Chapter Text
Those bags under Clover’s eyes won’t go away, he realises, no matter how hard he stares at them. The grime plastered over his stark white uniform doesn’t exactly help either. With a defeated sigh, he turns away from the mirror and closes the door on his way out of his room. It can’t be a good sign that the General wants to talk to him this early in the morning, at the time usually dedicated to training with the Ace Ops. Considering the recent events, he has to be prepared for the worst, and even his luck may not be able to help him.
The Academy corridors are still quiescent at this time, only the Ace Op training facility resonating with the familiar clangs of weapons. Subconsciously, he distinguishes the whistle of Marrow’s Fetch as it slices through the air and the heavy slam of Elm’s Timber against another weapon, which does not sound as familiar…
“Good morning, Operative,” Ironwood greets, raising a white glove-clad metal hand, “Qrow kindly offered to train your team while we have this little discussion. I thought you’d like to keep an eye on their progress while we talk.”
Clover suppresses a relieved sigh; Qrow’s Aura is only dropping due to training, not a dangerous encounter and the Ace Op captain really shouldn’t worry so much. The General welcomes his Operative onto the small, dark platform overlooking the training room. James stands tall and straight, only the pallid skin around his eyes betraying his wariness.
“Good morning, General. I thought Qrow was injured... I am glad to see his recovery is going well, sir.”
Just below them, the shapeshifter is sparring against Elm and Marrow, dodging and blocking both their weapons with his broadsword alternating between successive one-handed guard positions. Clover can’t help but noticing that even outnumbered and recovering from his injuries, the Huntsman is still holding back in the fight, seemingly toying with two of the best Operatives in Atlas.
“The medical teams have assured me that any injuries sustained in yesterday’s mission were minor,” Ironwood states, “so I will have to commend your good leadership for that.”
“I… it is always an honour, sir,” the Ace Op replies, his lips stretching into a smile that cannot contaminate his eyes.
“Rest assured that this is the only fact, based on all the mission reports I read, that keeps me from demoting you for the mess you made out there and appoint Robyn Hill in your place.”
“But… sir… Miss Hill...” Clover can only mumble, dumbfounded.
“I did not grant you permission to interrupt, Operative. That, and the issue that after the aftermath of your disastrous mission, the Amity Tower project was delayed by an estimated two months, and our armed forces will need all the help it can get to complete the project.”
Behind his back, Clover’s hands clasp one another firmly, enough for his fingers to go white. He distractedly watches the training session beneath them, and the red-caped Huntsman dancing out of the way as Fetch grazes his face, only for Elm to catch the weapon mid-flight in her right hand. Clover recognises the combination attack as it unfolds, such that Marrow’s yell as he activates his Semblance doesn’t surprise him. The General ever so slightly flinches as Qrow freezes in his tracks, allowing the female Ace Op to hit him in the abdomen with both her hammer and the boomerang. The blow sends the shapeshifter him tumbling against a pile of black and cyan blocks.
“Well, Ebi?” Ironwood prompts quietly, distracting his agent from his worries on whether Qrow just got hurt again and whether the… mishap with his back was still ongoing - he cannot see clearly behind that cape.
“I’m very grateful for the second chance you’re giving me, sir. It is my conviction to defend and protect Atlas, I swear I won’t disappoint you again.”
He can tell just from the way James breathes that his superior doesn’t care much for the platitutes he just uttered. Ironwood is pure military efficiency under metal and human skin, and such formalities only tend to annoy him. Clover reaches for his lucky pin mentally, wishing for something - or someone - to come and distract the General and extract him from this sticky situation. He can only thank his Semblance when an unexpected person comes to his rescue.
“My apologies, General Ironwood, Operative Ebi,” a younger voice pants, surprisingly originating from a rather breathless and dishevelled Lie Ren just running onto the platform. “I know you expected me two minutes ago… I missed my alarm this morning. Am I interrupting something?”
“Clover and I were debriefing yesterday’s Amity mission. In light of the course events have taken, I was about to tell him about our thoughts of establishing a counseling cell in Atlas, both to support both civilians and soldiers through these… traumatic situations. Our Specialists and Huntsmen could benefit from some help in the aftermath of crisis scenarios, like the one you just faced, and in preparation for any such events to come.”
