After The Rain (ch4)

SORRY IT WAS LATE THIS WEEK! THANK YOU TO ALL MY PATRONS AS ALWAYS!

I know I keep saying it but I really did love writing for this story from this perspective, about this topic. It was so fresh and fun for me. I hope you enjoy ch4!

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY.

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													Chapter 4. Profound Refuge

The rain shrouded the alleyways in a thin mist, gutters overflowing and spilling down into crevices of the cracked and dirty sidewalks.

Roman was sure to keep the girl out of range of the spray, guiding her with a wave of his cane or a tap on her good shoulder. He was very cautious with contact, only reaching out when it was absolutely necessary to prevent her from getting soaked.

Due to her condition, he was made to travel at a very controlled pace, his cane tapping the cement in a pattern with his boots.

In contrast to his own heavy footfalls, Neo's bare feet barely made a sound on the pavement. Even when she stepped in a puddle there was hardly a splash. If not for the glance of his own hat and trench coat draped over the huddled form in the corner of his eye, he might've assumed she'd bolted off with how quiet she was.

It was just another aspect that had sculpted her perfectly for the life she led. She left no impression, not footsteps. If she was there, no one would notice, and if she disappeared no one would remember.

It was a lonely existence, but one that had proven well for her.

Roman continued to lead her back through the rain. She'd have the privilege of being the first person to know his true place of residence, his hideout of hideouts.

He constantly kept an eye out for anyone else, anyone who could be tailing them purposefully or otherwise just happen to be glancing their way. But in this weather they were the only ones in their wrong mind to be out here.

He paused once again when he noticed she'd stopped, shivering as she clutched the coat over her chest. He refrained from touching her, waiting until she looked up at him with those mis-colored eyes.

"Not much farther now." He waved his cane in the intended direction.

After a moment she shook herself off and stepped up beside him, and they continued their journey.

In spite of the clothing he'd provided for her, she was already soaked through. And of course the same could be said for him. He felt like a wet dog with his hair limp and dripping, his shirt and pants heavy and waterlogged.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd ever allowed himself to be in this condition, especially not for someone else's sake. It was humiliating and humanizing. And yet a small fraction of him glimmered with pride.

At long last the designated warehouse was in sight. The building was dilapidated and crumbling at the sides, and several demolition signs had been posted around the premises. Of course he'd stolen and placed them himself in order to keep people off his property.

He coaxed Neo in through a hole in the outer wall, then ducked after her to follow into the shelter.

The place was barren and dark, but it was dry. The only objects present were a few barrels and boxes lining the far corners. He made sure to keep the place vacant and uninteresting to the few morons who did ignore the signs and decide to trespass.

Now the hissing of the rain echoed unthreateningly outside as they made their way across the empty space. Naturally this wasn't all he had to offer her. But when he glanced down she seemed to be ecstatic already just in being out of the rain.

It made him wonder how many storms she'd spent without at least half a roof over her head in the past. If he had anything to say about it, she'd never have to experience that again.

At last he led her to a door in the far wall, which was perfectly constructed and sturdy, unlike the wall on the opposite side to ward of the unwanted. He fished out a key from his pocket and put it to the knob. The door opened with a heavy creak and led to a staircase. He tugged on a string and a dim bulb flickered on to illuminate the path.

Once Neo had stepped in, he closed and locked the door behind himself and waved his hand toward the stairs.

"After you."

She looked up at him with puzzled eyes. Clearly she'd thought the warehouse had been all he'd had to offer, and she was shocked at the prospect of more. With a slight nod she made her way to the stairs, releasing her grip on the trench coat to instead hold onto the support railing.

He shivered just in watching her bare feet make contact with the cold metal, but it didn't seem to bother her.

He followed her up the steps one by one, keeping an eye on her balance to make sure she didn't slip. When they reached the top it was another door, which he pulled out another key for. This was the door he was proud to open.

It revealed a rather spacious and modern apartment, complete with a small couch, coffee table, and television set in the main room, a kitchen area, a bathroom, and a bedroom with space for a desk and study.

As he turned on the light and let her in, he observed Neo's reaction. Her eyes widened, and her lips parted in a silent gasp. He plucked the wet hat off her head and hung it on a hook.

