I'm back! And yes, it only took… a ridiculously long ass time. Shamefully enough to admit, and I'm not joking, I couldn't update because I forgot the name of the Website lmao
SO CHAPTER 48:
Weiss had always considered herself a fairly intelligent person.
She could recite the Atlesian Constitution by heart, calculate Dust ratios without a calculator, and, until very recently, had kept up with her economics and logistics coursework, even if those were starting to collect dust in more ways than one.
She also considered herself to be a decently adaptable and calm individual.
She'd maintained composure in almost every social scenario life had thrown at her, even the ones involving a classmate secretly being a Faunus, a teammate defending literal terrorists, a friend trying to seduce her father, or the fact that all three previously mentioned people were Blake. She was still processing that.
But both of those self-assessments seemed to ring hallow at that moment. Just as they did in every other moment whenever she was in her father's presence. Jacques Schnee had a talent for reducing every bit of confidence she had built, and she felt it settle over her again the instant his eyes settled on her.
That did not mean he looked the same. Something about him seemed different because he no longer matched the image she carried in her memory. She would have liked to assure herself that the irregularities came as a result of the time she had spent free of his control. That she had grown and flourished enough to see the hidden cracks. How cathartic would that be?
The idea offered a small spark of comfort, and she wished she could hold on to it as the truth felt less flattering. The difference in him likely had nothing to do with her, at least not in any way that would make her feel empowered.
All the changes Weiss saw no doubt came from the incidents that had unfolded in recent months. She had not been present for any of it. She had learned about the fallout in scattered details, delivered to her in a way that made her feel like she was listening to another family's issues rather than her own.
So as her father sat there with a slight uptilt of his lips that looked more awkward than genuine, Weiss did not feel any warmth rise to meet it. Only the dark and complicated feeling in her throat.
She opened her mouth and slowly replied. "I..don't know what that is." Her words came out carefully because she did not trust herself to shape them any other way.
"I...see," He said, and she watched the faint curve of his mouth fall and settle into the far more familiar disappointed visage.
"I apologize, Father," she said pathetically, looking down more out of habit as she felt exposed in a way she had not planned for, and the look on his face did nothing to guide her toward safer ground.
Damn it. This wasn't how it was supposed to go.
She had rehearsed this meeting more times than she cared to admit. She had pictured herself standing straighter than him. She had pictured steady breathing, clear sentences, and the same level of confidence she had spent months trying to build. She had planned every point she wanted to make, every question she meant to ask, and every boundary she meant to draw.
None of it survived the first minute, and now she watched the silence settle between them with growing irritation at herself. She knew she was doing it again. She was shrinking into old patterns, giving him the same control she had sworn she would never let him take back.
This was not how she wanted to speak to him. This was not how she wanted to feel in front of him. And the realization burned in a way she did not want him to see.
"Do not be," He finally said with a quiet sigh. The chair creaked under his weight at the same moment her nerves seemed to do the same. The sound pulled her attention up for a brief second, long enough to register that he still looked tired in a way she did not know how to read. "It seems we are both terrible at this."
She held her breath without meaning to. She waited for him to continue, unsure where he intended to lead the conversation.
"I suppose congratulations are in order," he said. "You made it into Beacon." He paused for a moment, as though choosing each word with more care than she expected from him. "Not that there was ever any doubt with your capabilities." He added, almost softly, and before she could focus on that kinda-compliment, she found her eyes meeting his.
"Is it to your liking?"
A fraction of surprise that lasted no more than two seconds, but it was long enough. She straightened, shoulders pulling into the practiced line she had rehearsed over and over. That single question had opened a narrow path she could finally guide the conversation down where Weiss could steer it.
"Yes," she said with a clear voice. "It is."
She had expected him to question her choice once more, and sadly for him, she had been more than prepared to present her case and defend her decision.
