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Goodbye || A One Shot RomanxCinder FanFic

Summary: Cinder and Roman's relationship has been awkward at best. Publicly, they're professional, but privately, there is definitely more. However, now, they must separate along with the rest of the syndicate which means their connection must be severed with a rushed goodbye. Can you truly say goodbye to someone you have a connection with though? Words: 2,575 Language: English Genre: Angst/Romance Triggers: Death Notes: This is a Secret Santa fic for the RWBY Secret Santa 2015 on Tumblr. I wrote it in about two days and had two people look over it to see if it was quality enough. Hopefully, the recipient (cinders-fall) likes this; I tried my best to do well, but I'm open to write another one-shot fic if it does not satisfy them. Well, enjoy.

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The plan was falling apart and everyone was starting to scatter in their own paths to try to flee the authorities. Emerald and Mercury had fled to Vacuo and no one knew where Neo had gone. Roman was supposed to be on his way to help move evidence out, but he was increasingly late. Cinder was the only head figure left in the home base at this point as what was left of the White Fang were scurrying about to prepare to leave.

“Where is he?” the witch growled, glancing at the time on her scroll.

She couldn’t call the ginger because it would only help Ozpin and his cronies find their location even easier. With a frustration sigh, she threw down the device and smashed it with her heel.

“You always were useless, Roman.” she muttered before walking away.

The next half hour was spent ordering around the Faunus, so things didn’t crash a burn. Once the last of them were out of the building, Cinder did another walk around to make sure no one was left. It was probably a stupid idea to be hanging around for longer than she needed to; hell, she didn’t even really care if everyone was out. However, one thing kept her from leaving immediately. Her one and only true weakness that she would never admit to being a weakness: that damned ginger theft.

They barely had anything more than a professional relationship. Well, it seemed as though they only had that, but there was a bit more that would never be uttered by either of them. Late night rendezvous were they spent bickering about the plan turned into time of passionate kisses of need for and whispered curses of anger at each other. They hated this awkward connection they had, but they couldn’t stray away from it. Even the duration of Roman’s time in prison a couple years ago had only made this odd flame burn brighter.

However, this seemed to be the end of this fling as now, they needed to cease communication with each other for their own perseverance. Though Cinder didn’t see it as a terribly sad thing; she didn’t believe she had any ounce of a legitimate feeling towards Roman. He was her pawn and that was it.

Once she had gone through the whole building, she stopped in the main room with a frustrated sigh. “Damn you…” she hissed before walking off into was used to be her old room.

She pulled out paper from her vanity drawer and begun to write on it with a black pen from the same place.

It was about an hour later that Roman finally arrived in the empty base. He wasn’t surprised to see everyone and most everything gone. However, he just wanted to check one place before this building would be completely abandoned and he didn’t have much time.

He walked briskly through the echoing halls until he reached one of the many rooms they used to store their stolen dust; most of it was gone, but there were crates left here and there in the rush to evacuate. Coming up to one of the bare walls in the room, the thief took off his glove and ran his nail along until it caught on a hidden latch. He pulled it and a very small compartment opened like a mail slot.

Looking into the small space he saw a lone piece of paper folded up and had “Torchwick” written on it in beautiful cursive handwriting. Taking a puff of his cigar, he grabbed it and examined it. His flat expression didn’t falter, but his eyes seemed to get a twinkle of amusement from this little treasure he found.

Once he had gotten to his hiding spot for the night-a less than classy hotel, Roman took a seat with the letter. He stared at the paper, his surname for a very long time in silence. His expression seemed harsh, the amusement in his eyes faded long ago. He set the paper down on the table besides and took a long drag of his cigar, blowing circles into the air.

“Oh, Cindy, to think you would do this for me of all people.” he chuckled in a low tone, “And to think, you hated me the most.”

