Chapter Text
In the heat of city lights, Qrow often felt suffocated. It was not, and perhaps never would be, his home. He'd grown surviving off whatever he foraged and found in woods and corpses - animals and bandits alike. He had found strength in the eyes of his sister when his knees would no longer carry him. He had sought solace in birdsong in the treetops; once a sign that things would be alright. And in a place as stifling as this, so starkly different to all he had once called home, in foreign company with scathing eyes that so often judged him unworthy?
How could a place like this ever feel like home to a man at odds with every decision its builders made?
It made him feel bad. How his skin itched and ached for a chance to fly. Even now, as he sat near a table in the corner, he eyed the windows. What would he give to leave it all behind? But all it took to center him again was a glance at his nieces, sharing a childish dance and reveling in their youth. Older now, sure, he thought - but young all the same. Yang's eyes were overflowing with happiness where, a month or two back, Qrow had seen only anger and bitter intent. A thirst for revenge, and how her lips always formed his name, keeping it fresh in her mind as she gripped her metallic arm like it was the very vendetta she was holding. He wasn't stupid enough to tell her to drop it; in fact, he regretted not knowing how to drag him kicking and screaming to her. But she'd never accept it. She wanted to overcome it on her own, and she did; and she met Blake, and the two had triumphed, his reign nevermore. Even now he remembered her tearful confession to him, in almost grim detail. He'd held her then, and stroked her golden hair, and told her that she had done the right thing. That he was proud of her.
Ruby was twirling underneath her, just as mature - perhaps more mature, even - yet still her smaller partner in crime. He'd delight in seeing their shared lights reunite if he wasn't secretly terrified their reign of pranks would return anew, stronger with their combined smarts. More like her mother than ever yet undoubtedly her own. A spirit that never gave up and like a beacon of shining hope rallied all others to her sparkling silver light. He'd felt terror at seeing her silver eyes, once. Knew what it meant. Perhaps she'd noticed the way he looked at her had changed, too. He gave in to all her demands, of how to be as strong as he was, a scythe just as sharp.
She had to have the best chance possible of surviving. And if Qrow couldn't be there all his life to battle off any assailant Salem sent her way, she had to be ready. She had to be. If she wasn't, he had no clue what he'd do. He worried about Yang, of course; but she was a flame that only burned brighter the more you tried to snuff it out. And if she were a blazing wildfire, Ruby was the shadow that light cast. Small, frail, clinging to her sister... and yet with a shared thirst for something greater that Qrow and Tai had knowingly fostered. The world needed her, and she couldn't be caught with her foot out of line. Neither of them would carry her home. Perhaps it was a little bit selfish, too. Neither of them quite willing to part ways with their remnant of Summer. Perhaps it was fear. Summer had been the strongest and best of them; if she had fell, what hope did any of them have?
Maybe her descendant was their only hope.
Heh, look at him. He'd really been trying to grow out of his bad habit of comparing his nieces to their mothers. The difference between Raven and Yang was proof enough.
He snapped himself away from his thoughts, focusing himself on the room in front of him. His nieces had vanished, for one thing. How hard could it be to find a girl with hair brighter than any light in the room? Apparently, very. On one side of the room, he saw the Ace Operatives; Marrow's tail subtly wagging as always. Funny for them to be together, he wondered. Clearly this was formal enough to require it. But where was Clover, the very head of the team?
...Well, that was just none of his concern.
Opposite the room from him, he saw Weiss and Blake; the two looking off to the side, both laughing and shamelessly encouraging the others sharp tongue and sarcastic yet well meant jokes. Their target, an exasperated Ren and ravenous Nora who simultaneously had the cooks rushing to replenish what she so readily consumed, and blushing at the compliments she so readily bestowed. Even the dancefloor wasn't quite safe from her tyranny, and it was a testament to their relationship that Ren's feet never once tripped no matter how hard Nora tried to catch him off guard with something he couldn't possibly see coming. He scanned the ballroom, awash in a pale blue glow that felt something like the glow of an aquarium. Gold and purple lights dotted the air, an ethereal finish befitting of the heavenly utopia Atlas tried so hard to be. And now Qrow needed something to take his mind off the politics he was concerning himself with on such a nice night, and so he stared at Jaune and Oscar muttering apology after apology to the bewildered staff on behalf of Nora. He choked back a laugh at Winter and Ironwood, standing stiff as robots, Penny by their side; it was obvious she was bursting with energy and silently begging for the go-ahead from her superiors to enjoy her night. Not yet, apparently. There were still a few flashing cameras.
