{Little girl, little girl; Where's your mother?}

Silver eyes sadly looked on as the rest of the children chattered happily, excitedly working on their projects. The crisp sound of paper being cut grated on her ears, the smell of glue burned her nose, and as the festivities continued on without her she felt the ache in her chest throb stronger, the burn of her eyes sting harsher. In her own silence and misery she picked up on the unbridled excitement buzzing in the air and the boasts of whose mother was best and which project was prettier. Her thoughts strayed to her own mother, trying to remember her sweet face and soothing voice in this time of pain, but all that came to mind was a wilting rose and a gray slab of stone.

And so it came that, in the middle of class, Ruby began to sob.

The teacher, previously oblivious to the young girl's morose demeanor, jumped to action, striding quickly to her desk and bending down to rub her back. She shied from the comfort to which the teacher attempted to persuade her sorrows away with cooed words of concern and assurance. However, by this time she had already attracted too much attention; the other students had paused in their crafts, staring rudely at the sobbing girl in young curiosity as to what was going on.

So the teacher, having to take decisive action, escorted Ruby to the hallway, throwing back a last second instruction for the students to continue working and to behave well. It was only after she had shut the door that the class erupted into noise again, except instead of talk about whose paper flowers or card was the nicest, it was speculation over what had triggered the young girl's cries.

"I heard her mommy got eaten by a beowolf."

"My mommy said that she ran away and never came back."

"Well my mom said that she died saving a whole village!"

It was common knowledge on the island of Patch of who Summer Rose was and the subject of her sudden disappearance had been a hot topic for months. Out of respect for the family people were sure to keep hushed about it, but behind closed doors and out of earshot they'd speculate what really happened. Most accepted that she had simply died on a mission while others spun fantastic and outrageous tales so intricate they were clearly made up.

Talk of Summer had eventually trickled down to their children, their curious little ears always listening, who talked about it amongst themselves at school in clusters, casting sidelong glances at the lonely little girl clad in red. Everyone sympathized with her, and no one was cruel, but they tended to avoid her as if befriending the girl would suddenly bring bad fortune upon them.

And so it was that Ruby was alone most of her time at school, her only comfort her older sister who went out of her way to spend time with her and make sure she wasn't so alone. They were an odd sight to see on the playground or walking down the sidewalk - Yang's bright, golden hair and Ruby's stark black, the similarities of their blood relation hardly noticeable at first glance. But if you ever questioned their relationship Yang's eyes would flare up and turn red and you would wish you hadn't.

That was another reason why the children were not cruel. They feared what Yang would do to them.

Out in the hall Ruby continued to cry, shoulders bobbing up and down with each breath and sob as small fists rubbed the tears from her eyes. Her teacher continued to try her best to soothe her, rubbing her shoulders and back, repeating soft words of assurance. However Ruby didn't stop, she couldn't stop, and so she was sent to the nurse to avoid disrupting the other classes in the hall until she could calm down.

The nurse had greeted her with a kind smile and box of tissues, gesturing to one of the cots that Ruby could lay herself on until her crying had subsided. Ruby obliged, crawling onto the padded cot and wrapped her red cloak around herself, the only sense of comfort she owned - besides Yang. But she was in class and there were just some things that Ruby had to fare alone.

This wasn't her first episode in school and she feared it also would not be her last.

Her teaching tried to be understanding, but even Ruby could see that she was beginning to tire of Ruby's episodes, sending her to the nurse faster and faster with each one. The kids had grown used to them, not even flinching whenever the first sob ripped through her. And when she walked down the hallway on her way to the nurse's office she was often met with teachers who had seen her like this at least once before and passed her by without so much as a word.

The only one who seemed to care about these episodes were Yang.

Soon enough school ended, Ruby having not left the nurse's office since she had arrived. She had calmed down from her fit just an hour before, but the nurse opted to let her stay, saying that after crying so hard for so long she must be tired and should probably rest. But Ruby wasn't as simple as they believed; she had heard the call the nurse had received shortly after she had gotten there and knew that her teacher asked that she remain there for the remainder of the day. It was only made more evident that her teacher had no intentions of letting her return when one of her classmates brought down her backpack and lunch box, setting it by the door before running off to class again.

