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Chapter Text

It would have been too noble to call it a leap of faith, since Roman Torchwick had never had much faith to begin with. In himself he had some, enough to keep getting into trouble, and whatever was left he placed in her. Neo. His little sister. His second-in-command. The only person he trusted in this fucked up world, and the only person crazy enough to trust him. And he’d just watched her get swept off the edge of the airship at ten thousand feet like a leaf in a gale. Courtesy of one infuriatingly persistent little Huntress-in-training.

The urge to break Little Red’s bones and then blow her pretty brains out rose up like a starving beowolf clawing at his insides, desperate for the taste of blood. But a stronger urge—one that had driven him ever since he’d first held his baby sister in his arms and thought, too small—took over. Red advanced, and he backed off, toward the edge. He risked a glance over his shoulder. He could still see her soaring through the air, but she was little more than a speck in the distance now. Too small. He took one last shot at Little Red, a distraction more than anything, then turned his back on her, clamped a hand down over his hat, and took a flying leap over the side of the ship. 

The sky was swarming with Grimm. All he needed to do was stick the landing. And not get himself killed before he even reached the ground. The gryphon he was angling for looked a likely candidate to do just that if he messed this up. But more than his own life was riding on him pulling off this insane maneuver—Neo’s was, too. He landed squarely upon the gryphon’s back, and before it knew what had hit it, he’d arced his cane over its head and yanked it back to lodge in the creature’s beak like a bit in a horse’s mouth. When it screeched and tried to roll him off, he twisted his cane in the opposite direction, and thankfully, the beast wasn’t stupid enough to break its own neck trying to dislodge him. “That’s it, easy does it,” he crooned.

The gryphon screeched again, setting his ears ringing, but it didn’t attempt to throw him off a second time. He glanced back up at the airship just once, and he wished he could’ve savored the gobsmacked look on Little Red’s face, her mouth forming the words, What the—?

Roman returned his attention to the matter at hand, namely, figuring out how to fly this thing. Experimentally, he pushed down on his cane, and the creature bucked its head back against his lead, but he pushed harder, relentless, until its beak dipped and it reluctantly swooped down through the air. When he yanked up with the same amount of force, it beat its dark, powerful wings and climbed. It responded to him tilting the cane left and right just as nicely. “Alright!” He laughed triumphantly. He’d grown so accustomed to Little Red throwing a wrench into his plans, he’d almost forgotten what it felt like when one went off without a hitch. “Now, fetch.”

He sent the gryphon diving toward the little white speck in the distance. The creature was fast—a few sweeps of its expansive wings, and he could see Neo clearly. Grimm were circling in the sky all around her like sharks in the water, and she was clinging to her parasol like a life raft. He rarely saw her look scared anymore, and even now, she looked determined, too, scanning the sky and the ground for anything that could help her. Her eyes widened when she saw him approaching. He grinned back at her. “Hop on!” he called. The gryphon screeched and tried to take a snap at her, but Roman shoved down hard on his cane, and the creature dove beneath her instead. “No! Bad birdy!” he hissed.

Neo retracted her parasol when the beast passed below her, and she landed behind Roman with a quiet huff of breath. She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist, holding on for dear life as they soared through the air. But once she realized that Roman actually had some inkling as to what the hell he was doing, she dropped her chin on his shoulder and squeezed a little tighter, just for a moment.  “I’ve got you,” he said, finally releasing a sigh of relief. “You can’t ditch me that easily.” He felt her shake with silent laughter. “Now, how to land this bird…” The laughter ceased. “Relax, I’ve got this.” He pushed steadily down and to the left, causing the gryphon to fly lower in a gradual downward spiral. They needed to get away from the city, away from the battle. There was nothing left for them back there.

He brought the gryphon down – a little roughly – in an abandoned farmyard a few miles outside the city limits. Before the creature could try anything cute, he vaulted over its head, shoved the end of his cane down its throat and fired off three rounds in quick succession. It fell down dead at his feet, tendrils of smoke curling from its open beak. Neo leapt down from its back before its body disintegrated into ash, and applauded in delight. Roman gave a showy bow. “See? Your big brother’s not totally crazy.” Neo raised an eyebrow, expressing more with one look than most people manage in a dozen words. Roman crossed his arms. “Well, my crazy just saved your life.”

She gave a noncommittal shrug. Maybe.

“Yeesh, what’s a guy gotta do to get a little appreciation these days? I just rode in on a godsdamned Grimm to rescue the damsel in distress. I bet no Huntsman’s ever done that before. I oughta—” She interrupted him mid-rant by skipping over and leaning up on her toes to kiss him on the cheek. Her smile derailed the rest of his diatribe completely. He sighed dramatically. “You only get away with this shit ’cause you’re cute.” She tapped her fingers on the handle of her parasol pointedly. “Cute and deadly,” Roman amended. She smiled again.

Roman began walking toward the dilapidated barn. “Come on, we can camp out in there for the night, then get the hell out of here in the morning.” Neo looked questioningly back in the direction of Beacon. “We did our job,” said Roman. “Hopefully, Cinder remembers that if she succeeds tonight. But we’re not sticking around to find out.” Neo nodded firmly, and followed him without another backward glance.

~ * ~

Roman woke gasping in the middle of the night. He’d been burning alive, Cinder’s searing eyes the last thing he’d seen before the flames engulfed him, charring flesh and bone. He patted himself down, just to make sure all of him was still there. The nightmare had felt so excruciatingly real… Was he really so anxious of some kind of retribution from her? She’d paid him to help her bring down Beacon, and he’d done that. She wouldn’t come after him for no reason. She was a busy gal, with “conquer the world” at the top of her to-do list. As long as he stayed well out of her way, she shouldn’t care one way or the other whether he made it out of town alive. It wasn’t as if he of all people was about to go running his mouth to the authorities. He liked to flatter himself that he’d been her right-hand man, instrumental to her plans, but if he were being honest with himself, she probably wouldn’t even notice he was gone. The disenchantment was mutual. Sure, she’d been fun at first—a real firecracker! But toward the end, she’d just scared the shit out of him. He knew when to make his getaway. He’d almost feel sorry for those other two little punks if they didn’t know to do the same. Anyone who stuck too close to Cinder was bound to get burned.

He lay back down with his hands behind his head and looked over at Neo, still sleeping peacefully in her corner of the hayloft. He wasn’t going to waste his concern on anyone else. He had to protect him and his. No one else would. He closed his eyes and wished the lingering anxiety would go away so he could get back to sleep. All he wanted now was a good night’s rest, to see Neo’s smiling face in the morning, and to get far away from Cinder and the ruins of his own success. And a big mug of steaming hot cocoa.

…Wait, what? Neo was the one who liked the sweet stuff. He drank black coffee and whiskey like any self-respecting gangster. So why the hell was he suddenly craving hot chocolate?

‘Well, this is less than ideal,’ said a voice from everywhere and nowhere all at once.

Roman bolted upright again and grabbed his cane, looking down the barrel into the darkness in front of him. Nothing stirred as he scanned the shadows. The barn was empty save for him and Neo. He glanced over at her curled up form, still asleep. She was a light sleeper. So how had she not heard that voice? Roman grit his teeth and lowered his cane. “You might be right, kid,” he muttered under his breath. “Maybe I am crazy.”

‘Oh, I sincerely hope not.’

Chapter Text

“Who are you?” Roman hissed, his sharp eyes scanning every inch of the darkened barn. “And where are you?”

‘That’s a bit of a long story. And I’m afraid it’s going to upset you. But I can assure you, I find all this equally upsetting.’

There was a rustling in the hay, and Roman looked over to see Neo sitting up and blinking blearily at him. “Did you hear…something, just now?” he asked her. She looked confused, and gestured to him. She’d heard him talking. To himself. Great. “I’m just feeling restless,” he told her. “I’m gonna go outside and smoke. Go back to sleep.”

She yawned and fell back into the hay, out again like a light. Roman rose, grabbed his hat and cane, slid down the hayloft ladder and walked outside, figuring his mysterious midnight caller would follow so they could continue their conversation. The night had grown quiet. The battle had been decided, one way or the other. He almost didn’t care which. He leaned up against the side of the barn and lit a cigar, taking a long drag. It did wonders to calm his frayed nerves.

‘Smoking’s a nasty habit.’ 

“I’m a nasty person,” Roman replied. Again, he could hear the mysterious voice as clearly as though they were standing right beside each other, but he could see no one. There was nothing but empty field before him, and the barn wall at his back. But the voice – masculine, smooth, refined – sounded very close, and also somewhat familiar, although he couldn’t quite place it. Did the man have a cloaking Semblance of some kind? If Roman could keep the conversation going, he might be able to get a fix on the other’s position. “So…” he continued, in a leading tone, “what the fuck?”

‘Indeed. Well. My name is Ozpin.’

Roman coughed up smoke. “What the fuck?” he reiterated, for emphasis. His hackles were high; Cinder's plan had been to bring Beacon’s headmaster down along with his academy. But once the man introduced himself, Roman finally recognized his voice. He’d heard it drone on all too often in announcements and interviews broadcast on Vale’s local news networks. This was definitely that same voice—Ozpin’s voice. And Ozpin was a Huntsman of high renown, whose skills and expertise had been formidable enough to earn him the position of headmaster at the unprecedented age of twenty. “A prodigy without parallel,” they’d called him. That was over twenty years ago, before Roman had ever picked up a weapon. If he’d bested Cinder, Roman wouldn’t stand a chance against him.

‘I expected you might react this way. But please believe me when I tell you that I mean you no harm. Not anymore. I’m actually hoping we can come to an understanding. Even, dare I say, a partnership of sorts.’

“Yeah, right. Just how dumb do you think I am?” There was a conspicuous beat of silence. “Okay, well, fuck you, too. And fuck off. I’m not interested.” Oddly enough, it really didn’t sound like the man was looking for a fight. But Roman highly doubted he just wanted to chat, either. Roman’s finger inched toward the trigger of his cane, but he still had no target.

‘I’m afraid I can’t do that. Please, just allow me to explain. But before I do, I need to know one thing: Are you still working for Cinder?’

Roman laughed. “Is this some kind of desperate reconnaissance tactic? You’re just going to ask me? It’s none of your damn business.” So Cinder was still alive. But Ozpin was, too. It didn’t make any sense. If the battle was over, one of them should be dead.

‘Your business is my business now. If you’d just answer the question—’

“My business is crime, teach.”

‘Yes, I am well aware. That’s not what I meant.’

“Listen, if you’re trying to get me to turn on Cinder, don’t waste your breath. Our arrangement’s concluded as of tonight. And nothing’s gonna persuade me to pull that dragon’s tail.”

‘Well, that’s something, at least.’

“How are you still alive, anyway? She was gunning for you.” Roman imagined he could almost feel Ozpin’s annoyance at the question. Whatever the headmaster was doing to communicate with him like this, it was starting to seriously unnerve him. He took another deep drag from his cigar.

‘It’s complicated.’

“Now who’s the one evading questions? Well, I don’t really care. So if there’s nothing else, I’ve had a stressful day.”

‘You’ve had—?’ Okay, Roman definitely wasn’t imagining it. Ozpin was pissed. ‘If you’ll just listen to what I have to say—’

“I’m not one of your starry-eyed students, professor. I don’t have to listen to you.” By now, Roman was convinced that there was no one else there with him. The man's voice was too close to be coming from more than a few feet away, but the smoke from Roman’s cigar was drifting on the air all around him, undisturbed. There were no imprints in the grass save for the ones left by Roman’s own feet, none of the telltale sounds of another human presence, no puffs of condensation from another set of warm breaths mingling with the cold night air. The odd, directionless voice that only Roman could hear, the insistent attempts at verbal persuasion without physical reinforcement, it all pointed toward some sort of Semblance that involved ventriloquism, telepathy or…hallucination. 

‘And just how would you propose to silence me?’

Roman thought about it for a moment. “Lotta booze.”

‘Gods, you sound just like—someone I know. It doesn’t matter. You need to listen to me.’

“Oh yeah? Make me.” Roman dropped his cigar and stubbed it out with his cane, then turned to go back inside. Or tried to. His legs had suddenly stopped working.

“I was rather hoping you’d say that.” The words came out of Roman’s mouth without his permission. It was his voice, but the diction was all wrong. He didn’t talk like that. His posture had changed, too—he was standing straighter, his shoulders squared and chin raised. He had no control over any of it. He stepped forward and spun his cane from hand to hand, as if testing the weight and balance for the first time. “Not bad. You’re in fighting shape. And we share the same weapon of choice. At least we won’t need to start from scratch.”

Roman tried to speak, but the words never reached his lips. ‘What the hell have you done to me?’

“Oh, now you’d like me to explain? Do I have your attention?”

‘In fucking spades.’

“Good. Then I suggest you make yourself comfortable. As I said, it’s a long story.” Abruptly, Roman had control of himself again, and he stumbled and collapsed against the side of the barn. He figured he might as well stay there until he knew what the fuck was going on. ‘Our story begins long ago, in an era when history and legend begin to blur…’ 

Roman banged his head against the wall behind him. “You have got to be kidding me.”

~ * ~

“Okay, let me get this straight,” said Roman, when Ozpin had finished regaling him with convoluted children's bedtime stories. The man sure loved a captive audience. “You’re some ancient, powerful wizard—”

‘I never used the word “ancient”.’

“I’m using it. And you created the Maidens that Cinder’s so hot for, to help you protect humanity from your genocidal ex. This would be Salem, my boss’ boss, who packs power that makes Cinder look like she’s playing with sparklers. And they’re after the Maidens because those four magical girls are the only ones capable of opening four secret vaults containing four divine Relics which together could destroy the world, so you locked them up beneath the Huntsman academies. And you need my help in this fun game of keep-away because Cinder torched your ass and you reincarnated by attaching your soul to mine like some kind of parasite—because we’re soulmates, or something? How am I doing so far?”

‘I suppose that’s the gist of it. However, I never specified what my relationship was to Salem.’

“Yeah, that part I inferred from the fact that she’s spent all this time trying to murder you and sabotage everything you touch.”

‘…Fair enough. Although the fact that that was your first guess raises concerns for me about your past relationships.’

Roman laughed, a little hysterically. “There’s plenty of cause for concern, considering Cinder was just the latest.”

‘Ah. Well, that’s…awkward.’

“I knew she was just using me for my criminal empire, but have you seen Cinder?”

‘Quite recently.’

“Ha. Right. Well, anyway, it was fun while it lasted, but man, if you think I have power trips and an unhealthy attraction to danger—”

‘That’s all I need to know. Really.’

“Then I just have one question.”

‘Yes?’

“Are you high?”

Ozpin sighed. ‘No.’

“Am I high?”

‘No. Whatever affects one of us affects both of us.’

Roman chuckled. “Really?”

‘Don’t get any ideas.’

“Then you seriously expect me to start believing in fairytales and gods? Curses and destiny? An eternal struggle between good and evil? Nothing’s ever that black-and-white.”

‘You’re right. It’s not. And you will start to remember it all yourself, in time. I know it sounds far-fetched now, but future generations will speak of these times in fairytales. That is, if there are future generations to tell them.’

“Yeah, and the whole saving the world gig? Not really my area of expertise.”

‘You will have me. And we will have allies, if all goes well.’

Roman couldn’t help but laugh. This was all too surreal. Maybe he was still dreaming. “Your allies are my enemies, professor.”

‘Yes. Unfortunately, that is one of many hurdles before us that we must overcome.’

“It seems like this would all be a hell of a lot easier if you’d picked someone else. Why me? What’d I ever do to you?”

‘You attacked my students on multiple occasions. And unless I am mistaken, you were most conveniently placed to turn General Ironwood’s army against us tonight.’

“You can’t prove that.”

‘No. And it doesn’t matter now, because you are all I’ve got. I don’t know why, of all people, my soul was drawn to yours when I died. Every other time I have reincarnated, it has been with a kindred soul of a like-minded individual. But it is an involuntary process that I still don’t fully understand, and perhaps, not an infallible one.’

“So this is all just a big, cosmic mix-up?” Even Ozpin didn’t sound quite convinced of that. But Roman sure as hell couldn’t think of anything the headmaster of the Huntsman academy would have in common with the head of the mafia. Ozpin trained heroic warriors. Roman commanded cold-blooded criminals. The two of them were practically polar opposites.

‘Perhaps it is a fortuitous misfortune. I don’t feel half as guilty about saddling you with my burdens as I would an innocent.’

“Gee, thanks. At least you know you’re no picnic, yourself. They say awareness is the first step to change.”

‘You’re not taking this seriously, are you?’

“Nope. You’ve got quite a story, but that's all it is. For all I know, your Semblance is mind control or hallucinations, like Emerald’s. For all I know, you could be Emerald, making up this whole elaborate illusion just to fuck with me. In which case, you’re fucking dead, you little punk.”

‘Is there anyone you trust?’

“There are exactly two people, and one of them is me.”

‘Then think of the bigger picture. Why would I, or Emerald, or anyone, go to such lengths for you? You were a relatively minor player in all of this, and the City of Vale was the base of your criminal operations. Now that it’s fallen, you have nothing. You matter to no one. I doubt Cinder knows or cares whether you lived or died tonight. You’ve outlived your usefulness to everyone except me. But that’s only if you believe my story. Otherwise, I wouldn’t be wasting my time on you, either. I have far more important things to do.’

Roman had reckoned with all of that already. He’d lost everything he’d spent his whole life building in a single night, and there wasn't a damn thing he could've done to prevent it once the gears had been set in motion. The best path available to him had been the path of least resistance. He could see that Cinder was determined to get what she wanted one way or another, whether he helped or hindered her, and he’d come to believe that she would. At least by playing his part in her plans, he’d been able to escape the destruction with Neo. That was the only thing that really mattered. He’d built himself up from nothing before, and he could do it again. “That’s why I’m cutting my losses and picking up shop. It’s time for a fresh start. I’m thinking somewhere with nice beaches, good food, a fractured criminal underworld desperate for experienced leadership…”

‘You can’t run from this, Torchwick. Salem’s designs fall upon all of Remnant. Beacon was only the beginning.’

He knew that, too. Salem didn’t need Ozpin’s so-called Relics to wreak her ruin. The City of Vale was smoking on the horizon, Beacon’s light snuffed out. All she needed was for people to create enough chaos, and the Grimm would do the rest. The doomsday clock was ticking down and they were all living on borrowed time. But if Roman could steal more, he would. He and Neo could still have some fun before the end of the world. “I’m not gonna waste whatever precious time I’ve got left on some delusional hero scheme without a snowball’s chance in hell.”

‘You don’t believe the world can change for the better, do you?’

“The world only ever gets worse. That’s a principle I’ve always relied on, and it’s never let me down. Hell, it’s the reason I got this far.”

‘Even if that were true, and things could only get worse from here, you don’t seem the type of person to lie down and accept your fate. Wouldn’t you rather go out with a bang, so to speak?’

“Oh, believe me, I intend to.”

‘What I mean is, you have the chance to do something of great consequence. Something people will tell stories about.’

“See, that’s the problem with people like you and Cinder. You think you can live forever. Well, maybe you can. But I’m not looking to make my mark on the hereafter. All I care about is the here and now.”

‘So you have no regard for the future?’

“The only way to get to the future is to survive the present. It doesn’t matter if you don’t live to see it.”

Ozpin was silent for so long, Roman began to think that maybe it all had been a bizarre hallucination. There was just him, the stars, and the smoke rising from the city in the distance. Roman wasn’t used to the quiet of the countryside. The still night air felt charged, like the world was waiting for something. ‘I don’t want to do this,’ said Ozpin finally, startling Roman out of his thoughts. ‘But you’re leaving me with little choice.’ 

Roman didn’t like the sound of that. As soon as he tried to move, he felt that same disconnect in his mind, and his body wouldn’t respond. Desperation rising, he tried to fight back, but he didn’t even know what he was fighting against. It was no contest. Ozpin had completely sidelined him. Slowly, he stood, and then began to walk back in the direction of the burning city. ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Roman demanded.

“I will not sit passively on the sidelines when the fate of humanity is at stake,” he said, and that was a strange sentence for Roman to hear come from his own mouth. “I need a willing partner. I have tried to convince you that this is a necessary cause, but I cannot afford to wait for you to see things from my point of view. I’m not sure you ever will. So I might as well go back to Beacon and do my damnedest to take Cinder down with me this time. She won’t be expecting an attack from you, so I might just succeed.”

‘That’d be suicide, and you know it!’

“Most likely. In which case, you will meet the fate you deserve, and I will have another chance at reincarnation, which means another chance at finding someone who’s willing to make the necessary sacrifices for the greater good.”

‘Like you’re about to sacrifice my fucking life without so much as a fair fight?’

“Yes. In the grand scheme of things, your life is expendable. You just can’t see it.”

‘Oh, I see it plenty clearly. You’ve got plans in motion, and anything – or anyone – that gets ground up in the gears is collateral damage. You use people. I know, ’cause I do it, too. And this little get-Torchwick-killed-so-I-can-find-some-other-sucker-to-take-his-place scheme of yours? It’s exactly what I would do were I in your shoes. So maybe we’re not so different, after all. Maybe your soul just isn’t what it used to be.’

His step faltered. And Ozpin was distracted enough for Roman to muster the focus necessary to twitch just one finger… His gun went off with a bang, and the blast from the explosive round threw him backward a dozen feet. Oh, he was going to be sore tomorrow, if he lived to see it. But as soon as he landed in the dirt, Roman fought tooth and nail to wrest control back from Ozpin, who was preoccupied with gasping for breath that had been knocked out of his lungs. Roman managed to scramble to his feet before Ozpin recovered from the shock, but then his legs locked up, and he nearly bit the dirt again. ‘Fuck!’ There was no way this could all be a hallucination. This was real. He was in a fight for his life. 

“This is ridiculous,” Ozpin wheezed. “My soul is stronger than yours. Why are you fighting me?”

‘What do you mean, “why?” It’s my life on the line!’

“Your tarnished life isn’t worth the countless innocent lives I can save if I have a partner who will fight wholeheartedly for what’s right, instead of fighting against me every step of the way!”

‘Oh, and you get to decide what a life is worth, do you? Who do you think you are, some kind of god?’

Roman felt his hands clench into fists. “You helped bring about these atrocities. It is only just that you give your life to help rectify them.”

‘I won’t be giving it, you’ll be taking it! You call that justice?’ A hand fell on Roman’s shoulder, causing Ozpin to turn around with a start. There was Neo, looking up at him in concern and confusion. The blast must have woken her. ‘No, no!’ Roman tried to scream. ‘Get out of here, Neo! Run!’ But Ozpin just continued to stare down at her, and she continued to stare up at him. After a moment, she leaned up on her toes and squinted into his eyes. He didn’t recognize her—and she could see it. The next second, the point of her slender sword was bare centimeters from his throat. She was a masterful illusionist; of course she thought he was someone else. Because he was.

“You’re very perceptive,” Ozpin said, not so much as flinching from her blade. “But if you try to harm me, you will only harm him.” Neo’s face twisted in conflict. As she further studied his features, he saw the dread creeping into hers. She knew Roman better than anyone, better than any illusion could imitate. Soon enough, it became clear to her that the man standing before her both was, and was not her brother. Slowly, she lowered her sword. Ozpin turned and continued walking without another word. Roman remained silent. If Ozpin was willing to leave Neo alone, it was best if he got as far away from her as possible, before he changed his mind.

He made it five steps before Neo fell into step beside him. Ozpin looked over at her in surprise, but she merely glared at him, set her shoulders, and kept walking. Of course she was going to stay by his side. She knew exactly where they were headed, and it made no difference. She would follow Roman to hell and back. Even if there was no coming back.

‘Tell her to stay behind. You can’t let her come with us.’

“Why? If she’s with us, we’ll have better odds.”

‘You’re just gonna get her killed, too!’

“It seems like she’s made her choice.”

‘It’s not up to her! Tell her I’m ordering her to stay! Tell her, I don’t know, that you’ll fucking devour my soul if she takes one more step! I don’t care, just… I’ll go without a fight if you can make her stay.’

Ozpin stopped walking, and Neo did, too. She watched his every move warily as he turned to regard her more closely. “So there is someone you care about more than yourself. What is she to you? A girlfriend?”

Neo looked about ready to slap him across the face, if it weren’t Roman’s face she’d be slapping. ‘She’s my sister, you asshole!’

Ozpin straightened, and smiled in a way Roman wasn’t used to smiling. “I see. You have hidden depths, Torchwick. Very well hidden—”

‘Hey!’

“But they are there. I can tell that, now. We might just be able to work together, after all. That is, if you’re willing to learn from me. Does that sound fair?”

Roman wasn’t about to try Ozpin’s patience any further. At least, not while he was in the mood for murder-suicide. ‘To quote you, professor, you’re leaving me with little choice.’

“I’m glad you’ve been listening. We’ll start your lessons tomorrow.”

‘Lessons? Seriously?’

“Seriously. So I suggest you rest up, but for now, I return control to you.”

Roman flexed his fingers experimentally. Then he grinned down at Neo, who, if possible, looked even more confused than before. “Did ya miss me?” Neo’s shoulders slumped with relief, and she punched him gently in the ribs. That was a yes. Roman figured introductions were in order. “So, you’ve met Ozpin.” She immediately tensed again at the name. “Yeah, that’s the one. He’s a real peach once you get to know him, though! Really, just the nicest guy!”

‘Alright, I’ll admit I may have been a tad overzealous. I, too have had…a stressful day.’

Roman sighed as his fight-or-flight instincts eased a little, letting his body relax. “Ozpin, this is Neo. She’s not as sweet as she looks.” Neo twirled her parasol and somehow managed to make a curtsy look threatening. Roman yawned widely. “Man, that was the most exhausting conversation of my life.” He turned and began trudging back the way they’d come. Suddenly, that musty hayloft seemed absolutely heavenly. Neo trotted alongside him and hooked his arm with the handle of her parasol to get him to slow down. What she wanted was clear: an explanation. But where would he even begin? “I’ll tell you everything back at the barn. It’s a long story.”

Chapter Text

Roman did not get the restful sleep he so desperately craved. His dreams were plagued by visions of apocalyptic hellscapes, vast wars that swept across continents, and hordes of Grimm blotting out the land, sea and sky. Oh, and another nightmare of being burned alive, just for the sake of variety. After snatching a few hours’ sleep in fits and starts, he woke once more when the light of dawn began to seep through the rotting rafters, and he just knew he wouldn’t be able to get back to sleep. He threw his arm over his eyes and groaned. “I don’t suppose there’s any chance you were just a bad dream.”

‘That’s funny, I was wondering the same about you,’ replied Ozpin glumly.

“So the nightmares were your fault.”

‘These transitions always put me under a great deal of stress—this one in particular. I’ll get a handle on it.’

“You’d better,” Roman grumbled, too tired to sound properly threatening.

‘It would have been easier, had your dream about Cinder not triggered traumatic memories of my most recent death,’ Ozpin responded bitterly.

“Huh. I wish I remembered that one. Was it hot or scary?”

‘I…honestly couldn’t say.’

“Yeah, that sounds about right.” Neo rolled over and pawed at Roman’s face until she found his mouth, and pressed her hand over it. “How d’you know you’re not shushing Ozpin?” he mumbled beneath her hand.

She cracked her eyes open in a dozy death glare. I don’t care, I’ll kill you both. Really, she was taking this whole thing surprisingly well. Of course, she was as pissed at Ozpin as he was, but she couldn’t exactly take it out on anyone but Roman, and as far as he was concerned, he’d done nothing to deserve his present affliction. So Neo had opted to bottle up her resentment for future outlets. It was a little trick she’d learned from her brother.

Roman plucked her hand from his face and placed it back by her side with a little pat. “Point taken,” he said. “You get your beauty sleep. I’ll be outside.” He sat up, and immediately regretted it when his body launched a full-scale retaliation against him. His breath escaped in a hiss. “Everything hurts. I’m blaming you for this, too, just so you know.”

‘You’re the one who detonated a powerful explosive at near point-blank range. The blast force was probably equivalent to being hit by a truck. It certainly felt like it.’

Roman began gingerly to make his way down the ladder. “So you felt that, too, huh?”

‘Of course I did.’

“Good.”

‘Is that why you didn’t engage your Aura to take the brunt of the damage? You wanted to hurt yourself just to hurt me?’

“Yeah, let’s go with that.” The sun was rising big and bloody between the hills as he stepped outside. There was some silly rural superstition about bloodred sunrises, but Roman couldn’t remember what it was. Nothing good. “All that other stuff you were dreaming about,” he said, staring at the red horizon. “You really think that’s what’s coming?”

‘Should we fail, yes. Why, have you suddenly developed a guilty conscience?’

“Yeah, all of a sudden there’s this voice in the back of my head that keeps nagging me about all my misdeeds. Calls itself Ozpin.”

‘You’re hilarious.’

“What exactly is your plan, anyway?” Roman asked as he began walking up the path to the farmhouse. “Because if it’s some variation of ‘use Torchwick as an extra life like we’re in a godsdamned video game,’ I am not on board.”

‘We need to prevent Salem from getting her hands on the Relics. The one at Beacon is secure for now. I expect she’ll move on Haven next. So that’s where we’re heading.’

“Gee, I wish I’d known that while I still had control of an airship.”

‘It wasn’t your airship…and this isn’t your house.’

“Relax, I’m just taking a look around.” With more broken windows than not, and a roof that was lilting precariously, the farmhouse looked in even worse shape than the barn, and had probably already been picked over by bandits. Roman kicked the door in, anyway. There were a few crooked pictures hanging in the entryway, and the floor was coated with a thick layer of dust—the non-lucrative kind. His entrance had stirred up quite a bit of it, and he sneezed almost as soon as he stepped over the threshold. Glaring at the offending particles, he pulled his kerchief up around his nose and mouth and headed further inside. There was a canvas satchel hanging on a hook in the hall, and he grabbed it as he walked past.

‘Torchwick.’

“It’s not stealing if the stuff’s been abandoned.” Off the hall was the kitchen: his first stop. He began opening cabinets and tossing anything that still looked edible into the bag. In his search he managed to turn up some canned food, a couple boxes of crackers, one jar of jerky and another of dried fruit.

‘These people likely had to leave in a hurry. They may intend to return.’

“Or, they never made it out,” said Roman, closing a cabinet door that had four long, deep scratches down its face. Old, worn memories of a night long ago – the sound of crying and of claws scratching at the door – fluttered across his mind, and he brushed them away as he always did. Living in the present also meant not dwelling on the past. “Anyway, we’ll need supplies if we’re hauling our asses all the way to Haven. Or do you want me to starve to death?” Ozpin was, again, conspicuously silent. Roman rolled his eyes and kept rummaging. The last cabinet contained a few tins of tea, a bag of coffee grounds, and…a tin of cocoa powder. Roman stared at the tin for a long moment before grabbing it and stuffing it in the bag. “Neo likes this shit,” he grumbled, then wondered why he’d felt the need to explain himself.

‘You’re probably right. No one’s going to miss it.’ Ozpin didn’t offer any further objections as Roman searched the rest of the house, but there really wasn’t much left that would be of any use. Along with the food, he managed to salvage a couple of blankets and waterskins, plus a straight razor. At least the water tank hadn’t run dry. There was enough running water for him to wash up, and afterward, put a pot over the fire to boil. When Neo got up at a more reasonable hour of the morning, they would damn well have hot drinks and the best breakfast Roman could cobble together before walking into whatever fresh hell Ozpin had in store for them. Cinder had spoken of necessary sacrifices, too. The thought that they were simply changing one manipulative machinator for another churned Roman’s stomach. But just like before, his back was up against the wall. The best they could do for now was to keep surviving. It was what they were good at.

He returned to the bathroom while he waited for the water to boil, and lathered up his face. Then he flicked the razor open, but paused as he brought it to his throat. He stared at his reflection in the bathroom mirror and asked, “Do I have to worry about you and sharp objects?”

‘I’m not going to slit your throat, if that’s what you’re asking.’

Roman willed his hand not to tremble as he drew the blade over his skin, but he wasn’t entirely successful, and he nicked his jaw on the second stroke. “Damn it! I’m so fucking tired.” He dabbed away the blood with his kerchief and kept going at a slower pace.

‘You don’t trust me,’ Ozpin observed.

“We’ve established that,” said Roman through gritted teeth. 

‘We will need to learn to trust each other as a matter of survival. I am sorry that I’ve been…callous. A long time ago, I made a promise to myself that I would do my best to coexist harmoniously with my hosts, and I have no intention of breaking that promise now. Not unless you force my hand.’

It was a touching sentiment, but as soon as Roman heard the words “force my hand,” his hand twitched, and another drop of blood appeared in the washbasin. “Shit!”

‘Allow me.’ Roman actually saw his eyes flash gold in the mirror as Ozpin took control. Despite his panicked protests, Ozpin simply finished the job with a few more swift but steady swipes of the razor. He folded back the blade and placed it down on the edge of the sink. “See? Still breathing.”

‘Wow, kudos for not murdering me with a straight razor!’

Ozpin sighed as he stared into the mirror. “I didn’t say this wouldn’t take some adjustment. For both of us. You don’t think it puts me on edge, to look into a mirror and see the eyes of an enemy?” He frowned. “Well, eye… How do you fight with your hair in your face like this? There’s a little thing called depth perception…” He fell silent when he lifted Roman’s bangs. The emerald green of his left eye contrasted starkly with the amber-gold of his right, the color of dying leaves in autumn.

There was a stretch of awkward silence that Roman finally felt the need to fill. ‘Heterochromia runs in the family. It looks cuter on Neo. Just makes me look two-faced.’

“That’s not what I…” Ozpin let the hair fall back over Roman’s face and smiled ruefully. “My eyes were a similar color. For a moment, I almost recognized myself. Believe it or not, though, I’ve never had hair this red before.” He turned his head slowly from side to side. “It’s quite striking.”

‘What, the silver fox thing wasn’t working for you?’

Ozpin chuckled. “No, it was. I suppose what I mean is, I could have done worse. In looks, at least.”

Roman scoffed. ‘Please, you couldn’t have done better. I’m a fucking ten.’

Ozpin actually laughed. “Alright, I could have done much worse.”

Roman’s scroll pinged with a message from Neo: <Where are you?>

Ozpin stepped back and let Roman retake control. He picked up his scroll from the countertop and replied: <Farmhouse. Place still has running water and edible-looking food. Breakfast will be ready by the time you get freshened up.>

She replied immediately: <Coming.> Then, a moment later: <You OK?>

Many possible responses flashed through his mind: Just peachy; Could be worse; Ozpin is a massive tool, but what else is new; I don’t know; No. He settled on: <Still breathing.>

He stopped in the doorway as he left the bathroom and took one last look over his shoulder at his reflection in the mirror. “I’m not so shallow that you can win me over by appealing to my vanity.” He tightened his kerchief around his neck and set off down the hall. “But it’s a good start.”

He managed to improvise some odd-looking cornmeal hotcakes that were surprisingly decent with enough Forever Fall syrup. And two mugs of hot cocoa. Neo gave him a curious look over the rim of her mug as they sipped their drinks together at the table, but Roman pretended not to notice. The stupid sugary drink seemed to make Ozpin less jumpy, so it was worth it in Roman’s book. And it was pretty damn delicious. He might’ve even considered making it his drink of choice—if he were twelve years old.

“Oz says we need to go to Haven.”

Oz? Neo mouthed.

Roman ignored that, too. At this point, he and Ozpin were about as familiar as it gets, so if that didn’t entitle him to use the man’s nickname, he didn’t know what would. For fuck’s sake, Ozpin hadn’t even stopped talking to him while he’d been in the shower, which…hadn’t actually seemed as weird at the time as it did in retrospect. Roman cleared his throat. “It’s not the worst place we could go. We’ve got contacts in Mistral.”

‘I doubt we’ll need to make use of your contacts.’

Roman was getting better at tuning Ozpin out with every passing hour. “But I just have to say this once, so you know. You don’t have to come with us.” Neo’s eyes narrowed, warning him to choose his next words carefully. So he did. “For all we know, this could just be another suicide mission.” Ozpin’s silence on that point wasn’t reassuring. “And it isn’t even our fight, Neo. Just because I’m caught up in this mess, doesn’t mean you have to throw yourself in with me.”

Neo stood so quickly her chair toppled over backwards. She rounded the table, looking mad enough to smack Roman clear across the face, but instead, she draped herself over the back of his chair and wrapped her arms tightly across his chest, resting her cheek against his. He’d held her like this countless times back when they were kids, fighting each day to survive in the streets of the capital city. On bad nights, when it felt like death was dogging their steps and their fellow man showed them no mercy, he had held her tight to ward off the cold from sinking into her small frame, and to communicate what he couldn’t put into words. Every time, it had always meant the same thing. Something like: All we have is each other, and that’s all we need.

“Got it,” he said. “Sorry for opening my dumb mouth.” She smacked him playfully on the side of the head, then calmly righted her chair and returned to sipping her cocoa. “Just, no heroics, okay? If you see me do something colossally stupid, don’t follow my example.”

She gave a noncommittal shrug. No promises.

‘Your sister has the heart of a Huntress.’

Roman gazed across the table at Neo, sipping contentedly at her hot chocolate like any normal young girl. She really was excellent at illusions. “She’s only ever had two choices: hunt or be hunted.”

After breakfast, Ozpin said he needed to contact an associate of his. Roman did not like that idea in the slightest, but Ozpin didn’t give him a choice in the matter, taking back control from him as easily as if he were pulling a toy from the hands of a toddler. Roman was left to seethe silently in the back of his own mind. Neo could tell whenever Ozpin took over, and she wouldn’t leave his side until Roman was himself again. Ozpin didn’t seem to mind. He walked outside with Neo at his elbow, watching his every move. Roman expected him to use his scroll, but instead he raised Roman’s cane in the air and fired a single charge straight up into the sky. Instead of flaring the usual bright red, this one exploded in a burst of emerald green.

“He should be here shortly,” said Ozpin, lowering the cane. Despite his confident tone, Roman felt his sudden pang of worry. It seemed the possibility had occurred to him that his colleague might not come, that he might not have been the only casualty of the battle. But he tried to dismiss the feeling quickly. “He’ll be here,” Ozpin said again, if only to himself. Whoever this guy was, he was clearly important.

‘How did you do that with my cane?’

“Magic,” said Ozpin, simply.

‘Right. Magic. Hey, if you have magic powers, does that mean I have magic powers?’

“One step at a time, Torchwick. I need to know if I can trust you first. Although, speaking of magic, how did you get all the way out here? I haven’t seen an airship, or any wreckage.”

‘Yeah, I took a flying leap off a perfectly good airship and hitched a ride on the back of a gryphon.’

“You’re…not lying.”

‘You can tell when I’m lying?’

“Yes.”

‘Huh.’

“That doesn’t concern you?”

Roman gave a mental shrug. ‘It’s a little annoying. But I’ve got nothing to hide. I’m not coy about who I am or what I do. I’m an open book.’ Neo had even told him he tended to overshare. Well, she’d written it on a sticky note and stuck it over his mouth. She had very effective ways of getting her point across.

Ozpin’s attention was drawn by a crow that had landed in the tree above them. It tilted its head to observe them and gave a harsh caw. “Yes, it’s really me,” Ozpin said to the crow. “I know this doesn’t look good, but he and I have come to an arrangement. More or less.”

‘Uh, Oz? Why are you talking to a bird?’ Roman asked in his calmest ‘placate the lunatic with your life in his hands’ voice.

Ozpin chose to keep talking to said bird rather than Roman. “I promise you it’s safe to come down.”

‘Neo’s gonna think we’ve lost our collective mind.’ She was already looking between him and the crow with a deeply puzzled expression. Then the crow dove down off the branch, and where it should have landed in front of them, Qrow Branwen rose in its place. The only thing that kept Roman from leaping six vertical feet and whacking the freak with his cane was Ozpin. Neo took a step back and unsheathed her sword a fraction, but she wouldn’t attack unless she determined Roman was in danger. It would be a fight she might not be able to win. Qrow, too, was a Huntsman with an impressive, if…colorful record. 

Qrow looked him up and down slowly and grimaced. “Well, shit.”

Chapter Text

‘Qrow is a crow? That’s a little on the nose, isn’t it?’

“It’s really you in there?” Qrow asked, leaning into Roman’s personal space and staring unnervingly into his eyes. Qrow’s eyes were a startling shade of red, like two pools of blood. Roman could smell alcohol on the other man’s breath, but he seemed sober enough to be dangerous.

Still, Roman wished he could sneer and flip the bird the bird, but Ozpin kept his body language neutral and nonthreatening, both hands clasped over the handle of his cane in front of him. “It is. And I’d like my cane back.” Apparently, like some sort of code phrase, that was all Qrow needed to hear. He reached behind him and unhooked an intricately carved silver cylinder from his belt. He looked down at it for a moment, almost as though he were reluctant to part with it, but then he tossed it to Ozpin. When Oz caught it, he clamped down on a lever on the side of the handle, and the shaft of the cane extended with a brutal snap. “Thank you. I feel a little more like myself already.” He retracted the shaft once more and clipped the cane through the belt loops at the back of Roman’s coat.

Qrow’s shoulders slumped even further, and he groaned. “Damn it Oz, why him?”

Ozpin averted his gaze. “That is something I have yet to determine. Still, things are as they are, and we must make the best of them.”

Qrow’s attention shifted to Neo, who stood at Ozpin’s flank, her hand still wrapped firmly around the handle of her parasol, ready for a fight. “And what’s with little miss murder vibes?”

“These two are a package deal, apparently. Brother and sister.”

Qrow scoffed. “I wouldn’t turn my back on her if I were you.”

“I believe I can rely on her to the extent that Torchwick’s interests are concerned. She will fight beside him regardless of which side he’s on.”

‘Neo’s mute, not deaf, so would you two quit talking about us like we’re not right here?’

“Do you have something to contribute to the conversation, Torchwick?” Ozpin asked. Roman hated the way Ozpin made him sound: like a dusty old academic lecturing from an ivory tower. 

‘Yeah, tell Feathers my murderous sister makes a mean blackbird pie.’

“I’m not telling him that.”

“What’d he say?” Qrow demanded. “Is he trash-talking me? Tell him if it weren’t for his dumb luck getting tangled up with you, I’d’ve already removed that stupid hat and his head along with it!”

‘I can hear you, bird brain. And that’s rich, coming from a grown man in a cape.’

Ozpin rubbed his temples and sighed. “I feel a headache coming on.” Neo peered up at him in concern, then shot Qrow one of the deadliest looks in her arsenal.

Qrow put his hands up defensively. “Hey, he started it. I think.”

“I’m finishing it,” said Ozpin. “We have more important matters to discuss. Qrow, I want the rundown of what transpired at Beacon after I was out of the picture. Did Ms. Nikos make it out safely?”

Qrow hung his head, his anger diminishing like air from a tire, leaving him deflated. “She went back, Oz. And went down fighting like a Huntress.”

Roman was nearly subsumed by a wave of deep remorse for this girl he’d never met. It was frightening. But it was also familiar, as though he’d experienced such loss countless times before. “She… If I had only…” Ozpin’s grip tightened around the handle of Roman’s cane. “Who else did we lose?”

“You and Pyrrha were Beacon’s only casualties, but plenty of civilians didn’t make the evacuation point, and from what I saw, I’d guess at least a couple of students from the other academies won’t be going home. As if that weren't enough, that wyvern knocked out the tower transmitter. All communication with the other kingdoms is down. Cinder’s broadcast was the last thing they saw.”

“And fear spreads like a disease,” said Ozpin. The battle at Beacon might be over, but ripples from it would be felt across Remnant. Just as Cinder intended. 

“Ironwood insisted he had no idea why his soldiers turned on us, but he’s already made a ‘tactical retreat’ back to Atlas, and word is, they’re about to close their borders.”

“If you manage to get through to him, tell him to increase security on his command ships. That goes for cybersecurity as well.”

“They hacked the godsdamned soldiers?” Qrow growled. His crimson eyes narrowed in suspicion. “Was it him?”

Ozpin sighed. “It doesn’t matter now.”

Qrow went very still, and Roman saw in his eyes the moment his ire shifted from his enemy to his friend. “You’re defending him?”

“I need him, Qrow,” said Ozpin, exasperated. “If I’ve learned anything from this whole debacle thus far, it’s that I don’t understand the reincarnation process as well as I thought. I have no idea what sort of person I might end up with next. At least Torchwick has the potential to be useful. He’s the devil we know.”

“I can’t argue with you on those counts,” said Qrow through gritted teeth. “But he should suffer for his crimes.”

“And who would that help?”

“The victims, Oz!” Qrow looked on the verge of lashing out, and Neo slipped into a defensive stance in front of Ozpin.

“I did not make you suffer for your crimes, Qrow.” And that was a story Roman would have loved to hear, but the Huntsman’s wounded look made Ozpin change tack. “What would you have me do, exactly? Turn myself in to the authorities? The city is overrun; the criminal justice system has surely collapsed. And if by some miracle there is anyone left for me to surrender to, do you expect me to simply languish in jail, where I will be of help to no one?” Ozpin shook his head. “Suffering only breeds more suffering,” he said, glancing at Neo. “And quite honestly, we have bigger fish to fry. Torchwick didn’t orchestrate this attack. We can’t afford to waste our efforts on every one of Salem’s pawns. Especially ones she’s already sacrificed.”

Qrow still appeared conflicted, but he took a deep breath and backed off. Neo did the same. “You’re a cold strategist, Ozpin,” he said. “You’re probably right. But that doesn’t make it any less fucked up.”

“He will suffer, if that is what concerns you,” said Ozpin. “This is not an easy existence.”

Qrow finally lost that flinty edge in his eyes. “I know.” He pulled out a flask and took a belt from it. “Can you just—make me a promise?”

“That depends on what it is.”

Qrow fixed him with a searching look. “You said each reincarnation changes you.” Another powerful emotion threatened to overwhelm Roman, this time, a sense foreboding that didn’t belong to him. “Watch this one, Oz.”

“It’s such a gradual thing…” Ozpin tugged at Roman’s kerchief self-consciously, then caught himself and lowered his hand. “I could use a friend at my side,” he said. “Not to mention, I’m feeling a little outnumbered.” He gave a broad gesture that encompassed himself and Neo.

Qrow looked pained. “There’s one more thing I haven’t told you yet. It’s about Ruby.” Just like that, the Huntsman’s guard was back up, and he was positively radiating unease. “You’ve got Torchwick under control, right? If he tries to do anything you don’t like, you can stop him?”

“Yes,” said Ozpin. “He’s no threat to us anymore. What is it, Qrow? Is Ms. Rose alright?”

“She took out the wyvern. All on her own.” He and Ozpin shared a significant look.

“So she has begun to realize her full potential,” said Ozpin, finally.

“But she’s painted a huge target on her back in the process. The thing doesn’t seem to be dead—at least, it hasn’t disintegrated like it should. Its petrified carcass is still clinging to the side of the tower, attracting more Grimm and announcing to anyone who knows what to look for just what happened up there. And Ruby hasn’t woken up yet. I took her home to recover…along with Yang. They’ll be okay, but they’re vulnerable. And Vale—Glynda and the other professors are doing their best to protect the refugees, but there are so many. I can’t leave. Not yet.” He hung his head. “I’m sorry.”

Ozpin reached out as if to put a hand on his shoulder, saw Roman’s gloved hand instead of his own, and thought better of it. “Of course. You should stay where you’re needed most. I will be fine.” He tried for a reassuring smile, but it was halfhearted at best.

“You could come back with me,” Qrow suggested, but his heart wasn’t in it, either. He already knew Ozpin’s answer.

“I don’t think that would be wise,” said Ozpin. “For a number of reasons. I don’t wish to cause any more pain, but for now, I must play my cards close to the vest.”

“Yeah,” Qrow sighed. “I know. Don’t worry, I’ll keep your secrets. Like I always have.”

“Thank you, Qrow.”

“And I’ll come check in with you whenever I can. I’m guessing you’re heading to Haven?” Ozpin nodded. “I won’t be far behind. Here, I should get your new contact info.” Qrow pulled out his scroll and Ozpin did the same. When they held one over the other, Roman Torchwick appeared as a contact on Qrow’s scroll, and Qrow Branwen appeared in Roman’s contacts. “Kingdom-wide communication’s been spotty with the tower down, but if it’s urgent, just signal again and I’ll come flyin’.”

“Your help has been invaluable. I’m sure I don’t say that enough,” said Ozpin. “I won’t detain you any longer.” He offered his hand tentatively.

Qrow stared at it hard until Ozpin began to withdraw it, but then he grabbed it and pulled Ozpin into a firm embrace, startling Ozpin and Roman both. “Take care, Oz,” he murmured. Then, with a fluttering of feathers, he was gone, winging his way up above the treetops.

“You’ve been awfully quiet,” said Ozpin, once Qrow was out of sight. Neo pointed to herself questioningly. “Er, sorry, I was talking to your brother.”

‘Sometimes, I prefer to listen.’

Neo squinted up at him and made a shooing motion with her hands. Ozpin got the message and returned control to Roman with a weary sigh. It had been so long this time that Roman nearly collapsed, and had to steady himself against a tree for a moment while he regained his sense of self. “We’ve fallen in with a very odd crowd, Neo,” he said, finally, lighting a cigar. She nodded emphatically. “I’ve seen some strange Semblances, but becoming a bird? That’s a new one.”

‘That’s not his Semblance. I gave him that ability so he could gather intelligence for me.’

“Oookay. You turned your friend into a bird. That’s…special.”

‘It’s practical.’

“I’m sure. And Little Red’s got some big trick up her sleeve, too?”

‘Ruby is much stronger than you know.’

Roman blew out smoke through his teeth. “Explains why she’s been such a pain in the ass. Still, if I ever see her again, I’ve half a mind to—”

“—apologize and attempt to make amends,” Ozpin interjected, in Roman’s own damn voice. Neo startled and looked at him in surprise.

“What? No! Don’t put words in my mouth!”

‘We will see her again, and I will not permit you to lay a finger on her.’

“You can’t make me play nice with the little brat,” Roman growled.

‘I can, actually, and I will if I must. But it would be easier on both of us if you would just be civil of your own accord.’

Roman felt like screaming, but he also felt Ozpin poised to retake control if he slipped into a violent mood. He bit back down on his cigar and inhaled deeply, trying his damnedest to scorch his lungs. “Listen, Oz, it sounds like we’re just gonna make each other’s lives a living hell from here on out. Isn’t there some way for you to move on to the next sucker without offing me? What if we find a priest, get him to do an exorcism on me?”

The question seemed to offend the late headmaster. ‘You’re not possessed. Our souls are intertwined. Over time, we will come to think and feel more and more alike, until we share every inner sentiment, and our two souls become one. The process is irreversible once it’s begun. If you live long enough, not even death will separate us. If not, I’m afraid we are stuck with each other ’til death do us part.’

Roman threw his cigar down and ground it into the dirt with his cane. “I want a divorce.”

Chapter Text

Ozpin’s insistence that this whole soulmates situation was irrevokable and quite probably eternal would really be freaking Roman out if he allowed himself to think about it for more than two seconds at a time. But Oz had been right about one thing: Roman wasn’t the type to just lie down and accept his fate. He needed more information. All he had so far was the headmaster’s insufferably cryptic word for any of this. He needed to figure out precisely what the hell was going on, because Ozpin hadn’t told him everything.

Whenever Roman was feeling introspective (usually when Ozpin was in control, and he had nothing better to do), he would try to feel out the new contours in his mind, to become more aware of Ozpin’s presence. It was like walking down a corridor of locked doors. But Roman was good with locks. He had a keen sense for how the tumblers shifted, what leverage to use, when to apply pressure and when to ease off. He’d never encountered a lock he couldn’t pick, a safe he couldn’t crack. It was just a matter of time, and patience. But he needed more room to work, out of the spotlight of Ozpin’s constant suspicion. Ozpin himself had said he wanted to trust Roman. Roman just had to give him reasons to. So he would go along with Ozpin’s plan—for now. And he would get the full truth from the mysterious headmaster one way or another.

They gathered their supplies and set out on the road soon after Qrow had left. There were Grimm flocking to the capital from all across the kingdom, so as much as they all could have used another day of rest and recuperation, staying too near the city was asking for trouble. “We don’t have a map,” Roman pointed out, hefting the bag of supplies from one shoulder to the other for about the fourth time in twenty minutes. The thing was just heavy enough to be annoying, like if he’d stuffed Neo in a bag and decided to carry her around. He was on the lookout for a vehicle they could…acquire. 

Any vague hopes Roman had that the lack of a map would deter Ozpin in his grand designs were swiftly dashed. ‘Don’t worry, I know the way.’

“Fantastic,” Roman sighed. “Neo, you sure you’re good to potentially walk all the way to Mistral in those heels?” She nodded resolutely and kept walking. She had stopped growing years ago, but she still fought for every inch she could get. Plus, she refused to allow her brother to be better dressed than she was in any situation. “Okay,” Roman said doubtfully. “But don’t start getting snippy with me in another ten miles…” He trailed off. There was a man on horseback coming toward them down the road. His back was hunched over his steed, his clothes worn and dusty, and the wide-brimmed straw hat he wore to keep the sun off his aged face looked as though it had been chewed through by mice in several places. A farmer, by all appearances.

Well, Roman would have preferred something with a motor, but a horse would do in a pinch. He hailed the man with a friendly wave, and the two parties came to a halt where they met. The farmer looked down at the younger man and his slight female companion, took in their rumpled clothes and the single sack of belongings between them, and his kind blue eyes filled with pity. The sucker. “Are the two of you refugees from the city?” he asked.

Roman inclined his head, feigning grief. “It was horrible. I’ve never seen so many Grimm.” Neo was quick to take up the part of the frightened little girl, clutching her brother’s sleeve and averting her eyes from the stranger’s gaze. Normally, the two of them would simply take whatever they wanted, or have others get it for them. But with Ozpin alert and able to thwart Roman’s schemes at any time, they had to fall back on the more subtle methods they’d used in the past.

As if on cue, Ozpin’s voice murmured in his mind, ‘What are you playing at, Torchwick?’

“I don’t know what this world is coming to,” said the farmer gravely. “Are you hungry? My home isn’t far. My wife and I would be happy to share a meal with you both before you continue on your way. I’d offer to let you stay the night in our spare room, too, but in your circumstances, with all the Grimm around…" He patted the massive shotgun strapped to his saddle in the most affable way Roman had ever seen a man draw attention to his weapon. "I have to protect my family first. You understand.”

That, Roman understood perfectly. “Thank you for the kind offer, but we still have far to travel today. My sister and I are on our way to Mistral. That’s where our family is.”

“Mistral?” the farmer repeated, shocked. “That is a long journey, indeed.”

“It is. And we have no means of transport. We lost everything in the attack. Well, everything except our money.” Roman kept his voice carefully meek when he said, “I was hoping, when I saw that strong steed of yours, that you might be willing to part with her, for a certain sum.”

The farmer ran his hand over the auburn hide of his horse’s neck absentmindedly. “Well, I…” He shook his head, coming to a decision. “You are clearly in greater need of her than I. How much can you afford to give me for her?”

“Does five hundred Lien sound fair?”

“Fair enough,” said the farmer. He dismounted, hefting his gun and retrieving a few other worthless possessions from the saddle pack, then gave the horse a final fond caress down its cheek. “Her name is Umber. She’ll get you where you need to go.” He handed the reins over to Roman, who accepted them with a humble nod of thanks.

“Sister, dear, pay the good man.” Neo dug into the pocket of her jacket and withdrew the agreed upon sum. She handed the cards over to the farmer with a grateful smile. “Are you sure you can get home safely from here?” Roman asked the man, anticipating Ozpin’s question before he could voice it himself.

“Yes, my farm is just over that hill, there.” He pointed back in the direction they’d come, where Roman recalled having seen a gate and a rough, dirt path leading off from the main road just around the bend from where they now stood. “It’s you two I worry for. I wish you safe travels, and an open door at the end of the road.”

“Thank you,” said Roman. “We won’t soon forget your kindness.” He transferred their supplies to the saddlebag, then led the horse away a little ways down the road so he could murmur under his breath, “I’m assuming you know how to ride a horse.”

‘You can ride a gryphon, but not a horse?’

“Do you or don’t you?” Roman hissed.

‘I do. If you’ll let me take the reins.’

“Funny,” said Roman. “Just do it.” The next moment, Roman was simply observing as he mounted the horse with ease and held a hand out to Neo. She gave the offered hand a suspicious look, but accepted it nonetheless, and allowed him to help her up. She settled in behind him, wrapping her arms around his waist. Ozpin tipped his hat to the farmer and rode off, soon leaving the rolling golden hills behind for lush green forest.

“You surprised me, Torchwick,” Ozpin said after a period of riding in silence through the trees. “I expected you to try to steal the horse, but you are quite capable of civility when you want to be.”

‘When I want to be,’ Roman agreed, feeling smug. Ozpin’s optimism was his blindspot. Neo’s illusion would be wearing off right about now, and the money would disappear without a trace.

~ * ~

The riding, as it turned out, was almost as tedious as the walking. This time, because Roman was left with nothing to occupy him but his thoughts. He was, in every sense, just along for the ride. He wished he could talk to Neo, commiserate, collaborate. He always enjoyed their conversations, even if they were rather one-sided. Ozpin, on the other hand, seemed just as content with long stretches of silence as he was with giving detailed, impromptu lectures on one esoteric subject or another. Roman would have slept through both, but as long as Ozpin remained awake, so did he. He wondered vaguely how much farther it was to the next village.

Ozpin trailed off in the middle of his sentence, something to do with the durability of a death stalker’s carapace. “You’re not listening to me, are you?”

‘Hm?’ said Roman, just to annoy him.

Ozpin glanced back over his shoulder. “What about you, Ms. Neo? Have I lost you as well?” She shook her head. She actually appeared interested in what he’d been saying. Whose side was she on, anyway? “Well, it’s good to know I’ve only bored half my audience to distraction. This is all potentially useful information, you know. But if you’d prefer, I’d be happy to tell another story to pass the time.”

‘Are you sure you’ll finish before we get to Haven?’ Roman asked, all innocence. ‘It’d drive me crazy if I never heard how it ends.’

Ozpin huffed indignantly. “I’ve never been subjected to quite so much sass from any of my previous hosts.” He felt Neo shake with laughter, and shot her a betrayed look over his shoulder. “Well. My muscle memory will be one of the first things you inherit, Torchwick. And when you’re competent on horseback, you can choose the topic of conversation.”

Roman actually used to know how to handle a horse when he was a boy, but he hadn’t gone near one in twenty years. The only thing he was confident of in his horseback riding abilities now was that he’d end up on his ass. So he held his tongue and let Ozpin lapse into a silence that he probably would have called “pensive,” but that Roman would have described as “brooding.” He could sense that the implications of their bond were eating at Ozpin nearly as much as they were him, although from what Roman could tell, Oz got the better end of the deal. Apparently, his identity always remained dominant, even if it was influenced by each new host, while Roman would eventually become just another facet in the prism of his past lives. If not in this lifetime, then certainly in the next. It sounded like a slow death, by bits and pieces over years and lifetimes. Ozpin said he’d hardly even notice it.

They had had a moment to themselves before they’d left that morning, while Neo did a final sweep of the farmhouse to be sure Roman hadn’t missed anything good. “You could have just killed me last night and saved us both the trouble of drawing it out,” Roman had said.

‘This isn’t death, Torchwick,’ Ozpin had responded solemnly. ‘It’s immortality.’

Now, the silence was weighing heavily on his mind, and Roman found himself wishing the headmaster had kept on lecturing, despite Roman’s inattention. He’d rather be bored out of his skull than left to ponder his own existential crisis. He got the feeling his and Ozpin’s worries were only amplifying each other, like a feedback loop of general unease swirling in his mind. Which made it all the more jarring when a crow flew down to land on a tree branch up ahead of them, and Ozpin yanked hard on the reins, bringing the horse to a skidding halt. “Qrow?” he called.

But the bird merely cawed and took off again, disappearing between the trees. ‘Why do I get the feeling that happens a lot?’

Ozpin sighed and urged the horse onward. The worst part was, Roman felt his disappointment almost as though it were his own. It was pathetic. “It’s not the first time,” Ozpin admitted. “All crows really do look alike. Don’t let Qrow hear you say that, though. He thinks himself quite handsome in feathered form.”

‘You should put a ring on him.’

“Excuse me?”

‘You know, the ones they put around birds’ legs to keep track of ’em. Yeesh, I wasn’t suggesting you marry the guy.’

“Oh.” Ozpin cleared his throat. “Yes, well. I doubt he would tolerate such a thing.”

‘Interesting reaction, though. So, were you and he…?’

“That’s none of your business,” Ozpin snapped, startling Neo.

‘I thought your business was my business.’

Ozpin took a deep breath and released it slowly. “What I meant was, it’s in the past now. That man is dead.” An entire murder of crows flew past overhead, cackling and cawing to each other, and Ozpin tracked them with his gaze. Through the thinning trees ahead, he could just make out what looked at first like a dark cloud, but was in reality hundreds more crows circling in the smoky air above…

He cracked the reins and the horse took off at a gallop toward the foreboding omen. They burst out of the tree line and down a grassy incline toward a small village. Or what used to be a village. Most of the houses were burnt out, smoke still rising from the rubble. Anything that was left standing was ransacked. Belongings were strewn everywhere: clothes and furniture out in the road, bedding hanging out of broken windows, smashed plates and glasses scattered in the dirt. As they rode down the main thoroughfare, they saw more and more signs of the recent chaos, but not a single living person. There were bodies, though. A feast for the crows.

‘Looks like the place was hit by bandits. They’ve got all the subtlety of a boarbatusk in a dust shop.’

“It seems the survivors have already evacuated,” Ozpin observed. “Still, we should—” A child’s cry rang out through the crows’ chatter, and Ozpin raced to find its source. One row of houses over, a little boy who couldn’t have been more than three years old was sitting in the dirt at the end of the road, staring up at three enormous death stalkers approaching from the tree line. “Ah,” said Ozpin, dismounting and hitching the horse to the nearest fencepost. Neo leapt down beside him, following his lead. “Lesson one.” He gave Roman’s cane a spin. “Save the child. Kill the Grimm.” And suddenly, Roman had control.

Chapter Text

“This is lesson one? Seriously?” Nevertheless, Roman flipped his cane in his hand and fired the grappling hook, catching the handle in the hood of the kid’s jacket and yanking him back before giant pincers split the space he’d just been occupying.

‘I believe in providing my students with hands-on learning experiences. If you endanger yourself or the child, I will take over, and we will have to find another lesson for you.’

Roman reeled the kid in and picked him up by the back of his jacket. The kid kept wailing, so Roman shook him. “Shut up, you little runt,” he growled. The kid stared at him with wide eyes and fell to quiet sniffling. He set the boy down inside the nearest doorway. “Stay,” he ordered, and then sprinted back to his sister’s side and returned his attention to the approaching Grimm.

One quick glance exchanged with Neo confirmed their initial plan of attack. The first death stalker lashed out with its pincers at the place where they’d been standing moments before, shattering Neo’s illusion wall. Meanwhile, they had already flanked the creature on either side, and Roman fired three shots into it while Neo lunged and severed one of its legs with her sword. The creature lurched as it rebalanced itself on its remaining legs, but when the smoke cleared from Roman’s attack, it looked as though he’d hardly done it any damage.

‘If you had been paying attention earlier, you would recall that a death stalker’s carapace is durable enough to withstand nearly any direct attack from conventional weaponry.’

Roman sneered and aimed higher, lining his sights up with the creature’s stinger curled up over its body. He fired again, and the venom sac burst, raining viscous purple venom down on the Grimm’s back. It hissed and screamed as the venom seared through its carapace and into the tender body beneath. It snatched at Roman with its pincers and swept the mangled remainder of its tail out at Neo, but Neo vaulted over the flailing appendage, and Roman stepped aside and hooked the bottom pincer with the handle of his cane, driving it into the ground. The death stalker overbalanced, and Neo took the opening, catching its tail as it swept back around, and using it to swing up onto its back. Before it even registered her presence, she ran up and drove her sword down through the steaming wound atop its thorax. It was a killing blow.

She flipped off of its back as it started to disintegrate beneath her, just before the remaining two death stalkers burst through the ashes. Now, it was she and Roman who were flanked. But when the two Grimm charged them, they shattered another of Neo’s illusion walls, tearing into each other with their pincers instead. As they reeled back in pain and confusion, Neo ran underneath one, ripping all the way down its unprotected belly with her sword, while Roman ran under the other, firing round after round up into soft flesh. Because neither Grimm could see its attacker, they both lashed out in a final bid of desperation at the last thing they knew had done them harm: each other. Both stingers shot forward simultaneously, each burying itself between the armor plates of the other death stalker. They perished together in an embrace of mutual destruction.

Roman straightened, brushing Grimm ash from his lapels. Then he removed his hat to blow off the ash from the brim. Neo was still shaking ash out of her hair when he returned to her side. “Well, professor?” he said, clapping more ash from his gloves. “Did we pa–AAAH!” Out of nowhere, he was side-tackled by another small child, this one about seven or eight, who immediately began chattering excitedly at him without any apparent need to stop and draw breath. Roman struggled to extricate himself from the young boy’s grip with his arms pinned at his sides. “Where are these things coming from?” he asked Neo, who looked equally bewildered.

As soon as the kid’s attention was redirected to Neo, he let go of Roman and tackled her next. She went rigid immediately, looking down at the overexcited child in extreme discomfort and distaste. Roman tactfully pried him off of her and held him at arm’s length. “You guys saved my baby brother!” he was saying, head whipping back and forth in an attempt to address the both of them at once. “You were amazing! Are you a Huntsman and Huntress? Did you come to protect us from the monsters? Those things were so scary! Do you think there will be more of them? Where did you learn to fight like that? Did you go to Beacon Academy? That’s where I want to go because when I grow up I want to be a Huntsman and save people from monsters, just like you!”

Roman smirked at the kid’s unwittingly ambiguous phrasing: he could be the Huntsman or the monster. “You got parents, kid?” he asked.

The boy looked back in the direction of the house where Roman had left his little brother. There was now a young woman standing in the doorway, cradling the younger child in her arms and watching them all. Roman could see the deep lines of worry etched into her face even at that distance. She motioned them over to the relative safety of the house. “You were supposed to be watching your brother!” she hissed at the older boy, leaning down and latching a vice-like grip on his shoulder. “What happened?”

“Mom, I really had to pee,” he whined. “I turned my back on him for a minute, tops! I didn’t think he was gonna go outside!”

“We’ll talk about this later.” She turned to Roman and Neo with an exhausted smile. “I can’t thank you enough,” she said, swiping tears from her face. “You saved my son’s life. We’ve lost almost everything, but if there’s anything we can offer you…”

“What have you got?” asked Roman.

‘Wrong answer.’

Roman gave a forced laugh. “That was a joke. Of course we don’t want any kind of compensation. Apparently, Huntsmen work for free now.”

‘Easy, Torchwick. You’ve done very well so far. I can take it from here, if you’d like.’

It was a threat disguised as an offer. Roman set his jaw and smiled. “What can we do to help?”

~ * ~

“My husband is very sick,” the woman said, holding open the door to the upstairs bedroom to reveal a meek, wan-faced figure tucked into the bed, a bag of medical supplies on the nightstand beside him. He was sleeping fitfully, his breath a tortured rattle. “I am– was, the doctor in this village. I’ve been taking care of him, and he is getting better, although he must not look it. But everything happened so suddenly: the attack, and then the evacuation. There was a panic. Every family was only looking out for themselves. Even though the bandits took almost everything from them, they started taking what was left from each other. I was preparing to move my husband when I looked out the window and saw that our horses were gone. I’d hoped, if we stayed behind with only the four of us left in the village, that the Grimm would pass us by.”

“A sick man, two scared little boys and a woman just barely keeping them all together?” said Roman. “You’re one big Grimm magnet.”

Fresh tears welled in the woman’s eyes, but didn’t fall. “Yes, I see that now. If you hadn’t shown up when you did…” She released a shuddering breath, shaking her head. “You were a godsend. But there is one more thing you can do to help us. We still have our cart. If you can pull it behind your horse and take us into town, we will be safe there.”

Roman was inclined to listen to Ozpin’s murmured advice, if they were really going to do this. “It’s getting dark,” he said. “And the house is more protection than we’ll have out on the road. It’ll be safest if we set out at dawn. My sister and I can keep alternate watch ’til then. With any luck, when all of you are asleep, your emotions shouldn’t be such a draw to the creatures of Grimm. Are we in agreement?”

“If that’s what you think is best,” said the woman, placing her trust in him implicitly simply because she thought he was a Huntsman. He never ceased to be astounded by the human capacity for blind submission. Usually, it worked to his advantage. In this case, it was just plain pitiable. He looked to Neo next, who searched his eyes for a long moment before nodding slightly. She knew it was Roman saying it, albeit at Ozpin’s insistence. But she was right to be concerned. They had always looked out for themselves first and foremost, as a matter of survival. Now, they were the closest they’d ever come to landing right back where they’d started—with nothing. Trying to protect others was a foolish way to lose what little they had left.

“Then you should all get some sleep,” said Roman.

“We’ll try.” The woman gathered her sons and ushered them into their father’s room. “Thank you,” she said again, and closed the door.

As soon as the latch clicked, Roman turned on his heel and stalked away down the hall toward the spare bedroom. Being on the second floor, it had a clear view of the eastern tree line, from which Grimm on their way to the city were most likely to appear. Neo followed close behind him, her brow still knitted in worry. Once she closed the bedroom door behind them, he turned to her. “Look, I think we both agree that Ozpin is a total fucking nightmare.”

‘Um. I haven’t gone anywhere.’

Roman ignored Ozpin’s interjection. This was a conversation between him and his sister. Neo nodded, so Roman continued. “But so was Cinder, as it turned out. And that one’s on me, I’ll admit.” Neo gave him a long-suffering look. She hadn’t liked Cinder from the start, but she could be a touch overprotective of him at times, as he was of her. A consequence of which was that they almost never approved of each other’s relationships. Roman had never taken greater pleasure in causing pain than when he’d carved Neo’s name over the heart of a boy who’d been stupid enough to break hers. All of which was to say, he hadn’t implicitly trusted Neo’s judgement when it had come to Cinder. But he should have known better than to mix business with pleasure. “My point is, we survived Cinder.”

Neo rested a hand on her hip and gave him another deadpan look. Barely. 

“And,” Roman continued, “we’re wiser for it. It was what Oz would call a ‘hands-on learning experience.’ We– I won’t make the same mistakes again. Not if I can help it.”

Neo cracked a smile as she scribbled something down in the little notepad she always kept with her. She tore out the page and handed it to Roman. At least you’re not fucking Ozpin, it said.

‘Oh, how charming.’

Roman pretended to be scandalized. “Neo, he’s much too old for me!” He and Neo laughed, and Ozpin’s annoyance simmering across Roman’s mind only made Roman enjoy the moment more. “Speaking of our pal Oz’s love life, did you know he and Q–koff, koff!” Roman suddenly started coughing and hacking for no reason. Neo patted his back while he glared at nothing in particular until he recovered his breath. “Never mind,” he muttered. “I’ll take the first watch. I’m too wound up to sleep just yet.” Funny, how a person could be dead tired and restless at the same time.

Neo squeezed his shoulder, imparting two distinct meanings at once: Don’t strain yourself, and Wake me if you need to. With that, she settled into the rickety wooden bed in the corner, and Roman took a seat at the chair and table by the window, gazing out into the night. Soon, Neo’s breathing slowed and shallowed, and silence reigned. But not for long.

‘The two of you surpassed my expectations today.’

“Oh?”

‘I’m almost ashamed to admit that you and Neo have demonstrated better coordination and communication than most teams out of Beacon. You fight with incredible synchronization.’

“Some lessons can’t be taught at fancy academies,” murmured Roman.

‘That’s true,’ Ozpin admitted. ‘I’m left wondering about one thing, however. Your Semblance.’ Ah, there it was. Roman had been waiting for that particular penny to drop. ‘Neo makes highly effective use of hers, but you’ve taken care never to use yours in combat as far as I’m aware. Are you keeping it a secret for some reason? Or is it some passive effect?’

Well, there was no use lying to Ozpin about it. He’d figure it out sooner or later. Hopefully, he wouldn’t change his mind about Roman’s potential to be “useful” after he knew. “Yeah, I don’t have a Semblance.”

'What.'

Chapter Text

‘Everyone has a Semblance, Torchwick. You mean to tell me that as a highly skilled fighter and criminal kingpin, you still haven’t discovered yours?’

Roman shrugged. “You’re the expert. I figured if I had one, I’d know about it by now.”

‘Not necessarily. Allow me to…’ Roman felt a strange tingling sensation beneath every inch of his skin, and he squirmed uncomfortably in his chair, but it was over in a second. ‘You haven’t even unlocked your Aura,’ said Ozpin, as though Roman were some sort of scientific curiosity.

Roman’s hackles rose. “Listen, professor. I never went to an elite academy like yours. I never even set foot in a combat school. I taught myself to fight, and then I taught Neo. She figured out the rest on her own, but it came like second nature to her, like instinct. She doesn’t even understand it herself, so she sure as hell couldn’t explain it to me.”

‘But without an active Aura, you must sustain grave injuries.’

“Not anymore,” Roman grit out. “For starters, I don’t pick fights with Grimm. I carry a weapon that’s both ranged and defensive, and I’m good enough with it that in most fights, my opponent never lands a hit. When Neo and I fight together, she shields me from whatever I can’t dodge or deflect. It’s not perfect, but it’s worked just fine for us. I’ve gotten this far without relying on an Aura, or a Semblance. I don’t need them.”

‘Don’t misunderstand me, Torchwick. I’m actually quite impressed. But while you may have come this far without the use of your Aura and Semblance, make no mistake, you will need them going forward.’

“Tough shit. You don’t think I’ve tried? It’s not gonna happen.”

‘I wouldn’t say that. I suspect you simply need the right teacher. Since you are clearly already fit to wield my weapon, attempting to discover your Semblance will be one of the first things we work on during training. As for your Aura, I can unlock it now.’

“Wait, what?”

Roman didn’t even have time to panic before Ozpin began speaking some kind of incantation. ‘For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all, infinite in distance and unbound by death. I release your soul, and by my shoulder protect thee.’

As the words resonated in Roman’s mind, that same tingling sensation returned, accompanied by a gentle warmth. A soft, reddish-orange glow enveloped Roman’s entire being, and then gradually faded away, taking with it the worst of the lingering aches in his bones and muscles from the past couple of days. In fact, physically, he had never felt better. Sure, he was still exhausted, but deep within, he felt a fresh wellspring of vitality that was both foreign and vaguely familiar.

‘That is the energy that comes directly from your soul. Now that it has been released, you can tap into it freely, but be careful not to draw on it too much, especially at first. It will take practice to sustain a constant defensive Aura, but you will pick up the skill quickly, since in a sense, you already know how to do it. Your Aura is also the energy source you will draw on to produce your Semblance. As for discovering what your Semblance is, I expect it will be easier now.’

It was a lot to take in at once. Roman had spent years frustrated with himself for not being able to do something even snot-nosed little Beacon brats could do. Then he’d spent years more putting those thoughts out of his mind, improving his fighting technique until he could outmaneuver opponents with just about any kind of Semblance. The prospect of finally being able to shed his greatest disadvantage was…overwhelming. So he fell back on sarcasm. “A paragon of virtue, huh?”

‘It’s a traditional Huntsman mantra. It is more than a little ironic in our situation, I know.’

“I’ll say.” Roman smiled to himself. “Especially since I’m no Huntsman.”

‘Oh, but you are. I am a Huntsman. That makes you one, whether you like it or not.’

Roman’s smile fell. He hadn’t considered it that way before. “You can’t be serious. No fucking way.”

There was an uncharacteristic moment of hesitation before Ozpin spoke again. ‘I know this must all be as hard on you as it is on me, if not more so. I don’t wish to simply be a burden to you. Surely…you recognize this arrangement comes with some benefits?’

Roman thought about his elusive Semblance, about all the skills he was supposedly going to inherit, and about the font of knowledge that Ozpin was all too willing to share—at length. Ultimately, of course, whatever Roman got out of their arrangement would only serve to make him of greater use to Ozpin. But with so many recent losses, it felt good to make a few gains, regardless. “Sure,” he said. “I’ll admit you’re not a completely useless, soul-sucking parasite who is single-handedly ruining my life and the life of my sister.”

‘Thank you?’

“But I want those magic powers.”

‘Patience, Torchwick.’ Roman thought he heard a slight smile in the headmaster’s voice. ‘So, maybe not a total fucking nightmare, then?’

~ * ~

“Nope, still a total fucking nightmare!” Roman announced the next morning. In truth, the nightmares had subsided somewhat, but were no less horrific, and had come at just the right frequency to keep him from getting a decent stretch of sleep. He rubbed at his eyes groggily, aware of Neo watching him in sympathy from her perch on the windowsill.

‘I am truly sorry,’ Ozpin murmured, sounding about as miserable as Roman felt.

“Can it,” Roman grumbled, shoving himself up and out of bed by sheer force of will. Neo hopped down and picked his hat up off the nightstand. She dusted it off a little, and placed it on his head with a reassuring smile. He attempted to return her smile as best he could. “Thanks, kid.” It seemed no more Grimm had come sniffing around during the night, or if they had, Neo had dealt with them herself. But once the family was awake and preparing to make the dangerous journey ahead, he didn’t expect their luck would hold. “Alright,” he sighed. “Let’s get this show on the road.”

Outside, he hitched the family’s rickety wooden cart to the horse, and kept a careful eye on the woods as the mother loaded her husband (on a makeshift stretcher) and kids into it with a few spare belongings. One look at the pathetic lot set alarm bells ringing in Roman’s head. This whole thing spelled trouble. Staring out into the trees, he muttered under his breath, “You’re really gonna make us tow these people into town with gods know how many Grimm between here and there? You’ve seen ’em, they’re practically live bait.”

‘You would really leave this family to fend for themselves?’

“In a heartbeat.”

Ozpin sighed. ‘Then yes, I’m making you.’

“Fine,” Roman growled quietly. “But if it’s ever a question of protecting Neo or one of your sorry charity cases, I’ll fight you with everything I’ve got.”

‘And I couldn’t fault you for that.’

They trundled out onto the road under the rising sun, with Ozpin in the driver’s seat. So to speak. Neo sat with her back to him, keeping an eye on the cart and the road behind them. The forest was gripped in the kind of silence that followed catastrophe—or preceded it. The mother held her children close in the bed of the cart, her husband’s labored breathing the loudest sound any of them dared make.

‘I don’t like this. It feels like we’re being watched.’ Ozpin nodded. He felt the same thing. But nothing stirred in the deep shadows between the trees. The sharp crack of a dry branch beneath their cart wheels had the family huddling even closer together, and Ozpin and Neo tightening their grips on their weapons.

“Mom,” whispered the older boy.

“Hush,” she said.

“But I thought I saw something running through the trees.” Neo’s attention snapped to the boy, following his line of sight. But if there had been something there a moment ago, it was gone. The younger child began to whine in distress. Ozpin urged the horse to pick up speed, but the poor beast was limited by the weight and ungainliness of the cart.

A howl pierced the silence from somewhere close by. It was joined by a chorus of others, all around them. “Beowolves,” said Ozpin. He put a hand on the side of the horse’s neck and murmured, “I’m sorry, but you’re going to have to give us more than that.” His vision tinted green, and the horse’s eyes flared the same shade. The mare whinnied and broke from a trot into a belabored gallop, the cart rattling along behind down the rough path.

All of a sudden, dozens of pairs of red eyes appeared in the shadows on either side of the road as the pack closed in on its prey. Neo projected an illusion of their cart losing a wheel and skidding off into the trees, and a few of the beowolves bounded after it across the road. But they didn’t chase it far before they stopped, searching, it seemed, and slowly retrained their ravenous eyes on where the real cart was barreling away down the road. Neo could obscure it from their view, but she could do nothing to mask the emotions of the frightened family. The toddler was crying now, his older brother doing his best to keep him quiet while the mother tried to brace her husband against the cart’s violent shuddering. Again, Roman’s stubborn old memories resurfaced, but this time it was Ozpin who shoved them aside, keeping them both focused on the present moment.

The Grimm gave chase once more, closing distance on them fast. Ozpin turned and raised Roman’s cane, and Roman’s instinct to shoot the wagon hitch was so powerful that Ozpin hesitated, sights lingering on the unreinforced joint. Then the beowolf at the head of the pack tried to leap up into the cart, and Ozpin quickly raised the cane higher and fired, blowing the top of the Grimm’s head clean off. Its body tumbled off the road, and its packmates simply leapt over it, undeterred from the chase. Ozpin aimed the cane at the sky and fired another magical emerald flare.

‘Come on, Oz, he’s gotta be twenty miles away, at least!’

“Less, as the crow flies,” said Ozpin. “We just need to buy some time.” Another beowolf tried to leap up over the side, but Neo vaulted backwards into the cart and opened her parasol beneath it, using the creature’s momentum to toss it clear over the other side and into one of its packmates. When another leapt up and buried its claws into the back of the cart, Neo drove her sword through its snapping jaws and out the back of its head. She kicked its carcass down into their dust. “Nicely done, Ms. Neo.” Ozpin picked off a few more with well-aimed headshots, but then had to return his attention to the road ahead to steer around the next bend. The cart skidded around the curve, and Roman worried they might actually lose a wheel, but the rickety contraption held together.

‘We should cut the Grimm bait and run while we still can.’

“That’s not going to happen. We can either fight each other about it, or fight off these beowolves.”

Roman cursed him out—passionately. But even he could see that right now, his best option was to work with Ozpin rather than against him. ‘Check my left coat pocket.’

Ozpin reached in and pulled out a small steel case containing three explosive fire dust crystals. Roman had stolen Vale’s entire supply of dust, and those three crystals were all he had to show for it. Sure, he’d stashed away a whole shipping container of the stuff for him and Neo to pick up on their way out of town after they’d stolen an airship in the big battle. But that had been Plan A, and in accordance with her uncanny knack for screwing with Roman, specifically, Little Red had seen fit to send his perfect plan up in flames. “This dust is stolen, isn’t it?” Ozpin asked, even as he loaded one of the crystals into the chamber of the cane.

‘Looks like we’ll both just have to be a little morally flexible.’

Ozpin turned around and aimed into the center of the pack. “The explosion may attract more Grimm.”

‘It’ll buy us time.’

Ozpin fired. The crystal shattered on impact and erupted in a huge fireball, vaporizing the Grimm closest to the center, and throwing those at the edge of the blast radius high up into the air. “I’m starting to like this cane of yours.”

The surviving beowolves slowed their pursuit, but more and more howls rose up in the woods around them, and it became apparent that the ones that had chased them must have only been a small hunting group. The stragglers were waiting for the rest of the pack. But at that moment, a vast shadow swept over them, and a blood-curdling screech silenced the howling beowolves.

‘Is that a fucking nevermore?!’

Ozpin withdrew another dust crystal, but paused in the act of loading it into the chamber. A much smaller shadow darted across the ground, skirting the great airborne Grimm before disappearing into its shadow. Another shriek pierced the air, and Ozpin looked up in time to see the tip of a familiar scythe carving through one of the nevermore’s wings. In a second, the wing was severed, disintegrating in a rain of ash. The giant bird screamed as it fell to earth in a downward spiral, until the same blade that had severed its wing cleaved its head from its body. The nevermore’s headless corpse crashed down through the trees, and Qrow leapt from its back just before its remains fell to ash behind him. He landed in a crouch in the middle of the road between the cart and the horde of snarling beowolves.

‘The guy sure knows how to make an entrance, I'll give him that.’

“Get outta here!” Qrow yelled. “I’ll catch up!” The beowolves slowed, regarding him with caution as they prowled forward, surrounding him. One lunged at him head-on, and he sliced it clean in half. The others began to work together to outflank him, but a broad sweep of his scythe drove them back. Ozpin picked a few off with precise shots as they charged Qrow, but he was soon out of range and forced to return his focus to the road ahead. He cracked the reins and they raced away, leaving Qrow to the wolves.

“Who was that?” the older boy asked, peering over the back gate of the cart.

“A very good friend of mine,” Ozpin answered.

‘Funny how you’re willing to leave a friend behind, but not a bunch of complete strangers.’

“Qrow is one of Beacon’s finest graduates in recent memory. I taught him well,” Ozpin muttered. “He can handle himself just fine.” Despite his words, their connection belied Ozpin’s unease.

The road ahead was clear, and they could finally see the fortified walls and stone towers of the town in the valley below. At the speed they were going, they made the final stretch in a matter of minutes, without encountering any more Grimm along the way. They pulled up in front of the gates, and Ozpin dismounted and finally dispelled whatever thrall he’d cast over the horse. The beast collapsed from exhaustion—dead.

‘Oh, that’s just great. You killed the horse! After all the trouble Neo and I went to— Never mind.’

Ozpin crouched down and placed a hand on the horse’s snout. “She got us where we needed to go.” He sounded like he was ready to drop from exhaustion himself. Now that the adrenalin was wearing off, Roman finally noticed just how much that extended use of magic had taken out of Ozpin—out of them both. He felt like complete crap.

The guards posted at the gate came rushing over, saying something about escorting the family to temporary refugee shelters set up within the walls. They helped the children out of the cart, and then took up the father’s stretcher between them. The mother lingered a moment, however. “I’m very sorry about your horse,” she said. “My cousin is a horse trader here in town. I’m sure I could get you another by tomorrow.”

“That would be very kind of you,” said Ozpin. “If it’s not too much to ask.”

“It’s the least I can do. You saved my family.” She offered a fragile smile. “What do I call you?”

“It’s, er…” Ozpin was technically dead, and Roman Torchwick was a wanted criminal. “Goodwitch.” Roman supposed the choice made sense. From what he knew of Beacon Academy’s hierarchy and inner workings, and he made a point of knowing quite a lot, Ozpin and Glynda Goodwitch were practically married in their work.

“Thank you, Mister Goodwitch,” she said, clasping his hand. Then she turned to follow the guards as they escorted her family through the gates, the older boy chattering excitedly about how he definitely wanted to become a Huntsman after that.

Ozpin wandered down the path a little ways, following the curve of the great stone wall, while Neo worked at unstrapping the saddlebag from the dead horse. He leaned back against the cool stone and let his eyes lift skyward.

“Looking for someone?”

He started slightly and turned his head to see Qrow walking toward him down the path. The Huntsman looked a little rough around the edges, but he didn’t seem to have sustained any serious injuries. Ozpin favored him with a tired smile. “That beowolf pack wasn’t too much trouble, I take it.”

But Qrow seemed exhausted, too. “You sure know how to keep me busy,” he groused.

“I know you like a challenge,” said Ozpin.

Qrow ran a hand through his hair and returned Ozpin’s smile. “It’s good to see you again, Oz.”

Ozpin sighed heavily. “Unfortunately, I need to…rest for a little while. Please…play nice.”

He slumped back against the hard stone, and Roman barely had the strength to push himself back to his feet. He felt even worse now that he had control of his body again. He glanced up at Qrow from beneath the brim of his hat. “I don’t know about you, but I need a fucking drink.”

Qrow blinked once, twice, processing. “Yeah, okay.”

Chapter Text

Before getting mixed up with Ozpin, the only two things Roman had known about Qrow Branwen were that he was a highly skilled Huntsman who worked for Ozpin in some unofficial capacity, and that he was a hopeless alcoholic who took up roost in the Crow Bar whenever he was in town. So naturally, Roman left it to Qrow to find the bar in this backwater dump. He didn’t feel quite so ill at ease around the other man now that he knew just how well Ozpin had him wrapped around his finger. Qrow seemed unlikely to disregard Ozpin’s final request to “play nice” unless provoked, and for his part, Roman was in no shape to pick a fight with a Huntsman just because he didn’t like the guy. So they’d exchanged a few curt words, and Roman had left him to the search.

Meanwhile, Roman and Neo hunted down a cash machine. Neo’s illusory Lien looked real, but they couldn’t fool a mag scanner, and so couldn’t be relied upon in the establishments in town. Luckily, the authorities had only managed to trace and freeze three of Roman’s twelve separate bank accounts, and each one was flush with enough funds to keep him and Neo living comfortably for the rest of their days. Whoever said crime doesn’t pay clearly hadn’t been doing it right.

Ozpin had remained conspicuously quiet since he’d relinquished control, which unnerved Roman more than his pet crow ever could. “What, no disparaging remarks?” Roman asked, his obscenely high account balance writ plain across the screen in front of him. “This is obviously not above board.”

‘Mhm, that’s nice.’

Roman couldn’t believe what he was hearing. “You’re seriously out of it, aren’t you?”

‘Hmm?’

“Never mind. Go back to bed, dear.” He topped up his cash cards to their limits and walked away whistling. Neo grinned broadly, happy to see her brother happy again. He felt newly liberated, at least for a little while. He was going to thoroughly enjoy this reprieve from his chatty chaperone. His scroll chirped with a message from Qrow. That hadn’t taken long. They headed for the location Qrow had indicated, and Roman swiped an apple off a fruit cart along the way, just because he could. He’d never tasted anything sweeter.

Roman was secretly pleased with Qrow’s find. In the city, Roman had had a reputation to uphold. It was expected that he patronize his own more upscale joints for the most part, as a show of confidence in his business ventures and to keep a watchful eye on the people he put in charge of them. But he’d always had a weakness for the seedier dives of his misspent youth, where he’d first learnt to run a hustle. The tavern Qrow had found looked like a stopping off point for all sorts of travelers passing through on their way to more interesting places: mercenaries, Huntsmen, refugees, rogues, all co-mingling in a tenuous kind of truce to satisfy their mutual vices.

