Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“Declaring Martial Law?” Robyn repeated, aghast, furious. “We cannot let him do this.”

Qrow, still reeling from his niece’s voice over their scrolls, says nothing. The last he’d seen James, the general seemed fine. Stressed maybe, but this was a pretty big leap. He couldn’t help but wonder what had happened between then and now. 

But that was just his luck— things finally seem like they’re starting to go to plan for once, and then it all goes to shit. Fucking typical. 

On the other side of the air transport, Clover seemed alarmed, but quickly masked it over with ease. Clover did that a lot, Qrow had come to learn over the many months of the two of them being shoved together on every mission imaginable. James had thought it would “minimize the unpredictability of the mission.” A fancy way of saying Clover Ebi was Qrow’s chaperone, his good luck stamping down on Qrow's misfortune. 

He wasn’t the worst guy to be stuck with, all things considered. He was one of those overly considerate guys, always asking how Qrow was holding up if he saw his aura dip on an outing, the first one to suggest grabbing a coffee with a coworker, the last man to leave the office every night. His determination was incorrigible. 

Even now, he kept optimistic, an unbreakable mask of calm and confidence Qrow had never once seen break settling over his features. Even that split second of panic a moment ago was enough to tell Qrow that even Clover was startled by the general’s sudden shift in behavior.

Nonetheless, Clover raised his hand to Robyn, the face of neutrality. “Miss Hill, I’m sure the General understands the enormity of his—“

Just then, the scroll in his pocket pings, and Clover pauses to take it out and check his messages. Something akin to confusion or worry passes over his face at whatever he reads there. He seems to read over it twice, maybe three times before really comprehending whatever he was just told. Qrow doesn't get to see it, because he’s out of his seat and taking a step toward Qrow.

The instinct to grab his weapon takes over before he’s even realizing what’s going on. He shouldn't have that reaction and he knows it. Clover doesn't show signs of hostility as he looks down at him, but his hand rests over the hilt of Harbinger nonetheless.

“Qrow,” Clover says, “You should know, I’ve been ordered to turn you in.”

Qrow’s stomach drops at the absurdity of it. Clover says it the way he might debrief his team on whatever job they have in front of them. He doesn’t reach for his weapon or the cuffs Qrow knows he has in his belt, doesn’t look apologetic or threatening. Qrow can’t visualize Clover trying to hurt him, as absurd as that is. 

History’s shown him that cozying up to anyone the way he’s slowly melting into Clover these past months is a monumental mistake. No one he’s ever relied on has ever stayed reliable for long. Not his team, not his family, not even Ozpin, who Qrow has staked his whole life upon for so long. Clover’s only ever been nice— but so had Raven, once. So had Tai, Ozpin. Everyone. He’s caught himself blindly trusting Clover amid combat without a second thought, wondered if he was in too deep. It feels insurmountably deep right now. 

He can’t really help it, and he’s tried a lot. It doesn’t help that Clover, by nature of his semblance, hadn’t even flinched when Qrow revealed his semblance to him. Clover’s made it very clear that Qrow’s misfortune doesn’t matter to him. Maybe because it doesn’t affect to him, maybe because he sees something else in Qrow that he doesn’t see in himself.  

Qrow’s bad luck doesn’t seem to hurt Clover, and Qrow’s been easing into the idea that he might’ve found the one person in the world he can be safe around. Theres a comfort in that Qrow hasn’t found since he was in the academy. Like Clover was just too capable and put together and confident for Qrow to inflict him with bad luck, to hurt him enough to push him away. There was a safety in that that Qrow found addicting. 

And besides that, Clover’s just always there— up against his back in a fight, picking his scroll up on the first ring, in the same chair in the lounge if Qrow’s ever looking for him. He’ll pause whatever he’s doing, no matter how important, and offer whatever he can if Qrow asks. It’s steady and genuine in a way Qrow hadn’t expected to find. He feels like he can tell Clover anything, trust him with whatever he wants to, even if he knows he shouldn’t. He wonders if Clover has that effect on everyone. 

Without even thinking, Qrow lets go of his weapon. 

Tyrian cackles, perched on his heels, hand wriggling in his binds. “A dinner and a show.” He comments.

Next to him, Robyn checks her scroll for the same message Clover got.

“There’s also an alert out for Team RWBY and their arrest.” Clover adds, ignoring him to focus on Qrow.

“What?” Qrow hisses. “Has James lost his mind?”

On Qrow left, Robyn shuts her scroll down and stands up furiously. “He’s trying to stop anyone that might get in the way of his inhumane plan.” She spat, unveiling her crossbow. “Looks like he underestimated me.” She loaded it, and pointed it in Clover’s direction. “Again.” 

Clover doesn’t flinch, barely reacts aside from looking over her way. “Only Qrow is under arrest.” He says diplomatically. “After everything we’ve been through tonight, please don’t make me arrest you too.”

