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The Final Warning - Chapter XXXVI

Chapter XXXIV - Of Love, and Love Lost

Summary: As the year draws to a close, peace has finally dawned. The time for unity has arrived. In the Vytal festival, it is time for heroes to rise, bringing glory to their kingdoms. But as autumn dies, the first winds of winter blow over Remnant, chilling the hearts of the people; breathing doubt into their souls. Long-buried secrets will triumph, and every action will have a consequence. Ruby must reconcile herself with her own fate. Weiss struggles to escape her legacy. Blake cannot erase memories. Yang’s search leads her into more peril than ever— but none of them can outrun fate. Shadows turn on shadows, and bonds shatter as they are tested to the limit. For in dividing them, they will fall and burn; at the eye of the storm, no peace lasts forever. In the end and beginning of time, there is a place where the sun never rises, and the dead delight to teach the living. A great danger is rising from the darkness. It’s time to take sides. The final warning is coming. The first chill of winter is the most deadly; it is the chill that kills more than any other. The first betrayal is the most damaging; it is the act that shatters bonds of love and trust, crushing even the strongest heart, tearing teams apart. AO3: http://archiveofourown.org/works/7745314/chapters/23704695 Yang

She had left Weiss behind, in the forest, waiting with the motorcycle and the supplies so she could scout out and pinpoint Ruby’s exact location. The sea was ahead of them; after a week’s travel, they had reached the coast of southern vale. Yang was patrolling the area, to check for Grimm— and the unlikely prospect that Blake might be there. It wasn’t easy, and the grid of clouds above her head threatened to bring more snow, piling down on top of the white drifts that had blanketed these solitary woods. Everything was still, quiet, the world in suspended silence, as if holding its breath.

Irritable at the snow, the thorns lurking beneath it to tangle and trip her up, and at the world in general, Yang trundled through a thicket of thorny brush, shaking off snow from her shoulders and leaping over a frozen stream, clearing it by several feet. A raw, damp cold pushed its way through her skin, making her shudder as she peered through the narrow trunks of the trees at the sea, and tensed up.

There was someone on the shore.

Despite the snow—despite the bitter cold—someone stood there, as out of place as if Yang had opened her bedroom door to find a slavering wolf standing in the place of her bed. The figure stood with their face tilted towards the misty place where the sky met the sea, heedless of the snow, as if they were part of the raging waves and the cries of the terns and gulls circling overhead. The ocean swelled and receded at their feet, sucking at their toes as if to sweep them away into the black, churning endlessness. Something about the loneliness of their stature and how they seemed to be transfixed on the distant horizon made Yang feel a flicker of impossible emptiness and misery. Nobody good would be out here.

They were dressed in a lumpy, dark cloak, pulled over their head, shielding all of their features. Yang cocked her gauntlet and gripped the tree harder, prosthetic glinting in the dim light. As she watched, they whirled to the side, hand going to their waist, presumably for a weapon. A Grimm slunk out of the trees on Yang’s far left, and in one sharp movement, like a knife whipping out from a scabbard, the figure shot it.

Something flickered in the back of Yang’s mind, colors without any name, a strain of piano music above the roar of the ocean. Something about the elegant way they flicked up their weapon and opened fire…

Yang walked forward slightly, and she flinched as a twig snapped under her foot, sounding like a gunshot. The sound made the figure’s attention snap to where Yang was standing, and their face came into full view. Yang almost fell down right then and right there, her heart completely stopping as the world seemed to go absolutely silent, everything receding from her eyes before swimming back into ultra-sharp focus.

She must have recognized her, too, for her expression shattered, suspicion crumbling into pure and utter shock. “Yang?” The figure whispered incredulously, her voice wavering, and Yang blinked—

—there was a letter from her, the girl with the amber eyes that held the brilliance of the sun, and hair darker than a raven’s wing. She was gone. She was gone and she wasn’t coming back, now or ever. The girl Yang loved more than any other in the whole world, the girl she would know even if she was blind, and the girl she would never see again. Thoughts clamored in her mind, threatening to pull her down and drown her, and a flurry of shadows raced through her mind— And here she was, a creature born from the ocean, standing with one foot in the endless darkness and one on land, salt spray misting her with tiny white droplets like stars. Yang couldn’t breathe; her lungs wouldn’t cooperate, and she took a long, shuddering breath, forcing them to inhale. Blake stood there, amber eyes utterly dead and lifeless, her face marked with dirt and blood, her narrow shoulders curled inward as her hands sheltered in the pockets of her cloak. It was Blake, and it was Blake and it was Blake— Blake, who was here, Blake, who was alive, Blake, who had vanished like dew on a hot summer morning— and then it was she who was running, running forward and crashing into her, and Blake held her closely, her heart hammering so loudly that Yang could hear it.

