Chapter Text
Mantle, two weeks after the “Situation”, had just started to settle into the idea of having lost the only superhero its citizens had ever known, when Weiss discovered that Gold wasn’t actually dead. Two incredibly massive coincidences led her to the fact, and a year later, when she would be called up on stage to receive an award for the fine work she had displayed in the field of journalism, she would be ashamed to admit that. But she would admit it. She would shake her head, and thank A Simple Wok for giving her the first break in the story, and the audience would laugh, charmed by her honesty. It would be a night to remember.
However, this particular night to remember was about a year away, and not even a distant possibility in Weiss’s head while she waited at the bus stop, listening to some song and eating fried rice she had gotten in a takeaway box from A Simple Wok. It was already 12:30, so she knew Neptune was definitely going to annoy her about being late. She was going through about ten excuses per minute in her head. I overslept was overused. The cook didn’t come on time made her sound like a card-carrying member of the bourgeoise (which she was, technically). I didn’t want to come early because then I’d have to sit with senior members during tea and spend half an hour feeling awkwardness drench my skin and watch it seep all the life out of me, would probably seem rude, and he would most definitely think she was crazy.
Caught up in imagining potential excuses and Neptune’s probable responses to those, she didn’t really pay attention when someone came and sat next to her. She just shifted a little to the side and let whoever it was settle in more comfortably. She wouldn’t even have looked at them, except they cleared their throat a few times, and that was when she realized that this particular person was a) an old man and b) apparently interested in striking up a conversation with her. Weiss was pretty bad at social cues, but even she had no trouble recognizing this one. She smiled at him.
The man nodded at her takeaway box. “A Simple Wok, huh? Is it the one up near Forever Fall?”
“Oh no, Sir,” she told him. “Atlas Academy.”
“I used to work in the Forever Fall outlet, you know?” he said, and she nodded encouragingly, a little unsure of what the appropriate response was. “Well, I was a manager there. Really good food.”
She smiled again. Maybe this is what people did. Talk to strangers in bus stops, nod every once in a while, and smile whenever nodding got too repetitive.
“And one day,” the old man continued, “I met Gold himself!”
That had her attention “You met Gold? Superhero Gold? Savior of the citizens Gold?”
“Oh ho, yes,” he seemed pleased at her interest. “She dropped in after taking care of a fire up near the suburbs in the afternoon and asked for dumplings. Very polite girl. Very nice. Called me Sir and everything. Even wrote me a little something in the way of an autograph.”
Weiss realized her bus had arrived, and was being filled up with passengers as she sat. She had a choice to make. She could either get on the bus, go to office, listen to Neptune drone at her for being late or she could take the next one, get a story out of this very nice man, and listen to Neptune drone at her for being seriously late. Fuck it, she thought, and turned back to the man. He was nodding before she even opened her mouth.
“Can I-”
“Of course,” he replied, pulling out his wallet and digging into it. He was dressed in a crisp shirt, and black pants, and of course this could be because he was giving her a very good story, but Weiss thought he looked adorable, dressed formally to wait at a bus stop. He pulled out a laminated piece of paper, and it made her smile because he obviously treasured it enough to have preserved it so well. Mister, and here she paused because she had no idea what his name was, then skipped over his name in her head, carefully carries around a piece of paper marked by Gold as a reminder of the time the gentlest heroine of our times walked into his shop and asked for dumplings. The opening line needed more work, of course, but it was alright.
Mr. Lee, the note went, in a scrawny handwriting Weiss had trouble reconciling with the larger-than-life woman it was a representation of, I hope you have a very good day. Give my best to your wife and your daughters. Yours sincerely, Gold.
The story was already taking shape in her head, and the beginnings of what Weiss recognized as excitement she exclusively reserved for stories she was eager to start working on, bubbled up in her stomach. She felt the urge to start running, to open up her laptop right away before someone else could have the same idea or God forbid, already have started writing it and were on their way to publish it. It’s my story, she thought, mine, and immediately felt ridiculous.
“Mr. Lee?” she started, “I’m actually a journalist working for Mantle News Online, and we have been planning a story on Gold since a while. I think this autograph might really help with that. Is it okay if I take a photo of this and ask you a few questions?”
“I’d be in the papers?” he asked, looking very pleased.
“I mean, it’s not the papers, per se, since we’re an online magazine, but yeah, I guess,” she told him.
Ten minutes later, armed with Xin Lee’s number and the promise of a phone call in the evening, she sat on the bus and half-listened to some song, as she typed out random phrases on her phone. Her head had already begun to hurt from staring at a tiny screen moving back and forth, but she didn’t care. Her mind, for the first time in weeks, seemed focused, directed towards something that seemed productive. She had a story.
