminds her of the abyss the shadows took her to and it sends a spike of fear piercing through her, but funnily enough, it’s the cracks there that make it easier to stomach. An outlier. Like a fractured mirror, broken glass, lines stretching this way and that along the dark sky. Those hadn’t been there in oblivion, so she can’t be back there.
Well, of course not. There’s snow beneath her, a cool breeze in the air that brushes by wounds that no longer exist on her skin, but she can’t truly register the cold. Not here. Not in this place.
Not in her world.
In here, there are no injuries. There is no pain. There is no suffering.
There is only… peace. Peace that she has used time and time again to bolster herself when things became just too much to handle. Peace that her summons thrive in between each battle. Peace that she very much needs right now.
But just because there’s no physical pain does not mean there isn’t any emotional pain.
And Gods is there emotional pain.
It’s reflected in the state of her world. The broken sky. Cracked like the panels of a ceiling that have been fractured, and there is nothing but blank white just beyond the openings. An emptiness that reminds her of the way the world in the final dream she saw of Ruby faded into nothingness. The void that her partner willingly walked into.
She automatically hates it because of that.
Her emotions are reflected by the solemn silence that fills the air. Eerily so. The kind of quiet one finds at a funeral.
Who is it for?
Herself or her partner or hope itself?
(All three, all three.)
And like every person at a funeral, her summons are gathered around to pay their respects. She can sense them. The presence of every last one within her field of awareness. The sorrow she has is echoed, bouncing off of them in all-consuming waves, and- How is this supposed to be healing?
Maybe it’s not. Maybe they’re punishing her just by being here.
It’s what she deserves, right?
There are many, many new ones. In one single night, she obtained more than she has ever had in her entire life. A mass gathering of wolves and hyenas and kitsunes and jaguars, sitting with their heads bowed. Flocks of harpies and humanoid bats resting on the ground instead of fluttering about, wings folded in. Gargoyles keep their tails close to their body, trying to make themselves smaller to limit their grief, minotaurs kneeling with the tips of grand horns touching the snowy ground.
Countless. A part of her now. Monsters that killed so many people, left so many injuries on her friends, on her, kept her and the others away from the castle. Separated her and Blake and Yang from the main army so they were alone. They are hers now.
And she loathes them.
(Even the imps and ghouls from the Fall of Atlas are not forgiven.)
Leave, Weiss orders sharply. Jaw clenching, fingers curling against the false snow. A harsh gale of frosted wind barrels through the valley. Leave! I don’t want to see any of you.
It’s safer for them. For her. Even just knowing they’re here now makes her want to rip each of them apart, tear them from her very soul. It’s unknown how that’ll affect her, but it’s best not to experiment.
(Every summon is a part of her…
What does it mean when she hates so many of them to this extent?)
Sensing her agitation, they obey. Already knowing not to test their luck with her fury. They retreat, one by one, kicked out of this wake of mourning. Unwanted. The sound of shuffling footfalls and fluttering wings fill the silence even as they try to leave as quietly as they can but the symphony of the shifting snow makes it impossible for many. Her awareness of their position changes, moving this way and that as they disperse.
Running away, running from her.
She is a threat to them and they know it.
Eventually, the sound gets farther and farther away and the silence returns.
But she can fucking sense them. A pack of wolves to the west. The gargoyles to the north. Harpies and bats flying off in the eastern side of her world. Every single last one of them. She is forever linked to each one and she hates it.
Weiss can’t handle it. Knowing exactly what they’ve done to every person she’s ever cared about, every stranger who helped out. Her fingers itch to sever that connection and the snow becomes that much colder beneath her, (the sky that much more cracked), and she hastily sits up to chase after them and get rid of them this instant.
(Sensing her desire, every connection to those summons sparks with fear and they flee that much faster.)
Perhaps knowing her distaste, one of the remaining summons approaches her. Only the originals prior to the war stay. She whirls to where the Arma Gigas kneels in front of her. So protective it is of everyone, a knight loyal to all because they are an extension of her.
She goes to snap at it to get out of the way-
And the words die on her tongue upon realizing it shares the same cracks as the sky. (So she didn’t imagine those...)
It steals her breath away, anger fizzing out and leaving her so very frigid. Immense chipping on the once flawless design, lines arcing in a kaleidoscope of shattered glass. At the center of its chest, an entire chunk is missing to reveal the hollow inside of the sentient armor. In the space of its helmet, a glint of color like an eye stares down at her. Patient as ever. Unbothered by its fragmented state.
The words I’m sorry form on her tongue, but for the life of her, she can’t give voice to them. Her hatred tempers and she swallows down the mournful sound of seeing her most trusted summon so… broken. Broken, broken, broken.
Even a construct of her soul has not been spared the scars from the battle.
Weiss glances around now, to the summons that have stayed with her. Only a small handful compared to the army she amassed. Yet… even they are difficult to see. Except the Gigas.
Because every other one inevitably reminds her of Ruby in some way.
The Boarbatusk, earned in Professor Port’s class. The day that marked the beginning of Weiss choosing to try and be the best partner ever. The Nevermore, the first Grimm team RWBY took down together, working alongside each other to achieve victory. The Queen Lancer and the other lancers huddled beside it, gained during her escape from the manor and back to her true family, the queen used to rescue her partner from falling to icy depths.
Heads bowed. Each of them is just as damaged as the Arma Gigas. Agonizing splinters along every surface of their body. No part or summon is truly free of pain. Pain that she has caused.
Pain that she could not save anyone from. Including herself. Her very soul.
It leaves her numb. To realize just how badly she failed everyone. Everyone. Their allies, their friends, her family, herself, her partner. She let them down.
She is the support. She is supposed to make sure they remain safe, for no harm to come to them. So that they can prosper to their full potential without the risk of permanent damage because when they win, she wins. They are a team, a group, a family. They work together.
And because she failed in her part of the working machine…
Everything fell apart.
“I’m sorry,” Weiss finds her voice, that feeble and raspy thing, unable to meet the Gigas in the eye as she keeps her head bowed. “I have failed you all.”
Her summons are only as strong as she is. When they fail, when they die, when they get hurt, she only has herself to blame.
Not good enough, not good enough.
There is a deep ache inside of her chest that she predicts has little to do with the crack there too. That remains. Where her other injuries have been covered by the haze of dreams, altered to free her of the agony they cause, this one lingers. Unable to shrink.
Only grow.
It should worry her. But right now, her concerns are for that heavy exhaustion nestled within her body, her bones, her muscles. Like she’s remained in one spot, in stasis, for so long without moving or waking. How long has she wandered the dark for?
It feels like an eternity.
She can’t remember what came after the battle. All traces of memories coming to a halt after she woke up briefly from the apparition of Ruby vanishing and then passed out again, only having enough time to see the-
The petal.
Weiss gasps, checking her left hand, panic (and grief unlike any other) taking root within her heart. It’s gone, it’s gone. The petal is missing and a desperate search around the snow reveals not even the slightest speck of red. It’s gone.
Just like Ruby.
Ruby is gone and she has to find her and here she is sleeping for who knows how long-
The Gigas suddenly reaches out to her and Weiss flinches for a reason she can’t entirely understand. It rests its fingers against her shoulder, so light and gentle for such a powerful construct. Too light and gentle, it makes her want to curl against it and cry because at least then, she will be protected by her knight. But she holds firm, somehow. Tucking her chin in, subtly trying to pull away from its grasp.
A breath passes through it, wind against steel, it reminds her of a despondent sigh. Sympathizing with her. It makes her eyes water and she closes them to keep the tears from falling, the knight tapping a finger against the side of her chin. Trying to angle her head.
She listens, too tired to refuse following directions. Sniffling, her eyelids peek open-
And widen, a gasp flying from her lips, body jerking.
Something’s there. Someone is there. So far away in the distance; a splash of red, red, red.
Red is not a color that’s usually here. In her world of summons, there is only the (cracked) black sky and the infinite field of white snow. Nothing else. Where once there might have been a grove of newly budding trees- only about six to eight growing at any one time, three taller than the others- now those are gone. And it’s fine. She’s used to the emptiness because her summons have a way of filling the space. Making it a little less lonely.
...But regardless of it all, red is not something that thrives here. (But she wants it to. Oh, she wants it to.)
It makes her heart jump. In joy. In fear. In hope. In grief.
She only knows one person that embodies that color (and it doesn’t make sense to her, she should be gone, she is gone, so why…?) and Weiss is scrambling to stand up as quickly as she can. Feet bare, the snow is cool beneath her, a plain dress of white donning her body. Her next exhale shudders and she glances at the Gigas, who beholds her as calmly as ever.
