Chapter Twenty-Nine

The air was warm, bordering on hot, as Oscar pulled on a clean shirt and pants. The green overcoat that Blake had gotten for him was long gone, bloodstains damaging it beyond repair. He had grown to like that coat, but instead he ran his fingers through his hair. Everything he had was second-hand, taken not from a charity shop but from Weiss: old clothes from her brother. His father was also dressed in a second hand shirt and pants. He was still gaining weight, his rolled up sleeves revealing too-thin arms and bony wrists, but he had significantly more mass than at the hospital, and he was still sweating in the heat of the day.

The two had scrupulously managed Qrow and the women to put the house back the way they had found it. Bolthole or not they were going to be good guests, Ozpin had insisted, and even if they could not return everything they would not leave the place in a state of disrepair. Qrow and Yang had very extended opinions, but one look from Weiss, who owned a similar house, and Blake made them be quiet and do as told.

Ruby and Marrow and Blake had disappeared to get their apartment ready, whatever that meant. Oscar's last memory of their home was leaving to meet Marrow for the ride up to the hospital. He couldn't imagine much would have happened to it, unless they meant airing it out. Yang had followed Weiss off to her place to arrange the ride, neither Oscar nor his father could handle the walk down the mountain.

Oscar himself wasn't even quite strong enough to walk yet. The two week bullet fever had pulled a mountain of energy out of him, he tired quickly and he constantly found himself nodding off. That, Oz said with a soft smile, was normal. His body was healing first, working second. What he hadn't expected was how much of his trunk was used for everyday motions. He still couldn't lift his arms over his head without pain, and the act of standing straight was impossible - he felt permanently hunched forward, trying not to pull at his side. Walking lasted maybe five steps.

Ozpin was better off but not by much. Oscar kept staring at the new deformities in his father's bad leg - it wasn't just his knee, the bulbous protrusions had slowly grown down his shin, giving it a slight curve. The shape and sound of his walk had changed, and Ozpin's two laps around the house was not nearly long enough for the walk to his office.

And Oscar worried deeply about his father climbing four flights of stairs now. His bad leg seemed much weaker, and he didn't want… to see him on the landing… blood streaked along the metal bench… He shuddered as he sat back down on the cot, suddenly breathless. Don't think about the office, just worry about getting up to the apartment…

Ozpin pulled at his collar before standing - the most fluid he had been since the fall - and adjusting his tinted spectacles. Oscar stood to join him, hobbling over on his own cane. His father reached out instinctively, snaking his arms around Oscar's shoulders and giving him a soft squeeze. "Are you ready?" he asked.

"... yeah."

Qrow arrived, in his old gi and zubon, a healthy shine to his skin as he rubbed his hands. "Rickshaw's here," he said. "Yang and I are pulling it. Weiss wanted to use her horse but both of us vetoed it. Don't want the white witch bitch to see you being pranced around the mountain."

"As you wish," Ozpin said, releasing Oscar so Qrow could take over. The crowmaster hefted Oscar up like he weighed nothing, Ozpin limping forward and they followed, out of the house and through the garden and out to the street. Oscar didn't actually know where they were in the city, only that it was kind of near Weiss' place. The size of the house and the gardens implied they were pretty far up the mountain, and glancing up he saw the palace and its stepped roofline. He shuddered to see it, shifting in Qrow's arms.

The rickshaw was the most ornate Oscar had ever seen, delicate embossed designs and carvings on the wood frame. Yang was there, also in gi and zubon, shifting immediately to help his father up into the rickshaw. Qrow placed him as well, gentle in every motion, and both uncle and niece took an arm of the rickshaw to start pulling. Weiss was on horseback, the massive animal walking beside them.

"How long a ride is it?" Ozpin asked, eying the area as much as Oscar - it seemed he didn't know exactly where they were, either.

"Don't worry about it," Yang said brightly as they started to move. "Just sit back and enjoy the scenery."

Weiss sniffed. "For whatever that's worth."

Oscar didn't know what that meant, and he looked to his father. Ozpin was frowning, too, and he looked to Oscar in turn. "I know the night we got you back," he said, a hint of strong emotion in his voice, "there was little more than blood and fire. That's what the sands said. The night was long, and the air smelled of smoke, and when Qrow and Miss Blake arrived you…"

Oscar reached out, touching Oz while his other hand went instinctively to his side.

"It was a mess," Qrow said. "Rebels moved up the mountain, they used signal fires to keep in contact, but the Imperials figured that out and the fires turned to fires. You'll see."

"Are the foothills okay?" Oscar asked, feeling anxiety in his chest. "Nana Calavera? I remember they said there were a lot of riots."

"Depends on what you call a riot," Qrow said. "But it's been a hard winter."

