Blake's eyes cracked open slowly, and soft, warm light filled her vision. She squinted and squirmed around, searching for a more comfortable position. The bed she was laying on wasn't hers, she could feel it. As she shifted, brow furrowed in confusion, she was suddenly aware that she wasn't alone in the bed. She could feel someone else's weight resting on one side of her body, their arm hanging lazily around Blake's own waist. Looking down, Blake saw golden locks of hair peaking out from under the sheets. From where Yang's head rested on Blake's chest, Blake could hear loud snoring. It was always such a strange sound to hear coming from such a beautiful, perfect being, that Blake had always found it endearing. Blake set her head back down on the pillow, closing her eyes and savouring the moment. She had long since lost hope of these moments lasting.

Blake opened her eyes again, and looked around, curiously. She was in Team RWBY's room, but rather than her usual bunk, she was looking down on the room from the bed above hers. The usual mess of clothes strewn about the floor was visible, but one item caught Blake's attention. A stylish but simple white dress, slightly wrinkled, hanging from the post of Yang's bed. Blake smiled, realizing where her dreams had brought her, though not knowing why. This was the night Yang and Blake had begun their relationship. Not just as partners, not just as friends, but something more.

Blake looked down at the top of Yang's head, poking out from under the sheets just slightly. The events of the previous day began to creep into Blake's thoughts. The disastrous attack on the garage, her friends being in danger once again, fleeing the island... and, of course, Adam. His reappearance had caught her completely off guard. She'd been wondering ever since she left him behind on that train what she would do when he inevitably caught up to her. It seemed now she knew. She'd put a gun to his head and had come dangerously close to pulling the trigger. She still wasn't sure letting him live was the right call.

Blake felt Yang stirring, as if she could sense Blake's restless thoughts. Yang pulled herself closer to Blake, those giant purple eyes opening and staring right into Blake's soul. Yang smiled, warmly. She wrapped her arms tightly around Blake where she lay, and Blake was overwhelmed by the warmth she felt from Yang's body. Her goddess. Her love, lost and gone, and yet still here. Blake would give anything to stay here, with Yang, forever.

"You're still who you are, Blake." Yang whispered, her voice more beautiful than any instrument.

"What do you mean?" Blake asked. She moved her hand around under the sheets, up and down Yang's bare back.

"You're the girl I fell in love with," Yang said, "The world tries to change you, and you never give in. You didn't kill Adam because you're still who you are."

Blake closed her eyes. She saw limbs being severed and heads sliced from bodies. She saw herself standing blood-soaked in a room full of gore.

"I don't know how long I can keep that up, Yang." Blake whimpered.

"Why would you kill Adam?" Yang asked, "He came after you to help, not for revenge, didn't he?"

"I can't trust him, I told you that." Blake said, stroking Yang's cheek.

"You don't trust anyone," Yang reminded her.

"Except you." Blake countered.

"Well," Yang said, pausing, "Still, if he can help us in this fight, maybe we should take a chance on him.."

"I don't..." Blake began, before trailing off. Yang waited patiently for her to find her words.

"After everything he's done, everything I've seen him do, he doesn't get to walk back into my life and play hero," Blake said, finally, "Like he's so big about it, like "oh, I'm not mad at you for running away, I'm here to solve all your problems for you." No, he doesn't get to play that part!"

"You don't believe he's actually forgiven you." Yang said, nodding.

"I know he hasn't." Blake said, "He's vindictive. When somebody wrongs him, he remembers. Even if he helps us against the Guardians, he still remembers. And once they're all dead... I don't know what he's planning, but its nothing good."

"I've seen you fight," Yang said, "You were good when you started at Beacon, and you're even better now. And Ruby and Weiss will be there, by your side. Even if he plans on double-crossing you, what chance does he have?"

Sharp pain suddenly struck Blake's ears. Blake winced and moved her hand up to her scalp, which was difficult due to a tight restraint she suddenly felt around her wrist.

"No, no, no..." Blake whispered.

Yang crawled further up the bed, so her face was above Blake's, and her long hair hung down around Blake's head. She looked down at Blake, seeming on the verge of tears.

"Its okay, Blake, Its okay."

Blake reached up, wrapped her hand around the back of Yang's head, and pulled her down. Their lips met and Blake held onto the kiss as long as she could, even as burning pain struck her lower back.

Weiss sat in Team RWBY's room, watching Blake sleep. Blake had collapsed into her bed the moment they'd returned and had slept from the evening all the way until now. It hadn't been a restful sleep, that much was obvious. It seemed every few minutes Blake would suddenly begin squirming, then crying out, then almost shake herself awake before falling back against the bed, still unconscious but looking more exhausted than ever. This was how Blake had been sleeping ever since coming out of her coma, and it was a painful thing to watch. As Weiss watched, the shaking started again, and this time Weiss could see it would be violent enough to wake her. She pulled her chair closer to the bed as Blake began whimpering.

Blake was yelling before she even woke. Her eyes snapped open, wild with terror. She gasped and struggled for breath.

