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After Ironwood’s speech, the stress from what he’d gone through while in Monstra, the torture Hazel put him through, the magic that Salem tore into him, burn into his skin, and clothes, it must have all been too much for him, because even with Jaune’s aura boosting his own, it didn’t surprise Oscar one bit that he passed out, from exhaustion and fatigue. Before he lost consciousness, he was vaguely aware of someone holding him, his vision blurred and he could barely keep them open, only managing a small slit, where colors merged, and people became nothing more than blobs of color and shapes.
He leaned against the presence of whoever was holding him, and he caught a small glimpse of silver amongst the swirls of colors around him, and he felt a small smile grace his lips because he knew Ruby was the one who caught him when he fell, because that is what she was known for, catching the people she cared about when they fell. And to know that Oscar was one of those people in her life that she cared about, well that made the pain he went through worth it.
In his head, he heard Oz chuckle, and before he could ask what was so funny, his eyes were suddenly opened his eyes without his say so and Oscar let out a breath of air when the first thing he saw were the plains of his Aunts farm. He felt the tranquil wind blow through his hair, like the caress from a loving parent. He leaned into the breeze and closed his eyes for a moment, just a moment, and in an instant the wind in his hair was replaced by actual fingers, he blinked, turned, and saw a man with white hair, strange glasses and a dark green suit sitting there next to him.
Oscar stared at the man for a moment, “Do you actually ever need those glasses?”
Oz chuckled, and let his hand fall to his side, “Well yes and no. While my vision has never been perfect per say, I don’t necessarily need them, though the glasses are more in the sense of our cane,”
“Right… You said that it was ‘Precious to you’?”
Oz’s eyes were now filled with a sadness that Oscar had never seen from the man before, and yet he smiled, regardless. “The same with your father’s gloves are precious to you.”
Oh
So sentimentality?
The idea that Oz had a family before and after he died at the fall of Beacon never really crossed his mind.
“O-Oh, so your—?”
“Mother,” Ozpin reached up and looked the glasses off and studied them with emotion, “The only thing I have left of her, or well, had of her, since I am no longer living.”
A silence fell over them then, the two of them just watched as the wing blew through the fields of wheat and corn off in the distance. “Why am I here? Why am I seeing this right now?”
Oz rested an elbow against his knee, “Well since you are currently unconscious, I thought this, showing your home, the place where you grew up, would be a more peaceful way for you to rest, given what you have gone through.”
Oscar blinked and kept his eyes on the wheat softly moving along with the wind. “’She brushed off her bumps and bruises…’”
Ozpin finished for him this time, “’But nothing hurt more then the loneliness in her chest.'"
“That story is also about you, isn’t it? You wrote a girl to throw everyone off but, it’s about you. The loneliness. Ozma, getting brought back and not being the same when you made it back home?”
Oz let out a puff of laughter, “It would seem that you and I are even more alike than I thought previously.”
“Why am I here, Oz?” He repeated gently to the older man, “I get the feeling that it’s not just for me, but for you to?”
Ozpin closed his eyes and breathed, “For you mainly, but… But for me as well, yes.” Oz looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulder, along with being engulfed in grief and guilt. “I just, felt like you and I needed some time to ourselves, a moment to rest before we get back to the task at hand.”
“Why’s that?”
Oscar knew the answer, and yet he wanted Oz to say it anyway.
Oz rested his chin against his hand and gave Oscar an expression of guilt, fondness, and pain. “Because despite the mistakes I’ve made, the lies I’ve told, Oscar. I do care about you, as I do everyone on Remnant. But you more so, because you never asked for any of this, I’ve always gave the people a choice, whether to fight or to flee, to run and hide or to choose to stand and fight. I have always given them a choice to choose. But you never had a choice, you whom is merely a child, and had to grow too fast when you should have gotten the chance to be exactly that. And that is merely just another thing I will carry, another notch in the fact that I am not a very good man.”
Oscar felt a thump form in his throat, “Oz…”
But Ozpin merely shook his head and cupped his cheek, “I meant it, Oscar. When I told you ‘Thank you’ before. For choosing to forgive me even after all I’ve done, for choosing to trust me and standby me.”
Oscar didn’t know he was tearing up until he felt the corner of his eye’s stings, his body shook from the emotions he felt, almost like he was about to fall forward, and wouldn’t have anyone to help him up again. But Oz was there, and Oscar knew that despite the strain their relationship took, Ozpin wouldn’t let him fall. So he let the tears fall and his breath hitch as he fell forward and buried his face into the man’s chest.
He didn’t care if this wasn’t real, and just inside his own head. The fact that Oz was offering him comfort was enough for Oscar to not give a damn, this was real to him and that’s all he chose to focus on.
And Oz held him, held him close. Like a parent would a child and that somehow made the feeling in his chest so much worse. “I’m so tired. I wouldn’t ever want to go back to how I used to be… But I’m so tired, Oz.”
Oscar felt Oz’s shoulder begin to shake, as though he was suppressing his emotions to stay strong for him, “And you have every right to be, after what you just went through the last couple days you have every right to feel the exhaustion that comes with this curse and I’m so sorry that I can’t do more than this.”
But Oz was, he was giving him the one thing he hadn’t got since being rescued, a shoulder to lean on, to cry in, to hold him as he shattered into pieces.
“Can I?” He asked his voice small, so very small but hopeful. “Can I stay here? At least for a little while?”
Oz held him closer and nodded. “You can stay as long as you want. And I will not leave you, I promise. I’m sorry I can’t do more than this.”
Inhaling a deep breath, he wished he could tel Oz how much this meant to him. How this, this was enough, this temporarily peace was more then enough for him, but he was far too tired to do so.
All he could muster was a shaky, “Thank you…”
Fingers ran through his hair, and a cheek pressed into his temple. “Thank you, Oscar. For standing by my side even when I don’t deserve it.”
And together, they sat on the hill, letting the peaceful and loving feeling of Oscar’s former home, wash over them both.