Cat in the Cradle

"Nearly there, be sure not to fall behind."

It annoyed her how sordid the man walking just seven steps ahead of her could be.

It annoyed her even more that after all this time, she still wasn't all that used to it – wasn't continuous exposure to something supposed to desensitize you from it? Perhaps it wasn't that easy, some people couldn't handle certain things well, no matter how often they were exposed to it. The very essence of fear; to want to be away from something that unsettles you in such a way that your mind and body cannot fully comprehend.

Maybe this was fear. That's what she would've preferred.

Instead she was caught in this twisted cycle of complicated emotions. Respect, realization, sadness and regret all being wrangled together so tightly it became difficult to deduce which one she was feeling the most of.

And if that wasn't bad enough already, she wasn't even certain on which feeling was worse.

"You're quiet today Blake."

His deep voice had always provided some form of comfort. The purpose in his stride and strength in his tone of voice instilled a kind of confidence in her – assured that so long as she followed his lead, no harm would ever come to her.

How wrong she had been.

"I'm quiet all the time Adam," was Blake's response, idly brushing the straying strands of black away from her field of vision. Naturally long hair was sometimes more of an encumbrance than a blessing, "What makes you think today is any different?"

Adam's counter was sharp and sudden, not unlike that blade firmly strapped to his side.

"What I think doesn't matter. Your silence works in our favor anyway. So long as your head is in the right place for this mission, your personal strife is not my immediate concern."

'It was never your immediate concern.'

Blake didn't know why she hadn't said it, it was definitely the perfect opportunity. Throughout her life, she'd had many chances to say those words. Time and time again the ideal chance to throw in his face all the supposed 'anger and strife' he accused her of harboring.

Well… he wasn't incorrect. And maybe that's why she never retaliated.

She felt her feline ears brush against the silky fabric of her bow – a natural response to the hundreds of sounds rebounding off each and every leaf in this scarlet forest. There was hardly any wind today, the air only ever moving just enough to rustle the leaves of the towering trees. Her amber eyes roamed the base of the canopy, it giving way to only the most minuscule sun rays cast on all things beneath them.

Even with the bow somewhat obscuring her ability to hear as well, she could still coherently hear all the sounds of nature at a higher degree than most. The faint chirps of early morning grasshoppers, all of who bounded amongst the dew slicked grass. The humid crunch of said grass was like a crumbling scone to her, something she'd have with a cup of tea in more pleasant times but now just vegetation snapping and falling apart as she carelessly trampled over it. Very few animals out right now, with only the occasional chipper squirrel and chattering swallow. And even fewer creatures of Grimm; she hadn't seen or sensed a single one since they arrived.

Had she not felt so foul in the pit of her stomach, she would have spared the mental power to label it a beautiful scene. But that was not what she was sent out here to do… not by a long shot. Give her a choice, she'd stay in this Grimm-infested jungle for eternity…

It was much better than what she was about to force herself to do.

"Forgive me if I don't yearn for any of your kind of concern," Blake kept her voice level, though that did nothing to leash the bite in her words, "It'd be much easier to confess my heart to a brick wall."

Unsurprisingly, the man chuckled. Impetuous. Never thought that'd be a word she ever associate with a sealed vault like Adam. He always seemed to have no flaws. A perfect fighter, intelligent, resourceful, commanding… qualities that created a man who could not be fooled, forced, or manipulated.

But when it came to matters of the soul, he was better off not having one. The girl couldn't deny that it felt a bit wrong to think that way.

"I have my weaknesses, as do we all," he lectured as if to green-eared recruits, his unbearably emotionless tone making Blake more tired than she was already, "Thankfully, mine do not impede on the will of our brotherhood. You on the other hand could stand to make some improvements."

"And that means?" Blake fired out a bit louder and faster than she'd realized. Sometimes the anger just fell out regardless of how hard she tried to reign it in.

