Archive of Our Own

take our scars and make them stars
One-shot | shine a little stardust on a new day | 11,376 words
Direct sequel to revolving doors of beliefs and true colors will bleed.

Connotations used in this fic — Location/Keyword. Ruby’s age, Weiss’s age.

BGM: Let it Out — Fullmetal Alchemist, cover by AmaLee.

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1.

Atlas. 17, 19.

Their first kiss is a simple and clumsy one.

It starts with Ruby reaching up from where she’s resting on Weiss’s lap, pulling her down slowly so that their foreheads touch and their breaths mingle in front of the lit fireplace.

It ends with them bumping their noses as she misses, touching the top corner of her lips instead.

Ruby releases her, laughing sheepishly, looking almost like she’s fifteen again. It’s far too charming for her own good and Weiss finds that she just wants to etch it into her heart.

“Idiot,” she says, amused and exasperated. And then she is the one closing the distance, pressing their lips together. Their positions are a little awkward, but she can’t really say she minds.

The kiss is chaste, for a heartbeat. Two heartbeats. Three.

Ruby tastes like chocolate and cookies.

Weiss ends up pressing an elbow to the floor for balance — not that it’s especially effective when Ruby’s hands are curling around her, pulling her down and down —

She does briefly register that their positions are changing, becoming less awkward with how Ruby seems to surge up for a better angle as she goes lower. And then, somehow, she’s falling back to the carpet, now trapped between a hovering Ruby and the couch by her side, the blanket tangled between them.

Her partner pauses, fire-flecked eyes gazing down at her.

Ruby’s head tilts curiously, one arm pressed to the floor close to Weiss’s red-tipped ear, the other curled around her waist. “You taste like berries.”

Weiss feels her cheeks flush hot. “Shut up. That isn’t —”

She’s cut off by Ruby kissing her again. There’s a sound of some sort and Weiss really doesn’t know which of them made it — but the way Ruby licks into her mouth startles her, enough that she’s unconsciously grabbing at a sleeved elbow for purchase.

This girl is definitely not fifteen anymore. Where did she even learn to do this? Blake and her damned books?

They should probably stop, she thinks dimly, yet her fingers are moving to rake through dark hair, Ruby’s hand is splayed open on her lower back —

Her breath hitches when fingers brush against the scar on her back, sending a tingling jolt through her system. And there is no hiding the way she flinches with Ruby holding her like that.

Her partner breaks away to stare down at her. The hand gripping at her loosens, there and warm but still, as if unsure if jerking her hand back or leaving it there is the safest option.

Their breathing is still erratic, their cheeks warm, but that doesn’t stop the raw fear from crossing those silver eyes.

“Did I —” A jerky whisper. “Did I hurt you?”

Oh, the idiot.

Weiss huffs, trying to ignore the tingling sensation in her mouth. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Her hand drops to tug Ruby’s arm loose from around her waist, moving to press it down against her side firmly.

It’s more than a little awkward with how she has to pull her partner’s hand to go across her stomach to reach the scar on her front given their positions, but she has a point to prove. “A fresh scar means it will sometimes itch, Ruby.”

And she has two new ones — one on her front, and one at the back. The javelin, and then the ice… they technically total up to four now despite them overlapping each other in some ways.

...Then again, technically, it’s more than four, and that doesn’t include the scar crossing down her eye.

She remembers staring at her abdomen via a mirror’s reflection in the hospital’s bathroom not all that long ago, tracing the marred area with a hand. A long surgical scar runs past the rough, jagged circle; a few inches off from reaching the underside of her breast. And there’s another on her back, she knows.

It’s evidence of what the doctors did to save her life, with how her Aura had shattered, the concussion, the frostburn, the hypothermia, the hole in her stomach…

She’d almost died. Again.

And she remembers how her breath had shuddered out of her then, trembling hands gripping tightly at the cold white sink, something like an icy blanket draping over her shoulders.

Weiss is pushed out of her memory when she feels Ruby’s thumb tracing the marred spot hesitantly over her clothes with a featherlight touch, sending another jolt of electricity down her spine.

There’s a frown of concentration on Ruby’s face. It’s like she’s trying to memorize the feel and size of her scar. “Is it like Yang’s?” is the quiet question.

Weiss suppresses a shiver at the tingling sensation, fingers curling around that hand to still the caress.

Ruby freezes again.

Their gazes meet, and the furrow of guilt and worry is back on her partner’s face.

“It’s just sensitive,” Weiss clarifies to chase away that remorseful look. “And I’m not saying you can’t touch it, but not — “ she stops. That’s not quite what she meant to say. Her cheeks feel warmer, all of a sudden. “Just… just not like that. It tingles.”

Thankfully though, Ruby doesn’t latch onto the way she misspoke. “Yang always gets goosebumps when I clean the connector on her arm. Is it similar?”

“...In a way, maybe,” she admits. “But it’s also different. It’s not like I lost my arm and got something attached to me. And mine will stop being so sensitive eventually.” Probably.

(The same cannot be said for the phantom pain. Now that — that probably will be forever.)

Ruby frowns at her. “You seem sure.”

Her response is a scoff this time. “It’s hardly my first scar.”

Weiss can almost see the gears whirring in her partner’s head.

“Haven,” her partner murmurs then. “And…” silver eyes slide down from her gaze just the tiniest bit. Weiss already knows what she’s looking at.

That doesn’t mean she knows what to say, though. “Ruby?”

Their eyes meet again.

And then.

Ruby sags onto the older girl completely, burying her head in Weiss’s collarbone.

Weiss huffs out a surprised breath. Her heart is still pounding, whether from the kiss or from the way Ruby was (is) touching her, and this really isn’t helping. “You’re heavy.”

“I want to hide you.” There’s a whine and sulky pout in that muffled voice.

“What?”

Ruby actually tugs her cloak to settle around them, covering them completely save for their heads, cocooning them in warmth.

“W-what are you doing?”

“Hiding us.”

Weiss is two parts exasperated and one part embarrassed. “That makes no sense.”

“It doesn’t have to make sense,” Ruby points out reasonably, snuggling back into her, nosing at the skin where neck meets shoulder, and Weiss’s breath catches despite herself. Her hands land to grip at the younger girl’s hips.

Her partner is a warm, solid weight on her, and it feels more comfortable than she cares to admit.

She cranes her head to stare at messy dark locks of hair.

“You realize,” Weiss says with a calmness she doesn’t quite feel, “that this is a rather ineffective way of hiding.”

Ruby doesn’t seem to care. “The couch can hide us too.”

That’s not… logical, considering the angle of the couch and that they are actually in plain view of the door that could open at any time.

And this bears repeating: They are in plain view of the door.

Maybe she should’ve locked the door? Despite the sudden alarm knotting her shoulders, she sighs, thumbing unconsciously at her partner’s leather belt. “It really can’t, Ruby. Also, I can’t move like this.”

The sulky noise that Ruby emits from her throat makes Weiss want to huff. Little brat.

But... she supposes that she should be glad Ruby isn’t brooding about this in a dark way. She’d much rather her partner not brood about her injury(s) at all, but this is still the better alternative compared to the angrier option which had seemed entirely too possible these days.

“Do you really want to move?” Ruby questions quietly, leaning back to look at her again.