It bows its head, tilting it to the red speck in the distance pointedly.
It’s all the permission Weiss needs to start running.
(Will she be fast enough to catch her this time?
Will she be fast enough to save her?)
Instantly, the speck of red becomes more visible. More defined, her hope and joy and grief and fear skyrocket and urges her to go faster as she’s able to make out a familiar cloak fluttering in the refreshing breeze of her world. And maybe it’s just a dream. A figment of her imagination. A mirage built from a broken mind and a coping mechanism for her disbelief and her grief.
But it gives her hope.
Against the odds, it gives her hope.
And it should terrify her. This hope. Hope has torn them to smithereens, left them to wander blind, and given them no true sense of direction.
But it has also given them the strength to stand up, to keep trying, to keep fighting. Without hope, how can they ever keep moving forward?
So, she just has to keep running. She just has to catch up to her.
(Maybe one day she will.)
Closer and closer, the figure becomes more detailed. More familiar. (More hope-giving, more heart-wrenching.)
“Ruby!” Weiss calls to her- wishing it were possible to summon a glyph in this place to make herself faster, knowing semblances aren’t entirely a thing in this world. Here, she’s just a normal person and not a huntress- and she’s half-aware that her quick movements startles the summons she sent away. Urging them to retreat even faster. She is and always will be a threat to them. “Ruby!”
She’s here, she’s here.
Closer, closer.
(And it’s… such a strange experience. Being allowed to go toward her. Not being stopped by some invisible wall, not forced to stand and watch as her partner disappears on her again.)
There’s a stabbing sensation in her head, an arrow piercing through that makes her grimace, makes her vision blur. At once, the world in the distance and around them begins to fade. Darkening. And though she doesn’t visit this place often, she knows the signs.
She’s waking up.
Consciousness is coming back and this world, this place created by her subconscious, her soul, is vanishing from her awareness as she slips back into the realm of waking. No, no- Not again, not again!
What is worse?
To not be allowed to get closer to Ruby whatsoever no matter how hard she tries and doomed to watch her fade away?
Or get just close enough to grab her hand- she chokes on air as her fingers make contact with familiar skin and warmth (ah, her heart sings, here you are. I’ve finally found you)- and just close enough to get a glimpse of Ruby’s face as her partner swivels in her direction, drawn forth by her cries…
And immediately wake up.
Only to recognize that it had just been a dream and Ruby isn't right here with her.
Her eyelids can’t lift for those first few seconds, so incredibly heavy that Weiss is convinced it’ll take the last of her energy just to open them, but awareness is back. It comes with the incessant, annoying beeping of the heart monitor so close to her ear. The unnaturalness of forced oxygen from the mask strapped on her. Poking and prodding here and there as a needle is inserted into her arm.
She winces. Though there are areas of numbness scattered about, parts of her she needs to grow accustomed to, what she can feel is complete and utter agony. Bubbles of pain burst along her body, one by one by one. There is a loose wrapping around her right arm. It was broken, now I remember. Just the forearm, from wrist to elbow. Her fingers twitch.
Her left arm can’t lift whatsoever. It’s placed in even tighter gauze, medical wrappings, and some kind of cooling agent placed over it to treat the burns. Her shoulder radiates pain and there are stitches there that pinch and pull, as well as on her forehead where the second cut over the first scar by her eye settles. Beneath the beeping of the heart monitor, the sound of faint footsteps announces the presence of her medical team. Only one brave enough to assess her and bring her back to consciousness.
Weiss already hates that nameless person. Bringing her out of a dream right as she gets to touch Ruby. Why does everyone always take her partner away from her?
They wait, calling out to her, urging her to awaken. An unwanted pest.
All she wants is to go back to sleep, is that so much to ask?
Apparently.
With monumental effort, (more than it should probably take, worryingly enough), her eyes open for the first time, and she is greeted with the lovely view of the black-speckled ceiling. Perhaps learning from their last mistake, they don’t place her directly underneath one of the lights, so she doesn’t run the risk of going blind here. The person in the white coat stands beside her, just at the corner of her eye, and they hold a syringe connected to one of the tubes at the ready.
Ready to put her back to sleep if she even showed the smallest sign of being a threat to them.
And as much as she wants to attempt to be a danger to them, her aura doesn’t respond when she tries to call for a glyph. Just as tired as her. Just as broken as her body. No wonder everything hurts so much, her aura isn’t here to numb the pain or begin to heal any of it. (Also worrying…)
“Ms. Schnee.” Weiss flinches. Not because the doctor talks loudly- they’re actually very soft-spoken, perhaps anticipating her sensitivity at the moment- but because of that name. Schnee, Schnee, Schnee. A name so full of pride and expectations and overbearing weight, chains that wrap around her like a noose. (Why does her father pop into her head for the first time in so long? What would he make of her condition?) “Welcome back. You will be groggy and confused, perhaps even a bit frustrated, but that will pass once the sedatives leave your system entirely.”
There’s undoubtedly grogginess. Hovering over her like a cloud, a heavy blanket that is both comforting and suffocating at the same time. Pain pierces through it as awareness trickles in bit by bit, helping to get rid of the overcast, but it’ll take a while yet until it’s gone.
Frustrated? Definitely. For reasons they probably don’t understand. Sure, it’s annoying that she can’t move any part of her besides an occasional twitch of her fingers at her right hand, and the paralysis is terrifying for a different reason entirely, but her irritation comes from being awakened in the first place.
So close, so close; she had been so close to catching up to Ruby and now she’s gone again and it’s their fault.
The confusion is quick to leave as she surveys the other people in the room. A handful of them linger by the door, ready to bolt. If her eyes aren’t tricking her, there is even the bulkiness of protective gear beneath their scrubs and coats. Like bulletproof vests that will save them from anything she has to throw at them.
It catches up to her and there is guilt now that stirs in her chest and she swiftly switches her gaze back to the main doctor. Eyes and hair a shade of yellow that reminds her of a canary… and then the yellow makes her remember Yang and what state she had been in last and now she’s more frustrated that she can’t move.
Blake. Yang. Are they okay? What happened to them?
“You have been asleep for about 57 days.” The doctor keeps one hand on the syringe at all times, even as he goes about making quick checks to make sure the cast and the gauze are set correctly (wrinkling his nose, one of the nurses did it wrong). “I don’t know how much you recall, but for the safety of the staff and yourself, we had no choice but to put you under sedation. To allow your body to heal properly and give it the rest it requires.”
Without you trying to force it far beyond its limitations.
It’s funny that he’s trying to mince words here when she already knows the truth. They put her under sedation because she was a threat: to herself and to the others. They didn’t want to deal with that. They don’t want to deal with her even now.
It’s why he’s so tense, standing there. Ready to inject the sedative right into her bloodstream at the first sign of trouble.
“Your injuries… were very extensive. As I’m sure you understand.”
Oh, she understands. She understands plenty. But just to follow protocol or perhaps just to torture her, he lists her injuries off.
“Starting with the acid burns on your leg, we’ve managed to cut away the affected skin and cover it up to allow it to heal properly. It’ll get very itchy as it heals but we’ll assist with that and it should make a full recovery. As for your abdomen, after getting struck with lightning, gratefully there wasn’t too much extensive damage there- as I’m guessing your aura managed to heal most of it right away.”
It’s already too much to hear. The acid burns from the poisonous flames of the drake, knowing full well just how agonizing it can be to melt in it because that’s exactly what her Gigas had to go through. And the lightning from the kitsune, the wicked fox with nine tails able to utilize magic even though Grimm shouldn’t be able to. How it played with every nerve in her body, how cold it had been as it coursed through her system until Nora- (Nora… Where are the others? Are they okay too?)- took the electricity for herself.
She can remember those moments so crystal clear and the grogginess is gone now.
“We stitched the cut over your eye, not a problem,” the doctor hesitates, now apparently comfortable with her non-reactive state, and begins taking off the IV connected to the syringe. “As for your arms… The right one was broken; fortunately, it was a clean break and it was easy enough to set properly and place a cast. The black veins there are… peculiar. We tried to cut some of them off as we went to surgically repair your arm, but they just returned. I apologize that we don’t have any answers for what that is, but we are examining it and the General has hired an extensive team to start studying it.”
The shadows… She peeks down to her wrapped arm, already picturing what the markings are like. Salem’s darkness left behind a souvenir of its own and Weiss can remember every torturous moment of it.
The void is everywhere.