"Were you not paying attention?" Adam's body whipped around faster than she could take her next step, defiantly the girl looked up into his masked surface as he finished up his statement, "Keep your head in the mission, as it is all for the good of faunus worldwide. Remember that it justifies every single one of our actions."

Justifies? How very holier-than-thou.

"I don't know if I can ever believe that." Blake shook her head, speaking not so much to Adam as she was the toes of her boots.

"In your case, you don't have to," Adam shrugged a single shoulder, "Our leaders know the best course of action, and we will follow orders accordingly. So do us a favor and think of your people for once. Lest you make another idiotic mistake."

And with that, he turned back on his heel – Blake simply staring at him for a few seconds before trailing behind him again, if only a slightly further distance than before. She swallowed a sigh, hating the pocket of bitter feelings that exploded in halfway down her throat. But she didn't care. She just wanted this all to be over so she could shut herself away from her mentor once again.

She was sad to admit she'd been doing so rather frequently as of late.

She used to think there'd been some kind of connection between them, a mutual respect for their standing. Not simply because they were both faunus, but also because of the dream that he and she shared. The collective aspiration that had brought so many others to the cause – at the time, she'd thought it was magnificent.

The truth, quite frankly, hurt.

Again, the faunus girl found comfort in nature. The rigid yet sleek tree bark, stretching up like pristine godly columns that held up the heavenly paradise, clusters of leaves representing gold and silver clouds so strong that one felt lifted just by looking at them. Adorable, innocent animals of basic instinct living their lives as well as they could manage. Lucky pricks, they didn't have any manner of stress in their lives.

What a cruel fate to be nailed smack dab in-between the genus of animals and humans. Awarded with the abilities of a specific animal as well as complete night vision. With the only drawbacks being that a majority of every human on the continent thought her kind was undeserving of a thing known as equal rights. Even after the ever famous, Faunus Rights Revolution.

Oh yeah, thus the birth of a globally despised terrorist organization that had taken to bombing important locations and assassinating influential individuals. One to which she currently pledged allegiance.

Still, Blake couldn't find herself angry at those facts. Once upon a time she had been, and that had taken her to a place she never thought she'd be freed of. But now as the list of those crimes replayed over and over again, she was more accepting of them. Well, maybe not so much accepting, on either end of the oppressed or oppressor – wouldn't make much sense for a fellow faunus to be completely apathetic toward their own kind's suffering, much less sympathetic to the side causing it.

She wished there was someone here she could share those feelings of lack of assurance with. But if Adam was her destined companion, then her two weeks notice would be going in promptly. She'd run, drift away, whatever it took to force it all to make sense. For the world to tell her she wasn't wrong for trying, for believing. Even if she had to do it from the shadows, hunted and despised... anything but hopelessly wrong.

'Are you sure that's how you want to live?'

The words of another rang in her brain; a distant memory she recalled. Blake's already somber gaze practically drilling holes into the ground as the bright, soothing voice sent echoes through her very bones.

No, it wasn't how she wanted to live. It never was.

But what could be done? She'd been in this since the beginning, it was what she knew, what she grew up being taught. This was a world all too familiar, and as crazy as it sounded, it carried an eternal torch in her heart that burned with the desire to defend it. To defend and protect the brotherhood she spent so many years working with…

'For. You're working for them, Blake. Not with them.'

A long time ago, she might not have believed him, she'd have called him nothing but a two-faced liar who sided with the most evil creatures in this world: humans. But she had clearer vision now… and what she saw through that looking glass was far more perturbing than she wanted to believe.

She missed him. Terribly.

But it couldn't be helped. This was her lifestyle, this was who she was. All she could ever be. Making a change wouldn't matter. In the eyes of the wronged, she was still a damned sinner. Forever doomed to the abysmal pits of darkness, where the endless consummation of her flesh six feet under was her righteous and deserved punishment.

'It's not too late.'

He could afford to believe that, though. But it would be harder for her in the long term, her gauntlet to run. And yet her heart squeezed itself, pushing her to stop momentarily to take in her latest string of thoughts.

