Jaune sat with his head in his hands as he waited for the others to come down. He could hear Emerald and Mercury chatting with quiet voices as a nurse checked over the injured party. He was patient, not even sparing a single sarcastic remark, and if the Mercury he knew back at Beacon was anything to go by, this was very out of character. That, and the Mercury he had just helped seemed to keep his sardonic spirit even under duress. Emerald had explained, chopped and panicked, what had happened as he boosted Mercury's broken Aura: from the look on his face, Mercury had been just as shocked by Emerald's concern as he was by Jaune's appearance, which, in fairness, was pretty shocked as it was.

"So what's it like here? Do you hold hands and braid each other's hair?" said Mercury. There it was. Jaune almost relaxed a little.

"I don't know about the braiding, but no, no holding hands yet," Emerald said. "The food's good."

Mercury groaned. "If I never have to eat food like we had at— you-know-who's, jeez, I'll stay here forever. I didn't know it was possible to make ice cream taste evil."

"So foamy."

Jaune felt vaguely delirious. The conversation went on for a bit until the nurse said she would be back soon with a doctor, and commented on how quickly Mercury's Aura had regenerated.

"That's his work," Mercury said.

At that, Jaune briefly looked up and gave a polite smile to the nurse, who returned with an expression which reminded him of his mother when he managed to get something right. Fine lines around her eyes made her smile a little bigger.

"A Semblance like that, oh," said the nurse. Her nametag indicated Ochre. "And a Huntsman, too. Good in the field, but if you get bored, darling, you can always come by here one day."

Bored would not be the word he would use to describe the feeling the field gave him. So he said, "I'd love to."

She toddled off at that, leaving Jaune with two turncoat members from Salem's side waiting on Ruby. Machines of obscure medical nature went beep, punctuating a tense silence.

"Yeah, real nice Semblance," Mercury said. "Apparently it does a lot more than just amp, though."

Jaune sent Emerald a look as if to say this is your fault. She shrugged and smirked.

"I didn't know," he muttered.

"And you don't want us to mention that, do you," Mercury went on.

"No," Jaune said very carefully.

"And I bet you think that's a fair trade 'cause you got me here in one piece."

"Yeah," he said, snapping his gaze to Mercury. He had made a few deals recently. He had got better at them.

"I think I'm starting to get it."

"Get what?"

Mercury laughed, his grey eyes hard. "You're like her, man."

Emerald covered her mouth. Jaune tried to think of a good answer. Maybe try refuting it. He was nothing like Cinder. They were more different than they were alike. She was Salem's and he was Ruby's, she killed and he healed, she was sleek and he was clumsy. Then he almost laughed: she had said she was not in it for Salem, he was in it because he believed in Ruby, but not just her, either. He had killed. He had seen her flounder.

He had wanted to kill this time, too. For a pure, anger-flooded moment, he had hoped Tyrian dropped dead.

So Jaune laughed, too, incredulous. It was so absurd it became funny. Emerald shuffled in her seat, almost nervously, and Mercury ran a tongue along the inside of his cheek, sizing Jaune up.

That was the tableau Ruby walked in on with her team, Ren and Nora too, Oscar right up front. Jaune figured if he had not been there when Emerald dragged Mercury back, he would want a piece of the action, too.

"Surprise?" said Jaune. He hoped it settled Emerald a little, if he led.

They told the story in fits and starts. Jaune let the gaps fill themselves, awkwardness, uncertainty— Emerald's urgency did not need overexplaining. The lead had been Mercury himself, easily swapping out.

"How did you know it wasn't a trap?" asked Ruby.

"Tyrian had always been cruel," Emerald said, no lie to it. "I didn't know if you guys would want to help, and I guess—"

Cinder had been there. In that lying gap, Cinder had been there, and Emerald had thoughtlessly followed.

"But how didn't Tyrian kill you?" Yang said.

"I don't suck that bad," Mercury said. "Or don't you remember our fight?"

"Is that really necessary?"

Then it descended into a back and forth, until Ruby cut in with a, "Cool it," which Mercury looked oddly put out by, as if he had liked arguing.

Nora said to Emerald, "We would have helped, you know."

