Author's Note: This chapter was originally "Small Steps 1.3: Pages". However, it didn't work well where it was; hence, after some editing, I moved it to be an Interlude between the second and third (third and fourth?) arcs. This probably messed up anything FFn-related involving chapter numbers, but now you know why!

It was another quiet day at Tukson's Book Trade. Usually, he would have been bored and irritable; today, however, he was just glad to have some time to organize all the stuff in his back room. The White Fang helped him keep his book store open, in exchange for being able to use it for whatever they needed it for. Sometimes there was a meeting, occasionally they used it to launder money, once he gave shelter to a couple of trainees on the run from from the law, but most often what they needed the bookstore for was an extra building to store things in.

The White Fang lost a warehouse the night before last—supposedly, they were attacked by some kind of demon and his hounds—so they needed all the storage space they had. The Book Trade was a relatively public location (even if people rarely entered), so the White Fang tried not to come by too often. They had stored several large crates with the Hagel emblem on them in the back room yesterday, told him not to open them, and had left him alone since.

This disrupted his book storage, naturally. The White Fang didn't damage any books, but they didn't mind knocking stacks of them over, and moved several to completely the wrong side of the room. Tukson liked some semblance of order in his back room, but the White Fang bringing goods in and out of the store made this tricky on the best days. A quiet day to organize the store was a blessing right now. Still...some customers would be nice.

~0~

Around eleven, Tukson heard the clanking bell that meant someone was entering the store, followed after a pause by someone ringing the smaller bell at the front counter.

"Be right there." Tukson was trying to get his back room organized, as he often was. It wasn't easy; even under normal circumstances, even when if they tried not to hang around, the White Fang still dropped off or picked up something once or twice every week, each time forcing Tukson to rearrange the back room. It didn't help that the back room was full of what must have been thousands of books, or that Tukson wasn't particularly good at organization to begin with. And, of course, the White Fang was currently storing far more in Tukson's shop than they usually did. He quickly shifted a stack of books to conceal one of the crates, and went into the store.

"Welcome to Tukson's Book Trade, home to every book under the sun. How may I help you?"

The customer was a girl, scrawny but quite tall, probably in her mid-teens. Her hair was brown and curly, and she wore glasses and a blue dress, decorated with a mess of black lines. She smiled at Tukson. "Hi, I'm Taylor Violet. I was...wondering if you wanted to hire anyone?"

Good question. Tukson could certainly use some help, when customers were around; if she could keep a cheerful storefront, he might even make more money than he paid her. Tukson wasn't confident about that, though, and there could be...complications. She was human, after all. While the White Fang didn't forbid interacting with humans (no matter how much they wanted to; there just weren't enough faunus around), they probably wouldn't appreciate him hiring one. Especially if she happened to be there when they came to drop something off...

That said, Tukson would appreciate the company, and the help. He might finally get a chance to organize those books, maybe even find a consistent space for the White Fang to leave their stuff so he wouldn't need to constantly reorganize them. But if Tukson was honest with himself, he mostly wanted the company. Ever since the White Fang went to the wolves, he felt...alone. Members like him who remembered the old days, when they organized protests instead of raids, and who wanted to return to those days...it wasn't wise to speak up, and all but suicidal to give hints that you were working with other such "trouble-makers," in case the White Fang's leaders thought you were conspiring against them. It was hard to find anyone who he knew they would approve of interacting with, who he also wanted to interact with.

Tukson was still afraid of the White Fang. That made up his mind.

"I'm sorry," said Tukson, "but I don't really have the budget to take on any help right now. I hope you understand."

Taylor nodded, then glanced at the books. "If I can't find any work, could I come by and help in exchange for borrowing some books?"

Tukson was still a bit reluctant but the more he thought about it, the more his loneliness gained ground against his fear—and he couldn't think of an argument against letting Taylor work for him. "Do you have any experience?"