Night so violent it swallows the rest of the red world whole, arising in the blink of an eye. She is torn, two halves of her wanting to go in two different directions. Because in front of her, there’s Ruby.
Corrupted, whimpering, screaming Ruby. With her aura finally broken, that’s all they wanted to do. To make her stop fighting, stop resisting, stop trying to kill them. If they could just do that, then they can take her away from here. Away from Salem, from the darkness, from the hellish realm.
Weiss has no idea what they plan on doing after that or how they plan to free Ruby of this corruption because they don’t know how to even start doing that- but that is a problem for later. After. They have to get through the first part of taking Ruby away from here.
And they would have succeeded, were it not for the devil deciding enough is enough and showing up at the last second to ruin everything.
She wants to go to Ruby, but the other half of her is called back to Blake and Yang and their cries of agony. The shadows have surrounded them, crawling along the ground like wicked tendrils that are so familiar to Weiss.
Because Weiss has seen this already. In the broken courtyard of a fallen Atlas; Ruby being overwhelmed by these same exact shadows.
And now, here they are again.
Stabbing through Blake’s abdomen first, crawling up her chest, wrapping around her throat, and dragging her down. Attacking Yang from behind because she had been trying to go back to her partner, weighing her down, pushing her face-first to the ground. The both of them, defenseless without their aura. Vulnerable.
And again, again, for that first second, Weiss can only watch as it happens.
She gets her body to move anyway and can’t do anything to save them… but what if?
What if she had done something instead of just standing there again? Would she have been fast enough to at least stop the shadows from striking Yang’s back? To reach Blake before the rest of the darkness can swallow her whole?
Why- Why is her first instinct always to freeze?
She did it with Ruby. She did it with them. She does it to herself when the shadows attack her next.
By the time she chooses to fight… It’s already too late.
Maybe that’s why always loses.
“As for your left arm.” It gets worse, it gets worse. The doctor maneuvers around to that side of her now, brushing faint fingers against the bulky cast covering the burns. “It shows signs of being damaged from a Fire dust explosion- and your teammate, Blake Belladonna, has managed to confirm that’s what happened.” Blake… Blake’s okay. If she can tell them what happened, then she’s okay. It brings her some relief. “Damage from dust is tricky to manage since we don’t want our equipment to accidentally set off anything that can remain in your system. Even the smallest of particles can stick to you and we usually have to wait for it to evaporate and help to flush it out. Your aura should be aiding that process…”
He meets her in the eye again with a troubled expression. Everything leading up to this. Why do they always save the worst for last?
“But the thing is, Ms. Schnee. For whatever reason, your aura has not been able to recover completely. What little amount you do happen to regain is quickly lost, so fast we can’t even encourage it to stay. The boosters we’ve given you can hardly bring it back,” he discloses, brows furrowed in confusion. “It’s why your injuries are taking much longer to heal than a typical huntress. Essentially, you’re healing at a normal human rate- and for the damage you’ve received, that’s not enough, and we fear what that might mean for you in the coming days.”
Not enough. Not enough, you’re not enough.
You will never be enough.
“We will be keeping a close eye on your recovery and helping out as much as we can,” the doctor finishes. “As of now, we are hoping that if you’re awake, and if there aren’t any sedatives in your body, then maybe that will encourage your aura to regenerate and do its job. If there is… anything you can tell us to possibly help or give answers as to what is happening to you, it’s much appreciated.”
Weiss remains quiet. And even after being told that her aura is behaving unnaturally, that her injuries can’t heal properly without it, her only concern is the growing level of pain that comes with each passing second. The stab wound at her shoulder that the doctor didn’t mention. Purposefully, it had to be purposeful if the way he glances at it is any indication. Did Blake tell them not to mention it? Already knowing where it came from?
With every breath, there is a strain there, a twinge of torture at her chest. Both of those, caused by Ruby.
The shattering glyph. The crack. The fact her aura can’t return properly. The fractured lines on her summons…
Ruby glaring at her as she stops her from attacking Blake, a chilling expression of condescending amusement and competitiveness, the thrum of Crescent Rose as the curved blade shines a startling scarlet, the roar of the unleashed aura slash.
The burning agony of feeling every millimeter as the shockwave tears through, the pressure building heavier and heavier and heavier to the point where she fears she might just snap in half, the resulting crater at her chest.
But yet, despite the pain, standing up again to keep going because she had no choice but to fight.
The Schnee’s glyphs aren’t supposed to break like that. Weiss had always taken so much pride in their indestructibility. Using it to stop the heaviest of hits from the heaviest of hitters- even once, purely on experiment (and because they were bored and doing random contests), taking a full-force hit from a full-powered Yang. Using them to catch the others, as platforms for them to stand on, to help them get out of the way.
Ramming minotaurs and swinging blades and arcing hammers and flaming fists, they took the abuse with nary a scratch.
And all it took was a single aura slash from Ruby to completely shatter it.
What does that say about her? That she is and always will be the weakest Schnee? Always struggling to match her sister’s expertise that seems to come so naturally to her?
(Or does it mean that, throughout it all… Ruby is the only one that she has ever made herself vulnerable to? The only person that she allowed in and suffered for it because her partner had been twisted by the shadows and corruption?)
(If that’s the case, then this is what she gets for letting someone in.
She should know better. Her father taught her that.)
The doctor takes her silence as enough of an answer, thinning his lips and telling some of the nurses to help her into a sitting position. Angling the bed, propping her up on pillows, taking off the oxygen mask when they deem it unnecessary. The change of angle makes her even dizzier, hunger stabbing at her stomach the way the kitsune’s lightning shot through her.
“We will give you some time to… process it all.” The rest of the medical team stream out of the room (with haste, they’re terrified of her, and in another life, she’d laugh- or cry). The doctor stands at her bedside, placing a careful hand against the cast of her arm and giving her a sympathetic frown. “I… am sorry for everything you had to go through. I don’t know the entire story, but you have my sympathy and my reassurance that I will do everything in my power to help where I can.)
He pats her arm, finally deciding to leave. At a significantly calmer pace than everybody else. And just like that, with the sound of the door clicking shut, Weiss is alone. Alone, alone, alone.
The overhead lights give her an immediate headache, so instead, she is drawn to the window. An arguably worse thing to look at.
It’s snowing outside. And normally, she never gives it a second thought.
But she sees the snowfall and she can only think about Ruby, Ruby, Ruby…
It’s as they’re meant to board the train to Argus that it starts. A snowflake flutters in front of her and it brings Weiss pause. It’s supposed to be beautiful, but it only makes her that much more aware of where they’re going.
Going to Atlas is the last thing she wants to do, but if it’s for the sake of the world and her team, Weiss will have to stomach her fears and discomfort and go along with it. With them, she can deal with anything. (Despite how… tense everything is, trying to figure out how well they go together now that they’re back. It’s like they’re a brand new team, learning how to fit seamlessly with each other.)
Regardless, with them, she’s not alone.
Ruby promised they weren’t going to leave her side for a second and-
Wait, where’s Ruby?
They’ve gathered their meager belongings and stand in the line that is certainly taking its time to proceed forward. The open panels of the ceiling above allow in the first flakes of snow and it makes people grumble, cranky, all too aware of the impending cold and wanting to go inside as soon as possible. Qrow stands at the very front of the group, speaking over plans with Oscar (well, Ozpin). Very quietly, paranoid of everything and everyone. Ren and Jaune stand behind him, checking over their bags; Nora and Blake follow them (Blake constantly peeking over her shoulder) with Weiss after that. Yang stands at the back of the group and Ruby is meant to be beside her, but a quick glance shows that her hyperactive partner is not there.
“Yang, where’s your sister?”
“Hmm?” Yang jerks out of her thoughts, stiffening and back straight- trying not to make it obvious that she was staring at the back of Blake’s head with an unreadable expression and failing. (Honestly, Weiss really wants them to work out their problems and it’s so hard to keep from involving herself. But it’s not her place. She can encourage them, but she has no right to force either of them to do anything.) “What’d you say?”
She chooses to show Yang some mercy and not point out the grimace she miserably fails to hide, merely gesturing to Ruby’s bag slung over Yang’s shoulder.
“Ruby?”
“Oh. Right,” Yang murmurs, clearing her throat. Glancing at her sister’s bag and furrowing her brow. Needing a second to remember. It worries her, Yang’s habit of getting lost in her own mind now, growing alarmingly quiet at times. “I… Honestly? I don’t know; she just chucked her bag at me and said she’ll be right back and raced away. You know her.”
“So energetic,” Weiss rolls her eyes. “I’m going to go find her, make sure no one cuts in line.”