Only then, and much too late, did Blake speak.

"Yang." Her voice was muffled against her shoulder, her hands knotted in the material of Yang's vest. She was crying, and she smelled of ash and blood and salt— but she was alive, here and whole, at least physically. Feeling her, holding her— it was only then that Yang realized how empty her heart had been, how the weight of the strained, inactive Bond had rent her apart, ripping at the seams, how she'd been slowly dying from an unseen poison. Blake felt different, all angles and bones. And she looked different too: her face wracked by misery. Blake looked crumpled as paper—the kind of crumpled paper that would never be smooth again.

She has no right to be upset, Yang thought, every bit of her relief and happiness draining out of her in an abrupt chill of numbness until she felt colder than the dead of winter all around them. No right at all, not after what she had done. All of the emotions that she had been working towards— forgiveness, understanding, even— splintered under the weight of her misgivings, because when all was said and done, Blake had left her behind. Yang let her go, both hands balling into fists— one warm flesh and blood. One unfeeling metal.

Your fault, she thought blindly, backing away. All your fault.

A dizzying rush of images whirled through her head like pages caught in a high wind. Blake, staring at her over the back of a fading Ursa. Unconscious, bathed in pale moonlight, her face purpling from a strike meant for Yang. Fire twining down their wrists as the Bond solidified. Blake’s hands cupping the sides of her face as they kissed for the first time. Her tears as they fought. Their skin pressed together as they made up. And always, her eyes, bright gold, shining with all the emotion Yang had known she evoked in her. Yang had always been able to read those eyes— read their anger, their fear, sadness and love— but now, she couldn’t tell what was behind them: they were beautiful and empty.

She looked to the Bond, and found nothing, because the Bond was as inanimate and dead as a long-deceased corpse, almost as if it wasn’t there, like a voice that hadn’t been used in a long, long time. Once their Bond had been a river in full flood, singing with emotion, and now it was a dry and dusty track, as if the water that had once flowed there never existed at all. With the Bond had gone Yang’s understanding of Blake, and in the weeks she had been absent, it was as if the language that had made Blake so readable to Yang was now entirely unable to be deciphered. It was almost, Yang thought, as if she had forgotten what she loved about Blake. Did I ever mean anything to you besides your own redemption?

She looked at Blake and Blake looked back at her, still having the look of one who was caught halfway between a nightmare and waking, her hollow eyes as horrified as if she was staring down the barrel of a gun. Finally, she spoke, her voice croaking and terrified, as if she hadn’t used it in months.

“God, you shouldn’t have tracked me here,” Blake said hoarsely, her tone very soft. “Yang, have you any idea what you’ve done?”

It was so out of the blue, so totally not what Yang had expected to hear, that she could only stand there as if she was standing helpless before a stadium of furious people once more, feeling vulnerable and lost, like someone had tossed her headlong into a twisting maze. “I…” She faltered, realizing that her voice had lost its steadiness. And as she looked at Blake, all she was left with was a bitter sense of fury and regret, and her words wobbled. “I know what I’ve done. Everything I’ve done, I’ve done in good conscience. But you…” Her voice curled into a low, deep growl that sounded guttural and terrible, emitting from her throat. “How dare you.”

Blake lifted her chin in surprise, her eyes widening. “What?”

Seconds later, she lifted her hand to where Yang had slapped her across the face with her human hand, leaving an angry red mark. Astonishment written across her expression, she gingerly removed her fingers, breath stuttering in her lungs as Yang looked at her with pure fury, the force of the slap still stinging her hand.

“I don’t remember much about that night when you abandoned me to run off like you always do, you wretched coward, but I remember that I damn near died to save your life! So how dare you leave me, Blake Belladonna!” Yang snarled, fury blazing through her. She welcomed it, welcomed the fury, how it warmed her blood and licked the edges of her hair to bright flame in this cold, dead world. “How dare you leave me half-dead, alone, in an airship and a single message on my Scroll, to go back to Patch without you, to struggle every day with the simplest of tasks like opening a fucking book or trying to put on my clothes with one goddamn arm, and to look my my father in the eyes and explain that he was right about you being like Raven! Right about you leaving me behind like some discarded toy you didn’t have any more use for!” She was screaming now, and it felt good in a terrible, twisted way; she hadn’t screamed in so long, hadn’t talked above a whisper, and it felt like a dam had unlocked inside of her, letting all of her bitter, savage emotions free. “I almost died for you. I would have died for you! How could you do that to me? How?”