*****
Of course, it was too much to hope that she could walk in unnoticed into office, and not have to watch Neptune give her one of his usual patented disappointed looks. He had one for each occasion. A piercing gaze over his rimless glasses for when her article had multiple run-on sentences and rambling points. Hand in his hair, elbow resting on the table for when she refused to speak up in meetings. Multiple others including slow blinking across her cubicle, head bowed as he rested against the wall or a facepalm through a screen on a virtual meeting.
He hit her with a raised eyebrow through the glass of his cabin as she walked in, moving slowly to attract minimum attention, and she froze right where she was, one foot in front of the other, bag on her shoulder. He beckoned her with a finger, and she trudged miserably to the door of his cabin, waving over at Jaune, who was already planted on the desk next to hers.
She knocked and gave him her best approximation of a charming yet apologetic smile “Hi.”
Neptune kept staring. She took a step in to the office.
“So, you probably want to know how I’ve been getting along with finding a new story, don’t you?”
Nothing. She took another step in and bumped into one of the legs of the swiveling chair he kept in front of his desk for visitors. What a scam, she thought. Nobody ever sat on the chair. Neptune was one of those editors who believed in a holistic Oh, we’re all equal here despite the fact that I have about five more years and three hundred bucks an hour worth of experience than you, let me come over to your desk and ream you out like we’re buddies instead of in my office because power dynamics, blah, and did you know that I’m actually very cool?. She stood behind the chair and waited for him to start talking.
He stayed silent. Weiss stood there, shifting from one foot to the other and decided she wasn’t going to say anything else. No matter how much of this painful silence she had to endure. Not saying anything else, she thought. Not even if I have to stand here on my aching feet, with my back straightened, and my neck tilted at this awkward angle which, incidentally, happens to feel like shit. So much shit. And now that she was thinking about it, her back hurt more than she could stand. With each second that Neptune stayed silent and stared at her quietly, it spread more and more across her back like some awful sort of parasitic creature. If he does not start talking in the next ten seconds, she bargained with her uncomfortable back, shifting for the fifth time in one minute, I’m going to open my mouth and start screaming and it will not be pretty.
Fortunately, before she could burst into a shrill mess, he started talking “It’s 2.”
Weiss fought the urge to twist her arm so she could look at her watch, kept her face very carefully blank, and tried very, very hard, not to say out loud what she was thinking.
(Which was “Actually, last I’d checked it had been 1:30 and there is no way you’ve kept me standing here for half an hour, so you’re, you know, wrong, you hippie office-keeping, torturer of employees imbecile.”)
She nodded, very seriously.
“Is there any justifiable reason you were almost five hours late to office?”
“Neptune, I get your point. I completely do. And it is irresponsible and careless of me, and whatever else you can get out of Webster’s when you google tardy. However,” she paused here for dramatic effect, “I just got a story.”
He leaned forward “You did?”
“Yes!” she realized she was being exuberant, so she cleared her throat, and let out a breath. “Okay, so it’s about Gold. I met some dude who met Gold, back when she was alive, and he gave me a photo of an autograph she’d given him. And remember that guy up in Finance who kept talking about a batty aunt of his who had once managed to get her cat rescued by Gold? I think there’s a story in writing about all these people who met her and whose lives he changed, you know?”
“Like,” she continued, regaining her animation, “Imagine the story going all – Remember our lost hero? Remember the chick who risked her life to save our asses so many times that we, the shitty citizens, started taking her for granted? Remember how you all wrote touching obits for her for a few days and then she skipped your mind, as all shiny things do eventually? Well, guess what? Here’s something for you to be sad again! Read this wholesome piece on how many ordinary lives she touched and brightened, and suck it.”
They looked at each other for a while; Weiss out of breath from her burst of passion, Neptune staring wide-eyed at her, and slowly, very slowly, Weiss lowered her hands from where they had, over the course of her rant, begun moving in mid-air. She straightened up, and started fiddling with the strap of her bag, in an attempt to dissipate the last of the embarrassment still hanging over her head.
“Anyone ever told you that you’re extremely cynical?”
She shrugged. “You know what they say – Put the cynic in cynical.”
“I,” he started, paused, then frowned. “Nobody has ever said that in the history of the world.”
“Now I have.”
“Okay, never mind, moving on. You sure you’ve got enough material to get this done? I mean, from what you’ve told me yet, there’s like two people who you know—”
“—and I can put the word out on twitter?” she continued, hurriedly. Then paused. “Oh. Can’t do that. What if some other mag catches wind of the story I’m planning?”
Neptune seemed amused at that. He put his hand up to his chin, like he was thinking very hard. Pretentious ass, she thought. If the Schnees owned this company, I’d have fired him so quick he wouldn’t even have the time to give me one of his patented disappointed looks. And then immediately felt ashamed. Old patterns were difficult to break, damn it.