The fire crackles.

Slowly, Weiss reaches up to touch at the curve of a sharpening jaw, at the cheek, tracing the shades of orange sketched on the skin.

Despite herself, she smiles.

“Am I going to have to call you a crybaby again?”

Ruby’s eyes are misting. The tears aren’t falling, yet, but her partner’s expression is crumpling.

“I would like for Nice Weiss to strike now please.” It’s a plaintive request, and Weiss is suddenly reminded of that night at Haven Academy. So similar, yet so different. And somehow still so ridiculously earnest.

“Ruby,” she says, soft. Sad.

Her partner sniffles.

If Weiss dares to, she would promise forever.

The stars, the moon, the sea, and her hand.

But she can’t.

She isn’t invincible. They are not invincible. And among them, no one is as aware of that fact except for Weiss. She has defied death twice now, and it leaves her constantly wondering when her time will finally run out.

Life is so fragile, so breakable. And so, so fleeting.

And besides…

This… this thing between them is so new, and Weiss won’t deny she cares, but it’s just a fledgling.

So she says the next best thing. “So lange ich kann, werde ich bei dir sein.”

Ruby’s face scrunches adorably in confusion. It almost makes her smile. German, Old Atlesian, is a language ancestral to her and her family; to the nobility of her kingdom. It’s not used commonly anymore save for ceremonial situations.

And that’s why it means so much more, despite the fact that her partner may not understand its significance.

Weiss continues anyway, thumbing at a smooth cheek. “Heute. Morgen. Am Tag danach.”

“Weiss — “

She hooks a finger into that black choker.

The other blinks, silenced.

“Ich schwöre es.”

And then Weiss is tugging Ruby down into a kiss.

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(For as long as I can, I’ll be with you. )

(Today. Tomorrow. The day after.)

(I swear it.)

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2.

Prelude.

When they begin making preparations to leave for Vacuo, Winter warns her that they should probably reconsider their attire.

Vacuo is a sunny region full of sand, and it is blisteringly hot; the very polar opposite of Atlas.

So they heed the warning, swapping thicker clothing for lighter ones; an endeavor supported by SDC when Whitley demanded for them to bring their gear in for upgrading.

Yang is eyeing her curiously when she comes out of the room.

“No braid?”

The blonde is twirling a cowboy hat dyed a pale brown on a metallic finger.

Weiss runs a hand past white hair that’s back into its asymmetrical ponytail hesitantly, held in place with a simple red ribbon that blends with soft white curling around the silver crown she is never without.

“Winter said I’d probably hate having to take the time to maintain it once we reach Vacuo,” she admits. “Too sandy and… too hot.”

In fact, despite never having been there before, Weiss is sure she’s going to be irritated by the weather in Vacuo quickly. Sandy and hot sounds like a terrible combination, and if her sister felt the need to go out of the way to warn her about it...

“Ah,” the blonde makes a comprehending noise, eyeing her up and down. “Long sleeves still, even with the weather?”

“I burn easily, Yang.” Besides, she much rather not have sand sticking to her skin.

Yang hums. “Is Vacuo gonna burn you more than I did?”

Weiss glares. “How about I burn you with Myrtenaster?”

Blue is still a dominant color on her clothes. But the way she dresses is a little less elaborate now, far more practical, and still as tastefully elegant.

It’s as if she has now completely stepped out of her family’s shadow and into her own limelight, from cold white to a brilliant royal blue, shedding away the weight that once held her down for far too long to reclaim her heritage.

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3.

Airship, Vacuo. 17, 20.

“—trial is finally over. He’s been released.”

Weiss wants to throw her scroll at the wall.

She takes in a deep breath instead, rubbing at her temple. “How?”

Despite the static in the audio, she can hear the frustration in her sister’s voice. “Oh, I will find out,” are the cool words promising retribution.

Her jaw works. “Winter?”

“Yes?”

“Keep him away from our brother.”

Silence.

“You realize it could’ve been Whitley who helped him.”

Something flares in her blood, but she reigns it in. “Winter,” she says, sharper than she intends.

Weiss can hear a sigh from the comms. “...You disagree.” And yet, despite that there’s no video on the screen, the silent but comes through loud and clear.

Her jaw sets.

She doesn’t — she can’t argue with her sister about this.

She doesn’t want to have to protect Whitley from Winter.

“If you can’t do it, I will.” Her words are cold now, and she almost doesn’t notice the door sliding open, focused as she is on the scroll, “And I will do whatever it takes, even if that means having to kill our father.”

Ruby freezes at the door, one foot still half raised.

Weiss goes rigid.

Her jaw works again. Instead of looking up, she stays where she’s seated on the bed, blue eyes stonily staring at the scroll in her hands.

“...That— Weiss.” For once, Winter actually sounds shocked enough that she’s at loss for words. “You are not a murderer.”

She can feel Ruby’s eyes on her. Her grip on the scroll tightens.

“We all have blood on our hands,” Weiss says, still cold. She remembers each and every moment someone died by her hands. By her team. “And it may be my last resort. But if you think I can’t do it, you are sorely mistaken.”

Ruby steps into the room silently, allowing for the door to close behind her.

“You say this knowing my duty to uphold the law,” Winter says quietly, disbelievingly. “You say this knowing what I would have to do if — ”

Her teeth grind.

Quite frankly, Winter doesn’t have the moral high ground to call her out on it — Weiss knows her older sister would fling Jacques off a cliff if given the choice.

“We left him alone with father!” she shouts at the scroll. “With our parents!”

And though she doesn’t look up, she can feel Ruby coming closer slowly, one step at a time. Her jaw works again. “I will not watch him get hurt again, anymore than he already has.”

The silence stretches.

“...You wrote your will to protect Whitley.” There’s an odd note in her sister’s undecipherable tone now, like she’s finally figured out the puzzle and doesn’t quite know how to feel about it.

I wrote it to protect you too, Weiss almost retorts.

Ruby goes still.

Her eyes close shut.

This is not a conversation she wants to have, and certainly not with her partner right here. But it’s too late.

“Winter,” her calm words belie the dread crawling up her veins at Ruby’s presence. “I thought you would’ve at least read it by now.”

“I… did not.” Winter is so achingly quiet. “I hardly want to even entertain the idea of my sister passing away, Weiss. One time was more than enough, let alone twice. You never told me about Haven Academy.”

“You never told me about your back injury either,” she snaps back, glaring at the scroll. It was Qrow who told her how serious it was — and in retrospect, she should’ve known just by looking at that exoskeleton.

Anger’s been coiling deep in her stomach for a while now, and her fury’s been split in so many directions — from Ironwood to Cinder to Arthur to Salem — and now, despite the impossibility of it, she is angry at her sister.

She exhales sharply.

“I don’t — “ she keeps her voice even. “It’s just a precaution. You understand why this is necessary.”

“...Of course.” A long silence. “I failed both of you, didn’t I?”

Weiss doesn’t know how to respond to that.

“I did,” Winter’s murmuring now. “It wasn’t just you that I left. I left him there too.”

Her grip on the scroll tightens. Her heart aches and aches. “Winter.”

She can hear the sharp, bitter exhale over the line.

“I will protect him. I swear it, Weiss.”

