Aftermath Part One

The Fall of Beacon

"Blake! Blake where are you?"

"Blake!"

Screams, distant. Then pain, hot pain in her stomach. A grimm growls, stalking in the shadows.

"Starting… with her."

Adam's voice echoes, thrumming in her ears.

Yang's yelling – her voice entering the room ahead of her.

Then the ring and whoosh of a blade cutting through the air. Then a wet squelch, and a thud.

Then running, running and never looking back.

Blake's breath came in gasps, her chest heaving in a staggering rhythm. Her arms and shoulders burned, muscles screaming. Gritting her teeth and biting her lip, Blake squeezed Yang's limp form tighter against her body.

The battle of Beacon raged around them, but Blake honed in on the beat of her footsteps, letting the noise block out everything else as she ran, carrying Yang in her arms.

Blake's semblance had bought them some time, but she was afraid that Adam wouldn't be far behind them. Fear pounded in her veins, her heart fluttering in her chest. The faster it pumped the more blood seeped out of the wound in her abdomen.

Fighting the urge to look back over her shoulder, Blake put her head down and redoubled her speed. Yang kept slipping in her grip, so gritting her teeth she heaved the girl over her shoulder, emitting a small cry as the movement tugged at the ragged edges of the hole in her side.

Through most of it, Yang remained unconscious. But occasionally, her lips would twitch with the slightest hint of movement and she would murmur nonsensically for a minute before quieting again.

Blake had managed to put close to half a mile between her and where she'd left Adam, but she still refused to slow her pace. She started to get dizzy. Spinning, she looked down to see the night sky below her feet, then blinked – the world suddenly righting itself.

Several minutes passed before Blake noticed the growing patch of warm moisture on her back. The severed stump of Yang's right arm had bled all over her, soaking the black material of her shirt. Coming to a panicked halt, Blake cast her eyes around looking for shelter.

Settling on an emptied storefront with a broken glass window, Blake slid inside, gently lowering Yang to the floor. Her sharp eyes adjusted quickly to the utter darkness of the abandoned shop as she tore large strips from first her shirt and then Yang's to make bandages for the wound.

"Blake?"

Yang's voice was weak. Her eyes had fluttered open, confused.

"Blake…" she repeated, "where's my…"

Her head lolled to the side and her eyes closed briefly before snapping back open. Her lips pulled down into an openmouthed grimace, tears welling in her eyes.

"Blake, where's my arm?" she asked.

Blake stared at her, dumbstruck. Strips of cloth hung from her hands, temporarily forgotten.

"It hurts," said Yang between hiccupping tears, "Blake, it hurts."

Cheeks flaring red, Yang's face relaxed as she fell back into unconsciousness, tears still rolling down her face.

Blake stared at the floor, unable to move or think or speak. Two minutes passed before she remembered the bandages in her hands. Inching closer on her knees, Blake carefully pulled the injured arm away from Yang's body.

Taking the first of the torn strips, she started to wind the material tightly around Yang's bicep, trying to staunch the flow of blood. Working her way down, she hesitated and then covered the end of the wound with a thick, white piece of cloth.

Yang jerked upright, a silent scream tearing up her throat. She thrashed and fought against Blake, who struggled to keep the girl from standing up. Dropping the rest of the bandages, Blake locked her arms around Yang's shoulders, pinning her against the wall.

A muffled scream escaped Yang as she roared into Blake's shoulder, her body rocking with big, gasping sobs. Blake's grip softened, hugging Yang to her chest and resting her chin on her head, letting tears run into the bright mess of blonde hair.

After a minute, Blake was sure that Yang was out of it again and resumed her ministrations. Tying one last strip around her arm, Blake sat back on her heels, unsure if she'd done enough. The white cloth was already saturated with blood.

Exhausted, Blake sat beside Yang, leaning against the wall for support. Gingerly, she probed the wound in her side. It was small but deep, and the flow of blood had already started to slow. Taking what was left of the makeshift bandages, she bound the wound as tightly as she could bear.

Leaning her head back against the wall, she turned to stare at Yang, eyes lingering over her ruined arm.

My fault… I tried to stop her but… it's my fault…

Tears rushed back to Blake's eyes, blurring her vision. Her ears swiveled towards Yang, catching the sound of her almost inaudible, breathless moans.

Sniffling, she stared down at her hands in her lap, feeling utterly useless.

"I couldn't protect you," she whispered.

Yang's eyes opened, her sight wavering. The world was a whirl of shadows that ran at her face, ducked around corners, slinked over her outstretched legs.

She sat slumped on the ground. Something sharp bit into her back. She was cold. A slight breeze rustled through strands of her hair.

But mostly she felt a deep burning at the end of her right arm. The heat drummed out a loud pulse that reverberated through her entire body, each beat falling heavier than the last.

Refusing to look, Yang turned her head away. Her eyes landed on a figure clad in black and white, spattered in blood. The edges of her vision were hazy and dark, encircling the figure with an indistinct cloud.

Blake?

The raven-haired girl stood with her back to Yang, her body arched in a defensive crouch. Something growled, and a black shape slouched into her line of sight, circling Blake. Fear dropped into the pit of Yang's stomach like ice as she watched saliva drip from the monster's mouth.

