Yeah, I know this fic says complete. But stories only over when it says it is, so here's my version of several other fics.

- - -10- - -

[Everyone expected you to be up and about by now. The invincible Yang Xiao Long and her Iron Fist wouldn't be cowed so easily.]

Yang tried to pull her eyes away from the window; from the ghostly repay of Ruby leaving her behind, the shadow in the tree where Blake would have hidden, a patch of snow glistening as if Weiss haad dropped some jewelry there and would come running back shortly, a snow cake trunk that could almost be the white cloak of…; but they had left her behind. Try as she might, she didn't know why they wouldn't have. She was useless. "Whose she." Her breath expelling to fog the window, but even then she couldn't pull her eyes away. "Just go away, I don't feel like talking."

[Well I'd call her my ex-girlfriend, but knowing her that would just make her angry over the bad memories. She was always touchy about these things, never understood it myself.]

"It's not worth getting angry, you'll leave shortly anyways."

[Probably, but I'm not sure where to go.]

That was almost enough to bring back a bit of warmth to the wilted lilac eyes, but that didn't even last long enough for her eyes to turn and lock on Neo's. The girl looked just they both remembered her; clean, neat, and precise. If not for that trademark smirk and her small stature, she could have stood for the same military ideal as Weiss' sister. None of that bloodlust ever seemed to show itself in those heterochromatic eyes, just as the surge of Grimm she had helped create hadn't managed to touch her either. "Anywhere but here."

But Neo didn't listen. Who could blame her? The implied threat lacked even a portion of the flames that had fueled the weary speaker for years, emboldened her team, and once guided a small family in mourning through a mother's example. Now it couldn't even stop an old rival from sitting on her bed or hooking her weapon on its wooden frame. Not even showing any hesitance in patting her leg with one of those small, delicate hands as if they had never broken up with the help of a cinderblock wall and splinter in the foot bigger than some shanks she had used; because a promise of no regrets had never meant no mistrust. [How much of your Aura was in that punch?]

"How much do you think?"

[All of it.]

"Close enough."

[You never did learn how to hold back, I'm just sorry you had to fight Adam. Never had a chance, but I'm told it should heal given time. Aura doesn't stay gone.]

"Doesn't matter, not like I'm going to fight again anyways."

The slap resounded through the halls to the sound of crashing glass. For a second it made Yang wonder if Neo had pushed her head through the window, it would explain the shards that cut open her cheek, but the glare from a scroll screen still reflected there, She have the will to fight the striker, or even to turn back. That didn't matter, Neo pulled her back by the jaw just as hard as she had struck showing what had been hidden behind the illusionary pane. The cream jacket covered in mud and dust still left from the battle in beacon months ago. The matching boots showed the dirt of hard days spent traveling through Patch's snowfall and hell knows where else to reach this recluse, just as her lips remained darkened by the cold outside thanks to the thin clothing unsuited for this weather. Her hair had been tied back in a rough ponytail with some half-burn twine that blended the dual colors scrappily and clung to her face around eyes that seemed stuck in their milky white state of shock as her eyes still streaming with tears. Every breath was haggard as if her damaged throat hurt from a hundred nights screaming into the night. At least the reason why was also no longer hidden. There was only one hat that Neo would ever hold in such a death-grip. Then the second slap came, Yang's face pulled back so they could lock eyes again, again Neo struck, again she pulled that jaw over so passionately it was almost as if to steal a kiss.

Neither could keep count, nor bring themselves to care about the wordless, one-sided violence. Yang couldn't recall why pain was supposed to hurt, and Neo finally giving up with a hoarse sound that could have been a sob to mark her failure. What little energy she had left was gone, her body collapsing down to lay across the wasting muscles of a girl who had once been the embodiment of strength. "Why won't you fight? Hit? Something!" One small fist wearily continuing the assault as it wearily hit a shoulder that seemed empty, hollow without its limb.

"What's the point? I'll lose."

Neo stammered as she lay there hugging her un-responsive ex. She wanted to say revenge for the guy who practically raised her. Maybe it would bring back some of that fire she had loved, or justify that empty feeling that had consumed her ever since she had wandered out of the ruins of Vale. Past Aubernson Deli that felt a life time ago, when she actually felt in control of her life and that smirk had actually been a honest superiority. Her voice was to far gone to answer this time, burning from the days of wordless screaming and the few words that had left her lips today. That left only the old crutch. [Because its all I can do. I fight.]

"Yeah, well, at least you can."

No, fuck that. [Get up.] She didn't wait for Yang to turn away from the window, grabbing one of her legs to drag it off the bed as she pulled herself away from the cold ashes of the bonfire she remembered. This need coaxing or they would both die stuck in there misery. The other pulled over just as hard so both touched the cold floor. Yang didn't care, her body still limp so that when Neo pulled her up by that left hand she only ended up crashing to the floor. [Up or I kill your little dog.]