A knot untangles itself, but Weiss remains tense. “Father is barred from the company. He will never be able to touch SDC again. If he… if he tries to worm his way into the government, Councillor Hill will be an ally. I have already conversed with her previously.”

Another long pause. “You prepared for this eventuality.”

Something defiant in her sparks and flares.

“I am the president of Schnee Dust Company now,” she says, suddenly snide. “Even if I’m not physically present there, I still have a duty to our people that I intend to fulfill.”

Silence.

“...I see.”

And oh, her sister sounds so sad and resigned, enough that she feels something in her heart twist terribly and the last of her anger slipping away.

“Winter.” She’s inexplicably drained of energy now. Her shoulders sag. “You’re dear to me. That will never, ever change. I will always love you. You… you know that, right?”

For the longest moment, her sister remains quiet.

Then.

“I know that now.”

Sorrow and relief both curls in her stomach. “I love you,” she repeats softly.

“...And I, you.” A sad, quiet response.

Heartache drums in her chest.

“Winter?”

“Yes?”

Her eyes close. “Our brother is only fifteen.”

“That he is.”

A heartbeat of silence. Two. Three.

“Please try to get along with him.”

“...I will endeavor to do so.”

She inhales. Exhales.

“Still the best of us all.” Winter’s words are familiar, melancholic. But also tender. Proud. “Pass auf dich auf, schwester.” Take care, sister.

Her returning words are soft, an echo of the traditions they uphold. “Gleichfalls. Bis wir uns wieder treffen.” You too. Until we meet again.

And the conversation ends.

With another long, tense sigh, she flicks the scroll shut and places it on the table before finally turning to face Ruby.

Her partner is just two steps away from her, hands loose by the side and eyes fixed on her.

It’s another long moment before Weiss finally speaks, palms pressing down on the bed deliberately to stop them from curling into tight fists.

“That was rude of you.” Cold, cold words, reminiscent of her earliest days in Beacon. “It was a private conversation.”

“I know,” Ruby says, still calm, still quiet. She takes one step closer.

Her gaze narrows up at her partner. “You knew and you came in anyway.”

Another step. They are just inches from each other now.

Weiss goes rigid.

“If you want to tell me that I shouldn’t kill my father— “

Arms curl around her.

She freezes.

The younger girl hunches over her, pressing her close, resting a chin on the crown of her head.

Ruby is a warm, solid presence cocooning her protectively. The grip tightens and tightens, until Weiss can actually feel the gentle heartbeat belonging to her partner beating against her skin.

It makes her feel vulnerable. It makes her want to burrow deeper into that embrace.

Her breath trembles. “Let go of me.”

“Don’t wanna.” It’s an incredibly blunt response. “And I’ll help you kill him. You know that right, Weiss?”

Her eyes shut despite herself. “Let go.” Her voice is quivering now.

Something twists, and twists, and twists. Guilt, anger, sadness, heartache — they are all coiling together, intertwining until she can no longer discern where is the start and where is the end.

“Nope.”

She grips at the red cloak blindly, wavering between pushing or pulling. Her eyes feel hot. “Let go.”

“Never.” Ruby’s voice is so warm now. “I’m never letting you go, Weiss. You’re mine now.”

The huff that leaves her is strangled and choked. “That’s idiotic.”

A hum of agreement. “Still not letting go.”

She can’t think of anything to say, but she has to say something. “You’re an idiot.”

Her partner squeezes her gently. “I’m your idiot.”

Moisture trickles down her cheek.

Her heartache is a heavy one, heart-wrenching but oh so muted. It’s one that built itself for years and years, one that she layered with ice and steel to keep it where no one can see, one that she endured silently and came out of it mostly intact but changed and harder because she had been defiant.

Now, she breaks, gripping tightly at the cloak, burrowing further into that embrace.

Her cries are quiet and so soft.

And Ruby is a warm, solid presence that weathers it all.

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4.

Shade Academy, Vacuo. 18, 20.

Weiss gets headaches, some days.

That alone is not alarming, no, but sometimes, rarely, it is combined with a feeling of disconnect and a moment where she struggles to recall things— like she’s trying to parse some information together that should come easily and yet it’s as if the puzzle pieces can no longer click together properly anymore.

In some ways, it’s actually worse than the phantom pains that were caused by the impalement.

She knows the cause of these strange, stuttering moments, of course.

That heavy blow to her head on top of impalement. A bleed in the brain that left her comatose for three weeks. If anything, she was lucky to escape with just this much.

So… not exactly terrible enough to actually be a distraction, but enough to make her halt for half a second. Sometimes more.

Like now.

“ — you think, Weiss?”

She blinks. “Hmm?”

Blake’s gaze narrows down at her from where she’s standing by the bookshelf, an open book in her hand. “Did you zone out?”

Weiss, for her part, taps idly at the paper with her pen. Blake was asking her thoughts about something. But… what was it?

Her head is hurting.

There is a pause before she speaks, half sheepishly. “Sorry, I was just thinking.” It’s not a lie. “What was your question?”

Blake’s returning smile is wry, but understanding. “I think we have been looking through these books for too long. Maybe it’s time for a break and to see what the troublemakers are up to?”

At those words, she sighs. “Troublemakers? Didn’t Ruby say she just wanted to find cookies and Yang tagged along with her to stretch?”

A pause.

“...That was a while ago, wasn’t it?”

“Mhmm.”

Another sigh, resigned this time. “Let’s go see, then.”

Blake huffs out a soft laugh, but nods.

It makes Weiss smile.

Times like this are what make her feel at peace.

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The cicadas are singing, and the wind is dry and warm against her skin.

Of all the things Ruby and Yang could be doing, up to and including the fact that they really should be doing more research with Weiss and Blake, they are instead baking cookies.

Or attempting to, anyway.

And they somehow roped Whitley into it. Her brother, who is visiting briefly for business, and to also converse with Weiss about a few things related to SDC.

Somehow it all culminated in flour everywhere, but also mostly on Yang who wandered away to clean up with Blake’s help while the cookies are now safely baking in the oven. Weiss, on the other hand, has been tasked to find the broom and dustpan while Ruby and Whitley start to clean up the mess.

And then, on the way back.

“... you and Weiss, are you two always doing… things like that?”

That voice — it’s Whitley. It makes her pause as she’s about to turn the corner, broom and dustpan in her hands.

“Huh?” Ruby. “Do what?”

“I passed by your room yesterday morning, and saw my sister’s earring on your bed.” An absolutely calm voice. “You left your door open, presumably on the way to the showers.”

Another longer pause.

“I also saw clothes scattered around. Yours. And hers.” Whitley’s voice may be bland, but he’s definitely hammering down the nail without being explicit.

Weiss freezes to the spot. Her neck and ears go hot.

It’s a long moment before Ruby speaks, coughing slightly. “Uh...W-we don’t always do that, no. It’s, um, it's a new… thing.”

“A new thing.”

Absolute silence.

Then it’s Ruby who speaks. Albeit very bluntly. And with absolutely no tact.

“Are you worried that I’ll take your sister away?”

Weiss blinks. What? Wait — what?

“Haven’t you already?” he snaps. Then, “I — “ he stops, as if regretting what he just said. “Apologies, that’s not what I meant. I know there are important things that take precedence — “

“Whitley.” Her partner’s voice is soft and calm. “That will never happen. She’s your sister.”