And they will come, and no amount of luck can spare them in the war they set out to wage against Salem. Ren nods darkly, apparently already aware of this new development, quickly copied by the Ace Op captain.
“Is this why you requested my presence, General?” Ren prompts calmly.
Clover isn’t sure he follows the logic, nor is he certain he cares right now as Elm pummels Qrow in hand to hand combat just before his eyes. The Huntsman, though skilled in martial arts, takes more damage than he can deal facing the broad fists of the larger Ace Op. Marrow swiftly dives in to grab the sword that Elm made Qrow drop during the Stay command. Converting the weapon into its gun form, he dual-wields Harbinger and Fetch to pepper the shapeshifter with a volley of bullets. Clover’s throat tightens as he wonders if Qrow’s wings are taking any of the momentum from the impacts - the feathers had seemed so fragile yesterday, so delicate that the iridescent quill tips appeared semi-transparent in the dull sunlight…
“I spoke to Headmaster Goodwitch of Beacon Academy,” Ironwood answers. “She has been setting up something similar in Vale after the fall of Beacon. She will send advice, but I was thinking that you, Mr. Lie, and your… teammates could be of some help with the matter, for the meantime. If you wish so, of course.”
Prying his eyes away from the fight, Clover senses Ren briefly tensing at the mention of his team - the Ace Op can only guess it involves the young Huntsman’s redhead partner and the General’s animosity toward her opinions. She may as well be the real reason behind his tardiness judging by his level of relative disarray.
“You and your teammates would be very welcome if you choose to assist in this effort . ” Clover comments, semi-casually flying to Ren’s help. “After all, from what I’ve gathered, you’ve been through some experiences on your way here that make you rather qualified. What do you think?”
Pink eyes seem lost in reflection, and both military leaders know the young man needs some time to ponder. Which is just the perfect excuse for Clover to detract his attention from the meeting to how Qrow is currently faring. Not that he cares about the dashing shapeshifter, the captain tells himself, but he just wants to make sure his injuries don’t worsen because he feels a little culpable as a good leader should .
Some azure-lined blocks on the training grounds have been knocked to the wayside, no doubt the product of Qrow’s Semblance causing chaos and confusion. Amidst the confusion, an opening. Like a bird attracted to a shiny trinket, Qrow lunges forward and seizes his chance. His hand swings past Elm’s shoulder and toward Marrow, who easily dodges the punch but falls for the ruse. Without touching the canine Faunus, the Huntsman presses a switch up the handle of Harbinger in the younger man’s hand. The low whirring of cogs echoes through the room, transforming the weapon into its scythe form. The deploying handle sends Elm flying backwards onto a nearby pillar. While she uses her Aura roots to stabilise herself, Marrow attacks in a flurry of slashes with Fetch, forcing Qrow to extract his scythe from the rookie’s grip and parry in a series of rapid twirls.
“I agree,” Ren says evenly. “We’ll help set up a counselling cell in Atlas, and also in Mantle.”
Ironwood stiffens, if that is even possible , at the mention of Mantle. Before he can comment, Clover intervenes:
“My Ace Ops and I are grateful for your help, then. General, let me know if my team can help in any way, and we’ll do all we can.”
With that, the Operative grants the boy a clap on the back, meant as an encouragement after how calmly he voiced his opinions and those of his teammates to the General, of all people. Clover can’t tell if the Huntsman got the message, as Ren simply shrugs it off as if accustomed to light punches as a way of communication in everyday life.
“It seems you’re both enthusiastic,” Ironwood concedes after some time. “I’ll get the experts to think about it, and relevant files will be sent to you by lunchtime.”
“Thank you sir,” they respond in unison.
It seems like they should be dismissed, but both Ren and Clover are too interested in watching the fight to take notice. The opponents resorted to melee combat, in lavish display of their formidable skills. The raw strength of Timber and its precisely timed swings are only matched by the intricate blocks and flourishes of Harbinger, tracing trajectories that defy retinal persistence to produce a near-impenetrable defense. The canine Faunus seems to get the short end of the stick, yet his agility and reflexes turn his smaller and more range combat-appropriate weapon into an advantage. On the defensive while waiting for the right time to strike, he dodges acrobatically and manages to slither between two swings of Qrow’s weapon into the space between the large scythe blade and his adversary.