He rose a glass to his lips and stopped. He glanced at it, swirled it around and even took a sniff. It smelled like home in a sea of unfamiliarity, yet when he tried to bring it to his lips, he almost dropped the glass. He'd been allowed one light drink. A drink that the old Qrow would tease others for and say he could give a bottle of to his seven year old niece and she'd be fine. Now it seemed like the purest poison he'd ever smelled, and to taste it even once would be too much. He didn't need to see Ruby's disappointed eyes again. Just once would last him his whole life. But compared to those who ran when things got tough, Ruby's insistence on sticking around as long as she could was refreshing, if a constant weight on his shoulders - but a good one, forcing him to be better.
A pat on his shoulder. A yelp wrestled from his mouth. The sound of glass slipping from his fingers, ashamed to be caught red handed, eager to explain, smashing and spilling --.
"Woah, woah!" Clover chuckled, glancing at the mess they had made - and took the chance to let his eyes rake Qrow's body, now that he was closer. "Good thing none of it got on you, eh?"
"Bad thing I dropped it at all." Qrow grimaced. What an embarrassment. Already people stared at him, wondering what was going on. Diligent workers had cleaned it up in no time with the efficacy one would expect from Atlas, yet the sting of shame was stubbornly refusing to leave him be.
"My fault for frightening you."
"My fault for being frightened," Qrow countered. Clover raised an eyebrow at that, the glimmer of something two steps away from annoyance in his eyes.
"It's always your fault one way or another, isn't it?" Clover said; and at that challenge, Qrow at least had the sense to snap his mouth shut.
"What do you want, anyway? Shouldn't you be with your team rather than bothering me?" He asked, genuinely curious what had brought the resident boy scout over to him. Even if he enjoyed Clover's company, he could never shake the habits he'd grown up on and that time only proved right. Always be on your guard.
And to his credit, Clover never ran away from a challenge. He seemed to love peeling away those walls.
"I was given the all clear to start enjoying my night however I want," Clover explained, relaxing in a chair he had pulled over to sit by him. "And I noticed you didn't seem to be enjoying yours."
That warranted a snort from Qrow. "You sure do keep a close eye on me." For Ironwood?
"Just looking out for a friend."
Qrow wasn't sure what to say to that. Clover was a difficult one to shut down. All his normal tricks and tactics had been shut down effortlessly by him. Most people ran away just from his semblance alone. Why was he so stubborn? It was maddening. Lucky leader Clover with his perfect teeth and stupid weapon and gorgeously green eyes.
"Not drinking?" Qrow tried, a neat way to change the topic. Clover eyed him, a raised eyebrow as though he considered it odd. He pressed on all the same as though humouring the other man.
"Just wait until you see what happens to Marrow. Then you'll understand."
Qrow chuckled, and instinctively went to raise a glass to his lips - and when he noticed there was no glass to raise, it fell awkwardly to his side. "Caretaker duty, huh?"
Now it was Clover's turn to laugh. "Someone has to."
"I'm surprised. I didn't think friendship was the Ace Op's manifesto." Qrow said, no amount of sarcasm and light-hearted tone disguising the attack within. Clover almost looked hurt in response, yet kept it in check. Always professional.
"They may not view us all as friends. Yes, our relationship may be professional by nature. But a good leader can't view his teammates as just sheep that will follow him. A good leader needs to appeal to them and understand them. So while I can't change their opinions on each other..." Clover leaned in and gestured towards the Ace Operatives; splitting up and going their separate ways without a second glance back or much of a word. "...I can still keep a close eye on them and step in if they need it."