Qrow tenses at that. From his point of view, it hadn’t looked like Clover was going to try and arrest him, or really do anything but inform him on what was happening, like the countless times they’re out on the field together. Qrow’s hand flits to his weapon again. Brothers, when did his guard lower so far? Of course Clover was going to follow his orders, that’s what he does. That’s who he is. He was just being annoyingly cordial about it. No sane person would choose a friendship with a cursed drunkard over the life of prestige and fortune that Clover has, cushy up in Atlas. No one ever chooses Qrow. Even momentarily believing that Clover could be trusted to have his back had almost put his life in danger. 

Get it together. 

Robyn tightened her hold around her weapon, finger migrating to the trigger. Sensing the threat, Clover pulls his weapon out of his belt and holds it aside, ready to defend himself.

“Cut it out, both of you.” Qrow shouted. He doesn’t know Robyn all that well yet, but he knew at least Clover was a reasonable guy. Even if he was going to try and arrest Qrow, he had the good sense to know that luck was fragile, and not want to risk their safe flight home. Clover could be talked out of starting something while they’re in midair, Qrow was confident in that. “We’re almost at Atlas, let’s talk to James personally—“

“It’s taking this show an awfully long time to get to the good part.” Tyrian cuts in, impatient, frowning in his seat.

“Shut. Up.” Qrow hissed. 

“No, he’s right.” Robyn replied. “Let’s get this over with.”

Qrow tensed. “Robyn—“

Robyn squeezed the trigger of her crossbow and Clover reacted, swinging his weapon and deflecting the arrow.

Qrow whole body reacted, unwillingly jumping into the fight or flight mode of battle. His grip over Harbinger tightened and he sighed, dread filling his gut and making it heavy with injustice. The idea of fighting Clover felt wrong. As if fighting alongside him for so long has tricked his brain into not accepting anything other than that configuration in battle. But he’d once thought a similar way about Raven. And then Tai and Summer. “Fine.”

He’s up, and sparring against Clover’s fishing pole. They trade blows until they come to a standstill, blades crossed.

For the first time since they’ve met, Clover looks remorseful. Almost conflicted. Almost. “I wish it hadn’t come to this.”

“It doesn’t have to.” Qrow insists. 

Robyn comes between them, crossbow cutting a line through their blades, sending them both staggering back. 

“You can hug it out when we’ve taken him down.” Robyn orders, weapon pointed Clover’s way.

The fray becomes like background noise, basic instinct, blade against blade, again and again. 

The ship lurches, and a cackle sounds from the ship’s pilot's chair. Tyrian sits over the pilot’s corpse, wearing his hat. The three huntsmen stagger and fall as Tyrian maneuvers the ship randomly.

“What are you doing?!” Qrow shouts, managing to scramble forward and grab onto the lapels of his vest.

“The will of our goddess.” He replied, leaning back into the controls, and spins the ship out of the air.

After the crash, Qrow is met with the cold of Solitos and a sinking feeling. He finds Robyn among the rubble, out cold. A quick check of a pulse shows she’s only unconscious for now. He cuts through the warmth that surrounds… whatever he and Clover have built between them. A friendship. A partnership. This isn’t some argument, someone got hurt. A maniac is loose. This just became real, and Clover is on the opposite side.

He feels the coldness settle into his skin at the loss. He hadn’t let himself trust that the comfort that came from his partnership with Clover would be permanent. That would've been shortsighted. 

But still… he hadn’t thought he would lose it like this. He thought they’d just part ways one day when he had to leave with the kids. Clover was the epitome of a good soldier. This perfect example of Atlas’s excellence. Generous, thoughtful, reliable. Militant.

Clover was a soldier, Qrow was a huntsmen. Clover had his orders, and a good soldier follows those, or so he’s heard. Maybe Qrow should’ve thought things would end this way. 

It hangs heavy like dread in his gut anyway. He lets the cold sink into his bones and settle there as he accepts his new reality. Wherever this goes, he isn’t going to jail today. He needs to get back to the kids, to Ruby and Yang. If Clover stands in his way, they aren’t allies anymore.

“Robyn needs help.” Comes Clover’s voice, a distance behind him. Qrow looks over his shoulder to see him round the crash and approach. “We can take her to Mantle. Have her patched up. You just gotta stand down and trust me.”

Clover doesn’t want a fight. Of course he doesn’t, he thinks Qrow will just follow him into the lions’ den Atlas has become, like all his little subordinates would. Well, Qrow’s not big on trust these days. 

“Oh, sure, trust you.” Qrow sneers, standing back up and taking Harbinger back out. “If that had ever worked for me…”

The sentence runs on and Qrow doesn’t care to finish it.