“Something else, Clover,” James continues, making the latter release the breath he didn’t realise he was holding. “Qrow stated in his report that your ‘non-aggressive’ policy toward Robyn Hill and her Happy Huntresses on a previous transport mission must have played an important role in her decision to help you out when the Colosseum collapsed. I don’t know what to make of it, it didn’t seem too relevant to the Amity mission as such. But I thought you should know.”
The Ace Op’s heart clenches at that, it sounds exactly like Qrow to go off on random ramblings in mission reports meant to be precise and to the point. And the positive light the ramblings shed on Clover, despite everything he’d said probably before the shapeshifter even filled in said report, does not leave him indifferent. He starts to recognise the sensations bubbling inside him, the feelings that grow increasingly familiar, that he could get used to…
“Permission to speak freely?” Ren prompts softly, at the surprise of both older men.
“Granted.”
“Is this a position you’re taking toward Mantle? Or just a lucky accident that you got Robyn on our side by just doing her job as a Huntress, and are willing to allow counselling in Mantle because it sounds easy and convenient, while you keep on not taking sides?”
“Can you be more specific?” Ironwood’s voice is hard as ice, dripping with undertones he knows exactly what Ren means.
“Are the military and the Ace Ops taking sides in the Atlas vs. Mantle conflict, in the Jacques Schnee vs. Robyn Hill stand-off? Because with Robyn’s current actions, that war is just starting. And not taking sides is choosing a side, the side of the oppressors over the oppressed, that of those who always come out on top.”
While the young Huntsman had always appeared calm and composed to Clover, there is an obvious indignation consuming each of his words now, a barely contained fury like a flame under a glass cup. The Operative cannot help but admire the fire-forged product of Ren’s adventures and how they shaped him, guided him in channeling his trauma and emotions.
“Our military is impartial,” the General retorts. “The Amity tower will help Mantle just as much as Atlas, maybe even more. The people of Mantle will be grateful, especially for our protection following our Salem announcement.”
“Pardon me sir, but with the delays on the tower construction following the collapse, Mantle is going to take the brunt of the consequences. They are the ones that -”
The green-clad Huntsman has to pause at the escalating intensity of the fight just below them. Propelling himself using the handle of Harbinger, Marrow has sprung around Qrow and taken him into a chokehold. His bladed boomerang grazes the shapeshifter’s pale throat, while his female comrade lifts Timber for a rocket-propelled strike. Extending his weapon into its war scythe form for added range, Qrow raises his blade overhead to block the blow before it can gain momentum. The collision between hammer and scythe is explosive. Sparks fly at the sheer force of metal pushed against metal as both opponents try to manoeuvre the contact between polearms in their favour. Elm’s eyes narrow in focus, and Clover can tell she intends to spin her weapon around to swing upward at Qrow’s lower abdomen…
What he can’t tell, however, is the shapeshifter’s next move. In fact, none of the parties expect it when soot-black wings spread open on either side of Qrow’s cape, pushing Marrow off and making him lose his balance. The young Ace Op falls to one knee, shocked and sneezing as feathers fly in his face. The Huntsman only has to tilt Harbinger and step aside to redirect Elm’s rocket-propelled attack straight toward the Faunus. She tries to slow herself with her Semblance, but the force of the blow still sends her teammate airborne and tumbling onto the nearest wall. In a final riposte, Qrow swivels his weapon around to jab her in the stomach with the hilt. Ordinarily, the impact would just have made the larger warrior stumble backwards, but her deep golden roots force her body to absorb all the attack’s momentum, draining her Aura level.
Elm drops to her knees with an undignified grunt, prompting Qrow to drop his weapon and help her up. She reflexively grabs onto his back and wings, which clearly pains him - Clover winces at that - and causes both of them to tumble onto the floor in an entangled heap.
“Ouch,” Qrow summarizes elegantly.
“I second that,” comes from Marrow dusting his uniform.
“Are you okay?” Clover shouts, jumping down in the middle of the field, genuine concern obvious in his tone much to everyone’s surprise.
“Is everyone okay?” he revises his overreaction, drawing his Scroll to check up on Aura levels. “This is a training session, not a fight to the death! What were you thinking, all of you?”
“My fault,” Qrow drawls from the floor, “you should have gotten used to it by now. I just needed to let out some steam, I lost control. But your kids kept up well, mostly.”