"I worked at a general store for a few weeks, in a village called Meadow-Creek. And..." She paused, trying to decide if she should say what was coming next. "...I volunteered at a library a few years ago. Does that count?"

She was hiding something, Tukson could tell; she was trying to decide what was safe to say and what wasn't. Tukson knew the feeling.

"Well...a store is a store, and books are books. Look..." Tukson couldn't think of any reason to deny her. "I'll tell you what. I'll sleep on it, and if you can't find any work by tomorrow, we'll try and figure something out."

Taylor smiled again. "Thank you. I'll come by either way, to let you you know."

"See you tomorrow, then?"

"I'll try to come around when you open."

"Sounds good."

"Goodbye."

"Good luck, Taylor."

"Thanks."

Tukson nodded as Taylor left. Part of him hoped she couldn't find work.

That night, some White Fang members came by to pick up one of the crates and drop off a bag of masks and swords for new recruits, who they said should be arriving after closing time tomorrow. Tukson was a bit concerned that the recruits would mess with the books, on accident or otherwise, but didn't think too much about it. What could he do about it?

They also mentioned they'd be trying to take the warehouse back the next day, late in the afternoon. At least, they'd see what was going on there. Tukson wished them luck. It was honest concern for the other White Fang members (even if he didn't much like the new blood), combined with the hope that they'd be able to clear out his back room soon.

~0~

Tukson was organizing things in the back room when he heard the bell ring. He dropped the bag the White Fang had left him and came out. "Welcome to Tukson's Book—Ah, Taylor. Glad to see you again."

Taylor looked a bit anxious. "I couldn't find any other work, so..."

Tukson nodded. His loneliness had finally defeated his fear. "I've decided I could use the help, so I'm willing to hire you. Not for a salary or anything, like I said—"

"You don't have the money. I understand."

Tukson nodded again. "I'll...I'll find some way to compensate you. I should explain what you'll be doing. Customers don't come in all that often, but there's still at least a few every day. When they come in, greet them with—"

"'Welcome to Tukson's Book Exchange, home to every book under the sun, how may I help you?"

"You've got a good memory," Tukson said, coming out from behind the counter. "People are going to ask where books are, so...on that side is nonfiction, fiction's opposite. The corner in front is where we keep graphic novels, then historical fiction, romance..." Tukson described the layout of the store and he and Taylor walked around. She seemed most interested in the history and natural philosophy books.

"When there aren't customers, you can read any book you like, just don't take more than one at a time, put them back where you found them when you're done, and be careful."

"Of course."

"If a customer wants to buy the book you're reading, let them."

Taylor nodded. Tukson could tell that she was a bit annoyed at that.

"I don't think you wouldn't, I'm just...trying to cover everything. Anyways, at the end of the day, I'll let you borrow one book for the night if you promise to bring it back by opening tomorrow and be careful with it."

"I can do that."

"If a customer asks if we have more books in back, we do. If they're looking for a specific book when I'm in back, or want to sell a book, or ask for me, knock on the door. Don't go in back."

"Why not?"

"...It's a mess back there, I wouldn't want you knocking over anything. It's not well-lit, either, and I have things organized how I like it." He didn't think Taylor believed him, but she didn't say anything.

"If you have any other questions, let me know."

"Is it okay if I take a lunch break?" Taylor seemed...distracted.

"Well, not right now," Tukson said with a forced laugh. "But yeah, a little break for lunch should be fine. I've gotten by without any help for months, I'll manage for an hour."

"Alright. Thanks."

"Welcome to Tukson's Book Exchange, Taylor."

Tukson went back into the storeroom and located the bag he had dropped. He noticed a few flies crawling out into it and wondered if he should call an exterminator.

The day passed quickly. Taylor asked about opening the shades, and Tukson agreed it would probably be fine. He had gotten into the habit back when he was selling lots of antique books, but he'd since realized that he could sell them as well by keeping most in back and using the display space for more popular books. People looking for old books generally didn't come to browse and see what they'd like.