Silence ticks by.

“Believe me,” there’s something approaching sad irony in Ruby’s quiet voice, “I know how you feel. There was a time when I thought… when Yang left me behind too.”

“...Oh.”

More silence.

“And you… you probably still feel that way. I know the feeling well.” There was something in Ruby’s voice that made her heart ache. “But I promise you, Whitley — no one, nothing, can take her away from you. From us.”

“...You don’t know that. I almost saw her die.” The trickle of haunted vulnerability that she could hear in her brother’s voice makes her grip on the broom tighten.

“I do.” Ruby’s voice is firm. “Because she has us. She has you. We will always protect each other, in our own ways.”

And then there’s a smile in her partner’s voice. “Hey, Whitley.”

“Yes?”

“How about this?” Ruby muses aloud. “I promise you — I swear it, even — that I won’t take your ‘sister’. But… in return, can I have ‘Weiss’?”

“...What am I, a kid to be coddled?” There is a scowl in Whitley’s response. “And that makes no sense. That’s not even — that’s just… “ He couldn’t continue, seemingly at a loss on how to proceed, but Weiss could guess. That isn’t what her brother is afraid of. Not entirely anyway, by the sounds of it.

“I don’t think you’re a kid to be coddled, and I’m serious about this.” The sincerity in Ruby’s voice indicates as much, as if the promise she intends to make will make a difference.

A long pause.

Then.

“...Fine. I accept your proposition.”

“Deal!”

By the wall, Weiss just sighs.

Idiots, all of them.

And yet, despite that, a smile curves on her lips.

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5.

Mistral again. 19, 21.

Her fingers trail past the jawline.

“...You still look at me like that,” Weiss says, quietly.

Ruby’s head tilts, angles close. Silver eyes glimmer like the shattered moon in the dark night. “Like what?”

“Like — “

She’s cut off when lips slant against her own.

The kiss that Ruby takes control of is slow, gentle, but so, so full of helpless desire. Like Ruby wants, and wants, and wants. She presses closer, too, until Weiss finds herself falling back to the bed and Ruby following not a moment later.

When they break apart, the inside of Weiss’s mouth tingles from the thorough exploration. She’s breathless, dazed, and it actually takes her a moment to reorient herself.

Blue looks up at silver then, and… that look is still there.

“Like that,” she manages to say with a soft exhale, cheeks warm, brushing stray locks of dark hair away from her partner’s face. “Like you… want me, but you’re not sure it’s possible.”

Ruby grins at her with a hint of sheepishness from her younger days when they were at Beacon, but it’s also bittersweet with archaic scars and doubts. “I’m just a girl with normal knees. You’re Weiss Schnee.”

That’s not even close to being true, but Weiss is willing to play along this time.

“Hmm,” a corner of her lip tilts up wryly. “So what you’re saying,” her hand moves to curl around a sleeved arm, “is that I have to convince you?”

There’s actually a moment where her partner pretends to mull about it, the little monster.

“Maybe...?” Ruby responds, half-serious and half-playful. There’s a flicker of something so desperate in her gaze that’s all too familiar by now before it disappears just as quickly.

Who was it that said, you’re mine now?

The idiot.

She gives a mighty shove, flipping them around in one swift motion.

Ruby gasps, a breath of surprised laughter leaving her.

“You will believe it eventually,” Weiss says, settling above the younger woman, letting white hair loose before dropping the clasp on the side table. “I’m sure I can convince you.”

“O-oh, really...?”

She lifts a finger to drag it down Ruby’s sternum gently, lightly, taking in the way her partner seems to shiver at the touch.

Weiss smirks. “Can’t I?”

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6.

Rewind.

“Weiss? Weisss…”

She blinks.

Weiss glances over to the chair by the bedside of her hospital room, following the sound of that voice to see curious and concerned silver gray eyes. Ruby.

Her partner has stopped babbling about whatever happened earlier in the day, and is instead focused on her with a quiet intensity that makes her heart skip a beat.

“Is your head still hurting? Should I call in the doc?”

She smiles at her partner. “I’m fine. The headaches are within expectations, remember? I don’t have one right now, either.”

Traumatic brain injuries may cause headaches that come and go. The doctor forewarned her almost as soon as she woke and was lucid enough to understand the diagnosis.

Plus, it’s only been days since she woke up from her comatose state.

Ruby still looks concerned, but she does deflate back into her chair, gaze dropping to the blanket with a thousand yard stare.

Silence reigns.

This again. This seems to happen every time they are alone in this hospital room. After a certain point when they stop bantering, or when Ruby finishes her stories about something or the other, there is this quietude between them that is… different. Not nerve wracking, just. Different.

Like they are worlds apart again.

And it’s like her partner’s mulling deeply over something. That or maybe waiting for Weiss to finally get her bearings back after being asleep for so long.

Or maybe she’s just waiting for her to open the can of worms between them.

She actually doesn’t know, and she’s been having a hard time reading Ruby since the day she finally woke up.

Though, Weiss does know they need to talk. Really talk. Because while they have been talking, it’s still not really talking.

Now, maybe. Because the way Ruby’s shoulders droop doesn’t escape her, nor does the flicker of something haunted in her gaze. Or the dullness in those silver eyes that seem to disappear almost instantly when she thinks someone is looking.

Weiss lets out a long, slow exhale, sitting up fully and moving to let her feet dangle off the bed — the distance between them now reduced.

They are not exactly facing each other, what with her on the bed and Ruby in the chair. But Weiss can see Ruby’s gaze wandering a little now that the blanket is no longer covering her, first to the IV drip connected to her arm, then to the hospital gown and to… her bare legs.

She clears her throat before a flush could form, one part amused, one part exasperated, and one part flustered. It’s not even that she minds the attention especially when it’s clear that there is something unsaid between them, but. This isn’t the time.

“Ruby.”

Her partner blinks, looking back up so that their eyes meet, shoulders straightening a touch. “Hmm?”

Where to begin, Weiss wonders. Her gaze scans over Ruby’s face, before finally landing on the dark patch of skin below the eyes.

She supposes the simple and most obvious one will suffice. If it had been easy to tell even on the first day she woke when Ruby cried until she fell asleep, it’s even easier to see it now, when her mind is no longer so foggy.

So she reaches out, thumbing over the skin gently. “You are exhausted.” Despite herself, her words are sad. “You need to sleep more.”

Ruby just stares up at her, half surprised and half… something.

And then.

Those shoulders sag, as if tension is unknotting itself. A white eyebrow arches, a silent query in it.

“... I thought you were going to ask me questions,” Ruby quietly admits, like she’s been preparing for the moment.

Something in her aches to hear that. “Did you want me to?”

“I — no.” Another pause. “Yes.” Silver eyes drop down to the bedsheet again, though she doesn’t move away from her touch. “...I don’t know.”

Weiss can’t help but smile at that, thumbing at her partner’s cheek gently. “Still trying to take on the world by yourself?”

Her soft, knowing rebuke is reminiscent of that day in the manor, but without the heat. Without the danger looming over them.

Ruby, for her part, seems to lean into her touch, eyes closing. “I’m sorry.”

Of all the responses Weiss expects, this is not one of them.