With a shake of his head, he put out his smoke and stood to move to the bathroom. He stood there for a few minutes, staring at himself in the mirror. He half expected the slender woman to appear right around then, wrapping her arms around his neck from behind while she scolded him from not looking at the not yet. It was a comforting thought with a bittersweet aftertaste. She wouldn’t do that. Not anymore. This was the end. For the plan. For the White Fang. For them. Even if there was not really much of them to begin with. Pushing away the imaginary scenario, he went to change into night clothes.

Moments later, he returned to his seat and the letter again. A sigh came from him as his hand fiddled with the paper. He knew the more he stalled, the more pissed off he’d get. With that in mind, he opened the note and begun to read through Cinder’s cursive words.

“Hello, Roman.

It seems as though this is the end of this rel partnership. I must say these past few years were very interesting to say the least. You were certainly one of my the better members of the organization; even though you were also the most arrogant. I must thank you however since you were I believe your arrogance was part of the reason we even got so far besides my leadership. I wish we didn’t you the best in wherever you end up. Maybe one day we can Goodbye, Torchwick.

Cindy Cinder Fall”

Cinder hissed at the paper filled with crossed out words. She didn’t have time to rewrite the letter without them, so she tried her best to cross them out to where they couldn’t be read at all. Shaking her head, she folded up the note and left her room to quickly find a small storage room.

She and Roman had hidden the space in the wall years ago and only they knew about it. They’d hidden messages, plans, and other various things for the other to receive in it over time. This would be the last they would use this small hiding place. It almost made the witch feel an ounce of sadness, but it was quickly pushed down into the void of her cold heart.

“You better come find this, Torchwick.” she said softly with a stern expression as she left the paper in the slot.

After having finished that, she went to exit the building once and for all.

“Goodbye…” she whispered to the dusty air before she stepped out into the icy night.

The ginger groaned and pushed his fingers through his fringe. He wasn’t sure how he felt right about now. Relieved? Angry? Upset even? He rolled his green eyes in frustration and settled on relieved. He stood and went over to the bed where he laid his coat, pulling out his lighter. Stepping to the trash can he held it and the letter over with it poised to burn away the woman’s final farewell to him.

However, he was frozen in place there for a few very long minutes. Roman Torchwick was hesitating for the first time in his life. The witch had one hell of a spell casted on him. A growl came from his throat as he quickly withdrew the letter and lighter, tossing them onto the table. The thief moved his coat to be folded nicely on the chair before he climbed into bed.

“Fucking witch…” he mumbled before shutting off the bedside lamp.

It was six years later to the day. Roman had gone quiet in the crime side of life; he already had enough money for himself to live a decent life in Atlas, so he figured it was a good call to just lay low even if making hell for people was a lot more fun. Today, he was out running errands in the downtown district of the capitol city just like the other boring people in this hellhole. However, today would not be as boring as it seemed.

“Citizens of Atlas!” rang a voice over the PA system, “We have a very special event today! The execution of one of the most wanted criminals in all of Remnant!”

The ginger stopped dead at this announcement as his head turned up towards one of the several monitors on the buildings. A familiar face was picture on screen next to the newscaster speaking.

“We have captured Cinder Fall and have charged her with terrorism, premeditated manslaughter, and countless other crimes her and her organization have committed!” the man spoke boisterously, “The execution will be publicly displayed in the Atlan Arena at high noon! If you wish to attend, I recommend you get there as soon as possible!”

Roman’s blood ran cold. The woman whom he had a fling with years ago was now to be put to death for the entire world to witness. How had she even been caught? She was much more careful than to let herself be apprehended like this. Gritting his teeth and abandoning his errands, he made his way to the arena even though he had no idea what he would do once he arrived.

It was nearing the final moments of her life and she was sitting dressed in prison drag and handcuffed heavily. Chance of escape was absolutely zero without her dust. She had her wit and charm, but Cinder knew very well these guards would never fall for it. Not now. It was simply too late.

She couldn’t believe how foolish and careless she’d gotten within the past few months. It wasn’t like her at all. Then, again, she hadn’t felt like herself for a very long time; she felt empty. The young woman couldn’t pin down why that had been though.