“Not like the line is moving anyway,” Yang huffs, moving forward to place a hand at the handle of her luggage. “But sure, I’ll be your porter. As long as you pay me.”
“I always knew you were destined for grunt work.”
Yang playfully scowls, “I change my mind. I’m throwing your luggage at the train.”
“If you want to cause an explosion of dust, be my guest.”
“Do you know who I am? Explosions are kinda my thing,” she winks, tipping her head to the side. “She went that way. Now, go make sure our fabulous leader didn’t get herself into any trouble.”
“Knowing her,” Weiss sighs, exasperated and fond at the same time as she ducks out of the line, “that’s exactly what she did.”
She leaves with the sound of Yang chuckling beneath the constant groaning and complaining of the other people in line. Sifting through the loose crowd of stragglers, people waiting for the line to grow shorter and not wanting to stand around there, Weiss finds herself heading to one of the exits of the train station. Not wanting to lose her way and making sure she’s at least heading in the right direction and not going around blind, she sometimes has to ask people if they saw a girl with a red cloak heading anywhere.
They always point to the exit and Weiss just follows along, eventually finding her way outside. The sporadic fall of snow has now become a steady, slow shower of frozen droplets. Peaceful, calming. But she knows firsthand just how it can switch on a dime and become a raging blizzard. It’s pretty, but snow can also be incredibly dangerous.
Yet, despite the possibility of danger, there’s her partner.
Gamboling around like a puppy in the snow for the first time. There are a few children who do much of the same, just waiting for the layer of white on the ground to grow thicker to make snowmen and snowballs.
Ruby is a stark contrast to the world of white. A splash of color on a blank canvas. A flash of life in numb stasis. A symbol of warmth in the cold.
“Here you are,” Weiss speaks up and her voice draws Ruby to her instantaneously- and her next breath chokes her. Silver so bright and alive, a grin full of joy and amazement, cheeks pinkened from the chill of outside.
(Beautiful, it’s a stray thought she has to shake from her head.)
“Weiss!” Ruby calls to her- just wanting to utter her name- and speaks to one of the little kids she was catching snowflakes with, tossing a thumb in her direction. “That’s Weiss. My partner.”
“Woah,” the small group gasps (and it brings her slight comfort that these kids don’t know about the Schnee name quite yet. They know her first and foremost as Weiss- Ruby’s partner- and she loves that). “She is like a princess!”
“A princess and a warrior. She’s a wicked strong huntress, better than me,” Ruby roams over to her side, linking their arms together. “And she’s my bestie.”
“Have you been talking about me?” Weiss raises a brow, a flutter in her chest, and it takes everything within her to fight the instinctive smile, her lips twitching against her will.
“Absolutely. How can I not?” Ruby responds without shame, her attention transferring away from the kids and completely to her now, angling them and lifting her arm to the sky. “Look, it’s snowing!”
“In case you’ve forgotten, we’re going to Atlas,” she makes no attempt to try and pry herself away from Ruby. Subtly leaning into her more, her partner radiating warmth. “It tends to snow a lot there. Have you never seen it before?”
“Only in pictures and the snow in Patch isn't like this. We barely get any. And, I mean, your symbol is a snowflake, so…”
“There’s always some snow after I use ice dust.”
“Okay, but- this is different,” Ruby extends her hand out again, managing to catch a flake in her palm and bringing it close. “This is pretty.”
Weiss hums, more caught up in staring at the side of Ruby’s face than the drifting snow from the sky. Some of the flakes linger in her hair, at her shoulders, against her cloak. Dashes of white against red.
It’s nice. (Pretty is too soft of a word.)
But for whatever reason, her hands begin brushing off the particles, Ruby taking her in with vibrant silver and making no attempt to stop her, arms falling to her side. It might just be an excuse to touch her, her cloak and her hair, fingers meticulous as they pick off the snow.
“Yes, well,” she mumbles, meeting Ruby’s gaze, silver and blue. “It tends to lose its charm when you come across it every day. Snow is… cold and dangerous.”
She’s used to the cold. All her life, in the kingdom of Atlas, cold is commonplace. If you can’t take the cold then you have no right to be in Atlas, simple as that. She grew so used to it that she was convinced it was a part of her; snow in her blood, ice in her heart, frost in her soul. She was okay with it.
But then she felt warmth. With Ruby and the rest of her found family.
And Weiss never wants to be cold again.
“Good thing I’m warm then,” Ruby responds, a tender expression there. Her fingers lift- slow, slow, slow- and they brush so gingerly against Weiss’s hair, her shoulders. To pick off snow as well... or perhaps just using that as an excuse to touch her too. Weiss doesn’t know. (Weiss doesn’t care.) “And besides, it’s beautiful and I love it, so… I look forward to it every day.”
It’s too much, too much. It sounds like much more than just the weather they’re talking about and maybe Weiss is reading too much into it (or maybe she’s not, and that’s infinitely scarier).
So as addicting as Ruby’s warmth is- so, so close- Weiss clears her throat and takes a step away. Out of her reach.
“Say that again when you experience your first blizzard.”
“I’ll still like it!” Ruby shrugs, undeterred. Teasing, “But if you ever get cold, I can hold you. I’ve been told I’m very toasty.”
“By who?”
“Yang. We used to cuddle a lot when we were kids.”
“Yang is a human heater,” Weiss makes a show of debating something. Teasing right back, “Maybe I can have her hold me instead.”
She goes to walk back to the entrance of the train station, as though to find Yang right now to do just that-
-and is promptly bombarded from behind as familiar arms wrap around her, yanking her snug against Ruby’s body as her partner nuzzles into the back of her shoulder, grunting, “Hey, that’s my job!”
“Is it?” Weiss smirks, self-satisfied and indulging herself by veering more into that warmth, that safety, that comfort. “I wasn’t aware that was part of the job description.”
“I’m your partner,” Ruby holds her, breath misting with every exhale. Weiss shivers and it has nothing to do with the weather, Ruby’s cold nose bumping against the side of her neck to whisper in her ear, “I’m your partner.”
There’s a tremble to her voice that Weiss picks up easily- so attuned to even the slightest difference in tone- and the smugness of getting Ruby to hold her bleeds into sympathy when she ascertains just how protectively Ruby does it. Arms secure around her stomach, shielding the scar from Cinder’s spear from the world. Tight, not wanting to let go.
For fear she’ll fade away.
(“I’m protective of you because I can’t lose you, Weiss,” the words from days ago echo in her mind and she places one hand over Ruby’s arms, giving a slight squeeze to remind her- to remind the both of them- that she’s right here.)
Not everything has been dealt with. There’s a lot they need to discuss.
But they don’t have time to talk it over. The fate of the world depends on it.
Maybe one day, they can. When things have settled down. When they win.
Weiss lifts a hand to Ruby’s head, running fingers through her hair in an act of comfort (for both of them. It has the same calming effect on both of them).
“Yeah,” Weiss reassures, “you’re my partner.”
“And you are my partner?” A vague question, a note of vulnerability. Seeking reassurance.
“And I am yours.” Her lashes flutter shut to savor in her touch, her scent, her warmth. “I promise I won’t let you down.”
“You never do, Weiss,” Ruby reciprocates without pause, beaming. “You never do.”
But she did.
She really, really did.
Ruby is gone because of her. Because Weiss didn’t act fast enough, because she wasn’t strong enough to save her, because they took too long to get to her. They failed, so Ruby had to sacrifice everything just to get them out of the darkness, and now…
Ruby is gone.
And Weiss is so fucking cold again.
Cold- and numb. A strange combination. Everything is catching up to her, pain radiating from every part of her body (mostly from her chest), but it’s so bad that she can’t feel it entirely. Just a general echo of the true agony.
She prefers this. This numbness.
It’s better than sensing everything- because she knows it’s going to hurt and she’s so tired of pain and heartbreak and grief and, and, and she’s tired.
The door clicks shut, a pointed announcement. And whoever it is saves her from falling into dark depths and she exhales slowly in relief and-
Blake. It’s Blake. Wearing mismatching shades of white and grey, sweats and a long-sleeve, clothes given by the hospital and volunteers. She rounds the bed to the chair on the other side, and though Weiss doesn’t look at her, she keeps a general awareness of where she is. Safe, safe, safe.
Blake is safe. Allowed to wander without a medical team- Weiss can remember it now, her friend screaming to be released so she can get to Yang- and given permission to visit her. It brings her a sense of comfort.
And a sense of increasing guilt.
Especially as she notices Blake sits as close to the edge of the chair as possible, not risking anything touching her back, and there are so, so, so many questions Weiss has for her. Regarding her, regarding Yang. Are you okay? Is Yang alive?