“It doesn’t have to go that way,” Clover says, with a glance down to Qrow’s weapon, “we can just go back. Figure this out with the General, like you said.” He begs, hand on a weapon, nothing betraying if he’ll use it or not. 

“I’m not gonna walk into jail because you asked me too, Clover.” Qrow shoots back. “Because that’s what’ll happen if we march up to Ironwood. You heard what Ruby said, don’t be naive.”

Clover stops walking, holds his arms open like an invitation. Like Qrow will just fall into the embrace and accept the easier death. “I don’t want us to have to do this, but I will engage you if you leave me no other choice. I have to believe the general knows what he’s doing and that if we return to Atlas, we can figure this out, together. Last chance, friend.”

Qrow scoffs. “You don’t know my friends. That’s how it always goes.”

Clover sags, like he finally accepts the direction they’re headed in. 

Qrow the one who brandishes his weapon first, but they charge in together. 

If Qrow hadn’t known the stakes, he could’ve mistaken this for another one of their spars in Atlas’s training rooms. The motions felt familiar, like routine. Until Tyrian joins in the fray.

When he suggests teaming up to take down Clover, it doesn’t seem outlandish. Qrow wants to ensure that he can take Tyrian down, and a foe like that needs undivided focus. He doesn’t want to risk Tyrian escaping after all the hard work they’d put into capturing him, and this would keep him occupied. He could make sure Tyrian doesn’t kill Clover if Qrow’s conscious and aware and in charge of how he gets taken out. It doesn’t feel like a bad gamble while it’s happening. 

They tag team him, and as expected, the Ace Op handles it with grace, blocking one move after another. But Qrow starts to see it get to him. He isn’t quick enough, more hits start landing. 

Clover deflects another blow, starting to show signs of exertion, quickened breath, cold sweat along his brow. As Tyrian lands a hit, Qrow punches his aura, shattering it and exposing him to the cold.

“Looks like your luck’s run out.” Qrow spat. 

Clover shivers in the open air, and Qrow sees him falter. Sees it dawn on him that he might lose. It screws his face, wide in fear. He doesn’t cover it back up. He can’t. It throws Qrow off enough that he doesn’t see the next attack coming. Clover huffs, breathless, and launches himself back into the fray alongside Tyrian’s maddening laugh.

“Why are you helping him?” Clover pants between blows. 

“What, should I be helping you get me arrested instead?” Qrow shoots back. “I’m done falling for it, Clover.”

Clover meets him in the middle, holding their blades steady. “Falling for what?”

”The— you— all of it!” Qrow corrects, biting on the words. He twists Harbinger around to try and dislodge them, and Clover brings them back down, the sudden shift in weight makes him stagger back. “All the self assured idealism. Nothing ever goes wrong for you, so it must never go wrong for the rest of us, right? You can shower me with all the positivity you want, but I’m not one of your Ace Ops, I’m not buying it. I can’t trust your judgment.”

“But you’d trust a serial killer?” Clover barks. “You know that can’t go well, you’re smarter than that. You’re better than that.”

Qrow rushes in again, blinded by Clover and the wrongness of fighting him to notice Tyrian slip away. “I don’t trust him, I don’t need to trust anyone. Trust- trusting anyone other than myself and the mission- just leads to being taken advantage of. I’d know. With my luck, it happens enough. You think I haven’t learned better by now? I’m not above working with that freak to avoid letting you hurt me or turn me in to James. And maybe that isn’t fair, but I’m not exactly trying to be a model citizen. Believing I’m a good person won’t turn me into one, Clover.”

Clover releases a line and swipes Harbinger for him, sending it across the snow. “And believing I’m a traitor and a heartless drone won’t turn me into one, either.” Harbinger cuts into the white, too far away from Qrow to grab without Clover reaching him first. Shit. “It won’t stop me from caring about you.” He catches his breath, not taking the opportunity to attack. “That endless cynicism of yours.” He pants. “I understand Robyn seeing the worst in me, she barely knows me at all. But you? Do you truly believe the worst in everyone?”

“I’m usually proven right.” Qrow sneers. “It’s better this way. I won’t be caught unaware by how terrible people can be when I’m expecting it. It’s kept me alive so far. But I guess you wouldn’t get that. Do you really believe the best in everyone?”

“Yeah, I do.” Clover says with conviction, not a hint of uncertainty or hesitation in his voice. “Don’t act like I’m perfect, you know me better than that. I’ve spent my entire life wondering if the people around me genuinely cared, or if I was being used for my semblance. If the opportunities I was given were earned by skill, or acquired by luck. Having to prove myself every step of the way to everyone who whispered about how I was gifted my job, how I didn’t deserve it. I have been surrounded by betrayal and doubt— self inflicted and otherwise— my whole life, Qrow. Betrayal is hard, I know. I understand. I might be the only person who ever could. But I don’t use it as an excuse to give up on the goodness in humanity.”