"He's with dad in town. I'm the only one here."

[Up or I show you what alone really means.]

It was far from a descriptive threat, but she could almost read Yang's face asking her how this could be any worse even as terror took hold in its own way. Yet she stood, barely. Her arm was like a twig compared to the young oak and her legs didn't feel as if they could balance her weight, but eventually she stood. Neither girl making any comment over how much less the height difference was when their posture had stooped with experience. [Better. Now fighting stance.]

It was if she never heard those words before, her legs spread equally and her shoulder slumped in a feral manner as the lone fist dangled by her knees, barely able to clench itself. [Come on!] Instead Neo had to forcibly drag her left leg out with both hands so that they were now diagonal. From there she waved her hands in the silent signal, 'up, up', forcing out what little heat was left of that battered spirit left in this ashes of a boxing champ to get her weight off her heals, onto the balls of her feet, even if they lacked the spring of old. Almost, this was almost the girl who had beautified a sunrise, then left her based on some moral code. Reaching down, Neo clasped their left hands together to pull them up until they leveled between the dead stare they had locked themselves into. [Now punch me.] Miming the impact straight to her forehead as emphasis.

Yang's jab was weak, a mechanical motion of the arm as if her lower body was disconnected from the good shoulder. Not even worth dodging, but she did take a half step back before holding the new message up. [What kind of dumbass brawler forgets how to use their hips in a punch? Again.]

The little extra difference in range forced the next jab to follow through with the command, needing those extra few inches if she was going to reach the half-pint goading her on, but it was still far too slow when Neo slipped to the side.

[Again, faster.]

So she tried again, and again to punch that damn squirt. Frustrated by every miss, yet with a partner who dragged her back every time her arm drooped or her weight settled. Neo hadn't even bothered to type a new message; just keep waving it around like some tagline. Yang tried though, her tired mind slowly dredging up memories of what a solid job should feel like. Toes twist to the right ever so slightly, letting the hip blade itself toward the target and pop out, as the arm came straight out from the body, rotating the hand just a little at the point of contact so that everything was aligned behind those first two knuckles. Then she felt something, just the brush of skin, but enough to tell her that for once Neo hadn't been the ever-perfect, artful dodger.

That earned a smile, not a smirk, an actual, genuine smile that for once actually felt intended for her, not at her.

[Good, now punch me.] This time Neo stepped farther back, forcing her opponent to push off with her back foot and lunge into the strike. Only to miss against as she slipped it, backpedaling as she went to maintain the distance.

Around the room, back and forth with the same strike, the same dodge, the same result. Back to the old adage about fear the man who a kick a thousand times. Even so, eventually Yang got sick of it, trying to surprise her with a hook or an uppercut, even an elbow. But that never seemed to change the end result. It was pathetic, she was pathetic, and she couldn't take it anymore. One shout full of anger, frustration, doubt, loss; everything that held her back from the war outside Patch's serene little island; and her leg lashed out. Hard enough that the round kick might have been able to break the smaller girls arms, but aimed lower. It hit the top of the thigh, turned at the last second to protect the vulnerable nerve cluster on the side, and Neo didn't step away.

She moved in close, wrapping her arms around the waist of her ex and letting a new wave of tears soak into the old army-green shirt that seemed to only remind them both of what they had lost.

Her voice was gone, and what could have been words just sounded out as hacking coughs into the thin cotton. She missed him. Roman was an asshole, but he was all she had. The only one she had who cared about her, even if it was in his own way. The part of her that had come for revenge for little red had been backed by another voice looking for the next best person in her life. A girl she was just starting to realize didn't understand how little she viewed her as an enemy, even for the wall incident, because that was painless compared to the years before all this, when she was just another freak living in the streets of a city she never looked back on.

"Neo… what now? You know I can't fight like this. Its not enough."

The sobs turned into a racking laughter, into hiccups that vibrated against Yang's skin in tiny ripples. Shuddering through the delicate hands until they could barely type on the ever-present scroll; a necessity for the mute even if it lacked any additional purpose these days aside from these notes.

[You've clearly never been in a street fight.]

[Go take a shower; you stink as if you haven't left that bed in months.]

"Coming from a girl whose hair smells of smoke I know is months old."

[Fine, I'll borrow it after your done then. But you'll have to loan me the shampoo; that never made it into the bang-out bag.]

"There's plenty."

