Chapter Text
She stays silent for most of the trip. Eyes constantly snapping from left to right, as if expecting this all to be some kind of elaborate trap. Like a nearby hatch’s going to bust open and a bunch of cops are going to flood into the main deck But there’s no cops, no sting operation, nothing so dramatic. Just a moody teen and a visibly uncomfortable dad who’s getting old enough to miss his twenties.
I try to gaze out into the scenery. Well, scene. Not much to really look at when you’re on a ship. Just lots and lots of ocean. Sunset and sunrise are pretty, at least. A nice change of pace from blue skies and sea, or the blanket of stars surrounding a shattered moon, stars that I still struggle to remember the names of. My eyes still try and look for the Big Dipper. I know they’re looking in vain, but it still feels worth trying anyway.
“He hates me.”
The first words she’s spoken since we set out for Patch. She’s sitting on a crate, strapped down to the deck, glaring at the choppy afternoon waves as if they’re somehow to blame for her current predicament. I look over at her, but she doesn’t meet my gaze.
“He doesn’t.”
That gets her attention. Now she’s scowling at me with shining orange eyes.
“What are you, blind?”
I resist the urge to flip her off. I’ve forgotten how moody and hormonal teens can be. Though maybe she gets a pass for everything she just went through. Better that I be a lighting-rod for her angry venting. I know for a fact that the alternative doesn’t go well for anyone.
“No,” I say after a few seconds. “But I know him. He’s not… It’s complicated.”
“So I’m stupid then. Cool. Thanks for the conversation.”
She returns to glaring at the waves. I sigh, scratching at the stubble running along my cheek. Might be due for a shave soon.
“You’re not stupid. And seriously. Rhodes doesn’t hate you. It’s… Everyone has values. And his told him that what you did was wrong. But that doesn’t mean he hates you.”
“So there’s just people whose values tell them that it’s fine for me to be tortured?”
“There’s people who put a lot of stock in institutions. Government. Things like that. It’s not that they’d think what happened to you was ‘fine.’ Just that they’d want justice to go through… Proper channels.”
“Proper channels?”
“The police.”
She scoffs loudly.
“I remember cops coming by every now and then. They never cared about what was happening to me.”
“Maybe they didn’t know.”
“They knew. I once tried to talk to one, let him know what was happening. He just said he’d look into it. Madame came down especially hard on me that night, all about me being ungrateful, and how I shouldn’t expect anything from others.”
I match her expression. Figures that the cops wouldn’t be of any help. Probably paid off by the madame or something. Which also makes me think about how grudgingly Rhodes had accepted my offer. Was he really that dedicated to his idea of justice? Maybe. It’s not unusual to see hunters with an almost zealous fixation on their code of honour. When your main adversary fixates on negative emotions, that kind of creed can be the only thing keeping you from losing your cool. And then your life.
“You don’t agree with him.” She says, looking at me once more.
“…No. No I don’t. I do think you could’ve tried to run away, but I also know things don’t always work out like that. What she did to you was… Abhorrent.”
A look of confusion.
“Unforgivable. I don’t hold what you did against you.”
“…Okay.”
She doesn’t say anything else for the rest of the day. Just goes back to staring angrily at the waves. I don’t press the matter any further. Just shrug after a while and busy myself with helping out around the ship. An extra pair of hands is never unwelcome, and it just feels nice doing something physical. Tying knots on a bulky rope is a nice distraction from thinking about what’s waiting for us in Patch.
Raven’s going to be pissed. More than usual. If such a thing is even possible. I can already picture the shouting matches we’ll inevitably get into. The snarls, the accusations, the deflection on both sides. We aren’t good for each other, and the fact that we are in love just makes it all the more worse, though we both run just cold enough to keep things civil. Mostly. Maybe not the best environment to be bringing a teenaged Cinder Fall (the name she’s insisted I use) into.
But Raven does tend to be good about keeping her anger away from kids. She’ll get frustrated, sure. Snap at a child if they do something that ticks her off, though never with any real heat. Never any genuine anger. That’s reserved for anyone who she sees as being able to take it. Which tends to be either her brother, former teacher, or husband. Maybe Summer if it’s a really bad day.