"Not too shabby, eh? I do all right in my line of work. But ya gotta promise not to tell. You're the only other person in Remnant who knows about this place."

He gave a crooked smile and put a finger to his lips. He wasn't sure if he meant it as a bit of a joke, since as far as he knew she couldn't talk. But either way she smiled a tiny smile and nodded.

"All righty then," he went on. "You're welcome to the shower, little lass. I'll hunt around and see what I can find for you to wear for the night. Bathroom's that-a-way."

He gave her a nudge before heading toward his bedroom. There was only a dresser and a closet since he didn't have terribly many clothes, but he was confident he could find a thing or two for her.

From the corner of his eye he watched the bundle of wet trench coat hobble into the bathroom. She shed the coat outside and hung it up on the doorknob, revealing the dirty dress and broken arm underneath. That was another matter of business he needed to get to.

As the bathroom door closed with her inside, he had to wonder when the last time she'd seen or used a toilet, sink, or shower was.

He took a moment to exchange his own damp clothing for casual pants and a shirt, leaning his cane against the wall before retreating to the closet. He pawed through the suits and coats until he finally hit the jackpot.

Believe it or not, he had entertained a few ladyfolk in the past, or in most cases had simply fantasized about bringing them home. So he did have one woman's-cut sweater all the way to the side.

He pulled it out and smoothed it a bit, already imagining how nicely the light pink color would look on his newest guest. And being she was so petite in stature, it would suit her more as a dress or night gown.

Satisfied with his findings, he returned to the bathroom where he could now hear shower water running. He gave a soft knock.

"Neo, dear? I've found something you can wear. I'll hang it on the door." He removed his trench coat and put the sweater in its place for her to retrieve at her leisure. "And do call if you need anything." She was showering with a broken arm, after all. Which was next on his list.

As he tossed the trench coat into a guiltily-full laundry basket (yes, even a crime boss needs to wash his linens), he headed for the kitchen.

He didn't exactly have a med kit on-hand, but in his line of work scuffles and injuries weren't uncommon. He managed to scrape together a few sturdy pieces of cloth which he tied together to make a longer one that would suffice as a sling. He laid it aside on the counter, then got to cooking.

And yes, he could cook too. Well, depending on who you asked, the skill was debatable, but he knew enough.

He stuck to the basics, just some bread slices and fillings for a basic sandwich. He filled it with whatever he could just to get some food in this girl. Lettuce, cheese, ketchup, bacon, until it was more of a pseudo-hamburger.

He shrugged and made one for himself, and decided it wasn't half bad for him, which meant a starving street kid would probably be enamored.

The shower water stopped and the place was quiet again. The rain could be heard very faintly from outside, but only now did he realize how unnerving the silence might be to her. He went into the living room and turned on a little old radio he'd pocketed from the local antique shop.

It started playing staticy old swing music, which he had to admit he had a liking of. He let it play and was on his way back to the kitchen when the bathroom door opened.

She stepped out dressed in the pink sweater, which was more of a dress on her as anticipated. It went almost down to her knees, as far as her wet curly hair did.

But in spite of the evident gleam of water and the limpness of her arm, she looked like a different girl.

The layers and layers of dirt and grime that had built up on her skin had been clumsily cleansed away with a bar of soap and warm water, revealing pale, pearl-white skin. He'd been half-expecting her to be tan due to her excessive time spent in the sun, but her pallor was that of a swan's.

Her brown and pink hair was dark with wetness, but not the unpleasant wetness of rain. It was the soft, tired wetness of a warm shower in a kind stranger's home. Not that he'd call himself kind. But then again, it wasn't just pity either.

He now noticed she was looking up at him questioningly, as if asking if the clothes were okay. He smiled.

"Looks great on ya, kid." His eyes traveled down to her bare feet and he paused. "Oh, wait one sec. I'll be back in two shakes." He hurried back to the bedroom, pulled out a clean pair of socks and returned to her. "All yours."

She looked up at him like a confused puppy, and he had to wonder if she'd ever even seen socks before. But then he realized it was less of the issue of her not knowing what they were and more of not knowing how to get them on with only one hand.

He ran a hand through his hair and ushered her to the couch. She was almost tentative in sitting down, as though not wanting to let her weight put an impression in the cushions.

