Archive of Our Own ^beta

The first time Blake sees Yang Xiao Long, she thinks, for a fleeting second, I know you.

It's senseless, thoughtless, just this pulling instinct. This echo down the lines of time, like something deep in Blake is calling out in recognition. Because she knows she's never seen this girl before. Knows she would remember if she had: remember the bold brightness of her presence, the mane of sunshine hair, her eyes a purple as familiar as home.

She dismisses it, buries it under all the tight-packed layers of herself that can't afford closeness. But when they have to choose their partners, Blake finds herself following Yang through the forest, a slipping shadow in a bright fire's wake.

And that hidden part of her, the buried romantic, the girl who once looked at the world and saw fairytales, even through all the hurt... that part of her still whispers I know you, somehow.

It's impossible, something for the realm of romance novels, but it's like Yang's always been there, written on her soul in intaglio. Like meeting her was just a memory waking up.

Yang smiles at her and Blake's heart sparks recognition.

Yang pulls her into a hug and Blake thinks, this is home.

They kiss on a bridge in a space outside space, fallen out of the world, and the curl of Yang's hands at her waist rings like I found you.

She asks her, eventually. One sleepy Vacuo dawn, orange sunrise creeping across the walls of their room, the night's chill starting to fade. Blake's slept fitfully all night; Yang woke with the light hitting the window.

Blake's lying with her head on Yang's chest, Yang's fingers carding through her hair. She feels exhaustion-soft, half-dazed in that way that brings wandering thoughts to the surface, and that's why she asks, really: “Do you ever feel like we already knew each other?”

Yang's hand stills for a moment. “How d'you mean?”

“When we met,” Blake says, running her fingers along a scar that pokes beneath the hem of Yang's tank top. “It's just– I had this feeling like we'd met before. I knew we hadn't, knew I would've remembered you, but... I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I always knew you.”

She hears Yang's breath catch, stutter in her chest. Shifts her head to look up at her. There's something half-surprised and half-reverent in the lilac of her eyes.

“It's silly,” Blake says, suddenly self-conscious. “It's probably just me thinking in books again.”

Yang shakes her head, smiles. “No, it's not. I mean, because none of your thoughts are silly, but also because... I dunno. I know what you mean. It's like you've always been familiar somehow, you know? Like I knew you before I knew you.”

“Like we've been here before,” Blake whispers. “Like déjà vu, or... I don't know. Souls can re-exist, can't they? Like Ozpin does. Maybe in other ways, too.”

“You think our souls loved each other in another life?”

Blake shrugs, smiles into Yang's skin. “Maybe. Either way, it's like... sometimes I think we were always going to end up here, you know? Like it was always going to be you and me.”

“You and me,” Yang says, wraps an arm around her back and squeezes tight. “I know I hoped we would.”

Blake grins again, shifts to press a kiss to her lips.

Her bones settle, the same as every other time. Like they've arrived back at the place they call home.

She thinks, again, I've always known you. Thinks, we've been here before.