“What are you sorry for?”

“For… trying to take on the world by myself?” A hint of mischief enters that quiet voice.

The little imp.

Weiss huffs, an exasperated smile curving despite herself. “Ruby.”

The younger girl looks up at her this time, and with an intensity in those gray eyes that makes her pause a beat. “Ask me something, Weiss.”

She lets out a breath, the question catching her by surprise. It’s an invitation, one that Weiss isn’t sure she should take.

The look she gives her partner is considering, calculating even as she continues to thumb at the cheek. “What kind of things can I ask?”

Ruby’s lip quirks up. “Anything. Everything.”

A pause.

“Okay,” Weiss says. “Then I have one right now.”

“I’m listening.”

Seeing Ruby like this is so odd. The girl is normally so cheerful, so exuberant — a whirlwind of energy that could make anyone dizzy. If not that, then the darker alternative — angry, brooding and silently full of guilt (until that moment in the manor where Weiss cracked the shell and made her cry).

But now, she is quiet, thoughtful. Anticipating. Strange. And intense in ways that makes her heart skip a beat.

And honestly, this entire conversation — one that Weiss started first, admittedly — has caught her off guard. Ruby has reacted in ways she hasn’t been expecting, behaved in ways that makes her think that the younger girl has made up her mind on something. Maybe a few things.

Which begs the question — what happens now?

“Weiss?”

A beat of silence.

“What do you want from me, Ruby Rose?”

And what a loaded question it is. Because she could be a subordinate who follows her leader unwaveringly. Loyally. A partner. A confidante. A best friend. A lover even, if she thinks Ruby’s actually in the right mind state. Maybe even more, if what they have grows.

More and more, she is beginning to feel that this conversation is a continuation of what happened in the manor weeks ago.

Something haunted flits past Ruby’s face then, almost too quick to catch. Like there’s an answer that comes to mind immediately but something is stopping her from saying it. Her partner swallows visibly, as if there’s a battle warring within herself — and Weiss could’ve given anything to be able to read that brilliant mind right now.

Then.

Ruby moves to grasp at Weiss’s hand, pressing it more firmly to her cheek, eyes closing.

“Never leave me.” Ruby’s words are soft. Haunted. Raw. “Never scare me like that again. Don’t break your promise to me.”

Oh. Oh. And how it hurts to hear that. It drums in her chest with every beat, and with the pain that she can see lingering in silver gray eyes.

“Ruby,” she murmurs. Her other hand lifts, brushing against dark locks of hair.

It’s as if that’s all the invitation that the younger girl needs to come closer. Ruby’s arms curl around her waist, hiding her face in Weiss’s stomach.

And all Weiss can really do is let her fingers ease through soft dark hair, the other curving gently around her back.

Ruby’s hold is desperately tight, and Weiss could feel the tremors coming from the small frame of her partner.

“I’m sorry,” is all Weiss can really think to say, quiet and sad.

She can feel Ruby shaking her head.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers again.

Because she knows there’s a very real chance it could happen. Because she could end up breaking her promise despite her best efforts. And because she wants to protect Ruby too; a feat she will complete with her life if she has to.

Life is so fragile, so fleeting.

And what a cruel, sad truth that is.

.
.
.

7.

Menagerie. 20, 22.

Their research over the months eventually points them to multiple regions that require their little ragtag group to split up temporarily; and in team RWBY’s case, to Menagerie — or rather, to the desert side of the continent. They spend hours and hours there, exploring and pouring over books and ancient diagrams etched on stones, only to return to town in the late evening or night each day where Kali fusses over them.

And of course, there is also the occasional Grimm that pounces on them while they are in the desert.

Today, however, is a little odd. Not that it’s unusual in that they got attacked just as they decide it's time to return to town, no.

Rather.

“Of all the times!” Yang huffs, looking incredibly annoyed as she drops a fist directly on the crown of a Grimm’s head, making it squawk.

Ruby, on the other hand, is scowling, and it surprises and confuses Weiss in equal measures.

“Rub — “ Weiss ends up stopping short when she has to duck a swipe aimed at her face. She rolls backward on the sand, lifting Myrtenaster and sliding her other hand forward; the rapier glowing a light blue in turn.

The Schnee emblem forms at the tip of her sword, and through it, ice shards dart out; aimed directly at the Grimm that tried to claw at her.

And at the edge of her vision, she can see a blur of red and black whirling forward with a scythe, decimating a horde unlucky enough to be in Ruby’s direct path.

But she can still hear the impatient growl coming from her partner.

“You bastards picked a damned lousy time to be attacking us — “ Yang is ranting as she throws another punch.

“You say that like they ever pick a good time to be attacking,” Ruby mutters back, sounding just as irritated as she darts around her sister to reach another Grimm.

Weiss raises her eyes upward, praying for patience. Sidestepping a Grimm before angling her rapier to stab through it, she moves closer to her last (and sane) teammate.

“Blake?” she calls out when she’s close enough.

“Yes?” Blake is whirling a Grimm back into a pack of monsters, before angling Gambol Shroud to shoot a round of bullets at them.

“You wouldn’t know what’s going on with our partners, would you?” Her words are dry, even as her hand flicks to form a black colored glyph under a monster that Yang is aiming at.

Her friend huffs. She actually sounds amused. “I might.”

“Really.” Her response is even drier now. “Care to fill me in?”

“Nope.”

Weiss pinches the bridge of her nose. “Blake.”

Said teammate glances back at her, a smile playing on her lips. “I really shouldn’t say. And they don’t even know that I know.”

A white eyebrow arches at that. “So what you’re saying is they wanted to keep both of us out of the loop, but you found out anyway.”

Golden eyes glimmer with mischief. “This is my town, Schnee.”

Weiss just shakes her head in exasperation. “You should just tell me so I can prepare for damage control.”

A chuckle. “It’s really not a bad thing, Weiss. And I don’t want to spoil what they are up to.”

“Which you know about.”

“Which I know about.” Blake is smiling warmly at her.

She looks up at the taller woman with a narrowed gaze. “Nothing will be destroyed by whatever hijinks they are up to?”

“None at all. I promise.” Amber eyes wanders to the two sisters, who are finishing off the last of the Grimm attacking them with gusto.

Weiss crosses her arms. “And Yang won’t be disappointed if she finds out you know?”

Blake turns back to face her, considering.

Then.

“She will.” Blake admits. “But I’m not planning to burst her bubble.”

Weiss scowls. “You just roped me into keeping your secret, didn’t you?”

Golden eyes gleam at her.

She huffs.

“Weiss.”

“What?” She sighs.

A warm hand reaches out to squeeze her wrist. “We won’t have many chances like this anymore, at least not until… not until Salem is gone. We should take in whatever moments we can, when we can.”

Blake’s words are quiet, and old in ways it should never have to be.

Despite herself, Weiss softens.

Because her friend isn’t wrong.

There are many, many cities and towns that have taken turns to be attacked by swarms of Grimm in the last few years — even if none of them had been as wide-scale as it was in Atlas.

But then again, not many places could boast as dense a population as Atlas and Mantle did, nor did those places garner Salem’s full attention, which is a small grace in retrospect.

Some places had escaped with minor damages. Some did not.

Others, however, were just completely decimated.