Roman took the socks back and waited for her to lift her foot. He slid one on for her, over childishly small feet and skinny legs. They went halfway up her shins, and everything about the apartment in general seemed too big for her.

It was strange in that moment, though. Stranger than all the others.

Roman helped her with the socks as effortlessly as if he'd been doing it his entire life, and this hadn't been the first time. There was an odd prickle in his gut, and he couldn't tell if it was good or bad.

He'd never wanted kids of his own, or if he had he hadn't had the time or career to handle them with. But somehow he was good at this stuff.

He sat back proudly before getting to his feet again.

"There, all set. How's it feel?"

He watched for her response as she shifted on the couch, wiggling her toes inside the socks. She looked up to him and mouthed the words "thank you."

It was the first time she'd done something like that, actually made an effort to speak instead of just nodding or shaking her head.

It confirmed his suspicions that she was mute at the very least. Luckily he knew a bit of sign language and figured he could teach it to her if she didn't already know.

But that was for another time. Right now he had a few other surprises for her. He grinned.

"Yer welcome. Now come into the kitchen here."

He offered his hand and she willingly took it, adjusting to the feeling of the socks separating her bare feet from the carpet as she stood. She followed him into the kitchen and paused when he held up a finger.

He went for the fabric first, glancing at her bad arm and making a silent offer. She bit her lip, but it was far too late for untrustworthiness. She turned herself, allowing him access to her limp left arm.

He crouched beside her and carefully began to wrap the sling around her shoulder, gently bending her arm at the elbow so it could rest at a comfortable position. The music helped soothe the slight awkwardness in the air, but even so he felt inclined to speak.

"Don't you worry. I gave that ol' geezer what for. Won't happen again, not while I'm around."

She turned her face, eyes wide and puzzled, her free hand flashing in some quick signals he wasn't sure he understood. But he could guess.

"Yeah. Hate to admit it and sound like a creep, but I had my eye on you, kiddo. I knew you were onto me, though. Just couldn't help myself."

She blinked, then gave something as close to a shrug as she could manage, something that was indifferent but not in a bad way.

He finished tying the fabric, ensuring it was secure enough to hold the weight of her arm (not that it was much), before getting to his feet.

"All right one last thing."

He ushered her to the counter and she followed like a duckling after its mother. As soon as he presented her with the sandwich she made a sound somewhere between a whimper and a gasp. Her mouth opened as a rush of inaudible words started pouring out, her right hand signing at the same time. Roman chuckled.

"Easy there. It's my pleasure. Wouldn't be much of a gracious host if I didn't whip up a little something for my guest, right? I may be into organized crime but I'm still a gentleman."

And for the second time she cracked a smile, and had she had a voice he knew she would've been laughing. But as far as he was concerned she didn't need a voice. He liked the silent laughter.

She accepted the food and bit into it with the vigor expected of a formerly-homeless girl, gobbling it up as quickly as possible and then licking each finger diligently. He picked at his more slowly, already making plans for breakfast tomorrow.

"Still hungry?" he wondered. But she shook her head, sending locks of brown-and-pink hair over her shoulder. He finished his food and cleared his throat. "All righty then, how's about a quick tour of the place? I take it you already know what room is where, but if you're gonna be stayin' here from now on you need to know the whole kit 'n caboodle."

But before he could go on, he noticed she had stiffened a little. She signed something awkwardly with her one hand but he couldn't decipher it. When he shook his head she tried something else. She pointed at herself then motioned to the whole apartment with an expression of confusion.

Roman had been refraining from touching her if it wasn't necessary thus far, but now he reached out to gently pat her head.

"'Course I mean it. I said I was takin' you under my wing and I meant it, kiddo. Mi casa es su casa." She tilted her head. He withdrew his head. "Sorry, guess it's not a saying for everyone. What I mean is this is your place now as much as it's mine, so long as you want it. Yer gonna be working with me now. You'd be a big help with your skill, your cunning, and I still need to figure out how exactly that semblance works."

She blinked, and her eyes switched colors. When he reached out to pat her head again he found himself touching nothing. He whirled around to find she'd ended up behind him somehow.

"Hey now, that's a pretty nifty one! Definitely something you can exploit if yer workin' with me. I could definitely use your help. We're gonna get back at this no-good city together. And that means you need a place to stay, food to eat, clothes to wear, and training to start. Once you get your strength back of course."

