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“Dammit! How could she just run off like that?”
You halt in your tracks, unable to process what just happened. Weiss and Blake, a few paces ahead of you, stop when they notice you do.
“She was clearly upset,” Blake voices, gentle, kind, and approaching you to put a reassuring hand on your shoulder.
But you are no stranger to upset. You are no stranger to Ruby’s upset, in particular. You have seen Ruby’s upset. You have endured Ruby’s upset. You have talked her through a temper tantrum. You have shared in said tantrums, and come out the other side, things resolved.
You have not had Ruby spit her vitriol and leave where you couldn’t follow.
“That wasn’t upset, that was… UGH! She could have just talked to us!”
“Maybe she didn’t feel like she could.”
Weiss looks pensive, thinking, considering. Worried. “Ruby has always been the one to get us through the hard times. We say things like, we believe in you! We can count on you! I know we mean well, but…”
Had Ruby really been taking all of that so literally all along?
You lower your hands.
“It’s not like we were asking her to be perfect…”
You look at your teammates as you say it. They look about as convinced as you feel. But you haven’t. Right? Not literally, anyway. Not really. An image comes to mind. Beacon, on the day of initiation. Your baby sister, who got bumped up two years to attend a Huntsman Academy, taking charge of a group of eight. People she barely knew, she was intimidated by hours before. You stopped to look at her, and you had never felt so full of love. You had never been so convinced that someone was exactly where they were supposed to be.
Maybe you should have thought about that more. Weiss at the time had doubted her leadership. You know Ruby herself had worried about it briefly, but not for long. Whatever had pulled her out of it, seemed to have given her an unshakable sense of determination. But you hadn’t ever doubted it. Not really. Ruby’s plan in Atlas was not the one you would have followed. You’ve always been one to keep your feet firmly planted on the ground, and your eyes right in front of you. But you also knew it was something someone had to try. To shoot for the stars and do the impossible. Of course it would have been Ruby.
Of course Ruby would know that it was not her fault if it didn’t work.
Right?
Jaune doesn’t say anything as your group continues your search. And neither do you.
You don’t know how you expected to find her, but it wasn’t like this.
She is on the floor, wearing an expression you have never seen on her before. Her weapon is stretched out behind her. Briefly, you acknowledge she at least opened her weapon this time, but the relief that sentiment could have brought is quickly stomped out. Ruby did not win this fight. Ruby is not calling out for help.
You used to work together in perfect synergy, without so much as a word. Right now, you could not understand her less. Neapolitan is there, but she is not doing anything. She is watching. Waiting. Keeping her eyes on Ruby. Ruby, who is not even looking at her.
She looks at you (all of you, really). For the first time in your - in her - whole life, here is no light in her eyes. It’s strange. It’s unsettling. It is so distinctly not-Ruby that for a disturbingly long second, you are not sure if you are actually looking at Ruby. (An illusion?) Then, she reaches for the teacup in front of her (on the floor?) and begins to drink. You stand still. (What?)
(Are those bruises?)
(Is that blood on her hands?)
(Where did that come from?)
(Whose blood?)
Turns out, that wasn’t the part you should have been worried about.
It doesn’t even occur to you to be alarmed about what comes next until she’s already leaving. In a snap of a second, she begins to glow in unnatural colours (along with. Little? You don’t get to think about that part for very long. Because then,) the ground opens up, and she falls in.
The hole glows.
The hole closes.
Ruby is gone.
You can hear your heartbeat in your own ears, and nothing else.
(Ruby is gone.)
You are clinging to Blake so tightly that you surely must be bruising her arms. She surely must be bruising yours, with how she is entirely keeping you upright. But you can’t feel it.
(Ruby is gone.)
The cat is shaping, deforming, sparking with anger and malice and hunger.
(Ruby is gone.)
You are nineteen years old, in a fairytale realm, and your sister, who you fell down here for, just fell down a hole of her own.
(Ruby is gone.)
You thought you were dead. But you weren’t, not really. There was a step beyond that. That is what dead is. That is a void you cannot follow her in.
(Ruby is gone.)
The cat is black and white now, glowing, radiating, snarling. You cannot make out a word they are saying.
(Ruby is gone.)
You are seventeen years old, on Patch, and you are jumping to take a hit intended for her.
(Ruby is gone.)
You are nineteen years old, between realms, and you are jumping to take a hit intended for her.
(Ruby is gone.)
You are nineteen years old, in a fairytale realm, and Blake is pushing herself in front of you as a blast of light hits you and smacks you against the wall.
(Ruby is gone.)
Your ears are ringing.
(Ruby is gone.)