Blake!

I need to…

But… I can't… I can't move.

Staring into the grimm's glaring red eyes, Yang was shackled to the floor. She screamed at her legs to move, but they wouldn't listen.

Why can't I move?!

The creature's teeth grinned at her, sharp triangles of light in the dark. It licked its lips, warily watching Blake, sizing up its prey. Yang trembled uncontrollably.

Blake, run!

Emitting a coughing bark, the creature lunged at the Faunus, narrowly missing her shoulder with a blow from its heavily clawed paw. The beowolf spun, tracking one of Blake's shadow clones with its eyes. The real Blake appeared in the air directly above it, rushing down with her katana drawn.

Reacting at the last moment, the grimm rolled to the side, receiving a large gash across its ribs. Stumbling back, Blake fired off a flurry of rounds, raking the side of the beowolf's neck with a hail of bullets.

Severely wounded, the creature retreated a few steps before changing its tack. Leaping at Yang, it bared its fangs and howled.

Reflexively, Yang raised her arms to defend herself. She hissed in pain as the stump hanging from her right shoulder jerked forward.

Blake slammed into the beowolf's side knocking it off course. The force of the blow sent her down to one knee. Yang watched as she threw Gambol Shroud, its deadly blade whistling through the air. A moment later, she heard a high-pitched yelp, followed by the low sounds of labored breathing.

Darkness threatened to close Yang's eyes again, sinking her back into that warm, timeless space.

Stay awake… I've got to… stay…

Blake – where's Blake?

I need to stay awake…

Briefly, she lost her fight to remain conscious – a dark curtain closing over her eyes.

A moment later, she jolted awake to find that the world had turned on its side. Confused, she frowned.

"Blake... where's Blake? We need to… get away…" she managed to say.

Then the images she saw started to make sense – ordering themselves into distinct colors and shapes. A hand brushed hair away from her cheek, gently stroking her head.

"Shh, Yang, it's ok. I'm right here."

Blake cradled Yang's head in her lap, combing her fingers through her golden curls. Yang felt her muscles unclench, relaxing into Blake's touch. A sense of calm slid over her, slowing her heartbeat.

Blake.

Yang sighed, slowly letting herself fade away, drifting towards a dreamless sleep.

Blake didn't feel cold any more.

Completely numb, she sat staring at the girl lying across her lap. Yang's eyes had opened briefly, but now she seemed to sleep. The tears had dried on her pallid cheeks.

Worn out from fighting the beowolf, Blake had allowed herself a few moments to rest. Her aura had dropped to dangerously low levels. If it wasn't for Yang, she probably would have just curled up and waited for everything to be over.

But Yang needed her, and so she'd keep going.

Forcing herself to stand, Blake clumsily lifted the unconscious girl onto her shoulder. Picking her way through the upturned furniture in the store, she walked back out into the night.

And then she ran.

Tears – born of anger, fear, frustration, loss – streamed out behind her in her wake. Anger that Adam had gone after her through Yang. Fear that she wouldn't be strong enough to carry her partner for much longer. Frustration at being faced with her own weakness. Loss at seeing someone she loved so irrevocably broken.

Pushing back her thoughts, Blake cleared her mind and let herself fall into a pattern. She only felt the jarring impact of the ground as her feet pounded against the pavement. She only saw the next bend in the road. She only ran because she had to – and that was all.

Counting ten breaths at a time, Blake steadily sank into this rhythm of running to the next place, and the next place, and the next. Eventually, it felt as if her legs moved of their own will – entirely separate from her body. All she was and all she needed to be was the will to move forward.

Lost to herself, she almost didn't notice when the airships came into view.

Crowds of people stood around her, waiting for what she didn't know. Slowly, she stopped by a large landing platform that hosted three giant aircraft, all lined with a queue of people trying to escape.

Collapsing to her knees, she nearly landed on top of Yang, whom she deposited roughly on the ground. She let her head rest on Yang's stomach, only-half hearing the shouts that erupted around her.

People were standing over them now, calling their names. Too tired to answer them, Blake rolled onto her side, letting her weight drop off of Yang.

Her skin buzzed, limbs still humming as if she'd never stopped running.

"Blake!"

"Blaaaaaaaake!"

The voices shouted, loud and insistent.

"What happened to them?"

Someone pointing, "Yang's arm…"

Then the whispers.

Not turning to face the voices, Blake rested her cheek against the cold ground. Reaching out, she took Yang's hand, desperately squeezing her fingers.

Quietly, she mumbled, "I'm sorry. I'm so sorry."

Then the darkness rushed up to meet her, and she let herself fall into the unconscious void.

Author's note: I've always wondered what was going through Blake and Yang's minds during that missing chunk of time between when Blake runs off carrying Yang and when Ruby finds them surrounded by friends. I know other people have written this kind of story before, but I made a point of not reading them so I wouldn't unconsciously copy what someone else had done. This is part 1 of at least 3, but I'm guessing that there will be more than that. I hope to have part 2 done and posted very soon! As always, leave a comment/any suggestions to let me know what you think!