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“One hour.”
It almost doesn’t feel real.
James— no, Ironwood— how could he fall so far?
Oscar’s back presses against the wall (it’s nice and cool, Gods he’s burning up) and slides onto the floor, holding his chest gingerly. Just for a second, a minute, his world is black and the panicked hushed words around him turn to static.
Just a moment to breathe is all he needs. Then he can help.
Just a moment.
Maybe more than just one moment is needed , says Ozpin. Despite it all, the quip manages to bring a small chuckle out of Oscar.
“Oscar,” says someone. Jaune. His spiky blonde hair is falling in some places, days since he’s had the chance to style it. Through his one good eye, Oscar looks up at the boy who kneels, hands already glowing and extended.
“Hey, you alright?”
Yeah. He’s fine. Doesn’t really have a choice right now. One hour left.
“Oscar?”
“Mhm.” He nods. He’s okay.
No, we are not.
“Look, I gotta go check on Nora with Ren. I can’t heal you any more than I have. Your aura won’t budge beyond a flicker.”
To emphasize, his hands flash brighter and Oscar’s aura flickers before crumbling all over again. The sound of heels on tile approach.
“Probably because he hasn’t eaten or drank anything in hours,” says Emerald. She’s holding her elbows, standing against the wall to Oscar’s right.
Jaune’s fingers curl into his palms and he stands, much taller than Emerald, and glares.
“Why doesn’t that surprise me.”
“Oh, save it. We didn’t exactly have a restaurant on the giant Grimm whale.” Emerald rolls her eyes. “I’ll get him some food and water. Go join Broody and see your teammate.”
Jaune’s glare wavers, but he looks to Oscar one last time.
Frankly, he’s too exhausted to do more than weakly wave his hand. Bad adrenaline crash happening.
Weiss and Ren are waiting by the stairs, leading Jaune once he joins them. They ascend and take a right. Out of sight and reuniting.
Oscar doesn’t think he could survive a Nora hug right now. The last strings holding his ribs together might have just snapped.
Blake and Yang are huddled closely off to the side, talking too quietly for Oscar to hear. Could probably not hear them if they were talking normally, either. Ruby and Weiss approach them next, obviously worried for his state in the way they drop to their knees before him.
“Do you need me to get Klein? He’s here— with Penny, but we can take you to him if you’re seriously injured,” says Weiss in a hurry. Her gloved hand, so soft, reaches to brush his cheek.
She’s so pale. White hair. He feels guilty the moment he flinches away from her touch, his breath stuttering and heart racing against his better judgement.
She pulls away, fingers tangling on her lap. Emerald tenses, shuffling just an inch closer to Oscar.
“He needs food and water. Now. He’s not going to heal before he gets that,” she says, snappy. “You probably have plenty of that stored away in one of your five kitchens, right?”
Weiss sneers to at Emerald, rising to her feet.
“And who’s fault is that?”
“ Guys ,” cuts in Ruby. She offers Oscar a hand and lifts him to his feet. He wobbles, knees like jelly, and leans against the wall. “Petty arguing is NOT something we have time for. Weiss and I will go to the kitchen and be right back.”
Weiss backs off, looking a bit ashamed that she was so quick to take the bait. Ruby turns towards Yang and Blake.
“Hey, guys, we’ll be in the kitchen. Why don’t you all move to the dining room? We need to discuss this whole— thing.”
Yang shoots her a thumbs-up and Blake nods, and together everyone moves into the dining room, Ruby and Weiss continuing through it and towards the kitchen.
Oscar takes a seat. Heavily. He crosses his arms on the table and rests his head on them. Ouch . He switches sides, favoring the less injured side of his face. It’s a losing battle no matter what position he chooses.
Emerald sits next to him. Yang and Blake are way across the long table, giving them space but keeping an eye on their new recruit.
Oscar observes the thief, noting the bags under her eyes and her general twitchiness.
“Are you okay?” He asks softly.
“Peachy.” Her lips and nose curl into a deprecating sneer.
He hums, and his stomach growls. It hurts, and he swallows back a noise of complaint. Emerald softens considerably, red eyes flashing with concern.
“You got pretty fucked up, huh.” She winces. “S-sorry. About that. It sounded painful.”
“It was.”
“I, uh, yeah. I’m sorry I didn’t do anything.”
He rubs a bump on the top of his head.
“It’s okay. You got us out eventually. Ozpin helped take some of the pain.”
“But you’re still feeling it now.”
“Yes. I am.” He raises a scrutinizing brow. “Are you... trying to rub it in or something?”