Weiss on her horse looked morose. "I never realized," she said. "We always had enough to eat in Atlas, but here… Every shipment Mother and Father sent over I either brought to that safehouse or down to your apartment building. It wasn't enough, not for so many families."

"That's another thing," Yang said. "Maria lost access to her accounts, so she had to take rent in cash. A lot of families couldn't do that. Between evicting the fourth floor for the soldiers and that we've lost about half the families in the building."

"What? Even the Browns and the Greens?"

"Still have the Browns," Qrow said. "They've been keeping your gardens best they can. Kids learned a lot from you."

Then they saw the damage.

Oscar and Ozpin watched in horror as they curved down the lane and suddenly an entire block of buildings just… weren't there anymore. A few hollowed out columns, the stone support structures, piles of ash. A few beggars sat in the heaps, bony hands up in destitute supplication, desperate for scraps of anything. On the other side of the street every window was boarded up, their facades smeared in ash and smoke damage. Then, just as quickly, the site disappeared to more normal buildings. Windows were cracked, people were moving about but there was a weight to their steps, a heady pressure of struggle in their frame.

They passed a second fire, this one spreading out to four blocks of just… nothing. Two people in a uniform Oscar didn't recognize were talking to a small group of day laborers.

"... next project to clear…"

"... piles for sorters to salvage…"

"... paid in food for now…"

"... but… rent…"

"... suspending evictions until fall…"

"... waiting on negotiations…"

"Are those the rebels?" Ozpin asked.

"Yeah," Yang said, nodding her head to them - one of them looked up and waved. Qrow waved back. "We've got basically the entire continent south of here, and the farmers have been trying to send food up over the winter. It wasn't enough, Sun said, and for now nobody is even trying to figure out money. It's just barter until the negotiations with the palace finally fall through. Robyn would know more about that."

Qrow tsked.

Further down the mountain there was less obvious damage outside of boarded up windows, but Oscar and Ozpin both recognized how poor the foothills had become. Clothes were patched and threadbare, a lot of people were in the street begging. There were more people in the rebel uniform, too. Oscar always heard the same thing, over and over, food was payment because there wasn't anything else, yet. The rebels didn't look much like soldiers outside of their green uniforms - even the uniforms looked more like farmer clothes than an actual uniform. Several were walking around, some kind of patrol, but most of them were organizing townsmen with some kind of project: clearing blocks of fire damage, sorting garbage in empty lots that had already been cleared, several burned out lots were being tilled or already had sprouts shooting up from the enriched soil.

"It's so different," Oscar whispered. "I… don't know what to feel."

"That is a feeling I am not unfamiliar with," Oz said softly, reaching out and patting Oscar's knee. "My master's assassination, the fire at Beacon, the declaration of the war some seven years ago. Understanding your feelings on this takes time, and that's okay. For now, we should focus on what we can do: healing. Tending your gardens as you can, learning if we can still live in the apartment."

"Oh, that won't be a problem," Weiss said. "I'm paying everyone's rent in the building and have been for two months."

"You… what?" Oscar said, swiveling down to the heiress.

"It was the least I could do," Weiss said. "Nana Calavera has done so much for everyone in her building. I can't help everyone, but I can at least do this much."

"That's very generous of you, Miss Weiss," Ozpin said softly. "Would that other people in your position held such compassion."

Weiss looked away. "I didn't always," she said. "Your reading… it taught me a lot of things." She straightened. "I still want to be the best, but now I want to be the best version of me that I can be. I'm grateful, Professor, that I had the chance to meet you."

"The honor is ours, Miss Weiss," Ozpin said. "If not for your efforts and that of your sister, Oscar would not have come home, and I am grateful for having met you."

"I… I don't understand," Weiss said from her horse. "What did Winter do?"

"She smuggled young Marrow out of the palace," Ozpin said. "That's what the sands said, and that was what allowed Qrow to feel safe in leaving to collect Oscar on the night of blood and fire. She is in the middle of a paradigm shift, and the arc of her choices are changing because of it."

Weiss was wide eyed, and she frowned in thought for the rest of the ride.

The buildings started to look familiar again, Oscar recognized the paper mill, the grocers, the market. He hadn't realized it was market day, he saw several familiar faces selling their wares - bartering, rather - and more than a few recognized Oscar.

"You're back! Farm boy, you're back!"

"Where have you been?"

He waved, but it felt surreal to see them all again. Part of him wanted to run over and say hi, but his body wasn't ready for that kind of exertion yet, and he didn't know how to explain it.

They turned onto the lane that led to their apartment, and Oscar could just make out Ruby and Blake at the front steps. Qrow and Yang were both lathered in sweat by then, and they set the cart down gratefully.