A hollow laugh was the only noise she made and she was met with a hard hit to her temple by the stock of a guard’s rifle. Her body splayed across the floor awkward with her hands behind her back.

“Quiet, Fall.” the man commanded harshly.

She picked herself up without a word of argument. She was livid at this guard’s mistreatment of a lovely woman such as herself. She would have burned his face off. However, the fire that burned in her didn’t have enough fuel for the effort. Cinder cursed herself for being so powerless.

Noon was nearing and Roman had found himself a spot in the front row of this public display. There were no signs of his former… Co-worker, but he was sure she would turn up soon; Atlans prided themselves in punctuation. He sat crossed legged with keen eyes.

‘This is just demeaning…’ he thought, watching people filling in the seats, ‘A public execution… They haven’t happened for hundreds of years…’

Someone caught his sight as he scanned the crowd, a head of mint green and a head of silver hair in a seating area two down from his. His body tensed as he watched the two kids he’d grown to hate walking right in.

“Stupid children…” he hissed, “Why are you here? And why are you making it so easy to spot you two?”

He’d gone through a change of appearance himself: a haircut that had actually made his face seem different along with a new color and a complete change in style regardless of how tasteless it was. This was needed from him to be able to lay low unfortunately. Though the two he was staring at now had barely done much to hide themselves. A slight change in dress and a different length of hair, yes, but he was able to recognize them easily. He shook his head at the two fools and went back to viewing the stage that was set for Cinder’s death sentence.

Though the crowd around her and the boots of armed guards were loud, her sense of hearing was deafened by Cinder being caught up in her own mind. She was still trying to figure out why she had let herself slip up. She was smarter, better than this.

Guided to stand against a wall erected for this very special occasion, she finally focused her amber eyes outward, towards the world around her. This was the last thing she’d see: people cheering for her death. Sad how she always thought her death would be the center of the public eye, just not in such an undignified fashion.

The Atlan official who was to oversee her death sentence started speaking, but the witch paid no mind to any word he said.

‘Just a bunch of shit talking…’ she thought as she looked through the crowd.

Her eyes widened when she saw two ghosts from her past.

‘Why are they here?’ she wondered as she stared at them while they stared right back.

However, they didn’t look happy seeing their former leader like this. In fact, Emerald looked distraught while Mercury tried to get her to keep face to not draw attention to them.

“Emerald… Mercury… You two are absolutely foolish…” she said under her breath. A smirk appeared and disappeared on her face in seconds. “I wonder if Roman’s here, too…”

And those were her last words in the mortal realm.

Gunshots rang out through the arena and so did a scream. Attention was drawn to the small mint-green snake. Roman had no time to react to the execution that he’d just witnessed because now, police were rushing around their area of the crowd.

“Damn you, Emerald.” he hissed, standing up and shaking his head, “This is why you should have severed attachments.”

With that, he began to quickly make his way out of the crowd as the other two fled from the armed forces. His disguise made it easier for him to slip away unnoticed and within twenty minutes, he was already on his way to his home.

Sitting on the train, the ex-thief had his head hung down with an exhausted expression. He laughed softly at himself, shaking away his tiredness as the train neared his stop. It took five minutes for him to walk from the station to his house. Roman locked the door behind them and leaned back against the wall as he stared up.

“Fucking witch…” he muttered again, “Sever attachments… Yeah, you always said to do that… But I guess none of us really learned that lesson… I wonder if you ever did…” With a laugh, he added, “You probably did.”

He pushed himself off the wall and walked into a tidy, average living room. Rummaging through a side table drawing, he pulled out a piece of aged paper with beautiful cursive handwriting on it.

“Then, again, you probably didn’t either.” he noted, sitting down to read the letter one more time.

Even though it didn’t really matter now since he was alone, the ginger was still trying to hold himself together and not let himself cry over such a petty connection. It was over. Done. Finito. However, there was a stray tear here and there.

“Goodbye…” he whispered to the dusty air before he put the letter away in the drawer.

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