This idea started very basic and somehow unfolded into this tale with unnecessary backstory. Hope you enjoy?

Dedicated to technoskittles (my Ruby!) on tumblr! You're such a sweetie!

Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY.

Nothing Left

It was a casual observation when Ruby first noticed Weiss using her right hand.

It was not often it happened, but there were instances when the heiress would write notes in class or lift Myrtenaster with her non-dominant hand.

Ruby was well aware of the slim chances of having a fellow lefty as her one and only partner, so she had been fairly amused when she discovered Weiss held her pens and weapons prominently with the same hand as she did.

Therefore, when the huntress noticed her partner occasionally using her right hand instead, Ruby briefly wondered to herself whether Weiss was ambidextrous. However, she felt it was not much of a pressing matter, so she did not pester the heiress with the question until it had gotten to the point where the lack of knowledge had caused Ruby to start nearly losing sleep.

I know it's not that big of a deal... She thought presently as she gazed up at the ceiling from her bed. But I'm just so curious for some reason... She raised her left hand above her head, tracing the outlines of her fingers with her eyes in the darkness. Next time, I'll ask her. She decided. Next time, for sure...

Thankfully for Ruby, Weiss did not make her wait too long. The next day during their history lecture, she glimpsed her partner from the corner of her eye as she switched her pen to her right hand after taking a substantial amount of notes with her left. As she shook out her sore fingers, Weiss simultaneously continued to write with her fresh ones, and Ruby had to admit she envied her partner's ability to write coherently with both hands; Ruby had simply given up on notes the minute she felt the prickling up her arm.

It did not take Weiss long to realize she was being watched and cast her glare sideways. Ruby turned away, but Weiss could feel eyes on her for the rest of the class.

At last, when they were dismissed she heaved a sigh as she turned to her leader. "Can I help you?" She grunted, sensing this was going to be about something trivial.

"I was just wondering..." Ruby's silver eyes flicked to the pen in her partner's right hand. "Are you ambidextrous?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"It means you can use both han-"

"I know what it means, Red." Weiss rolled her eyes. "Why would you think I'm ambidextrous?"

"Because sometimes you hold things with your right hand, kinda like you are now." Ruby nodded her head, and Weiss followed her gaze.

She had not realized she had been holding her pen with her right hand; it had become an unconscious habit for the heiress, one she had failed to correct, even after all this time...

Sniffing indignantly, Weiss quickly switched the pen back to her left hand.

"It's nothing groundbreaking." She huffed. Weiss gathered her books to her chest and stood, offering no further explanation.

But Ruby was more observant than most people took her for; she did not miss the lingering second that Weiss held her eyes for, and even though the heiress blinked and stood in a hurry, Ruby clearly noted the desire in those eyes, the desire tell her something more.

"Weiss-?"

"Not now, Ruby..." The heiress whipped around as she headed for the aisle, a pace too far away for her partner to catch her.

Ruby felt something twist in her stomach as her title went from "Red" to "Ruby" within a matter of seconds. She closed her mouth, assuming it better to heed Weiss's words and let the topic drop for now, as evidently it was more unsettling than the brunette had initially anticipated.

However, if the topic was enough to trouble Weiss that greatly, Ruby was determined to hear everything about it.

Weiss strode quickly through the hallway after leaving Ruby behind in the lecture hall.

Damn it. I can't believe I'm doing it again... She made a tight fist with her right hand until her nails drew blood from her palm.

She knew Ruby would come to pester her further if she returned to the room, therefore she veered down a diverging hallway instead. She stayed close to the walls as she slipped past the crowds unnoticed, retreating toward the library, the only place on campus to bring her the solace of silence.

Once inside, the heiress immediately headed for the bookshelves and momentarily allowed herself to get lost in the aisles of history. She followed them until they lead her to a small corner that was carved into the wall; it jutted out in such a way that it was only visible from one angle, and the wooden bookshelves blocked it from most viewpoints.

Not many students were even dedicated enough to venture that far back for their research projects anyway, Weiss had discovered, which made it the best place for her to be alone and gather her thoughts.

Leaning back against the wall, she slumped down with a long sigh, dropping her books beside her. She did not have to resort to using this place very often, but she made sure to utilize it whenever necessary while simultaneously ensuring that not a soul ever caught her sneaking to it.

Weiss pulled her knees to her chest and folded her arms over them before burying her head. I've got to stop doing this... She lectured herself. Why hasn't it been hammered in yet that I won't go back to those days?