The building seemed the same, except the first floor windows were all boarded up. Oscar wondered what happened, but that thought died quickly as several heads started to stick out of the windows, families waving and cheering.

"You're back!"

"Mom, the Professor's back!"

"Farm boy! You have to help with the garden - my brother doesn't know what he's doing!"

"We missed your presents Midwinter! I wanted my paper hat!"

Qrow laughed, wiping sweat off his face. "Looks like you two are pretty popular," he said lightly, a pair of crows sweeping down to say hi. He reached up and helped Oz down, his father leaning on his cane for several seconds to adjust his weight. Qrow reached over to help Oscar down, too. He wasn't used to his cane yet, he stepped carefully and hunched forward, feeling his side pull again.

All noise above them ceased.

Ozpin limped to the sidewalk, moving to the side of the building to go around back to the ramp. He made five steps and turned, waiting to see what Oscar would do.

The familiarity of the building swept over Oscar, he was staring at all the brown stone, the discolorations, the roof of the greenhouse just peeking over the top of the building. He felt so relieved to see his home, so relieved to be safe. He shuffled slightly, moving to follow his father. He wanted to push himself, to see how far he could walk on his own.

He side ached, but he pushed through, knowing the safety of his apartment was just above him. His steps weren't as wide as his fathers, he could barely move his feet, and his energy depleted at a depressingly fast rate. Oz reached out, giving him a goal, and Oscar reached back. They took hands, but his strength finally gave out, and his legs started to crumple under him. There were gasps above them, but Qrow was there again, scooping him up before he actually fell. Ozpin swayed, having been pulled by his weight, and Yang grabbed him to steady him.

"... what happened to them…"

"... oh, it hurts to see…"

Ozpin limped to the ramp once he was solid on his feet again, and Qrow followed with Oscar in tow. He burned in shame at hearing the comments above him, he wanted to shrivel away and hide. Being carried by Qrow, it went from necessary to humiliating in barely three breaths, and he hid his face behind his hands, cane tucked under his arm.

"It's okay," Yang said, her hand touching his shoulder. "What they think doesn't matter."

Oscar groaned, shaking his head.

Weiss was talking to Ruby at the ramp, the apprentice crowmaster with three birds on her shoulders that fluffed up in happiness to see Qrow.

"So!" Ruby said brightly, "We managed to get all our cots and crates out so it doesn't look like we totally squatted over the winter, but we had trouble remembering where the tables and chairs went exactly so it might not be exactly right and… and… is everything okay?"

"Had an audience out front," Qrow said gruffly, his chest rumbling against Oscar. "Let's get everyone upstairs."

Nana Calavera was in her spot just on the other side of the stairwell, standing tall for her small stature. "It's about time you came back," she badgered. "I expect you down here tomorrow morning for a tongue lashing like you've never seen, estúpido viejo tonto."

"With dread, Abuela," Ozpin said softly. "For now I want to get Oscar settled."

"Hmph. I look forward to hearing that rhythm of yours, no one else can match it."

Oz gave a small huff of a laugh. "I fear the rhythm will be tragically different," he said. "But first let's see if I can conquer these stairs."

"You'd better! I swear, the things I do for my tenants…"

Qrow led the way, and Oscar had to motion him to stop at the top of the stairs and set him down. He got his feet under him, but they were shaking too much and he had to lean on both his new cane and the wall, but he wanted - no, needed - to see his father climb the stairs. He needed to watch Oz put in the effort, absorb the site knowing that it would eventually be his challenge as well. Weiss and Ruby passed them, Yang shortly after, patting his shoulder with a knowing smile as they moved to the front of the building to their apartment.

Oz spent a long time at the bottom of the stairs, psyching himself up, but for a week he had practiced on the stairs at the bolthole, and each time he was slightly more confident. Oscar watched the false starts and the psyche outs, but once he took the first step it was, exactly as Nana Calavera said, a rhythm. Oscar had never thought much of it, his father climbing the stairs, he'd just done it differently with the cane. Over the years he'd learned that it was hard for Oz, but now, knowing that he himself couldn't handle stairs… the empathy he felt for each step, each lift, each rise was enormous, powerful.

This was the man he wanted to be, when he was older: still able to try.

When they exited the stairwell all the girls were there: Blake, Yang, Ruby, Weiss. So was Marrow, sleeves rolled up and smiling with his hands on his hips. Qrow smiled as he walked down the hall turning to join the party. "Welcome home," he said.

Oscar shuffled down the hall, his father matching his pace. His legs were starting to shake again, but he wanted to make it to his home. He stopped several times, Ozpin doing the same, a soft presence at his side. By the end Oscar was leaning on his cane more than his own legs, he was sweating profusely, but he had made it to the door - three times the distance he had managed previously, and he was so proud of himself and so mad at himself at the same time.