Where is Ruby? (She knows the answer already.)
But she can’t bring herself to talk.
I failed you. She failed the entire team. How can Blake stand to grab her hand and touch her? She was attacked in the back because Weiss wasn’t strong enough to stop Ruby’s slash. I failed you, I failed you.
Yet, here Blake is. Relieved that she’s okay, rubbing her thumb across the back of Weiss’s knuckles as if trying to warm them up (as if sensing that Weiss is cold again and wanting to at least try to bring her comfort). Speaking so gratefully that she’s awake and-
Weiss can’t look at her. She can’t.
Maybe it’s the shame or maybe it’s the pain or maybe it’s from knowing that if she meets Blake in the eye, she’s going to start crying because she knows- they both know that tragedy has happened and it has struck both of them. Neither of them was spared and it’s Weiss’s fault.
So, she bites her tongue. Stares at the blankets. Keeps Blake at the corner of her eye, a subtle twitch of her hand, tries not to break down in tears when Blake promises that they’ll be here for her when she’s ready.
She’s not ready, she’s not ready. Weiss doesn’t want to accept what’s happened. It’s not real, it’s not real, it’s not-
“In the meantime.” Weiss has to refrain from flinching as Blake bumps their heads together affectionately, her balled-up hand resting in her lap. Knowing exactly where to put herself to be seen. And her voice is quiet to deliver the punch to her gut as mercifully as possible, (how considerate of her), “I think this belongs to you.”
Her fingers open; red, red, red.
It’s real, Weiss inhales sharply, having no hope to hold back her tears anymore as the petal comes into view. It’s real... It’s real.
Ruby is gone…
Half of her doesn’t want to touch it at all, eternally in denial, while the other half wants to desperately cling to it to keep it safe. Blake helps the latter, guiding her hand to the petal and directing her fingers to curl around the petal to grab onto it. Weiss can touch it now, velvety soft and so fragile. Ruby’s final petal from the final dream from the final chance Weiss had to stop her and failed.
Final, final, final.
It’s over.
The war is over and they have lost and Ruby…
Ruby is gone.
The proof of that terrible reality is in the palm of her hand and Weiss holds it close to her chest, her strangled sob providing the heart-wrenching background harmony to Blake’s breaking voice as she apologizes (to her, to Ruby, to everyone). The whole world crawls to a snail’s pace and it’s just them two in their misery; time and existence slowing down to allow them this chance so they won’t have to spend the rest of forever catching up to the others.
The snow stops, the afternoon rays alter, and there, standing by the windowsill…
The mirage has returned. That torturous trick of the light. The fading image.
Ruby is right over Blake’s shoulder, blurry through her tears, watching over the two of them with a terribly sad expression. Hesitant and guilty and perhaps grieving as much as them. How heartbreaking is it for her to witness their pain and not be able to do anything about it?
The logical side of her brain tells her that grief is a tricky thing. When the mind can’t cope with certain events, it can either forget them entirely- block them out to keep itself safe from trauma- or can create dreams and images and tricks of the light to help someone handle truths better. Or perhaps just to torture itself more.
That’s what this has to be. Just her mind trying to cope.
And Weiss can’t tell whether this helps or hurts her even more, seeing Ruby so soon.
But whatever the case, with the petal in her hand, Ruby is closer. No matter if this is painful or helpful, Weiss will savor it anyway.
Time ticks back to normal and Blake tries to go and it’s incredibly selfish of Weiss, but she doesn’t want to be alone. For fear that the image will fade too, for fear that it won’t fade. She can’t handle this by herself. Either possibility.
So, she really shouldn’t, she has no right to ask, but she finally forces herself to meet grief-stricken gold and beg, “Stay.”
So quiet and fragile and trembling (and scratchy, it’s the first thing she’s said since waking up). She can hardly hear herself, but Blake understands her, settling back down at the edge of the bed. She’s tired, it’s as clear as day, and it makes her even guiltier.
Regardless, Blake stays.
(Ruby doesn’t.)
… ... ...
[March]
(80 days after the world lost meaning.)
The doctors don’t know what’s wrong with her.
They said as such when she first woke up, but so many days and nights have passed, so many tests and observations have occurred, and yet… Nothing has changed. Well, her injuries have improved. Marginally. And it’s so strange having to heal at a normal human rate.
It’s exhausting, actually. And though they brought her out of her induced coma so she can be awake, more than half the time, Weiss sleeps anyway. Partially because the fatigue of her wounds naturally healing itself is too much to fight and it’s better than enduring the pain.
And partially because she wants to return to her world with her summons to find out if Ruby is there.
It’s a coin toss every time she drifts off from this realm whether or not she’ll be able to enter there. Every time since that first, she hasn’t been able to and it’s frustrating. Even her usual meditating to fall into that place, if only for a brief second, doesn’t work. Whether or not it has to do with not having any aura most of the time or because she’s simply not allowed there, she doesn’t entirely know.
Weiss is starting to believe she’s just not destined to be there.
Sleep is terrifying to her because it always comes with nightmares.
But not any that make sense to her.
Sure, there are the expected horrible memories of reliving her failures again and again (and again and again and again…), but the more common ones are… confusing. All she knows is fear that doesn’t even belong to her, and when she wakes up, she can’t remember what she just saw. The only thing she can ever recall is the sensations.
The choking, the drowning. Chains digging into every part of her, darkness everywhere. Sinking, sinking, sinking. The burning, the dying of fighting against invisible restraints. An iron grip at the back of her neck, a reprimand and a threat.
Maybe it was just her instance in the shadows that she’s recalling or maybe it’s something else entirely, but whatever the case, it leaves her disoriented and haunted. So much so that she can convince herself things are crawling in the shadows at the corner of the room, just waiting to pounce on her when her guard is dropped. The lights on the ceiling, though blinding and dizzying, are always on and she lives in a perpetual state of discomfort and fear (and grief. Grief is the most overwhelming, of course).
Whatever those nightmares are, whatever they mean, it doesn’t matter to her.
Because it just means that since she has those, she can’t go in her haven of summons to search for Ruby and it’s aggravating.
Weiss channels most of her time, energy, life just trying to reach that place.
It worries the others- and by others, she means Blake and Yang- because she constantly tries when they’re here and ignores them as they talk to her. Eating is not a priority because she just wants to get there damn it and they don’t know that and she can’t explain (and they can’t help her either).
This is something that only she can do and it’s disheartening that she can’t do it.
Not enough, not good enough.
All the visits she gets from either her family or the medical team are distracting. And it doesn’t help that the doctors and nurses don’t know what’s happening and they tell her as such, wasting her time with their ramblings and hypotheticals and questions they bombard her with. Waiting for her to give them the answers.
When will they learn that she doesn’t have them either?
There are antibiotics and a couple more surgeries and groups of “aura experts” that frequent her room like it’s a meeting area for them to throw theories at each other.
It’s discouraging and annoying and- don’t they have anywhere better to show just how incompetent they are?
They repeat over and over and over that she is healing at a normal human rate and not the advanced rate of a person with an unlocked aura. (She’s pretty much got their lecture memorized.) It’s why she’s so critically wounded, why her burnt arm may never achieve full recovery because it needs aura to heal properly and it’s not receiving it.
What’s more, most confusing to them of all, they claim her aura is… escaping. For lack of a better term. They assume it has to do with the crack on her chest that glows a faint blue most of the time (and then stops and becomes normal, white scar tissue now and then). Her aura can recover, as proven by instances of momentary relief she has upon waking from another confusing nightmare, but it drains much, much too fast.
“We’ve never seen anything like this.” Weiss can write a book of phrases she hears every single day from memory alone.
Yes, I know you’re clueless. Now leave me alone.
They load her on aura boosters- much more than is probably healthy or safe for an ‘average’ person (they warn her of the potential threat if she doesn’t recover her aura… like they believe this is her choice)- but it doesn’t truly stop the drain and she flips constantly from either having full, strengthened aura to having absolutely nothing at all.
Back and forth, back and forth. There’s truly no in between.
And it’s starting to affect her. Negatively.
Her body has been through the wringer and she can barely find the strength to lift her arms or even speak and they closely monitor her to make sure she doesn’t accidentally stop breathing as well. The sharp and sudden ups and downs between having boosted aura and not having aura whatsoever leaves her nauseous and sore and she is stricken with frequent fevers and chills. Her head hurts constantly, as does her chest, and she has had more migraines in recent days compared to her time at Schnee Manor.