"Well then aren't you just perfect," Qrow spat, and neither of them were convinced it was an insult to Clover. And Qrow had to shy his eyes away and not look at those warm verdant eyes judging him -- no, not judging him. There was none of the cold judgement of Atlas. It was warmth and understanding, in a way that reminded him of Taiyang, of Ruby, of Yang. Of family. But maybe just a little deeper. That look was not the glare of judgement but compassion and understanding, soft and healing, and a desire to understand and help. And Qrow was growing too old, too wise, and too mature to rue others for their own skills and fortunes. Clover was a good influence like that. Pity parties just didn't fly.
"I think I need some air," Qrow said, desperate for an escape. He moved too fast and decisively for Clover to speak a word of rejection, and found himself in the biting winds of the Atlas air once again. Clearly he'd been with Clover long enough for his semblance to rub off on him; there was nobody on the balcony. Just him alone with his thoughts, the pounding drum of the music muffled by chatter and walls and howling gales. He considered flying away with the breeze, toying at the threads of his suit. A fancy outfit wasted on a night he spent on pity. Every word he said was replaying in his head, and he needed a drink, but he couldn't -- why did he think he could handle a party of all things? He felt like he was going to go insane, and neither Ruby nor Yang were here to balance him. He'd disappoint them, and they'd find him on the stool of some cheap bar passed out, barely hanging on and slick with sweat and alcohol. Where were they?
Footsteps. He'd have faced them if he had the strength. If he were lucky, maybe it was someone who had no idea who he was, and the two would pass the time together in blissful silence until one headed back inside to face the music, and end their respite.
"I brought you a drink," Clover said, holding a glass of water out to him. With hardly a word of neither pride nor thanks Qrow took it and drank from it like it were a holy chalice. "You're thinking."
"Most people do." Qrow continued to face away from Clover, overlooking the harsh blue lights of the Atlesian kingdom, an empire of frigid professionalism.
"Perhaps not to the same extent, though," Clover reasoned. "What's going on?"
Qrow stopped and thought. What a difficult question to answer. Just thinking of any answer made tears well up in his eyes while his voice went raw, and his skin crawled and his hair stood on end, and he felt like he was going to throw up and the world was just too bright and too loud and too much --.
He felt a hand on his shoulder again, and jumped. But this time, with no glass to drop or scathing eyes, he found comfort at the touch of another where once was fear. And he realized what he had always known. That it was the same demons every time; the same fear of failure; of harming those he loved; a refusal to get close or lower his walls. The loneliness was killing him. The kids were great, but they were kids - too young to be his peers. As wise as they were, there were things they hadn't yet experienced, and fears they hadn't fully realized. And he had lived his whole life in fear of his semblance, and of how all those around him were doomed to neverending misfortune. Yet here comes a knight in shining armour, suffocatingly perfect, and rather than feeling hatred for being everything he couldn't be, they were not two men fighting for the same spot; they were two equals who slotted into each other perfectly, with neither of them even noticing how close they had gotten until Qrow snapped to reality to find himself in Clover's careful arms, a single tear down his cheek onto Clover's chest, and soothing words uttered into his ear. He was OK. He was not cursed. He would get better.
And so they stood. Like two frozen in time or awaiting an end that wouldn't quite arrive. And for just that one moment, they were at peace, with the dancers in the windows behind them glimmering like shooting stars in the night sky, passing each other by as they watched. And as they stood there, stuck in a moment fated to end as all things would, they both silently agreed to treasure and remember it forever.
In the heat of city lights, Qrow found peace that had eluded him for so long, and found that all the fears in his mind had been silenced. In the warmth of another more illfated than he, Clover found everything his perfect life had once been missing, and found an equal who truly saw and admired him for everything he was and all his talents and prowess and charm -- more than just a semblance. So when Qrow had calmed and stood up straight again, and the wind softly carressed their bodies and urged them to move, they both took the first step the same time and laughed in joyous triumph. Without a hint of trouble and natural harmony, they fall into step with each other, waltzing around the glowing balcony. In the heat of city lights, they found each other.