“You disagree?” Blake asks quietly when she has been silent for too long.

Weiss glances over to Ruby and Yang, both who are giving each other high fives and grinning with the last Grimm finally gone.

“No,” she sighs, lips curving despite herself. “You are right.”

The taller woman smiles, hand now moving to pat at her back, nudging her forward to where the helicopter is. “Let’s go before they get too impatient and start carrying us to town.”

Her response is bone dry.

“Can’t have that, can we?”

.
.

It’s midnight.

Twilight glimmers overhead, and the sea darkens the shore with gentle, rhythmic waves only to shimmer from the light of the shattered moon. The breeze is soft and cooling against her skin, unlike the desert heat, and damp with something salty but soothing.

Ruby’s grip on her hand is warm as they continue to walk, the sand soft under their feet; the forest just a short distance away.

They are now a long way from Blake’s residence where they are all staying, but her partner still hasn’t shown any indication that they are arriving at their destination… wherever it is. She still remembers Blake giving her a knowing glance just as Yang pulled her to a different direction.

“...Hey, Weiss.”

Interestingly enough though, it’s Ruby who breaks the gentle quietude between them before Weiss gets impatient enough to ask where they are going.

Her eyebrow quirks up. “Yes?”

“We are almost there. I gotta carry you for a bit though.”

She blinks. “Carry — what? Why?”

But Ruby doesn’t answer verbally.

A hand hooks under Weiss’s knees, the other on her back; and into her partner’s arms. “Ruby!”

Ruby grins, impishly, and then she’s dashing forward and into the trees. Startled and confused, it’s really all Weiss could do to pull an arm over the other’s shoulders for balance, eyes closing shut at the strong wind blowing at her face.

And then they arrive at an… opening through the forest, with a clear view of the dark sky glittering with stars; on a grassy cliff with the sound of waves crashing against the rock.

Her partner lets her down gently then, on a soft, pink blanket that clearly has been prepared beforehand. And is that a picnic basket by the side?

Weiss stares down at the blanket bemusedly before looking over to the slightly taller woman, whose hands are now on her hips where they stand. “What exactly are you up to, Ruby Rose?”

Ruby huffs out a soft laugh, squeezing her gently before letting go. “Sit.”

They both do, and then Ruby is pulling out a scroll to… check something?

“Almost time,” her partner murmurs, one knee bouncing.

“Almost time?” she repeats. “For what?”

Ruby looks up and at her, still grinning. Albeit sheepishly. And a little nervously, before turning her eyes to the sky.

Completely bemused, Weiss follows her gaze, seeing twilight sky where a shattered moon shines and stars glimmer; with a hint of reddish green in the distance.

And it is a beautiful night sky, mind, with no clouds in sight. It’s also a sight she enjoys. But… it’s something they could see from Blake’s residence too?

How puzzling.

But then Ruby’s suddenly grasping at her arm, tugging excitedly as she points at the sky with the other hand. “Look! Look! It’s starting!”

“What’s starting?” Still confused, she stares at the sky.

And then it happens.

Blue, green and red lights seeps into the twilight sky, forming swirling rivers of light that dance slowly with every beat, luminous in its colors — shining vividly in the darkness.

Her breath catches.

“The Southern Lights,” Ruby says in awe.

And where she comes from, Atlas, a region far north and full of snow — it is called The Northern Lights. It is also otherwise known as the aurora borealis there, a phenomenon she has heard of before but has never seen despite having lived there for years.

It’s a rare, rare thing that appears in the clear night sky; brilliant curtains of cosmic light that weave gently through the dark with holy grace.

She hadn’t known Menagerie — a region so far south and sunny — could have their own version of it until today.

And it is breathtaking.

“How did — “ she stops, still staring at it, “...How did you know?”

“Yang and I have been tracking this for a while now,” there’s a smile of triumph in Ruby’s voice. “We checked in with the local weather scientist guy thingy, and he told us that it most likely would happen today around this time.”

“Local weather scientist guy thingy,” Weiss echoes, still confused.

“Uh, his work apparently involves tracking events of magnetic particles over the sky or something.”

“I… see.” She does not.

And then.

There’s a gentle weight around her neck suddenly, barely noticeable but enough, which makes her blink again. And, a movement in the soft breeze that makes her realize that Ruby has moved behind her.

“Ruby?” Her hand lifts to touch at the weight around her neck.

“This is for you,” Ruby says softly.

And then she realizes what it is.

A necklace, cool to the touch, and something dangling from it. She lifts it up to better appraise it.

A silver — no, a white gold ring, with Ruby’s emblem engraved onto it.

Her heart skips a beat to see that and its implication.

She can hear her partner swallowing visibly behind her, and hands are grasping gently at her shoulders.

“Menagerie… Menagerie actually has a century old tradition. It’s one that isn’t always achievable, because it's dependent on the Southern Lights happening.”

She remains silent, still wordless, still staring at the ring.

“And,” Ruby continues then, “their people would give a token to their loved ones as it happens — a promise for the future… one that is believed to come true everytime.”

“Ruby,” she murmurs, still stunned.

The hands on her shoulders drop lower, moving to snake around her waist, bringing their bodies close.

“And I want that,” her partner says, quietly, earnestly. “I want — I want us. I want that with you.”

“Ruby,” she says again.

Ruby’s head drops to rest against her shoulder.

“I know now isn’t the time for — I know.” There’s something nervous in Ruby’s quiet voice now. “We still have things to do, a war to win, and… and I know that sometimes I… I’m not okay.”

“You’re better,” Weiss says as if in a gentle rebuke.

Because Ruby is better now. Better at managing her emotions, her doubts, her guilt. Better at reminding herself that it is not all on her shoulders. Better at letting people remind her.

She has come a long way from that girl in Atlas.

Weiss never pushes her to talk, and yet somewhere along the way Ruby has started to come to her willingly, giving bits and pieces each time, letting her take a part of what she is carrying.

And that is all Weiss could ask for.

Her partner takes another deep breath, head tilting up from where it rests on her shoulder, meeting her gaze.

“I put this on a necklace because — I want you to be able to keep it on you even as you wield Myrtenaster.” Silver eyes glimmer blue and red in the southern lights. “And someday…”

Ruby reaches up to grasp her left hand, squeezing gently, thumbing at her fourth finger.

“Someday, I want it to be here, Weiss. So this… this is my promise to you, for the future.”

This girl.

She lets out a slow breath, something in her feeling like it has its door flung wide open; moisture and something warm is forming beneath her eyelids at the emotions flooding her — a mix of too many things to describe, far too raw and overwhelming.

Weiss turns, grasping at Ruby’s face gently, letting her lips slant over the other’s.

Ruby is still, for the briefest of a moment, before starting to respond in earnest. Weiss’s fingers curl further, tangling with soft strands of dark hair; there is the warm press of tongues sliding together as she angles to deepen it even more, more, more.

Under the swirling lights, Ruby is breathing her name against her hairline, her ear, her cheek. And then a hot mouth is scraping past her jaw to her throat, ceaseless against her skin, reverent against the scars by her abdomen –

The necklace around her neck continues to glint, reflecting the light of the sky.

A promise for the future, with the Southern Lights as their witness.

.
.
.

8.

Beacon. 21, 23.

This is how the war ends.

