Foreward: This story was born from a writing prompt - An alternate universe wherein Blake and Adam have traded places. I would greatly appreciate any constructive criticism that you might have to offer. All characters and places are owned by Rooster Teeth Productions, LLC. (Thanks for letting me play in your universe!)

Adam hadn't ever needed much. Life had taught him the hard way, repeatedly – and often brutally – that anything not required for his immediate survival was merely something that he had to lose. It hadn't been until he met her, Blake Belladonna, that he had wanted something more than the next meal, the next safe place to sleep, the next objective. Blake had changed all of that.

The young woman – perhaps eight or ten years older than him – had caught him picking her pocket. Rather, she tracked him down after the fact. She had cornered him in a dark alleyway, just when he thought he'd pulled it off. When she confronted him, she saw his horns, which stilled whatever furious words she'd planned to lash him with. She had angrily torn the black bow from her head instead, which revealed a pair of cat's ears.

Adam had never made a habit of being selective in his choice of victims beyond the weight of their wallets. Human or Faunus, they were all the same to him: They usually had money, and he did not. He had never been overly fond of his heritage. It was nearly impossible to hide, and invited just as much trouble as his daily scavenging had. A Faunus orphan on the streets of Mistral made him alternately invisible, or worse, a target. He felt no special bond with his 'people', who often treated him with the same disregard that humans did.

Blake's anger had been palpable, but rather than scold or thrash him, she convinced him to follow her instead. She and several others had a camp on the outskirts of the city. He had reservations, but when he hesitated, she offered him a night's food and shelter. All she had asked for in return was his willing ear. He wasn't really sure he had a choice, but she had made it seem that way. She hadn't even demanded the return of her wallet, or beat him up and taken it back. She returned to where the alley met the street and re-tied her bow casually. The evening traffic whispered past as Adam cautiously joined her; a rare sense of curiosity got the better of him.

"What's your name?" she asked as he came to stand beside her.

"Adam Taurus." She nodded and they turned to face one another. Her amber eyes looked down into his.

"Blake. My name is Blake Belladonna." She seemed to expect a reaction from him. When he merely nodded, her eyes twinkled as if she were pleased. "Well, come on then, let's go."

The camp turned out to be just as she had said, though Adam had not expected it to be so large. There were several dozen tents, which were scattered around numerous campfires. Everyone they passed paid her respect, either with a short bow or a brief touch of fingers to foreheads. She called greetings to some and acknowledged the rest with a polite wave. The pace she set conveyed that she had business to be about, and so none stopped her for anything more.

The tent Blake led him to was actually a pavilion, and Adam was surprised to see that she was likely the only occupant. There were only her possessions in evidence, but it was furnished simply. One side held a camp cot with a couple of folded blankets, a small book case stuffed to bursting, and a wash-basin that could hold a modest amount of water. A large table dominated the space on the other side. It held maps and various papers, scrolls and books. Some were weighted down with books or rocks, while others were piled in stacks off to the side.

She prepared a cold meal of fruits, meats, and bread for the both of them with her own hands. They sat on the ground, on a blanket she had spread out over the grass. He expected a scolding for stealing from his own people, but it never came. Rather than berate Adam, she told him a story about a little girl who struggled much as he had. It was hard for him to take her seriously at first, because she hadn't been a homeless street urchin. Her home and family may have been squalid and harsh, but at least she'd had something. She seemed to be doing pretty good for herself now – however humble she might appear to be. He did listen, though; they were only words, and the food was good – and clean. He would never be able to remember quite when his mind changed, but by the time she had finished speaking, he had lost his appetite. The meal tasted like ashes: Bitterness had crept into his palate as her recounting echoed with all-too familiar memories of his own.

Blake allowed him to sit and think while she cleared away the leftovers, and then offered him a chance to ask questions. The silence that followed was not awkward, but he couldn't think of anything to say. When that became evident, she spoke of her plans. The leadership of the White Fang was going to change soon. New ideas were needed; the Faunus were not, and had never been treated as equals.