So she was dismissed from the nurse's office with the bell and immediately went out the front door, running to the corner she was supposed to meet with Yang so they could walk home together as they always did. Some of the kids looked at her, most from her class but some not, so she knew that news of her latest breakdown was already spreading. Sympathetic looks were cast her way, ones that she avoided looking at by kicking pebbles on the sidewalk as she waited for Yang to come and take her home.

Her prayers were answered soon when she noticed a mass of bouncing yellow curls in the distance, the image of Yang's bright grin and lively lilac eyes soon to follow. Ruby found herself smiling back, finally feeling at ease at the sight of her sister and was able to more easily ignore the looks boring into her back. Not waiting for Yang to reach the corner Ruby ran to her, throwing her arms around her midsection and burying her face in her neck. Yang squeezed her back, that tight squeeze that Ruby interpreted as her way of saying how happy she was to see her and how she'd always be there for her, before pulling back and taking her hand as they began their trek home.

They were silent most of the way home, but about halfway there (when there were no more people around) Yang spoke.

"So how was your day?"

The concerned glint in her eyes told her that she already had an idea but was allowing Ruby to tell her in her own words.

Ruby shrugged. "You know."

It was a short and vague answer, not giving up many details or information in general. But Yang did know, not only from the whispers in the halls but the look on Ruby's face, the way her eyes were dulled in their normal shine, her cheeks rubbed red, the crumpled edges of her cloak from being held too tight. When it came to her little sister Yang knew everything, try as she might to hide it from her.

But she offered no words of comfort or encouragement and definitely none of sympathy, knowing that Ruby had heard enough of those in the past few months to last her a lifetime. Instead she squeezed her hand tighter and smiled up at the sun, letting its warmth fall upon her face. With a mischievous smirk she turned back to Ruby.

"I think I know where Dad hid the cookies this time!"

The spark ignited in the young girl again, her cloudy gray eyes transforming into a shining, molten silver. "Really?"

Yang nodded and looked around them. "But we gotta hurry up and get home before he does if we wanna get them!" She dropped Ruby's hand. "Race ya there!"

And so the two girls ran the rest of the way home, rose petals scattering in their wake.

Yang was amazing in so many ways.

To list all of them would take a number of hours, maybe days. It would take much less time to name all her flaws. Ruby would even dare to call her perfect. There was just so much to love about her, from her smiles she offered when Ruby couldn't conjure one herself, to her sweet singing voice that echoed their late mother's when she had trouble sleeping because of the dreams that haunted her behind closed eyelids. Her soft hair that she was very protective over that only Ruby was allowed to play with or the crinkles in her eyes when she looked at Ruby with all the love in the world. Or perhaps the imaginative games she made up to keep Ruby's mind busy from thinking depressing thoughts or her keen observation that always managed to locate the cookie stash their father tried desperately to keep out of their reach before dinner.

Ruby loved all of these things, but if she had to pick her favorite thing about Yang, it would be the way she told stories.

Their mother always made it a habit to send her two daughters to bed with a bedtime story, whether it was one she read from a book or a tale that she shared from one of her adventures as a huntress. They would cuddle up on Ruby's bed, Ruby tucked snugly underneath her blankets and Yang's blanket from her bed draped over her head as they listened intently to the story, hanging onto every word. Their favorite stories were the ones that Summer brought with her from her jobs away when she would describe the lands across the water, the vast world beyond their tiny island. She told them of the people she met, how kindly they treated her, how the children would look up to her with a gleam in their eyes and how she felt like a hero. She'd tell them of the sights she had seen, of the places she had been and what had been there for her as she traveled and explored.

Yang's favorite part had always been the places she had traveled, always interrupting to coax more details out of her about what the trees looked like, did the grass feel as soft as it did here, were there mountains and valleys, hills and trenches? Summer would always laugh, promising to send postcards to them while she was away and, if she could manage in between fighting Grimm, take pictures.