Still no lie to her at all now, Emerald said, "I'm… sorry. I came with you guys back in Atlas, when I could actually do something. And Mercury was in trouble, but it's not like Salem's actually here. I thought—" she cut herself off, and waited for someone else to speak, but Nora watched her sadly and forlornly, and Jaune did a little too. Emerald continued, fiddling with the blanket on Mercury's bed, "I thought that you let me stay because I could do something. And what could Merc do other than bleed all over me?"

"It'll come out," said Mercury.

Oscar ignored Mercury's comment, and said, "That's not true. We know you worked with Cinder, but I know you now, Emerald, and I'm just glad you're safe with us."

The blood would probably come out. Mercury was right. Jaune really did not need to add anything. Oscar and Nora were already gentle and kind enough.

Emerald gave Oscar a warm, genuine smile. Oscar was easy to smile for.

"So… Merc can stay?"

"He's kind of here now," Yang said. She had crossed her arms. "Not like we can kick him out. Apparently we're collecting you all now."

Jaune covered his mouth with his fist and sat back in the visitor's chair. He currently had Cinder Fall in his bed. They really did have a collection. He refused to make eye contact with Emerald or Mercury.

"Besides, it seems like you made your choice helping Emerald," said Ren. "It doesn't sound like a decision of any return."

Cinder was in his bed and had happily tried to get rid of them. She did not view it that way, not for herself. Certainly for Mercury.

So with them all surrounding Mercury in the medical wing of Shade, the doctor found them, fussed with the patient, but did not order them all out. Instead she seemed to ask them all questions about what they were doing, why they were here, how did they know Mercury?

"We went to school together," Ruby said.

Mercury grimaced. That seemed to only encourage her.

"We were good friends," she continued. "We got split up after Beacon fell, but I'm so happy Mercury's here now. Now the gang's in one piece, we can paint our nails together again." She smiled. Jaune had never actually seen Ruby smile like that, a little devilish.

"Great friends," Mercury repeated. Behind Ruby, Yang was holding in a laugh as Blake patted her on the back. Weiss even seemed to find it a little funny.

"That's so sweet. It's so nice seeing people find each other again at Shade, what with— all that fuss," said Dr. Falu, then she rattled off Mercury's condition: no concussion, probably fine, your organs weren't penetrated, good work.

Oscar had a mysterious look. If Jaune's gut was right, and it usually was, that was Oz peering through Oscar's hazel eyes. It was more than his candour; there was something old which crept through, a slight crinkling to the folds of skin around his eyes that, young on Oscar, ageing him.

"I must admit, I was surprised," said Oz. "I understand that many must make difficult decisions. I have been betrayed my fair share of times." At that he furrowed his brow a little, and the others all tensed. "I have never seen so many choose to turn their backs on Salem. It's funny, to be around so long. I thought I had seen everything."

Mercury shifted a little, awkward.

Jaune still carried some of that suspicion towards Oz. It was hard not to. Then he had gone and got himself his own secret, and he had come closer to understanding him. How did you explain that your worst enemy was once your wife, too? How did you explain that you had to stop her, and you had no way to do it?

Jaune could not kill Cinder. Whether he wanted to or not. No, he had gone out of his way to protect her. The first time, he could ascribe that to his tendency towards healing and not killing. The second was much more damning. He had killed Penny, for one, and tried it with Tyrian and let something that felt evil assert itself through his Semblance, and then he had, delirium of deliria, taken her in his arms and used the last of his Aura to soothe the aftershock of Tyrian's abject cruelty. That was altogether worse. He had no excuse.

Now he expected Emerald and Mercury to lie for him, too. He really was like her. Jaune had not been paying attention, and he missed the glance that Ruby sent him before he met it.

Oz was now telling a story. Jaune caught the middle. "…and then, that endless day, he went to every dragon on every corner of the continent. Many had tried to kill them, and had failed; this knight instead offered them gold and food— his sister, a shepherd— if they would come with him to help another. Dragons don't help, of course, and they all turned him away but one, a very young dragon, her scales red, her fire-breath only but steam. She said she would help on one condition: if the knight would find her mother. She needed no food, no gold. So they went and found the first dragon, the one with the missing eye, whose fire had lit up the kingdom so brightly night had not been seen in months…" Jaune glanced over to Ruby, who was watching Oz with a curious expression. He could not parse it. Weiss hid a yawn, looking embarrassed as she did. "…and then on the third day, he nearly gave up, until finally he relented and asked what the black dragon wanted.

