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Qrow swung Harbinger in a ferocious downward arc, cleaving apart the bone plating on the Sabyr's head and scattering the Grimm to the wind. He braced his stance and spun around, bringing his weapon back up to slice at the underbelly of another Sabyr that had tried to leap at his back. A third Sabyr was hurtling towards him on the right, its mouth opening to let out a vicious growl. Qrow felt a tingle of energy down his spine, evidence of the presence suddenly focused on him. He grinned and latched Harbinger's blade down. The Sabyr slipped on a patch of ice and fell on its side, skidding to a stop a few feet away from Qrow. He aimed Harbinger and squeezed the trigger. With a cracking boom, it burst into ashes.
"Thanks, lucky charm," Qrow called out, glancing over his shoulder.
Clover smiled back, one hand over his pin while the other held Kingfisher, line retracted. He gave Qrow a salute before turning back to face the pack of Sabyrs on the opposite side of the empty market square. With a powerful but precise swing, Kingfisher's hook caught the back paw of the lead Sabyr, sending it tumbling to the ground and the other Grimm crashing into it.
A spiral of flames sailed over Qrow’s shoulder, shot past Clover, and slammed into the pile of Sabyrs. “Good shot Weiss!” Clover called out, giving an impressed nod. He turned and jogged towards Qrow. "That's the last of them?" he asked as he approached.
"Almost," Qrow responded. "There was a Beowolf pack and two Griffons when I scouted this morning. They might be closer to the wall."
"Alright, let's move forward and find them," Clover said to Qrow, before signaling with his hand and calling out, "Come on up!" Qrow turned to see Weiss, Robyn, and Jaune moving up through the centre of the square to their position.
Their ragtag team of fighters was fighting a Grimm incursion on two fronts, Salem having sent monsters to both the east and west sides of Mantle. Splitting up across the whole city was dangerous, especially since Atlesian Knights would no doubt be searching for them, but they had to cover more ground if they were going to protect the people of Mantle. The team Qrow currently found himself with was powerful and well balanced. Robyn and Weiss could pick off countless Grimm from a distance, with Jaune acting as a strong defensive fighter for them. Qrow's job was to get up close and personal with as many Grimm as possible, lessening the load on their ranged fighters, while Clover both set up shots for the huntresses and defended Qrow's back.
It was an incredibly solid team, especially with Clover's semblance giving everyone an extra boost. As for Qrow's own semblance....well, he was getting there. He glanced down at the pin affixed to his vest while Clover and Robyn discussed strategy. The harsh red glow of Mantle's emergency lights glinted off the black and silver metal. When he wasn't on patrol, he dedicated nearly all of his spare time to training his semblance. Clover told him he was making huge strides, but Qrow still didn't feel confident testing his control around other hunters.
"Two Griffons should be easy enough prey for us," Robyn said. "Can you two scout the Beowolf pack? The Griffons probably flew inwards towards the city, but the pack’s probably slower. Might still be at the wall."
Clover looked to Qrow, and he gave his partner a short nod. Nothing they couldn't handle. "Ok, we have our new missions," Clover announced. "Group back here once you finish, and remember to signal if there's trouble. Flares?"
Jaune reached into his pocket, then held up the package of coloured cartridges. "Got 'em."
"We also have a reliable back up." Weiss interjected, giving Myrtenaster a little wave.
"Great. Good luck out there!" Clover clipped Kingfisher onto his belt and started jogging towards the wall-side end of the square, and Qrow quickly followed behind him.
"Don't take it all with you, boy scout!" Robyn shouted back.
Qrow let out a short bark of laughter. "I'm never going to get over that nickname."
"Yeah, yeah." Clover shook his head, grinning. "It's pretty good, but not very original, I got that all the time in the academy. Besides, I like lucky charm a lot better."
Qrow felt a warm flush spread up his neck, but he met Clover’s playful grin with one of his own.
They passed the edge of the market square, which merged with an outer road that brushed up against Mantle's wall. It was totally abandoned, the nearby residents having either fled or locked themselves in their homes. A row of shops bordered the edge of the square, but no buildings clustered against the wall ahead. In another city it would have been prime real estate, but the fragility of Mantle's outer wall made it a very unappealing place to build. This particular section had a hole in it the size of a Megoliath, metal edges frayed and bent inward.
"This is gonna keep getting worse unless we can get the wall repaired," Qrow remarked. As he and Clover slowed to a walk, he shoved his hands into his pockets and looked around, trying to spot any movement.
"It will," Clover replied, worry colouring his voice. "But I don't know where we'd ever get the materials, let alone the people to repair it during a siege."
Qrow kicked a stray piece of debris as they approached the wall. "I've been stuck between a rock and a hard place a lot of times in my life, but this is one of the worst. I don't know how we're getting out of this without cooperation from Atlas.” He looked up at the massive city hanging above them, gunships swarming around it’s inverted spire, and narrowed his eyes. “You think he’s ever going to try and talk to us?”
Clover followed Qrow’s line of sight, the corners of his mouth turning down. He took a long moment before answering, “I do. He’s afraid, and I understand why, but fear can’t sustain you for long.”
“I really hope you’re right,” Qrow sighed. His next thoughts were interrupted by a chorus of howls from just outside the breach. Instantly, his hand went to his weapon.