Qrow squeezes his fists where his weapon isn’t, catching his breath. His heart squeezes too. It’s all he could want for someone to see him and think he’s good. But he isn’t. Clover thinks he’s a good person and Qrow is trying to hurt him. He wants to seek Clover’s warmth, even knowing it’s a bad idea.

“I see the goodness in you, Qrow.” Clover insists, lowering his weapon. “Whether you want it or not.” Qrow could cry. “Ironwood doesn’t do things for no reason, and I believe he’s a good person. I have to believe that. If I don’t believe people are good, what’s the point of any of this? My job, protecting Atlas? I have to believe it’s worth it. I have to believe that if we go back and talk to the general, we can understand why he’s doing this and get you out of it. I trust James with my life… and I wanted to trust you.”

Clover’s luck had to run out eventually, it always does. As Qrow holds him, feels him go cold in the chill of Solitos, he can’t help but think that Clover shouldn’t be so fallible. Shouldn’t come apart like this. He says “good luck,” like he wants to imprint it on him. Wants Qrow to carry it with him. Still stubbornly believing Qrow is a good person, and is going to make the right choice. 

Clover slips from his grasp, and Qrow can’t help but think it’s just his luck that he’s destined to let Clover down one last time. 

Chapter Text

Qrow lets himself be dragged off when the special ops come down to arrest him. He doesn’t fight when they take Harbinger, or stow him away in the brig. He sits down on the cold stone bench surrounded by hard light dust and tries not to think about anything.

When you’ve been dealing with something your whole life, you figure out a way to live with it. In the forty plus years Qrow had been beaten down by rotten luck, he’s learned that when tragedy strikes, it’s best to push straight through it and keep going. Afterall, if every misfortune— every bump in the road— made Qrow stumble or fall, he’d never get anywhere. 

It’s harder to do in moments like this, where it feels like the whole world has crumbled around him. It’s instinct how his mind forces him not to wallow, to dissociate away from everything that just happened, to itch for a drink. 

He doesn’t have his flask on him. He hasn’t been carrying it with him for months. It had been a tough uphill climb, and he’d relapsed more than he’d like to admit, but Qrow had thought he was getting somewhere. Ruby, Yang— even Clover had been proud of him.

It all feels so useless now. So utterly pointless. Why should he care about taking care of his body when it betrays him at every turn? He’s going to get hurt— physically and emotionally. There’s no way to prevent it. Bad things will just keep happening to him because that’s who he is. He’s bitter and he’s jaded and he’s not a good person and good things just don’t fucking happen to him. It’s ridiculous, it’s so fucking ridiculous that he actually had to remind himself of that. How caught up was he in the delusion that everything was magically going to turn out peachy? Brothers above, those kids have really gotten to him.

Robyn keeps trying to talk to him. Qrow doesn’t even hear it at first, honestly. He doesn’t even need alcohol anymore to be completely out of it. Though, that would help. Robyn yells at Jacques, then Watts, then Harriet when she walks in, then Jacques again. She paces around her cell furiously, then when she loses steam, she lays down in her cot and starts babbling. 

Weirdly, it’s Robyn that starts pulling him out of it. The more she talks, the more she starts to remind Qrow of… Raven, weirdly. Or, who she used to be when she was about Robyn’s age. Like— late twenties, early thirties? When Raven and Tai were settling down together, and things were really good for a while. A Raven who wasn’t vindictive, she was brutally honest, snarky, a little full of herself, and barreled through every obstacle in her way, unafraid, because she knew exactly what she wanted. Back when Raven was fighting for something, not just fighting to get away from something. Back when Raven was his sister.

Qrow thumbs around the four leaf clover pin in his hand. He can’t bring himself to set it down. As if every action he takes brings him further away from that moment in time, further ahead into a future without Clover. He chips the now dried blood off and catches glimpses of his reflection in the silver steel. 

Qrow’s brain jumps to the next thing.

It’s instinct— he’s trained himself not to wallow. Dissociate, get angry, throw himself at something he can actually do, never wallow. Never sit in his own shit.

“I hate not being able to do anything.” Robyn says, sitting down.

“We can do something.” Qrow argues, his voice hoarse after speaking for the first time in hours. “We can kill the man who put us here.”

Robyn directs the conversation elsewhere, but Qrow’s mind stays fixed. When Clover laid dying in his arms, Qrow had been angry. He had cursed James’ name. The shock of Clover dying had killed that anger, but Qrow reignited it now. Better to be angry than complacent. Better to do something stupid than wait for something stupid to happen to you. Because it always does anyway. 

It takes a while for him to bother talking again, running scenarios through his mind. How he’ll get out of here, how he’ll find his way to James, how he’ll do it. It’s good to focus on something, it’s good to be angry. Qrow’s always been a shitty person like that. 