"She said, I would prefer if you did not leave again. So he stayed, and he stayed, and he stayed…" Jaune fidgeted in his seat. "I'm sorry, I forgot how long this one was… so the queen sent her men to ask if he had slain the dragon yet. He had not, and so one by one he fought them off. The little dragon was sad the men had died, and asked where her mother was, if he had found her yet. Mother, said the black dragon. You have a mother? And then the little dragon and the black dragon fought, until the knight pleaded for them to stop. It was then that he noticed, once the black dragon had finally moved, in the cave there was a woman. I have been tasked to guard her, said the black dragon, though I do not know who she is, or why she is important.

"Then the little dragon cried. It had not rained in months, you see, and now it finally did; from the edge of Anima to Vacuo, it rained, and rained, and rained, for many more days, though where they began and ended was anybody's guess. The black dragon asked, why do you cry? And the little dragon said, that is my mother. She thanked the knight for finding her, and it was then that the mother left the cave, unused to the light, and kissed her dragon-daughter on her great snout. The dragon became a girl again, and they left together, though the knight remained behind, and they waited out the days once more. Why do you not leave, asked she. He said, you asked me to stay. So he kissed her on her great snout, amidst the fire she breathed with every breath, which nearly singed the hair of his head. The dragon returned to a woman, and, though he had not slain the dragon as the queen asked, the curse broke, and night fell once again.

"One of the more obscure ones. I doubt anybody really becomes a dragon."

"He likes his stories," Emerald said, conspiratorially, to Mercury.

"She said you were a lot meaner," Mercury said blankly. "That you were prideful. She didn't mention you were eccentric."

"No, prideful is not wrong," said Oz. "But I believe that all she can see are my poorer qualities. Sometimes, I do not fault her."

"Hey," Ruby said, "the good matters too."

"Yes, Ruby. Quite."

Jaune shook his head. Those poor dragons. He had never heard that one before. He was not one for stories, not like Oz, but he had liked them enough as a child, and maybe only appreciated his father's stories now. The kind of things he got up to as a Huntsman always conveyed expectation, but sometimes when he got wistful, the stories were just good: Jaune thought then of that horrible one his dad had told him once, saying not to mention to Mom, when they had got his friend to pose on the Vacuo sand where they knew historic Atlesian landmines had been set, on a total dare. The photo he had shown Jaune looked like a simple picture, just a well-armed Huntsman sitting cross-legged in the distance, but before that snapshot they had apparently been hooting and hollering to see if their friend would get blown up.

So, maybe his family legacy was maybe not all it was cracked up to be.

Mercury followed them all as they funnelled out, and he said, "So like, you're not going to vet me? Ask me if I plan to infiltrate you or something?"

"Well, you already did that once. It would be kind of lame if you did it again," said Ruby, and shrugged.

"The same sin as an outfit repeater," Weiss added.

Jaune patted Mercury on the back. "Welcome to the club."

That did not seem to help, because Mercury only groaned.

Jaune swung by the cafeteria and pilfered thick pastries with puffed, cardamom and rose syrup-soaked layers for himself, tucked in between napkins. Emerald accompanied him and took enough for Mercury, too, and they shared a wordless conversation: I'm watching you, and then he equally said back: yeah, I know.

He was kind of in a pickle, but his hands were sticky with sugar, and he could think about that instead. By the time he had circled back up to his room, Aura already gearing up again, his blood hot with it, he had almost forgotten she was bodily there. He closed his door quickly with his hip, which seemed to wake Cinder, as she sat up in the bed and the linen blanket ran down her waist.

She was wearing his clothes.

She leapt up in the bed and had already forged a sword from thin air before he whisper-shouted, "It's just me!"

"Oh," she said, voice thick with sleep, her guard immediately dropping.

"And I have pastries," he said. He tried and failed to take off his shoes without tripping— he gave up and set the napkins down to do so— and then offered the food. "I figured you hadn't eaten. Busy day and all."

Jaune was internally screaming, barely holding it in by pursing his lips. She was in his bed. She was wearing his clothes. Down the hall, Ruby chattered with the other girls, and Ren and Nora helped Mercury settle into his room, and he was giving Cinder Fall food in his bed where she was wearing his underwear.