Shit. Could be an idea to go see Summer first. Nobody on Team STRQ (or anyone close to us for that matter) could ignore the fact that those two were truly in love. Still are, as it so happens. Kind of a pity that ‘in love’ didn’t quite translate to ‘able to maintain a healthy relationship,’ with dates during the academy often ending in tears, fights, and sullen silences that would span weeks.
‘Bonding with Qrow over half of our team being romantic disasters’ sure wasn’t on my list of shit to expect upon reincarnating in Remnant.
I’ve never been under the illusion that, despite the genuine bond we have, Raven only decided to marry me as a way to formally end things with Summer. And if she decides to slip out some nights to ‘stretch her legs,’ coming home the following afternoon with no explanation of why she was out so long? I know enough to smile, nod, and keep my silence.
*
Cinder hesitates as we step off the boat. Hands tug at the hem of the spare denim jacket I gave her, teeth biting down hard on her lower lip. I raise an eyebrow. There’s nothing on the port that should give her reason to be anxious. It’s as scenic as they come, a long stone rectangle leading up to a sleepy village on the coast, swathed in trees of autumn shades. We’ve arrived on the off-season, so there aren’t even that many sailors or security milling about. Just us two, a few dockworkers offloading basic supplies, and a gaggle of Atlesian tourists who got off before us ooh-ing and ahh-ing at the quaint scenery.
“What’s up?” I ask.
“…I just,” Cinder grips her right arm tightly. “Haven’t seen a forest since… Since Mistral.”
Ah. I nod slowly, give her time to gingerly step off the plank, onto the cold stone below. The warm sea breeze tickles my skin as I wait; a nostalgic feeling. Just two weeks away and I’m already homesick for Patch. For someone who was a city girl in another life, I’ve learned to adapt to life in the country with surprising gusto.
Probably kind of helps that nowhere really fits my vague memories of what the ‘city’ is supposed to look like. Atlas comes the closest, but the uncanny valley vibes of everything being slightly off fucks with me too much for any extended stays. Mistral was too… Politically messy. Vacuo was literally a dusty-ass desert. Vale was too close to Oz, great and powerful, for me to relax.
And Patch had the benefit of being ‘canon.’ I’d kept pretty close to what I remembered as being established in the show. Part of that was because it was kind of nice to see Beacon in the flesh, to spend time with fictional characters who became real friends, to really live the life of a hunter. But there was also an anxiety that pushing ‘non-canon’ too far might completely fuck up the timeline.
What if RWBY with no Team RWBY?
The thought of managing to erase Ruby Rose was too freaky. Granted I did spent a night of heavy drinking before fully coming to terms with the fact that Yang and Ruby were probably going to be my daughters. I did intend to change some things though. Enough to ensure that they’d live a good life. One free from the waterfall of abject misery that canon was going to dump on them.
Rescuing Cinder from killing Rhodes and cementing her future was the first start. The original plan had been to just get her out of the abusive household, but the difficulty of bullshitting a reason to visit Atlas meant I arrived just too late to stop the initial murders from happening. At least Rhodes knew me from back when I used to travel as a full-time professional huntsman.
He wasn’t happy with the idea of letting Cinder go, but I had enough clout as ‘one of Beacon’s best and brightest,’ as well as the promise that I’d help put Cinder on the straight and narrow, that he let me take her away. And best of all, the situation was so wrought and confused that he never even thought to ask me why I so conveniently happened to be in the Glass Unicorn despite not having a room there.
“So what’s your family like?”
Cinder carefully steps off the plank and onto the pier, frowning as the waves splash onto her legs. I offer a hand, and she gives me such a withering stare that it’s a wonder my hand doesn’t immediately get mummified.
“Hm… It’s just me, my wife Raven, and our kid, Yang. Still just a year old. Y-Yang, not my wife. Raven’s… Well. Don’t ask a lady’s age and all that. Anyway, Raven’ll probably like you.”
“Why?” Cinder’s eyes narrow.
