Comfort: Part 1

Weiss was concerned.

No, not worried. Mothers worried over their children playing in the dirt, accumulating scrapes, scuffing shoes, ripping clothes. Worries were small-time concerns that bordered on the irrational. No, Weiss was concerned. People were concerned with the political climate, with making rent, with the bruises on their mother's face...with their best friend...only friend...seeming to fall off the face of the planet.

When Blake arrived at Vale Top Team, Weiss was surprised to find herself enjoying the woman's presence. She was soft spoken but snarky when challenged, intelligent without being boastful, all while being a magnificent fighter and athlete. Weiss was not a social person, owing to a less than stellar upbringing. Toxic parentage and homeschooling did not foster a healthy social appetite. But Blake made her feel comfortable. She did not ask unwelcome questions. Their conversations were always civil, never straying past playful snark and the occasional smirking, backhanded compliment.

At first her visits were work related and rather rare, to discuss schedules, training and equipment. Blake was observant, and often times reported issues with the gym before Coach or Doc even noticed the problem. These little meetings progressed into daily visits in the morning, and after an uncomfortable little bit of drama between two of the fighters and a younger sister, Blake's visits multiplied and extended. Weiss got the impression that Blake had very little of a life outside the gym, and related to her in that regard. Weiss' work was her life, and apart from the occasional book or singing aloud to songs that took her fancy, Weiss did not have much in the way of hobbies. But Blake had a true passion for reading, and admittedly, writing. She shared her favorites with Weiss, which - despite some of their subject matter - were truly entertaining reads, and discussion fueled their meetings for weeks.

Then, four days earlier, Blake had not come in for her usual meeting and then missed her scheduled training. This had happened once before, just a few days prior actually. Weiss had called to check up on her. Blake had answered, sounding groggy, explaining she had had too much to drink the night before and slept in. Weiss advised her to take the day off, that her health was more important than her fighting. Blake had come in the next morning, bringing tea and croissants, which were greatly appreciated as Weiss tended to eat lightly throughout the day and have a large dinner. This time though, Blake had not answered Weiss' call. Figuring Blake was in the shower or otherwise busy, Weiss waited an hour before calling again.

This time Blake picked up. "Yeah?" She answered.

"Blake, are you okay?" Weiss asked.

"Huh?" Blake groaned. "Ng-yeah, juss'...sick Weiss, sorry." Blake explained.

"Oh, that's okay." Weiss breathed a sigh of relief. "Sorry if I woke you. Do you need anything?"

"No, I'll be fine Weiss." Blake replied. "Thank you."

"It's no trouble." Weiss declared. "If you need anything, give me a call, okay?"

"I will Weiss." Blake promised.

"Drink lots of fluids and get plenty of rest." Weiss suggested.

"Sure." Blake agreed.

"Right, well, goodbye." Weiss said.

Blake wasted no time in responding. "G'bye Weiss."

Weiss had thought the matter closed, but when Blake did not call or show up for the next three days, she grew concerned once more. It was not like Blake to stop all communication. They texted on occasion, sometimes late into the night, but now Blake was being completely silent, Weiss' texts seen but unanswered. For all intents and purposes she had disappeared. Weiss did not like it when things disappeared. It meant they were unknown, and the unknown was no place for a person, especially the only friend of Weiss Schnee. People did not disappear for good reasons. She decided to give it one more day, then she was texting, calling, if need be driving to her apartment to bang on the door, and shoot off the lock if she had to. Weiss owned a revolver, so it was an option.

One day was all it took. Blake walked in the next morning. Well, shambled in.

Weiss did not even notice Blake at first. There was no morning visit to her office, or wave at the one-way mirror that separated her office from the rest of the gym. Weiss did not even notice her on the security cameras. She had no idea how long Blake had been in the gym before Weiss finally caught a glimpse of her in her peripheral vision, in the corner of one of the security feeds. Blake was laying into a heavy bag, but her movements were slow, lethargic and clumsy. The bag barely shifted from the impacts. Weiss dashed out of her office and raced to the area.