"Let's get them before they get inside," Clover said, extending Kingfisher.
They ran forward together, leaping over the rubble, through the breach, and landing on the hard packed snow outside the wall. Right in front of the Beowolf pack.
Qrow swung Harbinger off his belt. The lead Beowolf pulled up short from its dash, skidding in the snow. He sliced it in half before Harbinger had even fully extended. One down, six to go.
Even as he was counting, four of the pack suddenly turned tail and ran. That was odd behaviour for Grimm, but there had been a lot of odd Grimm behaviour since Salem began sieging them. Whatever had disturbed the others, the remaining two Beowolves didn’t seem perturbed, digging their heels into the ground as they prepared to charge.
Qrow squeezed the transformation trigger and flipped Harbinger's hilt in his hand, resting the segmented, curved blade against his forearm. To his left, he heard Clover give a little slack to his line.
The Beowolves shot forward, one leaping at him while the other charged Clover. Kingfisher's hook shot towards the Grimm headed towards Qrow. Anticipating the move, Qrow jumped at the Beowolf. The hook caught on one of the creature’s bony spikes and yanked the creature off course.
Qrow seized the opening. At the apex of his jump he swung Harbinger up, jammed the shotguns against the side of the Beowolf, and fired. The body of the Grimm immediately gave way. He felt the residual heat from Harbinger’s blast as he fell through the ashes. As he hit the ground he let his momentum carry him into a roll, simultaneously extending Harbinger's hilt.
Once he came out of the roll he swung the scythe to his left, hooking the leg of the Beowolf now a scant few feet from Clover, the creature’s razor sharp claws reaching toward the other huntsman. It stumbled from the unexpected attack, giving Clover the chance to dodge out of the way. With a few nimble flicks of his wrist he had Kingfisher's line wrapped around the Grimm, and with one powerful tug he sent the creature crashing to the ground, straight onto the waiting edge of Harbinger.
They pulled their weapons back as the Grimm dissipated. Taking a moment to catch his breath, Qrow glanced at his partner. Clover gave him a little lopsided grin, teal eyes sparkling, his gaze a little heated. It was a look Qrow was getting more and more often, one that said Clover knew exactly how good of a team they made. Qrow loved seeing that look, even if it's intensity made him glance away and busy himself with transforming Harbinger.
"Four more?" Clover asked, retracting Kingfisher.
"Four more." Qrow nodded, then turned to look for the rest of the pack.
They hadn't made it far yet, and were headed directly for the crumbling ruin of a watchtower a few dozen metres away from Mantle's wall. It was one of a few old outposts from years past that had been an unsuccessful attempt to improve the security of the city. But like everything past the wall, it was too difficult to defend from the Grimm and was eventually abandoned. The watchtower itself was missing half of its top floor, the wall completely caved in on one side. The roof of the tower, a domed piece of metal, was dangling with half its support missing, leaning against the remaining wall. A handful of squat, flat-roofed out-buildings encircled it, all decrepit and worn down.
The Beowolves didn't have a large lead on the huntsmen, but they were fast. Just as Qrow and Clover reached the outer ring of buildings, the pack split, two Beowolves rushing around each side of the tower.
"We won't catch them if they make it back on the tundra!" Clover said between heaving breaths as they ran.
"Hang on!" Qrow slid to a stop as they passed the outer buildings. Clover stopped running as well, turning to look at Qrow. The Beowolves were nearly to the other side of the tower, about to run out of sight. He took a split second to centre himself, drawing in a deep breath. Staring at the ruined upper floor of the tower, he envisioned the wear the structure had endured over the years, the constant weathering by wind and snow, the slow crumble of its curved walls, the collapsed dome pressing down against deteriorated brickwork.
That natural decay needed just a little push.
He flicked the pin on his chest. The metal was cool against his thumb, and he felt a ripple in his aura spread out from the pin.
A brick fell out of the wall, landing somewhere on the opposite side of the tower. Then two more. Then five more. The bricks fell away like sand, and quickly enough the metal dome had its support ripped away. With a sharp sound of metal grinding against rock it slid off the top of the tower and fell to the ground. There was a clamour of howls and crashing metal, followed by silence. An ashy cloud of dust blew out from behind the tower in the breeze.
Clover turned his gaze back from the tower to Qrow. His eyes were wide, brows lifted in an expression of awe. "You're amazing," he whispered.
Qrow fought the urge to balk at the praise, though he couldn’t help averting his gaze. "Well I can't take all the credit. I have a good teacher."
Beaming at him, Clover laid a hand on Qrow's shoulder. "But you should take most of it. You're learning faster than I ever did." He nodded towards the tower. "And that was clever."
The huntsman chuckled lightly before taking Clover's hand in his own. Qrow pressed a quick kiss to his knuckles before walking towards the tower, pulling Clover with him. "Thanks, Cloves. But let's make sure they're actually dead."
They walked around the base of the tower, Clover's hand resting comfortably in Qrow's the entire time. Behind the tower, the metal dome was smashed into the ground, bricks littering the area around it. A few last flecks of Grimm dust drifted away on the wind, and there were no paw prints leading away from the tower, no sound of growls or yelps.
"Great," Clover said with a smile and a nod. He pulled his scroll out of his pocket with his free hand and tapped a note into it. "This outpost could be a useful scouting point as well."