It all comes back full circle to where it all began — Beacon.

The place where they met each other, the place that became the turning point for them, and the place that signaled the beginning of the world’s end.

Blake is holding Yang up with one arm around the waist and the other gripping at the hand slung over her shoulder, walking forward slowly. And when the blonde coughs up blood, pressing the mechanical hand to the chest, those Faunus ears go flat against the skull.

Around them, in the Beacon Academy, are signs of destruction caused by intense battles between men and Grimm.

“Weiss.” A soft murmur.

“Be quiet.”

Ruby smiles up at her from where she’s resting on her lap in one of the makeshift tents by a building that crumbled. One silver gray eye glimmers with warmth, the other hidden by a blood-soaked cloth that Weiss is holding with a trembling hand.

She had frozen when she saw Ruby stagger backwards and roll to the ground after a blow to the face before going still, blood pooling on the floor. And so had everyone else, apparently — including Salem — and that had been the opening Ruby needed to end things, somehow managing to grip at her scythe with what’s left of her energy, and then towards their arch-enemy.

The shine from her silver eyes had been blinding, illuminating all of Beacon and beyond; bright enough to lighten the dark sky.

“We did it, Weiss. It’s over.”

Nothing — nothing — could describe the ice in her veins when she thought her partner died.

And then the stark relief.

Her hands still tremble.

“You idiot.”

“I’m your idiot,” Ruby banters back easily, as if the weight of the world is no longer on her shoulders.

“Ruby.”

“You know, Weiss… I think I may need a favor.”

“What…?”

“Maria kinda warned me this may happen if I overuse my eyes — well, one eye, now — but… everything’s kinda blurry. I may need glasses.”

She snorts. “So get one. I’m sure Maria can recommend something.”

“I don’t really want what Maria’s using though…”

“So what you’re saying,” her voice is dry despite it cracking, “is that you want me to find people to design a pair of cool glasses for you.”

“Yeah! Please? Pretty please?”

Weiss sighs. “Ruby… you know this could just be a temporary side effect. Your eye is taxed at the moment, but it — it may very well be just fine.” Please let that be the case. Please. She tries to ignore the sinking dread in her heart.

“But I wanna see your face.”

A beat of silence.

“And your pretty blue eyes.”

Soft laughter bubbles up her throat despite herself. “You are not doing very well if you’re trying to be romantic, Ruby.”

“I know. But it made you laugh.”

“You’re an idiot.”

“...And I want to be able to wipe your tears.” Ruby’s words are soft. “I can’t really see but… you’re crying, aren’t you?”

A hand lifts, aiming blindly for her face and yet failing to touch her.

It makes Weiss reach up to grasp that hand, pressing it to her own cheek.

Ruby thumbs at her cheek, brushing past moisture; her one visible brow furrows. “You are.” Her partner’s words are a sigh. “Please don’t cry.”

“I… I’m fine. I just — “ Weiss stops, unsure of how to continue – and unsure why she can’t seem to stop crying.

How could she even begin to explain the turmoil of emotions drumming in her chest that she can’t seem to get a grip of? From heartache to sadness to joy and relief — they intertwine and tangle, enough that she can’t discern where the start and end of it is. Only one person could make her feel this much, and — and.

There’s really only one reason for it, isn’t there?

“Weiss?”

She stares down at her partner’s profile. Battered and bruised, clothes flecked with dust, blood drying by the cheek near the ruined eye…

Weiss’s never actually said it before, come to think of it, nor has Ruby. Despite them spending so much time together, and with the last few years as lovers, there are still things that are unsaid between them.

“Ruby,” she whispers then. “Ruby Rose.”

Her partner quirks a brow. “That’s me.”

She can feel the metallic weight of the necklace that she’s wearing, hidden under the collar.

Maybe it’s time.

“I love you. You know that, right?”

One silver eye blinks at her.

And then a grin is forming, a far too-earnest and happy one; one that reminds her of a fifteen year old girl from a past still vivid in her memories.

Ruby’s hand turns from the cheek to instead grasp her own tightly, bringing it down to be able to press a kiss to the palm.

“I know. I love you too, Weiss.”

It is dawn, and the sun is rising.

.
.
.

9.

Keynote.

To Weiss, Ruby is heartache, comfort and warmth all wrapped up in a single package. It’s so easy to fall in love with her, even when she’s consciously aware that it makes her too vulnerable.

There’s just… no protecting herself from Ruby, not anymore, and she doesn’t know exactly when that happened. Or maybe it was just such a gradual process over the years that she hadn’t noticed when all her walls had dropped completely.

What they have is so vivid, but it doesn’t mean they never clash. Ruby sometimes deflects too much, and Weiss never tells when her heart aches.

There are also things far more important than themselves, things that require sacrifices, require blood; inescapable and certain, like how a new nick or scar is sure to join the collection of what has already been gathered.

They don’t get it right all the time either, and sometimes it’s like gathering little pieces of happiness in the palm of your hand, precious and fragile, only for them to seep out like falling sand the next moment.

Still they fit. Somehow, they make it work.

And it makes everything between them so much more real.

.
.
.

10.

Postlude. 22, 24.

Ruby’s head tilts where she’s leaning against the doorway, looking over her partner who’s seated by the desk. The chair is angled to face the balcony where the sky is dark and rain is pouring heavily, away from the door where Ruby is peering in.

And in Weiss’s hand is a bundled stack of papers; a sight far too familiar by now since Weiss has returned to head SDC — not that she was going to, initially. She had been ready to let Whitley have full reign, so long as her brother was willing to let her take the lead on handling White Fang and Faunus related matters.

But Whitley had insisted.

The sky rumbles, as it had for the past hour, and then there is the crack of thunder — the loudest yet since it started raining — a sound that seems to make Weiss’s shoulders twitch just by a bare fraction.

Loud sounds. Something squeezed in Ruby’s chest at that all too familiar flinch; a reaction both involuntary and reflexive.

Ruby is decided. Pressing a finger to her red-rimmed glasses to push it further up the bridge of her nose, she makes her way over carefully — not that Weiss would’ve noticed with how she’s concentrating plus how heavy the rain is — and drapes herself over her partner, arms curling around her shoulders, nose tickling at the side of her jawline.

Weiss lets out a startled breath, tensing for the briefest of a second before relaxing.

That very cute nose still wrinkles though. “I thought we agreed that you wouldn’t bother me while I’m working.”

Her response is plaintive. “It’s dinner time, Weiss.”

The white haired woman does blink then, glancing over at the digital clock by the corner of her scroll that is on the table. “...Ah.”

And then a tired sigh.

Weiss moves to place the report back on the table before leaning back against her, a movement as easy as breathing. The head tilts, resting against the side of Ruby’s cheek.

If someone asked Ruby whether this is something she could have ever imagined happening back when they first met, she would never have believed them. But it is real, the way Weiss relaxes in her hold so easily, trusting and sure — so much so that sometimes Ruby can’t help but think that this is a dream.

A strand of white hair tickles her chin.

“Long day?” she murmurs.

“Shouldn’t I be saying that to you, war hero?”

“Nooo…?”

War hero. It’s a term that makes Ruby want to make a face. She doesn’t really feel much like a war hero, and if anything, everyone involved in the war were basically war heroes. She just… all she had wanted was to protect those precious to her.