"No!" She cried, "No, Yang!"

"Blake, Blake, its okay," Weiss said, taking hold of Blake's shoulders and looking her in the eye, "Its okay, I'm here. You're safe."

Blake seemed to be staring past Weiss, her face deathly pale. Eventually, her breathing settled down and her fear gave way to despair. Weiss pulled her in closer and hugged her tightly. Blake returned the hug.

"They're getting worse, Weiss" Blake said, "Every time I see it, its worse than the last."

Weiss had nothing to offer, other than to tighten the embrace.

"But she's there, Weiss, its her," Blake said, "I can see her, and talk to her again. And I don't want to let her go, but it just makes seeing her die again so much worse."

Weiss let Blake speak, but something in her words caught Weiss's attention. She wasn't sure what, but something had occurred to her. Something important.

After a few moments, Blake spoke again.

"Where's Ruby?" She asked.

"She's at the armoury, stocking up ammunition," Weiss said.

Blake look confused, "What time is it?"

"Almost noon," Weiss said, "You should get ready."

The strategy against the Guardians was an unceasing assault. Three teams at once, hitting the enemy one location at a time. When that group ran low on stamina or ammo, or had to fall back, they would leave the island and be immediately replaced by another group of three teams, who would start where the previous teams had left off. It was too dangerous to go at night, but they planned to go from dawn until dusk every day until the Guardians' entire operation was destroyed. Currently, Team SSSN, Team CVFY, and a second-year team that Blake didn't know very well, Team FYRE, were attacking. At one o'clock, they'd return, and Teams RWBY, JNPR, and CRDL would resume the attack. Each team was down a member (Russel Thrush's leg had been badly broken, and he would need more time to recover), which was unnerving, but Blake was confident that there wouldn't be a repeat of the fight at the garage. Jaune and Ruby had altered the strategy slightly the night before. Now they would stay in contact with their pilots, and warn them off if the enemy possessed any anti-air weapons.

Blake pushed off her blankets and sat up. She rubbed her eyes, and shook herself awake. As she began to stand, Weiss noticed her wince slightly, and put her hand to her lower back, right where she had been stabbed.

"Are you okay?" Weiss asked.

"I'm alright," Blake said, "Just hurts a little every now and then. Doctor said sometimes the residual pain from an aura-neutralizing weapon can last a while."

Weiss nodded. She looked at Blake, deep in thought.

"What?" Blake asked.

"Oh, nothing." Weiss said.

"Alright," Blake said, "I'm going to get dressed, then get something to eat."

"Right," Weiss said, "I'll be at the landing pad in an hour."

"Where are you going?" Blake asked.

"I'm stopping by the library," Weiss said, "There's something I want to look in to. Its not too important."

"...Okay." Blake said.

Weiss left the room, giving Blake a hopeful smile as she closed the door behind her. Blake waited for the sound of the door clicking, then began removing her nightgown.

Adam waited, crouched in the underbrush, scanning the docks for any movement before emerging. It was a small, out of the way dock, little more than 4 meters long. There weren't even any boats visible at it, and it showed signs of disuse. There was a rundown shed on shore, just a few meters away, with its door hanging off its hinges. Adam chose it as the best spot to hide his boat where the Guardians were unlikely to find it. He had moored it then pushed it under the dock so it would be even harder to see at a glance. Seeing no movement, Adam was confident his way off the island hadn't been discovered. He emerged from the bushes and strode towards the dock.

His reunion with Blake earlier that day hadn't gone as he'd planned it. He knew Blake, and knew she wasn't going to be overjoyed to see him, but her throwing out of his offer to help was disappointing. The strangest thing to Adam was the way she blamed him for what had happen between them. Hadn't it been her who deserted? Who left him behind, sabotaging the train job at the same time? She seemed to genuinely believe Adam meant to kill her, which bothered Adam greatly. Was that the kind of person she thought he was?

He hadn't given up his efforts to help Blake. If he could convince her he didn't mean her harm, he knew she'd accept his help, if for no other reason than that her and the rest of those kids from Beacon were clearly out of their league. Any disagreements they'd had in the past could be settled once the Guardians were out of the picture. At any rate, he'd keep killing Guardians for as long as it took for her to give him another chance. Its wasn't like he wasn't enjoying it.

Adam walked out toward the dock, stopping just before stepping onto the damp wood. He turned his head to one side, eyes falling on the shed. There was something off about the door. It seemed to be hanging slightly ajar in a slightly different position than where it had been when Adam arrived on the island this morning. Adam sniffed the air, and stood completely still, listening for any sound. He noted the slight breeze rustling the leaves and grass around him. If the door had moved, it was likely just wind. No need to be paranoid.

Adam walked down the dock to where he'd moored the boat. It was a small boat with an outboard motor, built more for a lake than the Grimm-infested sea, but it did its job well enough, and it was discrete. Adam reached under the dock and grabbed the rim of the boat. He gave another glance towards the island, then pulled the boat out. There was a quiet, but distinct mechanical click. Adam's eyes immediately caught the thin wire that had been tied to the underside of the dock. The click had occurred when the movement of the boat yanked the wire free from something inside it. Tilting his head, Adam saw the rectangular package, wrapped in duct tape with some wiring sticking out of it, just under one of the seats.