Even so, they try to remain optimistic. (They do a terrible job at it, but at least they try?)
And when it isn’t her medical team and (self-proclaimed) aura experts loitering around her room, it’s familiar people.
Oscar dropped by once- and she knows it was the farm boy instead of the man in his head because he fret around her, fluffing the pillows and tucking in the blankets around her and giving her a “get well soon'' tiny bear that now sits amidst the various other gifts from everyone at the countertop across the way- and Maria visited at another time. She didn’t talk and Weiss was grateful for it, content with sitting in silence with the elderly woman as she worked on knitting something. (Turns out, she made her a quilt; infinitely warmer than the hospital blankets.)
Winter, sadly, is an infrequent visitor. Whenever she does find the time to arrive, she is even more guilty and tired than Weiss. Helping with repairs around the world, especially around Atlas and Mantle, clearing out remaining Grimm, providing shelters for people who need them, conducting funerals. The only time her sister gets a moment of rest is when she visits- and with the way Winter always regards her, so fragile and afraid like she’ll die any day now, it’s obvious she’s heard the news of her recovery. How up in the air everything is for Weiss.
It’s also why her mother can’t even bring herself to enter the room.
Only once had Whitley and Klein made an appearance and it was shocking. Their arrival had been one of the only times when she actively stopped trying to reach her internal haven and rejoined the outside world. Her brother was the one quiet the entire time, sitting on the chair and just… staring. An unreadable expression on his features. Like it took every ounce of concentration on his part not to start crying.
It must scare him. To see her so injured, so broken.
She feels guilty for that too.
Klein filled the conversation enough for the both of them, actually managing to draw a quiet giggle from her with his silly antics one second and then burst into tears the next when he hugged her. Secure and warm. Aware that she’s hurt and grieving and scarred, but not treating her like she’s frail. (It had been the only time she found the strength to lift both of her arms just to hold him.)
(Weiss doesn’t blame her mother for not entering the room. At least not when she’s awake; she’s half-certain that Willow came inside when she had been in a fitful sleep.
It must not be easy for a mother to know their daughter is so damaged.)
(Klein tells her to get some rest, and though she confirms she will, she knows she won’t.
Later. Later, I’ll rest; after I catch up to Ruby.)
The rest of her friends and family are the most common. Jaune and Ren and Nora either take turns or come here at the same time. Jaune, especially, is the most common of the three for a different reason entirely.
They’ve mostly recovered from their injuries and are allowed to stick around while they wait for everyone else to heal as well (and while they wait to figure out where they go from here, what the next steps are now that their long-standing mission is officially over). They don’t expect her to talk and Nora often likes to come in here to take a nap on her chair, always keeping an eye on her just in case and ready to spring forward at any sign of trouble.
Blake and Yang are the most difficult for her to stomach being around. Because they know everything. They understand what she went through, they suffered the same fate. Share the same pain. Bear the same guilt.
It’s difficult being around them because she failed them most of all.
Every injury they have, she should have been able to prevent. Or, at the very least, make it less bad than it actually is. When it’s Blake, she wants to apologize for not being able to stop the slash to her back, for not being able to protect her while she was unguarded even though that’s Weiss’s role. To protect them and make sure they’re safe and that they can prosper.
A team is only as strong as their support and if the support fails…
Yang is a different matter entirely.
Because when Yang is here, she can only picture Ruby and the close bond the sisters had and I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry for letting your sister die, I’m sorry.
“Like it or not, you two are partners now,” Yang told her once upon a time, at the start of Beacon and when Weiss was being difficult, “and that means you have to work together. You protect each other. I’ve protected Ruby my entire life and now it’s your turn too- but if you hurt her, Weiss, I will do whatever is necessary to keep her safe. Even if it's from you.”
“Are you threatening me?” Weiss had bristled, so defensive.
“Nope,” Yang said, to her surprise. “I am begging you not to make me have to hate you. Because for whatever reason that I can’t understand, Ruby cares about you already. And I really want to as well- because, above all else, I trust Ruby’s judgment. If she believes you're a good person underneath your Ice Queenness, then… I hope she’s right. Because right now, to me, you are just the person making my little sister’s life hell and I don’t like that.
“So… I hope you prove me wrong, Weiss. I hope you prove to me that you can be a good partner to my sister because I really don’t want to take matters into my own hands. You’re making her life difficult… and I guarantee that I can do the same to you.”
“...That last part is definitely a threat."
“Yep,” Yang chirped and twirled around, waving over her shoulder, “but don’t let it scare you too much. I mean it though. I know how much you love proving me wrong, so… Go ahead. Prove me wrong, Weiss. Prove to me that you’re a good partner.”
She failed.
She failed at being a good partner and because of that…
Ruby is gone. And all they have left of her is a single petal and torturous memories.
Perhaps something can be said about the former. No matter how much she clenches it in her fist, the petal remains free of wrinkles. It hasn’t faded like the others, glimmering in the light when the sun angles a certain way. The most vibrant red.
People have learned not to take it away from her. (One of the aura experts tried, not quite caught up with everything and fresh on the job, and was swiftly halted by the main doctor. The doctor peeped at her, so paranoid and tense, and it was enough to get her to relax.)
(Needless to say, that expert is no longer allowed to get close to her. She follows his every action whenever they enter the room and is ready to summon the Arma Gigas again… or try to, at least.)
Blake often fixates on it too whenever she gives up talking, sitting in the silence with only the heart monitor filling the space. Donning a blank expression and pain in somber gold.
No one tries to touch it.
No one but Yang, and as Weiss notices her reaching for it now, her focus is shattered and she reacts instinctively. Bringing it to her chest, transferring her attention to Yang, “Don’t,” summoning the Arma Gigas.
And it is painful to create it.
Even more to maintain it.
She feels guilty- guilty is her most frequent emotion, alongside grief- because if anyone should get to hold the last petal, it’s Yang. Probably more than even Weiss does. But she can’t help herself from being so defensive, so afraid.
Because if she lets it go even once, it’s going to vanish with the rest of Ruby and Weiss can’t risk it. She just knows it.
But she can’t explain herself. Yang would possibly understand, or at least pretend to, but how can Weiss put it into words? How can she explain to her partner’s sister that she sometimes sees her? Out of the corner of her eye, once in the only time she’s ever been to her haven, in the flickering light that comes at sunset and sunrise (her favorite times of the day). How can she explain she’s only comfortable when she has the petal in her hand when she doesn’t even know the reason?
(How does she have the right to have the petal after her failures?)
The Gigas is falling apart bit by bit and Weiss suffers its slow death deep within her chest. Painful, painful, painful.
“Put it away, Weiss.”
Yang’s voice is harsh and scared, but her fear is different from the doctors'. She knows Weiss will never hurt her with the knight… Which is funny because Weiss herself doesn’t even know if that’s true. Doesn’t even know what extent she will go to just to keep the petal for herself. Will she actually attack them?
She doubts she can bring herself to try even if she wants to.
No, Yang is scared for her. Not of her. She sees cracks and the chipping and even though it’s new to Yang too, she does know that that isn’t normal. And falling apart is never a good thing, so she comes to her own conclusions and doesn’t want Weiss to hurt herself by forcing the summon to remain.
Put it away. Listen to her. Get some rest.
I can’t, I can’t.
Ruby is gone because of her and if she can’t even defend a fucking petal, the last piece of her, then…
Then what right did Weiss have to call herself her partner?
Not enough, not enough.
She’s not strong enough to maintain it. On her next exhale, it crumbles away and its demise is worse than anything she’s ever felt. Weiss winces, choking by an internal force, pressing her hand to her chest and trying to stave off the pain, but it doesn’t go away. It only grows and grows and grows and she can’t breathe properly. (The crack gains another splinter, faint and nigh unnoticeable. But expanding.)
“I get your anger. Trust me, I really do.”
No, you don’t. Because Weiss is angry at herself most of all. For freezing, for watching, for letting Ruby be taken in the first place, for not being enough, enough, enough. Yang isn't the one to blame. She always charges forward, even in her fear, and she takes actions instead of just watching everything.
The only mistake she made was trusting Weiss in finding Ruby in the first place.
How different would things have been if Yang had been the one to get to Ruby first? Would she have fought tooth and nail against the darkness to save her in the courtyard filled with oblivion?
If it had been Yang instead of her, then maybe none of this would have happened in the first place.
But, no. She trusted Weiss.
And Weiss let her and everyone else down. (Over and over and over and over…)
“Don’t do it again.”
There’s a plea hidden beneath the order. A plea Weiss can’t entirely hear at the moment, so defensive, defensive, defensive.
