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Out of all the chaos and devastation painting the grounds of Beacon, the untouched metal bench stood out like a sore thumb. It sat between the dissolving body of an Ursa Major, defeated by the trained students of the Academy, and a dessicated Paladin, the war machine torn to bits.
Qrow kicked the Atlesian mech hard, hands deep in his pockets and bloodied sword on his back. The Battle for Beacon was over, but it still felt like the world could fall apart again at any moment. The casualties had been minimized by all standards, but even now he could hear the telltale whir of Bullhead motors transporting medics and the fallen as he walked away from everything.
He fell into the bench, painfully aware of all the stress of time and conflict in his movements. All things considered he had gotten through the fall pretty clean, other than a dull bruise here or a small cut there. Most of the pain came from anguish, his certainty that somehow he could’ve done better.
After all, not everyone had gotten out of this mess scott-free. Gods, firecracker, the kiddo...
Qrow found his hand automatically uncapping the steel flask from his pocket, leaning back and raising it to his lips. Except he paused just before the booze could drip out, and with a yell he threw it against the ruined pillar across the main path and held his head in his hands.
Even alcohol wouldn’t numb this suffering. Qrow knew loss, and the grief would wrap around his conscience for as long as he lived.
From towards the school right high-heeled boots tapped against the pavement, eventually stopping at the toppled pillar he’d thrown his flask at. In the corner of his eye he saw white and blue crouch low, inspecting something meaningless and standing back up.
Before he could force himself to look up the white and blue filled his vision, a gloved hand holding his container out to him.
“General Ironwood said I might find you out here,” she said simply, placing the flask in the middle of the seat when he didn’t answer, and taking a seat on the far right. As if that were an explanation for what she was doing here.
By the light of the shattered moon the two strangers - no, rivals, they knew each other and how they operated - sat apart on a bench, facing straight forward and unable to breach the small and infinite distance between them.
“Didn’t expect you would still be around,” Qrow offered after an eternity unable to speak.
Winter smiled bitterly, still staring at the small indent among the craters in the pavement. “It was merely by chance. I had returned to the city for a briefing on Amity security when the White Fang struck. I spent much of the battle defending civilian transports from the Grimm.”
She fell silent again and Qrow glanced at her tattered uniform, large gashes exposing various cuts in her skin before he looked away. The silence returned, and though it was much preferred over the roar of the now-frozen Grimm dragon, the silence brought its own unease.
When the specialist spoke again it was barely a whisper. “I...I heard about your nieces, Qrow. For what it’s worth, I’m - I’m sorry.”
It took him a long time to give her a response that wasn’t acidic. “Sorry isn’t gonna wake them and tell the girls everything’s going to be alright. Sorry isn’t gonna bring Yang’s arm back.” He swiped the flask back and chugged it down tersely. “It won’t bring Oz back either.”
Winter was looking at him. Why was she just looking at him? “I don’t need your pity, Schnee. Go and be a pain somewhere else.”
Normally that would be grounds for another sparring match, but neither had enough fight left in them for a single Beowolf. Instead she slowly inched forward. “I’m not here to pity you. I came because I knew you’d be out here alone, thinking or doing something self-destructive, and right now you can’t to yourself. People need you. Your nieces need you.”
Tentatively she placed a hand on his shoulder, freezing in place as he bristled at the contact. Truth be told it was the first time in the many years they’d been acquainted that they’d touched in a way that wasn’t a fist or a shove or a slap, and it showed in how awkwardly Qrow and Winter both adjusted for the sudden proximity.
Qrow stayed at a healthy distance out of principle, always a foot or a continent away from those he cared about. Ever since he’d lost a dear friend years ago he had jumped at the slightest contact, internally terrified of becoming another bad luck charm. Winter herself was raised to be cold, unflinching and distant, and making an effort to be sympathetic was more taxing than she liked to admit. Neither would have seen themselves in this position in a million years.
Then all at once the walls came down. Quiet tears pooled at Qrow’s feet as Winter’s hand smoothed along his back. “She always was so headstrong. Just like her parents, eager for more and never backing down from anything.” He choked on a sob, covering his face weakly. “Forget her arm, how much of my firecracker did I lose tonight?”
Ever so gently Winter set the flask on the ground so she could lean flush against him, wrapping an arm around his shaking shoulders as he whimpered. “And Ruby, who knows how long it’ll be till she wakes up? How will I tell Tai without breakin’ him again?”
“It’s alright,” Winter said, leaning her head on his shoulder and trying to remember how Klein would comfort her as a child. “They’ll never stop being strong. As long as you’re there for them your nieces will be okay. It’s alright, it’s alright...”
“There won’t be an alright!” Qrow cried. “Don’t you see? All of this is my fault! If I just came back earlier, if I found the enemy before it was too late, none of this would have happened! My family is torn apart again and this time - this time it’s all my fault.”