'Am I to continue living this life that I loathe? All to accomplish a dream that had once been noble, but now lies in a place of hatred?'

She looked at her hand, slowly opening it and coiling again while the deep look of concentration drowned out everything else around her.

'Or can I change that? Can I finally find a way to escape this hell and make a place where peace and happiness can be real?'

Just as she had firmly locked one fist, the sound of Adam's sword-like voice brought her attention back on him. The man stood readily, detaching his sheath from his side and gripping it tightly in one hand.

"Here it comes." Straight to the point as always, Blake at the very least glad she'd stayed on page long enough to know to instantly prepare for action. Unlatching her charcoal-black steel weapons off her back, she held the thick rectangular blade in a single hand before lowering herself into a semi-running state.

Her ears picked up on a sound… a familiar one.

The sound of… heavily rumbling metal. A vehicle, a large one at that - skating sloppily along ever timeworn and oxidized tracks and providing a very audible screech that could have been heard even by a human from this distance.

'This mission, this is when I'll decide...'

"Let's move!" Adam ordered immediately, Blake matching pace with them as they zoomed through the red forestry faster than the untrained eye could catch. Yet at the same time, her steps were light and calm, giving away no form of noise other than the crush of the grass beneath her feet.

'Whether I love my people more… or myself.'

Adam's sword slipped firmly back into its scabbard.

Blake let out a minute sigh, calming the flux of aura in her body from the exertion of the battle. Not a difficult little skirmish per se – they were only dealing with the security robots, after all. It was almost insulting, really; the White Fang had been targeting these shipments for years now. One would think that the executives bearing that world-renowned snowflake emblem would take better precautions against further attacks.

Or perhaps, they had so much more merchandise in production at the hands of oppressed faunus laborers that the losses from thievery were nothing but minor nuances.

And that was either good or bad, depending on one's perspective.

The rumble of the train car did nothing to unsettle her steady pace as she followed after Adam. And this train didn't exactly rock like an infant's cradle either; it was rickety, old and frankly dispensable. It was hard to believe it was still being used despite being so out of date; it'd be much easier, and probably safer to transport shipments through airships or airbuses. Maybe it was more expensive, but the reward surely outran the risk, didn't it?

Funny… the richest, most powerful company in the world still found ways to be cheap. Or as they most likely labelled it, economical.

The train roof door was freed from its shackles courtesy of Adam's sword, and swung wide open. Adam was the first to leap through it, Blake following shortly after hearing his dress shoes clank on the solid metal floor.

Here it was.

Crates upon crates. Pure, hardened steel frames melded so tightly together that even air could barely escape from them. Each one looked exactly the same – no difference in the slightest, but the sheer presence of all of this product in a single place was… intimidating, to say the least. They sat about them on all sides, stacked upon and around each other in perfect order. Done so specifically to keep what was being held inside stable; no one would want to purchase volatile dust. The faunus girl began to see why the trains were being used…

Flat, even pathways cleared through the forest, a perfect road made for the tracks to guide along the train without any form of obstruction. Giving way to the ideal form of transport that guaranteed no kind of natural obstacle or malfunction. At least in comparison to a Bullhead – a single malfunction on an airship carting dust could lead to nothing but pure destruction.

But then, so could this, right?

"Perfect," spoke her partner, Blake only now noticing that he had opened one of the crates. She didn't miss the faint smirk creeping along his jaw upon seeing the no doubt satisfying elements inside. That smirk sharply faded… replaced by yet another poignant order, "Move up to the next car. Once I set the charges, this whole train will be going under."

Blake felt her heart lurch in her chest, threatening to jerk out of her chest as though afraid of getting stabbed. It beat so heavily that she wasn't sure what to say or do. For what seemed like the millionth time this day, her gaze fell to the floor as she rummaged through the files in her office of a brain, praying that she could find some sort of answer there.

She didn't.