Qrow was leaning up against the side of the grimy building, looking just as shady as any of the other characters going in and out, despite his status as a reputable Huntsman. In fact, if Roman and Qrow had been in a line-up together, Roman would’ve bet good money that Qrow would be the first one fingered as a criminal. Roman greeted him with a wolfish grin. “This place looks awful!”

“Well, our options are…limited.” Qrow looked him over suspiciously. “What’s put you in such a good mood all of a sudden? Ten minutes ago you looked about ready to murder someone. Is that it? Did you murder someone?”

“No, but I’ve got time.”

“That’s not funny. I’ll be keeping my eye on you, Torchwick, so don’t try anything cute. The same goes for your sister.” Neo stuck her tongue out and blew a raspberry at him. Qrow looked disgusted with both of them.

“To be perfectly honest, my fine, feathered friend,” said Roman, throwing an arm around Qrow’s shoulders and ushering him inside, “my plans consist of drinking until I pass out into blissful oblivion. Your boyfriend’s been keeping me up at night.”

Qrow stopped in his tracks, the betrayal on his face almost comical. “What?”

Roman chuckled. Perhaps he couldn’t resist messing with Qrow just a little. “I’m talking about the nightmares, of course,” he said innocently. “Real doom-and-gloom stuff. I think the guy could benefit from professional help.”

“That’s not—” Qrow shook off Roman’s arm. “He told you about us?”

“He hardly had to say a word,” replied Roman breezily. “He pines. It’s pathetic.”

“But I— He said if—” Qrow shook his head, flustered. He shouldered past Roman. “Never mind. I really need that drink.”

They laid claim to three empty barstools, Roman situating himself between Qrow and Neo. He flagged down the barkeep. “Bourbon for me, on the rocks, and a vodka tonic for the lady,” he said.

The barkeep looked Neo over skeptically. “She old enough to drink?”

“Seriously? You’re gonna card her in a place like this?” said Roman. But Neo lifted her chin and held out her ID for the barkeep to examine. It was a forgery of course, but not so she could buy alcohol underage. She was twenty years old, well above the legal drinking age.

“Sorry,” the barkeep mumbled. “Just doing my job.” He fixed their drinks and set them down on the bar. “And for you?” he asked Qrow.

“Whiskey. Make it a double.”

The barkeep took one look at him and reached for a bottle on the bottom shelf. “Ah ah,” said Roman. “Top shelf. I’m opening a tab.” He slid a hundred-Lien card across the bar. The barkeep accepted it with a nod, complying with Roman’s instructions.

Qrow stared at him, flabbergasted. “You’re…buying my drinks?”

“I don’t drink with cheap alcoholics,” said Roman. “You can be an embarrassment on your own time.”

The barkeep set Qrow’s whiskey down in front of him, which silenced any rejoinder he might have made. He eyed the drink suspiciously, as though Roman could have poisoned it somehow without touching it. But his self-control crumbled quickly, and he tossed the whiskey back in a couple of gulps. Then he moaned in a way that made even Roman blush. “Fuck, that’s good stuff.” He slammed the glass down. “Keep ’em comin’, barkeep.”

“By all means,” Roman drawled. He followed suit and tipped his bourbon down his throat. Qrow had the right idea. This wasn’t exactly a social occasion worth savoring. “I’ll switch to what he’s having,” he told the barkeep. “Just leave us the bottle.” Neo side-eyed him as she sipped her vodka tonic, judging him in silence. But could she blame him for wanting to get out of his own head for awhile? It had gotten awfully crowded lately.

“I’ve got some good news about the recovery efforts in Vale, but I don’t suppose you’d care to hear it,” Qrow muttered into his drink.

“Not in the slightest.”

“I just don’t get it,” Qrow growled. “Ozpin’s a good person. Better than good. How did he end up with you?”

“I’ll tell you what I don’t get,” said Roman sharply. “You’re acting like this is some great privilege that I don’t deserve. It’s not. If anything, it feels like a punishment.”

“Well, I’m sure he feels the same way.” Qrow’s eyes took on a faraway look as some troubling thought furrowed his brow. “Maybe it’s just bad luck,” he said quietly.

Roman took a gulp of whiskey and sighed through the burn. “Yeah, maybe.”

They drank in silence for awhile, each drowning different sorrows. Roman’s mood had soured somewhat, but the alcohol-induced buzz was starting to feel like a pretty good substitute. At least, until some drunken idiot stumbled into him, causing him to drop his glass so it shattered on the floor. He clenched his jaw as he watched the expensive whiskey spill across the filthy floorboards. Qrow merely smirked over the rim of his glass as he witnessed Roman’s misfortune. 

“Oh, sorry, man,” came a gruff voice from behind him. Roman turned around, prepared to give the dumb fuck a piece of his mind if not his cane, but as soon as he made eye contact, said dumb fuck leaned into his personal space and squinted at him, tilting his head from side to side. “You look f’miliar,” he slurred, his breath reeking of alcohol. “Do I know you from s’mwhere?”

Roman hadn’t thought anyone would recognize him this far removed from civilization, but his mugshot had been plastered all over Vale’s main news networks not that long ago. Either way, he didn’t need the attention. He gave the other man a quick once-over to confirm that they’d never met. Worn leather boots and gloves, a poorly concealed dagger at his hip, a leather jacket that was clearly nicer than he could afford, and short stubble dusting his chin that he probably thought made him look rugged. Roman pegged him as a common cutthroat or a lone highwayman. In either case, a lower class of criminal than he would ever associate with. “I don’t think so,” said Roman. “Unless that was a pick-up line, in which case, I suggest you go try it on someone as drunk as yourself.”

Qrow snorted into his drink. But the other man merely looked confused, probably because the alcohol had robbed him of the ability to process complex sentences. “I’m sure I’ve seen yer face s’mwhere b’fore.”

Neo’s hand moved surreptitiously to her parasol where it was leaning up against the bar, and Roman flexed his wrist, feeling the spring-loaded mechanism for the dagger concealed up his sleeve. A special slit in his glove would let him bring the blade to hand at the drop of a dime. Qrow finally seemed to realize the gravity of the situation, turning to the guy with a hard look. “Listen, pal, he says he doesn’t know you. Just let it go.”

“Relax, Qrow,” said Roman. “On second thought, I think we have met somewhere before. What do you say we go someplace more quiet and chat?” he asked the man with a friendly smile. “I’ve got time.”

Qrow’s eyes flashed a warning at Roman. So he missed the way the man was now looking at him with dawning realization. “Qrow… Qrow Branwen? Must be, you’ve got her eyes,” he mumbled to himself. It was Roman’s turn to play the bemused spectator as Qrow shifted uncomfortably under the man’s scrutiny.

“Do I know you?” Qrow asked.

“Nah, you wouldn’t. You left the tribe b’fore my time.” Qrow visibly tensed. Well, this was an interesting development. Roman had wondered if Qrow Branwen was connected to the Branwen tribe in some way, but as a trusted member of Ozpin’s inner circle, he hadn’t thought it very likely. It seemed he’d just been proven wrong. “She said you were seduced by the headmaster of that fancy-ass academy into becoming a bona fide Huntsman, all high an’ mighty like, an’ now you think you’re better’n the rest of us.”

Qrow’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t prey on innocent people. That makes me better than you.”

The Branwen bandit gestured expansively around them. “We’ve ended up in the same damn place. Only I’m comin’ off a big score, this little village to the west, defenses crumbled like a sandcastle.”

Qrow stood, turning to face the man fully. “That was the tribe?”

“Yeah, an’ we’ve got the loot to show for it,” the man bragged, oblivious to Qrow’s simmering rage. “What’ve you got—?”

Qrow decked the man right in the face, with enough force to send him crashing back into the wooden pillar behind him. Something cracked—wood or bone, it was hard to tell. He slid down to the floor and didn’t get back up. “Someone take out the trash,” said Qrow to the small crowd of gawping onlookers. He then returned to his drink as though there had been no interruption.

Roman gave a low whistle. “Nice right hook.” He relaxed back against the bar, looking at Qrow in a new light. “So, Ozpin’s star student used to lead a life of crime. Think the man has a type?”

“Used to,” Qrow growled. “He’s the reason I turned my life around. He opened my eyes to all the shit that goes on in this world, and he was the first person who believed I could do something to make it better rather than worse. So make all the snide remarks about my past that you want to, because I’m not that person anymore.”

“Yeesh, didn’t mean to touch a nerve.” The barkeep had surreptitiously placed a fresh glass on the bar in front of Roman, and he poured himself a generous refill. “So, you must be Raven’s brother.”

“You know Raven?” asked Qrow warily.

“We’ve had dealings on occasion. Nice lady.”

Qrow barked a harsh laugh. “Yeah, she’s a piece of work.”

Roman couldn’t imagine turning his back on Neo as Qrow had Raven, but then again, he could see why Qrow and his sister might not have been the best of pals. They weren’t exactly birds of a feather, so to speak. The thought amused him. “So, can Raven turn into a raven?”

Roman hadn’t actually been serious, so Qrow’s simple nod came as a surprise. Qrow searched Roman’s face for something, but what it might have been, and whether or not he found it, Roman couldn’t begin to fathom. “You’ll remember all this stuff eventually, I guess,” he said. “Everything Oz knows.”

Roman swirled the whiskey in his glass. “So I’ve been told.”

“Then it probably doesn’t hurt to let you in on a few things early.” He lowered his voice, so it wouldn’t carry. “Oz recruited me and Raven back when we were students at Beacon. We were there to learn how to kill Huntsmen, to protect the tribe, and he saw right through us. But he also saw potential in us that we didn’t see in ourselves. He made his offer, and we made our choice. That’s something Raven seems to have forgotten. She thinks he was the one playing us from the start. So she abandoned her responsibilities and returned to the tribe. But I knew we were doing something important, so I stayed by his side. And I’m still here.” He held out his arms, the gesture weighed down by desperation. As though he could only hope that he’d lived up to Ozpin’s great expectations. 

“So Ozpin will bend the rules, when it suits him,” Roman mused.

“He does what needs to be done. Often times, that means the things others can’t or won’t do.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “He always knows best, does he?”

“He’s the only one who knows the full scale of this conflict, and everything that hangs in the balance. It’s bigger than you or me, than politics and wars and kingdoms.”

“Seems like info he might want to share. Since, you know, the fate of humanity is supposedly at stake.”

“The knowledge would just cause a panic,” said Qrow. “Like the shit Cinder’s broadcast has stirred up, but a hundred times worse. Which would make things that much easier for her. In each lifetime, he lets a few of us in on the secret, and we do whatever we can to work against her, until we figure out a way to defeat her for good.”

Roman raised his glass in a mock toast. “Well, you’ve done a great job so far.”

“You don’t know the first thing about what we do. You only just switched sides a couple days ago.”

“I’ve only ever been on my own side.”

Qrow laughed bitterly. “I used to think the same way. But behind the curtain, there’s only her side and his side, and Remnant’s their chess board. Once you realize that, the choice is easy. I’d die for Ozpin, and what he’s fighting for. Gods know he’s died for us more times than he can probably count, just so he can keep fighting.”

Roman didn’t believe in absolutes. There was always a grey area in between the black and white, and that was where he thrived. Still, he had been used by Salem to advance her strategy, and now it seemed he had no choice but to serve as Ozpin’s instrument in advancing his own. The thought deeply unsettled him. So he put it out of his mind. “You know, you're right. For someone who shares such a close relationship with our mutual acquaintance, I knew surprisingly little about you. I kept tabs on everyone of importance coming and going from Beacon, and you were hardly ever there. I had you pegged as a minor player in all this.”

“I doubt you spent a lot of time birdwatching.” Roman nodded, acknowledging Qrow’s point. Qrow searched his eyes again, and Roman thought he understood why this time. He was looking for a sign that someone else was looking back. “But I…wasn’t there as often as I wanted to be. I’m…better, at a distance.” He took another swig of whiskey, finishing off his second glass.

“Now you sound as cryptic as he does.”

Qrow huffed out an almost-laugh. “So there are things Oz hasn’t told you about me.” He sighed, staring into his empty glass. “You oughta know, so you can watch out for it. Your bad luck, running into the one person who happened to recognize you in this nowhere town? Wasn’t your bad luck. My Semblance…isn’t something I can control. I bring misfortune wherever I go, to everyone around me. Friends and enemies alike.”

“Huh,” said Roman, considering. “I guess I’d rather have no Semblance than a shitty one like that.”

“Gee, thanks.” Qrow poured himself a third glass.

Roman shrugged. “Just don’t come anywhere near me when I’m gambling, and I can handle the rest.” An idea struck then, and he was pretty sure it wasn’t just the alcohol at work. “…On second thought, in games of chance, the luck has to cut both ways. One player’s misfortune is another player’s fortune—in both senses of the word. I’m willing to bet there are some outcomes you can control. Would you care to try a little experiment with me?”

Qrow squinted at him suspiciously. “Just what do you have in mind?”

~ * ~

“All you have to do is stand there and look pretty,” Roman had told the Huntsman, patting his cheek. The tavern was full of easy marks: sorry drunks down on their luck, petty criminals looking to double the day’s score, overeager young grifters convinced they couldn’t lose, and more seasoned gamblers who’d learned to accept losing as part of the game. If this worked, it would be like stealing candy from babies.

Roman had learned to count cards by the age of thirteen. Learning to fight and steal had kept him and Neo safe and fed, but more than any other skill, learning how to work a gambling table had ultimately gotten him and Neo off the streets. Nowadays, it was a simple trick for Neo to cheat at any game using her Semblance, and Roman simply gambled for pleasure rather than necessity. But he still got a thrill from contriving new ways to swindle suckers out of their hard-earned money.

He found an open table at the back, jumped up on top of it and loudly announced that he was starting a game of poker and would stake the first hand of anyone who wanted to play. He was pretty drunk by that point, but he counted cards at night like other people counted sheep. He didn’t need to be sober to win. Nevertheless, he slurred his words a little more than he otherwise would. It never hurt to let the suckers you were playing think they were playing you.

The refuse came scuttling out of the woodwork and crowded around, jockeying for seats at the table. Roman capped the game at ten players including himself, but encouraged the others to stick around—they could always buy in later. He took his seat at the head of the table, pulled out his deck of cards and started shuffling. Meanwhile, Qrow stood across the table from him, in amongst the other spectators, watching with mild interest while guzzling the rest of the whiskey straight from the bottle. Neo stood beside the Huntsman, watching him as much as the game, curious to see how things would play out. Still, Roman got the impression she was humoring him, bemused by his enthusiasm for this new scheme when the pair of them had plenty between them. But if this one worked as he predicted, then the beauty of it would be that it wouldn’t really be cheating at all. He would rely on the luck of the cards like anyone else.

He forced himself not to count as he dealt the opening hands. This wouldn’t work if he tried to game the system. In fact, he suspected Qrow’s Semblance would foil other players’ attempts at cheating, one way or another. Roman played his cards straight, trusting in his theory that as long as Qrow stood at the other side of the table, luck would be on Roman’s side. And sure enough, while he didn’t finish with a stellar hand, the two pair he laid down at the end of the final round was good enough to take the pot. “Bad luck, fellas,” said Roman, raking in the pile of Lien. “Who’s up for another round?”

That got Qrow’s full attention, and he watched, transfixed, as the players seated nearest him kept folding or trying to bluff with terrible hands, while Roman continued his winning streak. So as not to attract too much suspicion, Roman would fold when the pot was low, only playing out his hand when the winnings were worth taking. It worked every time. After Roman laid down a straight flush and collected his fourth pot, Qrow nudged Neo in the side and whispered something to her, eyes wide and bright. She rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless, enjoying watching her brother work the table just like he used to when they were younger.

Keeping the game under his control also meant dealing appropriately with players who stepped out of line. Like the young man who was trying to cheat with a stack of high cards up his sleeve. Unfortunately, he fumbled the switch, and the ace he’d been trying to swap in fluttered down to the table, landing face-up for all to see. Roman slammed the handle of his cane down on top of the card, nearly causing the kid to jump out of his chair. “Cut your losses and walk away,” he said. “At this table, you play fair or not at all.”

“Bullshit!” the kid spat, although his voice trembled. “You’re the one who’s cheating! I bet you’ve got a dozen aces up your sleeve.”

Roman stood, leaning in over the table to reply, “The only thing I’ve got up my sleeve is a blade, but I’d be happy to let you inspect it more closely.” Qrow shifted nervously, perhaps considering intervening if the situation escalated. But the kid blanched and backed away from the table, muttering about the game being rigged as he beat a hasty retreat. Another person filled his chair as soon as he was gone, eager to take their chances. But Roman could read the room, and once an accusation had been made, it would be that much more difficult to divert the suspicion of the remaining players. He knew to quit while he was ahead.

He played a few more hands, folding two, and winning the final pot with four of a kind. Then he gracefully bowed out, collecting his cards and his winnings, and bidding the players goodnight. As he left the table, another man took his seat, offering his own deck of cards to keep the game going, oblivious to the fact that they would be playing an entirely different game once Roman and Qrow were gone.

Neo joined him by the entrance, holding open the saddlebag for him to dump his winnings into. Qrow followed in her wake, looking somewhat dazed. “I can’t believe that actually worked,” he slurred. “I actually did something good with my Semblance. Well, not good, but…I did something. That helped someone. That I meant to do.”

Roman clapped him on the shoulder. “You did good.” Qrow gave him a dopey grin, which Roman wouldn’t have found so charming if he weren’t so drunk himself. “You ever wanna do that again sometime, let me know.” He slipped a five-hundred-Lien card into Qrow’s pocket: his share of the winnings. Even though he hadn’t done any of the actual work, Roman was feeling generous.

Qrow stared at him for a moment, the gears grinding sluggishly in his mind. Then he tapped the side of Roman’s head with two fingers. “Is Oz there? I wanna tell him I did good.”

“Stop that.” Roman swatted his hand away. “You were being fun and now you’re being annoying.”

“Your face is annoying,” Qrow grumbled sulkily.

Neo shepherded the two drunken men to the inn across the street, where Roman attempted to rent a room for the night with his well-earned money. The innkeeper looked at him like he was an idiot, which he resented, until she said, slowly, “Just to be sure we understand each other, you want a room for four. Will a fourth person be joining the three of you?”

“Oh shit.” Roman giggled. “I sure hope not!”

“I’ll just make that two beds and a pull-out, then,” she said in a leading tone. Then, under her breath, “Not that it isn’t tempting to over-charge drunken fools who can’t count.”

Neo nodded, nudging her brother out of the way and counting out the money to pay for the room. She accepted the key, and then draped Roman’s arm around her shoulders to help him up the stairs, leaving Qrow to stumble along behind them. As soon as they got to their room, Qrow toppled face-first into one of the beds and began to snore lightly. Roman tossed his hat onto the dresser. Then he looked between the remaining bed and the pull-out couch, and between Neo’s small frame and his own six feet and change. Neo blew out a breath in annoyance and shoved him onto the bed. He was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow. He didn’t dream at all.

Chapter Text

While Roman’s sleep was blissfully free of horrific nightmares, he awoke to what he was certain was the worst hangover of his life. He groaned and buried his head under the pillow as the early light filtering in through the curtains attempted to needle between his eyelids. He could shut out the light, but there was no hope of shutting out the pain of his pounding headache. “I hate you,” Roman mumbled into the pillow. “So much.”

‘What happened?’ Ozpin murmured groggily. ‘Were we attacked?’

“…I went drinking with Qrow.” He really should have known better than to pace himself against a depressed alcoholic with the stomach lining of a carrion eater.

‘Oh, gods.’

“All I wanted was a decent night’s sleep!”

‘Shhh. Be quiet.’ Roman rankled at being shushed like an unruly child, but Ozpin had a point. Loud noises were definitely Not Good. ‘Where is Qrow? I’d like to speak with him.’

Roman risked lifting a corner of the pillow and cracking one eye open, only to find that the bed across from him was empty. “He the type to skip out the morning after?”

‘Perhaps he had nothing to report… Oh. There he is.’

Roman’s eyes widened. There was a crow nesting in his hat. Aches and pains temporarily forgotten, he was out of bed and across the room in three strides. He snatched his hat off the dresser and upended it. The bird gave a surprised squawk as it fell, and Qrow hit the floor in an uncoordinated sprawl. “I’m awake!”

“So help me, Qrow, if you shit in my hat I will roast you like a chicken and eat you for breakfast!”

Qrow winced. “Not so loud. Why can’t you be nice and quiet like your sister?” Neo was sitting up in bed, watching the pair of them in silent inscrutability. “Creepy, but quiet.”

Roman inspected his hat, but all that Qrow had left behind was a long, black feather. It was a rather handsome feather, actually. He’d been meaning to replace the grey feather in his hat, anyway; it had gotten singed in his last run-in with Little Red. So he plucked it out and tucked the crow feather in its place, then put on the hat and turned to examine his reflection in the mirror. The overall effect was subtler, sleeker, a little more sinister. “Not bad,” he muttered.

Qrow struggled to push himself up into a sitting position, blinking up at Roman blearily. “You’re using my feather as a fashion accessory?”

“It looks better on me.”

‘Torchwick.’

“Ugh, fine. Oz wants to talk to you.” Roman took a mental step back, relinquishing control. It was better than playing the messenger between the two. And he was more than willing to let Ozpin deal with the consequences of his irresponsible night.

Ozpin hissed, clutching his head. “Gods, how much did he drink?”

Qrow grimaced in sympathy. “Almost as much as I did, I think.” Ozpin held out a hand to help Qrow up off the floor. He stared at it for a moment before accepting the assistance and letting Ozpin pull him to his feet. “You guys are giving me whiplash,” he muttered. “You heard him just threaten to eat me, right?”

Ozpin offered Qrow a gentle smile. “I think he’s more bark than bite.”

‘Oh, I bite.’

“Did you two manage to get along alright on your own?” Ozpin continued, talking over Roman.

“I think so…” said Qrow, scratching his head. “Oh! He figured out a way I can use my Semblance to actually influence certain outcomes, rather than just causing chaos.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, see, in games of chance where luck is the determining factor, like cards, I can actually put my finger on the scales and control the luck at the table. Basically, I can pick the winner just by making everyone else lose. Neat, right?”

“Qrow.”

“I’m not sure if there are ways to adapt the principle for combat, but just having some control in some situations is—”

“Qrow.”

“Yeah, Oz?”

Ozpin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Am I to understand,” he said slowly, “that you used your Semblance to help Torchwick cheat at cards?”

“Uh…yeah.” Qrow cringed. “That wasn’t good, was it?”

Ozpin sighed. “Honestly, I expected worse. And that is an interesting discovery. Just remember to be careful around him. I’m doing my best with him, but he’s not our friend.”

“I won’t forget,” said Qrow. “Are you alright? You were out for a long time yesterday.”

“Aside from the hangover, I’m fine now. Using magic is particularly taxing for me so soon after reincarnation, and dominating the will of another creature requires a great deal of magical energy. I simply overexerted myself. I’m sorry if I alarmed you.”

Qrow crossed his arms, giving Ozpin a tired look. “I was more annoyed than alarmed. I flew like a bat outta hell to get to you from that far away, and then you left me with the mafia siblings.” A slow, metallic shing echoed from across the room, and both men turned to see that Neo was now perched on the arm of the sofa, sharpening her sword. She gave them a cheery little wave, and continued with her work. Shing. Shing. Shing.

Qrow gestured wordlessly to her to illustrate his point. And Ozpin felt suitably guilty. “I’ll try not to do that again. Do you have any news from Beacon?”

Roman quickly lost interest as Qrow reported on the organization of Huntsmen into search and rescue teams, developing plans for how to destroy the remains of the wyvern, and the health and whereabouts of various students, including how half of Team RWBY had apparently scattered to the wind. ‘I heard yesterday that you recruited him while he was still a student,’ mused Roman while Qrow prattled on. ‘Actually, “seduced” was a word that got thrown around.’

Ozpin cleared his throat and asked after Little Red’s health. “She’s doing better,” said Qrow. “She’s started talking in her sleep like she sometimes does. I think she’ll be waking up soon.”

‘Just how many rules did you break for him, I wonder.’

“I told Tai to message me the moment she does.”

‘Well? Was young Mr. Branwen hot for teacher?’

Ozpin coughed loudly. “You sure you’re okay, Oz?”  Qrow asked. “You’re looking kind of flushed.”

“I’m quite alright,” answered Ozpin. “Torchwick is simply making a nuisance of himself.”

“What’s he saying?”

“Nothing of import.”

Qrow sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Well, I should be heading back. Can’t let Tai get all the credit when she wakes up.”

“Gods forbid,” said Ozpin with a smile.

Qrow walked over and opened the window, then looked back at Ozpin like it hurt more each time he had to leave. “I’ll see you again soon.” He flew off without waiting for a response.

Ozpin watched out the window as Qrow’s silhouette dwindled to a black dot against the blue sky. “As disinclined as I am to dignify your tactless prying with a response,” he muttered under his breath, “our relationship was strictly platonic while he was my student.”

‘Huh,’ said Roman. ‘I think I can tell when you’re lying, too.’

Ozpin gripped the windowsill tightly, and Roman felt his annoyance flare into anger. But Neo, with excellent sense of timing, chose that moment to appear by his side with a glass of ice water. “Oh. Thank you,” said Ozpin, reaching for the glass. But Neo pulled it back, shaking her head. “It’s not for me,” he interpreted. She nodded. “Very well,” he sighed. “Although how you put up with him constantly, I simply cannot fathom.” He turned over control to Roman without another word.

Roman braced himself against the windowsill, still somewhat unsteady on his feet. He accepted the glass of water and downed it in a few gulps. “Thanks, I needed that.” Neo patted him on the back as though he were the younger sibling who needed taking care of. He blew out a breath that fluttered his bangs. “Let’s see what this hick town’s got in the way of shopping.”

They purchased the supplies they needed for the long journey ahead, Roman found a smuggler off whom he bought some excellent Vacuese cigars, and Neo made a beeline for the town’s little ice cream parlor. She pointed to the strawberry flavor, so Roman ordered her a cone. As he was about to pay, Ozpin remarked off-handedly, ‘The chocolate looks nice.’

Roman rolled his eyes. “And a scoop of chocolate.” The man behind the counter handed him the two ice cream cones, and he gave Neo hers and kept the other. “Your sweet tooth better not be the reason I get cavities,” he muttered as they walked away.

Ozpin hummed contentedly. ‘I haven’t had a cavity in a century.’

They strolled down the main street, licking their ice creams and soaking in what would be their last taste of life in a settlement of any significant size for quite some time. “There anything else we need?” Roman asked.

‘I believe I saw a dust shop on the way in.’

Roman grinned. “Now we’re talking.”

They made their way to the dust shop near the town gate. It was a small, sparsely stocked establishment, but they didn’t need anything fancy. Roman sauntered up to the shopkeeper and asked to see his supply of fire dust crystals. He was a small, middle-aged man with spectacles as thick as beer bottles. “Of course, sir,” he said, shuffling down to the other end of the counter to rummage in the drawers below the display case. Roman leaned nonchalantly against the counter, pocketing a couple of lightning dust crystals from the display by the register as he did so.

‘I hope you intend to pay for those.’

“It’s called the five-finger discount,” Roman muttered.

‘Pay for them or put them back.’

“Fine,” Roman hissed, setting the crystals back in their display before Ozpin could make him do so. He didn’t need them, wasn’t even really sure how he would use them—they had simply caught his eye. “But I hope you know how wrong it’ll feel, walking out of here with everything on the receipt.”

‘My heart bleeds for you.’

The shopkeep returned with a tray of red crystals, which Roman examined for purity and shade. He picked out ten of the highest quality, and had the man pack all the crystals up in a case. “See anything you like?” he asked Neo. She skipped over carrying a few pouches of dust powder which she could lace into her illusions. Roman added them to his purchase and paid in full while trying not to dwell on it too much.

As they left the store and approached the town gate, one of the guards waved them over, and Roman felt irrationally on edge, since for once, he hadn’t stolen anything. “Mr. Goodwitch,” said the guard, “there is a horse for you just outside the gate.” He gestured to where a hardy black stallion was hitched to a post, pawing at the dirt at the base of the wall.

Roman tipped his hat in thanks and approached the beast with caution. “I think I’ll call you Crow,” he told the horse.

‘Think again.’

“Crow, with a C. Like it’s actually spelled.”

‘It’s still not a good idea.’

“It’s a black horse, Oz. I thought you were all for color-based naming schemes. And if it just so happens to remind you of Qrow-with-a-Q, then maybe you’ll be less inclined to run it into the ground like you did the last one.”

Ozpin gave a beleaguered sigh. ‘If Qrow finds out, he’s going to throw something at us, and it might be his weapon.’

“He’ll have to be sober enough to aim straight. I’ll take my chances.”

‘Shall I?’ Ozpin asked, preparing to take over.

But Roman shook his head. “I think I’ve got the hang of it now.” He freed the reins from the post and kept hold of them as he stepped up in the stirrup and swung his opposite leg over the horse’s back. Neo vaulted up to land lightly behind him. With a kick to the horse’s sides and a light flick of the reins, he set the horse cantering down the road, quickly leaving the little town behind them. He felt far more at ease in the saddle now, as though he’d been riding horseback for years rather than days. Muscle memory came first, Ozpin had said.

Only after they had ridden several miles did Neo tap Roman on the shoulder, then drop two lightning dust crystals into his breast pocket. Roman broke into surprised laughter. “Well done, kid! I didn’t even see you palm those!”

‘Oh, for fuck’s sake.’

Chapter Text

They stopped for lunch in a broad, grassy clearing. And after a quaint little picnic, Ozpin said it was time to begin their training in earnest. Despite Roman’s irritation at being told what he was going to do and when, he was curious to see what the famed Huntsman academy headmaster had to teach him. He knew he would have to be a quick study if he hoped to make it out of Ozpin’s war alive.

‘First things first. You’ll need to work on maintaining a defensive Aura. I’ll require Ms. Neo’s assistance for this lesson.’

“I think he wants us to fight,” Roman told his sister, walking to the center of the clearing. Neo grabbed her parasol and trotted after him with a skip in her step. The two of them sparred often, and Neo could lay him out nine times out of ten. She was the better fighter, of that he was under no illusion. But if the purpose of this exercise was to see how well he could take a beating, then it was a perfect match. In accordance with Ozpin’s instructions, brother and sister assumed fighting stances about six yards apart, Roman with his cane, Neo with her parasol.

‘It might be helpful to think of your Aura as behaving like water,’ said Ozpin serenely. ‘You can draw it up from deep within as you would water from a well, but its natural tendency is to sink back down, like rain sinks into the ground. You must draw up enough to protect yourself and keep it at the ready, just beneath the surface. If you do this successfully, your Aura will protect you better than any suit of armor. But you must not allow distractions to break your concentration. No matter what she throws at you, you’ll have to stay focused on keeping your Aura engaged.’

Roman felt the energy at his core stir and respond to his summons, albeit somewhat sluggishly at first. But soon enough, it started tingling under his skin, crackling behind his teeth, tinting his vision the reddish-orange of a dying flame. ‘Not too much, or you’ll deplete your reserve before the fight is finished.’ Roman exhaled and let some of the energy subside, until he felt it mostly as heat in his blood. ‘Very good. Whenever you’re ready.’

Roman locked eyes with Neo, and gave a slight nod. In a blur, she closed the distance between them and brought her parasol down with more force than anyone would suspect a girl of her size to be capable of generating. Roman raised his cane just in time to block her downward strike, but she used the point of contact as well as her own momentum to vault over his shoulders. He kicked back, catching her in the stomach and sending her flying through the air, but she opened her parasol and landed lightly on her feet. He barely had time to swing his cane around to deflect her next attack. She was faster than him, but he knew her well enough to anticipate what she would do next. It was the only way he could keep up with her. 

He managed to hook her ankle with the handle of his cane as she attempted to dance back out of striking distance, but it was almost impossible to unbalance her. When he yanked her backward, she did a full flip in midair, and landed back on her feet, out of range of any counterattack. Well, almost any counterattack. Roman flipped his cane around and shot her in the back.

Of course, she could anticipate his moves as well. The smoke rolled off her open parasol, behind which she was completely unscathed. She shot him a dirty look as she snapped her parasol shut. He laughed nervously. “Love you, sis.”

She rushed him head-on, and he fired again, shattering the illusion. He spun around not a second too soon, cane clashing with parasol as he blocked Neo’s attack from behind. ‘She does actually have to hit you at some point,’ Ozpin reminded him.

“Oh, she will,” said Roman. “We’re just warming up.” They broke into a rapid-fire exchange of blows, each parrying and countering the other’s attacks almost like two fencers in a sword fight. Neo danced circles around him, but he kept her from getting too close. With her acrobatics and her Semblance, however, she was difficult to keep track of. He shattered illusion after illusion that she produced to distract him, keeping him guessing as to where the next attack would come from. After a little while, he stopped wasting his effort on destroying the illusions, instead using them as indicators of where she was not. That was his first and final mistake.

Half a dozen Neos surrounded him, and when he turned his back on one, the real Neo watching him from behind it shattered it with a powerful kick, sending Roman pitching forward into the dirt. He’d been caught by surprise, but Ozpin’s critical spectatorship had served as a constant reminder to stay focused on the lesson lest he get an earful about it afterward. His Aura crackled around him, absorbing the damage, but little if any of the pain. He rolled over onto his back to find the tip of Neo’s parasol poised just beneath his chin.

He tucked his hands behind his head, lounging back in the grass. “You win.” She gave him a big smile, although it was a little ambiguous whether she was happy for him because he’d successfully used his Aura, or excited by the realization that now, she could hit him harder before she broke something. She flipped her parasol around and offered him the handle to help him to his feet. So naturally, he opened the parasol in her face and swept his leg around, knocking her feet out from under her. She landed on her ass with a quiet gasp of surprise. “Just giving you a little motivation,” he said, twirling her parasol over his shoulder. She punched him so hard in the ribs his Aura lit up again. He doubled over, half from pain, half from laughter. “That’s not so hard,” he chuckled breathlessly. “I thought this was supposed to be a challenge, professor.”

‘Don’t get cocky. The real challenge is sustaining it. If you manage to do so for another bout, then I’m prepared to be impressed.’

Roman smirked. “Keep it up for another round ’til you’re satisfied. Got it.”

‘Don’t make me make you do something you’ll regret,’ Ozpin deadpanned. Roman knew better than to keep running his smart mouth in the face of a credible threat. He and Neo picked themselves up off the ground, dusted off their clothes, and squared off again. Neo looked much more eager to get to the point of Ozpin’s exercise this time. And Roman, while not ashamed to lose to his little sister per se, was a little less blasé about the prospect of getting taken down twice in a row with running commentary from the spectral peanut gallery. And he wasn’t exactly looking forward to the repercussions of his earlier provocation. Neo would be less reticent to dish out exactly what he deserved if it also happened to be “for his own good.” Needless to say, they would both be taking this match a little more seriously than the last.

Neo dipped into a graceful bow, and Roman nearly returned the courtesy instinctively, before he realized with a jolt that the fight had already begun. He flipped his cane up and shot through the illusion, eyes darting around to find where the real Neo had gone. ‘How can you tell the illusions from the real thing?’

“Watch her eyes,” muttered Roman, turning in a slow circle. A shadow passed over the grass at his feet, and he almost dismissed it as a hawk circling overhead. But an uneasy feeling made him look up. Neo’s parasol briefly blotted out the sun, before she snapped it shut and dropped down through the air. Roman hissed as the sunlight temporarily blinded him, but he rolled out of the way just before her parasol plunged into the ground where he’d been standing. Seeing spots, he swiped his bangs to the other side as he rose to his feet, and swung his cane. Neo backflipped over it, and came up swinging herself. Roman moved to block with his cane, and the illusion shattered against it, the shards raining down on him and slicing his cheek, causing his Aura to crackle across his skin. The real Neo came at him from the side, and he had to leap back to avoid the sweep of her parasol.

‘Oh, I see. In the illusions, her eyes switch colors. Almost like a mirror image.’

“That’s the only difference.” Roman fired his grappling hook, catching Neo’s wrist and pulling her in so she couldn’t disappear behind another illusion. She stumbled forward, but caught herself, and then yanked back. Roman’s cane slipped from his grasp, and she flung it away.

She advanced on him, and he thought the fight was as good as over. Until he remembered he had another weapon. He reached behind him and unclipped Ozpin’s cane from his belt loops, extending it with a flick of the lever. He lunged at her before she reached him, striking out with the cane and whacking her hard across the shins. Her Aura sparked down her legs as she leapt back and retreated a few limping steps. He pressed his advantage, keeping her on her back foot as he spun and swung and struck with the new weapon. It felt right, somehow, in his hand, which in turn felt very wrong. But Roman didn’t dwell on that just then. Ozpin’s cane was lighter, more streamlined than his, so his attacks were a little faster. He drove Neo back with one goal in mind: retrieving his cane.

It didn’t take her long to adjust to the new rhythm of his attacks, and she lashed out as he was preparing to strike. He rolled to the side instead, narrowly avoiding a parasol to the face. But he ended up only a few feet from where his cane had landed. As Neo launched herself at him, he kicked the cane up into his free hand, and brought both canes up in an X to block her attack. The impact was jarring, but he had her right where he wanted her. Before she could draw back, he twisted around, her weapon caught between his, and disarmed her, flinging her parasol away. Without missing a beat, he swung his cane around, stopping it just over her heart, point-blank. “I think I win this one, kid,” he said.

She refused to meet his eyes, fists clenched in frustration, her small body trembling slightly. She wasn’t used to losing. Then he felt a tap on his shoulder. He turned, cold realization setting in. There was Neo – the real Neo – her bare blade leveled beside his throat. It must have just been her parasol sheath that he’d tossed away. Her lips quirked into a slight smile. Care to re-evaluate, brother?

Ozpin chuckled delightedly. ‘Oh, she’s good.’

Chapter Text

Their training sessions became a daily routine. Whenever they stopped somewhere with enough open space, which, since they were trekking through the middle of nowhere, was pretty damn often, Ozpin would begin another combat lesson. Sometimes, he would instruct Roman alone, running him through a series of exercises to improve his form; sometimes, he’d recruit Neo as his “teacher’s assistant” for sparring matches. And every Grimm they encountered along the way was a “learning opportunity.”

The headmaster set a punishing regimen, but Roman couldn’t deny that he was improving more quickly than he ever had before. Although he couldn’t be sure how much of it was due to the training itself, and how much was because he was instinctively fighting a little more like Ozpin every day. He refused to practice with Ozpin’s cane, unnerved by how familiar it had felt to wield it for the first time in that sparring match with Neo. Ozpin didn’t comment on it, but sometimes Roman got the strangest sense of déjà vu, as though he’d experienced the exact same reluctance before, long ago. He got that feeling a lot these days. He supposed it came with the territory of all this past lives bullshit.

Although it wasn’t déjà vu that made Ozpin’s comment of ‘I don’t recall this road having a fork in it’ sound familiar. Roman had heard a lot of variations of ‘There used to be a bridge here,’ ‘This village must be new,’ and ‘I could have sworn there was a shortcut through these woods’ over the past few days.

Roman brought the horse to a halt. “When was the last time you made this trip?”

‘It was near the end of the war.’

“The war? The Great War?” Roman demanded.

‘Yes, that’s the one.’ Roman pulled out his scroll and began typing a new message to Qrow. ‘What are you doing?’

“Your directions are about eighty years out of date. I’m telling Qrow to bring a map the next time he drops by.”

‘Don’t bother him with something so trivial. I know the way.’

Qrow’s response was almost immediate: <You lost again?>

“You were saying?”

‘I led him astray once, ten years ago, and he still holds it against me,’ Ozpin grumbled.

“Not that you don’t have my complete confidence,” said Roman, “but I think we should camp here for the night.” He dismounted and held out a hand to help Neo down, not bothering to wait for a reply from Ozpin. Qrow had said it plainly enough: if Roman tried to do anything Ozpin didn’t like, Ozpin could stop him. So Roman wouldn’t ask Ozpin’s permission for anything. Just because he was playing host to Ozpin’s soul, didn’t mean he had to roll out the red carpet for the guy. They may be stuck together, but Ozpin was an unwelcome guest, and Roman wouldn’t let him forget it.

Ozpin didn’t argue. Roman sensed he was turning over a question in his mind, probably which road was the right one. He could sleep on it, and if they were lucky, maybe their little carrier crow would show up in the morning with a map. Roman led the horse off the path and through the underbrush to a little, sheltered clearing, where he hitched the creature to a tree and left it to graze. Neo began rolling out the bedrolls and setting up camp, while he wandered off into the trees to collect firewood. He lit a cigar, enjoying the quiet stroll through the twilight forest. He was a city guy at heart, but organized crime was a full-time job, and it was surprisingly nice to get away from it all for a little while and just breathe.

‘You’re really going to smoke with arms full of kindling?’

He’d almost forgotten that he would never again have a moment of peace and quiet to himself. Roman hissed out a smoky sigh. “You worry too much, Oz. You’re gonna give me ulcers.”

‘I’d be more worried about third-degree burns, if I were you.’

Roman snorted. “‘If I were you.’ That’s a funny turn of phrase, these days.”

Ozpin hummed in agreement. ‘All the more reason for me to be concerned about you setting yourself on fire in this scenario. Trust me, it’s not a good way to go.’

“I happen to like playing with fire.”

‘Is that what you thought when you met Cinder?’

Roman’s eyebrows shot up. “Touché. So maybe I’m a little cavalier about engaging in risky behavior. Doesn’t mean you don’t need to loosen up. Earlier, I’m pretty sure you were worrying about Qrow getting eaten by a cat.”

‘It could happen,’ Ozpin muttered.

“See, this is why you have nightmares.” In truth, Ozpin’s nightmares had gotten much better lately, but some nights, Roman still woke gasping.

‘You are the reason I have nightmares, Torchwick. Or at least, the reason they have been this bad.’

Roman stopped walking. “Uh, I’m flattered, Oz, but I’m not that scary.”

‘I’m not afraid of you. But you’re a wild card, and even with our bond, I cannot claim to know your mind. What I’m afraid of is that I will fail—because of you.’

“You can make me do whatever the fuck you want,” said Roman, hoping his resentment hid his genuine interest in the turn the conversation had taken.

‘I can. But even the slightest resistance or hindrance from you at a critical moment when we need to be working together seamlessly could make all the difference. Or, gods forbid, I am swayed by some passion of yours that runs counter to the task at hand. It is imperative that we develop a cooperative working relationship, but I’ll admit, I see no incentive for you to do so. Knowledge, power, anything I can offer you is ultimately self-serving, as I’m sure you’ve come to realize.’

Roman immediately recognized this as the opportunity he’d been waiting for. A chance to assuage Ozpin’s fears and suspicions, to gain a little of his trust. But how to convince him with only the truth? Roman leaned back against a tree and blew smoke up at the dusky sky. “You’re worried about getting something you’ve already got. We’ve been working together for years, Oz. You just didn’t realize it.”

‘What are you talking about?’

“Before I took over Vale’s criminal underworld, it was chaos and carnage. Turf wars between rival gangs had gotten out of hand, and crime rates were through the roof. People were starting to panic. I’m sure you remember. You made a speech about it, even started a Huntsman task force to assist the police. But it wasn’t ‘good old-fashioned police work’ that brought the crime epidemic to an end. That was yours truly, seizing the opportunity to take over all the warring factions and bring them under my control, until nobody ran a job in Vale without my say-so. That was when people started calling my organization an empire. Then, the Empire.”

Roman chuckled, smoke curling from his lips. “You could say I put the ‘organized’ back in organized crime. Peace through the consolidation of power. The truth is, casualties and collateral damage are inefficient and draw too much attention. Under my watch, the reported crime rate in Vale plummeted, because crime became all but invisible. So everyone felt they could sleep nice and cozy in their beds again at night. While you and your Huntsmen kept the wolves from the gates, I kept the ones already inside from tearing the place apart. We both know you secretly ran that city from the top down, but I ran it from the bottom up. I’d call that a cooperative working relationship, wouldn’t you?”

‘You’re saying that your particular brand of criminal activity…actually made Vale safer?’ asked Ozpin skeptically.

“Come on, Oz, you’re not naive. You can’t get rid of crime. But you can control it. Well, I can.”

‘It’s an interesting theory,’ Ozpin allowed.

“Vale was my home, too.” Roman wasn’t sure what made him say that. It wasn’t calculated, it wasn’t equivocal. It was just…true.

‘Then why conspire to destroy it?’

Roman grimaced. “Home’s a complicated notion. There were a lot of times, years ago, when I wanted nothing more than to watch that city burn. But I made it mine. In all honesty, if I’d known things were going to play out the way they did the night Cinder first showed up at my door, I woulda slammed it in her face.”

‘I doubt that would have gone well for you,’ said Ozpin, a touch of dark humor in his tone.

Roman huffed a laugh. “Yeah, you’re probably right. I don’t think that girl’s ever heard the word ‘no.’ It was always, ‘Roman, steal the city’s entire supply of dust,’ and ‘Roman, organize an underground Faunus rebellion,’ and ‘Roman, drive a fucking train through a fucking wall with a thousand fucking Grimm on your ass.’ And I went along with it every time.”

‘You didn’t feel you had a choice,’ Ozpin inferred.

“I had a choice,” said Roman. “It was which side of Cinder’s wrath to put myself and my sister on.” They lapsed into silence after that. It was the kind of tense silence that meant he’d given Ozpin a lot to think about.

He returned to camp to find a dead rabbit on his bedroll, Neo lounging back on hers looking like a proud cat presenting him with a trophy. It took him a moment to get past his dumb shock and deep confusion and remember that they were roughing it in the woods, and that hunting for their food was wiser than eating through all their supplies. “You know how to skin and cook that?” he asked, taking some of the firewood to build a fire in the little area Neo had cleared, and leaving the rest to add to it later. He dropped the butt of his cigar into the kindling, the flames spreading and slowly setting the whole thing ablaze.

Neo shrugged, looking at him expectantly. You were the farm boy.

Roman picked up the dead rabbit by the ears, and flicked his dagger into his palm. “I’ll give it a shot, but it’s been twenty years since I’ve done this kinda thing,” Roman warned her.

‘Why don’t I do it?’ Ozpin suggested.

“Just out of curiosity, what don’t you know how to do?”

‘I’ve had a lot of time to cultivate a broad skillset.’

“Alright,” Roman sighed. “Have at it.”

Ozpin took control and butchered the rabbit in a few clean, easy strokes of the knife. He then constructed a makeshift spit with some of the sticks Roman had gathered. “May I borrow your sword?” he asked Neo.

She handed it over reluctantly, but Roman was shocked that she gave it to him at all. She placed too much trust in Ozpin already. Was it just because he wore Roman’s face? Neo was no fool, and she knew better than most that appearances were often deceiving. So what was it about Ozpin that made her feel she could lower her guard like that? The simple fact that he hadn’t harmed her yet? Ozpin had said himself that he felt outnumbered in Roman and Neo’s company, and Neo was the one obvious means by which Roman could work independent of his influence. If he suspected Neo of conspiring against him with Roman, she could easily become more of a liability than an asset to him. In that case, he might very well decide to eliminate the liability.

Roman remained on edge as Ozpin accepted the sword, turning it over in his hands to admire the craftsmanship of the incredibly thin yet resilient blade. Then, in one swift motion, he skewered the rabbit carcass on it. He rested the spit over the fire, turning the sword slowly so the meat would cook evenly. “And you accuse me of worrying too much,” he muttered under his breath.

‘I’m her brother. It’s my job,’ Roman responded tersely.

“Your fondness for her is…infectious,” Ozpin murmured. “It is not hard for me to imagine her as family. Eventually, I will come to consider her as such.” He looked up at Neo across the fire, busy unbuttoning her boots. “I’ve no desire to do her harm.”

Ozpin was telling the truth. But he hadn’t said he wouldn’t hurt her if he felt he had to. Roman wasn’t about to let his guard down, especially if Neo had chosen to do just that. But he didn’t mind Ozpin thinking he’d been reassured. He put on a teasing tone when he said, ‘Well, shit, Oz. Does that mean I’ll start swooning whenever Qrow makes an appearance?’

His cheeks grew warm, but it could have been from the fire. “You needn’t worry about it. Qrow knows that as a matter of principle, not to mention ethics, I do not continue romantic relationships beyond a single lifetime. Doing so was one of the worst mistakes I ever made, and I only had to make it once.”

‘You sure Qrow got that memo? ’Cause sometimes he still looks at you – and, incidentally, me – like he wants to have us up against the nearest tree.’

Heat spread across his face. Ozpin was definitely blushing. “I’m sure it’s hard for him,” he said stiffly. “But this won’t be the hardest thing I’ve asked of him.”

‘It’s just an interesting place to draw the line is all,’ Roman drawled. ‘You’re perfectly willing to put my life on the line in this foolhardy plan of yours, but gods forbid I lay a finger on your boyfriend.’

Ozpin sighed. “Of course you would see ulterior motives in my efforts to be fair to you. Let me put this in terms you’re more familiar with: I will not compromise on my objective. But I am prepared to make other sacrifices to make this arrangement work. I am willing to negotiate with you.”

Ozpin returned control to Roman once he’d determined the rabbit to be properly cooked, and Roman ate supper with his sister in companionable silence. Only once they’d finished, and the fire was burning low, did Roman finally ask, “What do you really think of Ozpin?”

Neo pressed her lips into a thin line as she pulled out her notepad and scribbled something down. She tore out the page and handed it to Roman. There was just one word written on it: bastard.

Ozpin’s sigh echoed faintly in Roman’s mind. Roman smiled. “But…?” he coaxed.

Neo motioned for the paper, so he returned it. She scribbled another word on it, then handed it back: predictable bastard.

Roman considered her assessment. “We know he’s logical and we know what he wants, therefore, we know what he’s likely to do?”

Neo gave a half-nod. More or less.

“Normally, I’d agree with you. But he’s different from the types we usually deal with. He’s fighting for a righteous cause, and he thinks that makes him one of the good guys. And in my experience, ‘good’ people do the damndest things. They’re the ones you’ve really gotta watch out for.”

~ * ~

Roman lay awake listening to the sounds of the forest long after the fire had died and Neo had gone to sleep. He had even started piecing together the fragments of the broken moon in his mind, surprised by how easily he could imagine how it must have looked when it was whole. He wasn’t entirely sure whether it was Ozpin’s restlessness or his own that was keeping him awake. “You still figuring out which road to take?” he mumbled sleepily.

‘I have a theory as to why you have yet to discover your Semblance.’ 

The encroaching fog of sleep lifted all at once, and Roman was left wide awake. “I’m all ears,” he said.

‘Would I be correct in inferring that you experienced grave childhood trauma?’

Roman’s hopes for this being a productive conversation fell, and he lounged back on his bedroll with a disappointed sigh. “I don’t see how that’s relevant. Lots of people have shitty childhoods. I’m fine now. Well, I was until you came along.”

‘There is a specific thread that I am trying to follow here…’ Ozpin trailed off, and then, out of the blue, random flashes of Roman’s early memories of his time on the family farm began to play out in his mind, unbidden: He was three years old, feeding chickens, and then he was six, learning from his father how to swing the axe down just so, so the bird wouldn’t suffer. He was five, helping his mother milk the cows, and then he was seven, riding the farm horse through the field for the first time, the wind in his hair, feeling completely and utterly free. That day, he had only been vaguely aware of his parents watching him from the front porch, his father’s arm around his mother’s shoulders, and his mother’s arms clasped around her swollen belly.

“Hey, hey! Stop rummaging around!” Roman hissed.

‘You said you were an open book. I’m simply turning the pages.’

“Just tell me what you’re looking for,” Roman grit out.

‘The night you keep remembering, and trying to forget. The cries, and the scratching…’

The memory was triggered immediately, and vividly. His mother in her bed, screaming as his father held her hand well into the night. Roman watching, huddled in the far corner of the room, scared because his mother was in such pain, and his father was trying not to let his worries get the better of him and failing. Pain, worry, fear. Everyone who lived outside the cities knew how dangerous childbirth could be, and not just because doctors were hard to come by. It was a gamble with the gods. No, the gods weren’t watching. It was a gamble with the Grimm.

A howl arose from somewhere off in the distance, and then another, and another. His mother’s screams rose with them, drowning them out. Finally, she stopped screaming, and an infant’s cries filled the room, hesitant at first, and then breaking into an all-out wail. She held her baby girl only for a moment before a cacophony arose from the barn outside—sheep and goats bleating, chickens shrieking, the horse whinnying. It didn’t last more than a few seconds before the sounds were cut short, one by one. Then came the scratching at the front door. Long, deep scratches, splintering the wood, accompanied by low, rumbling growls.

His father swept the infant from his mother’s arms, and she was too weak to do anything but sob. He placed a kiss on the child’s forehead, swaddled her in a blanket, and then thrust her into Roman’s arms. He took up the shotgun from where it had been leaning against the doorframe. “Go to the back door,” he told Roman. “When you hear the gun, you take your sister and run, and don’t stop until you get to the city. Do you understand me?” Roman nodded, tears streaming down his cheeks. His father took hold of his arm and pulled him toward the door, only allowing him time for one backward glance at his mother before he was ushered from the room. When they reached the back door, his father knelt down, sweeping Roman’s bangs from his face with a trembling hand and looking him in the eyes. “Be fearless,” he said. Then his father had stood, turning his back on Roman and marching off down the hall toward the snarling and scratching. His father was no Huntsman. Roman knew his only intention was to buy time.

Roman heard the first shotgun blast a minute later, and he took off running as fast as his legs would carry him, out of the house and across the field. By the time he heard the second, he’d reached the old brick road winding around the farm, the one he knew would take him to the city if he followed it far enough. But the baby wouldn’t stop crying, and already, more howls were rising from in among the trees. They were going to hear, they were going to chase him down and tear him apart. He yanked off his scarf as he ran, and without giving it a second thought, wrapped it tightly around his newborn sister’s face, covering her mouth to muffle her cries. He ran through the night, pausing only to catch his breath, and to listen for the sounds of monsters on his heels. By morning, he could see the skyline of the capital in the distance. His sister had long since stopped crying. It was almost as though she’d understood somehow that if she made noise, they would die. Little did Roman know, she would never utter another sound again. 

He knew little about the City of Vale, but he did know that people called it the Emerald City for its prosperity, and its gleaming Beacon of civilization. But all its shine was, well. A veil. He would see an altogether different facet of the jewel of the kingdom. He arrived in the city knowing no one, with no skills that would be useful in his new environment, and an infant child in his care, while he was still little more than a child himself. They slept on the streets. It didn’t take Roman long to realize that if he wanted food, he would have to steal it. He didn’t know the first thing about caring for a baby. He did his best to get his hands on things she could eat, but she would never grow properly.

They lived that way for years, fighting to survive in the gutter with the rest of the city’s garbage. Until one day, when three kids not much older than Roman at the time, happened to stumble into the alley he and his sister were sleeping in, looking to score drugs. They flashed hundred-Lien cards at him and told him they wanted “the good stuff.” He stared at the money, seeing so much more than colored plastic, and saying nothing. “Eh, they ain’t got shit. They’re just a couplea street rats, scurried into the wrong alley,” one of the kids sneered, spitting at Roman. Then his gaze shifted to the little girl huddled against Roman’s side. When he grinned, Roman saw beowolves’ teeth. “The King Street gang pays big for pretty girls with no one left to miss ’em.”

As the pack of predators closed in, his father’s last words echoed in his head: Be fearless. Roman picked up a length of lead pipe lying under the dumpster beside him, and before the first boy knew what had hit him, his teeth were skittering across the grimy cobblestones. Roman took down the other two before they could even process what had happened to their friend, painting the alley with their blood. He might have killed them. He didn’t bother to check. Instead, he took their wallets, then took his sister’s hand. In his other hand, he still gripped the lead pipe, dripping blood from the tip. The two of them walked out of that alley and never looked back.

The memories slowly faded as Roman returned to his present surroundings: the sounds of the forest around him, the light of the stars and moon above, the sight of his sister sleeping peacefully nearby. “Was that what you wanted to see?” he asked.

‘Yes.’

“Good. Because if you’re serious about negotiating, then the first of my terms is that you never fucking do that again.”

‘Very well,’ said Ozpin.

Roman was no longer interested in the professor’s pet theory. There was nothing in his past that explained why his Semblance had eluded him all these years. Ever since the day he’d gotten his first taste of bloodshed, nothing had held him back from taking whatever it was he needed or wanted. He wasn’t damaged. He was stronger for all he’d been through. He lived life by one rule: whatever didn’t kill him had better fucking run.

Chapter Text

Ozpin still wasn’t sure which road to take by the next morning. Even the horse seemed impatient, snorting and pawing at the dirt while its riders debated the two paths before them. Neo once again pointed to the right arm of the fork. “That is east, but it’s possible that road ultimately veers south toward the coastal villages,” said Ozpin. “It’s wider, to accommodate vehicles, so it’s probably newer. I think the left fork is the road I took last time.”

‘It’s also possible that they widened the original road,’ Roman said, pitching in his two cents just for the hell of it.

Ozpin shook his head, annoyed with himself and everything else. “I don’t understand why they felt the need to add a second road through the middle of nowhere.” At that moment, Roman had never heard a sweeter sound than the harsh cry of a crow, diving toward them through the trees. It was clutching a roll of parchment in its talons. “Oh, thank the gods.” Ozpin held out his hand and the bird dropped the parchment into it, landing on his outstretched arm. From there, it hopped up onto his shoulder and pecked his nose—hard. “Ow! You bit me!” Ozpin exclaimed, shooing the bird off. “It’s me, Qrow!”

In a flutter of wings, Qrow was standing beside them, glaring at Ozpin. “Yeah, I know it’s you. That was for not buying a map back in town, you stubborn old man. I’ve been flying most of the night to get that to you.”

“I’ve made this journey dozens of times,” muttered Ozpin petulantly. “I didn’t think I would need a map.”

“That’s what you said when you got us lost in the Atlesian mountains, and I almost froze my beak off flying through a snowstorm to go get help from Ironwood. The man has never let me live that down.”

“One sympathizes,” said Ozpin. “That was a freak snowstorm, I’ll remind you. It was the middle of summer.”

“There is no summer in Atlas! There’s fall, winter, colder winter, and icy death! That’s why they’ve all got icicles up their asses.”

“Alright, Atlas is one thing,” Ozpin allowed. “But I shouldn’t need a map within the borders of my own kingdom. What kind of king—?” He bit his tongue, swallowing the rest of that sentence. But Roman got one clear image of the aftermath of a great war, the remnants of the victorious army gathering and preparing to leave the battlefield, and he knew that, just as he had led them in battle, he would be the one to lead them home.

Well, that certainly explained why Ozpin acted as though his word were royal decree. It didn’t make it any less irksome, but there was something sickeningly satisfying in the knowledge that he had lost his kingdom just as Roman had lost his empire. ‘How the mighty have fallen. Warrior King.’

“That was lifetimes ago, Oz,” said Qrow. “Things change.”

“I know,” Ozpin sighed. “I just wish they would stop doing it while I’m not looking.”

Qrow smiled ruefully. “I think we all do.”

“The map is more than enough, but might you have any more updates?”

Qrow suddenly straightened his posture, revitalized by a second wind of energy. “I do, actually. Ruby’s up and about.”

“That’s wonderful news.” Ozpin exhaled, relieved. “She has a strong soul, but she’s still so young. How is she?”

“Same kid still hell-bent on stirring up trouble,” Qrow said fondly.

“Reminds me of another one of my students back in the day.”

Qrow chuckled. “I doubt she’ll stay house-bound for long, but she and Yang need time to recuperate and…come to terms. And Glynda thinks we’ve finally got all the survivors out of the city. She and Tai have both got me on speed-dial if anything comes up, so… Well, I could travel with you for awhile. If…you still want me to, that is.”

His eyes were fixed studiously on the horse rather than Ozpin, but they lifted when Ozpin said, “I would be grateful to have you by my side, Qrow.”

“You sure? You might be better off without me.”

“That has never been true,” said Ozpin softly. Then he seemed to remember himself, and he cleared his throat and smiled reassuringly. “Together, I’m sure we can handle whatever hurdles your Semblance may place in our path. I am quite accustomed to it by now.”

“Okay,” said Qrow. “Then I’ll stay for as long as I can. Help you keep an eye on these two.”

‘How very kind of him.’

“Thank you,” said Ozpin, more relieved than he let on. “Er, on that note, if you don’t mind, I’m going to return control to Torchwick now. He gets…restless.”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “Fiiiine,” he sighed.

Roman wiped Ozpin’s ridiculous doe-eyed expression from his face as he looked down at Qrow as one might look down at a spider under one’s boot. In truth, he’d rather enjoyed the man’s company by the end of their little outing together back in town, but he couldn’t let himself forget that Qrow was Ozpin’s agent just as Neo was his. And gods forbid he should form any sort of sentimental attachment to the Huntsman just because of Ozpin’s feelings for him. Qrow was right: he was best at a distance. “There’s no more room on the horse,” said Roman curtly. 

“I’ve got wings, genius,” Qrow responded. “But I’ve been flying all night and I’m tired, so for now I’ll just perch back with your sister. You won’t even know I’m there.” Returning abruptly to his bird form, with a few flaps of his wings Qrow landed lightly on the rear ridge of the saddle, sharp talons digging into the leather. Neo turned around in the saddle, unwilling to ride with her back to him. But then she reached into the saddlebag and pulled out the jar of jerky, taking a piece and holding it out to Qrow. He cocked his head suspiciously, but he must have been hungry after all that flying, because he snapped it out of Neo’s fingers and guzzled it down whole. She grinned and offered him another piece.

“Don’t feed him! He’s the enemy!” exclaimed Roman. “Besides, you’ll teach him to beg.” Neo looked between Qrow and the piece of jerky, and then pleadingly back at Roman. She’d always loved feeding the birds in the city. When they were kids, it had been her only source of joy, Roman’s pathetic attempt at showing his sister a good time with no money. Even when they hadn’t had enough food for themselves, they’d saved some for the birds. For some reason, Neo had never grown out of it.

While Neo’s head was turned, Qrow snatched the piece of jerky from her hand. Roman glared at him, and he gave a very smug-sounding warble in response. “Fine!” said Roman, throwing his hands up in exasperation. “This whole thing is fucking insane, anyway. Why shouldn’t it get weirder?” He turned back around and hunched over to examine the map, turning it until it was properly oriented. “Huh. Neo was right.”

‘She had a fifty-fifty shot, I suppose.’

“Oh, don’t be sore. You can’t be right about everything.” He steered the horse down the right-hand path, then kicked its sides. “Giddy-up, Crow!” Qrow’s indignant caw frightened several other birds from the trees as the horse took off down the path.

~ * ~

Along the way, they encountered an ursa and a pair of king taijitu, but each time, Qrow was quick to fly ahead and dispatch the Grimm before Roman or Neo had to lift a finger. Roman was fast reconsidering his opinion about having Qrow along for the ride. “Y’know, you could help,” Qrow groused, dropping the ursa’s severed head with a gory splat, before it disintegrated into a pile of ash.

“Oh, but it’s such a rare privilege to be able to observe a Huntsman of your caliber at work,” said Roman from atop the horse. Qrow flipped him off.

‘Why don’t we stop for lunch?’ Ozpin suggested. ‘There should be a village just up ahead.’ It was a fishing village, built around a small, crystal blue lake fed by several streams running down from the mountains in the distance. All of the buildings were raised up on stilts to accommodate seasonal fluctuations in the water level, and were connected by a series of boardwalks. Docks jutted out over the water from the lakeshore, each tethering several fishing boats which sat like white waterbirds on the glassy surface. And enormous mounted harpoon guns ringed the perimeter of the village to repel Grimm attacks. ‘One of the loveliest spots in Vale, in my humble opinion.’

“It’s…quaint,” said Roman as they passed beneath a jagged harpoon the size of a tree trunk. The gun technician sitting up at the controls gave them a friendly wave before returning his attention to scanning the tree line. They rode down the main street, such as it was. Qrow walked beside the horse, hands in his pockets, brooding about one thing or another. He and Ozpin certainly made quite the match: the cursed man and the angst-ridden immortal. Maybe misery really did love company.

They found the travelers' inn easily enough, considering it was one of the only places open to passers by in the otherwise sleepy village. Roman hitched the horse outside and followed Qrow and Neo in. They took a table at the back of the rustic dining room, which was only sparsely occupied by a couple of other traveling parties and a few loners at the bar. A rather nice-looking young man, probably the son of the innkeeper, came over to take their orders. “Let me guess,” said Roman. “You’d recommend the fish?”

The man laughed, running a hand through his chestnut hair. “That’s pretty much the only thing on the menu, to be honest.”

“Well, I’m sold. Neo?” She nodded.

“Yeah, sounds good,” said Qrow. “How’s your house whiskey?”

“Oh, well, it’s too strong for me, personally—” the man began.

“Perfect,” said Qrow. “I’ll have a double. On the rocks.”

“Uh, yes, of course. I’ll be back shortly with your meals.” With that, the man slunk off to the kitchen, casting one last backward glance at Roman before he disappeared.

Roman lit a cigar and leaned back in his chair, blowing smoke up toward the ceiling. “There’s something that’s been bothering me,” he said.

“Is it your moral compass?” Qrow asked.

“No,” said Roman. “It’s this: There are now four of us traveling together and working toward a common objective—”

“So you think of yourself as two people, huh?” Qrow interrupted. “I thought the deal with you and Oz was that you’re basically one person now. Two souls, one body. Kind of like a split personality.”

“Oh, I’m sorry, have you and I been in a passionate relationship for years, and I just missed it somehow? Are you that forgettable?”

Qrow recoiled in shock. “What? No.”

“Then Oz and I are two people,” said Roman. “And as I was saying, the four of us working together toward a common objective makes us a team, whether we like each other or not. But the problem is, any which way you arrange them, our initials spell nothing but garbled nonsense. RNOQ? RQON? ROQN?”

“Since when do you care about team names?”

“Are you kidding? We had a great team name. It was the only good thing about working with those weirdos. Cinder, Roman, Mercury, Emerald: Team CRME.”

Qrow dropped his head into his hands, looking stricken. “How did I not get that?”

“That’s okay. You’re clearly not the brains of this operation.”

‘Don’t be rude. But on that note, the O should come first.’

“Like hell,” said Roman.

‘It is my objective we are pursuing. That makes me the team leader, plain and simple.’

“I hate to break it to you, Your Majesty, but you couldn’t lead your way out of a paper bag without me. And anyway, putting the O in front makes it even worse. ORNQ? OQRN? Like ‘acorn’?”

‘Acorns are lovely. They’re a symbol of the seasons.’

“They’re godsdamned squirrel food, Oz.”

Qrow sighed, giving up on his part in the conversation and turning to Neo instead. “Man, they can just go on like that, can’t they?” She nodded, but didn’t look up from her notepad, where she was busy listing out every possible permutation of their four initials and looking increasingly dismayed. QORN was somewhere on there. 

“It’s all your fault for throwing a fucking Q in the mix,” said Roman.

Qrow started slightly at suddenly being reincluded. “What do you mean? Q is one of the most versatile letters. It can also sound like a K or a C.” He shook his head, coming to his senses. “Why am I arguing with you about this? We’re not a team. You don’t even want to be here. Hell, you’d probably sabotage us first chance you got if it weren’t for Oz.”

“And why would I do that?” inquired Roman casually. “Beacon was just business, nothing personal. Normally, I prefer to back the winning horse. But I have to say, I like Ozpin’s vision for the world a whole lot better than I like Salem’s. If I think he’s got a chance of coming out on top, then sabotage wouldn’t really be in my best interest. I just like to keep my options open is all, and he’s taken them all off the table.”

Qrow snorted incredulously. “You did that yourself.”

Just then, the young man from before returned with a tray of food and drinks: three plates of the day’s catch, two glasses of water and Qrow’s whiskey. Qrow started in on his drink before his food, guzzling half of it in one go. “I, uh, hope you enjoy,” the man said as Qrow sighed contentedly.

“Looks delicious,” said Roman, never breaking the other man’s lovely hazel gaze. His cheeks dusted an enticing shade of pink before he turned and made his exit once more. Neo shot Roman a suspicious glare, but Qrow, for his part, was too preoccupied with infusing his blood with alcohol to take any notice.

“Speaking of poor naming choices,” he said, finally turning his attention to his food with the zeal of a man starved, “you’re gonna tell me I misheard, and that you didn’t actually name your godsdamned horse after me. Aren’t you?”

“I didn’t name my horse after you,” said Roman, spearing a piece of the flaky white fish himself.

“Good.”

“His name is spelled with a C. Like a sane person spells it.”

Qrow’s grip tightened around his fork and his eye actually twitched. “I am seriously considering murdering you right now. Oz would forgive me.”

‘Oh dear. I would really rather he not.’

Roman continued with his meal, unconcerned. He could read another man’s bluff from a mile away. And besides, the fish really was delicious. “Now now, Qrow. We’re in public. There are far too many witnesses.”

“Maybe it’d be a freak accident. When I’m around, anything can happen.”

Roman feigned a melancholy sigh. “And here I thought we were getting along.”

“That’s what you thought?” Qrow scoffed. “You took advantage of me while I was drunk!”

“Oh please, you enjoyed it,” Roman sneered.

They had turned a few heads at the tables nearest them, and it took Ozpin’s mortified ‘Please consider how this conversation sounds out of context’ for Roman to realize why.

“Tch. Not in Qrow’s wildest dreams,” he muttered under his breath. He continued the conversation at a lower volume. “It’s not like I put a gun to your head. I think you and I both know that in this world – not Salem’s hellscape or Ozpin’s utopia, but this world, right here – you either take or you get taken. So yes, I took advantage of your Semblance. But it’s not as though you got nothing in return.”

“Is that what relationships are to you? Just…transactions?” Qrow asked.

“Sure. You could put it that way.”

“I really oughta ram my blade through your black heart,” said Qrow. “I’d be doing Oz a favor. You’re fucking poison.”

“A little poison helps build up an immunity,” countered Roman. “So maybe I’m the one doing him a favor. Too much time surrounded by like-minded souls, and anyone’s liable to lose perspective. Someone’s gotta temper our hero’s good nature, or sooner or later, he’ll be blindsided by someone like me.” Roman hummed thoughtfully. “Well, it’s a little late for that, isn’t it? Or Beacon would still be standing.”

Qrow grimaced, obviously taking exception to Roman’s argument, but unable to dismiss it outright. “Oz?” he said quietly.

Ozpin didn’t respond, turning over the matter in troubled silence. “For once, he doesn’t have all the answers,” said Roman. “And neither do I. But if you’re really thinking about running a blade through my heart, I’d give some thought as to where Neo’s blade is at the moment.”

Qrow started, looking over at Neo across the table. “That’s not her, is it?” he said as realization dawned. Neo’s illusion winked at him, and then vanished.

‘Torchwick. Call her off.’

“Relax, gentlemen,” said Roman, resting his hands behind his head. “She’s just looking out for me. As long as I’m safe, Qrow’s safe.”

‘I won’t let him harm you.’

Roman cracked a smile. “Neo?” Right on cue, Neo reappeared in the chair beside Qrow, giving the man another start. Her cheeks were stuffed with peanuts, and in front of her was a half-empty bowl of them. She swallowed, and then gave Qrow a big shit-eating grin. “She just went to go steal bar snacks,” said Roman. “But my point stands.” He finally let the serious demeanor drop. “You should’ve seen the look on your face, Qrow,” he snickered.

Now, Qrow looked like he wanted to murder both of them. “She really is your sister,” he said, disgusted.

‘That wasn’t funny.’

“Oh, don’t be such a buzzkill, Oz. He’s fine. Neo finds him entertaining.” She offered Qrow the bowl of peanuts, which he tacitly refused, returning instead to his whiskey. “As for me,” Roman sighed, “I’ve gotta take my kicks where I can get ’em these days.” His mood brightened considerably when he saw their server returning. “Speaking of…”

“Did you enjoy the meal?” the man asked, nominally of the whole table, but his eyes lingered on Roman.

“Best I’ve had in a long time,” said Roman, which, considering he’d been incarcerated until recently, wasn’t actually saying much.

But his answer seemed to please the other man nonetheless. “Well, it is our local specialty. The cold water from the mountains makes the meat a lot sweeter…” He broke off the standard spiel, glancing away and running his hand through his hair again. “But I didn’t come over to talk to you about fish,” he said, as though reminding himself of that fact. “Actually, I meant to ask if…you’re staying here, at the inn.”

“Well…” Roman began, looking to the young man inquiringly.

“Oh! Carmine. My name is Carmine.”

“One of my favorite colors,” Roman purred. Neo rolled her eyes, stuffing more peanuts in her mouth and pointedly ignoring the exchange. Roman leaned forward, resting his chin in his hand. “Well, Carmine, what’s it to ya?”

‘Torchwick, what are you doing?’ Ozpin asked nervously.

Roman ignored him, enjoying the blush that once more colored Carmine’s cheeks. “Well, there’s a, uh, discount at the restaurant for guests of the inn,” Carmine said, looking around the table at its other occupants and finding that one was too drunk to be paying attention to what he was saying, and the other was very obviously ignoring him. “But I would need your room number,” he murmured.

‘Absolutely not,’ said Ozpin.

At the same time, their interaction finally caught Qrow’s attention. He looked up at Carmine in confusion, and then at Roman. His eyes widened as the penny dropped. He slammed his glass down on the table and practically growled at Carmine, “We’re not staying here.”

Carmine backpedaled, caught off-guard by Qrow’s open hostility. “O-oh, I’m sorry, I didn’t realize you two were—” A withering glare from Qrow had him backing away slowly, before turning on his heel and scurrying off, his sentence left unfinished.

Qrow tossed enough money onto the table to pay for the meal – with no tip – and stood. “Come on. We’re leaving.” Roman stood as well, his chair scraping across the floorboards, and followed Qrow outside. Neo swiped the bowl of peanuts and hurried after them. Qrow grabbed Roman’s wrist and pulled him around the side of the building, under the stilts. “What the fuck was that?” he demanded.

Roman ripped his arm out of Qrow’s grasp. “I’m not your boyfriend,” he seethed.

“That’s not what this is about!” retorted Qrow, unconvincingly. “Do you know how careful Oz has to be with stuff like that? With people, in general? Salem has agents working in the shadows just like he does, which I don’t need to tell you, because you happened to be one of them! Why do you think he lives up in a godsdamned tower?” Qrow grit his teeth, looking away. “Lived,” he corrected, the word uttered barely loud enough for Roman to hear. 

‘Qrow…’

Roman shook off Ozpin’s pathetic melancholy. “So I’ve gotta live like a monk for the rest of my life?”

“You need to re-evaluate who you can trust.”

“I don’t trust anyone!” Roman spat. “I don’t trust him, I don’t trust you, I didn’t trust my old team and I was damn right not to! She is the only person I trust,” he said, pointing to Neo. Neo crossed to stand beside him, her presence silently supportive.

Qrow heaved a heavy sigh. “That’s not the answer, either. Even Oz needs people he can rely on. Gods know why, but he’s putting a lot of faith in you.” He shifted his weight uncomfortably, glancing away. “And…that’s good enough for me, I guess. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but you can trust me. Doesn’t mean I trust you,” he added quickly. “Oz wants me to keep a close eye on you, and that’s what I’m gonna do. But as long as you and he have an understanding, then…you and I do, too.”

Roman let him squirm for a moment, although he hardly needed that long to gauge Qrow’s sincerity. The damn fool wore his tattered heart on his sleeve. “I’ll consider that,” said Roman, finally. “On the condition that you stop acting like my jilted lover.”

Qrow’s gaze snapped back to Roman’s. “I wasn’t—” Finding no quarter there, he looked to Neo. “I wasn’t…” Her skeptical expression mirrored Roman’s exactly. Qrow’s eyes narrowed as he turned back to Roman. “I don’t even like you,” he said. Then, to Neo, “And you’re on thin ice.”

Roman sighed wistfully. “You say the sweetest things.”

“Don’t make me change my mind.”

Neo cleared her throat to capture their attention, and then flipped open her notepad and circled something on the page. She held it out for them to see. It was the page where she’d been rearranging all of their initials. In one of the neat little columns of four-letter combinations, she’d circled: ONQR - “Encore.”

“Huh,” said Qrow, squinting at her writing and scratching his head. “A second chance.”

“A new beginning,” Roman mused.

‘A different ending.’

Roman sighed. “Damn. It’s a good team name.”

Chapter Text

Across the lake from the village was a broad, silty shore where one of the river outlets flowed from the forest. Ozpin suggested it would be a good place to continue training, in that very particular way of his where a suggestion was really a command. So they rode out from the village and around the lake, choosing a flat and secluded spot for their temporary training grounds. A crow hunched low in one of the trees above them cawed harshly at their approach. Qrow cawed back from his perch on the horse as Roman brought the beast to a halt. Roman and Neo dismounted, while Qrow simply hopped off, landing on his feet in his human form. “Friend of yours?” Roman asked, nodding to the other crow.

“Nope,” said Qrow.

“What was it saying?”

“‘Go away’.” Qrow pulled out his flask and took a swig of whiskey. “Crows are bastards.”

“Present company included?”

“Yep,” said Qrow.

“What did you say back?” asked Roman, his curiosity piqued.

“‘Fuck off’.”

Roman chuckled. “Well, if the bird’s no friend of yours…” He raised his cane, flipping up the crosshairs at the end of the barrel and lining the crow up in his sights.

“Whoah, hey!” Qrow knocked Roman’s cane aside at the last second, causing his shot to go wide, merely scaring the crow off with another indignant caw. “What the hell was that for?” Qrow demanded.

“Target practice,” said Roman.

Qrow looked horrified. “Just because someone’s rude to you, you decide you’re gonna murder them?”

“I’m guessing ‘no’ is the answer you’re looking for…”

Qrow stared at him. “You’re a complete psychopath.”

“You seem surprised,” said Roman.

Qrow turned and stalked away, muttering, “I guess I shouldn’t be.” He chose a craggy boulder at the edge of the tree line, finding a surprisingly comfortable-looking lounging position within its contours, and continued nursing his flask.

“You’re just going to sit there and drink while Neo and I bust our asses?” Roman called, hitching the horse to a tree.

“I’ve been killing Grimm all morning,” Qrow called back. “Now it’s my turn to kick back and enjoy the show.”

Qrow sounded far too eager to watch Roman and his sister fight. “You’re fine with this?” Roman asked.

‘He’s earned a break. Besides, he is already a trained Huntsman.’

“I call favoritism,” said Roman, walking out into the open with Neo.

‘The fact that I like him more than you is irrelevant in this case.’

“Did Qrow ever tell you your bedside manner could use some work?” Roman grumbled. He and Neo turned their backs to one another, each taking ten paces, and then turning to face each other once more, weapons ready. “Well, what’s today’s lesson? The Aura thing is easy now.”

‘Yes, you’re learning quite quickly. Let’s just begin and see where it takes us.’

“Don’t tell me you’re running out of ideas,” said Roman.

‘Hardly.’

Roman shrugged off Ozpin’s response as more of his usual cryptic bullshit. “Whatever you say, fearless leader.” He locked eyes with Neo and nodded. But as she dashed forward to meet him, he raised his cane, aiming purposely at her feet. She skidded to a halt, using the blast force of the explosive round to throw herself into a backflip. Roman fired again, but this time, she leapt high into the air, opening her parasol and riding the thermal blast wave to close the distance between them, then snapping her parasol shut and dropping into a roll, too low to the ground for Roman to adjust his aim in time. She swept her leg out when she reached him, intending to knock him off his feet, but he slammed his cane down into the ground, blocking the kick. So she kicked her other leg around and sprang to her feet, swinging her parasol up between his legs.

“Whoah!” Roman wasn’t nearly as acrobatic as his sister, but he could sure as hell pull off a back handspring to avoid that shot, kicking his legs over his head and landing in a crouch. He only had himself to blame when Neo fought dirty, since he’d taught her to do just that, but it was rare moments like these when he wished he’d been a man of greater honor.

He came up just in time to deflect her next swing with his forearm, his heavy leather glove acting like a vambrace. The leather was tough enough to deflect knives if necessary. Thrusting her parasol away, he lunged with his cane, striking her right in the solar plexus. She leapt back with a gasp, pink light sparking across her chest. But in retaliation, she launched a volley of attacks that came twice as hard and twice as fast, putting Roman back on the defensive. He spun his cane around his back into his other hand, gripping it around the middle and using the end to deflect Neo’s swift punch, then twisting it to catch Neo’s other wrist with the handle. He kept twisting, forcing Neo’s arms to cross painfully, and then he kicked her in the stomach, sending her flying backwards. She landed on her feet with a quiet huff of breath, and took advantage of the distance he’d put between them, disappearing behind an illusion.

He shot through the decoy immediately, but he’d lost track of her. Roman had gotten quicker on his feet since he’d started training with Ozpin, but when Neo came at him again from the side, she was even faster. Roman couldn’t land a hit as she deflected with her open parasol and turned flips and spins around every attack, forcing him to fall back on the defensive once more.

‘Mind if I cut in?’ Ozpin didn’t wait for Roman’s answer. Roman saw the golden flash of his eyes reflected in Neo’s as they widened, and she took a step back.

‘Just what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ Roman demanded.

“Testing a theory.” He raised Roman’s cane, and Neo leapt to the side just before he fired, disappearing behind another illusion. She dashed out, attempting to circle around behind him, throwing up illusion after illusion as Ozpin blasted apart each one right on her heels.

‘Hey! Stop shooting at my sister! Only I’m allowed to do that!’

“I doubt she’ll let me hit her,” Ozpin said. And as it turned out, that entire series of illusions had been a diversion, because Neo attacked from the opposite flank, striking her parasol across Ozpin’s side, hard enough to crack a rib, had Ozpin’s emerald green Aura not sparked to life, absorbing the damage. But the impact still left him breathless. “Clever,” he panted, a hand closing around his cane behind his back.

He was feigning the extent to which he’d been caught off-guard, and when Neo swung at him again, he blocked the attack with Roman’s cane and struck back with his own. Neo barely leapt back in time to evade the counter-attack, and Ozpin kept pressing his advantage. Time seemed to slow down as he moved with preternatural speed to attack, and to evade Neo’s best efforts at counter-attack. And yet, Neo’s rapid-fire production of illusions kept Ozpin guessing, and kept her just out of his reach. They danced around each other in a rain of shattered illusory glass, and while Ozpin attacked with greater force, it didn’t matter if he couldn’t hit her.

Ozpin’s voice resounded in Roman’s mind. ‘You blame yourself for handicapping your sister, but does she seem handicapped to you? Her small stature makes her harder to hit and more agile, lighter on her feet and in the air when she uses that parasol of hers. And her inability to communicate verbally has made her highly attuned to minute nonverbal cues. She is reading my every move before I make it.’

Everything Ozpin was saying was true. But Roman had never seen his sister fight like this before, as though a single error would spell her doom. And she made no errors. ‘She has been holding back with you,’ said Ozpin. And yet, even now, Roman could tell that Ozpin was the one holding back—he was doing all of this merely to prove a point. ‘You have been driven by the need to protect her for her entire life, but she doesn’t need your protection anymore. If anything, you rely on her too much. If you continue to lean on her, she will never grow to her full potential. You can let go of her and she will be fine. Believe it or not, you need to think more selfishly.’

Neo could only keep up the illusions for so long, however, and she was tiring quickly as her Aura depleted. They were surrounded by the shards of her shattered illusions, swirling and dancing in the ozone of raw power radiating from Ozpin as attack magic crackled around both canes. Neo and Ozpin seemed to realize this at the same time, and Ozpin crossed the canes to throw up a shield of magical energy just as she turned the glinting shards in the air and sent them shooting toward him from all directions. They shattered against his shield, but the prolonged magic use was finally wearing Ozpin out, and his shield flickered and faded. Neo didn’t allow him a second to catch his breath, lashing out with a vicious kick. Ozpin, the utter bastard, chose that moment to give Roman back control, leaving Roman merely a split-second to brace for the impact. His own Aura flared like an orange flame around him as the force of Neo’s kick sent him crashing down on his back, knocking the breath out of his lungs.

Neo slammed her foot down on his chest and stopped the tip of her sword an inch from his heart. She was panting hard, her eyes wild, and all in all, she resembled very little the primly elegant girl that Roman had thought he knew. Ozpin was right all along. She was a warrior. As Roman gasped for breath, Ozpin continued, ‘She no longer needs your protection, and you cannot continue to rely on hers. So how will you protect yourself?’

He began to exhale puffs of black smoke with every breath, until it was pouring from his lips like a chimney, and he should have been choking on it, but instead he felt…light. Airy. Liberated. Perhaps he’d hit his head harder than he’d thought, because everything started to go black. But the next second, he was standing right behind Neo, his dagger pressed to her throat. She went very still. Finally, Roman’s rational mind kicked in, overcoming the cocktail of confusion, adrenalin and self-preservation instincts. He dropped the knife and stumbled back, falling to his knees. “Fuck you, Oz,” he panted.

‘You’re welcome.’

Neo picked up his knife and offered it back to him, her trust in him shaken, but unbroken. The smile she offered along with it was genuine—he had finally done it. After so many years out of step with her, he had finally caught up. And yet, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he’d lost more than he’d gained.

‘You haven’t lost her,’ said Ozpin. ‘The bond you two share is much stronger than that. She still needs her brother, as you still need her. But there is a difference between codependence and interdependence.’

Roman scoffed. “You sure you wanna lecture me  about codependence?”

‘…Fair point.’

Roman accepted his knife back from Neo and allowed her to pull him to his feet. He pulled her close to him in the same motion, a silent apology where words simply weren’t sufficient. She hugged him back. Apology accepted. Then, he let her go.

Curiously, he looked down at his hands, tapping into that same airy lightness he’d felt suffuse his entire being at the end of the fight. Black smoke began to trail from his fingertips as he flexed them experimentally. Then, the dagger dropped through his hand and he swore, jerking his foot back just before the blade buried itself in his footprint.

‘Do be careful. Students sustain very stupid injuries experimenting with newly discovered Semblances.’

“I’ll keep that in mind,” said Roman, retrieving his dagger. He and Neo made their way back to the tree line where Qrow and Crow awaited them.

“What, no encore?” Qrow asked. “Things were just getting interesting.”

“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself,” said Roman.

“So, your Semblance is smoke, huh? I’d been wondering.”

“Obviously. I’m just…a little rusty with it. Haven’t used it in awhile.”

“Why not?” Qrow asked skeptically. “I can think of a lot of uses for a Semblance like that. Especially for a criminal.”

“I had people to do my dirty work for me, Qrow. Rather like Ozpin has you.”

Qrow’s eyes narrowed. “Y’know, it actually reminds me of Ruby’s Semblance.”

Roman gasped. “You take that back!”

‘Qrow is right. It falls into the same class: total transmutation.’

“I’ve got nothing in common with that little brat,” Roman snapped, turning his back on Qrow to unhitch the horse. He wasn’t sure which was worse: Qrow comparing him to Little Red, or his own reluctant realization that Cinder would find this quite amusing. Where there’s smoke, there’s fire. Almost as though he’d been destined to be her harbinger.

“Yeah, I agree with you there.” Qrow finally rose from his reclining position on the boulder, taking one more swig of whiskey before screwing his flask shut and tucking it away. He chuckled. “I guess that makes you and Neo smoke and mirrors.”

Now, that was a much better comparison. Roman and Neo exchanged a smile. “I guess it does,” he said, twirling his cane. Really, he shouldn’t be so down on the whole thing—that was probably Ozpin’s gloomy influence. He’d discovered his Semblance, and it was a good one. Qrow was right, he could think of a lot of ways he could use it. He just needed practice, and a few opportunities to experiment. “Hey, Qrow…”

‘Not on him, Torchwick.’

“Uh, do your thing. We’re leaving.”

Qrow shrugged. “Yeah, sure. Whatever.” With a flutter of wings, he was back in his bird form, taking up his previous perch on the back of the saddle.

“I’m starting to think he’s just lazy,” Roman muttered, securing his cane and Neo’s parasol to the saddle.

‘He doesn’t like to fly after he’s had a few. He tends to…bump into things.’

Roman snorted. “Some spy he is.”

‘He’s very good at what he does. He just does it in his own way.’

Qrow swayed and nearly tumbled off the horse, righting himself with a frantic flap of his wings and a startled squawk. “Uh huh.”

Roman and Neo mounted up, and they set off back along the lakeside road. They passed by the village, and Roman once more kissed civilization goodbye, as well as his chances of getting laid anytime soon. Really, he hardly begrudged Qrow his drinking. Everyone needed a good vice or two. Except, apparently, for Ozpin. Well, unless you counted Qrow, but the two of them were so agonizingly in love with each other that Roman wasn’t even sure what Qrow counted as. A liability, probably.

At least now, Roman had something new to distract him from thinking too much about the future. Unfortunately, he may have been a little too distracted. The ground shook beneath them, and the horse reared back with a whinny, nearly throwing all of them off. A great, craggy hulk of a creature emerged from the trees, blocking the path ahead, its single glowing yellow eye fixed on them.

‘A petra gigas. Hard to kill, but it can be weakened by—’ There was a heavy ka-chunk from a ways behind them, and then a whirr as something shot through the air over their heads. Then, finally, a sharp crunch as a massive harpoon buried itself in the creature’s eye. A crack spread down its face, and then its head fell away in two halves, and the rest of the boulders that made up its body simply tumbled to the ground, inert.

Roman looked back over his shoulder to see the same gun technician who had greeted them on their way into the village giving them another friendly wave from up in his tower. For lack of a better response, Roman waved back. “One of the loveliest spots in Vale, indeed.”