Closing her eyes, she tried to clear her mind, refusing to acknowledge the memories that were begging to resurface. She inhaled deeply, but unfortunately the scent of the old books around her backfired.

The aroma took her back to the days when she was very young, and she succumbed to the memories as they pushed through.

She remembered the first time she had used her right hand.

She would never be able to forget it...

...

...

"Very good, miss Weiss. Your calligraphy is positively flawless."

The young heiress beamed up at the old woman who tutored her every day in the art and beauty of writing. Weiss liked this tutor best of all; she was always telling Weiss she did a good job.

Her fencing teacher would always yell at her loudly during her 2-hour lessons every morning, and Weiss did not like him very much.

The woman who taught her about business and her family's company every afternoon never answered Weiss's questions.

The man who taught her the history of the country for an hour after that had a dull voice that always made Weiss squirm uncomfortably.

But she liked the calligraphy tutor who would teach her just before dinner how to improve her handwriting. "An heiress needs to know how to do a lot of things," the woman had told her. "But above all other things, her handwriting must be elegant and speak of her upbringing."

Weiss always wished she had known that woman's name, but her father had told her it was not important; none of her teachers' names were of any significance to her.

"Teacher?" Weiss looked up as she addressed the woman the very same way she addressed all of her other tutors. "Is this quite right?" She handed the old woman the paper of letters she had just finished writing, and Weiss could feel her wrinkly hands tremble a little as she took it.

"This is quite right indeed." The old woman smiled.

It was always at times like this when Weiss would smile back, noticing the woman's dusty blue eyes and pale gray hair. Her lessons with that woman were always Weiss's favorite part of the day, and most of the time, they were what motivated her to get out of bed every morning, even more so than the sharp calls of her impatient servants.

Even if she got yelled at by all of her other teachers, Weiss would always smile when she saw the old woman.

More than once, she injured her hands in battle training, but she still insisted on writing later that evening; not because her father would shout at her to do it anyway, but because Weiss herself wanted to do it.

Her father made himself scarce around the mansion. The few hours a day when he was not at work, he would come home to yell at everyone, or at least that was how Weiss perceived it. Many days she did not see him at all, and sometimes, amidst all the other people taking charge of her life, she would even forget she had a father.

But there was one day in particular she would never forget.

Her father had been coming by in all of her lessons to check her progress that day. While he seemed almost impressed enough to raise an eyebrow at her superb combat skills, he offered no compliments, only criticism. "Your speed may be adequate, but your stances are atrocious."

In the following hours, he seemed rather bored when she demonstrated her knowledge of the family business and the history of the world. When even Weiss's teachers had defended her intelligence, he simply growled in response. "This performance is average at best."

Average... Weiss shrunk in her seat a little when she heard him say that, but she was determined to prove to him at least how exceptional her calligraphy was.

When it was finally time for her writing lesson, Weiss smiled briefly at the old woman before she laid out a sheet of paper and picked up her feather pen with her left hand. She dipped it into the ink and began the strokes of the capital letter "R", which was her favorite letter and the one she found to be most beautiful.

But before she could make the first loop with the skilled motion of her wrist, her father's furious roar bellowed out around the mansion.

"STOP!"

Terrified, Weiss jumped at her desk, spilling black ink all over the white paper as well as her dress. The old woman jumped as well, too flustered to ask what was amiss as Weiss's father stomped forward. He glared down at his daughter, the rims of his eyes burning with fury. Weiss was trembling so badly she could not breathe.

He reached down and roughly grabbed her left wrist, hoisting her up out of her seat hard enough to dislocate her shoulder. Weiss let out an anguished cry, but it went unnoticed as her father shouted. "What is this?!" He demanded, yelling at the old woman.

"Sir, I'm afraid I don't understand what you're asking-"

"You know damn well what I'm asking!" He barked. "Why is she using her left hand?"

"Wh-What-?"

"Answer me!"

"You..." The old woman was taken aback, but the fear in her eyes soon faded and Weiss saw a bit of sadness there instead. "Even after seven years, you've never noticed she writes with her left hand?"

"What I can't understand is why it was allowed to go on for so long. You're useless, the lot of you." He growled. "A Schnee has never had the left hand be dominate in generations. It is the dysfunctional side. It is not normal." He glared down at his daughter, utterly disgusted. "Left is the weak side. We have no use for it in this household. Nothing left." He spat.