"Blake?" Weiss called.

Blake punched the bag once more before slumping, well, slumping more than she already was. She weakly steadied the bag but did not turn to address Weiss. "Weiss." Blake said, almost at a whisper.

"Are you okay?" Weiss asked.

"I'm fine Weiss." Blake replied.

"If you were fine you'd at least lie to my face." Weiss sighed.

Blake spun around, glaring. "I'm fine!" She shouted.

Weiss took a step back, eyes wide. Blake looked terrible. Dark circles ringed her eyes, which seemed to have lost their golden luster, instead seeming almost bronze. They briefly fixated with a piercing glower before she looked away, stalking toward the locker room. "Blake wait!" Weiss pursued her. Blake shoved open the door and Weiss followed, closing it behind her and locking it for good measure. Blake walked to her locker and punched in the code. "Blake please, what happened?" Blake did not respond, just grabbing a bottle from her locker and taking a sip. "Was it something I did? I-I don't know what it was, but I'm sorry. Please don't…"

Blake slammed the locker shut, then leaned her forehead against it. "This isn't about you Weiss!" She growled.

"Then what is it about?" Weiss pressed. "Blake, please, let me help."

"You can't help Weiss." Blake sighed. "I should have, he asked me for help and I didn't give it, and now he's dead…" Her voice shook and she turned to lean her back against the metal, hair hiding her face as Weiss approached.

"Blake?" Weiss entreated.

"I didn't tell you about Adam, did I?" Blake asked.

"Not really." Weiss confirmed.

"Adam took care of me when I was young." Blake explained. "I was never very good at it, still not, 'swhy I never invite anyone over. Even when we were adopted, he never failed...until he did." She slid to the ground, arms wrapping around her legs as she drew them up to her chest.

Weiss sat beside Blake and slipped a hand over one of hers. After a moment they linked fingers. "What happened?" Weiss asked.

"Gangs, drugs...he fell hard Weiss, and I lost him." Blake replied. "It took him trying to kiss me to realize it. He was my brother, and he wanted more, but even if I did, he wasn't the same person I called my brother anymore. They took him from me, and that was the final straw. He got angry, he hit me, and then he was gone...until last week."

"You said you had a hangover...what really happened?" Weiss pressed.

"He showed up on my doorstep - frightened, pale, shaking - and begged me to help him." Blake answered. "I...he said he loved me, he said he would do anything, but I was just so angry and I yelled at him! I told him to fuck off and slammed the door in his face. Then I got drunk, and then you woke me up. And I tried to ignore it."

"Blake, what else happened?" Weiss persisted.

Blake was clutching Weiss' hand now, hard enough that it almost hurt. "Mom called me, she was crying." Blake sniffled. "A-Adam had been found...dead. Hypothermia...in an alley not far from my apartment. We came to identify the body and...Weiss...I killed him."

"Blake, no." Weiss interjected.

"I may as well have!" Blake shouted. "Weiss, he was sick and cold, going through withdrawals from whatever the fuck drugs and when I slammed the door in his face I may as well have slit his throat!"

"Blake, you had no way of knowing!" Weiss countered.

"It doesn't matter!" Blake protested. "He was my brother! He was my family! I should have helped him, I should have called the police, I should have done something, but I didn't, and he crawled into some alley to die, the last thing ever to happen to him being told to fuck off by the one person he could turn to…" Sobs cut off any further attempts to speak.

Weiss froze for a moment but gathered Blake into a hug. Blake responded instantly, clutching her shirt, sobbing into her shoulder. "It's alright, I've got you." Weiss soothed. "I'm not going anywhere."

Blake clutched harder and nodded. Her sobs dissolved into whimpers, then heavy breathing, then slowly Blake relaxed her grip. "I don't wanna' go home." Blake wept.

"Then you can stay at mine." Weiss offered.

Blake sniffled. "Thank you."

Weiss left Blake to pack her things, visiting Coach to inform him of her pending absence from the gym, then headed to her office to pack essentials. Blake was sitting beside her duffel bag when Weiss returned to the locker room, and she did not resist when Weiss took her hand, leading her out of the gym and toward her car. "Did you have breakfast before you came in?" Weiss asked.