The sword disappeared into shards, and then burnt, and then became steam. She took the napkin from him gently, her brow furrowed. Her eye was a little puffy with sleep. He sat on the end of the bed, giving her respectful space, and ate his pastry. The candied nuts made a mess all over his lap; he was thankful for the napkin foresight. She seemed to have the same trouble, and it struck him again as ridiculous as he watched her with a simple sort of caution delicately pick up pastry and nut crumbs from her napkin and eat the mess between tiny bites.

"It's good," she said. Then awkwardly and sort of quietly she said, "… thanks."

He almost laughed at that, but he kept it in because she sounded too earnest. Instead, he said, "I heard the food's not great at Salem's."

"Let that be the thing Mercury complains about," she muttered.

"The ice cream's foamy?"

"At least there's ice cream at all." She closed off and looked away. The shirt slung off her shoulder. It was then, he saw, in the darkened room, in the secretive silence, the scar running around her neck. It was too uneven to be a simple cut from a blade, and nobody would be able to strike so many times so neatly around the circumference. The scar— or scars— were too rough for that, too repeated and too numerous. It seemed like excessively damaged tissue which had healed over itself, again and again. Then, she let out a little shocked gasp, and went to hide her neck with her flesh arm, and he saw on her bare wrist very long, deep scars, more intentional than her neck.

He tried to think of what to say. He thought to apologise for seeing, since she probably did not mean for him to. She must have forgotten that he would be here. Tired, too, worn out from whatever Tyrian had done to her. Jaune nearly saw red thinking about it again.

He considered her. She hated pity. She was shocked by kindness. She had done horrible things, and would not take his sincerity seriously, not when they were so opposed, he was sure.

He chose to say the worst thing again, "I'm serious. I would have killed him."

Cinder tightened her hand around her neck.

It was not hard for him to put together. The neck scar. Tyrian's impassioned ranting (which, truthfully, Jaune had been thankful stopped when the air was pushed out of him with Cinder's sword).

"I thought that wasn't you," she said cautiously. "You spared me once. Doesn't that make you a hypocrite?"

He laughed quietly, humourlessly. "Yeah, I guess it does. I mean, I wanted to kill you at Haven, and then I realised that was kind of stupid…" he inclined his head towards her, "… and then I thought I was past that, helping you. It wasn't fair to leave you, not just for the powers, but I suppose… I thought I was better than that, killing you at your weakest, bringing you down to my level. Which I guess is sort of prideful." He laughed again and then ran a hand awkwardly through his hair. "I didn't want to kill Penny. Not at all. I guess at least for her I had the decency to feel bad about it. I felt none of that with Tyrian, and— I just wanted to rip him open.

"I know Yang and Blake felt bad about Adam. I mean, if you've gotta do it, you've gotta do it, but I didn't have to do it the way I did."

"They killed Adam," she said, sounding impressed. "I never liked him."

"That doesn't make it—"

"No, it does," she interrupted.

"It's still tragic," he said. "Nobody should have to die."

"So moving," she said. "Everybody dies."

He watched her. She ran her flesh hand up and down her Grimm hand. He then said, "You didn't."

She did not reply.

He went on, "You didn't die because I found you. And how many other times have you survived?"

"A few," she ground out.

"Even without my help," he added. "In fact, it seems like you were getting on well enough without me."

He watched her watch the blankets, as if an answer lay somewhere in the pastry crumbs. Jaune reached forward and brushed them off. He hated food in bed, but he did not seem to mind for her, especially since half of them were at least his.

She said, "Surviving is not the same as living."

That brought him pause. He considered the blanket clean now.

"Well, maybe you should try it," he said, aiming for levity. It landed poorly.

"I think I have."

"You have?"

She tilted her head at him. "We focussed so long on the impracticalities of this—" she gestured lazily with her hand, "that I didn't notice…" she trailed off. He had not seen her clumsy or awkward often. She swallowed. "I sleep better. I eat better."

He did not know what she meant. She must have seen that.

"The bond," she snapped.

"Oh!" he said brightly. "You mean you didn't before?"

"Not since—" then she gestured with her left hand. "It's still not the same. But I suppose I should thank you."

"You don't need to thank me," he said incredulously. "I got you into a terrible mess. I mean, I got us into a terrible mess and made everything— complicated. If I hadn't—"

"I'd be dead," she said coldly.

"I didn't need to go as far as I did," he bit out. "It felt— right. But I shouldn't have."