Overall, whatever plan Qrow ends up formulating won’t matter. There’s always some dumb shit that ends up happening whenever he tries to follow a plan. Over the years, he’s learned that the less he plans for things, the less “accidents” can throw him off. If something unfortunate happens and he was already flying by the seat of his pants, then he doesn’t exactly have to change strategy. 

He zones in and out of Robyn’s one sided conversation with him, catching bits and pieces of stories about her team. 

“You should’ve seen Joanna’s face. I don’t think she’d ever lost a fight before that. At least, not fair and square.” 

Not having heard most of the story, Qrow doesn’t react. Neither does Jacques, not that Qrow was really paying him attention either way.

“Rough crowd tonight.” She says after a beat, standing up. “Guess ironwood should’ve paid for better cell block entertainment.”

A chuckle catches Qrow off guard.

“And he smiles!” Robyn chirps. “Did I win?”

“Hey, it’s your game.” Qrow retaliated. “I don’t make the rules.”

He says it without looking away from the pin. He doesn’t want to look away, he doesn’t want to have to move on. He doesn’t want any of this to be happening. Gods, he’s so tired. He’s so sick of this. He needs to bite someone’s head off. This needs to be someone else’s fault so Qrow can tear them apart. (He’s such an awful person, Clover was so wrong about him.)

“I’m sorry for what happened.” Robyn says after another second where Qrow had already forgotten what they were talking about. Again, her voice snaps him out of it. It takes Qrow a second to understand what she’s talking about.

But… right. Duh.

He glances up at her.

“It wasn’t your fault.”

He looks away again.

“It was, though.” He corrects, hardly having to think about it. “It always is. I chose wrong… I choose wrong every single time. It doesn’t matter what, or who, it’s like I can never keep something once I have it. I’m destined to mess it up somehow. I chose to fight with Tyrian, I chose to believe I couldn’t trust Clover not to arrest me if we fought together. Everything was happening so fast, but I thought that— if I could control how the fight went, I could control the outcome. But my outcome is always the same. No matter what I decide to do, it’s always wrong. I’ve lost every coin toss life has thrown at me, why did I think this would be any different? 

“But the thing that really stings? For the first time in a while, I thought… maybe… maybe I can be around somebody— anybody, without my semblance making it… complicated. Clover said I was a good person. Somehow he actually believed that. He believed it enough that I was starting to believe it too. And now it just feels like… a childish dream. Gone, like everybody else.”

The moment the words are out of his mouth, he forgets them. They pour out of him like water, the emotion leaving with it. He jumps tracks, he shifts gears. He tries to—

“Believe it or not, I know a bit about what that’s like.” Robyn said after a moment, sucking Qrow right back into it. “When people are worried you’re gonna sniff out their secrets, they tend to push you away. It makes a real connection… difficult.”

“Hmm.” Qrow hums. “Never thought of it that way.”

Robyn crossed her arms, leaning up against the hard light wall of her cell. “Not everyone is in love with their semblance. I’m willing to bet Clover wasn’t either. No one is that perfect.”

“… He wasn’t.” Qrow finds himself saying. “He said… he’s mentioned it to me a couple times…. People tended to assume he was just handed things, that he didn’t have any real talent, that he didn’t belong in the spaces he had worked hard for. How he always felt the need to prove himself worthy— to himself and… everyone else.”

He doesn’t know why he’s talking about this with Robyn, why he can’t seem to stop. But suddenly, it’s easy.

“How do you think he dealt with it?” Robyn asks.

“I dunno.” Qrow thinks aloud. “I guess— I mean, he was always saying… he said that he had to assume everyone had good intentions. That people were inherently, like, good people. That they weren’t trying to hurt him, that they had a reason to act the way they did.”

“Sounds pretty hard to keep that up.” Robyn acknowledges.

“Yeah.” Qrow agrees, really thinking about it for the first time. “It’s a lot easier to assume the worst. You don’t get disappointed as much.”

…

It’s one of those rare times when a colossal stroke of his typical bad luck turns out decently well for him when Qrow wakes up and someone blows a hole in the side of the building, freeing Qrow and Robyn from the hard light cells.

He’s able to take the opportunity to escape. He heads for the top of Atlas academy and doesn’t look back. Once he shakes off the special ops, he flicks through every scenario he’d thought up in the last day and a half since he decided he was killing James. His mind is moving too fast to settle on any one thing. All he knows is that he needs his weapon. He’ll cut his way to the general if he has to, he’s past caring what happens beyond that. 

He knows Robyn is at his heels, but he doesn’t care what she does or doesn’t do. Qrow doesn’t know what’s going on right now, he hasn’t spared a single thought to where the kids are or what’s happening in Atlas or Mantle. The anger is stirring under his skin, blazing hot, giving him direction. Another explosion shakes the entire academy, blinding white light flashes through the windows. Qrow barely falters.