(When she’s hurt, Weiss gets defensive.)
“Don’t take her from me.” Not again, not again. The doctors did it once and she tore everything apart. What will happen if they do it again? It’s scary that she doesn’t even know where she’d draw the line.
(What have you become?)
“I can’t take what’s already gone.” She’s gone, she’s gone, she’s gone. It’s your fault, if you had just tried harder, if you had just been enough, then maybe- “You said it yourself: she’s gone.”
How Yang can say that out loud without even flinching, Weiss has no idea.
Maybe she has already accepted what happened or maybe she’s just trying to hurt her back.
Maybe she blames Weiss just as much as she does or maybe Yang just blames the world, the darkness, Salem.
Maybe she’s trying to help her accept their reality as stoically and brutally honest as possible (because that works best after being told pretty white lies for so long from Ozpin) or maybe she shares the words but doesn’t actually believe them.
Whatever the case, it’s too much to hear, so she tells her to leave despite how much she wants someone to stay. Yang acquiesces, but sensing her hidden desire, she leaves only after giving her shoulder a supportive pat and a tender kiss to the top of her head. Light and kind touches that Weiss shouldn’t be receiving.
How do you not blame me? How do you not blame me?
Will Yang view her the same way if she told her the entire truth? That the only thing she had done when it counted most was watch everything? She didn’t even bother trying!
Yang will probably hate her. I let you down.
I let everyone down.
Why haven’t you given up on me?
Visits from Yang always leave her so exhausted. If only because having to keep her apologies in while Yang talks and tries to get her to banter takes a lot more effort than physically possible. Funnily enough, Weiss often sleeps easier after her visits because she is that worn out from their meeting. (If anything, that’s the only reason she anticipates her visits… as well as for the constant comfort of knowing Yang is alive.)
(She has images of Yang face-down on the red ground in a puddle of her own blood, not moving. Of Yang being pushed down by the darkness. Of Yang rushing by her on a gurney while someone tries to restart her unbeating heart.)
Before she can attempt to let nature run its course of dragging her into the depths of horrific dreams (or maybe she’ll get lucky this time and make it to her haven. Doubtful, but one can hope and Weiss does nothing but hope no matter how much hope has torn her apart recently), the door opens again and she wants to snarl. Waiting on bated breath for the ruckus that always comes with the doctors or experts as they inevitably find a new theory or test they want to try.
Fortunately, that doesn’t happen. The door closes quietly with the following sound of footsteps.
Jaune is here, coming across as though he just woke up a few minutes ago, his hair starting to grow back out and such a ruffled mess that he hasn’t bothered brushing in a few days. He yawns behind his hand, giving her a small wave with the other as he rounds the bed to the chair.
Perhaps the main reason for Jaune’s visits. A test or theory in itself.
After learning of his semblance, the doctors were quick to add him to the routine of her recovery plan. Every day, whenever the boy wakes up (when the experts assume a person’s aura is at its most potent), he is meant to come to her room across the hall and amplify her aura for at least a handful of minutes, extending each day.
Starting with one minute and now achieving twenty, thirty minutes. However long his aura can hold out.
Out of everything they’ve tried, it’s the only thing that has gained actual results. If only because he can restore her broken aura quicker and keep it activated even as it drains for an extended period of time. It’s helped in improving her injuries, and the doctors believe that being around a familiar friend consistently will boost her morale and aid in recovery as well.
Best of all, Jaune doesn’t try to get her to talk like everybody else. Nor does he just ramble on in the hopes that she will listen.
He sits at the edge of the chair, one hand against her shoulder delicately and the other hovering a few inches from the crack on her chest. Weiss can’t help but notice the few misaligned fingers at his left hand, one of the only obvious injuries on him. A minotaur stomped on it during his retreat to the portal, according to him.
So many injuries on everybody.
In a war that could’ve been avoided if you had just saved her in the first place.
Her eyes drift shut as she slants against the pillows, enjoying the sensation of actually having an aura again. His amplifier is different from the aura boosters they give her. More… alive, in a sense. Fulfilling. Encouraging. Like a pat on the back, telling her soul to get up, get up, get up. You can do it! She can picture it in his voice. (She supposed that’s the difference between another soul boosting her and a combination of artificial ingredients.)
The relief is immediate when her aura is re-activated, her various aches and pains numbing in an instant. A coolness washing over, so familiar now that he does this often. (She has yet to repay him for both saving her from Cinder’s spear and for reviving her after the Arma Gigas dissolved in the acid fire of the drake and stopped her heart. How can she ever repay him now? No amount of lien can compare.)
“I know we don’t talk much about what happened,” he murmurs and she wants to groan. Knowing full well what’s coming. And perhaps he only talks now because someone- possibly the doctors- told him to. “I mean, I heard you don’t talk much to anyone about what happened. And that’s okay, you know? It’s… a lot to take in. I understand… I understand what it’s like to lose your partner. And I also understand if you don’t want to talk about it whatsoever because I’m gonna be honest, I didn’t want to either. But… just know that I’m here, in case you need someone who gets it.” Jaune grimaces, sheepish, “Sorry if I’m pushing you, the docs said I should bring it up even though they have no idea what it’s like.”
She keeps her eyes closed. Not wanting to look at him. (The old Weiss probably would have been disappointed having anything in relation to Jaune, tragic or not.) Her fingers tighten around the petal, contemplative.
They never talk much about Pyrrha. After rejoining the group in Haven, it had been a taboo topic that none of them were brave enough to even approach. Weiss had felt so lost, not entirely knowing how to comfort someone who didn’t even want to bring it up, and a part of her was completely hopeless of their fate and terrified of their enemies now. Because even if someone like Pyrrha was defeated, the best of them all, their friend, then what chance did any of them have?
(But Ruby was always able to revive her hope and make her less scared.)
Honestly, a part of her feels guilty for that too. For putting Pyrrha on a pedestal and only wanting to get close to her out of her desire to be the best, for not getting to Beacon Tower fast enough after Jaune told them what she planned to do. For not being a true friend to her sooner.
But through guilt and grief and uncertainty and hopelessness, they carried on. And though Weiss never discussed anything with Jaune on the matter, he grew a sense of peace (along with Ren and Nora, so they must have had some conversation between them all). Some side of her admittedly admired him for being able to move forward after that. To be able to stand back up and keep going no matter how tragic things have been.
And now, facing the same thing he went through…
Weiss can’t be like him. (How far she’s come. From wanting nothing to do with him to admiring him for something she will never be able to do.)
“I see her…” She forms the words and her voice comes out raspy and tired. Forcing herself to speak and admit at least this truth. “In the sunlight, when it sets and rises, I can see her… I can feel her in every breeze that comes by…” She swallows thickly, eyes burning with tears, “Every one of my senses tells me that she’s here and I can’t…”
I can’t reach her.
Ruby has ruined her.
Touch, smell, hearing, sight, taste; she has left her mark in some way on each of her senses and Weiss will never be able to forget her. And it hurts, it hurts so fucking much, because Ruby isn’t here- she knows that- but her entire being tells her she is and that’s what makes everything so hard. So tormenting.
Everything reminds her of Ruby and the sensations are scars of their own.
Even without holding her hand, Weiss can forever feel her lingering warmth. The bombardment of comforting weight whenever Ruby tackled her in a hug, hanging off of her arm or clinging to her back, keeping her close and safe, safe, safe. Her own heart wanting to burst from her chest while also settling into a relaxed rhythm at the same time whenever she had been in Ruby’s presence, so calming even in her excitable nature.
Every inhale comes with the (faint) echo of roses. Somewhere in the distance, so far and so close. The way the scent clung to every part of Ruby. And rather unbeknownst to most everyone but Weiss, who was often subjected to being in close proximity to her partner (not that she ever truly minded), there was a secondary aroma that she could never quite put her finger on. Like the wild nature of the winds given a fragrance for Ruby to embody. Bright and alive and playful.
And free.
She can’t get her voice out of her head. It’s maddening. Her light laughter and contagious giggles and mindless rambles. The energy she spoke with whenever something excited her or the conviction when it came to things she believed in or the encouragement of “Don’t give up, Weiss! You’re the strongest person I know. You can do anything!”
And she sees her. Fuck, she sees her. Whether in her mind behind closed lids and a flashing image or the trick-of-the-light mirage that is sometimes visible in the sun’s rays, always watching over her with a sadness Ruby had never truly shown. Some of the medications they give her are sweet and that only reminds her of her partner’s penchant for sugary pastries.
Some part of her just wants to forget. To rid the memory of Ruby from her senses.