However Ruby placed more of her interest in the people. She would silently listen to the way her mother spoke of them, such fondness and familiarity in her voice. In their eyes their mother was a hero, the same as Ruby saw her. It amazed her how much they depended on her just as she did and, instead of being jealous of them stealing her mother from her all the time, she was proud of her mother for caring for and being kind to so many people. She wouldn't know it then, but it would be these stories, the ones of the people who relied so heavily on her mother to keep the peace, that would later inspire her to pursue a career in huntressing.

Of course, since her job would take her away for days at a time, Summer wasn't always there to tell her bedtime stories. So Yang took it upon herself to take her place in her absence, bringing books home from the school library to read to Ruby.

Soon enough Yang had read the same story so many times that she would be able to recite it to her, word for word, without assistance from the book. And this is when her storytelling skills improved and began to grow into what they were today.

Summer would spin the tales so sweetly, her voice like an angel that would entrance any who listened. Yang didn't have that advantage, so to make up for it she made the stories come to life, using wild gestures and sound effects that made Ruby giggle and squeal. Tiny hands would fist her blanket as she leaned forward when Yang's speech slowed in suspense and fly up to her mouth to muffle her shout when Yang would exclaim loudly, eyes wide in surprise.

And as much as Ruby enjoyed listening to Yang's stories, she could tell Yang enjoyed telling them as well. Sometimes when Summer was home Yang would take over, switching the roles as she told Ruby and their mother the story, acting out the scenes as all the characters. And Summer would smile and laugh, the sound of bells that granted angels their wings, her silver eyes crinkling at the corners when her grin split her face in two.

And after she was gone, Yang continued to tell her stories.

At first she would tell them to a lifeless Ruby, who only stared at the floor and winced whenever Yang would sniffle or choke on a word, tears running down her face. But as time went on, the liveliness seeped back in, little by little, until Yang was telling stories just as she used to, only better. Now she made up her own stories too, prompting Ruby to ask the occasional question or gasp in genuine surprise when Yang pulled a fast one on her.

Tonight Yang was spinning some tale about a fearless huntress who traveled far and vast, fighting any Grimm who stood in her way and befriending the people she met along her journey. Huntress stories were always Ruby's favorite and Yang saved them for special occasions when she was feeling down. Tucked snugly underneath her blankets she watched as Yang pranced about the room, blanket typed around her neck like a cape, a plastic sword that Uncle Qrow had gifted them in hand, swinging it at invisible monsters as Ruby clapped and cheered.

Yang finished her story with a flourish, adding on that happily ever after that Ruby always craved so much in which the huntress became crowned "Queen Huntress of the World". Ruby smiled and clapped again, bouncing happily in her bed as Yang untied her blanket and placed it back on her bed and stored the plastic sword in the corner with the rest of their toys. Then she came over to sit on Ruby's bed, adjusting the blankets when the little girl lied down to make sure she was tucked in just right. Big, silver eyes looked up at her, content and happy, and Yang knew she had accomplished her goal for the day: to send Ruby to sleep smiling.

"Alright, my tiny huntress. Time for bed." She leaned over and placed a kiss to Ruby's forehead, stroking her hair before pulling back. "Goodnight."

A yawn ripped through Ruby's small frame. "Goodnight."

Yang made her way to her bed, wrapping herself up in her own blankets after switching off the lamp illuminating the room. Just when she had laid her head upon her pillow she heard a soft voice call to her.

"Yes, Ruby?"

There was a brief pause. "I love you, Yang."

Yang smiled and closed her eyes. "I love you, too, Rubbles."

The next day was a Friday and anticipation for the weekend buzzed throughout the school building. All the students (and even some of the teachers) were looking forward to a couple days without school and homework. It was also a rather warm day outside, bringing out the laziness in most of the teachers, who allowed their students to spend the day working on their projects for Mother's Day.

And this time Ruby would join them.

She was behind most of her classmates, who only had to add the last finishing touches to their projects. Meanwhile, she had to start from the very beginning.