Weiss dangled pitifully from his grip, the pain shooting up her arm as she bit her tongue and held back her tears.

At last, her father's grip released and she fell to the floor. "Fix it. Immediately." She heard him utter before he left the room.

After that, Weiss was forbidden to use her left hand for anything. Even after it was removed from the sling once her shoulder had healed, she was forced to keep her left hand at her side at all times.

She was not even allowed to dress herself anymore, as it would demand the use of her left hand. She could not tie her own hair into the side ponytail she liked so much. She could not write that pretty calligraphy any more. Her father was determined to eliminate the necessity of her left hand from her life entirely.

Thus, Weiss was forced to change the natural gift bestowed upon her at her birth. She had to hold everything with her right hand, including her feather pen.

She no longer looked forward to calligraphy lessons after that, as she could no longer produce the fine craftsmanship that the old woman always praised her for. Weiss's elegant, flowing style of writing was traded for a clumsy, sloppy mess of ink that she could never seem to improve.

The old woman kept telling her she was doing a good job, but still, Weiss could not smile like she used to.

After about a year, Weiss had been forced enough into using her right hand for everything that she did, so much so that it was almost as good as her left had been. It still felt unnatural to her, but it made her father stop yelling so much.

When she was about 8 years old, the old woman began reteaching her how to use her left hand, always leaving the last few minutes of the session for their secret lessons. She was required to keep every page of Weiss's work so that it may be criticized by her father later, but the old woman always managed to hide the sheets Weiss had written with her left hand and burn them in the furnace.

When she was certain no one else was looking, Weiss began to pick things up with her left hand again, and her body remembered how natural that felt. Even after a year of not being used, her left hand did not have to be retaught how to write or grip a sword again.

Weiss learned her father's schedule well enough to know when and where he would be at all times, and therefore dedicated much of her scarce spare time to practicing holding things in her left hand again.

Two years later, the old woman died.

Weiss had been the only one standing at her bedside at the time, holding onto that old, wrinkled hand with strong young ones.

"Miss Weiss..." The old woman had rasped. "Did you know... I used to wear glasses?" She had asked, smiling.

"No..." Weiss shook her head.

"Well it's true." There was a short silence before she continued. "But your father did the same thing to me as he did to you. He said it was a disgrace to have anything less than perfect vision, so he made me get rid of them."

Weiss thought for a moment, realizing what this meant.

"... How bad are your eyes, Teacher?"

"Why, Miss Weiss..." She chuckled. "Your father doesn't know this... But I'm practically blind."

"So... So that means..."

"But I know for a fact that your handwriting is beautiful." The old woman went on, still smiling. "It's beautiful because it comes from you, deary."

That was a word Weiss had never been called before.

"Teacher-"

"Miss Weiss," the woman sighed. "Please, promise me something?"

"Yes, Teacher?"

"Please... don't ever stop using your left hand..."

It was the first peaceful death Weiss had ever witnessed. She had seen quite a few murders with her own eyes and heard about even more gruesome ones, but that was the first time she had ever seen someone die with a smile on their face.

"I promise, Teacher." She had said. "I promise."

...

...

Weiss awoke to find her cheeks wet and her eyes bleary.

She roughly wiped her face as she lifted her head, noting the drastic change in lighting since she had fallen asleep. Oh great. I'll bet that dunce is worried sick...

She fixed her eyes on the pale green wallpaper before her, letting out a long sigh, somehow feeling much warmer than she thought she should have after falling asleep in such a place. She shifted as she prepared to stand, her left hand reaching to her side as she felt the floor for her supplies.

But rather than the hard surfaces of her books, Weiss felt something soft.

Whipping her head to the side, she found a familiar pair of silver eyes looking back at her.

"R-Ruby!" Weiss pressed herself farther into the cramped corner. "What are you doing here?"

"I came looking for you." Her leader replied simply. "I was ready to look all over campus, but I figured you'd come here. It wasn't hard to find you."

Well it's hard for everyone else to find me. Hence why I chose this place... Weiss sighed, realizing she should have known better, known that Ruby would be the first to seek her out.

"You looked cold."

"Huh?"

Ruby frowned at her, and Weiss stiffened. It was too late when the heiress realized her eyes must have been red.

"You were crying..."

"It's nothing like that." Weiss stopped her.

Ruby waited for her to give some alternate explanation for the trails on her cheeks, but Weiss remained silent, knowing it was hopeless.