Chapter Text

Most days, they didn’t see much of Qrow. He elected to fly ahead and scout the path, eliminating Grimm along the way, and taking the lay of the land to be sure they didn’t encounter any surprises. He would rejoin them when they stopped for lunch, and wherever they made camp for the night. Ostensibly, he was keeping his distance for Ozpin’s benefit, but Roman suspected he was also avoiding Ozpin for his own reasons. Not that Roman minded. He didn’t need any distractions – or any more commentary than he already got from Ozpin – while he practiced controlling his Semblance. But sometimes, when Ozpin had chosen to give another of his lectures on the road, and Qrow was too drunk to fly straight, he would perch on Ozpin’s shoulder to listen as they rode through the woods, and Ozpin would stroke his feathers absentmindedly. Ozpin’s contentment in these moments kept Roman from voicing too many protests, although he certainly had them. But Ozpin’s good moods were rare, and infinitely preferable to his bad ones. So Roman figured he could tolerate the behavior, as long as Qrow’s talons didn’t tear his bespoke coat. The day that happened, he’d use Qrow for target practice.

Today, however, Qrow had taken off in the morning, and all they had seen of him since was his distant silhouette across the sky as he did the occasional flyover. So they knew something was wrong when he came careening down toward them, his harsh cry making Roman wince. Roman brought the horse to a halt, and Qrow landed beside him in a crouch, his cape flaring out around him like the wings he’d had a moment before. “There’s some kind of trouble in the village up ahead,” he said, rising. “I think the people there need help.”

Roman groaned. “Not again. Why don’t we just go around?”

Qrow crossed his arms impatiently. “Can I talk to Oz, please?”

“What am I, a switchboard operator?” Roman snapped.

Ozpin rather undermined his point by taking control immediately after. “Tell me what you saw,” he said.

Qrow ran a hand through his hair, looking suddenly unsure. “Well, that’s the thing. There are no signs of an attack. But something isn’t right. There are hardly any signs of life. The village hasn’t been abandoned, but the whole place reeks of fear. And I overheard part of a conversation about what the village could do to defend itself when ‘they’ came.”

“Could it simply be anxiety in the wake of the attack on Vale?”

Qrow shook his head. “The villager said ‘when,’ not ‘if.’ Call it animal instinct, but I think they’re under threat.”

Ozpin nodded. “Then let’s see what we can find out. Lead the way, Qrow.” Qrow took off at Ozpin’s word, launching himself into the air and soaring up above the treetops. Ozpin cracked the reins, and they shot off down the path at a gallop, chasing Qrow’s shadow.

‘Why?’ Roman asked, exasperated. ‘We don’t know these people. Oh, and by the way, don’t you have this grand plan to save the world? Isn’t it rather time-sensitive? Have you ever thought about, I don’t know, maybe…prioritizing? Seriously, fuck these people and their problems! We’ve got enough of our own!’

Ozpin ignored his objections and pressed on. They rode into the village as Qrow soared overhead, turning wide, slow circles around the settlement’s perimeter—keeping watch. It was eerily quiet. Only a sparse few people were out in the streets, and they walked in close twos and threes, or stood with their backs against the buildings, talking in hushed tones. It was a small settlement, the only real sign of civilization a podunk little train station at the far end of the main street. ‘Looks like the end of the line.’

“Yes,” Ozpin murmured. “Those train tracks run east through the mountains to Prism City, almost on the Mistrali border.”

‘Great! Let’s just take the train. From Prism, we can get an airship to Mistral.’

“It’s a private railway, for use only by the Prism Civil Guard. They have an arrangement with the outlying farming villages along the railway line: food to feed their citizens in exchange for their protection against the Grimm. It works out well for both parties, or it used to. But I don’t see any guardsmen on patrol.”

‘Oh. I think I know what’s going on here.’

“Psst! Travelers, over here!” A grubby girl in her late teens, dressed in tattered overalls, was beckoning to them from a narrow throughway between two houses. Ozpin, either out of valor or stupidity, steered the horse over to her and dismounted, hitching the creature at the mouth of the passageway, then walked into the shadows to meet the girl. Neo followed, grabbing their weapons. At least if this rube tried to rob them, she’d be in for a nasty surprise. “Where are you from?” the girl asked, an urgent tone to her voice keeping the question from being a casual one.

“The City of Vale,” Ozpin answered.

Her face fell. “Oh… I’m so sorry. I guess you can’t help us, after all.”

“Why? What’s wrong?”

The girl slumped back against the side of the building, her unkempt, brown curls obscuring her face. “After the attack on Vale, Prism started demanding more food from the railway villages. More than we can spare. But the City Council is afraid—of another attack, of more Grimm, of another war. So they’re preparing for the worst, forcing us to load more and more of our harvest onto the train to be taken back to the city. And if we don’t give them what they want, they’ll withdraw the guard and leave us defenseless against the creatures of Grimm.”

‘It’s a classic extortion racket.’

“Where are the guardsmen posted to this village?” Ozpin asked.

“They’re all holed up in the train station. The next train is due in three hours. It’ll be the third time it’s come in two weeks.”

“How have they been able to do all of this without anyone taking notice?”

“With the CCTS tower down, remote areas like this have fallen into communications blackout.” Ozpin pulled out Roman’s scroll, only to confirm that there was no signal. “As long as we can’t get word to anyone about what’s happening, they can keep getting away with it. That’s why when I saw you, I thought…” She sighed, holding back tears. “But Vale can’t help us. Another city, maybe, if they’re not too preoccupied with their own problems.”

There was a sort of pressurized fury building in Ozpin as she spoke. He was too self-possessed to show it, but Roman could sure as hell feel it. He could also understand it, although he didn’t care to dwell too much on why. Oz had ruled these lands once, not all that long ago. Doubtless, he had tried to make Vale into the kind of harmonious utopia that he dreamed of. Out of all his lives, being a king would have been his best shot at reforming society to his ideals. But just like other kings before him, he had been unable to hold back the gathering storm clouds of war. And he had gone down in history as the Warrior King: a mighty victor, rather than a broker of peace. But of course, even Ozpin understood that sometimes, the only way to achieve peace is to slay your enemies.

He placed a hand on the girl’s shoulder and offered her a reassuring smile. “We may yet be able to help. If you’re willing to help us.”

The girl looked skeptical as to what two lone refugees might be able to do to remedy her village’s dire circumstances, but she nodded nonetheless. “What can I do?”

“I want to hear the precise details of this whole operation,” he said, “or as much as you know. But I’d also like to get a sense of what sort of shape the other villages are in.” Taking Roman’s scroll and angling it toward the sun, he used the glass like a mirror to signal Qrow, still circling high above. Qrow tucked his wings in and dove toward them. Ozpin held out his arm, and Qrow landed on it with a flutter of wings and a soft, inquisitive clicking sound, his talons digging into the thick leather of Roman’s glove.

“You have a trained bird?” the girl exclaimed. It was the first time they’d seen her smile. Neo’s expression mirrored hers almost exactly as both girls fawned over the stupid bird. Neo hardly even acknowledged Qrow when he was human, but whenever he happened to be a bird, he was suddenly her new favorite plaything. Roman should have gotten her a pet when she was younger.

“Indeed I do,” said Ozpin, stroking Qrow’s beak with his finger. Qrow bit it. “Ouch,” Ozpin hissed, as Roman swore. “Ah, perhaps ‘trained’ isn’t the best word,” continued Ozpin sheepishly. “Crows are very intuitive birds.”

Qrow preened his flight feathers, giving the girl a show. “Can I pet him?” she asked, eyes shining with childlike wonder in spite of her years.

“Er,” said Ozpin, eyeing Qrow nervously. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Qrow seems to be a bit temperamental at the moment.”

“He’s a crow and his name is Crow? That’s not very creative.”

“Well, I…” Ozpin cleared his throat. “That’s beside the point. The point is, he can understand us.” Ozpin briefly explained the situation to Qrow, using small, simple words an animal might comprehend. Roman found the whole ruse highly amusing, while Qrow ruffled his feathers in irritation. “People from the city are stealing food from the farmers,” said Ozpin. Qrow’s talons tightened considerably around Roman’s arm. “Go scout the other villages. But return swiftly.” Ozpin tapped Qrow’s foot three times—three hours. “I’m going to need you.” Qrow gave another low, warbling-clicking sound that apparently indicated he understood. Then Ozpin thrust his arm out, and Qrow launched into the air, his silhouette soon diminishing to a dark speck in the vast sky.

“How will he tell you what he sees?” asked the girl.

“Crows and ravens are very good at picking up new tricks,” Ozpin replied. “If they spend enough time around humans, they can even learn to speak.”

“That’s amazing,” the girl murmured, watching after Qrow.

“He really is quite something,” said Ozpin softly. He returned his attention to the girl. “Now, if you’ll excuse us, I just need a moment to confer with my colleague. We’re going to figure out how we can help.” He motioned for Neo to follow him through to the other end of the passageway and out the back, behind the buildings. Of course, she wasn’t who he’d been referring to.

‘I feel like a broken record here, but would you care to fill me in on your plan?’

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but…I think we need to rob that train.”

‘Oh, Oz,’ Roman purred, ‘save the dirty talk for your boyfriend.’

Ozpin sighed, rubbing his temples. “Right. I almost forgot who I was talking to."

Chapter Text

"Just, hypothetically speaking, could you do it?”

‘I’m offended you even have to ask. I stole a whole train once, if you remember.’

“I remember,” replied Ozpin grimly. “But could you do it without casualties, and without risking repercussions that would fall on the villagers? Because I don’t see a way…”

‘I see several. It’s just a matter of how we utilize the resources we have at hand. If you really wanna do this, then we can do it so they never know what hit ’em. Trust me.’ Roman tried not to sound too eager. He was agreeing to this as a bit of fun, and as a means to keep his skills sharp. But really, this was his chance to back up his words with actions, to prove to Ozpin that he could be relied on as a trustworthy partner. Then, the paranoid old wizard might finally let down his guard just enough for Roman to figure out what he was hiding.

“You haven’t yet earned my trust, Torchwick.”

‘Then allow me the chance,’ said Roman. ‘This is what I do best. You’d be a fool not to take advantage of that. And besides, it’s not like I can do anything without your supervision.’

“Considering I don’t have a better idea, and that this is your area of expertise…I suppose I should be asking you what the plan is.”

Roman tamped down the feeling of victory into quiet satisfaction. ‘Our crew consists of a local informant, an illusionist, a magician, a licensed Huntsman with a few tricks of his own up his sleeve, and of course, yours truly. See where I’m going with this?’

“Not precisely…”

‘It takes practice, being a criminal mastermind. But don’t worry, I’m the best teacher you could ask for. Just consider this lesson one.’

“The phrase ‘you learn new things everyday’ used to be a comfort to me,” Ozpin lamented.

‘Relax, it’ll be fun! You’ve just gotta follow my lead for once.’

“Alright. But don’t make me regret it, Torchwick.”

With Ozpin’s vague threat still hanging in the air between them, they returned to their girl in the passageway to get the full rundown and all the nitty-gritty details Roman needed to solidify his plan. Protecting the villagers from any blowback presented an interesting challenge, but every job came with its unique little quirks. It was nothing he and Neo couldn’t handle with a bit of classic misdirection, or as Qrow had so aptly put it, smoke and mirrors.

Since the girl (whose name, they learned, was Thea) had met Ozpin first, they agreed it would be best if Ozpin handled all of their interactions with her and simply asked the questions Roman told him to. He dutifully asked Roman’s questions, and Thea answered them in as much detail as she could recall, describing the cargo loading procedure, the number of guardsmen that accompanied the train and the weapons they were outfitted with, their security protocols, the basic mechanics and design of the train itself—everything short of the conductor’s mother’s maiden name. She didn’t know any specifics of course, but Roman was able to fill most of them in from her descriptions. The train sounded like a Quicksilver Class 5, hybrid dust engine, ideal for long-haul cargo transport. The guardsmen were equipped with automatic hunting rifles with custom modifications for various types of dust ammunition, probably Schnee manufacture. And they operated like a private militia.

The more Ozpin heard, the more doubtful he became. But when Thea had finished answering his questions and finally asked, “So you really think you can help us?” Ozpin projected nothing but Roman’s confidence.

“I do. I believe we can recover what is rightfully yours, one way or another. It is imperative, however, that the people here put up no resistance when the train comes. That way only leads to bloodshed.”

“We know that,” she said. “It would be their automatic rifles against our shotguns and pitchforks. But a lot of people think doing nothing is worse. We either roll over and let them take everything, and starve, or we fight back and get gunned down in the streets, or left for the Grimm. If there’s any chance at a third option, it’s our best chance.”

‘They won’t starve. With or without the protection of the guard, if there’s a famine, the Grimm will kill them before the hunger does.’

“Yes,” Ozpin muttered under his breath. But to Thea he offered a reassuring nod. “Unfortunately, you cannot let the others in on what we’re planning, or it could all be compromised,” he said. “But what you can do is spread a rumor: say you saw a flock of nevermore on the horizon not long ago. It may remind people why they need the guardsmen.”

She nodded. “Okay. I can do that.”

Ozpin paused, reluctant to voice his next words. “You know, Prism is likely to fall back on these same exploitative tactics again in the future. In the long run, your best option may be to leave.”

“Maybe,” said Thea. “But our families fought hard to build this village. This is our home. And there’s no place like it.”

Ozpin smiled. “In that case, I wish you luck, Ms. Thea.”

“Thank you,” she said. “If the gods really do exist, I hope they’re watching over us today.”

“Hope is a powerful thing,” said Ozpin. “It never goes to waste.”

“Even if you can’t get back what’s been taken from us, you’ve at least given that back to me,” Thea said. Then she slipped away, leaving them alone in the passageway.

“What is the true purpose of her spreading that rumor?” Ozpin asked when she was gone.

‘Threefold: One, with any luck, it’ll keep the villagers pacified, like you said. Two, it’ll make the guardsmen nervous, and inclined to take very specific precautions. And three, it implants an idea in their heads, making them more susceptible to it later. Now let me talk to my sister.’

Ozpin turned over control to him, although he wasn’t pleased that Roman still hadn’t shared his plan. But he would just have to be patient. Once Roman had finished putting all the pieces in place, then he would fill his crew in on how they were going to pull the heist, and the role each member had to play. He was sticking to his standard operating procedure. Muddying the waters early with half-baked ideas only risked confusion later, especially when working with novices. Which wasn’t to say that he didn’t also enjoy turning the tables so that Ozpin had to do what Roman told him without quite knowing why.

“Remember the train job we pulled with that crew from Patch a few years back?” he asked Neo. She nodded, but her sour expression indicated just what she’d thought of those hicks who believed that having valuable intel also made them valuable assets. There was a reason they’d only run one job together. “Exactly,” said Roman, sharing her displeasure. “But in addition to being forced to work with amateurs, there are other similarities between that job and this one. First, we’ve gotta make off with a sizable score—more than we can carry. And second, no one on the train can know we were ever there, because if they realize they’ve been robbed, there’ll be consequences. We’re gonna handle both factors the same now as we did back then, got it?” Neo nodded again, this time, with a hint of an excited smile.

‘I’m sorry, but how can you possibly steal from someone without them realizing sooner or later that they’ve been stolen from? And how do you propose we transport this sheer volume of stolen goods surreptitiously?’

Roman responded with a question of his own. “You said the train goes through the mountains. Does it pass through a tunnel?”

‘Yes, just before it reaches the city.’

“Perfect. Then that answers your first question.”

‘No, it doesn’t!’

“As for your second question,” Roman continued, “I’m sure you’ll be pleased to know that I’ll only be stealing half a train this time.”

‘Half the train? They are definitely going to notice that go missing!’

“How astute of you, professor.”

Ozpin made an inarticulate sound of frustration. ‘Fine. I’ll stop prying if you promise to explain your plan in full as soon as Qrow returns.’

Roman leaned back against the side of the building and lit a cigar. As he watched the tip smolder and the smoke start to rise, the final piece fell into place. “Deal.”

While they waited for Qrow, they found a less conspicuous place to hitch the horse in the woods, and then staked out the train station from the tree line. The station was really little more than a long, sheltered platform, and they watched as six guardsmen moved about twenty large, wooden crates up onto the platform and stacked them at regular intervals to be loaded onto the train when it arrived. Occasionally, two guardsmen would leave the group and stalk out into the village, returning ten minutes later carrying another crate between them. Roman observed their interactions, the tension they carried in their movements, the way they kept looking over their shoulders and scanning the buildings. They knew they had pushed the villagers almost to a breaking point. But they had their orders, and apparently the pay was good enough to silence their consciences. Just as a shepherd protected his flock from the wolves, yet slaughtered the lambs to feed his family, so the guardsmen defended the villages from the Grimm, and reaped the spoils. Today just happened to be a reaping day. 

A crow’s cry cut through Roman’s thoughts. “In a human dialect please, Qrow,” he said.

Qrow landed beside him, straightening up in his human form. He stood a couple inches taller than Roman, which unsettled Roman for some reason, until Ozpin provided the answer: ‘We used to be of a height.’

Roman rolled his eyes beneath the brim of his hat before lifting his chin to address Qrow. “Well?”

“They’re all in a bad way,” said Qrow. “All four villages along the railway between here and Prism have been bled dry by the Civil Guard. I watched them load the train in the next village over. They had to keep the villagers back at gunpoint. There was nearly a riot. We’ve got to do something.”

“Way ahead of you, Feathers. We’re gonna pull a train heist. I’ve got it all planned.”

“We’re…what? Is Oz on board with this?”

“It was his idea.”

Qrow stared at him for a second, two, three. “Is Oz feeling okay?” he asked, finally. “Oz, you wanna discuss this?”

Roman snapped his fingers in Qrow’s face. “Hey, we’re having a conversation. That’s rude.” Qrow looked suitably taken-aback, so Roman continued, “Ozpin’s just fine. He’s decided to do what needs to be done, just like you said. It’s simple: These people need to eat. There’s food on that train. We rob the train, they don’t starve.”

“I get the logic,” said Qrow. “It just…doesn’t sound like him. It sounds like you.”

“Me? Doing something at significant personal risk for no personal gain? Just who do you take me for?”

“No, you’re right,” said Qrow, shaking his head. “Forget I said anything. So, how are we gonna do this?”

“You ever pull a train job back when you were running with the tribe?” Roman asked.

“A couple,” said Qrow. He chuckled. “I guess I was thieving before you were born.”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Alright, hotshot, don’t get cocky. You’re out of practice. But at least you’ve got some experience. For once, Ozpin’s the novice. But he’s got me, so he’ll do just fine. Here’s the plan.”

~ * ~

“I don’t know,” said Qrow, once Roman had finished. “There’s a lot that can go wrong.”

‘Qrow’s right. His Semblance is likely to throw a spanner in the works of an operation as intricate as this.’

“Unfortunately, you have an important part to play, or I’d be happy to leave you behind with Crow, here,” said Roman, to Qrow’s chagrin. “I’ve got contingency plans, but this one is our best shot at getting the goods without getting the heat. Anyway, luck’s just a matter of perspective. It would be their bad luck if we pull this off. Isn’t your Semblance as likely to work in our favor as theirs?”

“It’s unpredictable. That’s the point.”

Roman shrugged. “Then we’ll just have to improvise if necessary. If we have to tip our hand, there are other ways to keep the Civil Guard from retaliating against the villagers.”

‘Ways that don’t involve eliminating witnesses?’

“Okay, other other ways,” Roman muttered. “Listen, do you guys want to help these people or not? Because I’m perfectly happy to leave them to their fate, but I’m pretty sure that goes against everything a Huntsman stands for.”

“Alright, Torchwick,” said Qrow. “If Oz is on board with this, then so am I. We have to try.”

‘Even with the potential for complications, it seems the plan you’ve devised is the best chance these people have. I’m with you on this.’

Roman turned to Neo, who put her hands on her hips, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her mouth. Do you even have to ask?

Roman grinned. “I think I hear the train.”

Chapter Text

“First things first,” said Roman as they watched the monstrous locomotive slide into the station, belching black smoke. The Quicksilver Class 5 was over six thousand tons of reinforced steel, mounted with a 360-degree rotational high-caliber dust ammunition gun turret. It had been designed to repel Grimm attacks. But not thieves. “Give me Ozpin’s glasses.”

Qrow’s eyes widened. “How did you know I—?” 

“Don’t insult my observational abilities, Qrow. Just give them to me. You can have them back later, if you’re really that attached to them.”

Reluctantly, Qrow dipped his hand into his breast pocket and pulled out a pair of dark, round spectacles. Roman had noticed them when he’d slipped a five-hundred-Lien card into Qrow’s pocket—Qrow’s share of their little gambling operation. He hadn’t recognized them in his drunken stupor, however. He’d made the connection later. “I knew he’d want his cane back, so…” Qrow spoke softly, cradling the delicate frames. The dark lenses reflected his own lost look back at him. Ozpin’s lack of commentary was more telling than anything he might have said.

“Save the sob stories for your next bartender,” said Roman, holding out his hand. Qrow fixed him with a hard stare and dropped the glasses into Roman’s open palm. There was a crack in the right lens, but Roman’s hair obscured it when he put them on. “What d’ya think? Do they suit me?” 

“No.” 

Roman rolled his eyes. “Give me two minutes.” He made his way down to the train station alone, where the guardsmen were bustling about loading up the new cargo, and bringing the engine around to the other end of the train using a series of track switches and rotating platforms. The villagers, for the most part, were watching the proceedings from their windows, unwilling to put themselves in the path of the guardsmen’s guns—and perhaps, afraid of that roving flock of nevermore.

As he drew closer, Roman began to sweep his cane from side to side across the ground, scanning the activity in front of him from behind Ozpin’s dark glasses. He chose his mark – the guardsman overseeing the loading process, his nose buried in a manifest with his back turned – and moved in. Sweeping his cane out to the right, he bumped into the guardsman on his left, letting a startled sound escape him, as though he hadn’t known the man was there. “Whoah, watch it!” barked the guardsman, whipping around, the hand that wasn’t clutching the manifest going for his gun. But he took in Roman’s dark glasses and red-tipped cane, and let his hand drop. “Oh. Sorry,” he said, the gruff, paramilitary front falling away to awkward uncertainty.

“No, I apologize,” said Roman, deliberately looking a little too far to the right of the man’s face. “I didn’t see you there.”

The guardsman chuckled nervously at Roman’s joke, unsure if he was allowed to laugh. “That’s alright. But I think you must’ve gotten turned around. You’re not supposed to be up here. This is a private platform, Civil Guard only.” 

“Oh dear. I was with someone, but I seem to have lost him…” Roman didn’t look around, but he did cock his head, as though listening for something.

“There you are!” Qrow made his entrance right on cue, storming up onto the platform. “What did I tell you about wandering off?” He turned to the bemused guardsman without waiting for a response from Roman. “Sorry about him. He wasn’t causing you any trouble, was he?”

“No,” said the guardsman, eyeing Qrow’s weapon uneasily. “But neither of you should be up here. It’s a private platform.”

“Prism Civil Guard, right?” Qrow asked. “I was actually hoping to talk to you guys. I’m a Huntsman, freelance, and I heard from someone on the road a ways back that you were moving a lot of cargo through this area. Thought you might be interested in hiring an escort. You can’t be too careful, with all this unusual Grimm activity since the attack on Vale.” 

“A Huntsman?” The man’s interest was piqued. “We have been getting some troubling reports today of a flock of nevermore sighted in the area…”

Qrow nodded. “Yeah, I’ve been hearing of a lot of sightings like that. Their migration routes seem to be shifting closer to the cities.”

“Let me see your Huntsman license.”

“Sure.” Qrow flicked open his credentials on his scroll and handed it over.

The guardsman’s eyes widened almost comically when he tapped through to Qrow’s record on the Huntsman database. “Your stats are very impressive,” he said. “Why are you freelancing when you could have your pick of steady employment? The Schnee Dust Company’s always looking to hire talented Huntsman escorts for their shipments, and they’d pay you a small fortune.” 

Qrow waved a hand dismissively. “Their contracts are too restrictive. It’s in the title: I freelance ’cause I like the freedom.” 

The man’s brow furrowed as he continued to scroll through Qrow’s record. “A lot of these missions are marked ‘Classified’.”

Qrow leaned in and lowered his voice. “Between you and me, I was doing work for the Atlesian military that wasn’t strictly…above board. But now, with the borders closed, I’ve found myself in need of new clients.”  

The guardsman echoed Qrow’s conspiratorial tone when he replied, “Between you and me, your…flexibility is a point in your favor.” He handed Qrow his scroll back. “You’d certainly be an asset on the train. What’s your going rate?”

“Five thousand per day, but that goes down to three thousand if you keep me on more than a week.”

“Would you take four on a trial basis? We’d have much more than a week’s work for you.”

Qrow blew out a breath, pretending to consider the offer. “I could do four-point-five,” he countered.  

The guardsman nodded. “I think that’s fair. I can make you a provisional offer, but you’ll have to officially negotiate your contract with the guard captain at Prism HQ.”

“Of course,” said Qrow. The guardsman offered his hand, and the two men shook on the deal. “Looking forward to working with you.”

The guardsman finally looked back to Roman, who’d had one ear on the conversation, but had let his gaze wander over the platform, observing. The guardsman cleared his throat. “This isn’t a passenger train, however. We can’t take on civilians.”

Qrow laughed. “Oh no, this is as far as he’s going. He just hired me to get him here safely. He’s got a sister around here somewhere.” Qrow put a hand on Roman’s shoulder. “I’ll just take you somewhere you can meet her, alright?”

Roman nodded. “Yes, that would be just fine.”

“I’ll be right back after that,” Qrow told the guardsman.  

“Morado!” the guardsman called. One of his colleagues dropped what he’d been doing and came rushing over. “Morado, this is Qrow, a Huntsman we’re taking on for long hauls. Qrow, Morado here will show you the ropes when you get back. Don’t take too long. We leave in ten minutes.”

“Understood.” Qrow and Morado exchanged a nod, and then Qrow led Roman away down the platform, keeping his hand on Roman’s shoulder to guide his poor blind companion. “You got it, right?” Qrow muttered under his breath.

Roman held up the guardsman’s key card between two fingers. “See you on the train.”

With a subtle glance over his shoulder to confirm that the guardsmen had returned their attention to loading cargo, Roman slipped behind the last train car. Neo was waiting for him on the other side. Roman slotted the key into the card reader, and the door slid open with a quiet hiss of hydraulics. “Ladies first,” he said, stepping aside. Neo hopped up into the car, and Roman followed her, shutting the door behind them. There were no windows in the cargo cars, so when the door sealed shut, they were plunged into complete darkness. Roman removed Ozpin’s glasses, folding them and tucking them away in his coat pocket. There was a weight of memory to them (though not as heavy as the headmaster’s cane) that Roman didn’t like. He flicked open his lighter, the small orange flame illuminating the contours of crates stacked high all around them. Thanks to Qrow’s scouting, they’d known that this car had already been loaded in the previous village. Since the guardsmen were unlikely to venture all the way back here, it would be the best place to lie low for the journey. But there was one thing they had to take care of first.

“We’ve got seven minutes,” he told Neo. She nodded, and then vanished before his eyes. He’d never met a thief or assassin who could match his sister for stealth. She could walk right past a dozen guardsmen, and they’d never know she was there. But if she and Roman worked quickly enough, they could finish their task while the train was still empty. “Ready?” he asked.

He couldn’t see her, but he heard two taps of her parasol on the floor from somewhere close by: Ready. They moved quickly through the cargo cars up toward the passenger section, Roman taking care to keep to the shadows and making use of his Semblance to move unseen through the cars that were still being loaded. He’d been picking up new tricks with his Semblance as quickly as he picked up other skills these days, just as Ozpin had said he would. But he was saving his biggest trick for last.

He rematerialized in the magazine car still trailing smoke, and beside him, Neo dropped her camouflage illusion. The gun turret loomed overhead, designed to be operated from above and fed ammunition from below. They were surrounded by crates of dust ammo, and Roman walked over to one, plucking out a single shell. He had cultivated an extensive knowledge of things mechanical over the years, studying blueprints and technical journals in his spare time. He never knew when being able to operate, fix, disable and/or hijack various machinery might come in handy in his line of work. So he happened to be familiar with the gun turret on the Quicksilver Class 5, and he knew that it was prone to malfunction if not cleaned and oiled regularly, due to the buildup of refined dust powder from the ammunition. Therefore, to sabotage one without it looking deliberate, he simply had to exploit its preexisting design flaw.  

He handed the shell to Neo along with his cane, then hoisted her up onto his shoulders so she could reach the base of the turret. She opened up the casing and poured the fine fire dust powder into her hand. Puffing out her cheeks, she blew the dust up into the mechanics of the turret. Then she unscrewed the barrel of Roman’s cane and pressed the handle’s ignition chamber right up against one of the gaps between the turret’s panels. With a squeeze of the trigger, a single spark ignited the dust powder, welding the turret’s inner workings together and rendering the whole thing inoperable.

‘We’ll be leaving them defenseless.’

“They’ll be practically on Prism’s doorstep,” Roman murmured. “If they can’t make it back from there, then the city will be better off hiring a more competent guard to replace them.” He prepared to set Neo down again. “Alright, let’s head back—”

Qrow’s muffled voice filtered in from just outside the car. “Do I get a key card like that?”

And another, which Roman assumed belonged to Morado. “You’ll be issued one back at HQ. Keep an eye out for one of these lying around, though. Lance thinks he must’ve dropped his somewhere. Replacements come out of our salaries, and they don’t come cheap.” Neo swung down from Roman’s shoulders and pressed him back against the far wall, throwing up an illusion screen in front of them both right as the door to the outside hissed open, and Qrow and Morado stepped in. It was like looking through a pane of one-way glass: they could observe without being observed. Morado walked over to a supply cabinet on the far wall and pulled out an armored vest like the ones all of the guardsmen were wearing. “You want one of these?” he asked Qrow. 

“Eh, utility blue’s not really my color. You got one in black?”

Morado gave him a funny look. “What, you want it to match your prom dress?”

Qrow laughed. “I’m just messin’ with ya. I’ve got something better, anyway.” As he spoke, he wandered casually through the car, but his eyes darted with purpose up to the gun turret above, noting the faint and quickly fading red glow from within.

“Right. Y’know, all that Aura stuff sounds kinda hoaxy to me, like magic or some shit.”

‘I resent that implication,’ Ozpin muttered.

“It really works?” continued Morado.

“It really works,” said Qrow. “If I ever give you cause to punch me in the face, you’ll get a demonstration.”

“Why would I punch you in the face?”

Qrow shrugged. “I dunno, but it’s a reaction I seem to get a lot. Listen, why don’t you take me up to meet the conductor? I’d like to get a handle on how he runs this rig.”

“She, actually, but sure. Don’t get any ideas, though. She’ll beat you with a lug wrench if you so much as look at her anywhere but her eyes.”

Qrow chuckled. “Then maybe you’ll get your demonstration, after all.”

“Hey, it’s your funeral,” said Morado. “Come on, I’ll introduce you.” He led Qrow through the doorway leading to the rest of the passenger cars and up to the engine, while Roman and Neo slipped through the opposite doorway, back to the cargo cars. A minute later, from their hidden sanctuary among the food crates, they heard the rest of the guard board the train. Then, with a lurch and the scream of the whistle, they were moving. The train was on its way back to Prism. 

Qrow had estimated it would take the train about an hour and a half to reach the mountains, so with nothing more to do in the meantime, Roman and Neo settled in for the long haul. Ozpin’s first-time jitters kept Roman from relaxing fully, but that was probably for the best. Roman lit a cigar – the glow serving as their only light source – and spent the time practicing with his Semblance, blowing little smoke birds that disappeared into the shadows with sweeps of their dark wings.

Some time later, Qrow appeared silhouetted in the doorway. “We’re almost there,” he said. “Let’s go.” 

Roman and Neo rose to follow him out, but stopped in their tracks when another form appeared behind Qrow. “There you are, man, I was looking for…you.” Morado trailed off when he saw the other two people in the car, his hand going for his gun. Roman shoved past Qrow and slammed Morado up against the wall with his cane across the man’s windpipe. His rifle and one hand trapped behind him, Morado gripped Roman’s cane desperately with his free hand as Roman lifted him off his feet. He tried to cry for help, but started choking instead as Roman applied more pressure.

‘Torchwick, stop.’

“His death can be a tragic accident,” Roman growled. “No reason to arouse suspicion. But if we let him live, the Civil Guard will know exactly what happened here. It’s his life or the lives of all those villagers back there. Your choice.” 

‘…No.’ Ozpin seized control from Roman and placed a hand across Morado’s forehead. His vision tinged green as Morado’s eyes flared the same color. “Sleep. Dream. And forget.” At Ozpin’s command, Morado’s eyes slid shut, and his whole body went limp. When Ozpin stepped back, the man collapsed to the floor in a dead faint.  

‘Whoah. What was that?’

“Improvising,” said Ozpin.

Qrow stepped forward, looking from Ozpin to the unconscious guardsman on the floor. But all he said was, “Neo and I will move him. You need to get going.” With a simple nod, Ozpin turned his back on the three of them and made for the nearest exit.

‘You’ve gotta teach me how to do that sometime.’

“That will be the last thing I teach you,” said Ozpin wearily.

‘Hey, you’re not out of juice already, are you? ’Cause I’m counting on you—’

“I can do my part,” said Ozpin. “Just concentrate on doing yours.” He returned control to Roman as he walked, and Roman barely broke stride. Their hand-offs didn’t throw him anymore. He opened the door to the outside and nearly lost his hat in the wind rushing past, caching it just before it would’ve sailed off over the edge of the sheer cliff below. Clamping it back down over his head, Roman climbed the steel rungs of the ladder up to the top of the train and began to make his way quickly but carefully forward to the engine. He could see the tunnel up ahead in the distance. They would be cutting it close.

The leap across the yawning gap between the cargo cars and the passenger cars took about a year off Roman’s life, but he managed to hook his cane under a ridge in the roof to steady his balance again on the other side. With no more obstacles ahead, he reached the engine and began climbing up the side of the massive, steel smokestack. As he climbed, he reminded himself it was only a matter of scale; otherwise, a smokestack was little different from one of his cigars. There was simply a lot more smoke to work with.

He made it to the top and crouched precariously on the edge, looking down into the darkness and letting the thick, black coal smoke surround him, filling his lungs, his blood, his soul. The wind buffeted his face, snapping at his coat, and he felt lighter with every breath. So he turned and let himself fall back into the billowing black, and the wind lifted him aloft. He could no longer tell where he ended and the voluminous plume of black smoke pouring out of the smokestack began. When he reached out to either side, holding a single, clear form in his mind, he spread a pair of vast, smoky black wings. Ozpin kept Roman’s emotions in check, lending him the focus he needed to complete the transformation. He felt nothing but complete freedom as he soared and wheeled through the air, sweeping around the train like a bird of prey zeroing in on its mark. He heard the cry rise up almost immediately. “Nevermore!”

An alarm blared to life, and soon another voice yelled, “The turret’s jammed!”

Then, Qrow’s voice, “I’ll fend it off! Everyone else get to the front of the train! We just have to make it into the tunnel!”

Qrow was standing on top of one of the cargo cars, his scythe drawn. Roman circled around once more, then dove right at him, sweeping the Huntsman off his feet with a kick as he dropped out of the smoke. “Tag. You’re it.”

Qrow tumbled off the side of the train and down over the cliff. At the same time, Roman slid down into the gap between the cargo and passenger cars, the smoke dissipating around him. Neo was there to greet him with a smile. Then she raised her eyes and cast a massive illusion screen between the two sections of the train. When Qrow rose up again in his crow form, beating his wings against the train’s backdraft, Neo magnified his reflection a hundred times up on her screen.

“Shit! The Huntsman’s down and it’s still on our tail!” another guardsman shouted. “Increase speed and make for the tunnel!” This was where timing was everything. The tunnel loomed up ahead like a mouth in the mountain, opening wide to swallow them whole. Roman slid the guardsman’s key card into the card reader for a small digital control panel beside the cargo car door. The screen flickered to life, granting him access to various functions. He hit the command to uncouple the cars.

An error message popped up on the screen. “Processor Error?” he read. “What does that even mean?” He hit the command again, and the error message beeped at him again, seemingly more insistent. “Argh, I’m going to strangle Qrow,” he growled. How else could he separate the cars? The reinforced steel was too strong to blast through, Qrow and Neo were busy playing shadow puppets, and Ozpin assured him even before he could voice the question that no, he could not use his magic to “open sesame that shit.” Even if there was some small chance Roman could blast the cars apart, it was too close-range, and he needed to conserve his fire dust crystals for the next step… “Oh! Neo, I love you!” He kissed his confused sister, and from his coat pocket he withdrew one of the lightning dust crystals she’d stolen for him from that little dust shop awhile back. “Your Aura’s stronger than mine, right?” he asked Ozpin.

‘Yes…’

“Good. Then smash this crystal into that access panel just below the screen. It should short-circuit the system and release the locking mechanism.” 

‘You want me to electrocute myself.’

“This’ll hurt me as much as it hurts you. If you’ve got a better idea, I’d love to hear it.” Evidently he didn’t, because Ozpin took control, grit his teeth and smashed the crystal into the access panel. His emerald Aura sparked and crackled angrily as a powerful surge of electricity shot through him. The pain wasn’t as excruciating as being burned alive, which Roman knew thanks to Ozpin, but it was definitely up there. The important part, however, was that it worked. The electromagnetic locks connecting the cars released. But the engine and the first few cars had already passed into the tunnel—their window was closing as fast as a speeding train. They didn’t even have a moment to catch their breath. ‘Hit the brakes!’

Ozpin used his magic to slow the cargo section of the train, allowing the passenger section and all of the guardsmen on board to speed ahead into the tunnel. At the same time, he raised Roman’s cane and shot a barrage of fire dust crystals up into the mountainside. The blasts shook free a whole shelf of the cliff face, which crashed down over the mouth of the tunnel like a curtain, sealing it shut with fifty feet of hard granite.

From inside the tunnel, it would have looked like the nevermore had crashed into the mountainside in its pursuit, and the cargo section of the train had been crushed under the rubble. Misfortune, rather than design. It would take Prism months to clear away a cave-in of that magnitude with the kingdom’s resources in such disarray, during which time, the guardsmen already stationed in the villages couldn’t be recalled. Sure, Prism could send an airship to retrieve them, but it wouldn’t be wise, not after sustaining such losses to the aggressive nevermore hunting on the other side of the mountain. Besides, no matter the threats they made, they couldn’t afford to let the farming villages be overrun by Grimm. The food they’d stockpiled wouldn’t last forever. By the time the excavation work on the tunnel was finished, the repairs to the CCTS tower probably would be, too, and Prism would have to clean up its act. The people of Prism weren’t desperate; they had plenty of food and resources to weather the current crisis. As soon as taking more required taking risks, they would take another look at their balance sheet. It was some of Roman’s finest work, if he did say so himself.

Ozpin slowed their section of the train to a standstill, Neo dropped her illusion screen, and Qrow finally landed back atop the train with a victorious shout. “I can’t believe we pulled that off!” He sprawled on his back and cackled at the sky. Ozpin eased up on the friction he was applying to the wheels, allowing gravity to take over as the gentle incline tipped the cars in the opposite direction, back down the mountain. It was literally all downhill from there, all the way to the last village at the edge of the foothills. He just had to keep them from picking up too much speed.

He and Neo joined Qrow atop the train, soaking in the setting sun. The whole valley stretched out below them as they trundled down the mountain. It was easy to forget, in that moment, all that still lay ahead, all that still hung, precariously, in the balance. They had come so close to Prism, and there, the quickest means of getting to Mistral. And instead they had blocked their own path and turned back. But Roman had a feeling it had all been worth it, and not for the sake of some starving villagers. Ozpin had seen what he could accomplish when allowed a little leeway. His grip on Roman’s leash had slackened.

“I share your surprise,” Ozpin said, taking a seat beside Qrow. Neo sat a little ways away, dangling her feet over the edge of the train car and watching the passing scenery.

‘Wow. It’s touching how much confidence you two had in me.’

“I’ve gotta admit,” said Qrow, tucking his arms behind his head, “that was kinda fun. Y’know, since no one got hurt.”

Ozpin smirked. “It’s alright. You can admit you had fun playing nevermore.”

Qrow grinned. “I mean, who even thinks of that? These two are as batty as Barty.”

“And just as capable, it seems,” said Ozpin. Then, after a beat, he asked, “What did you do with Morado?”

“Oh, he’ll wake up wondering why he took a nap in a supply closet.” Qrow chuckled, but it sounded somewhat forced. “I, uh, didn’t know you could do that mind control magic on people. That’s kinda dark, Oz.”

“It is an absolute last resort,” said Ozpin. “I have used my magic that way in only a few cases, when I could see no other option.”

“Good.” Qrow sighed, seemingly reassured. “Although, Jimmy can be so pigheaded, I might be tempted if I were you. Certain members of the City Council, too. You ever use it on someone you know?” 

“Never,” said Ozpin. But he was lying. 

~ * ~

Each time they approached one of the villages along the train tracks, Ozpin would slow the train, Neo would uncouple two of the cars, and Qrow would slice through the tracks with his scythe so both cars derailed just outside the village. Night had fallen and the farmers had gone to bed with the sun, so their efforts were greeted with no fanfare, no cheers, no thanks. Nothing but the deep darkness and quiet of the rolling countryside.

If Ozpin hadn’t wasted his magic on Morado, they would have made it all the way back without a hitch. But the downhill slope meant he had to maintain almost constant friction on the wheels, or they risked picking up too much speed and derailing themselves. By the time they were down to the last two cars and the final village lay ahead, Ozpin was utterly exhausted. He tried to slow the cars once more as they raced toward the end of the line, but found himself unable to muster the magic for it. “I think,” he said, rather dreamily, “we’re going to crash.” And with that, he and Roman blacked out.

Chapter Text

Roman gradually and groggily clawed his way back to consciousness. The first thing he became aware of was a familiar bone-deep ache all throughout his body: the aftereffects of Ozpin overtaxing himself magically. The second was the very unfamiliar feeling of being carried. Bridal style. He cracked his eyes open and squinted up to determine the identity of whoever had the audacity to— Oh. It was Qrow. “Um,” said Roman, eloquently.

Qrow looked down at him. “Torchwick?”

“Yes…”

“Can you walk?”

“I’ve still got legs.” No sooner had Roman finished his sentence than Qrow dropped him unceremoniously on his ass.

Roman was still spluttering in shock when Neo, who had been walking alongside them, pivoted and thwacked Qrow across the shins with her parasol. “Ow, shit!” Qrow hissed, dropping to his knees beside Roman. “The hell was that for? He’s fine!”

She helped Roman to his feet and offered him his cane. For once, he actually used it to support himself as he stood, frustrated with how weak he felt, how unsteady he was on his feet. But seeing Qrow on his knees made him feel a little better. “Thanks, Neo.”

She nodded. My pleasure.

He turned to Qrow and lifted the Huntsman’s chin with the tip of his cane. They locked eyes. Ozpin was still under, or he would have stopped Roman right there. With a twitch of his finger, Roman could be rid of Ozpin’s troublesome spy. In that moment, he and Qrow both knew it. But what they both knew, also, was that whatever Ozpin would do to Roman in retribution would be ten times worse, his supposed moral code be damned. Qrow smirked, raising his chin a little further. “Well?”

Roman lowered his cane. “What happened?” They were back in the woods, and although it was dark, Roman thought he could make out the shape of Crow hitched to a tree up ahead, right where they’d left him.

Qrow got to his feet, wincing and brushing off his trousers. “Oz said we were gonna crash, and then he collapsed, so I grabbed him and we jumped. The train station was wrecked, but the rest of the village is fine. They got their harvest back. Your plan worked.”

“Despite your best efforts,” muttered Roman. “You missed an opportunity, you know.”

“Huh?”

“You should’ve asked for payment up front.”

Qrow rolled his eyes. “I’m not a thief anymore.”

It was a shame, really. Qrow had talent. “We just stole an entire train’s worth of cargo,” Roman pointed out.

“The Civil Guard stole it first,” Qrow retorted, somewhat flustered. “Just because they were calling it ‘appropriation,’ doesn’t mean it was justified.”

“Exactly,” said Roman. “They can call themselves a guard, but they’re basically a mafia. It’s not like it’s wrong to steal from those who steal from others.”

“There really is no honor among thieves,” said Qrow.

“Honor will cost you more than a thief can take.”

Qrow just shrugged. “Must mean it’s worth a lot.”

They decided to camp nearby for the night, to make sure no reprisals would fall on the village in the morning. And anyway, Roman was in no condition to travel. They built a fire, and Roman and Neo rolled out their bedrolls. Qrow always slept up in the trees in his crow form whenever they camped outside. Roman often wondered how he managed not to fall off his perch when he was usually anywhere from tipsy to piss drunk by the end of supper.

Tonight was no exception. Qrow had been at his flask ever since they’d completed the job. After he’d eaten his fill, he’d decided he was comfortable sprawled back against a tree, humming contentedly to himself. The rest of his share of bland, preserved something-or-other that they’d purchased for the journey lay forgotten beside him, so Neo swiped it and polished it off. Not that she enjoyed the stuff any more than the rest of them, but she didn’t often have cause to cast a massive illusion like that, and it took a lot out of her. She needed to replenish her energy. Roman did, too, but the thought of eating any more of the stuff when he already felt physically ill made him want to retch. Thankfully, Neo had made them a kettle of hot chocolate after the meal, which, along with a good cigar, did wonders to settle Roman’s stomach and ease his headache—especially after he spiked his.

“By the way, the guard have probably reported you dead by now, so you’ll want to dispute that report at some point,” said Roman, blowing smoke up into the sky to mingle with the smoke from the fire.

Qrow waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, I know the procedure.”

Roman squinted at Qrow in the flickering firelight. “How many times have you been reported dead?” Qrow furrowed his brow and started counting on his fingers, so Roman abandoned the line of inquiry. “I’m really passing up the perfect opportunity to kill you, here,” he sighed.

Qrow snorted. “Sure, if you want Oz to walk right up to Cinder and tell her that dress makes her look fat,” he chuckled.

Roman shuddered involuntarily at the thought. “Go chew roadkill, Qrow.”

“Hey, that’s…that’s racist,” Qrow decided in his drunken stupor. “Not all crows eat roadkill.”

“Don’t they?” Roman blew a dark, smoky crow that winged its way across the fire to circle around the Huntsman.

Qrow scrunched up his nose, waving away the smoke from his face. “I don’t eat roadkill,” he muttered. “Filthy vultures eat roadkill. Fuckin’ assholes. I hate vultures.” He looked up at Roman across the fire. “You remind me of a vulture.”

“I don’t scavenge,” said Roman. “I make the kill myself.”

Qrow huffed. “I’m surprised you and Raven don’t get along better.”

Roman gave the matter a moment’s thought. “I think we’re a little too similar,” he concluded. “They say if you kiss a thief, count your teeth. I only had to wake up the morning after to find my car keys missing once before I made it a personal policy never to take another light-fingered floozie to bed. Now Raven, I might’ve made an exception for, just out of sheer curiosity, but she radiates major ‘fuck off and die’ vibes. I’m pretty sure if I made a pass at her, she’d make a pass at me with her sword. Anyway, I’m not really into masks. Does she wear that thing all the time, or just for business? I mean, it wouldn’t be a dealbreaker if she wanted to keep it on, but—”

“Gods, would you just stop talking?” said Qrow, flattening his hands over his ears. “That is not what I meant by ‘get along.’ For fuck’s sake, Torchwick, she’s my twin sister!”

Roman gave Qrow a slow once-over. “You’re twins? You know, I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to f—mmmf.” Neo clapped her hand over Roman’s mouth.

“Oh, thank the gods,” Qrow sighed, slumping back against the tree. Roman proceeded to have an entire conversation with his sister through a series of looks before she removed her hand from his mouth. She knew he was only saying whatever shit would aggravate Qrow the most, but she didn’t need to hear it. Once they had reached an agreement on that point, she stood, gesturing to the low-burning fire, and walked off. She was going to gather more firewood. “Speaking of Remnant’s rogues’ gallery,” said Qrow as Neo disappeared into the dark, “is Adam Taurus in your evil rolodex?”

Roman grimaced. “I’ve had the misfortune of making his miserable acquaintance. Why?”

“’Cause I’m gonna kill him if I get the chance.”

Roman perked up at that. “Let me know if those plans pan out. You think you could take him?”

“I could fuckin’ take him,” Qrow slurred, with all the confidence of the completely inebriated. Still, Roman believed him.

“That’s right, you were Ozpin’s star student,” said Roman, kicking back and sipping his cocoa. “I suppose all those private lessons with the headmaster must have paid off.”

Qrow narrowed his eyes. “You’re…implying things.”

“Me?” said Roman, feigning shock. “Never.” He slipped Ozpin’s glasses from his pocket and placed them on the bridge of his nose, lifting his chin so he could look down at Qrow imperiously. When he spoke, he smoothed out his voice to mimic Ozpin’s soothing oratory. “Mr. Branwen, I am disappointed that you would be so quick to jump to conclusions about our new ally. I thought I taught you better than to fall prey to petty prejudices. Please come see me in my office after class so we can discuss this attitude problem of yours.”

Qrow’s eyes widened comically and his jaw went slack. “Shit,” he murmured. “You actually do a pretty good Ozpin.”

“I’ve had practice,” said Roman drolly. He removed the glasses and tossed them to Qrow, who caught them gingerly. “Come to think of it, I have Adam’s number in here somewhere.” He pulled out his scroll and found the entry in his contacts. Adam was an occasional customer of his—explosives, primarily. Fitting, for such a short-fused hothead. “I’ll send it to you. Feel free to drunk text him at all hours.”

Qrow’s scroll pinged, and he pulled it from his pocket, squinting down at the message on the screen. “Do you really have him listed as ‘Red Flag’?”

“I never use real names on this thing,” said Roman, dangling his scroll in the air. “Just a little additional precaution.”

“You got Cinder in there?”

“She’s Flaming Bitch. Naturally.”

Qrow snorted. “That’s a good one.”

“Of course, it’s not like Cinder Fall is her real name, anyway…”

Qrow’s reaction was immediate. He scrambled to sit up straight, eyes wide. “I knew it! What is it? You’ve gotta tell me. I have theories.”

“She doesn’t even know I know,” said Roman. He’d had his people do some subtle digging into her background when they’d first met, but his information brokers hadn’t been able to turn up much more than a name. Another red flag, in retrospect. It was embarrassing how much he’d been willing to overlook. “If she ever finds out that I told you, she’ll hunt us down and skin us both alive.” On the other hand, it would be so very satisfying, disseminating her secrets and demolishing her carefully constructed persona. Qrow looked at him pleadingly, more puppy than bird in that moment. “Alright,” Roman acquiesced, leaning in over the fire conspiratorially. “Her real name is Cinderella Le Fresne.”

“Holy shit.” Qrow grinned, biting his knuckle. “Cinderella. That’s even better than I imagined.”

“Isn’t it just?” said Roman, smiling himself.

“I take back all the bad stuff I’ve said about you. You’re a true asset to the team.”

Roman arched an eyebrow. “Just how shit-faced are you right now?”

Qrow shrugged, still grinning. “Gonna go with very. Hey, I’m in there, too, right?” he asked, gesturing to Roman’s scroll. “What’s my nickname?”

“You really want to know?”

“Yeah, I can take it. You’ve earned a free shot. What is it, Assholes Anonymous? Bird Brain?”

“Teacher’s Pet,” said Roman.

Qrow’s amusement evaporated immediately. “I’m changing your name in my scroll to Dead Man Walking.”

“Am I wrong?” Roman drawled. “You do what he says and come when he calls. You’re basically Ozpin’s bitch.”

Qrow stared him down. “Only one of us is Ozpin’s bitch, and it isn’t me.”

White-hot anger churned Roman’s stomach, and he ground his teeth. But if he got into that argument with Qrow, he really might end up killing him. He threw the remains of his cigar into the fire and pulled the flask from his pocket, unscrewing the cap and pouring more whiskey into the dregs of his cocoa. Qrow cocked his head, observing. “Huh. We have the same flask.” Roman sipped his concoction, waiting for the other shoe to drop. It took a surprisingly long time. But Qrow got there eventually, frowning and patting down his pockets before looking up at Roman, completely stupefied. “That is my flask! When did you—?”

Roman smirked over the rim of his mug. “I’m a professional, sweetheart.”

“Fine, you’re a master thief,” said Qrow. “Now give it back.”

Roman considered the flask in his hand. “Oz thinks you drink too much. He won’t make me give it back. If you want it, I guess you’re just going to have to take it.” His mug empty, Roman put the flask to his lips and tipped it back. Qrow’s whiskey was cheap, nasty stuff, but it was strong, and that was just what he needed.

“Hey!” Displaying more agility than he had since he’d started drinking that night, Qrow sprang forward and transformed in midair, flying straight through the fire with one beat of his wings. The next second he was on Roman faster than Roman could scramble away, knocking Roman onto his back and lunging for the flask. Qrow pinned the hand gripping the flask to the ground above Roman’s head.

Roman struggled briefly, but in the state he was in, he probably wouldn’t have been able to break free of Little Red’s grasp, let alone Qrow’s. Qrow tightened his grip on Roman’s wrist and Roman hissed, though not entirely in pain. Glaring up into those intense crimson eyes, he supposed he could see what Ozpin saw in the other man. Qrow was handsome, in a roguish and slightly disheveled sort of way. His hair, when he hadn’t swept it back with his fingers, gave the impression that he’d just rolled out of someone else’s bed. And when he did sweep it back, he looked almost debonair. Not to mention, he had legs for days, and with those legs presently straddling Roman’s hips, it was easy to imagine them wrapped around his waist as he—well. It was an interesting notion.

Only one way to find out whether it was a bad idea. Roman wrapped his free hand around the back of Qrow’s neck and pulled him down. Caught entirely off-guard, Qrow offered no resistance. Roman kissed him, cautiously at first, in case he decided it was a bad idea after all, or in case Qrow decided to sock him in the jaw. But neither eventuality occurred, so Roman pressed on with more fervor. He rolled his hips, enjoying the gasp it drew out of Qrow in more ways than one, considering it meant the man finally opened his mouth to let Roman in. The kiss tasted like smoke, strong whiskey and chocolate, and was entirely too pleasant. So Roman bit down on Qrow’s lip and the Huntsman shuddered above him. Finally, Qrow started kissing back in earnest, and while the alcohol made him sloppy, he more than made up for it with pure, scorching heat.

Roman arched beneath him, encouraging. He knew just how to kiss Qrow to get the reactions he wanted, just how to touch him to really rev his engines. Since Qrow appreciated a bit of rough handling, he tightened his fingers in Qrow’s hair and yanked his head back, sinking his teeth into Qrow’s exposed throat. Qrow moaned. “Oz.”

Well, that was a little insulting. But if Qrow wanted to fantasize about Ozpin while Roman did all the work, he supposed he didn’t really care. Then it clicked. Of course he could see what Ozpin saw in Qrow. Of fucking course. It was Ozpin who wanted Qrow so desperately, Ozpin who knew all of Qrow’s weaknesses, Ozpin who thought Qrow hung the godsdamned broken moon—not him. Qrow wasn’t the one caught up in a fantasy. Roman was.

He sat up and shoved Qrow off of him. Qrow landed just short of the fire, blinking up at the trees in shock. “Ozpin, what the fuck?!” Roman demanded.

‘Qrow…’ murmured Ozpin deliriously. ‘Are we dreaming?’

“No we are fucking not!”

‘Oh… Oh dear. Are we…drunk?’

“That’s a little beside the point, don’t you think?!”

‘No, it’s... It can blur the boundaries between us… Oh no. Please, let me—’

“No! You’ve done enough,” Roman growled.

While Roman and Ozpin argued, the look of confusion on Qrow’s face gradually gave way to one of absolute mortification. “Oh gods. I’m never drinking again,” he said hollowly, staring down at the flask clutched in his hand as though it had personally betrayed him.

They both startled at the sound of a pile of sticks clattering to the ground, and turned to see Neo standing between the trees, just at the edge of the firelight. “Neo?” Roman’s voice came out embarrassingly high-pitched, so he cleared his throat before asking, “How long have you been there?”

Her stricken expression as she approached gave him his answer: Long enough. She unsheathed her sword a fraction, looking at Qrow. Do you want me to kill him?

Roman shook his head. “That’s sweet of you, but perhaps a touch extreme.” He raised his voice to address Qrow. “That said, if you touch me again, I will put a bullet somewhere vital.”

Qrow grimaced. “You’re the one who started…all that.”

“I wouldn’t have if I’d been in my right mind! I don’t go for older men,” Roman spat.

“I’m forty-three,” Qrow said weakly, still in shock.

Ozpin finally took over in spite of Roman’s objections. “Qrow…” he said.

“What?” Qrow snapped. But his expression changed when he met Ozpin’s eyes. “Oz?” he asked quietly.

Ozpin inclined his head. “Qrow, I’m so sorry.”

Qrow’s heated gaze cooled to ice. “This is what you’re sorry for?”

“I…I don’t follow.”

“I buried you,” said Qrow, angrily swiping away the tears welling in the corners of his eyes. “And then you came back, and practically the first thing you said to me was ‘Give me a situation report, Qrow,’ like everything was just business as fucking usual. Like nothing ever happened between us. Like it all just…died with you.” He locked eyes with Ozpin. “Well, did it?”

Ozpin’s guilt and grief was a noxious elixir that made Roman feel even sicker. He wanted to vomit, but he couldn’t even do that with Ozpin at the controls. “No,” said Ozpin softly. “Of course not. My feelings for you haven’t changed. I knew this would be hard for both of us, but this is the way it has to be. I thought you understood.”

“Yeah, well maybe I don’t understand,” Qrow retorted. “He wants me. I want you. I’d say that works out fine.”

Ozpin frowned. “I think that’s the alcohol talking, Qrow. And Torchwick doesn’t know what he wants right now.”

‘I wanna throw up.’

“Since when do you care about him more than me?” Qrow asked angrily. “You think he deserves your kindness, after everything he’s done?”

“I can’t just take over,” said Ozpin. “Suppressing a soul – no matter whose – is wrong, and I won’t do it again!”

Qrow’s eyebrows knitted together as he searched Ozpin’s face, and a wave of cold dread rushed through Ozpin’s veins. He had said too much. “So you’ve done it before?” Qrow asked.

Ozpin grit his teeth. “Once,” he forced out. “It was my first reincarnation, and I didn’t know what I was doing. But that’s no excuse. It was unforgivable, and nothing good came of it.” Ozpin put a hand to his mouth, nearly succumbing to nausea himself. “Can we please have this conversation when we’re both sober?”

Qrow threw his hands up in exasperation. “Apparently not, considering it’s taken us this long! But if you wanna put it off further, that’s fine.” Qrow stood, brushing himself off and slinging his weapon over his shoulder.

“Where are you going?”

“I feel like killing something,” Qrow said darkly. He turned his back on the dying fire and stalked off into the trees, tossing a clipped, “Don’t wait up” over his shoulder.

“Be careful,” Ozpin called after him. But it was so quiet, Qrow probably never heard him.

Chapter Text

Roman expected to wake up the next morning with a clear head, and suitably embarrassed about his behavior the night before. Instead, he’d been plagued by a night of dreams about Qrow, courtesy of one lovesick idiot. Most of them weren’t even steamy. They were just normal little moments: having coffee together on the balcony of the Beacon clocktower, trekking through the forest together on a hunting trip, lying in bed together in the morning and just kissing and talking about nothing of consequence. Roman almost missed the nightmares. This was all wrong, in the way that Ozpin’s glasses and cane were wrong, but much worse. Roman felt like he could trust this man when he couldn’t, felt like he’d known him for half a lifetime instead of half a month, felt like Qrow was his closest ally when he was really a dangerous adversary.

Roman didn’t have time to sort through any of it in his conscious mind, as he was rudely awoken by Qrow’s massive sword-scythe-shotgun monstrosity plunging into the dirt an inch in front of his nose. Roman blinked at his own reflection in the blade, and then up at Qrow, covered head to toe in Grimm ash, as he walked past. “I’m sensing some hostility here,” muttered Roman.

‘He’s angry with me, not you.’

Roman had been practicing talking to Ozpin in his head so he didn’t look like a complete nut job walking through populated areas, and he continued their conversation silently. ‘I know that. You dumped him after, what, twenty years of whatever the hell you two were? And you expected him to take it well?’

‘I didn’t ‘dump’ him. I died. Normally, that marks the end of a relationship.’

With Qrow’s next step, he was suddenly a bird, ruffling the ash out of his feathers like a dog would shake water off its coat, and the next he was himself again, but considerably cleaner. ‘What about any of this is normal?’  Roman thought. He pushed himself up on his elbows and looked over at Neo, who had also been startled awake by Qrow’s return. Dawn was only just breaking. He must have been away all night. “Qrow,” Roman greeted the Huntsman cautiously.

Qrow turned to face him, brushing lingering traces of ash from his clothes. “Torchwick.”

Roman smirked. “Still not on a first name basis, huh?” Qrow actually blushed. It was…interesting. For once, Roman had something resembling the upper hand. He may not be able to threaten Qrow with any credibility, but emotion and attraction could be equally powerful motivators. Perhaps he could leverage this ridiculous transference to his advantage. It was a double-edged sword of course, but now that Roman knew exactly what was going on, he could watch himself, and potentially handle Qrow with a bit more…finesse.

“Shut up,” Qrow growled, uncapping and taking a swig from his flask. “Let me talk to Oz.”

“I thought you said you were never going to drink again,” Roman drawled.

Qrow laughed harshly. “I only say crazy shit like that when I’m drunk. Oz. Now.”

Roman put his hands up placatingly. “Sure. Although, he might have some trouble taking you seriously,” he tapped two fingers to the left side of his neck, “with that massive hickey you’ve got there.” He grinned.

Qrow’s eyes widened and he slapped a hand to the side of his neck. “Damn it, Torchwick! What are you, seventeen?” His expression suddenly took on a hollow, haunted air, and his voice wavered on his next words. “How old are you, exactly?” he asked. “I mean, you’ve gotta be at least…thirty, right?”

Roman’s amusement thinned. “I’m twenty-seven.”

“Fuck.” Qrow squirmed uncomfortably for a moment, but then shook it off. “Whatever. Give me that stupid scarf you’re wearing.”

“It’s a kerchief.”

“Do I look like I care? Just give it to me.”

Roman slipped two fingers under the fabric and loosened the knot at his throat while holding Qrow’s gaze. “Ask me nicely.” 

“Please give me your kerchief before I strangle you with it. How was that?” Roman huffed and threw the article of clothing in Qrow’s face. Disappointingly, Qrow caught it with his quick reflexes, and tied it sloppily about his neck. He opened his mouth to demand an audience with Ozpin for the third time, but shut it with a click when he looked up to meet Ozpin’s concerned gaze.

“I thought we were going to talk when you were sober,” said Ozpin, though without judgement. He felt he shared the blame for Qrow’s present state.

“I’m sober enough,” said Qrow.

Ozpin turned to Neo, who sat watching the pair of them with silent intensity. “Would you do us the courtesy of giving us some privacy, Ms. Neo?”

Neo shook her head adamantly, as if to say, Never again.

Ozpin sighed. “Fair enough.”

Qrow merely cracked a wry smile, lowering himself to sit cross-legged at the end of Ozpin’s bedroll. “Reminds me of you chaperoning the school dances.” Qrow trailed off as both men’s faces fell, fond memories of Beacon darkened by recent events. “Everything went to hell so fast…”

“Yes,” Ozpin agreed. “But we’ll rebuild. Still, I am sorry that I…didn’t make it back to you.”

“Oh, don’t apologize for dying,” Qrow grumbled. “That just makes me feel even shittier. I get it, Oz. Really. I’m the one who owes you an apology. You’re dealing with a crisis, plus all of Torchwick’s bullshit on top of it, and all I could think about was myself.” He looked down at lightly trembling hands. “But your world doesn’t revolve around me, and that’s for the best. I’m a black hole.”

“Qrow, stop it,” Ozpin snapped, his tone yanking Qrow’s attention back to him as if on a tether. “Stop blaming yourself for everything you possibly can,” he continued, softer. “You’re right about one thing: this isn’t about you. If I could choose freely, I would choose you—over and over again. Throughout my lives, I have had families, lovers, wives, husbands, friends all chosen for me, lives already half-lived before I stepped into them. It is so very rare that I get to choose whom I share my life with, and I chose you, Qrow. Yes, you can be a real nuisance sometimes, and I’m not talking about your Semblance. But the life I spent with you was the happiest I have been in a very long time. I loved you more than I’ve loved anyone in centuries, Qrow. I still do.”

‘Hey Oz, would you do me a favor? See my cane lying over there? Pick it up, put the barrel in my mouth and pull the trigger.’

Qrow clenched his jaw, breaking Ozpin’s unflinching gaze. “If you really still feel that way, then this is stupid,” he whispered, almost more to himself than to Ozpin. “You can do whatever the hell you want to.”

Ozpin sighed. “No, Qrow. I can’t.”

Qrow’s anguished expression hardened. “You can’t seriously be concerned for Torchwick. He’s a cold-blooded killer, Oz. By all rights, his life is forfeit. It’s your life now. So what’s stopping you from living it the way you want to?”

Neo looked as though she were about to whack Qrow with her parasol again, but Ozpin’s next words stopped her. “I am,” he said, almost forcefully. “The first time – the only time –that I took over was when someone I loved convinced me that because I had power, I could act as I saw fit. I robbed my host completely of his autonomy, and over time, I became someone I didn’t recognize. I did unconscionable things, Qrow, all because my conception of right and wrong had become so twisted around one person. The greatest mistakes I ever made, I made for love. I won’t walk that path again. One lifetime has to be enough.”

Roman caught just the barest flicker of a woman with long, ghostly blonde hair, before the memory was snuffed out. But there was something familiar about her… Of course there was. She was a memory, after all. Ozpin’s past was like a dream that Roman had awoken from and couldn’t quite recall: mysterious, yet familiar. Roman wanted to remember, to uncover all that Ozpin was keeping from him, and yet he didn’t grasp at the fading memory. If a man’s life was nothing more than the collection of his past experiences, then who would Roman be when he finally did remember? 

“We didn’t get a lifetime, Oz.” Qrow’s voice trembled and he ducked his head, casting his eyes in shadow. “You died, and I’m still here.”

Ozpin’s heart clenched, and against his better judgement perhaps, he reached out for Qrow’s hands. Qrow let him take them in his. “I’m here, too,” said Ozpin softly. “I always will be.”

Qrow looked up at him, tears gleaming in his eyes. “I don’t know what you did in the past, but you know me. I would never try to change you. But Torchwick will.”

“I am under no delusions about Torchwick’s manipulative nature,” said Ozpin. “And yet, it is you who would have me play god with the lives of others.”

‘Uh, I call bullshit. What exactly do you think you’ve been doing with me all this time? Making mild-mannered suggestions? “Oh, Roman, why don’t we go up against my super-powerful, psycho ex who’s hell-bent on starting the apocalypse? But, you know, only if you want to”.’

“That’s something you’ve been doing ever since I met you,” said Qrow, unwittingly echoing Roman. “You’re good at it, and Remnant needs it. You’ve said yourself, there are no gods left in this world. You’re all we’ve got. So if you fill the role, then I’d say we’re damn lucky for it. You work in the shadows, you never ask for thanks. You do it for everyone’s good but your own. Can’t you let yourself do one selfish thing?” he asked, squeezing Ozpin’s hands.

‘Hey, hey! I get a say in this, don’t I? My say is no. Unlike you, I have standards.’

“You don’t know how much I want to,” said Ozpin, but even as he said it, he pulled away. “But it’s not my choice to make.”

Qrow’s face fell, and Roman’s satisfaction swirled together with Ozpin’s lancing heartache in a dizzying churn. “Y’know, there’s such a thing as being too noble, Oz.”

“Is there?” asked Ozpin faintly.

Qrow’s vulnerability was shuttered now, his usual facade of nonchalance back in place. “I just hope you know I won’t give up on you that easily. Don’t tell me you’ve forgotten how persistent I was the first time around.”

Ozpin smiled wistfully. “It was like trying to outmaneuver my own shadow. But I’m afraid this time is different. It would be deeply unethical and in violation of my principles—”

“Yeah, you said all that the first time, too,” said Qrow dismissively. “You treated me to a whole lecture on the ethics of teacher-student relationships.”

Ozpin blushed lightly. “Ah yes, I recall you didn’t listen to a word of it. But I mean it this time, Qrow,” he said, tone verging on helpless, pleading with Qrow not to keep pushing.

Qrow raised his hands in surrender. “Alright, I’ll drop it. For now,” he added—a warning. A promise.

Ozpin opened his mouth as if to argue, but then thought better of it. “Very well,” he said simply. “Then it’s time we were on our way.” Neo released a quiet sigh of relief as the tension broke. She finally allowed herself to turn her back on both men as she set to work packing up camp. With Ozpin’s help, they were packed and ready to depart in no time. It really was pathetic, having so few possessions to their name. He and Neo mounted up while Qrow rolled his shoulders, readying himself for another long flight.

“Qrow, you haven’t slept,” said Ozpin. “You’ll drop out of the sky in the state you’re in. Ride with me?” He held out his arm like a peace offering. Qrow tilted a crooked, tired smile his way before he transformed and landed on Ozpin’s arm in a flutter of feathers. Ozpin stroked a finger beneath Qrow’s beak fondly, before letting Qrow hop onto the saddle between his legs and settle there, closing his eyes and tucking his beak under his wing to doze. Or at least pretend to. Qrow could turn out to be more trouble than Roman thought.

They rode out past the ruined train station, where it seemed the whole village was working together to recover the crates of food from the derailed cargo cars. Unlike when they’d first arrived in the village, there was a breath of life about the place as men and women exchanged cautious smiles and words of optimism, and children laughed and played in the wreckage. Even the guardsmen, likely having surmised from the state of the train that their post in the village had just been extended indefinitely, were helping unload crates. Thea was standing atop one of the cars organizing the recovery effort, and she was the only one who saw the travelers on the dark horse at the edge of the village. She nodded once, the message clear: Thank you.

Ozpin tipped his hat, and then turned the horse about and cracked the reins. They rode east along the train tracks to meet the rising sun. By the time they reached the next village, the derailed train cars there had already been emptied out, and people were out in the streets celebrating their good fortune. They rode right on by, only stopping in the third village a little after noon. There, the atmosphere had calmed, and the people seemed to have settled back into their routines, albeit with a whistle here and a smile there. Hard times still lay ahead for them. Prism had taken a lot before Roman’s misfit little crew had put a stop to the operation. But at least now, they stood a chance.

Ozpin lifted Qrow’s wing delicately with one finger as they reached the outskirts of the village. “Qrow, we’re stopping for lunch.” Qrow simply turned his head and buried it under his other wing, making a gravelly sound of reluctance. “Food, Qrow,” said Ozpin, caressing Qrow’s feathers with gentle insistence.

Qrow pushed back against Ozpin’s hand, almost purring in that strange, broken way crows do. But then he roused himself and flapped gracelessly off the horse, transforming in midair to land, swaying slightly, on two feet. He yawned widely, scrubbing at his eyes. “Food,” he concurred, sounding as though he were still half asleep. Ozpin smiled.

‘Hey. Remember what we just talked about.’

His smile faltered. He urged the horse onward through the village until they found the tavern. There, he and Neo dismounted and Qrow hitched the creature to the post outside. They were about to head into the humble establishment when a shadow passed over them, and a raven’s deep-throated cry echoed through the quiet street. Qrow and Ozpin stopped in their tracks, Neo slowing and looking back when she realized they were no longer with her. A big, black raven alighted on the balustrade, staring at them with intelligent bloodred eyes. “Shit,” said Qrow. “What does she want?” The raven cawed again, and flew into the tavern.

Chapter Text

“Qrow, find out why she’s here,” said Ozpin. “Torchwick, take over.”

‘You know, I think I’d rather sit this one out for once,’ said Roman. But he was left with no choice when Ozpin retreated, regardless. He looked to Qrow warily. “On a scale of one to fratricide, how much does she hate your guts?”

“Whatever it is, Ozpin ranks higher,” said Qrow.

“Oh. Great.”

“Come on. There’s no avoiding her.” Qrow trudged up the steps into the tavern like a man walking to the gallows. Neo watched him pass with grave concern, and quickly assumed a position close at Roman’s flank as he followed Qrow inside.

Raven was nowhere to be seen. The tavern wasn’t a large establishment, but it was unusually busy for the hour, thanks to the celebratory atmosphere in the village. A lot of the local farmers had taken refuge from the midday sun, and were buying each other rounds with drunken praises to the gods for providing them with enough food to make it through the winter. “The gods, my ass,” muttered Roman under his breath.

‘Hush.’

“I’m not a damn child,” Roman growled. But he did, in fact, shut up. He needed his wits about him.

A waitress approached them, taking their measure with a slow once-over. Roman did the same. When their eyes met, she winked at him. “Your lady friend’s waiting for you upstairs,” she said, indicating a set of stairs at the back of the tavern leading up to a secluded balcony. “Pretty red eyes, like yours,” she said to Qrow. “She told me top shelf for the dapper one, bottom shelf for the scruffy one, and whatever the young lady likes.” Qrow opened his mouth to object to her immediate identification of him as “the scruffy one,” but one glance at Roman straightening out his hat and smoothing down his lapels, and Qrow gave up with a defeated sigh. Neo scribbled her order in her notepad and tore out the page, handing it to the waitress. “Gin and tonic. Got it,” she said.

“That’s awfully kind of her, but I’ll just have a glass of water.” Roman would have loved nothing more than a smooth bourbon, especially on someone else’s Lien, but unlike Qrow, he actually had the impulse control of an adult. If alcohol “blurred the boundaries” between his consciousness and Ozpin’s, then Roman wasn’t going to take his chances. As long as he got his nicotine fix, he could live without alcohol. At least until he re-learned his limits.

The waitress favored him with an amused look. “How virtuous.” Roman’s answering smile may have been more of a grimace. “I’ll go ahead and give you top, then,” she told Qrow with a sultry smirk. As she sauntered away, she sighed, just loud enough for them to hear, “Lucky gals.” Neo retched silently.

There was only one occupied table on the upper balcony. And there Raven was, sitting and watching them impassively as they approached. Her mask was resting on the table. She had a surprisingly pretty face. Roman had half suspected she wore the mask to hide some gruesome disfigurement, but now he theorized it was quite the opposite. Qrow had said they were twins, but Raven looked years younger, closer to Roman’s age than Qrow’s. And it was hard for young, attractive people to command respect in positions of leadership. Roman could empathize. The number of times he’d had to bloody his cane because a subordinate had had the gall to proposition him was greater than he could count on one hand. If he’d been any less vain, and hadn’t had to conduct business with normal city dwelling folk, he might have taken to wearing a horrifying Grimm mask himself.

“You’re keeping interesting company these days, brother,” she greeted Qrow when the three of them joined her at the table. Her lips turned up in a slight smile when she looked to Roman and Neo. “Roman. Neopolitan. This is an unexpected pleasure. I heard you were dead.”

“If you credited every rumor about us, you’d think we were raised by beowolves, too,” said Roman smoothly. Yes, Raven intimidated him, but he would never show it. And after Cinder, Raven seemed positively bubbly by comparison. “The pleasure’s all ours, Raven. It’s funny, we were just talking about you.”

“Oh?”

Qrow elbowed him sharply under the table, making Roman wince. “What do you want?” Qrow asked.

She feigned hurt. “A girl can’t just catch up with her family and friends?”

“She can. But you’re not.”

The waitress from earlier came to deliver their drinks, but she sensed the quiet tension at the table, and didn’t stick around to chit chat. Roman sipped his water, wishing he were just about anywhere other than between the murder bird twins. The fantasy was one thing; the reality was very different. He realized he could, theoretically, vanish in a puff of smoke, but Raven would likely take it as an insult, and besides, he would never leave Neo in the lurch like that.

“Water, Roman?” said Raven, pointedly ignoring her brother. “I’ve never known you not to take advantage of someone else’s generosity.”

“Your brother’s a walking cautionary tale,” said Roman. “I’m laying off the sauce for awhile.” He lit a cigar instead, breathing deep.

Raven smirked. “So you are doing some good in the world, after all,” she said to Qrow.

Qrow was obviously annoyed with the pair of them, but he chose to take Raven’s back-handed compliment straight. “Meanwhile, I see you’ve been busy making it worse.”

Raven’s steely gaze betrayed no remorse. “I lead our people now. And as leader, I will do everything in my power to ensure our survival.”

“Yeah. All of this chaos and fear in the aftermath of the battle… I bet these little villages are easy prey, huh?”

“They are,” replied Raven cooly, “as a matter of fact. The tribe needs to eat, too. Or don’t you care what happens to your own people?”

“They’re killers and thieves,” Qrow spat.

Raven stared at him incredulously. “And just what is your business with Roman and Neo? Killing and thieving are their specialties.”

Qrow floundered, so Roman interjected quickly. “He had a job for us. Take from the haves, give back to the have-nots. Clichéd, but a job’s a job. We’re a little less picky these days, with the city in shambles.”

“So all this,” Raven said with a sweeping gesture at the celebratory patrons below, “is your handiwork?”

Roman shrugged, blowing smoke out over the balcony. “I’ll admit it’s not my usual M.O.”

“Careful, Roman, or you might sully your bad reputation,” said Raven.

Roman chuckled. “I’ll just have to make up for it, then,” he said, holding her gaze. Alright, so he and Raven actually did flirt on occasion. They both knew the other didn’t mean it. It was simple instinct for Roman to attempt to unbalance the other person if he felt off-balance himself. As for Raven, she probably just enjoyed toying with people. Even Neo knew not to take it seriously by now. Qrow was glaring daggers at him, however, so perhaps this wasn’t the time.  

“If you’re in the market for it, it just so happens that I recently acquired a shipment of state-of-the-art Atlesian military rifles,” said Raven. “The army was in such a hurry to retreat that they failed to safeguard their supplies.”

“Hey! I’m right here!” Qrow snapped. “Don’t talk shop in front of me!”

Roman ignored him, too. “I’m interested,” he said. High-maintenance Atlesian weaponry was of little use to the tribe, but there were plenty of other people who would pay a premium to get their hands on it. Moving some high-profile merchandise would be one of the quickest and easiest ways to reestablish his enterprises in Mistral. Assuming he could talk Ozpin into a bit of light arms dealing.

‘I’m curious as to how you think that conversation would go.’

“So you’re operating independently again?” Raven asked. She was asking about Cinder in the same way Ozpin had. Because she was in on the bigger picture.

Roman leaned back in his chair and spread his hands. “It’s all me,” he said, hating the fact that it still wasn’t true.

“Good,” said Raven. “You, I can deal with.”

“You two done catching up?” Qrow asked pointedly. “Or should I just go?” Roman detected a definite hint of jealousy in his tone, despite his attempts at brusque indifference, but whether it was because Roman had a better relationship with Qrow’s sister than Qrow did, or because Qrow was feeling territorial again, Roman couldn’t say.

Neo scribbled a quick note and slid it across the table to Raven. Since she passed it face-up, Roman read it as well, as she intended him to. Sorry about the girl, it said. Ah yes, the brash blonde who’d developed an irritating habit of beating up his nightclub staff. Neo had told him about how Raven had come to the girl’s rescue during the Mountain Glenn fiasco. Roman had his suspicions about her, but hadn’t had the chance to look into them, considering he’d been “caught” and taken into custody immediately afterward.

Raven read the note and then crumpled it up carelessly. “No need to apologize,” she told Neo. “I know it’s only ever just business with you two. And my daughter has a bad habit of sticking her nose in other people’s business.”

“That—girl,” Roman substituted the word hastily for one that was much less appropriate to use with her mother, “is your daughter? I can’t say I see the resemblance.” Roman had thought perhaps Raven had been trying to recruit the girl. The Branwen tribe liked to hook its talons into kids while they were young. Raven had never struck him as being particularly motherly.

“She takes after her father,” said Raven grimly, clearly indicating that that was all she was going to say on the matter.

“Did you know Yang lost her arm?” Qrow asked, looking down into his whiskey rather than at his sister.

Raven just looked irritated. “That’s not—”

“Rhetorical question,” snapped Qrow. “I know you know. But you weren’t there to save her this time. Because she only gets to slip up once. That was your rule, right?” He glanced up to meet her gaze. “After that, you just keep carrying on like your own daughter doesn’t exist.”

Raven’s eyes narrowed dangerously. “That’s awfully hypocritical, coming from you.”

Qrow stiffened. “It’s not the same. I’m protecting her.”

“You abandoned her. Just like you abandoned the tribe. Family means nothing to you.”

“I’ve always looked out for her, even if she didn’t know it.” The strangled note of emotion in Qrow’s voice disappeared as he continued, “But the tribe is different. They were never our family. They were just using us.”

“They were more family than we ever had,” Raven hissed, leaning in over the table and grabbing Qrow’s wrist as he raised his glass to his lips. “They took us in when we had nothing and raised us as their own.”

“Yeah, kids make great thieves,” said Qrow, astoundingly cool in the face of Raven’s fire. “I’m sure Torchwick’ll tell you that much.”

Roman startled at the sound of his name. “I’m not touching this,” he said, leaning away from the table. Privately, he asked Ozpin, ‘So Qrow has a daughter, and she’s not your daughter?’

‘We spent some time apart. He wanted to start a family. I did not.’

‘What happened to the kid?’ he asked. Ozpin didn’t answer.

“You think the tribe was using us?” Raven released her brother’s arm with a contemptuous sneer. “What about Ozpin?”

“He didn’t force us,” said Qrow.

“We were kids.”

Qrow scoffed. “No, we weren’t. We stopped being kids when we started killing for the tribe. Oz was trying to help us change for the better, so we could actually use our skills for something good. You used to believe in him.”

Raven shook her head. “No. I believed in you. Until I realized you’d become a besotted, sentimental fool, just as caught up in Ozpin’s fairytales as the man himself.”

“They’re all true.”

“Parts of them are true,” Raven countered. “But real life doesn’t unfold like a storybook. It’s the person telling the story who creates the narrative.” She searched Qrow’s eyes only to find them hard and impenetrable. “But you’ll keep following him even in death, won’t you?”

“Oz isn’t dead,” said Qrow, ignoring the dangerous look Roman shot him out of the corner of his eye.

“No, of course not,” said Raven. “I imagine you’ll be hearing from him soon.” Her eyes narrowed as she carefully examined Qrow’s neutral expression. “If you haven’t already.”

To Qrow’s credit, he didn’t bat an eyelash. But Roman didn’t like the direction this conversation was going. He cleared his throat. “You two seem like you’re having a fun family reunion, but if you’ve got business with us, Raven, perhaps we could get to it? Kill two birds with one stone here?” Qrow and Raven turned identical glares on him, and yeah, okay, that was a poor choice of words in present company.

“He’s right,” said Raven. “This isn’t a social call.”

Qrow snorted. “I figured.”

“One of you must know,” continued Raven. “Does she have it?”

The question couldn’t have been more vague, and yet they all knew exactly what she was asking. “I thought you weren’t interested in all of that,” said Qrow.

“I just want to know what we’re up against.”

“And which ‘we’ are you referring to?” Qrow asked. Raven gave him a look that clearly warned she was one more smart-ass remark short of wringing Qrow’s neck. Roman felt the same way. Why Qrow insisted on antagonizing the lovely lady with the large sword, Roman had no idea. But if he kept doing it, Roman would sooner cut out Qrow’s tongue than risk him bringing Raven’s wrath down on all of them. He glanced over at Neo, carefully observing both parties and tensed to react if necessary, but in such a subtle way that only Roman could recognize it. Perhaps being mute would improve Qrow’s handling of delicate social situations. Roman might be doing him a favor. But Qrow surprised them all by backing down with a heavy sigh, and uttering his first vaguely kind words to his sister since they’d sat down. “You should come back, Raven. The only way we beat her is by working together. All of us.”

Roman rolled his eyes beneath the brim of his hat. Hypocritical indeed, extending the olive branch to Raven when her tribe of bandits wiped entire villages off the map wherever they went, and yet demanding that Ozpin throw Roman to the wolves after he’d turned one itty bitty robot army against a mostly evacuated and well-defended city.

‘You’re understating events somewhat.’

‘Please. Her body count’s at least a dozen times higher than mine.’

‘More than your entire organization?’

‘The mafia is a business. And it’s bad business to go around killing indiscriminately. I actually built something. All bandits do is burn everything down.’

Ozpin seemed to cede the point. Still, he said quietly, ‘I believe Raven was a good person once.’

‘We were all good people once.’

Raven was staring incredulously at her brother. Finally, she said, “You’re the one who left.” Qrow flinched, and Raven twisted the knife, seeming to take pleasure in her brother’s misery. “I told you Beacon would fall and it did. I told you Ozpin would fail and he has. Now, you tell me. Does. Salem. Have it?”

Qrow scowled and said nothing. Raven looked to Roman and Neo. “I told you, we’re out,” said Roman. “That’s none of our business anymore. Not that Cinder bothered to loop me in half the time,” he grumbled.

His genuine resentment sold the lie. Raven nodded. “If you don’t know where the Relic is, then we have nothing left to talk about,” she told Qrow. She stood, reaching for her mask. “Roman, Neo, I hope we can do business again in the future. You have my number.”

Qrow stood abruptly, placing his hand down on Raven’s mask before she could put it on. Her free hand flew to the hilt of her sword, but didn’t draw it. “The tribe has never left that kind of destruction in its wake before,” he said. Once he mentioned it, Roman realized the extent of the damage to that village they had passed through was rather unusual.

Raven glanced away. “We couldn’t have known the Grimm would set in as quickly as they did,” she murmured.

“I’m not talking about the Grimm,” said Qrow. Raven’s head shot up, meeting Qrow’s intense gaze with wide eyes. “I don’t know where the Relic is, and I don’t know where the Spring Maiden is, either. But if you do, I need you to tell me.”

Raven wrenched her mask from Qrow’s grasp. “And why would I do that?”

“Because without her, we’re all going to die.”

Raven’s frown twisted into a vindictive sneer. “And which ‘we’ are you referring to?” Qrow’s last-ditch hope of reaching his sister died visibly on his face, while Raven’s expression turned unreadable. “When you find him, give my condolences to whichever new, unfortunate soul he’s dragged into his crusade. Ozpin is a curse I wouldn’t wish on anyone.” With that, she turned her back on her brother, drew her sword, and with it, slashed open the fabric of space. She stepped through the glowing red portal without a backward glance, and it silently closed behind her, not so much as an echo of a footstep lingering after she was gone.

“Well, that was fun,” Roman deadpanned.

Behind them, their friendly waitress from earlier dropped the tray of fresh drinks she’d been taking to them, staring at the wall into which Raven had disappeared. Qrow looked back over his shoulder forlornly at the spilled whiskey and said, “I’ll take another one of those, when you get the chance.”

They ate lunch mostly in silence. Qrow was brooding. Neo was, well, Neo. But Roman and Ozpin were still engaged in conversation. ‘I can’t put my finger on it, but there was something familiar about her,’ said Ozpin. The matter was irritating him, so naturally, he was irritating Roman.

‘Uh yeah, you two know each other well enough to be mortal enemies. You’re not going senile on me, are you? How old are you, actually? I mean, how old were you? When you died? Most recently? Gods, you’re a complicated man.’

‘Not Raven herself, something about her…’ He sighed, setting the matter aside to mull over later, and probably drive Roman nuts while doing so. ‘But to answer your question, I was young when I died this time around. About forty-five, I think.’

‘Yikes, you went grey early.’

‘In my twenties. It was a blessing, really. I doubt I would have had any credibility as headmaster of Beacon if I’d looked my age.’

Roman ran a hand through his hair anxiously. ‘I told you you worry too much. Don’t do that to me. Take up meditation or something. I’ll give you an hour a day.’

Ozpin chuckled. ‘It was genetic, not stress-related. My mother’s hair went white at fifteen.’

That piqued Roman’s interest. ‘Your mother, huh? So the man I’m talking to now, is he the great and powerful wizard? Or the guy whose mom had white hair?’

Ozpin was silent for a beat longer than usual. ‘We’re one and the same, now,’ he said, finally. ‘I’ve told you, that’s how this works. We will meet somewhere in the middle.’

‘Except it isn’t really the middle, is it?’

‘No,’ Ozpin admitted. ‘But with how far apart we’re starting, I suspect it will be closer to the middle than it has ever been before.’ It wasn’t a comforting thought for either of them.

~ * ~

Since they had collapsed the mouth of the only tunnel through the mountains, they had to go around. It was another half day’s ride until they could see the lights of Prism City down in the valley as the sun sank behind the jagged peaks, casting fanged shadows across the land as though a set of massive jaws were closing over the world.

They would make their way into the city in the morning. As night fell, they found a place to make camp beneath a rocky outcropping in the foothills. Qrow had only resumed his human form moments before his scroll chirped with a new message. “Huh. We must be out of the blackout zone.” He fished the device out of his pocket. The color drained from his face as his eyes flicked over the screen. “I should have gotten this yesterday.” He looked up at Roman. “Ruby’s gone. Tai says she left with the rest of Team JNPR. They’re on their way to Mistral.”

Roman was about to tell Qrow that he’d rather Red and her rabid cohorts go to hell, but Ozpin took over, reaching out to clasp Qrow’s hand that held his scroll in slightly trembling fingers. The tremors stilled under Ozpin’s touch. “Go,” said Ozpin softly. “Make sure they reach Haven safely.” His other hand hovered uncertainly at Qrow’s side for a moment before he lifted it, cupping Qrow’s cheek so delicately, he was hardly touching him. They gazed into each other’s eyes, saying things they could not or would not say aloud. “And come back to me.”

