Chapter Text
Clover took his time walking back to his room; taking in the newly illuminated details of the halls he had called home throughout so much of his life. He could feel the exhaustion stuck between his bones; the inviting call of his bed and a few quiet hours to recenter himself after the unexpected enormity of the last 8 hours. But his head was still so busy, still so mesmerized by every new shade of existence he was finding around him moment by moment. And with not quite the same excitement, but still the same focus, he couldn’t stop thinking about Qrow; about who this man - his soulmate - really was; why he had held such contempt for him from the very moment they met; and what he was going to do about it.
That last question was what kept running through his head as he continued past the door to his room and on to the Op’s private lounge at the far end of the hall. He slipped into the quiet room, flicking on the light in the small kitchen, and walked over to the pantry cabinets lining the far wall. He paused as he reached the frosted door of the liquor cabinet, before taking his keys from his belt and turning the small lock.
When classes weren’t in session and practically no students were still in the dorms, they usually didn’t bother to lock the cabinet; it really not even completely necessary during the year, since students didn’t have open access to the Op’s private wing. Clover couldn’t help but think back to what James had said earlier, how he had asked this somewhat unusual but innocent favor, and the uncharacteristically apparent concern for his old friend. And he remembered the shakiness of Qrow’s hand; the tensely restrained flinches and abandoned reaches towards his lapel. After everything in Ironwood's office, Clover had a fairly good idea what one of those things about his new partner, that James had insisted weren’t his to explain, might be. Clover's own concern for the man he'd met mere hours before, but who already held such a heavy place in his chest, churned at the weight of everything that possibility could mean. But it was just one more thing he had no idea how or when or even if he could ever convince Qrow to trust him enough to open up about.
Once the cabinet was locked, Clover didn’t linger; his mind too busy with so much else to feel like eating anything, even though he couldn’t quite remember how long it had been since he last had. He flicked out the light and headed back down the hall silently, fingers absentmindedly tapping against the rabbit’s foot charm hanging from his belt.
He paused in front of his door for a moment, looking down towards the usually vacant extra room in the corner of his end of the hall. He briefly thought about walking over there now and knocking; trying to address the issue, any of the many issues, with his new partner right then, while it was taking up so much space in his head. But he knew that was a bad idea. A very bad idea. An idea that was more about himself and his own unrest than actually being about trying to help this man he had barely even spoken to. He knew he had to let Qrow have his space, his time. The last thing he wanted to do was push him away even further by forcing him to talk before he was at all ready. And Qrow had made it abundantly clear just how far he was from being ready.
So, Clover keyed into his room, not bothering to turn on the lights as he slowly changed out of his clothes. After he’d put away his uniform; pulled on a pair of sweats and an old loose tank top; grabbed a granola bar from the cupboard to at least keep from waking up with a headache; put Kingfisher in its place on his dresser; and slipped off his gloves before laying them on his bedside table along with his scroll, he hesitated at the side of his bed.
He needed to sleep. He knew he did. He sincerely doubted that tomorrow would be just a calm, run-of-the-mill day.
But even though he could feel how tired his body was, he knew his mind was so horribly far from being able to turn off for the night. He sighed and rubbed his hands together as he thought for a moment, trying to decide what to do. Finally, he turned toward the doors leading out to his small private balcony.
The familiar cool bite of the Solitas air always helped clear his head.
Clover opened the doors and quietly stepped onto the smooth tile, his socks enough against even the Atlas chill. He walked over and leaned against the intricate railing; looking out over the mostly dormant campus, accented with the ever-alert Atlas base and barracks. In the distance, he could see the soft glow of Mantle far below.
He couldn’t help but grin faintly; at all the silver that had always surrounded him, and how it was now accented with so many cool blues and whites and grays and golds.
The night was calm and quiet and just beginning to work its effect on Clover’s bustling thoughts.
Until he jumped and spun around as the cool silence was broken.
The quiet night was interrupted first by just a faint rustling of feathers. Which was quickly followed by an abrupt, indignant squawk, and the messy mix of talons scrambling for traction against brick and tile veiled with a thin layer of ice. And then the frantic and ineffectual shuffling attempts of wings trying to flap. Before the chaotic flurry eventually concluded in the dull thud of a small ruffled fluff ball sliding into the small corner of roof right outside Clover’s room.