Blake’s eyes were shining bright with tears, and her voice was almost incomprehensible over her choked sob. “I had to go. It was my fault. You can’t be near me or you’ll…”

“I’ll what, die?” Yang gave a harsh, scornful laugh. “I wonder how that would feel, Blake! Tell me, what was more painful, do you think? Losing an arm or losing a partner and your entire world? I lost all three. The Yang you knew? She is dead, Blake. And I’ll tell you who killed her.” She drew back her lips in an almost feral snarl, swallowing, shaking. “It wasn’t Adam. It wasn’t his sword. It was you. When you left me alone. Left me behind, broke the vows of the Bond.” In all the time they had known each other, Yang had never truly made Blake angry beyond the point of sense. Even when she had told Blake’s secrets to Ruby and Weiss, resulting in their first fight, Blake had been more sad than angry. But now, her miserable attitude had flipped to unhinged anger— there was fire in Blake's eyes, rising unbidden, and Yang knew that the two of them were liable to set each other afire. It was part of the reason she had fell in love with her at all, really, that hidden inferno that kindled in Blake's core, the fire that made them more alike than anything. “Do you truly think I don’t know that? Do you think that it wasn’t agony to go? Do you think I did this because I wanted to?” Her voice rose to a scream. “Do you honestly think I left you because I wanted to go after you lost your arm— when it was my fault, and I know it?”

“There’s only one problem with that sentence,” Yang hissed. “It was never your fault that I lost my arm, Blake. It was mine. Even if we fought Adam together, I went in without a plan of attack, and I paid the price. After all, the thought of you dying... that messed me up, ruined my clarity. You had a way of blurring everything, remember? I suppose you still do." Blake flinched, as if remembering those whirlwind emotions of when they had Bonded, all those smudged memories, all of it lying buried beneath the weight of too much guilt and pain to ever dislodge. “But for you to do the bare minimum for someone who loved you—”

“I never wanted—”

“No! After that, even after I made that sacrifice for you, you left me. How could you do that? I'm your partner! " Her voice rose to a roar. "That's not how partners treat their loved ones! That's not how they behave!"

“I wanted to die after I went.” Blake pulled away, staring at the glinting gold prosthetic. She was silent, but there was a terrible look on her face that made Yang's eyes sting with tears. She was completely quiet, as if she opened her mouth, she would burst into sobs. “The only thing that kept me alive was the thought of how angry you’d be if I killed myself. How— disappointed. And maybe I'm not fit to be your partner. I almost got you killed. It would have helped, not to see me when you woke up, knowing it was my fault you’d… lost your arm.” She looked away, her mouth working in agitation, and Yang could guess what she was thinking, at least. Maybe not all of her understanding in her partner was gone just yet.

“Mea culpa, mea culpa, mea maximus culpa,” Yang whispered, her voice quavering. “Is that what you honestly think, Blake?”

“It is.” She looked up, eyes shining brightly with unshed tears. “The fault was mine alone. It’s not an excuse, but I helped in the only way I knew. I tried to keep you safe— tried to keep you alive. Yang…”

“Don’t,” she whispered, tears brimming in her eyes. She turned away, clenching her fists, struggling not to cry. “Don’t say my name like that.” “Then how can I, how should I—” “Don’t,” Yang managed, “don’t say my name ever.” She had lied. She hadn’t forgotten what she loved about Blake at all. And now, that lie had her locked in a claw-cruel grip, forcing her to confront the reality that she had denied in order to mitigate the pain of what Blake had done to her. Blake was the storm and the calm all at once, intense and genius and passion conjured into a person so volatile she almost unraveled of her own accord. Blake was safety. Blake was the first day of summer where you could go out without wearing a jacket. She was home. And home had run away. Blake was still talking, her voice more broken than the waves shattering against the shore. “I had to go. I just— I had to do it.”

A harsh, barking laugh tore from Yang’s mouth at that, guttural and animalistic. "Damn you, Blake," she snarled. "Did you honestly think waking up minus an arm and minus you would help anyone?"