"I thought you didn't regret it."

Jaune could not figure out what she was thinking. She was placid, calculating, oddly braced. For what he did not know. "Of course I don't."

"Helping me, yes. But the consequences of it you do." She tilted her head. "I interrupted your evening. I'm in your bed. I stole your clothes. Hm... what else. I'm your worst enemy."

Jaune clenched his jaw. "Are you forgetting what happened tonight?"

She grew quiet at that.

"Keep trying to remind me," he said. "Maybe it'll stick eventually. I'm kind of a slow learner."

"Not that slow," she said.

He could not deign her with a reply. She slipped back into bed— he did not remind her to brush her teeth, though for an inane moment he almost did— and went to shower. He padded out with a towel around his waist and tried not to wake her again, but she rolled over and blinked open an eye and said, "Still not asleep yet," and then at that he squeaked.

"Sorry?" he tried, voice high.

She flipped back over very quickly as he got his clothes out and tried not to lose the towel until he was modestly covered. He wondered how the worn cotton of his shirt felt against her skin.

Subterfuge came to him more easily than he let on. After all, he had cheated his way into Beacon. Something about starting as you mean to finish.

He had lied to his parents, too, not just Ozpin. The day he supposedly had his training exam he had instead spent the day in the city, gorging himself on food and seeing a movie at the cinema— he forgot the title now— until he had caught the two hour train back, then bus, then biked the next hour back to his parents' farm. If he had to pick one thing he missed, it was probably the farm, with the stretching acreage and the woodsy paths, plus that stream he had played in as a kid where the wildflowers grew heavy and wild. If he really could not stand being near his sisters, he would go there and play, and come back only went it went dark.

That evening he had come back, his sisters and his parents had been abuzz with something nearing pride, though closer to relief. At least he would not flunk out now. He had said the lie over and over again, how excited he was for Beacon, that he had actually sort of started to believe it. His father had taken him aside and thumped him on the back and said well done. Then one of his sisters had come in and made some joke about him and Sapphron being the two to actually manage to get away and his mother had flicked her on the forehead. "Sapphron darling and that lovely Terra did not get away," she had said, but Jaune knew better. On a generous day his family was difficult; on a less generous one they were downright dysfunctional, but he loved them.

The day he had left, of course, they still offered him a place to come back if he managed to mess it up. He almost laughed at it now. He wondered if he would ever see them again. Ruby had not seen her father since they left him on Patch; Yang had seen her mother more times than the rest of them; Weiss had put her family back together in Atlas, and again here in Vacuo. Qrow had been with them all along, though sometimes Jaune wondered if that was more out of habit than it was solidarity. Still, Jaune knew he was inclined to cynicism in Oz and Qrow's respect, maybe because he was protective of Ruby.

So it was easy to lie to Theodore's face about the Summer Maiden and Tyrian's intentions. Of course they wanted the Relic. No, the Summer Maiden was not Cinder. She was Carmine.

"We dealt with her," said Coco. Jaune did not know her very well, though Velvet had dealt with Cardin, and once or twice they had commiserated together, Blake close to her too.

"I thought she disappeared into the desert. Her ex-partner was after her," Velvet added.

The teacher's staffroom had been appropriated for the informal meeting of Oz's best and brightest— or perhaps Ruby's, if Jaune was asked who was in charge. The finely patterned stonework insulating the windows afforded the room an unusually cosy feeling, the fans above whirring away. Vacuo was seeing a hot one today.

"Yeah, and then Ruby Rose dropped the truth bomb about Salem, the Relics, and for that matter, the Maidens. Stir Tyrian in and now you've got something exciting," Mercury said. He had one leg crossed over the other, and looked for all the world like he had belonged here the whole time. "Tyrian's as mindless as an ant making an ant hill. He's not clever, but he knows more than all of us."

Jaune caught Qrow stirring. He knew that he had a particular grudge against Tyrian. Grudges did not get you very far. Jaune could attest to that.

"Anything else you care to share?" said Qrow.

"He didn't tell me much. I think you can imagine why."

Emerald sheepishly crossed her arms.

"Salem keeps him updated. More than anybody else," Mercury added. "He's a real gossip. Plus, he doesn't like Cinder, so... he bagged Carmine for the purposes of Maiden business."

"So now we add another Maiden hunter to the list," Winter said. "Wonderful."