“Well, you both narrow your eyes when you think you smell bullshit, for one.”
The teen scoffs and turns away at that. I look around, making sure there’s nobody else on the pier, at least close enough to hear, and lean in to whisper in Cinder’s ear.
“Also she’s a bandit.”
Cinder’s eyes now go wide.
“Seriously?”
“Seriously. Don’t ah… Don’t bring it up too much or anything. Far as anyone knows, my wife’s just a surly huntress. And she is, while she’s here. It’s like… A vacation kind of thing? She does her other stuff in Mistral, huntress gigs all over, and chills out in Patch with her dear ol’ hubby for the rest of her year.”
“There is no way you married a bandit. You’re way too… I dunno. Wait, is that why you’re not grilling me about… Mm. You know.”
“Because of the hypocrisy?” I ask, and she nods. “Partly, yeah. But I really did mean what I said. I’d still step in even if I was married to a saint. Doing the right thing’s an obligation. No, wait. Not the right word. More like… Ah…”
“I get what you mean, old-timer, don’t fry your brain.”
“I’m thirty-two!”
“Downright ancient.”
There’s a fragile hint of a smile to her lips. Well, at least she’s feeling comfortable enough to roast me. Unless that’s partly an instinctive urge to assert dominance, something to help with feeling safe. I shake my head and sigh dramatically, but don’t push her too hard on it. Better to give her test the boundaries, subtly let her know that I’m not going to punish her for talking back.
It’s impressive how quickly she’s been able to cobble together an outward mask of being fine, but maybe it isn’t too surprising, given the world we live in. A book I’d read in Beacon’s library suggested that life with Grimm preying on emotional negativity meant that even at a young age, everyone naturally learned to push things down. This, ironically, has had the side-effect of leading to people exploding if they repress for too long.
Might be an idea to see if Cinder would be open to seeing a therapist…
“What’s with that look?”
“What look?”
“…You’re scheming something.”
“I’m not scheming,” I mutter, unable to meet Cinder’s eyes. “Just… Thinking.”
“Doesn’t scheming involve thinking?”
“Lots of things involve thinking. Look. It’s… I’m not going to force you into anything you don’t want to do.”
Cinder freezes on the pier, hand reaching back up to grip at her arm. Eyes regarding me with suspicion.
“What?”
“Just… I was thinking that given what happened, maybe we could look into booking a therapist at some point.”
“No.”
“Even just trying-”
“No. I’m not getting sent to a fucking shrink. I’m not weak like that.”
I can’t help but grimace. Thanks a bundle, societal expectations that repression is the way to go. Though then again, that’s not really a sentiment that would be out of place on Earth, and we didn’t even have Grimm.
“Nobody’s saying you’re weak,” I say, raising my hands in a placating gesture. “Just something to think about. Maybe. Like I said, there’s no pressure at all. I won’t force you to go if you don’t want to.”
“And if I don’t want to talk about it in the first place?”
“Then we won’t.”
“Good. Don’t bring it up again.”
With that imperious declaration, Cinder storms off the pier and onto the docks. She proceeds to stand there for half a minute before groaning and coming back to me. Staring up with the biggest scowl yet.
“I don’t know where we’re going.”
“We’re going to my house. Come on.”
She sullenly falls in line behind me, like a small shadow. I sincerely hope Yang won’t be like this as a teen. No way Ruby will be, she seems way too sweet for it. Hopefully Raven can stick around for long enough to impart some kind of cynical wisdom to Cinder, with Summer coming in with the assist of kindness and empathy afterwards. Kind of sad that I’ve so easily made my peace with the fact that Raven will inevitably leave.
Though it’s hard to say if Summer will want to stay. Even back in my student years we weren’t that close. It was really just Qrow and me as friendly rivals, Summer and Raven’s disaster relationship, Raven and I figuring out some kind of weird accord, and then… Summer and I vaguely acknowledging each other’s presence but not much more than that.
I really hope I didn’t fuck that one up, and Taiyang was actually a mega-simp for her or something.