"It was my fault you got hurt," she repeated numbly. "I had to go. You don't understand. All the guilt— all your pain— and it's my responsibility—"

"You should feel guilty, but not for that reason." Yang spun around, breaking eye contact, all the pent up rage she had buried deep down exploding out of her. "You know what's happened to me. You alone were the one person I trusted with my past, time and time again, and you know what, Blake? Every goddamn person I know left me, left me behind, and every time, I had to pick up the pieces. Every person. Qrow’s never really cared for me. Not in the way he does for Ruby. I remind him too much of my mother. And she— you know she left me. Decided I was a burden. Summer left and never came back. My father left me for alcohol and depression after Summer died. And now— Ruby left to chase a fool's mission of answers. Weiss is probably the only one I could forgive easily— she didn't have a choice, you see, she was forced to go, but she knows what loyalty means— and Pyrrha and Penny, they were manipulated and killed.” Her anger began to drain, deflating her, until she felt like she was drowning in an inescapable ocean of misery. “And you— you, I thought, would be the one who was different, who saw something in me that was worth keeping, worth fighting for. I thought you had changed, from when you left when Weiss accused you, but you, too, left me, Blake, just like all the rest..."

Yang felt a hand on her shoulder, the arm that was still there. The clearing was cold, locked in ice and snow, but Blake’s hand was warm and shaking. "Yang," Blake said, her voice broken. "I'm so, so sorry. You have to know that I never wanted any of this—”

Yang didn’t pull away from Blake’s hand, but she didn’t offer any encouragement, either. “So you say I don’t understand why you abandoned me. Well, make me understand. You're still keeping secrets, aren't you? Even after all this time?"

"I swore I would never..." Blake let out a low, indistinct noise, half-whimper and half-sigh. “No. I— I suppose I—I owe you answers. Let me explain.”

Her eyes glazed over as if she was seeing back into a terrible, terrible past, and in a way, maybe she was. She began to pace, her ears flat against her head, before she looked directly at Yang. “You remember it,” she said. “The night Beacon Tower fell?”

“I can’t forget something I see every night when I fall asleep,” Yang said. “But there’s more you don’t know,” Blake choked, “more that happened before you arrived, more secrets undone and pasts shattered and words exchanged. I met Adam in the Academy, Yang, a while before you—you rushed in to save me. I was alone with him.”

Yang’s stomach began to stir with a fluttering of unease as she pictured it. Firelight flashing on the walls, Blake, standing alone in the empty ruin of the school; Adam, across from her, no longer a phantom memory that couldn’t hurt her, but in the flesh, bent on revenge. All the shadows between them, and the wounds on Blake’s face that had been there before Yang entered the scene, the pure fear and horror, the imprint of a slap on her skin. Just what had Adam done to Blake before Yang had jumped in? All those nightmares she had about Adam— all those fears— “Blake, I don’t know if I—”

“No. I have to tell you this.” Her voice was breathless, as if she was hurtling towards a finish line, her eyes swimming with a strange mixture of terror and relief. “You— he hadn't cornered me right when you arrived. Early on in that horrible night, I fought him. I raised my blade, and for the first time, I lashed out against him, because I told myself long ago he would never control me again." A faint spark of pride kindled in her voice, but it extinguished as she went on. "However, a fight like that— one that I could win, or ever have hope of winning— simply wasn't meant to be. He was stronger, a shade faster, and he was burning with rage that lent manic energy to him that I simply could not match up against. He pinned me to the ground, and he... he..." Her voice shook so badly, Yang thought she wouldn't be able to complete the sentence. The anger she'd felt towards Blake had given away to hatred for Adam. She hadn't known what Blake had gone through before she had arrived on the scene... but now, it seemed, she was about to find out why Blake had abandoned her.

“Blake, if he hurt you—”

“He’s already hurt me, Yang! He has. He hurt you. Don’t you get it?” A tear snaked its way down her cheek, her teeth clenching together. Anguished agony was written on her face. “Nothing he could have done to me would hurt me as much as hurting you would. He knew I who I loved and he…” She faltered, turning away, but Yang knew what she had been about to say.

He knew who I loved, and he used it against me.

“Blake,” Yang said, taking a step after her. “Blake. Finish your story.” Her voice softened, pleading. “Please. For me.”

Every word looked like it was being wrenched out of her, her body shaking, hands in fists by her sides. “He quickly became very calm, almost icy. I was nearly out of my mind with fear by then, which I expected you would be feeling through the Bond, but I simply could not do anything. Once again, I was powerless to his whims. He began to speak to me. Yang, I was there for a long time, back against the wall, long enough for him to talk, long enough for him to think clearly through his anger, and plan some sort of revenge.