The fan's whirr filled the silence. Jaune watched it sort of dizzily. Cinder was still in his room, where he had left her with books and food he had stolen from breakfast.

"Tyrian never liked me much either, or Emerald for that matter. It's no skin off his nose I'm gone, not for more than whatever sick pleasure he got out of fucking with us." Jaune saw Winter grimace at the coarse language. He had thought a member of the Atlesian military would do better with swearing, but then again, she was still a Schnee. Weiss smirked. She had the same thought, then.

"Language," Winter said delicately.

"If you say so. Not that I'd let a Maiden boss me around."

"It's not because I'm the Winter Maiden I'm bossing you around. It's because we're in polite company, and more importantly, the headmaster of this school's staffroom." At that, Theodore jumped in his seat.

"I'm awake," he said.

"Good to see you still listening, Theodore," Oscar said, playful.

"Yes, yes, we need to get that new settlement of Mantle civilians across to Hammurabi," said Theodore. "We're nearing when the dust storms come in from the westerlies. Anytime in the next few weeks will do."

There was an awkward pause. Jaune got out of his chair and wandered the room as the conversation segued from the Summer Maiden to settlements for the people of once-Mantle and once-Atlas. Robyn and Winter had become friends, which Jaune was surprised by, though occasionally they managed awkward intervals when it was clear one was a member of the military and the other was, in other words, near enough to an outlaw. Ruby filled in silences, especially when Theodore grew quiet, and then Jaune jumped when he heard her addressing him.

"Jaune?"

He turned. He had been looking at a sign asking staff to politely wash their hands after they went to the bathroom. "Yeah?" he said. He could feel Nora and Ren watching him.

"What was she like with the power? Carmine?"

He searched for the right word. "Haughty. New to it. Not… sadistic, but I don't think she cared much either way."

He left out the part where Cinder seemed to personally offend her.

"You think she's the type to just attack the school?"

"The Vault needs to be unlocked with the help of Theodore, right? They seemed to be working under that impression, anyway. She didn't seem too rash, either." Jaune shrugged. "I'd say we're probably safe here just waiting it out. It's not like Cinder's helping her. I'd expect by the time she turns up— if she does— they might be fighting each other instead of us."

"You think that?" said Yang. "She double-crossed my mom."

"Would she try that again?"

"Well, she keeps trying for the Maiden powers and failing, so who knows."

Jaune really doubted Cinder would work with Carmine, if what he had seen was anything to go by. Their more prescient fear might have been Cinder dealing with the Carmine problem before they could. If she did, then he would have to figure out how to stop her, and he would probably fail at it because he was no match for her, or because, terribly, he might not want to.

They had left out the part that they had assaulted the would-be base of Tyrian's operation, and crumbled in the king's tomb. The resurged Crown was scattered, though. He could not mention that he feared Cinder was a target. That the Fall Maiden sought an odd refuge inside these very buildings. But the irony aside, he could not tell them, not when he knew how sorely Cinder would stick to her goal. She filled him with such conflict he did not know how to see through it, not yet.

He had just followed his gut and helped her, and had wanted to hold her. He had not forgotten about the rest.

"Then we just keep doing what we're doing," said Ruby. "What else? Winter, you're safest here, and you're already helping everybody out. If they want your power, they can try us. We hold off the Grimm steady, and we wait. We know Salem might move at any moment now, but she won't catch us by surprise like in Atlas." Ruby inclined her head. "I'd say our odds are pretty good right now. Think you could take a Maiden on, Winter?"

Winter put her hands behind her back. "If I must."

"Our bigger problem might be Grimm."

The Relics under his bed had caused more of a problem than Jaune thought. They attracted Grimm. Of course they did. He pinched his brow bridge.

So then they spent time devising rounds of Huntsmen and Huntresses to go deal with the unusually strong Grimm problem. Vacuo already struggled with a structured system, and usually let whoever was around to deal with it. It was better than intentionally and directly siphoning away resources, but it did pose somewhat of a cultural clash. Ruby had one or two heated debates over calendars until Weiss had pulled out her digital organiser and then forced everybody to get in line and put themselves down for rotational shifts, and Theodore sat in the corner, shaking his head, as they took over the operation. Winter watched on with a smile, and beside her, Robyn put her hands behind her head and shared a wink with her.

