Work Text:
The fluorescent lights embedded in the shitty motel bathroom ceiling buzzed incessantly, harsh against her sensitive eyes. The tap dripped water every few seconds.
Drip.
Drip.
Drip.
No matter how hard she tightened it, it still fucking dripped.
Blake took a deep, shuddering breath, staring down at the water in the sink. She pointedly ignored her own reflection, instead focusing on the ripples in the water as the tap kept dripping.
The porcelain felt cold under her tense fingers, and it was a welcome reprieve from the layer of sweat covering her entire body. Her breathing was still a little too fast, and her heart pounded erratically, that night's visions still flashing through her mind.
The nightmares were never the same. Sometimes, they were about potential suspects, or images of a smug grin and red, red, red. Other times...
Blake squeezed her eyes shut. She could almost feel Ya- her arms around her, could just barely hear her voice whispering sweet nothings into her ears until she couldn't help but smile like an idiot.
Other times, the nightmares took the form of the thing she longed for most.
The thing she would never have again.
Blake finally dragged her gaze up to meet her reflection, not at all surprised at the emptiness in her own eyes. She couldn't help the heavy sigh as she saw herself.
The bags under her eyes were deep and pronounced, the rest of her skin an almost sickly pale in comparison. Her hair was matted and unwashed, but Blake found that she didn't really care. Her feline ears were folded back against her skull, as they always were, these days.
She couldn't remember the last time she actually took care of herself. She knew that was a bad thing, and she knew she couldn't keep going like this, but...
Fuck, she couldn't stop thinking about her.
There wasn't enough time, between the leads, going over her notes, interviewing suspect after suspect, sleepless nights spent drowning herself in whiskey until all she could see was the fuzzy bottom of a bottle. She could rest once she caught the fuckers who did this.
Blake frowned as Ruby's voice echoed in her ears, far too matured and so tired. She would be scolding her, right about now. Trying to convince her that she couldn't do this alone, as if she wasn't the only one who was actually doing something.
Blake still remembered their most recent argument, right before she had left for the road.
-
"Blake, please-"
"No, you don't understand. I'm so close. I just need- a little more time." She muttered under her breath, frantically gathering all her papers and notes and looking through them.
There was a connection- there had to be. She just hadn't found it yet. She would get there, she knew it, she just had to-
"Blake."
Ruby's firm voice snapped her out of her head, and she looked up, her eyes narrowed. The redhead was unfazed by the hostility, instead just sighing and leaning against the wall.
"Take a break. Please." She said, something distinctly nostalgic and sad in her eyes. Blake's jaw clenched as she recalled what Yang had said to her, after one too many sleepless nights.
"I'm not asking you to stop. I'm asking you to slow down."
Look where that got her.
Blake scoffed, turning back to her notes with a frown. "I can't afford to take a break, Rubes."
Ruby visibly flinched at the nickname, and Blake felt guilt bubble up in her chest, but she shoved it down. She didn't have time to be feeling guilty about such a small slight, not when there were much bigger things at stake.
After a moment of nothing but the scratching of Blake's pen against paper, Ruby spoke again, her voice a small murmur.
"The funeral is in four days."
The scratching stopped.
The temperature of the room seemed to drop immensely, and it was only then that Blake realised her hands were shaking.
Everyone had been telling her she had to go. They'd come to her office, find her hunched over another lead, blinking away sleep, and tell her, "There's nothing more you can do, Blake. Come to the funeral. Let her go."
She grit her teeth. Fuck them. Fuck them all.
Blake went back to her work, and Ruby sighed again, a hint of irritation entering her tone.
"You can't keep doing this to yourself."
"At least I'm doing something."
"What, killing yourself?"
A scoff.
"She's dead, Blake. You can't-"
"Yes, I can!"
Time seemed to stand still as Blake slammed her hands on the desk, standing up from her chair. Ruby stared at her with wide eyes as she took quick, shallow breaths, body tense. She felt like an elastic band that was about to snap.
"I can, Ruby. If you want to sit around and act like her death was a freak accident, then fine. But I'm going to find the people that did this."
Ruby stayed silent for a while, before finally exhaling. She turned to the door, but not before looking back at Blake for a moment. She opened her mouth as if to say something, but ended up keeping her words to herself. She walked out of the door, shutting it behind her and leaving Blake in her dark office, alone.
-
The shame still washed over her like a wave as she thought about it, clawing at her like a parasite. This was important, why couldn't anyone see-
Her phone pinged. She took it out, squinting at the notifications, and frowned. A message from Sun.
Monkey Boy
u weren't at the funeral yesterday
She checked the date, her eyes moving up in an almost sluggish way. She knew what it would say, of course, knew what she was abandoning when she chose to leave.
April 4th.
The funeral was on the 3rd.
Blake looked back at herself in the mirror, letting the phone fall to the carpet with a dull thud.
There was no going back, now. The phone vibrated with more messages, but she ignored it. She'd get rid of it in the morning, and then she'd be able to focus on her work without fear of being tracked.
Blake took something out of her back pocket, holding it up to the light and feeling her eyes sting immediately.
A polaroid of her and Yang, on their first date. The blonde had been so nervous that she spilled her milkshake all over the both of them, and spent the rest of the night apologising profusely while Blake tried to reassure her, willing herself not to collapse with laughter.
Blake felt a painful, hollow ache in her chest, the one that always came when she thought about her. She blinked back the tears, and brought the picture forward, pressing a soft kiss to it. She lingered for a moment, allowing herself to pretend, just for a moment, that she was kissing her. That they were still just two highschoolers, carefree and giddy in their love.
That she hadn't been ripped away from her, five days before their fucking anniversary.
Blake forced herself to pull the picture away, shattering the illusion.
"I'll find the people who did this, sunshine," She murmured, rubbing her thumb over the image of her beloved, over her wide grin. She radiated joy, even with the milkshake stains covering her shirt. Blake would not allow that joy to be dulled with six feet of dirt, not while she could still do something about it.
"I promise."