"And… and what about the crew members? The people who are still on this train?" She implored the man, looking up at him with a mixture of anger… and placation. 'Please Adam, have a heart!' There was no reason to go through with this mission. Not like this. If all they needed to do was destroy the cargo, then at the very least they could allow the people on it to be spared. She hated the fact that she was willing to beg, she had a great deal of pride in herself, thanks to a certain someone...

But what was of greater importance to her were the lives of the passengers. What fault was theirs in this? They weren't doing anything other than their jobs. They didn't deserve this kind of ending, even if they were human; who was Adam to sentence them to an early demise?

A puff of air escaped her nostrils, releasing a breath she hadn't realized she was holding.

"What about them?" Adam waved his hand passively, another light smirk spreading above his chiseled chin.

…

She wished it was a lie. A dream, even. But the bow-bearing beauty could no longer deny the truth to herself. For so long she tried to pretend it wasn't real – to hold on hope that her mentor had not stooped to this kind of low. She wanted to believe that her cause was still worth it, that all the years she spent growing up amongst her brothers and sisters actually meant something in this awfully morbid world.

Those simple three words, and the blatant apathy behind them was more than enough of a hint now.

This was it… this was as far as she could go.

How she could tell her superior faunus, she did not know. She was anxious enough already, she didn't want to have to anticipate what he might say or do to her the moment she walked away.

Maybe her lopped off head would be her saving grace.

She had something to live for though, didn't she? Even if it may be end of this journey, who was to say that it was completely over for her? There was so much more in life that she wanted to accomplish, to experience! She dared not accept death when she wasn't even close to reaching the prime of her life.

Even if Adam and the White Fang could no longer be a part of her life… she had to accept that. No longer would she be surrounded by years of familiarity, now to thrust herself into a chaotic world where the twitching of her bow could have her ostracized in public. A world where she'd be all alone.

No… not completely.

There was still one person; one person in her life that she could go to. A person that would not force her into committing terrible acts, and would accept her heritage.

Her friend.

Her mind was made up, and the end was nigh. Taking a brave inhalation of precious oxygen, Blake readied to release the ties that had once bound her to the life of a terrorist.

"Adam—

It'd happened so fast, but a clambering machine of destruction, a Spider Droid, had attacked them next. It's adaptability was a problem, but the duality of Blake and Adam's offence proved more than enough for it. So many times Blake wished to see his old self... so many times she imagined the warmth he used to harbor within towards her, caring about her, her safety, her future. Their future. But with his final stroke, bisecting the robot, she remembered... that the only thing she was doing anymore was just that: imagining.

Looking back from the train car on which she'd found respite to decide her escape, she took in Adam's form… his strong back, scarlet hair coursing through the push of the wind alongside his night black suit. She fondly recalled all the times he'd had her back, helped her, taught her – they were simpler times back then.

But things weren't so black and white anymore. She got older, as did he. They'd both changed drastically.

But the changes had been too much, too much for Blake to handle.

Even those who were once close could drift apart. A sad, but fitting truth in this case.

The Atlas mech disintegrated, and Blake's old mentor turned back to face her. In a moment, he seemed to realize what the distance and her unyielding amber-eyed gaze meant.

Silence. Naught but he rumbling of the train between the melancholic stare down between what Blake believed to be, once good friends. Adam's expression was empty, as always. Maybe for a second, there was a slight slackening of his jaw, perhaps surprise? Hurt? But Blake found herself rather shocked to see the only gesture that contradicted his otherwise heartless attitude.

A single hand, reaching toward her…

Longingly.

But she'd made up her mind. There was no going back. She had to do this, for herself, so that she could make a peaceful life the right way. She never wanted to walk this path of crime and hatred; she would not live like that.

And that was why it was time to say…

"Goodbye."

Before she even knew what she was doing, she slashed the connection between the two cars. Refusing to allow her tears to fall as the visage of her mentor slowly grew further and further away. The speed of her ride hadn't slowed in the slightest, her hair swinging wildly in front of her as her still body stood against the pushing air. Her attention remained straight ahead, almost unblinking as once again she tuned the world around her out.