He was exhausted.

Yang hoisted Oscar over the threshold, stepping into the apartment and setting him down on one of their leather chairs - for some reason it was shoved up by the stove. Ozpin followed suit, his brown eyes taking in the space before breathing in deeply.

"Hm," he said, frowning. "No herbs."

Oscar straightened, realizing he hadn't noticed the floral scents that normally permeated the apartment and office both. His eyes traced up to the shelves by Oz's desk, and the bookshelves behind the stove, and indeed, all the dried herbs were jared and sealed, nothing was hanging from the ceiling - there wasn't even a barrel of flour and sugar. Moreover, the furniture wasn't in the right place in the front of the apartment - everything was butt up against the walls, yes, but not at the right angles or the right placements.

That wasn't fair. He was home but… it didn't look like home. It didn't smell like home. It didn't feel like home. The lines of the space were familiar but also so alien. He hadn't been here in months and it was somehow all new to him all over again. He didn't like the feeling, and he curled into himself slightly, trying to remind himself that it was okay.

He woke up in bed to the sounds of soft voices.

"That should put everything back the way it's supposed to."

"Thank you, Marrow, I'm very grateful for your help."

"Sure. If you need anything else I'll check back later."

"I got it from here, pup. Which apartment's yours?"

"Third floor, number three. It's not much more than a cot right now, but I saw one of the rebels saying they needed sorters. I'm hoping I can find some furniture there."

"Do you not want to go back to your mother?"

"I do… but not like this. Not before this is all settled. See you later."

"... Finally alone, Oz."

"Alas, there are no herbs to grind," his father said softly. "Besides, Oscar is awake."

Oscar opened his eyes, frowning as he slowly worked his way to sitting up. His side ached, he'd slept on it wrong and he rubbed his face to force himself to move past it. "What time is it?" he asked.

"Mid afternoon," Qrow said, moving to his side of the privacy screen. "Apartment's all fixed up. Oz has some tea going. Want some?"

"... Mm," he said. He dragged his feet to the floor and started to get up before he remembered his cane. Oscar looked around for it, confused, but found it leaning against the wall by his pillow. Reaching for it stretched his wound badly, but he was able to stand and shuffle to the main part of the apartment. Qrow was standing, waiting, but Oscar pushed himself again, making it to his leather chair and sitting heavily down.

Oz was at the stove, swaying slightly on his bad leg and studying his teapot. He was sweating with the heat. He hummed, pulling the kettle off the stove and limping with familiar steps to their diner table where the tea set was waiting.

The two of them settled in their leather chairs, Qrow at the dining table with one of the chairs turned to face them. It was echinacea, rosehips, something orange, ginger. The hot liquid slid down his throat and he hummed at the taste. "I don't know this blend," he said, looking up.

"It's a variation of my tea," Ozpin said. "It helps with the pain, and right now that's something you need."

"It's delicious," he sipped again - even though it was so warm outside the heat of the liquid didn't seem to bother him, it spread through him and made him feel both cool and comfortable.

"To catch you up," Oz said, "I've been told by at least four neighbors that they are glad to have us back, that they are upset that we look as bad as we do, and that everyone has been taking your lessons to heart and have the gardens up and running this season. It's not up to your standards, they have all assured me, but they look forward to seeing you outside when you're ready. Miss Ruby and Miss Blake are up on the roof to bring clippings of herbs to hang from our ceiling so that the apartment might start to feel more familiar, and Qrow, Marrow, and Yang have been helping me arrange furniture. Miss Weiss left a little while ago to talk to some of the patrol to announce our return and list us as two new mouths for the building for distribution purposes."

"I don't… distribution?"

"Rebels are trying to supplement all our plantings," Qrow said, one ankle hooked over a knee as he sipped his tea. "The 'army' that gave the palace such a fright are a bunch of farmers who took one look at the city and rolled their eyes. They're tilling the razed parts of the city and are going around one building at a time to teach the residents how to tend and work a greenhouse to keep themselves fed." He smirked. "Everyone was muttering about compost until they came here and everyone in the building said they already knew what they were doing."

"Apparently our building is a curiosity," Ozpin said, "because of your efforts. There is a large disconnect between city folk and farmers, and for the first time in decades, I'm told, they are talking to each other and learning about each other. Rumor is the conversation has been enlightening on both sides."

Oscar nodded, looking down at his tea. "It was so different; when I first came here," he said. "Everyone bought food at the market, all the buildings had greenhouses and gardens but not a lot of people knew how to use them, money was everything. Maybe it was at the farm, but I was thirteen, my aunt hadn't brought me into the finances yet."

"Farmers thought we were all fat from stripping their fields," Qrow said, "They were shocked to see how many of us were starving."