He and Robyn find their weapons in a locker room not too far from where they were being held. Robyn catches a glimpse of Mantle on monitors, and Qrow brings her crossbow to her. 

“He’s… really gonna do it.” She spoke, watching the message James left for Penny for all of Atlas and Mantle to hear. Qrow had heard the bomb threats in the background as he’d searched for Harbinger just a moment ago. Robyn must’ve found a way to play it back. 

“Not if we stop him first.”

Robyn meets his gaze and takes her weapon. He doesn’t need her to be in this with him, but he’s not gonna toss her aside or anything. He doesn’t care what happens so long as he gets done what he wants to get done.

Luckily, from there on out, the halls are mostly empty. Qrow is able to locate an elevator and bee lines for it, Robyn watching his back.

Just as he’s about to call for the lift, Robyn grabs his hand. “There might be a better way.”

“I’m telling you there isn’t.” Qrow snarls.

“I want Ironwood stopped as much as you do, but the two of us together can’t just slice our way through an entire floor of huntsmen willing to die to protect their general.” She argues. “We can’t just run in there without a plan like it doesn’t matter what happens to us, this isn’t just about you. It’s about everyone. People in Mantle and Atlas are going to die if someone doesn’t stop Ironwood, and we’re the only ones willing to do it in this whole building. We can’t just throw ourselves at him, we only have one shot at this.”

“I only need one shot.” Qrow hisses. “I’m going straight up there and I am ending this.”

“Or we fail and people get killed.”

“He deserves this!”

Robyn claps a hand over his mouth, forcing it shut. She stays there a little too long, forcing Qrow mouth closed, making it so he can only breathe and think. She takes a step back after a moment, looking around to make sure no one heard them. He almost has it in him to admire that Robyn still has her wits about her. Qrow just doesn’t care anymore. He doesn’t care if he gets taken down doing this, he doesn’t care what happens to Mantle or Atlas. He just wants to take this anger out on someone, to barrel straight ahead and… and…

Robyn signs. “Listen. I get it. You are hurting. You’ve been hurting for a long time. But let’s stop pretending like what you’re trying to do here is for anyone but yourself.”

Qrow doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t have to. He doesn’t want to. 

Robyn sighs. “You don’t even want to try to do something meaningful right now, do you? You think it’s better to do nothing than to try and do something good, because you’ve convinced yourself you can’t do anything good.”

She’s fishing for a response, but Qrow doesn’t give her one. He doesn’t have one to give.

“… I was in and out of it for most of the fight with Tyrian and Clover, but I managed to hear some of it towards the end.” She pressed on. “He thought you were a good person, Qrow. Even though we both know you don’t believe that about yourself. I know you don’t wanna hear this, but— you’re the one standing in your own way. And I know you know it. You’re so quick to assume the worst in everyone, you don’t give them enough time to show you their best. You were so fast to assume Clover would never choose you over Ironwood, you never gave him the chance to make that decision. You don’t even give yourself the chance to do something good because you’re so quick to assume you can’t, or you’ll just mess it up or— or whatever! You say it’s to protect yourself, or because you usually end up being right— but it’s nothing more than surrender. It’s you giving up on life. On people. On yourself. On the concept that things can get better. You think so highly of Clover, but you won’t believe him when he says it’s a matter of perception. Nothing good will ever happen to you if you don’t let it. You’re a self fulfilling prophecy and you know it. He believed you were strong enough to break out of it, just like he did.” She took a step in closer. “I know you know what the right thing to do is. He would want you to try.”

“If he wanted that so bad, he should be here to tell me himself.” Qrow snarled in return.

It falls flat. Nothing she said had been wrong. His anger is childish, and he knows it. He’s already given up on the idea that things will ever be any less unfortunate than they are now. It’s one of the reasons he’d always admired Clover. How did he live in the same world as Qrow— this world that’s filled with monsters and bandits and evil witches— and still manage to believe that under it all, it was an inherently good place? That it was worthy of his trust?

Robyn only stares at him in return. He doesn’t have anything left to say. The sound of Qrow’s uneven breathing is the only thing that fills the room. 

“I can’t guarantee everything will magically turn out right for you if you try, but I know for certain that if you don’t try, things can only get worse.” She says, after a long pause.

Qrow is defeated. He doesn’t see the point in trying. Even if things were to get better now— Clover isn’t here. How good could they possibly get?

The elevator behind them opens at that exact moment. Weapons at the ready, Qrow and Robyn run face to face with Winter and Marrow, who have turned coat apparently.

Winter calls her sister and team RWBY informs them all of their current plan to save Penny, Mantle, and the relic.

It’s absolutely insane. Easily ten times more insane than the last one they had about stealing an Atlas airship. This kids are fucking nuts. Qrow can’t even argue. He’s not angry enough anymore to try.