Worst case scenario, Raven leaves early and I have to go all Operation Full-Time Uncle and call Qrow in to really be a long-term presence in everyone’s lives. Including Cinder. Hell, he might be a good fit for her. Not fully drinking the nihilism Kool-Aid like Raven, hopeful enough where it counts, but also someone who’s good around kids when he actually tries.
Cinder and I hop into a rickshaw for tourists, pulled by a burly guy with tattoos that I definitely accidentally hit on once. The way he keeps awkwardly looking back at me confirms that fact. The ride itself isn’t any less awkward; the cramped space means Cinder and I keep bumping into each other, and it’s impossible to miss the way she flinches at every touch.
“Just a few more minutes,” I try to smile. “Once we get to the forest, it’s just a five minute walk.”
“Not pulling this damn thing through a forest, that’s for damn sure.” The rickshaw puller mutters.
“I’m fine.” Cinder answers, staring unblinkingly at the back of the puller’s head.
‘Having the most uncomfortable rickshaw ride of my life’ also wasn’t really on my Remnant reincarnation bingo, but here we are. At least I can take heart in knowing that home is waiting for me. Home… And what might be a very pissed off Raven. Oh sorry darling, that trip to Atlas that I said was to reconnect with old friends? Yeah I also happened to pick up this random juvenile murderer.
Still. Maybe it’ll be better than I expect. Maybe Raven also took a trip with Yang! Went off to Mistral or something out of a sense of revenge. Might give me enough time to come up with an excuse that doesn’t sound half-assed. Worst part of being married to a bandit is that she’s very good at picking apart my flimsy attempts at lying.
The rickshaw trundles to a halt as we reach the edge of a forest. It has a name on some map, I think, but I’ve only ever thought of it as home. The trees rustle as if waving at me, and I can’t help but wave back. Cinder peers into the distance as I then pay the rickshaw puller.
“Who were you waving to?”
“Just the trees.”
“The trees?”
“Yeah.
“Weird.”
We make our way into the forest, branches and dead leaves crunching underfoot, a vibrant orange canopy hanging above our heads. There’s a sort of mystery with some forests, the feeling of suddenly getting enveloped in this otherworldly plane. No sounds but that of the forest all around you; the outside world is no longer something to concern yourself with.
“So, uh,” I begin. “You’re good with…”
“Yeah,” Cinder snorts. “If you can vouch.”
“Glad you trust me that much.”
“I didn’t really trust you in Atlas. Kept thinking you were gonna suddenly flash a badge or something. But if we’re going this far? The only other possibility is that you’re some kind of sicko, taking me out to some cabin the middle of nowhere..”
“Whoa, hey. You’re in good hands! I’m not… Jesus, no.”
“Who’s Jesus?”
“Uh… Guy I once knew as a kid. Mom kept calling him home loudly for supper, so me and the other guys started using ‘Jesus!’ as this exclamation.”
“Oh. Cool.”
Did I just teach Cinder Fall to use Jesus’ name in vain? My grandma on Earth’s probably doing Beyblades in her grave. At least Taiyang grew up as a relatively sheltered little kid on Patch, which gave me a lot of easy stories to rely on when someone asked about my weird expressions. I literally have a small notebook in my jacket pocket just to keep up with the fake backstory I’ve constructed for myself.
Feels like no time at all that we’re emerging from the forest into a clearing, a log cabin off in the distance. My hands go a little clammy at the sight. It’s one thing to think about Raven’s reactions, it’s another thing to find it fast approaching. Sort of like seeing a car coming right towards you. And just as destructive.
There’s even a corvid hanging out on the roof of the house. Yep. She’s home. I sigh, looking over at Cinder. She’s staring at the house like it’s about to explode any moment now. A shrug. I begin walking towards a dirt path that leads up to the entrance, and hear her join me after a few heartbeats. Might as well get this over and done with.
*
The good news is that it turns out Raven isn’t home to give me an earful.
The bad news is that Summer is.
The worse news is that Qrow is with her (having sat on the roof as he watched me approach).
The worst, absolutely no-good, awful news is that Summer’s eyes drift over to Cinder, then to me, and she makes a visible connection in her head.
“…I can explain?”