Two minutes later, she was halfway out the door even before Neptune was done nodding.
“Hey Weiss?” Neptune called out as she was leaving. “I’d suggest looking in the old records room. You might find old fan mail there.”
*****
Sun kicked his feet back, leaned back on the already precariously balanced swivel chair and flicked the end of his tail against her chair leg. “This is so boring!”
“You’re not even doing anything,” she told him, not looking up from the table piled high with letters and old documents. “Oscar and Jaune are doing all the work. You don’t even need to be in here.”
“We specifically told you that you didn’t need to be in here,” Jaune mumbled from the corner. He took a cursory glance at the letter in his hand, handed it to Oscar for further reading.
Sun threw a chip at him. “I just wanted to be included.”
“Well,” Weiss said. “You could help.”
“Nah,” he replied. “Plus, I found the bunch of letters the hater wrote us. See, we got this like a week ago. I’d forgotten how hilarious they were.”
Weiss raised her head, watched Jaune chuckle, and Oscar frown.
“What?” Oscar asked. “What hater? Who are you guys talking about?”
“There was an anonymous contributor to the magazine,” Jaune started. “This started a while back, before you started your internship here, a couple months before Gold died. A series of letter, hand-delivered to our box downstairs, no less, talking about how shitty Gold was, and how the city would throw her away as soon as she ran out of her usefulness, or whatever.”
“We had no idea who they were,” Sun said. “I mean, if we’d wanted to find out we could have, but it was nice just reading witty criticisms.”
“And gotta give it to them,” Weiss added, reaching out a hand in Sun’s direction so he could hand her one. It had been a while since she’d laughed. Might as well. “It was pretty funny.”
It was as soon as she unfolded it, that it struck her. Weiss had never exactly thought of herself as being especially observant or precise, but one look at the paper, at the scrunched up, tiny sloping letters filled all over it, and the familiarity hit her, sharp as a whip. She gasped, dropped the letter to the floor.
“Miss. Schnee?” Oscar asked.
She looked up at three concerned faces. “I’ve seen this before.”
“Elaborate. Explain.” Sun this time.
She pulled out her phone with shaking hands. It took her a couple tries to unlock it, and pull up the image that she’d kept fresh in her head since the morning, the tiny, pixelated proof that the greatest superhero Mantle ever had once ate dumplings at A Simple Wok. Jaune, Oscar and Sun crowded around her.
“I’m definitely not an expert,” Sun said, “but it looks like the exact same handwriting.”
“You mean the anonymous hater of Gold, and Gold have the same goddamn handwriting?” Oscar asked, his voice rising higher with every word.
“Um,” Jaune said. “To draw your attention to another very pressing issue. The last letter was sent a week ago. Exactly a week after Gold died.”
Weiss dropped the letter. “Supposedly.”
“Supposedly,” Sun repeated, then whistled. “Oh boy. Did this just get interesting?”
*****
When Weiss woke up, the godawful crick in her neck making her realize that she had fallen asleep at her desk going through the other letters, the rest of the office had left already. Half the lights were off, and the only sound she could hear was that of thundering footsteps growing steadily louder in volume, before Jaune and Sun burst out of the security room, running in her direction.
“Weiss!” Sun had already started screaming, from feet away. “Weiss, Weiss, Weiss, Weiss, Weiss…”
“Catch your breath,” she told him, and he bent over, hand over his stomach, waving a and at Jaune to go forward.
“Weiss,” Jaune repeated. “Weiss, Weiss, Weiss….”
She pinched at the bridge of her nose, very aware of the stinging pain in her collarbone. “Will someone tell me what happened? Soon, preferably?”
From a distance, she saw Oscar poke his head out of the room.
“Miss. Schnee?” he called out, his voice carrying in the almost deserted office. “They keep talking about….do you know someone named Ruby?”
And then Weiss lost her breath the third time that day.
*****
Ruby was frowning.
That’s usually alright. Most people did. But other people, when they frowned, didn’t make Weiss want to find a way to the moon and pull it down, or grow a forest in the middle of a metropolis for the girl whose smile probably inspired a million poems when unleashed in full force.
Weiss reached out, smoothened it out with her thumb and index finger.
“Ruby?” she asked, stepping closer to make herself heard over the sound of people passing them by. Not the wisest idea to have intimate conversations in front of her office, but with her girlfriend’s horrendous waking habits, mornings involved mad attempts to stuff breakfast into Ruby’s mouth, and get them both out the door in time for her first class and Weiss’ work, this — the half hour in which Ruby dropped her off to work — had to do.
“You’re worrying about something.”