Jaune was down for helping Ren escort civilians moving to new settlements for the people of Mantle and Atlas, and they would do so in rounds, and he was also on call since his Semblance was helpful if anybody managed to get badly injured. He made mention of the nurse down in the west medic wing, who had asked him to swing by if he wanted; Theodore seemed to nod his head vaguely and indicate that was fine, though Jaune was not completely sure he was listening, and Jaune was also not sure if he had any reasonable medical qualification to speak of, other than that one fieldwork course everybody had to take at Beacon, and even that was mostly avoid breaking your Aura, and avoid getting holes inside you. But Aura was Aura, and Jaune was good with it.

Too good, if anybody asked Cinder Fall.

But she was not here.

Ilia was now discussing with Theodore what to do with the Faunus, and Blake too, and Sun, and the headmaster seemed a little more engaged with the topic but still sort of out of it. It seemed like Robyn and the Happy Huntresses had taken a shining to them, at least.

"Wait," Emerald said. The conversation snapped to her. "Carmine said you guys, the White Fang, were a problem. I was… eavesdropping." Jaune shot a look at her for that, and she squinted at him. Whatever, she mouthed.

"Gillian doesn't like Atlas or Mantle. The influx of people from there probably has something to do with it, considering how much the White Fang's been helping out," Coco said.

"Well, let's put on a show for her," said Ilia, hand on her hip. "Not much more we can do."

Jaune did not add that there has been a momentary interest in his Semblance and the bond. That would be trouble. Plus, if they were interested in him anyway, and they tried to come? Let them come.

Team RWBY volunteered first to go clean out the rim of the city. The fortifications were no good, and for that matter, as many had come from Haven and Vale, there were fewer Huntsman and Huntresses to civilians than anywhere else, other than flattened Solitas.

So Jaune went to the medical wing, considering the first wave of Grimm had come to their alert through the wounded.

It was chaos when he turned up. The nurses were co-ordinated, but the sick and the injured lined the hallway leading up to the medical wing and filtered outside where the drop area was, and so Jaune did the first thing that occurred to him as soon as he walked in on somebody bleeding and boosted a student's Aura, who could have been no older than seventeen, which was not much younger than Jaune, but she looked tiny.

This was kind of his fault. At least enough to blame himself for it, if he were in a martyr mood. He went from student to student— they were all clearly students, and Vacuo might have reared them hardier than most, but Aura was Aura— and hoped it was enough. He made it to the nurse whom he had spoken with last night and she sighed in visible relief as she saw him. She ruffled his hair and said, "We've got one we're not sure about down the end, bed thirty-one."

This was his fault.

The smell of the wing which opened out into an even larger hall— seeing disuse until now— did not smell simply of that familiar hospital tang, the antiseptic film which could be felt on the skin, no, it also had the smell of blood and fetid wounds, and the faintly sulphuric bitterness of Grimm.

Bed thirty-one was in as bad shape as Mercury. His friend beside him was grasping his hand, insisting there was something they could do, surely, and there had been a fine enough job made on tucking his organs back inside his body, but all the doctors and nurses were stretched thin.

"What are you doing here?" said his companion.

"I can boost his Aura. Is that alright?"

Her dark knuckles went white. "You can?"

So he did. Aura was not always enough, but he had also seen Weiss go from nearly dead to combat ready in the time he took to boost her, and the further they got away from nearly dead the better.

"What's your friend's name?" Jaune asked quietly, his hands hovering. This was a familiar position.

"Nickel. I'm Jade. How are you doing that?"

"It's just my Semblance." He shrugged. "My dad used to have this idea I'd be a great Huntsman, and then it took me a while to figure out I was better at this. What about you? What's yours?"

"Don't have it yet," she said.

"You'll figure it out. I only found mine out recently, too."

Nickel's skin had recovered from that ghostly pallor that Jaune associated with the near-dead. The watery reflection of his Aura had returned. That was the part which calmed Jaune down when he did something like this. Even fearing for Cinder holding off Tyrian, he had felt something lock into place once Mercury's white Aura had kicked back in. It gave them a little more time, anyway.

He remembered the lovely hue of Cinder's Aura. He would never forget it. Where his touched hers, he saw it turn back to its proper colour, and it was so warm, the warmest of all oranges, with treacle-thick sweetness. How could the memory of it be so reassuring?