"You know..." Ruby began. "You don't have to tell me anything if you don't want to. I'll never force you to do anything. I just want you to know I'm here to listen if you want me to."

Her presence was more reserved than usual, inviting enough to let Weiss speak if she wished, but not overwhelming or pressuring.

The heiress sniffed once before quickly blinking her eyes and wiping them again. Then, she let out a long sigh.

"How am I supposed to keep quiet now that you've gone and said all of that?"

Ruby smiled a little bit, and it was somehow almost nostalgic to Weiss. She was aware of the space Ruby was giving her, in case she wanted to get up and escape after all, but the heiress stayed where she was.

When Ruby realized her partner had no intentions of leaving, she pressed closer beside her, letting Weiss lean on her. She could feel Weiss tremble, but despite that, she bravely told Ruby about her difficult past.

Ruby listened to everything in silence, from the tale of how the old woman had taught Weiss how to write, how Weiss's father had dislocated her shoulder in his rage, how the heiress had been forced to change her dominant hand, how the old woman had died with a promise Weiss had made to her...

"My father... always thought the left side was weak." Her voice was slightly cracked from the long story she had just told, but Weiss continued, lying bare all of her insecurities on the subject to her leader. "The left side is where the heart is." Weiss curled her hands to her chest. "It's the 'bad' half of the body. The half that focuses on emotion and feeling. He said there was no need for those things in a Schnee's life. He acknowledged that it was necessary for balance, but other than that, the left side was utterly useless. He never forgot it was my dominant-born side, and always thought the same of me, useless..."

She paused for breath, and Ruby had to bite her tongue to prevent herself from bursting out and telling her she was mistaken, but Weiss continued speaking. "But I decided to continue using my left hand in secret. It was something I had that was different from any other member of the Schnee family, and I wanted to cherish that. It was the promise I made to my grandmother..."

"Your... Your grandmother?" Ruby repeated hoarsely.

"...No one ever told me for certain, but I knew." Weiss whispered fondly. "Some things you just know."

Ruby bit down on her trembling lip as she held back the tears that threatened to fall, wondering if they were the ones Weiss was so stubbornly refusing to shed.

"Well then, I know one thing for sure..." Ruby cleared her throat as she sought out the heiress's eyes, continuing when she had found them. "You're not useless, Weiss." She sniffled. "You're anything but. I could... talk about how you're the best teammate ever for years on end but..." Ruby could not finish speaking as the tears began to roll down her face.

"Y-You dolt." Weiss chided lightly. "Why are you crying? Don't cry." She slid her arm around her leader's shoulders.

"It's..." Ruby blubbered. "It's because you won't..." She lifted her face, not bothering to wipe her tears. "Is that a rule, too? That Schnees can't cry?"

"..."

"Only in their sleep, right?" Ruby accused.

"I..." Weiss let out a sigh in an effort to cover up the wave of emotion that overcame her; she could not stand to see Ruby cry, especially not over her.

"Weiss," her partner finally dried her face off. "I'm sure your grandmother would have wanted you to know that it's okay to cry anywhere at any time." She lowered her voice into a murmur. "And not just in the bathroom or at night when you think everyone else is asleep..."

Those words were like the key that unlocked a barricade to release the pent-up water behind it.

Weiss did not understand why she started crying so much then, but she buried her face into her knees to try and muffle the sounds. She felt Ruby's arms embrace her, and could imagine her leader was smiling right now with a tear dripping down her cheek.

Weiss suddenly remembered how that smiling face had seemed so nostalgic to her even though she had only met Ruby a few months ago; Ruby's was the same smile as Weiss's grandmother, the sweet, accepting smile that allowed Weiss to be who she was, and not what the rest of the world expected her to be.

Ruby continued to hold her as Weiss let the tears fall freely now. The scent of the old books kept pulling Weiss back to her childhood days, and her mind was filled with her grandmother's smile. Weiss could only pray she was happy now, wherever she was.

A few moments later, Weiss calmed herself, wiping her face on sleeves that were already damp. Ruby let her go, but still pressed close to her, supporting the heiress as she leaned sideways.

"I didn't want to go back to using my right hand." Weiss murmured. "It would be like betraying my grandmother. Like conforming to my father's wishes, even though they directly conflicted with who I am. To me, using my right hand is like rejecting myself..." She glanced up at her partner with unwavering, mist-blue eyes. "Therefore, Ruby... I know it sounds ridiculous and insignificant, but if you ever see me using my right hand again, please let me know."