"The general..." Oscar said, "On Midwinter, he and his team had this enormous feast."

"That doesn't surprise me," Ozpin said, eyes distant. "He never really understood the privilege of his life. It's a pity he never did work in Mantle, it would have been eye opening."

"Where's Mantle?"

"It's much like Argus," Ozpin said. "The continent is frozen over for much of the year, and Mantle is their one year-round port. Parts of the city are very rich, but the river they are built off of is also the runoff for the production of Atlas. The water is poison at certain times of the year, fishing is very lean, and the people are very poor. I had to go through the city on a speaking engagement to Atlas, and I gave a reading to the city mayor. He wanted to know if his beloved city would ever see clear water again." He sighed. "It won't be in any of our lifetimes."

"That's sad," Oscar said, looking down.

"Life is sad," Qrow said, stretching out his feet. "Life is the Brother's game board to screw people over with their fye and filth, and we're all here thinking there's some grand plan."

"I find that very cynical," Oz said, drawing Oscar's attention. "I don't disagree, life can be utterly miserable. It can and has driven people to the absolute depths of despair." Qrow straightened, too, hearing an echo of Ozpin's darkest days, living with the Grimm. "But," he drew out, looking down at his tea. "But even the most cursed life can find happiness in small corners. And those moments should be valued whenever and for however long they occur."

Oscar heard something, under the hopeful tone. "You think the Grimm will activate again."

"Most assuredly," Oz said, his voice so wistfully sad. "But I've recently decided that, no matter how many times it tries to take me, I will still choose to come back, if it's in my power. I choose to be happy with what I have: you. Qrow. His nieces. Our family. I do not want my fear of the Grimm to subsume my joy at having you in my life. As dark as these times are, as uncertain as life is with the war and the Grimm and the consequences of my sister, still there is hope. Light. Life. The gift of fire manifests in these moments, and they should be savored rather than ignored."

"Savored, he says," Qrow grunted, tilting his head back. "Careful Oz, your optimism is showing."

Oz shook his head. "I'm not sure I'm much of an optimist," he replied. "Rather, I want to enjoy what I have while I have it. That is the choice I make."

Oscar smiled, and he listened, watching as Qrow snorted and said something witty. The feeling of home finally started to bleed in.

There were, of course, new neighbors. Empty apartments. The fourth floor was completely empty, Nana Calavera said in between her irate scolding of the both of them. She had stopped extracting rent when the rebels - the revolutionaries - swept into the city, fed up with people leaving and just telling them to make do, she would find some other way to feed herself. The rebels' distributions helped with that, and as soon as the soil thawed the entire building made the effort to populate the back garden with vegetables and roots and seeds. Half the building was empty, but there were some new faces Oscar was told to keep an eye out for: one of the soldiers who had billeted there had decided to stay. Oscar sensed but didn't know the whole story, only that with him was a redhead from the rebellion, and a blonde that Nana Calavera hadn't talked to yet. Qrow had seen him, kid like the other two - though that just implied he was the same age as Oscar. They were all upstairs in number eight. Marrow, homeless now that he was out of the army, was in number three. Yang and Blake were sharing an apartment across from Qrow, Ruby still bunking with him. No one was surprised.

Marrow had gotten a job as a sorter with the rebels, whatever that meant. He brightly waved to their window whenever he walked by to his work, and the redhead Calavera had talked about sometimes joined him. It looked like she had been through some fights, whenever her sleeves were rolled up there were scars Oscar could see in the afternoon light. She looked familiar...

For a week Oscar stayed in the apartment. Ozpin did the same, save that every morning he exercised on the stairs, building up his endurance and strength for such a herculean task. Penny came up after lunch every day for stretches and exercises. Food distributions were every other day - little more than flour, grease, and the rare portion of butter. From the garden came tomatoes, beans, and peppers. He itched to see what it was like, but he wasn't ready to handle going down stairs yet, and the thought of the herb garden on the roof was impossible. That bothered him the most - the herbs for the charging wreaths were up there, and when he thought about it too much he mourned the loss of Oz's reader, the sand basin last seen the night the general… He shook his head.

"I would like to see how far you can now walk," Penny said after a round of stretches. "You have again increased your mobility and now it's time we build your strength."

"I… don't really have a place to test myself," Oscar said, sitting shirtless in his leather chair.

"We can use the hallway to start," Penny said, standing.

… where people could watch him…?

Oscar shook his head. That was pride. That was the thought that would push Ozpin to work until the heat struck him down, and he was going to learn from his father's mistakes. He grit his teeth and stood, leaning on his cane, and shuffled to the door.

"We'll start small," Penny said brightly. "Walk to the front of the hall. I will reward you with a hug if you can accomplish it!"

"A… hug?"