"And Mantle could use some of the building materials," Qrow supplied. "We can send a group out once we-"
A deep creaking noise filled the air. Qrow cut himself off, and Clover shuttered his scroll instantly. It sounded like ice and rock splintering apart. Qrow shot his gaze up to the tower, fearing that more of it was giving way. But nothing on the tower was moving. Gradually the sound stopped.
Qrow turned back to Clover, who had a hand on Kingfisher. "What the hell was-"
One of the shorter outbuildings behind Clover exploded, battered wood and flaky mortar flying through the air. Qrow ducked and yanked Clover down with him, a wooden plank narrowly whizzing over their heads and slamming into the tower wall. A cloud of thick dust was blowing out of the remains of the building, and Qrow could only barely make out the movement of something big and lumbering inside it.
"Let's get to cover!" Clover said swiftly, grabbing Qrow by his wrist and running towards the downed top of the tower. They slid behind the metal dome as the mystery creature pushed through what was left of the building.
Clover peeked over the edge of the dome then ducked back down. "Looks like a Deathstalker," he whispered, "but it's strange. They're not usually seen in Solitas and this one looks wrong."
Qrow pressed himself flat against the side of their makeshift cover and carefully glanced past the edge. The Deathstalker was swinging its head back and forth, claws snapping in fitful frustration. The bone plating covering its body creaked and clacked as it moved. It was only average size for a Deathstalker, no more than fifteen feet tall and certainly not the biggest Qrow had ever fought. The ones he was familiar with usually had dirt and grass caked into their plating from nesting in caves or forest clearings. But like many of the Grimm he’d fought since coming to this frozen wasteland of a continent, this one had frost dusting it's body instead, icy chunks sticking out along it's neck and back. The Deathstalker’s tail looked almost silver in the evening light, and the stinger, normally glowing a bright yellow, had a sickly grey-blue hue to it. It swung around almost lazily in the air with the occasional twitch.
Despite being attached to a huge Grimm and not mechanical, that stinger was an uncomfortably familiar sight to Qrow. Unconsciously, he moved his hand to his stomach, fingers tracing the line of the scar hidden beneath his clothes.
He's dead, he reminded himself as he pulled back from the edge. "Yeah I've never seen one like it either. Salem must be creating new Grimm." Apparently sieging all of Atlas wasn’t enough to keep her from constructing new horrors. Qrow suppressed a shudder at the thought. "Must have been hiding in the building, or nesting. The tower crashing probably woke it up."
"Well they usually don't have much in the way of mobility," Clover whispered. "I can keep the stinger locked down. Think you can carve through the armour?"
"With enough hits, sure." He reached out and grabbed Clover's hand, giving it a short but tight squeeze. "Let's take it down."
They leapt out from either side of the cover, weapons at the ready. Qrow shifted Harbinger into its firing mode as the Deathstalker turned towards them and let out a chattering roar. Running along the base of the tower, he peppered the Grimm with shots as Clover swung Kingfisher's hook in a wide, high arc. The Grimm held up its large, armoured claws to shield itself. Qrow's shots pinged off with minimal damage, but as he’d hoped, the creature was focused solely on him.
With a precise twist of Kingfisher's line, Clover curved the hook around the base of the stinger and snagged it back onto the line. He pulled the line taut, muscles straining and boots grinding into the snow as the Deathstalker bucked against the tension.
Qrow shot towards the Grimm. It swung at him with its left pincer, hurling the huge claw in a vicious backhand. But Clover yanked on the line again and its arm pitched upwards. He dove underneath, raising Harbinger as he slid through the snow, carving a deep gouge into the unplated underside of the claw. As the Deathstalker hissed in pain, Qrow used the last of his momentum to leap off the ground and land on top of the other pincer. He braced himself, switching the grip on his weapon.
The Grimm instantly jerked the claw, flinging Qrow up into the air. He squeezed the transformation trigger on Harbinger, hearing the clamour of grinding gears and feeling its weight shift as the handle extended and the blade unfurled. As gravity began to pull him back down he swung Harbinger in a downward arc, letting the momentum carry him into a backwards, speed-building whirl. He aimed while still in the spin and slammed Harbinger down with a colossal force. As he suddenly came to an abrupt stop, feet touching down on the head of the Grimm, he was rewarded with a screeching roar. The sharp tip of his scythe was lodged into a gap in the plating, blinding one of the Deathstalker's ten eyes. Qrow jammed his shoulder under the hilt and pulled up, yanking Harbinger out and sending it into an arc above his head. He flipped it around in the air and drove it down on the left side of the Deathstalker's head with focused precision, blinding another eye.
Qrow had to clutch Harbinger's hilt for stability as the injured creature bucked and twisted beneath him. He looked towards his partner, who was still holding the stinger back with his weapon, arms straining. The tail arched against the tension in the line, stinger twitching and bent in Qrow's direction.
"Nice work!" Clover yelled over the din of growls.
"Going for the legs!" Qrow replied. He pulled Harbinger up onto his shoulder and steadied himself.
The Deathstalker suddenly stilled below him, lack of movement briefly disrupting his balance. "The hell..." he muttered. He braced himself, expecting the Grimm to try and throw him off with a concentrated burst of force.