Qrow leaned into Ozpin’s touch, closing his eyes. “I always do,” he murmured. Then, with a flutter of feathers, he was gone. Roman should have felt relieved, watching Qrow fly away for the last time, not to return for gods knew how long. Instead, he felt as though he’d just lost something important. But no, it was Ozpin who felt that way. It had to be.

Chapter Text

“He stole my kerchief!” Roman exclaimed the following morning.

‘I’m sure he just forgot he was wearing it.’

“He’s a dirty, rotten thief!” Roman snarled, whipping out his scroll and hurling profanity-laden accusations at Qrow via text. Qrow didn’t respond, possibly because he wasn’t presently possessed of opposable thumbs. 

‘Sometimes I wonder if you hear yourself.’ Roman ignored Ozpin. It was no wonder he felt as though Qrow had taken something important with him when he’d left. He had. The bastard. At least it explained the nagging feeling of loss. He missed his kerchief. Not Qrow.

Once they had packed up camp and were about to set off toward the city, he and Neo exchanged a contemplative look. “Nothing too flashy,” Roman decided. “We’re just passing through. No need to attract attention, especially from our friends in the Civil Guard.”

‘What are you talking about?’

“We’re Vale’s Most Wanted, Oz,” Roman muttered. “We’re not just going to ride into Prism looking like this.”

‘Like…what?’

“Ourselves.” Neo held out her hand and Roman took it in his. As he did so, a finely tessellated illusion matrix raced up his arm and across his body, shimmering and changing colors. When it settled a moment later, Neo waved her other hand, and a tall strip of mirror materialized in front of him for Roman to inspect her work.

The moment he saw himself, Roman screeched and punched through the mirror, shattering it into pieces. Neo dropped his hand and nearly fell on her ass in a silent fit of laughter at his reaction. He shot her the most venomous glare he could muster while breathing deeply to calm his racing heart. “Gods damn it, if you weren’t my sister, you’d be fucking dead, Neopolitan,” he ground out, unclenching his fist. “You’ve got a sick sense of humor.”

She smiled up at him. And whose fault is that?

‘I thought you looked rather handsome with silver hair,’ Ozpin pitched in.

“Can it, freeloader,” Roman spat. “Now, let’s try this again. Alright, Neo?” He pulled on his hair, which had thankfully returned to its normal burnished orange once Neo had let go of his hand. “Anything but grey,” he said, enunciating each syllable to make himself utterly clear. Neo nodded solemnly, holding out her hand once more. Roman took it, and again her shimmering illusion matrix raced up his arm and across his body, settling quickly into place. She conjured a new mirror into being, and Roman stared at his reflection, dead-eyed. “I did say anything but grey,” he droned, eyes fixed on the pair of fluffy, black cat ears poking up from beneath the brim of his hat.

‘Oh. This is even better.’

Neo grinned, raising her scroll and snapping a photo. Roman hadn’t a shred of doubt that it was going to be his new contact photo for the foreseeable future. The only upside of which was that it would replace the photo of him with pink hair and a matching dress. Neo could never seem to resist playing dress-up with her Semblance before getting down to work. He heaved a beleaguered sigh. “If we ever find ourselves in Menagerie, this will be the perfect disguise. But until then, can we lose the fluffy ears, please?”

Neo waved her hand obligingly, and they were gone. The remainder of the disguise – a long, black coat, charcoal slacks, brick red vest, black fedora, black hair and blue eyes – would suit his purposes just fine. Neo cycled through a few different palettes for herself, until she settled on a form-fitting, burgundy sweater dress, black thigh-high boots, auburn hair and hazel eyes.

‘Remarkable,’ said Ozpin. For once, Roman agreed with him. Despite her aggravating taste in practical jokes, Roman couldn’t help but be proud of his little sister. From the blackest ash and most intense of pressures bearing down on her, she’d emerged a diamond—brilliant, sharp and unbreakable. And more precious to him than anything else in the world. No matter how much he wanted to kill her sometimes.

Prism City was ringed by mountains to the north and west, and the city itself sprawled down the steep slopes to the waters of the Dragon’s Back Strait between Vale and Mistral to the east. The city owed much of its relative safety and prosperity to these natural defenses. The only overland approach, other than the railway tunnel through the mountains, was up through the southern valley. Of course, with such isolated geography and so much to lose, the people of Prism had also developed a healthy sense of paranoia over the years. Despite being an important sky and sea port between Remnant’s two largest continents, Prism remained leery of outsiders. Hence, the well-staffed security checkpoint at the city gates.

Six civil guardsmen, each armed with a taser, baton and automatic rifle, were questioning travelers entering the city and checking documents. And they would only be more suspicious of strangers after the attack on Vale. ‘One might call it karma.’

Roman bit his tongue to keep from snapping something back at Ozpin. He couldn’t afford to draw any unwanted attention to himself. He rode up to the guardsmen at a leisurely pace. “Morning, gentlemen.”

“Halt right there,” said one of the guardsmen, striding forward to meet him. The others watched him keenly, weapons at the ready. “What’s the purpose of your visit to Prism City?”

“Just passing through,” said Roman genially.

“Mistral your final destination, then?”

“That’s right.”

“If you mean to go by air, you should know our sky docks are currently closed, undergoing minor structural repairs. There was a rockslide up in the mountains yesterday that destabilized some support beams. The repairs should be completed in a day or two.”

“A rockslide? That’s unfortunate,” muttered Roman. He should have anticipated this, but he supposed there was nothing he could have done about it. They could cross by ship instead, but the strait was very deep, and all sorts of big nasties dwelled in those waters. Airship was safer, and still faster if the repairs to the sky docks only took a couple of days, as the man had said. They could kill some time in Prism. Roman hadn’t seen a city since Vale. He could think of plenty to do.

One of the other guardsmen spoke up, then. “A nevermore flew right into the mountain chasing our train through the tunnel. Stupid beast.”

“Oh my,” said Roman. “I hope no one was hurt.”

“Nah,” said the second guardsman. “One of our boys bumped his head, doesn’t remember any of it. But no casualties, thank the gods. We were lucky, I s’pose.”

“Well, that Huntsman wasn’t so lucky,” a third guardsman added.

“Oh, right,” said the second. “Fell off the cliff, didn’t he? Poor bastard. Still, y’know. He was a Huntsman. You don’t get into that line of work and expect to die of old age.”

The first guardsman cleared his throat pointedly, silencing the chit chat between his colleagues. “We apologize for any inconvenience to your travel plans,” he told Roman.

“That’s alright,” said Roman. “It wasn’t your fault, after all.”

“Traveling alone?” asked the guardsman. Roman resisted the urge to look over his shoulder. He knew Neo had vanished some time ago.

‘What is she doing?’ asked Ozpin nervously.

‘Just making sure things go smoothly,’ Roman thought back. Aloud, he said, “Just my own thoughts for company, sir.”

“Have you got any weapons on you? If so, I’ll need to verify the registration.”

“No weapons, just a simple cane,” said Roman, gesturing to his cane strapped to Crow’s side. Neo’s parasol was gone, too. “Bad legs. Been thinking about metal prosthetics, but they’re so clunky. It’s like walking on tin cans.”

The guardsman gave Roman’s cane only a cursory glance, but he favored Roman with an odd look. “So you’re traveling alone and unarmed? I don’t need to tell you how dangerous that is.” Under his breath, he muttered, “Of course, there’s no law against being stupid.”

“Oh no, I was traveling with a Huntsman until a few miles back,” Roman replied, keeping the easy smile plastered to his face. “But you know the type. Flighty.”

The guardsman nodded, moving to the next item on his checklist. “I’m going to need to search your bag for contraband items.” Roman waved for him to go ahead, so he opened up the saddlebag and rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling out the case of dust crystals and Neo’s little bags of dust powder. He carefully opened each bag and then unlatched the case, eyes roving over the red crystals packed in neat rows inside.

“Oh, dust probably counts as a weapon, doesn’t it?” Roman asked, feigning ignorance. It had many other uses, after all.

“Not on its own, no,” said the guardsman, closing the case. “But the black market dust trade has become a problem for us here in Prism.” That, Roman already knew. He’d run a lot of his own smuggling networks through Prism. It was a very convenient port town. “You got proof of payment from a certified dust dealer?”

‘Well, what do you know? He wants to see the receipt.’

Roman’s grip tightened around the reins as he imagined squeezing the smugness right out of Ozpin’s voice. “As a matter of fact, I do,” he said, pulling the receipt from the dust shop out of his pocket and handing it over to the guardsman.

The guardsman held the paper up to the sun to check the watermark, then handed the slip back to Roman and returned the dust to the saddlebag. “Alright, I just need to see some identification and then you can be on your way.”

“Sure,” said Roman, fishing out the illusory ID card Neo had slipped into his coat pocket. The guardsman accepted it and pulled his card reader off his utility belt.

‘How is an illusion supposed to fool a scanner?’ asked Ozpin tensely.

‘It isn’t.’ If Roman squinted, he could just make out a slight, warping distortion of the light behind the guardsman. Neo was poised just behind his right shoulder, the tip of her sword no doubt a hair’s breadth from the back of his rib cage, through which it could easily slip to pierce his heart. But her primary target was the scanner in the guardsman’s hand. When he ran Roman’s ID through the reader, the screen on the handheld console flickered once, and then displayed exactly what the guardsman was expecting to see: verification that the man in front of him was just who he appeared to be. 

The guardsman nodded and handed Roman’s ID back. Then he stepped aside, gesturing for Roman to pass. “Welcome to Prism City, Mr. Black.”

Roman tipped his hat to the man and rode on past. Ozpin let out a sigh of relief, or the next closest thing, considering Roman had the only pair of lungs between them. ‘Being a criminal is exhausting.’

“Oh, I don’t know,” said Roman, dangling the guardsman’s expensive watch from his fingers. Ozpin had been too preoccupied by the security checks to notice the deft movement of Roman’s fingers as he’d accepted his ID back from the guardsman. “It has its perks.”

They were still arguing about the watch when Neo rejoined them a ways down the main street, appearing in the saddle behind Roman as they passed between two overloaded supply wagons. She could only maintain her illusion on Roman for so long without physical contact, so she made sure to hold onto him even though they were only riding at a leisurely clop down the street. “So when you decide to rob the Civil Guard, it’s for ‘the greater good,’ but when I do it, it’s ‘immoral’?” Roman grumbled, studying the maker’s mark on the watch’s casing to estimate its value. It would fetch a good few hundred Lien with the right buyer. The Civil Guard were paid a handsome sum for their top-notch services.

‘Yes!’ said Ozpin, exasperated. But even he wasn’t noble or naive enough to demand that Roman return the watch. The consequences, after all, would fall back on them both.

“We can discuss this ethical quandary more on the nice, long flight to Mistral,” said Roman, pocketing the watch. “But first, we’ve got to find ourselves some suitable accommodations.” He gazed up through the sunbathed streets snaking their way up the mountainside. When topography permitted, the upper class tended to take their designation literally. The nicer establishments would be higher up the mountain.

Crow reared back in a sudden fright, and Roman yanked the reins to the side to keep the beast from throwing him and Neo off. Someone had run out into the street in front of them, almost right under the horse’s hooves. “Please, mister, you’ve got to help!” Crow settled back down with a nervous whinny, and Roman looked down at the kid in front of them. He wore a cap, vest and wool trousers, but they were tattered and dirty. Beneath the brim of his hat, his eyes were hollowed, hungry. He couldn’t have been more than thirteen. “It’s my friend, he’s– he’s hurt real bad,” the kid continued, panting for breath. “Please, come help!”

Roman’s surprise dissipated quickly, replaced by an expression that was distinctly unimpressed. He didn’t need to look behind him to know that Neo was rolling her eyes. “Do we look like easy marks to you, kid?”

“W-what?” the boy sniffed, throwing in a lower lip tremble for good measure.

‘Why do you always assume the worst of people? A child might really need help.’

“I know how this goes,” Roman drawled. “If I play the altruist – which, let me tell you, is already where this little scheme of yours falls apart – but say I let you take us to your ‘friend.’ Then you lead us into that nice, secluded alley up ahead, where a few more of your ‘friends’ try to jump us and take us for all we’ve got. Which would be your second and final mistake, by the way.”

The boy’s expression soured as he finally dropped the act. He crossed his arms and frowned up at Roman. “How did you know?”

“It’s the oldest trick in the book. You can’t play a player, kid. Better luck next time.” Roman urged the horse back into motion, skirting around the boy without a second glance.

“Wait.” Crow halted in his tracks. The boy was holding onto one of the saddle straps.

“What?” said Roman, his voice edged with a warning. He had no sympathy for helplessness.

“What would you do? If you were me?”

If a kid wanted to survive in the streets, he had to develop a tough exterior, or he’d get eaten alive. There were plenty of monsters in the cities, and they weren’t as easy to spot as the Grimm. This kid didn’t even realize he was looking at one. The only difference between the predators and the prey was the lengths they were willing to go to to survive. But when Roman gave the boy another look, it was obvious that the kid’s armor was cracking. His knuckles had gone white as he clutched the saddle strap. His teeth were bared in an expression that didn’t project intimidation so much as desperation. His eyes weren’t just hungry—they were starving.

“Wrong question,” said Roman. “It doesn’t matter what I’d do. If you do something no one’s ever done before, then no one’s gonna see it coming.” The kid blinked once, and let go. Roman gathered the reins and turned back to the road ahead.

‘You’re an inspiration to young criminals everywhere.’

A split-second passed between the distinctive hiss of a blade being drawn, and the click of the crosshairs flipping up on Roman’s cane, already in hand with the muzzle trained on the boy behind him. The boy had pulled a knife, and it was poised to slice the tendons of the horse’s hind legs. But he was frozen in Roman’s sights, his eyes wide as he stared right into the crosshairs and down the barrel at Roman. “That wasn’t it,” said Roman. Still, it was just possible the kid had what it took, after all.

Slowly, the boy lowered the knife. Roman turned once more to leave, but before he urged Crow onward, he slipped the guardsman’s watch from his pocket and tossed it back over his shoulder. The kid caught it. “Don’t take less than three hundred for it,” said Roman. “And if you’re smart, you won’t mention it to your ‘friends’.” Neo, who had observed the whole exchange dispassionately, smiled and waved goodbye as they left the boy behind. If Roman hadn’t been feeling charitable, she could just as easily have removed the boy’s hand before he’d put so much as a scratch on the horse.

‘Why did you give him the watch?’ asked Ozpin curiously.

“So you’ll stop bitching at me about the damn thing,” Roman grumbled. “I don’t care how valuable it is, it’s not worth another one of your long-winded lectures.”

‘I see.’ Roman got the distinct impression that if Ozpin had a mouth at the moment, he’d be smiling. The bastard.

Chapter Text

Roman checked them into a suite at one of the swankier hotels up by the sky docks, a ridiculously ostentatious establishment called The Aerie. It was a little much, even by Roman’s standards, but after camping in the woods for weeks on end, or staying a night in ramshackle village inns when they were lucky, he and Neo needed a dose of conspicuous luxury. Living like vagrants had been getting a little too close for comfort to their days of living on the streets, something Roman had long ago promised Neo they had left behind for good.

‘Even so, is all this really necessary? I think that fountain in the lobby was filled with champagne.’

Roman planned to pay a visit to said champagne fountain later in the evening. With Qrow out of the way, he didn’t have to be quite so careful of forgetting himself for awhile. “I’m richer than the gods, Ozpin. Just relax and enjoy it.”

‘Pardon me if I’m not as comfortable benefitting from ill-gotten gains as you are.’

“Just wait ’til you lie down on two-thousand thread count Mistrali silk sheets. Then you can tell me how uncomfortable you are.”

Back outside, Roman took Crow’s reins from Neo and walked the horse around the back of the building to the stables. It was secluded enough that Neo decided to drop their disguises to give her Aura a break. Sustained illusions took a lot out of her, and while Roman’s name was known throughout the kingdom, his face wasn’t often recognized outside the City of Vale. They should be safe enough as long as they weren’t out in public. Not many of the hotel’s clientele arrived on horseback, so the stables were relatively small, with only one attendant, and a boy, at that. Freckled, brown-skinned and hazel-eyed, he sat carving the caked dirt out of a palomino’s hooves. When he saw Roman and Neo in the doorway, he gently lowered the horse’s leg and stood to greet them. He was only a smidge taller than Neo, and his messy mop of chestnut hair made up a significant portion of the difference.

“Oh, um. Hello sir, madam. Welcome to The Aerie,” he said awkwardly. Clearly, the hotel staff had impressed upon him the importance of proper etiquette, but the practice remained foreign to him. “We have a deluxe package available that includes food and board, plus grooming, grazing, exercise twice a day, and re-shoeing if necessary. And of course, companionship…”

Roman raised an eyebrow. “Companionship?”

“O-or there’s the standard package, which is just food and board. But really, horses need a lot of exercise, so I’d highly recommend the deluxe package.”

“Why do I get the feeling all the horses get the deluxe treatment regardless of how much the guests pay?” The kid was a soft touch. He might as well paint a target on his forehead.

‘Oh, go easy on the boy. He’s just trying to look after the creatures in his care.’

The kid’s eyes widened. “N-no, of course not! That would be against policy.” When he saw that he wasn’t fooling Roman in the slightest, he lowered his voice and pleaded, “Please don’t tell my manager. This was only a temporary job so I could make a little extra money. I’m going back home in a week anyway, because my aunt thinks Vale is too dangerous now. I really don’t want to cause any trouble.”

This kid was just too much. “If you’re leaving the job anyway, then it’s the perfect time to cause trouble.” The flustered stableboy looked about ready to have a breakdown of some kind, so Roman eased off him a little. “Do I look like the kind of guy who’d go nark to your manager? Here.” He thrust Crow’s reins into the boy’s hands.

“O-oh.” The kid craned his neck as the dark horse plodded forward to loom over him, but he wasn’t intimidated by the beast in the slightest, reaching up to stroke Crow’s glossy black flank. It was Roman who made him nervous. “You sure are a beauty,” he murmured to the horse. To Roman, he said, “So will that be the deluxe or standard package?” Another look from Roman, and he dipped his head and sighed. “Right. You can just pay me the standard rate. It’s a hundred Lien.”

“Care to strike a deal?”

The boy looked up, eyes full of apprehension. “What kind of deal?”

“Where’s home, kid?”

He looked like he really didn’t want to tell Roman where he lived, but Roman only had to wait a couple of beats before the kid caved. “I live on my family’s farm in Mistral.”

“Yeah, you looked the type,” said Roman. “You see, I’m heading to the city proper, and it’s no place to keep a horse. So how about you take him off my hands, give him a nice life on that farm of yours? I’m sure he’d appreciate the companionship.”

“Wow, that’s very generous of you—” Roman cleared his throat pointedly. “...Oh.” The boy began to wring Crow’s reins in his hands, the leather creaking in his uneasy grip. “Well, I don’t actually have much money. Most of what I’ve made I’ve sent home.”

Roman shrugged. “Make me an offer.”

The boy looked up at Crow fondly. “Th-three hundred Lien?” he mumbled. When Roman said nothing, he squeaked, “Three fifty? Really, that’s the most I can afford.”

Roman smiled. “You’ve got yourself a deal.” The kid would be getting a great horse for a steal, but Roman would still turn a tidy profit on the exchange. And it just so happened to be the approximate value of the watch he’d given away.

‘But you paid five hundred for the first horse. Not that I condone you “negotiating” this poor child out of any more of his hard-earned money.’

‘That’s right, I almost forgot. I guess I’m just feeling generous today. Must be your good influence.’ He waited for the kid to fetch the money from a lockbox he kept hidden in one of the haystacks. Not the best hiding place, from a professional perspective, but there wasn’t much to steal—not after he handed Roman most of it, anyway. “His name’s Crow. Spelled with a C,” Roman told the kid as he accepted the stack of Lien.

“How else would you spell it?” muttered the boy under his breath.

Roman stepped forward and raised a hand to cup Crow’s cheek just as Ozpin had Qrow’s. “Farewell, old friend,” he uttered melodramatically. “You’ll always be my favorite Crow, any which way you spell it.”

‘You probably think you’re being funny.’

Well, Neo was laughing—her own silent equivalent of it, hand to her lips and shoulders shaking. Roman didn’t miss the way the stableboy’s eyes kept drifting to her. The kid even cracked a small smile for the first time, bemused by the whole display. “Don’t worry, he’s in good hands.” He started wringing Crow’s reins again nervously, glancing once more at Neo. “Do you like horses, too?” he asked her. “I could introduce you to the others.”

She blinked at him mutely, head cocked in curious amusement. Unnerved by her silent stare, he dropped his gaze to his shoes, looking as though he hoped they might devour him from the legs up. He startled when Roman clapped a hand down on his shoulder. “She’s too old for you, kid,” he said. The boy gave him a frightened nod of understanding, so Roman stepped back. “But look on the bright side. If you ever get bored of simple country living, you’ve just secured yourself a means of escape!” He gestured to Crow with a flourish.

“I’m very happy on the farm, actually,” the boy mumbled.

“Then why do you want a horse of your own?” Roman asked.

“I… Uh…” The kid frowned, flustered all over again.

Roman smiled and held out his hand. “Well, it’s been a pleasure doing business with you, kid.”

“Oh uh, it's Oscar,” said the boy, shaking Roman’s hand. “Oscar Pine.”

Roman tipped his hat. “See ya ’round, Oscar.” He turned to leave.

“I– I never got your name.”

Roman glanced back over his shoulder at the hapless farm boy from Mistral who, odds were, had never heard the name… “Roman Torchwick.”

Oscar simply gave a small smile and a wave. “Well, thanks again, Mr. Torchwick. I’ll take good care of Crow, I promise.”

“I know you will,” Roman said as he left the stables. Neo followed him out without giving the boy a backward glance. There were times when she surprised even Roman with how brutal she could be. But it was always a pleasant surprise.

~ * ~

They took one of the hotel’s guest cars out for a spin around town to find a nice place for lunch where they could spend dear little Oscar’s money. The car was a sleek, black luxury model that was an absolute pleasure to drive, especially after so much time spent on horseback. Roman’s ass hadn’t been so sore since…what was his name? Constantine something? Roman didn’t usually make a point of remembering inconsequential one-night stands.

‘I don’t much care to remember, either.’

‘Hey, if you want me to keep my memories to myself, just show me how you do it.’

As he suspected, Ozpin remained silent. Of course he wouldn’t want Roman to have that kind of an advantage. Gods forbid they should ever meet each other on equal footing. No, Ozpin had made himself at home holding complete power over Roman, leaving Roman with the prickling instinct that he should constantly be looking over his shoulder. But even that would do no good. The enemy was within—he’d have no warning of what Ozpin was going to do until he did it.

‘I’m not at home here.’

‘Would you cut that out? If I have something to say to you, I’ll say it.’

‘I just think it’s important you understand that we’re on more equal footing than you realize. I am not at home here, surrounded by malice and ill intent. You’re my enemy as much as I am yours, and we are each only trying to defend ourselves against the other, because we cannot attack each other outright. But that kind of tension creates an untenable living situation for us both.’

‘Tell me something I don’t know.’

‘I’m willing to give you free rein.’

Roman swerved the car just a little, but enough to earn a smack on the arm from Neo from where she sat in the passenger’s seat. She’d gotten used to him being more easily distractible since he’d started hearing the voice of a certain dead professor in his head, but it was a different story behind the wheel of a car. With effort, Roman refocused his attention on the road. ‘Don’t fuck with me like that, or I’ll kill us both.’

‘I wasn’t— I was being serious. What I meant was, we have some downtime here, and it doesn’t much matter to me how we spend it. So you and Ms. Neo can do whatever you’d like. Within reason,’ Ozpin was quick to qualify. 

Roman scoffed. ‘You figure you oughta let the dog off the chain once in awhile or it’ll bite, is that it?’

‘Something like that.’

Roman thought through what Ozpin was offering. There was no quid pro quo, no catch that he could see. He knew Ozpin felt genuine guilt over his means of reincarnation. Ozpin could conceal his thoughts from Roman, but he couldn’t do the same for his feelings. Roman felt what Ozpin felt to a certain degree, and it was easy to recognize these feelings of guilt as foreign, since Roman had always thought of guilt as a waste of time. No, there was no catch. Ozpin was just trying to make amends in some small way: a day of freedom in exchange for a lifetime of subordination. It was almost insulting, actually. But, like always, Roman would take whatever he could get.

‘Alright. I could use a day off from your constant nagging. Think you can manage some peace and quiet?’ When Ozpin said nothing, Roman sighed and relaxed back into his seat. He watched the big mountaintop mansions pass by as he made his way to the neighborhood’s commercial street. What should he do with this little holiday? He wouldn’t kid himself. He knew Ozpin would step in if he had strong objections to Roman’s choice of activity, but there had to be some common ground. He didn’t need to break the law to have a good time. Gods, that was just what his old parole officer used to say.

Well, there was one thing Roman could think of to start with. Neo’s illusions were flawless, but beneath the veneer, their clothes were tattered and dirty from their travels. They didn’t look out of place in this filthy rich neighborhood, but Roman sure as hell felt that way. And if he couldn’t sort himself out on the inside, he could at least do something about his outward appearance. He turned to Neo with a smile. “What do you say after lunch, we do a little shopping?”

‘As long as “shopping” isn’t a euphemism for stealing…’

“Shhhh,” said Roman. “It’s not a euphemism, now would you kindly shut the fuck up?” Ozpin was silent again, but quiet huffs of breath from the passenger’s side meant Neo was snickering to herself. Well, at least one of them was already entertained.

They had some of the best seafood Roman had ever tasted at a trendy restaurant on the high street, and afterward, they paid a visit to the city’s master tailor. Roman knew the lady by reputation. She was exclusive, discreet and supposedly better than any tailor in Vale. The moment he walked into her shop – all warm, dark wood and soft, azure carpeting – he felt right at home. Which was odd, considering he’d never been there before.

‘But I have.’

Roman sighed. ‘There’s no avoiding you, is there?’

‘We both appreciate a bespoke suit, it seems. And she really is better than any tailor in Vale.’ 

‘Well, that’s two things we have in common, then.’

‘Two?’

‘Good taste in clothes. Bad taste in women.’

Ozpin lapsed into brooding silence again, which was sort of what Roman had been going for. A tall, handsome, dark-haired woman in an impeccable sapphire suit and satin gloves came out from the backroom to inspect her two new visitors. “Ms. Lapis?” Roman inquired.

“Yes,” she replied, her voice tinged with a slight foreign accent Roman couldn’t quite place. Menagerie? She didn’t look like a Faunus, though. “Do you have an appointment, Mister…?”

“Black,” said Roman. “Randall Black. And this is my sister, Nina. We just arrived in town, but we were hoping you’d be able to make a few garments for us. We’ve heard marvelous things about your work. Some say you’re the best in the kingdom.”

She arched a perfectly sculpted eyebrow. “Just the one kingdom?”

“Well, that remains to be seen.”

She glanced down at a leather-bound appointment book lying open on the desk in front of her. Everything on today’s page had been crossed out. She flipped the book shut. “I wouldn’t normally accept walk-ins, but I happen to have an opening today,” she said. “Many of my clients from abroad cancelled their appointments after the recent unpleasantness in Vale.”

Roman had suspected as much. To his knowledge, Atlas was the only kingdom that had closed its borders, but the others would still be wary of Vale’s dangerous instability for quite some time. “Then you can see to us both?”

Lapis pursed her lips at his presumption, but nodded. “This way, please,” she said, leading them to the fitting room at the back of the shop. Neo tugged off her boots and hopped up onto the platform in front of the mirrors without looking either to Roman or Lapis for the go-ahead.

“Sure, you first,” Roman muttered, taking a seat on the settee behind her. Neo grinned broadly and held out her arms for Lapis to take her measurements. She always harbored some small hope that she might have grown a fraction of an inch since her last fitting.

Lapis pulled off her satin gloves and tucked them into her jacket pocket. Then she picked up a measuring tape and notebook off a small desk in the corner and got to work with an air of professionalism that veiled whatever her true feelings were regarding her two new clients. “What are you looking for in terms of cut, style, color and fabric?” she asked as she jotted down measurements. Roman played interpreter, using what he already knew about Neo’s fashion sense to translate her gestural responses into verbal form so Lapis would understand. In response to more complicated questions, Neo would scribble the answers in her own notepad and show it to Lapis. Lapis, unruffled, went right along with their system.

Soon, it was Roman’s turn. He set his cane aside, shucked off his gloves and coat, and stepped up onto the platform as Neo stepped off, their hands brushing briefly so she could renew her focus on the illusion around him. He had to fight an irrational feeling of vulnerability, stripped of his cane, his coat and his thick leather gloves. His Aura could protect him now. He didn’t need to be quite so careful about letting down his guard. In fact, he could enjoy himself. Lapis was a nice-looking lady. She was no Cinder, but, Roman reminded himself, that was a good thing. As she knelt down in front of him to take the measure of his inseam, he bit his tongue to keep from saying something crude. He knew better than to harass a tailor; they had far too many needles and scissors to hand. But he could still appreciate the view. They talked instead about what he wanted her to make, and he watched her work with deft efficiency.

“Everyone says redheads shouldn’t wear red, but I’ve always been fond of the color. What’s your professional opinion?” he asked.

“They should not. It clashes,” she said brusquely. “For them, I would recommend an accent color in a different jewel tone. Emerald, perhaps—”

“I hate that color,” Roman interjected.

Lapis frowned at his strong reaction. “Then it’s a good thing you’re not a redhead.”

“Right…” Roman fell back to quietly watching her work. As he did so, he noticed that her fingertips were heavily scarred up to the first knuckle—each and every one.

‘She was– is a Faunus,’ said Ozpin. ‘She was born with claws that were actually helpful to her in her trade. But she tailored herself to fit the society she lived in.’

‘Huh. Enterprising woman.’

‘You don’t find it saddening, that she felt she couldn’t be herself, so she tried to become someone else?’

‘We all tailor ourselves to fit our roles, Oz,’ Roman thought. ‘Some of us are just better at it than others.’

“How would you feel about coattails?”

“Coattails?” said Roman, returning his attention to Ms. Lapis.

“I think they would suit you,” she said as she jotted down her final measurements.

He looked thoughtfully into the mirror, although thanks to Neo, he hardly recognized himself. “They’re a little old-fashioned, aren’t they?”

“Everything old is new again,” she said.

Roman considered it further. He had always rather liked the look of them in old movies. “Why not?” he said. “I’ll try anything once.”

Lapis nodded curtly and flipped her notebook shut, not so much as acknowledging Roman’s suggestive tone. “I think I have all I need. Allow me a minute to sketch the designs for you.” She crossed to the desk in the corner, setting down her notebook and measuring tape, and picking up a large, leather-bound sketchbook. She perched, birdlike, on the edge of the desk with the sketchbook on her knee, and soon, her pencil was flying across the page with precise and certain strokes. The work absorbed her complete attention.

All but forgotten, Roman stepped down off the platform. Neo held his coat open for him, and Roman shrugged it on. She reached up and patted him on the cheek, her way of showing mock sympathy for his bruised ego. “I’m just not quite myself lately,” he muttered, referring to Neo’s illusion, but then realizing the words were true in more ways than one. “I’m not losing my edge, am I?”

Neo shook her head adamantly. She gestured to Lapis, and then swirled her finger through the air beside her head. She’s crazy.

Roman chuckled. “That must be it.”

They waited in silence for Lapis to finish sketching. She didn’t take long. “What do you think?” she asked, hopping down from the desk and holding her sketchbook open for them to see.

On one page was Neo’s design, and on the opposite, Roman’s. For Neo, she had sketched a cream-colored capelet coat with a delicate gold chain across the lapels, and a striking three-color lining on the back panel in Neo’s signature pink, brown and cream, separated in three scalloped tiers that echoed the coat’s scalloped hem. Since Neo didn’t buy into the combat skirt fad, Lapis had sketched a pair of riding trousers for her in a deeper brown, with pink patches on the inside of the knees. Roman had mentioned they also needed new shoes, and Lapis had assured him she knew a fine cobbler who could produce whatever she designed. So she had sketched a new pair of tall, cream-colored boots for Neo with dark brown buttons and pink stitching up the back.

For Roman, she had envisioned a cream-colored tailcoat with his signature red lining, a charcoal grey vest, black trousers with red pinstripes, a pair of black brogues with red stitching, a new black kerchief with red stitching around the border, and black leather gloves with red buckles going up to his elbows. The two outfits still coordinated with one another in the way Roman and Neo always had, but each one was unique. The fine fabrics Lapis had chosen would also be durable, and still easy to move in, especially in Neo’s case. Roman and Neo exchanged a nod of agreement. All in all, in these clothes, they’d be ready to make a new start in a new place without leaving their old selves behind. Everything old is new again.

“Perfect,” said Roman.

Lapis looked as though she’d expected nothing less. She snapped her sketchbook shut. “Since you approve of the designs, I shall get to work on them immediately. You may return tomorrow morning for your fittings. Let’s say…nine-thirty?”

“Alright.” Roman had hardly made his answer before she was ushering them both out of her shop. Once they were back out on the street, she shut the door behind them and flipped the ‘Open’ sign to ‘Closed.’ As soon as the door latched shut, Neo slumped against the side of the building, panting lightly as though she were suddenly out of breath. Except it wasn’t sudden at all. She hadn’t let Lapis see any sign of her exhaustion, but Roman knew her too well not to notice when her illusions began to deplete her Aura. He took her hand to ease the strain on her Semblance somewhat. “Ready to head back?”

She nodded, so he scooped her up in his arms. If he were anyone else, he’d have been dead before he could draw his next breath. But Neo allowed him to pick her up without protest. “You’ve been working hard. Time to take a breather.” He carried her back to the car, only getting the occasional odd look from passers by. At a glance, Neo probably looked young enough to be his daughter. He opened the car door and sat her down in the backseat where she could lie down if she wanted to. Then he got behind the wheel and drove them back to the hotel.

Once they were back in their suite, Neo face-planted into one of the downy beds and let her illusions shimmer away. Roman pulled her boots off for her, although it was difficult not to pull Neo off the bed with them, given how light she was. Her coat was easier to remove, and he hung it up in the wardrobe beside his own, along with his cane and her parasol. “Room service and a movie?” he suggested.

Neo perked up a bit at that, so Roman took the liberty of ordering for them both, and picked out a campy horror movie on the large flatscreen that he knew Neo would like. It was either that or a romantic comedy, and there was only so far Roman was willing to go to pander to his sister. They sat together on one of the beds eating their ridiculously fancy room service and watching the cheesy, old horror movie, and it was almost like they were years younger, spending nights in cheap motels when they could scrounge together the cash, just to get off the streets for a little while. The bed, food and TV were nicer, but the routine was the same. But Roman found he didn’t mind being reminded of those nights like he did their nights on the street. On those nights, it had almost felt like they’d had a home again. He realized his reminiscing had taken a turn for the embarrassingly sentimental a little too late. ‘Don’t you dare say a damn word,’ he thought. Ozpin didn’t.

At some point during the second half of the movie, Neo fell asleep with her head resting on Roman’s shoulder. He only noticed when he felt a dampness start to seep through his shirt, and realized she was drooling. “Ugh,” he muttered. “Real nice, Neo. You’re so lucky you’re cute.” He turned off the TV and carefully extricated himself, sliding a pillow under her head instead. If she weren’t dead tired, he probably would have woken her despite his best efforts. But she hardly stirred, just nuzzling deeper into the pillow. Roman took her notepad from her coat pocket and wrote: Went for a drive. Back later. He tore out the note and left it on the pillow beside her. Then he slipped into his coat, snatched up his cane, and left the room.

‘Are you sure it’s wise to go out undisguised?’

Roman sighed. Ozpin had been so quiet, Roman had almost managed to forget he was there. Which was rather the point. ‘It’s dark out, the car’s got tinted windows, and this isn’t Vale. The chances of anyone recognizing me are slim, and if it does happen, with my Semblance I can just…poof.’ He twinkled his fingers in the air. ‘Disappear.’

‘I suppose that’s true…’

‘Then cool it. It’s still my day off, and I intend to make the most of it.’ Roman took the freight elevator down to the ground floor and went out the hotel’s back entrance. No one was wandering the corridors this late. He left without meeting another soul. He hadn’t returned the guest car to the pool. Instead, he’d left it parked a few blocks away and kept the keys in his pocket. He got into the car and began to navigate the dark, winding streets down the mountain.

Ozpin’s wary curiosity prickled at the back of his mind, but he did his best to tune it out. Literally. He turned on the radio and found a halfway decent jazz station to take his mind off of Ozpin’s presence. He hated being alone with Ozpin. These were the times he felt most like an insect pinned in place under a magnifying glass. Luckily, what he was looking for wasn’t hard to find. The streets became narrower, and the lampposts stood sentinel fewer and further between deep pools of darkness. In their place, red light emanated from windows as though hellfire burned within. A different class of people did not so much walk these streets, as prowl them. Roman slowed the car to a crawl and let his eyes rove over what was on offer, waiting for something – well, someone – to draw his gaze.

‘Please don’t tell me this is exactly what it looks like,’ Ozpin said, finally.

“This is exactly what it looks like,” Roman responded, and kept driving.

‘Torchwick.’

There she was. Leaning up against a lamppost, looking as though she’d just stepped out to enjoy the cigarette she was raising to her bloodred lips. And most importantly, looking nothing in the slightest like Cinder fucking Fall. She was tall and lanky, her green eyes sparkled under dark, smoky make-up, she wore her ashen blonde hair short and her tight, black dress even shorter.

‘Torchwick.’

Roman pulled over the car and rolled down his window. “Need a light?” he asked, flicking open his lighter and holding it out to the woman.

She smiled and leaned in close to ignite her cigarette. “What a gentleman,” she said, and there was a rough edge to her otherwise breathy voice that Roman found very appealing. She blew a stream of smoke up into the light. “Not many gentlemen around here,” she continued, eyeing the expensive car he was driving.

Roman cracked a wry smile. “Looks can be deceiving, darling.”

She leaned in even closer until Roman could feel her breath on his cheek. “Then why don’t you take me somewhere you can show me who you really are?” she murmured. Roman thought that sounded like a fine idea. He reached over to open the passenger-side door.

‘Roman!’

He jerked his hand back. “What the fuck do you want?” he shouted. He hadn’t anticipated such a visceral reaction to Ozpin using his first name for the first time. It was one more layer of separation gone with far too few left between them. The woman teetered hastily back on her stiletto heels, putting distance between herself and the car. Then she hurried away down the street and vanished around the corner. “Gods damn it! Now the whole street’s gonna think I’m a fucking psycho.”

‘And that would be an unfair assessment?’

Roman’s grip tightened on the steering wheel. “What was so damn important that you had to ruin my entire evening?”

‘You were going to pick up a prostitute.’

“Yeah, well I don’t normally have to pay to take someone to bed, but my options are pretty limited thanks to you and your paranoia. You want to relieve some tension, this is the best way I know to do it. Your little lovebird made it pretty damn clear casual hook-ups were off the table, so—”

‘And what would you call this?’

“A transaction.”

‘Roman—’

Roman flinched again. “Stop that. It’s weird.”

‘This is worse. Prostitutes are the most notorious information brokers in any city. You must know that.’

“I’m not one for pillow talk, Oz. What exactly do you think I’m gonna say to the lady?”

‘I don’t know what you’ll do or say in…novel situations.’

Roman could have laughed at how ridiculous this whole thing was if it weren’t so godsdamn frustrating. “Do you know how long your pal Ironwood had me locked up?”

‘I don’t recall precisely…’

“Neither do I! I lost track! That’s how long it was. And do you know the first thing I was looking forward to doing when I got sprung?”

‘Reuniting with your sister?’

“Well, obviously, but that’s not what I—” Roman let loose an aggravated growl. “Eugh, now you’ve got me thinking about Neo!”

“I heard you were givin’ one of my gals trouble.” A low voice drifted in through the open window, and a burly man dressed in black stepped out of the shadows and into the pool of light beneath the streetlamp. He rested a hand on his hip, parting his coat to reveal a flash of steel. “How about you pay for the trouble you’ve caused with that fancy set of wheels you got there, and I let you walk away?”

Roman rolled his eyes. He couldn’t believe he was being threatened, badly, by a two-bit pimp who thought he owned the streets. Roman had owned the streets. Now, he didn’t even own the godsdamned car he was driving. “I was in the middle of a conversation,” he said. “It’s rude to interrupt.”

The pimp took a step forward. “Do I look like a man of manners, you crazy—”

Roman snatched his cane up off the passenger’s seat and had his sights trained on the other man in a heartbeat. “How’s this for crazy?” The pimp stumbled back, fumbling frantically for his weapon. As Roman suspected, his clumsiness meant he was more accustomed to showing the piece than drawing it. Roman didn’t bother to stick around. The last thing he wanted to do tonight was dispose of a body. He slammed his foot on the gas pedal and sped off down the street, leaving the whole godsforsaken neighborhood behind him.

‘Yet another reason to avoid such places and their denizens.’

“Oh, bullshit!” Roman spat, glaring at the road. “Do you know what I think?”

‘Yes.’

Roman said it anyway, because the whole mind reading thing was just obnoxious. “I think you’re still hung up on Qrow!”

Ozpin sighed. ‘Of course I am. I can’t just— For gods’ sake, Roman, it’s been two weeks! We were together for two decades! I… I need time.’

“Yeah, well time is one thing I don’t have in abundance.” Roman reconsidered his options as he drove through Prism’s shadow-shrouded streets. “What about Qrow? Just, hypothetically speaking.”

Ozpin’s voice suddenly took on a much darker tone.‘Excuse me?’

“Look, I have no interest in your sloppy seconds, but if he’s the only item on the menu, I’ve still gotta eat.”

‘Qrow is not a bargaining chip, nor is he some piece of meat that you can just chew up and spit out. I will not discuss this with you.’ Roman wasn’t particularly inclined to press the issue further, but even if he were, Ozpin’s tone made it clear that he wouldn’t get anywhere. The conversation was over. They were both fed up with each other.

Roman drove back to the hotel. It was late enough that even the concierge had turned in for the night, and the lobby was empty. Roman swiped his key to get in and strode across the polished marble floor, heading straight for the elevators. A row of classical statues on either side of the entryway gazed down at him from up on their marble pedestals. He gripped his cane tighter, suppressing the urge to blow their heads off. It was like he’d never gotten out of that cell. Just because he couldn’t see the bars, didn’t mean they weren’t there. He just had a different jailor, now.

He slowed his steps as he passed the tinkling champagne fountain in the center of the lobby. Well, a gilded cage was a step up from a steel one, he supposed. He took two crystal champagne flutes from the rim of the fountain and submerged them in the golden liquid, then brought the brimming glasses with him up to the suite. Slipping quietly inside, careful not to wake Neo, he shut himself in the bathroom. He set the glasses on the side of the large, porcelain bathtub and started the water running hot. Then he stepped up onto the toilet and disabled the smoke detector on the ceiling with practiced ease. As he waited for the tub to fill, he stripped out of his clothes and lit a cigar. He breathed deep, exhaling smoke and stress. There was no use in snapping at each other and making each other miserable. Oz was right about one thing: they both needed to unwind.

Roman dipped his hand into the bathtub to test the water. It was just the right side of scalding. Satisfied, he shut off the spout and stepped into the tub, easing back against the rim. He picked up one of the champagne flutes and raised it to his lips, letting the bubbles dance across his tongue. The hotel really had spared no expense—this was the good stuff. Money couldn’t solve all his problems, he mused, but it certainly helped. He closed his eyes and let his head fall back, trying to clear his mind.

His scroll started to ring. Roman grit his teeth and cracked his eyes open to glare at the ceiling. His patience was being severely tested today. “I’m going to murder whoever that is,” he resolved, reaching over the side of the tub to rummage in his coat pockets until he found his scroll. It was a video call from one Teacher’s Pet. Roman debated whether to take it, but he suspected Ozpin would have some choice words for him if he ignored the call. “Feathers,” he said by way of greeting, propping his scroll up against the wall on the side of the tub so he could keep drinking his champagne and smoking his cigar.

“I would burn this fucking thing if I didn’t look like I’d been mauled by a fucking beowolf,” Qrow growled, tugging on Roman’s kerchief around his throat. Ah yes, Roman had sent him some rather insulting texts that morning. It already seemed like ages ago.

“Go ahead and burn it if you want, I’m having a new one made,” said Roman dismissively. “I just assumed a Huntsman like you could handle it, but I’m sorry if I was playing too rough for you.” Qrow looked like he wanted to reach through the screen and throttle Roman. Roman took another sip of champagne.

“Are you…naked?” Qrow asked, expression shifting from anger to something a little more self-conscious.

Roman lounged back against the side of the tub. “As the day I was born.”

There was that blush again. It looked so out of place on such a worldweary face. “I’ll call back later,” said Qrow.

Roman chuckled. “Shy, too? Some fearsome Huntsman you are.”

“Fine,” Qrow growled. “Let me talk to Oz.”

“No can do,” said Roman. “Oz has given me the day off. That means no dealing with, well, you, among other things.”

“What? That doesn’t make any sense. Oz wouldn’t just—”

“Relax,” Roman sighed. “He’s still got me on a short leash.” Curiously, Qrow’s blush only deepened. Perhaps he actually enjoyed playing teacher’s pet. Roman wouldn’t have been all that surprised to learn that Ozpin was the type to literally leash his lover on occasion. It would fit with his controlling nature, and Qrow’s almost pathological need to be told what to do so he didn’t have to take responsibility for himself. “Whatever you have to tell him, you can tell me,” Roman continued. “He’ll get the message.”

Qrow seemed like he wanted to argue, but he clearly didn’t want to prolong the conversation. “I found them,” he said, finally. “The kids. They haven’t gotten far. They seem to be planning on…walking to Mistral.”

Roman nearly spat out his next sip of champagne in a fit of laughter. “Well, see you in a month or two!”

Qrow grimaced. “I’ll check in every week with an update on our progress.”

Roman peered more closely at Qrow’s image on the screen. “Are you in a tree?” Qrow hung up. Roman took another puff from his cigar. “You sure know how to pick ’em.”

‘That long…’

Roman exhaled smoke through his teeth in a low hiss. “It’s your own fault,” he grumbled. “You should’ve taught your students some basic geography.”

Chapter Text

After Qrow had ended the call, Roman had finally broken down and taken matters into his own hands. So to speak. He really would have preferred to have someone else to focus his attentions on, but Ozpin, as always, had left him with little choice. Still, the release was hardly worth the awkwardness of knowing he wasn’t really alone. Roman wasn’t shy, but he didn’t appreciate having an audience, either. To his credit, Oz had tried to keep quiet for once, but considering he felt everything Roman did, Roman couldn’t really blame him for not quite being able to. Thinking about Qrow probably hadn’t helped. But his was the last face Roman had seen, the last voice he’d heard (aside from Ozpin’s, which—no), so like a lingering echo, Roman hadn’t been able to get Qrow out of his mind. And maybe on some level, he’d wanted to torture Ozpin with what he couldn’t have. 

If everything was a learning experience, as Ozpin so often said, then at least he’d learned the guy wasn’t a robot—that behind all that talk and that smooth facade, he needed it just as bad as Roman did. Still, the whole thing had been weird and embarrassing, and Roman would have been perfectly content to forget it ever happened. At least until next time. But of course, when were he and Ozpin ever on the same page?

‘I have been through the reincarnation process many times,’ said Ozpin as Roman drove with Neo to the tailor the next morning. It was the first thing he’d said since the night before. Not that the two of them were in the habit of idle chit chat, but they usually did take some time at the end of each day to plan for the next. However, neither of them had said a word as Roman had drained the tub, brushed his teeth and gone to bed. Ozpin had been silent so long, Roman actually startled at the sound of his voice. ‘I know perhaps better than anyone that everyone has different needs.’

Roman swerved the car a lot harder than last time, and earned a much harder smack from Neo in return. He muttered an apology while practically shouting in his head, ‘Oh my gods, is this your version of the Talk? I’m not a kid; I don’t need a lecture on everything!’

‘I am simply trying to tell you that part of this process involves redefining our notions of privacy, and that I, for one, am accustomed to doing so. So if you’re feeling self-conscious—’

‘I wasn’t until you started talking!’

‘—Then all I can do is assure you that I have quite literally seen it all, and there is little even you could do that would shock me. That said, I would appreciate it if you would leave Qrow out of it.’

Roman glanced at his reflection in the rearview mirror. ‘I dunno, it seemed like you appreciated having Qrow in it.’

‘Please do consider in addition the fact that I can slam your hand in the car door on your way out.’

Roman cringed. ‘Hey, that would hurt you as much as me.’

‘Yes, but the satisfaction would be worth it, I think.’

‘Sick bastard.’

‘Pot, kettle.’

Roman couldn’t help but chuckle. ‘Something else we have in common?’

Ozpin was silent for some time, but it was that pressurized silence underneath which Roman could almost feel the gears grinding. ‘I know I’m asking a lot of you,’ he said, finally.

‘‘Asking’ is a funny way of putting it,’ Roman responded.

‘I just hope you know that I’m not trying to be unfair. I know you had your own priorities before all of this, but our priorities are – and must be – different.’

‘You mean your priorities.’

‘You still don’t believe it’s necessary to stop Salem?’

‘I still don’t believe it’s my problem, except for the fact that you’ve made all your problems my problems. Unlike you, I’m not in the habit of putting my life on the line for the greater good.’

‘What about for your sister? She’s why you sacrificed so much in the Battle of Beacon, isn’t she? She won’t survive if Salem prevails. No one will.’

Roman glanced over at Neo, who was watching him with that searching expression she wore more often these days, now that Roman had someone else to share his thoughts with. Normally, he would talk to Neo about whatever crossed his mind. It was an old habit, from all the way back when he still thought she might respond one day if he spoke to her often enough. He would confide everything in her. She had informed him in writing that he talked enough for the both of them. But now, more often than not, Ozpin preoccupied his thoughts, from the most trivial irritations to the fears, doubts and resentments so dark and noxious he worried that if he put them into words and uttered them aloud, they would infect him, paralyze him, break him. And that simply wouldn’t do. Brooding and angsting were the refuge of lesser men, like Mercury and Adam. Unlike those sorry excuses for criminals, Roman had an image to maintain. “I think Ozpin just called you a pussy,” he told his sister.

She smiled and flipped him the bird. Somehow, he knew it really meant, Thanks for looping me in, dummy. Yes, Roman had an image to maintain. Even if it was only for Neo.

~ * ~

Looking over his reflection in Lapis’ mirror as she finished fitting his new duds, he felt much more himself—even under the mask of Neo’s illusion. There was nothing like new clothes to give one a new lease on life. Neo was already turning flips and spins about the fitting room in her new outfit and looking pleased as punch with the way it moved. When Lapis stepped back, Roman did a slow turn, admiring her work. “Good call on the coattails,” he said. “I never should have doubted you.”

“Indeed, you should not have,” she sniffed. But then she relaxed somewhat, as she realized he’d paid her a compliment. “I was inspired by the crow’s feather you wear in your hat.”

“Oh?” said Roman, eyes flicking up to his hat in the mirror. Neo had changed the appearance of the hat, but not the feather.

“This particular cut,” said Lapis, running her gloved fingers across the fabric of one of the coattails, “is called a crow’s tail.”

Roman’s smile took on a harsh edge. “Is that so?”

“It’s an antiquated term,” she said, turning and walking to the desk to tally up their totals. “Outside of the profession, I only knew one other person to use it in conversation, and he was always rather old-fashioned.” Softly, she murmured, “I do hope he’s alright.”

“Oh, I’m sure he’s just dandy,” Roman hissed under his breath. 

‘I’m touched by her concern. Although I wouldn’t call being dead ‘dandy’.’

Roman looked down at a gentle touch to his arm to see Neo standing beside him, her expression twisted between sympathy and amusement. “It’s probably too late to change the design, huh?” Roman muttered. Neo nodded, trying valiantly to fight back a smirk.

‘Don’t be absurd. It’s a little flashy, but a good coat, nonetheless.’ 

Roman took one last look at himself in the mirror and sighed. “It is a damn good coat.”

The sky docks were back open for business, so that was where they headed next. Roman tossed their old clothes into a dumpster and lit the dumpster on fire as they walked past. It was time to leave Vale behind. Getting out of the city would be a lot easier than getting in. Roman knew which transport enterprises would waive the formality of passenger registration for an extra “fee,” so he purchased a couple of one-way tickets to Mistral aboard an import/export liner that was none too picky about its cargo. Even if the Prism Civil Guard had cracked down on the illegal dust trade, there were plenty of other black market commodities in high demand across borders. In fact, Roman thought he heard one of the shipping containers growl as they boarded the airship.

‘Exotic animal trafficking. Lovely.’

Roman would have preferred one of the large luxury liners himself, but this close to Mistral, he was taking no chances. Mistral had no extradition treaties with the other kingdoms—one of the reasons Remnant’s rogues and renegades tended to end up there. As soon as Roman and Neo made it across the border, they would have a clean slate: no criminal records, no arrest warrants, no consequences. They would be free from their past once more. That was worth a little additional caution in the meantime. Still, the final stretch of the journey certainly wouldn’t be a pleasure cruise. The clunky, steel cargo vessel must have been at least fifty years old; reliable, but a far cry from the comforts of flying commercial. 

He joined his sister at the railing up on the top deck to watch as they trundled out of their berth, engines roaring to life to carry them out into the sky. Roman lit a cigar and leaned out over the railing to feel the cool sea breeze on his face. He and Neo had talked before about packing up shop and moving their operation to Mistral if things ever went sour, but he never expected everything would go so wrong so fast. As the city faded into the fog like a dream, the thought crossed Roman’s mind that it might be the last glimpse of Vale they would ever see. “That farm girl was right,” Roman sighed, smoke mingling with ocean mist. “There’s no place like home.”

Neo rested her head against his arm, the simple gesture conveying multitudes in that moment. But mostly, she was saying, Home’s right here with you.

Roman smiled despite himself. “I thought I raised a cold-blooded killer, not a total sap.”

She smiled back up at him. I can be both, can’t I?

He wondered not for the first time what path she would have chosen for herself if their circumstances—if he hadn’t chosen one for her. What would she do without him? He supposed, if he really was going to lose himself to Ozpin someday, she would have the chance to find out. “You can be whatever you want to be,” he told her.

They both turned at the sound of approaching footsteps. It was the captain: a haggard, middle-aged man with greying sideburns and an unusually gentle demeanor for a smuggler. “You two are our only passengers this time ’round,” he said. “It’s a full day’s flight to the City of Mistral. Cargo hold’s off-limits of course, but you’re welcome to take coffee and meals with the crew in the galley.”

“If you’re up here with us, then who’s flying this thing?” Roman asked.

The captain laughed. “I have a good co-pilot. He once flew this old bird through a hurricane. We’re perfectly safe.”

A scream rang out across the deck before it was snatched away by the wind. They all whipped around to see the source, but where another man had been standing at the railing across from them smoking a cigarette, there was now nothing but empty deck. “Someone was there,” said Roman. “Did he fall?”

The captain started to run across to where the other man had been standing, but stopped dead in the middle of the deck when a monstrous screech pierced the air, and a dark, winged shape swept up through the sky beside the airship before vanishing into the fog. The captain cursed. “By the gods, what was that thing?!”

‘It looked like…’ Ozpin took control without warning, tackling Neo to the deck and yelling for the captain to take cover. A second later, a jet of flame roared overhead, so hot the air seemed to ripple in front of his eyes. It was followed by another ear-piercing shriek as the creature swooped across the bow and disappeared again. Ozpin spat out Roman’s cigar. “Are you alright?” he asked Neo, crouching over her.

She nodded, so Ozpin helped her to her feet and they dashed to where the captain had hunkered down at the base of the airship’s elevated cockpit. The man looked frightened, but at least he wasn’t shutting down in the face of danger. He was ready to act, as soon as he knew what to do. “Thirty years of making this passage, and I have never seen Grimm like that,” he said, eyes darting around for where the beast would appear next.

“It’s a drake,” said Ozpin. “An incredibly rare species hunted almost to extinction centuries ago. They’ve never been sighted this far east before. But what worries me more is there’s only one.”

“I’d call that a blessing,” said the captain.

Ozpin shook his head. “They hunt in pairs. One head-on, one from the side. So where is its partner…?” He stopped scanning the sky and fixed the captain with a cold stare. “What manner of creature is in that shipping container down in the cargo hold?”

“You think…?” The captain shook his head, flustered. “I don’t know what’s in there, alright? All I know is I’m getting paid a hefty sum to transport it across the border.”

They all winced as another jet of flame hit the deck, the hot air stinging their faces. ‘What if we spring the Grimm in the box?’ Roman suggested.

‘Then we will have two angry drakes on our hands.’

‘Drop the container into the sea?’

‘And anger this one even further? It’s likely that the only thing keeping the drake from destroying this airship is that it senses its partner is alive and on board. No, we have to kill them both.’

“I've gotta turn the airship around, get back to land,” the captain was saying.

“No. We can’t risk leading it back to the city,” said Ozpin. “This airship is equipped with an anti-Grimm gun.” He gestured to the heavy artillery gun turret at the stern. “Why isn’t it firing?”

“That was my gunner that monster took,” said the captain. “I don’t suppose you know how to operate a 37 caliber dust ammo rotary cannon?”

Ozpin faltered, but Roman answered immediately. ‘I do.’

“Of course you do,” Ozpin muttered.

“What?”

“I said of course I do.” Ozpin closed his eyes to hide the golden flash as he returned control to Roman.

“Take the helm and keep her steady,” said Roman. “It’s about to get hotter up here.” The captain wasted no time dashing around to the cockpit door and slamming it shut behind him. Meanwhile, Roman looked across the deck, calculating the distance out in the open between him and the cannon. “Neo.” He handed her his cane and the saddlebag with all the dust inside. “Cover me.”

She nodded, dropping to one knee and loading the chamber with fire dust crystals. As soon as she was ready, he bolted. The circling drake screeched and swooped down, but a powerful blast to its underbelly sent it veering off with another angry shriek. Roman made it to the other side of the deck and scaled the ladder up the gun turret. Unfortunately, that shot had drawn the drake’s attention to Neo. She used her Semblance to disappear, but the Grimm’s confusion wouldn’t last long before it started to hunt her by her emotions.

Roman needed to get its attention again. He fed a belt of hollow point fire dust cartridges, each the size of his forearm, into the cannon. Once the ammo was locked and loaded, he checked the instruments, pulled on the ear protection hanging from one of the handles, then hauled the rig around to take aim at the beast circling overhead. Just as it dropped into another dive, he turned the crank, unleashing a brutal fire barrage on the unsuspecting creature. Even with the heavy duty protectors covering his ears, each blast boomed like thunder, so loud he felt the vibrations rattling his ribcage. He gave the cannon another crank for good measure, then waited for the smoke to clear. A demented, animal scream of pure rage rang out, and from within the cloud of smoke swept two massive black wings. Burning through the haze, a pair of glowing yellow eyes fixed on Roman. Well, he certainly had its attention.

‘Drakes are heavily armored.’

“So it’s a tough, fire-breathing reptile with a bad temper. I’ve dealt with one of those before.”

‘If even the cannon can’t penetrate its scales, then… How good is your aim?’

Roman stared the creature down as it let out a ferocious snarl and began to swoop towards him. In its place, he envisioned Cinder as she had appeared in his and Ozpin’s nightmares, eyes burning with enmity, fire flying from her fingertips. He tightened his grip on the crank. “Pretty damn good.”

‘When it opens its mouth, shoot straight down its throat. If you can ignite the chemical reaction it uses to breathe fire—’

“Boom.” It was a long shot, but it might just be their only shot. With no more time to waste, Roman loosed another explosive barrage on the beast, lighting up the sky like lightning. He needed to make it even madder. And that did the trick. Although still seemingly unharmed, the drake was really pissed off now, smoke trailing from its jaws as it closed in fast. Roman lined the beast up in his sights. “That’s right, come and get me you flaming bitch.”

The drake opened its jaws wide, and Roman got a real good look down its gullet—a view which, if it wasn’t the last thing he ever saw, he would pay a million Lien never to see again. Just as a hellish orange glow began to fill its dark maw, Roman cranked the cannon again. The stream of explosive rounds flew true, literally swallowed up by the beast. For one heart-stopping moment, Roman thought it hadn’t worked, and prepared to curse Ozpin out with his last breath. But it wasn’t Roman who had just breathed his last.

The drake detonated from within, bursting into a massive fireball that sent a shockwave through airship’s steel frame. A moment later, the heat hit Roman’s face like a blast of wind off a wildfire. He ducked down behind the cannon and scrunched his eyes shut, shouting, “Shield, shield, shield, shield!” Ozpin took over and threw up a magical shield around them just before a heavy rain of Grimm ash fell like a thick blanket from the sky. The hush that settled over the ship with the ash was just as heavy—and final. Ozpin rose, his shield flickering out of existence as the ashes swirled away on the wind. ‘Phew. I’d hate to get the new duds dirty on the first day. You know how hard that stuff is to wash out.’

“Why did you have me use my magic when you could have just used your Semblance to discorporate into smoke?” Ozpin demanded. “What if someone had seen?”

‘Oh relax, no one saw. No one else is up here but Neo. And in the heat of the moment, I might have…forgotten I could do that.’

“You forgot.”

‘Hey, this Semblance stuff is still new to me. Now, if you don’t mind, I can take it from here.’

“I suppose I should know better than to expect any gratitude from you,” Ozpin grumbled, climbing down from the turret and trudging through the thinning ash back toward the cockpit. Neo reappeared and followed close in his wake.

‘I’m the one who killed the thing.’

“After I told you how to do it.”

‘Well, you know the saying. Those who can’t do, teach.’

Ozpin reached midship, but instead of heading around to the cockpit, he turned and gripped the railing. “There’s another saying about not insulting an alligator until after you’ve crossed the river,” he said, gazing down at the shimmering water miles below.

‘Alright, you suicidal psycho! Thank you! Okay? Just—don’t you even think about jumping. I can’t be that aggravating.’

“Oh Roman, you give yourself too little credit,” Ozpin sighed. “But that’s not what I was thinking about. You clearly have unfinished business with Cinder, as do I, yet you said you would rather avoid her than confront her.”

‘Let’s just say I’m warming to confrontation.’

Ozpin didn’t pry further, instead turning and making his way down belowdecks to the cargo hold. “There’s one more thing I must take care of.” He could hear the snarling and hissing reverberating up the passage before he even reached the hold. When he did, he walked steadily toward the shipping container it was coming from, drawing his cane from where it was hooked to the back of Roman’s new coat. With one sharp strike, he broke the door’s heavy padlock open, then threw up the panel of corrugated steel. Another, slightly smaller drake was crouched within. Thick chains around its body bound it to the floor of the container, and a muzzle held its jaws shut, but it watched him with wildfire in its eyes as he stepped inside.

“Ms. Neo, if you’d keep watch.” He didn’t wait for her to respond before pulling the door down behind him, sealing himself inside the container with the Grimm. He stepped forward and raised a hand, palm out, toward the drake. It growled and shifted under its heavy chains, but was powerless to do anything more as an emerald glow began to fill the container, radiating from Ozpin’s hand. The light grew brighter and brighter until it completely subsumed the creature at his touch. When it faded moments later, the fire in the drake’s eyes was gone. Slowly, the beast’s body fell away to ash. The heavy chains hit the floor with a clang. It was a kind of freedom, Roman supposed.

Only after that did Ozpin relinquish control. Roman, less fatigued by the magic use this time, turned and threw open the door to the shipping container just in time to lock eyes with the captain hurrying toward him through the hold. The man sprinted the rest of the way. “What have you done? That was my cargo! It was worth five million Lien to the buyer! You owe me—”

“And you owe me your life,” said Roman. “What's that worth to you?”

The captain looked torn, but eventually, he rested a hand on the frame of the container and hung his head. “It was another one of those drakes, wasn’t it? I never should have brought that creature on board. Captain Noah Shipwright is in your debt, stranger.”

Roman smiled. Neo let both of their illusory disguises shimmer away. “The name’s Roman Torchwick,” he said. “And one day, I might come to collect.”

~ * ~

They made it to Mistral without any more Grimm-related turbulence. Stepping off the airship’s loading ramp onto the solid stone of the docks, Roman breathed in a lungful of Mistrali air and let it out on an easy exhale. Neo wasn’t masking them with illusions, they were out in the open, in civilization. There was no bounty on their heads here. Their past was behind them. Ahead, a fresh start.

“You might’ve had the right idea, coming here,” Roman admitted, strolling with Neo through the city streets and drinking it all in. As long as it appeared to passers-by that he was speaking to her, Roman realized he could converse with Ozpin aloud and keep Neo in the loop.

‘Well, you’re off to quite a “fresh start,” intimidating that captain into some vague quid pro quo.’

“Hey, you never know when it might come in handy, having an airship captain who owes us a favor.” Roman tipped his hat to a police officer, who didn’t hesitate to do the same as they passed each other in the street. He grinned. “This is fun.”

‘This is how law-abiding citizens go about their daily lives.’

Back in the City of Vale, the cops tended to stay well out of Roman’s way. As long as he didn’t give them trouble, they didn’t give him trouble, and everyone walked away in one piece. It was a good thing they had going. He greased a few palms, and they greased the gears of his operations to ensure everything ran a little more smoothly. But he certainly wouldn’t have said he and the police had been on friendly terms.

The Haven Academy tower loomed before them, surrounded by the school’s sprawling, forested campus. Ozpin had said he needed to talk to the headmaster, Leonardo Lionheart, and so that was where they were headed. It was all very idyllic and grand, like Beacon, a veritable bastion of higher learning and higher earning. Ozpin’s storybook image of noble, selfless heroes aside, Huntsmen and Huntresses were paid a pretty penny for putting their lives on the line, and the academies got their cut of the spoils. Not that Roman had anything against a good profit scheme. It was the hypocrisy he found distasteful.

‘Hold on a second.’

Roman halted at the edge of the tree line, peering ahead at the main hall. “Oh, come on, how much were you raking in as Beacon’s headmaster? It was enough to befriend a very expensive tailor, apparently.”

‘No, not that. There’s something wrong here.'

Chapter Text

'Everyone’s leaving.’

Ozpin was right. There was a line of cars inching their way across the quad, picking up students with their belongings bundled in their arms. Every so often, a worried parent would rush out to take a kid’s precariously balanced weapon and carry it to the car for them. Older Huntsmen and Huntresses, probably the professors, were also leaving the buildings with their belongings in hand and getting into their own cars or taking off on motorcycles after waving goodbye to the students. Something possessed Roman to look up, and in the window at the top of the tower, he saw a broad, shadowy figure observing the scene below.

‘Leo.’

Roman dropped his gaze, disliking Ozpin’s subtle suggestions even more than when he overtly took control. “I don’t see what’s wrong with this picture,” he grumbled. “Don’t the kids get some kind of winter break?”

‘It’s too early. And they don’t take all their belongings with them. He’s closing the academy.’

“Alright, so he got nervous after Beacon. If he suspects Haven’s the next target, isn’t that the most logical move?”

‘Sending the students home would be warranted, perhaps. But the faculty are the academy’s first line of defense. If Leo has dismissed them, then he’s acting counter to my direct orders.’

“Now that is interesting,” said Roman, suddenly much more engaged in the delicious dilemma. “It seems you have a traitor in your inner circle. You know, what I do to those who double-cross me is—”

‘We don’t know that yet. I need more information. I’m afraid I must ask you and Neo to assume one more disguise.’

It took a good fifteen minutes before Neo was able to replicate the most minute details of the Sanctum combat school girls’ uniform to Ozpin’s satisfaction. He said if he noticed anything amiss, then Leo certainly would. The grey-and-white checkered skirt and grey blazer with white piping suited her surprisingly well, but even though it was all an illusion, she still tugged uncomfortably on the hem of the short, pleated skirt.

“Are you sure this is the actual uniform and not some schoolgirl fantasy of yours?” Roman asked, looking Neo over skeptically. The skirt was quite short. “I’m not judging. Can’t say I didn’t enjoy seeing Cinder in uniform for the Vytal Festival, but my sister?”

‘It’s a combat skirt, designed for ease of movement. That’s just what it looks like. Any systemic objectification of young women in our society is a problem for another day.’

“If you say so.” Roman, thankfully, was too old to pose as a Sanctum student even with Neo’s illusory assistance. Instead, she had fitted him out with a simple brown jacket and cream-colored sweater, along with brown hair, hazel eyes and a darker complexion to resemble her own falsified features. He took her hand, both to ease the strain on her Semblance, and to complete the illusion’s effect. “Ready to go to school, sweetie?” he asked.

She blew out her breath in a huff and yanked him out from their secluded spot among the trees, onto the path leading up to the academy. Amidst all the hustle and bustle, no one stopped them from walking straight through the front doors. Ozpin guided them through the corridors, across the main courtyard, and up the tower’s long, spiral staircase to the headmaster’s office. But he needn’t have bothered. Roman knew the way. It felt like he’d walked the route a hundred times before. It was a sickening feeling, because he was actually happy to be back at this academy that he had founded, and helped build, and had watched over from afar since then. Only, Roman had done none of those things.

He raised his hand, already clenched in a fist, and knocked on the headmaster’s door. Then, since the door was ajar, he let himself in. A tall, broad-shouldered Faunus with a mane of chestnut hair and a lion’s tail sweeping across the floor at his feet turned away from the windows with a start and fixed Roman with a wide-eyed stare. “Wh-who are you?” he demanded. “I cleared all my appointments today.”

“Me? I’m no one,” said Roman, putting on an excellent performance of humility, if he did say so himself. “My daughter, on the other hand...” Roman placed a hand on Neo’s shoulder, beaming with parental pride. “She’s special. Show the headmaster what you can do, darling.” Neo grinned broadly, and vanished before their eyes.

Lionheart spun around frantically. “Where did she go?”

“Not only can she do that, but she’s top of her class in combat skills,” Roman continued blithely, channeling every pushy parent bragging about their supposedly perfect prodigy that Ozpin had ever had to put up with. “She must have killed a dozen Grimm just on our way here from Argus!” Neo reappeared beside the headmaster, giving him another start, and dipped into a polite curtsey.

“I’m sorry, why are you here?” Lionheart asked, tail swishing in agitation.

“Oh, pardon my manners,” said Roman. “We’ve just been so excited to meet you, Headmaster Lionheart. You see, my daughter still has another year to go at Sanctum, but she’s dreadfully bored. She’s so far ahead of her classmates, she’s no longer being challenged there. So we came here in the hopes that you would assess her for early admission to your fine academy. It’s her dream to become a Huntress and protect our great kingdom in dark days such as these.”

The headmaster’s nerves seemed to settle somewhat as he walked around his desk, but his tail didn’t stop swishing. “That’s very admirable,” he said, favoring Neo with a kindly smile. “But I’m afraid the best I can do is to encourage you to keep working hard, and I’m sure you’ll be wearing Haven’s colors soon enough. However, we are not currently accepting new students.”

Roman frowned. “What do you mean you’re not accepting new students? Why not?”

“The academy’s resources are stretched too thin,” Lionheart explained. “As you know, after the calamity at Beacon, our kingdom, too was besieged by Grimm. We lost many brave Huntsmen and Huntresses that night, including a number of our own professors. On top of that, the City Council has called upon more of our faculty to help defend the kingdom in the aftermath. So you see, I simply cannot keep classes running. For the time being, it is best for the kingdom, and for the students, if Haven Academy closes its doors.”

‘All four academies are well equipped to aid their kingdoms in times of crisis. There’s more he’s not saying.’

‘Obviously,’ Roman agreed. ‘And does he seem a little jumpy to you? I know I tend to have that effect on people, but I think I’m being pretty nice.’ Aloud, Roman said, “I see. So when do you intend to reopen the school? Presumably, it’s your call.”

“Well, yes, of course,” said Lionheart hastily. “But I really cannot say at this time when classes will resume. In the interest of the students’ welfare, I am inclined to err on the side of caution. Understaffed as we are, I’m afraid Haven cannot live up to its name. It is simply not the safest place for them right now.”

‘He isn’t just being cautious. He knows something.’

‘I think we’ve gotten what we came here for.’ Roman put on his most disappointed smile and rested a hand on Neo’s slumped shoulder. “Well, headmaster, you’re breaking my daughter’s heart.” Neo sniffed for effect. “But we understand. We won’t take up any more of your time. I have a feeling we’ll meet again.”

He ushered Neo with him out of the office. “Er, I didn’t catch your names—” came Lionheart’s muffled voice through the door as it closed behind them. They kept walking.

They needed someplace private to determine their next move, so Ozpin directed them to his house on the outskirts of the city. Apparently, he maintained a residence in each of the four kingdoms’ capitals so he always had somewhere to go, no matter where he happened to end up in the next life. Or if he just needed a crash pad while he was traveling. It was evening when they arrived at the spacious, one-story house built around a central courtyard, in Mistral’s simple yet elegant architectural style. Roman reached in and pulled the key from where it was wedged up under the porch lampshade, then paused. Ozpin hadn’t told him where it was hidden. This place was at least as familiar as the academy, and Roman didn’t like it. Or rather, he was trying very hard to dislike it, in spite of the fact that it felt almost like coming home.

‘What’s mine is yours,’ Ozpin sighed as they let themselves in. Which, apparently, wasn’t much. The place was sparsely furnished, and stocked mostly with the bare essentials: plates and silverware in the kitchen, a few articles of clothing in the closets, soap and shampoo in the bathrooms. The things you would expect to find in a hotel suite.

“Well, this explains your terrible home security,” said Roman. “There’s nothing here worth stealing.”

‘The house needs to be accessible to a complete stranger. If you have a better idea—’

“Learn to pick locks,” said Roman. “No spare key required.”

‘I suppose I will, thanks to you.’

Ozpin’s righteous fury at Lionheart’s duplicity had burned hot and bright for awhile, until it had started to burn itself out. Now, he just sounded weary, and Roman felt cold, as though his heart were a piece of spent coal. ‘You two were pretty close, huh?’

‘I thought so. I thought I could trust him.’

‘And I thought you were being paranoid. Maybe there really is no one you can trust. Well, aside from me.’

‘You?’ The word dripped with derision.

‘I’m the one person who literally can’t betray you.’

Ozpin fell silent for a moment, then said simply, ‘I need to decide what to do about Leonardo. And to do that, I need to know who he’s working with.’

“That’s where we come in,” said Roman. “Neo, let’s see what you got.” Neo pulled out her scroll and handed it to him. On the screen was a list of numbers. Roman started thumbing through them. “You managed to download the full call history from his desktop?” She nodded. “That’s my special little girl,” he said, ruffling her hair. She swatted his hand away and started combing her fingers through the mess he’d made of her perfect waves. Roman turned his attention back to the scroll. “Going back…three weeks, he’s been getting a lot of calls from this blocked number, Atlas area code,” he said, finger resting on a string of Xs amidst the sea of digits. “What’d ya say, Oz? Wanna find out who got to him?”

‘How are we to determine anything from a blocked number?’

“I know some people who can decrypt this data. Although, now that I think about it, I seem to remember you saying we wouldn’t need to make use of my contacts.”

Ozpin deliberated a moment, but it didn’t take him long to come to a decision. ‘The situation has changed. If Haven is compromised, then I must rely on the resources that are available. Just who are these contacts of yours?’

Roman smiled. “Let’s just say, we’re in the same line of work.”

Chapter Text

A man could find anything his heart desired in Mistral’s bustling market district—if he was willing to pay the price. Tucked in amongst the legitimate vendors were stalls and hawkers selling volatile hybrid dust types, the latest experimental pharmaceuticals, home-made unregistered weapons of every bizarre and gruesome variety, unscrupulous unspecified services, and treasures more likely to have been procured with blood than Lien. But Roman wasn’t interested in any of those things at the moment. He was looking for a market within the market. An establishment where the commodity being bought and sold inside was information. 

A hand closed around his arm, halting him in his search. He turned a dangerous look on the culprit, a dirty little merchant in dark robes, and the man unhanded him immediately. “A thousand apologies, sir. But I have a precious commodity for sale that might interest a discerning gentleman such as yourself.” Translation: You look like you can afford the exorbitant prices I’m asking for the junk I’m selling.

“I doubt it,” said Roman. Still, he rather missed the seediness of spaces such as these, and he found himself willing to hear out this man to whom he’d normally have given the business end of his cane before he’d have given him the time of day. Neo raised an eyebrow, but would indulge her brother in his nostalgic whims. 

The merchant parted his robes with dramatic flair, revealing rows upon rows of glass vials filled with a viscous black substance, tucked carefully through leather loops stitched across his vest. “Grimm ash tonic,” intoned the little man, as though revealing a secret. “A potent panacea. I have nevermore to sharpen the mind, ursa to strengthen the body, king taijitu to enhance reflexes, boarbatusk for drive, sabyr for agility, beowolf for…virility.” He winked. “All sourced by licensed Huntsmen. Yes, sir, my Grimm ash tonic is the genuine article. So, what’s your poison?”

‘There is no evidence that Grimm ash possesses any of those properties. I would be ashamed if any of my graduates have had dealings with this charlatan.’

Roman bit the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. “You want to sell me a vial of dirt.”

“Ash,” the merchant corrected with an affronted air. “It’s perfectly hygienic, I assure you. I would sell my tonic to my own mother.”

“I’m sure you would,” said Roman. “What sort of a profit do you make off this stuff?”

“Oh, I turn a tidy profit,” said the little man smugly. “I have many satisfied customers.” 

Roman hummed, casually swinging his cane around his fingers and catching the end in his other hand. “I wonder, if I stuffed your ashes into vials, how much some suckers would be willing to pay.”

The merchant’s eyes widened as they fixed on Roman’s jack-o-lantern emblem at the muzzle of his cane. “I– I’m so sorry, sir, I didn’t realize who—” He swallowed hard. “Please. T-take any t-tonic you like, my compliments. A gift of good will.”

Roman leaned down to the other man’s level and said, “I haven’t found myself to be lacking in any of those qualities.” The poor little man actually started trembling, and Roman couldn’t hold back his grin any longer.  

“N-no, of course not! I didn’t mean to suggest…” The merchant dropped into a deep bow out of an apparent lack of other ideas. “I am supremely sorry to have wasted your time,” he mumbled, backing away. When Roman made no move to stop him, he turned on the spot and slipped back into the crowd. 

‘Your reputation precedes you,’ Ozpin remarked, unimpressed. 

Roman swung his cane back around and kept walking while Neo chuckled silently at his side. “There are many crime bosses in Mistral,” he said. “But there was only one in Vale.”

He didn’t have to search much longer. The nondescript tavern looked just like the dozens of others they had already passed, but for the fact that no sign hung over the door. Instead, a different kind of sign marked the entrance for those with a keen eye who knew what they were looking for. “This is the place,” he said, running his fingers over the etching of a spider in a web carved into the wood of the doorframe. Roman had never actually been inside Black Widow Tavern before, but he’d had plenty of dealings with Little Miss Malachite and her Spiders. Most everyone who was anyone in Remnant’s criminal underworld had. Their web of spies stretched across all four kingdoms and even into Menagerie. There were Spiders everywhere.

‘Wait.’

Roman paused, and Neo looked up at him in concern. “Come on, we’ve already talked this through,” Roman muttered. “You can’t get cold feet on me now.”

‘That’s not it. In addition to tracing that number, could they provide surveillance?’

“Surveillance?” Roman mulled over the question. ‘I’d have to sweeten the pot. Who’s the target? Lionheart? Or… Don’t tell me you just want to keep an eye on Qrow.’

‘Raven, actually.’

‘Raven…? Oh. Because you think Qrow’s right about her harboring the Spring Maiden.’

‘Something like that.’

‘The Branwen tribe lives pretty off the grid. Short of embedding an informant in the tribe, they might be outside even the Spiders’ reach…’ But Roman was a problem solver by nature, and the solution occurred to him like a set of puzzle pieces clicking together: a way to accomplish Ozpin’s objectives as well as his own. It was beautifully simple. Roman started walking again. “I have an idea.” 

‘What is it?’  

“Trust me.” 

‘What on all of Remnant makes you think I trust you?’ Ozpin demanded. But Roman had already pushed open the tavern’s doors. It was too late for Ozpin to try to stop him. There would be people inside who knew Roman – not well, but well enough to notice if he started acting out-of-character – and those who had never met him would know him by reputation. All eyes would be on him, and anything he let slip without meaning to was liable to end up on the market before the day was done. Roman would have to keep very careful command of himself, and Ozpin knew it.  

“Why, Roman Torchwick, as I live and breathe!” exclaimed Miss Malachite, rising from her seat at a large table at the back of the room. “And the lovely Neopolitan. Come in, have a seat, have a drink!” She gestured for them to join her at her table. She put on a good show of surprise, but there was no way one of her Spiders hadn’t spotted them out in the market and warned her they were coming. There were two conveniently empty chairs at her table.

Roman bowed and Neo curtseyed, showing deference to the other crime boss on her own turf. Still, the rough-looking types at the other tables throughout the tavern (most of whom bore the Spider tattoo) eyed them warily, some even reaching for their weapons. “You’ll have to excuse my Spiders,” Miss Malachite continued. “You can see why it might make them a little jumpy, having another boss in our territory. Especially one who has recently lost his own.”

Roman crossed the room slowly, as nonthreatening as he knew how to be, and Neo stuck close at his side. “I’m just a customer today, Missy,” he said. He and Neo accepted the seats at Miss Malachite’s table and the three of them sat down, defusing some, though not all, of the tension in the room.

“And we’ll get down to orders of business in due course,” said Miss Malachite. “But first, I want to know what brings the two of you to our fine city.”

“If I tell you something you want to know, then we’re already talking business,” said Roman.

Miss Malachite’s smile positively dripped with country charm, like sweet venom. “You don’t give away anything for nothing, do you, Roman?”

“Not if I can help it,” he replied, responding to her congeniality in kind. There was no need for threats or posturing between them. Each knew full well what the other was capable of. The bartender scurried over to take their drink orders, looking to Roman first. He held up his hand to decline. “And I certainly know better than to loosen my lips in your company.” Neo happily ordered herself a mint julep, Black Widow Tavern’s specialty. The Spiders would get nothing out of her.

Miss Malachite pursed her lips. “But you must understand my curiosity. Rumor had it you were dead.” 

Roman chuckled. “Reports of my demise were greatly exaggerated.”

“Well, for once I’m glad I was misinformed,” said Miss Malachite warmly. She leaned in over the table, giving the illusion that they were sharing a private conversation. “So, what can the Queen of the Spiders do for Vale’s King of Crime?”

“The real question is,” said Roman, “what can we do for each other?”

“Oh? You’ve come with a proposition?”

‘This is not what we discussed!’

‘You’re the one who changed the terms. I’m just seeing that they’re met.’ To Miss Malachite, Roman said, “I happen to be in possession of some information I think you’ll find very valuable, and I’m prepared to offer it in exchange for your services in a relatively trifling matter.” 

‘What information?’

‘Relax, would you? Anything that hurts you hurts me, too. Your secrets are safe with me. Now, would you please shut up? Do you know how hard it is to have two conversations at once?’

“And why would you do that?” Miss Malachite asked. “Surely, not out of the goodness of your heart.” She almost couldn’t finish the question without laughing.

“You know me better than that,” said Roman. “Perhaps I didn’t make myself clear. What I’m offering is a warning. You and your organization serve a useful purpose, and I would like to see the Spiders survive.”

Miss Malachite’s smile fell. She unhooked her fan from her belt and snapped it open, obscuring her face so that only her eyes remained visible. “I’ll decide the value of this information.”

Roman dipped his head in acquiescence, but raised his eyes to lock with Miss Malachite’s when he said, “Mistral is the next target.”

She flinched. Just slightly, but Roman was watching for it. For a broker of secrets, Miss Malachite’s poker face left something to be desired. That was what the fan was for. But now, Roman knew he had her. “Your sources?” she asked.  

“Come on, Missy. You don’t need to play coy with me. You know I was involved in the Vale attack.”

“Then why would you tip your hand now?” 

“I’m no longer associated with the fanatics behind the attacks. You know me. I’m not a believer. I’m a businessman. I don’t back any cause unless it benefits me to do so. What went down in Vale was inevitable. I couldn’t have stopped it if I’d wanted to—and between you and me, I wanted to. Things just got out of hand. Maybe Mistral still has a chance. Although, the academy doesn’t seem to think so.”

“The evacuation yesterday…”

“That’s right,” said Roman. “Haven’s Huntsmen and Huntresses won’t be here to defend the city. They’ve left you to fend for yourselves. But luckily for you, I’ve got a little something that can help.”

“How very convenient,” Miss Malachite drawled.

Roman shrugged. “Sometimes, things just fall into place. And right now, it just so happens I’ve got a line on a shipment of Atlesian military rifles—enough to arm every Spider in the city.”

‘No! We are not selling guns to criminals!’  

‘The Spiders value discretion above all else. They won’t use firepower like that unless they have to to defend themselves and their city—which wouldn’t be necessary if your Huntsmen had stuck around. But if the guns don’t go to the Spiders, I guarantee they’ll find their way into worse hands.’  

“Weapons like that are more your style, Roman,” Miss Malachite remarked. “That arsenal could be the beginning of a new Empire.”

“I’m not looking to get back in the game just yet. And given what you’re working with,” Roman continued, glancing pointedly around the room at the array of daggers and pistols on display, “I figured your arsenal could use an upgrade.”

Miss Malachite looked like she was going to argue in defense of her people, but then she looked around herself, seeing what Roman saw: rogues, thieves, assassins, spies—but not fighters. “My Spiders aren’t like your hatchet men, Roman,” she said. “They are deadly, make no mistake. But they strike with stealth, precision. Elegance, in a word. That is what I’ve trained them for. So I am not ashamed to admit that we are unprepared for war, if it should come for us.”

“You know more than you ever let on,” said Roman. “I think you know it’s no longer a matter of if, but when.”

Miss Malachite was silent for a long moment. The rest of the tavern was, too. The Spiders were listening. Finally, she breathed a resigned sigh, flicking her fan shut. “And what is this ‘trifling matter’ for which you require our services?”

“Neo?” Roman prompted. Neo slid a burner scroll with a copy of Lionheart’s call history across the table to Miss Malachite. “I need all the information you can ascertain from that blocked number.” 

Miss Malachite picked up the scroll and gave the screen a cursory glance. “Normally, that would be a trifle. If the CCTS were up and running, I could have a report in your hands in a matter of hours. As things stand, it could take a week.” 

“Fine,” said Roman. “When I have my report, you’ll have your weapons. Let’s say…ten mil, including cost of transport across the border.” 

“Those guns shoot golden bullets, do they?”

“Dust.” 

Miss Malachite bit her lip, considering. “Alright, Roman,” she said, offering her hand. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”

Roman gave her hand a firm shake. “Pleasure doing business with you as always, Missy. And you know the drill. If anyone comes asking after me…”

“You’ve got deeper pockets,” said Miss Malachite. 

“Exactly. Now if you’ll excuse me, I just need to make a couple calls and then we can settle on a time and place for the exchange.” With Miss Malachite’s leave, he left the table and headed out via the side door, leaving the two ladies to their drinks and whatever conversation Miss Malachite could coax out of Neo. Out in the alley, Roman pulled out his scroll. Thankfully, he’d had time to prepare for the disruption of the CCTS before it happened, and had been able to boost the signal strength of his and Neo’s scrolls so they could at least get a signal through to adjacent kingdoms, if the local towers were well-positioned. He crossed his fingers and dialed Raven’s number.

Lady Luck always had been fond of Roman Torchwick. Raven picked up on the second ring. “Roman.” The reception was faint, but the connection held.

“Raven,” he greeted. Then, since Raven wasn’t one for small talk, he got right down to business. “I found a buyer for the goods you mentioned.”

He could practically hear the smirk in her voice when she replied, “I had a feeling you would.”

“I cut a deal for ten million. Of course, I’ll expect my usual twenty percent.”

“Of course.”

“I’ll arrange everything. Just text me a pickup time and location in seven days, and I’ll put the goods in the buyer’s hands, and the money in yours.” 

“I always could rely on you to deliver.”

“You still can,” said Roman. “If you find yourself with any more…surpluses you care to offload, you can always give me a call.”

Raven took a moment to consider his offer. “I will,” she decided. Then, without further pleasantries, she hung up.

‘You’ll be keeping tabs on Raven by acting as her fence,’ said Ozpin, after a stretch of much appreciated, if suspicious, silence.  

‘No, you’ll be keeping tabs on Raven. I’ll be conducting business as usual. That way, she’ll have no reason to suspect anything's amiss.’

‘The ends don’t always justify the means, Torchwick. I’m not pleased with what you’ve done here.’ Of course Ozpin had to voice his objections. Roman expected no less. But for all of Ozpin’s moralizing, he was a strategist like Roman. And they both recognized the optimal solution when they saw it. When it came down to it, Ozpin’s pursuit of the “greater good” was just another name for the same creed: that the ends do justify the means. But Roman didn’t mind playing the bad guy if Ozpin needed him to. 

‘Oh, don’t get your panties in a twist. Most of the goods bandits seize in raids are harmless. I doubt she’ll have more weapons to offload anytime soon. I’m getting you what you want.’ 

‘I didn’t want any of this.’

‘Yeah, well neither did I.’ Roman had to make one more call, this time, to his new friend, Noah Shipwright. “Captain,” he said sunnily when the other man picked up. “I’ve got a job for you. A way to recoup your recent losses.”

Once he’d worked out the logistics of smuggling the weapons into Mistral with the airship captain, Roman hung up and lit a cigar, giving himself a moment to organize his thoughts before heading back inside. He took a slow drag, held it as long as he could, and then exhaled. As the smoke dissipated, he noticed a woman walking toward him down the alley. She looked to be about his age, with long, black hair that fell to the small of her back, dark brown eyes, and tight, leather clothing that showed off her curves exquisitely. She greeted him with a friendly wave and a winning smile. “Hey there, handsome. It’s my first time in the city. This hole-in-the-wall tavern any good? I like to get the real flavor of a new place.”