Late that afternoon, Taylor knocked on the door to the back room. "Can I take a break? It's an emergency, I've got a friend in trouble."

Tukson glanced at the clock. "How long's this emergency going to take?"

"I'm not sure. Could be five or ten minutes, could be longer."

"If it's an emergency, go. That could take you close to closing time, though."

"Should I come back after, help close?" Taylor asked.

"No, that's fine. I've gotten by without any help for months, I can close on my own tonight." Tukson didn't want her to return and run into any White Fang members.

Taylor shrugged. "Thanks for having me here, Tukson."

"You're welcome. See you tomorrow?"

Taylor nodded. She took the book she had been reading—Insects, Spiders, and their Kind—back to the shelf, grabbed a history book, and left. Tukson glanced at the clock again. They should be attacking the warehouse soon. Tukson hoped they succeeded even if he didn't like where the White Fang was going, or hated some of the newer members, they were still his figurative brothers and they shared a goal.

The first of the new recruits came by within minutes of closing time. Tukson tried not to think of what could have happened if they had come before Taylor left. Probably nothing. Right?

~0~

More dark news came. Tukson heard that Adam Taurus and Blake Belladonna hit a train. It was a success, unlike the attempt to recapture the warehouse, but they lost Belladonna. She wasn't killed or captured; she just...left. There were a lot of people in the White Fang wondering why; Tukson was among them. He hadn't known her well, but he and Russel Belladonna had been in the White Fang together when they were young and dumb; like many of the old guard, Tukson had babysat for Blake once or twice when she was younger, and remembered her enthusiastically shaking signs or handing out pamphlets. Then Raluca Holub stepped down, and everything changed.

Under Volk's rule, only warriors had a real chance to advance—he meant to make this a war if he had a chance, and they needed soldiers. Many White Fang children stepped forward, Blake among them, but Tukson and others worried. Some worried that they would break and flee in battle; others, Tukson included, worried that a war would break them. This incident may have proved both of their concerns.

It was Taylor's third day, and Tukson decided to broach the subject. See what most people think about it, maybe get a justification in case the Fang found out.

"Did you hear about what the White Fang did yesterday?"

Taylor shook her head. "I want to keep up with the news, but I haven't been able."

"Oh. Well, they hit a Schnee train carrying Dust. Cut it in half, took a lot of stuff from the back half before destroying it."

"That's...unfortunate."

"I've finished with the newspaper," Tukson said. "Here, it's on the front page. I've got some stuff to manage in the back."

Taylor took the newspaper. "You always have stuff to manage in the back, don't you?"

"Hah, you got me. I get everything just the way I want it, then I look at it a week later and it's all wrong."

"We all make mistakes. Good luck figuring it out this time, Tukson."

"Same to you."

Later that day, Taylor knocked on the door to the back room. "There's a customer who—"

"Do you have more of these comics?" The other voice was male, young. Probably a customer.

"Be right there," Tukson promised. He worked his way through the back room, still carrying a stack of books, and entered the store proper. The customer was a young man, clothed in white, including a cape and gloves, with curly black hair and blue eyes. He looked like a pretty-boy, arrogant, but a customer. "How may I help you?"

"You got any more of these in back?" He waved a book with three young men and a young woman on the front, a sinister castle-like building behind them, surrounded by a number of others. A Sovrano Academy anthology.

"I'll see what I can find," Tukson promised. He went in back to where he stored works published by Bowbatusk Comics. He unstacked the pile to get at other Sovrano Academy books, and decided to bring some issues of The Mask Game out, too. Tukson didn't know why he had agreed to buy them in the first place—no one liked it.

"Is this what you were looking for?" Tukson asked as he returned.

"I'll take a look," the customer promised. "You can go back to sorting stuff or whatever."

Tukson decided Taylor could handle herself and did as the customer suggested. He stayed close to the door, though, and listened. He was talking with Taylor.

