Hours after the tumultuous incident in class, Weiss found herself outside, seeking refuge in the quiet solitude of the campus. She sat alone on a stone bench, watching as the sun sank below the horizon, painting the sky in fiery hues of orange, purple, and red. The fading light cast long shadows, and the cool evening air was a welcome contrast to the burning confusion in her mind. She sat with her arms tightly crossed over her chest, lost in thought, trying to reconcile the image of the girl who was her leader with the unholy power she had unleashed.
Her quiet contemplation was broken by the sound of footsteps behind her, a steady, deliberate rhythm that didn't belong to a panicked student. Turning toward the source, she saw Professor Port approaching, his large frame a silhouette against the twilight.
"Professor," Weiss said, her voice a little too sharp.
He stopped a few feet away, his usual boisterous energy replaced by a calm, thoughtful demeanor. "Ms. Schnee, how come you are here all by yourself?" he asked, his voice gentle.
Weiss looked away, her gaze returning to the horizon. "Just thinking," she answered, her voice clipped. "Needed some air."
Professor Port simply nodded, respecting her need for space. He didn't say anything else, but instead took a seat at the far end of the bench, watching the sunset with her. The silence was not awkward; it was a comfortable understanding that only a mentor could provide.
After a few minutes, Weiss spoke again, her voice barely a whisper. "Why did Professor Ozpin make Ruby team leader?" she asked, the question filled with a mix of genuine confusion and frustration.
The professor hummed softly, his eyes still fixed on the horizon. "Because she's leader material," he answered simply, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world; and yet, not even he knew the answer.
Weiss let out a scoff, the sound filled with a deep-seated annoyance. Her hands tightened into fists. "Leader material? And yet she doesn't take anything seriously!" The words came tumbling out now, fueled by her day-long frustration. "She's always so childish, so reckless. You saw what she did to that Grimm in there! Why would you make... a..."
She paused, the word catching in her throat, her mind racing as she realized what she was about to say. But the thought was already there, festering, and it slipped out nonetheless.
"...A monster as a leader?"
The word hung in the cool evening air between them, a fragile, ugly thing that Weiss immediately regretted. She flinched, her body tensing as she stared at Professor Port, waiting for the fury, the disappointment, the judgment. But none came.
Professor Port's gaze remained fixed on the last sliver of the sun, his expression unreadable. He remained silent for a long moment, allowing the weight of the word to settle.
Finally, he turned to face her, his eyes holding a depth of understanding that made Weiss's bravado crumble. "A monster," he repeated, his voice low and devoid of anger. "That is a powerful word, Ms. Schnee. A word we reserve for creatures of pure instinct and unthinking rage. I saw her in there today. I saw a girl who was in pain, fighting against a power she did not understand. And I saw that same girl, in that moment of weakness, use that terrifying power to protect her partner."
He leaned forward slightly, his eyes boring into hers. "That was not the action of a monster, Ms. Schnee. A monster would have let that Grimm tear you apart. A monster would have let that power consume her entirely. But she did not. She used it to save you."
Weiss had no retort. The arguments she had so carefully prepared, the justifications for her prejudice, evaporated under the simple truth of his words. She stared at the ground, the shame a hot, painful flush on her cheeks. She hadn't seen it that way. She had only seen the horror of the power, not the heroism of the act.
"A true Huntsman," Professor Port continued, his voice now a quiet, firm lecture, "must not only understand their enemy, but they must also understand their allies. What you saw today was not a monster. It was a girl who is more afraid of her own power than you could ever be. A girl who, in her greatest moment of fear, still chose to protect her friend."
He stood from the bench, his towering figure a silhouette against the last vestiges of twilight. "Do not let fear define your understanding of her, Ms. Schnee. The sunset is beautiful now, but what matters is the light you see when the sun is gone. Do not confuse a great burden with an evil heart."
Weiss looked up at him, her eyes glistening. She stood slowly, the last light of the day fading completely, leaving them in the quiet darkness. The cold truth of his words hung in the air, and for the first time, Weiss felt a true sense of clarity, and a profound regret for the word she had uttered.
The last light of dusk had long faded by the time Weiss returned to the dorm room. The familiar chime of the door opening felt loud in the oppressive silence. Inside, the room was dimly lit, and the air was heavy with unspoken tension.
Yang and Blake were sitting on Blake's bed, both looking exhausted. On her own bed, Ruby was curled up, her knees pulled to her chest, a picture of complete and utter despair. Her head was bowed, and she didn't even flinch at the sound of the door.
Weiss quietly closed the door behind her. The confident stride she usually had was gone, replaced by a slow, hesitant walk. She set her bag down and approached Ruby's bed, stopping a few feet away. The memory of her last conversation, of the word she had spoken, burned in her mind.
"Ruby," she said, her voice soft and uncharacteristically gentle.
Ruby's shoulders flinched, but she didn't look up. The air was thick with the weight of the day.
Weiss knelt down beside the bed, her body language a complete surrender of her usual haughtiness. "I'm sorry," she said, the words feeling clumsy and inadequate on her tongue. "I was a terrible partner in class today. And..." she paused, her throat tightening as she found the right words. "I should have been there for you."
