In retrospect, it shouldn't have come as too much of a surprise, but neither Blake nor Weiss expected it. To think that the grand, fearsome, headstrong Yang Xiao Long would be afraid of such a trivial thing was tantamount to 'traitorism,' as the blonde herself would put it, but for it to be such a strong fear was even more unfathomable. Yet, the truth was eventually put before them, and neither woman of the black and white pair could dispute it.

Yang Xiao Long was, in fact, afraid of needles.

They discovered it on a normal day, one that followed a hunt the team had gone on together. It hadn't been challenging – just a couple of Beowolf packs, and the stray Ursa – but Yang had been a bit reckless, snagging her arm on bone armour in an overpowered punch. The result of her move left a deep gash in her arm – one that the blonde vehemently denied feeling much pain from at first, until Weiss poked it and Yang let out a scream so loud it nearly brought another pack running their way.

After about an hour of letting it slowly bleed, wrapped up in a tight bandage, Blake, Weiss, and Ruby had come to the conclusion that in order for Yang's aura to be able to heal it, the blonde would require stitches.

Which was how Blake found herself trying to coax the brawler out of their dorm room later that afternoon, following up on Ruby's advice. Weiss was attempting to help, though she was a little less persuasive, and a lot more threatening than her Faunus teammate. While Blake used reasoning, Weiss used reasons that fell more along the lines of 'I'll freeze your limbs and drag you out of the room on my own if you don't comply.'

The whole reason they found themselves facing such a stubborn blonde was unknown to either of the women, but they had been forewarned by Ruby. Their fearless team leader had pulled Blake aside when they'd reached their shared home, Weiss leading a sulking Yang into the dormitory ahead of them.

"Make sure you actually accompany her to the hospital," Ruby had warned, her silver eyes belaying the seriousness of the request, "Or else she won't go on her own. She'll say she did, and we'll find out a week later that her arm is still bleeding all over the place, and then Weiss will attempt to kill her for staining the white upholstery."

Blake had blinked, both confused and completely in agreement over the heiress's supposed future reaction.

"Alright," the dark haired woman had agreed inquisitively, "But why?"

Ruby had nervously gnawed on her lip, a habit Blake had picked up on years ago to mean that the younger woman was trying to hide something.

"Yang doesn't like stitches," Ruby had supplied eventually, the simplicity of her statement clear evidence that the situation was, in fact, not simple at all.

Blake hadn't decided to press the issue, though, instead nodding her compliance and watching their leader disappear in a blur of rose petals, off to deliver a report to Ozpin. Now, however, half an hour later, she was really starting to wish that she'd asked Ruby why Yang hated stitches so much, to the point when neither of her teammates could get her to leave. If nothing else, it would have provided some level of insight, and possibly even blackmail leverage.

However, without that information, Blake and Weiss did their best regardless. It was a combination of threats, reasoning, and flat out pleading that eventually got the blonde to agree to go, begrudgingly following her partner and her friend along like a kicked puppy. Well, less dejected than simply unimpressed, but you get the idea.

"Yang," Weiss growled, "Just let the doctor examine the wound."

The blonde currently sat on an examination table in the hospital room, blonde locks providing a stark contrast against the shiny metallic surfaces around her. She kicked her feet grumpily, giving the fully-grown woman the appearance of a child, much to Blake's amusement and annoyance.

The Faunus sat beside her white-haired teammate, who was sitting straight up in the worn chair, her clothes sinking into the threadbare fabric. Blue eyes were narrowed in the direction of the unruly blonde, who leaned away from the touch of the doctor flitting around her, attempting unsuccessfully to look at the still-bleeding cut on her arm.

Blake rested a hand on top of Weiss's, giving the heiress an understanding glance before turning to face Yang.

"Yang," she said flatly, drawing the blonde's attention towards her.

The look from amber eyes said everything words couldn't, both commanding and threatening – enough to make the blonde finally sit still, allowing the doctor to fully unwrap the bandage wound around Yang's bicep.

After a minute of poking and prodding – much of which Yang flinched away from, more out of annoyance than pain – the doctor sighed, nodded, and stepped away.

"Good call on bringing her here," she said, addressing the monochrome couple sitting in the chairs behind her, "The wound wouldn't have healed properly otherwise."