"Yes! Hugs are soft and warm and I love them very much. Ruby taught me about them and I want to share the gift."

… Right. Oscar rolled his shoulders, checking his balance, and started his shuffle.

It was a terrible walk, every step felt timid. He knew he could take a longer stride but every time he tried he became over-sensitive to his sense of balance and he was afraid of tipping over. He did make it though, even if he was a little out of breath. As promised, Penny wrapped her arms around him, warm with the heat but also soft. Just like she promised. His next goal was back to his apartment door, and he was nearly shaking with the effort when he came back, but this time his hug came from his father, and Penny helped him sit back down in the apartment.

"That will be part of your routine in the morning now," Penny said. "The more you do it the longer you can walk - soon you'll be walking up and down the hall in laps."

"What about the stairs?"

"We will cross that bridge when we come to it," she said with absolute confidence. "Bullet wounds take six months to heal properly, and you've made remarkable progress in the last two. Do not sell yourself short."

"I propose," Oz said from his seat, fanning himself with the morning's newspaper, "That Oscar will feel more confident once he can tend to one of his gardens."

"Oh!" Penny said brightly. "That would make sense. If your mind is healthy your body is healthy. Do you need assistance going to the back garden?"

"W-what? No! I mean… Not right now. Not… today." Oscar looked down.

"Very well," Penny said, getting up and grabbing her bag. "We will resume tomorrow."

He leveled a glare after she left, and Oz met it levelly, a mischievous smirk on his face that slowly faded over time. "Is it really a problem?" he asked.

Oscar looked away. "I don't… I don't want the neighbors to watch me," he confessed. "The way they all stared when we came home…"

"Ah," Ozpin said, eyes lighting up before darkening again. He, too, looked away. "I forget that a lot of this is new to you. I've lived with some of this for several years, I don't notice it anymore."

"So people always stare?"

Oz sighed, leaning back. "They do," he said. "When I finally… after my first bout of backbreaker, once I could walk again, I went back to the university. It had taken six months just to get to the point where I could walk across the campus, I was determined to throw myself into my work and try to… Well. It doesn't matter now." He shifted in his chair, putting the paper fan down and meeting Oscar's eyes again. "Everyone on campus stared, and I do mean everyone. Faculty, staff, students, everyone who had ever known me stared as I walked with a cane. Every face was pity, sadness, some variation of what-coud-have-been. I couldn't handle stairs yet, I had to be carried up to the headmaster's office, and no one wanted to do it. It took me a week just to have him come down and see me - he didn't want to talk to me. He had already decided that he wouldn't take me back because I was a soothsayer, and he used my cane and my… my 'limitations' instead of admitting the truth. All politely couched in deepest regrets and sympathies, tied hands, and 'I would certainly do the same, were the positions reversed.'"

"How do you stand it?" Oscar asked. "How do you stand everyone looking?"

"Because, after a time, they stop looking," Ozpin replied, surprising him. "It's the shock of seeing someone they know behaving differently. Eventually it becomes the new standard and they just tune it out like they would tune out children playing in the street or rickshaws running by. It's not just you who has to acclimate to your healing body; they do, too. They will acclimate faster, fortunately, and faster still if they see you still working."

"Still working?"

"Still persevering, still doing what you love."

"Oh. That's why you suggested the gardens."

"Yes," Ozpin said, nodding. "Even belying that doing something you love will help you mentally as well as physically, the very act of seeing you out there checking for blight will relax a nerve in our neighbors, and they will stop staring."

The next day Yang carried him out to the back garden while Ozpin went to the bank, hoping to gain access to his savings. Ruby had brought down a stool from the greenhouse on the roof and he sat down at the first row of plants, assessing, snipping, watering, before getting up, lightly kicking his stool further down the row, and sitting again. Several people came up, delighted to see him back at it, telling him stories about the spring planting, so-and-so came over to help, such-and-such revolutionary had loved to see the quality of the soil, etc. Oscar hadn't realized how many people in the building had missed him, and he wasn't expecting to feel warmth in his chest at all the people who stopped by to say hi.

One of the new tenants, black hair with a pink streak, asked softly how much the food would be come harvest.

"It's not for sale," Oscar said.

The neighbor looked down.

"It's for everyone," Oscar explained, surprised to see the thin face snap back up to attention. "I might have grown up on the farm but everyone is responsible for maintaining it, so everyone has a right to the crops. There are some bell peppers in the back that haven't been picked yet, if you're looking for something for lunch."

"I… thank you. My name is Lie Ren."

"Oscar Pine."