“No! I— you should just—“ she raises her hands, fingers curled like claws towards her face. “Why aren’t you angry at me?! Like everyone else? I stood outside and heard your screams and I did NOTHING.”
She stares desperately, voice strained to contain herself to a shouted whisper.
Oscar sighs and slowly leans back into his chair.
“I don’t know. Because you helped us when it mattered most?”
“You getting tortured mattered a bit more, in my opinion.”
“Are you... trying to get me to hate you?”
“I don’t know! Yes?!” Her hands fall onto her thighs, frustrated. “You’re being too nice to me! I’ve done nothing to deserve it! Why don’t you act more like your stupid friends?”
He smiles sadly.
“Everyone deserves a second chance. You’ve proven to me that you actually want to help. That you care. I guess that’s enough.”
“I don’t CARE,” she huffs. “I just did what I had to survive. I don’t want the fucking WORLD to end!”
“If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t have told the others I need food.”
“You wouldn’t be any use to us starving and dead,” she argues, crossing her arms. His smile turns sweeter.
Then his rib flares, and he gasps sharply, wanting so badly to clutch the burnt skin over the internal pain.
Emerald drops her arms in an instant to hold him up by the shoulder.
Blake’s ears turn towards them, and the black and yellow duo watch from afar but do not yet disturb.
“Don’t care, huh?” He laughs and coughs. Emerald frowns, flushing, and looks tempted to drop him. But she remains, one hand on his shoulder and the other clutches by his own. “Thanks,” he whispers, voice raspy. His throat is sore from so much coughing. Spitting up and swallowing blood.
“Whatever. Don’t mention it. Seriously, never mention this.”
“Sure.” He grins. Ozpin chuckles deep inside their chest.
Ruby and Weiss arrive, running in with a hot bowl of soup and a tall glass of frosty water.
“Here! It’s mostly broth and noodles so you don’t have to strain your jaw chewing,” says Ruby. “And it tastes good, don’t worry!”
“I doubt he would complain even if it didn’t,” Weiss says, hand resting on her hip. Her eyes trail to Emerald, whom of which Oscar is still holding onto. “Eat up. I’ll go fetch some first aid. We can fill you in while you eat and get your wounds dressed.”
“Thank you.” He let’s go of Emerald’s hand to grab his spoon. Ruby sits across from them and Weiss leaves yet again.
“Rough day?” He asks.
“Just eat,” Emerald says. “All of you talk way too much. Somehow more headache inducing than M—“
She cuts herself off with the clacking of teeth. Ruby’s expression is unreadable watching the exchange.
Oscar sips on his soup and water.
Emerald recedes back into her sharp, protective shell, glaring at the tabletop.
Ruby wrings her gloves and fails to start talking.
The awkward silence continues as he eats and drinks. Until he gets about two thirds of the way through his soup. He slides the bowl in front of Emerald and she jumps slightly, shaken from her thoughts.
“Here. Have the rest.”
“You need it more—“
“I’m full,” he lies. “Don’t let it go to waste.”
“I never let food go to waste,” she says flatly. “But I’m not taking orders from you.”
“They’re not orders,” he says more gently. “I’m sharing. It’s a thing people do sometimes.”
“Tch. Smartass,” she scoffs, but lifts the spoon.
“I’m part teacher now,” he says. “I can’t help it.”
“I get the feeling you were always a little shit. Even before this Ozpin crap.” She lowers the spoon. “Hey, speaking of, is he in there? How does that work?”
“Why don’t you eat while I explain?”
She opens her mouth to retort, pauses, then fills it with soup instead. As he explains the basics of the merger, she wolfs down the soup, hunching over it protectively with her body. She lifts the bowl and drains it past the last drop. He offers her some water, too, which she only accepts a couple sips from before forcing it back into his hands.
“Not your charity case,” she growls, cheeks glowing red like her eyes. Oscar smiles, enamored by how her irises reflect light like jewels.
Weiss returns with the first aid kit and places it on the table.
“I stuffed as much as I could into it. Let’s get you fixed up.”
“I can do it myself,” he offers, standing and reaching towards it.
“Not happening.” Weiss pulls it towards her. “You’re a mess, Oscar. You need help.”
“I have Ozpin. He knows what to do.”
“I meant physical help. Another set of hands.”
“You have more important things to be doing!” He grabs the handle of the kit and tugs it out of her hold. “We can’t pause everything for me. I’m fine .”
