His light. It was his.

Jaune made a soundless grunt as he tripped over the shattered stones of the walkway. He attempted to catch himself with an arm that no longer moved, and he saw a myriad of strange colors as his face crunched against stone. His pain manifested in a strangled babble of soft cries, his good arm supporting him to sit up. His vision was wrong, he knew. The wet warmth on his cheek, the searing agony below his eyebrow.

No time to stop. No time to dwell on it. It was HIS light. His.

Harnessing the fountain of his aura, grabbing it with familiar hands, he reigned it in and wrapped it around himself best he could. He felt warm, felt like gravity almost forgot to keep a hold on him, smelled only fond memories. Jaune stood, shimmering, light from his semblance pooling on the broken ground beneath his feet, and steadied his breath best he could. The pain from his eye seemed far away, like cries on the other side of a door.

"They're gone, Arc. They aren't coming back. You can't bring them back."

Her voice. That venomous hiss, slithering down the halls of Beacon, the sleek, fetid taint of her voice that made his brain tremble. "I'll kill you!" He shouted, though he sounded more like the boy he'd been so long ago. His threat echoed off the walls of the empty castle. Her mocking laugh was all that responded, whispering in the rooms that would always be dark, void of the wondrous atmosphere that had once filled them.

Jaune turned away and trudged on, eye forward. Ignoring the dark shapes that looked almost like broken limbs that peeked out from beneath fallen stones or past broken doors. Her laugh grew louder, mocked him more. He passed by a window full of jagged glass, and thought he saw her in the fractal. "You're going to answer for this!" He cried out, turning from the reflection that he might have seen. "It's mine! My light! They deserved better than this!"

The laugh was a shriek, suddenly growing to a volume that made him wince even through the safety of his semblance. Like some sort of ill wind, it tore at his tattered clothing and stirred the dust in the air with a fierce energy. She cackled. Jaune screwed his eye shut against it, smushing his hands against his ears. He stepped forward, then again. Then again.

She followed him down the awful halls, her laugh pressing him on, his guilt providing the strength. Moonlight that seemed to filter in through a thick veil sometimes lit his way, and when it did, the wounds that grew festering on his heart bled fresh. The things that could be seen in those cold puddles of light. Things he couldn't ignore when the light fell on them, things that reached out to him with fingers that-

"I'll kill you!" He shouted again, with enough force that he scoured his throat and ended his decleration in a dry, heaving cough. His eye darted like a wasp away from faces he thought he could recognize. Her laugh hounded after him, plucking at what little strength he had left. It WAS his light. It was.

Jaune Arc, a paragon among paragons, perhaps the greatest huntsman Remnant had ever known. But he'd given up that title a long time ago, hadn't he? Ruby… He swallowed, wincing at the sharp jaggedness of his throat, and stumbled forward on weak knees.

Up a well of stairs that creaked beneath his weight, loose foundation grinding against itself. He froze, at the top, as she slipped out of one shadow and into another some meters before him, so fast he might have blinked and missed it. When he dashed forward, barely able to keep his balance, she wasn't there. Was she ever?

His light. Despair welled up in his chest, and his eye stung strongly with the grief that threatened to spill out. He pressed on. He had to get to it. He had to. It was.

His.

Light.

Growling through his grit teeth, blood and dirt mixing and frothing at the corners of his mouth, Jaune Arc, the Wielder himself, stumbled his way like a wounded pup until he was half falling down one more set of steep stairs, supporting himself on a railing now twisted as his path wound down and deep into the dark depths of Beacon.

Her laugh abandoned him near the top, and as he slunk into the shadows further and further, she faded from his mind. Breathing a deep sigh of relief, hands trembling, he walked a narrow pathway, only the void on either side, deep and terrible. No light but his own reached down to this place, and his seemed to waver as he tried to light his way. Once, when he was young and didn't know, he'd wondered what may lay below. Now, as he passed over a bottomless pit that, by all rights, should not exist, he hardly made note of it.

His eye focused entirely on the white marble door, gilded in some white silvery metal that shone even down here from some unseen light. There it was. There was his light. She would not have it. He ignored the shredded remains of Ozpin, laying unceremoniously on his back, his corpse long since little more than a broken skeleton.

Jaune pressed a palm to the door, the surface cold on his bruised and cut skin. He felt the familiar wonder and devotion he'd known the first time he'd discovered this great relic wash over him. This relic that none but him knew of. His light.

Well, all but him and her. But she couldn't reach down here. Not yet.

"Are you sure, Jaune?"

His moment of elation was dashed away by a frigid chill that made him suck in a deep breath. Turning, slowly, resisting the urge to draw his sword, his light, Jaune faced Oscar. Or, at least, whatever Oscar had become. Maybe it was more Ozpin than Oscar. Indeed, the young man's face was fixed on the remains of Ozpin with an expression of regret and guilt.