They shook hands before the redhead he had seen walking with Marrow ran up, pink skirt flouncing around. "Hey, Ren! I think I found a job for you! How do you feel about making lye from all the fire ash? Come on, I'll show you, it's a burrough over but like nobody's even there anymore and now that the lots are cleared of brick for more buildings all the ash needs to be turned into something useful because you don't want to waste a gift from the Dark Brother and the food distribution is like, right down the road so you'll be fed before literally all of us and I know that'll be way better than the winter you've had and - Oh! You're the farm boy! Wow, you're cute. Well, cute Farm Boy, my name is Nora Valkyrie and it was a pleasure meeting you and I'll drop by later once I get this guy all set up and then we can talk about the roof because there would be way more vegetables on the roof if we're gonna eat but like I said that's later see you then bye!"

Oscar watched the redhead, Nora…? Pull Ren away with a skip in her step, a little breathless. Who had that much energ-Oh! He knew her, she had come in for a love reading, way, way back when he was first starting his apprenticeship! Then… Ren… was that the lover she wanted to know about?

Shaking his head he got back to work, shifting his stool over and digging his hands into the earth.

It felt so good to be with the plants again - even without his neighbors praising him it was another step to feeling like he was home. There was comfort in picking off bugs and pruning dead leaves and fingering roots, labeling pots and seeing Penny come up to the gate to politely ask permission to pick some cucumbers. He listened to the sounds of the women come down to the well for laundry, gossiping like they always did, watched the children run around from the front to the back of the house, watched the crows fly to and fro and occasionally seeing Qrow himself set off one of his birds. He breathed in the scent of the dry grass, the garden, the hint of woodsmoke and something deep inside him relaxed.

It was midafternoon when he was done, and instead of going back inside he decided to sit on the front steps and people-watch. He couldn't remember the last time he had done that, and he had made it halfway to the front of the house before he realized he hadn't even thought about how painful walking was. He looked down, surprised that his legs weren't shaking, that he wasn't out of breath, and he wasn't… he was fine.

He remembered Oz, mentally preparing himself for climbing stairs, and he realized one part of what his father was doing as he did so.

He pushed, determined to make it to the front steps now - his mind was on his body, and that brought up all the aches and pains, but he knew he could do it, and that helped him make the walk. Oscar sat down, a little heavily, but he was smiling, eyes taking in the families who lived across the street, seeing how big the kids were, seeing new children, listening to the dissonant sounds of the burrough. The rebels - the revolutionaries patrolled the streets, their cotton tangzhuang light and airy and carrying poles and the occasional sword instead of muskets. They waved at people like they were part of the community, and Oscar watched one of the mothers go up and start a conversation.

He saw a blond come up, not a revolutionary, but he had a sword at his hip and light cotton slung over his arm to indicate he probably finished a shift with them. "Oh!" he said brightly. "I recognize you, you're the new neighbor. Hi, I'm Jaune Arc."

"Oscar Pine," he said, standing. He left his cane on the steps, instead leaning slightly against the brick rail. "Technically I'm not new. I've been here three years."

"Oh, well, then welcome back I guess," Jaune said. "Everyone was talking when they saw you and your dad come down the street. I moved in this spring, right after the battle. Nora set me up with her and Ren."

"Oh, you must be on the third floor," Oscar said, realizing who he was talking to. "I met them today. The girl - Nora? - she had a lot of energy."

Jaune laughed. "She sure does. They're good people, I was lucky to throw in with them when I did. I'm part of the patrol now - are you okay with swords?"

"I wouldn't say okay," Oscar said, "but they're better than guns, I guess." A hand went to his side.

"Here, then, let me put this down so you feel okay," Jaune said, laying his weapon down. "So were you away when the battle happened?"

"I… I'm not sure which battle you're talking about," Oscar admitted, looking down. "I was sick for a while. So was my father, and…"

"Oh! I'm so sorry, I didn't realize," Jaune said, leaning against the rail with Oscar. "Okay, so you know the revolutionary army on the other side of the mountain - they snuck into the city mid-spring, and there was a huge battle here in the city. They moved their way up the mountain, but the imperials set fire to a lot of buildings, and it was a big mess. That's the battle. Ren was defending this building at the time, he was an imperial soldier but things were going as bad for him as they were for all the revolutionaries when they finally started to revolt. It's a long story; anyway, I was with Nora, and she got this crow and took off running, and the next thing I know she said we were moving in here so we could take care of Ren. You should have seen him two months ago, he was practically bones. The food distribution has been a huge help, and so has the gardens here. They say they used to have a gardener before he was drafted."

"That would have been me," Oscar said. "I grew up on a farm before my father adopted me."

"Oh! Well thanks for all that hard work, then. Everyone says you really helped them over the winter."

"Good. I'm glad," Oscar said.

"How'd you manage to get back down the mountain?" Jaune asked. "Everyone talks about the drafts like you were yanked off the street never to be seen again."