Clover stood still for a moment, staring wide-eyed at the unmoving bundle of feathers now in his gutters. He slowly took a step forward, unsure of whether or not to touch the creature, in case it was seriously hurt; if it was even still alive. Brothers, he hoped it was still alive.
That last fear was quelled, as Clover saw the slow shifting of feathers as the bird took heavy measured breaths. The Ace Ops captain was still trying to decide if it was a good idea to reach up and lift the poor thing from the gutter, when a small head of dark tousled feathers poked up over the edge and looked around; still clearly dazed, but seemingly alert and not terribly distressed.
The animal blinked a few times before finally pushing up and steadying itself for a moment. Though, apparently not long enough, as it quickly took a step towards the very edge of the roof, and tried to take flight again right then and there; only making it as far as a failed hop out into the first few inches of air past the small gutter.
Clover rushed forward the last foot or so and gently caught the small bundle before it hit the balcony; gently holding it against his stomach as it fidgeted more, clearly frustrated and still a little dazed.
Carefully, he placed the bird down next to the wall of his room, crouching close as he watched it continue to get its bearings. He was relieved as he saw it stretch out both wings without issue, both legs moving and supporting its weight comfortably. But he still couldn’t quite tell if it was strong and steady enough to fly again yet.
He kept his voice soft, resisting the urge to inch forward to check for injuries himself.
“Well, feathers. Seems like you ended up pretty lucky there. You could’ve been in a much worse state after all that. But thankfully, looks like you’re maybe just a little flustered?”
Clover squinted as he finally got a good look at the animal and processed exactly what kind of bird had just tumbled off of the academy roof. The irony of the timing of the small creature's strange appearance wasn't lost on him.
“What are you even doing all the way up here, little guy? I can’t remember the last time I saw a crow in Solitas… if ever. And definitely not at Atlas. You’ve gotta be a long way from home, huh?”
Crystal teal eyes blinked with surprise as the crow finally looked right at him, and Clover saw clearly for the first time the rich rusty pink beads of eyes set against dense black feathers streaked with shades of gray here and there. And as it looked at him, Clover saw the dark plumage slowly puff up, and small crimson eyes harden, as the bird drew back from him, as if just as surprised at the sight of him as Clover was at it.
He’d never known that a bird could glare at you. But that question was clearly answered as the small eyes narrowed and seemed to bore through him with something that could almost be called resentment.
Clover couldn’t help but think how similar the look felt to another he’d been given just a few hours before, from eyes that were so much like the strangely clear, intelligent, beads staring at him then. Beads with the exact same, unmistakable, unforgettable, breathtaking soft dusty crimson color of the eyes that had irrevocably changed every corner of his world in that very first moment they had locked with his.
The captain wilted slightly, backing up to give the animal room, but staying close enough to catch it again, noticing that it still seemed a little wobbly and unsure.
“Oh come on, don’t you give me that look too. Please.” Clover sighed, sitting the rest of the way onto the cool tiled floor.
“I’m not gonna hurt you, I promise. I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
He couldn’t shake that familiar desperate feeling - as those red eyes bore into him wearily, its guard still up, even as it started to rest its weight back against the wall tiredly - of a deep aching need to help ease an obvious distress, but being kept at arm's length by the very one in need.
“Please, little one. I just want to help.”
His eyes flickered back inside for a moment, imagining the short walk to the newly occupied room at the end of the hall, before looking back at the anxious bird in front of him.
"I know you can't understand this but... You remind me of someone I already wasn't able to help today... Someone I... Someone I think I might have actually hurt somehow without even realizing and..." Clover laughed coldly at himself, quickly shaking his head as he felt tears try to form.
He remembered something then, and slowly reached into the pocket of his sweats, not wanting to spook the anxious bird by moving too fast.
"I'd really like to at least be able to help you, lucky little crow."
As he spoke, Clover carefully placed a small piece of granola between him and the withdrawn crow.
"If you'll let me?"