Roman lamented the fact that Ozpin almost certainly didn’t have a “but she’s smoking hot” exception to his no hook-ups rule. “It’s certainly got flavor,” Roman replied. “But if you’re looking to cut loose, I’d suggest you find someplace else. The people in there might take advantage of an out-of-towner like you.” 

She stopped mere inches in front of him, holding his gaze as she ran a finger teasingly down his chest. “Maybe I like being taken advantage of,” she purred. Then she kissed him. Really kissed him, backing him against the wall and pressing in close.

‘What.’

“What,” Roman echoed when she pulled away to favor him with another sultry smile. Then he felt it. A slight tingling on his lips. He pulled her shirt collar aside, revealing a Spider tattoo spread across her neck and clavicle. “You’re a Ssspider,” he slurred, leaning heavily against the wall for support as the alley started to spin around him. How could he have been so stupid? The Spider Bite was infamous: a means of extracting secrets via a special truth serum applied to the lips, the formula for which was itself one of the Spiders’ most closely kept secrets.

“And you’re a high-profile mark, Roman Torchwick,” she said, her smile turned predatory. “You must know all kinds of interesting things.”

‘Roman, ssshe can’t…’

Roman figured the two of them had about ten seconds before they lost all awareness of what they were saying, and when the stuff finally wore off, they’d have no memory of anything from that point onward. A surge of adrenalin in response to Ozpin’s panic gave him the clarity he needed to pull the Spider in close again and seal his lips over hers. He gripped her jaw and forced it open. As he did so, he exhaled a stream of thick, black smoke into her lungs, and didn’t stop even when she clawed desperately at him to get away. He only released her when she stopped struggling. She fell to her hands and knees, coughing and hacking up puffs of acrid smoke—then wet spatters of blood. She tried to gasp for breath, but it only sent her into another fit of wet coughing that racked her entire body as she vomited more blood into the dirt. It wasn’t long before she collapsed, choking on her own blood, and then was still. Roman slid down the wall, dizziness overtaking him, and couldn’t for the life of him recall what happened next.

~ * ~

He came around some time later, tucked snugly into Ozpin’s bed back in Ozpin’s house. He still felt like he’d had a wad of cotton stuffed into his mouth and inside his skull, but his thoughts were clearing. Neo was sitting in a chair beside the bed. As soon as he made eye contact with her, she handed him a note, then left the room. Roman started reading: Missy said the Spider that Bit you wasn’t acting under her orders. No way to know if that’s true. But she said if you hadn’t snuffed the Spider out, she would have. She hopes the deal’s still on and that there are no hard feelings. You’re lucky I was the one who found you.

“No hard feelings,” Roman scoffed. “That’s bold.”

‘You killed that woman.’

“You wanted me to stop her, so I did. She would have sold your secrets to the highest bidder. Which outcome would you prefer?”

Ozpin was spared having to answer when Neo reappeared with a mug of steaming hot chocolate, which she handed Roman after helping him sit up in bed. “You’re too good to me,” he said, letting the hot, sweet liquid wash away the lingering taste of the toxin. Neo just glared at him. And Roman realized what she must be thinking. “Okay, I know this looks bad, but she kissed me. I was minding my own business when she walks up to me like she wants to take a bite out of me and, and I’m the victim here, is the point.”

Neo blew out a breath and gave a grudging smile. If you say so.

“Did we say anything while we were under?”

Neo tapped her foot as she pondered the question, then shook her head and made a gabbing gesture with her hand. Gibberish. But while Roman felt Ozpin’s relief wash over him, he was focused on what Neo had communicated to him alone. She had tapped her foot three times. Normally, when they were approaching a location such as a rendezvous point or a joint they were casing for a job, three knocks or taps meant things were not as they seemed. But in this context, Roman reasoned it meant: Not what he seems.

Chapter Text

Neo didn’t seem particularly on edge the rest of the day. They had another signal for imminent danger, and she hadn’t given it. So whatever Ozpin had said, she didn’t perceive it as an immediate threat. But Roman had known Ozpin was holding out on them from the start. Now, it seemed, Neo had a piece of the puzzle that Roman didn’t. But how could she communicate it to him without tipping off Ozpin? Roman would just have to wait, and trust her to figure out a way. Because if he worried too much about it…

‘Something’s troubling you.’

“Finding a location for the exchange is gonna be tricky with all these mountains,” said Roman, clearing away his and Neo’s dinner plates and spreading out a map of Mistral on the dining room table. It wasn’t a lie. The lower levels of the city were where most black market goods changed hands, but he needed a wide-open space for the airship to drop in. Yet it also had to be secluded, away from prying eyes. Unless he could get his hands on a transport vehicle in time, but something that big would be conspicuous, too. Perhaps somewhere outside the city would be best.

‘You’re assuming I’ll allow you to go through with this.’

Ozpin’s imperious tone set Roman’s teeth on edge. Roman wasn’t a godsdamned child, or a pet, or a plaything. “I never back out on a deal, Oz,” he ground out. “If I do now, Raven and the Spiders will know something’s wrong.” Ozpin remained silent as Roman pored over the map, which got Roman thinking. “...But if you’re dead set on sabotaging my plans, you should tell me now.”

‘So you can plan for that, too?’

“So I can take the out that overeager Spiderling gave me,” Roman replied. “Thanks to her little stunt, I have justifiable cause to call off the whole thing. After getting burned back at Beacon, maybe I’m more careful about the kind of people I do business with. It’s your call. Do we move forward, or does all this stop right here?” Ozpin’s only answer was more silence. It was answer enough. “I knew it,” said Roman. “You want this deal to go through, you just don’t want to admit it.”

‘I do not want to put guns into the hands of criminals.’

Roman scoffed. “Speaking as a criminal, guns aren’t that hard to come by. But the information you need is. So in the grand scheme of things, this deal just makes sense. There’s no shame in admitting you want something that benefits you. But how are we ever going to trust each other if we’re not honest with each other?”

Roman actually thought, for a moment, that Ozpin would finally open up. But all he said was, ‘I don’t have a better option, and we are running out of time. It’s as simple as that.’

“Fine,” said Roman. “Then we’re doing this my way.”

Ozpin made no further objections. ‘Before you lecture me again on being honest about what I want,’ he said, finally, ‘you might benefit from a little introspection yourself.’

Before Roman could figure out what he meant by that, Neo walked into the room carrying a plate of fresh-baked chocolate chip cookies, the aroma wafting through the air and making Roman’s mouth water. It was embarrassing, how closely Ozpin’s tastes aligned with a twenty-year-old girl’s. Ozpin’s fridge had been bare when they’d arrived, but in his freezer were five tubs of cookie dough. Neo’s eyes had lit up brighter than when she cracked open a stolen crate of dust to survey the goods. Knowing full well that Neo intended to eat most of those cookies herself, Roman snagged a couple off the plate as she walked by. “Take a look,” he said, gesturing to the map with a cookie. “I could use a second, well, third opinion.”

While Neo set the plate of cookies down in front of her on the table and bent over the map, Roman pulled out his scroll and sent a text to Miss Malachite: <The deal’s still on. I trust your Spiders have learned their lesson.>

With both Neo and Ozpin being frustratingly cryptic (really, when had he ever not been honest about what he wanted?), Roman went to bed that night with a vague sense of unease that clung to him like mist, and he awoke the next morning feeling no better. Although, that could also have had something to do with the sword pointed right between his eyes when he opened them.

He looked up the length of the blade at Neo standing over him on the bed, fully dressed, her face set in a determined challenge. Roman groaned and carefully moved the point of her blade away from his face with two fingers. “It’s too early,” he complained. Neo shook her head stubbornly and poked him in the stomach with her sword. Not hard, and the thick duvet softened the blow further, but it got her point across. She wanted to spar. It had been a little while since they’d had the opportunity, so it was probably a good idea. Still, she knew Roman wasn’t exactly a morning person—and neither, for that matter, was she. Roman put his hands up in surrender. “Alright, alright,” he sighed. “Just let me get dressed, and I’ll meet you out in the courtyard.”

Neo did a graceful dismount off the bed and made to leave the room, but paused in the doorway to threaten him with her sword again. Don’t go back to sleep or else. Then she flashed him one of her brightest, sweetest smiles, and made her exit.

Roman hauled himself out of bed, shaking off the hazy vestiges of bad dreams. “I bet you’re a morning person,” he muttered, slipping out of Ozpin’s black silk pajamas and dressing in his own clothes. The idea of wearing the late headmaster’s clothes, sleeping in his bed, and living in his house had disturbed Roman at first, but given the need for privacy and the indefinite duration of their stay in Mistral, making use of the place was the smartest move. And Ozpin’s emotional attachment to the house and the things in it wasn’t strong. They were familiar, but insignificant. Roman had come to realize the man had never really thought of this house as a home.

‘I’m afraid I have a tendency to burn the candle at both ends,’ Ozpin replied.

Roman scoffed as he strapped his dagger to his wrist and pulled his slitted glove on over it. “One of us is going to have to kick some bad habits.”

‘It’s all a matter of whether we live long enough for them to catch up to us.’

Roman straightened the brim of his hat in the mirror. “What’s your track record on that?”

‘It varies.’

“Fan-fucking-tastic.”

Neo was waiting for him in the courtyard, sword raised. Or rather, an illusory version of her was. She worked to refine her Semblance skills with him as often as her sword fighting technique, but on this particular occasion, looking into her reverse-colored eyes, Roman got the feeling she was also telling him, Watch closely.

Roman raised his cane to cross with her blade. “Evasion?” he asked, referring to their little exercise wherein Neo would try to dodge Roman’s attacks for as long as possible, while still appearing to engage him in a fight. It was a way for her to hone fine control of her illusions so she could make decoys last as long as possible before they were shattered by her opponents. But the name of the exercise brought to mind other things as well.

She nodded. Then without wasting a beat she disengaged his weapon, bringing hers around in a circle to slip past his guard and strike at his heart. Roman stepped back to block her attack, but she swiftly altered her target, aiming for the right side of his chest instead. He moved to parry, but her blade dipped beneath his cane and she lunged forward, causing him to leap back to avoid a diagonal slash across his torso. She advanced again with another slash across his abdomen, which Roman had to take another step back to avoid.

He brought his cane down to attempt to parry again, but her attack had been a feint, and she flicked her blade up and lunged again. He took another swift step back and struck out in a counterattack, which she ducked. She then took advantage of his open stance to move in close for three precise strikes, first to his sternum, and then to his heart and abdomen in a line along his unguarded left flank, forcing him to take another three successive steps back. His heel hit the wall.

With nowhere left to retreat, he lunged for the opening she’d left him, right down the middle, but she danced back and his attack fell short. In turn, she sprung into a counterattack to his open right flank, and when he pivoted to parry, she again disengaged and lunged for his heart. Roman brought his other arm up across his chest just in time to block the attack, and Neo’s delicate illusion-glass blade shattered against the hard steel of the dagger nestled inside his glove. Roman dipped his head so the brim of his hat kept the shards from cutting his face as the rest of the illusion fractured and fell to pieces.

When he looked up, he saw the real Neo sitting on the window ledge across the courtyard. She met his gaze with a question in her eyes. The question could have been, Ready for another round? But Roman knew she was really asking, Did you get the message? Roman nodded.

They practiced for another hour or so, and then went about the rest of their day. They scouted the location they’d agreed upon for the exchange with the Spiders, they had lunch in a trendy little neighborhood downtown, they went grocery shopping to stock Ozpin’s kitchen. Only after they had returned to the house, and Neo had turned in for the evening, did Roman allow himself to consider the message she had spelled out for him while they’d sparred.

A wide, circular disengage: O. Three slashes, two horizontal, one diagonal: Z. Five precise strikes: M. Three strikes, and a final lunge: A. Roman didn’t know why, but he had the feeling the answers to all his questions, the heart of all of Ozpin’s secrets, lay behind those four simple letters.

Well, he had found that in dealing with cagey new partners, a direct approach often yielded the most honest answers—or the most obvious lies. Either way, Roman would learn something. So he poured himself another glass of the wine he and Neo had opened to share over dinner, made himself comfortable in the armchair in the living room, and asked, “Who’s Ozma?”

There was a long stretch of silence. So long, Roman had to stop himself from repeating the question. He might not be able to see Ozpin, but the man was always listening. ‘How…?’ said Ozpin, finally. Then, after another beat, ‘What do you remember?’ His tone was more guarded than Roman had ever heard it, which meant Roman had to play his cards just right. But once he’d said the name aloud, fragments of dreams and memories began to resurface like the wreckage of a ship after a storm.

“I remember a woman with hair the color of the full moon shining above her. And I mean full. Unbroken. How can I possibly remember that?”

‘I don’t know, it’s too soon…’ Ozpin murmured, almost to himself.

Roman couldn’t afford to let him ruminate. He needed answers. “How can you expect me to trust you if I don’t know who you really are?”

‘You do know me, Roman. Perhaps…better than anyone.’

“And I’ve kept your secrets,” Roman pushed. “Sure, it’s out of self-interest. You said yourself our fates are tied. But that’s all the more reason for you to tell me the full story. I’ve proven I can be a useful partner, but I can’t help you to the best of my abilities unless I know where you’re coming from and what you’re really trying to accomplish. Besides, I’m the one person whose silence you can personally assure. So what’s the harm in unburdening yourself?”

‘I know exactly what harm there is in sharing the truth with someone before they’re ready to hear it.’

Roman scoffed. “You rifled through my past.” He allowed Ozpin’s guilt to sink in for one satisfying moment before continuing. “Do I seem like the kind of person who breaks easily?”

‘You are certainly resilient, I’ll give you that.’

“And you noticed a…” Roman swirled his wine as he searched for the words, “psychological block that I didn’t even know I had. If you intend to wait until all your memories are my memories, until your thoughts are my thoughts, or however this freaky shit works, then you’ll be missing out on a fresh perspective. I know whatever you’ve been holding back has been weighing on your mind. Maybe I’ll see something you don’t.”

‘I have had a very long time to reflect.’

“Time isn’t everything. You of all people should know that.” The tumblers were turning. Roman just needed to find the right leverage point. “What’s the real hangup here? You can’t be worried about judgement, from me. Whatever you’ve done, I bet I’ve done worse.”

‘That isn’t as safe a bet as you think.’

Roman smiled as he sipped his wine. “Well, color me intrigued. Come on, Oz. Wouldn’t it be nice to truly confide in someone?”

‘Haven’t you ever heard the phrase “ignorance is bliss”?’

“Your business is my business, remember?” Roman dropped the friendly conversational tone to get right to the point. “If you don’t have the luxury of ignorance, then neither do I.”

‘No… I suppose not.’ And, click. ‘If you’ve already started to remember, then it’s only a matter of time before it all comes back, and it will help if I can make sense of the memories for you first. But once you know the answers, you might regret asking the questions.’

“Tell me, and we’ll see.”

‘It will be easier if I show you.’

Roman was vaguely aware that he was still sitting in Ozpin’s darkened living room, but before his eyes he saw...vast, open fields and a perfect storybook castle silhouetted on the horizon. ‘Ozma was a hero who lived in a world of magic, where gods and mortals dwelled side-by-side.’ Suddenly the view shifted, night came on, and the woman of his memories appeared before him, her clear blue eyes gazing longingly into his, her silken platinum tresses shining in the light of the full moon. ‘One day, he rescued a captive maiden named Salem from a tower, and the two of them fell deeply, dangerously in love.’

His surroundings shifted again, and those same eyes were filled with tears, looking down at him where he lay in a simple wooden bed. ‘For though he was unmatched in battle, he was still a mortal man.’ One of her tears finally fell, but before it hit his cheek, the room faded to darkness. ‘And the living have always had trouble letting go of the dead.’ The next scene was brief, and blurred, as though he were waking from a deep sleep. Salem was smiling down at him, wiping tears from her eyes while two beings, one of pure light, the other, pure darkness, argued over them. The being of light extended its hand, and the last thing he saw was Salem’s face, warped in a mask of utter horror as light enveloped him, before the darkness returned once more.

Some time later – it could have been minutes or years, it was impossible to tell – a great dragon made of light approached, driving back the darkness, before transforming into the humanoid form from his last waking memory. It was so bright, it should have burned to behold, but instead it just felt warm and gentle. It stretched out its hand again, only this time it conjured four objects: a Staff, a Sword, a Lamp and a Crown. ‘Before he departed with his brother, the God of Darkness, the God of Light offered Ozma a chance to return to the world of the living, if he would safeguard the Relics of Creation, Destruction, Knowledge and Choice until humanity had learned to abide by those tenets once more, to live in harmony with them and each other. Should he succeed, the gods would return, and restore all that they had taken away in his absence. But should he fail, and the Relics be brought together before humanity was whole again, then the gods would return only to destroy their creation.’

“Until your task is complete, you will reincarnate,” said the god, “but in a manner that ensures you are never alone.”

‘He accepted in the hopes of seeing his beloved again, whom the God of Light assured him still lived, and yet was gone. He did not know what the god meant by that, but he would soon discover it for himself.’ The light faded to darkness once more, but it wasn’t the same utter darkness as before. It was nighttime, in the woods surrounding a small village, and Grimm were rampaging through the trees, attacking the villagers. He looked down at his hands, and they weren’t his hands. But they held a pitchfork – a weapon – and that was familiar. He spun and plunged the tines into a beowolf that had lunged at him from behind.

‘He awoke in a body that was not his own, in a world that was but a remnant of the one he had known…’ He walked under the light of a broken moon through the streets of a city where crime was rampant, powerful elemental crystals called dust were used as weapons and trafficked as a valuable commodity, and new beings called Faunus that appeared human but for a few animal features were locked up in cages. The scene changed again as he approached a small cottage in the woods and knocked on the door. His love from his past life opened it; he recognized her immediately, even though her hair and skin were now deathly pale, and her eyes were red within pools of black. ‘…To find the woman he loved, much changed.’

Still, Salem welcomed him with open arms, a familiar smile gradually returning to her face like it hadn’t graced her features since the last time he’d seen it. ‘He, too, was changed, and yet, naively, he hoped they could return to the way things were.’ Scenes of domesticity drifted by like ghosts. ‘But neither of them was so naive that they did not keep secret from each other what had transpired in the time they had been apart.’ Salem clasped his hands (for now they were his hands) in hers, her eyes searching his. ‘Still, she knew him well enough to know that the divided world he had been reborn into continued to trouble him, despite the happiness they had found once more, together. She convinced him that the world needed gods again, and that, as the only two beings who remained in possession of the gods’ gifts of magic and immortality…’  The cottage fell away to a tall castle tower. The two of them stood looking out over the balcony at crowds of worshippers prostrate below, and colossal statues of themselves in the distance. ‘…They could fulfill that need.’

They turned and walked back into the castle. ‘And as their kingdom flourished…’ Four little girls ran around the corner to greet them, laughing and smiling and tugging on their resplendent robes to compete for their attention. ‘…So did their family.’ Then the pair were alone again, and Salem was gazing down at a war raging within the confines of a crystal ball. All the while he watched her face, and the slight smile that curved her lips. ‘But she believed uniting humanity meant destroying all who would oppose them—all who would oppose her.’

The scene darkened to night, and he moved through an unlit passage within the castle, ushering his daughters along as fast as their little legs could carry them. But suddenly, the youngest turned back, and he followed her gaze to see Salem standing at the end of the passage. He moved to stand protectively between her and the girls, and her face twisted in rage. She conjured crackling red magic in her hand. He launched a powerful surge of emerald magic from his staff at the same time as she hurled her spell, and everything went white. ‘Even her own family.’ The vision briefly faded in again as he tried to crawl across the shattered flagstones to the broken bodies of his children. But Salem brought her foot down on top of him, turning him over so her face was the last thing he saw before another furious flare of red magic brought the darkness again.

‘That is Ozma’s story.’ The darkness slunk away, leaving only the peace and quiet of Ozpin’s living room in Mistral. The story was only a memory aid, like an old diary entry. Roman remembered it all: the love, the loss, the heartbreak – the suspicion, the fear, the rage – the light and the darkness.

The wine glass slipped from his fingers and he hardly noticed as it spilled its contents like blood across the carpet. His eyes were welling with tears, and he didn’t care whether they were truly his own when they began to fall. One stark truth seared like an open wound at the forefront of his mind. “That was literal ages ago,” he murmured, whether to himself or Ozpin, he didn’t know. “There must have been a hundred before me.”

‘I have lived a great many lives, yes.’

“And not one of them…” Roman dropped his head into his hands, staring at the deep red stain spreading steadily across the white carpet. “There’s no way out,” he whispered. “I always find a way out.”

Ozpin sounded perplexed by Roman’s reaction. ‘I told you this process is irreversible. I never obfuscated that fact.’

“But I knew you were hiding something!” Roman stood, but immediately had to grab onto the armrest of the chair as darkness encroached on his field of vision and a wave of lightheadedness swept over him. “I thought…”

‘Roman, you’re hyperventilating. Calm down.’ 

“Don’t you dare tell me to—!” Roman had to cut himself off to gasp for breath.

‘I didn’t think this would be the part you’d fixate on.’

Roman’s laugh was more of a pained yelp. “So you let a shady broad talk you into some shady shit, and it cost you. Join the fucking club! I don’t care about your past lives, Oz. I care about my life.”

‘It’s our life now.’

“That’s the problem!” Roman sank to the floor, unable to stay standing as his head pounded and his vision tunneled. He leaned back against the armchair, trying to get his breathing under control. The walls were closing in around him. There was no escape.

‘I’m sorry,’ said Ozpin softly. ‘I can’t in good conscience say you deserve better, but…I am sorry.’

Roman gasped another bitter, humorless laugh. “Maybe we really do deserve each other.”

‘Maybe.’

In a moment of cutting clarity, Roman considered asking Ozpin to put an end to it all there and then, to just take over like he had his first time around and put Roman out of his misery. And more importantly, spare Neo the torment of watching her brother slowly become a stranger to her. All of his cards had been swept off the table, and it seemed the best – the only – play left was to fold. What was the point in playing a rigged game that he would inevitably lose? But as he dwelled on the concept of the inevitable, one other possibility occurred to him. The odds were terrible, it would be the worst gamble he’d ever made, but if he somehow managed to pull it off… Well, it would be worth going all in. “If you complete your divine mission, then you finally get to die and stay dead like everybody else. That was the deal, right?”

‘Yes…’

“So if we do it together, will your soul cross over to the next life and let me get on with mine?”

‘I’m not sure. I suppose that’s one possibility, but another is that this incarnation would simply be my last.’

Roman had considered that possibility, too. “Well, that’s still better than being stuck with you for eternity.”

‘I’m trying not to take offense because I know you’re upset, but you did just say you would rather die—’

“Not anymore,” Roman ground out, swiping away the remainder of his tears. He pushed himself to his feet, breathing steady. “Because we’re going to do what you were sent back here to do.”

‘Roman, I have spent millennia trying. What makes you think such a monumental task can be accomplished in a single lifetime?’

“You didn’t have me,” said Roman, starting to pace, his mind in overdrive. “I mean, I’m practically an expert at getting the worst dregs of humanity to work together. I just have to do what I did in Vale on a larger scale.”

‘Destroy it?’

“No, before that. End the turf wars. Bring the factions together. Unite disparate elements by appealing to their mutual interests. Hell, I even convinced the White Fang to cooperate with humans.” Ozpin fell silent, so Roman continued. “But first things first. What’s your plan for getting Salem out of the picture?”

‘Roman…’

“I know, I know, clearly you need help with that part, too. But that’s what I’m here for, to help!”

‘Roman.’

“Let’s start with her weaknesses. Even immortals have them. I mean, I could name about a dozen of yours just off the cuff.” He ticked them off on his fingers. “Unjustified optimism, a compulsion to help the helpless, too much magic use and you’re out like a light, sugar, fire, Qrow’s—”

‘Roman!’

“What? I was gonna say ‘smile’.”

‘No, you weren’t. But that’s beside the point. I’m trying to tell you that the plan is…probably not what you’re hoping for.’

Roman sat back down. He had a feeling he’d need to. “Okay. Let’s have it.”

‘You told me that at Beacon, it wasn’t a question of what you stood to gain, but of what you couldn’t afford to lose. So I know you understand that sometimes, the best possible outcome is simply that. You don’t achieve victory, but you stave off defeat.’

“I don’t like where this is going.”

‘The reason Salem and I have been locked in a war of attrition for so long is because we are both, as you say, immortal. Cursed by the gods, neither of us can die, and neither of us will surrender. I have searched for a way to destroy her once and for all, but I have it from an infallible authority that…there is none.’

“What authority?” asked Roman skeptically.

In his mind, he saw the glowing Lamp from his—Oz’s memories, the Relic of Knowledge, and above it, an etherial feminine figure with nothing but heavy golden jewelry and chains adorning her azure skin. He heard his voice—not his voice—ask, “How do I destroy Salem?”

And the lady of the Lamp answered, “You can’t.”

The memory receded, and Ozpin’s voice returned. ‘Jinn speaks only the truth.’

Roman waited for him to say more, and when he didn’t, Roman prompted, “Ozpin. Ozma? Oz,” he settled. “Please tell me you realize that little exchange was riddled with giant fucking loopholes.”

‘What?’

Roman rubbed his temples, not quite believing this emotional roller coaster of an evening. “My gods, how can you be so smart and so stupid at the same time?” he muttered. “The gods are testing you. They created the Relics. So it stands to reason, Jinn is part of the test. Sure, she may only tell the truth, but if you ask a stupid question, you get a stupid answer.”

‘Are you finished insulting my intelligence?’

“No! Where do I even start? For one, she said, ‘You can’t.’ Not, ‘It can’t be done.’ So maybe you can’t, but someone else can. Maybe Little Red, with that big trick up her sleeve—which you still haven’t told me about, by the way. But if she took down that wyvern, then she could be a serious contender. Or, maybe you couldn’t destroy Salem even if you knew how, because deep down, some part of you is still in love with her.”

‘I—’

“Shh. I’m not finished. On the other hand, maybe she doesn’t need to be destroyed to be defeated. If the point of all this is to unite humanity, then I’ll tell you, nothing brings people together like a common enemy, and Salem, being a threat to literally everyone, fits that bill to a fucking T. The possibilities are virtually endless, because you pulled just about the most naive, self-centered question out of your—”

‘Alright, that’s enough!’ But while Ozpin was trying to sound stern, the lilt in his voice betrayed that he was actually on the verge of laughter.

A dizzying giddiness overcame Roman, as though he had been carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders, and hadn’t even realized it until the weight had been…not lifted, but lessened. Roman started to laugh, although he didn’t quite understand why, and Ozpin soon broke down and followed suit. They laughed so hard Roman started to cry again, but he wasn’t having any more of that, so he forced himself to stop. “What,” he panted, “is so godsdamn funny?”

‘I just…’ Ozpin took a moment to compose himself. ‘I can’t believe, after so many devoted, vigilant lives, it took a double-dealing scoundrel to read between the lines.’

Roman tried to shrug off the backhanded compliment, but he still felt inexplicably pleased. “Sometimes you need a double-dealing scoundrel to know when you’ve been double-dealt.”

‘I need some time to think about what we’ve discussed,’ said Ozpin. ‘But…thank you. For the fresh perspective.’

The headmaster’s abrupt change of tune toward him left Roman’s head spinning. “Alright, this is getting weird. Say something condescending so I know you haven’t lost your damn marbles.”

‘Clean up your mess. That wine is going to stain my carpet.’

Another laugh slipped past Roman’s guard, and he had to bite his knuckle to stifle it. “Go fuck yourself,” he replied. After a beat of silence, he blushed. “Ugh. You’ve ruined all the good insults,” he said, standing. He stooped to pick up the wine glass, but left the wine to do its worst. “Let me know when you’re ready to start devising a real plan.”

‘I will.’

Roman set the glass down in the kitchen on his way to bed to get some much-needed sleep. But before he left the room, he noticed that the plate on the kitchen table, which he could have sworn still had one more cookie left on it when he’d passed by earlier to get the wine, was now empty. Only a few crumbs remained.

Chapter Text

Never before in his life had Roman considered that he might benefit from seeing a shrink. Sure, a lot of people had accused him of being a psychopath. But you could never really trust what people said under torture. He hadn’t felt a need to deal with his “childhood trauma,” as Ozpin had put it, because the way he’d dealt with it at the time had worked out just fine. Really, he’d always thought he was pretty well-adjusted, considering. But last night, falling into the depths of existential dread, he had never felt more trapped. Then, the next thing he knew, he’d been swept up in Ozpin’s intense feelings of relief and liberation. Now, he felt both things at once. Which was confusing as all hell. Despair and elation, caged and free. He was put in mind of the old, grisly mafia execution method whereby two teams of horses were driven to pull a man apart. Even Roman thought such a fate was too cruel to inflict on anybody. He wouldn’t wish it upon his worst enemies.

‘You know, it’s normal to feel ambivalence like this,’ said Ozpin, probably because it was coming up on ten-thirty and Roman still hadn’t gotten out of bed. He was surprised Neo had let him rest so long, until he remembered that she’d been eavesdropping last night. She was probably trying to give him space. ‘It’s just another part of the process.’

“If you start talking about ‘the process’ again, I’m gonna bang my head against the headboard until you stop.”

Ozpin fell silent again for awhile. But not long enough. ‘Last night you were ready to change the world. Not something you can easily do in bed.’

“You don’t know what I can do in bed,” Roman scoffed. 

There was another stretch of silence. ‘Are you…flirting with me?’

“No. Fuck.” Roman rolled over and buried his face in the pillows, bemoaning the bizarre turn his life had taken.

‘Alright. I’m beginning to worry, Roman. You can’t let yourself be paralyzed by the weight of what lies ahead. Trust me. I’ve been there.’

“Just gimme five more minutes,” he mumbled into the fluffy pillow. If Ozpin wanted to be so damn productive, he shouldn’t have such a comfortable bed. It was simple logic, really.

Suddenly, he found himself pushing off the covers and sitting up. “I won’t let you waste the day away when there’s work to be done,” said Ozpin, setting his feet on the floor. “You can thank me later. Now, can you dress yourself, or shall I do that, too?”

‘Clearly, you can do whatever you want with me,’ thought Roman petulantly. Why wouldn’t Oz just let him sleep? He was so tired. Everything that needed to be done could wait ’til tomorrow.

Ozpin growled in frustration. “I’m not your nanny.” Nevertheless, he set to work unbuttoning his pajama shirt, then stood and shucked the bottoms. He crossed over to the wardrobe, but his steps slowed as he passed the standing mirror. He stopped to examine his – well, Roman’s – mostly naked reflection.

‘Like what you see?’ Roman quipped halfheartedly. He really needed to stop with the innuendo. It was fine to fall back on in tense situations before, but with Ozpin everything was more complicated.

Thankfully, Oz ignored him this time. He brushed his fingers across a section of scar tissue over Roman’s ribs: the letter T scorched into his skin, angry red almost faded to white now. “This is relatively recent. And deliberate.”

‘You’re just noticing that now? I mean for gods’ sake, we shower together.’

“You close your eyes in the shower.”

‘Ah. Right. It’s relaxing, you know?’

“It is.”

‘Aaand you made it weird…er.’

“Are you inclined toward self-harm?”

Without an active Aura, Roman had collected a lot of scars in his life, but none of them were self-inflicted. ‘No. The brand’s courtesy of your pal the general.’

“What?”

‘Oh, don’t act so shocked. You told him to question me. How do you think the Atlesian military conducts criminal interrogations?’

“Not like this…”

‘I said you can never eliminate crime, but the City of Atlas has come close. They think by eradicating crime, they can eradicate fear. Most people who, shall we say travel in my circles, won’t set foot in Atlas these days. The Spiders are the exception; they can crawl in just about anywhere unnoticed. But if they do get caught, they get branded with an S, for spy. The T is for thief. Joke’s on them, though, ’cause T’s also for Torchwick. I kinda like it.’

Ozpin’s mood darkened considerably as Roman went on. Paradoxically, it made Roman feel a little better. Eased the strain between their two extremes. “James and I are going to have a talk when we next meet,” said Ozpin.

‘Well, that’ll be interesting.’

Ozpin continued on to the wardrobe and dressed in Roman’s clothes. As he was straightening everything out in the mirror, he said, “I bet I know what will lift your spirits.”

‘Hot chocolate is not the answer to all of our problems.’

Ozpin raised one gloved hand in front of him and flexed his fingers. Emerald sparks danced between his fingertips. He locked eyes with his reflection. “I think it’s about time you learned some magic. Don’t you?”

~ * ~

“Simple offensive and defensive magic only,” Ozpin was quick to qualify as he set to work preparing breakfast (although at that hour, it was more like brunch). “You don’t need any more tricks up your sleeve.”

‘Fine,’ Roman agreed, trying not to sound overeager. ‘Does this mean you’ve finally decided to trust me?’

“Up to a point,” said Ozpin. “You can’t access my magic without my participation in the process, so you won’t be able to use it for nefarious purposes.”

‘Nefarious purposes? Me?’

“More to the point, I need you to survive our next encounter with our enemies. I can’t afford to start over again now.”

Roman understood perfectly. ‘I’m an investment.’

“Yes.”

‘Well then, what are we waiting for? Why are we still flipping pancakes when we could be doing magic?’

Ozpin pointedly flipped another pancake. “Food first. Magic requires energy. And before I teach you even the most basic techniques, I have one condition.”

‘Careful, Oz. You’re starting to sound like me.’

The next pancake nearly ended up on the floor, but Ozpin managed to save it thanks to his quick Huntsman’s reflexes. “Please don’t scare me like that while I’m cooking.”

‘Well, what’s this condition of yours? You want me to promise to use my new power for good?’

“I want you to trim your bangs.” Ozpin lost the pancake he’d just saved when Roman cursed him out so loudly he tossed the pan down and clutched his ears. “For gods’ sake, I’m not asking you to sever a limb!” Ozpin snapped back. “You’ve learned to compensate for it, but your peripheral vision and depth perception are terrible, and I actually prefer to see my opponents when I fight.”

‘What if I’d just waltzed into your office and demanded you redecorate, huh?’

“I probably would have had you arrested.”

‘I know you understand the analogy, smart-ass. Would you just try to see things from my perspective for once?’

“I can only see things from your perspective. That is the problem.” Neo wandered into the kitchen, drawn by the smell, or the commotion, or both. She surveyed the scene, frowning as she took note of the frying pan and pancake on the floor, and Ozpin’s frazzled state. “Would you please talk some sense into your brother?” he asked her. “He’s—”

In a flash, Neo drew her sword and slashed it across his face before he could even flinch. Without so much as scratching the skin, she’d cut clean across his bangs, just above his eye. Ozpin stood speechless as hair drifted down to the floor. Roman gasped. ‘Neo, how could you?!’

Neo didn’t need to hear his question to answer it. She sheathed her sword as she approached, then leaned up on her toes to cup his face in both hands, looking into his mismatched eyes, like hers. For siblings, there wasn’t much of a resemblance between them. Their odd eyes were the one obvious trait they shared, with each other, and with their mother. Neo had never known their mother. She only knew her through Roman. For her, Roman was their whole family. Roman forgot that, sometimes.

She smiled and hugged him tightly. “Er, it’s still Ozpin,” said the headmaster, arms hovering awkwardly around her. Neo only hugged him tighter. Much tighter. “Point taken,” he wheezed.

He turned over control to Roman, who squeezed Neo right back. But only for a moment. As soon as she loosened her grip, he scooped her off her feet and threw her over his shoulder while she kicked and shook with laughter. “The thing about you being so small is, it would be real easy to dispose of your body.” She squirmed playfully and stole his hat in retaliation. She could’ve easily swung out of his hold and put him in a headlock if she’d wanted to, but she didn’t.

He walked over and plopped her into a chair at the kitchen table, letting her keep the hat for now. Then he went back to clean up the mess and fetch the plate of surviving pancakes. He set the stack down in the middle of the table, and Neo’s eyes just barely peeked over the top. “Oz made these, so we might as well eat ’em,” said Roman, taking the seat across from her. In truth, Ozpin was a much better cook than Roman, but he’d had millennia to practice, so Roman’s ego wasn’t too bruised. Neo tucked right in, taking four pancakes for herself and drowning them in syrup. How such a small girl could pack away such portions was still a mystery to Roman. Perhaps it came from never having enough food when she was younger.

She asked him about Ozpin teaching him magic, twinkling her fingers in the air to indicate “magic.” But there was a subtext to her question, about the nature of his relationship with Ozpin moving forward. She wanted to know if they were really going to work together in earnest.

“I’m out of my depth here, Neo,” he admitted. “We’re living in a fucking fairytale. But maybe, if we work together, we can write our own ending.”

She took out her notepad and wrote, Our story ends how it began: you and me, together. Roman hated that she’d gotten dragged into all of this with him, but a selfish part of him – and it was no small part – was glad they were in it together. He wasn’t sure he could do this without her.

When they had finished eating, Ozpin took back control and made his way to the courtyard with Neo following on his heels, eager to observe. ‘Is it safe for her to watch?’ Roman asked.

“We’ll start small. She’ll be safe,” said Ozpin. He walked out into the center of the courtyard while Neo perched on the window ledge by the doorway. He’d promised this was going to be a magic lesson, so Roman was confused when he drew his cane and extended the shaft with a squeeze of the lever. But then he pushed the lever outward, and the white cap atop the handle slid back, revealing an emerald the size of Roman’s fist set within.

‘I’ve been carrying that around this whole time?’

“I know you’re currently trying to estimate its value, so I’ll save you the trouble. It’s priceless. The last of its kind. You recognize it, don’t you?”

‘The gem from Ozma’s staff.’

“The one thing I’ve managed to hold onto all this time,” said Ozpin, with a touch of sadness. Roman experienced the strangest sense of familiarity with the sentiment. He remembered…tinkering in a workshop, designing a more modern, more discreet weapon to house the precious gem: a cane rather than a staff. But he also remembered taking the length of lead pipe he’d picked up in that alley years ago, the thing that had saved him and Neo, and fashioning it into a deadlier, more versatile weapon: the cane he still carried.

“There are things we both wish to hold onto,” Ozpin murmured. But his next words were matter-of-fact, back to the lesson at hand. “Magical energy flows from the soul, so the emerald has no magic of its own. But its enchanted properties allow an experienced magic user to focus and amplify his own magic, or a novice to harness and channel power he has not yet learned to control.” As Ozpin spoke, his vision tinted green, and the emerald began to glow softly. “I could try to explain to you how magic works, but it would be rather like trying to explain how to grow wings and fly. You simply aren’t built for it. Instead, I want you to concentrate on how it feels. Just focus on the flow of energy, and let me be your wings.”

‘How romantic.’

“I said focus. Can you feel the circuit of energy running through you and the gem?”

‘Yeah.’ It felt like…pushing into darkness. Potential without bound. The power to break the very laws of nature. It also felt a bit like licking a battery.

“And the power source?”

The question was almost misleading. He couldn’t pinpoint a particular source within his body, like how his heart pumped blood or his lungs expelled air. The power came from the darkest corners of himself, the unknown places that made him feel like a foreigner in the confines of his own consciousness. The shadow over his soul. ‘That’s you, isn’t it?’

“Yes. The magic flows from my soul through yours, rather like it flows through the gem. That is why I am reasonably comfortable teaching you how to use it. Because I can always shut off the power.” Just like that, his vision cleared, the emerald’s glow faded, and the magic was gone. “Not gone,” Ozpin corrected. “Merely dormant. But if I allow it, you can draw on my magic even while you’re the one in control. Why don’t you try it?” He put Roman back in the driver’s seat, and Roman closed his eyes as he tightened his grip on Ozpin’s cane. Turning his senses inward, he reached into that darkness, and yanked. There was a bright green flash, and then, just as suddenly, darkness again. Power shutoff. ‘I didn’t say try to take it all,’ Ozpin scolded. ‘Although I should have known that would be your first instinct.’

Roman opened his eyes to see Neo rubbing hers before blinking owlishly at him, trying to focus on his face. “Neo?” he asked, dread sinking in as it dawned on him that he might have just robbed her of sight as well as speech.

‘That wasn’t bright enough to cause permanent damage. A useful way of temporarily blinding your opponents, perhaps. But I promise I won’t let you cause harm unless you intend to, or I wouldn’t be teaching this to you at all.’ As if to back up Ozpin’s assurances, Neo’s face broke into a grin as she squinted at him, and gave him two thumbs up. She did use her Semblance to conjure up a pair of sunglasses, however. Roman let out a sigh of relief, his confidence shaken.

‘Build up gradually this time. The magic is freely given. You don’t need to try to take it from me.’ Roman took another deep breath and closed his eyes again. He concentrated on the power he both craved and despised, the power to carve out a future that would not be his own. It responded to his coaxing like a living thing, which Roman supposed it was, inasmuch as it was an extension of Ozpin’s soul. He realized now that he could never master it, and it would never really be his. To use it was a matter of him and Ozpin working together, like they had been for some time now, however reluctantly. Still, as he felt the magic course through him, his to command for a time, he couldn’t help but contemplate all that potential. ‘Open your eyes.’

He did. The gem was glowing steadily, and the world around him had taken on that emerald tint he'd come to associate with Ozpin using his magic. He felt almost weightless, out of body, as though another hand were guiding his own. ‘You’re still in control. I’m the one following your lead.’ Even so, he had never felt Ozpin’s presence more acutely before. It would have been frightening, if it didn’t also feel good. He had never felt more powerful, practically invincible, capable of doing anything he set his mind to, if he only knew how.

‘We are neither all-powerful, nor invulnerable. But we can mount a defense capable of withstanding most assaults. To create a shield of magical energy around yourself, all you need do is expand the circuit.’ Intuitively, Roman knew that would require more energy. But as soon as the thought crossed his mind, he had more. The magic responded to his need, and rather than drawing it forth, he instead had to hold it back as it overflowed, bubbling out from the gem to surround him in a dome of crackling emerald light. When it was big enough, he pulled back harder, equalizing the flow of magic once more. It wasn’t as even and controlled as one of Ozpin’s shields. The magic hissed and spat and writhed under Roman’s inexperienced manipulation. But it held. ‘Why don’t you have Ms. Neo test your shield’s strength?’

“What happens if she touches it?" Roman asked.

‘In this defensive configuration, with neither you nor I bearing her any ill intent, nothing will happen to her.’

Roman looked to Neo through the haze of emerald energy. “You wanna try and hit me?” It was hard to tell through the rippling energy currents, but he thought he saw her smile as she approached, twirling her parasol. “Just be careful,” Roman warned. “I don’t really know what I’m doing, here.”

She snapped her parasol shut once she was within striking range, and poked tentatively at the shield with the tip of it. The shield hardly gave an inch. So she pulled back her parasol and gave it a good thwack. The shield hissed and crackled, but didn’t budge. She hit it again, harder, escalating her attacks until she finally leapt into the air, spinning around on her descent and throwing the full force of her momentum into the blow. The shield deflected it all, but not without taking a toll on Roman. In their training, Ozpin had encouraged him to push his Aura to the breaking point just once, so he would know the feeling of approaching that limit. The way he felt now was similar. He dropped to one knee, panting lightly, and the shield flickered. Neo stepped back.

‘Unfortunately, my magical reserves are still recovering from this reincarnation, and you don’t yet know how to use them efficiently. We should draw this practice session to a close soon. However, there is one more thing you can do. To project a magical attack, use the gem to aim, and then break the circuit.’ Roman glanced around for a target. ‘Treat my cane like yours, and don’t point the business end at anything or anyone you care about,’ Ozpin cautioned as his eyes swept over Neo. Roman settled on a large, ugly flowerpot in the corner. He flipped the cane horizontally in his hands, took aim, and finally let the racing circuit of charged energy snap. All of the magic that he’d poured into the gem and the shield surged forth in one concentrated blast, shattering the pot into pieces and scorching the wall of the house behind it. ‘I was going to suggest Ms. Neo create an illusory target. I was rather fond of that flowerpot.’

Once he’d expelled all that magic, Roman’s vision was suddenly clear, and he felt more or less himself again. His very tired self. He used Ozpin’s cane to get back to his feet, surveying the damage. Neo burst into enthusiastic applause, jumping up and down in excitement. Roman grinned. After so long with nothing but his wits and his weapon to rely on, having that kind of power at his fingertips was a heady prospect.

‘Having magic does not magically solve all problems,’ Ozpin was quick to caution.

“Maybe not all of them, but in my experience, superior firepower solves quite a lot of problems.”

‘I suppose I can’t argue with that.’ Ozpin sighed. ‘We should practice magic every day if possible, so you improve your control, and I regain my stamina.’

“Don’t push yourself too hard,” said Roman. “I hear it’s pretty common for older men to struggle with stamina.” Sometimes, he could just feel Ozpin mentally rolling his eyes.

With the lesson over, Roman collapsed across the sofa in the living room to take a cat nap. Magic practice had wiped him out. He kicked his feet up onto the opposite armrest, shoved his hat down over his face, and crossed his arms behind his head, relaxing into the pillowy upholstery.

‘I would ask you to remove your feet from the sofa…’

‘But you’re beat and it’s just too damn comfortable?’ Roman finished for him.

‘Yes.’

‘I told you, you gotta cut loose once in awhile.’

‘That’s something I’ve never been good at.’

‘I imagine it’s like learning magic,’ Roman thought. ‘Just takes practice.’

Ozpin chuckled. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Why did you decide to teach me?’ Roman figured he was in the clear, bringing it up now, after they’d already begun their lessons. But he still didn’t understand Ozpin’s rationale. If he could take over and use his magic at any time, why risk teaching it to Roman?

‘You haven’t realized the tactical advantage? I was certain you would.’

‘Okay, if this is payback for calling you stupid last night, I’ve already lost my patience with it.’

‘As long as we are two souls, we retain two Auras and two Semblances. That means in a fight, we can switch off to make use of both Semblances, and to avoid depleting either of our Auras. But while you’re in control, it’s important that you not be at a disadvantage. That’s why I’m teaching you magic.’

‘So I’ve gone from nothing to double what any Huntsman has, even before you add magic in the mix. Not bad. What’s your Semblance, then? Lecturing people to death?’

‘Don’t try me. But no. You already experienced my Semblance once in our match with Neo. I can slow time in short bursts, and remain unaffected. I’ve found it to be very useful in outmaneuvering opponents.’

‘Huh. I thought that was more of your magic.’

‘I understand your confusion. Both concepts are new to you.’ Roman hated to pay Ozpin a compliment of any kind, but he really was a good teacher. Roman would be far more confused and frustrated by all of this metaphysical bullshit if Oz didn’t have a way of explaining even the strangest things in terms Roman could understand. ‘You have the makings of a promising student. Had you enrolled at Beacon, I think you’d have made a fine Huntsman.’

Roman blew out an irritated breath. ‘I’m not like Qrow. I didn’t just fall in with a bad crowd. I made my own way, chose my own path.’

‘That’s true. But Qrow is proof that you can always make different choices.’

‘Right now, I’m choosing to take a nap. So if you’d be so kind…’

Without further lecturing from his professor-in-residence, Roman finally drifted off. He awoke some time later to the smell of fresh noodles, and he opened his eyes to see Neo leaning over him to settle a tray of food across his lap: a bowl of noodles, a cup of hot tea and peanut cookies. His stomach growled, and Neo smiled.

He levered himself into a sitting position. His body ached still, but not nearly as much as after the times Ozpin had really overdone it with the magic. “What would I do without you?” he asked her. Neo clutched her chest and mimed dying a gruesome death, going so far as to fall down lifeless on the carpet and lie there with her eyes crossed and her tongue sticking out. Roman sighed. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”

Chapter Text

Qrow called to give his weekly update the night before the deal with the Spiders was going to go down. It was late in the evening again, just as Roman was ironing out the final details for the next day. Roman answered the call and brought the scroll to his ear. The connection was spotty as is; they wouldn’t have the bandwidth for video until Qrow made it to Mistral. “You know, if you keep calling me this late, I might start to wonder…”

“Wonder what?” Qrow asked, confused and flustered and already on the back foot.

“What are you wearing?” Roman purred.

“Oz,” Qrow complained.

“Now now, I’ve told you, that’s rude,” said Roman. “If you want to talk to him, you could say, ‘Roman, may I please speak to Ozpin?’ And then I would say, ‘Fuck off’.”

“And then I would apologize for my host’s attitude and ask you how the journey’s faring,” Ozpin interjected.

Qrow exhaled in relief. “We’re fine. Just passed through Cairn yesterday. Slow and steady, right? There are a lot of fuckin’ Grimm, though. I’m trying to clear a path for the kids, but it’s a workout, I’ll tell ya.”

“At least their numbers will diminish the further you get from the city,” said Ozpin. “Ironically, that wyvern is a beacon of its own.”

“Yeah,” said Qrow. “How are things on your end? Has Leo noticed any signs Salem’s gearing up to make her next move?”

Ozpin took a measured breath. “I believe she already has. I have come to the conclusion that Leonardo has been compromised.”

“What? You mean she got to him?”

“It’s likely. I don’t yet know how she did it, but Leo can’t be trusted.”

“That spineless coward! He knows what’s at stake! How could he do this?”

“That’s what I intend to find out,” said Ozpin.

His dark tone must have come across clearly, even with the faint connection. Qrow sounded more sober (at least emotionally) when he asked, “What are you gonna do?”

“What I have to.”

“What does that mean?”

“Qrow, without you, and without the resources of the academies, I am well and truly on my own here. I won’t do anything rash, but I will do what I can with what I have to determine the extent of Salem’s designs in Mistral.”

Qrow was quiet for awhile. Roman was beginning to wonder if the call had been dropped when he finally said, “You’re talking about using Torchwick’s resources. His criminal network.”

“Yes.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

“That is a distinct possibility.”

“Don’t be cute with me, Oz,” Qrow growled. “What the hell are you thinking?”

“That Salem’s agents travel in Torchwick’s circles. That he knows first-hand how they operate. That he is more likely to see them coming, and to see through their plots, because he thinks like them. That had he been working with us rather than against us at Beacon, things might have turned out very differently. That perhaps we really were brought together for a reason. And that, as untrustworthy, conniving, selfish, amoral and vicious as he is, he is still the lesser of two evils.”

“He’s also the opposite of everything you stand for! I know you try to see the best in people, but how can you believe for a second that he’ll ever really be on our side?”

“He’s had a…change of heart, recently.”

“Oh, bullshit! Listen, I’d be a hypocrite if I didn’t believe people could change, but he doesn’t want to change.”

“He and I are both changing, whether we want to or not,” said Ozpin.

Qrow’s breath shuddered, like Ozpin had just slipped a knife between his ribs. “Say I buy into this crap,” he muttered. “Why the sudden change of heart?”

“I think,” said Ozpin carefully, “it’s best that stay between him and me for now.”

“What?” Qrow demanded. “But I’m your…” He trailed off, at a loss. Because he wasn’t that, not anymore.

“You are my closest friend and ally,” said Ozpin, and while his voice remained steady, the loss and longing he felt inside had Roman wishing he could curl up into a ball and shut it all out, but he couldn’t, and it hurt. “And I appreciate your concern. But you’ve always said that I’m the one who does what has to be done. I don’t relish it, but I can’t pass up this chance to learn more about our enemies. I won’t just sit back and wait for you. So if you don’t like the idea, I suggest you focus your energies on getting here as soon as you can.”

Qrow made a frustrated sound that probably meant he wanted to argue further, but knew Ozpin well enough to know that his mind was made up. “Can I talk to Torchwick again?”

Ozpin reluctantly handed over control. “Yes, dear?" said Roman.

“Listen up, you shady son of a bitch,” said Qrow. “If anything happens to him again—”

“You’ll what? Hurt me?” Roman heaved a melodramatic sigh. “You still don’t seem to grasp the simple concept that what affects one of us, affects both of us. I won’t put myself in a situation I can’t handle.”

“I don’t know what you’ll do! You jump off airships into swarms of Grimm and sleep with murderous pyromaniacs!”

Roman blinked. “Fair point. But as careful as Oz was, I’m the one who’s still alive.”

“Well you’d better hope that if you pull more crazy shit like that, it kills you. Or I will.”

Roman summoned a bit of magic to hand and let it crackle between his fingertips in front of the receiver. “Oh no, you’re breaking up,” he said flatly, and ended the call.

‘That will have only aggravated him further,’ Ozpin lamented.

Roman snuffed out the magic in his hand. “Let him cool off awhile, then,” he said, rising from his seat at the kitchen table. He stretched and yawned. Time to get some shuteye. He made his way to the bedroom. “The man’s all bravado, anyway. In my experience, guys who carry weapons that big are always compensating for something.”

‘He’s not.’ Roman stopped in his tracks. Secondhand embarrassment caused the back of his neck to heat and a blush to spread over his cheeks as Ozpin mentally backtracked. ‘Er, I didn’t mean to think that aloud.’

“Right,” said Roman, shaking his head as though he could wipe what Oz had just said from his mind. He carried on with his nighttime routine in silence. Ozpin took the hint and said nothing further. Still, just as he was falling asleep, down into the refuge of unconsciousness, dark wings whispered across his thoughts. Or maybe they were Ozpin’s thoughts. As they dismantled more of each other’s barriers, it was getting harder to tell sometimes.

~ * ~

Cinder had more than once accused Roman of being a narcissist, like she was one to talk. But Roman didn’t like looking into mirrors anymore. He knew that when Neo looked into his eyes, she saw something of herself and their familial bond in the mismatched hues. But when Roman looked into his own eyes reflected he saw…something else. He saw what Qrow was always looking for: another person looking back. He dipped his head, the brim of his hat concealing his eyes as he straightened it in the mirror. “You agree to sit back and let me do what I do best?”

‘I am still not comfortable with this, but…I agree not to interfere unless things take an unexpected turn.’

“Which they won’t, because Missy and I are both professionals, and your Little Red menace is safely hundreds of miles away,” said Roman, snatching up his cane. He collected Neo, and together they stepped out into the night, where they belonged.

The location they’d agreed upon with Miss Malachite was an industrial parking lot nestled deep in the warehouse district—a virtual ghost town at night and, importantly, neutral ground. The Spiders’ web stretched across all of Remnant, but the Spiders themselves held only a relatively small territory in Mistral’s market district, and calling in an armed airship there would have pushed Missy’s hospitality too far. This deal could easily be a ruse for a hostile takeover, if Roman were so inclined. Which he wasn’t. After seizing an entire city, he had little interest in scuffling over scraps. If he were to reestablish his Empire in Mistral, he’d take the whole city in one night. He’d wait until he’d recouped his resources, then orchestrate a series of strategic strikes to eliminate all the competition at once, or better yet, have them eliminate each other, before alliances could be formed against him. Not that he was seriously considering doing so.

‘And yet you’ve put a troubling amount of thought into it,’ said Ozpin as Roman walked the perimeter of the vacant lot. He always arrived early to meetings such as these to make sure there were no surprises. Although he had no doubt there were Spiders already lurking in the shadows, just out of sight.

“I had contingency plans for everything except you,” Roman muttered, turning his collar up against the cold winter night. His breath misted in the air like smoke.

An unmarked flatbed truck trundled into the lot at the stroke of midnight. Right on time. Miss Malachite and a retinue of four hooded underlings exited the vehicle and approached with confidence, no doubt having gotten the all-clear from her scouts. Miss Malachite looked around the empty lot. “Where’s my merchandise?” she asked.

Roman pointed up into the sky. “Circling a few thousand feet above us until I make a call. Where’s my money?”

Miss Malachite nodded to one of her henchmen carrying a briefcase, and he stepped forward, opening up the case for Roman to see. Stacks of thousand-Lien cards were nestled in neat rows within. “All in plastic, like you asked,” said Miss Malachite. “A little old-fashioned for you.”

“Seller’s condition,” said Roman. “And my report?”

Miss Malachite slipped a burner scroll from her belt and extended the screen. She then handed it over to Roman. A name, professional headshot, and a few sparse details were displayed in holographic blue. “The number belongs to a Dr. Arthur Watts,” she said.

‘That name rings a bell…’

“A disgraced Atlesian military computer scientist,” Miss Malachite continued. “Dishonorably discharged five years ago, after which he reportedly took his own life. Although, given the recent timestamps on the calls, I’m guessing he might be more lively than the reports indicated. If you’d like us to keep pulling on the thread…”

“This is enough,” said Roman, skimming the report himself. If Missy and her Spiders followed this thread too far, they might begin to get a sense of the larger web in which Watts was entangled.

‘I remember now. James stripped a Dr. Watts of his rank and honors because he was discovered to have been developing illegal side projects with military resources. I don’t know the nature of those projects, but I know James has carried the weight of the man’s supposed suicide on his conscience ever since.’

‘I can make an educated guess as to what he was working on. Cinder is a woman of many talents, but technology is not one of them. I once saw her torch her own scroll because she got frustrated with the autocorrect. Point is, the virus that hijacked Ironwood’s army was advanced. I’m betting it came from Watts.’

‘Then Atlas is also in danger.’

Ozpin’s worry was so intense, Roman’s hands actually started to shake. He collapsed the scroll and shoved his hands into his pockets, clenching them into fists. ‘Get your shit together, professor,’ he warned, trying to flush the sudden surge of adrenaline from his bloodstream with a couple deep breaths. ‘One thing at a time.’

He pulled out his own scroll and made the call to Captain Noah, who began to bring the airship down through the clouds, its landing lights growing larger and brighter above. As they waited for the craft to complete its descent, Missy remarked casually, “You cut your hair.”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Thankfully, the quiet lot was soon filled with the wind and roar of the airship’s engines. Roman held onto his hat as the craft hovered without landing, and lowered a large, steel shipping container bearing Atlas’ crest down on a cable until it rested snugly in the bed of the Spiders’ truck. Roman gave a permissive gesture to Missy’s hooded henchmen, and one of them obediently ran back to the truck and clambered up the side to unhook the cable.

“Well, I’m sorry Neo couldn’t grace us with her presence tonight,” said Miss Malachite.

“Don’t be,” said Roman. Neo appeared beside the henchman holding the briefcase full of money, and relieved him of it before he had a chance to recover from the shock. She counted out their share as she sauntered back to Roman’s side, dropping the Lien into her shoulder bag stack by stack. Then she snapped the briefcase shut and, as the airship began to pull away, she hitched the handle of the case to the dangling cable as it swung past them. Soon, the airship and the remainder of the money were out of sight. “I hope you’ll forgive the extra precaution,” said Roman to Miss Malachite, who was clearly not amused by the minor deception. “I’m not used to conducting business in a city I don’t run.”

“As long as you’ve delivered what you promised,” she said tersely, looking to her man atop the truck. He thew up the door of the container, revealing sleek, military-grade automatic dust rifles and ammo crates stacked all the way to the ceiling.

‘Each one of those is a weapon Atlas won’t be able to use to defend itself against another attack from Salem,’ said Ozpin bitterly.

‘Hey, Raven was the one who stole ’em. We’re just reallocating them for the defense of Mistral instead.’

‘You have such a way of twisting words.’

‘Thank you.’

‘It wasn’t intended as a compliment.’

The guns were exactly what Missy had bought and paid for, and yet she stood staring gravely at her purchase as though, rather than guns, they were ticking time bombs. “What’s coming for us, Roman?” she murmured. “I’m not used to being in the dark.”

“That, I don’t know,” said Roman truthfully. “But you’d be doing us both a favor by letting me know if your Spiders happen to spot any of my former associates in town.”

Miss Malachite looked contemplative for a moment. Then, without warning, she snatched back the hood of the man who’d carried the briefcase, revealing his face. “What about this one?”

Roman frowned, not immediately recognizing the other man’s frightened features. But between the big, round-framed glasses and the adorable, floppy rabbit ears he had a habit of hiding under hoods, Roman put two and two together. The man was much more attractive without that ridiculous White Fang mask. “Perry? What are you doing here?” An unpalatable possibility occurred to him as soon as he’d voiced the question, and he circled the younger man, appraising. “Surely, you weren’t working for Missy while you were working for me?”

Perry shook his head adamantly, his fuzzy ears flapping about in a way that made it difficult for Roman to keep up the intimidation. “N-no, sir. I came to Mistral for a fresh start after the Vale chapter of the White Fang fractured…without your leadership,” Perry finished diplomatically. “Miss Malachite offered me a chance to make change through…subtler means.”

Roman didn’t bother looking to Missy to confirm his story. If he were her spy back then, she’d have no reason to reveal it now. And Perry had always struck Roman as an honest man, beneath the mask. Roman ruffled Perry’s hair with a good-natured chuckle. “I believe you. And I’ll even overlook your veiled criticism, because you’re right. My former employer treated us both as expendable. But if you’ll do one more thing for me…” Perry patted down his hair and dared to look Roman in the eyes, but Roman glanced toward the weapons. “Make sure your new friends know how to use those.”

Perry’s frown slowly relaxed into a smile. “Yes, sir.”

Their business concluded, Roman tipped his hat to Miss Malachite and he and Neo prepared to take their leave. But another thought occurred to him, and he turned back to offer the Spiders one more thread to tug on. “Oh, and since you’ve got White Fang connections, you might want to keep an eye on a boy named Adam Taurus.”

“Adam?” said Perry. “How do you know he’s involved in all this?”

Roman waved his hand vaguely as he walked away. “A little birdie told me.”

Chapter Text

Despite the deal going smoothly, Roman hardly slept that night. Ozpin’s terrible nightmares were back in full force, and his waking anxiety and dreadful contemplations weren’t much better. There was no doubt, with the information they’d been given on this Dr. Watts, that he was a man whose formidable talents would best be employed in Atlas, where everything was computerized. Someone with the keys to the code could bring even the mighty military city down—perhaps literally.

“If I could only get a message to James…” Ozpin said for about the fifth time the next morning, pacing the living room and wringing his hands. He glanced at Neo, who sat watching him silently from her perch on the armrest of the sofa.

‘You are not turning my sister into a bird.’

Ozpin shoved a hand through his hair, a habit that Roman hated, because it meant he would have to fix his hair later. The frazzled professor look really didn’t suit him. “Oh, it was only a passing thought,” Ozpin said. His mind was racing a mile a minute, and Roman could hardly keep up.

‘Would you just calm down? You said yourself Salem doesn’t have the resources to launch simultaneous attacks in separate kingdoms. Haven is still clearly the next target. Atlas can wait.’

“You would just love to see Atlas fall, wouldn’t you?” Ozpin snapped.

‘Hey! I’m trying to help, jackass,’ Roman spat back.

Ozpin stopped pacing and forced a deep breath into his lungs. “You’re right. I’m sorry.” His exhale became a broken sigh. “Atlas will have to wait.”

Unfortunately for Ozpin’s sanity (and therefore Roman’s sanity) they would likely be doing a good deal of waiting themselves. If Watts had been here in Mistral earlier, they had missed him. He was probably now communicating with Lionheart from afar, since the Spiders had found no trace of him. Wherever he was, they couldn’t get to him without leaving Haven vulnerable, and confronting Lionheart now would be premature. Salem played the long game, and taking one of her pieces off the board too early would only give her time to alter her strategy.

But waiting would not be easy. Roman knew Ozpin felt he’d waited too long at Beacon, and the consequences had been catastrophic for him—hell, for Roman, too. If Ozpin had seen how everything was connected sooner, he and Roman probably wouldn’t be in their present predicament. Sure, Roman might still be languishing in one of Ironwood’s cells, but he doubted it. Not while Neo could walk through a room full of cameras without being seen, and take out a dozen guards before anyone could so much as raise an alarm.

‘Neo doesn’t need wings to play messenger,’ Roman thought. ‘She’s the best there is at gathering information. Even Missy’s sneakiest Spiders have nothing on her. She could do a little eavesdropping on your pal Leo, see if she can catch some of these conversations with Watts and give us a sense of what we’re dealing with here.’

Ozpin looked to Neo again. She held his gaze. “Salem won’t make the same mistake I did. I’m sure she’ll have eyes on the headmaster. It would be a dangerous task.” Neo’s lips quirked into a smile. She liked a little danger. She took after her brother that way.

~ * ~

In the following weeks, with Neo off spying on Lionheart within the limits of what her Semblance would allow, Roman was left to arrange for the sporadic sales of more of Raven’s stolen goods: gemstones, dust, fine fabrics, even a set of surprisingly rare and valuable dolls. Raven really did have the eccentric collector’s instinct of a bird snatching up whatever shiny things happened to catch its eye. The work was beneath him. Back in Vale, he’d employed black market dealers to take care of his import/export business for him, but now that he was a one-man operation, he had to do everything himself. Well, almost everything. The Spiders proved useful yet again. With their knowledge of the city, they were able to connect him with buyers for each of Raven’s shipments—for a finder’s fee, of course.

At least regular contact with Raven eased Ozpin’s worries somewhat. Each set of pickup coordinates she sent Roman also gave him the location of the Branwen tribe, and the Spring Maiden. Captain Noah was now gainfully employed. Having made back the money he lost on that drake after the first few jobs, he now worked exclusively for Roman. It seemed everyone was getting something out of this arrangement except for Roman himself. Sure, he was turning a tidy profit, but he already had more money than he and Neo could ever spend. It had stopped being about the money a long time ago. Crime was Roman’s calling. He was good at it—better than he ever would have been at farming. And if Ozpin weren’t in the picture, this little fencing business would have been a useful springboard to expanding his enterprises into a new Empire. But now that he knew he really was stuck with Ozpin for the foreseeable future, the work felt menial, pointless, degrading even, considering his talents and potential. Ozpin tried to assure him he now had far greater potential in other areas, and only succeeded in pissing Roman off. Not even continuing to learn magic was enough to satisfy Roman’s restless rapacity. After awhile, practicing the few spells Ozpin was teaching him only served to highlight the glaring limitations of all that Ozpin wasn’t teaching him. Roman wasn’t used to settling for less than everything he wanted, and he got the frustrating feeling that that in itself was another lesson Ozpin was trying to teach him.

Aside from Ozpin, Neo was Roman’s only other confidante, and as much as he loved her, she wasn’t exactly a sparkling conversationalist. Roman figured it was sheer boredom that drove him to text Qrow the first time. It was another late night, the time Roman usually would have been out conducting business in his past life. He’d become something of a nocturnal creature, since his kind of deals were done in darkness. Now, he found himself with a lot of free time on his hands, and little work to occupy them. So he stubbed out his cigar on one of the coffee table coasters (in part just to annoy Ozpin, since that, at least, never got old) and pulled out his scroll. He tapped out a new message to Qrow: <What do you call a pair of crows?>

Roman hadn’t really expected a response at that hour, but Qrow texted back almost immediately: <Oz?>

<Is that your answer? Because it’s terrible.>

<Torchwick. What do you want? Is something wrong?>

<I want you to answer the damn question. What do you call a pair of crows?>

There was a pause, during which he imagined Qrow frowning at his scroll, debating the pros and cons of ignoring Roman. Finally, he texted back: <I don’t know, what?>

<Attempted murder.>

There was another long pause. Laughter? Probably not, given Qrow’s whole brooding outcast schtick. Roman wondered what Qrow looked like when he laughed. He had a vague memory of it, but the memory wasn’t his. Qrow’s reply came: <Oz usually tells terrible jokes.>

‘My jokes aren’t that bad,’ Ozpin murmured. Roman had to suppress his irritation at the feeling that Ozpin was reading over his shoulder. He wasn’t, really. He was reading as Roman read. Neither of them had the luxury of keeping an experience to himself anymore.

<Well, I’ve been told I have a great sense of humor. Of course, I’ve killed anyone who said otherwise.>

<That’s not funny.>

<Who says I’m joking?> Yet another long pause. It dragged on for so long, Roman felt he had to make clear: <Qrow, I’m joking. How much of a bastard do you think I am?>

<You want me to answer that?>

<On second thought, don’t.>

<If nothing’s wrong, why are you texting me? Don’t you and Oz have some shady dealings to get up to?>

<Not at the moment. If you must know, I’m bored.>

<I might have to put up with you, but it’s not my job to entertain you. Get a hobby.>

<Oh, I have plenty of hobbies. Oz just doesn’t approve of them.>

<So you’re taking it out on me?>

<Well, it’s you or Oz, and I think the poor professor’s nearing the end of his rope. You wouldn’t want me to drive him off the deep end, would you? Besides, you don’t have anything better to do either, or you wouldn’t keep texting me back.>

<You’ve got that right, at least.>

<Well? Wanna hear another joke?>

The longest pause yet. Perhaps Qrow was considering whether Roman and Ozpin really would go stir crazy if he left the two of them to themselves. But, after a minute, his reply came: <Sure.>

After that, Roman realized he should be taking every opportunity to strike up conversations with Qrow. The Huntsman was clearly still suspicious of him, and for once, those suspicions were misplaced. He had to at least try to put Qrow’s mind at ease. It wouldn’t do to have Qrow interfering in Roman’s plans thinking he was helping Ozpin, when really Roman was the one helping Ozpin, and Qrow would only be getting in the way. Ozpin found the notion endearing for some reason. He said he was pleased Roman was putting in the effort to get to know his future colleague. But Roman always made a point of knowing the people he’d be working closely with, and the one time he hadn’t, he’d been burned. Qrow was nothing special.

The only obstacle was that Qrow usually didn’t want to talk to him. It was always Oz, Oz, Oz. Like Roman was little more than a middleman Qrow had to deal with because he couldn’t be cut out of the transaction. It made Roman’s blood boil. But he held his tongue. Qrow was obviously desperate to maintain whatever was left of his relationship with Ozpin, and Roman was quite adept at putting other men’s desperation to good use. The next time Qrow called to check in, he gruffly dismissed Roman’s perfectly amicable greeting and addressed Ozpin directly, as usual. So Roman lowered and leveled his voice in a way that was second nature by now, and replied, “It’s good to hear from you, Qrow.”

‘Roman…’ said Ozpin in a warning tone.

‘How else am I supposed to get him to talk to me? Besides, if he really knows you as well as he thinks, he’ll catch on soon.’

“You, too, Oz,” Qrow sighed. “Any developments in the situation at Haven?”

Ozpin, although uneasy with Roman’s ruse, allowed him to keep it up for the time being—as long as Roman’s intentions were, if not good, then at least not malicious. And it was surprisingly fun, temporarily taking on Ozpin’s propensity for dramatic overtures and oratory. “There is no longer any doubt that Watts is acting as Salem’s agent, and a sort of handler for Leonardo. Their plans for Haven are still taking shape, but there are whispers of a brewing schism among the White Fang in Menagerie, with Adam Taurus leading his own splinter cell. News from that part of Remnant is scarce, however. Still, the timing and the connection to Adam are too much of a coincidence to be anything but Salem’s doing. Mistral isn’t undefended, even without Haven’s protection, but Cinder and her…followers remain X factors in the equation.”

“Sounds like you and Torchwick have been busy.”

“Roman’s contacts have proven their worth.”

“And just what are they worth?” needled Qrow. “Their help comes at what cost?”

“A cost we can afford,” said Roman, particularly proud of how easily he could channel Ozpin’s inveterate evasiveness. “As opposed to costs we cannot afford, such as remaining in the dark. The difference could mean everything, Qrow. Now, what news from the road?”

Qrow grudgingly let the matter drop once more and gave his report on the little rag-tag team’s gradual progress across the continent. They were nearing the coast, but approaching the strait via some roundabout, backwoods route that would see them miss Prism by a hundred miles. With no other major sky port between Vale and Mistral, that would mean a water crossing and then – shocker – more walking. “I’m proud of Ruby for stepping up to lead RNJR, but one of us really should have taught her how to read a map,” Qrow groaned.

“You can’t fix stupid,” Roman muttered.

“What?”

“Er, I meant to say that Ms. Rose is a bright and capable young woman in whose leadership skills I have complete confidence.”

“No, you didn’t.”

Roman let out a sigh of relief, dropping the stuffy headmaster act. As entertaining as it was for awhile, it got tiresome fast. Roman had no idea how Ozpin kept it up all the time. He kicked off his shoes, tired of being on his feet, and flopped down into Oz’s armchair. “You’re right, it felt wrong just saying it.”

“I’ve been talking to you this whole time, haven’t I?”

“And would you look at that? You haven’t burst into flames.”

“Fuck you, Torchwick,” Qrow growled in his ear, sending a shiver down Roman’s spine for which he blamed Ozpin entirely. “When I say I want to talk to Oz, I mean it. I can’t trust a godsdamned thing you say!”

Roman rolled his eyes. “Oz will confirm it all if that’s what you want. But I’m the one who’s doing most of the work here, you know. You told me I’d have to choose a side, and that’s what I’ve done.”

Of course, Qrow went right back to ignoring him. “Oz, why do you let him pull shit like that?” he demanded.

Roman willingly ceded the floor to Ozpin. He’d made his point. “I prefer that he vent his frustrations into relatively harmless outlets,” said Ozpin, somewhat sheepishly.

“You mean as opposed to murder, racketeering, theft, extortion, sedition, raining destruction down upon entire cities, those kinds of outlets?”

“Well, yes…”

“This is the man you’re working with.”

“I know!” Ozpin slumped forward in the chair, dropping his head into his hand. “I know all his faults as though…as though they were my own. But Qrow, it works both ways. Already, he’s beginning to see things differently, to understand the gravity of what’s at stake. And all he’s trying to say is that we’re a team. It’s no longer just you and me. All of us have to work together.”

“He’s got a twisted way of saying it.”

“This is still Roman Torchwick we’re talking about.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Qrow. “You warned me at the start of all this not to trust him!”

“I’m not asking you to,” said Ozpin. “But I should hope, after all this time, that you trust me.”

Qrow breathed a soft sigh. “Of course I do. And if you say we need him, then…fuck,” he hissed, sending static crackling over the line, “I believe you. But you’d better watch him like a fucking hawk as long as I can’t be there to do it for you.”

“You could, just as a novel suggestion, try talking to him.” Oh, Ozpin was clever. That was the angle Roman should have taken with Qrow from the start. Qrow could keep tabs on him while he kept tabs on Qrow, and that way, they could each be a little more confident that the other wasn’t about to throw a spanner in the works of this whole operation.

“I guess…if we’re supposed to be working as a team…” Qrow grumbled.

“Shall I hand you over?”

“Wait. What was my first exam grade at Beacon?”

Ozpin smiled. “You failed.”

Qrow sounded like he was smiling, too when he replied, “It was worth the extra attention from the headmaster.”

“You know, testing us like that isn’t going to work indefinitely,” Ozpin warned. “He’ll remember, too.”

With that, Ozpin put Roman back in control and he made himself more comfortable, kicking his feet up onto the coffee table (much to Oz’s chagrin). “Not that I want to remember all that useless crap,” he sighed.

“How much do you remember now?” Qrow asked cautiously.

“Oh, don’t worry, nothing too salacious. Although, now that you’ve got me thinking about your school days…” Roman chuckled. “Did you once sneak out in Raven’s uniform to pay a little late-night visit to our dear Oz?”

Qrow hung up. Still, he wasn’t quite so quick to dismiss Roman from that point forward. Whenever he called to check in and Roman answered, they would actually have a conversation like two human beings, even if it tended to degenerate into insults and character attacks to the point where Ozpin would decide to step in. As it turned out, Qrow was even more bored out of his skull than Roman was. He was so used to winging his way across kingdoms in a matter of days, that shadowing a group of kids meandering their way on foot was, well, ruffling his feathers, one might say. Roman almost pitied the Grimm that had the misfortune of crossing Qrow’s path.

They started texting each other more often. Mostly to complain, often about each other. Qrow would ask Roman how his “evil schemes” were coming along, and yes, that was a direct quote. Roman would respond by asking how stalking children was going for him. It was a stalemate of mutual suspicion and animosity that itself grew boring as the weeks dragged on. So, just for variety’s sake, they started complaining about other things. Qrow would text him pictures of the podunk villages they passed through, captioned with their laughable little claims to fame: Vale’s Corn Capital, Mistral’s Largest Waterwheel, Home of Remnant’s Oldest (and only) Chicken Tossing Contest. Roman, in the interest of diplomacy, didn’t mention the tedious details of his business dealings, but did send Qrow his one-sentence reviews of the most pretentious books in Ozpin’s library, since he had plenty of downtime in which to read, considering Oz had nixed many of Roman’s other favorite pastimes like plotting heists, gambling to win (which Ozpin called cheating), seemingly ever getting laid again, crafting concealable weapons, etcetera. Well, there was one thing he was tinkering with, but it was still very much a work in progress. At any rate, it turned out that Qrow had read many of the books himself, and he agreed with Roman’s general assessment that most of the hefty old Huntsman’s tomes would be more effective if one simply chucked them at the Grimm.

After awhile, he and Qrow ended up developing a rapport that was something close to civil, and sometimes almost…friendly. Of course, once they actually had to talk to each other face-to-face, Roman suspected they’d be right back at each other’s throats. But without much else they could do until then, it was a lot easier to at least pretend to get along. In another life, Roman would have liked Qrow. If he weren’t so self-righteous and pathetically devoted to Ozpin and his ideals, that is. Roman wished he could have met Qrow back in his bandit days, but that was before Roman’s time. Still, Qrow’s upbringing showed through often enough in his blatant disregard for authority and his cavalier attitude toward local law enforcement.

The long and short of it was that, if he put aside Ozpin’s feelings, Roman would probably never consider Qrow a friend. But he had, over the course of their reluctant adventures, taken a strange sort of shine to the guy. Qrow was like an untrained puppy: a pain in the ass, but a little bit charming about it. He obeyed one master only. When Ozpin asked something of him, he did it without fail. At Ozpin’s request, he kept calling to check in every week like clockwork. Until, one day, he didn’t.

Chapter Text

‘Something is wrong.’ Ozpin’s worries had made Roman jittery all through the night, when Qrow was supposed to check in, but never called. Not so much as a text to say he was busy and couldn’t talk. Just…nothing. So Roman had tried calling and texting him, to no avail. Ever since the Huntsman and his young charges had made it to Mistral, there should have been no more blackout zones to disrupt communications. It was possible his scroll had been damaged, or had just run out of juice, especially with Qrow’s luck. But that would be the best case scenario, and when it came to Qrow, it was always safer to assume the worst.

By morning, Roman was way past jitters. The sheer dread Ozpin was radiating through him was making him feel sick. He took off his hat to brush beads of cold sweat from his temples. “Maybe a cat got him.”

‘Now is not the time, Roman,’ said Ozpin thinly. ‘They could all be in grave danger. The last village Qrow sent a picture of isn’t that far away…’

Roman looked down at his hat in his hands, at Qrow’s feather tucked neatly into the band. For once, he and Ozpin were thinking the exact same thing. “Shit,” said Roman. “I’ve gotta go get him, don’t I?”

Minutes later, Roman was out the door and dragging Neo behind him as fast as her significantly shorter legs could go. He was temped to just pick her up and carry her, but he would almost certainly earn a smack for it, and anyway, he needed a hand free to make a call. He pulled out his scroll and thumbed the frequent contact. As soon as the call connected, Roman said, “I’m cashing in that favor.”

“It’s five in the morning,” came Noah’s groggy voice over the line. “On my day off.”

“That’s what makes it a favor,” said Roman, voice forcibly calm. “Now, either you get your airship and you get here yesterday, or I come to you, and I take the keys off your corpse.”

There was the sound of sheets rustling, a muffled thud, a quiet curse. “On my way, boss,” Noah huffed. “Where’s ‘here’?” Roman sent him their coordinates. “But that’s a residential neighborhood. There’s nowhere to land.”

“You don’t have to land. Just do a flyover.”

“Alright. But how are you—?”

Roman hung up. They’d reached the local CCTS relay tower. The tower was protected by a chainlink perimeter fence topped with razor wire. To them, it might as well have been a line drawn in the dirt. He knelt down and knit his fingers together, and Neo stepped up into his hands. He thrust her up into the air, and she did a graceful flip over the fence, opening her parasol to land gently on her feet on the other side. Roman simply exhaled, breathing out black smoke, and stepped through the fence. Qrow was right, he really did have the perfect Semblance for criminal activity.

Just thinking of Qrow sent another thrill of urgency through him as he recollected himself on the other side. He began to climb the tower, Neo close at his heels. As they made their way higher and higher, up above the rooftops, Roman tracked a dark speck in the eastern sky, growing larger, until its shape unmistakably resolved into the hulking mass of Noah’s airship. Roman reached the top of the tower with Neo right behind him, holding fast to the rungs of the maintenance ladder, all of Mistral sprawling out below.

Ozpin had been the one to teach him of this little trick, not so long ago. He’d said that Little Red could take one of her friends with her on a ride-along when she used her Semblance, and postulated that Roman should be able to do the same. The only problem: Roman hadn’t quite mastered it yet. Half the time, he dropped Neo, or didn’t manage to pull her along with him in the first place. He looked down at the two-hundred-foot drop to the concrete below. If he dropped Neo this time, would she be able to get her parasol open in time to slow her fall? Noah’s airship was fast approaching. It was now or never. He looked back over his shoulder at Neo. “Trust me?” he asked, reaching out to her. She smiled, and without hesitation or doubt, she took his hand. Then, they vanished into smoke.

A few seconds later, they both rematerialized on the deck of the airship as it roared past the tower. Roman looked down at Neo and gave her hand a squeeze. She grinned up at him, and he saw in her eyes that she had really, truly believed he would not let her fall. And so he hadn’t. If Neo believed he could do something, he would damn well do it. “Ready to be the heroes?” he asked her.

Her grin took on a strained edge and she shrugged her shoulders. Not really?

“Yeah, me either.”

He let go of her hand and stalked up to the cockpit, still trailing smoke. When he threw open the door, Noah startled, losing his grip on the controls. The airship shuddered, and he quickly took hold of the helm again, straightening the old bird out. “Boss! How did you—?”

Roman slammed a map down on the console in front of the captain, a big, red X indicating Qrow’s last known location: a derelict little village called Oniyuri. “That’s our destination. Fly low. We’re looking for a hunting party.”

“I didn’t have time to assemble my crew.”

“Don’t need ’em,” said Roman. “I’ll be your copilot; Neo will man the cannon.”

“Wait a minute, did you say a hunting party? We’re picking up Huntsmen?” The captain sounded about as fond of Huntsmen as Roman was.

“Technically, only one of them’s a Huntsman. The rest are still on training wheels.”

“Why are you dealing with Huntsmen at all? I’m really not comfortable with—”

“Stay out of my business, and I’ll keep them out of yours,” said Roman. He settled into the copilot’s chair beside the captain, eyes already scanning the ground as the houses gave way to forest, even though there was no way the group had made it this far yet at the rate they were traveling. “What’s our ETA?”

“About forty minutes,” Noah grumbled, turning his attention back to the controls.

“Make it thirty.”

Even pushing the old cargo ship’s engines to their limits, it felt like they were moving at a crawl as Ozpin and Roman imagined all the worst case scenarios of what might have happened to the vulnerable little group—to Qrow. They had almost made it. Another few days, and they’d have been on Ozpin’s doorstep, bringing all their baggage with them. But now… This wasn’t the plan. Roman had no idea what Qrow had told them, if anything at all, about what to expect when they actually got to Mistral. Qrow had planned to “meet” the kids at the city gates and prepare them for what they’d be walking into, but the way things seemed now, he wasn’t going to make it to the city. At least, not without some help from above. By which Roman of course meant himself and Neo. Because the gods wouldn’t do shit. Still, Roman swore to them that if anything had happened to Qrow, he’d end whoever was responsible. If Roman wanted Qrow out of the picture, he’d take him out himself. No one else had the right. Not after everything they’d been through together over the years—months—whatever. Bottom line: Qrow was his, and anyone who tried to take what was his ended up paying for it dearly. The fact that Ozpin wasn’t entirely put off by the thought of brutal, bloody retribution spoke as much to Qrow’s sway over him as Roman’s.

“There!” Roman shoved out of his chair and pointed to distant specks of bright color amidst the drab landscape up ahead. They were clustered together in the center of an open pavilion surrounded by the ruins of an old village.

“But that’s not Oniyuri, that’s…Kuroyuri,” Noah determined after double-checking the map.

“With color palettes that garish, it’s gotta be them,” said Roman. “Take us down.”

As Noah began the descent toward the ruins, another, darker form came into view in the middle of the action. It was a creature of Grimm unlike any Roman had ever seen—like a horse and rider fused together, but both forms were deeply wrong, elongated and contorted into the stuff of nightmares. “What in the name of the gods is that?” Noah breathed.

“Hell if I know,” said Roman.

“I thought you knew all about the Grimm,” said Noah, glancing sideways at him.

“Why would I—?” Roman bit his tongue, recalling how, when they’d been attacked by the drake, Ozpin had helpfully started spouting all manner of assorted trivia about the obscure species. “Right. That’s a…”

‘That is a nuckelavee,’ Ozpin supplied. His tone left no room for doubt that the creature was every bit as formidable as it appeared.

“Nuckelavee,” Roman repeated. “Pure nightmare fuel, but still of the combustible variety. The cannon oughta take care of it.” The trick would be not hitting one of the kids currently engaged in combat with the creature. Well, there were four of them. Did they really need all four?

‘Roman!’

Roman rolled his eyes, echoing Ozpin’s earlier defense. ‘Just a passing thought.’

Before they came into firing range, however, the tables seemed to turn in the fight below. At first, it had appeared as though Ozpin’s star students were getting their asses handed to them, but then, in a sudden burst of coordination, three of them worked together to pin the monster down by its horrifically overstretched limbs, while another leapt from the top of the nearby clock tower to bring her hammer down on the horse’s head with the full force of her fall. Its mount apparently stunned or killed by the blow, the rider was immobilized, and helpless to defend itself against a quick succession of finishing slashes delivered by one of the boys.

With a sharp, blood-curdling shriek that they heard from the airship even over the roar of the engines, the Grimm disintegrated into a pillar of black smoke. But they weren’t the only ones in the area to hear its cry. A cacophonous chorus of other shrieks and howls arose from the surrounding woods as it seemed all the Grimm for as far as the nuckelavee’s call had carried began to close in on the little village and its only living occupants.

That was when Roman caught sight of Qrow. He was sitting with his back against one of the outer buildings, slumped over as though he lacked the strength to hold himself up. Qrow wasn’t one to sit out a fight. He must have been injured—badly. No sooner had Roman spotted Qrow, than he saw the lithe, black shape of a beowolf stalking out of the woods toward him. A moment of powerless panic seized Roman in a chokehold, but the boom of the cannon snapped him out of it. They were within range, and Neo’s aim was nearly as sharp as her brother’s. The beowolf went up in flames, leaving behind nothing but ash. Neo took out the rest of the Grimm that had reached the edge of the village as Noah brought the airship down, but there were more coming, and her angle wouldn’t be nearly as good from the ground.

As three of the kids turned their attention to the incoming airship, shielding their eyes from the blast of the engines, a girl in a rose-red cloak raced over to Qrow. She could only have been that selfsame little thorn in Roman’s side since the beginning of this whole ordeal. Little Red hefted the Huntsman with some difficulty up onto her back. Then she rejoined her friends as the airship touched down in the center of the pavilion. Forcing his inherent aversion to altruism down like bile in his throat, Roman told the captain to keep the engines hot, then made his way to the cargo hold. He hit the button to lower the loading ramp, and walked down to meet his unlikely new allies, if this all actually worked out as Ozpin hoped. But then again, when had anything ever worked out as Ozpin hoped?

He tipped his hat to the bedraggled little group, eyes lingering on Qrow and Little Red. Save for Qrow, who appeared to be unconscious, they all stared at him for a moment in shock. “You kids look like you could use a ride.”

Chapter Text

Little Red’s three companions immediately drew their weapons, which, considering they’d never met him before, Roman felt represented a rather unfair snap judgement of his character. Ozpin had told him a little about these new kids. He hadn’t bothered to commit their names to memory, but the petite redhead with the massive hammer had a Semblance that redirected electricity, so: Sparky. The quiet boy with a shock of pink in his long, dark hair had a Semblance that allowed him to manipulate emotions, so: Moody. And the blonde boy playing white knight, well, Ozpin hadn’t actually mentioned what his Semblance was, so: Blondie. Presumably, the only reason Little Red didn’t greet him the same way as her friends was because she was still carrying Qrow, who, now that Roman got a closer look at him, was even worse off than Roman had thought. His breathing was shallow and ragged, and even with all the commotion around him, he showed no signs of stirring. ‘We need to get him to a hospital.’

“How are you still alive?!” Little Red cried, looking on the verge of tearing her hair out in frustration. Still, her friends hadn’t attacked him yet. The intimidating figure Neo cut standing atop the gun turret above him, poised at the controls of the still-smoking cannon, probably had something to do with it.

“You know, I’ve been getting that one a lot lately,” said Roman. “But we’ll have to catch up later, Red. Right now, we need to go.” He flashed a smile that he’d intended to be somewhat friendly, but judging by Red’s reaction, had ended up closer to threatening. This whole “helping” business was really not his forte.

“We won’t let you take us anywhere,” said Little Red. Her friends flanked her, slipping into fighting stances.

Roman’s smile twisted into a snarl. They didn’t have time for this, not in the state Qrow was in. “The only place I’m taking you is the hospital.”

“Is that a threat?” Blondie spat back.

Roman growled in frustration. “No. I mean I am actually going to take you to Mistral General Hospital, because one of you clearly needs it.”

“Yeah, right!” Sparky scoffed. “You expect us to believe that?”