“You’re not—“
“He’s right, Weiss.” Ruby sighs into her hands. “We need to start planning. Come on.” She doesn’t give Weiss room to argue, trudging across the room to join Blake and Yang. Weiss glares at Emerald before flipping her braid angrily and stomping off.
“So moody.”
“We’re in the middle of a very tense situation.”
“Doesn’t make her any less of a bitch.”
He snaps his glare to Emerald. She shrinks under his piercing golden eyes.
“S-sorry. I’ll help you with that.”
A bit sour now, he sits on the edge of his seat and peels his coat off, revealing his arms, littered with dark purple bruises yellowing around the edges.
“What do we even do?” He asks, shifting control to Ozpin without second thought.
“Begin with the burns on our chest,” he continues. Emerald blinks at the sudden shift in tone, dumbfounded.
“Ozpin?”
“Yes.” He unbuttons the top of Oscar’s shirt. The burnt skin clings to the fabric as he peels, hissing at the pain, thankful that Oscar won’t have to feel this part. It’s raw and red under the charred black shirt— what’s left of it, anyways.
“A pleasure to meet you again, Miss Sustrai.”
“Emerald.”
“Mm.” He dabs a cotton ball in his water and cleans their chest. Emerald holds onto the bandages and anti-septic, watching. She’s probably seen worse. Caused worse.
“I’m sorry,” she says.
“Bit of a broken record, are we?” He jokes. Oscar scorns him. “Apologies. Perhaps we should all lay back on the apologizing.”
“But I— I helped . I helped destroy your school. I helped kill you . I helped HER.”
“You did.” He accepts the anti-septic and douses a new cotton ball with it. “But you also helped save Oscar. For that, I am forever thankful to you.”
“He means that much to you? That you can just forgive me for everything else?”
“Forgiveness?” The medicine stings against the open wounds. “I’m not quite certain on that just yet.” He hisses at a particularly bad sting. Their eyes water. “But gratitude? You have it all, because yes; he does.”
Where the cold turns their chest brittle, the warmth from Oscar’s emotions at that statement numbs the pain.
“Oh...” she rolls the bandages between her palms. “Okay, then. Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.” Now for the hard part.
He sighs.
Oscar, is it alright if we do this here?
The boy also sighs.
No other choice. Go ahead.
“We will need your help for the next part,” he tells Emerald as he shimmies their shirt off their arms so it pools around his waist, leaving Oscar’s chest exposed. He lifts his arms and stands. “Would you mind wrapping this up?”
“Oh- of course.” She also stands. Her hands don’t fumble but her eyes do, trying her best not to glance at his exposed breasts. She wraps over them, gently but firm enough to hold his ribs in place, fingers careful not to brush the injured skin.
Ozpin feels their cheeks heating up, and he knows that response is ALL Oscar. He bites their bottom lip, holding back a laugh at the boy’s flustering.
“Thank you, Miss Sustrai.”
“Just Emerald.”
“Of course. Emerald.” He pulls the shirt back on, then the coat. Oscar resumes control and immediately sits, hiding his face under his blood-clotted bangs.
“Do you want to clean your face, too?” She asks.
“Uh-um- yes. Yeah, sure,” he stutters, reflexively raising a couple fingers to touch his bruised eye.
It still hurts. Badly. Not much to be done there other than wait for Jaune’s healing.
“Here,” Emerald holds up a cotton ball. Oscar leans forward and closes his eyes, already so trusting of the girl to handle his face with care.
She holds under his chin gently with her fingers as she cleans him free of blood, grime and dirt. Tilting his face up down left and right. Fingers calloused but soft all the same.
He sighs.
For the first time in.... since before Ironwood took him down to the vault before the Schnee dinner invite... he feels himself relax.
Just for a moment.
One moment to relax. To not think about the bomb. About Salem. About Atlas and Mantle and war and torture and pain.
Just a moment of peace and a gentle caress.
“Don’t expect this treatment again in the future,” Emerald mumbles. She tapes a puffy white bandage onto his cheek.
“Implying you’ll still be around?” He smirks, opening his eyes under heavy lids. Their faces have gotten pretty close. He can’t help but gaze at her completely.
She pouts.
“Shut up, Oscar. Bring back the other guy, he was less annoying.”
“Only because you don’t have to hear him rambling in your own head nonstop.”
She snorts, actually smiling. It’s very pretty. Her smile, that is.
Ozpin voices a complaint.
“Point proven,” he says, rolling his eyes. Emerald snickers.
If there’s one thing Oscar tries to have, it’s hope.
And he really hopes Emerald sticks around for a while longer.