Ruby slowly raised her head, her eyes red-rimmed and hollow with a pain Weiss had never seen before. She just stared at her, as if a ghost had come back to life.
"And," Weiss continued, her voice gaining a firm, unwavering resolve, "I won't call you that word again. I was wrong. I was afraid, and I was wrong." She reached out a hand, and with a small, hesitant motion, she placed it over Ruby's clenched fist. "I don't know what that power is. I don't understand it. But I do know what I saw. I saw you save me."
Ruby's defenses shattered. The tears she had been holding back all day finally came, not in a torrent of sobs, but in a quiet, painful shudder that ran through her whole body. The terror she had been carrying all day, the weight of her secret and the fear of being alone, finally released itself.
Yang and Blake quietly got up and came to sit on the bed as well, forming a circle around Ruby. No one said a word. They just sat together, their silence a shared promise that the burden was no longer hers alone. The future was more uncertain than ever, and a new, terrifying power now defined their team. But for the first time, they were facing it together.
The last sobs had long since subsided, leaving a fragile, exhausted silence in the wake of Ruby's emotional release. The four girls remained in a huddled circle, the shared weight of the day now a binding force. After a long moment, the quiet was broken when Weiss, her expression now one of focused resolve, sat up.
She looked at Ruby, her blue eyes softer than they had been all day. "How do you like your coffee?" she asked, her voice low and direct, a stark contrast to her usual conversational tone. The question was simple, but it carried the weight of a promise. It was her way of showing, not just saying, that she was there for her.
Ruby lifted her head, her gaze still hazy from the tears. Her brow furrowed slightly as she processed the question, and a small, bittersweet hum escaped her lips. The memory was faint, a distant echo from her past. A cold, sterile room, the lingering smell of chemicals, and Alex handing her a mug with a gentle smile after a tough experiment. It was a small act of kindness in a world of pain.
"Five creams and five sugars," she answered, the words coming out without hesitation.
Weiss nodded once, a gesture of quiet understanding, and rose to her feet. "I'll be right back."
Just as she reached the door, Yang's voice boomed from the bed. "What about us?!"
Weiss didn't even turn around. "You can get your own!" she called back, the retort delivered with a familiar, effortless snark that was a welcome return to their normal banter. A small smile flickered across Ruby's face as the door clicked shut behind the heiress, leaving a renewed sense of peace in the dorm.
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It was late, but the girls were still up. The dorm room was quiet, bathed in the soft, warm glow of a single desk lamp. The day's turmoil had been put to rest, replaced by a comfortable, peaceful silence.
Blake was curled up in her bed, the soft whisper of pages turning the only sound from her corner of the room. Across from her, Weiss was hunched over her desk, furiously scribbling notes as she worked to catch up on the homework she'd missed.
On the floor, nestled amongst blankets and pillows, Yang and Ruby sat, their faces illuminated by the screens of their Scrolls. Yang was absorbed in a fighting game, her thumb tapping the screen with practiced speed, while Ruby watched, learning the moves. Yang's enthusiasm was infectious, and for the first time all day, Ruby felt herself starting to relax.
Then, a sudden, chilling memory sliced through the quiet. Ruby's thumbs went still, and she slowly lowered her Scroll. "That photo," she said, her voice a hushed whisper, and Yang looked up, confused. "On your nightstand."
Yang turned to look at her, her face a question mark. "What about it?"
Ruby sat her Scroll down, placing it carefully on the floor. Her gaze was distant, fixed on a world that only she could see. "That woman... with the white cloak," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I remember her."
She looked at Yang now, her eyes filled with a hollow, haunted look. "I remember her from my dreams. She's the one... the one who got away." Her voice was filled with a deep, crushing sorrow.
Yang's smile vanished. She saw the pain in Ruby's eyes and knew this was no longer a simple question. She put her own Scroll down on the floor, the click of the screen a punctuation mark in the heavy silence. She leaned forward, her eyes never leaving Ruby's face.
Ruby's voice was small and fragile, filled with a mix of fear and an agonizing, hopeful desperation. Her next words hung in the air, a broken question that changed everything.
"...Her name was Summer Rose, right?"
The silence that followed Ruby's question stretched on, thick and heavy with unspoken truth. Yang's face was a study in conflicted emotion. Her smile, which had been so easy all night, faded into a small, sad frown. She looked down at her hands, which rested on the floor between them, before slowly raising her head.
Her voice, when it came, was so soft it was almost a whisper. "Yeah..." she breathed, the single word a quiet, painful confirmation. "She's my stepmom."
Ruby didn't react with a shout or a sob. She just stared at Yang, her eyes wide and unblinking as the full, devastating weight of the truth settled over her. The woman from her nightmares, the one who had abandoned her, was not some stranger. She was family.
Without even realizing it, Ruby's hand had reached out and gripped the fabric of her own red cloak, an extension of her very being. She held it so tightly that the knuckles of her hand turned bone-white against the crimson material. The familiar feel of the fabric, a comfort she had always taken for granted, was now a physical reminder of the truth she had been searching for.
