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Yang spends the entire day driving. She barely takes any breaks, all of them eager to put as much distance as possible between them and the farm. When the sun sets behind the dark woods and they finally stop for the night, Yang is exhausted, her fingers numb from the cold, her arms and neck aching fiercely from holding the same position for hours.
Her knees buckle as soon as she steps down from her bike, and she has to grab onto the cart for support before she’s able to walk away, thighs shaking from the constant strain. She feels Blake’s worried eyes on her, but she doesn’t meet her gaze. She’s too tired to deal with any of this.
They set up camp in a small clearing, surrounded by tall pine trees. Ruby and Weiss build a campfire while Qrow cuts down a bunch of logs to use as seats. Oscar warms up some beans in an old dented pot and they sit around the fire as they eat their first real meal of the day, the silence broken only by the occasional sneeze, and a few half-hearted comments about the food. Yang is cold and wet and miserable, and she sleepily chews on her canned beans with no desire to make conversation.
After dinner, Maria, Ruby and Weiss have a quiet talk about silver eyes, and Yang knows she should be paying attention, but her brain feels fuzzy with exhaustion, and she can’t focus. Every time she closes her eyes, she sees the long narrow limbs of the Apathy Grimms, their terrifying claws, the glowing red of their eyes and mouth. She sees Blake on the ground, unmoving, her eyes dimmed and inexpressive as the nightmarish creatures crawl up behind her - and she has to fight the urge to throw up.
A few feet away from the fire, Qrow, Oscar and Blake are busy preparing their sleeping quarters for the night. They’ve pushed the cart under a nearby tree, and Qrow throws a large tarp scavenged from the shed over a massive branch, while Blake and Oscar tie the tarp to the edges of the cart. The makeshift tent is nothing sophisticated, but it does offer some cover from the wind and snow, and that’s something, at least. Yang is way too tired to complain about it, anyway.
“You kids get some sleep, I’ll take first watch,” Qrow announces, distributing blankets.
“Are you gonna be alright?” Ruby asks, hesitant. She glances at the pocket where he keeps his flask.
Qrow gives her a half convincing smile. “Don’t worry about me, kiddo, I’ll be just fine. Camping is nothing new to an old huntsman like me.”
“I’ll stay up with you,” Maria offers. “Better to have two pairs of eyes.”
The rest of them all settle in the cart. It’s a tight fit, but at least they share body warmth. Yang lies down between Ruby and the edge of the cart, and throws an arm around her sister, falling asleep immediately.
She wakes up with a start. It’s quiet, apart from the sounds of the forest at night - wind in the trees, an owl hooting, branches creaking under the weight of the snow. Yang opens her eyes. Someone is slipping out of the cart, and it takes her a moment to recognize the silhouette in the dark. It’s Blake.
Yang watches her walk up to the campfire. She hears some distant whispers, and then Maria hobbles toward the cart, hoists herself up with a grunt and takes Blake’s place. She falls asleep instantly, judging by her snoring.
Yang bites her lip and stays still, conflicted. But the urge to follow Blake is stronger than her need to sleep, and so eventually she gets up, drapes the blanket around her shoulders, and joins Qrow and Blake by the fire. The way Blake looks at her - eyes filled with surprise and something else, something new, something akin to apprehension - makes Yang’s stomach twist uncomfortably.
“You’re up too?” Qrow asks, voice gravelly. He sounds tired, more tired than usual.
“Can’t fall back asleep,” Yang replies, with forced nonchalance. “I’ll take second watch if you wanna get some rest.”
Qrow’s eyes dart from Yang to Blake, and back ; he sighs. “Okay, but you two should wake someone else up in a few hours.” He squeezes Yang’s shoulder briefly as he walks by her on his way to the cart. And then Yang is left with Blake, alone.
She stares at Blake, and suddenly all she sees is Blake lying on her side, paralyzed, surrounded by a swirling mass of deadly creatures, claws descending upon her, and Yang can’t do anything, can’t move, can’t speak, can’t fight….
“Yang?”
Blake’s voice is barely above a whisper, but it jolts Yang back to the present as if it were a scream. She shakes her head, and sits on the log next to Blake. Close, but not touching.
“Sorry, I was just…” Yang clears her throat, and falls silent. She rests her elbows on her knees, gazing at the fire steadily burning in front of them, trying to make sense of the knot of feelings all tangled together inside her chest. Blake is tense beside her, spine taut, shoulders drawn inward, ears flattened against her head as if expecting a fight.
“How are you feeling?” Yang ends up asking, still not quite looking at Blake.
Blake makes a little noise in the back of her throat, like a strangled, unamused chuckle. “I mean, I almost died, so not great.”