She continued to stare up at him, as if she hadn't believed he'd really meant it, or if she did then she didn't believe it meant she actually got a share of the profits in terms of shelter and food. He couldn't blame her for not believing it, but he'd give her all the time she needed in that regard.

"Anywho, the pantry's over here," he said, tapping the cabinets. "There's not much, but there's always something in here. You can have whatever you want, anytime you want, so long as you restock it or lemme know so I can.

"Restock it with what, you may ask? Why anything, my dear. Whatever goodies or snacks you may find, whether you're stealing a gourmet box meal from a supermarket or taking candy from a baby. Anything goes in this house."

He straightened up a bit and smoothed his hair a bit. "Of course I have a good deal of money. But I prefer not to spend it if I don't have to. And honestly, I really don't have to. Not with you around. You could steal the words right outta my mouth if you tried! Between the two of us we'll never have to buy another cracker! Why the hell should we support the miserable people who run this economy? I want no part in it, no sir!"

Neo nodded in agreement. A slight fire had sparked in her eyes, one of rightful anger, of someone who had been wronged all their life. They really were kindred spirits. Roman put a hand on her back and slowly turned her around.

"But we'll have plenty of time to talk about all of that. For now we have something much more important to do."

He directed her to the only room she hadn't stepped foot in yet. He paused at the threshold of the bedroom and spread out his arms invitingly.

"Sleep! It's the second most important thing after money, and maybe after food too, I guess." He nudged her a step forward. "It's all yours tonight, kiddo! Don't worry, I'm takin' the couch. I'm not one of those. Luckily for you I just did the laundry last night so everything's spiffy clean. Immaculate. Scout's honor."

He knew this was probably a lot for her, so he didn't rush her. She looked from the bed to him and back again, jaw agape and eyebrows furrowed as if she really couldn't comprehend it.

She was used to sleeping curled up in dirty alleyways, on litter-ridden concrete and stained sidewalks, oftentimes defenseless against the elements. No blankets, no pillows. Never anything to shield her from wind or insects or the sharp cold pang of stone through the thinness of her dress.

The prospect of a bed was foreign to her, to the point where she simply couldn't fathom the idea of one being offered to her now.

The tears started falling, and for the first time she could ever remember it wasn't because of pain or sadness or hunger. Her stomach was full, her arm was in a sling, and perhaps her wounded heart was beginning to mend, stitch by stitch.

The tears fell silently and with inaudible gasps in between them. Roman almost didn't notice until he looked down at her and noticed her shoulders shaking. Heat rose to his ears. Perhaps his biggest flaw was that he never knew what to do when a woman cried, and especially not a girl.

"H-Hey, kid? Everything okay? Your arm hurt?"

But before he could continue the string of questions, she gave her answer. She turned and threw her only good arm around his waist, burrowing her face into his shirt as she wept silently.

Roman froze as if the contact had stunned him. He wasn't sure what surprised him more; the fact that she'd initiated contact with him – and a hug at that – or the fact that she was grateful enough for his taking her in to break down crying.

He couldn't remember the last time someone had given him a hug. Perhaps it sounded lonely and childish, but now that it was happening he couldn't stop himself from lightly draping his arm across her back. He couldn't stop himself from smiling again.

"You're welcome, kiddo. My pleasure."

She wept for a few more minutes, until the overall relief and exhaustion had worn her down. She eased back, looking up at him with watery mis-matched eyes, bottom lip quivering.

There was so much in her eyes in that moment.

The culmination of unspeakable pain and agony she'd suffered for however long she'd been suffering, the gnawing hunger and debilitating thirst.

The confusion and the anger of someone who had been so unrightfully wronged by this world, the want for revenge but the helplessness to save herself.

And then the relief, the longing to portray gratitude – to him – for what he had done, what he was still doing, for her.

It was the longing to give thanks to the person who had spared her from certain death, even when she'd been on the verge of accepting such a fate.

She tried to say it. She really did. She mouthed the words over and over again, and her throat trembled with the effort to produce the sounds necessary to give voice to her gratitude. Only a rasp came out, but it was more than enough for him. He rested his hand atop her head again and ruffled her hair softly.

