Marcus Ochre walked through the door of the Guardians' command building, taking a deep breath as he suddenly found himself in a room with thirty other people. The Guardians' de facto headquarters on Deumont Island was built as the administration building for the Dust mine. Jack had been quick to declare it their main base of operations. Marcus looked at the floor as he walked through the crowd, avoiding all possible eye contact. He could feel eyes on him, some of them giving him nervous glances and others glaring like they were looking at a monster. He felt his shoulder bump against somebody but didn't look back. He just had to cross the room to get to the staircase up to Jack's office. As he reached the other side of the room, he caught a glimpse of one of the few Guardians he actually liked. Slate was a massive figure, nearly seven feet tall, and covered in muscle. He was leaning over a table, discussing strategy with a few others while pointing to a map.

"-And I want our people well out of the blast radius," He was saying, his voice deep and authoritative, "I don't want us opening the attack by taking out half a dozen of our own people."

"If they're stupid enough to be killed by their own bombs, do we need them?" Marcus asked.

Slate turned to Marcus and grinned.

"Ochre. Good to see you, kid. Heard you killed a couple of those Beacon whackos." Slate said. One of the Guardians Slate had been talking to gave Marcus a look of disdain. Marcus stared back, blankly. The Guardian quickly looked away and made an unconvincing show of examining the map.

"Killed one. Maybe killed another."

"Well, if they got away, we'll have another go at them soon enough. Which reminds me," Slate motioned to the map, "You're going to be joining in on the attack, right? We could use you."

"Yeah, I'll be there. Actually, I wanted to talk to Jack about that."

"He's in his office," Slate said, "Just got back from Vale, actually. Busy night, you know? Hey, when you're done in there, how about you come back and help out with the plan, here?"

"Yeah, I'll pass. See you, Slate."

"Alright, up to you," Slate said, before turning his attention back to the others, "So, when they're still recovering from the initial attack, we need hit them full force..."

Marcus headed up the stairs, and strode through the door of Jack's office. Jack was talking to somebody on his scroll. When he saw Marcus, he grinned, and beckoned him in. Marcus remained standing in the doorway. Jack was an older man, his face patterned with scars and prison tattoos. He had an unkempt, scraggly goatee.

"...and we'll transfer a few thousand extra to your account for the intel, as usual," Jack was saying.

"Thanks, I appreciate it," A voice from the scroll.

"Remember the policy for any evidence we might have left behind?" Jack asked.

"Yeah, yeah. Your people don't have to worry about a thing. Later, Jack."

"Later." Jack said. He hung up, then looked up to Marcus.

"Marcus, how are you doing, boy?" Jack said, "Come on in, sit down. Drink?"

Marcus walked into the room and sat down in one of the chairs in front of the desk. Jack fetched a bottle of whiskey and two glasses from a drawer and offered one of the glasses to Marcus. He nodded.

"That was our man on the inside," Jack said.

"Surprised he hasn't given himself away yet," Marcus said, "He's kind of an idiot."

"No arguments there," Jack said, "And he's an idiot who knows too much, at this point. I'm thinking the next time he does something stupid to risk exposing himself, we'll have to deal with him. Send Slate to pay him a visit. Anyway, what can I do for you, Marcus?"

"I wanted to talk to you about the move you're planning."

"Sure. This ain't gonna be a four-man-team this time, son, I want as many people as possible. 'Specially when one of 'em is the only one 'sides me who's killed one of these punks."

Marcus nodded. He glanced around the room in disinterest.

"Speaking of which, good work on that. Would have been nice if you'd taken out the whole team, of course."

"Killing them didn't interest me."

"...Right," Jack said, pouring whiskey, "well, anyway, all in good time. So, what can I do for you, Marcus?"

"Blake Belladonna." Marcus stated, "I want to kill her. Me. I want you to make sure everybody knows to leave her for me."

Jack pushed the glass of whiskey over to Marcus and then picked up his own. He chuckled.

"Well, if its that important to you, son, I'll put word out, but the fight is gonna be pretty hectic, you know? Don't be too disappointed if she's already dead by the time you find her."

Marcus swallowed a gulp of whiskey and winced. Somewhere in the room below, one of the Guardians felt a sudden burning in his throat. Marcus thought for a moment, looking annoyed.

"If anybody but me kills Blake, I'll kill them." He said.

Jack had been drinking from his own glass. He sputtered a bit and coughed.

"Marcus, for- for fuck's sake," Jack said, shaking his head, "Look, you're a good kid. But you have to realize-"

"Jack, if you had brought me along to kill Belladonna the first time, I'd have gotten it done properly, and all of this shit Beacon has shovelled onto your doorstep wouldn't have happened."

"Well, you haven't been too enthusiastic about helping to clean it up, have you?" Jack demanded, "With your little gift, you could have killed dozens of 'em already."

"Its not my fucking mess!" Marcus shouted back.

Jack set his glass down. He was trying very hard to hold in his anger.

"Remember where you came from, Marcus," Jack said, "I'd think you'd show me a little more respect. I took a pretty damn big risk on you."