The current way of doing things simply was not getting results – picket lines and boycotts were fine in theory, but they had accomplished next to nothing in practice. It was imperative that more drastic actions take place, something to show the humans that the Faunus were better as allies than enemies. She had been given a chance to see what she could build on her own, and this camp was the result so far.

It wasn't just a home; it was the beginnings of a revolution.

The Faunus could wait for true equality until the stars burned out, or they could fight for it. Blake and her followers were going to send a message, one of many filled with righteous thunder and fury. The humans would listen to them, one way or the other. By the time she relented, the hour had grown late. She offered Adam a choice: He could go, unchallenged – he could even keep the money that he'd stolen from her – or he could stay and help her fight for a better future.

Here was a woman who really cared nothing at all for herself. The dark-haired woman had (if she was telling the truth) given up an easier, more comfortable life for this one. She desperately wanted their kind to be treated better than second class citizens. Adam understood the burning need in her eyes. There had been plenty of nights – some very recently – where he'd gone to sleep with a terrible gnawing in his belly. She might have plenty of food, but her hunger was no different than his. He could almost believe her.

"Think on your life thus far, Adam Taurus. Is that all you can imagine for yourself?" She stood to and moved to leave, and when he went to join her, she forestalled him with a raised hand. "Sit. Think. Rest. You can give me your answer in the morning." And then she smiled at him, gesturing to a folded camp cot. "My tent is yours for what remains of this night," and then she left without another word.

Adam did as she bade, and even then part of him didn't want to trust her. He had been taken in by false kindness before, and had paid for it dearly in pain and blood. Blake had offered to show him the way, or at least a better one than picking pockets and rooting through the garbage of mankind. He was never much of a fighter. Even when cornered he was often too weak to take on the larger and stronger victims that caught him. Would he be trading one set of worries for another? The thoughts and doubts tumbled through his mind as he tried and failed to sleep.

When the sun had begun to peek through the tent flap, he emerged to see Blake at a nearby campfire. She was talking quietly with a pair of wolf-eared Faunus. He approached, but waited a short distance away from them, and pondered all that had happened in the last day. No one had bothered him, or tried to hurt him, or take advantage of him. Nobody appeared to be lurking in wait to stop him if he decided to leave. The woman appeared, for the moment, to have been honest with him.

He may not have had any questions for her last night, but he had one now. Once she was free, she waved him over to join her. She had promised to make him strong, and he wanted to know what she meant by that. She explained that if he chose to stay, she would give him a seed of power: She would awaken his Aura, and if he decided to stay, she would do it then and there.

That revelation stopped his mind in its tracks: The mythical powers of the Huntsmen. He didn't know much about them, but he had seen enough to know they were real. It was a shock to learn that not only did Blake have it, but that she could help him to have that power too. He had a million questions, but the temptation was too much.

He chose, and she kept her word.

When it was done, he brought out the wallet and held it up to her. It was a simple thing of leather, with only a single decoration – a child's drawing of a cat's face burned into the material. There was only a hint of reluctance on his part, but fair was fair. They'd made a deal and she had kept her end up. She knelt and pressed it between his palms, and then folded her hands around his.

"This is yours now, Adam. I expect you to earn it with hard work and loyalty. Do you understand?" He did, but saying so didn't seem like enough. He took a chance and wrapped her in a fierce hug, which elicited surprised bubbles of laughter from her. She returned the embrace, and from that moment, he was hers. None had ever been so kind to him for as long as he could remember, and he swore to himself that he would do anything for her.

That night brought the best sleep he'd had since he ran away from the orphanage all those years ago. His newly awakened aura thrummed within him; it was almost euphoric. Even when Blake later warned him that she would push him to his limits, he did not waver. In the years that followed, he faced many challenges. Training his newfound skills and executing, then later commanding raids were the hardest things he'd done in his life. When it seemed too overwhelming, he persevered because Blake believed in him. He had promised to work hard, and she held him to that.

