Denial.
It's not a river in Remnant. Just the first stage of coming to terms. Jaune, Pyrrha, and the aftermath of Season 3.
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Disclaimer: I do not own RWBY. Roosterteeth does, and actually did something good with it.
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The First Phase
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It takes him more than an hour to get back up to Beacon.
More than an hour of anxiety, of fear, of hope and desperate prayers until he finally found a shuttle- or at least a shuttle that worked- a shuttle taking evacuees from Beacon to Vale and returning yet again.
There is no competition for a spot back. The point of an evacuation is to get away. No one else wants to go back. No one knows what the flashes of light, the distant sounds of thunder, or the screams of Grimm entail. No one wants to know, for fear that knowledge might bring its attention.
Jaune doesn't care. He doesn't even care about the airsickness- he'd lost what little he had in his stomach to nerves long ago. He just needs to get back, before it's already too late.
Worried people are waiting when he gets there. Not for him- for the shuttle- but they're proof that life survives in Beacon. That life can survive.
That there's hope.
A distinctive shade of orange and pink sticks out among the crowd. Jaune rushes to what's left- no, to the other half of his team. It's Nora, who's with Ren, and even if they're both grimacing and gripping their sides he can't be bothered to worry. They'll survive. They'll live.
"Where's Pyrrha?" are his first words, rather than any concern over their wounds. (They'll walk it off and climb into a bullhead themselves. They'll live. They aren't important right now.)
They startle, and turn towards him, and there's fear in their eyes. It must be for him- it must be. He hasn't been in touch since he threw his scroll and broke it. He could have been hurt since he talked to Weiss. There had been no way for them to know, but he's too impatient to reassure them with what their eyes can already see. He's in a hurry. He isn't important. He wasn't in danger. He was never in danger because-
-No Pyrrha don't do this-
"Jaune."
Nora said it first, and Ren says it the second time, but it's Weiss's repetition that catches his attention. He only now notices the heiress who was not five feet away from Nora and Ren, his first love of Beacon who he made a fool out of himself for because he was a fool for not noticing Pyrrha, and she isn't important right now unless she can give the answer. Neither is the pale and unresponsive form of Ruby in her lap, because Ruby is breathing and will probably survive so she's not important either because the only thing that matters is-
"Where is Pyrrha?" Jaune repeats, louder and clearer this time but also with more force. Harder. More desperate. Not out of breath, but not in the mood for games because this is no game and there is a wrong answer.
"Jaune," Nora begins, as if trying to steady him as if he's unsteady, which he is not because he is perfectly fine even someone threw him in a rocket locker when she knows he gets airsick and when he gets hands on her she is going to get such a scolding even if she is the invincible woman because-
"Jaune," Nora repeats, "Pyrrha didn't make it."
He stops. He stills. And then- very slowly- he laughs.
"Ha, ha, ha," he laughs with absolutely no humor at all. "Not funny, Nora," he says as serious as the grave. "I'm not in the mood for your jokes."
Silly Nora, always trying to throw people off balance at the worst of times.
"I'm not joking, Jaune," his usually bubbly teammates insists, carrying her prank too far even as she fakes a convincing sob. "Pyrrha, she's-"
"She's not!" he shouts, cutting her off. "She's not!" he repeats, emphasizing what must be. "If you don't know where she is, just say so, and I'll go looking! I'll find her and-"
"Jaune." It's Weiss again- looking at him with sadness and regret and a hit of pity he doesn't need, and she extends an open hand with pieces of red metal. Red as the autumn leaves, molten and cooled at the ends, and with a familiar gild of copper on the sharpened edges.
Milo.
"No…" he whispers even as he reaches outs and picks up the shards of Pyrrha's weapon. There's no way he could not recognize it- not after how many times the flat of the blade had walloped him in the head. They're real, and they weigh in his hand as cooled molten metal feels.
This is- this is bad. Pyrrha would never leave Milo behind willingly. She must be lost, she could be hurt, why are they waiting around? They need to organize a search and-
"It was all we could find," Weiss whispers, looking down and away and showing only the profile and the scar he'd once found so flattering.
His hand clenches, but he only feels the stinging in his eyes. The world blurs and the scar fades out of focus as tears threaten to fall.
"No no no!" he denies, voice rising. "You're lying! You all are!" Someone- maybe her, maybe Nora, maybe someone else, someone calls his name, but he ignores it. "You're just pulling a prank on me, aren't you? This is payback for all the times I flirted with you!"
"Jaune, no, I wouldn't-" Snow Angel begins, but he's barely hearing her over the sound of his own desperation.
"You are! You have to be!" he shouts, hard enough that Weiss's eyes almost widen in surprise. "Pyrrha's probably right behind me, and this is just a mean joke, isn't it?" his voice cracks as it reaches hysterical levels, and his fists squeeze tighter. "Just a laugh at stupid old Jaune, tossed in a locker once again, hey let's do something when he gets back. This'll be funny!"
Weiss's eyes really do widen this time, but in alarm as the stinging moves from his eyes to his fist.
"Jaune, stop! Your hand!" she warns, even though she's too burdened by Ruby in her lap to do anything more than reach out.
"Great joke, Pyrrha!" Jaune cries straight up into the heavens, loud and clear for everyone around and anyone behind him. "You can come out now!"
Weiss isn't the only one shouting his name, others are to, and bystanders are staring and pointing and saying things in horror as tears drip from his face and something else drops from the hand holding the shards. He doesn't know why they're worried- he's holding Milo tight and safe to return when Pyrrha comes back.
There's a blur of green in the corner of his watery vision, and for a moment he hopes they'll be green eyes, even as a feeling of lightheadedness overtakes him. The eyes aren't green, they're pink, and Jaune never feels the aura-assisted blow or the arms catching him as he falls.
All he can think is that Pyrrha will be disappointed he couldn't take a joke.
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Author Notes:
Do you like happy stories with death-denying endings and alternative outcomes to canon? Then this is not the fic for you. You probably misread the genre tags.
This is my reaction to the season three ending, and the wave of fics we've seen in response. Kudos, RT, for inspiring such a response. Kudos.