From the platform above them, Ironwood loudly clears his throat, no doubt cringing about how the shapeshifter managed to ruin yet another uniform, in such a short amount of time. Lie Ren looks away, faking a meditative expression.
The Ace Op leader takes in a deep breath and retries his best not to appear stupid and - dare he not admit it - desperately in love in front of his team and the General.
“Elm, that was nice strategy, but we’ll need to shorten the response lag of the rocket propeller kill switch on Timber. We can’t have it take that long to stop if you realise you’re hitting at an ally on the field. Can you write a note to Dr. Polendina detailing the technical issue?”
“Aye sir,” she nods while collecting herself from the ground and stifling a laugh.
“Marrow,” her superior continues imperturbable, “we should get practising your hand to hand combat some time, please try to book a session on my schedule but only after your Aura levels have replenished. But I see your melee skills improved a lot, keep up the good work!”
“Thank you sir!”
The captain cannot help but allow a thin smile to stretch on his lips at the tail-wagging that accompanies the rookie’s response. The eldest Operative flinches however when his favourite shapeshifter silently comes to stand just behind him, his panting hot breath sending shivers down Clover’s spine.
“Are you gonna give me a nice little pep talk too, or are you gonna answer Jimmy and the kiddo on the Mantle question first?”
The Atlesian leader looks up toward the elevated platform. Qrow who stands impossibly close immediately follows suit, arms crossed and wings outstretched behind them both. Clover pauses, not expecting to have to address the Mantle question , as Ironwood as his superior already responded. But as the General and the newly minted Huntsman stare back down at them, it appears as if there is no turning back.
He recalls Marrow, remembers his recruitment, his very first training sessions after he left Mantle for Atlas, how much he’d improved since then. He recalls of Nora, her rightful indignation, her unwavering fury before Atlas’s top military leaders. He recalls Robyn, her calm demeanor as she risked her life and her team in the Colosseum collapse, to save Mantle and Atlas, to fix his own mistake. He recalls the damp darkness of Mantle, armed and dangerous criminals roaming free, silent streets and moldy heating system echoing with distant whispers from the homeless, souls he couldn’t help, that may have a chance to help.
“Ren,” Clover calls out, “whether we choose to take sides or not, we’ll end up taking a side, it’s inevitable. So I may as well try my luck and pick a side. I’ll see what I can do for Robyn and Mantle, at least I owe her that. I’ll find a way, you have my word kid. I believe I can say so in the name of the Ace Ops, we’ll figure out a way.”
He turns to Elm and Marrow, the latter shooting him an approving glare.
“Thanks, thank you all,” Ren replies, blinking rapidly. “If you’ll excuse me...”
“All matters have been covered, this meeting is adjourned,” the General speaks flatly, exiting the room shortly after Ren.
“What manners did you even teach these kids, bird boy?” Elm teases as soon as the door closes. “Did Lie Ren just dismiss himself and leave with the General in tow? That was cool.”
“I’ll have you know I’m a professor of combat at Signal, not manners. About that, if you’ll pardon my language, can you confirm that last thing our lucky charm said? Because it damn sure sounds like we’ll figure it out .”
“For my defense, the whole conversation was pretty much we’ll figure it out… about the counselling cells, about the Colosseum, about Robyn...”
“Seemed so,” Qrow grumbles to the Ace Op captain who cannot help but feel both amazed and ashamed at how the shapeshifter managed to single-handedly defeat two of his best soldiers while simultaneously following a conversation. “So much for the Atlesian way, huh?”
“So much for the Atlesian way.”
Times are changing, in Atlas and everywhere else. Bridges are burning, bridges are freezing and shattering, and soon there will be no way back, only forward. Forward is uncharted, terra incognita, and they must tread through by trial and error, figuring their way out as they go. There will be trials, there may be even more errors, but somehow they’ll figure it out, because they must, because there is no escape on the path they’ve chosen.
“So yes, that’s what the Captain said,” the rookie chimes in, “and thanks for that, sir… you have no idea how much it means to me, and to all the Faunus of Mantle.”
His tail balances awkwardly from side to side as he weighs his words with gratitude.
“Our boss may be born in an ivory tower, figuratively and literally, but he’s not heartless,” Elm comments boisterously. “He’s too proud to admit it, but people he worked alongside are helping opening his eyes and shaping his world view. People like you, puppy boy, bird boy.”