Ruby blinked at her, like she had been far away, and shook her head. Weiss stepped even closer, rested her hands on the collar of her black shirt, feeling strangely like if she didn’t anchor Ruby right here, right now, she’d fly off somewhere Weiss wouldn’t be able to follow. Talk to me, Weiss thought, while she straightened Ruby’s charmingly skewed collar.
“You sure?” Weiss asked, again.
Ruby smiled for the first time, bowed her head a little to kiss Weiss’ right hand, and while the smile was astoundingly beautiful, as all things Ruby, it still wasn’t enough bright, or happy enough to quell the worry in her heart.
“Now who’s worried?” Ruby teased, gently, her forehead tipped against Weiss’. It was almost enough to distract her. Almost.
“I don’t want to push you,” she said, evenly, thinking over words carefully in her head, not wanting them to come off as nagging. “Just. If it’s the break-in, or. Something. You know you can talk to me, right? About anything?”
Ruby kissed her in response, her hands twisting Weiss’ jacket at the waist, and Weiss had no time to worry about the fact that they were in front of her office, in full view of incoming co-workers, or hell, the entirety of corporate Mantle population. She stood in the middle of the street, her arms wrapped around Ruby, feeling the insistent pressure of her girlfriend’s lips on hers, and thought — Why is this making me sad?
Ruby’s kisses were supposed to taste like multicolored roses, like heart-shaped balloons floating over the beach. These stayed on her tongue for about a second before they evaporated, leaving behind faint traces of melancholy
“You’ll be late,” Ruby informed her when they separated. Weiss noticed the frown was back, more prominent than it had been before. Worse yet, was the look in Ruby’s eyes, this — this utter sorrow. Six months, and Weiss had not seen Ruby look like that once.
“I don’t care,” she said, earnestly, rising on her toes to kiss Ruby’s forehead. “Sweetheart. Are you okay?”
A soft push, a softer rebuttal.
Tell me you’re alright.
I am, I am. Now go. You’ll be late.
I love you.
A hand catching her as she was turning away, pulling her back into Ruby’s body, where she was engulfed, once more, in a tight embrace. Weiss, Ruby said, her eyes burning, before she let her go, I love you.
And Weiss, who at that point of time had no idea that this was the second to last time she was seeing Ruby, that the night would end in her falling asleep near the door of her house after Ruby would kiss her goodbye, waved, still worried, before she walked up the stairs to the building.
Weiss stood in the security room, watched herself on the screen as she walked away and then followed Ruby’s tiny, unmistakable blurry figure as she stopped at their contribution box before she went off in the direction of Atlas Academy.
*****
Neptune had taken one look at their dead faces in the morning, and thankfully sent them off to the record room to catch a nap. And there they were, looking at all the tapes they’d requested the security guys for, collaborating them with the letters they had.
And arguing. Always arguing.
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard in my life,” Jaune said, emphatically, “and I was there when you were ordering at Taco Bell stoned off your ass.”
“Oh, come on,” Sun replied. “Oscar. You’ve seen Gold flying around. She could be Ruby right?”
Oscar rubbed at the back of his neck. Weiss knew he was terrified to step in the middle of whatever this was.
“Gold has, well. Golden hair,” he said, finally.
“Wigs exist.”
“No way, okay?” Jaune said. “Their builds differ.”
“I mean, then, there’s only one way to find out,” Sun said, and then paused until Weiss looked up at him. He then awkwardly held his hands in front of his chest, looking the most uncomfortable Sun could look, anyways. “Weiss?”
“Finish that statement and I end your life. I’m not kidding.”
“Dude,” Jaune said to Sun, sounding disappointed.
“That said,” she told them, “I don’t think it’s Ruby. I’d. I’d have known her anywhere. I’d have known.”
If it sounded like she’s trying to reassure herself more than them, so be it. She really did believe it’s someone else, someone else she hadn’t touched and kissed and wiped the sweat off the brow of when she fell sick.
Jaune tapped her on the shoulder, gently. “Hey Weiss? You okay?”
“Why wouldn’t I be?”
“Because,” Sun said, then trailed off.
“Oh, because it’s my ex who dated me six months and then abruptly broke up with me two months ago and hasn’t talked to me since?” she said, and then realized she sounded angry. She took a deep breath, tapped mindlessly on the table in front of her. Jaune opened his mouth but she beat him to talking. “I’m okay, I’m okay. I’m…. sorry I lost it there.”
“We get it, Schnee,” Sun reassured her. “No worries.”
“They didn’t find her body, did they?” Oscar said, and Weiss smiled at him gratefully.
Jaune blinked. “No. But that was because we saw her go out in that blast, remember. The only thing we could find was her arm.”
“And who found her arm?”
Weiss stirred, wiped a hand across her brow. She suddenly had a headache. “I know who.”