"Beacon has been good for me. I am learning a great deal, and I am using everything they give me." His silence pushed her forward. It always had. She felt the old instinct rise at a familiar territory and habits too ingrained, and her explanation began to shape itself in the familiar way she had been raised to present arguments.
"It was not a reckless choice," she began her prepared speech. "Beacon Academy offers opportunities that Atlas Academy simply cannot. Their training places students directly into practical work from the beginning, not after years of preparation. That experience forces us to think quickly and adapt to problems that do not follow predictable p-patterns."
Don't you dare stutter!
She lifted her chin slightly. "And Beacon's environment is diverse in a way Atlas never was. I train with people who have completely different strengths, backgrounds, and goals. Learning alongside them has changed how I approach challenges. It has shown me gaps in my own methods that I would not have noticed in a uniform system."
"Yes, Team RWBY led by your partner, Ruby Rose, if I remember correctly," he muttered in what might seem absentminded to anyone else, but not to her. Jacques Schnee never muttered and certainly not for no reason.
A barbed jab.
Right?
But If so....
....why didn't it hurt?
She hesitated, swallowing hard. "A-and even though… even though I was not chosen to be the leader, I… I've learned what it means to support a team properly, and… how to adjust when things do not go as expected."
Her hands tightened in her lap.
"I am learning more than I could have imagined, and… and I believe that will matter, in ways I could not have at Atlas. So..." Weiss met his eyes. "I did not run away from Atlas Academy. I chose the place that would help me become someone stronger."
A long pause that was then broken by a...hum?
He exhaled through his nose and leaned back in the chair. His fingers drummed lightly on the table between them, a small but still very uncharacteristic gesture that felt strangely out of place. "That is a fine answer," he said finally, "but that is not what I am asking."
Weiss felt her stomach tighten. Her carefully chosen words, her measured explanation, all of it seemed suddenly irrelevant. She blinked, forcing herself to stay composed, though the familiar knot of frustration and exposure coiled tighter in her chest.
"I… I don't understand, Father," she said slowly. "What exactly are you asking me?" Her voice echoed the same controlled tone she used when she spoke in front of him, but inside, her thoughts were racing.
He opened his mouth, and she braced herself.
A thousand rebuttals at the tip of her tongue.
"Are you happier now?"
Weiss froze.
"...?"
She struggled to find footing in the unfamiliar territory of such a weird and seemingly pointless question. A question so simple and direct, her mind hadn't had the chance to decipher whatever hidden meaning or agenda it might have carried.
Her body had already answered for her.
She nodded, almost imperceptibly, and felt a strange relief in the act.
Tiny wrinkles appeared near his eyes, and the corners of his lips curved upwards until his teeth showed at her answer. "All is well, then." Her father nodded at her with an expression so unlike the awkward and uncertain earlier one that only filled her with dread.
It was the same expression she'd seen on the screen of the TV months ago, the one she'd wished had been aimed at her and not at a stranger half a world away.
A smile, so earnest.
A smile, so proud.
It was a smile so quietly human that it made her chest ach with the unravelling of a knot years in the making. It did not disappear, but for the first time in a long while, it felt possible to breathe around him.
Weiss took a deep, calming breath. It wouldn't do to fall apart at the first sign of warmth from him. She was a woman grown!
She would not yield that easily.
"I am glad to hear that," Jacques said, and the softness in his voice only pushed against the tightness she was trying to manage. "It matters more than you think."
She did not know what to do with that. Part of her wanted to look away. Another part, the younger version of herself who still sought something from him, could not bring herself to break eye contact.
"Thank you, Father," She stated with a tone that betrayed no little part of the relief she felt. "Then, I ...take it you will not be forc-" she bit the inside of her teeth. "requesting that I transfer to Atlas Academy?"
The smile on his face lessened a bit but lost none of its warmth. He shifted slightly in his seat, and his eyes held hers with a calm she had never learned how to interpret.
"No," he said. "I will not ask that of you." He spoke plainly, without the familiar edge she had braced for. "You seem to have found a place that suits you. That is enough."