Jaune swallowed. Swallowed his anger. "It's what I can do, Oscar. It's what I have to do."

Oscar didn't turn his head away from what he was fixated upon. "Perhaps Remnant could be whole again if we all stopped playing with powers meant for gods, Jaune."

The irony. Jaune's chuckle was dark, and he turned away from the image of Oscar. "Everything failed, Oscar. All but this. This has never failed."

"Are you certain that this isn't a failure? Are you certain that, this next time, it will be an option? What if she beats you this time, Jaune? Is it not better to let fate place the pieces it must and let us put an end to this sick cycle?"

Jaune clenched a fist, stepping closer to the doors, pushing against them. "You know, we've had this talk too many times. And yet you're always there, continuing that twisted cycle of your own."

Oscar's sigh sounded resigned. Resigned and tired. "If he'd known what would have come of all this, I wonder if he'd have fought the way he did. I suppose you're right, though. Only you could even know."

Scoffing, Jaune made the door swing open on soundless hinges. Pure, blinding, hot light bled out slowly as the door opened at first, but as it swung inwards more and more light fell out. It seared his skin, his hand blistering and bubbling as it submerged into the light. The hair on his scalp turned to ash, and the clothing he wore began to melt and fuse with him. This was his light. The light of Jaune Arc.

The Wielder. All light was his.

He was aware of Oscar's shock, his protests of concern and fear and doubt. Surely this was wrong. This couldn't be the great salvation that Jaune had told him about. Had made everyone risk everything for. It just couldn't be. Jaune laughed wildly, his lips already too long gone for him to smile or grin, the muscles on his face now sloughing away after them.

This was his light.

As light pierced all of reality, deconstructed it from atom to atom, and then knit it back into place, Jaune felt it cleanse him. Cleanse him of memories and pain, of stains and taints. Just like it had done for him before. The sound and heat of Creation taking place, of Time being hauled backwards by hands that cared not for laws, dulled all senses. He simply was. He was a part of the light. It listened to what he wanted of it. He almost felt like it was him placing everything, letting go of Time when it seemed it might break. Existence roared in his ears. He knew his body was less even than ash, knew that he simply was. He was spread out across all of what was, for a moment.

For one blissful moment, after Time settled back, disgruntled but otherwise unbothered, after the doors of his light had closed, after Existence had stopped roaring, after Creation had ceased, he hung over the heavens, simply breathing, taking it all in.

Another chance. He'd bought them all, at the very least, one more chance at survival. And for just one, sweet, blissful moment, when he was still just barely aware of what he'd done, Jaune Arc, the Wielder, enjoyed serenity and peace that he knew he wouldn't experience again for years to come, or perhaps, ever again.

Then Time and Creation and Existence all realized together what was missing from the fabric of Reality, and the Wielder no longer was.

And Jaune Arc, the rookie huntsman, woke up in his dorm bed, with the worst headache of his entire life, and the slight sensation of a sunburn on his skin.

Pyrrha, as always, gave him the concerned stare he was used to. Norra practically was oblivious to everything and anyone around her that she wasn't focused on, and this morning was no different as she forked a breakfast of fruits glazed in honey and eggs and buttered toast into her mouth. Jaune grinned a little against the headache throbbing in his skull. For all her protests, Nora really didn't seem to mind the change in menus.

Ren watched over Jaune with a more searching gaze. He, even more than Pyrrha, seemed aware of Jaune's strangeness. Even Jaune didn't have a good explanation. He couldn't tell why, even to himself, he felt so glad to see them. Or why he was so overcome with melancholy, or why his skin burned the way it did. Or, Gods, why this headache so bad. At least those feelings had started to fade since he'd woken up.

Across the table, team RWBY had their heads hunkered over their books. Studying, he supposed. A little bit of dread welled up in his mind, thinking of the test he and his team had to pass on Grimm Studies. At the very least Pyrrha would pass. He wasn't too confident about the rest of them.

Then Ruby looked up, and her eyes met his, and he froze. There was something different about her. Something akin to how he was different. Her silver eyes shone in a vivid way, like they were demanding attention, and he felt like she was searching him for something. Then the look passed, and she flashed him a perfect Ruby-esque smile. He tentatively gave it back, and turned to his food before Pyrrha could ask him what was wrong.

"-And if there is ANY doubt about that Cardin being a dickhead, then you can leave." Nora claimed around a mouthful of food. Jaune ignored her, already having little idea what she was talking about.

"I still don't think you should pick a fight with him, Nora. Jaune can handle himself." Ren said coolly. His eyes were on Nora, now, but as Jaune looked up at his teammate, he felt the words for him.