Initially when she came to class, the teacher (probably worried that another one of her episodes would occur) suggested she go work on some worksheets in the library for the day. But Ruby insisted that she wanted to work on her own project and, with much persuasion and the abuse of her puppy dog eyes, she was granted to stay. The teacher gave her the cardstock for her card and the tissue paper to make her paper flower, checking to make sure that Ruby knew what to do before leaving her be and going to her desk to grade papers.

Ruby worked diligently throughout the day, putting forth all of her effort to make sure that she was finished by the end of the school day. While the children around her worked at a leisurely pace, chatting as they colored or glued, Ruby worked hard and fast, staying out of all conversation. The only time she bothered to speak to another student was when she wanted to ask for the pink marker or to borrow someone's scissors.

Even when it came time for recess she didn't quit, choosing to stay inside so she could finish up the last pieces. Later on Yang would ask her where she had been, but she would only smile in answer, insisting it was a "secret".

She finished just before the bell rang to signal the start of the weekend and carefully placed her crafts in her backpack to take with her before running out the door to walk home with Yang.

That Sunday morning, Ruby made sure to wake up early, getting out of bed before Yang had even stirred. She tiptoed out of the room with socked feet into the hall and to the kitchen. Once she had made it there she went to the pantry closet and brought out her footstool that she used whenever she helped Dad with dinner and set it up to climb onto the counter. Once up there she opened up the cabinet and pulled out a paper bowl and paper plate, setting them gently on the counter before climbing down. With that done she slid her stool over to the counter where the toaster sat, running over to the freezer and getting out the box of frozen waffles, taking two and putting them in the toaster.

With that done she next made her way to the pantry, pulling out her and Yang's favorite cereal, Pumpkin Pete's, and poured it into the bowl, patting down the cereal so that it was level when she was done. Then she went to the fridge, pulling the carton of milk from the bottom shelve with both hands, walking slowly back to the counter where she had left the bowl. Gently and with great care she tipped the carton over, letting the milk pour itself into the bowl and filling it up. However she lost her grasp for a second, the carton slipping and a few drops of milk splattered on the counter. Ignoring that for now she put back the carton of milk, instead grabbing the tub of butter and a butter knife from the drawer when she heard the toaster ding with her cooked waffles.

She yelped when she first touched them, the warmth burning her fingertips which she blew on hard to cool them off. Being more careful this time, she pulled them from the toaster, letting them drop to the paper plate with a plop. Scooping a great glob of butter onto her knife she spread it onto the waffles, the head melting it straightaway.

And so that morning she went about the kitchen, preparing a small breakfast to give to Yang in bed when she woke up. She made sure to keep as quiet as possible so not to rouse either her sister or father, wanting to maintain the surprise until it was time to present it. Once she had gotten everything ready, the cereal in its bowl, the waffles buttered up and drizzled with syrup, a plastic cup of orange juice (no pulp, just the way Yang liked it), she went to her backpack in the hall closet and got out her card and paper flower. Running back to the kitchen she heard her father's alarm clock go off and knew that she needed to hurry before he came down and saw what she was doing. So she added the finishing touches to the tray, propping the card open on the tray and standing the paper flower in an empty mug before picking up the tray carefully by the handles and shuffling back to her shared room with Yang at a snail's pace.

She finally reached the room to see Yang still fast asleep in her bed. The morning sun peeked through the blinds by her bed, reaching across the room to stroke Yang's covered form with its warm yellow light. Giggling softly to herself she shuffled over to Yang and stood right next to her.

"Yang! Yang! Wake up! Yangie, wake up!"

Her loud squeaky voice startled the blonde immediately from her slumber, bolting into a sitting position in a haze. Ruby laughed at the way her hair stuck out everywhere before sliding the tray onto her lap, making sure it stayed balanced while Yang adjusted to being so rudely awoken.

"Ruby?"

Said girl clasped her hands in front of her, a wide grin adorning her chubby face. "I made you breakfast! All your favorites!"

Finally noticing the tray across her lap Yang frowned briefly before turning to Ruby, her eyes awake and alive with questions. "That's nice but...why?"