*****
“Weiss, this is highly unusual.”
Her sister sounded like she’d tied her ponytail a little too tight this morning, which was always. Weiss could hear her goddamn posture in her voice, the ramrod back and her other arm at her back almost visible to her. Weiss wanted to be there just so she could shake her and say It’s me! I’m your sister! You once chucked a book at my head and then begged me to not tell father for an hour afterwards!
(Weiss wanted to be there just so she could hug her.)
“I know, I’m just…. curious. It’s for a story,” Weiss added, later.
Winter sighed on the other end. “Yes,” she started crisply. At 1400 hours, we got word of a possible White Fang attack in Atlas. Unfortunately, by the time we arrived to help Gold with backup, the perpetrator, Adam Taurus had already attacked her. We couldn’t find him, and we were also unable to stop the explosion he’d set off in the factory.”
“But you never once found her body?” Weiss pressed. “Is it — is it a possibility that she might still have been alive?”
“Weiss,” Winter said. “We examined the scene later. The amount of blood — there’s no way anyone could have escaped alive from a blast that strong. Not even Gold with her enhanced abilities.”
Well, she did, regardless. “Alright. Okay. Thank you.”
“What kind of story is this, anyway?” Winter asked, and Weiss could hear the faint suspicion in her voice. Winter had built a reputation on being completely impenetrable, but Weiss, who had grown up familiar with every single feature of her voice, usually knew what she was feeling even without paying particular attention. A dysfunctional family they may have been, but dysfunction is no deterrent to familiarity, to affection, love even.
“Oh,” she said, flustered. “Nothing special, just a fluff piece on, um, Gold. I’ll tell you about it later, actually, I might have to—”
“Weiss?” Winter asked, quietly. “Are you eating well?”
Weiss stood frozen where she stood. For a second too late.
Winter cleared her throat. “Are you still there?”
Weiss blinked. “Yeah, I’m here. Sorry, I — yeah, I’m eating.”
“Good, uh. Yeah. That’s good.”
“Yeah.”
“And you’re, you’re alright, living alone?”
Weiss smiled, both confused and amused. “I am. Winter, are you alright?”
“Of course,” Winter said, abruptly. Weiss was a little disappointed to realize she was mostly back to her usual self. “It’s just been a while since we. Talked.”
“Well, then,” Weiss found herself saying. “Why don’t you come over for dinner so we can?”
*****
Winter always entered her apartment like it was the first time. She was still dressed in her military outfit, and Weiss watched her neatly arrange her combat boots next to her own work heels. Irrationally, she wondered if they were lying askew, if that was what Winter was staring at. Instead, she poked at the ends of the striped sneakers with her toe.
“Those are not yours,” she said, simply.
Weiss flushed. “Yeah, they’re Ruby’s. I keep meaning to chuck them out.”
Sure you will, the tiny Weiss sitting in an armchair in her head, with her hands joined together, judged. A year down the line, you’ll still hesitate every time you come home because her shoes are still in your doorway, and her hoodies still hang in your closet. Only last week, you bought the same brand of perfume she wore and went to sleep with the scent of roses on your wrist. I know you’re stupidly gone for her, still, but this is taking things too far, isn’t it?
Shut up, she shot back. Just because you’re self-aware doesn’t mean we’re not literally the same person.
Winter’s understanding smile hurt more than anything else her head could come up with, regardless.
Winter tidied up random corners of the room while Weiss cooked. It was annoying, but also kind of endearing how she walked around the room, awkwardly, picking up things and putting them in appropriate places. Weiss thought of herself as pretty neat, but Winter’s military habits put her on a different level, altogether.
“You and mom,” Weiss noted, “both of you keep trying to tidy up my immaculate mess every time you come over.”
“Not Whitley?”
“Please,” she said. “He’s happier sitting on the armchair and judging me from there.”
Winter chuckled.
It was after dinner, when Winter was cleaning up the dishes, that she surprised Weiss again.
“You remember the first time we snuck down to the kitchen?”
Weiss hummed, cast her mind back. “Brownies. And father caught us and we were grounded for a week.”
“Uh uh uh,” Winter shook her head. “Wrong.”
“What?”
“You don’t remember,” she told Weiss. “You don’t remember because you were three.”
“Really?” she asked.
“Yeah.” There was a faraway smile on Winter’s face. “You woke me up because you got hungry in the middle of the night. Whitley had just turned one, but he still woke up crying in the middle of the night. We barely escaped back to our rooms.”
Try as she might, Weiss still couldn’t remember. “What’d we have?”
“Milk. Oreos. You said you needed me along because you weren’t allowed to heat up things on your own.”
Weiss nodded, slowly.
“Really, though,” Winter continued, “I think you were scared to go alone.”
“I was, huh?”