He didn't expect the sides of the stinger to split open, the grey-blue carapace curling back like a hideous flower. It revealed a cluster of black, tubal structures, and white mist oozed from the coral-like bulb. A heartbeat passed as Qrow stared at the porous, rocky polyps. Some primal instinct had him slamming the trigger on Harbinger to get it back into a sword to defend himself.
Its gears were still whirling into place when dozens of sharp spikes of ice shot out of the tail. They were small, but each shard exploded on impact like ice dust bullets. And every single one hit him.
The concussive force flung him off the top of the Deathstalker. It took all of Qrow's strength to hold onto Harbinger. He felt his aura straining, saw the rust coloured energy flicker over his arms and legs as he landed, hard on his back, in the snow right in front of the Grimm. The air rushed out of him, and he could barely hear Clover yelling for him over the ringing in his ears. Instincts taking over, he shoved himself up onto his knees and brought Harbinger forward to shield himself. He barely got it up to block a strike from the Deathstalker's claw. The impact made his arms buckle.
When the pressure suddenly let off, Qrow gasped, letting Harbinger fall forward. The Deathstalker was scrambling to back up, kicking its legs against the snow in a violent frenzy. A blindingly bright light burned in the snow under the creature, and it was trying to get away from it as fast as possible. It was one of their emergency flares.
Clover must have shot the flare beneath the Deathstalker. Clover, who had arrived at Qrow's side, knelt and helped him off the ground, pulling him back behind the cover of the fallen tower debris.
He felt Clover's hands on his shoulders, pressure firm and comforting. Finally, the ringing in his ears faded, and he heard his partner speaking in a hushed tone, drenched with worry. "Qrow? Are you okay?"
"Yeah," Qrow said on an inhale. He took a moment to steady his breathing. "I'm fine. Just surprised me."
"It surprised me too." Clover's brows were still knit together with concern. His teal eyes inspected Qrow's form, searching for any injuries.
He felt Clover's hand slide up to his shoulder and tug at the fabric there. Confused, Qrow glanced down to see that his cloak was bunched up under the edge of his vest. It must have gotten tangled when he fell. Clover gently pulled the scarlet fabric out and smoothed it down. It was a tiny gesture, but the unspoken affection in the action steadied Qrow. He had taken bad hits from Grimm many times before. But for decades he had weathered those moments alone, with no one checking on him. Without a partner at his side. The feeling of being cared for was foreign to Qrow, but he welcomed it.
"Your aura is low," Clover murmured. It wasn't a question, but Qrow nodded anyway. "Alright, change of plan. You stay back and lay down covering fire. I can take out the tail weapon now that I know what to look for. With that gone, I can get up on it’s back and continue your work on the armour."
Something in his mind hesitated at the idea, the part that was used to fighting alone telling him to get up and get back in the fight, low aura be damned. But Clover’s plan was solid, and with the hissing of the flare having faded away, he could hear the Deathstalker rapidly approaching their position. "Got it."
Clover squeezed his shoulder once more before moving to the other end of the mound of rubble, away from the tower. He reeled out Kingfisher's line, gave his pin a quick flick, then ran out onto the open field.
Qrow leaned past the edge of the dome and fired, briefly drawing the attention of the Grimm. It started to charge towards his position, but only got a few feet closer before letting out a short shriek. Clover had swung his hook out in a wide arc that sliced along the unarmored legs of the beast. It turned and stalked towards him, its closed stinger swinging atop its twitching grey tail.
Running as quickly as he could while crouching, Qrow reached the other side of the cover, closer to Clover's position. He fired another shot with Harbinger when the Deathstalker tried to approach his partner. The Grimm shuddered as the bullets ricocheted off its armour, and then it suddenly stilled. Qrow's breath caught in his throat. Clover snapped Kingfisher's hook back to him, his posture tensing.
As Qrow watched, still breathless the edges of the stinger seemed to unfurl in slow motion. A moment of complete silence passed. And then Clover ran towards the Deathstalker.
Qrow swore under his breath, but he saw the logic of Clover’s choice. The Deathstalker tilted its stinger as far down as it possibly could before firing, but the shards of ice buzzed just over Clover's head. Qrow carefully shot at the bulbous, mist-seeping mass, cracking some of the black structures within. The Grimm screeched, it’s tail flinching upwards and peppering one of the out-buildings with ice. Clover skidded to a stop mere inches from the Deathstalker’s partially blinded eyes. He hurled Kingfisher's hook up and snagged it in a fissure Qrow's attack had opened. With a grunt of exertion he ripped the rocky bulb out from the stem of the tail like a weed from the ground.
The Deathstalker roared, its tail slamming backwards into the snow as it writhed in pain. Clover flinched, his free hand flying to his ear in an attempt to block the deafening sound.
Though Clover had disabled the stinger, they weren't out of the woods yet. Qrow stood, firing off round after round to get the Grimm to turn back to him, but he wasn't getting its attention. As Clover tried to reel Kingfisher’s line back in, the hook snagged in the remains of the bulb that had landed beyond the Deathstalker’s left arm. The sides of the stinger snapped closed, stopping the oozing mist. Slowly, the tail rose back up, the frosted armour plates gleaming like metal. It looked frighteningly familiar. In Qrow’s mind, he saw the icy light of dawn glinting off Tyrian’s stinger, wound back to strike. He felt a cold drop in his stomach.
