With the oncoming debut of Volume 4, I decided to force myself to continue work on this fic.
Again, this is all WIP and due to change (because it's an unedited draft) as more information comes in from Roosterteeth.
Summer stared at the bottle in front of her. The amber liquid within glimmered dully in the dim lighting of the kitchen. As Ruby Rose, she hadn't indulged in spirits at all. She'd tried it once, then swore the foul-tasting fluid off.
She could never understand why people liked it.
It made you clumsy, dulled your edge.
Only a few individuals, like Qrow, could consume the stuff and remain coherent and effective.
Her father never could. The only thing alcohol ever brought him were lonely nights in the dark, his head in his hands. The name of his dead wife, Ruby's deceased mother, whispered under his breath as the steady dripping of his sorrow hit the table, one after the other.
But as she lost her friends, as they were taken from her one by one, she began to realize why people sought liquor in the darkest times.
It was to numb the pain.
If she couldn't think, she couldn't bring herself to face what she had done.
If she couldn't think, she couldn't begin to face her bleak, horrid future.
If she drank, she wouldn't have to come to grips with the fact that, in one fell swoop, she had killed both Summer Rose and Taiyang Xiao Long.
The bottle promised a release from her nightmare. The promise of escape from this waking hell.
It was almost enough to make her pour herself a glass, and seek oblivion.
"The funeral is this weekend."
The familiar, gravelly voice of Qrow Branwen moved Summer from her daze, and she looked past the bottle to him as he leaned near the window, staring out at the forest as their still branches hung in the pale moonlight.
It never occurred to her, Qrow was unusually sober… when did he start drinking? Did Ruby's implacable Uncle succumb to the allure of escape? When did it begin? Would he seek liquid salvation of his own volition?
Or did it begin when she poured him a glass?
"This weekend," she murmured, running her finger absently along the rim of her empty glass, "To say goodbye, is that it?"
"Yeah," Qrow repeated, void of feeling, "To say goodbye."
The rage began to boil up inside of her. Anger, not at Qrow, but at herself, at this world. At reality itself for allowing this to happen.
"Say goodbye to what?!" she all but shouted, banging her fist on the table, "What am I supposed to do, Qrow, stare at an empty coffin and pretend that Taiyang is inside?! Damn it, Qrow, we couldn't even retrieve his body!!"
Qrow cringed, refusing to meet her gaze.
It was true. They couldn't go back and retrieve Taiyang's corpse. Even if they could, at this point… nobody would want to lay their eyes on it.
"I'm sorry, Summer," Qrow clenched his fists as he remembered how they left Taiyang, knowing full well that the true goodbye was said long ago, "but I think… this is something that we all need. It'll… bring closure."
Summer bristled. Closure? She didn't want this to be closed! She didn't want them to just close the book on Taiyang's life! It felt like if they held this funeral, then… then he was really gone.
There was this hole in their lives now. In everyone's lives. And to say goodbye… was to acknowledge that it was there.
How do you deal with grief?
As Ruby, Summer had had three chances to answer that question.
Three times when a gaping hole had been torn in the fabric of her life. A fixture, violently wrenched from the landmarks of reality.
She had tried to come up with an answer. Despair, Hopelessness, Anger. There were many ways that one could react to grief and loss.
But it never stopped hurting.
You could pretend the holes weren't there. Eventually, you'd get used to their presence.
But no amount of time could heal it.
Now, at the fourth time, she had to face the truth.
Fighting grief was pointless. She could never undo what had been done.
She had already lost.
And like a sail without a wind, Summer Rose went limp.
Taiyang, the man she had known as her father, was dead.
A funeral would not heal the wound. Nothing could. The space he had occupied would never again be filled.
But… he deserved a funeral.
"I…" she began, before pausing. What… does one do at a funeral?
She had never been to one before.
There had never been time. Before, in her past, in this future, there had not been time to have a funeral.
Perhaps a few kind words before departure, but…
"Don't worry," Qrow spoke up, momentarily cutting through the silence, "I've handled the details. You don't need to worry about it."
She moved to say something, but he stopped her.
"No, it's okay," he shook his head, "After all, I'm the team leader… this is my duty."
And Summer stayed silent.
Because what could be said?
Except… perhaps…
With a steady hand, Summer poured the whiskey into the glass, the golden liquid swirling in the crystal container, promising momentary relief from their sorrow.
She held out the little glass cup, giving Qrow a small smile. One that spoke of loss, but loss that could be shared.
"Want a drink?" she asked as warm tears journeyed down her face, falling off one by one, plinking audibly on the floor.
The leader of team STRQ stared at the offering for a moment, before taking it in his hand and tipping it back, the harsh brew searing his throat on its way down.
Summer just looked on as he drank.
There was some… comfort in familiarity.
But only some.
Perhaps though, she thought as she poured another glass and raised it, she could find comfort this way too.
If only for tonight.
There was no coffin.
Good. It would have been empty anyways.
It was a familiar place. A little cliff, with the waves crashing far below and the big blue stretching out into the horizon.
She had been here before. She had visited an almost identical stone marker.
Only it had borne a different symbol.
This new symbol, she wished she didn't have to see on a grave marker.
To see it here, like this… it felt so wrong.
But this was reality.
The girls clung to her legs, as if Summer would disappear if they let go.
She remembered clutching her father's leg just like this, so long ago.
Little Ruby, little Yang, different loss, same grief.
"Daddy isn't coming back?" Ruby asked with her small, trembling voice. It was a question that they both knew the answer to, but it was spoken all the same in hopes of a different answer.
Summer placed a comforting hand on Ruby's head, whispering, "No, darling… he isn't."
And with that, Ruby broke down. Yang could be heard trying to strangle her sobs. Poor girl. Her mother left, and her father was dead.
Summer was a poor replacement; not even her real stepmother. More like a big sister.
By the Maidens, how was she going to raise these two? She had to…. But how? It was one thing to have the conviction to do so, planning it was another!
This was… impossible. The future… it was going to be a long time before she got back to where she came from.
A long time.
"Taiyang…" Summer grit her teeth, stricken as she stared down at the grave of the man she called father. In this body, she couldn't even express the kind of loss she felt. She was supposed to be the grieving widow. But how did a widow grieve? How did you cry for the loss of a loved one like a husband? She had mourned friends before, but was that any different?
She didn't know.
"Summer," Qrow placed a hand on her shoulder as he stepped up to her, "Don't blame yourself. There wasn't anything you could have done."
She looked back at him, unable to accept that.
"But I could have," she choked with the weight of her grief, "If I had been faster… Not gotten hurt… he might still be…"
"Summer, no," Qrow shook his head sadly, "You could be the most skilled Huntress, the most fearsome warrior in existence… but no one can see the future. You couldn't have known what would happen."
The… future…
It was as if she had been doused in a raging, chilling river.
The future.
Nobody could see the future, this was true.
But Summer… she knew what would happen.
Which was the next best thing.
Cinder and Salem. The fall of Beacon. Penny. Pyrrha. Yang. Blake. Weiss. Ozpin. Everyone and everything that had been lost.
She could prevent it all.
All of it.
Summer's gaze hardened as she looked forward once more. The world, which had been full of turmoil and clouded with despair now sharpened into focus.
Summer Rose knew the future.
A future that didn't have to come to pass.
She swore. She swore by her friends who didn't know her yet, by the people she lived to protect, by her father and mother who died to give her this chance, by whatever power placed her here.
The future would change.
Even if she had to dye her mother's pale white cloak red in sin to do so.