"I said you're welcome. You can thank me by doin' what we'd agreed on, helpin' me get revenge on this no-good town. We start tomorrow. I've got a dress barn in mind I'd like to visit to pick you up some new clothes. Of course we won't be payin'."

This time when he smirked she tried to mimic the gesture. She even revealed her teeth a bit. It was devilishly charming.

"All righty, it's a deal," he said. "But for tonight the orders are just to rest up."

She wiped her eyes and nodded, signing something with her right hand, but Roman shook his head sheepishly.

"I'm not too good with all that yet. Been a while since I had to learn. I'll start practicin' tomorrow."

She nodded and lowered her hand, but did her best to mouth the words instead.

And he understood perfectly.

'Good night.'

He couldn't remember the last time he'd heard those words. Or at least seen them on someone else's lips. Either way, the sentiment was much appreciated.

"Night, kiddo. If there's anything you need tonight just gimme a kick."

He turned and left her at the doorway, letting her enter the bedroom at her leisure. As he headed to the couch he could feel her gaze on his back. He turned back to give her a wave.

"See ya in the mornin', Neo."

Instantly the smile returned to her lips, twice as bright as the last two times he'd seen it combined. With that she twirled around and scampered into the bedroom.

He watched her through the open door as she approached the bed, paused, then slowly climbed her way up. It creaked slightly and she froze for a second before continuing. She was the icon of awkwardness, not at all used to the feeling of the soft, firm mattress beneath her, shifting her weight on her hands and knees to see if it would give. She looked like a baby polar bear teetering on a chunk of ice, assuming it would sway and break at any second.

Roman had to bite back a chuckle.

When she finally seemed comfortable enough to lie down, he was about to call out to remind her she could go underneath the blankets. But she crawled to the headrest and pawed them free before burrowing underneath on her own.

That led him to believe that she must've had a bed at one point in her life and remembered at least a bit of how they worked.

He watched her settle, now curled beneath the covers with only her long hair visible and pooling behind her. She didn't shift around or fidget, which led him to believe she was out in seconds.

He made his rounds quietly, turning off all the lights before retreating to the couch. He left the radio on and finally removed his boots, the laid down on his back with a long sigh.

"The hell am I gettin' myself into?"

He'd seen plenty of street rat kids before. Dozens. But he'd never been this drawn to any of them.

They'd all been weak, crybabies who went straight back home with the first police officer or soft old lady who found them. None of them had that fire in their soul, that anger, that defiance to survive.

This girl – Neo – she was something special.

She was smart, cunning, fierce.

She was one of a kind.

But he had to admit his interest in her was something beyond the want of a partner to assist him in his work. But it wasn't pity, either.

It wasn't any form of love, not fatherly protectiveness or the urge to look after a fellow human being.

It was something of a mix of all of that, and yet it was none of that.

He was simply drawn to her in a way that was profound. It was beyond words.

But that was all right for him, because it seemed the two of them didn't need words anyway.

He let his gaze slip from the ceiling back to his room where the bundle of blankets was still visible in the dark. He shrugged.

"Well, whatever. I can be satisfied with whatever this is. If she's happy, I guess I'm happy."

And being happy wasn't something he'd always concerned himself with. In fact, it was something he'd forgotten about long ago.

But now that it was back and he could recognize it, he certainly wasn't about to throw it away.

The staticy music continued playing. He closed his eyes, wondering if he'd wake up tomorrow and she'd be gone, if it will all have been just a strange dream. He couldn't remember the last time he'd dreamt.

But if all of this turned out to be one, he knew he wouldn't be satisfied with that.

Which was why he was only satisfied at daybreak when he pushed himself up from the couch and saw the bundle of blankets still curled up in his bed.

He smiled, knowing he'd done so more in the past several hours than he had in the past several years.

Groggily, Roman got to his feet and headed into the kitchen to start making breakfast for two.

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A/N: Believe me, I would've loved to write this entire story as a full-length detailed thing, but time and commissions are limited. There's just one more chapter to wrap it all up, but if you like happy endings, I suggest you just stop here.

Also I know there's no such thing as Spanish in the RWBY verse (mi casa es su casa) but I just feel it's absolutely something Roman would say. Plus Jaune said "Gesundheit" in canon season 1, so there.