"Clover!" Qrow cried out. He ran out from behind cover, still firing at the Grimm.
Clover scrambled back and dodged to the side as the Grimm hurled its stinger towards him with terrifying speed. He barely got out of the way in time, and the stinger clipped his arm as it pulled back, making him stumble. He was completely open. Fear gripped Qrow’s heart.
Qrow burst into a full sprint, Harbinger’s shots clearly a waste of time. A phantom pain seared at the bottom of his ribcage. The Deathstalker backed up to re-align, and Qrow heard maniacal cackling echo in his head. He saw the Deathstalker’s tail start to move again, then the flash of Tyrian’s stinger lancing towards Clover.
Tyrian had almost killed Clover, and Qrow had to save him.
He dodged past the creature’s claw. Clover was turning his weapon over in his hands, but Qrow barely registered it. As the Deathstalker flung its stinger forward with a guttural roar, all Qrow could see was the twisted, counterfeit, nightmare of a memory of Tyrian’s stinger piercing Clover’s heart.
Not again.
Qrow jumped the remaining distance and tackled Clover, hoping that his partner wouldn't brace against the sudden push. He didn't, thankfully, and the force of the shove was enough.
Or at least it was enough to get Clover out of the way.
The stinger smashed into Qrow's side, shattering his aura. The force of the impact threw him in front of the Deathstalker. With the extra momentum from Qrow’s shove, Clover continued just past the creature’s left pincer before hitting the ground, sliding a few feet in the snow. Qrow landed hard on his side with a grunt of pain. Expecting the Deathstalker to attack him with its stinger once again, Qrow stood up and hauled Harbinger off his hips and into position to parry, slicing through the shower of rust-coloured sparks that surrounded him from his shattered aura.
He had just enough time to glance at Clover, now on his feet and wearing an expression contorted with a mix of confusion and fear, before the Deathstalker moved. With an abrupt display of unexpected dexterity, the Grimm veered its head away from him and twisted its body. The full might of its hulking, armoured tail swung around and slammed into Qrow's chest.
The pain was instant and blinding. He barely registered Clover screaming his name before there was a second, sharp, crushing pain across his shoulders, a roar of splintering wood, and a final shuddering, blunt impact on his back.
It took him a few seconds to recognize that he had been hurled through the air, and now wasn't moving anymore. Everything hurt; the worst was the searing throbbing radiating from his chest on the left side, near the base of his ribcage, but every inch of his back and shoulders also ached. The world around him was pitch black, confusing Qrow until he realized he had his eyes screwed shut from the pain.
Slowly, he blinked his eyes open. He stared up at a rickety wooden ceiling, dust and mildew swirling around him. Beneath him was a pile of broken wood, the splintered pieces poking into his back. Sound gradually came back to him as well, and he could hear from outside a clamour of hisses and slams, punctuated with deep booms.
The Deathstalker must have thrown him into one of the small out-buildings. Thankfully the old wooden wall had given way, breaking some of Qrow's fall. He rolled over, wincing as his side burned with the effort. His breath came in short, shallow bursts. Reflexively he clenched his hand, then checked his waist. Harbinger was gone, though he wasn't surprised that the force of the blow had made him drop it.
A rising clattering sound directed his senses back outside. He had been thrown through the top half of the wall, so he couldn't see outside the building. But Qrow recognized the noise of bricks falling off the watchtower. It grew rapidly until it sounded like the entire tower was coming down.
Clover!
He had no idea if his partner was causing the cacophony or not, but Qrow knew he needed to help him either way. Rising to one knee, he steadied himself with one hand on the wall next to him. With agonizing slowness he pulled himself up to his feet.
Ok, he was up, he could do this. The roars of the Deathstalker were growing ever more violent; he had to get to Clover. He gingerly took one step forward. He hissed at the strain, his muscles protesting, but he knew he could push through it. He had to. Steeling himself, he finally let his chest expand fully to draw in a deep breath.
The pain was so excruciating that he didn't even reach the ground before he blacked out.
It was much quieter when he came to; a distant hissing and light rustling were the only two sounds he registered. But as he recognized those, he realized there was another.
"-row? Qrow talk to me, please."
Clover?
His vision swam when he opened his eyes, but he could still make out Clover's face above him, strangely upside down. It took a moment to realize that his head and shoulders were resting in Clover's lap.
"C-Cloves?" His own voice sounded so dry and thin he barely recognized it. He moved his arms down to start pushing himself up, but Clover rested his hands on Qrow's chest, gentle but firm.
"Qrow stay down, you're really hurt," Clover’s voice caught on the last word, and he swallowed before continuing. "I sent up a flare, Jaune is going to be here soon. But I need you to keep still." He left one hand splayed over Qrow's chest, but moved the other to softly entwine his fingers with Qrow's.
"The Grimm?"
"Dead." Clover's brows pinched, and he looked like he was struggling with something, though it was difficult for Qrow to completely parse a blurry and upside down expression. Finally, Clover spoke again, a small quiver in his voice, "Qrow, what was that? I had a plan, and even if I had taken a hit, my aura was fine compared to yours."
"I..." he trailed off. Why had he pushed Clover out of the way? In the moment it was so instinctual, so clearly the right thing to do. In hindsight it was a ridiculously dangerous move, even by his standards. "It looked too much like...like Tyr...." No, that probably wouldn't make sense to Clover, he hadn't been having those nightmares. He glanced away. "...couldn’t bear you getting hurt, Cloves. Not when I could save you. I needed to, okay?"