Five minutes… ten minutes… twenty...

Long after Adam's side of the train had disappeared, Blake had yet to move. Her mind was still, yet at the same time fluctuating wildly. The prospect of what she'd done; the agonizing feeling of becoming traitorous scum in the eyes of her brothers and sisters. All of those that she'd grown up knowing, fought alongside, protected and by whom was protected… all down the drain.

But of course the real deciding blow…

Was the loss of someone she'd once trusted with all her heart.

And it was only after she realized this… that Blake Belladonna fell to her knees.

Hoping that her tears would cease before nightfall.

A single yawn.

Jaune Arc's free hand went in front of his widened mouth as if hoping to catch the tired air respired from his wind pipe. His other hand was carrying a plain, faded white mug. Couldn't blame him for his taste in the simpler things in life. Said mug was filled with a piping chestnut colored mixture of hot chocolate, expertly graced with the spread of whipped cream and a tiny, but totally significant cherry.

Ah yes, nothing better than half a pint of unnatural sugars to help a man get back to sleep.

Long nights like this really sucked. Nowadays finding any sort of suitable sleep was next to impossible for him – not because he didn't have the time, but because he wasn't making the time. Honestly he was beginning to wonder if all this intense, last minute training was really worth the strain.

The boy sighed lowly, "No one said trying to become a Huntsman would be easy… "

Honestly he wished he'd gotten started much earlier in his life, back when he still had more time to prepare. But he was seventeen now, which was the minimum age that students were admitted. Yes, he could wait another year or two, get in a greater degree of training. But he wished to start this year, when he was still ripe. He couldn't imagine how embarrassing it would be to start his training half way into his thirties or something.

A shudder. There would be no girlfriends on that road.

But it was his dream, so no matter what, he'd pursue it. Yeah he might not be all that good right now, but he could guarantee that in time he would become someone great! Give him the opportunity and means, and he'd train until the cows came home!

Figuratively anyway. No live action cows, thank you very much!

He'd had a hard day of self-mandated training today, just as he did yesterday, and the day before that, so on and so forth. The same was to be expected tomorrow, nothing but complete and total dedication to his training. It would all be worth it in the end, it really would. He'd become a prestigious Huntsman, make his father and forefathers weep with pride, and finally free himself of this loser label that he'd so thoroughly strapped to himself in life.

A passionate fist was balled up in front of him, shaking wildly as he envisioned his days of grandeur. Emotional tears leaking from his sealed eyes at the prospect of epic battles, beautiful warrior women, and the stories he would pass onto his children when he was a legendary and finally retired old man.

It would all be realized, just not tonight.

So why not focus on actually trying to get some sleep? It was cold in this huge house and he was all alone. His father and sisters were all in Mistral with some relatives for a while, and his mother was, as always, working.

He might have thrown a house party; but that required friends. And boy weren't those low in stock these days?

Dramatic sigh…

Oh well. Stresses for another day, right now it was 2:32 in the morning, and he was slowly drifting into siesta mode as he and his comfy blue onesie coursed up the stairs and toward his room. The matching bunny slippers slid against the wood with lively scraping noise, contrasting the sluggish motions of an increasingly sleepy Jaune.

And here was the door.

Opening it right away, he passed through the threshold and allowed himself to breath in the fresh, cool air…

That smelled an awful lot like the outdoors.

Eyes moving toward his only window, Jaune quickly dashed over to it, surprised at the fact that the window was wide open! The gentle air made his thin curtains dance with it, and while he did admit that the natural chill felt nice, there was still a nagging question at the fore of his brain.

He hadn't left the window open – he may be called a doofus at times, but even he knew how dangerous that could be. Not like he lived in a bad neighborhood, but it was better to be safe than suffocated to death by means of a pillow and a person with a vendetta against the Arc name.

So how in the world did his window end up like this?

'Did someone… sneak in?'