“That’s up to you, sweetheart. But whether you come with me or not…” He raised his cane, flipping up the crosshairs to fix Qrow in his sights. “I will be taking him.” Little Red dropped into a defensive crouch at the same time as Roman lifted his cane a little higher and fired over her head, incinerating the beowolf that had been stalking up behind her. The kids were so focused on him, they’d turned their backs on the more immediate danger. A second wave of Grimm was approaching. Roman could see their shadowy forms moving through the trees all around, seeking an opening to attack. Neo unleashed another barrage of cannon fire in a circle around the pavilion, driving the creatures back. But more of them were amassing by the minute. “What’ll it be, kiddos?” Roman asked. “Me?” He swept his crosshairs over scores of hungry red eyes watching them from the shadows of the forest. “Or the Grimm?”

Little Red looked all around them, and then at Qrow, at his deathly pale face and his pained expression, even in the depths of delirium. “Everyone lower your weapons,” she said. Maybe she wasn’t so stupid, after all.

“What?!” Blondie demanded, turning on her. “You can’t seriously believe he’s here to help us, Ruby. It’s Roman Torchwick! You know better than any of us what he’s capable of!”

“Exactly,” said Little Red. “I can handle him.” Roman rolled his eyes at that. “Jaune, we need that airship, or…” Tears began to well in her eyes, but she tipped her head back, blinking them away. “Or Qrow might not make it,” she finished quietly.

Blondie’s expression softened for a moment, but then became even more resolute as he turned to face Roman again, sword and shield poised for a fight. “If we need that airship, then I say we take it!”

Roman was distinctly unimpressed by the little display of bravado. “Do any of you kids actually know how to fly this thing?” His query was met with resounding silence. “That’s what I thought. Didn’t really think that one through, did you?” Blondie shot him a surprisingly vicious look, but when Little Red insisted again that they lower their weapons, he yielded, following her command along with the others. “All aboard,” said Roman, stepping aside and inviting them in with a sweep of his arm.

‘Not all at once!’ Ozpin warned. But it was too late. The circling Grimm, seeing their quarry begin to move en masse, instinctively attacked. Neo mowed down the first to charge, but their numbers were overwhelming, and any that managed to make it past her circle of fire quickly got too close to the airship for the cannon to strike. Suddenly, they were in the middle of a feeding frenzy. Little Red’s friends sprang back into action as cannon fire boomed overhead, and a dozen different species of Grimm fought both humans and each other in competition for their pound of flesh.

“Get him inside!” Roman yelled to Little Red, firing from the mouth of the cargo hold at anything that moved and wasn’t covered in obnoxious colors. Red didn’t hesitate. She burst into rose petals with Qrow and sped up the ramp, rematerializing in the hold and laying Qrow gently on the floor. Then, in another flurry of red, she flew right back out into the open to help her friends fend off the monstrous horde that had descended upon them.

That was his opportunity. The perfect chance to order the captain to take off with Qrow and leave the brats behind to fend for themselves. But as much as Roman wanted to – as much as Ozpin wanted to, if only for Qrow’s sake – he didn’t. Ozpin wouldn’t allow him to abandon his students. And even if he did, if they survived, which, odds were, the persistent little pests would, Roman would only have to reckon with them later. Better to face the reckoning now. Roman drew Ozpin’s cane, flicked back the cover concealing the enchanted emerald, and cast a shield over Qrow where he lay. All that practice of only a few spells had paid off. Roman was really good at shields. The magical barrier held strong. Then, with a defeated sigh, he turned and ran down the ramp into the fray.

Just a few months ago, he would have thought he’d lost his godsdamned mind if he could see himself now. But whereas before, dashing headlong into a ferocious frenzy of Grimm would have been a swift and efficient means of committing suicide, with Ozpin with him, he really did feel like a Huntsman. And not just any Huntsman—the most skilled Huntsman on Remnant. A king taijitu struck at him, bared fangs the size of his forearms and sharp as swords, but he slid under it, thrusting his dagger up through its jaw and ripping down along its underbelly. The great serpent gave a rattling hiss and collapsed, coiling in on itself as it died, but Roman was already up on his feet again with his cane shoved halfway down the throat of an ursa and Ozpin’s cane propping open the snapping jaws of a beowolf. He dispatched the ursa with two shots straight down the hatch, then swung his cane around and did the same to the beowolf.

No sooner did the beowolf hit the ground than a boarbatusk charged him, bursting through the beowolf’s disintegrating body and sending up a thick cloud of black ash. Roman let himself phase out into smoke, all but invisible amidst the ash. The boarbatusk skidded to a halt, pawing the dirt with frustrated grunts after it hadn’t made contact with anything solid. Roman rematerialized right beside it and hooked the handle of his cane around its tusk, swinging up onto its back. It reared up and tried to throw him, but he pressed the handle of Ozpin’s cane to the base of the beast’s skull and re-extended the shaft. It shot right through with a sickening crunch, and the boarbatusk fell to its knees, killed instantly.

He could see flashes of color straight ahead amidst the charnel of black, white and red, and he fought to reach them, blasting and bashing Grimm left and right until he was close enough to yell, “All of you get on the godsdamned airship or so help me, I will drag you onto it myself!”

“Ha! So you are trying to kidnap us!” Sparky cried triumphantly as she smashed in an ursa’s skull with her hammer.

“No!” Roman would have thrown his hands up in exasperation if he didn’t need them both to thrust his cane out and block a death stalker’s pincers from bisecting him on the spot. “Gods, you idiots wouldn’t recognize an olive branch if I beat you with it!”

‘Well, you are acting rather confrontational.’

The force of the death stalker’s attack sent Roman skidding back, his heels digging into the dirt as he tried to brace himself, until his back hit something. He glanced over his shoulder just in time to see a surprised-looking Blondie behead the beowolf he’d been fighting, and then turn with a sudden wild rage in his eyes, bringing his sword down with the intent of doing the same to Roman. “I’m acting confrontational?” Roman hissed under his breath as he ducked the boy’s swing, letting him sever the death stalker’s claw instead.

“You played a part in the Fall of Beacon!” Blondie screamed, swinging his sword around for another strike, which Roman blocked with his cane. “That means you had a hand in her death!”

“I don’t know who the hell you’re talking about!” Roman growled, blocking swing after swing of the boy’s sword as he backed under the frenzied death stalker, its sharp legs piercing the earth all around them like pile drivers while they fought.

‘Ms. Nikos,’ said Ozpin gravely. The name rang a distant bell, but Roman really didn’t get what this kid’s beef with him was. ‘Cinder murdered her, but you are partially responsible for the circumstances surrounding her death. As am I.’

‘Oh for fuck’s sake, neither of us killed the girl,’ Roman thought. Aloud, he said, “Listen, kid, you wanna go after Cinder, be my guest. But you keep this up?” He held the boy’s enraged glare as their weapons clashed and sparks flew. “I’ll take you the fuck out of commission.”

No sooner had he made the threat, however, than in a flurry of red, the boy was gone. And the next second, in another disorienting red rush, Roman found himself back in the cargo hold. Along with everyone else. Moody hit the button to draw up the ramp, sealing them all in together. “Okay, that’s everyone,” Little Red panted, doubled over with her hands on her knees.

Roman was almost stunned into inaction by the fact that Red had actually decided to do something reasonable for once. Almost. “Move,” he said, shoving Moody away from the control panel and hitting the intercom. “Captain, take us to Mistral General. And step on it.”

“But boss, that’s—”

Roman cut him off by pressing the receiver again. “I know your concerns. We’ll discuss them privately. Over and out.” With that, they lifted off, leaving that godsforsaken village in their rather literal dust as Neo lit it up with a rain of fire. Roman raised his cane at the quiet sound of a footstep behind him. He turned to see Blondie, sword still drawn, seemingly intent on cutting Roman down where he stood. “No one ever told you not to bring a knife to a gunfight?” said Roman, crosshairs poised right between the boy’s eyes.

Blondie looked ready to make a foolish move anyway, but Little Red stepped between them, a hand on each of their chests, and pleaded, “Stop, both of you! Please! Jaune, you heard him just now. He’s taking us to the hospital.”

“But why?!” Blondie shouted. “It doesn’t make any sense!”

“Why don’t we try asking him?” she proposed. Was Little Red actually deciding not to rush headlong into a situation she didn’t understand for once? Really, she could knock Roman over with a feather at this point.

“Now there’s a novel idea,” Roman muttered. Although, he didn’t actually know what he was going to say to these kids to explain himself. Qrow was supposed to corroborate his story so he didn’t sound like a total lunatic, but that clearly wasn’t going to happen any time soon. “First things first,” he said, looking down distastefully at where the girl was still touching him. “Take your hand off me before I take it off you.”

Little Red pulled her hand back. “Sorry,” she said, reluctantly turning to face Roman. As if having her back to him had been safer.

“You have silver eyes,” he said, unsure how he had never noticed before, nor why he felt compelled to comment on it now.

She startled like he’d said something unsettling, then her eyes widened as they met his. “Uh…and your eyes are sort of…glowing.”

Right. Roman extended Ozpin’s cane and struck the tip sharply against the floor to dispel the magical shield around Qrow. He didn’t have to do that to drop the spell, but he enjoyed seeing the kids jump at the sound. “Better?”

“Now they’re different colors,” said Little Red suspiciously. “You’re not one of Neo’s illusions, are you? You’re really here?” She held eye contact as she reached out again and poked him in the chest before quickly withdrawing her hand, lest he make good on his threat of removing it. Roman was seriously considering doing just that, as well as how upset Ozpin would be about it. Maiming his student would probably piss him off pretty badly.

“What was that shiny shield around Qrow? Was that your Semblance?” asked Sparky.

“Isn’t that Professor Ozpin’s cane?” asked Moody.

“He probably stole it!” snapped Blondie.

Roman twirled Ozpin’s cane in his hand, then pointed it at Little Red. “Yes,” he said. Next he pointed it at Sparky. “No.” Then at Moody. “Yes.” Finally at Blondie. “No.” He retracted the shaft and clipped the cane back to his coat, figuring right now, it would be best for everyone if he simply twisted the truth a little. “You see, Ozpin gave me the cane—”

“There’s no way he’d do that,” Sparky interrupted.

“Well, technically, Qrow gave it to me on his behalf,” Roman continued. “Because he and I both work for Ozpin.”

“That’s not possible,” said Little Red, looking to where Qrow lay unconscious on the floor. “He wouldn’t… And even if… He would have told us.”

“He was going to,” said Roman. “But then this clusterfuck happened, and I had to come rescue you all myself. Which, by the way, what actually did happen? Because Qrow was down for the count before you kids went toe-to-toe with that freaky fucking Grimm back there.”

“Like you don’t know,” Sparky sneered.

“I don’t. That’s why I’m asking. Because there aren’t many things I know of that can take that bastard down, and yet there he is, practically in a fucking coma!” Roman snarled, his grip tightening around the handle of his cane.

“It was a scorpion Faunus,” said Little Red. “He said his name was Tyrian, and that he worked for Salem. Like Cinder. And you.”

‘They know about Salem?’

“Hm,” said Roman, mentally adding this Tyrian character to his hit list. “Can’t say I’ve heard of him. But he’ll be hearing from me.” He made to approach Qrow, but Little Red drew her scythe, blocking his way with the blade. Roman ground his teeth, refraining with difficulty from escalating the situation, for Qrow’s sake if nothing else. “I imagine you’ll want some proof of what I’m saying. Take Qrow’s scroll and check his call history.” Red retracted her scythe and walked over to Qrow herself, then crouched down and began patting his pockets. “Front left trouser pocket,” said Roman. He would never cease to find it strange when others didn’t keep track of where their associates kept their valuables. He in turn pulled out his own scroll and opened up his recent calls. He held it out for Little Red to examine alongside Qrow’s.

“Um…there are a lot of calls between a, uh, ‘Dead Man Walking’ and…‘Teacher’s Pet’?” She frowned, scratching her head.

Roman cringed. “Ignore the names. Look at the numbers, the dates and times. They match.”

“…They do,” she confirmed, eyes darting down to Qrow again.

“Qrow and I have been in contact. He was watching over you on the road while I was making preparations in Mistral. He’s the reason I knew where to find you.”

“So you could have come after us at any time,” Little Red reasoned.

“Come after you?” Roman scoffed. “When have I ever come after you? In case you’ve forgotten, Red, you’ve always been the one to come after me.” That was the absolute truth, and when Little Red realized it, she shut her mouth again. “You see, I’m a…double agent of sorts. At the end of the day, I answer to Ozpin. Not Cinder or Salem.”

“But Professor Ozpin is dead,” said Moody.

Roman laughed. “Oh, if only.”

“We were at his funeral!” Sparky objected.

“Wouldn’t be his first funeral,” said Roman.

A look of realization dawned on Little Red’s face. “So you’re saying you let us stop you all those times!” She gasped. “Was our first meeting secretly my Beacon entrance exam?”

“You got it, Red,” said Roman through gritted teeth. “I’m sure you have more questions, and Qrow can answer every single one of them. Which is yet another reason why he is our top priority right now. Agreed?”

Little Red hesitated only a moment before coming to a decision. “Agreed,” she said. The others nodded reluctantly, even Blondie, after getting an elbow in the ribs from Sparky.

“Good.” Roman clapped his hands together. “Now, if you’ll allow me,” he said, deferring to Little Red, who seemed to have assumed the role of Qrow’s protector while he couldn’t protect himself, “I’m going to move him to the galley, where there’s a first aid kit and some supplies.” Even though she’d agreed to give him the benefit of the doubt, she suddenly seemed to have a lot more doubt as soon as the calculus involved placing Qrow’s life in his hands. Just who was Qrow to her, anyway? Was she this weirdly devoted to all her teachers? After a moment’s hard thought, she stepped back and allowed him to lift Qrow up into his arms. Still, she stuck close by his side as he led the way out of the cargo hold.

“Do you believe him?” Sparky whispered as she and the others followed a ways behind.

“Not a single word,” Blondie answered.

“Either way, there are things that don’t add up,” said Moody. “Hopefully, Qrow will be able to tell us what’s going on.”

Roman ignored them. “Clear off the table,” he said to Little Red as they entered the galley. She swept everything onto the floor with a loud clatter, and Roman laid Qrow down on the bare surface to see just what was wrong with him. Roman had gotten quite adept at improvised first aid over the years, although he usually performed it on himself. While Qrow clearly needed professional attention, perhaps there was something Roman could do in the meantime. The Huntsman appeared to have only one serious injury. There was a swath of bandages wrapped around his abdomen, and the front was soaked through with a nasty-looking viscous purple liquid. “He was stung?” Roman asked, although the answer seemed obvious. Roman had become familiar with a lot of toxins in his line of work.

“Yes,” said Little Red, an angry flush spreading across her cheeks. But she was angry only at herself. “He was protecting me.”

Roman snapped and pointed to the first aid kit on the wall, which Red hurried to retrieve. “I take it the scorpion escaped?”

Red nodded. “I cut off his tail, but it was too late,” she sniffed.

Roman raised his eyebrows, surprised that Little Red had managed to land a hit like that on the guy who’d taken Qrow out. “Well, at least he didn’t get away unscathed.” Roman used the medical scissors to cut through the bandages. There was a fresh roll in the kit to replace them afterward. To his surprise, beneath the bandages was a familiar wad of grey fabric. Roman easily recognized his old kerchief, even stained with venom beyond salvaging. “He said he was going to burn this,” he muttered.

‘Yet he didn’t,’ said Ozpin, stating the obvious. Unsure why Qrow had held onto it, Roman threw away the soiled scrap of fabric along with the bandages. Then, because Qrow’s shirt was also ruined beyond repair, he cut through that, too. The seasoned Huntsman was in enviable shape for a man of his age. Shaking his head, Roman returned his focus to the task at hand. The wound was relatively shallow, but obviously deep enough for the venom to have entered Qrow’s bloodstream. There would be little Roman could do other than sterilize the wound and dress it with fresh bandages. He took the bottle of rubbing alcohol from the kit and poured a generous amount over Qrow’s stomach to flush out the wound. It would have stung like a bitch had Qrow been awake, but the only reaction it got out of him was a quiet groan. 

“Does he need stitches?” Little Red asked, cringing at the sight. For someone who diced up monsters for shits and giggles, she sure was squeamish when it came to people.

“Stitches would only seal in the rest of the venom,” said Roman. That said, there was…one more thing he could do. He glanced up at Qrow’s face, debating whether he was worth it. But of course, he already knew the answer. “Don’t say I never did anything for you,” he muttered. Then, he leaned down and sealed his lips over the open wound, sucking out a mouthful of blood and venom. The taste of iron, alcohol and acrid-sweet toxin was almost enough to make him gag, but he spat it out and kept going.

He was vaguely aware that the two boys had fled the room with their hands over their mouths, and Sparky had gone after them saying, “Oh, come on you guys, it’s not that bad.” By the time Roman lifted his head to spit out his third mouthful of the vile mixture, Little Red was dry heaving into the kitchen sink. All Roman could think about was how ironic it was that Qrow had called him poison, and yet now, Roman felt it was rather the other way around. Qrow had worked his way insidiously into Roman’s system, and Roman didn’t know if he could get him out. Even worse, he didn’t know if he wanted to.

Roman stopped when he began to taste more blood than venom, wiping his mouth with the back of his glove. Qrow had started shivering when Roman had removed his shirt, but now he lay still as the grave, save for the irregular and too-shallow rise and fall of his chest as his breath rattled in his lungs. “Come on, Qrow, you can’t die on me now,” Roman whispered. “You’re my alibi.” He glanced around the room, empty now save for Little Red, who still had her head in the sink. So, blood and venom be damned, he leaned over one more time and pressed his lips to Qrow’s, willing him to keep fighting, to win, to wake up. But of course, this was no fairytale, and Qrow didn’t wake.

Chapter Text

After disinfecting and wrapping Qrow up in fresh bandages, Roman once again pilfered Qrow’s flask, gargling his whiskey to wash out the vile taste in his mouth with one marginally less noxious. Then, because why the hell not, he took a couple of gulps. Little Red had tidied herself up and was now watching him in uneasy silence, as though his true nature might be discerned from careful observation, like the color of his Aura. He offered her the flask.

“I’m sixteen,” she said, taking a step back as if he’d just offered her hard drugs. Like he’d ever personally dirty his hands in that messy business. He’d had people for that.

“So?”

“So, it’s illegal?” Roman raised his eyebrows. “Right,” she said, glancing away. “Almost forgot who I was talking to.”

“Been getting that one a lot, too,” he said. He wondered if he seemed different to the people who knew him: Missy, Raven, Perry…Neo. Not that she would let him see it if she were really starting to worry. Not this time, anyway, since there wasn’t a damn thing she could do except stay by his side. A reminder of what he was really fighting for.

“Thank you.”

Roman nearly spat out his next swig of whiskey. “What?”

“For helping him,” said Little Red. “Thank you.”

They both looked at Qrow, the fierce Huntsman, flat on his back and gasping like each breath might be his last taste of life. “Don’t thank me yet, Red. You still haven’t seen me at my worst. But if he dies, because he was protecting you,” said Roman, holding Little Red’s startled gaze, “you will.”

“The boys want to know if it’s safe to come back in,” Sparky announced, waltzing obliviously into the room. 

“I’m done here,” said Roman, shouldering past her on his way out the door. He needed to speak with the captain. 

‘Are we going to talk about—?’

“No.”

‘Roman…’

Roman spun on his heel and smashed his cane into one of the engine room readout displays, shattering its surface with a satisfying crunch. “It could be a moot point real soon, Oz,” he snarled at his fractured reflection in the darkened glass. There was nothing left to say.

~ * ~

The problem was that Mistral General Hospital was a government facility, and Noah, as captain of a smuggling ship, was naturally wary of those. Any airship that used their docks was subject to search and documentation checks, and while there was little to worry about in the cargo hold as Noah was between runs, his paperwork wasn’t exactly in order. Hence, why Roman had summoned everyone up on deck as they approached the city. “You see that big, white building we’re coming up on?” he asked, pointing it out with his cane among the others below. The kids all nodded, while Neo stood silent sentinel over a still-unconscious Qrow. “That’s the hospital.”

“So why aren’t we landing there?” asked Sparky, cocking her hip as she swung her hammer up to rest on her opposite shoulder. Roman had chosen the right nickname for her. The girl certainly had spark. Unlike the others, she didn’t seem to harbor any fear of him, or of anything else for that matter. Not exactly a recipe for a long career as a Huntress.

Roman walked along the line of students as they peered over the railing. “I seem to remember Ozpin telling me about your first lesson at Beacon Academy. What was it?” he said ponderously, bouncing the tip of his cane in his opposite hand as he walked. “Ah, yes.” He came to a stop behind Little Red. “Landing strategy.” Right on cue, Neo appeared out of thin air beside him and shoved Little Red over the railing, screaming as she fell. 

“Ruby!” The others all leapt over after her like perfect little lemmings, and just like that, the deck was mercifully clear of children. Roman took a deep breath of the peaceful, quiet air. He could tell Ozpin was gearing up to make some indignant comment about gratuitous child cruelty, but couldn’t quite figure out how to phrase it in a way that didn’t sound hypocritical. He ended up saying nothing.

“Would you say that makes you two even?” Roman asked Neo, peering over the edge in time to see Little Red orient herself as she fell through the air, before bursting into a flurry of rose petals and swirling down toward the hospital. Her friends followed in her wake, utilizing various functions of their weapons and the urban landscape to control their falls. 

Neo tapped her chin as she thought about it, then gave a careless shrug. Close enough. With that, she snapped open her parasol and leapt up onto the railing, turning back to face him with a smile before she hopped off into the blue. 

Roman hefted Qrow into his arms once more, noting that the Huntsman had already bled through his new bandages. It was hardly surprising. Venom tended to contain anticoagulants that kept the blood from clotting so it could flow freely through the bloodstream. Nature was a bitch. But so was dry cleaning bloodstains from a bespoke suit. “If you get blood on my new coat, I will kill you myself,” he informed Qrow before letting them both be swept away, so much smoke on the breeze.

His instincts took over, and less than a minute later, he landed in a crouch on the sidewalk in front of the hospital, thankfully, with Qrow still securely in his arms. Neo alighted daintily beside him as the smoke cleared, and he took in the four windswept children standing around, still catching their breath. “Well?” he barked at Little Red. “Go get a doctor! We sent you ahead for a reason.”

Little Red shot him a look that was somewhere between outraged and dumbfounded, before her eyes settled on Qrow, and she set her jaw. With a curt nod, she burst into rose petals again and rushed through the hospital doors. Roman wasn’t about to push his luck with his own Semblance, not with Mr. Bad Luck Charm along for the ride, so he shifted Qrow’s weight in his arms and ran after her. The others got the idea and followed close on his heels. They burst into the ER and Red waved them over to where she was rapidly explaining the situation to a woman in a crisp, white lab coat.

“We need scorpion Faunus anti-venom to the ER, stat,” the woman ordered into the comm hooked around her ear as Roman skidded to a halt in front of her. Two nurses came running down the hall with a gurney trundling between them. “Get him on the gurney,” she said to Roman, who complied with the doctor’s orders, laying Qrow down carefully on the stark, white sheets. “Does he have some ID?” she asked, taking hold of the gurney and pushing it swiftly back down the busy hallway, Roman and Red jogging to keep pace with her while Neo blocked the other kids from following with her parasol. 

Roman reached into his coat pocket and fished out Qrow’s scroll, tapping to open up Qrow’s Huntsman license and handing it to the doctor. Red narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “When did you—?” 

But she fell quiet when the doctor started speaking into her comm again. “The patient’s a Huntsman, so we’ll also need Aura suppressants.”

Roman’s reaction was visceral and immediate; he moved before he even understood what he was doing. “No!” he said, grabbing the doctor’s arm. “Don’t give him those!”

“An active Aura interferes with our instruments,” she started to explain, but he cut her off.

“He’s an addict!” An image flashed before Roman’s eyes as clear as the doctor’s face in front of him: Qrow, bruised and bloody, stumbling out of the elevator into the headmaster’s office before sliding down the nearest pillar to the floor.

“I assure you, it’s a non-addictive substance—”

“Not to him!” Roman growled, his grip tightening around her arm involuntarily to the point where it would probably leave bruises. 

She hardly flinched. “Alright,” she said calmly. “We’ll make do without them. I promise you, he’s in good hands. But you have to let me take him from here.”

It was harder than it should have been, but Roman forced himself to let go of her. She handed Qrow’s scroll back to him and then she and the nurses whisked Qrow away, disappearing through another set of doors deeper into the hospital. The hallway seemed to slant under his feet and he stumbled back against the wall, his vision blurring until he saw— Qrow again, slumped at the base of the pillar in his office. He rushed to Qrow’s side, trembling hands checking him over for serious injuries. In spite of all the blood, it seemed he’d simply taken a bit of a beating, too skilled a Huntsman to have returned from a routine scouting mission in truly dire straits. But it was only a matter of time, if he kept on like this. 

“You can’t keep doing this to yourself. You of all people should know that you can only press your luck for so long.”

Qrow opened his crimson eyes, and the pain in them was far deeper than his wounds. “No Aura, no Semblance. As long as I take these pills, no one else gets hurt ’cause of me.”  

“Qrow,” he said, gingerly reaching out to brush blood and grime from a cut across the other man’s cheek, “Summer’s death was an accident.” 

Qrow turned away from his touch with a harsh laugh. “Yeah, just bad luck.” He curled in on himself, looking every bit the boy who had first walked through Beacon’s doors with vengeance in his eyes, but compassion in his heart. “If I hadn’t been there—”

“No one can know what would have happened.” He lowered himself to the floor to sit beside Qrow, and gently ran his fingers through Qrow’s hair in the way that always seemed to calm the man’s restless spirit. Qrow didn’t shy away from him this time. Just the opposite. Qrow leaned heavily against him, as though the burdens he bore held physical weight that could be shared between them. He wished that were true. There had been but few times in his many lives when he had felt so helpless to help someone in need. But by the gods, he would try. “If you won’t stop this reckless and self-destructive behavior for me, then do it for your daughter. Don’t you want to watch her grow up, to see the person she’ll become?”

A sob wracked Qrow’s body. “She called me ‘Uncle’ yesterday.”

“Oh.” He could do nothing but hold Qrow, hand slipping from Qrow’s hair to rub soothingly up and down his back as he sobbed. “She’s probably just copying her cousin,” he offered faintly.

“I didn’t think it would hurt this much,” said Qrow. “I mean, this is what I wanted. She and Yang have always been like sisters, especially after Raven…y’know. So when they started talking about each other that way, I was glad that they’d become so close. And Summer was so good to all of them, even Tai, when he was in a dark place. She could always bring out the light in people. And then after Summer…and I… Even after we were gone and she started calling Tai ‘Dad,’ I didn’t mind. He’s a great dad. ’S why I trusted him with her in the first place.” Qrow buried his face in the soft folds of his cowl neck sweater, staining it with tears. He breathed deeply, seeming to take some small comfort in the familiar scent before he mumbled, “But when I went to visit her before my mission, she ran up to me like she always does, and she said, ‘Uncle Qrow, look what I made you! So you can take us with you wherever you go.’ And she gave me this.” He dug into his shirt pocket and offered up a folded piece of paper. 

He took it and opened it up carefully, revealing a child’s pastel drawing. In the middle of a big, pink heart were two little stick-figure girls, one with long, yellow hair, the other with short, black hair. Standing behind them was a taller stick-figure man with yellow hair. They were all smiling, but the paper was speckled with tears. He folded up the drawing and wrapped both arms around Qrow, holding him close. “It doesn’t have to be this way,” he said. “You can still be her father.” 

“Summer was one of the best Huntresses I ever knew,” Qrow said. “Our daughter’s four years old. She can’t even defend herself.” He shook his head. “She’s better off without me around. At least for awhile. Maybe, if I keep taking these suppressants, I can spend more time with her.”

“Qrow, if you keep taking those drugs, you won’t have another year with her,” he said firmly, desperate for Qrow to see what he saw so plainly. “And I…I can’t lose you again.” Summer had been so warm and full of life where he himself could be rather cold and bleak, on his bad days. He’d tried to shake off the centuries of emotional rust for Qrow, to let Qrow in as he had so few others, but he worried that behind the veil of the great warrior, the powerful wizard, the wise headmaster, there wasn’t much of a man left. It was ironic. He was the sum of so many men. And yet, with each life, he felt lesser somehow. Like a rock stuck in the middle of the endless river of time, the waters gradually grinding him down around the edges. Qrow deserved Summer’s smiling sunshine, not his autumn decay and frostbite. Because Qrow had his own storms to weather. So he had released Qrow from the cage they’d shared, and bid him fly free to follow his heart anew. He had wished his beloved the best and meant it, even as the words tasted like poison on his lips. “I was happy for you and Summer, truly, and for your wonderful daughter, but not a day went by that I didn’t miss you with every piece of my soul. And now that you’ve come back to me… I don’t think I could endure another goodbye.” But even as he said it, he knew he would have to, someday. The gods had been crueler to him than Salem could ever be, in that regard.

“But that’s not true, is it?” Qrow murmured. Qrow knew him too well. “You’ve had to say goodbye to everyone you’ve ever known. Your lives are nothing but loss. How do you do it? How can you keep fighting when…when you know you can’t win?”

A cold feeling settled over him, despite the warmth of his lover in his arms. “Is that what this is really about?”

“You said you wanted me to know the full story, before I dedicated my life to your cause, and to you. And I made my choice. I tried living a different life, loving someone else, and it was a dream while it lasted, but the dream is over now. I’ve got nothing left to lose.” Fresh tears pattered down onto the floor between them. “I’m all yours, Oz.” 

He had longed, selfishly, to hear Qrow say those words again, ever since Qrow had left him to try to cobble together some semblance of a normal life for himself. But not like this. “Can you not see that there are still things worth fighting for, even if we must keep fighting every day to defend them?” he asked, heartbroken at the thought that he himself had broken the last fragile pieces of Qrow’s heart, which had been entrusted to him in Qrow’s time of greatest sorrow and need.

“Of course there are,” said Qrow angrily, although his anger didn’t seem directed at anyone in particular. “But you’ve been at this a long damn time. Can you honestly tell me that what we’re doing makes a difference in the end?”

“We make a difference every day. Our true purpose as Huntsmen is not to kill, but to protect. And to the people we protect, we make all the difference.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Qrow grumbled.

“I know,” he said. “But even if there’s no checkmate, we have to keep her in check, or we lose everything.”

“If we can’t win, then we will lose. It’s just a matter of time.”

And there it was. The mentality he himself fought against in every lifetime. Even he, with the long arc of history before and behind him, hadn’t always won that fight. “So you’ve lost all hope for the future?”

“Haven’t you?” Qrow sighed, surrendering finally to his secure embrace, laying his head down in his lap and closing his eyes. 

“I can’t afford to,” he murmured. “And neither can you, it seems. I’m so sorry.” This was his fault. He had robbed Qrow of the last beacon of light that had kept him going through the darkness. But perhaps, he could return what he had stolen, by taking back what he had given. He couldn’t see any other way. His vision took on an emerald hue as he ran his fingers through Qrow’s hair again in a soothing rhythm. “You should rest,” he said, and Qrow’s breathing slowed and calmed, his lips parting slightly as the tension in his features went slack. “You’ll have peaceful, pleasant dreams of your family, to remind you that there are people who still care about you,” he said, and Qrow’s lips twitched ever so slightly into a smile. His breath caught. He couldn’t recall the last time he’d seen Qrow smile. “And when you wake, you won’t remember the things I told you that day, when you came back to me.” As the light faded from his eyes, he said to himself, “It’s clear to me now that some burdens, I must bear alone.” The enchantment left him as exhausted as Qrow, so he rested his head back against the pillar, and surrendered to sleep along with him. 

Roman opened his eyes to see Little Red and an orderly crouching down and peering nervously at him. Taking quick stock of himself, he figured he must have slid down the wall in the hospital hallway, because he was sitting on the floor. “Looks like he’s coming around,” said the orderly. 

“How many fingers am I holding up?” asked Little Red, waving a hand in front of his face. 

Roman scowled. “Three,” he said. “Wanna keep all of ’em?”

Red quickly withdrew her hand. “I think he’s alright,” she said. The orderly offered to help him to his feet, but he refused, shoving off the wall to stand on his own, albeit a little shakily, and relying on his cane. The orderly was saying something about how they had to go back out to the waiting room until the doctor returned, and he let his feet carry him automatically, back the way they’d come, ignoring Little Red’s anxious glances as she walked beside him. He was more interested in what Ozpin had to say.

‘I’m sorry. Flashbacks are a side-effect of reincarnation, usually triggered by familiar situations. I have no control over them. But what you just saw was…deeply private.’

‘What was it you said about redefining our notions of privacy?’

‘I am deadly serious, Roman. You cannot breathe a word of this to Qrow, or Ms. Rose.’

‘Why would I tell Red?’

‘You… Oh. Well, just in case she asks you what happened. She’s a very inquisitive young woman.’

‘Like I’m going to admit to having full-blown auditory and visual hallucinations,’ Roman thought. ‘I’m sort of going for the opposite of raving lunatic, but you’re not exactly helping my case here.’

‘Again, I apologize.’

There was still more to the whole thing than Roman understood. He could feel it. ‘I don’t like you keeping secrets from me, Oz. They tend to be real bombshells.’

‘It’s not my secret.’

“Are you sure you’re alright?” Little Red unwittingly interrupted, to Roman’s annoyance. “You were out of it for like, a whole minute. You didn’t swallow any poison, did you?”

Roman might as well have. Poison would have been preferable, really. At least there was an antidote for it. “Remember how I just had you tossed off an airship?” Little Red nodded uneasily. “So how come you’re pestering me about my health?”

“Well, if you really are one of the good guys—”

“I’m not,” he said, finally feeling steady on his feet again, and almost alone in his mind. “The world ain’t black and white, Red. The sooner that lesson sinks in, the better.”

They walked back out to the waiting room in silence, but for Roman, it was broken when Ozpin asked softly, ‘Do you think I did the right thing, with Qrow?’

‘You’re asking me?’

‘There’s no one else I can ask.’

Roman sighed. He had a feeling he knew why the flashback had come on so strong, so clear, as though those events had transpired only yesterday, when in fact, the absence of that familiar feathering of grey in Qrow’s hair belied that they must have taken place years ago. Ever since then, Ozpin’s decision must have been eating at him, his troublesome sense of morality forcing him to relive that moment over and over, and to question whether he had helped or harmed Qrow that day, or, an even more troubling possibility, both. ‘You did what was best for him,’ Roman thought, because to ease Ozpin’s mind was to ease his own. ‘That’s more important than doing what’s right.’

‘You’re thinking about Ms. Neo.’

‘If I hadn’t taught her to kill, she’d be dead. You can’t make it through life with a spotless soul, not if you have something to lose. But I think you know that.’

Back out in the waiting room, they reunited with Neo and Little Red’s replacement teammates, all three of whom regarded Roman with similar expressions of distrust and displeasure. “No one who works for Professor Ozpin would treat us like this,” said Blondie, thankfully with enough sense to keep his voice down. 

“Like what, exactly?” Roman wasn’t in the mood for kid gloves. If they wanted to know his true inclinations, he was more than happy to share with the class. “Are you referring to the part where I airlifted you all out of a swarm of Grimm? Or to how I brought you to the hospital, just like I said I would? Or maybe to how I’ve done literally everything in my power to save Qrow’s life? Let’s get one thing straight here: just because I work for Oz, doesn’t mean I have to like any of you.”

Although Roman was being subtle about it, Neo must have noticed him leaning on his cane a little more than usual. She calmly crossed to stand beside him for support should he need it, but in a way that looked like she was simply taking his side physically where she couldn’t verbally, rather than in a way that telegraphed his weakness. To his surprise, Little Red spoke up from his other side. “He really is doing everything he can to help.”

His frustration mounting, he rounded on her. “And why do you keep coming to my defense? You’re the only one here who actually has history with me.”

She looked up at him with the strangest softness in her eyes. “It’s like you said. If it weren’t for you, we wouldn’t be here.”

He took a step back, her behavior so bizarre, he was starting to suspect she might actually be ill. What had happened to the rabid little attack dog he’d encountered all those times before? “There’s something wrong with you, Red.”

“Well, Ruby’s our leader,” said Sparky, rallying her teammates, “so I guess that means we’ll just have to follow her lead, right?” Moody nodded stoically, but Blondie looked increasingly how Roman felt: like he was trapped in a lunatic asylum. “Right?” Sparky repeated, the word taking on a vaguely menacing tone. 

“Fine!” said Blondie. “But I’m not letting my guard down around him for a second.”

Sparky scoffed. “Well, none of us are doing that.”

“And if Qrow wakes up—” he continued, but cut himself off as Little Red flinched. “When Qrow wakes up,” he quietly corrected, “you’d better hope he can explain all this, Torchwick.”

“Oh, I’m looking forward to it,” Roman deadpanned. 

The six of them waited in tense silence amidst the hustle and bustle of the busy Emergency Room for what felt like hours, but was in fact, according to the clock up on the wall, only about forty minutes before Neo’s stomach growled. She flushed with embarrassment and subtly passed Roman a note: Pizza?

Roman hadn’t realized it earlier, but he was starving. They hadn’t eaten at all that day, and he had burned a fair amount of magic and Aura in the morning’s rescue. He fished some money out of Qrow’s wallet and held it up. “Twenty Lien to whoever wants to do a pizza run.”

Sparky grabbed Moody’s hand and stood, forcing him to rise with her. “Ren and I will go,” she announced, volunteering them both. Without leaving room for debate, she snatched the money from Roman’s hand and marched off in the direction of the cafeteria with Moody in tow. Which left Roman and Neo sitting with Little Red and Blondie. It was going to be a long wait.

Despite his hunger, Roman only just managed to choke down his portion of stale hospital pizza. He felt like he was tied up in knots inside with all this uncertainty and anticipation. It wasn’t something he was used to. Everyone who knew him knew better than to keep him waiting on anything. But of course, Qrow would be the aggravating exception.

Mercifully, it wasn’t much longer until he caught sight of Qrow’s doctor walking toward them down the hall. He stood, and the others, following his gaze, did the same a moment later. Damn her perfect poker face—Roman couldn’t read past her unconquerable calm to tell whether she was the bearer of good or bad news. “Well?” he asked impatiently when she approached them. If Qrow hadn’t made it off her operating table, she might not make it out of the building. The thing about hospitals? Very convenient morgues.

But then she smiled, and Roman’s breath hitched. “Mr. Branwen is responding well to the anti-venom,” she said. “Although we can’t get accurate readings from the equipment, it seems like he’s on his way to a full recovery, especially with his Aura accelerating his healing.” The kids let out a collective sigh of relief, and Little Red might have even started to cry, but she quickly rubbed at her eyes. “It was a close call,” the doctor continued, sobering. “Had you brought him in any later, we would likely be having a different conversation. He’s a very lucky man.”

Little Red lunged at Roman without warning, and before he could flick his dagger into his hand, she had crashed into him, arms closing tightly around him in a gravely miscalculated attempt to restrain him, if she thought she could match him for pure strength. It was only when she didn’t immediately leverage her position and the element of surprise into some next move that Roman realized in horror that she wasn’t attacking him. No, it was worse. She was…hugging him. “Now I can thank you,” she mumbled into his coat. 

He took a quick survey of his surroundings. The doctor’s smile had returned as she watched the two of them, while Neo and Little Red’s companions looked on in shock. Roman forced a smile and patted Red on the back with as little actual contact as possible. Through his teeth, he hissed, “You wanna be the good doctor’s next patient?”

She let him go, but to his irritation, she was still grinning like an idiot. “Can we see him?” she asked the doctor. 

The doctor looked conflicted. “He needs his rest. Are you family?”

“I’m his niece,” said Little Red.

At the same time, Roman said, “I’m his partner.” He had to hand it to the girl, she was quick on her feet. He now knew Raven only had the one kid, Red’s former teammate, so Red was clearly pretending to be her. Then again, Roman was relying on the doctor making an incorrect assumption about just what sort of “partner” he meant. If he called Little Red out, she could just as easily do the same to him, and then neither of them would get what they wanted. She must have done the same calculus, because while she gave him an odd look, she said nothing more. 

“Alright,” said the doctor. “I’ll allow the two of you a brief visit, but I’m afraid the rest of you will have to wait out here.”

Little Red bid a quick farewell to her friends while Roman and Neo exchanged a simple nod—she would keep an eye on the kids in his absence and make sure they didn’t try anything funny. After that, he and Red followed the doctor down the hall and through the inner labyrinth of the hospital. As they walked, Roman continued to wonder what Red’s thing with Qrow really was. Her friends had clearly been worried for him, but she had been a mess, barely holding herself together through sheer force of will. And now that Roman thought about it, Qrow had been very concerned for her in particular while they’d been traveling together. 

‘Qrow was her mentor at Signal before she came to Beacon,’ Ozpin supplied.

Once he said it, Roman could see it. He’d thought Qrow’s fighting style had looked rather familiar. That over-engineered monstrosity of a weapon, as well. Even their fashion senses were strikingly alike, although “fashion” was a generous term in both their cases. ‘So he taught her everything she knows, huh?’ Roman thought with no small amount of distaste. 

‘I like to think I had a hand in her education as well, however briefly.’

The doctor stopped in front of a nondescript door along a sterile white hallway that looked like every other they had traversed. She rapped lightly on the doorframe and opened the door, announcing, “Mr. Branwen, your family is here to see you.” And there was Qrow, lying in bed, wearing a hideous hospital gown, hooked up to various tubes and machinery, and generally looking like a man who’d been dragged backwards out of his own grave. Yet, Roman could recall few sights in his life that had held him captive as he was now, simply seeing Qrow awake and alive. “Your niece and your partner have come for a quick visit, if you’re feeling up to it,” the doctor continued. 

Qrow blinked blearily at the two of them standing together in the doorway. “I think I’m still hallucinating, doc,” he rasped. “Wait, my what?”

Chapter Text

Roman couldn’t quash the dizzying surge of Ozpin’s relief that swept him up like a riptide, but he could keep it from showing on his face. “Hello, darling,” he said blithely. “You look awful.”

Qrow pushed himself up in bed so he could properly squint at Roman in confusion. “Thanks…”

“You’re awake!” Little Red ran to his bedside and threw her arms around him, causing both him and the doctor to wince.

Qrow made no move to push her away, however. “Hey, kiddo,” he said warmly, ruffling her hair. Then, locking eyes with Roman over her shoulder, “I take it I missed some things.”

Little Red drew back to speak to him face-to-face. “You’re not going to believe this…or maybe you will,” she said, regarding Qrow with a new uncertainty. “But Torchwick saved your life.”

Qrow frowned. “Torchwick did?”

“You see anyone else here?” asked Roman pointedly.

“Right…” Qrow was clearly struggling to work out why Roman and Little Red weren’t at each other’s throats if she didn’t yet know about Ozpin. “Dumb question, sorry. Probably the neurotoxin talking. I guess I owe you one, Torchwick.”

“Good guess! You can start repaying me by telling all your little ducklings why I’m here. Other than to pull your ass out of the fire, that is.”

“He said you two have been working together?” said Little Red vaguely, aware of their outside observer.

“Yeah,” Qrow sighed. “That’s true enough, at least. Hopefully it’ll all make sense when I explain it. The others are here, too?”

Roman flashed his most charming fake smile. “We’re all just waiting on you, dear.”

“Well, I’m sorry I kept you waiting,” said Qrow, with an equally performative smile. But it softened into something more genuine when he looked back down at Little Red. “I hope I didn’t give you too much of a scare.”

“No,” she mumbled, swiping at her face with her sleeve. “I knew you’d be okay. He’s the one who freaked out and fainted,” she said, glancing back over her shoulder at Roman.

He advanced further into the room. “That is not what happened, you little—” He caught himself, remembering the doctor’s presence behind him in the doorway. “…Pumpkin,” he finished. To his indignation, Little Red and Qrow looked at each other and then began to laugh. Qrow clutched his abdomen in pain, and still, he didn’t stop laughing. Being a part of this fake family was rapidly becoming Roman’s least favorite cover story.

“Mr. Branwen, you’ll pull your stitches,” the doctor admonished. “I think it’s time to draw this visit to a close. You need your rest. After we’ve monitored your condition overnight, I see no reason I won’t be able to clear you for discharge. You can see your family again tomorrow when they come back to take you home.” She raised her data pad to make a note in Qrow’s file, but it sparked in her hands and she dropped it. The screen cracked and went dark. “Damn,” she muttered, bending to pick up the broken device. “I need to go get a replacement. Just follow the signs to find your way back to the waiting room.” She turned and left, muttering about taxpayer Lien being wasted on cheap equipment.

“Well, that was…unfortunate,” said Roman, once she was gone.

“Yeah,” Qrow agreed. “For her.” He sat up and ripped off the velcro securing the blood pressure cuff around his bicep, slipping his arm free. Then he pulled the breathing tubes from his nose and the heart monitor off his finger, sending one of the machines into a panicked beeping frenzy.

“Wait, what are you doing?” Little Red asked. She kept glancing nervously at the flat line on the screen. “The doctor said you needed to rest!”

“I’ve rested enough,” said Qrow. He took a deep breath, then yanked out his IV, exhaling in a hiss. “I’m checking myself out early.”

“This is a hospital, not a hotel,” said Little Red, her eyes now fixed on the door, no doubt waiting for a white coat cavalry to rush through in response to the machine’s distress calls.

Undeterred, Qrow swung his feet over the edge of the bed and reached for his pants where they’d been folded and placed on the bedside stool. He shimmied into them one leg at a time, then hesitated. “What happened to my shirt?”

“It got in my way,” said Roman.

Qrow looked at him like he didn’t quite know if he was supposed to take that as a vague threat, or a veiled flirtation. Roman didn’t give him any hints. “…I guess I’ll stick with the hospital gown, then.”

“No. Take it off.”

Qrow narrowed his eyes. “Excuse me?”

“If we’re busting you out of here, you don’t want to look like a patient,” said Roman. He unbuttoned his coat and tossed it to Qrow. “Wear that.”

“This ain’t a prison break,” Qrow grumbled, but he eased the gown off over his head and gingerly pulled on Roman’s coat. “And this ain’t exactly inconspicuous,” he said, looking down at himself. Inconspicuous, no. Roman would never admit it, but Qrow might actually wear the damn thing better than him. The deep red lining on the collar brought out the arresting color of his eyes.

“Why are you helping him?” Little Red whined. “You two are supposed to be the adults here!”

“Grab my weapon, would ya, kiddo?” asked Qrow, getting somewhat shakily to his feet.

Little Red let out another distressed whine, but did as he asked, retrieving his blade from where it had been propped against the far wall. Qrow took an experimental step, winced, and slammed a hand against the wall to steady himself. “Shit,” he hissed. Roman crossed over to him, but instead of offering an arm, he offered his cane. Qrow looked at it like it had been forged in the fires of hell and painted in the blood of the innocents, but he took it with a grimace and started to walk, using it to support his weight.

“This seems like a bad idea...” said Little Red, “which I guess means you’re pretty much back to normal.” She fell into step beside him, taking his other arm and draping it over her shoulders, and wrapping her arm around his waist. Qrow grinned down at her, and she grinned right back. “Alright, let’s blow this joint!”

“You watch too many gangster movies,” said Roman. “No one actually says that.” He checked to make sure the coast was clear, then ushered them out of the room. They made it halfway down the hall before they heard a clamor of footsteps behind them, and then shouting. The cavalry had arrived.

“Nurse! Who’s the patient assigned to this room?”

“Hold on, let me check… It looks like they haven’t been formally admitted yet. Their details haven’t been entered into the system. You’ll have to ask Intake downstairs…” The voices faded as the three of them rounded the corner, following the signs just like the doctor had helpfully instructed.

Qrow chuckled. “I’ve got one for ya, Torchwick. What’s the difference between the mafia and the government?”

“I’m sure I don’t know,” said Roman.

“One of them is organized.”

Roman laughed—for the first time, he realized, since Qrow had missed his check-in the night before. His good humor didn’t last. When had Qrow started to matter to him? Was it all Ozpin’s influence, or was there something more to it? Why did having Qrow at his side again feel as reassuring as the weight of his cane in his hand? And for that matter, why had he handed the Huntsman his cane with hardly a second thought? It wasn’t that long ago that Neo had unnerved him by handing her weapon over to Ozpin, but he felt nothing like that now. Somehow, he felt safer with Qrow than he had without him. And that was utterly idiotic. Enough to convince him that it must be Ozpin’s influence, after all.

They collected their gaggle of confused and excitable children from the waiting room while Neo went on ahead to hail a cab. Together, they walked out of the hospital unhindered and piled into the van waiting for them at the curb. The driver sped off in the direction of the address Neo had given him. “Looks like we made a clean getaway,” said Roman, eyeing the rearview mirror. Not his most daring escape, to be sure.

“I’m glad Qrow’s okay, but will one of you please explain what the hell is going on?” Blondie dropped his voice to a hush. “Are you two Ozpin’s secret agents, or what?”

Secret agents? Qrow mouthed to Roman. Roman shrugged. The Huntsman heaved an exhausted sigh. “All in good time, kid.” Thankfully, for the time being, the others just seemed content with the fact that Qrow was back on his feet and stringing full sentences together like a champ. No one pressed the issue. Yet.

“Where are we?” Sparky asked when the cab dropped them back at Oz’s place.

“This is one of Ozpin’s safe houses,” said Qrow.

“Is Professor Ozpin here?” Little Red asked, eyes wide.

“Closer than you think,” muttered Roman, striding up to the front door. He patted his pockets, then cursed in Qrow’s general direction. Things never did go entirely smoothly where he was involved. “I’m not breaking in,” he announced, holding up his hands. “Well, I am. But only because I left in a hurry and must’ve forgotten to grab the key.” He slipped his lock picks from within his glove and knelt down in front of the door, ignoring the kids’ suspicious gazes on his back. The lock gave easily under his ministrations. He rose to his feet and pushed the door open, stepping through without bothering to extend an invitation after him. These kids never seemed to need one.

Sure enough, they all followed him inside. “Now will you tell us what’s going on?” Blondie asked, persistent as ever.

“You kids might want to have a seat,” said Roman, indicating the chairs and sofas in the living room. “It’s a long story.”

“Oh my gods! Is that blood?” Blondie yelped, catching sight of the sizable stain on the carpet.

Roman scrubbed a hand down his face. “It’s red wine.”

“You seriously expect us to believe—”

Qrow rested a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “It’s wine. Trust me, I’ve spilled enough of both.”

Blondie turned a newly disturbed look on Qrow, but he shut his trap. That was probably the most Roman could hope for. The kids cautiously took their seats on the sofas, keeping their weapons within reach, while Roman settled into one of the armchairs with a cigar and a glass of Ozpin’s finest aged scotch. Neo leaned up against the back of the chair, watching the kids like a cat might watch mice while it decides how hungry it is. Meanwhile, Qrow had disappeared down the hall and returned wearing one of Ozpin’s black turtlenecks. The dressed-down look was good on him, although he could probably wear the hell out of a suit, too, if he ever actually bothered to put in the effort. He tossed Roman his coat, but held onto his cane. The Huntsman looked like he still needed it, but with his Aura’s accelerated healing, it was possible he was exaggerating how much pain he was in as an excuse to keep Roman’s weapon out of his hands. Of course, the cane wasn’t Roman’s only weapon.

Qrow took the other armchair, lowering himself down into it with a grimace. “From what I gather, what Torchwick told you guys was pretty much the truth, give or take some of his usual flair for the dramatic,” he said, commanding the students’ rapt attention. “It just wasn’t the whole truth.”

“I knew it,” Blondie muttered under his breath.

“Since that crazy scorpion bastard made it pretty damn clear you’re all in the crosshairs now, I told you about the Maidens and the Relics, and what we know about Salem,” Qrow continued. “In case, y’know…my luck finally ran out.”

‘I see,’ murmured Ozpin, half to himself.

Qrow ran a hand through his hopelessly messy hair and blew out a breath. “Since we’re all still here, it’s time for the other side of the story. Ozpin’s side of the story. But I’ve never been much of a storyteller. That’s always been Oz’s thing. So I have a feeling he’d prefer to tell it himself.” He met Roman’s gaze across the room and the kids’ attention shifted back to the enemy in their midst.

‘May I?’

“Knock yourself out,” Roman muttered, taking a drag from his cigar. “I sure as hell ain’t gonna do it.”

The kids were watching him with varying degrees of caution and confusion, but all of that fell away as Roman’s vision filled with a familiar golden glow, and Ozpin straightened back in the chair. He inhaled to speak, but immediately fell into a coughing fit, expelling the residual smoke from Roman’s lungs. Once he caught his breath, he stubbed out the cigar with a grimace in the ashtray he’d forced Roman to buy so Roman would stop defacing his home furnishings. “Please excuse me. I suspect he did that on purpose,” Ozpin said pointedly. He wasn’t wrong. He took a slow, even breath, and smiled. “I’m very pleased to see all of you again. Ms. Rose, Ms. Valkyrie, Mr. Arc, Mr. Ren, you have all been extraordinarily brave. You exemplify the traits of true Huntresses and Huntsmen. In short, you are all that I hoped you would be when you first walked through the doors of my academy.”

Sparky’s jaw dropped open. “Whaaaat?”

“Kids, meet Professor Ozpin,” said Qrow. “Again.”

Moody frowned, utterly mystified. “I thought everything was going to start making sense.”

“I apologize for the delayed introduction,” said Ozpin, “but I thought it prudent for the sake of expediency, given the severity of Qrow’s condition.”

“I mean, that sure sounds like Ozpin,” Sparky muttered.

“The headmaster’s a little different from the rest of us,” said Qrow. “You could say he’s been around a few times.”

“Now, that just makes me sound old,” said Ozpin, ruefully.

Qrow’s sharp grin was a challenge. “You are old.”

Ozpin might have continued the playful exchange, but he took note of the kids attentively observing their back-and-forth, and cleared his throat. “What Qrow is alluding to is that when I die, my soul reincarnates with another in a unique process ordained by the gods before they departed this world. Because I failed to prevent Salem’s evil from taking root, they made me immortal so that I could protect the Relics through the ages, guide humanity toward a path of peace, and someday bring an end to Salem’s insidious influence. That is why I used my magic to create the Maidens, and my station to found the four Huntsman academies—”

“But Qrow said a hermetic old wizard made the Maidens,” said Sparky.

“And it was the last King of Vale who founded the four academies,” said Moody.

Ozpin spread his hands in his lap. “I have worn many hats over the ages. One of them happened to be rather pointy. Another happened to be a crown. Now…” He ran two fingers along the brim of Roman’s hat. “I find myself wearing a very different one than any I’ve worn before.”

“So, Torchwick…?” prompted Sparky.

“Is still the same criminal who caused so much trouble in Vale,” said Ozpin.

“So he is evil!” Blondie exclaimed.

“I would not use that word lightly, Mr. Arc.” Ozpin’s expression grew grave. “There are plenty of unscrupulous people in this world, and Torchwick is indisputably among them. But true evil is rare, and much more dangerous.” Blondie dipped his head, cowed. Little Red slowly raised her hand, and Ozpin’s dark demeanor softened once more into a gentle smile. “Yes, Ms. Rose?”

She twirled her fingers together sheepishly. “So, when I stopped Torchwick from robbing that dust shop…it wasn’t a secret Beacon entrance exam?”

Ozpin chuckled. “I’m afraid not. Which only made your courage and skill that day all the more remarkable.”

She blushed and glanced away, while Qrow practically preened with pride. “It’s so weird to hear those words come out of Roman Torchwick’s mouth,” she muttered.

‘Ugh. For once I agree with Red.’

“So, how does it work, exactly, professor? Between you and Torchwick?” Moody asked.

“Not without difficulty, I admit,” said Ozpin. “While eventually, our two souls will merge and become one, for now, we remain very different people forced to share very close quarters. Luckily, we had time to work through some of our differences before you arrived. He has at least seen the wisdom of working with each other rather than against each other, as the latter would be quite self-sabotaging now. And there is no love lost between Torchwick and his former associates, either. Vale was his base of operations, as it was ours. While he undeniably had a hand in its downfall, his hand was forced by Cinder. We all lost a great deal that night.”

“That doesn’t make him blameless,” Blondie muttered.

“No, it does not,” Ozpin agreed. “But his experience on the other side does make him a valuable asset.”

“Or a traitor,” said Blondie. “How can we trust him?”

“You need not trust him at all,” said Ozpin. “I allow him to govern himself most of the time, since it would be too cruel a punishment even for the likes of him to keep him prisoner within the confines of his own body. But make no mistake; I am always able to take control. He may do nothing unless I allow it. None of you have anything to fear from him anymore.”

“Think of him as a sheep in wolf’s clothing,” Qrow offered with a smug grin that Roman could just knock the teeth out of. Except he couldn’t, because Ozpin wouldn’t allow it. He began to seethe at the humiliation of this whole situation.

Ozpin tried to placate him. ‘Would you rather they see you as a threat?’

‘Yes.’

Neo took a step forward, daring Qrow to say another word. He looked as though he just might, but Ozpin shook his head, so Qrow backed down with a careless huff. “Ms. Neopolitan, of course, remains a free agent,” said Ozpin. “She is loyal to Torchwick alone, and to me only by extension. She is the one to be wary of.” She crossed her arms and leaned back against the chair, resuming her careful watch of everyone in the room. “So I would not recommend antagonizing Torchwick, if also for the fact that he and I share in every interaction, just as he is still a party to this conversation. That said, Ms. Neo, too, has proven herself to be an asset, and it is her wellbeing above all else that motivates her brother.”

“Wait, she’s Torchwick’s sister?” Little Red squeaked. “I thought they were…you know…” She fidgeted. “Together.”

‘Why does everyone assume that?!’

“It’s an easy mistake to make,” said Ozpin. “They’re very close.”

Sparky squinted at him. “How close?”

“He gave up General Ironwood’s command ship during the battle to save her,” said Little Red, looking at him in a new light. Roman didn’t like it.

“I don’t like this,” said Blondie.

“Neither do I, Mr. Arc,” said Ozpin. The implication was crystal clear: there wasn’t a damn thing any of them could do about it. “However, we have bigger problems than Torchwick on our hands. I will bring you all up to speed once you’ve had the chance to get settled. You’ve had a long and trying journey.”

Little Red raised her hand again. “Um, Professor Oz…wick? Torchpin?”

‘Okay, you’ve gotta nip that in the bud right now.’

“Ozpin is fine for now. As I said, we are still two different people.”

“Right,” said Little Red. “Sorry. I… I’m really glad you’re still here, professor. I know we all are, even though it’s a lot to take in.” The others nodded, even Blondie. “But why are we only learning about all of this stuff now? Why haven’t you told people?”

“Because knowledge, Ms. Rose, is power,” said Ozpin. “People kill and die for it, and it has the potential to bring out the worst in us, as well as the best. If the truth were widely known, it could cause a global panic, a war even greater than the last. And if humanity gives in to fear, if hope is lost, then Salem’s chaos will sweep across Remnant faster than any plague. Qrow and I are telling you now because what you don’t know can hurt you, and very clearly intends to. But also because through this crucible, you have proven yourselves. I have had to learn from bitter experience that I am not always the best judge of character, but I believe I can trust you with this knowledge. What you do now that you possess it is up to you. I will not lie; I am running out of allies. But you are under no obligation to take up arms in this fight. Each of you is free to walk out that door right now and never look back. I would understand.”

Little Red stood and looked around at her comrades, then back to Ozpin with a determination that matched theirs. “We’re not going anywhere. We came here to stop the people behind the attack on Beacon, and that’s what we’ll do. Even if it means…sort of…having to work with one of them.”

‘I can’t wait.’

Ozpin smiled, about to express his gratitude, but Little Red’s expression abruptly screwed into one of discomfort. She crossed her legs and bounced up and down, rapidly speaking over him. “Could-you-please-tell-me-where-the-bathroom-is-I-was-too-nervous-to-go-at-the-hospital-and-now-I-really-need-to-go.”

Ozpin blinked and gestured vaguely. “There’s one at the end of the hall.” Red was off like a rocket before he even finished his sentence, leaving nothing but a few rose petals in her wake. “Er, the spare bedrooms are down the same hallway if you all wish to get settled,” said Ozpin. “The four of you will have to double up.”

Sparky grinned and turned to Moody, but he didn’t see her because Blondie put his arm around the other boy’s shoulders and said, “Well, Ren, looks like it’ll be you and me. Us guys gotta stick together.”

“Would you like to keep working on those meditation exercises I was showing you?” Moody asked.

“Yeah,” muttered Blondie. “I have a feeling I’m gonna need them.” He glanced back over his shoulder at Ozpin as the two of them walked away, and Oz gave him a reassuring smile. But what the kid didn’t see were the daggers Sparky was glaring into his back.

She sighed, then followed after them. “Ruby, we’re rooming together!” she called with a very good imitation of enthusiasm, disappearing down the hall.

“They’ll figure it out,” Qrow chuckled, pushing to his feet. He left Roman’s cane propped against the back of the chair. “Anyway, it looks like you’re all good here. If you don’t need me, I’m gonna step out for awhile.”

Ozpin rose to meet him, and to put a steadying hand on his arm when he unthinkingly slung his weapon over his shoulder and winced. “Qrow, a few hours ago you were on death’s door.”

“Lucky for me, the bastard wasn’t home,” said Qrow with a roguish grin. But the expression faded quickly. “You haven’t canvassed the local Huntsmen, have you?”

“Well, no,” Ozpin replied, “not since I found myself with a lengthy rap sheet in lieu of a Huntsman license. I was waiting on you for that.”

“That’s what I figured.” Qrow pulled out his scroll (which Roman had subtly returned without him ever having missed it) and showed Ozpin what looked to be some sort of Huntsman database. He swiped through profile after profile, all with one thing in common: “None of the active Huntsmen and Huntresses in the area have taken missions in the last month. More than usual have been reported dead or M.I.A.”

Ozpin’s breath caught. “I hadn’t thought…”

It was Qrow’s turn to lay a supportive hand on Ozpin’s shoulder. “I’m just gonna pay a visit to some of the local haunts, see what I can find out.”

“Alright,” Ozpin reluctantly agreed. “Only because I know you’ll go regardless of what I say. But it is to be strictly reconnaissance, understood? Don’t chase down any leads on your own.”

“Don’t worry, I’m in no condition to do any chasing.”

“That is precisely what worries me,” Ozpin sighed. “Be careful out there. I just got you back.”

“I’m not leaving you again,” Qrow promised, eyes flashing with fierce resolve. And then, as though to cast a shadow of doubt over that promise, he was gone.

Chapter Text

Roman pushed himself up in bed, punched the pillow, and turned over. He was as restless as those first few nights after Beacon, when he’d been plagued by Ozpin’s nightmares and his own festering fears. Ozpin was worried because Qrow still hadn’t returned, although he had texted to say he would be back late, and not to wait up. Roman was uneasy sleeping in a house where he and Neo were outnumbered two to one—even if it was by a bunch of clueless kids. He’d been in too many situations where letting his guard down for even a second would have been a fatal mistake. And no matter how many times Ozpin had assured his students that Roman wasn’t a threat, it was obvious that none of them had fully let their guards down, either. They’d only picked politely at the dinner Oz had made, the idea of poison still fresh in their minds. (Neo had ended up eating most of it.) Needless to say, he was certain everyone was sleeping with their doors locked tonight.

Although, after Ozpin had told them what was happening at Haven, they had a lot more to occupy their minds. Lionheart’s betrayal actually made Roman look better. At least he was honest about not wanting to be there and disliking every single one of them. Ozpin had filled his students in on what they knew so far about the imminent attack (thanks to Roman and Neo’s efforts, although he’d glossed over some of the finer details on just how they’d acquired the information). Lionheart and the mysterious Dr. Watts weren’t idiots; plans were never discussed in detail. But from everything they’d pieced together since they’d arrived in Mistral, they had about a month before all hell descended upon Haven. That was a month to prepare, starting tomorrow. And according to Ozpin, while his students showed exceptional promise, they still had a lot to learn. In other words, there was a lot he still had to teach them. Which meant Roman, too, would have to suffer through the tedium of walking a bunch of brats through the basics of man-to-man combat—a far cry from fighting Grimm like they’d trained for.

There was a rapping at his window. Roman snatched his cane from atop the headboard and fixed his sights on the source of the sound. A crow with red eyes was perched on his windowsill. It cocked its head, eyeing the crosshairs with little more than cursory interest, and then pecked at the glass again.

‘Oh, thank goodness.’

Roman lowered his cane with a groan. He shoved off the blankets and padded over to the window, opening it for his personal harbinger of vexation. Qrow flew into the room and transformed back to his usual scruffy self, swaying slightly on his feet with the change. He was also, obviously, drunk. He smelled like a liquor store, even from halfway across the room. Roman shut the window and leaned back against it, crossing his arms as he waited for Qrow to speak. It took an uncomfortably long time for him to do so, as he just stood there looking at Roman like he wasn’t the person Qrow had expected to see. “Sorry, didn’t have a key, an’ ’m too drunk to pick a lock,” he slurred, finally breaking the awkward silence. “What’re you doing in here? This’s Oz’s room.” Roman could hardly comprehend the stupidity of the question, and he was sure it showed on his face. He gestured to himself emphatically.

Qrow ran a hand through his hair, looking away. “Right. Uh, so, ’m pretty sure Leo’s been sending Huntsmen out on suicide missions at best, selling ’em out to the likes of Tyrian at worst. I couldn’t find a single person from the registry in any of the usual esh-establishments. But ex-Huntsmen an’ the barkeep at the Grimmsbane ’ve heard rumors of Huntsmen being hunted. Like the killers knew exactly where they were gonna be.” Qrow started to pace the room, although he couldn’t exactly maintain a straight line. “How could Leo do something like that? He’s a Huntsman, too. Or he was,” Qrow growled.

“It’s a smart move,” said Roman. Qrow rounded on him, so he elaborated quickly. “Strategically speaking.” He felt Ozpin’s anger, too, but it was dulled by deep sadness and sickening regret that he had so gravely misplaced his trust. Roman rubbed at his temples, feeling a headache coming on. “Listen, you and Oz can moan about your fallen comrades and plot your lion hunt all you want tomorrow. But tonight, I just want to get some godsdamned sleep.”

Qrow exhaled a belabored sigh, swaying on his feet again. “Yeah, me too.” Then, to Roman’s astonishment, he flopped down onto Ozpin’s bed, kicked off his shoes, and pulled the blankets over himself.

“Hey!” said Roman, snapping in his face to stop him from falling asleep. “What do you think you’re doing?”

“I always sleep here,” Qrow mumbled into the pillow.

“Not this time, sweetheart,” said Roman, yanking the pillow out from under his head.

He opened his eyes to glare up at Roman. “There’re no more rooms. Unless you’d rather I sleep with y’r sister.”

Roman threw the pillow in his face, hard. “You can sleep on the couch. Or perched in a fucking tree for all I care.”

To his chagrin, Qrow just fluffed the pillow and tucked it back under his head, closing his eyes again. “’M too old for that shit,” he muttered. “You can sleep on the couch.”

“It’s my house,” Roman fumed.

“Oz’s house.”

“Community property,” Roman snapped back. Qrow didn’t reply, and Roman realized it was because he’d already started to doze. Roman had half a mind to beat the man back to his senses with his cane.

‘Just leave him be,’ Ozpin sighed. ‘He’s been through an ordeal, and anyway, there’s no reasoning with him when he’s like this. We’ll work things out in the morning.’ 

“Fine!” Roman spat. “But I am not sleeping on the couch.” It was entirely exposed out there. He wouldn’t be able to sleep a wink even if he wanted to. He threw himself down onto the opposite side of the bed and yanked all the blankets off of Qrow out of spite. But Qrow didn’t even seem to notice, dead drunk as he was. Roman turned away from the other man and glared out the window, but a prickling on the back of his neck made him turn over again. He couldn’t sleep with his back to the Huntsman, no matter how inebriated the man was at the moment. Lending him his weapon was one thing. Roman was far from helpless without it. But falling asleep beside him would leave Roman truly vulnerable. The couch would be the smarter choice. Roman settled onto his back, staring at the ceiling. The bed was big enough, he should have been able to forget Qrow was even there, but a part of him remained on high alert, instinctively hyperaware of the threat slumbering less than a foot away. And another part of him, to which this situation was intimately familiar, felt safer than anywhere else with Qrow lying beside him. It was a confusing and exhausting tug-of-war in his mind that, eventually, tired him out enough to sleep.

The room was still dark when Roman awoke to the feeling of hot breath on the back of his neck, and an arm sliding over his stomach. He hissed a sharp inhale, reorienting himself quickly, and recalling just whom he was in bed with. Of course Qrow would be as clingy in his sleep as he was when he was awake. Roman turned his head to snap at Qrow to wake the fuck up and back the fuck off, but the words died in his throat when his eyes met Qrow’s. The man was very much awake. “What?” Qrow rasped, his lips ghosting over Roman’s pulse, his stubble scratching at Roman’s skin.

Roman swallowed. “You’re drunk, Branwen.”

“Not that drunk.” His hand curled around Roman’s hip.

Roman really ought to be…doing something. At least Ozpin was equally lost. “What do you want?”

Qrow huffed, sending a shiver down Roman’s spine. His already gravelly voice dropped to an even lower register. “I think it’s pretty obvious,” he said, pressing up against Roman from behind to make the obvious even more so. “It’s what you want, too, isn’t it? I know it’s what Oz wants. I can tell from the way he looks at me, even through your eyes.”

There was no point in denying it. Qrow wasn’t Roman’s usual type, but thanks to Ozpin, he’d captured Roman’s attention. And as for Ozpin’s feelings, well… Roman turned over on his side to face Qrow, their noses inches apart as he held Qrow’s crimson gaze. “He wants you so badly it’s maddening,” he muttered. “Drives me up the fucking wall. What makes you so godsdamn special?”

“Guess you’ll just have to find out,” said Qrow with a wicked smile. Roman really couldn’t say who kissed who this time. The distinction seemed meaningless when there was so little space between them to begin with. Their lips locked and their teeth clashed as their tongues slid hotly against each other. Even kissing, they fought like they usually did, like one of them was going to win and the other would lose. And they both hated to lose.

‘Mnn… Roman, please…stop.’

‘Make me,’ Roman countered, because Ozpin could if he truly wanted to. Roman only kissed Qrow harder, more demandingly in defiance, forcing the Huntsman to yield. And after that, there was no way Roman could bring himself to break things off. Not when Qrow was offering himself up so willingly. He knew, in the back of his mind, that Ozpin was right. That this was a bad idea for both of them. If there was ever a situation where Roman should worry about losing himself in Ozpin’s past, this was it. But all of Roman’s pent-up frustrations and his sharply conflicting feelings were boiling over in an intoxicating mix that made it difficult for him to care. Now, he could finally take it all out on Qrow.

As they kissed, less frenzied and more purposeful now, Roman ran his hands down Qrow’s back, then slid them lower, into his back pockets—the perfect leverage to pull Qrow closer as he slipped a thigh between Qrow’s. Qrow growled and bit down on his bottom lip hard enough to draw blood, then broke away. Roman licked the blood from his lips while Qrow ran his tongue over his teeth. “Just counting ’em,” he said.

Roman held up Qrow’s wallet between two fingers. “It’s a metaphor, honey.”

Qrow scowled and snatched it out of his hand, tossing it away. “Nothing in there, anyway.”

That wasn’t quite true. That child’s drawing had been folded up inside, the one Roman had seen in Ozpin’s flashback. “I take it you spent it all on booze,” Roman said. “You still taste like cheap whiskey.”

“And you taste like smoke,” muttered Qrow. His eyes dipped down to Roman’s mouth once more. “Oz says you can kill with a kiss.”

Roman exhaled a plume of pitch-black smoke between them, coiling like a caress. “You scared, Huntsman?”

Qrow must have been a smoker, too at some point in his life, because he inhaled deeply, holding the smoke in his lungs before letting it escape through his teeth. “Of you?” he said as the smoke dissipated. “Not a chance.”

Roman shoved Qrow onto his back, kneeling between his legs. Qrow let him peel Ozpin’s turtleneck off over his head, watching to see what Roman would do next. Roman took a moment to enjoy the view as he unhurriedly unbuttoned Ozpin’s sleep shirt and slipped it free of his own shoulders. Qrow had as many scars as Roman did, but his body bore the marks of beasts, where claws had slashed across his chest and fangs had sunk deep into his flesh. Roman’s body, on the other hand, was a record of human viciousness. He’d been stabbed, shot, burned and, courtesy of good old General Ironwood, branded. But he didn’t care. Because he’d survived it all—unlike most of the people who’d left their mark on him.

He raked his nails over Qrow’s chest and down, right across his newest scar. Qrow must have removed his own stitches, because it was now little more than a red seam across his belly. Still, he jerked and cursed at the sudden streak of pain. “If I’d been there, I’d’ve rammed that scorpion’s tail so far down his throat he’d choke on his own venom,” Roman hissed. 

Qrow winced as Roman’s nails drew blood. “How, hah, sweet of you.” Roman bent down to kiss it better, laving the fresh, bloody scratch marks with his tongue. Qrow cursed again, but for entirely different reasons.

‘Roman…’ Ozpin was struggling as much as Roman was to reason clearly through the haze of lust. ‘If this continues, I… I won’t have the strength to turn him away again.’

‘Then don’t,’ Roman thought as he unbuckled Qrow’s belt with his teeth. ‘Or if you do, don’t use me as an excuse. You don’t care what I want. You’re afraid of yourself. Of the things you’d do for him, if he asked. Because you haven’t felt this way about someone since Salem.’

Ozpin was struck silent, which suited Roman just fine. He tossed Qrow’s belt aside, then abruptly flipped the Huntsman onto his stomach and pulled his hips up with a bruising grip. Qrow braced himself on his forearms, a blush spreading across the back of his neck. Roman smiled and leaned over him, pressing their bodies flush against each other so he could whisper in Qrow’s ear, “You’d let me take you like this?”

Qrow hung his head. “Yeah.”

“Why?” asked Roman out of idle curiosity, running a finger down Qrow’s spine. Two inked-black, feathered wings stretched out across his shoulder blades and down his back: the mark of the Branwen tribe. A man never truly left his past behind.

“It ain’t complicated. Oz feels what you feel. I just wanna remind him what he’s missing.” Qrow locked eyes with Roman over his shoulder, challenging Ozpin to stick to his so-called principles now. Roman chuckled. It was pathetic, the way they pined for each other. Yet here he was, caught in the middle of it. He could tell himself as much as he liked that all he wanted was a good lay, but who would he be fooling? Having Qrow in his arms like this felt like the first time he’d wielded Ozpin’s cane—so right, it was frightening. And yet, Roman had never let fear stop him, even when he should have. Cinder was proof enough of that.

He pressed two fingers to the seam of Qrow’s lips. “Open,” he murmured. And Qrow obeyed, as though the command had come from Ozpin himself. Roman slipped his fingers past Qrow’s lips, then hooked them behind his bottom teeth to pull his jaw open wide enough to stuff his kerchief in. Qrow grunted in surprise and shot Roman an indignant look. “Now, now,” said Roman, running his fingers through Qrow’s hair to calm him the way Ozpin used to, before grabbing a fistful of his dark locks and jerking Qrow’s head back. He nipped at Qrow’s ear and whispered, “As much as I’d love to hear you scream, my sister’s sleeping in the next room. I wouldn’t want to wake her. Would you?”

The manhandling drew a needy, desperate groan out of Qrow, muffled by the makeshift gag. He regained control of himself with effort and shook his head, blush spreading across his face as his hands fisted in the sheets. Roman didn’t usually get off on gagging his partners. It brought to mind what he’d done to his sister as an infant, which was a turnoff on all sorts of levels. But damn if he didn’t prefer Qrow this way. “Now that we’re on the same page,” said Roman, trailing a hand down Qrow’s chiseled torso until he reached the fastening on the Huntsman’s trousers, “let’s do something we’re all gonna regret.”

Roman should have given Qrow more credit. He knew how to get exactly what he wanted. Later, after Roman was through with him and he lay panting and flushed with all of his bruised and bitten skin on delicious display, he reached out and cupped Roman’s jaw with a look of longing so intense, Roman nearly gave in again—he didn’t know to what this time, but he would have given Qrow whatever he was asking for, whatever it took. But Roman shook himself out of it and opened his mouth to tell Qrow not to make things weird. That this was nothing more than mutual satisfaction. Except his vision filled with a familiar golden glow, and what came out of his mouth instead was Qrow’s name.

Ozpin brought his hand up to his face and laced his fingers through Qrow’s. He murmured a dozen different apologies as he tenderly kissed all the places on his lover’s body where Roman had left marks, making Qrow shiver and whine. He removed the wad of fabric from Qrow’s mouth, only to seal his lips over Qrow’s before the other could speak. He kept Qrow quiet by hardly breaking the deep, searching kiss for anything but soft sighs and moans as their bodies fell into a familiar rhythm reminiscent of the gears grinding overhead in Ozpin’s clocktower, where they had spent many a long, starry night locked in each other’s embrace, working with a synchronicity as perfect as the heavens.

Roman remembered those nights now. Muscle memory came first, like Ozpin had said. He knew Qrow’s body inside and out, as intimately as he knew his own. But more than that, he knew Qrow: his fears and insecurities, his fragile hopes, his often self-destructive desires. Despite all that volatility, he felt safe in Qrow’s arms, not only from the jagged edges of this broken world, but from himself, from his own doubts, because Qrow never doubted him. Qrow believed in him. Even if he believed in nothing else, Qrow believed in him, wanted him, needed him, as much as he needed Qrow. How could he have forgotten that? No, he hadn’t forgotten. This was all new to him. He was feeling all of this for the first time, and it was…overwhelming. He couldn’t fight it. It was like a strong current, something he had to move with rather than against, or risk drowning in it. So Roman surrendered himself to Ozpin, and to Qrow—just for the night.

After what had seemed like endless darkness, light was finally beginning to creep in through the window when Roman next awoke, feeling sore and satisfied down to his bones. He also felt uncomfortably warm, and he realized it was because he and Qrow were still entangled, having passed out together after they had thoroughly exhausted themselves. Qrow’s hair was a veritable bird’s nest, which Roman would have found amusing if some of it hadn’t ended up in his mouth. He ignored the cloying feeling of security and belonging that the Huntsman’s embrace still stirred within him, and instead tried to extricate himself from Qrow’s clutches. “Would you cut it out with this clingy shit?” he said, disentangling his legs from Qrow’s. “I’m not Ozpin.”

Qrow only pulled him closer, his corded arm tightening around Roman’s midsection as he murmured sleepily against Roman’s neck, “Not yet.”

Roman saw red. He was on top of Qrow in a heartbeat, pinning him against the mattress with an arm across his chest as he drew his dagger from beneath his pillow in a flash and pressed it to Qrow’s throat. “What the fuck did you just say?”

Qrow opened his eyes, his gaze locked unwaveringly with Roman’s. “Not. Yet.”

It didn’t matter how good the bastard was in bed, Roman should have left Qrow to fucking die. His mistake could be easily rectified, however, because he was going to finish the job himself. But his hand wouldn’t move. It started to tremble as he fought against Ozpin, who couldn’t risk taking full control lest the blade slip in the process. Roman’s rage built and built at his inability to do something so simple as slit a man’s throat, until with a snarl, he twisted and hurled the dagger across the room where it embedded itself in the back of the door. “Get the fuck out,” he told Qrow.

He let Qrow up, but the bastard just looked smug, as though that little demonstration had only proven him right. “Alright, I’m going,” he said calmly, wincing as he got out of bed and tugged on his trousers. He glanced at the dagger sticking out of the door. “Just don’t make a scene in front of the kids, would ya? I really don’t wanna have to try to explain any of this to Ruby.”

“The scenes I make are crime scenes,” Roman snarled. “And why the hell would you have to explain anything to Little Red? It’s not like she’s your…” At that exact moment, all the pieces finally fell into place.

Chapter Text

“OH MY FUCKING GODS! SHE’S YOUR—”

Qrow bounded back across the bedroom, tripping over discarded clothes, and slapped his hand over Roman’s mouth before Roman could finish. “How the hell do you know?” Qrow hissed, the smug look from earlier wiped clean off his face and replaced with one of dread, as acute as Roman had ever seen it on another man.

Roman bit his hand, hard, and Qrow snatched it back with a curse. “I already knew,” Roman spat. “Just took me this long to remember. It’s no wonder she’s such an obnoxious, meddling, pig-headed pain in the ass!” He shuddered, feeling a sudden, desperate need for a scalding hot shower.

“You cannot tell her, Torchwick,” Qrow panted, trembling hands clenching into fists. “Oz—”

Ozpin assumed control and reached out to clasp one of Qrow’s hands in his. “I won’t let him say a word. Your secret is safe.”

Qrow nodded, taking deep breaths. “Alright,” he murmured. “I trust you.”

Ozpin let go of Qrow’s hand. “Now, you should do as Roman said, and leave.”

“What, right now?” asked Qrow, panic edging into his voice again. “I don’t think— Why?”

“Because I feel what Roman feels, and right now, that’s fury.” Ozpin spoke calmly enough, but Qrow recoiled as though Oz had struck him. Ozpin sighed, pressing the heel of his hand to his forehead. “Please, just—give us some space.”

Qrow backed away, like it was somehow still a revelation that they shared everything. “Okay,” he said, barely above a whisper. He gathered up the rest of his things and left the room. “Fuck, wear a bell or something!” he growled on his way out. A moment later, Neo knocked twice and let herself in without waiting for an invitation.

She took in the dagger buried in the door, looked back in the direction Qrow had gone, then straight ahead at Ozpin, who clutched the sheets a little higher about his bare chest self-consciously. Her eyes narrowed with dangerous focus as she advanced further into the room, her message unequivocal and, incidentally, the same one Roman had given Qrow a minute ago: Get the fuck out. The fact that she was still wearing her pink polka dot pajamas did nothing to diminish the effectiveness of her intimidation. Ozpin wasted no time ceding control back to Roman, and only then did Neo’s expression soften into one of concern. She sat down, cross-legged, at the end of the bed and looked to him expectantly. What happened? Roman raised his eyebrows, and she huffed, rolling her eyes. Aside from the obvious.

Roman sighed. There was no way she’d let him talk his way out of this one. “Before you take up arms to defend your brother’s honor, I’ll admit I was on board with this bad idea.” Neo’s expression took on some of that dangerous edge again, but she waited for him to continue, reserving her judgement. “I just forgot that Qrow’s as big a bastard as I am. A mistake I won’t make again. Problem solved.”

Neo’s mouth turned down in a skeptical skew. She could read him well enough to tell that it wasn’t nearly that simple, but also that she wouldn’t get much more out of him than that. Her hands clenched into fists as she grew frustrated with Roman’s wounded-animal defensiveness. He clearly hurt you. She cocked her head thoughtfully. Want me to hurt him back?

“Oz wouldn’t appreciate that as much as I would,” said Roman wistfully.

Neo tapped her fingers against her knee as she mulled over the problem. Then she snapped, and sparkling illusory glass danced forth from her fingers, as sharp as her shard of a smile. How about a taste of his own medicine?

‘What does that mean?’

Roman chuckled. “I don’t see anything wrong with that.” Neo’s smile broadened at seeing her brother's mood improve. She winked and vanished in a shimmer of the early morning light.

‘Roman, if Qrow is in danger—’

“Relax,” said Roman. “Let’s just say that last night was the last time he’ll be getting lucky for awhile.” The distant sounds of a glass shattering in the kitchen and Qrow cursing six ways to Sunday came right on cue.

~ * ~

“I just don’t see why no one bothered to tell me this pertinent information before I—” Roman cut himself off with a growl, aggressively scrubbing shampoo into his hair as the hot water washed away all evidence that Qrow had ever touched him. Well, aside from the stinging scratches down his back, but those would heal quickly if his Aura had anything to do with it. In fact, he drew up more of its energy as Ozpin had taught him, seeing fire as the shower tiles reflected a gentle orange glow. Just as the water started to steam off his skin, he let his Aura subside, feeling restored. Ozpin didn’t chide him for the frivolous waste of energy.

‘It’s a delicate situation. But that’s not what you’re really angry about.’

“Angry? No. Mortified? Appalled? Disgusted? Yes, yes and yes. Neo could’ve died because of her! Not to mention, do you know how much flack I got from Cinder for the little bitch’s dogged interference?”

‘Kindly refrain from using vulgarities when referring to my students.’

Roman laughed incredulously. “Oh, so Ican’t call her names, but you can bend her daddy over your desk and—”

‘Roman, that is quite enough! That’s…’ Ozpin’s voice trailed off, as mortified as Roman’s own.

“Private?” Roman laughed again. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” He shut off the water and toweled himself dry.

Only as he started to get dressed did Ozpin say, ‘Qrow lashed out because he’s scared of losing me, or at least, of losing the version of me that he knows. I’m not trying to excuse his behavior, nor can I apologize for him. I just hope you can understand that his maliciousness toward you is rooted in his own insecurity.’

“You think I care?”

‘You’re always interested in the motivations of the people close to you. You consider uncovering them to be a matter of due diligence.’

Ozpin was right. Roman was interested. Another thing Ozpin was right about: knowledge was power. “Sure,” said Roman, because Oz knew he was right, so Roman didn’t have to make a production of admitting as much.

‘I…owe you a profound apology as well.’

“For what?” Roman asked as he buttoned up his shirt. “Ruining my life in general, or is there something in particular you’re referring to?”

Ozpin sounded surprised that Roman didn’t know what he was attempting to apologize for. ‘Last night, I… I took advantage of you. I should have at least asked your permission before taking control in those circumstances. It was an unconscionable violation and I am truly sorry. I…forgot myself.’

“I know the feeling.” Roman chuckled without much humor. “You’d be doing me a favor if you’d stop guilt tripping yourself over everything. I’m not used to feeling guilty.” He shrugged on his vest. “If it helps, think of it this way: say I’m on trial for, I dunno, take your pick. I could blackmail the witnesses, or I could bribe the judge. Either way, I get off.”

‘That’s a rather crude analogy, but I suppose I see your point.’

“Then don’t worry about it. If you do something I don’t like, I’ll never hesitate to let you know. Loud and clear.”

‘By that same sentiment, if you ever put a knife to Qrow’s throat again, you’ll find it at your own next.’

Roman’s hand hovered over the hilt of his dagger before he pulled it out of the door and slid it into his glove. “I thought I wasn’t a threat anymore. Unless you’re worried you can’t control me as well as you think?”

‘I’m telling you it’s in your best interest to control yourself.’

Roman finished dressing and prowled out into the kitchen. Qrow was wise enough to have made himself scarce. Roman didn’t have any rituals to cool his temper (normally, he’d just take his pound of flesh from the person who’d wronged him) so he borrowed one of Ozpin’s and set about making himself some hot cocoa.

“Professor Ozpin?” Roman didn’t need to turn around to see who had just walked into the kitchen. He’d know that annoying little voice anywhere. Little Red was once again demonstrating her uncanny power of showing up in the worst possible place at the worst possible time.

“I’ll give you another guess,” said Roman, focusing intently on fixing his drink. He felt Ozpin alert and ready to take control of the situation if need be.

“O-oh.” He heard Little Red take a step back, but only one. “Heyyy, Torchwick,” she said, so painfully awkward even Roman cringed. He finally turned around and leaned back against the countertop, sipping his steaming cocoa. Perhaps if he directly acknowledged her presence, she would get so flustered that she’d abandon the attempt at conversation entirely and leave him in peace.

But of course, he had no such luck. “So…we were thinking of taking a team outing into town, to resupply and get the lay of the land, maybe even see some sights along the way.” Nervously, she ruffled her fingers through the back of her hair. Qrow had the same habit.

“Great idea.” Roman reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a stack of high-denomination Lien. “I’ll throw in an extra hundred for every hour you’re out of my hair.” He thrust the money into Little Red’s hands and she took it on startled reflex.

“Wait, I can’t accept this much money!” To herself, she mumbled, “I don’t even know where it came from.”

“Doesn’t matter where it came from. What matters is you’ll put it to good use. Who knows what I’d spend it on? Guns, drugs, hookers, hitmen, bribes…”

Little Red clutched the money closer to her chest. “I feel like you’re bribing me, though?”

“You do catch on quick. But can you kids really foot the bill yourselves without Beacon’s cushy munitions stipend?”

She glanced away, scuffing her boot against the floor. “I was gonna ask to borrow from Uncle Qrow…”

Roman nearly choked on his next sip of cocoa. It was the first time he’d heard her call him that. Gods, how had he missed what was right in front of him? “Your ‘uncle’s’ cash poor at the moment.”

“Why did it sound like you put that in quotes?” she muttered under her breath.

‘Roman,’ said Ozpin in a warning tone.

“Anyway, you can run an errand for me.” Roman fished the house key out of his pocket and tossed it to Little Red, who fumbled to catch it while still keeping hold of the stack of Lien. “Get copies of that made while you’re out. I would’ve done it myself, but you’re here early.”

“But it says ‘Do Not Duplicate’,” she said, examining the key.

“Then offer the locksmith a generous tip,” said Roman.

She squirmed uncomfortably. If he didn’t know better, he would have questioned whether the little goody two-shoes had what it took to join Ozpin’s secret war. But he at least owed her the grudging recognition, if not respect, of a skilled opponent. And she surprised him by pocketing the key and broaching an altogether different subject. “Uncle Qrow says you’re mad at him,” she blurted. “Well, that isn’t exactly what he said,” she amended. “I don’t think I should repeat what he actually said. And anyway, he didn’t really want to talk about it, so… I don’t know what’s going on, but I get the feeling it might’ve been his fault?”