Adam never had a friend before, and had never bothered to imagine what it might be like. She had changed that for him; she often took personal charge of his training, made time to teach him new ways to bend his mind, body and spirit to the demanding tasks she expected of him. At times it could be harsh, but her methods were a mixture of silent encouragement and stark reality. He came to understand the value of ideals. She also pushed him to think critically for himself. If he had any particularly good ideas, she would make it happen.

Most importantly, though, he learned how to fight. He was exposed to a plethora of weapons and styles. Some were easier than others, but nothing compared to the Aura training. Having it and using it were two very different things, and it took Adam what felt like ages to do anything reliable with it. By the time he had gained control of his power, two years had gone by. Blake was pleased with his progress, and felt that he was ready to learn from a true master. It would keep them apart for weeks at a time, but he did it for her sake.

He had never heard of Beryl Skrin, but Blake made certain that he treated the fox Faunus with respect. Master Skrin was an even harder taskmaster than Blake. The training she gave him would leave him exhausted, but he made impressive leaps forward in both armed combat and even greater control of his Aura.

Adam was near his coming of age when he started to notice a subtle shift in Blake's personality. She had become increasingly agitated and quicker to anger. He worried that she wasn't getting enough rest, but chose to trust her judgment. The work they were doing was important; sometimes sacrifices had to be made. Being the leader of over two hundred people came with a great deal of stress. It was understandable if she got frustrated once in a while.

That was what he told himself, anyway.

It wasn't until she had killed a Huntsman that he'd grown concerned enough to speak of it with her. It had been a nasty shock: In all their time together, no lives had ever been taken. The look she gave him when he confronted her made his heart sink. It was one of anger, and now it was directed at him. He pleaded for her to understand that murder would only hurt their cause. She did eventually relent, and reassured him with a gentle touch and quiet words. It had happened in the heat of battle, and the Huntsman had not been holding back. She promised to be more careful in the future.

There were more incidents, and their talks became disagreements. Blake might have preferred that he wouldn't question her, but she had given him too many years of allowing him to speak his mind. Arguments followed, which became increasingly heated. Their latest bout had ended in a shouting match. He loved her, but he was afraid that she was losing herself to blind rage. The words had rung in the woods, and she looked utterly shocked, as if she'd been slapped. She turned and walked away from him without a word: They didn't speak for days.

Had it all been a mistake? He would angrily shake his head each time he his thoughts returned to the question. Adam had been with the revolutionaries for nearly eight years and, until lately, things had gone better than he could have imagined. He knew that Blake was a good person, deep down. It showed in the thoughtful actions she took. She ensured that the children of the camp were the first to eat, and saw to the needs of the wounded or sick – often personally. Time and again she put her – their people – before herself. Her recent gift to him, a masterfully crafted weapon, had even been forged at great personal sacrifice. It was his most treasured possession, something he could never have hoped to own as a street rat.

On the fourth night of their estrangement, Blake finally sought him out – a first for her after one of their spats. She found him perched up in a tree in the Forever Fall forest. He was leaned against the smooth bark and staring up at the sky through a parting of branches in the canopy. The shattered face of the moon had just risen into view when he heard her footsteps. She had learned that, as much as he trusted her, it was unwise to sneak up on Adam when he was brooding.

He slipped the mask down to cover his eyes before she could see the sunken, raw flesh around them. He had never liked the damned thing, but he had worn it for missions. It was important to Blake, so he had taken it up for her sake. He didn't bother with it around the camps, even though many of his brothers and sisters chose to. The last few days he had made an exception: He didn't want to appear weak, especially not in front of Blake.

The mask also served another purpose; it kept questions from onlookers at bay. Adam might be young, but he was her right hand, and the camp had sensed the tension between them. His act of putting it on was a signal that he was in no mood for idle talk. The few left who remembered him as a scrawny boy; they respected him enough to discourage newcomers from interfering or making comments. He may not have cared for the mask, but it was proving useful now.