"I swore then and there I would do anything to keep you alive if you came to save me. Even if I had to sacrifice myself, so be it. Adam is— was— one of the strongest, cleverest warriors I know. All those driven by hunger for vengeance are. He was the leader of a terror-powered revolution, and he did not gain that position by being anything less than the strongest, the fastest, the smartest... and the most ruthless. You were and are powerful, but not the same type that he was. For he knows much of the world and emotions that drive people, but he knows nothing of mercy. I pray you never will be that kind of warrior. I knew he would not hesitate to kill you, for he was out of his mind with possessive jealousy. He used to be my partner, my whole heart... and from what he learned, he knew that you had filled that position. I loved you, not him, and I was Bonded with you, not him. He vowed to torture and kill you in front of me. He said he would make it his mission to destroy everything I loved. You, and Ruby, and Weiss. You know that I love you. But I love Ruby and Weiss too, and he knew that. I also knew that you would never forgive me, not in this life or any other, if Ruby was killed on my account, nor would I forgive myself. And then... you arrived.

"You challenged Adam— you challenged him, and sealed our fates. By now, you know his semblance, I suppose. Moon-slice, he named it, after the shattered moon. He can slice through the Aura of anything souled. How awful is it that he was born with a semblance that helps him hurt not the Grimm, but the people he fights beside?”

Yang looked at her prosthetic arms, moving her fingers gently, and the fire Dust within flared up gently, melting the snow that had settled on it as heat pulsed out from the metal. Snow had settled on the arm… the arm she would never have again, because of Adam. He had taken so much, so much she would never get back.

“You two talked,” Blake whispered. “And then we both challenged him and fought him… and stabbed me in the side and he cut off your arm, and then I fought him again, because he hurt you. I fought him,” and here, she let out a little breath of pain, “and I won. I killed Adam, Yang. I took my blade and I threw it and it sank into his chest, and he died. But before he died, you know what he told me? He swore that it would not end with his death. He swore that the White Fang would try to kill me— and try to kill you. He told me that only by running could I keep their attention on tracking me. Only by running could I keep you safe. And in that moment, I realized… I realized that I had nothing to show for what I had done. I had fought Adam, but I only ever got myself hurt and got you nearly killed… then he died in my arms, and I had to look in his eyes, his empty eyes, this boy who was once my partner and my—” She broke off, jamming her fists into her pockets. “And I had to stand there knowing I killed him just as I killed Ayran. And I didn’t regret it. I couldn’t; how could I?” She walked away very quickly, standing at the edge of the clearing, the stiff slant of her shoulders forming a sharp black line against the pale grayness of the forest, and she sounded lost and broken, and very young, her voice tearing like claws at Yang’s heart.

“My past and present collided,” she whispered hoarsely, her words echoing in the silence, “and in the moment it mattered most, I let them overwhelm me and destroy each other.”

“But they didn’t destroy each other, your past and present,” Yang pointed out bitterly. “I’m right here.”

“Yang, I thought you were dead!” Her voice cracking, Blake turned around, her mouth working, snow caught on her eyelashes like tears. “I saw your body lying there just like Adam’s… crumpled and bloody… and the Bond was dead! I thought you were dead, gone, where I couldn’t follow you… it’s the worst thing I’ve ever felt in my life. You can’t imagine, can’t imagine the kind of pain that I… when I thought he had killed you…” Her voice choked up, parallel stripes of tears streaking down her face. “I thought the thing I feared most in this world was not doing something good with my life. But that’s not it. The thing that scares me most in the entire expanse of this universe is losing you, and he damn well knew it.

“When I saw you lying there… I knew. I just knew I had to go. I left Adam’s body there, in the cafeteria… I hauled you into the courtyard. Sage came and fixed you as well as he was able. Ruby and Weiss arrived soon after, but then they left— they left to go save Pyrrha, because she had fought Cinder, but that’s another tale. When I saw you bleeding out in the courtyard, I knew it was my fault you were lying there. Sun tried to persuade me it wasn't, but he didn't understand. How could he? When Ruby came, I made up my mind to leave. A little while later, I was with Sun, when Weiss and her father Vincent were fighting in the courtyard… and Weiss thought Ruby was dead, but I told her that she wasn’t. Their Bond wasn’t broken, so she must be alive. But after that, knowing that Weiss was being taken away by her father and Ruby was up in Beacon Tower… our team had fallen apart. That was the final straw; I had to go, there was nothing left to do. If I ran, the White Fang would chase me, not you or the others. They wouldn't waste their time on anyone I loved— they would try to hunt me, because I killed their leader. Because if I was with you... you would be in danger. If I was not... You would be safe, you and all the rest." Blake met her eyes then. "That is why I ran. That is why I left you behind. Not because I don't love you, but because I love you more than I have ever loved anyone. He made it his mission to destroy me... but I made it mine to keep you safe at all costs." She shook her head, her breath coming in pained rasps. “Everything I do, I do to protect you. I have been made to protect you. Only in death will I be kept from that duty.”