Winter gave him the gentlest slap she ever remembered. “Qrow. Look at me, Qrow.” She held his face in her hands, having long since abandoned the gloves, and stared resolutely into those red-rimmed red eyes. “You can’t blame yourself for any of this. No one could have seen this coming, and you did more to try and prevent this tragedy than anyone else on Remnant.” The specialist pulled him close, unable to look into those eyes any longer without breaking down herself. “Don’t make me knock some sense into you, Branwen, because you know I will.”
Hesitantly like an injured animal, Qrow wrapped his arms around her waist, shaking against her shoulder as she gripped him like her life depended on it. Overcome by the raw emotion of a man who cauterized everyone he talked to and drank away his pain, Winter started to cry too.
Qrow wasn’t the only one who had lost tonight.
“You’re hurting,” he mumbled hoarsely. “Something’s happened to you too.”
Was she always that obvious to him? She squeezed tighter, choking out a laugh and a sob at the same time. “Compared to everything that’s happened it’s nothing. Only I...I watched my father take Weiss away from her team. I watched her dreams fall apart and there wasn’t a thing I could do about it. I just stood there while she kicked and screamed and cried and like a fool I just stood there as he took her away. This life here was everything to her and - and now she’ll never have the chance.”
Qrow’s arms reached up her back and she wept. “She’ll have all the luxuries and protection she could ever need but it’ll be a prison! If I hadn’t refused my title she could live her dream, and I took that chance away from her!”
He glided his fingers over a long red scar. “Don’t beat yourself up so hard. Takes a special kind of person to give up that kind of life an’ join the military. Believe me, the little ice princess is - is lucky ta have a sister like you...”
The bench creaked as they held on tightly, feeding on the contact and releasing years of sorrow to one another. In the same place they’d fought so publicly only days ago, Winter and Qrow found themselves free to be honest with their feelings for the first time in a long time.
The tears dried eventually. They both had work to do - a military to be a part of, a home to go back to - yet they couldn’t bring themselves to untangle the mess of limbs they’d made. Qrow ran his fingers down her back, gently feeling the scars that would form from the battle and humming into her shoulder. Winter ran hers through his hair and breathed in his scent, idly wondering how she’d never been so captivated by it in all the times they were together.
“I should go,” they whispered at the same time. It was beyond painful, yes, but they were professionals. Beacon had fallen, but they would be there to stop the next tragedy.
Qrow embraced her tighter. “Thank you. You didn’t have to do this,” he sighed.
The Atlesian soldier made a gentle, satisfied noise. “No, but I needed this as well. Oum knows the coming months will be trying.”
With a sigh they separated, already painfully aware of the cold without one another. Awkwardly - but less so - they stood up, stretching limbs and wiping faces so no one else would suspect a thing. Side by side they walked back to the campus, quiet until they reached the fork where they would part ways.
Winter turned to face him, incidentally remembering that this was the exact distance from which she’d pressed a blade against his throat the last time they fought. “I suppose time is of the essence for us. I’ll leave you to return to your family.”
Qrow smirked halfheartedly, internally disappointed she had returned to her trademark all-business attitude so quickly. “I uhh...I guess I’ll see you around, Ice Queen. Tell Jimmy I said hi if you can.”
She made to leave but hesitated after a step. “Qrow...I want you to promise me something,” she said, looking at him from the corner of her eye. “Can you promise that...that you’ll stay safe until the next time we meet? I won’t have you dying on me anytime soon, old man.”
“Heh.” He took a step towards her and offered a hand. “Only if you do the same. I can’t imagine the General would be happy if anything happened to his favorite specialist. Or mine, for that matter,” he added under his breath.
She grinned sheepishly, brushing the bangs out of her hair and grasping his hand lightly. “It’s a deal. I’m using your flask as collateral so you’d better keep your word.” Her expression fell slightly, almost as if she was missing something, but she blinked and turned away.
Qrow felt it too. He was missing something. Without thinking he took after her, gently grabbing her wrist. “Winter, listen I -”
The kiss tasted like all kinds of things - blood, tears, desperation and warmth as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him in, colliding harder than any time they’d crossed swords. His own hands settled around her waist, flush against her so he could remember how this felt in the countless weeks he wouldn’t see her.
He might be half-broken, but if he could be half-broken with her he’d be alright.
They pulled apart all too soon, her breath still hot on his as they sorted through whatever was happening in their heads. No one knew what the future held, but if it was with her he’d settle for that.
Threatening to cry all over again they slid apart from one another. “Best of luck, you dusty old Qrow,” she whispered as her hands slid from his chest to his fingertips.
He nodded, staring into those steel blue eyes one last time. “Stay safe, Ice Queen,” he answered.
With a lingering glance their fingers slid apart and they slipped away, both preparing for a long journey ahead and praying they would see each other again. Despite everything that had happened that night, Winter and Qrow would never forget that somewhere in the world someone was out there, waiting for the chance to find them once more and keep a promise.