She hated how nice that made her feel. But the same treacherous part of her kind of liked it.
Jacques let a soft sigh. "Your mother and Winter raised the issue first," he said. "After the attack, they asked me to think about bringing you back to Atlas Academy. They thought it would give you firmer footing and keep you safer. Before coming here, I thought they might be right."
An amused huff left him.
"But then I watched how you interacted with your teammates this morning."
Weiss felt her cheeks warm at the memory.
His amused smile deepened into a low ripple of chuckles. "It seems a transfer will not be necessary. Anyone who can seize a teammate by the collar the way you did must be close enough to trust them. It takes a surprising amount of friendship to do that." He put his hand on his mouth as his shoulders shook harder. ""Give me back my character arc! she said."
Weiss felt her nervousness evaporate under the unbearable heat rushing up her neck. Her face burned so fiercely she could hardly think. "T-That is because—!" she sputtered as she shot to her feet, red from the collarbone up. "That is because of you! What kind of father visits a stranger before his own daughter!"
His laughter softened into a controlled chuckle, and he met her glare with far too much amusement for her liking.
"Show me who your friends are, and I will tell you who you are," he said lightly. "My daughter decided to spend her time with an ex-terrorist. How could I not check the situation myself?"
"Oh... Y-you were aware?" She dropped back to her seat.
"I was," he admitted without hesitation. "I had to know what sort of people my daughter was frolicking with." He paused and tilted his head a little, as though replaying the morning in his mind. "Imagine my surprise when I found that one of your teammates matched the description of a faunus involved in the White Fang attack years ago."
"Blake is not like that anymore," she said quickly. "She left them behind."
Jacques nodded in agreement. "That she did. I already knew that, as well as her situation with her family, but our conversation did reassure me. As did Ozpin."
So, he had already met the Headmaster. It made sense, she supposed. Even if it did annoy her that list of people deemed more important than her seemed to get bigger.
"And if it did not?" Weiss asked before she could stop herself.
The smile on his face did not vanish, yet every trace of warmth drained from it without warning. The shift pulled the air out of her chest, as all too soon, she became acutely aware of the fearsome presence of his Aura that she was trying to ignore.
Once more she reminded herself. Her father was now very dangerous in both the figurative and literal sense.
"If it did not," he answered, "I would have acted accordingly."
Just as quickly as it happened, the presence disappeared, and the easy atmosphere returned. "Although for the sake of your teammate's safety, I would advise you to keep her adolescent shenanigans far from your sister's earshot. Winter has littlepatience for that sort of thing, and she seems to hold some very dangerous beliefs as of late."
Weiss stiffened. That… might be for the best.
A silence settled between them once more, though it felt less suffocating than before. At least, it did, until Weiss opened her mouth to ask about something she'd already known the answer to.
"You said 'Mother and Winter' asked you," she began slowly. "So I guess that means… you and Mother are on speaking terms again?"
Jacques leaned back slightly with his fingers steepled in front of him. He let out a quiet breath as he looked up. "We are. She decided to give me a second chance, in her own way. I am thankful for it."
"I… see," She muttered. "So, you've changed."
Once more, her fingers curled hard at the edge of her skirt. She already knew. Mother had told her. Winter had told her. Everyone had, in one way or another, insisted he had changed, that he had been trying, that he had at least recognized his mistakes.
Weiss lowered her head, letting the bangs of her hair cover the scowl that was forming across her face as she glared at her lap. She wanted to scream. The sound never left her mouth, but it stabbed against her ribs. In the end, all that left her was a weak and pathetic: "why?"
"It happened way before the Himmel Koenig festival. The house was breached some time after you left. The house-" She heard him speak because she couldn't bring herself to look at him. He was still talking, but her mind was ringing, deafened by a single cursed phrase repeating over and over, hammering in her skull:
After you left. After you left. After you left.
