A/N: I'm bored, and on a roll!

The next day, RWBY and JNPR were to begin combat class. As before, Jaune was chosen to fight Cardin. Unlike before, he was trained, ready, and hardened by the Grimm War. As he hefted his shield, Pyrrha's training came to him. 'Cardin's strong, but he has a poor form. He runs in and attempts to use his strength to crush his opponent.' He drew Crocea Mors, and settled into a fighting stance. Across the arena, Cardin simply rested his mace on his shoulder and smirked. Both of them circled, Cardin grandstanding, and Jaune waiting for an opening. "Yo wimp-boy, I'm gonna bust up your shield so bad, you'll be able to wear it as a helmet!" Jaune refused to let the taunt rile him. He'd faced worse. His nonreaction irked Cardin, who grunted. "What? Are you too scared?"

"No, I'm just thinking about the type of helmet. Do you think a bascinet would be cool?" 'Get him off balance, he'll make mistakes.'

For Cardin, that was the last straw. Jaune not reacting was one thing, but Jaune mocking him was a different matter entirely. He raised his mace high, and charged. Jaune prepared to brace himself, before remembering another bit of wisdom from his partner. 'Against an enemy who is stronger than you, never block head-on. All of that force has to go somewhere.' Instead of holding his shield flat, which would have allowed Cardin to bat him across the room, he angled it. The mace struck the shield, sparking off of it, and deflecting to embed itself in the floor of the arena. As Cardin struggled to free his weapon, Jaune followed up with a pommel strike to the face. His opponent's head snapped back, Cardin letting out a grunt of pain. Yeah, that made him mad.

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Glynda was shocked. Based off of her earlier observations of the boy, he should have been utterly outclassed by his opponent. Instead, Cardin's clumsy charges merely opened up opportunities for the young knight to respond with increasingly brutal counterattacks. She winced as Jaune's leg trapped Cardin's before the flat of his sword hit his opponent's inner thigh, dropping his aura into the red and breaking the leg at the joint. If that had been a real fight, his femoral artery would have been severed. Who taught him to fight like that? Even more disturbing was the expression on his face. Unlike the expressions of anticipation or fear she usually saw, his face was blank, masklike, only his eyes betraying any emotion. Not even Ironwood had those eyes. Ozpin will want to know about this.

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Jaune changed his shield into a scabbard, and returned Crocea Mors to it. He didn't spare a look as medics came to take Cardin to the infirmary. As he passed his team on his way to change, Nora grinned. He gave her a small smile, before speaking. "You were right, that did feel good."

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Several Days Later

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Broken glass crunched beneath his shoes, the remains of a broken storefront. Jaune had passed by dozens of scenes like this in Vale's old shopping district. Unlike the others, this store held something he needed. Ruby had gone to a local weapon shop to find spare parts and ammo. Nora and Ren had gone to find camping supplies. He had opted to scavenge for food. He stepped over the jagged shards that still stuck from the frame, flakes of dried blood showing where a less aware passerby had cut themselves. He passed the canned goods isle, its shelves picked clean during the first wave of looting. As he neared the bulk goods area, a now-familiar stench hit him. He turned into the cereal isle, and was confronted with a corpse.

Within the last few days, he had seen more death than he had in his entire life. One more body was insignificant. Still, he might have some food on him. As he approached the unfortunate man, he noticed several odd things. First, the body was intact, so that ruled out a grimm attack. Second, there was a jagged length of pipe protruding from the dead man's chest. Looters, murdering each other over scraps. Whatever happened to 'peace and unity?' he thought. Jaune poked the body with his shoe. You never could be too sure. While most people had gotten to the refugee camps, some had remained in the necropolis to look for unattended valuables. He had encountered too many 'possum traps' to ever turn his back on an unverified corpse ever again. The stab wound on his back still itched a little.

His prodding uncovered the corner of a small box, crushed and mangled. Murdered over a box of breakfast. He flipped the body over. Stabbed from the front. He must have fallen on it to spite his killer. He pulled the box free from the congealed pool of blood it lay in. He turned it in his hand, and caught sight of a familiar redhead on the front. He closed his eyes, a few tears leaking from the corners. How could I have been so oblivious? So wrapped up in my own self-pity that I didn't see until it was too late. He took a few deep, shuddering breaths to calm himself, before opening his eyes.

The corpse was gone. In fact, the entire supermarket was gone. He stood alone in a seemingly endless darkness. Panicking, he looked around for a light, for anything. He had almost given up hope, when he saw a distant glow. "Jaune!"