But she knows forgetting will only make everything worse.
“There’s one thing I do when that happens,” Jaune says after a long moment of contemplation and stands up, finished with the amplification. She feels normal and now that she typically goes so long without her aura, (so long with being completely vulnerable), it’s nice to be protected once again. It gives her just a touch of strength, apparently needed for whatever he has planned as he heads over to the folded wheelchair tucked at one corner of the room. Unused so far. “You won’t get in trouble if you leave the room, right?”
Leave… For three months and counting, her whole life has been secluded to this room with only the occasional glimpses of the hallway right past the door and the window off to the side. (Outside of leaving for surgeries of course.) No one has truly offered to take her out of here; perhaps assuming that she isn't allowed or that she simply doesn't want to… or perhaps paranoid that she will try to escape like last time.
Which… fair. She doesn’t even know if she’ll take the first opportunity to get the hell out of here.
Now that the opportunity is presented to her, she suddenly yearns to be outside.
“I have needles in my arm.” One IV drip, dedicated to saline, and the other, a liquid version of the aura boosters.
“Oh, right,” Jaune quickly wanders back after setting up the chair, filtering through the cabinets like he knows exactly where everything is already and bringing out a pack of gauze pads and medical tape. Before she knows it, he’s removing the IV catheters, holding pressure with the gauze pad to stop the expected bleeding and taping it to keep it stationary. He glances up at her and snickers quietly at her questioning expression. “The staff let us stay without complaining if we help out around the base. Sometimes I take one of the nurses’ schedules when they need rest.”
“You’d make a fabulous nurse,” she mumbles with a small tease, a new sense of freedom coming with being removed from the restraints of the IV drip and the heart monitor when he takes those off as well.
“That’s what Yang and Nora said,” Jaune chuckles, swiftly peeking at his scroll and sending a quick message, helping her as slowly as she needs to afterward. From sliding over to the side of the bed and then standing up and making the arduous journey to the wheelchair. She’s already winded by the time she sits back down. “Speaking of Nora, she’ll provide a distraction while we head to the elevator.”
“The elevator?”
“Well, we gotta get to the roof somehow,” he grabs the quilt Maria made and helps to tuck it around her. “Might be chilly. I, uhh… I know Blake and Yang hate the cold now. I thought you might too?”
She’s always cold now anyway so it doesn’t matter to her. Weiss offers no response and he just takes that as confirmation, putting a stopper by the door and wheeling her out of the room, and she has no time to change her mind or take it back. They enter the hallway and it is identical to the one she had been in previously. The one she destroyed.
(Except, of course, it’s not ruined because of her.)
They’re surprisingly empty for how much she hears the constant drone of conversation (or distant screaming from those who suffer through nightmares), with everything symmetrical and the artificial lights blinding her as always. Jaune whistles a basic tune- doing a horrible job at being casual about this- and she does her best to avoid eye contact as they pass by a few people every now and then.
They must notice her though. Must remember who she is.
...Okay, so maybe she isn’t just allowed out of her room willy nilly. (And it’s both funny and sad how they treat her like a wild animal that can snap at any moment. Granted, it’s not too far from the truth, she has triggers she isn’t even aware of.)
Luckily, that’s where Nora comes in.
As they pass down the hall and are meant to go through one of the various main hubs of the base- the elevator across the way of a large, open space where the medical staff keeps information on every patient from this floor- Jaune surreptitiously maneuvers the quilt to put it over her head like a hood. The colorful design of Maria’s gift (RWBY’s colors and symbols) is not exactly the most stealthy of options.
But a crash and an over-exaggerated and loud, “Oh no! I dropped the cabinet. How clumsy of me,” from Nora at the opposite end of the hall succeeds in turning heads. Weiss only catches a glimpse of it all; one of the cabinets in the hallway holding miscellaneous supplies now on the ground with everything spilled. Nora standing in the middle of it with dramatic gestures and Ren at the corner and shaking his head solemnly.
It manages to crack a small smile on her lips.
Because through the pain and the guilt and the sorrow; there is relief. Relief that, no matter how terrible everything is now and how difficult it has been, her friends are alive at the very least. Losing Ruby is… the most devastating thing she’s ever had to experience, but knowing the others are here makes it a tad easier.
Making the impossible just the slightest bit possible.
If there’s a chance she can get through this…
(Does she even deserve it?)
After a few minutes of waiting, the silence filled with Jaune’s incessant tapping against the handles of the wheelchair, the elevator dings and the doors start to slide open and she can immediately detect the cold. It’s not snowing and it’s a surprisingly sunny and cloudless day for being in the middle of the open tundra of Atlas, but the constant frost of the snowy kingdom holds a death grip over all. Weiss makes herself smaller, gripping the quilt snug to herself, keeping the petal close in case it freezes in the cold.
Jaune takes them to the center of the roof, meant for an airship landing pad. The base itself isn’t incredibly tall compared to others, only about seven floors with a two-layer basement (the previous one they were at after Atlas fell had upwards to thirteen to twenty floors) and it’s wider than anything else. But even so, she is that much closer to the sky to touch.
From up here, she can forget about everything. There’s nothing but the cold against her skin, the lingering sensation of Ruby far away for now. Relieving and tortuous, she wants to remain here and go back. So conflicting.
“Can you help me stand?” She asks him, wanting to get a clearer picture of the tundra. “I want to get to the edge.”
Some part of her is embarrassed that she can’t even walk on her own, but be that as it may, she lets it humble her. Jaune blinks, taking a second to deliberate on her request and giving in, helping her to stand. And he carries her more than anything else, but eventually, they make it to the edge and he guides them to sit. Just close enough to make sure she doesn’t fall.
Weiss’s breath crystallizes in the air as she finds her way to the distant horizon. White nothingness. That makes her shiver more than the cold breeze that dances by, a refreshing tingle to the fingers of her burnt hand that isn’t covered in medical wrapping. It makes her tempted enough to want to rip the rest of it off and expose her damaged skin that’s always incredibly heated most of the time, but she doesn’t want to let go of the petal so she chooses to just continue staring instead.
While she’s busy observing the whiteness of the tundra, Jaune tilts his head back.
“Whenever I miss Pyrrha,” he begins with a quiet mutter, lost to the steady song of the wind. (She can hear Ruby’s giggles in the breeze). “I just look up to the sky… and I’m that much closer to her. And I just know that no matter what, so long as the sky is in one piece, she will always be watching out for us. For me. It helps.”
So long as the sky is in one piece…
Well, the sky in her haven is cracked, so what does that mean?
Whatever the case, she humors him or maybe she follows his lead and tilts her head back because she wants to know if it’ll work for her as well.
And even in broad daylight, there is an aurora.
A sheen of red painting across the blue sky, so difficult to truly make out against the rays of the sun. Growing up in Atlas, Weiss has witnessed many auroras- her favorite thing here, more so than the shining stars- and she can’t recall ever observing one of that color. Not the way the dancing lights shimmer, blending and changing until it is as blue as the sky behind it now and even more difficult to distinguish.
Which sky is Ruby in?
The wrong, red from Salem’s realm. Trapped forever in hell because she had to sacrifice herself to save them.
The tranquil blue of the final dream. A world of peace and tranquility and sorrow, sorrow, sorrow because they had to say goodbye to her.
The cracking black and white of her world. A haven torn by her own emotional state filled with summons she despises.
Which one, which one?
Which one is Ruby at now?
Blue eyes lower from the aurora and down to the petal in her hand. Keeping her fingers curled just enough so the breeze can’t take it away from her. So the world can’t take her away from Weiss.
I will find you.
She has lost Ruby and can’t find her anymore. Logic tells her she’s gone and that’s that, they won’t ever be able to find her again because she’s… she’s dead and you can’t find a dead person. But emotion begs her to search, begs her to find her- because she can’t be gone, and if she is dead then…
Well, she doesn’t know. But she’s sure she’ll figure it out.
(Briefly, the question of Is this how Salem felt when she lost Ozma flashes in her mind and it makes her sick. If in some ways it is…
Then at least Weiss can understand her better. Can understand exactly how grief and pain can make a monster because it’s so easy to lose yourself to it.)
Whether it be the red sky or the blue sky or the broken sky, Weiss will find her one day. In life or death or something else, no matter what.
Recovery is meaningless if she can’t find her.
Because she doesn’t want a life without Ruby Rose in it.
…
(When Jaune drops her off in her room, no doubt about to receive a scolding from some of the doctors after he leaves, she makes sure to give him a hug and a grateful, “Thank you.”
He pats the top of her head, “Of course.”)