At this Ruby shrunk back, her shoulders hunching to her ears and her silver eyes cast down to her socked feet. A few seconds passed and it soon became obvious to the young girl that her little sister had no intention of answering, so she redirected her attention to the tray full of food, finally taking notice of the card. On the front was a drawing of what she assumed to be her if told by the yellow scribbles surrounding the head and the purple dots for their eyes. The person was wearing a red cape - no a cloak - and standing proudly over a dead beowolf, evidenced by two "X"s where its eyes should've been.

And across the top of the card were the messily scribbled words in different colors "Happy Big Sister's Day!"

Next to the card was a mug filled not with liquid but a single flower, its petals made of thin, colorful tissue paper attached to a green paper stalk with paper leaves. Yang lifted the flower from the cup, spinning it between her fingers as she examined it from all sides.

"It's Mother's Day," said Ruby, still not looking up. Yang's heart sank at the dejected tone she used, knowing how much pain she was still in from losing Summer. She was too, but for Ruby's sake she tried not to show it. Suddenly Ruby's behavior from the other day made sense.

"Oh, Ruby…"

"And all the other kids were making stuff for their moms." Ruby continued, disregarding the fact that Yang has said anything. "And...well first I was sad." At this point she looked up, donning a shy grin. "But then I remember that...you're like Mom, Yang. So...I wanted to do something special for you, since…" A sniffle and the shimmer of unshed tears. "Since she's not here anymore."

In one fell swoop Yang had pushed the tray aside on the bed and slipped from under the covers, taking Ruby up in her arms when the little girl began to cry again. They both knelt to the floor, Ruby's face buried in her pajama shirt and small fists bunched in the cloth, Yang squeezing her thin frame. A few of her own tears slipped out and soaked into Ruby's hair as she was unable to stop them. But truthfully she didn't want to stop them, because for once, instead of pushing aside her hurt to focus on Ruby, the two girls cried together over their absent mother, finding comfort in only each other.

A few minutes later their dad found them, still on the floor in their embrace, the paper flower clutched tightly in Yang's fist.

"Yang? What's this?"

After putting down the stack of boxes she was carrying, Yang walked over to Blake, who was unpacking her suitcase for her after she had been asked nicely to do so. It was the beginning of their second year at Beacon and they were moving into their new dorm room (this one with more space thankfully) at the moment. Weiss and Ruby were off to the side arguing over whatever Weiss was throwing a hissy fit over this time.

Stooping down next to Blake, Yang noticed that in her hand was a green piece of paper with a colorful bunch of thin paper on the end, the tissue paper crumbled and ripped in places but otherwise still intact. Her eyes widened in recognition and she carefully plucked the flower from Blake's hand with a fond smile, looking at it as if reuniting with a lost friend.

"Oh this? Just a little somethin' I like to keep with me."

Ruby, who was desperately looking for an escape of some sort, shuffled over to where Yang and Blake were sitting. Curiously she looked over their shoulders to see what they were looking at. Silver eyes landed on the old paper flower, sparking a memory within her as a steady blush crossed her cheeks.

"You still have that?!"

Yang looked up at her sister, laughing at the redness of her face and how her gaze was locked onto the simple craft. "Of course I did. Best present you ever gave me."

"Yaaaaaaaaaang!"

The cloaked girl tackled her to the ground, Yang sure to hold the flower out of harm's way as they both fell back. All the way down she laughed, attracting an odd stare from Weiss and a curious one from Blake. But she ignored them both, instead wrapping a single arm around Ruby's shoulders so she couldn't move and placing a sloppy kiss to the top of her head.

"Love ya, Sis!"

Ruby groaned into her chest, arms wriggling in Yang's grip, but the older girl was sure she heard a muttered "I love you, too" in there somewhere.

A/N: I was always curious what kids without mothers do at school around Mother's Day when everyone else is working on projects. I never ran into that in my life.

But yeah give it up for Momma Yang. Momma Yang is best Yang.

Now if you are left unsatisfied by this one, I do have a much fluffier fic for white rose coming up this Sunday, actual Mother's Day. So if you were disappointed by this for some reason I have one coming up later on if you'll just be patient. -w-