"Pyrrha!" He tried to run, but his legs moved as if they were trapped in thick mud. The glow flickered and dimmed as her cries became more desparate, before they broke down into a shriek of pain. Hearing that, a mad strength pulsed through his limbs, and he charged towards the light. Finally, he seemed to burst through some invisible barrier, and saw her. Cinder stood above her kneeling form, bow drawn. In that moment, he threw his shield with every ounce of force he could muster. It struck Cinder, who shattered like a broken mirror. He rushed to her side, pulling her into a warm embrace. He clutched her like a drowning man clinging to the last piece of flotsam in the world. For what seemed an eternity, they held each other. Finally, he released her, and helped her to her feet. The void around them had coalesced into a large hall resembling a dark reflection of Beacon's cafeteria. "We need to get out of here. Follow me." He turned to search for an exit. "There! Come on."

"Right behind you, Jau-"

Her confirmation cut out with a wet gurgle. He spun around to see her feebly pulling at the sword that transfixed her. He made to draw Crocea Mors, but his scabbard was empty. "No!" He glanced around frantically for it, before he noticed the distinctive pommel. It was currently grasped by a blood-slick hand. With dawning horror, he realized that the sword which jutted out of Pyrrha's chest was his. He pulled Crocea Mors out, and ripped off his shirt to hold it against the wound. "Pyrrha, stay with me! Don't leave me alone again!" The only answer he received was pain-filled sobs of breath, before even those stopped.

It was his turn to sob as her flesh began to flow like wax, before it formed the face of Cinder. "You did this, you know. If you'd just kept your guard up, I might have been delayed long enough for the procedure to complete, but you couldn't even do that right. It flowed again, until he was staring at his eldest sister. "You were always the baby of the family. You always talked of becoming a world-famous Huntsman, and we would nod our heads and smile politely. Even then, we knew that you weren't cut out for it." Once again, it flowed, this time taking the shape of Ruby. "I pitied you, that's why I first befriended you. You seemed like you didn't belong, but then again, neither did I. The only difference is that I became stronger, while you remained just as you were. Weak." Suddenly, the body flowed away, leaving him with only Pyrrha's headband.

All around him, the hall dissolved, only to be replaced with the shadowy forms of everyone he had ever known. Family, friends, enemies, Pyrrha. Under their condemning gazes, all he could do was curl up, and hope that they went away. They didn't, and one by one they opened their mouths, and spoke one word. "Weak." With every moment that passed, more voices joined the chorus of condemnation, that one word building into a never-ending chant.

"Weak."

"Weak."

"Weak."

"Weak."

Desperately, he covered his ears to no avail. He heard each word as clearly as if it were spoken right next to him. "Stop. Stop. Stop!" he shouted, and the voices ceased. He looked up to find himself alone except for one. Pyrrha's shade loomed over him, a pitying look on her face. When she spoke, that one word cut him more deeply than he thought was possible.

"Weak."

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Pyrrha sat awake. On warm nights like this, the old wound on her ankle would throb, a pulsing reminder of her death. Idly, she rubbed it, still not believing that she had been given a second chance. Is this a gift from some entity wishing for us to succeed, or is this some cruel joke to give us hope, before it is all stripped away? Her musings were interrupted when she heard something from her partner's bunk. She looked over to see him curled into the fetal position, muttering something repeatedly. It took her mind some seconds before the sound resolved into two words. "I'm sorry."

She slipped out of bed, grunting slightly when she put her weight on her right leg. It wasn't as bad as it had been the first day, but pressure still sent a jolt of pain coursing through her. She moved to Jaune, before sitting on the matress. He started, awoken by the shifting springs. He sat up when he saw her. "Nightmares?"

"Yeah." Silence reigned for a minute, Pyrrha not wanting to pry. Finally, he drew in a deep breath. "How can you even look at me?"

"I'm sorry?"

"Your death was my fault. I couldn't even get simple guard duty right! If I hadn't looked back, I might have been able to do something, but you were screaming, and I just had to-" He was silenced when she pulled him into a gentle hug.

"Shh. I was in pain, and you were worried about me. That's who you are; you care about your friends."

"I was too weak."

"Weak? You could have left Beacon after initiation, and no-one would have blamed you. You could have abandoned Cardin and let him be killed by that Ursa. Instead you stuck by your team, and defended someone who was blackmailing you. That takes real strength."

"Thank you, Pyrrha." They sat like that for some time, neither wanting to ruin the moment. Eventually, she noticed that Jaune's breathing had steadied. She looked to her left, and saw that he had fallen asleep with his head resting on her shoulder. Sighing, she leaned her head against the wall and closed her eyes. Sleep came peacefully to them that night.