Adam heard her semblance flash as she leaped to join him on the branch. She stood in profile to him for a moment, staring up into the sky. He wondered what she had been thinking these last few days. When Blake turned to face him, her expression was unreadable. That usually meant that she would start the conversation with an apology, followed by an attempt to justify her actions. This time she didn't speak at all, and moved to sit beside him instead. He scooted over to make as much room as possible, but they were rubbing shoulders to keep from falling off.

Several minutes passed in silence before she spoke. "I hate it when we fight, Adam." Her regret sounded genuine, but there was something else in her voice, too.

"I don't like it either." He didn't know what else to say to her. He had already said too much as it was. The entire camp had heard it, no doubt. He'd been replaying that moment in his mind, had lost sleep over it – even now he cringed inwardly at the memory. There was little doubt that it hadn't been heard. Nobody spoke of it, not to him, at least, which only made him feel even more chagrined. He was sure he'd gone entirely too far.

He didn't flinch when she reached to turn his face toward hers, though he resisted for a moment when she started to remove the mask. Once she could see his eyes, she surprised him with a question. "Did you mean it?" she asked. His breath froze in his throat. Her voice was as devoid of emotion as her face, a warning sign he'd learned to spot. She sat patiently while he considered how to answer her.

"Which part? The fact that your temper is starting to scare me, or-"

"Do you really love me, Adam?" Her amber eyes gave him nothing but the question she had posed.

He bowed his head and nodded. He didn't look away out of shame, but rather because he knew what was coming. She was his mentor, and his friend, but she was also his leader. She didn't have time for romance – not that he had any idea how to go about it, even if she had. The awful words never came. Minutes passed in agonizing slowness. It was a worse torment than the rejection he was about to hear.

Instead of refusing him or leaving, Blake laced her fingers between his. She continued to say nothing; she lifted his arm and settled it around her shoulders, and then laid her head against his chest. Her ear whiskers brushed against his neck when she settled in. He went still as stone and cursed his racing heart in silent frustration. She tried to speak a few times, but couldn't decide where to begin. He didn't know what to say either, but dared to rest his cheek against the top of her head. The moon had risen out of sight, obscured by the leaves and branches. When Blake finally spoke, it had been at least an hour.

"It's been so long since I've wanted anything for myself, Adam. I want to talk about this. We will talk about this – but right now we need to focus on the mission tomorrow. We also need our rest." It was better than he'd hoped for. "Come on, let's go home." She sat up and brushed her lips across his cheek, leaving a trail of warmth that spread to the rest of his body. As her mouth drew near his ear, she whispered four words that both thrilled and terrified him.

"My tent is yours," and her meaning could not have been more clear.

He wanted very much to give her the benefit of the doubt. Love was supposed to mean accepting someone, including the flaws, wasn't it?

How did it all get so wrong? Adam had been troubled before; now he was despondent. The train had pulled into the Vale transit gate, and he scarcely noticed. Blake had tried to go too far. Again. There had been children on board. It didn't matter to him if they were human or not. He could have tried to get them out, but she had already set the charges. He loved her, but they would never be able to build anything together, not at the cost of innocent lives. There hadn't been time for anything else: He sabotaged the mission and left her behind. Maybe she would see that what she was becoming had driven him away. It was a faint hope.

He was at a loss for what to do once the train had arrived. Vale security had been laughably easy to evade, but now that he was back in the city, he felt adrift. The many years with Blake and the White Fang had given him purpose. Street thievery just wasn't something he could or wanted to return to. He wandered the city for hours with no particular destination in mind while he considered his next move. There had to be a way to reach her, to help her understand that she was out of control. Running away probably – no, it absolutely wasn't the best start, but it was all he'd been able to come up with.

When Adam found himself on the edge of Vale, the sun was low in the sky. He sat on an empty dock piling, and could see the green lights of Beacon Tower as they glinted in the distance. He knew about the school, but had never actually been there, or even seen it until now. Looking at it reminded him of the Huntsman that Blake had killed. The raid that the nameless man had interrupted had been one in a series of hit and run tactics. Fear was a powerful tool, but the plan had ultimately backfired; the man had been hired to put an end to their attacks. Adam vividly recalled the look of pain and shock on his face when she had stuck the final blow.