The revelation was not a moment of clarity but a final, shattering blow. Her heart ached with a profound, terrifying sorrow, a pain far deeper than any of the "experiments" she had endured. The woman who had been her greatest fear was the person who was supposed to be her greatest comfort.
After a long moment, a single tear traced a path down her cheek. "She's my mother," she finally said, the words a raw, broken whisper.
The last word, a single, raw whisper, hung in the air between them. The room, which had been a sanctuary of peace just moments ago, was now an echo chamber for a life-altering truth. Yang's hand, which had been resting casually on her knee, clenched into a tight fist. She didn't say anything; she didn't have to. The look on her face, a blend of profound regret and quiet grief, was all the confirmation Ruby needed.
The silence that followed was a physical weight, heavier than any sorrow Ruby had ever known. It was the silence of a secret finally being told, of a foundation being shaken to its core. Ruby's eyes remained fixed on Yang, searching for answers in her expression, answers she was suddenly terrified to find.
Yang finally moved. She reached out slowly, her fingers wrapping gently around Ruby's wrist. Her voice, when she spoke, was barely audible, thick with an unspoken sorrow. "Ruby," she began, "I... I am so sorry."
Ruby shook her head, not in anger, but in confusion. The tears that had been dried on her cheeks were suddenly hot again. She pulled her wrist from Yang's grasp, not to retreat, but to bring her own hand up to her face, a physical shield for the fresh tears. "Why?" she choked out, her voice cracking with the unbearable ache in her chest. "Why didn't anyone tell me?"
Yang's own eyes welled with tears. "Because he couldn't," she whispered, her voice filled with a heartbreaking honesty. "He couldn't even say her name without... without breaking down. And we were so young. We didn't know how to talk about it."
Blake and Weiss, who had been silent witnesses to the entire exchange, now moved closer, forming a protective circle around the two sisters. Blake quietly placed a hand on Yang's shoulder, her amber eyes filled with a deep, knowing empathy. Weiss just knelt beside Ruby's bed, her presence a silent, unwavering promise of support.
The conversation that had been waiting for them their entire lives had finally begun, not with anger, but with a shared grief. The tears now flowed freely from Ruby's eyes, not just for the mother she had never known, but for the one who was standing right in front of her, carrying a pain she had never understood until now. The burden was no longer a secret, and in the quiet of the night, in the heart of their dorm room, it was no longer hers to carry alone.
A raw, choked sob escaped Ruby's lips, and she curled into herself, clutching at her red cloak as if they could shield her from the words that were about to come out. Her voice was a cracked, fragile whisper, filled with the devastating weight of years of silent pain.
"I... I thought she abandoned me," she confessed, the words so quiet they were almost swallowed by the silence of the room. "I told them she didn't... every single time. I told them we were just separated, that she was going to come back for me. That she would save me."
Her voice broke on the last word, and a fresh wave of tears streamed down her face. "But with so many years of pain... and so many nights of nightmares where she just... left me... I thought I was never going to be saved. I thought I wasn't worth saving."
Her grip tightened on the cloak, her knuckles turning white. She looked up at her team, her eyes filled with a hollow, profound sorrow.
"So I gave up," she said, her voice barely audible. "I gave in. I... I just let them do whatever they wanted to me."
A raw, devastating silence settled over the room. The air, heavy with the weight of Ruby's confession, seemed to hold its breath. Yang's face was a mask of pure, unfiltered horror and grief, her mind reeling from the full, brutal reality of her sister's pain. The happy-go-lucky girl she had always known had been a lie, a carefully constructed shield for a little girl who had given up on ever being saved.
Across the bed, Blake's quiet composure shattered, her eyes widening in a mix of shock and a profound, heartbreaking empathy. Weiss, who had been struggling to process the day's events, felt a wave of shame and sorrow so powerful it brought tears to her own eyes. Her earlier judgment was gone, replaced by a humbling awareness of a pain she could never have imagined.
Yang was the first to move. Her eyes, glistening with tears, were filled with a love so fierce it was almost a physical force. She reached out, her hands trembling, and with a broken sob of her own, pulled Ruby into a tight, desperate embrace. It was an embrace that was both an apology and a promise, a physical vow to protect her sister from a world that had hurt her for so long.
Ruby's small body, which had been so tense and rigid with pain, finally surrendered to the comfort. She broke down in a quiet, ragged sob, not one of fear or despair, but of relief.
Without a word, Blake reached out, her hand resting on Yang's shoulder, a silent act of support that said, We are here. And in a moment that sealed their bond forever, even Weiss, shedding all her pride and formality, moved forward. She knelt beside them, her arm circling both Ruby and Yang, her presence a silent, unwavering promise of shared burdens.
For a long moment, the four of them remained in a huddle, their bodies pressed together in a tight, unyielding embrace. The room was no longer filled with sorrow, but with the quiet, profound love of a team that had become a family. The nightmares of the past were not gone, but for the first time in her life, Ruby knew she would not have to face them alone.