Reputation: Book One

Autumn

I sit there in the waiting room silently, Qrow's head rested in my lap and the scent of rubbing alcohol and latex gloves wafting through the air. I nervously fiddle with Qrow's hair, braiding little sections of his locks until it was like he had dreads. He didn't handle the news very well and hasn't slept a wink. I felt bad for him, knowing how much he's already been through these past six months. He was finally dozing off now, but it was now 4:35 in the morning and there was still no information on Tripp's condition, which sickened me to the core. I didn't even know anything, not even the story. I was literally sitting in my pjs- pink silk pants, thongs, no bra and a matching, black, short-sleeve button-up with a pink bow on the collar. My hair was probably a mop of a mess, too; stuck in a hairband I had lazily twisted on.

With my eyes fixated on the sixteenth braid I was working on in Qrow's dark, thick hair, I heard the door open from behind me and he sits up, shaking the braids out.

"Hendricks and Agreste," A female voice calls out in confirmation. We both snap our heads in her direction. It was Dr. Idalia, and she stood there with her clipboard and little purple pen, beaming like a child with a lolly. Qrow groans uneasily, giving me a look as we stand to follow her out of the room.

"I have good news," She smiles as she ushers us into the main hall. A nurse in a navy blue uniform pushed past us with a tall silver cart, and when we make eye contact, a sense of familiarity washes over me. She coughs in distraction, averting her eyes as she pulls her surgical mask over her nose and mouth again to hide her face. The nurse brushes her black, wispy bangs from her eyes and looks away, her long ponytail sweeping across her back with each step. I narrow my eyes as they follow her, the name tag over her right breast spelling 'Elissa'. That was fairly close to Elizabeth. Ironically, she fit the figure, too.

"The results have all came back and he will make it," Dr. Idalia reassures, drawing my attention to her. Qrow sighs in relief. "Oh thank God," He mutters, grabbing my hand. I glance over my shoulder and the nurse is turned around, staring at me above her mask. That had to be Eliza.

"He has some pretty serious injuries, though," She adds. "He has a broken nose, two broken ribs on his right side, twenty-eight stitches down his right calf-"

"Jesus, what the hell happened to his leg?" Qrow sputters, giving her a crazed look.

"In the car during the inspection, one of the detectives pointed out where the door bent in when they were hit again," She explains. "We assume because it was plastic it crushed when it cracked and sliced the flesh right open, but the car was too crushed to even be able to tell," she says. "The surgeons managed to pick out some shards of glass and plastic, but when he goes home it's important that it is flushed frequently to prevent infection."

I glance at Qrow and he sighs, shaking his head. "I don't know how I let this happen, Autumn," He whispers. "Jerzei already tried to kill him once. What if this wasn't an accident?"

"Here are some photographs taken at the scene," Idalia turns around and hands us the clipboard, shushing me to reply to Qrow. I peer at him and flip over the top paper, making sure he didn't see. I stare down at the pictures in shock, my stomach dropping to my ass. "Holy shit," We both breathe in unison. The car was totaled; every window was shattered, pieces of it were scattered around the scene, and the top was crushed like an aluminum can.

"When the EMS arrived, Jerzei was already out of the vehicle attempting to pry the door open on the passenger side," Idalia whispers. "She was the least affected with only a busted eyebrow, a concussion and a sprained wrist."

Her words went right in one ear and right out the other; I wasn't even paying attention. I was too focused on the photographs. My eyes swept across the ones of the exterior, but there were also ones taken of Tripp, unconscious and bloody. I couldn't manage to take my eyes off him; his body bent into awkward positions, his face barely even the colour of skin and his once dark blonde hair matted down, drenched in blood. I've never seen anything as horrifying as my best friend close enough to dead as you could get.

"I-is that Tripp?" Qrow yowls over my shoulder. I rip the clipboard away.

"You don't need to see that," I tell him sternly. He purses his lips, looking away. Idalia comes to a stop out front a heavy oakwood door, 113 engraved into a silver plate nailed to the front.

"He's stable but not awake yet," She tells us, opening the door and holding it open. I rush inside, but Qrow hesitates behind me. I turn around, and his jaw is set against tears.

"Hey," I say softly, reaching my hand out to him. "It's okay."

"But what if it's not?" He asks, voice breaking. "What if he's ruined?"

"Qrow, don't say that-"

"I'm serious!" He cries. "This is all Jerzei to blame," he whimpers. "Autumn, I love Tripp, but what if things can't go back to normal? What if the damage is all permanent?"

His words knock me breathless, and all I can do is help tears from his cheek. Dr. Idalia speaks up from behind us. "Your sister will be taken to court and potentially charged-"

"That doesn't fix anything, doctor," Qrow snaps. "No matter if he heals or if he's left with scars, it won't be the same."

"That's enough!" I shout, and they both flinch at my tone. "Qrow, shut up and get over yourself. Tripp would do it for you, so you should do it for him."

He obediently steps into the room and I turn back around, sliding the beige curtain open. I gasp. He looked bad.
"You commenting isn't making me want to do this anymore," Qrow says. I creep up to Tripp's bedside, my hands trembling. I gently trace his bloody eyebrow, biting the inside of my cheek to keep from crying. His eye was swollen shut, his top and bottom lip were glued together, dried blood crusted to everywhere he was stitched back together.

"Actually Qrow," I blurt, turning over my shoulder. "If you don't want to come in, you don't have to." I offer, staring in horror.

"No," He whispers. "I want to."