Roman scoffed. He had no desire to talk about it either, least of all with Little Red, but at least Qrow had gotten the message that he was in the doghouse. Birdhouse? Whatever. “I’m going to take that as a yes…” She sighed. “I know he can be kind of a jerk. Not to me,” she was quick to add, “but to some people, sometimes. Or…to a lot of people, a lot of the time. But he doesn’t know everything you did for him.” Roman opened his mouth to say that he hadn’t had much of a choice in the matter, but Little Red barreled on. “And I know it was you, because Professor Ozpin wouldn’t have threatened me nearly that many times.” She laughed halfheartedly at her attempt at humor. But Roman’s mood only grew darker. She was right. That little rescue mission had been all him. He’d assumed Oz would have forced him into it anyway, but he’d never actually put that assumption to the test. He’d done it all of his own free will. She grew more somber, as well. “He’s like family to me.”

“Like?”

“Well, we’re not actually related.”

Roman couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Really? Because I could’ve sworn I saw a resemblance.”

She chuckled, tucking her hair behind her ear self-consciously. “We get that all the time. Sometimes, when we’re out together, people even assume he’s my dad.”

Roman’s grip tightened around his mug, and he had to force himself to ease off before he broke the damn thing. “Is that so.”

“He’d do anything for me,” Little Red continued. “And you did so much for him when I couldn’t.” She placed a hand on Roman’s arm. “I’ll make sure he knows that.”

Roman was so appalled by the fact that she was touching him, again, that he didn’t process what she’d actually said in time. “Wait—” But she was already gone, leaving nothing behind but a few rose petals fluttering to the floor. It was a handy trick for exiting unwanted conversations. Roman would have to remember it.

An hour later, their odd chat was almost forgotten. Roman was lounging in Ozpin’s armchair, nursing his second mug of cocoa while arranging Noah’s next shipment over text (as well as sharing the captain’s confusion as to how one of his airship’s displays had been damaged on their last run), when Ozpin’s four little nuisances passed him on their way out. The others seemed inclined to tiptoe by as quietly as possible, but Little Red ruined whatever stealth they thought they had by waving and saying, “Bye, Torchwick! We’ll be back soon—but not too soon!” Roman spared a glance up from his scroll. Red’s teammates were all staring at her with similarly horrified looks of betrayal.

‘Please tell them to be careful.’

“Oz says have fun.”

“Thanks, professor!” Little Red yelled unnecessarily. Then, to Roman’s utter befuddlement, she turned and winked at him on her way out the door. What a weird kid. That was probably Qrow’s fault, too.

While they were gone, Roman spent some time child-proofing the house—that is, hiding all evidence of his little fencing operation like his accounting books and manifests in places where they wouldn’t accidentally be discovered. It wasn’t hard. He just had to stash them in high places. He did the same when he wanted to hide things from Neo, like her birthday presents. Although she'd grown wise to it and would, on occasion, clamber up to the highest vantage point in a room just to have a look around. But she’d always been clever, and as far as Roman could tell, none of these kids were burdened by an overabundance of intellect. (Except perhaps the quiet one. Roman hadn’t gotten a good read on him yet.) If they did happen to stumble upon a piece of Roman’s paper trail, they might not even know what they’d found. But it would all be rather complicated to explain, and he didn’t need any more complications. Ozpin had told them that Roman was tapping some of his criminal contacts for information and left it at that, and that was where Roman was content to let it lie. If they didn’t know that nothing came free in Roman’s world, especially not information, then he felt no need to enlighten them.

It turned out, Ozpin wasn’t all that keen on having these kids around, either, though for different reasons. He had spent his past several lives preparing an elite fighting force to defend the kingdoms, and now, when they were needed most, he couldn’t call on them. These children who had answered the call were braver than they were wise, more tenacious than they were adept. They would make great Huntresses and Huntsmen one day, but they were still so young. He did his best to prepare his students for the worst, but he had hoped with all his heart that they wouldn’t have to fight in this war. His thoughts kept returning to the first time children had gotten caught in his and Salem’s crossfire: their own children. After so living many lives, he sometimes felt like he was repeating the past, but never had it frightened him this much. Still, he couldn’t turn his students away after they’d traveled so far only to find no safe haven, couldn’t let them see his doubts lest they begin to doubt themselves, couldn’t tell them to stand down when they were determined to fight for their world, in all its flaws.

‘They’re old enough to choose their battles,’ Roman thought. ‘Older than I was.’

‘And look where yours led you.’

‘I was exactly where I wanted to be. Until you came along.’

After he’d let off some steam in Ozpin’s well-equipped training room and then made himself some lunch (leaving some for Neo to heat up later whenever she got hungry), he settled back down in Ozpin’s armchair in the living room to read the kingdom news on his scroll. He’d just lit a cigar and started skimming the headlines when there was a thunk against the window, and he turned in time to see a dark shape fall to the ground outside. “Did Qrow just…?”

Ozpin took over, laying the smoldering cigar down over the ashtray and getting up to go to the door out to the courtyard. “Qrow?” he said, opening the door. And there the dumb bird was, on the ground below the window, ruffling his wings as he staggered to his feet. Ozpin bent down and picked him up, taking note of the fading shards of illusion glass scattered around him, and brought him inside.

Qrow transformed in Ozpin’s arms, raising a hand to clutch his head with a hiss. “Gods damn it, Oz, would you make Torchwick call off his psycho little sister? She’s been fucking with me all morning! First I drank vinegar thinking it was whiskey, then I tried to brush my teeth with glue, and then she switched the hot and cold faucets in the shower. I got so sick of it I left to stretch my wings, but now as soon as I’m back, she’s at it again! I could have sworn that window was open!”

Ozpin only let go of him when he was sure Qrow was steady enough on his feet. “I can make Roman do a lot of things, but I don’t think I can make him do what you’re asking.”

“I’d put a stop to it myself if she’d show her face,” Qrow growled, eyes scanning the seemingly empty room.

“There may be another way you could get her to stop,” said Ozpin. “She and Roman speak a simple language of reciprocity and retribution. If you make amends—”

“For what?” Qrow scoffed. “Hurting Torchwick’s feelings? The man’s a murderous maniac! I’m surprised he has any!”

Ozpin sighed. “Why don’t I start? I’m sorry I spoke harshly to you this morning, Qrow.”

“What?” Qrow looked completely taken aback. “It’s fine, Oz. I mean, that was just because of Torchwick. Wasn’t it?”

“Not entirely,” Ozpin admitted.

Qrow’s breath hitched. “Oz, did I hurt you?”

Ozpin shook his head. “I know you didn’t mean to. It’s just… Roman is a thief by choice. You chose to walk away from that life. But I… I don’t have a choice. And I don’t steal money or valuables. I steal lives, Qrow. And when you rub that in Roman’s face, you also rub it in mine.”

“Shit,” Qrow whispered. “I’m so sorry, Oz. I’m such an idiot.”

“It’s alright, Qrow, truly. Until now, you’ve always known me as just...me. At any rate, I’m not the one to whom you owe an apology.”

Qrow grimaced. “Alright. Let’s get this over with.” Ozpin closed his eyes, and Roman opened them. He said nothing, just watched Qrow squirm. Qrow glanced away. “So…Ruby told me how close a call I really had, and how much you did to keep me this side of the dirt…” When Roman continued to say nothing, Qrow grew frustrated. “But it’s not like you really had a choice.”

“You’re right,” said Roman, finally. “I didn’t.”

“So the way I see it, I don’t really owe you anything,” Qrow grit out.

“No,” said Roman. “You don’t.”

Qrow growled, realizing that Roman wasn’t going to make this easier for him in the slightest. “Still, I was out of line. I’m sorry.”

Roman was surprised Qrow had actually gotten the words out. But his self-respect was one of the few things Ozpin hadn’t taken from him, and Roman wasn’t about to compromise on it. “I only accept apologies from people on their knees,” he said.

“What?” Qrow’s lip curled in a snarl. “I’m not going to fucking grovel, Torchwick.”

“I could hand you my dagger and tell you to give it back to me along with your least favorite finger,” said Roman. “That’s how people used to apologize to me.”

Qrow made a face of complete disgust. “You’re a monster.”

“Oh?” said Roman, examining his nails. “If you find me so repulsive, then whatever possessed you to hold onto my kerchief all this time, after you promised to burn it?”

“It’s the middle of godsdamn winter,” Qrow growled. “I was cold.” Tellingly, he didn’t meet Roman’s eyes. “Anyway,” he deflected, “why do you keep my feather in your stupid hat?”

Roman raised his chin, refusing to become flustered like Qrow. “Like I said, it looks better on me. But if you’re telling me your apology is insincere, then I really don’t see why I should care what Neo does to you.”

Qrow cursed under his breath. “I’m not saying that…”

“Then get on your knees.” Roman smirked. “Unless they’re too sore after last night.”

Qrow bared his teeth, clearly wanting to hurt him. But he couldn’t hurt the man he hated without hurting the man he loved. So he lowered himself to his knees, never breaking eye contact as he did so. “I’m sorry,” he said, and this time it sounded more like a challenge than an apology, daring Roman to push him further and see what happened.

Roman hummed, taking time to consider his response as he let his eyes rove shamelessly over the picture Qrow made. “Alright,” he said, finally. “But, Qrow…” He reached down and lifted Qrow’s chin with a finger, noting the way the Huntsman’s pupils dilated and his breath hitched ever so slightly. He leaned in close, close enough to kiss Qrow if he wanted, close enough that Qrow swallowed hard as a blush began to bloom on his cheeks. Close enough to murmur in Qrow’s ear, “You’re sleeping on the couch.”

Chapter Text

When the kids finally returned from their little field trip, Ozpin and Qrow broke the news to them that it looked like they wouldn’t be getting any backup. Qrow planned to keep searching, but he’d have to be more discreet to avoid attracting the attention of whoever was hunting the Huntsmen. Trying to draw the assassins out wouldn’t be worth the risk, since eliminating them (or worse, failing in the attempt) would tip off Lionheart immediately, and they didn’t yet know the extent of his plans. Anyone still left alive must be keeping a low profile. Whoever they might have saved if they’d acted sooner was already dead.

Predictably, the baby Huntsmen reacted with more righteous outrage than sensible fear, and doubled down on their commitment to the cause. Which meant they would have to start training—hard. “You’ve all had the benefit of my tutelage for some time,” Ozpin had told them. “I think you could learn much from an instructor with a…different background. One more like the foes you will be facing in the coming conflict.”

It had taken Roman a moment to realize Ozpin was talking about him. When he did, his first instinct was to flat-out refuse. Ozpin was the teacher, not him. Dealing with the kids was literally Ozpin’s job. Roman didn’t owe them the time of day. Of course, he realized almost immediately that no backup from Haven’s Huntsmen meant these brats were the best they were going to get. And if they were the ones who would be fighting beside him when the time came, then it was in his best interest to make sure they were capable of holding their own. And then it occurred to Roman that he could have some fun with it. After all, when else would Ozpin sit back and allow him to teach the little twerps a lesson or two? ‘You know, I think you’re right. I have some ideas already.’

Roman spun his cane idly as he walked down the line of nervous students out in the courtyard. “Unlike the Grimm, every person fights differently. And odds are, whoever you brats go up against is gonna have a lot more experience than you.” Blondie and Sparky looked like they wanted to argue just for the sake of it, so Roman pressed on before they had the chance. “But experience isn’t everything. There are a number of ways you can take down an opponent who’s got a few years on you. Qrow.” He pointed his cane at the Huntsman, who was leaning up against the wall and watching him warily. “Let’s give ’em a demonstration, shall we?”

Qrow’s eyebrows lifted. “You seriously think you can beat me in a fight?”

“I think I can do it three different ways.”

Qrow scoffed and kicked off the wall. “Alright, you’re on.” He extended his blade with a series of mechanical shunk-shunk-shunks as he approached.

“Method number one,” said Roman as Qrow squared up across from him. “If you can pinpoint a weakness in your opponent, you can exploit it.” Qrow huffed in disbelief. Even though he didn’t carry himself with any particular elegance, he had excellent instincts, and he rarely ever presented an opening in combat. But the whole point was that Roman wouldn’t need to wait for one. He would create it himself. “For example,” Roman continued, subtly flicking off the safety on the handle of his cane, “I happen to know that Qrow is hungover right now.”

Blondie leaned over to murmur to Little Red, “Isn’t that sort of…normal, for him?”

“Well,” said Little Red cagily, “it’s not not normal…” Qrow’s jaw twitched in annoyance. As a longtime alcoholic, he was accustomed to fighting in all stages of intoxication, to the point where it hardly affected his execution. But there were some things a person just couldn’t compensate for.

Roman dipped into a bow and extended his hand, crooking his fingers in invitation. Qrow was as light on his feet as he was in the air. He moved like he had wings, sweeping toward Roman in a blur. It was the most strategic play, choosing to fight Roman up close, since Roman’s weapon had the obvious limitation of a long barrel, which made it difficult to shoot an opponent who got within a roughly three-foot radius. And Qrow was fast enough to charge past that radius before Roman could raise his cane and take aim. But that was just what Roman was counting on.

As Qrow thrust his blade forward, Roman simply pivoted, and as the glinting steel sliced bare inches in front of him, he aimed past Qrow, the ignition chamber of his cane right beside Qrow’s ear, and fired. The bang drowned out Qrow’s curses as he dropped his weapon and clutched his ears. Roman wasted no time sweeping his cane around and cracking it across the backs of Qrow’s knees, causing them to buckle. He kicked Qrow between the shoulder blades for good measure, and the Huntsman pitched forward into the dirt, mere seconds after the fight had begun. Roman stepped up and drove his cane into the ground beside Qrow’s face, a clear message to stay down. “Any questions?”

The kids all stared in shock. Finally, Moody raised his hand. “You said there were three methods?”

Roman grinned. “I am so glad you asked.” He tapped Qrow’s cheek with the muzzle of his cane. “You up for another round?”

Qrow got to his feet and brushed himself off. “You got another dirty trick up your sleeve?” he spat.

“Oh, I’ve got plenty,” said Roman blithely. “Try to last a little longer this time. It’s no fun if I finish you off too soon.” He winked. Qrow scowled at the innuendo. Nevertheless, he grabbed his weapon off the ground and took up his previous position across from Roman. He seemed to realize he’d have to take Roman a little more seriously as an opponent if he didn’t want to embarrass himself completely in front of the kids. Not that it would help in the slightest. “Method number two requires practice, plain and simple, but if you put in the work to master it, it’s lethally effective. Incidentally, it’s also good advice if you want to commit a crime.”

“Great,” grumbled Qrow. “What’s this expert criminal technique?”

With a smile and a sweeping gesture, Roman invited Qrow to come and find out. After all, this was a demonstration, and show comes before tell. Qrow thrust out his arm, extending his weapon into its scythe form, the blade articulating into a deadly arc. The long shaft gave him greater range; he wouldn’t have to get as close to Roman to land a hit. He took a running leap forward and swung his scythe down. There was a moment in midair when his eyes widened as he realized Roman wasn’t attempting to deflect or dodge. Then his scythe shattered Roman’s illusory image and Neo dipped beneath him, opening her parasol and using his momentum to toss him forward through the air. Roman was right there waiting for him. He swung his cane, connecting flat across Qrow’s collarbones and slamming the Huntsman down backward into the ground. The breath was knocked out of Qrow’s lungs and he lay gasping as Roman kicked away his weapon. When he attempted to rise, Roman stepped on his chest and pushed him back down. Neo sauntered up beside her brother and grinned down at Qrow, giving him a little wave. “Work with a partner,” said Roman. “Teams are well and good for taking down large targets like Grimm—”

“Or Paladins!” Little Red piped up oh so helpfully. She coughed under Roman’s glare and looked away. “Just saying.” Under her breath, she muttered, “Team RWBY for the win.”

“Or Atlesian Paladins,” Roman conceded. “But otherwise, four people are liable to get in each other’s way. Nothing beats a strong partnership. If you’re well-coordinated, you’re as good as or better than your combined years of experience. But if you can’t fight in synch with each other, then you’re a liability to each other. You got that?” The kids all nodded, now fully engrossed in the lesson. Roman let Qrow up. “Last chance to salvage your dignity, Feathers,” he muttered as Qrow stalked past him, picking up his weapon and returning to his starting position.

Qrow retracted his scythe and with a flick of his wrist, the blade swung downward and locked at a ninety-degree angle, exposing both barrels of the built-in shotgun. “What’s to stop me from just shooting you?” he asked, taking aim at Roman.

“Method number three,” said Roman calmly, reaching into his pocket and withdrawing his lighter and a folded-up piece of paper. He flicked the lighter open and held the corner of the paper over the flame.

‘When did you take that?’

Roman had slipped the paper out of Qrow’s wallet when he’d lifted it the night before. ‘While you were otherwise…distracted.’

Realization dawned on Qrow, and he dropped his weapon. “Don’t—”

Neo picked the weapon up and turned it on him, but he hardly took notice, eyes fixed on the paper between Roman’s fingers. “Cheat,” said Roman. He snapped the lighter shut and slipped it back into his pocket. Then he approached Qrow and dropped the paper into the Huntsman’s hands. Money was far from the only valuable currency, and Roman was practiced in leveraging the things people cared about against them.

“You’re a rotten bastard,” said Qrow.

“The worst,” Roman agreed. He leaned in close to murmur in Qrow’s ear, “Don’t you forget it.” Then he turned on his heel and walked back to retake center stage. Neo handed Qrow his weapon, and he slunk back to observing at a distance, holding tight to the paper.

“What is that?” Little Red asked Qrow softly.

“Just an old keepsake,” he said, and he seemed inclined to leave it at that. Until he looked down into Little Red’s expectant eyes. Qrow sighed. “You probably don’t remember, but you drew this for me when you were little.”

Her eyes turned full-on puppy dog. “And you still have it? Can I see?” Qrow handed her the paper and she carefully unfolded it. When she saw the drawing, she frowned. “How come you’re not in it?”

Qrow looked away. “You know I wasn’t around as much when you were younger,” he muttered. “Tai figured I was more trouble than I was worth.”

Little Red pursed her lips in thought. “Hey Neo, can I borrow your pen?” Neo blinked in surprise at the casual request, but after a moment, more out of curiosity than anything, she dug into her pocket and handed the pen over to Little Red. Red flattened the drawing up against the wall and poked her tongue out as she started scribbling. She handed the pen back to Neo once she was finished, and gave the drawing back to Qrow. “That’s better,” she said. She’d added a fourth stick figure beside the blonde man: a man drawn in black, smiling along with the others.

“Yeah,” said Qrow faintly. “Thanks.” He stared down at the drawing and raised a fist to his mouth.

Roman rolled his eyes. “Hello? Anyone care about not getting their asses torched by Cinder and co., or would you rather do arts and crafts?”

Little Red snapped back to attention. “Sorry, professor!” she said reflexively. “Ah, I mean Torchwick. Professor Torchwick?”

“Only if you want an extracurricular ass-whooping,” said Roman. “It’s time for the practical portion of the lesson. Blondie!” The kid startled when Roman pointed to him with his cane. “You still want to hurt me, right? Why don’t you come up here and give it a try?”

The kid set his jaw and stepped forward, drawing his sword and reconfiguring the scabbard into its shield form. “Sounds good to me,” he said.

Ozpin had been so kind as to fill Roman in on what each of his students most needed to work on—all of them but this kid. And even after crossing weapons only briefly during their first encounter, Roman could tell it wasn’t because he was some sort of prodigy. “What would you say is your greatest weakness?”

Blondie lowered his gaze. “Why don’t you just ask Ozpin?” he muttered.

“I’m asking you. Tell me the one thing most liable to get you killed in a fight, and I’ll help you help yourself not fucking die. How about it, kid?” Blondie glared at him sullenly and mumbled something under his breath. “Once more with feeling.”

“I still haven’t discovered my Semblance yet, okay?!” the boy practically shouted. He took a deep breath and continued more calmly, “And there’s nothing you or anyone else can do to help me.”

Ozpin’s uncharacteristic silence on the subject suddenly made sense. He’d wanted the two of them to have this conversation themselves. Maybe because he thought Roman would empathize. But empathy wasn’t what the boy needed. “First off, just because your freaky friends can do some freaky shit, that doesn’t make you the odd duck. You’re just like everyone else out in the real world. So stop thinking like a Huntsman, because not having a Semblance is only a weakness if you believe it is. Did you see me use my Semblance at all just now when I made Qrow look like a little battle school bitch?”

“Fuck you,” grumbled Qrow, somewhat delayed. He was still fawning over Little Red’s crappy drawing.

“Not in front of the children, dear.” Qrow gaped up at him, cheeks turning as red as his eyes, before he ducked his head back down behind the drawing, willing the attention of the group to remain on Roman. Roman magnanimously carried on with the lesson. “Not knowing your Semblance yet just means you’ve gotta train twice as hard as your friends, and I have a feeling you already do. Am I wrong?”

Roman may have been driving the point a little hard, because the boy looked rather taken aback. “Well, I…” He looked back at his teammates.

“He does!” Little Red cheered from the sideline.

“Yeah, Jaune makes us all look like a bunch of lazy slobs,” Sparky chimed in. Moody opened his mouth to personally object, but a look from Sparky silenced him. He sighed and nodded his agreement.

“Is that hard?” Roman muttered.

‘They are diligent students.’

“Well, if you’re half the slavedriver with them as you are with me, I guess they’d have to be.”

‘That’s…a bit of an exaggeration.’

Roman cleared his throat, realizing he appeared to be talking to himself again. “What is a weakness, however,” he said, getting back to his point, “and a damn dangerous one, is insecurity. You second-guess yourself in the middle of a fight, and an adversary of any skill will see it, and seize the advantage.” He raised his cane and Blondie instinctively raised his shield. “Still wishing you knew your Semblance right about now?”

Blondie grit his teeth. “N-no.”

“I don’t believe you!” Roman snarled, lashing out with a forceful kick against Blondie’s shield and sending the boy stumbling backward. He lunged forward and swung his cane down, Blondie just barely raising his sword in time to block the blow. “Come on, kid! Remind me why you hate me!”

Blondie tried to shove Roman’s cane to the side but Roman disengaged and fired, forcing Blondie to leap out of the blast radius. He dropped into a roll and came up behind Roman. “Your girlfriend murdered my girlfriend!” he yelled, swinging his sword.

Roman laughed, easily ducking beneath the arc of the blade and cracking his cane across Blondie’s kneecaps, causing the kid’s Aura to flare yellow down his legs as he stumbled again. “Oh, you’re adorable.” Roman pressed the advantage, swinging his cane again to be met with Blondie’s sword in a clash of sparks. “Cinder was more of a…business partner with benefits,” he said, driving Blondie back with blow after blow and keeping him on the defensive. “But I’m curious, how far did you get with Ms. Magnetic Personality? Did you hold hands? Write each other’s names in your notebooks?”

‘Roman, you’re being cruel.’

‘Life is cruel, Oz.’ He feigned a scandalized gasp. “Did you ki—” Blondie lunged forward with an enraged howl, trapping Roman’s cane with the guard of his sword and bashing into Roman with his shield. Roman staggered back with a huff. “That’s more like it.” He grabbed onto the edges of Blondie’s shield and ripped it right off the boy’s arm. “But if you’re going to use your shield to attack…” Blondie took a startled step back before Roman swung the shield around, connecting sharply with the side of the boy’s head in a flare of yellow. “Hit harder.”

Blondie reeled back, clutching his head. But then, to everyone’s surprise, he slipped behind Neo, catching her in his grip and holding his sword across her throat. “Her wellbeing above all else,” Blondie quoted. “That’s the one thing Ozpin said you actually care about. That’s your weakness.”

Roman tossed the shield aside and lowered his cane. The fight was as good as over. “I know he prattles on, but you oughta pay closer attention, kid,” said Roman. “He also said she’s the one to be wary of.” Neo gripped Blondie’s sword with both hands, her gloves preventing the blade from cutting into her palms, and swung her legs up over her head, locking them around Blondie’s neck and flipping them both over backwards. Blondie’s back hit the ground, knocking the wind out of him, while she landed over him on her feet. She drew her own sword in a flash and pressed the point into the tender flesh beneath Blondie’s chin, daring him to make another move. Displaying newfound wisdom, the boy did no such thing.

So Neo booped him lightly on the nose with the tip of her sword, which she then sheathed. Grinning down at him, she offered him a hand. “She’s telling you it was a good try,” Roman clarified as Blondie allowed her to help him to his feet out of sheer bewilderment. “But people much nastier than you have tried to use Neo against me, and you’re the only one who’s walking away from the attempt. Don’t push your luck.” Sullenly, Blondie picked up his shield and limped back to stand beside Qrow, ignoring the encouraging words of his teammates in favor of sulking alongside the Huntsman.

Sparky and Moody stepped up next. “We’ve been partners our whole lives,” Sparky said, exchanging a determined look with the boy. That may have been true, but even though he’d never fought either of them before, Roman could tell from their communication off the battlefield, or lack thereof, that they wouldn’t form a flawless front. Ozpin had informed him that Sparky’s swings were powerful but slow, and that Moody was agile, but tended to act in a support role to his teammates when he ought to take point himself. In theory, they should make a well-balanced pair. But in practice…

Sparky came at him head-on with her hammer raised and sparks flying from the weapon’s lightning dust charge. So Roman kicked the nozzle of the garden hose up into his hand, spun the faucet wheel with the handle of his cane, and doused her at full-blast. She seized up, Aura lighting up pink across her whole body as the electricity shot through her. Her Semblance couldn’t redirect it anywhere but across the water she was covered in. When the shocks subsided, she coughed a small puff of smoke and dropped her weapon. Roman felt a hand on his shoulder, and then a feeling of pure serenity washed over him. All of his worries faded away and he felt like he could do anything without consequence. So he spun around and fired point-blank, sending Moody flying back into the wall. The blast and the impact combined shattered his Aura in a flare of pink, and he slid to the ground in a heap.

Roman chuckled. “Oz probably wouldn’t have let me do that if you hadn’t fucked with our emotions first.” He frowned as the effects began to wear off. “You okay, kid?” Moody groaned. “He’s fine,” Roman assured Ozpin, whose anxiety had been rapidly remounting at the sight of his student lying motionless in the dirt.

So Sparky’s brazen attack had been a diversion for Moody to get the drop on him and subdue him. Not a bad strategy, but it had left each of them vulnerable. If they had truly been working in tandem, they would have had each other’s backs. Roman told them as much while a still somewhat shellshocked Sparky crouched down to pull Moody’s arm around her shoulders and help him to his feet. “You might also want to take a page from Blondie’s book and practice fighting without using your Semblances. In my experience, there’s almost always a way to turn a person’s Semblance against them.”

The pair staggered away to stand with Qrow and Blondie, leaving only Little Red. She laughed nervously. “Any chance you’re not still mad at me for messing up all your plans? I mean, you did already push me off that airship yesterday, so…”

“You did what?” Qrow demanded.

“That was my dear sister, who is now satisfied with the settled score,” said Roman. “You and I haven’t even begun to settle ours.”

‘These training exercises aren’t about settling scores.’

“Ozpin reminds me that the purpose of our practice is self-improvement. But surely we can all agree that the greatest improvements are made when students are simply…flung into the fray?”

Little Red wrung her hands around the handle of her scythe. “I don’t know if I’d agree with that, actually…”

“Oz also said your hand-to-hand sucks.”

Red pouted. “He did?”

‘Those weren’t my exact words.’

“But since that only matters if your opponent can disarm you, how about we see how long you can hold onto that oversized gardening tool of yours?” Roman proposed.

Little Red considered a moment, and then nodded. “Okay.” She stepped forward, giving her scythe a twirl. “So, are we using ammo or—?” As an answer, Roman swung his cane up and took a shot at her, Red only just managing to disperse the blast with a quick spin of her scythe. She drove the blade into the dirt and fired back, but Roman was already gone, leaving nothing but smoke in his wake. He reappeared behind Red and brought his cane down hard, but she spun and blocked it with the shaft of her scythe, then dropped and rolled to the side, bringing her blade around in a wide arc that Roman had to practically pole vault over with his cane to avoid. She immediately pivoted and whipped her blade around like a blender. Roman couldn’t get close, so he shot at her again, timing it precisely to make it past her defense. But she burst into rose petals a split-second before the blast scorched the wall behind her, and she rushed back at him, scythe swinging.

They fell into something of a rhythm, where time and again, her scythe would slice through nothing but smoke, and he would blast apart nothing but petals. But this time, it did come down to experience. She slipped up first. She’d lost track of Roman’s position, and by the time she realized he was too close, she was too slow pulling her little flower power trick. He’d already fired his grappling hook. The handle of his cane hooked around the curve of her blade, and he flung her weapon away before she disappeared. She dove for it in a whirlwind of rose petals, but he’d predicted she would, and he got there first, stalking out of the smoke to greet her with a brutal swing of his cane. She flinched and threw her hands up. “Wait-Professor-Ozpin-I-have-a-question!” she blurted all in one breath.

Suddenly, Roman no longer had control of himself. His attack halted in mid-swing as his vision took on a golden glow. “Yes, Ms. Rose?” said Ozpin.

Little Red grinned and hit him with a swift right hook to the ribs, followed up by a roundhouse kick to the stomach. “How’s that for sucky hand-to-hand?” she shouted in triumph as Ozpin doubled over, emerald Aura sparking around him.

‘You idiot,’ Roman groaned.

The realization dawned on Little Red that she’d attacked her headmaster entirely unprovoked, and she clapped her hands to her mouth in horror. “Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry, professor, are you okay?”

“Good form,” Ozpin wheezed. “I’ll just…” He didn’t bother finishing his sentence before handing control back over to Roman.

Roman grimaced and straightened up with the help of his cane. Little Red took a step back, eyeing her scythe where it still lay behind him. “At least one of you kids learned something,” he said. “Lesson’s over for today. You can practice on your own. Ozpin and I need to have a talk.”

“How does that work?” Sparky murmured to Qrow.

“He usually ends up yelling at himself like a lunatic,” Qrow answered.

Roman ignored them, leaving Little Red to pick up her weapon as he stalked back toward the entrance to the house. To his annoyance, she scooped up her scythe and trotted after him. “You mean I made the right move?” she asked sheepishly.

“Any move that brings your enemy down is the right one.”

His answer didn’t seem to sit well with her, but she kept on pestering him, regardless. “You know, our Semblances are actually pretty similar. How come you never—?” Roman hooked her ankle with the handle of his cane and she face-planted into the dirt. He kept walking.

Chapter Text

After a week of Roman and Ozpin continuing the kids’ training while Qrow ran down all of his Huntsman contacts in Mistral and ran into as many dead ends (emphasis on dead), Qrow had come to the conclusion that it was time to change tack. Or rather, he had barged into Ozpin’s room at two in the morning and pitched a drunken fit. “There’s no one left, Oz!” Ozpin had wanted to hold him close and tell him things were going to be okay, but it would have been a lie. Qrow had paced the room, winding himself up even further. “It’s too late for the Huntsmen here. But we can’t let them pull this same shit again in Atlas. We’ve got to warn James. Are you sure you can’t get through to him using Torchwick’s scroll?”

‘Not over that much open ocean. Local towers won’t send the signal that far.’

“I’ve tried, Qrow. I’m quite sure.”

Qrow growled, baring his teeth like a cornered animal. “Then…then I’ll fly there and tell him myself!” And Ozpin, who had been worrying himself sick about the damage a man like Watts could do in Atlas, had agreed to let him go. No sooner had the words left his lips than Qrow had the window open and was stretching his shoulders in preparation for the long flight. But he paused and turned back to Ozpin. “You’ll keep an eye on the kids, right? Don’t let Torchwick fuck off to do whatever he does at night. If Tyrian finds her again…”

“He won’t touch her,” Ozpin promised, eyes flaring emerald in the dark. “And he won’t live to report back.”

Qrow smiled. “Thanks, Oz.”

“You have my word, Qrow. I will protect Ruby with my life, just as you would.”

‘What? I never agreed to that!’

Roman would have launched into his full, itemized list of objections with great fervor had Qrow not kissed him, fisting his hands in his lapels and pulling him in close, halting Roman and Ozpin’s argument before it could start. “I’ll be back within the week. Wish me luck,” Qrow murmured. And then, with a flutter of dark wings, he was gone as suddenly as he had appeared.

Ozpin had stared out the window into the darkness for some time before pulling it shut against the chill night air. “You’ve never needed luck,” he’d said softly.

It was only the next morning that Roman realized his new kerchief was missing. “That fucking bandit!” 

He couldn’t even enjoy the peace of being rid of Qrow and all his…complications for a week, because Ozpin had so magnanimously volunteered them both for babysitting duty. As long as Qrow wasn’t there to be the eyes in the sky, Roman and Ozpin had to be the boots on the ground. That meant no unsupervised outings, for them or the kids. Roman hadn’t spent so much time around children since Neo was one, and she had never given him lip.

“How is Qrow going to get a message to Atlas with the borders closed?” Moody asked when Roman explained the situation.

Right. Because the kids didn’t know about Qrow’s double life as a magical bird spy. Because he and Ozpin had a minefield of bizarre secrets between them that was liable to blow sky high with one misstep. Honestly, they were lucky Roman was such a good liar. And that the truth really was stranger than fiction when it came to the pair of them. “He’s taking a letter to the Atlesian military outpost in Argus,” said Roman.

“Why is he the one who had to go?” asked Blondie.

“Gee, I dunno, kid. How well do you think my sister and I get on with the Atlesian military?”

“After what you did at Beacon, they’d probably lock you up for life along with your accomplices, which is what you all deserve,” Blondie muttered.

Roman’s fraying patience with the little pissant snapped. “Y’know, Cinder murdered Ozpin, too, and you don’t hear him bitching about it. So buck the fuck up, Blondie, because I am sick of your sulking, you sorry piece of sh—”

Ozpin swiftly seized control, taking a deep, measured breath. “Who wants pancakes for breakfast?”

Sparky pounded her fist on the table. “Sign me the fuck up!”

Ozpin pinched the bridge of his nose. “Language, Ms. Valkyrie.”

“But Torchwick—”

“Does not set a good example. That should go without saying.”

She pouted. “Fine.” Turning to Moody, she muttered, “It’s like bad cop, boring cop with those two.” He chuckled quietly behind his hand.

‘Fuck the cops.’

Ozpin had stood to leave the table when Little Red asked, “When will Uncle Qrow be coming back?”

He mustered a small smile. “Soon, Ms. Rose.”

‘Not fucking soon enough.’

By the fourth day of dealing with their teenage attitude and antics, Roman was past fantasizing about homicide and well into the planning stages. It would be the perfect crime: no witnesses, no evidence. He and Neo could exterminate the pesky little vermin all at once and be rid of them at last. Roman was sure they could pull it off, but for the fact that Ozpin took exception to every good idea Roman ever had.

‘Obviously, I would never allow you to go through with it. And if I could forbid you these ghastly intellectual exercises, I would. I am certain you can find more constructive outlets.’

‘I could construct a bomb.’

A high-pitched shriek and the sound of shattering glass came from the kitchen. Had Neo gotten a head start on the homicide? Most likely not. She killed like she did everything else: silently. Roman marched to the source of the commotion, shouting, “Why is shit breaking when Qrow isn’t even here?!”

He came upon a rather puzzling scene that took him a few seconds to parse. Little Red was backed against the kitchen cabinets, a broken wine glass on the floor at her feet. She’d likely knocked it down from one of the top shelves when her back hit the cabinet door. Neo stood one foot forward, one foot back, hips low in a perfect lunge with her arm extended and the steel point of her parasol sword speared through the center of a chocolate chip cookie, pinning it to the cabinet an inch from Red’s raised hand. The rest of the kids arrived seconds after Roman and drew their weapons, although they weren’t quite sure what to do with them.

“I don’t understand!” Little Red wailed. “What did I do?”

Roman looked around, spotting a plate of freshly baked chocolate chip cookies sitting on the counter. “Well, it looks like you tried to swipe one of Neo’s cookies and she caught you red-handed,” he said. Neo nodded, confirming his analysis of the crime scene.

“I– I wasn’t trying to steal anything! I thought they were for everyone!”

Roman snorted. “Why would Neo bake cookies for you kids? She’s not your mother.”

Little Red sniffed and swiped at her eyes. Sparky glared at him, hands on her hips. “Nice one, Torchwick. Her mom is dead.”

Roman’s lip curled into a sneer at the nerve of these kids. “There anyone here whose mom isn’t dead?” he asked. Blondie slowly raised his hand, but it wilted back down when all eyes fell on him. Roman swept the crosshairs of his cane over the little assembly. “Bake your own damn cookies. Or next time…” He let his sights rest on Little Red. “She’ll skewer you instead.”

Little Red nodded, scooting along the wall away from Neo and out of Roman’s crosshairs. Satisfied that he’d gotten the point across, Roman lowered his cane. He eyed the plate of cookies and casually inquired, “You trying out a new recipe?” Neo pulled her parasol out of the cabinet door and tipped it back over her shoulder, offering Roman the speared sweet. Roman plucked it from the point of her sword and chomped down on it with a satisfying crunch while Little Red gaped at him in disbelief. “Mmm,” he hummed. She’d added some spices from Ozpin’s stash. Cloves and cinnamon, he guessed. “I think that’s your best batch yet.” Neo beamed, gesturing for him to help himself to more. So he nabbed another couple of cookies from the plate as he left the kitchen in a much better mood.

It didn’t last long. He and Neo had spent the following day trying to teach the kids how to read and respond to their teammates in battle without having to call out attacks, but the two of them had been woefully unprepared for the sheer amount of emotion that lesson would dredge up. Little Red had started moping about her notably absent former teammates, which set the others to blubbering about their fallen fourth teammate. It seemed like they might’ve been getting around to some more optimistic conclusion about all of them having come this far and supporting each other as a new team so they could carry on in the memory of those they’d left behind or some sappy shit, but it was all too touchy-feely for Roman and Neo, so they’d just left the kids to sort it through themselves.

Roman wasn’t sure how much more he could take. Many people assumed he’d snapped years ago and had come to command such a cold-blooded crime syndicate at such a young age because he was some kind of homicidal maniac who bathed in blood and got off on the terrified screams of his victims or something to that effect. But aside from hearing a voice in his head that told him to do things he didn’t want to do, he was quite sane. Now, though, he was starting to understand the impulse. He’d take terrified screams over teenage angst any day.

He was about to hit the sack after calling it an early night when a familiar tapping at his window stopped him in his tracks. He met the sinister black bird’s bloodred eyes and crossed over to open the window. Qrow flew inside and transformed in midair, landing lightly on his feet. “I’ve got a report from Atlas—”

Roman slammed him back against the wall and swallowed the remainder of his sentence, encouraging Qrow to put his mouth to better use. “Can it wait ’til after?” he asked, teething at Qrow’s bottom lip. Ozpin was right, he could find better outlets for his frustration.

“After…what?” Qrow panted, evidently still catching up. Roman pointedly slipped a hand down the front of Qrow’s trousers. “Oh. Yeah… Yeah, it can wait.”

It was a much later hour when they both fell back into the pillows, catching their breath. Qrow ran a hand through his hopelessly messy hair and glanced at Roman out of the corner of his eye. “So, uh, you still gonna make me sleep on the couch?”

Roman hummed thoughtfully. “I think you’ve earned parole for good behavior.”

“Good behavior? I was gone.”

Roman stretched languidly and closed his eyes. “Exactly,” he exhaled on a contented sigh.

Qrow shifted, and when Roman cracked one eye open to track the Huntsman’s movements, he saw Qrow looming over him in the darkness. “I’m getting real mixed signals from you, y’know.”

“Gee,” said Roman, “it’s almost like I’m two different people.”

Qrow frowned, glancing away. “Yeah…”

Roman groaned. Leave it to Qrow to kill the mood. “What now?”

“Oz is really okay with this?” he muttered.

Roman propped himself up on one elbow, staring at Qrow. “Are you worried about cheating on him?” He snorted, utterly failing to keep a straight face. “With me?”

“Don’t laugh,” Qrow growled.

Roman dipped his head, his shoulders shaking. “It’s hard not to when he’s laughing, too.”

“He is?”

‘Only…’ Ozpin chuckled and tried again. ‘Only out of the deepest affection. The thought honestly hadn’t crossed my mind.’

“He says you’re a colossal idiot.”

Qrow’s scowl deepened. “He wouldn’t—”

Roman pushed Qrow down into the mattress, lips hovering just over the Huntsman’s own. “And he missed you terribly.”

All of the hard lines in Qrow’s expression softened. “Yeah?”

Roman nuzzled under Qrow’s jaw and mouthed at his pulse. “Yeah.”

“I still think about him whenever we’re apart,” Qrow murmured. Roman dragged his teeth along the artery, taking a vicious sort of satisfaction in the involuntary hitch of the Huntsman’s breath. It was ridiculous to feel jealous of Ozpin at all, especially after mocking Qrow for making a similarly academic (no pun intended) distinction under the circumstances. But Roman didn’t have many virtues to begin with, and generosity wasn’t among them. He was still growing accustomed to sharing his life with Ozpin, let alone his lover. He felt Qrow’s voice rumble in his throat when he asked, “Does he think about me?”

Roman pushed himself up to meet Qrow’s gaze once more. “That’s between me and Ozpin.”

The Huntsman swallowed hard. “Fuck.”

Roman rolled onto his back and tucked a hand behind his head while he fumbled around in the nightstand drawer for his lighter and cigar case with the other. “So, how was Atlas?”

“W-what?”

“Imposing mountains, frigid climate, one minor political incident shy of a military dictatorship? Oh Mighty Atlas-Atop-the-World? Evidently, you had time to go shopping while you were there on your urgent, covert mission,” said Roman, waving lazily at Qrow’s clothes strewn across the floor. He had returned wearing a very nicely-fitting shirt and dark vest with intricate styling that Roman hadn’t paid much attention to as he’d stripped them off the other man. Of course, Qrow had kept the stupid cape, along with Roman’s new kerchief. That, Roman had commented on when he’d slipped it from around Qrow’s throat, but Qrow had just muttered that it was cold in Atlas, and shoved Roman onto the bed.

“Ah, yeah, Atlas,” Qrow stammered as he struggled to re-engage his higher brain functions. “Still, y’know, Atlas. Even more so, if anything. It was good to see a friendly face, though. The clothes were actually a gift from Jimmy.” 

Roman’s eyes narrowed as he lit his cigar. “And what does he think he’s getting in return?”

“Huh?” A look of comprehension crossed Qrow’s face a moment later, and he rolled his eyes. “Cool off, not everyone shares your fucked up idea of relationships. It’s just routine R&D. The military makes custom gear for a lot of the Huntsmen they contract with. It’s one of the perks of working with them. He’d been working on some stuff for Oz, too, until…” Qrow’s voice trailed off. “Anyway, I told him about Watts and Lionheart, and everything we know about what’s about to go down at Haven. Obviously, he can’t send Huntsmen or soldiers from Atlas to help us right now, ’cause it’d be taken as an act of war, but at least he can be on alert and keep a closer eye on the Relic and the Maiden under his watch.”

“A Relic and a Maiden, huh?” That was news to Roman. “I do hope he’s more trustworthy than Haven’s headmaster.”

Qrow scoffed. “He’d never let anyone get to him like that. You don’t know him.”

“On the contrary,” said Roman, smoke curling from his lips, “the general and I are well acquainted.”

Qrow’s eyes flicked down to the brand on Roman’s ribs, then away. So he hadn’t mentioned it because he already knew what it was. “Then you know he’d do anything to keep Remnant safe.”

“That, I believe,” Roman drawled. “Well, how is General Pornstar? I can’t imagine he took the news about me and dear old Oz very well.”

“He– Wait. General what?”

Roman blew a stream of smoke up to the ceiling. “What else could a man possibly do to deserve a name like Ironwood?”

Qrow snorted. “Fuck, how did I never think of that? He’d hate it.”

“Oh, he does.”

Qrow stared at him, eyes wide. “You did not call him that to his face.”

Roman smirked. “We had plenty of time to talk.”

“How are you still alive?”

Little Red had asked him the exact same question. Roman shuddered as he suppressed his reaction to the unwanted echo. The only way this thing with Qrow was going to work was if he just. Didn’t. Think about it. “What I want to know is, how much is iron, and how much is wood? So to speak.”

A blush dusted Qrow’s cheeks. “How would I know?”

“Oz, do you know?” Roman asked, cocking his head.

‘I’m not going to dignify that with a response.’

“How would he know?” Qrow demanded at the same time.

Roman shrugged. “The man’s a walking miscellany of bizarre information. Did you know Mistral’s market district was built on the gravesite of an old religious cult that worshipped man-eating sharks? It’s rather fitting, actually.”

“Yeah, you haven’t seen a slaughter ’til you’ve seen Oz at Faculty Trivia Night,” said Qrow, distractedly. He peeked under his pillow like he was expecting to find a coiled snake beneath. “You, uh, you still keep a knife in bed?”

“Always,” Roman deadpanned.

“Great,” Qrow muttered. “Listen, don’t try and stab me again for saying this, but the conversation we need to have about James is really more of an…Ozpin conversation. So…”

Roman exhaled a long stream of smoke through his teeth. “Sure,” he said, finally. “We’ve had our fun.”

He relinquished control to Ozpin, who stubbed out his cigar in the ashtray on the nightstand before reaching over to lay a hand on Qrow’s arm in concern. “What about James?”

Somehow, the simple touch seemed to have more of an effect on Qrow than any of the things Roman had done to him that night. He all but melted into the contact, and everything about him that was normally guarded and fortified was laid low. “I was going to tell him about you, Oz. But then I saw the cities, and I saw him… I’m not sure he’s handling things well.”

Ozpin moved closer, his hand skimming feather-light across Qrow’s chest to rest over the Huntsman’s heart. “What do you mean?”

“He always could give you a run for your money when it came to paranoia,” Qrow joked humorlessly. “But after how he acted at Beacon, it seems like it’s only gotten worse. He’s cut off from the rest of the world, he’s seeing enemies in every shadow, and I just told him there are more that he didn’t see. Hell, Oz, he’s a general. He’s preparing for war.”

“He may be right to do so,” murmured Ozpin.

“Maybe,” Qrow agreed. “But I didn’t want to give him anything more to worry about than he has to.”

“So you didn’t tell him you’d found me.”

“No, I did,” Qrow quickly reassured him. “He was so relieved. Honestly, I’ve never seen the man closer to tears. I just…” Qrow shoved a hand through his hair and blew out a breath. “I neglected to mention who I found you with.”

“Ah,” said Ozpin. “Perhaps that is for the best, for now.”

“Yeah,” Qrow sighed, relieved. “Yeah, I thought so. I just hope we made the right call, warning him…” Ozpin frowned and opened his mouth to respond, but Qrow continued quickly, “I mean, obviously, he needed to know what’s going on. But one of his own scientists conspiring with one of the headmasters, and his own kingdom in the crosshairs? I just hope he doesn’t do anything…extreme.”

Roman burst out laughing, causing Ozpin to wince. ‘Ironwood, take things to the extreme? The man whose idea of event security is an entire godsdamn army?’

“I have faith in him to do the right thing,” said Ozpin.

Qrow threaded his fingers through Ozpin’s and snaked his other arm around Ozpin’s waist to pull him close. “It’s not always easy to tell what that is, Oz.”

Ozpin tucked his head under Qrow’s chin and closed his eyes. “I know,” he whispered.

Chapter Text

The alarm clock sprang to life and trilled once before Roman plunged his dagger into its cold, mechanical heart. ‘That’s the third one in two weeks,’ Ozpin lamented.

“I am accustomed to conducting my business at night,” Roman growled into his pillow. “I am not accustomed to getting up at the crack of dawn to run training exercises with a bunch of brats.”

‘Seven is hardly the crack of dawn.’

Qrow lifted his head and blinked blearily at Roman. “Are you talking to me?”

“No,” Roman snapped. “Why would I be talking to you?”

The Huntsman dropped his head back down onto the pillow and huffed, “No idea. I’m just the guy you’re in bed with.”

Roman wrenched himself out from under the covers and padded to the bathroom to take a shower. “Now that you’re back and have nothing better to do, you can help with the kids,” he called back over his shoulder as he started the water running.

“What, a few teenagers too much for the notorious Roman Torchwick to handle?” Qrow chuckled.

“Oh, I’d handle them if Oz would let me,” Roman muttered under his breath. He stepped under the spray and let the hot water ease some of the tension that now seemed as deeply entangled within him as Ozpin’s soul—which made sense, considering the late headmaster was the root cause of it all. Even on their best days, the man wound Roman up like a clock.

He heard Qrow get out of bed and shuffle around the room, then stop. “Shit,” the Huntsman cursed quietly. “Your sister left a note under the door.”

“Read it to me,” Roman called.

Qrow appeared in the bathroom doorway holding a torn page from Neo’s notepad in his hands. “‘My dearest brother, I’m sure you noticed that there’s a vent in the wall between your room and mine. If you don’t keep the noise down at night, I will crawl through it and reach down Qrow’s throat, rip out his vocal cords and strangle you with them. Love, Neo.’ Oh, and would you look at that? She drew a little heart after her name.” Qrow leaned against the doorframe and looked up at Roman through the glass shower door. “For someone who doesn’t speak, she’s got a real way with words.”

Roman was only half listening by that point. He hadn’t noticed the vent Neo mentioned. Normally, he took stock of every significant feature of a room the moment he first stepped inside. It was part of his ingrained survival instincts. He remembered that the vent was there, but he had never really taken note of it. Because, he realized, he hadn’t felt like he was stepping into Ozpin’s room for the first time. The room was familiar, the bed was familiar, and the man he shared it with was familiar. A shiver ran down Roman’s spine, despite the warmth of the water. How much had he overlooked in the vestiges of Ozpin’s past life?

“Honestly, who raised such a pair of perfect psychopaths?” Qrow was saying, frowning back down at Neo’s note.

“No one,” answered Roman absentmindedly. Qrow gave him a curious look, then, and Roman almost couldn’t read it. He had hardly ever seen a look like that directed at him. It was sympathy. Roman’s stomach churned. He didn’t want to think about Ozpin’s past, and he certainly didn’t want to think about his own. So he reached out and yanked Qrow into the shower with him. A heated kiss under the water’s spray was more than enough to wipe that ridiculous expression from the Huntsman’s face.

‘As much as you may dislike it, Qrow is a good man.’

‘He wasn’t until he met you,’ Roman thought. ‘You were a good influence on him. Me?’ Roman’s breath caught as Qrow backed him roughly up against the cold tiles. He smiled. ‘Not so much.’

Their little morning dalliance put them significantly behind Ozpin’s carefully constructed schedule, but the man wasn’t complaining. He had thought he would never have something like this with Qrow again. He hadn’t imagined his new host would share his feelings for his old love, at least enough to be a willing participant in the relationship rather than a victim of it. So naturally, he wasn’t going to kick up a fuss over the little things. Roman would never have guessed that the strict headmaster would be so yielding under the right leverage. But of course, Qrow had figured that out a long time ago.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Roman asked him as Qrow reached for the bedroom doorknob, now, regrettably, fully dressed and decent.

“Uh, breakfast?” Qrow answered eloquently.

Roman stepped up beside him and leaned back against the door, crossing his arms. “The Argus Limited gets in at 1:00 PM today.”

Qrow blinked. “So?”

“So, you’re on it,” Roman reminded him.

“Ah, shit,” Qrow sighed heavily. “You really think they’d check the timetables?”

“No, I don’t. I think those kids are an oblivious bunch of trigger-happy idiots who just happened to stumble unawares into every situation that they’ve hacked and slashed their way out of with the sole accomplishment of surviving their own stupidity. If you agree, then by all means, go get your breakfast,” said Roman.

Qrow glared at him sullenly as he let go of the doorknob. “Would you bring me something, then? I was already running on fumes when I got back last night, and thanks to you, I’ve burned a lot more energy since then. Keeping up with a twenty-fucking-something’s exhausting.”

It was Roman’s turn to be dumbfounded. “Are you asking me to bring you breakfast in bed?” Qrow simply shrugged. “You are asking the wrong man, Branwen,” Roman warned him. He had zero tolerance for that domestic crap. That was not what he wanted from Qrow, and not what Qrow wanted from him.

“You’re right,” said Qrow, his voice dropping low. He stepped in close, making Roman acutely aware of the solid door at his back. He flattened his hands on either side of Roman’s head and with the barest brush of their lips, he murmured, “Oz, would you please bring me breakfast in bed?”

‘Motherfucker!’ Roman swore, but it was too late.

“Of course, Qrow,” Ozpin acquiesced, sealing the promise with a kiss. ‘Perhaps you are a bad influence on him,’ he mused. ‘I don’t recall him being quite so devious.’

‘I hate you both.’

~ * ~

Qrow officially “returned” from his trip that afternoon, but he wasn’t alone. There was a knock at the front door as the kids were finishing lunch, and Little Red raced to answer it. “Uncle Qrow, you’re back!” she squealed.

“And look who I ran into on the way,” came Qrow’s voice, followed by a shrill, unearthly shriek that had Roman and Neo clutching their ears while the rest of the kids rushed to the door to see what had Little Red so excited.

“Yang! Weiss!” she exclaimed. “I missed you guys so much! How did you find us?”

“I missed you, too, little sis,” said one.

“It’s kind of a long story,” said the other.

Roman rounded the corner casually with Neo at his side, taking in the touching reunion. “Great, you brought home more strays,” he drawled, taking a long drag from his cigar. “Ice Queen, Fisticuffs,” he greeted the uppity heiress and brash blonde. “Long time, no see.”

Ice Queen’s response was to spin the dust barrel of her sword and point it at him, while Fisticuffs cocked her gun gauntlets and raised her fists. Qrow put a hand on both their shoulders and urged them to stand down. “Hey, hey, I told you kids not to freak out.”

“But that’s Roman Torchwick!” Ice Queen exclaimed.

“And Neopolitan,” Fisticuffs said, eyes narrowed and locked on Neo.

Neo put her hand to her mouth in a feigned fright, making a show of shaking in her boots. Fisticuffs growled and broke free of Qrow’s grip, stalking forward and drawing back her fist. But Little Red stepped in front of her and curled her fragile fingers over her so-called sister’s shiny, new metal ones. “Please, Yang,” she said softly, and the older girl stalled, slowly lowering her weapon. “You’ve missed a lot.”

A look of guilt crossed Fisticuffs’ face and she glanced away with a bitter breath. “I’m getting that,” she ground out.

But Little Red’s only reaction was a big, warm smile. “So let’s catch each other up,” she said, looking around at all her friends. One by one, they nodded their agreement, even the pair who’d shown up late to the party.

“Why don’t we start with the criminal element in the room?” Ice Queen huffed, sheathing her sword but keeping her hand on the hilt.

Roman exhaled a stream of smoke. “Oh, are you talking about us?” he asked as Neo examined her nails.

“Who else would I be talking about?” said Ice Queen, placing an affronted hand to her chest. 

Roman gave a sweeping gesture around the room. “Any of you know how many crimes the Schnee Dust Company has gotten away with? More than I have, that’s for sure. Qrow’s an ex-bandit. Your little lost cat is an ex-White Fang terrorist, which means you’re all guilty of harboring a fugitive. Blondie’s a fraud—that’s right, your little forgeries didn’t escape the headmaster’s notice,” he said when the boy turned pale. He gestured to Sparky and Moody next. “Those two have their juvenile records sealed, which says enough on its own. Fisticuffs has thousands of Lien in property damage to her name, on top of all the medical bills of my proprietors she assaulted without provocation. On that note, none of you have your Huntsman licenses yet, so what does that make you? Vigilantes. In other words, criminals who don’t even get paid for it!” Roman laughed. “Acting superior doesn’t make it so, Your Majesty,” he said, holding his hat to his chest and dipping into a mock bow.

“So why can’t I punch him?” Fisticuffs asked.

Roman straightened up with a smoky sigh. “What are the odds I'd have to deal with two metal-limbed hotheads taking their mommy and daddy issues out on me?”

Fisticuffs bared her teeth and tried to come at him fists blazing while Little Red struggled to hold her back. “Believe me, we all want to punch him sometimes,” said Red, placatingly. “But it’s…complicated.”

“What’s so complicated about smashing my metal fist into his smug face?” Fisticuffs growled.

“Um, the fact that it isn’t really his face half the time?” Little Red tried.

A look of confusion gradually overcame the rage twisting Fisticuffs’ features, and she slowly lowered her weapon once more. “Huh?”

Ozpin chose that moment to take charge of the situation. “Ms. Xiao Long, Ms. Schnee, please allow me to bring you up to speed on what has transpired since our time together at Beacon.”

Fisticuffs and Ice Queen shared identical dumbstruck looks, and then spoke in unison. “Huh?!”

~ * ~

“So the Maidens, magic, Salem. It’s all true?” Ice Queen asked, looking around at her friends as though they might all be in on some bizarre, elaborate prank that was about to be revealed. Everyone was seated around the living room once again like one big, happy family listening to their eccentric uncle’s old stories.

“Uh-huh,” said Qrow.

“And Ozpin and Torchwick are both…” Ice Queen twirled her fingers around each other, at a loss for words.

“We are learning to live with each other,” said Ozpin with a tired smile. He looked back over his shoulder at where Neo stood leaning against the wall behind him, deceptively relaxed, but her eyes alert, and her hand never far from the handle of her parasol. “Ms. Neopolitan as well.” He sighed. “I know that your previous experiences with these two have been far from pleasant. But I would ask you all to leave the past behind, if you are able. For the sake of the future.”

“It sounds like they’re the least of our problems now,” Ice Queen uttered, eyes downcast.

“Ms. Xiao Long, is all of that more or less what your mother told you?” Ozpin inquired.

While Ice Queen still looked confused and out of sorts, Fisticuffs was sitting quietly with her arms crossed, staring Ozpin down like she’d just watched him piss in her cereal. Roman had figured he was really the one she was aiming that scowl at, but then she said, “You forgot something. You forgot to tell everyone what you did to Qrow.”

A shard of ice-cold panic lanced through Ozpin. But he kept his outward manner calm and composed. There was no way she could know about that. No one knew. “What I did…to Qrow?” he repeated carefully.

“And to my mother,” Fisticuffs added.

Relief washed over Ozpin just as quickly, and he let out a quiet, tremulous breath. “Oh, great,” Qrow grumbled, rolling his eyes.

“That’s not a secret I thought she would give up so easily,” said Ozpin. “Your mother must trust you a great deal.” Fisticuffs just continued to sit and scowl at him, waiting for an explanation. It was Qrow’s secret, too, and his personal safety on the line. But the cat, as it were, was already out of the bag. So, with a glance at Qrow and the man’s answering nod of assent, Ozpin elaborated further. “Just as I bestowed portions of my power upon the Maidens, so I gifted a small amount of magic to each of the Branwen twins. I gave them the ability to see more, and to move freely across kingdoms without being seen. I, well…gave them the ability to turn into birds.” He chuckled. “Rather ridiculous sounding out loud, isn’t it?”

‘As opposed to all the other crazy shit you made come out of my mouth a minute ago?’

Little Red looked to her beloved guardian with wide eyes. “Uncle Qrow?” He just shrugged. Ozpin had summed it up well enough.

“You turned them…into birds,” Moody repeated, as though it would make more sense the second time around.

Sparky scoffed. “Alright, now you’re just messing with us.”

“He’s telling the truth,” Ice Queen said. “We saw it. Yang’s mom…changed, right in front of us.”

“Why would you do something like that?” Fisticuffs demanded angrily. “I mean, what is wrong with you?” Ozpin sat back in his chair, taken aback by her ire. Roman wasn’t sure why he was so surprised. Fisticuffs had always been a punch first, ask questions later kind of gal in Roman’s experience. She probably didn’t know the meaning of the phrase, “a light touch.”

“Yang, that’s enough!” said Qrow. “We made a choice. We wanted this.”

Ozpin spread his hands in his lap placatingly. “Granting this power to them was no trivial task, and I can assure you it was not done frivolously. I required assistance in gathering information on Salem’s agents, as well as searching for Maidens when their hosts became unclear. Very few people know of the Branwens’ abilities. Like any spy, Qrow must keep his cover a closely-guarded secret. A secret we are now trusting all of you to keep as well.”

“Okay,” Sparky said, turning to face Qrow, “but, like…the four of us haven’t seen this magical bird power.” She flapped her arms like wings for emphasis, nearly swatting Moody in the face. “You can’t really expect us to believe you can do it without a demonstration.” A broad, maniacal grin split her face, reminding Roman unnervingly of one of his sister’s smiles.

“I’m not a circus animal,” Qrow growled. When no one else said anything, he looked around at the assembly of children, only to find that all eyes were on him. He turned to Ozpin, urging him wordlessly to weigh in, but Ozpin merely shrugged, leaving the call up to Qrow. Finally, Qrow looked to Little Red, into the twin silver saucers that her eyes had become as she stared up at him expectantly. A tortured expression twisted his face as his dignity warred with his desire to make her happy. But what little dignity Qrow had left never stood a chance. He folded like a house of cards. “Alright, fine,” he grumbled, running a hand through his hair as he stood. He flashed a warning glare around the room. “But just because I look like a bird, doesn’t mean you get to treat me any differently from when I’m a full-grown fucking man. That means no cooing, no tossing breadcrumbs, and so help me if anyone tries to pet me, they’re gonna lose a finger. Got it?”

‘He lets you pet him, though,’ Roman remarked.

Ozpin’s lips twitched up in a slight smile. ‘He lets me do a lot of things.’ But the words unwittingly echoed Fisticuffs’ earlier accusation, and his smile fell. ‘He trusts me with his life, and with his heart. We cannot abuse that trust…any more than I already have.’ No one had ever trusted Roman but Neo, so whatever Ozpin might think of him, he had never actually betrayed someone’s trust. Not that Qrow trusted him in the slightest. Qrow trusted Ozpin to stop him, if necessary. That was all.

The kids eagerly nodded their agreement to Qrow’s ground rules. Even Fisticuffs looked a little curious, despite herself. So, with a melodramatic sigh, Qrow let his form fall away in a flutter of feathers, until all that was left where he’d stood was a roguish, red-eyed crow flapping its wings to hover over the heads of the awestruck children below. He wheeled a couple wide circles around the room, and then came to land on the back of the sofa between Little Red and Fisticuffs so they could get a closer look. Red nudged her sister excitedly, grinning from ear to ear. “Come on Yang, you’ve got to admit that’s super cool!” She twisted around and rested her chin between her hands up on the back of the sofa to stare at Qrow, who croaked softly and ruffled his feathers under her scrutiny.

Fisticuffs finally cracked a smile, tilting her head back to look up at her uncle. “Alright, I guess it is pretty cool.” Qrow preened proudly and clicked his beak at her. “It just came as a shock when Mom did it,” she admitted. “But ravens are bigger than crows…”

Qrow puffed out his chest and warbled indignantly. Little Red chuckled. “Aw, it’s okay,” she said. “Crows are cuter.” Qrow deflated, hanging his head in defeat. “Yang, do you remember that crow that used to leave little shiny things on our windowsill when we were kids?”

“Oh, yeah! Dad said they were good luck charms, that it must have been watching over us.”

“Was that you, Uncle Qrow?” Little Red asked.

Qrow shifted his weight from foot to foot uneasily and shrugged his wings. Red and Fisticuffs gave each other big, dopey smiles. Ozpin’s heart warmed watching the scene unfold, in spite of Roman’s cool indifference to it. “In addition to his work for me, he did use his ability to keep an eye on you girls,” he said. “He told me you were troublemakers.”

Fisticuffs’ breath caught as realization dawned on her face. “Is that how you found us in the woods that day?”

Qrow dipped his head, then gave a startled squawk when Little Red reached out and stroked his feathers with two fingers. “Thanks for looking out for us,” she said. Qrow cawed softly to voice a halfhearted objection, but he hunched down and endured the petting. Little Red kept all of her fingers.

“Oh!” Sparky cried suddenly, startling everyone in the room. “Raven? Qrow? They’re birds!” She crossed her arms triumphantly. “Cracked it.”

Everyone let that sink in for a moment. Then Blondie leveled Ozpin with a dead-eyed stare. “Really?”

Ozpin fiddled sheepishly with the knot of Roman’s kerchief at his throat. “I, er…felt inspired.” 

After Qrow had given the kids a show, he returned to his human form and settled back into his chair, somewhat subdued from all the attention. Ozpin resumed his explanation. “Ms. Xiao Long, it was never my intention to lie to you.” He looked around at his students. “To any of you. There are just some matters that I prefer to play close to the vest. But knowing what is truly at stake does not obligate you to fight. Everyone has a choice. The Branwens chose to accept their powers and the responsibilities that came with them. Raven ultimately chose to abandon those responsibilities. I did not ask any of you to come here, and I will not ask any of you to stay. Each of you must make that choice for yourself.” There was silence as everyone allowed Ozpin’s words to sink in. Their enemies’ plans were coalescing; the day when they would have to fight was drawing near. And there was no guarantee of victory. They had already lost once. Ozpin took one final survey of his rag-tag forces. “Very well, then.”

But suddenly, Fisticuffs stood. “Yang?” Little Red asked anxiously.

“If Ruby sticks around, then I will, too. If there’s one thing I know about her, it’s that she somehow always knows the right thing to do.” She smiled down at the other girl, then looked back at Ozpin with firm resolve. “But if we’re going to help, if we’re going to keep risking our lives, no more lies. No more half-truths.”

Ozpin frowned at her tone. “And just when do you think I should have divulged all of this sensitive information to you sooner?”

Fisticuffs put her hands on her hips. “How about before you sent us off on that secret mission to Mountain Glenn to stir up Torchwick’s hornet’s nest?”

‘I have you to thank for that, too?’

“Would you have believed it then?” Ozpin asked.

“I barely believe it now,” said Ice Queen.

“And I must add, I did not send you anywhere,” he said carefully. “I enabled you to do what you were determined to do with or without my approval. Team STRQ showed much the same initiative when they were my students. It’s what distinguished them, as well as teams RWBY and JNPR. But trust is a two-way street, Ms. Xiao Long. None of you trusted me with the information you’d gathered on Torchwick’s activities. I asked Ms. Belladonna directly if you had information I lacked, and she said nothing. Any of you could have come to me at any time. I hoped that you would when you were ready. It was not until their third year at Beacon that I brought Qrow and his teammates into my confidence. And even so, one of them went on to betray that confidence. As you well know.”

Fisticuffs clenched her jaw—and her fists. “Are you saying you still don’t trust us?”

Qrow spoke up, trying to defuse the tension. “The things Oz knows could fill libraries, Yang. He can’t tell us everything. We’re all new recruits in a very old war, and none of us can see the long game like he does. That’s why he delegates amongst his inner circle. That’s why he prioritizes sharing some things over others. Up until the moment he died, he was trying to keep all of you out of the worst of this. The fact that he’s letting you in on so much now speaks to how serious the situation is. Hell, I don’t want you dragged into this, either. But it’s too late for that, and I’d be a hypocrite if I tried to stop you. Raven wasn’t the first or the last person to betray Ozpin’s trust. But he’s trusting all of you now, and that’s what matters.”

Qrow’s words seemed to do little to allay her suspicion. Fisticuffs looked between her uncle and her headmaster, features etched into a deep frown. And the others were following the exchange with obvious investment. They wanted to hear the answers to her questions, too. Finally, she said, “Raven told us it was an ‘impossible war.’ That Salem ‘can’t be stopped.’ What did she mean?”

Ozpin sighed, shoulders slumping under the weight of ages. “She believes what many members of my inner circle through the centuries have always believed: that Salem cannot be vanquished. That she can only be opposed, thwarted, staved off whenever she next musters the forces to strike.” He looked down at his hands. “Even I…once believed that to be true. As I said, Salem and I have been locked in this shadow war for millennia. If either of us knew how to deal a decisive defeat, we would have done so long ago.”

“Then obviously, whatever you’ve been doing hasn’t been working!” Fisticuffs exclaimed.

“It’s just the opposite, Yang,” said Qrow. “Just listen to him. Salem has been trying to wipe civilization off the face of Remnant for thousands of years and the only one who has stood against her all that time has been Ozpin. What he’s been doing has been working, because we’re all still here.”

“Not all of us,” said Blondie softly, but edged with steel.

Qrow looked at him with unusual tenderness. “I get it, kid. I really do. I know what it’s like to lose a teammate, a friend…a partner. Someone so much better than you think you’ll ever be.” His gaze drifted to Little Red, and he swallowed hard, almost unable to continue. But he forced himself to go on. “She did what she did to protect the people she loved, even if it meant she might never see them again.” He wrenched his eyes away from Red’s shining silver pools welling with unshed tears, and back to Blondie. “Pyrrha and Ozpin both gave their lives that night doing what Huntresses and Huntsmen are meant to do. They both knew the price they might have to pay.”

Ozpin raised a hand, signaling that Qrow had said enough. He would speak for himself. “It’s true that protecting others sometimes requires sacrifice,” he said to his students. “I know that, Ms. Nikos knew that, every good Huntsman and Huntress knows that, and by this point, you all know that as well. If you are not prepared for it, you should not be here.”

“Sacrifice,” muttered Fisticuffs bitterly. “That’s your grand strategy?”

The defiant spark in her eyes finally ignited Ozpin’s anger. “What, precisely, do you think Salem and I have been doing century after century? I have tried to kill her countless times, and she has killed me countless more, only it doesn’t stick. So she sets her sights on destroying everything I have built, everyone I care for, and I must devote the entirety of my resources and capabilities simply to keeping her at bay. You cannot even begin to fathom all that I have sacrificed—for all of you. But please do tell me, in your eighteen years of worldly experience, how I should have done it all better.”

Fisticuffs just gaped at him, stunned into speechlessness. A heavy silence settled over the room, and as Ozpin allowed himself to breathe, to take in the impact of his words on the students he truly had come to care for, in spite of his constant, clawing fear of losing everything, he realized in horror that he had been speaking to them as though they were his enemy. He raised a hand to his mouth, eyes wide and haunted. “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “That wasn’t like me at all.”

“I know who it was like,” muttered Blondie.

‘Roman…?’

‘You stood up for yourself. There’s nothing wrong with that, Oz. Someone has to teach these brats how the real world works.’

“Professor?” said Moody softly.

Ozpin drew his trembling hand down his face. “Yes, Mr. Ren?”

“You said you believed Salem couldn’t be defeated,” he began cautiously. “Past tense. So, what changed your mind?”

Ozpin regarded the boy with a beleaguered gaze. “I must temper your expectations, it seems.” He lifted his head to address his students as he would in the classroom. “The overwhelming odds are that Salem will not be defeated in your lifetimes, or your children’s lifetimes, or their children’s lifetimes. What we can – what we must – do now is keep the Relics out of her hands, to ensure the perseverance of those generations to come. Do you all understand?” He received a few slow nods and soft murmurs in response, and only then did he allow himself a small smile at the irony of what he was about to say. “But to answer your question, Mr. Ren, it was Torchwick. For so long, I did not dare to believe in the possibility of victory, because I was convinced victory itself was impossible. Our eternal stalemate was the best I could hope for. But then, by some strange twist of fate, Torchwick and I were thrust together, and he has spent much of the time since expounding upon my faults. On this one point, at least, I believe he is right. I made a foolish assumption.”

“So…what do you think is the possibility of victory?” Sparky asked. “Does Salem have a weakness?”

Ozpin shook his head. “It’s too soon for me to say.”

“You’re going to keep that from us?” Fisticuffs demanded, having recovered from her shock and rebounded right back into outrage. “The one way we might actually win? Why?!”

“Because people have died trying!” Ozpin’s chest heaved, fingers clawing into the armrests of his chair. Flashes of memory resurfaced, dredged up from dark depths. Roman wasn’t subsumed and swept away by them as he had been before, but they still appeared to him, clear as his own vision.

“If I hadn’t been there…” Qrow was saying. They had had this conversation before, rehashing it over and over, cutting open fresh wounds they wouldn’t allow to heal.

“Shhh,” he said soothingly, pulling the other man closer to him in bed, until Qrow’s back was flush to his chest and his arms caged his partner protectively, because he couldn’t bear the thought of losing Qrow, too. As though he had the power to prevent it if Qrow remained intent on wreaking his own ruin. “It was a horrific accident. These things happen in the heat of battle. She was fighting recklessly.”

“Because of me! She was protecting me, and she forgot to protect herself from me!” Qrow exhaled on a shuddering breath. “I never should have gone after her.”

“She would have done the same for you,” he murmured against Qrow’s skin.

“She wasn’t cursed!” Qrow spat. “She was blessed. And maybe she could’ve ended all of this. If I hadn’t…” Qrow broke down into sobs that wracked his body, and he felt each and every one as he held the other man in his arms.

“Qrow, it wasn’t your fault,” he insisted, his own tears beginning to spill and run down his lover’s back. “If it was anyone’s, it was mine. I was the one who told her of her true power in the first place. And when I told her there were others like her, I should have known that her first thought would be of her daughter. I should have known…that she would take any chance to give Ruby a world free from Salem’s shadow, lest Ruby someday face that shadow herself.”

Qrow growled softly into the pillows. “But she never had a chance, did she? She died for nothing.”

“Hope is not nothing. Perhaps…”

“Perhaps what? The Relic of Knowledge doesn’t know everything?” Qrow laughed bitterly. “Even if that were possible, because of me…we’ll never know if she was right. Ruby will never get to see the world Summer wanted.” His eyes took on a dangerous, flinty edge when he glanced back over his shoulder. “Because I will not lose my daughter, too.”

He would do anything to spare Qrow that pain. “I won’t let that happen,” he murmured insistently, even as the bitter irony of Qrow’s words constricted around his heart. “You and I, Taiyang, Glynda and the other professors, even little Ms. Xiao Long, we’ll all be watching over her. But you are a vital part of that equation, Qrow. She can’t lose you. I can’t lose you.”

“Professor Ozpin?” said Little Red, her voice wavering as she spoke up for the first time since the conversation had taken a dismal turn.

“I will not share an unsubstantiated theory with anyone else until I know for certain whether it is right or wrong,” Ozpin said, all the while holding Qrow’s sorrow-laden gaze until the Huntsman turned his head, swiping his arm swiftly across his watering eyes before anyone else took note.

“How will you know?” asked Ice Queen, ever the pragmatist amidst her more chaotic cohorts.

“The Relic of Knowledge will have the answer. Another reason it is imperative that we defend Haven and the Relic.” 

“What made you so sure you couldn’t beat her in the first place?” Fisticuffs asked.

Lies of omission came easily enough to Ozpin. “She cannot die. That is her curse. I had no reason to believe she had any weaknesses.”

“That’s not what you said, though. You said you were convinced victory was impossible,” she pushed back. “Ren asked what changed your mind. But I want to know what convinced you before that. You can’t have tried everything, or you’d know for sure that nothing works.”

Ozpin realized his slip-up too late. He didn’t have an easy answer, and the longer he remained silent, the faster Fisticuffs’ suspicions rekindled. The flames would only spread if they weren’t smothered—quickly. ‘I know that look,’ said Roman. ‘That girl’s gonna be trouble until she gets the answers she’s after, and her friends will follow.’

‘But I made a mistake. My question and Jinn’s answer were useless. They know everything they need to know.’

Roman heaved a mental sigh. ‘Let me show you  something.’ He conjured one of his own memories, as vividly and viscerally as he could recall it. It wasn’t difficult; the memory was a relatively recent one.

Cinder and her feral foundlings had come to pay him a visit in the warehouse where he’d set up his temporary base of operations. He’d done everything she’d asked, and yet he still didn’t understand why she wanted him to do half the things he was doing for her. It made no sense as a criminal operation—they weren’t even selling all the dust he’d stolen. It was just sitting there, stacked to the rafters, gathering, well, dust.

“I’ve got this town running scared,” he told them. “Police camping out at every corner, dust prices through the roof, and we’re sitting pretty on an old warehouse with more dust crystals, vials and rounds than we know what to do with! Speaking of which, if you guys wouldn’t mind filling me in on your grand master plan, it might actually make my next string of robberies go a little  smoother.”

Cinder sauntered up to him, raising a hand to cup his face in a mockery of intimacy they had never shared, even during their occasional late-night assignations. “Oh, Roman. Have a little faith,” she murmured. “You’ll know what you need to when you need to know.” He broke free of her mesmerizing gaze and looked away. Suddenly, he was no longer interested in what she was offering. Whatever the hell it was, it wasn’t worth the price.

‘That was the moment – the exact moment – I decided to bail,’ he told Ozpin. ‘Sure, I kept playing along after that. I did what I had to do to make a clean getaway. But that was when I put my own plans in motion. Plans which you and Little Red ruined, but here we are. And you sound just like her, Oz. I know better, but they don’t. They think you’re keeping something important from them. Hell, even I thought so until you came right out and told me. The fact that it’s utterly unhelpful is irrelevant. You’re not General Ironwood commanding his tin soldiers. You’re leading a team. It doesn’t matter what they need to know; it matters what they think they need to know. That is, if you want them to stick around.’

‘I don’t know that I do,’ Ozpin admitted. ‘They shouldn’t have to fight…’

Roman wasn’t invested in the outcome either way. Perhaps their chances were better with these kids than without them, but he couldn’t exactly say he’d miss them. ‘Then lay your cards on the table, and they’ll show you their true colors.’

Ozpin’s gaze refocused on Fisticuffs’ hard stare. “The truth can obscure as well as illuminate. I asked the wrong question of the Relic of Knowledge, and the answer I received did not mean what I thought. It took Torchwick’s suspicious scrutiny to make plain how elusive and ultimately misleading the spirit of the Relic’s words were, all because I had failed to speak the question I truly meant to ask.”

“I know what she told you.” Qrow spoke softly, as though talking in his sleep. He was staring somewhere past Ozpin, and a slight frown drew across his face as he continued, “You told me once before.” His frown deepened. “How did I forget?” A faint, emerald glow arose in his eyes, and then he blinked, and it was gone. As though it had never been.

“No…” Ozpin whispered, his earlier panic returning tenfold and seizing him in a stranglehold. He leaned forward urgently to capture Qrow’s attention. “I was wrong, Qrow. I should have seen it sooner, and for that I am so sorry.”

Qrow’s troubled expression etched itself into something harder, harsher. “What did you do, Oz?”

“I– I did what I had to,” he stammered. He was losing command of the situation.

Qrow abruptly stood, hands clenching into fists. “How could you do that? To me?” he demanded, desperate to make sense of it.

“I made a mistake, Qrow, and you were going to pay for it.” The words tumbled forth like a rushing river, dammed up for too long. “It was too soon after Summer. You came to me seeking solace, and I gave you despair. Because of me, you lost all hope. I had broken your spirit, and I couldn’t bear to see you suffering more and more each day. I had to fix what I’d broken, before it was too late. I had to—”

“You can’t fix people, Oz!” Qrow shouted. “We’re not fucking clockwork that you can just tinker with!” He took a ragged breath, and his voice lowered to a threatening thrum. “What. Else?”

The question was like a punch to the gut. Ozpin hadn’t even considered that Qrow might think he’d done what he did lightly—and more than once. “That was it, Qrow,” he promised wholeheartedly. “That was the only time. I told you, I consider using my power that way to be an absolute last resort, when I can see no other option—”

“How can I believe you?” The traitorous tears welling in Qrow’s eyes finally began to fall. He looked like he wanted to believe Ozpin. “I had no one… I was cursed… I gave my life to you because you gave me a place in this world. But, gods, Raven was right about you. How can I trust you when everything could be a godsdamned lie?!”

“I…” Ozpin trailed off weakly, realizing there was nothing he could say that Qrow would know to be true. Nothing except, perhaps, “The greatest mistakes I ever made…”

“Don’t you dare,” Qrow growled, closing his eyes in an attempt to shut everything out.

“…I made for love,” Ozpin finished.

“Meeting you,” said Qrow through clenched teeth, “was the worst luck of my life.” He opened his eyes, and fire raged within them, destructive and all-consuming. He drew back his fist.

Ozpin looked up into those blazing red eyes and surrendered himself to the flames. It would not be the first time the person he loved most in the world had hurt him. At least this time, he deserved it. Any mark Qrow left on his skin would fade long before the mark the man had made on his soul. If this was how he was going to lose Qrow, then at least he would have something to remember him by. Losing him was inevitable, after all. Qrow wasn’t the only one who was cursed. He had put it perfectly: Ozpin’s lives were nothing but loss. Sometimes, it was best just to let go, even of the things he wanted to hold onto the most. Perhaps especially those things. Let them go before they could be taken from him.

But losing control to Roman was a loss he did not anticipate. He’d retreated, let down his guard and surrendered. But he’d forgotten he was fighting on two fronts. As Qrow took his swing, Roman’s eyes flashed, and his own hand shot out to catch Qrow’s fist in front of his face. “You’re all acting like a bunch of children,” Roman snarled, rising from his chair and twisting Qrow’s wrist until the Huntsman was forced to wrench his hand back before something broke. “And one of you,” he said, glaring at Qrow, “has no excuse.”

Qrow hadn’t noticed Neo circle around beside Roman, but she had his attention now as she held him back at sword point, daring him to try to lay a finger on her brother again. The kids had all risen from their seats, some drawing their weapons, but they hadn’t fully followed the exchange, and were looking back and forth between Roman and Qrow in shock and bewilderment. No one made a move.

“Ozpin saved you from self-destruction,” Roman spat at Qrow, who at least had the humility to flinch and glance away. So Roman turned a slow circle to address his audience. “But since you all feel so entitled to answers, I’ll tell you the real reason Oz didn’t want you to know shit about Salem: because she murdered his fucking kids.” Qrow was the only one who didn’t look horrified at the revelation. Ozpin had told him the full story, after all. He remembered everything now. “Some of your friends are dead already. You have no business getting mixed up in this shit, but you just have to be the heroes, don’t you? So why can’t you see who the real fucking villains are? Ozpin’s trying to protect you. Everything he’s done, he’s done for all of you sniveling, ungrateful brats. But you can’t handle the hard truth like adults, so it’s no wonder he chose to keep things from you.” Roman laughed harshly, voice rising in fevered abandon. “Newsflash! You’re playing with the big kids now, so you all better grow the fuck up. Life is hard, people aren’t perfect, and sometimes you’ve just gotta choose the lesser evil because the alternative is so much worse.”

Roman threw his arms out wildly. “Ozpin’s giving all of you that choice.” Then he pulled them back and pressed his hands to his chest. “I don’t have a choice. I would literally kill to be in your shoes, because I didn’t sign up for any of this shit!” He swept his accusatory gaze over the group. “But you all sure as hell did.” His eyes landed on Fisticuffs, and she tilted her chin up to meet his challenge. “You wanna be a Huntress?” Roman asked, taking a step toward her. “That means putting your life on the line in situations no sane person would even think of walking into. It’s what Ozpin has done over and over, fighting in what he believed for centuries was an unwinnable war, just because he couldn’t afford to lose. And still, he’s lost more than any of you ever will. But he keeps fighting, because he can actually handle when shit gets hard. Because she has never let his lives be anything but hard. So if you want to whine about him trying not to drag you down into the fucking muck with him, just remember: he never asked any of you to shoulder his burdens. That’s my job. If it’s too hard for you, then go have your little pity party  somewhere else, and leave the hard work to the fucking professionals.”

Qrow reached out to grab Roman’s arm in an attempt to pull his attention away from Fisticuffs, but Neo’s sword flashed through the air in front of him, and Qrow snatched his hand back before he would have lost it. He clenched his fingers into a fist instead. “What Ozpin did—”

Qrow’s voice cut off abruptly when Roman turned toward him, a sharp grin splitting his face. “What Ozpin did,” Roman repeated, “was keep a secret to protect someone he loves.” Roman’s eyes flicked to Little Red and back. “Doesn’t that sound…familiar?”

Qrow’s teeth clicked shut and his eyes widened in visceral, paralyzing fear. And it was so damn satisfying. “Don’t…” Qrow pleaded, barely above a whisper.

Roman laughed. “Are you asking him? I thought you didn’t want him to lie anymore. Or is it fine if he lies for you, just not to you?”

Qrow’s breath hitched. “Roman, please.” After everything, it was the first time Qrow had called him by his first name. The first time he really saw that Roman was suffering, too. Roman would make sure it was the last.

“What does my mom have to do with any of this?” Little Red spoke up softly, with her absolutely fucking perfect timing. “Uncle Qrow?” 

Roman’s grin widened. “Do you want to tell her? Or should I?”

‘Roman, stop…’ Ozpin said weakly, but it was a struggle for him even to form the words amidst the ocean of his guilt and grief. He was drowning in it. If he was hoping Roman would reach out a hand, then he didn’t know Roman at all.

Roman ignored Ozpin’s pathetic plea. He leaned in close, so only Qrow could hear. “Where should I start?” he murmured in Qrow’s ear, relishing the Huntsman’s powerlessness as he stood frozen with dread. “The part where you abandoned her and let her believe she wasn’t even your daughter? The part where you came crawling back to Ozpin pretty fucking quick? Or the part where her mother is dead because of you?”

Qrow’s knees buckled and he sank to the floor, burying his face in his hands. “Uncle Qrow!” Little Red exclaimed.

She dropped to her knees beside him and circled her arms around his trembling shoulders as he whimpered, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, oh gods, I’m so sorry.”

“Roman, that’s enough!” Ozpin bellowed, suddenly mustering the will to surge forth and seize back control. He stumbled away from Qrow, eyes darting around the room to take in the damage the pair of them had done. Fisticuffs and Blondie were looking at him with hard, accusatory glares. Moody was staring at Qrow in shock, clearly struggling to imagine what Roman could have said to bring the Huntsman to his knees. Sparky had her arm around the boy, her usual spark dimmed as she watched Little Red try frantically to comfort Qrow when she didn’t even know what was the matter with him. Ice Queen stood frozen, completely confounded as to how everyone had gone from allies to adversaries so fast. Qrow was a mess on the floor, a broken man held together by whiskey and fairytales finally falling apart. And when Little Red realized she was powerless to put the pieces back together, she looked up at Ozpin and Roman like she didn’t recognize either of them.

Ozpin spoke softly, not really expecting anyone to listen to him anymore. “The lies, the deception, the half-truths, it was all to keep as many people safe as I could. That is all I have ever tried to do.” He released a shuddering sigh. “But I’ve never been able to protect the people I care about most. I can’t protect any of you…” Despite what he’d thought, he now had the attention of everyone in the room, even Qrow, and he was wilting under the weight of it. So he turned his back on them all. “There is something I must do. With any luck, I will return. I do not expect any of you to be here when I do. And if this is the last we see of each other, then I ask only one thing: Each of you enrolled at my academy for a reason. Think about that reason, and how you may best achieve it in this world.” He bowed his head and walked out of the room without further farewell.

He strode swiftly with renewed purpose, withdrawing his cane as he went. He entered his bedroom and pulled a painting of an old, crumbling castle off the wall, revealing a sturdy, steel safe hidden behind it. He turned the dial in a pattern that had long since become pure muscle memory, not even thinking of the numbers that made up the complex sequence. The door swung open, and he placed his cane inside. The metal-on-metal made a hollow, ominous sound, as though the weapon were imbued with a great weight. Ozpin shut the door and spun the dial, then replaced the painting over it. But the sound was still ringing in his ears like a bell tolling the late hour.

He turned to leave the room and startled to find Qrow standing in the doorway, observing him without emotion. The Huntsman’s eyes were flat and fireless now, coals that had burnt down to embers, nearly spent. “You really think you might not make it back,” he said. Ozpin said nothing, so he asked, with only a flicker of interest, “Where are you going?”

“I must meet with the Spring Maiden,” Ozpin answered.

“So you’re going to the Branwen tribe,” Qrow concluded. “Raven will kill you if she finds out.”

“She is the one I must meet with,” said Ozpin. “Raven is the Spring Maiden, Qrow.”

Apparently, the other man could still feel something, because a flash of genuine shock crossed his face before a dull, over-worn anger settled into its place. “You’ve known for awhile, haven’t you?”

Ozpin didn’t try to argue, but he did owe Qrow an explanation. “Yes. I kept it to myself because my life is expendable, and yours is not. I must be the one to go. Alone.” Neo shoved past Qrow through the doorway and stubbornly gripped Ozpin’s hand where it hung limply at his side. They had already established that she couldn’t stop him from doing what he set his mind to. But he couldn’t stop her from doing everything in her power to see him and her brother through the other side of it. Ozpin smiled sadly down at her and squeezed her hand back. “Well, not entirely alone, it seems.” He looked back up into Qrow’s eyes, despite his fears of what he might find in them, but he found…nothing. Nothing to fear, and nothing to hold onto. “Roman may be right,” he sighed. “Perhaps you should tell Ruby the truth. We never know how much time we have left with the ones we love.”

With nothing left to say to the other man, Ozpin made to leave, and Qrow stepped aside to let him past. But as he walked away, Qrow called after him, “If you die, maybe I’ll come find you again. Maybe I won’t.”

Ozpin nodded, swallowing down the lump in his throat. Then he walked out the front door without looking back. “Your smuggling ship is scheduled to pick up new cargo from the Branwen tribe this evening, correct?” he asked as he walked away down the street with Neo in step beside him.

‘Yeah.’

“Call the captain. Tell him you’ll be on it.”

Chapter Text

Roman and Neo sat dangling their legs over the side of an empty crate in the cargo hold as the old airship propelled its way sluggishly but relentlessly through the clouds. Neither of them was particularly inclined to mingle with the crew in the galley, and they especially weren’t keen on the idea of riding up on deck, not after the drake incident. There were still scorch marks everywhere. They spent awhile in silence, contemplating what lay on the horizon. Ozpin had assured Roman that he had every intention of coming back alive, but the headmaster had probably thought the same thing before he’d faced Cinder, too. And even if Raven did let them leave with their lives, they still had a hell of a fight at Haven to look forward to—likely without the support of Ozpin’s so-called allies.

Neo must have read his thoughts on his face, because she passed him a note that said simply, We don’t need them.

Roman scoffed. “Of course not. Good godsdamn riddance. Those kids were always a pain in the ass.”

And Qrow? Neo wrote.

“Him, too.”