Seconds passed without an answer, and Qrow eventually turned his gaze back up. Clover looked like he was in anguish, but simply nodded and replied quietly, "Okay, Qrow. Jaune will be here soon, just keep talking to me, alright?" Qrow felt Clover's fingers rubbing comforting circles on his chest.
"Alright."
The sharp pain had ebbed, slightly, but a constant, pulsing ache was grinding away at him. Without his aura, the frigid cold of Solitas gradually seeped into his bones, and he felt himself shivering. Clover shifted his weight and gently -- oh so gently -- brought Qrow up to rest against his chest. One strong arm draped across his waist, and the other guided his head to nestle in the crook of Clover’s shoulder. “You’re gonna be okay, Qrow. I promise.”
Qrow hummed, trying to pay attention to something other than his entire body aching. He felt warmer already, at least. “You make a good furnace,” he mumbled.
He saw the corner of Clover’s lips twitch up in his periphery and heard an amused “Thank you”. That made Qrow feel a bit better too. Clover spoke again, “That reminds me of this one time we had to take out some malfunctioning mechs at an SDC forge…”
He listened to Clover ramble on about some old Ace Ops story, and he did his best to hang on to consciousness and respond to him.
Some time later, though he had no idea how long, he registered a new set of worried voices and a small hand clasping one of his own. He felt a familiar rush of aura, starting at his shoulder and spreading throughout his body, before he finally passed out again.
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Qrow awoke gradually, twin sensations pulling him up to consciousness. The first was a dull ache in his ribs, ebbing and flowing with his breathing. He ignored it in favour of paying attention to the second feeling, that of fingers running softly through his hair.
It was a gentle but firm touch, comforting in its permanence compared to the intermittent pain in his side. It felt soothing and grounding, a reassuring act of affection. Qrow pushed down the instinct to open his eyes -- he wanted to savour this.
The fingers trailed back and forth, carding through then smoothing down his feathery locks. At times they pressed more soundly, the pressure on his scalp sending warm tingles down his spine. He couldn't remember the last time he had felt something like this. A quiet affirmation of someone caring for him. It made him feel safe.
He let himself get lost in the sensation for a few more minutes, before memories quietly snaked into his mind. He suddenly remembered why his chest hurt, and though he had subconsciously known whose fingers were brushing through his hair, Qrow suddenly realized why he was there. He opened his eyes.
Clover was lying next to him, staring up at the ceiling, his other arm tucked behind his head. They were on Qrow's bed in his room at the Happy Huntresses base. Harbinger rested against the wall closest to the door, its usual spot. Kingfisher sat next to it. The base was underground, so the room looked as it always did; it was impossible to tell how much time had passed.
The other man was out of his Ace Ops vest, just wearing his grey sleeveless top. Qrow glanced down. His grey collared shirt was hanging loosely around him, and he could feel the bandages wrapped around his ribs underneath.
Suddenly, the hand in his hair stopped moving. Qrow looked back up and locked eyes with Clover.
"Oh," Clover breathed out softly. He looked a bit flustered, and Qrow could swear he saw a hint of red on his cheeks. "Sorry, I didn't mean to wake you." He began to pull his hand back, but Qrow reached out and caught his wrist.
"No, it's, uh," he stammered, letting go of Clover's wrist. "S'nice. You don't have to stop."
A relaxed smile spread across Clover's face, teal eyes crinkling. Qrow sighed as he felt Clover's fingers start to comb through his hair once again. He realized he’d done that out loud, and flushed.
Thankfully, his partner didn't comment on it. "How are you feeling?" he asked.
"Sore," Qrow answered. "But it's nothing too bad. Not the worst I've ever felt, that's for sure." Clover's smile twitched slightly at that, but he said nothing. Qrow continued, "I'm...a bit fuzzy on the details just before I passed out. I assume Jaune got to us?"
"Yeah," Clover said. "He was able to stabilize you quickly, thankfully. You were hurt..." he sighed, "pretty much everywhere. The worst was your ribs, they were cracked, but Jaune was able to kickstart the healing on that with his semblance. We got you back here quickly; you’ve only been out for about five hours. You'll be fine, but you're off missions for two days."
"That's fine with me." Qrow reminded himself to find Jaune later and thank him. It wasn't the first time the kid had pulled him out of a bind.
Silence dragged on for a few moments. Qrow briefly closed his eyes and leaned into Clover's hand, but eventually looked back at his partner. Clover's expression was still warm, but Qrow was getting better and noticing his more subtle tells. A little crease between his brows and tightness in his lips, this time. Some part of his brain was anxious, wanting to hide away from the questions he knew were coming. But a much louder part was telling him to trust Clover. He took a careful, deep breath. "Do you want to talk about it?"
"If it's okay with you," Clover said. He rolled onto his side to face Qrow. "I don't want to stress you, especially if you're still tired."
"It's alright." He reached out and took Clover's other hand in his. "I think I need to, anyway."
Clover gave his hand a comforting squeeze. “Well, first of all let me apologize. I had everything under control, but I know it probably didn’t look like that to you. Sometimes in combat I can be a bit reckless, especially when I know my semblance is active. I should have pulled back, I’m sorry.”