Winter turned to look at her, handed over the last of the plates. “But you’re not scared now,” she said. “You’ve moved out on your own, and completely left our family name behind and. Well. I just. I’m proud of you. You should…. know that.”
Weiss fought the urge to run, to hide, to grab a pillow and smush her face against it. If she ever sat down to make a list of things her sister and she did not do, this — whatever this was — would rank high on it. As it was, Winter helped out by rubbing at the back of her neck awkwardly and then going back to the couch.
“You still haven’t gotten this fixed,” Winter called out, and for a blessed moment Weiss didn’t know what she was talking about, lived in a world where the thought of her sister complimenting her had almost driven Ruby out of her mind. She rounded the kitchen countertop, came round the front of the couch only to see the scraped-out area of the couch’s hand rest.
“Oh.”
When Winter glared, Weiss could almost understand how she was so effective as a military officer.
Even if that glare wasn’t particularly directed towards her. Ironwood, as skeevy as Weiss thought him, had done a couple things right in his life and one of them was half-adopting her sister as his protegee. One look, and cadets would tremble in their shoes. One eyebrow raise, and Weiss presumed super villains would be quaking in their super suits.
And Ruby was feeling the full intensity of that glare at the moment.
Weiss slowly moved her left hand to touch her lower back. Stroked it once. Felt the deep breath that Ruby took in response.
“So you’re in college right now?”
Weiss heard Ruby clear her throat before she spoke. “Yes, ma’am — sorry, Winter.”
“Ma’am works just fine,” Winter told her, and Weiss gave her a look in response. “Nevermind.”
“And I also work at the Fantastic Brew near Atlas Academy. In case you want to have coffee.”
Winter narrowed her eyes. “How do you know it’s fantastic?”
Oh no.
Ruby slouched down a little. “I, I’m sorry?”
“I said,” Winter started, evenly. “How does a place name itself fantastic? How can you guarantee that I would think the coffee there is fantastic? Say if I bought someone to that coffee shop, someone I cared about with my whole life, and I bought them a coffee from there, ho would you assure me that it won’t burn them, or hurt them, that it will treat my…. this person, absolutely fantastically? Answer me this, Ruby Rose, please.”
Weiss opened her mouth to give a response to whatever that was, but before she could say anything, there was a tremendous ripping sound, and she turned to see a massive piece of fabric clutched in Ruby’s fist. That, and the fact that her girlfriend was turning an alarming shade of red.
Weiss shot Winter a glare of her own, then gently reached over to hold Ruby’s hand. She unfurled all five fingers, retrieved the cloth, and cast it aside. Then she pressed a small kiss to Ruby’s temple.
“Hey,” she whispered, when she was close enough. “Don’t worry about Winter, okay? She’s more bark than bite.”
“Are you quite sure?” Ruby mumbled back out of the corner of her mouth. “Or will I exit this place missing a limb?”
“Maybe a finger or two,” Winter interrupted them, casually. “No limbs. It’d be bad press.”
“Winter,” Weiss said, steadily, and Winter held up her hands.
“I,” Ruby spoke up, breaking their intense staring match, and then paused. “I can’t, actually guarantee that the coffee would be nice. But I do, make every coffee with every piece of my heart, and I put all the care and affection I can muster up, which is a lot. In it, I mean. And sometimes the patron likes it, and sometimes she tells me that I’m an idiot and that I need to be careful with cleaning up her bookshelf and. Yeah. I try again. Because I’ve never cared about anyone more than I do about her, and I would make a thousand, a billion coffees, if she wants me to. If at the end of the billionth coffee, I have the honor of receiving her smile in return. And I hope that’s enough. For the patron, I mean. Of…. the, coffee.”
“The metaphor kind of fell apart a little there,” Winter noted, but Weiss didn’t care. She kissed Ruby’s cheek once, twice, thrice, unable to subdue the goofy smile on her face.
“It was perfectly fine,” Weiss assured her. “More than fine, in fact. Ruby, you — you complete idiot.”
I love you, she thought, and pressed it on her cheek again, instead, hoping the message came through by osmosis. I love you I love you I love you.
“I don’t remember how that happened,” she lied, instead. “I’m sure it must have been one of those things.”
*****
Weiss supposed even if it wasn’t for the fact that Sun was the absolute worst person to be on a stakeout with, spending a whole week staring at her ex-girlfriend wasn’t exactly on her list of fun things to do.
(Ruby was different; Ruby was exactly the same. There was a new red streak running down the front of her hair, which was longer. Was it longer? By inches maybe. Weiss loved it, and hated it, hated this proof that Ruby’s life had gone on without her presence in it, while her own had screeched to a grinding halt when Ruby had left.)