“I wish you hadn’t put it like that.” Eyes filled with tears, Yang looked at her— that tired, unhappy face, eyes haunted and so, so sad. So... resigned. She had already given up her happiness, safety, everything— all to fate, all to keep Yang alive.

“Yang,” Blake said, reaching out to take her hand, “I… I know can never make things the way they used to be. What we’ve been through… I don’t think you can ever go back from something like that. But I… can you ever forgive me?”

In answer, Yang took a deep breath, and let go of her bitterness and anger, let go of the damaged Bond, let all her emotions flow through it. Blake’s eyes flew wide and she staggered under the weight of everything Yang had felt in the past months: fury, misery, bitterness, listlessness, heartbreak, terror, and so, so much love.

I love Blake, I do. And I always will. She’s always been my other half. She was broken, but I was too, and between us, we’ve got one whole heart. I pushed away the unimaginable, which was losing her, but here we are, and we’ve survived the unimaginable, learned to live with it and made it through. How could I have ever thought she didn't love me?

“Blake,” she whispered, pulling her close, hearing the unsteady beat of her heart. Blake had been so strong for so long, it was easy to forget how broken she was. “Blake, there’s nothing to forgive.”

Blake was silent for a long, long time, the beat of her heart and the rustle of her breath the only sounds in the cold winter glade. Even the sound of the crashing sea sounded very, very far away. Snow flurried down from a steel-gray sky, powdering her hair in white. A frigid breeze swirled through the forest in a shivering gust, flapping her cloak and making the bare tree branches rattle like bones. Then, she spoke, her voice rusty and hoarse.

"You lost so much, Yang. I don't fault you for being upset. I told you a while ago before the doubles rounds of my suspicions against Cinder and Emerald, and I spoke to Sage of them... but I never imagined the lengths she would go to. Nor did she leave us with answers. With all she took from us, killing Pyrrha, Penny, and doing God knows what to Ruby up in the Tower…”

"Blake," Yang blurted suddenly, "Blake, don't you know? Ruby is okay. Qrow rescued her from the top of the Tower after you left.”

Instantly, Blake went taut as a wire, leaning away. She looked past Yang, trembling, as if she could see all the way to where Ruby was. Complete shock radiated over her face, followed by a flitting, dubious expression. "She is? She’s really okay? That can't be— not after that chill—”

Relief and happiness were flooding deliriously through her at the fact that she was the bearer of good news for once. Almost giddy, she crushed Blake close again, something loosening in her chest and escaping her, sailing far, far away. "She is, I swear, she's alive and well, and on her way to Haven right now. She's with Jaune and Ren and Nora. Weiss and I are going after her. You see... the silver light... it's a long story. Ozpin admitted her to the Academy because she had silver eyes, just like her mom, Summer Rose. That made her have this power - she still doesn't know what exactly it is, with Ozpin gone and unable to explain - that laid dormant, latent, inside her. It was triggered when she watched Cinder betray her and... and do what she did. The power exploded all at once and froze everything within the mile - that's what that chill you mentioned must have been."

"So..." Blake murmured. "She's changed, then. She'll be very different."

"I expect so, with the burden of responsibility she must have now."

"If Ruby's alive, then Pyrrha—?” Forbidden hope danced through Blake eyes, and sadness once more squeezed Yang's heart in a cruel grip.

"No," she said, "no, Blake, I'm sorry. She's gone. Ruby watched her die."

Blake swallowed. “I had hoped…” She shook her head. "She deserved better. She was the best of us, Yang. She deserved better than a cold death, alone, and she deserved more than some trite eulogy from a coward who fled before she drew her last breath. But there is still some mercy left, I think. Some beauty, despite all the ruined wreck of loss." Blake took her hand and kissed her knuckles, her lips chapped and cold. "You found me."