She remembered her tenth birthday, the way it had spiraled into humiliation and fear. If she hadn't insisted on that birthday party… if she hadn't stayed in Atlas so long, clinging to the hope that he might change…
Her hands clawed at the edge of her skirt, digging in until her nails bit her palms. A habit she was developing. She could feel herself trembling. She couldn't breathe right. She wanted to scream, but it stuck in her throat, a lump too big to swallow.
"....why?"
If she hadn't....
If she hadn't....
If she hadn't....
If she hadn't....
If she hadn't....
If she hadn't....
If she hadn't....If she hadn't....If she hadn't....If she hadn't....
Everything bled into that phrase, and at once, it all reached a boiling point.
"Weiss?" He asked. Tenderly.
Weiss let it all out.
"WHY DID IT TAKE SO LONG TO START CARING???!!!"
Her feet moved before she could think. She was suddenly in front of him, fists clenched so tight her nails dug into her palms, and she glared down at him as he seemed to get more and more blurry.
"Why now?! Why after so long?! You… you were always there!" she shouted in a breaking, trembling, and almost strangled voice. "Always in the house… always in the same room… and yet… nothing. Nothing at all!"
Her eyes were itching. Breathing started to hurt, but she kept screaming. She kept screaming at him while he stared at her wide-eyed because if she didn't.... "You… you didn't care! You didn't see us! Not Mother, not Winter, and not Whitely! You never saw me!"
She glared harder, almost as hard as the tears that were falling down her cheek. now. "Do you know how lonely that feels? To live in the same house as someone who's supposed to love you, someone who's meant to protect you… and feel invisible every single day? To feel afraid every single day? To hear the sound of your own voice, and have it disappear into nothing?"
"Weis-!"
"SHUT UP!" Weiss cut him off with a hoarse voice. "'And now… now suddenly you notice? Now suddenly it matters? When everything's already been shattered, when we've learned to live without the one person who should have been here all along?"
Ah, damn it, she was getting lightheaded. Her footing was starting to shake. "'Why now… after all this time… do you care? Why did it take this long to even see us?"
"Weiss, just sit dow-!" He reached his hand.
"Don't touch me!" Weiss shrieked. Her hand shot out, slapping his reaching fingers away with all the strength she could muster. Her legs betrayed her, tangling in the foot of the table, and she crashed to the floor with a loud thud. The table tipped over beside her, scattering the tray and small objects with a clatter.
"Don't touch me..." she repeated weakly as she remained on the floor, feeling weak and exhausted as the fire in her seemed to slip away, leaving in its only the dark bitterness.
"Why.. Why not then?! Why not before we had to learn to be… to be strong without you?" Weiss choked out bitterly. Her hair fell into her face, tears soaking through strands that clung to her cheeks, and Weiss asked the question that hurt her the most.
"Why couldn't you just stay someone I could hate?"
For a very long moment, only the sound of the crackling tray and the heaving of her breathing could be heard.
Finally, she looked at him,
Shame.
That was what she met in him.
There was little of the distant untouchable mask he had worn for so long, and not the sudden spurt of warmth that seemed to come and go. Just shame. His shoulders slumped, his gaze dropped, and for the first time in years, Weiss saw her father avoid her eyes.
His knees bent, and he lowered himself to sit facing her.
"Because your father is a sad and cowardly man." He admitted with a hanging head. " Your father is a miserable and pathetic man. A man who thought himself untouchable, infallible, always in control… and yet he failed. Spectacularly. Every day. Every moment that should have mattered, he ignored. Birthdays. Holidays. Every small victory, every little need you had, he looked away."