She turned back to Yang, giving a smile she probably meant to be encouraging.

"You'll need stitches for it," she stated, already turning away to go find the supplies she needed in the cupboards of the room.

Her moving away allowed for a clear view of Yang – and, as a result, a clear view of the expression that passed the brawler's face at the doctor's diagnosis. Tan skin paled, the freckles that dusted her cheekbones standing out as if they had been drawn on with a marker. Lilac eyes widened slightly, golden brows furrowing as she swallowed nervously.

Blake and Weiss exchanged a glance – neither of them had seen the girl look so anxious before, save for a few life-threatening experiences. Certainly never over something as trivial as stitches, for crying out loud.

The doctor turned back around, placing things on a metal tray with a clatter that rang throughout the room, causing Yang to flinch. The blonde avoided the amber and blue gazes sent her way, instead letting her sight fall on anything but the pair sitting in the corner – the scuffed toes of her boots, the shining tile floor, the illustrated posters hanging on the wall. It didn't stop her teammates' stares, however – nor their noticing of her scarred hands clenching the edges of the examination table.

"I'll give you a shot of anesthesia, to numb the area first."

"Uh, no!"

Even the doctor looked confused by Yang's sudden refusal, her voice coming out louder and sharply than she had meant for it to.

"I mean," the blonde began to clarify, swallowing to get her voice back under control, "I'm fine without it. It doesn't really hurt at all."

"It's a deep wound," the doctor replied, confusion and doubt both colouring her tone, "It'll definitely hurt without it."

"That's fine," Yang answered, flashing a grin that was meant to be encouraging, but appeared as anxious, "No point in wasting it on someone who doesn't need it."

"Yang–"

Blake cut off Weiss's retort with a squeeze of her hand, shaking her head almost imperceptibly when the heiress looked at her in confusion. Whatever was going on with Yang, forcing her to do something she didn't want to do wasn't going to help matters any – and quite frankly, the pain might do the girl some good in getting her nerves back.

The doctor looked back and forth between the pair and Yang, before shrugging and picking up the thin needle, passing the black thread through its eye with an ease that spoke of years of practice. She placed it back down and took a hold of the small tray, placing it on the counter beside where Yang sat. She moved towards Yang, her steps even and natural, though the blonde watched her warily, almost as though she were a predator that might strike at any moment.

The doctor reached behind her to grab a cotton swab soaked in rubbing alcohol, before gently taking hold of the blonde's injured arm. Yang winced at the contact, her eyes narrowing slightly as she looked away. A minute later and the wound was clean, a small amount of blood slowly trickling from the edge of it.

Tossing the cotton into the trash, the doctor reached for the needle, glancing quickly at Yang before moving her arm upwards. Yang didn't react, her eyes having shut in what many would read as concentration, but that Blake and Weiss knew well enough by then to recognize as an attempt of keeping control.

That control broke the moment the needle touched her skin, a sudden wave of heat spreading through the air at the contact. The doctor pulled back the needle immediately, feeling the heat that was emanating from the blonde. Yang's eyes sprang open, awash with a mixture of guilt and fear, tinged slightly from the red that had begun to bleed into her pupils.

A moment of silence passed, before Weiss's voice cut through the air.

"Yang…" she trailed off, not entirely sure of where to go with her words. Yang, on the other hand, nodded in reply to a question that hadn't been asked.

"I know, I know," she muttered, her voice shaking slightly, "I'm sorry. Just… give me a second."

And so they did – the occupants of the room waiting with baited breath, watching as the blonde took several deep breaths, letting the tension in her muscles ease out the same way the crimson in her pupils did. A minute passed, before she looked back towards the doctor with a small, crooked grin that wavered between sheepish and uneasy.

"Sorry, doc," Yang said abashedly, "Let's try that again?"

"Yang, wait."

All their eyes went to Blake at that, who had stood and now was walking towards the blonde. She came up to Yang's side, looking at her partner oddly for a moment, as though lost in thought. The brawler swallowed nervously, caught between asking if something was wrong or just keeping her mouth shut.

Blake broke the eye contact a moment later, glancing down as she slowly reached out and took hold of Yang's free hand. Brushing calloused fingertips against scarred knuckles, the Faunus looked back up at her teammate.