“Yeah.”
Silence engulfs them once again - the fire crackles. Unexpectedly, Yang’s eyes fill with tears. Oh no. No, she’s not about to cry. She sniffles, rubs the back of her hand against her nose, teeth clenched, trying to swallow it all down.
Blake must notice her efforts, because she puts a hand on Yang’s knee, careful, almost shy. “Hey,” she says, and her voice is so damn gentle, it pummels through the last of Yang’s resistance, the way a well-placed hit to the sternum takes your breath away. Yang’s tears spill over, rolling down on her cheeks, dripping down her neck.
She grabs Blake’s hand like a lifeline, metal fingers tight around Blake’s wrist. “I was so scared,” Yang cries, words all jumbled together, voice wet. “I couldn’t do anything and you were about to die and I was so scared, Blake.”
Blake’s breath hitches, and she presses herself closer to Yang, wordlessly. Yang roughly wipes her face on the blanket, frustrated with herself. Blake almost died, and she’s the one having a breakdown about it.
“You know, the worst part was how easy it was to give up,” Blake murmurs. She sounds thoughtful, in a weird, detached, distant way, like she’s lost in the memory. “I’ve been fighting and running for so long - doing nothing was easy. It felt like, maybe, that’s the kind of ending I deserve.”
Yang pushes away from Blake so she can look at her. Blake’s eyes shine golden under the moonlight, and her face is too pale, her jaw clenched too tight. “Don’t say that,” Yang tells her, tightening her grip around Blake’s wrist. “Don’t ever say that again.” It comes out louder than she intended. Blake stares at her, wide-eyed. Her breath leaves puffs of white smoke in the air.
Then she tilts her head, ears twitching, and Yang knows her well enough, still, that she understands her silent question.
“You didn’t deserve any of this.”
Blake reacts with a little shrug, like she doesn’t fully agree, and before Yang’s aware of it, her other hand rises up to cup Blake’s cheek. Blake freezes. Her mouth opens, but she doesn’t say a word, and Yang’s eyes can’t help but drop to Blake’s parted lips. Blake’s skin is cold against her palm.
“You didn’t deserve anything that happened to you, Blake,” she repeats, forcefully. “And I don’t…” Her voice catches in her throat, and she pauses. She’s not sure what she’s trying to say, what she even wants to say. She just knows that Blake almost died, and fear is still gnawing at her stomach.
“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
Blake swallows, audibly. Her eyes grow soft, her face lightens up, and suddenly she looks painfully young.
Yang’s heart melts like snowflakes falling on the campfire - instantly, completely, irreversibly. “I can’t lose you. Not again.”
“I told you, I’m not leaving.”
There is no hesitation in Blake’s voice, no doubt. Yang’s heart beats hard and fast against her ribs, because finally, for the first time since Blake came back, she believes her. She doesn’t dare moving, still holding Blake’s hand, still touching her cheek, afraid any sudden movement might shatter the serenity of the moment.
“I need you to stay,” Yang says eventually. She meant the words as a statement, but it comes out as a question. Blake doesn’t look away, like a challenge, like a promise, like an answer.
It makes something bloom, fragile, tender, in Yang’s chest. She gazes down, a little self-conscious. “I’m sorry I walked away from our last conversation. That wasn’t fair. I’m still… working through some stuff.”
Blake shifts. “I’m sorry I walked away from you,” she says, sorrow coloring her voice. Yang looks up, and finds Blake’s eyes watery, and it dawns on her, all of a sudden, that they’re going to be okay. Sure, this is only the first of many conversations they need to have, but Blake is staying. Blake cares enough to stay, and that’s all Yang ever needed to know.
“Hey,” she says, with a smile. “We’ll get through this.”
Yang rubs her thumb on Blake’s cheekbone, on the soft skin under her eye, and Blake nods. They stay silent for a long time, simply looking at each other - until Blake’s teeth start chattering.
“You’re freezing, aren’t you,” Yang says, softly.
Blake blinks, twice. The corner of her lips curl in a small sheepish smile. “I really, really, am.”
Yang sighs and takes her hands off Blake, so she can throw her blanket around the two of them. Her arm curls around Blake’s waist, and she pushes their bodies close together. “You should have said something sooner.”
“We were having a moment.”
“Not worth catching a cold,” Yang scolds gently. Blake lets her head fall on Yang’s shoulder, pressing a very cold nose against Yang’s neck. Yang rolls her eyes, but doesn’t protest. The fire burns bright and hot in front of them, and her eyelids grow heavy with sleep.
“Do you think we should go wake somebody else up? We’re not doing a great job at the whole watch thing.”
“In a minute,” Blake mumbles against her neck.
Yang smiles, and waits.