That's right. Cardin, and… Jaune sat back in his chair, no longer hungry. Right. He'd forgotten about Cardin. How had he forgotten about Cardin, and his goons and- "Shit." He mumbled. He still had to meet them. Pyrrha glowered at Nora and Ren both, and the two of them didn't meet her eye. Their seats at the table fell quiet as they focused intently on breakfast. To Jaune, the food before him had lost all appeal.

"I'm going to be busy today. Again." Jaune announced, and he felt more than saw Pyrrha's disappointment. He nearly cringed in his chair.

"Ooooh yes, the always busy Jaune Arc! Too busy for teammates or training-"

"And too busy for studies as well, apparently." Pyrrha snapped, cutting Nora off. Nora hastily produced another forkful for her mouth, letting Pyrrha have the stage. Jaune would rather take the lashing from Nora. "Jaune, look, we're all friends here, and we're worried about whether or not you're doing okay." He winced when she put a hand on his arm. "You haven't been well lately."

Jaune swallowed, mouth dry. Frustrated. "I'm fine, Pyrrha. Listen, guys, really. It's just stressful, being a part of all this. I-" He glanced sidelong at Pyrrha, meeting her eyes. She knew about his… lies. Or at least, part of them. "I'm fine."

"You're a bad liar." Pyrrha turned away, eyes dark. Jaune's sigh wasn't nearly quiet enough for her to not hear it, and as she stood up abruptly, breakfast tray in hand, Nora gave him a sharp enough look that he started to stammer, trying to come up with something to say. Anything at all.

He could tell her that he really was just so busy trying to keep on top of everything. But then, where was the progress to show that? He could tell her about Cardin, but she already knew he was a loser. That would be mortifying, to say the least. He could simply say sorry. "P-Pyrrha, listen, I- I mean, it's just that-"

"Good luck, Leader." She snapped in his direction, turning on her heel without looking at him. He watched, in sullen silence, as she departed. Gods, he was really messing this up. Between balancing just barely staying in Beacon, and Cardin, and… Gods. He ground his teeth. Ozpin choosing him as the team Leader was about as bad as his luck had ever been.

When he turned back to his food with a loud huff, all of team RWBY was watching. Yang, Ruby's yellow haired, older sister. Who he was rightfully weary of. Especially considering that she knew him as vomit boy. Blake, the quiet one that none but her team really knew anything about. That bow she wore on her head made her look a little girlish, he thought. But he'd never say it.

Then there was Weiss. The Schnee heiress, with her haughty attitude, nose always turned up from the "common folk" as if there was some sort of particularly unpleasant scent that accompanied them. She gave him the cold, icy stare she always did whenever he dared to bring too much attention to himself, and he both wilted and felt his pulse quicken. There was a woman that would make all this effort of staying in Beacon worth it. IF he could win over her respect.

And lastly, there was Ruby. Twirling a fork in her fingers, chin propped in one hand, cheeks puffed out in boredom as she watched him. She flashed him a sympathetic smile when their eyes met, and he returned it gratefully. If there was anyone in their group that actually understood at least a little of what he was going through, it was Ruby, the leader of team RWBY. Under her guidance, the team was doing well. Except, they weren't really certain Ruby was doing much of the leading, so much as it was that everyone on team RWBY was exceptionally competent. What he'd give for his team to be even half as self governing.

But even then, Ruby still managed to outclass him in every way. Even being younger. Gods damnit.

Yehp. He'd had enough of whatever this was.

"Alright. I have… Things to do." He told Nora and Ren, curtly. Ren hardly reacted, simply offering an expectant nod. Nora glared daggers at him, opening her mouth to talk. Ren's hand on her shoulder seemed to signal something, because as Jaune was bracing for a tirade, she promptly clamped her jaw shut with a clack and sat back hard in her seat, arms crossed against her chest.

Jaune swallowed, nervously straightening his blonde hair with a gloved hand. "I'll uh, see you all later." He tried not to sound as if it was an apology, but it came out sounding that way. Gods, he was pathetic.

As he stormed away, trying not to slouch and keep his chin up, just like Momma Arc had always told him, he felt the eyes that burrowed into his back.

Crocea Mors could maybe help him here. Maybe. But even as the thought came, his hand refused to budge. "Thanks, Jauney boy. This," Cardin gestured with Jaune's cheat sheet for the upcoming Grimm Studies test, waving it right under Jaune's nose, "Is going to go to good use."

Cardin grinned, ugly as always, his face set in such a brutish way that it seemed unlikely he could smile. Yet he did. Cardin's mates snickered from the sides, reminding Jaune that they were there. Crocea Mors. If he could just draw it. At least he'd go down with even just a little bit of pride. At least he could say he'd tried to fight back, for once.

Except, he had fought back, hadn't he? Fought back in a way none of them-

Jaune's mouth fell open in a gasp as his headache flared up, sending a searing lance of sharp pain through his entire skull. His vision blurred, eyes watering, limbs softening. "Hey, Jauney boy, you okay? Look, man, don't cry!" Cardin laughed, his expression mocking. Jaune was hardly aware of the other taunting laughs that accompanied their team leader's own.