Qrow shook his head. "No, no don't apologize. I should have trusted you. We’re still getting used to fighting together, there’s gonna be bumps. But we’re getting more in sync every day. You’re incredible in battle, Clover. I wouldn’t trade being partnered with you for anything.” He smiled as Clover’s expression briefly flickered to pride, and while the tilt of his brow was cocky, the flush across his cheeks made him look just a little bashful.
“Sweet talker,” Clover murmured, smirking.
“Learned from the best.” Qrow winked, then grinned at Clover’s subsequent laugh, the sound delightfully warm and rich.
Once his laughter died down, Clover smiled at Qrow again, though a faint light of tension still sat across his brow. He spoke again, “Was it because you thought I wouldn’t be able to dodge the attack? Why you pushed me out of the way when your aura was so low?"
Qrow sighed, bracing himself to get the next words out. "Not the only reason. To get more specific, it also...reminded me too much of Tyrian. Too much of that night, seeing you get hurt. I couldn't watch something like that happen again, Clover."
Teal eyes widened in shock for the briefest moment before giving way to an empathetic gaze. "Oh, Qrow." He pushed his elbow into the bedding and pulled himself forward, letting go of Qrow's hand. With an abundance of caution and tenderness, he got close and wrapped his arm around Qrow, resting a hand on his back. Qrow leaned into the embrace, nudging his nose into the curve of Clover's shoulder. Clover's other hand was still threading through his hair. "I'm so sorry," he whispered. "I understand. That must have been terrifying. I know we’ve talked about it together, but sometimes I can't stop thinking about that night either.” He very carefully squeezed Qrow a bit tighter, and the feeling helped ground him. Reminded him that Clover was safe. “You’re strong, Qrow. I hope you know that. You’re so strong."
He let out a shuddering breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "Thank you, Clover."
They stayed like that, tangled legs and soft embraces, for a spell. The fingers carding through his hair slowly made their way down to cup the back of his neck, tracing lazy patterns there. Qrow let the steady rise and fall of Clover's chest and the sound of his heartbeat ground him.
After a few minutes, the other man broke the tranquil silence. "Can I..." Clover began again, whisper quiet. "Can I talk to you about something else?"
"Mhm," he mumbled, only a little distracted by Clover's hands.
His partner pulled back slightly and shifted down to look at Qrow, their eyes level. "The Deathstalker reminded you of when Tyrian injured me, so I understand why you had the impulse to push me out of the way. But I've started to get the sense that putting yourself in harm's way to protect others is something you do...a lot."
Qrow thought back to the countless times his team had, with worry in their eyes, berated him for going way out of position and getting himself hurt trying to protect them. All the times he refused any help on his missions for Oz. He remembered slogging through pack after pack of Grimm to keep the creatures away from team RNJR, feeling exhaustion tempered only by knowing he was keeping the kids safe. He had thrown himself at Tyrian, refusing to let them help. The strongest memory from the aftermath of that fight, second only to the feverish nightmares, was the horrible feeling of helplessness; the fury towards himself that those kids had to put themselves in danger to protect him. His recollections shifted to Haven. He couldn't even remember how many times he jumped in front of Oscar or pulled the boy out of harm's way. One of the blows from Hazel was probably the hardest hit Qrow had ever taken in his life. And just hours ago, even after having his aura shattered and being thrown through a wall, Qrow had dragged his battered body up off the ground because he just had to go help Clover.
"...yeah." An anxious energy crept through him in the face of the endless swath of memories. "I think I do."
But it was worth it. That's what he always told himself. They were worth it.
Clover continued, "And let me be clear, I think aiding others is one of the most important parts of being a huntsman, and you're one of the most noble huntsmen I've ever known. But from what I've heard, and from what I've seen, sometimes your level of self-sacrifice is…” He let out a shaky breath. “It’s a little scary, Qrow."
Qrow felt a twist in his stomach. He knew that was coming, somehow. He had heard it from Summer and Tai a long time ago, and his sister even longer than that. He had heard it from Ruby and Yang, from Glynda and Oz, and most recently from James. All those times he had pushed it aside. Thanked them for their concern, and ignored it.
But Clover had been relentless at respectfully slipping past his walls, at thoughtfully destroying his carefully crafted armour. He knew, deep in his heart, that he wasn't going to be able to ignore it this time. Clover would gently ask to see the cracked and frayed parts of him, and Qrow would take them out and put them right in Clover's hands every time. It almost scared him, how much he trusted Clover not to break those fragile pieces.
This was a particularly delicate topic, though. Qrow knew how deep the roots of this ran, and he wasn't confident that even the blinding radiance that was Clover's caring nature would be enough to burn them out. But he was willing to try.
"I'm sorry for scaring you, first of all." His voice already sounded dry, but he pressed on. "It's just...always been like this. I've always felt responsible for protecting the people around me."
Clover's hand shifted from the back of his neck to settle at his jaw, a thumb stroking his cheek. "I want to protect the people I care about too. That's not a bad thing. And you're one of the bravest people I know. But you shouldn't discard your own safety so much, Qrow. You're just as important." Clover's tone was almost pleading.