Neo put her hand on her hip and looked him dead in the eye, unimpressed. You know that’s not what I meant.

“The man’s a walking disaster soaked in liquor and ready to set himself ablaze.” Roman sighed, irritated, frustrated and tired. “But I guess I might miss the guy.”

Neo handed him another note. Would you? Or would Ozpin?

Roman bowed his head to massage his temples. “I don’t know, Neo,” he murmured.

‘When our feelings differ, we are usually both well aware of it,’ Ozpin offered.

Neo leaned against him and rested her head on his shoulder. Roman tried not to read too much into it. She wasn’t always trying to tell him something with every gesture. Sometimes, a moment of closeness and consolation was just that. And really, he knew better than to think that Neo would ever give up on him so easily. Even if he and Ozpin were capable of seeing a few more things from each other’s perspectives than they used to be, surely that was a simple side-effect of getting to know each other better. Roman didn’t feel different; he wasn’t…changing. And Neo wasn’t telling him, I’ll miss you. Except, what was it Ozpin had said about the change?

‘You’ll hardly even notice it.’

‘I fucking remember. I was musing rhetorically, thank you.’

‘Ah. You have a very active inner monologue.’

‘And you have a very active outer monologue,’ thought Roman petulantly.

There was a beat of silence in which Ozpin seemed to acknowledge Roman’s point. Finally, he asked, ‘Why did you come to my defense? You had an opportunity to speak freely. I would have thought you of all people would be swift to shine a light on my faults. You know them better than anyone, and you are certainly not reticent to point them out to me.’

“Don’t mistake it for chivalry. I was pissed off. It’s like those kids have been living in a completely different world.”

‘They have reaped the benefits of peace.’

“A peace you reaped from the bloodiest war in history.”

‘Human memory is short,’ Ozpin sighed. ‘Even I became complacent. Perhaps that was what Salem was counting on.’

“You can be used to peace and still ready for shit to hit the fan,” Roman argued. “Hell, I reaped the benefits of peace, too.”

‘No, you reaped the spoils of peace. There is a difference. You have not known peace since you were younger than they are now.’

Roman wasn’t sure if Ozpin was referring to his rough upbringing and his violent profession, or to some inner restlessness of the soul, but he didn’t especially care. He preferred productive conversations to all of these dismal retrospections and useless what-ifs. So he said, “Why don’t you fill us in on what we’ll be walking into? What sort of power does a Maiden have? You gave them your magic, didn’t you?”

‘I gave them almost all of my magic,’ Ozpin answered.  ‘They have mastery of the elements and are capable of wielding the most destructive forces of nature.’

Neo looked up at her brother to relay Ozpin’s response. “Basically, one wrong move and we’re fucked,” he told her. But what else was new? “Remind me why you thought handing out that kind of power like free candy was a good idea?”

‘It was a different age,’ said Ozpin. ‘I didn’t have the reach across Remnant that I do now. And, as ever, I could not defend humanity on my own.’

“So recruit some followers. You were basically a god. Why give your power away?” 

‘As a thief, I’m sure you’d agree that a safe with a four-digit combination is more secure than a single key.’

“You were the key.”

‘Precisely. Before I made the Maidens, my power alone could open all of the vaults. If Salem were to capture me, it would be the end of everything. By splitting my power among four mortals, I created a combination that changed in every lifetime.’

“What a brilliant strategy,” Roman drawled. “You made the vaults so secure even you can’t open them.”

‘I judged that maintaining my own access was less important than barring hers.’

“Fine, fine,” said Roman, laying out his hands in his lap to sum up how little he cared. “It sure would be nice if we could just walk in and take the Lamp ourselves, but that would be too easy, wouldn’t it? I hope you appreciate the irony that not one, but two of your magical maidenly saviors are now criminals and cold-blooded killers.”

‘The irony is not lost on me, I assure you. Especially in present company.’

Roman shook his head at the prim and proper headmaster’s quaint notions of propriety. “Oh, you’ll be thanking us if we make it out of this in one piece. Because we all know what happened the last time you went toe-to-toe with a Maiden.” 

‘That’s uncalled for.’

Ozpin was right, it wasn’t funny. But gallows humor was the most Roman could muster, and it was better than the alternative. He’d known this day of reckoning was coming. It was the reason they’d been tracking the tribe’s movements in the first place. Everything was linked in a chain of dangerous dominos. To fulfill Ozma’s divine mandate, they needed to put an end to Salem’s interference. To learn how the hell to do that, they needed the Relic of Knowledge. And to get their hands on the Relic, they needed the Spring Maiden. Roman had escaped the clutches of one over-powered psycho bitch only to go knocking on the front door of another. It was enough to make him laugh, even though it really wasn’t funny.

The airship landed in some godsforsaken spot in the middle of a nameless forest, but sure enough, lurking along the edge of the clearing were the black tents of the elusive Branwen tribe. Crates of assorted spoils were stacked outside the camp boundary, guarded by two surly-looking bandits armed to the teeth with jagged knives, a sawn-off shotgun slung over the shoulder of one, and a crossbow strapped to the back of the other. As uninvited guests, Roman and Neo were greeted with both barrels of the shotgun and the bolt of the crossbow leveled at their faces from across the clearing. That they weren’t shot on sight meant things were off to a promising start. “We’re here to see the chief,” Roman called out, hands raised.

“You’d better have a damn good reason,” the bandit wielding the crossbow called back.

“Tell her it’s regarding my former business partners.”

The one with the crossbow nodded to the one with the shotgun, who turned and hurried back into the camp. They waited an uncomfortable few minutes in the crossbow’s sights before the other bandit returned with a slight, choppy-haired brunette who looked like she couldn’t have been any older than Neo. “She’ll see you in her tent,” said the shotgun-toting bandit. “Vernal here will escort you.”

Roman turned to the captain. “Wait for us here. And don’t load up the goods just yet.”

“Great,” Noah said. “I’m sure the welcoming committee and I will have plenty to chat about while we all just stand around out here.”

Roman patted him on the shoulder. “You’ll be fine. As long as you keep better track of your stuff around the bandits than you do around me.” Roman jingled the airship’s keys in front of the captain’s face.

Noah snatched his keys back. “I should’ve just gone into corporate shipping like my old man,” he grumbled.

Roman and Neo left him with the guards and followed their escort into camp. Eyes watched them from the shadows of tents as they passed. The Branwen tribe didn’t take kindly to outsiders, even the ones they did business with. Roman was used to the cold reception, but this time it served as a harsh reminder that they were walking into the heart of hostile territory. He and Neo could take any of these goons handily in a fight, but not all of them. Especially not on their own turf. And they knew it, or they wouldn’t have allowed the pair of them to hold onto their weapons inside the camp. It wasn’t a courtesy—it was an insult.

Vernal drew back the flap of the main tent, rising above the rest like a bird keeping a keen watch over its flock. She gestured for them to enter, and then followed them inside, letting the flap fall closed behind her. From the outside, it appeared as though the bandit tribe eked out its existence in squalor, but pass through the veils of their tents, and anyone could see that they lived in luxury. There wasn’t a patch of bare earth in sight beneath the layers of elegantly woven rugs. The arches were draped with fine scarves and glinting treasures. And across the lofty space up on a platform like a queen on her throne sat Raven, wearing her mask as imperiously as a crown. Roman couldn’t help but wonder what Qrow would have looked like sitting beside her, king of this court of thieves. Another  what-if lost to the turnings of time.

Even though a bandit tribe wasn’t on the same level as the more sophisticated criminal organizations Roman typically had dealings with, he kept to his custom and bowed deeply to show respect to the other leader on her own turf. Neo followed suit and dipped into a graceful curtsey. “To what do I owe the pleasure of this…” Raven swept her hand through the air in search of words, “unexpected visit?”

“I think you’d prefer to hear the answer to that question without an audience,” Roman replied.

Raven was unreadable behind her mask, but after a moment, she nodded to Vernal and said, “Leave us.” Vernal spared Roman and Neo one last suspicious glance before she complied with Raven’s command and left the tent. “Now tell me why you’re really here.”

‘Let me do the talking,’ Roman thought. ‘This is the woman I know, not the girl you thought you knew.’ Aloud, he said, “Your people are in danger.”

“We are more than capable of defending ourselves against any—”

Roman didn’t wait for her to finish. “How would the tribe fare against the Fall Maiden?”

The gleaming red eyes of her Grimm mask gave the impression she was sizing up her prey as Raven leaned forward in her chair. “Is that a threat?”

“It’s a warning,” said Roman, approaching her without waiting for her permission to do so. Custom could only get him so far. Ultimately, the Branwen tribe gave their respect to those who demanded it rather than asked for it. “Qrow was right. You’ve been leaving a very distinctive kind of destruction in your wake. It’s a trail that wouldn’t be hard to follow, for someone who knew what they were looking for.”

There was an edge to Raven’s tone as sharp as her sword when she asked, “Just what are you implying?”

Roman chuckled. “I’ve already seen you without your mask, Raven. If you’re going to play the fool, let’s at least do this dance face-to-face, shall we?”

In one deliberate motion, Raven removed her mask and set it on her lap. “Neither of us is a fool,” she said. “You believe I’m harboring a Maiden.”

Roman clicked his tongue in disappointment. “I believe that’s the smokescreen you’ll try to use on anyone who comes too close to the truth. But why don’t I tell you what I know? I know that Cinder will do anything to get her hands on the power of the remaining Maidens. I know that Salem will do anything to get her hands on the Relics. I know that after Beacon, they’ve set their sights on Haven, and therefore, on the Spring Maiden. And I know that somehow, you got to her first.” Raven stood, her mask tumbling to the ground, forgotten, her eyes flashing in warning. But Roman kept going. “I don’t know how you made sure she thought of you in her dying moments. But I can guess.”

“Then tell me,” said Raven, drawing her sword and leveling it between his eyes, “why I shouldn’t kill you for what you know.”

‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’

“Because I’m not the one you need to worry about,” answered Roman calmly, ignoring everything but his instincts. He had a finely honed sense of how far he could push someone before they snapped, how what people said they wanted was never what they truly craved, how everyone had a fulcrum between their desires and fears that could be leveraged with just the right touch. “In fact, I may be the one person who can help you claw your way out of the grave you’ve dug for yourself.”

Raven laughed. “You think I’m the one digging their own grave here?”

She was still wearing a mask. It was a convincing one, much more so than the ferocious Grimm face. But she hadn’t run Roman through with her sword yet, which meant that underneath the act, she knew how precarious her position of power truly was. And of course she did. As she had already established, she was no fool. “I’m sure you wanted the Maiden’s power to protect your people from what’s to come, but in using it, you painted a massive target on the whole tribe. You’ve lost the luxury of your place on the sidelines. It’s time to pick a side.”

Raven’s eyes narrowed. “You said you were operating independently again.”

“I lied.”

Raven stalked forward until she was within striking range. “Well, you can tell Cinder that unlike her  bloodhound,” she said, tilting her sword toward him, “I’m not stupid enough to believe any promises from her or her mad master. I will never—”

It was Roman’s turn to laugh, his insolence stunning Raven into silence. “Good!” he said. “Cinder would kill you and steal the Spring Maiden’s power the moment the Relic was within her grasp. And even if you somehow managed to escape with the Relic, you’d have twice the target on your back. All of which I’m sure you’ve already worked out for yourself.” He tipped his hat to her in a gesture of affinity. “Because any good thief knows that if the score’s too hot, it’s not worth taking.”

The point of Raven’s sword lowered ever so slightly, confusion encroaching at the edges of her anger. “Then just what are you suggesting, Roman?”

“I’m not Cinder’s bloodhound, and I’m not on Salem’s side,” he said. “Not anymore.”

Raven looked as though she wasn’t sure whether to be outraged or utterly baffled, and both reactions warred on her face until it was twisted into a frankly comical expression of flustered fury. “You want me to hand the Relic over to Ozpin?”

“The moment you do,” said Roman, “you’ll make yourself irrelevant again. Salem will send Cinder after him and the other Maidens, and you can walk away from it all like you did the first time. You can finally wash your hands of his war for good.” In the end, they both wanted the same thing. Roman envied her. She could soon have it, if she played her cards right.

“And what do you get out of it?” Raven asked. “What has he promised you that she could not?”

“Nothing,” said Roman. Raven had already heard all of Ozpin’s promises. “How did you put it?” He spread his arms, offering himself up. “I’m just the new, unfortunate soul he’s dragged into his crusade.”

Raven’s wide eyes reflected the golden glint of his own. “You,” she gasped. Then her eyes hardened and she thrust her sword forward with a feral snarl. It shattered his illusory image, and the shards fell to the floor in a glittering rain before disappearing into the ether. Raven screamed in frustration and whipped her head around, searching for Neo, but she had vanished from sight some time ago while Roman had held Raven’s attention. Now, Ozpin, too was out of sight, observing his former student from a safer distance behind a pane of Neo’s one-way illusion glass. “How dare you?” Raven raged, wild eyes flicking all around the tent for any sign of their presence.

“Why do you despise me still?” Ozpin asked, the acoustics of the tent (with a bit of magical assistance) casting his voice in all directions so Raven still couldn’t get a fix on his position. “Why is the idea of aiding me one last time more objectionable than bringing Salem’s destruction down upon yourself and your people?”

Raven turned in a slow circle, sword poised to lash out at the slightest disturbance. “You know why.”

“No, Raven. I really don’t. I forced nothing upon you. I only ever tried to deal fairly with you and your brother.”

“You cannot possibly be so blind that you fail to see the destruction you have wrought, Ozpin,” Raven hissed.

“I have made many mistakes, but I do not count offering you and Qrow a different path as one of them.”

“The mistake was mine. I didn’t realize what you’d done until it was too late. We were orphans. Our mother died in childbirth. The people of our village said we were born unlucky. No one would take us in for long. They were afraid of the misfortune that would befall them if they did. But we stayed together through it all, and I finally found us a home. The Branwen tribe accepted us for who we were. They gave us our names. They embraced the chaos we left in our wake. And you stole him away from all of that!” She swiped tears of impotent fury from her face with the back of her hand, and when she reopened her eyes, they caught fire. A wind whipped up in the tent, causing the fabric to flap violently against the support structure. “You stole my brother from me!” she screamed, and a ring of massive, lethally sharp icicles shot forth from around her feet, encircling her in a crown of frigid spikes.

Ozpin stared at one of the icicles where it came to a point mere inches from the tip of his nose on the other side of the glass. Then a faint tinkling sound drew his and Raven’s attention to where Neo stood delicately atop another icicle nearby, letting her camouflaging illusion fall away. Raven slashed her sword through the air where Neo had been standing, clean through the icicle she had been standing on, but she flipped deftly over the blade and landed on her feet in front of Raven. ‘What the hell is she doing?! Get out of there, Neo!’ Magic sparked at Ozpin’s fingertips as he prepared to intervene, even though it would mean breaking his cover, but something stopped him. Because something had stopped Raven. She just stood there, staring at Neo as she approached, her small frame held open and her parasol down by her side. Only then did Roman realize what it was that had arrested Raven’s wrath like frozen fire. The expression on Neo’s face mirrored Raven’s exactly. It was one of anguish and loss, and it looked so out of place across her usually bright and blithe features. Roman had never seen that expression on his sister’s face before, and he would have given anything never to see it again.

“He’s done the same thing to you,” said Raven hollowly. “And still, you stand beside him.” The fire in her eyes went out and the wind died down as suddenly as it had roared to life. “Because you have no choice.” Slowly, she lowered her sword. She and Neo shared a look that Roman didn’t fully comprehend, but that the two of them seemed to understand perfectly. “Go,” said Raven. “Both of you.” She raised her sword again and swept it around the tent. “Now.” With a curt nod, Neo turned on her heel and walked away from the lone queen in her icy, empty court. She grabbed Ozpin by the hand as she passed, and like magic, they both disappeared.

“Do you think we convinced her?” Ozpin asked Neo when the shards of her Semblance finally fell away around them. The airship was before them, the Branwen camp behind them, but what lay ahead was as uncertain as ever.

Neo scribbled in her notepad and tore out the page, handing it to Ozpin. It read, She’s emotional now. But she’ll put her emotions aside and do what’s best for herself and her family.

She would have kept walking toward the airship, but Ozpin held her back, his hand tightening around hers. “I’m sorry, Neo,” he said. “No matter how much I try to help…the people closest to me always seem to end up getting hurt.”

Neo turned and looked back at him without anger, and without compassion. She pulled her hand from his and walked on ahead. With a heavy sigh, Ozpin relinquished control to Roman, who followed in his sister’s wake. He summoned the captain away from the card game he and the bandits had been playing atop one of the crates, and broke the news to him. “I think it’s safe to say our business partnership with the Branwen tribe is over. I’ll reimburse you for the cost of the trip, but after today, you should seek employment elsewhere.”

Noah nodded stolidly. “Well, I can’t exactly say working with you has been a pleasure, but…there was certainly never a dull day.”

They shook hands. “Take us home, captain.”

As they lifted off into the sunset sky, Roman and Neo stood together in the cargo hold taking in their last glimpse of the Branwen camp before the ramp drew up and sealed away the world outside. Roman put his arm around Neo’s shoulders. “I’m still here with you,” he said. She leaned into his side and, of course, said nothing.

When they finally made it back to Ozpin’s house, they were exhausted in every sense of the word. Neo trudged straight to bed while Roman made a detour by way of the kitchen for a nightcap to help him sleep easier. He nearly screamed when he bumped into someone else in the dark. The other person yelped, and there was a clatter as they fumbled whatever they were holding. Roman flicked open his lighter to see… “Red? What the hell are you still doing here?”

“Torchwick! Hi,” she squeaked. The girl steadied the tray of cookies she’d evidently just pulled out of the oven and set it down on the countertop. “We’re um, we’re all still here.” She pulled at her ridiculous cartoon Grimm pajama top self-consciously and clumsily tried to skirt the subject. “It’s almost like being back at Beacon, rooming in teams again…”

Roman didn’t give two shits about the kids’ nostalgic little academy traditions. “And Qrow?”

“He’s here, too.” She gestured over the counter to the living room on the other side. When Roman shone his lighter in that direction, he could just make out the Huntsman’s form sprawled across the sofa, and the glint of a bottle on the floor by his hand.

‘They all…stayed?’

“Why?” Roman asked.

“What?” Red asked.

Roman pinched the bridge of his nose. He’d come so close to not having to deal with these idiots anymore. “Why are you all still here when you don’t want to be here?”

“Oh,” said Red, glancing away. “Well, we’ve all been through a lot, and…I think some people might’ve said some things that…they didn’t totally mean?” She looked back at Roman expectantly, but he simply waited in silence for her to continue. He, for one, had meant every single word he’d said. “O-or not,” she stammered. “Either way, we… Well, we all did what Professor Ozpin asked. We talked about why we wanted to be Huntresses and Huntsmen in the first place, and if this isn’t it, then I don’t know what is. Ozpin said knowing the truth doesn’t obligate us to fight, but…I think it does. There are people who need help, people who didn’t ask for any of this but still get caught up in Salem’s plans and pay the price. People like Penny…” She sniffed, swiping at her watering eyes. “Now that I know the real threat, I have to do something about it. Even if it means putting my life on the line in situations no sane person would even think of walking into.” She echoed Roman’s words back to him without any of their original venom. “Because that’s what it means to be a Huntress. Besides…” She shot him an old, familiar, infuriating smile. It was the same one she always gave him when she was about to make herself his own personal menace. “I can’t let you upstage me in the heroics department. That would just be wrong on so many levels.”

Roman had long since stopped assessing Little Red’s sincerity like he did everyone else’s. The girl was painfully earnest in everything she said and did. It was bizarre, but at least it made her intentions clear. “You’ll have some catching up to do, then,” said Roman simply. “I’ve done pretty fucking heroic shit lately.”

Little Red chuckled. Then she glanced back toward the living room, and she fell quiet. “What Ozpin did…” she began softly, and Roman tensed, prepared for another argument. But she surprised him by saying, “I think I would have done the same thing, if I could. Sometimes I wish I had the power to just…wave my hand and make him stop drinking. He thinks it makes him less sad, but I think it makes him more sad. And I just want him to be okay.”

Roman had no clue what to say to that. He truly, deeply, earnestly did not have the slightest interest in having a heart-to-heart with Little Red about her alcoholic “uncle” in the middle of the night. But she was still standing between him and the bourbon, and he really  wanted that bourbon now. “Good luck,” he managed. “The Branwens are all cracked in one way or another.”

“I guess we are,” Little Red murmured.

Roman blinked. “He actually told you?”

“Yeah.” Red ran her fingers through the back of her hopelessly messy hair. “But I think a part of me always knew. The way he’s been there for me whenever I needed him most, and the way he talks about my mom… I just had a feeling, I guess. And I know he was only trying to keep me safe after what happened to her. With all the trouble Yang and I got up to behind our dad’s back, maybe it was better that he wasn’t around all the time. But the four of us, we’ve always been a family. Nothing’s really changed. That’s why…” Her voice fell to a troubled murmur. “I’d really appreciate it if you didn’t mention it to anyone else, especially Yang. After what Raven did to her…I don’t think she’d understand.”

Roman gave a weary shrug. “You can all deal with your drama however you want. As long as I don’t have to deal with it, I really don’t give a shit.”

Little Red smiled. “I had a feeling you’d say that.” She looked back toward Qrow and her smile thinned. “You seemed to care a lot earlier, though. You really wanted to hurt him. Why?”

“I hurt people for a living, kid.”

“Not like that.”

Gods, she was a stubborn girl. And Roman just didn’t have the energy to push back. All he wanted was his damn bourbon. So he put his hands on her shoulders, ignoring the way she startled at the sudden contact, and abruptly switched their places so he could get at the liquor cabinet. He poured himself a drink and sighed as the smooth, warming liquid hit his tongue. The only flaw in his plan was that Little Red was now standing between him and the doorway, and she didn’t seem intent on moving until he gave her an honest answer. He took a more substantial sip of bourbon. “Would you believe me if I said I’ve actually come to like the guy?”

Little Red frowned. “Then why would you want to hurt him?”

“That is why,” Roman growled.

“I…I don’t understand.”

“Of course you wouldn’t.” Roman raised his glass to his lips once more, but Little Red came up beside him in the dark and pushed it firmly back down to the countertop with a hard clink.

“Well, don’t do it again,” she said, all of the awkwardness and hesitation gone from her voice.

Roman stared down at her hand over the top of his glass. “Excuse me?”

Little Red didn’t back down. Just the opposite. She rose to the challenge, lifting her chin to look Roman right in the eyes. “He’s not as tough as he acts. And I’m tougher than I look.”

Roman recalled how it had been Little Red who had single-handedly, inexplicably struck that colossal wyvern stone cold dead and sent Cinder packing. “So I’ve gathered…”

She nodded, satisfied that she’d made her point, and stepped back. “Want a cookie? I baked enough for everyone,” she said pointedly. Roman’s stomach growled. He realized that he’d skipped dinner, and that if he filled his stomach on bourbon alone, he’d soon end up decorating the furniture like Qrow. He reached out and took a cookie off the tray, squinting at it suspiciously in the darkness. “There’s a lot of cookie dough in the freezer,” Little Red was saying.

“Yeah, for some reason Oz stocked enough of the stuff to outlast a nuclear winter, but no actual food,” Roman remarked.

‘It’s food for the soul.’

Roman sighed. “I’d’ve stopped questioning his life choices by now, except they’ve become my life choices.”

“He made me cookies once,” Little Red reminisced. “For stopping you robbing that dust shop.”

“You caused more Lien in damage than I would’ve stolen in dust, by the way.”

“Th-that’s beside the point.”

Roman’s hunger finally got the better of him and he took a bite, chewed, swallowed. “Were Oz’s cookies any better than yours?” he asked.

Little Red’s face fell. “Oh… Did I burn them? I didn’t want to wake anyone, so I did everything in the dark,” she fretted.

She looked so pathetic moping over her weird midnight baking project that it took all the satisfaction out of baiting her. “They’re edible,” Roman relented. “I doubt even you could fuck up chocolate chip cookies. They don’t hold a candle to Neo’s, though.”

“I wouldn’t know,” Little Red muttered under her breath. “You have a confusing sense of humor,” she told him.

Roman looked down at her in distaste. “You have a confusing sense of fashion. Fuzzy Grimm pajamas at night and a cape and tutu during the day? Do you get dressed in the dark, too?”

Little Red crossed her arms with a huff. “It’s not a tutu, it’s just…frilly. Anyway, we can’t all pull off top hats and coattails,” she said, gesturing to him from head to toe.

“It’s a bowler hat,” he said.

“I’m going to bed,” she said. “Don’t eat all the cookies. I want everyone to have something nice to wake up to.” She turned around and made to leave the kitchen, but paused in the doorway. “I’m glad you came back,” she said. “Both of you.” Then she slipped away into the dark.

‘Qrow has suffered far more than his share of misfortune, but he forgets how lucky he still is.’

Roman made a face. “If I had a kid like that, I’d trade her for two cigars. And I’d be willing to haggle down to one.”

He finished his cookie and washed it down with the rest of his bourbon. Then he hauled himself off to bed, closing the door behind him and easing into the dark solitude of his—Oz’s—who-the-fuck-ever’s bedroom with a sigh. He’d normally hang his clothes in the closet with the care they deserved, but he hardly had the energy to shuck them off before falling into bed. He would have been asleep in under a minute had there not been a soft knock at the door. “What?” Roman hissed, just barely remembering to keep his voice down so he wouldn’t wake Neo in the next room.

The door creaked open and a tall silhouette slipped inside before it closed again, plunging the doorway back into darkness. “You made it back,” came Qrow’s voice from the shadows.

Roman sat up in bed, suddenly alert and aware that in his exhaustion, he’d forgotten to pull his knife from his glove and lay it under his pillow. “You got a problem with that?” he asked.

Qrow stepped forward out of the shadows and into the ghostly moonlight. “What’d Raven say?” he murmured, leaning against the wall—probably because he was too drunk to stand on his own. He still held a bottle in his hand.

“She basically told us to fuck off before she decided to dice us into dog meat,” said Roman. “But I think she might come around.”

“Sounds like you caught her in a good mood,” Qrow huffed. “I heard you talking to Ruby out there. Did you know you two are actually starting to get along?”

“We are doing no such thing,” said Roman, affronted. “I’m just too damn tired to deal with one more person who wants a piece of me today. So if you’re looking for a fight or a fuck, try me again tomorrow.”

“I’m not…” Qrow abruptly tipped the bottle to his lips and took a gulp, sighing through the burn. “I just want to talk…to him,” he mumbled. “Please.”

‘Tell me to tell him to get lost,’ Roman thought. 

Ozpin had been conspicuously quiet up to that point, but he finally answered, ‘I owe him this much.’

‘If you wanna deal with this shit, fine. But I’m going to brutally murder another innocent alarm clock in the morning. Its death will be on your hands.’

Gold flared and faded across his vision, and then Ozpin looked up to meet the Huntsman’s deep red eyes, like blood spilled under the moonlight. “Qrow, I—”

“I don’t want you to die again, Oz,” Qrow blubbered drunkenly, slumping back against the wall. “I didn’t mean that. Even though Roman’s a fucking asshole, I…I didn’t mean that.”

“Oh,” said Ozpin, surprised. “Well, that’s…kind of you to say, I suppose. Are you sure you want to have this conversation while you’re drunk?”

“I sure as shit don’t want to have it sober,” Qrow groaned. He raised the bottle to his lips again, tipping the last of its contents down his throat and then wiping his mouth with the back of his arm. “This was your most expensive bottle of whiskey, by the way.”

“That would make it my second-most expensive bottle, then,” said Ozpin. “Roman already polished off my most expensive bottle.”

Qrow snorted. “The man’s got taste, I’ll give him that.”

“Qrow, I am so sorry that I hurt you, that I broke your trust,” Ozpin said. “But I am not sorry that in all likelihood, you are still alive today because of it. What else could I have done?” It was a question he had asked himself over and over through the years. He desperately wanted to know the answer.

Qrow clutched a hand to his head, squeezing his eyes shut. “You could have just been there for me, Oz!”

“I was there for you. It wasn’t enough,” was what Ozpin said. What he thought was, ‘I wasn’t enough.’

Tears slipped down Qrow’s cheeks, gleaming in the moonlight before he swiped them away. He shoved off from the wall and shuffled forward to sit down heavily on the end of the bed. “I remember the dark place I was in back then,” he murmured, almost to himself. “I thought I pulled myself out of it on my own. But apparently, I couldn’t even do that.”

“Finding a way out of the darkness is the hardest thing in life. There’s no shame in not being able to do it alone.” Ozpin reached out to lay a hand on Qrow’s shoulder.

But Qrow flinched back. “Don’t touch me!” he snarled. Ozpin jerked his hand away, and Qrow stared at it with wide eyes. “You’ve got me all turned around, Oz. I don’t know which way’s up.”

‘That could also be the alcohol.’

Ozpin carefully folded his hands in his lap. “I don’t know what else I can say, Qrow,” he sighed. “I could tell you that my power is…a blunt instrument. That I cannot make you remember things that never happened, nor can I alter thoughts or feelings, and that’s why I had to suppress the memory that caused you to lose the last of your hope for the future. But you would have to trust that I’m telling the truth. And if you do not know that what you feel is real, then…perhaps it was never as real as you thought.” He looked down at his hands, or rather, Roman’s hands. “We are, both of us, cursed, Qrow. Perhaps we were wrong for each other from the start.”

Qrow swirled the dregs around the bottom of the whiskey bottle in his hand. “That’d fit my pattern of always wanting the wrong things. And not being able to quit ’em.” He looked up at Ozpin. “Could you just wave your hand and make me stop? For her?”

Ozpin shook his head sadly. “That’s something you’ll have to do for her, when you’re ready.” He reached out and gingerly took the bottle from Qrow’s hand, placing it on the nightstand. “You are who you are because of all that you’ve been through. I can’t take that away from you.”

“What if I don’t want to be who I am?”

Ozpin smiled ruefully. “Now you sound like me.” He leaned back against the headboard and gazed up at the darkened ceiling. “If I truly had the ability to rewrite painful memories and excise unwanted emotions, I would have used it on myself long ago. Instead, I spent lifetimes wallowing in alcohol and regret. All I can tell you is that it did no one any good, least of all, me.”

“Was that before or after Jinn told you you couldn’t kill Salem?” Qrow muttered.

“Both,” Ozpin answered honestly. He lowered his eyes back to his lover’s. “But she only said that I can’t. Not that it can’t be done. So all I really know is, I can’t do it alone.” It was a statement, and a plea.

Qrow looked into Ozpin’s eyes for a long time, and Ozpin held his gaze, unwavering, as open as he had ever been with anyone but himself. Finally, Qrow shoved a hand through his hair and sighed. “All I know is, I’m sick of sleeping on the fucking couch.”

Chapter Text

Unsurprisingly, Little Red’s cookies didn’t magically mend all their problems. Tensions in the house the next day were running as high as the first day Roman had let the rabble in and the former adversaries had taken up reluctant residence under the same roof. But now, it was Ozpin they were wary of. The switch was surreal. Even Qrow, who had an irritating sleeping habit of wrapping himself around Ozpin like an octopus with separation anxiety, had slept as far away as Oz’s spacious bed would allow, his back turned and curved inward as though guarding himself against vague threats in the darkness. Still, he had stayed. They had all stayed. It had to mean something. But Roman didn’t have the patience to pick apart their passive-aggressive performances.

He walked into the kitchen to find everyone sitting around the table silently munching their cookies and picking at the sloppy scrambled eggs and bacon Qrow had thrown together for breakfast. Little Red was trying her best to keep a smile on her face. She was the only one. Neo was eating her own breakfast of biscuits, jam and tea, which she must have made for herself, alone at the kitchen counter. Roman felt the kids’ suspicious stares on his back as he set to making himself a strong cup of coffee to prise the lingering clutches of exhaustion from his heavy limbs. Of course, the coffee grinder jammed. He swore and hit the thing, hard, just barely biting back a curse at Qrow, too. Things certainly ran smoother without him, but for some reason he’d decided to stick around, and Roman didn’t really want to make him reconsider. Oddly, he heard what he could only interpret as sighs of relief from a couple of the kids behind his back. Physically and verbally assaulting unsuspecting appliances wasn’t out-of-character for Roman, but it wasn’t something Ozpin would do.

‘Perhaps it would be best if you took charge of their training again today.’

Roman clenched his jaw, finished beating the coffee grinder into submission, and then walked calmly with his coffee in hand over to the kitchen table. Where he slammed his cane down flat in the center of the tabletop, startling the group and rattling their plates. Qrow clutched his head miserably, nursing a savage hangover. “I assume you kids are all at least passingly familiar with firearms,” said Roman. He was met with nothing but blank and bewildered stares, which was fine. The less they had to say for themselves, the better. “There’s a safety, and a trigger.” He spoke slowly, pointing out the components clearly on the handle of his cane as though he were educating a bunch of, well, children. “Imagine Ozpin is the safety, and I’m the trigger. He protects you from me, not the other way around.”

“He’s good at that, isn’t he?” said Blondie, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair. “Controlling people.” Fisticuffs looked to Qrow, clearly expecting him to add his own accusations, but he remained silent, no longer willing to condemn or defend Ozpin. He just looked weary and wretched, unmoored and adrift. Fisticuffs opened her mouth, seemingly about to demand that Qrow speak out, but Little Red put her hand on her sister’s shoulder and shook her head. She could see that pushing Qrow wouldn’t help anyone, least of all, Qrow. Fisticuffs frowned and shut her mouth, hunching over to simmer in silence.

“Of course he is,” Roman answered Blondie’s rhetorical question. “A leader has to be. But you know who’s better at it? Salem. Because all she has to do is turn people against each other. If you want to beat her so badly, you could start by not making it so easy for her.”

“You’re speaking from experience,” Sparky scoffed.

“Yes!” Roman threw his hands up. “Because unlike all of you, I actually have some!” He may have been right, but as soon as he said it, he knew it was the wrong thing to say. Their gazes hardened, and any respect that his experience might have afforded his words was lost in their resentment. And he couldn’t blame them. When he was their age, he would have shattered the kneecaps of anyone who dared to criticize his lack of experience in relation to his accomplishments and ambition. Or rather, he had done that, on multiple occasions. There’d been no quicker, more satisfying way to bring an adult down to his level. He really didn’t know what these kids’ experiences were, and he didn’t care. All he needed to know was whether he could rely on them.

“If any of you seriously think Ozpin might’ve manipulated you into joining him, magically or otherwise, there’s a simple way to test that theory.” Roman leaned in like he was about to divulge another of Ozpin’s secrets, and was pleased when they sat forward in their seats to hear it. “Just fucking leave!” he shouted at them. “See if he tries to stop you! I sure as hell won’t. In fact, it would make my godsdamn day.” Unfortunately, but not unexpectedly, his only response was more stubborn silence. He blew out a breath. “On the other hand, if you’re determined to stick around, then I don’t want to hear any more complaints about Ozpin making you do anything. I’m the only one he’s coercing here, and you should be thanking your lucky stars for it, because I have had it with all of you, and if not for him, I’d’ve pulled this trigger by now.”

“If not for him, I would’ve smashed your face in the first time I saw you again,” said Fisticuffs.

“Let’s continue this hypothetical, shall we?” Roman proposed. “If not for Ozpin, none of you would even know what you’re really fighting against or for. Neo and I would have been well on our way to bigger and better things by now. And Qrow would probably still be roving around Remnant with Raven, killing people and taking their stuff. No judgement from me,” he added when Qrow opened his mouth to object. “My point is, Oz is not the bad guy here. And you can bet I’m speaking from experience on that.”

Little Red looked around the table at her friends and family, and then spoke carefully. “I think some of us might have different feelings about what makes a person good or bad. But like Professor Ozpin said, there’s good and bad, and then there’s evil. And we can’t let evil win. We’re not staying for Ozpin. He didn’t ask us to. We’re staying for all the people we might be able to help, if we help each other.”

‘Spoken like a true Huntress.’

Roman felt a strange swell of pride, looking at Little Red. Almost like the feeling he’d had the day he’d watched Neo step up and take charge as his second-in-command. Almost like… ‘She’s not even your kid!’ he snapped at Ozpin in his head, putting the brakes on that train of thought immediately.

‘Well, no. But I am her godfather.’

‘What?!’

‘I don’t think Qrow or Taiyang ever told her. They didn’t want her to feel entitled to a spot at Beacon. Which, of course, she was not. She earned that for herself, thanks to you.’

“Torchwick?” said Little Red, frowning. “Are you okay? You look like you’re about to faint again.”

“That never happened!” Roman shouted, too loud. He snatched his cane off the table. “We’re done talking. Training starts now.”

The fact of the matter was, there just wasn’t time for them to settle all their grudges. At least, not with words. According to Perry and the Spiders, the White Fang was mobilizing in Menagerie, and Neo had noticed Haven’s headmaster was preparing for visitors. Salem was moving her pieces into place. They had to be ready to meet them. On the bright side, Roman finally got to punch Little Red in the face. But the satisfaction was short-lived. She’d just picked herself up, brushed herself off, and come right back at him swinging. Because that was just what she did. That was what they both did. It was what made them survivors. It might even be the reason they would survive what was coming. Or it might be the thing that would get them both killed. They would find out soon enough.

While Roman worked with Red on hand-to-hand combat, Fisticuffs finally got her rematch with Neo. And lost miserably again. And again. Channeling her emotions into her attacks might have been effective against big, dumb beasts, but it allowed Neo to read her like the morning paper, and rip her apart just as easily. It took one humiliating defeat after another for the lesson to make it through her thick skull that she needed to fight with a cooler head if she hoped to land a hit. But finally, in a surprising display of sibling synchronicity, just as Little Red managed to slip past Roman’s guard and clocked him clear across the jaw, Fisticuffs feinted with a left hook and then slammed an explosive gut punch into Neo with her metal fist, lighting up Neo’s Aura. Roman and Neo both stumbled back, and he felt her heel hit his. Without saying a word, he dropped into a crouch and spun, sweeping Fisticuffs’ feet out from under her with his leg as Neo vaulted over his back and bashed Little Red in the face with her boot. Both girls bit the dirt, and Roman and Neo straightened up back-to-back, admiring their handiwork.

‘That won’t help them improve,’ Ozpin remarked disapprovingly.

Roman grinned. “Neo and I have to keep our skills sharp, too.”

While Ice Queen and Blondie crossed blades, Qrow took on Sparky and Moody. He made Sparky work hard to get past the swift sweeps of his scythe, forcing her to focus on her agility, all the while deflecting shots from Moody as he circled at a distance, waiting for his opening to engage up-close. One misstep, and Sparky caught the blunt side of Qrow’s blade in the stomach and cried out as she doubled over, her Aura flaring pink. Moody charged to her defense, and was met with the handle of Qrow’s scythe to the solar plexus for his trouble, knocking him to the ground. “That wasn’t your opening,” Qrow lectured, sounding eerily like Ozpin. “Diving into danger for your teammate doesn’t help her. You can’t defend her if you can’t defend yourself.”

Moody gave a grave nod and allowed Qrow to help him back to his feet. Qrow took Little Red and Fisticuffs next, the three of them falling into practiced patterns, while Moody and Sparky paired up to spar with each other. Neo and Ice Queen started a dance of flashing blades as they matched each other’s fancy footwork, and Roman put Blondie through his paces, making the kid think quick on his feet to avoid the crack of Roman’s cane.

They began each day with more intensive training, and once they’d run the kids ragged, Roman and Neo would go toe-to-toe with Qrow. Ozpin abstained from participating for the most part, insisting that Roman needed the practice far more than he did. Considering Oz had thousands of years of experience under his belt, Roman didn’t take it as an insult. But sometimes, they would try their hand at switching off control with one another in the midst of combat, learning where their respective strengths and weaknesses lay, and playing off each other to their best advantage. It made them unpredictable, since one didn’t necessarily know what the other was going to do next. Even Qrow struggled to keep up when Ozpin could force the relentless gears of time to grind more slowly, just long enough to dodge an attack that should have landed, and Roman could vanish and reappear in Qrow’s blindspot in a rush of smoke to strike back. And when Neo fought beside him, he felt damn near untouchable. It was a dangerous feeling.

At night, Roman worked to finish the modifications he was making to his weapon. A cane was a two-handed weapon, after all, and at the end of the day, carrying two of them was impractical. Ozpin had reluctantly agreed to let Roman attempt to combine the best parts of both their weapons into one. There was a metaphor there, but Roman didn’t dwell on it. Because his concept was nothing short of a stroke of genius, even if Ozpin had yet to admit as much. ‘I’ll admit it’s a good idea if it works,’ Ozpin had muttered sourly while Roman pried the emerald free from his cane and dismantled the clockwork gear by gear.

Roman’s thinking was this: emerald as a mineral was even harder than flint, and the purity of Ozma’s emerald was absolute. Even under close inspection, Roman could find no inclusions in it, which meant that it wouldn’t crack when struck—it would spark. Old firearms had used flintlock ignition mechanisms before the technological advancements of the Great War. Oz had plenty of past experience with them to draw upon, and Roman saw no reason he couldn’t modify his cane to use the emerald in much the same way as they had used flint. Except with this particular emerald, he could fire more than just ammunition.

Unfortunately, it was taking him longer than he’d expected to fine-tune the ignition mechanism he’d fashioned from the clockwork of Ozpin’s cane and integrated into the handle of his own. Unless he could get it perfect, half the time, it wouldn’t fire at all. And of course, when sparring with Qrow, it malfunctioned at the worst possible moments. He’d had Qrow lined up in his sights, the Huntsman still reeling from a disorienting blow to the temple, and he’d pulled the trigger. And nothing happened. Qrow’s head snapped toward the sound of the click, and then he shifted, launching himself at Roman with one powerful beat of his wings. The next second, he barreled into Roman with the full force of his human weight, knocking them both to the ground. He had Roman pinned with his blade across Roman’s throat before Roman even knew what hit him.

Qrow’s breath was hot on his face as he stared down at Roman, blood trickling along his jaw from the gash on the side of his head. A single scarlet drop fell from his chin and splashed at the corner of Roman’s mouth. Without thinking, Roman swept out his tongue and lapped it up. Qrow’s gaze was drawn to the motion, and though Roman had failed to get a spark from the emerald, there was one hell of a spark in those ruby-red eyes. Neo came up behind Qrow and tapped him on the shoulder with the tip of her parasol. He tore his eyes away from Roman and looked back at her stony face, then around at all the kids who’d gathered to watch the fight. “Fix your fucking weapon,” he growled, and shoved himself up off of Roman, collapsing his blade and tucking it away behind his back.

Even after that, or perhaps especially after that, he continued to keep a careful distance from Roman and Ozpin. Yes, they shared a bed at night, but they didn’t share touches or breaths or body heat. It was as if Qrow couldn’t bear to be too close, nor too far away. It was maddening. But neither would Ozpin let Roman put an end to their delicate dance one way or the other by pulling Qrow closer or pushing him away for good. ‘We have to let him make up his own mind,’ Ozpin said. ‘He needs to know that he can.’

But by week’s end, the clock had run down. It was time to light the fuse on the whole powder keg. And Roman knew just the gal whose specialty that was. Late at night, after everyone had gone to sleep, instead of slipping into bed beside Qrow, Roman stepped outside into the darkness and pulled out his scroll. He thumbed through his contacts until he came to the one he would have deleted months ago, if not for the strong suspicion that it might prove useful again someday. Today was that day. For a moment, his finger just hovered over the alias: Flaming Bitch. His past exchanges with her had been awash in a volatile mixture of dread and desire. But now, the very thought of her set his teeth on edge, made his stomach churn and his vision narrow to a sharp focus. She was the start of where it all went wrong. She was the spark that had set his whole life ablaze, and she had smiled as it all went up in smoke. Now, it was her turn.

He tapped the entry, then held the scroll up to his ear as it dialed. She answered on the first ring. “Hello?”

Roman slipped into his most charming manner like a well-tailored coat. “Hello, gorgeous.”

Chapter Text

“So it is you.” Cinder’s voice held only mild surprise and vague interest. “I thought you were dead.”

Roman was getting really tired of hearing that. But he merely broadened his smile and said breezily, “I needed to lie low for awhile, what with Vale and Atlas on my ass after our little show at Beacon. Naturally, I made my way to Mistral, where I happened to hear from an old acquaintance of mine recently that you’re looking for a young woman with an…‘unusually powerful Semblance’.” Of course, as soon as Cinder had walked out of Black Widow Tavern, Little Miss Malachite had turned right around and called Roman. If Cinder had gone so far as to seek help from the Spiders, whose loyalty lay only with the highest bidder, it meant she had nothing, and she was getting desperate. “I take it you still haven’t found the Spring Maiden.”

Cinder’s usual warm and sultry tone turned to ice in an instant. “Why are you calling, Roman? Our business ended with Beacon.”

Roman hissed in mock hurt. “Ouch. And I thought we had something special.”

“If you have a point, I strongly suggest you get to it in the next five seconds.”

Roman leaned over the porch railing and tapped his fingers against the weathered wood. “What if I told you I not only know where the Spring Maiden is, but could give you a name?”

He could practically hear her frustrated frown as she struggled to come to terms with the possibility that he had succeeded where she had failed. “How—?”

“I have friends in low places,” said Roman. “That was one of the reasons you hired me, wasn’t it?” Cinder’s only answer was a demanding silence, so he continued. “What would that information be worth to you?”

“What do you want?” Cinder ground out.

“I want to be cut back in,” said Roman. “I want to be on the winning side of this war. And when the Queen takes her throne, I want a place at court. Soon, Salem’s favor will be the only currency that matters, and when that time comes, I want to make damn sure that I have it. She can consider the Spring Maiden a coronation present.”

There was another stretch of silence before Cinder said, “If your information proves accurate, you will have demonstrated that you can continue to be useful to us. Salem will be…magnanimous.”

Roman hummed, pretending to consider the negotiations before sealing their agreement. “You’ll find the Maiden hiding out with the Branwen tribe. Her name is Vernal.”

~ * ~

Roman strode swiftly through the icy night across Haven Academy’s sweeping courtyard toward the great hall. Cinder hadn’t hesitated to act on the information he had given her, and of course, Raven hadn’t hesitated to act in her own self-interest. The next evening, Cinder had called him back, and invited him back into the fold. He paused before the academy’s high, arching entrance, allowing himself one slow breath that swirled out around him as mist. Then he tugged his collar up against the cold and pushed open the doors.

The sound of his footsteps on the smooth, stone floor clicked and skittered up the walls of the vast space as he walked into the room, eyes flicking to each of its occupants in turn. Emerald and Mercury stood across from him, watching him approach with clear contempt. They were flanked by two winding staircases leading up to a second level. At the top of the left-hand staircase stood Raven and Vernal, who didn’t display their emotions as carelessly as the other two. And at the center of the upper level stood Cinder, hands braced against the balustrade as she gazed down at him imperiously.

“So the street rat comes crawling back for scraps,” said Mercury with a crooked smirk that Roman would have been all too happy to carve into a proper smile.

Instead, Roman just cocked his head and said, “What are you talking about? Emerald’s standing right next to you.” 

Emerald shot Mercury a dirty look, and he backpedaled, flustered. “I didn’t mean—”

Cinder cut him short. “If each of you had been half as resourceful as a true career criminal, we wouldn’t have needed him, now would we?” The snotty little brats fell quiet, cowed into submission. Roman came to a stop in the center of the room and returned Cinder’s appraising gaze. A slight smile curved the corner of her bloodred lips. “I may have underestimated you, Roman,” she said.

“Seems I wasn’t the only one. Little Red really did a number on you, didn’t she?” he said, taking in the frightful changes to her appearance. One black arm diminished down to the bones, and one burnt and blackened eye, nearly completely concealed behind the curtain of her bangs. Suddenly, he was glad Neo had cut his hair, because Cinder’s new ’do looked a little too familiar for his liking. He couldn’t stand couples who copied each other’s looks. “You changed your hair. You sure you didn’t miss me?” He winked with his amber eye.

The claws of her blackened hand dug into the wooden railing as her one visible eye narrowed. “Unfortunately, you’re still not as slick as you think you are.” Lionheart stepped out from the shadows of the doorway behind her, Neo’s small form struggling in his grip. “Look who the headmaster caught snooping around his office.” Cinder manifested an obsidian blade from molten lava in her hand, and held it to Neo’s throat before Lionheart released her and backed away. Neo stilled. “I have to wonder, Roman, if you’re so determined to secure Salem’s favor, why would you send Neo to spy on her loyal servant?”

His gaze shifted to Neo, catching the slightest glint of red in her eyes. He bowed his head, his own eyes obscured beneath the brim of his hat. “I can explain…” He fingered the trigger on the handle of his cane. “You see, I’m not Roman.” He raised his cane in one swift motion, catching both women in the crosshairs. “And that’s not Neo.” Cinder’s eyes widened in realization, but it was too late. Ozpin pulled the trigger.

The emerald embedded in the cane flared the same color as his eyes, and a powerful blast of magic shot forth from the chamber at the speed of the explosive fire dust crystal enveloped within. The moment the magic and dust impacted with Neo’s own fire dust-laced illusion, the whole thing went up in a massive bright green and orange fireball, sending out a shockwave that shook the building down to its foundations. The blast threw Cinder back against the wall with a sickening smack, and she crumpled to the floor where she lay motionless, her Aura flickering around her like a guttering flame, smoke curling off her clothes and hair. Ozpin would have to conserve his magic after a blast like that, but gods had it felt good. Roman only wished he could have been the one to pull the trigger, but it turned out that channeling magic through a weapon as intricate as his with any precision was harder than he’d thought. And that was a shot he couldn’t have afforded to miss.

“Cinder!” Emerald cried, and charged at Ozpin in a blind rage. Mercury dashed forward to back her up, and Ozpin let Roman retake control. But before his former teammates could reach him, gunfire split the air like lightning, popping and cracking across the floor in front of them, forcing them to skid to a startled halt then dive to the sides for cover.

Roman grit his teeth. “Were you aiming for their feet?!” he yelled up toward the lofty ceiling. “I said headshots, Red!”

“I can’t just instakill people without fair warning!” came Little Red’s voice from up in the shadows of the rafters.

“That is the entire purpose of a sniper!” Roman shouted back. “Gods, you’re useless up there!”

A rush of rose petals swirled down from above, and Little Red materialized beside him with a smile. “You’re right,” she said, spinning her scythe. Neo drifted down to land daintily at his other side, the last of her camouflage illusion shimmering away as she folded her parasol. Behind them, the doors slammed open, and Roman glanced back to see Qrow leading the rest of their so-called troops, weapons drawn and ready for a fight.

Lionheart stumbled back at the abrupt turn of the tables, eyes darting from the newcomers, to Cinder’s crumpled form, to Raven and Vernal, still standing at the top of the staircase opposite him. “D-do something!” he demanded.

Vernal tensed for an attack, but Raven stilled her with a hand on her arm. “This isn’t our fight,” she said, locking eyes with Roman over Vernal’s shoulder. Roman still wasn’t entirely sure whose side Raven was on, but he would hazard a bet that she wasn’t sure yet, either. If she was anything like him, she would wait and see how the chips fell first. Roman and Ozpin just had to make sure they came out on top.

Mercury and Emerald exchanged a wide-eyed look across the room. Emerald had a wild energy about her, like a rabid animal intent on drawing blood no matter the cost, while Mercury just looked determined to kick and smash his way through to the other side of this night alive. Either way, they were caught in their own trap. As Qrow and the rest of the kids charged forward, Emerald took aim at Roman and Neo with both pistols and fired, and Mercury kicked off a shot at Little Red. But Neo’s image simply shattered into shining shards, and Roman and Red rushed to meet their adversaries in a whirlwind of smoke and rose petals.

Neo and Roman suddenly reappeared on either side of Emerald. Neo knocked the taller girl off her feet with a sweep of her parasol, and Roman slammed her backwards into the floor with a swing of his cane. Emerald cried out as her skull cracked against the hard stone, her Aura lighting up in a verdant halo around her head. But she grit her teeth and kicked her feet up, rolling backward to escape a stab from Neo’s sword, and kicking off against the wall, flicking the sickles out from the ends of her pistols to slash at both siblings as she dashed right back between them. Neo flipped over backward as one of Emerald’s blades sliced through the air above her and Roman pivoted on his heel, drawing his cane in close to deflect the other blade. As it sliced across the shaft in a shower of sparks, he caught a glimpse of Little Red taking a swing at Mercury with her scythe. He stopped the blade in its path with a powerful kick, but she fired her rifle into the ground and vaulted over his head, swirling her scythe around to take another swing at him from behind. He had to drop to the ground to avoid it this time, flattening a hand to the floor and spinning both legs around to kick her in the gut.

Emerald detached the sickles from her pistols and swung them around on their chains in an attempt to wrap them around Roman and Neo’s weapons and disarm them. But Neo deftly speared the point of her sword through one of the links in the chain and pulled while Roman whirled around and swung the handle of his cane into the other sickle, knocking it back. Emerald kept hold of her weapons, but stumbled into Neo in the process, and Neo locked one leg around the other girl, using it as leverage to swing up around her shoulders and get her in a chokehold. There was another bang from one of Mercury’s blast boots, and Little Red skidded back into Roman. He jerked his head around just in time to clamp a hand down over his hat and duck her startled swipe at him with her scythe. She shook her head to clear it, eyes widening when they met his. “Sorry!” she squeaked sheepishly. “Old habits.”

Roman swung his cane up, framing Little Red’s frightened face in the crosshairs before she dodged to the side and he fired at Mercury, who was forced to kick the explosive round up toward the ceiling instead of smashing in the back of Red’s skull with his heel. Roman smirked back at Red. “Old habits.” A shower of splintered wood and rubble rained down on them from the explosion above. Roman returned his attention to his own piece of the action to see that Emerald had slipped Neo’s hold somehow, and was stalking around her silently as Neo turned in a circle, wide-eyed, apparently unable to see her enemy right in front of her. Emerald lunged forward with both sickles and a sharp surge of panic speared Roman’s heart. But the next second, sparking shards of Neo’s lightning dust-laced illusion glass were shattering across the floor, and the real Neo cracked her heel down between Emerald’s shoulder blades before the other girl could recover from the shocking spasms that wracked her body.

Roman exhaled and returned Neo’s smile. He should have known better than to think for a second that Emerald could outmatch his sister when it came to illusions. Qrow and the others reached them, prepared to join the fray and put an end to Emerald and Mercury’s desperate last dance. But a rocky barrage of earth dust crashed down all around them like a meteor shower, forcing them to scatter. ‘Leonardo.’ Roman turned to see Lionheart standing at the base of the staircase, arm outstretched with his mechanical dust bracer raised. He wore the tortured look of a man who had just sealed his fate.

Roman’s gaze shifted around the room as everyone regained their footing. Mercury took advantage of the distraction to kick Little Red’s scythe out of her hands, sending it spinning up into the air. But she whirled right back around and socked him in the face. He stumbled backwards right into a punishing one-two punch from Fisticuffs. She cocked her gauntlets again as he struggled to recover his breath, her eyes blazing as bright as his Aura. Little Red caught her scythe as it came back down and blocked his retreat with the sweeping curve of the blade. Emerald had her sickles crossed in a defensive stance as Ice Queen swept her fingers over her sword and summoned a snowy queen lancer from thin air behind her. And Neo, with nothing more than a subtle smile flashed in Ice Queen’s direction from behind Emerald’s back, replicated the sinister Grimm’s image five more times, forming an illusory swarm surrounding their adversary.

Roman’s eyes found Qrow’s, and they exchanged a slight nod. “JNR, with me!” Qrow barked, leading the team forward and leaving Emerald and Mercury to the others. They fanned out in a semi-circle behind Roman, closing in on Lionheart. The headmaster’s tail swished back and forth frantically as he trained his weapon on each of them in turn, but could not cover all of them as they advanced. “Give it up, Leo,” Qrow called out. “It’s over.”

Lionheart fixed his weapon on his fellow Huntsman, but his hand was trembling, his aim unsteady. “Don’t you see, Qrow?” he roared desperately. “It was over before it began! The most we can hope for is her mercy!”

Ozpin’s fury felt like searing flames, and Roman saw emerald fire. He took a step forward, and Lionheart snapped his arm around to target him instead. He took another step toward his old friend, his betrayer, the man who had signed the death warrants of scores of brave Huntsmen and Huntresses because of his own cowardice. “No,” he said, magic hissing and sparking at his fingertips. “The most you can hope for is my mercy.”

Lionheart’s wide eyes reflected the fire in Roman’s, and the headmaster stumbled back a step. “Ozpin?” he gasped.

Roman smiled viciously. “Not quite.”

A crackling of gunfire outside preceded the resounding boom of the great hall’s doors flying open again as a burly mass of a man barreled through them shouting, “The White Fang is under attack! They have military weapons but they wear no uniform…” He trailed off, taking in the hall’s embattled occupants. The Spiders had crawled out of the shadows to defend their home, as Roman knew they would. An attack on the Mistral CCTS tower was an attack on the center of their web of information. Without it, their entire organization would begin to unravel. As long as they still stood, they would not allow it to fall.

For some reason, however, Ozpin’s attention was fixated on the man in the doorway. Before Roman could get any explanation out of him, Lionheart called out to the other man across the hall, “Ozpin is here!”

The newcomer’s eyes bored fearlessly into the fires of his own, and the man’s meaty hands clenched into fists like sledgehammers. “OZPIIIIIIN!” he bellowed, charging straight toward him through the fray.

‘Shit.’

The intoxicating buzz of magic in his blood died abruptly as Roman spun to face their new opponent. “Who the hell is this guy?” he growled, taking aim with his cane as his impending target filled the crosshairs. “How many enemies do you have? I don’t have this many enemies!”

‘His name is Hazel.’ That was all Ozpin had the chance to say before the other man was within lethal range, and Roman fired. To his astonishment, the man staggered from the impact, but stayed standing. The smoke from the blast rolled off his chest to reveal the shards of Roman’s fire dust crystal embedded in his flesh. His veins bulged around the wound, pulsing with the same red glow as the dust. The light spread outward beneath his skin, wriggling up the sides of his neck. Then he opened his mouth, and breathed fucking fire.

“What the fuck?!” Roman shrieked.

‘Dust is a bad idea here.’ If Ozpin had already known that, then why hadn’t he seized control and stopped Roman from taking the shot? Once Roman was paying attention, he could feel Ozpin’s reluctance to face this particular foe himself, and it wasn’t simply a matter of the other man’s formidable ability. There was something else.

Roman felt the firm press of Qrow’s back against his as the Huntsman held Lionheart off at sword-gunpoint. “Ren, Nora, you’re with Roman and Oz,” said Qrow. “Jaune, you and I’ve got Leo.”

“Do you, now?” said Lionheart, Hazel’s unexpected arrival having restored some of his confidence. With a slight smile, he squeezed the trigger mechanism of his weapon in his fist. The dust bracer’s complicated mechanics clicked  anticlimactically, and the headmaster’s face fell. In that moment, Roman almost felt sorry for him. Qrow grinned, sharp as the curve of his scythe, and lunged.

Roman heard the clash of steel behind him, but Hazel had drawn close enough to demand his full attention. The mountainous man’s breath was still steaming like a volcano. Sparky and Moody flanked Roman warily, weapons at the ready, but oddly enough, their presence seemed to give Hazel pause. “My grudge is only with Ozpin,” he told them, the words grinding out like gravel.

“Well, he’s our headmaster,” said Sparky. “So I guess your grudge is with all of us.”

“Such loyalty, so young,” Hazel scoffed. “It will get you killed, just as it did my sister. She was drawn to Beacon’s light like a moth to a flame, blinded by it until it burned her to ash. All she wanted was to become a Huntress. She did not live to see her graduation day.”

“I’m sorry. We lost someone, too,” said Sparky. “But she knew the risks she was taking, and she still fought and died to protect the people she loved from people like you. I’m sure your sister would’ve done the same. We all know the risks, and we take them because we have something to fight for.”

“What do you fight for?” Moody asked.

Hazel clenched his fists. “The end of the Huntsmen, and the man who created them. And anyone who gets in my way.”

Roman took that as his cue. He thrust his arm out, sending his dagger flying through the air. It buried itself deep in Hazel’s jugular with deadly accuracy. Hazel blinked slowly, one large hand coming up to wrap around the hilt of the dagger in his neck. He pulled it out with a wet gurgle, but instead of spurting forth in an arterial spray, his blood crystalized over the wound. Just like dust. He snapped the dagger in his hand, letting the pieces fall to the floor, and then slammed his fist into Roman’s chest. The sheer force of it lifted Roman off his feet and hurled him backward. He landed flat on his back with a desperate gasp to draw breath back into his lungs. His Aura enveloped his torso in orange light—probably the only reason all of his ribs weren’t broken. But he had a feeling it couldn’t take another hit like that.

Sparky and Moody launched themselves at Hazel, but he stood as solid as a brick wall, and he tossed them aside like kittens. He advanced on Roman once more, pulling handfuls of lightning dust crystals from pouches on his belt as he walked. Then, hardly even flinching, he drove them directly into the flesh of his arms with brutal force, sending electricity racing through his veins. Lightning sparked in his eyes as he stared down at Roman, just as blinded by his cause as he’d claimed his dead sister had been. Roman forced himself up onto his elbows with a hiss, watching as Sparky and Moody struggled to their feet behind Hazel, apparently already forgotten or dismissed. But Hazel had just reminded him of something. Roman still had one lightning dust crystal left out of the pair Neo had stolen for him from that small town dust shop what seemed like a lifetime ago now. He reached into his coat pocket and slipped the crystal from its casing, loading it into the chamber of his cane. “Go ahead,” said Hazel, making no move to stop him. In fact, he held out his arms to make himself an easy target.

‘I told you, dust is a bad idea. I should—’

‘You should know by now; I have all the best bad ideas.’

“I will take no pleasure in killing you, stranger,” Hazel droned over Roman with the finality of an executioner announcing a death sentence. “But the wicked soul you harbor belongs in Hell.”

Roman sneered up at the other man. “Oh honey, you don’t know the half of it.” Hazel raised his fist to deal the fatal blow, but the whole time, Moody had been stalking silently up behind him. Moving like the wind in one swift slash, he sliced across Hazel’s heels with the bladed grips of his pistols. Hazel gave a startled grunt, crashing to his knees and revealing another, much smaller form standing behind him, holding a massive hammer raised toward the ceiling. “Heads up, Sparky!” Roman called, fixing the girl in his sights. Her head snapped toward him in irritation at the nickname, but she blinked in surprise to see him eyeing her through his crosshairs. “Hit him with everything you’ve got,” he said, and pulled the trigger. The lightning dust crystal shattered across the girl’s collarbones and she spasmed as its potent charge raced through every inch of her. Then, with a thunderous roar and lightning in her eyes, she swung her hammer hard into the side of Hazel’s head, sending him flying clear across the hall. He was out cold before he hit the floor.

Sparky just stood there for a moment, twitching and panting, until Moody laid a gentle hand on her back, and didn’t withdraw it even at the sharp shock he received for his trouble. Gradually, her breathing calmed, and she lowered her weapon. Roman winced as he got to his feet, still a bit breathless. “Nice work, you two,” he said. Sparky shot him a murderous look. Moody just rolled his eyes, encouraging her to be the better person and not resort to violence, despite all the violence they’d just done.

Roman turned toward the sound of another explosion in time to see Blondie get sent flying in one direction and Qrow in another. The Huntsman turned a flip in midair, driving the blade of his scythe into the floor to bring himself skidding to a halt beside Roman, his Aura crackling red as smoke rose from Lionheart’s bracer. The headmaster was in bad shape – battered and exhausted – but so was Qrow. “Could use…a little help here,” Qrow panted. With a sweep of his arm, Lionheart sent shards of ice dust shooting toward them. And Roman vanished into smoke. “Bastard!” Qrow swore, spinning his blade to shatter the ice before it could freeze him in place.

Whatever Qrow might think of him, Roman hadn’t run. But it was Ozpin who reappeared out of the smoke behind Lionheart. Everything slowed around him as he raised his cane high. For a moment, time almost seemed to stop. Then the world sped up again as he brought the weapon down at full force across the back of Lionheart’s neck with a whiplike crack. Lionheart cried out as his Aura shattered in a burst of golden yellow light, and he collapsed to the floor. Ozpin turned the other headmaster over onto his back with his cane, letting the muzzle rest just above the man’s heart. Lionheart stared up at him with wide, pathetic eyes while Ozpin contemplated his fate. ‘He betrayed you. If you show mercy, you show weakness.’ Ozpin was aware of Qrow watching him, but his eyes never left Lionheart’s, drinking in the fear and remorse in their depths. Roman had always relished that look on another man. Perhaps Ozpin was just taking a moment to admire the view.

“Jaune!” Sparky cried, her voice echoing throughout the great hall and drawing all eyes to her, then to where she was looking, transfixed with fright. At the top of the stairs, Blondie was standing over Cinder’s motionless body, his eyes gleaming with the same unforgiving steel as his sword as he raised it high.

“No!” Emerald screamed from where Ice Queen had her pinned to the floor with a gravity dust glyph. Suddenly, an unnatural darkness fell across the vast space, swirling toward the center of the room and coalescing into an enormous, yet vaguely human form. Deathly pale skin appeared from within the folds of the figure’s shadowy robes, and a face as cold and forbidding as the fractured face of the moon turned to regard them all with eyes as red and ravenous as the Grimm’s. Ozpin’s breath caught, his heart clenching in the clutches of visceral terror. He had no idea how she was here, but he knew with absolute certainty that he was about to die, that they were all about to die, and there was nothing he could do to prevent it even if he could somehow spur himself to act. Salem swept her arms out across the hall, fingers ending in fearsome claws, and an insatiable wrath twisted her features as she opened her mouth wide and unleashed an awful, unearthly shriek.

No one moved. No one screamed or cowered. They were all too terrified, rooted to the spot where they stood, struck into stillness and silence. Then, as suddenly as Salem had appeared, she was gone. The echoes of her cry faded, the shadows retreated, and light reclaimed the room. Emerald collapsed against the floor, unconscious. Lionheart’s whimpering drew their attention back to him while Ozpin forced his own breathing under control, telling himself over and over in his head like a mantra, It wasn’t her. It wasn’t real. It wasn’t her.

“You have to kill me,” Lionheart begged him, tears streaming down his face. “Or she’ll do so much worse.” Like a double image, he could see an all too similar scene from the opposite vantage: He lay broken on his back after the fight, staring up into the eyes of the person he had loved and trusted, and seeing nothing but his own destruction staring back. And then, all he saw was fire.

Ozpin lowered his cane. “She will,” he said hollowly. It was crueler to let Lionheart live, but he had suddenly lost the stomach for bloodshed. It seemed Blondie had lost his nerve as well. After all, a worse monster than Cinder was lurking somewhere out there in the darkness, pulling the strings. His sword slipped from his trembling hands and clanged against the steps. Cinder’s eyes snapped open.

Ozpin’s heart thumped as he watched her arm shoot out, sending Blondie tumbling over backward down the stairs, while in her other hand, she formed a lance of fiery obsidian, taking aim at Ozpin from above. But between them stood Qrow, his back to the danger. He wouldn’t react in time. But Ozpin could steal more time. Cinder let her lance fly, and Ozpin pulled harder against the relentless gears of time than he ever had before. He raced the projectile. His only thought was to reach Qrow first. He had to. They had to. Cinder had taken nearly everything from them. They wouldn’t let her take him, too.

As much as he could slow the lance along its path, it still flew fast. Another thump of his heart, another smack of his shoe against stone, just one more step, but it was already so close. He reached out for Qrow, fingers curling around the Huntsman’s shoulders. He dug his heels in, and threw the other man aside with all his might. Qrow fell slowly, expression only just beginning to register surprise. His heart thumped again at the knowledge that the person he loved was out of the path of danger. And his grip on the gears slipped. Time caught up with him.

He was hit hard, and a searing pain tore through his chest. Shuddering, he looked down to see the point of the fiery lance protruding from his torso. He fell to his knees. For some reason, his gaze was drawn to Little Red where she stood halfway across the hall, watching him in horror. Belatedly, he realized why. Her eyes were glowing: two pricks of bright, shining silver, and getting brighter by the second. A blinding surge of silver light filled the room, and Cinder collapsed with a cry of agony. When the light started to fade, so did everything else. Roman was vaguely aware that there were people running toward him, shouting, but they seemed so far away. The only person who felt close to him was Ozpin, his voice clear and present in Roman’s mind. ‘I’m sorry.’ At least he had the decency to let Roman live his last moments in this life.

“Yeah…you really…fucked that one up, didn’t you?” Roman hissed, blood dribbling down his bottom lip. He raised a trembling hand to try to get a grip around the lance, but it fell to ash between his fingers. The damage was done.

‘Don’t try to speak.’

‘So this is what dying feels like.’

‘Yes.’

‘It fucking sucks.’

‘Yes,’ Ozpin agreed with a halfhearted chuckle. He was trying to put up a brave front for Roman’s sake. They both knew it.

‘Will I…? I mean, will we…?’

‘No. We are still two souls. Mine will return to this world, and yours will not.’

Roman smiled, more blood leaking from the corners of his mouth. “’Til death do us part.”

‘Shh.’

‘You owe me. So promise me one thing. When you get back… Make sure Neo’s okay. I know she’ll do fine without me, but I still…’

‘I will. I promise.’

‘I’m… Fuck, I’m scared.’

‘I’ll be with you the whole time.’ His senses were failing, the excruciating pain now nothing more than a dull ache, the shouting all around him little more than whispers. The world was a gentle grey. But then his vision was bathed in a soft green glow, and he felt…warm, sheltered, peaceful. When he finally let himself fall backwards into the unknown, he heard Ozpin’s voice murmur in the back of his mind one last time, ‘Be fearless.’ And he was.

Chapter Text

Some say death is darkness. Others say there’s a brilliant light. But somehow, Roman doubted there was supposed to be such a racket.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know.”

“How are you doing that?”

“I don’t know!”

“Whatever you’re doing, don’t stop.”

“I know! Stop distracting me.”

Roman groaned. It felt like he was being roused from a deep sleep before he was ready to wake. “Five more minutes,” he grumbled. His very reasonable request was met with a rude slap across the face. His eyes shot open and he bolted upright, raising a hand to his stinging cheek. Gradually, his vision swam back into focus, and he saw familiar faces crowded around him. He didn’t register the hands on his chest until Blondie withdrew them warily. The orange glow of Roman’s Aura receded once they were gone, leaving him feeling…absolutely fine. Good as new, even. Like he’d never…been impaled by a fucking fire lance! The memory of what had happened to him hit him like, well, like a fucking fire lance. He frantically patted his hands down his chest, but other than a bloody tear in his new coat that he’d have to get mended, there was nothing there. The wound was completely healed. “Oz?” he murmured.

‘I’m still here.’

Roman groaned again. “Great. After all that, I’m still stuck with him. What did you do to me?” he snapped at Blondie.

Blondie looked affronted. “I just saved your life!” He threw his hands up, sitting back on his heels. “You’re welcome!”

‘It seems the boy has discovered his Semblance,’ mused Ozpin. He sounded like he was going to make no mention of their not-so-final words to each other, which Roman was grateful for, at least. The two of them could get by just fine pretending that little deathbed confessional never happened.

Roman was considering saying something along the lines of how Blondie should be thanking him for the motivation, but suddenly Neo’s arms were around him, squeezing tightly with no regard for the recent memory of his mortal wound, or the trivial notion that he may need to breathe again sometime soon. She buried her face in his chest and didn’t let go, and he didn’t pull away. The fact that she was openly making such a display of affection in front of others told him just how scared she’d been of losing him, and while he could brush off his own fears, he couldn’t do the same for hers. He had to let her feel for herself that he was still with her—that it wasn’t an illusion. He rested his chin atop her head and sighed. “I guess I owe you one, Blondie,” he said.

“You could start by calling me by my actual name,” the boy harrumphed.

“Ha! Keep dreaming, kid,” said Roman. “First I’d have to remember your name, then I’d have to remember his name,” he gestured to Moody, “and her name,” he nodded to Sparky, “and her name—”

“You still don’t know my name?” Ice Queen demanded. She stood over him alongside Fisticuffs, both of them looking rather conflicted about his full recovery.

Roman squinted up at her. “Wanda?”

She stomped her foot. “It’s Weiss!”

‘I know you know all of their names by now.’

Roman paid Ozpin no mind. He figured he deserved a brief reprieve before he had to start listening to him again. “You know my name, don’t you?” asked Little Red.

Roman looked over to see her lying on the floor beside him, evidently still groggy from her little light show. “Of course I know your name,” he said. “I curse it every day.”

“So how come you still call me Red?”

Roman stated the answer that should have been obvious: “Because I don’t like you.” To his irritation, she simply laughed. As though for some reason, she didn’t believe him. “Who hit me?” he asked, rubbing his jaw.

Neo pulled back and pointed at Qrow, who until then had been conspicuously quiet where he knelt at Roman’s side. “You little liar,” he growled. “You’re the one who slapped him!”

Qrow and Neo glared at each other. Roman figured it probably had been Neo, but of course he would always take his sister’s side. “Wow, Feathers. And I thought I was the one who liked to play rough.”

The Huntsman turned red and looked away. But as long as he couldn’t see Roman’s reaction, he apparently felt bold enough to ask, “Why would Oz do that? He’s more important. I’m not worth—” Qrow never finished that thought. Roman wasn’t sure whether it was him or Ozpin who reached out for Qrow, him or Ozpin who fisted his fingers in the Huntsman’s shirt and pulled him close, him or Ozpin who shut Qrow up with a kiss—because in that moment, their instincts were the same. Ozpin thought Qrow was worth the world, and while Roman wouldn’t go that far, he certainly didn’t lose so much sleep over worthless people. A few of the kids gasped, but they couldn’t bring themselves to care. They were both sick of secrets. Qrow stiffened when their lips met, and for one awful moment, it seemed he might push them away again. But then he relaxed into the kiss with a sigh. “Oh,” he breathed. He still didn’t sound entirely convinced, but that just meant they would have to spend more time convincing him later, when there weren’t children present.

“Y’know, that explains a lot,” said Sparky.

“Um. Did I…miss something?” came a voice Roman hadn’t heard in awhile. He pulled away from Qrow to see their little lost cat standing in the doorway across the hall, her face twisted in confusion, her hand inching toward her weapon.

Little Red let out a strangled sound as she looked back and forth between Roman, Qrow and Kitty Cat, until she finally decided to focus on her friend. “Blake, you came back!” she squealed, rushing her old teammate in a flurry of rose petals and stumbling dizzily into a hug that the other girl had to release the handle of her weapon to return.

“Yeah,” said Kitty Cat, still uncertain about the situation she’d just walked into, but seeming to decide based on Red’s reaction that it probably wasn’t imminently dangerous. “I’m sorry I left,” she said, meeting Fisticuffs’ eyes over Red’s shoulder. From what Roman had gathered, Fisticuffs had taken Kitty Cat’s departure the hardest, but any details beyond that were beyond his interest. The two girls stared at each other for a long, tense moment. But then Fisticuffs flashed a smile at Ice Queen and pulled her along (with only a halfhearted complaint on Ice Queen’s part) to complete the team reunion hug.

“Great. Team RWBY, together again,” Roman muttered. Neo rolled her eyes.

Blondie was still gawking at him and Qrow, but then he turned to gawk at everyone else. “Are we just not gonna talk about—?”

“Nope!” Little Red and Fisticuffs shouted in unison.

“What are you doing here?” Ice Queen asked.

“Leading the Faunus against Adam’s takeover of the White Fang,” said Kitty Cat. “What are you all doing here?” She glanced back at Roman and Neo, lowering her voice. “And what are they doing here?”

“It’s a long story, but they’re with us now!” Little Red was practically vibrating with excitement at having her whole team in the same place again. “We’re all here to stop Cinder from getting her hands on the Relic of Knowledge and giving it to Salem!”

“Giving the what to who?” Kitty Cat asked. She looked around the hall warily. “Cinder’s here?”

Red glanced back over her shoulder, eyes widening in sudden realization. “She was…”

Roman’s stomach dropped. He scrambled to his feet to see where Cinder had fallen. She was gone. And so were were Raven and Vernal. ‘The vault!’

His gaze fell to where the great marble statue of a woman in gilded chains, the disguised elevator down to Haven’s secret vault, had stood, only to find nothing but a gaping hole in the floor. He ran over to it and peered down the elevator shaft, but all he saw was a long way down. “No one had eyes on her?!” he demanded as he spun back around.

“We were a little preoccupied,” Blondie objected, but by the look on his face, he knew they’d fucked up.

‘There’s only one way down. We have to wait for the elevator to return.’

Roman cast his eyes around the room, realizing that Mercury, Emerald, Hazel and Lionheart were all missing, too. “Where are the others?”

“The big guy dragged Emerald and Mercury out,” said Sparky.

“And the headmaster fled back into the academy,” said Moody.

“And you all just let them go?”

Qrow shoved him in the arm. “They were retreating, and we thought you were dying, asshole!”

“This is what I get for working with Huntsmen,” Roman hissed through his teeth. “In my profession, if your enemy turns their back, you plunge a knife into it.” He stared intently into the open maw of the elevator shaft while he loaded more dust crystals into his cane. It wasn’t too late. If Cinder or Raven had the Relic, they’d have to come back up the same way they went down. Even injured, Cinder was dangerous, but Raven had stayed out of the fight entirely. He wasn’t sure they’d be able to stop her. But he’d already faced death once tonight. He’d felt it stalking in his footsteps his entire life, always just out of sight, waiting for him to stumble. Now, he had finally seen its face. It was no longer a sinister stranger in the shadows. Roman recognized it. They were old acquaintances. They had met many times before, and they would meet again. In this life, and the next, and the next.

He didn’t notice Neo come up beside him until she tugged on his coattail. She held out his hat to him with a small smile, and he sighed, putting it on and straightening the brim across his brow. He supposed it was…nice of the others, that they’d all apparently dropped everything on his and Ozpin’s account. With the exception of Neo, he couldn’t imagine his own people doing that for him under any circumstances. Because it made no godsdamned sense.

Kitty Cat’s teammates attempted to quickly bring her up to speed while they waited, and Roman’s scroll trilled with an incoming call. “What is it?” he answered brusquely.

Thankfully, Perry didn’t bother with pleasantries, either. “We kept the tower secure from the White Fang, but the Belladonnas have brought half of Menagerie and the Mistral PD down on us all, so Miss Malachite’s ordered a retreat. We’re getting out of here.”

Roman nodded. “You did well, Perry.”

“I didn’t do it for you, or for Miss Malachite. I did it because Adam is using the Faunus as pawns in his game, just as you did. And I couldn’t let that happen again.”

“We’re all pawns in a greater game,” said Roman. “Most of us are just lucky enough not to know it.” He ended the call. The empty elevator was rising back into place, which meant Cinder and Raven were still down in the vault. It was time to finish this, one way or the other.

The descent in the elevator was awkward, cramped, and far too long by any standard. They all stood together in silence for the most part, but periodic, less-than-subtle glances from Little Red and Fisticuffs prompted Qrow to announce stiffly, “Ozpin and I have a complicated relationship.”

Red smacked her forehead. “Ozpin! That makes more sense.”

Fisticuffs let out a sigh of relief. “Oh, yeah, right. Can’t believe I almost forgot.”

They both chuckled nervously. “For a minute, we actually thought you and Torchwick…” Little Red trailed off when Qrow went rigid again.

“We’ll talk about this later, okay, kiddos?” he muttered. Red and Fisticuffs exchanged a mortified look and said nothing more.

Mercifully, it wasn’t much longer until the elevator lowered them into the vast cavern beneath the academy, and came to a stop. Across from them stood the massive gilded door of the vault, still unopened. At the base of it lay Vernal’s broken body. And locked in combat over the rocky outcropping were Raven and Cinder, their eyes blazing fire. They dueled in midair with swords as long as spears, Raven’s made of ice, Cinder’s of molten obsidian. But Cinder was still weakened from the beating she’d taken upstairs, and it was clear Raven was winning. One more swing of Raven’s sword sent Cinder crashing down, her sword and Aura both shattering against the rocks. Roman stepped off the elevator as Cinder struggled to rise to her hands and knees. Her blazing eyes met his across the plateau, sparks tripping from her teeth as she snarled, “How are you still not dead?”

Roman raised his cane until he had her in his crosshairs. His world narrowed down to that single point, his focus absolute. He had no doubts about his ability to channel the full destructive force of Ozpin’s magic in that moment. Every fiber of his being was perfectly in tune with its violent energy. He had taken all of Cinder’s shit with a smile, but no one would force him to leave Neo alone in this world if he could do a damn thing about it. The emerald in the handle of his cane flared as bright as his eyes. “The smoke outlasts the fire, darling,” he said, and pulled the trigger. The dust-fueled magical blast hit Cinder square in the chest and sent her careening off the edge of the plateau. She crashed into the cave wall, then tumbled down head over heels into the dark crevasse below. A dozen sharp stalactites, shaken loose by the shockwave, rained down after her. She did not claw her way back up.

“Her Aura was broken,” Roman muttered as he approached the edge to peer down into the impenetrable darkness that had swallowed Cinder whole. “That blast should have obliterated her.”

‘She must have drawn on the Maiden power to shield herself at the last second. She may yet survive. But I doubt she’ll trouble us again anytime soon.’

“Fucking magic,” Roman groaned. Ozpin’s reserves of the stuff were running low as well, and Roman suddenly felt drained. He was fully ready for this evening to end. But there was one thing left to do.

Raven lowered herself to the ground and let her sword disperse into a shower of ice crystals as the others stepped off the elevator onto the plateau. She barely spared Vernal’s body a glance before she turned to face Roman. His finger caressed the trigger of his cane, but he didn’t delude himself. After that display, it was clear she could take him and the others down in a matter of minutes if she were so inclined. But she wasn’t. She, too, had shown her true face. She wasn’t the monstrous rapacity of the Grimm personified, although that mask served her well. She was tired, and like Roman, she just wanted her part in all of this to be over. “Well?” she said. “Do you want what you came for?” She didn’t bother to wait for an answer before raising a hand to the vault door. At her touch, the series of intricately carved interlocking fans lit up with spiraling vines of azure magic and began to fold back in a cascade. Beyond them lay the golden dunes of a desert too vast and improbable in this subterranean space to be anything but magical. But it didn’t surprise Roman. He’d seen it before in past lives. Its beauty would be forever marred by those memories.

Raven stayed standing by the open vault, making no move to leave. “You’re sticking around?” Qrow asked as he approached. “That’s a first.”

Raven looked as though she wanted to turn the jab right back around on him, but she bit her tongue. “Like I said, I want to know what we’re up against.”

Qrow’s countenance was carefully guarded when he asked, “And which ‘we’ are you referring to?” She had let him down too many times for him to get his hopes up now.

She seemed to realize that, because she felt the need to tell him why she was about to let him down yet again. “I thought Ozpin would abandon you,” she said. “I thought they all would, like everyone else before them.” She glanced away, her voice going quiet. “But the only one who abandoned you was me.”

Qrow’s breath caught in his throat. “You could stay…” he croaked.

But Raven merely shook her head. “I lead our people now. They need me. And you don’t.” She turned her gaze to Fisticuffs, who was standing between Qrow and Little Red with her arms crossed, her emotions, for once, unreadable on her face. “Not anymore.”

After a moment of weighty silence, Roman clapped his hands together. “Well! Now that that’s settled, let’s get on with the show, shall we?” He led their little group of bandits, thieves and vigilantes out onto the shifting sands of the magical desert. There was no sky, no horizon, just undulating dunes that vanished into a yawning void. Directly ahead, hovering above a small pillar of sandstone, was a gilded lamp that glowed an otherworldly shade of pale blue. 

Ozpin assumed control and walked forward, reaching out and clasping the Lamp’s handle in his hand. It was heavy for an object that had been floating on air a moment ago. He uttered its name like a grave summons. “Jinn.”

The spirit of the Lamp poured forth, at first as a glowing blue mist, but soon swirling into the form of a woman three times human size, nude but for the gilded chains and jewelry she wore about her etherial body. She regarded him with twinkling eyes and a knowing smile. “Ozma,” she greeted warmly. “I was beginning to think I wouldn’t see you again this century. Your questions don’t carry over to the next, you know.”

‘If the gods can make an abstract spirit of knowledge hot, they could’ve also made her some clothes. That’s gotta be another dirty trick to throw you off your game.’

Jinn chuckled almost as if she’d heard him. “You’re not so bad yourself, Roman Torchwick,” she said with a wink. Shit, she had heard him. He suddenly felt more naked than she was. “Would you like to rephrase your speculation as a question?”

“No,” said Ozpin firmly, to both of them. “We have but one question for you.”

“Actually, we’ve got two,” said Qrow, stepping up beside him. Ozpin snapped his startled gaze to the Huntsman. That was not part of the plan. Leave it to Qrow to go off-script. Qrow turned to him. “You said there are two questions left, and we only need one. But I think we all need to hear the answer to my question before we go any further.”

Ozpin opened and closed his mouth helplessly, feeling ambushed. They couldn’t discuss the matter now, not with Jinn poised to answer any questions they may have for each other. Every word in her presence had to be carefully considered. Qrow knew this. Ozpin would have to trust that Qrow’s question was vital, and that Jinn’s power alone was capable of illuminating the answer. But even if it was only Qrow who needed to hear the truth from Jinn, he realized he couldn’t deny the man that. Not after so many years of love built on lies.

He nodded mutely, so Qrow turned to address Jinn once more. “Why did Oz’s soul end up with Torchwick’s?”

Ozpin had to force his next breath down his constricting throat. Perhaps more than any other, that was the question he’d asked himself the most in this new life, dreading the answer. He didn’t want to know. But perhaps Qrow was right, and he needed to know. After all, how could he ask for their trust if he couldn’t trust himself? Still, he pointed out, “If you wanted to know whether you could trust me, you could have just asked her that.”

Qrow frowned. Evidently, that option hadn’t occurred to him. “Ah shit, is it too late to—?”

Ozpin clapped a hand over his mouth. “Don’t ask if it’s too late to ask a different question.”

Jinn cocked her head as though Qrow’s question were a curious one. “Both of them are strong leaders and strategists. They share a willingness to go to great lengths for the ones they love, even if the consequences bring disaster. And they are both survivors of the worst this world has to offer. Yet you do not believe they are kindred spirits?”

Ozpin lifted his chin, refusing to lose sight of the fact that she had yet to answer the question. “You tell me,” he said. Not a question. A command.

Jinn chuckled, amused by his boldness. “Your two souls are quite different, though less so than either of you wishes to believe. But no two people are alike, Ozma. Yet somehow, you seem to have come to the misunderstanding that you always reincarnate with a like-minded soul.” Ozpin nearly lost his grip on the Lamp in his shock. How could that not be the case, when each of his past hosts had come to see the necessity of his cosmic cause, to join him in his seemingly impossible fight, to be willing to sacrifice everything for others with no promise of reward?

“The gods decreed only that you would reincarnate in such a manner that you would never be alone,” Jinn continued. “Each of your hosts has joined you willingly, not because they shared your inherent worldview, but because you convinced them that yours was a cause worth fighting for—that humanity was worth fighting for. You inspire people to do things they never thought they were capable of. That is why the gods chose you for such a monumental task, not because you were a great warrior or a powerful wizard, but because they knew that what they were asking of you was something no man could do alone.

“It is not their similarities, but their differences that dispose your hosts to your destiny,” said Jinn. With a sweep of her shackled hands, figures of men rose and fell from the swirling sands around them: a beggar, a king, an inventor, a wizard, a teacher who gave everything he could to others, a thief who took everything he could for himself. “Each one has had unique lessons to teach you, and as you learn from them, you bring them together in harmony with a common understanding.” All of the sandy figures swirled into one: a form he would never forget—Ozma. “That is your divine mission, after all. For how can you understand how the disparate elements of humanity may live in harmony if you do not understand their perspectives?”

Jinn leaned down to meet Ozpin eye-to-eye. “But over the course of your many lifetimes, you came to the conclusion, counter to the gods’ decree, that you must carry the burden of your mission alone. That there was no one else you could trust with the entire truth.” She reached out and caressed his cheek with two barely tangible fingers, brushing away a tear that he hadn’t even realized was there. “There is a touch of destiny in your reincarnations. Each new soul brings you new qualities that you will need most in the times to come. Roman Torchwick is a deceiver with an honest soul. He knows when to conceal and when to reveal.” Her eyes shifted to Neo, who stood as ever by his side. “And he knows that in his darkest of nights, he would not have made it to the dawn alone.” For the first time, a flash of genuine remorse crossed Jinn’s face in the fleeting moment when she returned her gaze to him. “These are your darkest nights, Ozma, when all that you’ve built may come tumbling down.” She straightened back up with an airy sigh. “But when a man is lost in the dark, he need only light a torch.” She winked at him again.

Ozpin stood stunned into speechlessness, and for once, Roman didn’t have a smart retort. Jinn had lain them both bare for each other, and for all assembled, and the truth was more powerful than all of the lies they had told themselves. Qrow’s hand found his, and Neo took his other hand in hers; neither would let them forge on alone. Roman was glad Ozpin was the one in control, so when the tears started running down his face with no sign of stopping, Roman could have plausible deniability for having anything to do with it.

Jinn yawned and stretched, a pointed signal that Oz had left her cooped up for too long. “You had another question for me.”

Ozpin opened his mouth, but no words came out. He choked on a sob instead. Little Red stepped forward and gave him a reassuring nod. Then she turned to face Jinn. The divine spirit of knowledge leaned forward on the air with her chin in her hand, watching the young girl before her with eager anticipation. “How do we defeat Salem?” Little Red asked.

“Now that,” said Jinn with a smile, “is a good question.”