They stared at each other for a long moment. Eventually Marcus looked down.

"Yeah," He sighed, then glanced back up, "I should have been there, that first night."

"Probably, yeah." Jack said, shrugging.

"I know T.E.S.S. when I see it."

"Don't doubt it," Jack said, "There's no way we could have known that would happen. Hindsight 20/20, you know?"

Marcus nodded, tossed back the rest of his drink, and stood.

"Well, thanks for the whiskey, Jack."

He walked to the door, and opened it. He paused, then turned back.

"Tell the guys what I said. About Belladonna."

Jack nodded, and waved his hand to shoo Marcus from the room. Marcus walked out. He once again crossed the room full of Guardians, head down and avoiding eye contact, and left the building.

"You've been hallucinating?" Weiss asked, "You've been hallucinating since you came out of the coma and you didn't tell us?"

She was sitting on her bed, across from Blake. Their tea sat forgotten on the bedside table. Blake was avoiding her glances, arms crossed.

"I told you. I told Ruby that I was seeing Yang, hearing her voice..."

"She's talking to you," Weiss said, "She's talking to you and you're talking back. Blake, this is a really big problem."

"Why?" asked Blake, "Why is it so wrong to hold on to her? Its comforting."

"Blake, you've... you've been through a lot and your... psyche-"

"You think I'm losing my mind?" Blake said, "Thanks a lot, Weiss."

"I didn't say that," Weiss said, raising her hands, "I meant that, after what happened, its perfectly understandable to- look, if there's nothing wrong with it, why'd you hide it? Why did you refuse grief counselling?"

"I... what good would it do?" Blake asked, "Could having some therapist's shoulder to cry on make losing her any easier?"

"Then cry on my shoulder," Weiss said, "I'm here. Ruby's here. If you keep all that pain hidden inside you it'll destroy you from the inside out. Let us help you, Blake. Let us share it. I don't think you've lost your mind, Blake. But you have to stop talking to-"

"I don't want to stop," Blake said, "If I have to lose my mind to hold on to this little bit of her..."

Weiss stood, crossed over to Blake and sat down next to her. She wrap her arms around Blake's shoulders.

"You don't have to forget her. Keep her alive in your memory. But not like this, Blake."

Blake closed her eyes, and rested her head on Weiss's shoulder. They sat like that for a moment, then Blake began crying.

"It feels so much like her, Weiss. When she holds me, it feels more real than you holding me right now. I know I can't keep doing this. But I don't know if I can stop."

Weiss couldn't find any words to offer her. She was holding back tears herself. Weiss squeezed her eyes shut, rocking Blake back and forth. The was a sudden soft thump on the bed, next to Blake. Weiss felt Ruby's arms joining hers around Blake. Weiss smiled.

"Blake, it's okay," Ruby whispered, "I understand."

"Ruby," Blake choked out, "I've been so selfish. All this time, I've been acting like I was the only one who'd lost someone. I'm so sorry about your sister, Ruby."

Ruby shushed her, softly, "I never would have made it through this without all the love you and Weiss have given me. I see Yang too, sometimes, you know? But only when I'm dreaming. It makes me just want to stay in bed, to not wake up, to stay with her. But I know when I wake up, you and Weiss will be here for me."

Blake wrapped her arm around Ruby, and pulled her in tight. She kissed the girl on the forehead.

"Thank you, Ruby," Blake whispered.

They sat there, together, for some time. Ruby started to drift off, leaning against Blake. Blake stood, careful to still support Ruby, then scooped her up in her arms. She quietly tucked her back into bed. Weiss watched from where she sat. Eventually, Blake turned around and leaned against the bedpost, looking at Weiss.

"She's right, you know?" Weiss said, "We should be leaning on each other for support. But we're not. I can feel us coming apart."

Blake was silent. Weiss leaned forward, wiping tears from her eyes. Had she been looking at Blake, she might have noticed her staring at an empty chair next to the bed.

"I care about you and Ruby more than almost anyone in my life," Weiss said, "I don't want to lose you."

"We're not going to let them destroy this team, Weiss," Blake said, "We can't let them. But I don't think we can pull ourselves back together until this fight is done."

Weiss looked up at her and nodded.

"We should get to sleep," Blake said, stepping forward towards her bed, "We head back to the island tomorrow."

Weiss nodded. She stood, returned to her own bed, and crawled beneath the blankets. She reached over tot the bedside table and clicked off the lamp. In the dim light coming through the window, Weiss watched Blake curl up into her bed and fall asleep. She sighed, watching the girl she cared very much about sleep. From here, she could see Blake's eyes already darting about beneath her lids. Weiss felt a pang of a feeling she'd had a lot over the past two weeks. An alien feeling of guilt. She knew it was irrational, and yet it had been eating at her relentlessly. She was plagued by the memory of the dance, just before they'd left for Mountain Glenn. It felt like it'd been so long, yet it was only a couple of months previous. Weiss remembered how she'd felt watching Yang and Blake dance. She'd felt two emotions she'd almost never felt before in her life. She had been watching Blake with an indescribable longing, and at Yang with something that could only be called jealousy.