"See if these comics are any good, will you? Maybe you'll recognize someone."

"I still think you're crazy."

"Whatever." A couple minutes passed in silence, then the customer spoke up again "Hey, look, it's you, meeting with us!"

"She barely looks anything like me, and Team Gray still isn't much like you guys."

"Well, yeah, it's a comic book. How's the one you're reading?"

"Completely unrelated, and it doesn't even have the weak connections you're seeing. I don't like it much. The plot seems too contrived...and the main character seems kinda passive."

"Reminds you a bit of how you used to be?"

Taylor sighed. "Were you planning to buy something, or can you just not wait until dinner to bother me?"

"I'll take these books."

So it was someone Taylor knew, and saw frequently; someone in her circle of friends. Well...technically a friend, at least.

~0~

Tukson and Taylor began discussing the news every morning. Tukson read the paper as soon as he got it, usually finished it before Taylor came; he then told her about the highlights, handed over the paper, and went into the back.

A week after the train incident, Taylor came into the store while Tukson was still reading the paper. "Did you hear about the kids who stopped a Dust robbery?"

"I was one of the kids," she replied.

Tukson looked up and examined her. Taylor looked different, just a little. Her skin was brighter, her posture straighter, her eyes deeper. He'd known several White Fang members both before and after they had their Aura unlocked—Sharrue, and Russel's daughter, and that one wolf-boy who mocked Tukson every chance he got—and if you knew what to look for, it was unmistakable.

Tukson tried to imagine Taylor fighting Torchwick and his goons, and just...couldn't. She was a sweet girl, kind and polite.

"It was you? Really?"

"I...did my best, yeah. And...well, the headmaster of Beacon offered to enroll me and my friends there."

Tukson was speechless. Not only had Taylor and some of her friends fought a notorious criminal, they had done well enough to attract the attention of Headmaster Ozpin. He tried to keep Beacon open to anyone who did well enough to deserve being a Huntsman, but that still left a high bar. Only a couple dozen students were accepted each term, after all, and the rich families and Huntsman kids usually got high priority.

"So...you won't be working here anymore, will you." She had barely begun working here.

"I've got a few more free days, but...I'm sorry, this is...important. And...like you said, you got by without any help for months, you'll manage."

"Yeah..."

Tukson didn't want to lose Taylor. He didn't want to admit it, but she was pretty much the only real friend he still had at this point. When she went to Beacon, she would be added to his list of old friends he knew he wouldn't hear from again.

"Is something wrong, Tukson?"

"I..." He took a receipt out of his pocket and scrawled a number on it. "Here's my Scroll ID. If you want to, you know..."

Taylor looked at the scrap of paper, and Tukson felt his throat clench. Now, instead of adding her to old friends he never heard from, he might get to start a list of friends he scared away at the last minute. If she even thought of them as friends, not just co-workers or something.

"I don't have a Scroll."

"I...I understand."

"I'm not leaving for a few days, and I'll be getting a scroll by the time I leave. I'll come by later, to say goodbye."

Tukson felt a surge of relief. He knew that, even if he fled Vale, fled the White Fang, alienated the closest thing he still had to family, he'd at least have one friend. "I'm glad to hear it. Will you still be working here until you leave?"

Taylor shook her head. "There's a lot of stuff I need to do before I can go to Beacon. Sorry."

Tukson nodded his head. "Before you go..." Tukson had noticed that Taylor almost always read Insects, Spiders, and Their Kind at least some every day, even though she never took it home. Tukson grabbed the book from the shelf and handed it to her. "Here. You can have this."

"Thanks."

"You're the only person who's picked it up in weeks, it'll free up shelf space. ...But you're welcome."

Taylor nodded. "See you tomorrow."

"See you then. Good luck at Beacon."

"Thanks. Good luck with the bookstore, Tukson."

Taylor left the store; Tukson went back into the storeroom, organizing books and humming an aimless tune. He felt that everything would turn out just fine.