Jaune tensed up immediately, feeling the goosebumps travel up his spine as he slowly turned around and placed his hot chocolate on the nearby desk.

'Stay calm and warm, precious ambrosia, Jaune'll keep you safe!'

The blonde's steps were slow, but sure, despite how antsy he looked as he gazed about his room for any potential home invaders. What would he do if he found him? Was it even a him? Was it even just one!?

'Oh god, what a time to leave my sword by the fireplace!'

Quickly, he grabbed the door of his only closet, swinging it wide open and flicking on the light inside.

Nothing. Just his mess of a pile of clothing. He really needed to get that organized. Not like he ever would, considering how lazy he was, but it was food for thought. That counted for something right?

'Laziness: 1, Responsibilities: -15.'

"Okay… " He whispered warily, reaching into his closet for the wooden bat leaning against the wall. He might've sucked at sports, but anyone could figure out how to hit a home run. On someone's head.

He whipped around swiftly, holding the bat up in his practiced sword stance. His eyes shifted all over his room as the light from the closet illuminated nearly every corner. There was nowhere else in this small room for any intruders to hide, except for under his bed. But if they were there, he'd certainly would've seen them with the aid of that glorious light bulb! Maybe.

Jaune froze as he focused on the bed itself.

The intruder wasn't hiding under the bed. That much was obvious now. Hell, the person apparently had had the sheer audacity to take a nice spot on top of his beautiful bed, snatching up all his precious space. Something he might've been angry about – but at the very least, one of his panicked suspicions had been correct.

It wasn't a man who'd snuck into his house.

Jaune placed that bat back in the closet, shutting off the light and closing it quietly before approaching the person who slept soundly, without a care. Her dark clothing was only somewhat visible underneath the conflicting snowy color of the comforter, bare feet peeking out from just under them. Kneeling down in front of her, he smiled wider than he had in a long time. His cerulean orbs taking in her features, reminders of how different she looked… and how familiar she remained. The knight stifled a chuckle as her nose wrinkled from the strands of dark hair that tickled it.

His beam widened even more as he noticed her flicking cat ears, the bow nowhere in sight.

"Heya… Blake."

A/N: Heya... dear reader.

Yes, I might be going mad with all this mandatory self-isolation. All these story ideas and content, but no I'm definitely only holding myself to three novel-length fics. Is this one of them? No. It's actually a very, very old feelsgood fic my friend IMSOAWESOME and I put together back in 2016, and that he began rehashing in 2018 before it fizzed out after maybe 4 chapters. It was interesting because it originally involved Pyrrha dying, which, hey, was before its time in canon and would've been a great prediction. But, it didn't pan out that way. On our end.

So why rehash it? Honestly, because I'm still in love with the idea. Kinda like how you know you left your ex for a good reason, but that you still loved the idea of who you thought they were, anyway. And this muse is a sultry one, even four years later... sheesh. What's a writer to do?

I'll rehash it, that's what. I would be lying if I said I'm not considering making it a mid-length fic (60-90k words tops), but we'll see where it goes. As you can tell, it begins from where the Black Trailer leaves off, and is in an AU where Jaune has taken his training just a mite more seriously. Oh, this is also an AU where the White Fang have actually started a literal war, affecting pretty much everything about Remnant and Huntsmen as we know it.

Now, post Vol 7, I can't help but think that such a thing would actually make Salem's job harder instead of easier. Last thing you want as an immortal evil overlord is for the yapping of a bunch of mortal mutts to have already made your reincarnating nemesis keep his guard up, making it more difficult to acquire the Maiden+Relic not just in Vale, but nearly everywhere else. Thus, the little voice in my head that tells me this can go past five-shot.

I'll let the chips land where they may. This will either be a hurt/comfort fic emotionally... or physically, with a lot of people being physically hurt and thus needing the comfort of medical attention. Such is war. I'll figure it out eventually, but with no specific update schedule in the meantime. Feel free to Fave, Follow and Review to show your support and share your thoughts! Take care, stay healthy...

And Happy Reading!