Jaune poked at her shoulder from beside her. “If you don’t stop looking sad soon, we’re gonna start actively trying to make you smile.”
“Jaune….”
“Mis-stakeout,” Sun said, from the backseat.
“Sun, I swear to God—”
“—chicken steak out,” Oscar added, giggling.
“Oscar!”
“Come on, Weiss.” Jaune said. “We’re all sad she left.”
“Why are you—”
“Because you weren’t the only one she left, okay?” He wasn’t looking at her, his hands fiddling with the glove compartment. “She was one of my closest friends even before you guys started dating. And Pyrrha? Pyrrha kept texting her, and she kept blowing us off, coming up with ridiculous excuses. I know you’re in love with her, but you don’t have a monopoly on all the angst in the world.”
She reached out and stilled his hand, until he looked back at her.
“You’re right.”
He hummed.
“Also,” she pointed out. “Not the time, but — was in love with her. Was. Not are. Not am. Nothing pertaining to a present tense.”
Sun coughed, Oscar cleared his throat and Jaune pinched her wrist.
“Listen,” Sun started. “We know, okay? The entire I hate her drill, and I don’t miss her drill and I definitely don’t sleep in her t shirts at night drill—”
“—what?”
—but come on. You’re an awful actor, and it’s pretty clear to everyone here—”
“—I hate her, have we all forgotten that?”
“—every relationship has its share of secrets! Just because she didn’t tell you she’s Gold—”
Jaune and Weiss both interjected this time. “She’s not Gold.”
“—and that her superpowers apparently give her massive — you know whats — doesn’t mean…. I just. Look at my roommate, for instance. Till now, all I know about her is that she’s a huge fan of fish and once bungee jumped off a cliff on a dare. That’s all I know about her! Hey, she could be a superhero for all I know!”
Weiss, Jaune and Oscar all turned to stare at him.
“Oh, guys,” Oscar, thumped the back of her seat excitedly, after five minutes. “Is that her?”
Weiss didn’t turn to look until after she’d taken five minutes to take a couple of deep breaths. When, exactly, she wondered, had she turned into this pathetic creature so beholden to the whims and actions of another person? She was reduced to someone who planned out her routes five times now, just so she could avoid running into Ruby, and at the same time, wished, desperately that they could somehow meet, and fall back in love again. This terrible churning in her stomach, her pounding heartrate, clammy palms. How had someone not written a thesis on how the symptoms of falling in love were the same as that of heartbreak?
“Yeah,” she said, unnecessarily. “That’s her.”
“I have just had the worst day ever.”
“Well, that won’t do.” Ruby stood at their table. “Tell me what’s wrong, baby. Rant away.”
Jaune and Pyrrha giggled. Weiss smacked at their joined hands.
“Nothing,” she groaned. “And everything. I’m sick of the English language.”
Ruby leaned down, pressed a sneaky kiss to her cheek before straightening up again. “Better now?”
“I’m going to need about a hundred more of those,” Weiss told her, but it was already working. Being around Ruby was a drug on its own — there was no form of intoxication that could compare to the way she made Weiss feel when she smiled right at her.
“Let me feed you, instead,” she offered, sliding over the menu. “Pick something out, please?”
Weiss groaned again, hunched over the table and pressed her forehead to the surface. “Can’t read any more English. I will simply perish.”
“Oh, alright then,” Ruby said, then jumped up with a start. “I know! Give me ten minutes!”
Pyrrha and Jaune exchanged another look after she was gone.
“What?”
“Could you people be any more in love?”
“I mean, sure,” Weiss shot back. “Maybe we could walk around wearing the he’s mine she’s mine shirts that you guys are rocking right now. Like somebody could actually doubt that you losers belonged to each other, with the constant touching and the heart eyes.”
Jaune pouted.
They bickered until Ruby burst out of the kitchen, arms laden down with trays. She placed all of them on the table, and slid into the empty space beside Weiss.
“Here,” she announced. “Feast yourself, most cherished darling of mine.”
“Ruby,” Weiss said, awed. She counted out six things that she absolutely adored. “I. This is an embarrassment of riches.”
“More like an embarrassment of chicken,” Pyrrha said, picking up a wing.
“Sadly, my girlfriend lacks taste and thus can only stomach chicken.”
“That’s true. I am dating you, after all.”
“Weiss,” Ruby said, indignantly. “Mean.”
“Glynda’s glaring at you right now,” Jaune informed Ruby. “I’m guessing you didn’t ask her before this unscheduled break of yours?”
Ruby turned to shoot an unimpressed looking Glynda one of her widest smiles. “Ah, I’m her favorite. It’s alright.”
“One of these days she’ll fire you and then what will you do?” Weiss asked her.
