Chapter 1: Pyrrha

A/N: well, this is something my mind came up with to deal with the trauma of Vol. 3's ending. In here, Vol.4 hasn't taken place, and things get very weird.

In all Honesty, I'm fairly new to the RWBY fandom, having only binged all three volumes in early summer, 2016. This is my First RWBY fanfiction, and I'd like to know what you think (please review). I'll try to reply to as many as I can.

Also, this is AU, so there are deviations from cannons. Let's see if you can spot them all…

Requiescat in pace Monty Oum

…

She knew this was the end. She knew it when she had kissed her partner for the first time; before rocketing him off to safety. She knew it as she Mag-Lifted the elevator up to her enemy, going to buy time for her friends to escape.

Now she had convinced herself of this: that she would not survive this fight with the new Fall Maiden. As her aggressor drew back her glass bow, Pyrrha looked back at her, pondering her answer to the question, "Do you believe in Destiny?" Out of the corner of her eye, Pyrrha caught a glimpse of something black, black with a red outline. Ruby? No, not Ruby!

Cinder let her Death-Arrow fly, piercing Pyrrha's chest. The pain made her take her breaths in short, hitching gasps; and she started to feel herself fade into darkness. Suddenly, a searing pain scorched across her entire body for only an instant, and she found herself floating in, for lack of a better term, The Abyss.

…But only for a moment.

All of a sudden, a brilliant white light pierced the blackness, and washed right through Pyrrha; but she couldn't retain what she considered consciousness, and her last memory was an intense tingling across her form…

Then nothing.

She woke up with an intense throbbing in her head. She sat up, a sharp pain in her chest evoking a short gasp.

Wait, she thought, looking down at her newly reformed body encased in her old armor, and at the fresh scar visible on her chest, I have my body? Am I dead? She looked around, checking her surroundings: a bleak, drained-looking landscape, capped by a purple-hued sky. There were deep woods to her right, a vast plain in front, and a few rocky outcroppings —a good distance off— to her right.

She got up and stretched, feeling the tightness in her heel, as a cool breeze brushed across her skin. It seemed to whisper in her ear, and at first it was simply static, until a message appeared from out of the white noise, and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end:

You don't belong here.

Pyrrha shook away the feelings of dread and panic that had welled up in her. She looked around for Miló and Akoúo̱, but couldn't find them anywhere; so she picked up a fairly straight branch, and started toward the rocky outcroppings, using the branch as a crutch to ease the pain in her heel.

She found a niche big enough to shelter her from the elements —if there were any here— and sat down to rest. Already she was exhausted, both physically from the trek, and mentally from this strange, ethereal plane. She looked up into the sky, trying to piece together what happened. Whatever this place was; the Afterlife, a higher plane of existence, or something else entirely, it unnerved her greatly.

Then she let her mind wander, and it drifted to Jaune; on his features: blond hair, caring, blue eyes, and, most of all, a steadfast heart of compassion and courage. She remembered how he always treated her like an equal, never placing her on a pedestal like everyone else; it was the one thing that endeared him to her the most.

She closed her eyes, and fantasized that they were together, all alone on a distant beach. No Grimm, no Maidens, no Destiny; Just him, her, and the waves lapping against the shore. She imagined both herself and Jaune wearing their bathing suits, holding hands as they walked along the shore. Suddenly, Jaune pulled her close to him, holding her with one arm around her back and caressing her cheek with the other. "Oh, Jaune," she moaned —both in her daydream, and in reality— as she gave up all resistance to his embrace. He leaned in close, his hand lifting up her chin as he did, and she could feel his warm breath on her lips. Those lips started to tremble with anticipation; and she placed her hands on his muscular frame, tracing his corded muscles in his chest and arm.

Pyrrha's grip on her crutch slipped; and she cut her palm on a thorn, jerking her from her fantasy. She snapped her eyes open and looked at her hand, and at the blood already welling up in her palm. She knew she had to act fast, and she tore off part of her sash, wrapping it around her hand tight enough to stem the bleeding, but not cut off circulation. Why hasn't my Aura started working yet? She thought, her hand starting to throb. She clenched her hand into a fist, tilting her head downwards, and closed her tired eyes.

She thought of Jaune again, but this time her thoughts were full of grief and regret. He must be devastated after what I did… Oh why did I need to be the hero? Why couldn't I have just stayed with Jaune?

But she already knew the answer, because if she hadn't shoved him into the locker, and he'd gone with her, then not only would they both be dead…

… But so would all her friends.