Yang closed her eyes. "Ruby was the hero of that night, you know. She went through the most, and lost the most. But she's still standing, my small sister, the miracle we didn't deserve... and underneath her exterior, there's a warrior tough as steel."

"It must run in the family." Blake's smile faded to an uncertain expression. "I... are you quite certain about... not wanting me to go? If they find us— me with you after all that happened… you run the risk of getting hurt more than you have been before. We both risk losing more than just a partner or an arm. We could lose it all.”

“I understand the danger, Blake. I understand the risks, of the White Fang, of what I could lose still… and I know that’s why you ran. Because you wanted to keep me safe from them, so I could live a normal life. But I don’t want that, I don’t want safety or normalcy, not if the cost is losing you. Don’t you get it?” Her voice was barely a whisper now. “I just want you. I need you, Blake… like I need oxygen and the sun and everything to live, I need you. If we face the White Fang again; then we will… together. Make no mistake. When that time comes, I'll be ready. I have enough to fight for. And as for you coming with me and Weiss? Well... I'm not afraid.” She brushed back a curl of ebony hair from Blake’s forehead, and Blake closed her eyes, inexpressible anguish in her expression. “I know who I fell in love with, all those months ago back at Beacon… and I’ll always, always choose you. Just as we always choose each other, as we always love each other…”

“And fight for each other,” Blake echoed, bowing her head. “Even if it ends in tragedy?”

“Especially then.” Yang tilted Blake’s head up, her hand under Blake’s chin, infinitely gentle, and their eyes met. “Even if I am your girlfriend, first and foremost, I am your partner, with all that entails. I will never give up on you. I promised I would never leave you. Even if everybody in the whole world was against you, I would stand by your side. I will be your pillar. I know the risks, I know the cost of everything I have to lose… and I'm willing to make that sacrifice for you. If you're with me, I'm strong.”

“I— I understand. If you know… if you’re willing to risk the White Fang, I won’t say no to you. Not again.” Blake swallowed and rubbed her eyes, looking away. "What now?" she murmured. "How do you move on after what happened to us? How do you cope with that kind of tragedy?”

“The same way we always have.” Yang took Blake’s hands between her own, skin against metal. “Together.”

Blake nodded, something in her eyes wavering and shattering, and Yang felt almost relieved as she realized that she could— once more— sense her certainty. A Bond to last a lifetime.

“I still love you,” she whispered. Tears were coursing down Blake’s face, and she brushed them away. “I never stopped loving you… even when it seemed that way to myself. I never could.”

She slid her hands into Blake’s hair, leaning in slowly to kiss her, letting her pull away, if she wished, but Blake did not, and she captured her partner’s mouth with her own. They melted together, clinging to each other in the silence, one of Blake’s gloved hands sliding up to tangle in the hair curling from the back of her neck. It was utterly quiet, the only sound in the air of the snow crunching under Yang’s boots, and the branches rustling together above their heads. Blake shuddered at the touch of the cold prosthetic on her skin, but she didn’t pull away. She leaned forward, kissing her back with such abandon it was painful, shivering through every fiber of skin with a sharp, aching agony.

It could have been an eternity or only seconds, but they broke apart, still clinging to each other, Blake’s hands resting over her heart, Yang’s hands on Blake’s shoulders, and they looked at each other. The sea whistled its lonely cry in the background, and the wind picked up, stirring her hair and sending it spilling to the side.

“You’re here for something else,” Blake said at last, her face full of the resolve she had always held. “Aren’t you? You’ve got that… that look in your eye.”

Yang let out a small huff of laughter, her breath clouding on the air. “I came to ask if you'll join me on my journey."

"Journey?”

“Ruby is still out there,” Yang said.

“Are you… you’re going after her, all the way in Mistral? But… why?”

"She's my sister," Yang said simply. "I love her. I could never abandon her."

There was a long pause, and then, her eyes blazing, Blake nodded. “Okay,” she breathed, as if she had wrestled with her thoughts, and won. “Yes. Yes, I’ll come with you. Every step of the way.”

“Thank you,” Yang whispered, the edges of her eyes stinging with tears, but these, unlike all their predecessors, were ones of happiness. “I’d better go introduce you to Weiss so she doesn’t think I’ve been out here getting gobbled up by a Beowolf, shouldn’t I?”

At that, Blake smiled through her tears. “Yeah, I think you’d better.”

/ / /

They found her in the trees, crouched amid the dead leaves, fiddling with a map and looking strained as she pried deeper into her Bond than she had ever gone before. Yang felt a flicker of pity, before she cleared her throat as they both trundled into the clearing, hands linked together. “How are things with your ‘tracking Ruby’ endeavor, Weiss?”