"Oh, shit." He said.

He bolted upwards and sprinted down the dock, back towards shore. He caught sight of several Guardians piling out of the shed just before the boat exploded. The sound was deafening and the wall of heat that hit Adam's back burned his skin. The dock was reduced to splinters under his feet and he was thrown through the air. He crashed down onto the ground, writhing. Most of his aura had been depleted absorbing the blast, and the pieces of shrapnel. Adam struggled to his feet without his usual grace, adopted a combat-stance, and turned to face the Guardians. There were five of them. Adam thought it odd that they would set an ambush with so few people. One of them even looked a little younger than Adam himself. He looked to be in his mid-twenties. He had long black hair, hanging down to his shoulders, his bangs nearly covering his eyes. He wore a long black overcoat over a black T-shirt. His jeans were shredded at the knees. He stared at Adam with complete boredom in his tired-looking eyes. What confused Adam most, however, was that the kid was armed only with what looked like a surgical scalpel.

"Sup." The kid said.

Weiss walked into the library, looking around curiously. She moved with the air of somebody acted suspiciously, though nobody would give a second thought to see a first year on a typical library visit. She travelled to the section of the library reserved for Psychology. It was a not even an entire aisle, and offered only the most meagre selection. Irritated, she walked over to the section devoted to Semblances. This section was vastly larger, and featured everything from history texts and instructional holo-disks, to Semblance Theory and ancient, dusty, rarely-touched volumes on the philosophical implications of Semblance usage. It was easy to tell that most students readership tended towards practical application of Semblances, more so than how they worked. It was to be accepted from a school taught to use them as weapons.

Weiss first took a holo-disk entitled "Who We Are: What Our Semblances Say About Us", and then was much more interested to find a copy of Semblance and Psychology. She took both and walked over to an unoccupied table, sitting as far as possible from the other students, going about their studies. Weiss inserted the holo-disk into her scroll and set it down on the table, letting it auto-play as she opened the book and began perusing the table of contents.

Years ago, in one of the several prestigious upper class schools Weiss had attended before she had finally convinced her father to allow her to come to Beacon, she had seen a lecture on the effects of psychology on Semblances. The topic of Traumatic Emotional Semblance Shift had been broached, and the professor had alluded to a controversial theory on the cause of the condition. He had said that the theory was rarely given serious attention, in part because T.E.S.S. itself was so rare that few people devoted much time to its study. Weiss could only barely remember what the professor had described, but it had been eating at the back of her mind for some time.

She reached over to her scroll and typed "T.E.S.S." into the search bar. The scroll automatically jumped further into the video that it was playing. It appeared to be a recording of a several hour long lecture.

"-such as in the case of Traumatic Emotional Semblance Shift, wherein the subject suffers such an extreme emotional experience that it alters their personality so significantly that their Semblance changes to reflect it," The man on stage was saying.

Weiss flipped through the book in her hands until she found a passage on the same subject. Like the library's psychology section, there was little to offer. She turned more of her attention to the lecture.

"So why is such a condition so rare?" The speaker asked, "We all experience trauma, many of us deal with tragedy, and yet T.E.S.S. Is so rare many people have never heard of it. Foremost is that in many cases, the subject has a compromised Aura during the event. Not just depleted, but disabled in some way."

This got Weiss's attention. She sat up and pulled the scroll a bit closer.

"Such as in the case of one man in Mistral who was caught in an explosion in a Dust processing facility. Shards of dust crystals were embedded in his body, preventing him from raising his aura to prevent further injury. But I posit that this is only a partial cause. This man had a coworker and close friend who was caught in the same explosion. This coworker however sustained mortal injury, dying in the subject's arms. The death of a loved one, in close proximity to the subject, is noticeably common in T.E.S.S. cases. Frequent and unrelenting hallucination of said loved one is often dismissed as typical trauma associated with their death."

Weiss's heart began beating quicker.

"In Henry Gabriel's "Manifestation of the Soul", Gabriel speaks, and theorizes wildly, about the relationship between our Auras and our souls. He suggests that, as our Auras are physical manifestations of the soul, they are means of interacting with the soul directly. That just as we can measure, even contain the power of our Auras, we could also contain the soul. He suggests that T.E.S.S. is no mere psychological condition, but a side effect of something much more complex. When the loved one dies, and the soul leaves the body, the subject's uniquely compromised Aura allows a piece of said soul to... "cling" to the subject, preventing the deceased person from moving on. The fusing of a piece of another soul to one's own interferes with the Aura, preventing use of a person's true Semblance, and possibly contributing to the generation of the new one."

Weiss paused the video. She stared forward, blankly. Eventually, she put her head in her hands and began weeping.

"Oh, Blake," She whispered.