[ Qrow catches him by the collar, wrenches him forward sharp and furious, and Ozpin braces for the blow. He is ready for it. Maybe it won't hurt as badly the second time, now that he expects it, now that he knows how fervently Qrow hates him. He can bear this.

(Again there is the impulse to just shut himself away, to watch from afar and make it all go distant. But he doesn't have the excuse, nor the trick of it, in this body. His selves are too thoroughly blended. There is no one to hide behind.)

He can feel Qrow's hand shaking where he holds him, in the moment before the man sharply lets go. Shirt rumpled, he regains his footing and looks back at Qrow and the tears running freely down his face. ]

Qrow. [ His tone is terribly gentle. ] Do you really believe it meant nothing?

[ The war will never end, but still the fight has value. Qrow will not live forever, was never meant to know the true and terrible shape of things, but still his presence at Oz's side meant a great deal. These are the only things that keep him going; this is all he has to live for. The fight and the convictions of the people who take it up at his side. Their bravery, their hope. ]

A life is not rendered worthless because it will end. The good you do has meaning. Of course it had meaning to me.