“Why, marry you, of course.” Ruby waved her hands in a ta-da motion, picked up an onion ring, and grabbed Weiss’ hand. “Weiss, my sweetheart, will you do me the honor of sharing your enormous fortune with me for the rest of your life?”
“You say the sweetest things,” she replied, but let Ruby slide the stupid thing onto her finger. Pyrrha chucked a couple of fries at them, and in the middle, Ruby leaned over to kiss her cheek. One day I’ll ask you for real, non-fortune sharing purposes, she whispered, and Weiss made a face at her.
One day, Weiss told her, I’ll say yes for real, non-orgasm reasons.
“She looks sad,” Oscar said.
“No, she doesn’t,” Weiss replied automatically, distracted. It felt like a lie. The Ruby she knew didn’t come out of the café to stare at the sky, headphones over her ears. The Ruby she knew didn’t take lunch breaks alone out on top of her scooter.
(Then again, the Weiss she used to be wouldn’t let Ruby be sad without trying to make it better.)
She wondered if it was her Ruby was thinking about, and then immediately veered away from dangerous territory. She wondered if Ruby would fall into her arms and everything would go back to the way it used to be, if she’d get out of the car right now and walk over to her. She wondered if Ruby still used the same perfume, if she still tasted the same.
“Yeah she does,” Sun said.
*****
And then one day, everything came together in a massive, spectacular crash-bang that led to a broken nose, and a broken hand, and way, way too many revelations.
But Weiss was getting ahead of herself. The number one rule to writing a coherent story was getting the chronology in order. There was no point in skipping way, way ahead, instead of starting off when Jaune called her, panicking about having found out where Gold was.
“Do you know this out of the city place called Patch?” Weiss and Sun were listening through the speakers in the car, where they had been waiting outside Ruby’s apartment. She turned to Sun, saw him shake his head, confused.
“Never been,” Weiss said. “How about you send us the address and we’ll be there.”
“Oh, alright, alright,” Jaune replied. He was whispering for some reason. “Also, listen. Park your car near the highway and come on foot.”
“Talk clearer, asshole,” Sun said.
“I can’t, you bitch,” Jaune whispered back, sounding furious. “Oscar and I are trapped in a barn, waiting for people to get back, and one of them is Ruby and the other is someone I’m pretty sure is Gold. I don’t know, her voice wasn’t clear. Just. Get here soon, okay? And text when you arrive, not call.”
Patch turned out to be one cottage, one adjoining barn, and way too many goats. Weiss and Sun found their way along the corners of the fence, keeping an eye out for the residents of the place, and climbed up the barn to find Jaune and Oscar hiding behind a couple bales of hay.
“Are they back?” Weiss asked.
Jaune shook his head. “Went out a couple hours ago, should be back soon. I think this Gold woman lives here.”
“And you’re sure it’s her?”
“I caught a glimpse of the hair,” he said. “How we’re supposed to get out of here after finding out who this is is, well, another matter altogether.”
“We’ll figure it out,” Weiss assured him.
“Also, there’s one other problem,” Oscar said. “I’ve been wanting to pee like, an hour already.”
“Jesus fucking Christ, Pine,” Sun smacked the back of his head. “Have some chill.”
And so they sat and they waited.
Weiss wrote in her head the entire time. When I found a random letter written by Gold a couple of days ago, I had no idea it would lead me on a city-wide manhunt for a missing hero. Needed work, but it was enough to make Neptune happy. Hell, more than enough to make the top dogs at Mantle News Daily ecstatic. She could get a cover article out of this. Maybe even a movie deal. Gosh, the possibilities were endless.
(And while Weiss wrote, her conscience sat on a table, and tapped three annoying taps in the corner of her head. You know this is wrong, she said. Outing a superhero who doesn’t want to do the job anymore. Did you maybe consider that she’s just tired? And sick of it all?)
(Weiss was getting sick of the voices in her head)
And then someone cleared their throat behind them, and they turned to see.
Correction: Most of them turned to see. Weiss, who had grown up with Winter Schnee, turned with her arm cocked, and threw her fist in the direction of the person who was standing behind exactly behind her, looking utterly bemused.
“Ow!” Ruby cried, holding a hand up to her nose. “Weiss?”
Was Weiss’ hand broken? It certainly felt like it was. But before she could do any of the things she wanted to do, which were, one, check on Ruby, two, hug Ruby, three, carry Ruby in her arms to her car and take her home, she turned to look at the second person who was on the scene. And then everything turned to shit.
“Yang?” Jaune said, his words coming out at the same time as Weiss’ indignant voice. “What the fuck?”
“Gold,” Sun murmured, sounding awed, and if Weiss had been surprised before, she was completely dumbstruck now.
“Um,” her ex-girlfriend’s sister, who was now missing one hand, said. “Does it help if I say Surprise?”