"That's… not inaccurate," Oscar said, holding his side. "My father was in the hospital at the time, I had gone up to visit him but the military found me. I had just turned sixteen."

"That's horrible!" Jaune said, eyes wide. "I'd left the city by then, I'd gone back to Argus to be with my sisters. Pyrrha and I were exchanging letters and she said-hey, are you okay?"

No. Oscar wasn't okay - he hadn't expected to hear Pyrrha's name and hearing it brought it all back: the workhouse, the uniforms, Pyrrha taking him to see his father at Midwinter Feast, showing her the Grimm, the new patterns. He had to take a breath, suddenly shaky, and wished he could bend down and pick up his cane, he needed the support.

"S-sorry," he managed. "I just… I knew a Pyrrha."

Jaune's face was wide open, and his dark blue eyes looked down. "Oh," he said, scuffing a foot on one of the steps. "She was an apprentice soother. She and her master were called to help the war - we didn't know it was a revolution, we all thought it was Vale invading. She's stopped sending me letters, and I'm really worried about her."

Oh, no. No, please. That wasn't fair. That was not fair. "Did… you say apprentice soothsayer?"

"Yeah," Jaune said. "She told me over and over she was safe at the palace, but then the battle happened and… Wait!" he said, looking up. "You were drafted, right? Did you ever meet an apprentice soother? She was almost done with her apprenticeship, long red hair, bright green eyes, the kindest girl you could ever meet. Her master's name was-"

"Amber Gold," Oscar said, turning.

"Oh! You know them! What happened to her, is she okay? Why did she stop sending letters? The last I heard was she was looking into how the war started and…"

"Stop," Oscar said, hand coming up to his mouth. "Just… stop talking."

"Please!" Jaune said, his voice rising. "Please, if you know anything I have to know! We're Touching Mouths and… and… please, just tell me what happened to her!"

Oscar rubbed at his face, running his hands through his hair, unable to articulate how much he wanted to be a hundred killes away - but at the same time, who else could tell him what happened? Who else could let this man, Jaune, know how much Pyrrha had done for him?

"I… I'm an apprentice soothsayer, too," Oscar said, looking down at his hands. His side hurt. "The general… he had us all working in this one big room. He was trying to get us to say the war. He was using us like fortune tellers. I kept refusing. Pyrrha, she snuck me out to see my father in the hospital. I was punished, and… and… she disappeared."

Silence. Jaune's manic energy dispersed, Oscar could see the man's hands fall to his sides in shock. Oscar grieved, remembering what Blake had told him.

"Someone saw her," he said, "Saw her go to the command wing. And then… she disappeared. They said she left to see her mother, but…"

"That's not true," Jaune said, his voice distant. Lost. "Her mother… she's just as worried as I am."

"She knew," Oscar said. "She knew a soothmaker had started the war, and she went to confront the general and he… he probably…"

"Liar. Liar!" Hands grabbed at Oscar's cotton shirt, his entire balance removed as he was brutally shoved into the front door of the apartment building. "Liar! How can I trust you? How dare you say that! She's not! Do you hear me? She's not-"

"Jaune!"

"Jaune, what are you doing!"

Oscar was in pain. Not just the physical pain of his side being pulled, not just the pain of being slammed against the front door, not just his head banging against the hard wood. No, he was in pain remembering Pyrrha, remembering the workhouse, remembering all of it. He kept his hands up, trying to be passive, eyes squeezed shut as Jaune's massive presence loomed over him, just like the general, just before he was shot…!

Hands were removed, and his body slumped to the ground just as the front door opened.

"What's all this noise on my front steps? Arc, what are you shouting abou-Oscar? Are you here? What were you doing, you lovesick bully!"

"We've got it, Nana Calavera," a new voice, Ren. There was a scuffle, but Oscar didn't dare look up, both of his hands on his side, he could still remember the blood spurting out of him. The sound of footsteps drifted away, and small hands were on his shoulders.

"Come on, Oscar, come on, your father will mope piteously if he finds you dreaming on the front steps like this."

He looked up, eyes wet with tears. He tried to say… he didn't even know what to say.

Qrow turned up somehow, and carried him to his apartment.

Author's Notes: Angsty ending to a mostly transitional chapter.

Like Oscar it feels weird being back at the apartment complex. So many chapters at the hospital or at the imperial palace, it's surreal to look up and remember where everyone was living in the apartment building and then filling out some of the apartments with characters from the show. Tried to lean into it as we could - and it also got us the chance to show how weak Oscar is after his ordeal. There's a lot of healing to do in this arc before we wrap things up. A lot of stuff got broken and it's past time we started to fix it.

Next chapter: Midsummer feast again, only this time with the revolutionaries in charge instead of the palace. Qrow offers to break some legs and manages to have a flash of insight.