"A granola bar." Blake replied.

"Then no." Weiss rolled her eyes. Blake did not protest when Weiss pulled up to a drive through coffee place. She received a slap on her wrist when she reached for her wallet though. One light and mobile breakfast later, they had parked below Weiss' apartment building, a luxury living building with a penthouse to boot. It was Weiss' penthouse to be precise, and Blake would have marveled at it were she not so damn tired.

Weiss led Blake to one of the rooms. "This is the guest bedroom." Weiss explained. "It has its own bathroom which should be stocked with towels, robes, and bodycare products." Blake sat on the bed, sinking into the thick covers. She blinked blearily as she looked around the room, the soft amber light of a bedside lamp casting a warmth over the room. She smiled, genuinely, up at Weiss, who though standing was barely taller. "I'll be in my office. It's down the hall. I'll keep the door closed so I don't disturb you. Is there anything you might need? I'll go shopping while you rest."

"No." Blake shook her head. She leaned forward, wrapping her arms around Weiss' waist and squeezing her firmly. "Thank you."

Weiss hesitated, then began running her hand down Blake's head, stroking soothingly through her hair. "Take all the time you need Blake." She encouraged. "I'm not going anywhere, I promise."

Weiss and Blake slowly established a new routine. Weiss would awake, shower, then order breakfast from the restaurant in the building's lobby. She would wait for it to arrive before gently prodding Blake awake. They would eat together, listening to the morning news, but remaining mostly silent themselves. Afterwards Weiss would retreat to her office, and Blake would curl up on the couch with a book. Lunch was the same, except afterwards Weiss would stay in the lounge with Blake for a while, either reading a book of her own or watching something that took her fancy. Sometimes Blake would lay down and rest on her lap. It felt comfortable. For dinner, Weiss insisted they actually head down to the restaurant, if only to get Blake out of the penthouse for a while. Once Blake saw their seafood menu she did not protest.

Blake gradually opened up to Weiss. She spoke of her childhood, her time in an orphanage, her feelings of loneliness and isolation. Of meeting Adam, and the years spent at each other's side. Of their adoption and their loving parents. Blake admitted she was not as close to them as they deserved, but she had always been more reliant on Adam, and his downfall and departure had been hard on all of them. Weiss learned that Blake's fighting career started with her desire to fend for herself, and while she succeeded in that, it was not an easy existence. She was lonely.

Weiss - of course - sympathized, and for the first time in her life, she opened up about her own upbringing. About her drunk of a mother, her abusive and domineering father, her sister who escaped to college and never looked back, who separated from the family and pursued a career in law and later politics. About her own escape, her sister's support and charity, her decision to invest in the gym and make her own mark on the world. How crushingly lonely she was in her lofty penthouse, and how much safer she felt surrounded by her fighters.

As the week came to a close, Blake lay on Weiss' lap, an open pizza box balanced on her stomach. It was a change from their usual dinner routine, but a welcome one. Normally Weiss shied away from fingerfood, a product of a formal upbringing, she avoided getting her hands dirty. But pizza was a vice she allowed herself to indulge in on occasion. And so she found herself in this comfortable, if intimate, position. Blake was distracted, watching a documentary on the television. Weiss picked up a slice of pizza, waited for the right time, and poked it into Blake's open mouth. Blake jerked but laughed, meeting Weiss' amused gaze and biting down. Weiss pulled the slice away, but some cheese slid off, landing on Blake's chin.

"Oops." Blake laughed.

Weiss giggled, reaching over and pulling a tissue from a nearby box. Blake licked up the extra cheese, then held still as Weiss soaked up the remaining grease and sauce. When she finished, they did not move. Weiss stared down at Blake's golden eyes, restored to their usual glow, and Blake admired Weiss' arctic blue. This was comfortable. They were comfortable. They had not felt this comfortable in a long time. "Stay with me." Weiss requested.

Blake smiled. "Gladly."