A bar in Patch…

Six weeks after the fall of Beacon…

Qrow sat down at a private table in the corner, an empty chair across from him. He was meeting someone there, but was a bit early. He looked through the establishment, and took note of how many people were there: only a couple guys at the bar, the bartender talking to them about beacon, and a few people sitting at other tables. However, one man sitting at a table across the bar gave off a queer impression to Qrow; it wasn't the man's clothes that seemed out of place —except maybe the red baseball cap— it was like this guy just didn't belong. But Qrow knew better, and shook off that feeling.

He'd already ordered himself a drink, bottom-shelf as always, and took a swig from his glass. When he looked back at the previously empty seat, he saw her.

"So," he asked, "You wanted to talk?"

She didn't reply.

He took another drink, and then continued, "Do you know what happened to your daughter?"

"I'm not here to talk about that," she quickly replied.

Qrow kept going, undaunted, "she's still recovering from her injuries, both physical and emotional. If her partner hadn't pulled her out, she would no longer be with us."

"Qrow…" she warned, her crimson eyes slightly twitching.

"She lost her arm, Raven," he stated, "your own daughter lost her arm; and here you are… not even wanting to say her name… let alone 'talk about it'. Sounds like you just don't care for her."

She quickly reached out and grabbed him by the collar, pulling him close. "That's enough, Qrow," she said, her mouth nearly twisting in agony and sorrow, "if Yang can't learn to protect herself, then someone else should; I can't help her. How could I? You know I can't watch her every minute."

Qrow let that sink in for a moment, grasping what she wanted to tell him: I want you to find a guardian for Yang.

"So," he began, "what do you want me to? Find a 'protector' for her?" She gave a slight nod. "And what about Tai?" he asked.

She drew a deep breath, closing her eyes as she did. "I don't think he'd keep up with her," she said, "She needs someone who can." Qrow paused, debating whether or not to accept. I don't want to do this to Yang, he thought, but she's got a point… and it's a good one.

"Alright, I'll do it," he stated. Then an idea popped into his head, and it came with a face. Why not get the one man who saved both Summer's and my butt from an entire legion of Grimm, at the cost of his own hand…

Raven let Qrow go, and he plopped back into his seat. He took another drink of the amber-colored fluid. "So," he asked, "you wanted to talk?"

"Ozpin is dead," she said, and drew out his cane from behind her as proof of her statement. Qrow seemed to turn sober as reality hit him. "The fool never stood a chance, not against the new Fall Maiden," she continued.

"Ozpin was many things," Qrow hoarsely said, "but a fool wasn't one of them." He finished off his drink, before taking Ozpin's cane from her.

"The times have changed, Qrow," Raven said, "the Maidens may not be enough to protect us now."

"And what do you suggest I do?" he replied. "Be smart and stay alive," she answered, "you're my brother, Qrow, and despite what you might think, I care for your safety."

She started to get up to leave, but not before Qrow said, "you know, I think I already thought of a 'guardian' for Yang." She turned back to him, slight irritation on her face, and made him continue, asking, "Well?"

"The Ace of Spades"

Raven's eyes widened at what her brother just said. Why would he think of him? She thought it's been twenty years since they last met. She sat back down and drew another deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Qrow," she finally said, "Summer told me about him; and from what she said, it would seem that he's a very dashing young man." She looked up and stared at him, an intense look of worry deep in her eyes. "Yang will probably fall for him, and become completely smitten with 'his captivating eyes'."

Qrow looked at her with a dubious face. "She's a lot like you, Raven," he said. "That's what worries me," she replied. Then she remembered what Summer said he did when she was pinned down by the colossal Grimm, "…it lunged at me. He suddenly appeared right in front of me, jamming his arm into its maw trying to shield me… He didn't seem to care about his own safety at all, trying to save me."

Calming down, Raven decided to accept Qrow's choice. "Alright, I'll trust him because Summer did," she said, "but if he hurts my daughter, I swear I will cut him into a million pieces." Well, It's good to know that she cares for Yang, Qrow thought. Raven grabbed his hand, saying, "I want him to help her, train her to survive, and to be loyal to her."

Qrow simply replied, "I'll be sure to tell him that when I find him."

Out of the corner of his eye, Qrow saw the man in the red cap get up and leave, but not before glancing over at them, flashing… a grin? Qrow tried to get a better look, but was too late; the man vanished out the door. Probably thought we were lovers, he thought, his stomach revolting against the notion.

A/N for those of you who've read my other Fanfic, there's something I want to get off my chest: the reason why I didn't communicate in there. In all brutal honesty, I'd already written several chapters before even thinking about the Author's Note. In other words, when I wanted to start the A/N it was too late, and it felt awkward to me.