Ruby longed to cry out, "Of course that's not ridiculous or insignificant!" but she remembered where she was and tried to refrain from drawing any attention to herself.

Instead, she started with something else. "You know I'm a lefty too, don't you?"

"Of course." The heiress nodded. "I was a little shocked when I first realized you were like me. I've never met anyone else..."

"Well, now you have." Ruby patted her back lightly. "And you have nothing to be ashamed of. Nothing at all, got it? But I know it's obviously important that you don't want to use your right hand anymore, and I think it's amazing how you took the risk all those years to continue favoring your left."

At this point, Ruby had found both of Weiss's hands and uncurled her fists, gently ghosting her fingers over the cuts on her palms. "But Weiss, really, despite what your father said... it doesn't matter what hand you use to hold a pen. What matters is... just about everything else."

Weiss was certain her grandmother must have told her the same exact thing at least a dozen times. She felt Ruby's hands close over hers and Weiss looked up into her silver eyes. "Okay, Weiss? I know it must have been a lot more difficult for you back when you were younger, but things are different now. No one's forcing you to be who you aren't, and that goes for everything, not just your hands. I know I speak for the others as well when I say we'll accept everything about you and your past, so you don't have to change who you are." She wrapped her arms around her partner again, and Weiss let out a long sigh.

"Thank you, Ruby." She whispered.

"Don't mention it." The brunette pulled away as Weiss wiped one final tear. "Now then," Ruby went on in a bit of a brighter tone. "Since you've told me so much about it, will you let me see some of your handwriting?"

Weiss rolled her eyes playfully. "I suppose."

Ruby passed her her notebook and a pen as Weiss flipped open to a fresh page. Weiss readied the pen in her left hand as she leaned the notebook against her knees. Truthfully, she still preferred her old feather pen and ink bottle, but she had more or less gotten used to the newer models.

Absentmindedly, Weiss began writing the capital letters of the alphabet in order, the exact same way she had done over ten years ago during her lessons. She left the same amount of space between each letter as before, put the same letters on the same lines, finishing her strokes with the same silent elegance.

When she had finished, she let Ruby scoot in to glimpse the final product. "This pen doesn't allow for line thickness variation," Weiss said regretfully. "But other than that, it looks like this."

"Whoa..." Ruby's awestruck eyes were drawn to the styled calligraphy, tracing over the loops and lines in her mind. "This is the most beautiful thing I've ever seen on paper." She announced incredulously. "What's your favorite one?"

Weiss did not even have to think for a second as she turned the page over, tracing her hand in the familiar motions to form the letter "R".

"I love how it connects through the loops." Weiss felt the corners of her mouth rise slightly. "It's so simple, yet so unique. It's always been my favorite."

She then pressed the pen down next to the "R" she had written and moved her hand in smooth, flowing motions until she had written seven more letters: "Ruby Rose."

Weiss then handed the paper to her leader who accepted it with a baffled expression.

"Wow..." Ruby stammered. "C-Can I keep it?"

"Be my guest."

"It's beautiful."

"I can write you anything you'd like." If it makes you this happy. Weiss just barely stopped herself from saying the last part.

"Oh wow! Thank you, Weiss!" Ruby hugged the paper to her chest. Weiss chuckled.

"We should really be heading back now."

"Oh gosh, you're right." Ruby carefully slid the paper Weiss had given her into one of her notebooks before she scrambled too her feet, wobbling a little and earning a short laugh from her partner.

"You dunce." Weiss smiled.

Ruby offered her hand to her and Weiss accepted and got to her feet. She did not need to ask Ruby not to tell another soul about what she had confessed to her leader today; the look in Ruby's eyes could confirm that she would not breathe a word of it until Weiss told her it was okay.

Once they had regained their coordination, the two partners began making their way back through the bookshelves.

"Don't ever forget, Weiss," Ruby murmured from beside her. Her serious eyes and comforting smile eased Weiss's uncertain heart. "I won't stand for anyone mistreating my teammates. Mistreating you. You've got nothing left to worry about, okay?"

Weiss blinked once before letting slip a smile of her own. "Right."

A/N: Well I hope you could see a bit of merit in this little story of mine. It was a stretch to take Weiss's lefthandedness this far, but once I started writing this just happened without much planning.

Please review!