XOXOX

There was an odd comfort to the next hour, a substitute maybe for the quiet breakfast they never had. Yang didn't question the silent ushering that pushed her into the shower stall, clothes and all. The more she let herself listen to the world, the more she realized how much she had let herself go. The muscles in her body were weak from lack of use. Her clothes stank, like really stank, not the gym smell she had grown up to. Curled locks that she had prized more than anything were matted down, split ends and lacking the same color she had so loved. It was hard to imagine the girl in the mirror had once been praised for her beauty. Hot water did her good.

Neo didn't need to look for the laundry machine, she had spotted it while clearing the house on her initial infiltration. Best thing for it then was to strip Yang's nest. She hadn't used her first washing machine until she was 20, so it was best guess over the settings. But if nothing else it would still drown them in soap and water to help with the smell. She threw in her own clothes as well, first chance in ages and little red was close enough in size for her to steal a fresh change. The girl owed her that much at least. Even if she hadn't directly killed Roman, but that wound was still raw. It helped when she snuck in to steal a hoodie from Yang though, the same bright yellow and flaming symbol she remembered fondly from before.

Yang hopped out of the shower, giving Neo a raspberry for the blast of cold water that had finally shifted her, and then a laugh as her rival…ex… friend waved her arms about trying to point out the obvious question: what she supposed to do? Yell? But neither made a question of it as she took the vacated stall and the bareness that required. Which is when Neo realized just how little she knew about hair care product. Course, no one had ever explained the difference of shampoo and detergent to her. She read, and eventually found out for herself, but most of the books she read were the kind that assumed basics she never really understood. Basics had always been knowing where your shiv was, keep the wound clean, and ditch the credit card after a quick withdrawal; keep the cash and free meal passes, but after about one hour the credit cards were a major liability so better to toss them in the trash. That life had shaped her into the expert professional she was, but all said she wished she could have had a life like this.

All the while, Yang set to work in the kitchen making food. It felt like ages since it had been just her and Ruby, with a little sister to small to even try and cook food and a big sister doing everything she could think of to replace the roles of a dead super-mom. For now though, she stuck to spaghetti. Stirring the noodles and sauce didn't take dexterity, and it was warm food which Neo looked like she needed. She also dug up her own emergency bag, by the door where Dad kept his and Ruby's hook stayed painfully absent. It had a handful of MRE's and survival gear that would last Neo for a week or two with good pacing, enough for her to make it to one of Roman's safe houses somewhere. Guy like that probably had dozens all over Remnant, doubt he would mind an adopted daughter using it.

Eventually Neo joined her, breathing deeply the smell of fresh food and letting her body enjoy that smell even as she held herself back from playing with Yang's hair. This wasn't a morning after, or a third date. She didn't know what it was, but it felt like two refugees taking shelter from a storm neither understood. Hell she doubted Mercury or Emerald understood what Cinder was planning, and no one knew who the black queen was. Didn't stop her from remembering how nice it had felt that day when she had gotten to hug her girlfriend and bury her head into that wave. Honestly she have wondered if she could bribe Yang to let her. But instead they ate in silence; her own hands to busy to think of typing and across the table her hose seemed to be busy stealing glances between timid bites of the food. Almost as if they had traded places, the girl she remembered would have been able to finish the pot herself; instead Neo was the one who made the largest dent. The only decent meal she had ever since the tournament, not like she didn't need it.

XOXOX

Taiyang came to a sight that made his eyes well with tears. Yang sitting in the laundry room, cursing up a storm as she fought with a hairbrush in one hand while she waited for the load in the machine to finish. It wasn't much, but it was the first time she had willingly gotten out of bed. Did anything to show she wouldn't let her loss control her life. So he didn't question the fact that her emergency bag was gone when she wasn't and the pantry raided. Or that it wasn't just sheets in the machine; the clothes folded, packed, and left on the porch only to disappear later that day. If anything, he just wished the guest had stayed. He owed them more than just some canned food.

Meaning that when he found the note tacked to the fridge door, it was the least he could do to set it on the dryer for Yang to read after she was done with her hair battle. He wouldn't even have read it if it had been folded up or hidden, but as it was he couldn't physically have been unable to see the small, cursive that seemed pointedly neat. Bearing just a few sentences. "R.T.'s First rule of the street: 'Losing means giving up or dying. Anything else is just sore losing' And you still owe me a rematch. –N."

XOXOXOXOX

This is a completed fic, not planning on a sequel. But if these too ever get another shipping opportunity I might have another chapter. Because at the end of the day, I really want Neo to have her own happy ending. Even though I fully admit she a sadistic, manipulative, psychopath who enjoyed her past life as Roman's personal bodyguard and assassin. What can I say? I relate to that, would prefer it didn't get her killed.

Update: I wrote this because of one paragraph, and which is the one I forgot? That last one. Of course.