When he takes off with Robyn and Marrow, things start off smoothly. Their part of the plan goes off without a hitch. They’re able to take down a bunch of those fuckass Atlas military drones and draw the remainder of the Ace Ops in, where Marrow freezes them in place with his semblance. But right as they were getting the Ace Ops in handcuffs, a random android walks into the room and blows itself up, shattering Marrow’s aura on impact and subsequently setting the Ace Ops free.

Harriet makes it to the airship with the bomb on it, and none of them are fast enough to catch her before she flies away save for Vine, who grabs on at the last second.

“Damn it!” Qrow swears. “We gotta get a ship, we gotta stop them.”

“Then let’s go.” Robyn replies quickly. She looks back to Elm and Marrow. “You coming with?”

Qrow is quick to scoff. “Of course not— Robyn, you’re talking to one of James’s elite here.”

“One of his elite that can make up her own mind, thank you.” Elm snaps back harshly, brushing past him. “Oh god, what’re we doing?” Elm whispers half to herself. “Come on, there’s still another airship left, we can’t let her drop the payload!”

Qrow is momentarily stunned. He… he’d been so quick to assume none of these guys would take his side. That if they could cause an issue, they would. It hadn’t even occurred to him to acknowledge Elm or ask for any kind of aid. 

“But—?!” Qrow sputters.

“Come on,” Robyn brushes past him, all of them now sprinting toward the remaining airship. As Qrow hurries inside the hull, Robyn shoots a comment at him. “See? Not everyone is out to get you.”

Qrow hums absently. He really hasn’t considered that. Is that willingness to adapt part of what Clover had seen in Elm that made him think so highly of her? Qrow remembers… Clover admitted that he knows the Ace Ops aren’t friends in any traditional way, but he still liked and admired them all. He saw them all as great people, in a way that Qrow hadn’t. Like, at all.

As soon as their airship takes off, they manage to catch up with Harriet and Vine’s ship. Robyn, full of rage, slams her ship right into theirs. Qrow shifts his form and flies right through Harriet and Vine’s windshield as a crow, shifting back to attack once he lands right on top of Harriet.

They crash through the main deck to the storage deck, Qrow pinning her to the ground. “Looks like you’re getting that fight after all.”

She growls in fury and kicks him off, lightning fast. For a moment, as they fight, as Harriet yowls in fury, Qrow sees his own anger reflected back at him. It’s insatiable. It’s erratic. It’s maddening. He goes to attack again but Harriet is quick in every moment she makes, and every kick or punch she delivers. He’s getting old, it’s hard to keep up.

The ship jerks, and Qrow slams into the wall. “You’re making a mistake, Harriet!” He tries to reason. “What happened to Clover, I—“

“Shut up already!” She screams.

She doesn’t want to try either.

The bomb is armed already, Qrow can see where it’s strapped into place on the ships’s deck. Before he can even blink, Harriet has unfastened the cords holding it down so it can slide out of the open ship hatch.

Qrow’s stomach lurches, and he jumps in front of it, trying to hold its weight, prevent it from falling on Mantle. He hasn’t…

He thought he hadn’t cared. But faced with this— Qrow acts. He knows what the right thing to do is, and does it without thinking. 

“Get out of the way!” Harriet hisses. “Why do you even care what happens to Mantle?!”

Qrow grunts under the strain of trying to hold the bomb still. “There’s thousands of people down there. Between them and us, it’s not exactly hard to tell what the right choice here is. How can you possibly justify bombing innocent—“

“I don’t need to justify it!” Harriet scowls, dropping in a stance to attack. “I'm a soldier! I don’t need to be a hero, I need to follow orders!”

“Orders you clearly disagree with?!”

Harriet bites her lip, semblance charging in a cackle of electricity. 

The ship lurches again, and this time it’s because Robyn’s ship has caught up with them. Elm is holding Vine steady on the roof of the aircraft as Vine uses his semblance to grab at the open hatch of Harriet’s ship.

“Hare! Don’t do this!” Elm begs. “They’re still evacuating in Mantle!”

Vine is on our side too? Qrow wonders in awe.

“Ugh!” Harriet groans in fury. “Why can’t you let me do my job?!”

“Because you’re our friend!” Elm responds. “And we won’t let you go through with this!”

Qrow sees Harriet hesitate.

“You can be better than this. More than this.” Vine adds. “We believe you can be better.”

“Yeah, so did Clover. He was wrong too.” Harriet hissed. “We’re not huntsmen! When will you get that through your heads?! We’re Atlas elite. We’re military dogs. We don’t need to be good people, we need to do what we’re told. I don’t care that Clover thought we were more than that— if he wanted me to believe it so bad, he should be here to tell me himself!”

If he wanted that so bad, he should be here to tell me himself.