"Squeeze my hand," Blake said evenly, wrapping lithe fingers around the brawler's warm palm.

Both Weiss and Blake watched the blonde's reaction, waiting for an outburst of some sort, waiting for her to protest that she wasn't a child, that this wasn't necessary. Neither expected the brawler to cast her eyes down, then nod slightly.

Surprised, Blake took a moment to stare worriedly at her partner, before she shook herself from her reverie and turned to nod at the doctor, who still stood waiting for confirmation that it was okay to continue.

The doctor returned the nod, reaching again to take hold of Yang's arm. The heat rose slightly once more as the needle touched her skin, but only slightly, and not enough to cause alarm. The blonde clenched Blake's hand as it broke through the skin; her eyes clenched shut once more.

The process passed fairly quickly – eleven stitches, the black thread looped evenly through her skin, neatly closing the cut. Yang's grip only increased throughout the process, Blake vehemently keeping the pain from showing on her face. The blonde's eyes stayed as the doctor continued her task, and Blake kept her focus on her partner's reaction, noting the lines of stress that refused to go away.

Only once did Blake focus elsewhere – when she heard the heiress, still sitting across the room, whisper Blake's name softly in concern. The Faunus in question had shot her a look, she herself knowing how tight Yang was holding her hand, and that it would undoubtedly bruise the next morning. The dark haired woman didn't dwell on it, however. If it helped Yang get through whatever…. This was, then she was willing to give up the feeling in her fingers momentarily.

Only when the stitches were finally finished, the procedure ended with a final snip of scissors, did Yang release her hold on Blake's hand. Her eyes, however, stayed closed, her breaths struggling to pull in air deeply. Blake reversed their former positions, she herself now holding Yang's hand.

"You alright?" she asked, hearing the uncertain footsteps behind her as Weiss came up to stand beside her.

Yang nodded, eyes still screwed shut.

"Fine, fine," she said, opening an eye to peer at her worried teammates. Concern shot through the monochrome pair at the sight – despite Yang's words of reassurance, her eyes were a deep crimson, her semblance well and truly activated. No flames flickered around them, but the heat in the room had yet to fade – though, Blake took it as a good sign that it hadn't increased, either.

Neither Blake nor Weiss mentioned it – they knew that Yang was just as aware as the rest of them what colour her eyes were; the room to the brawler had to be awash in red. The doctor, however, took note of none of this, instead returning to the blonde, wiping away the excess blood that had spilled during the procedure, and beginning to wrap Yang's arm in a thick, heavy bandage.

When she had finished, end of the bandage fastened tight with metal brackets, she stepped away from her patient and her companions, giving them all a slight nod before taking her leave from the room. Only as her footsteps receded down the hall did Blake feel the heat finally start to trickle out of the room, leaving an odd chill in the air – it appeared that for Yang, all threats were gone.

The blonde herself finally opened her eyes in full, last vestiges of red bleeding out of her pupils, their usual vibrant hue returning. Yang took a deep breath, letting it out heavily as she withdrew her hand from Blake's, leaning back and stretching her arms high above her head. She winced – though, whether it was from her arm or the multiple cracks that emanated from her back was unclear – and stood up, stamping her feet to get feeling back into them.

She looked around the room; pointedly ignoring the concerned and suspicious gazes from her partner and her teammate, respectively. Then she grinned, and jerked a thumb in the direction of the door.

"Man, I'm starving!" she remarked energetically, traces of any fear shown before now hidden away, "what do you say we get out of here and catch us some food, yeah?"

Without waiting for a reply, the blonde brawler turned and strolled out of the room, her boots clacking against the floors of the hospital halls. Weiss turned to look at Blake, the pair communicating in a single glance their mutual confusion, frustration, suspicion, and concern. With a shrug indicating that there was nothing else they could do for the moment, Weiss turned to follow their blonde teammate from the room.

Blake stood in the small room for a second longer, still confused and worried by her partner's behavior. She'd seen Yang startled before, maybe even nervous, but never flat out terrified, as she had been before. Suddenly, Ruby's comment of "doesn't like needles" seemed far too miscalculated, and grossly underestimated. There was far to it more than there seemed – Blake made a mental note to ask Ruby about it later. But, with no way to do so in the current moment, Blake followed suit with her teammates, and left the tiny room.