The idea of being a huntress, the ambition she had to be like her mother, had been so far from her mind at that time.

The rain continues to pour, pattering against the balcony door.

“You seem uncertain.” There’s just the tiniest hint of warm humor in Weiss’s quiet voice, the kind that makes Ruby want to confess everything that she’s holding deep in her heart.

It’s not the first time either — Weiss just somehow manages to pull answers out of her without really trying; that or without knowing she’s about to.

And how unfair is that?

“The tests are…” she sighs, and then. “...A bit tiring today.”

Weiss does lift her head up then, turning a little to better look at Ruby.

Warmth and concern both glimmer in soft blue.

The other hand lifts, touching at the skin near her eye that was hurt over a year ago, below the red-rimmed glasses.

“Your prosthetic eye is bothering you more than usual?”

It is. She can feel the dull throb, and the twang of rawness every time she blinks — enough that she decides it’s time to switch it off for the day to reduce stimuli.

But then again the ache is always there whenever there are tests to be done to ensure her body is not rejecting the prosthetic embedded in her eye socket. The tests were done daily for the longest time, then weekly, fortnightly — and now, just once a month.

Adapting to the prosthetic and the rehabilitation it had required was a long, long process.

“Ruby?”

She blinks down at her partner before smiling. “Just a little. I’m all better now though.”

Blue eyes narrow up at her.

Weiss picks up her red-rimmed glasses, placing it on the table without moving her gaze away.

Ruby though, Ruby goes cross-eyed before squinting down at her.

Her view of Weiss is a little blurry now — nowhere as bad as that final day in the war — but enough that she still has to squint a little. Especially since her prosthetic eye is currently offline.

Yet despite the blurriness, she can tell — her partner is looking at her with a little bit of amusement, like there’s something about her right now that is entertaining to see.

She squints more just for effect, because she wants to see more of this Weiss — a rare sight still even after so many years.

“I kinda need my glasses, Weiss.”

Weiss’s lip is curving up. “You say that, but it looked like it was about to fall off again. What did you do this time?”

Ruby makes a face. “I didn’t do anything. Lies and slander.” She knows big words now, yes.

Well.

To be fair, getting used to wearing glasses is still an adjustment for Ruby. So she keeps trying to adjust it in an attempt to feel comfortable. But it inevitably still ends up crooking somehow.

…Why does it matter anyway?!

It can be crooked for all she cares so long as she can see. And it's not like she’s going to wear it when she’s doing her job as a huntress — Weiss made sure there was a combat version of her glasses made; one that won’t fall off even with plenty of movement.

“You’re sulking.”

“Am not.” She is.

“Oh, I see. So I suppose I won’t have to kiss you as an apology for slandering you?”

Wait. “No!” She tightens her grip on Weiss. “I’m sulking! I’m totally sulking now!”

A breath of laughter leaves her partner at that. Weiss shakes her head, half exasperated and half amused.

Wordlessly, Weiss hooks a finger under a choker, tugging her forward with a smirk and… and pecks her on the cheek.

What. What.

“There you go,” the white haired woman says as she leans back, hand dropping from the choker to pat at her shoulder instead. Blue eyes are bright with laughter. “Now, isn’t it time for dinner? Are Yang and Blake joining us?”

There is mischief, and then there is mischief.

Silver gray eyes narrow. “No. They went hiking and will be out for the night, remember?” At least, they better be, because Ruby now has plans.

Weiss’s brow knits for a split second, as if searching for that particular memory and coming up blank — a sight that she has seen before, one that puts a sharp cold ice in her heart.

The first few times, years ago, Ruby had suspected nothing. But now… now she knows.

Now she knows how to look for the signs.

But then her partner is tilting her head, like nothing has happened. “Is that so?” Weiss asks. “What’s for dinner then?” Take away Vale cuisine from Weiss’s favorite bistro.

Instead of answering though, Ruby leans closer intently.

(She is shoving down the cold sting that’s settled in her heart as best as she can –)

“You still owe me a kiss.”

“Wh — I do not.”

They are falling back into familiar banter.

“Yes you do.”

“I do not — “

But anything she could’ve said is interrupted when Ruby darts forward, letting their lips slant together, one hand raised to angle the jaw towards her.

Weiss’s breath hitches in surprise.

The kiss is rough, maybe rougher than she originally intended, but Weiss yields easily in this, giving Ruby the access to deepen it.

A familiar hunger is settling deep in her stomach now, one that only this person can abate for her — and she has to force herself to remember that Weiss hasn’t had dinner yet. If anything, she probably hasn't even had lunch.

But maybe just for a little bit, she thinks, suddenly desperate. She drags out a sound from Weiss even as she takes more, more, and Weiss is surprised but pliant.

And when they part, foreheads resting together — Weiss is dazed and flushed in her arms.

Blue eyes are looking at her with something too soft to name, too warm, and it’s all Ruby can really do to not go in for another kiss.

“What was that?” is Weiss’s faint question.

I need you. “Dinner,” she whispers cheekily instead.

.

.

Ruby’s not really as naive as people think she can sometimes be.

What they don’t realize is that she just wants — needs — people to know they can be good; they just need to try, because how can anyone claim it's impossible without trying?

Salem had been good once upon a time, hadn’t she?

And even Ironwood, no matter how furious she had been at him, and no matter how unforgivable his actions were, is not by nature evil.

It makes her wonder. Really, really wonder.

Like what would have happened if Salem dealt with her grief properly, thousands of years ago. If her mother — Summer — had not died. If Adam was not broken the way he was. If Pyrrha hadn’t died. If Ironwood just had more faith.

If, if, if.

So many ifs.

So many things that could’ve gone differently. For the better.

And sometimes… sometimes she can’t help but wonder how different things could be if the first person she met in Emerald Forest wasn’t Weiss.

Arguably, most likely, Weiss wouldn’t have suffered as much, nor would she have gained the numerous scars littered all over her body.

But this is what life has dealt them, and if Ruby is going to be honest, she can’t even begin to imagine it another way despite all the terrible, terrible things that happened.

Nor does she want to.

It’s late night now, the heavy rain and thunder replaced by clear, cloudless night sky and a shattered moon that shines brightly.

Weiss, laying on her side, is already falling asleep, blue eyes half drowsy and half observing Ruby — white hair flowing and loose against the pillow and bed sheet, head propped up slightly by the right arm, the shoulder not hidden by the blanket bare and touched by the moonlight coming from the window.

And there is something so picturesque about this sight that Ruby can’t help but lean over to let her lips linger gently on that shoulder, slowly moving up and sliding across a slender neck, eliciting a soft sigh from her partner.

“Ruby.” It’s a murmur.

“Sleep,” she says back, just as soft.

That seems to be all the prompt Weiss needs, finally going into a gentle slumber.

Ruby leans back to lie down then, looking over her dozing partner, watching the play of soft moonlight over those features — and on that left hand resting on the bed between them, where the white-gold ring on the fourth finger is glinting.

It was all worth it for this moment, wasn’t it?

She laces their fingers together slowly, bringing their hands close to her chest.

It is.

.
.
.

And this is all I need — not the stars, not the moon, not the sea — just your hand in mine.

.

End.

.