While Marrow swells with pride at the remark, the captain steals a glance at Qrow, carefully avoiding eye contact.
“By the way, Professor Branwen,” says the Faunus, ”I didn’t have time to thank you for saving my life on the field yesterday. I’m sorry you got hurt.”
“No worries, kid. As you can see I’ve recovered enough to be able to kick your butt in sparring.”
“Are your wings still hurting?” Clover asks, still looking down at his feet, brows furrowed in worry.
“They’re sore, but they’ll be fine. Ozpin’s magic that endows me with my shapeshifting is rather orthogonal to Aura, so my bird form is more vulnerable, and so are my wings.”
“Couldn’t you use your shapeshifting to remove them by now?”
“Turns out they were pretty useful. Without them Elm and Marrow would have had me on that one.”
“I think I’m allergic to birds...” the dog Faunus bemoans, earning a loud chortle from his female teammate.
“What happened to not letting my not-even-real injuries distract you from being all professional and a good leader?” Qrow murmurs to the Atlesian captain.
“Well, lying to myself about not caring failed rather miserably, I think everyone noticed.”
“And here I thought that keeping my hands off you would help you keep your head straight and focus on that stupidly brilliant career of yours.”
“It’s so much more than that, Qrow...”
And it is, in ways words cannot barely start to express. Ways that all converge to one point, pulling him in slowly, and all he can do is choose to fall… But the ways of fortune and misfortune have their own inscrutable, intricately entangled ways, and it seems to be just Clover’s luck when a lone wing happens to find its way around the side of his shoulder, all but pulling him in for a hug. The ways of misfortune and fortune have no escape, and there’s nowhere else they’d rather be, nowhere else on Remnant they could possibly be but right here, right now in each other’s wings and arms.
“So you can keep your hands to yourself, but your wings just do as they please?” Clover snorts softly, basking in the warmth of Qrow’s feathers.
“Something like that, those sneaky bastards. Like Marrow’s tail which is not at all wagging right now.”
“Seems like your wings rather like me… lucky me, I guess.”
“Lucky you, indeed.”
“Qrow… I’m sorry for what I said yesterday.”
“You didn’t mean it, I get it, cut the sappy stuff will ya? You just needed to let out some steam. At least you didn’t take it out on your team by handing their butts to them, like I did.”
“Is that a challenge? I’ll have you know I was on a mission yesterday night, and tracked down a dangerous criminal through the Mantle vent system.”
“Is that why your uniform’s so slimy and gross?”
Clover looks down, blushing in embarrassment, but when he tries to extract himself from the hug Qrow’s hands pull at his waist gently, drawing him back into his gravity, where he belongs . They still have some figuring out to do, they’ll always do, but not right now, right now everything feels right, falling into place.
“Don’t you worry,” the Huntsman whispers, “even when you’re dirty I love you anyway.”
“I love you too.”
Somewhere far, too far away, resounds a loud “I told you so!” from Elm, followed by the metallic tone of some Lien Marrow tosses at her for winning their bet.
“This time I hope you mean it, lucky charm. Because those betting kids over there and I will personally fight you if not.”
“I mean, even when I’m away from you I can’t stop myself from thinking about you, from worrying about you to the utmost irrational point. It’s one more of these things that are simply inescapable. So I’d rather worry and be near you, right here with you, where you can figure things out with me, and help make me a better leader and a better person. If that’s okay with you, of course.”
One of the taller man’s strong arms snakes around Qrow’s shoulders, a finger tracing the tip of his wing, along the sturdy joint between bones and the softness of the feathers. He can feel feels Qrow’s muscles throbbing with pleasure at his touch.
“Of course, luck charm. Always.”
Clover leans in to drop a chaste kiss at the corner of Qrow’s lips, eliciting one of those rare, priceless smiles to ever grace the shapeshifter’s face. Scrolls are buzzing away in the distance, no doubt in reaction to the Ace Ops sharing the results of more bets with the rest of their team.
“You know why I kept the wings?” the Huntsman continues in hushed tones, his words like music pouring into Clover’s ears only, “because you can’t believe how much it turns me on when you touch them.”
At that the captain struggles to stifle a laugh, burying his face into Qrow’s feathery shoulder and away from Elm and Marrow’s eyes. Good thing Clover’s not allergic to birds - just his luck, really.