Something clicks in Qrow’s head, like everything falling into place in a way things never had before. Harriet doesn’t think she has the capacity to be a good person either, just like Qrow. Qrow wasn’t the only person Clover infected with his positive outlook on life. Clover made everyone feel like the best versions of themselves because that's how he saw them. Clover isn’t here, but that doesn’t mean that better version of them doesn’t exist. Qrow pulls the lucky pin out of his pocket. These were Clover’s friends too.

“Harriet!” Qrow calls as loud as he can.

The scene stills as he grabs’s Harriet’s attention.

“I know you know what the right thing to do is.” He says. “And I— I believe you’re going to make the right decision. That you want to make the right choice, that you’re a good person.”

Harriet stares at him, expression blank, eyes wide, like she’s barely even hearing the words coming out of his mouth. She looks like she’d been slapped in the face.

“How many times have you heard Clover say that to you?” Qrow continues. “How many times did he make you believe it? He’s not the only one that trusts you, that sees the best in you. Your team— your friends have faith in you. I have faith in you.”

Tears gather at the rim of Harriet’s eyes. Her eyes dart from side to side, conflict written all over her features as she tries to process this. Her gaze lands on her team. She’s in profuse distress, he can see it all over her face. Her chest starts to rise and fall as her breathing quickens. In some last ditch effort to make some sense of things, she scoffs, refusing to look up at Qrow.

“You? Mr. Pessimist?” She spat venomously. 

Qrow really thinks about it for a second, and… “… Yeah.” He says, making up his mind right then and there, no matter how much his gut and mind scream to the contrary. Qrow decides to view Harriet as a good person, and wholly trust her to make the right call. “We’re not so different.” He says. “If I can make the right choice for once in my life, so can you.”

The weight of holding the bomb steady gets the better of him. With another jerk of the ship, it slips from his grasp and starts sliding toward the open hatch. 

“No!” Qrow yelps, as he’s slammed to the ground, lucky pin still clasped in his hand.

Harriet, seemingly frozen, does nothing as she stares at the payload inching past her, and Qrow squeezes his eyes shut and silently thinks the way Clover would’ve— “it’ll be fine!” He says, to his own astonishment. “It’s fine, we—“

It stops.

It stops right by the edge of the hatch, caught still by the rim. 

That was… lucky.

Qrow flexed his arm, reaching out to feel his aura. Did… he do that?

He and Harriet both exhale.

Suddenly and randomly, the bomb arms itself. 

“There’s to time to get out of the blast radius.” Harriet murmurs to herself. “I’ve… killed us all.”

“No, we’ll be fine.” Qrow insists, flexing his aura again, trying to recreate his luck. “We’ve gotten this far.”

It’s Vine who takes over in the end, making sure the rest of them make it out of that day alive. It’s only moments after his sacrifice— which none of them have had any time to process— that Atlas touches the ground, bringing a flood along with it. Qrow reaches out through their connected call line for Ruby, Yang, anyone, and is met with static. All the portals have closed. They’ve lost their opportunity to join them in Vacuo.

They touch down in the arctic, miles away from the ruin that Atlas and Mantle once were. Harriet falls to her knees, and its Marrow that holds her as she falls apart— all that anger, grief, and self hatred she had neglected for so long pouring out of her.

He doesn’t know how long it is when the Menagerie Militia finds them at the request of Maria and Pietro. Apparently, the Faunus had heard Ruby’s message for the world, and had shown up a little too late to help. But they gave Qrow and the others a ride to Vacuo.

It’s only once they reach the desert days later that Qrow learns who made it to Vacuo, and… who didn’t.

He sits with it for a day, hardly moving. 

What would you think of all this? He wonders to himself, lucky pin pinched between his fingers. If you were here right now, what would you say to try and put a positive spin on things?

Robyn finds him eventually, when he finally leaves his temporary room in Shade Academy and stands under the sun, looking down on the city.

“I’m sorry.” She says, standing at his side. “You’ve lost so much in such a short time.”

“So have you.” Qrow counters. “Besides, I haven’t ’lost’ Ruby and Yang.”

Robyn looks at him sideways.

“No one knows what happened to them after they fell. If you ask me? Better to assume they’re alive and making their way back to us right now.”

“Yeah?” Robyn prompts.

“Yeah.” Qrow confirms. “Never thought there was much a point in wallowing. Bad stuff happens, you just have to take it and move on. I realized, though… I was wallowing. By accepting that things would never get better, but letting my luck define me— I’ve been wallowing in my own poor luck for years, I stopped trying— stopped believing anything would turn out well. Maybe that’s why things always seemed so easy for Clover; he wasn’t afraid when facing tragedy or the unknown, he wasn’t even afraid when he was dying. ‘Cause he believed everything would turn out alright in the end. I think I’d like to live that way— being unafraid of the future, instead of just dreading it.”

“Huh.” Robyn remarked. “Well, I hope you’re right. If we ever needed those kids, it’s now.”