He closed his eyes, shame filling his throat with bile. He had only been trying to help the people targeted by the White Fang. He looked across the water and stared hard at that tower, the vision blurred by unshed tears. There was a debt of blood owed. Adam had no idea if there was any family to miss Blake's victim, and the beginnings of an idea formed. As the thoughts turned over in his mind, he continued to stare at Beacon.

He wanted to make life for his people better. That had been the whole point of joining the White Fang. The mission was the same, but it was taking a darker path. He could try to go back, but he could only see that ending badly. Blake had definite ideas about what they needed to do in order to achieve their goals - deserters were severely punished. Maybe there was another way. He made up his mind and made his way back to the commercial district.

"Welcome to Tukson's Book Trade, home to every book under the sun." Adam had never met the man, but he knew the name. Tukson wasn't an active member of the White Fang, but he was a sympathizer. He had a reputation for being able to procure just about anything. If he didn't have it, he knew where to get it. It was a risk coming to him, but there weren't many other options. "Can I help you find something?"

"I'm looking for Third Crusade. Can you lead me to it?" It was the last coded phrase in use, and thankfully it hadn't been changed yet. Tukson drew his index and pinkie fingers across the back of his hand. Adam grasped his left thumb with three fingers, while also tapping the back of his hand with the right index finger. That meant that he was here incognito, and that only the two of them were to be aware of anything discussed. Anyone else involved was to have as little information as possible.

"Of course – I have just what you're looking for. Wait here a moment." He stepped around the counter and moved to the front of the store. He drew the shades, locked the door, and flipped the sign to indicate that the shop was closed for the evening. There had been no customers other than Adam. Looking around, he could see that Tukson probably had few of them. The store was a front for the less legitimate business, though the man did trade in rare volumes.

"What will it be?" he asked as he returned to the counter. He waved for Adam to follow him into the back of the store. He joined the shopkeeper as the man pulled aside a curtain and entered a short hallway. It led to a storage room filled with shelves and boxes of books. The musty smell of paper filled his nostrils, and Adam smiled bitterly; Blake would have loved this room.

"I need clean papers and an application processed for Beacon Academy." Tukson stopped walking and turned to look at him in surprise. He didn't ask why – the man was smarter than that, at least. He had already decided to tell him only as much as he needed to know. "Can you do it or not?" If he couldn't, Adam would be forced to speak with the Headmaster directly, which would complicate matters. It might even defeat the purpose of his plan altogether – he didn't know enough about Professor Ozpin to be certain that it would be a productive conversation.

"I know a man, but that will take some doing. Do you have a place to stay for a day or two?" Adam shook his head. He had some money, but doubted it would be enough to rent a room and purchase the things he would need as a student. "Alright, you can bunk here. I'll need to leave in order to make the arrangements. Help yourself to whatever you need, but please don't open the glass cases." He indicated two sealed bookcases near the back of the room. "There's food in the fridge, and a cot upstairs, second door on the right. It isn't much, but it's probably better than the camps." He scanned the room and spotted the stairs past the forbidden book cases. He pointed to show that he knew where it was.

"Thank you," he said.

"I'll be gone for a couple of hours. When I get back, we'll need to make an appointment with a tailor." Adam looked down at his black and red attire in confusion. What was wrong with what he had? "School's got a dress code. You'll need a uniform." Ah.

"That could be a problem. I have limited resources." This was proving to be more involved than he'd expected.

Tukson waved a hand and shook his head. "Don't worry about it, then. Rare trades were good this month, and I have favors owed. Uniforms are pretty cheap, even if they have to be custom ordered. The papers won't cost anything. What name do you want on them?"

"Adam Taurus." There wasn't much point in hiding his name. He'd never been identified during his time with Blake and the White Fang. He doubted that anyone would remember – or care – about a Faunus child disappearing from Mistral more than ten years ago. It happened all the time. Tukson had him stand in front of a green drop cloth so he could take photos with an expensive looking camera. Once that had been done, the man left to meet his forger.