Qrow closed his eyes. He wanted to do this, he knew he needed to tell Clover about this. But the way Clover was looking at him, like Qrow was precious, was just on the edge of overwhelming. He took a moment to let the anxiety settle down, to remind himself that he was safe in Clover's arms.
Then he spoke, "I'm not used to having people worry about me. I worked alone for so long. After STRQ, I took solo missions almost exclusively, and I only had myself to rely on, at least until I started traveling with the kids and came here. But part of it also started with my semblance."
Qrow felt Clover's hands still, but he kept talking. "If I wanted to be around others, my sister, the tribe, my team, Ruby and Yang, the kids, I had to be ready to protect them from anything, including-" he paused, and sighed. "Especially my own semblance. And when I was...told to believe every bit of bad luck was because of my semblance, well, I started trying to take all the hits. To take the hurt my semblance caused away from the people around me. Better me than anyone more important."
"Qrow," Clover sounded nearly heartbroken. "How could anyone tell you that? You are important, and you're not just your sem-"
"I know," Qrow interrupted. He opened his eyes, willing himself to not shrink away from his partner's compassionate gaze. Reaching out, he laid a hand on Clover's shoulder. "I know that now. But not everyone thinks like you do." He let out a long sigh, feeling a wave of fatigue wash over him, but also a deep feeling of comfort. The biting words and disdainful glares of the tribe felt so far away. "Some habits are hard to kick." Slowly, he let his lips curl up into a wry smile. "But you're pretty good at pushing through all my bullshit, aren't you?"
Clover huffed out a laugh and shook his head. "It's not bullshit Qrow, it's real. But if I'm able to help you talk about it, then I'm glad I have that particular skill." He shimmied forward, bringing Qrow into an embrace again, being careful of his ribs. "You mean the world to so many people, Qrow. I'm so sorry you were ever made to feel like you weren't important."
The uncomplicated, forthright sincerity of Clover’s words made Qrow’s heart feel so full he thought it might burst. He swallowed past the lump in his throat before he responded, "So am I. But I know I'm getting better. Because of the kids, and because of you, Cloves." He pressed a kiss into the crook of Clover's neck and shoulder, and felt Clover's breath hitch. "And I promise to work on it more in combat. I'm sorry I scared you."
"It's alright. I'm just glad you're okay," Clover said. "And I'll warn you when I'm planning something reckless." Qrow could hear his grin.
"Deal," Qrow said with a chuckle.
"And thank you, Qrow." Clover slid one hand back up, gliding over Qrow's shoulders and neck, to idly play with his hair again as he continued, "I can understand how difficult those memories must be. And how hard it is to feel vulnerable. I'm glad you're talking about it, so thank you. You deserve to be able to talk about it."
Hidden in the curve of his partner's broad shoulder, Qrow's eyes widened. Of the few people he had ever told about that particular hang-up, no one had ever told them that. Everyone said they were sorry, they were all compassionate about his overly tragic mess of a past. But no one had ever thanked him for talking about it. It was so strange, but Qrow couldn't help but revel in the bright, airy feeling that bounced around his chest at it.
He pushed himself back up to eye level with Clover, settling his hand on a chiseled jawline. Leaning forward, he pressed a soft, lingering kiss to Clover’s lips, then quietly whispered, "Thank you for listening, and for being patient. And kind."
"Any time," Clover said, a soft smile brightening his eyes. It twisted into a lopsided grin as Qrow yawned, and he clearly was trying not to laugh.
"Shush," Qrow muttered, smirking. "That's because of you and your hands." He ruffled the fluffy fringe of Clover's hair in retaliation, though the man in question just looked pleasantly smug. Qrow threaded his fingers through the hair again, giving the chestnut locks a few soft tugs as he smoothed them back into place.
Clover's teal eyes fluttered closed and he sighed, practically melting into Qrow's touch.
Oh. Well alright then. He felt much less awkward about his earlier reaction now.
"Feels good?" he asked.
In response he got an appreciative hum, before Clover murmured, "Feels lovely, but shouldn't I be taking care of you right now?"
"I think we do a good job taking care of each other." Qrow paused, then asked, "Can you stay?"
Clover opened his eyes and held Qrow's gaze for a soft, heavy moment, before he rolled onto his back, pulling Qrow with him. "Of course."
Qrow settled into Clover's side, head resting on his shoulder. "I'll just take a nap."
"Sleep as long as you want, cinnamon."
He blinked. Incredulous, he craned his neck to look up at Clover. "What?"
"You keep calling me Cloves." Qrow couldn't fully see Clover's expression, but he could see the man's lips twitching. "Only fair, right, nutmeg?"
"Oh my gods," Qrow groaned, pressing his face back down into Clover's shoulder. "You're going to hurl an entire spice rack at me, aren't you?"
Qrow could feel the faintly contained rumble of laughter in Clover's chest. It made him smile. "Maybe," Clover whispered, and kissed the top of his head.
"Well maybe I'm okay with that." Qrow closed his eyes and nestled closer to Clover, stretching an arm across his partner’s broad form and letting his muscles relax. He was exhausted, and more than a little emotionally vulnerable, a feeling he usually avoided. But Qrow could also tell that the steady assurance and compassion from Clover had started to soothe a part of himself he had ignored for too long.
He felt lucky.
The soft cadence of Clover's breathing and gentle heartbeat eventually lulled Qrow back to sleep.