Then, as sudden as it had begun, the pain faded to a dull, fatiguing ache once again. And Jaune blinked, confused. Whatever he'd been thinking about, the headache had washed those thoughts away.

He became aware of Cardin again, and groaned. Right. "Are we good, Cardin? Can I go?"

Cardin laughed harder, roaring, really, pressing his fists into his stomach. "Honestly, I can't decide if this is too cruel, Jauney boy. Maybe this isn't really mercy, huh?" He sneered at Jaune, and looked as if he half expected Jaune to get in on the joke. Jaune could only glower. He realized that he had stopped keeping his chin up.

The goons beside Jaune continued to laugh, and after a moment of silence stretched between Jaune and Cardin, Cardin hacked up a glob of saliva and spat on the tip of Jaune's shoe. "Whatever, Jauney boy. Suit yourself. You two, dumbasses, we've got more studying to do."

Jaune glared fiercely at the ground, the goons jostling him with their shoulders as they passed, sniggering. He wouldn't cry over it, he wouldn't. But his eyes still burned all the same. After they'd left him standing alone by the park bench they'd met at, he sat down with a heavy breath, letting his head roll back so he could watch the willow clouds above.

Despite his exhaustion, despite all the frustration, he felt calm and peaceful, looking up at the sky blue. He felt almost like he hadn't seen the sky ever in his life, and it felt good to see it again. He nearly smiled.

But, he couldn't stay here. He wished he could, but there were classes to attend today. So he could get the answers to them for Cardin.

His little moment of peace over, Jaune Arc picked himself up off the bench, squared his jaw, and set off to the classroom for Dust and Its Practical Uses.

Jaune sat down in the shower, letting the water pound his scalp and stream down his face, down the bridge of his nose, off his eyelashes, fall from the tips of his hair. He held a bar of soap in his hands, ignoring it. Soaking and enjoying his solace for just a moment longer.

It paid to be a leader. He got to go last and take as long as he wanted.

Soon, though, he was thinking it might come to an end. What kind of huntsman, at the age of near adulthood, gets bullied? What kind of Arc steals the family heirloom and cheats his way into a huntsmen academy like Beacon?

He figured it would be better to leave. At least then he could spare himself dragging out the farce any longer. Though, he doubted he could ever look his family in the eyes again. Sooner they'd disown him than accept what he'd done. Jaune Arc, Remnant's greatest bumbling idiot.

He jumped when someone knocked on the door to their bathroom. "Jaune, it's been, like, forty minutes. Hurry up; it's a shared bathroom, remember?" Nora's voice came through the door and the pounding of the water on the tiles below muffled, but he recognized the tight quality as well the threat.

Hurriedly, indeed how Nora had requested, Jaune scampered to his feet and quickly finished the motions of cleaning himself. He shut the water off, checked that he had actually closed it and not left it dripping, and then wound his towel around his body after rubbing his hair with it first.

He barely had enough time to step out of the shower before Nora slammed the door open, greeting him with an angry glare. "Do not make me wait like that ever again, Jaune Arc. Otherwise you'll hang you by your ankles in the next rain storm and you'll shower then."

Jaune swallowed. He didn't exactly doubt her. Not fully. Not enough for him to think it a joke. She stepped into the bathroom past him, and then turned with hands planted on her hips. "And, Jaune? If you're at least a little bit smart, you'll apologize to Pyrrha. If it wasn't because she looks like she might cry, I wouldn't have said anything. You probably don't deserve her forgiveness anyways."

Jaune blinked, feeling his cheeks redden. "Uh, thanks, Nora." He wasn't sure if he was angry at Nora, himself, or what, but suddenly he wanted nothing more than to let Nora have the bathroom.

When he stepped out into his dorm room, feet dragging, Pyrrha wasn't there. Probably on the balcony, he reasoned, seeing the curtain swaying gently on some unseen breeze. Ren was lounging on his side of the room in his bed, book propped open on a leg as he held it with one hand, head resting on the other. He nodded in response to Jaune's presence, but otherwise didn't really seem to take notice of him.

Jaune actually found that he was glad that, at least, one of his team members didn't feel the need to press him. Didn't have to give him judging eyes. Couldn't the other two see he was trying his best? Was he? Shaking his head, Jaune collected his pyjamas and stepped into the dressing closet. Whatever. Tomorrow he'd wake up, and everything would be okay.

Whatever weirdness that had been going on today, he'd recover from it. At least the headache was gone.

This is another story I've been wanting to write for some time. I'm not entirely sure how often you guys can expect updates for this, but likely it'll be weekly or bi-weekly, depending on what happens in a given week.

I hope you enjoy the ride!