Hey everyone, welcome to my first story! I meseed up uploading it the first time and ended up screwing up the spaces. Anyway, hope you enjoy it!

Jaune stared out of the window of the home that felt so distant to him. He watched the clouds part across the blue sky, high above the trees. He didn't notice them, however, as he was too wrapped in thought.

After the Fall of Beacon, and on the train ride back home, Jaune felt no emotion. It was if everything was sucked out of him, leaving him a husk, a shell of his former self. He sat on the seat, numb to everything, trapped in a seal of solitude.

For the first day back home, Jaune stayed in his room. He cried. He imagined what he could have done differently. He threw small objects at the paintings on the walls. But he mostly just sat where he was now. Staring...

What hurt Jaune the most wasn't that the only home he had ever felt comfortable in was gone. Or that the only woman besides his sisters who ever cared for him was dead. What hurt him the most was how weak he was. He could have stopped Pyrrha. He could have saved her life. But he didn't.

Day in and day out, Jaune trained with Pyrrha to become better. To become something that vaguely resembled what he was supposed to be. And every damn time Pyrrha gave him suggestions to improve his technique, every damn time he fell to the floor in Glynda's class, and every goddamn time Pyrrha, or Nora, or Ruby or Yang or Ren told him he'd do better...

He believed it.

He thought he was improving. He seriously bought the lie. He foolishly believed that he would actually get better, or one day even become a "heroic huntsman", just like his great great grandfather. But he realized now his own stupidity. He was still the same bastard who would always be behind. He always was. And he always will be that stupid, foolish, hopeless third wheel who couldn't even save his best friend from dying.

He screamed into a pillow. He punched his wall. He had to let the anger out. It wrapped around him, collectively causing chaos within him and turning his very soul into a carnival of karma. He punched his wall several more times, and fell to the floor, laying in misery next to his pillow on the barren floor. He wiped several tears of his face just as several took their place. Collapsed on the floor, Jaune began to remember. The last time he was here. His family's faces as they stared at him disappear into the deep forrest surrounding their little shack in the woods.

"Will you write me lotsa letters Jaune?" asked Jen, Jaune's littlest sister.

"Sure thing kiddo. Every week. I promise," Jaune replied, smiling at the little child staring at him in fascination

"Will you beat up lots of Grimm?"

"Yeah. Lots. I hope they don't beat me up too bad."

"Will you finally find a woman besides us that'll take care of you? Jaune's oldest sister Joan asked, stepping in front of Jen to meet him for the last time in a while.

I... Uhh... Umm... Shut up Joan!" Jaune replied hastily to his older sister.

"I'm just playing Jaune," she giggled, punching him in the arm.

"Where are the others?" Jaune suddenly said, already knowing the answer.

"Inside." Joan's facial expressions darkened. She nervously played with her long, shiny blonde hair. "They don't want to see you off. At least, Mom and Dad won't let them."

"Why won't they loosen up a little bit?"

"Maybe because you completely disregarded to the family plan and did the exact thing our parents told us all not to do?" Joan replied staring Jaune directly in the eyes.

Jaune looked at his feet. He knew his parents didn't want their children to become huntsmen or huntresses. Especially not little old Jaune, the only male. But Jaune couldn't help it. It's not like he was any better as a wood worker. He frequently hurt himself, or found himself in all of the wrong places at all of the wrong times. Besides, their family legacy was rooted in hunting.

Hundreds of years ago, The Arc lineage was a legion of fine warriors. Every man or woman born into it took up hunting. They would storm the wilderness, looking for the monsters that threatened them and brought them down. They would go days without water, food, or shelter. They would survive only by their wits and skill.

That all ended with his great- great grandfather. Jaune remembered the tale his father used to say to warn him and his sisters of taking up hunting. His great great grandfather was the finest huntsmen there was. Great fighter, good man, yadda yadda yadda. Until the huntsmen were forced into the great war. He had to fight enemies that weren't his enemies, kill innocent civilians and burn down homes with children in it, all for the desire of the power hungry war lords playing with them like puppet on a string, or like a child plays with ants on a sidewalk. He killed himself with his own sword in his bunk, and was found much later by a group of soldiers. His son, upon hearing this, vowed never to end up like his father and instead took up woodworking deep within a forrest where he taught the same principles to his son, Jaune's father, Joseph Arc.

And here Jaune was, about to completely disregard that lesson.

"You know, it's not too late to turn back," Joan said, breaking Jaune out of thought.

"Well, you know what Dad always says.

You're about to completely undo everything Dad taught you, and now you're quoting him?" Joan said with a laugh. "Damn it Jaune, why is that the only thing from this family you take with you?"

"An Arc never goes back on his word."

"Well, as a lady, I get to disregard that rule, and I take back every time I expressed concern for you." Joan said with a wry smirk. A horn sounded in the distance, notifying Jaune that the train was almost at the station a few blocks away.

"Well I guess this is it." Joan said.

"I guess it is."

"Do you have everything? Do you have your sword?"

"Yes"

"Shield?"

"Doesn't leave my side."

"Clothes?"

"Joan, I have everything I need. You're my sister. Don't go all mom on me."

"Well, someone has to", Joan said, her face suddenly hardening.

Jaune stared back at the house that would never really be his home again as he walked the path to the train station. Jen was yelling various goodbyes, her pigtails swinging back in forth gently as she moved, and Joan gave that encouraging smile that always make him go that extra mile. But he didn't see that. The last thing Jaune saw before he left his old life was his parent's scowls through the windows, stabbing him with spite.

Jaune wiped a tear from his eyes and got up from the floor. "They were right," he thought to himself. "I was never destined to become a huntsman. I'm a failure. Maybe I can get decent at woodworking."

As much as Jaune thought he should, he didn't hate his parents. He knew they were just trying to protect him, and try to knock some sense into him. It didn't work, and he had to be sent home in bits and pieces, learning their lesson the hard way. He knew that they didn't hate him either, and he also knew that he was torturing them by staying locked up in his room.

Back at Beacon, Jaune made plans to himself to bring Pyrrha over to his house over summer break, to let her see his sisters. Maybe she would have played with the little ones. Maybe she would have sparred with his weapon's freak of sister, Jacey. Maybe she would have been friends with Joan. But now he'd never get to see that happen...

"Stop it Jaune," he mentally told himself. He had enough of grief. It wasn't fair to his sisters, his parents, or himself. He had to get out of this prison he had locked himself in. The metaphorical death row that he assigned for himself was no more. Taking a deep breath, Jaune walked over to his door and turned the knob.

Well, that about wraps up this first chapter. At the time of this writing, Volume 6 has yet to come out, so the details surrounding Jaune's family life is still out in the open. I will continue with Jaune's family in the next chapter. Thank you all for reading the first chapter of Jaune's Recovery!