Weiss sounded distracted and tired. “Decently, I’d say. I’ve found her location, Yang; she’s somewhere just over the mountain pass in Mistral… she’s still weeks and weeks away from Haven, but if we hurry, we could catch up in less than a—”

Blake coughed, almost inaudible in the silence, but Weiss visibly went stiff before whipping her head around, eyes rounding comically as she saw Blake and Yang, hand in hand.

“Blake?” She croaked, before shaking her head. “No, I’m having a hallucination… this journey’s deluding me, right? All these sleepless days and nights…”

“No, Weiss, it’s real,” Yang said, and Blake glanced at her.

“I’m really here,” she murmured, and then Weiss scrambled to her feet, flying at Blake and almost knocking her down in a hug. Yang caught the words “stupid”, “left”, “could have been dead”, and “idiot”, and Blake, albeit with a degree of hesitance, returned the hug, her eyes softening as Weiss let out a noise that sounded suspiciously like a sniffle.

“Thanks,” she said, voice hoarse. “I missed you, too.”

Weiss’s eyes were red when she pulled away, and she dashed at her cheeks.

“Group hug?” Yang offered, attempting a joke to break the silence, and they all embraced each other. Yang let out a deep breath, tears springing to her eyes as she wrapped her arms around them, one around Blake and one around Weiss.

My family is coming back together again.

Her heart swelled, fuller than it had been in weeks. She had missed Blake more than anything, but she had missed her team, too; they were as much of a part of her as her own bones. It was a tangled sort of a hug, and the absence of Ruby was more conspicuous than ever, but they were together, and for now, that was enough.

“What’s the plan now?” A shadow of fear still lurked behind Blake’s eyes, and Yang tightened her grip on her partner’s hand.

“Even if the White Fang try to catch us,” she said in an undertone to her, “they can’t hurt us, okay? Divided, we’re weak. Together, we’re strong. We’ll leave Vale and go to the coast near Beacon. If they don’t let us on one of the boats… we’ll pull a Sun Wukong and stowaway, if that’s what it comes to. I’m not letting anything short of the apocalypse stop me from finding my baby sister.”

“There’s the determination you’ve been lacking,” Weiss smiled, clearly delighted, a new radiance in her face. Having Blake back had lifted both their spirits immeasurably— one of their objectives was cleared— but Yang knew it would only be completely okay when they found Ruby again. “Are we ready to leave?”

“Well,” Yang said with a smile that, for the first time in a month, lit up her whole face, “I’m not sure how we’ll be able to fit the two of you on Bumblebee, but we’ll have to make do. Let’s pack up and get going.”

Weiss and Yang packed up their duffels as Blake shouldered her own, and they walked over the cycle, parked in the shadow of an enormous tree.

“Did Yang tell you how we got here, Blake?” Weiss joked, climbing on the back of the cycle and clinging on precariously, Yang in the front, Weiss on the back, Blake sandwiched between them. It felt protected and secure, and as Yang tied her duffel to the side, Blake slid her hands around Yang’s waist for better purchase. She welcomed the warmth and safety Blake’s presence always brought her, the feeling that she hadn’t thought she would experience again in a long, long time.

“Tell me,” Blake murmured, resting her chin on Yang’s shoulder, her breath stirring the fine curls of hair on the nape of her neck. “Tell me everything. I’m right here, and I’m not letting go, ever again.

Yang turned the keys in the ignition, something within her glowing warm as the motorcycle purred to life beneath her, and they shot out of the grove, whooping aloud in the thawing winter morning as the last leg of their journey began. “Well,” she began as the forest and the sea receded behind them, the faintest shadow of Mistral waiting on the horizon, “it all starts off with the story of a girl called Yang and a boy named Sun who snuck out of Patch one winter morning…”

A/N. Hamilton reference, because I can. ‘It’s Quiet Uptown’, for anyone curious— the mood of that song really fits this chapter, and I love its tune, anyhow. The ending is close. Next chapter is white-rose centric. :)

Also, for those who might be curious: Yang was able to catch up to Blake for one simple reason: a motorcycle is a hell of a lot faster than traveling by foot. I imagine Yang told her about how she tracked Weiss, how helpful Sun was, their meeting with CFVY, and about Khione. Blake, of course, was relieved to hear that her aunt was alright after the Fall.

#the final warning

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#the final warning