"Because he was a craven." Her father gritted out with more venom than she ever heard him before. "He believed... He told himself that love, care… affection… it was weakness. He thought it made him less, so he didn't give it. And the truth… the truth is he was too small, too pathetic to do it right. So caught up in his own hang-ups and the inferiority of never being loved as a child. The thought of himself being anything less than perfect terrified him. "
"Thinking he was protecting you… thinking he was doing the right thing… and all he did was leave you… all of you… alone. Winter, Willow, Whitley… and you. Always you. Ignored. Invisible. Nothing he did mattered, because he couldn't matter. He wasn't capable of it." He let out a harsh and rattling breath. "
Weiss looked at him, and for a long moment, she couldn't move. Moments later, her shaky breathing began to twist into a hollow, mocking laugh, but one that carried no humor, only confusion, disbelief, and raw hurt.
"S-so what?" she spat, "You neglected us… because of your own hang-ups? What does that have to do with us? You… you ignored us because it suited you, because it was easier to hide behind your pride… and now, just because you decided to get over it, you want to… play the father?"
Her laughter fractured again, becoming more watery. "A-and I'm supposed to… just… go along with it? As if the past decade of pain and hurt meant nothing?"
"No," the man in front of her said quietly. "Your feelings… they matter. Every single one of them. You have every right to hate and despise me."
"I know that!" she shouted. "I know I'm right. I know I have the right to be angry. So why… why does it feel like I'm the problem?" Her voice cracked. "Why is everyone already acting like nothing ever happened? Why does it feel like I'm the one in the wrong?" Weiss's voice rose until it felt too big for her own throat. "Why does it feel like I'm the one ruining everything in this family? So, s-should I just forgive and move on?"
"You've done nothing wrong!" He yelled just as loud. She saw his fingers tighten on the cloth of his pants until his knuckles turned white. That is on me, entirely. Not you, and not anyone else."
Another sob left her lips.
"Then why?!" she forced out. "Why is everyone suddenly happier when I wasn't around?" Her voice thinned. "It all fell apart at my birthday party. It kept getting worse and worse for eight years while I was there. Every part of our family kept breaking."
Her breath wavered.
"And the moment I leave…"
She looked at him through the blur of her lashes and tears.
"The moment I leave," she whispered, "everyone starts laughing again, a-and... Talking again. They act like a family again. Like it fixed itself the second I was gone. Like I was the… problem."
Her voice cracked on the last word.
..
"Because you are a very kind person,"
Jacques said, meeting her eyes.
His hands loosened, then tightened again, as if he could not settle on what to do with them.
"That is the truth. You are kind, and you always have been. You were the only one who kept trying. You tried to keep this family together. You tried to help Winter. You tried to look after Whitley. You even tried to understand your mother.
Weiss saw his posture give way, and for once, the mighty Jacques Schnee looked like a man in his fifties, and not a statue of marble that only existed to scorn his daughter.
"You were too willing to carry what wasn't yours, and too willing to forgive when you had every right to be angry. That's why it always fell on you, Weiss. You tried to hold everything together while the rest of us....while I....looked away. Your kindness shouldn't have been a burden, but it became one because no one else stepped up."
He paused, letting the words she'd never thought she'd hear settle on her heart.
"Your absence did not heal this family, but it forced me to see how much you had been doing. How much you had been suffering. How much I relied on you without ever giving back."
His voice grew quieter, softer, and stripped bare of any of the familiar coldness she'd faced from him all her life.
"You were never the problem, Weiss."
Jacques held her gaze.
"You've always been the one holding this family together. You've always been the savior we did not deserve."
He leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. The proud Jacques Schnee lowered his head.
"I won't ask for your forgiveness because I have no right to it."
Her lips quivered.
"Weiss… I cannot change the past. I cannot undo the years I ignored you, ignored them, ignored my own family. But I can try. I can try to be here now. To be someone you can rely on. Someone who sees you. Truly sees you."
His only answer was the silence.
The silence, and the sound of his daughter breaking in front of him.
As for the first time in eight years, she let herself sit in front of him and let him see her cry.
As for the first time in her life, Weiss cried in her father's arms.
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A bit short, and definitely one that'll get polished and expanded later, but for now here it is. Because if I don't release it now, it's never gonna be out. THERE IT IS!!!!
Till next time