Adam didn't feel particularly tired or hungry, so he occupied his time by perusing the books. He had never appreciated them as much as Blake had. When she had learned that he couldn't read, she insisted that he have a proper education. Stupid White Fang members often ended up captured or dead, which would not do. He picked up a random volume occasionally, leafing through pages without really paying attention – a habit that had given Blake fits of exasperation. He was on the verge of giving his browsing up in favor of meditation when a familiar title caught his eye.

Blake knew that Adam had little patience for fiction, yet she had all but gushed excitement for The Man with Two Souls, a copy of it now in his hands. Maybe it would provide him some insight into her mind? 'Know your opponent' was a favored lesson of hers. The thought made him pause in grief. Was that what they were now? He didn't want to think of her that way, but the eyes that had glared at him that morning had not been the same person he'd been with the night before. He needed to understand what had driven her over the edge: There had to be a way to bring her back. He took the book back to the stairs and sat down to read.

The book told the tale of Darius Gray and the struggle between his desire to be a good man or give in to his darker nature. Adam frowned after he had turned the first few pages. The author never clearly stated that the character was a Faunus, but the negative implication came up more than once. Was the writer a racist? He continued to the end of the first chapter and snapped the book shut in frustration. Why would she read this garbage, much less enjoy it? It bore further thought, but he wasn't in the right frame of mind for it right now. He stood with a growl and stumped up the stairs, but he took the book with him.

The room, as promised, held a basic camp cot, as well as a padded leather chair and small table. The floor was bare wood, and the walls were unpainted stone, one of which held a pair of paintings. The room was otherwise empty, but it would serve well enough. He laid the book on the table and sat on the floor in the middle of the room. He then took his weapon and laid it across his knees, finally closing his eyes and stilling his thoughts.

When Tukson returned, Adam had not moved. He remotely noticed when his host looked into the room, but the man chose not to interrupt his contemplation. He had used the time to reflect on nothing, pushing the questions and heartbreak from his active thoughts. Sometimes answers or insight would come from the aether, but none had materialized. It had also been harder this time; with all that had happened, the turmoil of the day had finally caught up to him. He'd found his center, but it had taken much longer than usual.

Adam eventually had to give in to the need for food, but at least he was calmer than he had been before. He rose smoothly and made his way to the kitchen area long enough to grab an apple and some kind of dried meat strips. He then made his way downstairs as he ate. He wanted to find out what else needed to be done in preparation for his continued education. Tukson looked up from where he was sorting boxes and gave him a thumbs-up.

"We're in luck. My associate was in the middle of a similar piece of work, so he should be done with yours some time tomorrow." Adam replied with a hum as he chewed, and Tukson resumed his box shuffling. He found what he was looking for a few minutes later. He opened the box and started pulling out tomes, which Adam viewed with disinterest. He knew schoolbooks when he saw them. "You'll be wanting these – I've got most of the first-year subjects." He flipped open a couple to show that they had been marked with notes. That would be useful, provided that the previous owner hadn't been a complete idiot.

"The tailor you'll see tomorrow," Tukson said as he pulled out a business card. "She'll be ready for you any time in the morning." Adam took it, looked at the details and pocketed it. He listened patiently as the man gave him the basics of the identity being set up for him. His outfit didn't exactly shout Vacuo, but it didn't really matter. The cooler climate of Vale would necessitate warmer clothing than was usually worn in the desert kingdom.

Adam took the time to get what details he could about the staff at Beacon, of whom Tukson knew a surprising amount. He also made Adam aware that while records would show him as having passed the entrance exams, he would still need to go through the school's initiation. The bookkeeper's description made it sound simple enough; he had faced far worse during his time with the White Fang.

The next two days were occupied with getting his uniform, papers, and other necessities. After that it was just a matter of time before the airship would carry him to the school. When the day arrived, he did his best to ignore the tiny voice in his head that said this was a bad idea.