Five Times Glynda Goodwitch Fixed Something . . .

5 – A (Not So) Bloody Man.

"What do you see, when you look at my hands?"

"...What?"

The question repeated itself in answer, and for the first time in a very long while, Glynda had to admit that her longtime, silver-haired companion had stumped her speechless. She wasn't quite sure what he meant- and that must have shown on her expression, because, with a long-suffering sigh she didn't understand, he spoke again, and explained.

"When I look at my hands," Ozpin begins, "All I see is scarlet. I see tools... I see weapons, drenched in scarlet. I see callouses, scars, the hands of a soldier who has killed. I see nothing good- every time I look at them, I want to somehow take them off, like gloves, and throw them away; because no matter how many times I look, no matter how many times I try to wash them- "

The Headmaster of Beacon pulls his hands up to his face, right in front of him. His expression is kept carefully blank, but she can see behind his walls; she always could. She had known him for far too long. She could see pain, a long nursed hurt, torment.

She wasn't used to seeing that in him.
And that frightened her.

"And when I wash them, the blood is still there. When I look at my hands- all I see is blood."

That brought her attention back to Ozpin.

The young man was shaking slightly, looking so weary and heartbroken. She knew that he tried his best, no matter what the tabloids or the idiot masses that were their government- the higher powers that be, so to speak- said or cared to see. She knew that he took their cruel, ignorant words to heart- she knew that he was hurting, so badly, he was hurting- and she was the only one who he would let see that.

Glynda approaches him, without conscious thought, but instead of embracing him and holding him close to her, tightly, she instead takes his hands in her own and begins to scan them herself. To her surprise, during her ministrations, Ozpin doesn't move; he's too busy watching her play with his oh-so-bloodstained hands.

"I don't see it," Is her judgement.

Ozpin looks up, startled. "What?"

He sounds so heart-breakingly surprised, as though he had expected her to drop his hands and run screaming from the room as though she had seen a monster within him, laying dormant until yet another kill, yet another target, came along.

"I don't see any scarlet."

Ozpin couldn't help himself, it seems.

"What do you see, then?"

"What I see is written on your hands in gentle black ink," Glynda responds, after a moment of gathering her thoughts. She keeps his hands firmly in hers, not wishing for him to slip away. "I see love and kindness. I see the callouses of hands that have been well-used- not for killing, but for teaching those that need to be taught. I see the fingerprints of the man I've come to know. I see pale white skin, pale and perfect despite the scars from painful, victorious battles and even more painful failures. I see the hands that have provided comfort to those in need. I see the hands that calmed even the hottest flames of my anger. I see the hands that have protected the people they care about, no matter the cost. And, mostly, I see the hands of a man. A good man, a great man, even if I can not see it himself. I see you, Ozpin- I see you."

Ozpin is so startled that he couldn't even speak.
But he could move.

His hands slipped from hers, and for a terrible moment, Glynda thought her words didn't pierce him. She thought he was about to try to push her away, as he had done so many painful times in the past. She thought that he was going to deny her words, belittle himself, his achievements, his succesess, his failures. She thought he was going to turn away from her, hide behind that blasted emerald curtain-

But the silver-haired man didn't.

Instead, he wrapped his arms around her and he held her.

And, quietly, tears began to roll down his cheeks from pained, light chocolate brown eyes.

Glynda didn't hesitate to wrap him in her arms and hold him close to her.

She had gotten through to him.

"Thank you. I don't- thank you. You fix so much for me, and I- ... I'm sorry, I... I'm sorry that I keep making you fix things. I'm sorry."

Glynda couldn't help but laugh, as she held him and let him cry on her shoulder.

"It's okay. I don't mind fixing things for you. Whatever you break- I'll always be around to fix it. I promise. I don't mind. Because I . . . "

Because I love you.

No, that wouldn't do.
Now wasn't the time.

So she settled with something else.

" . . . Because you're my best friend. And I'll always be around, to fix whatever you break."