"Nickel will be fine," Jaune said. "Look at him go. I've never seen someone recover their Aura that quickly!"

Jade awkwardly laughed the laugh of someone not crying. There was something else uncertain about her demeanor, but then, her friend had almost died.

Jaune's Aura flashed over his body as he tried not to think about how close he was to breaking. He was usually good about not letting it get this far, but then again, this was his fault. A little Aura breakage would not hurt him.

That was how Ren and Nora found him, sitting in a chair, much the same as the night before, waiting for his Aura to regenerate. He saw Nora's bouncy red hair out of the corner of his eye as she crouched beside him.

"Hey, you," she said. "Busy down here all on your own, huh?"

Then Ren started talking about everything they had been up to whilst Jaune had an identity crisis in a time-out-of-place beach; Nora had helped the Happy Huntresses, and built encampments before everybody figured out where to put two cities in the middle of the desert on top of the present one. Ren had made sort of an unexpected friendship with Neptune and the rest of team SSSN, which mostly started and ended with their shared passion of the art of dance— Ren had, after all, choreographed that number they pulled back at Beacon. Jaune would likely not forget the hours they spent practising that over any combat training. Nora had made friends with Emerald, too, and now she had strongarmed Mercury into a friendship which, she described as, "A little close to killing with kindness," and Ren had laughed at that. Then they turned sad when they mentioned how long they had thought Jaune was dead, until the others had turned up one morning when no wind blew, everything stood still, a Spring Maiden in tow who nearly came to blows with her brother until it turned out his nieces were alive and well.

Nora said, "We waited, and waited, and we thought you'd come out at some point, see that silly head of blond hair somewhere—"

"All those people who apparently fell first came through, after Ruby led the way," Ren added. "And we waited…"

"And you didn't come," Nora sadly finished.

Raven had even been a little sorry. Nora had wanted to yell at somebody, and Ruby had been confused until she had explained Jaune had never come back or made it through, and then Ruby had howled.

"No Relic, no getting you back," Nora said. "Then you figured out a way, apparently."

"Did you— want to tell us about that?"

Jaune looked at the floor between his feet. His Aura had already bounced back by now. The gap between him and his team felt about as wide as the distance between Vacuo and the beach he had been stranded on.

"Not really," he said.

"Ruby said she saw some weird things down there. She won't tell us what. You know how she gets. She clams up. Two peas in a pod, huh?"

"What did she see?"

"Won't tell us," Nora repeated.

"Maybe she just can't," Jaune tried. "I'm— I'm glad to be back with you guys."

He was, even as he carefully tracked how they circulated each other. Jaune did not know exactly what was going on with their relationship, but even he knew when to leave the room.

So he got up and started on the next round of people who needed their Aura boosted. Ren and Nora could not really do much, but they went around offering moral support, which he never would have envisioned Ren doing as he did now: Ren smiling and laughing, Nora the measured, temperate one, who fetched nurses when asked for and managed the post-Grimm invasion. Nobody had seen it coming, and nobody had been prepared.

Who was ready for a Relic or two under his bed? Certainly not Jaune.

It was later, much later, when Emerald came and visited, fist-bumping Nora as she did and nodding at Ren.

"So this is what you've been up to all day," said Emerald. At least half the time he had spent had been used waiting for his Aura to pick back up. He was still getting better at that, especially when he dipped in and out of different Aura wells.

"Did they actually teach you stuff at Huntsman academies for like, field medicine, or are you just guessing?" Emerald asked.

"Don't get hit," Nora said. "And you talk like you're not a Huntress already, girlie."

"I'm not," Emerald insisted.

Cackling, Nora shook her head.

Jaune said, "I'm pretty sure I shouldn't even be allowed near patients, but Aura isn't that complicated. It does most of the work." He chuckled awkwardly. "So it's not really me. Besides, desperate times and all that."

"You know that Gillian woman, she has a Semblance like yours," said Emerald. Jaune detected something secretive in her tone. "She drains, though. Doesn't amp."

"That sounds like trouble," Jaune said. He finished up. That was the last person he had conferred with Ochre about. He had a feeling he was going to be called down here more often.

"They were interested in your Semblance, remember? I think you were too busy with Mercury." Emerald raised a brow. "I'd be careful, if I were you."

"I doubt they're that interested in me. Seems like the Maiden powers have got them curious." He was sort of lying and sort of deflecting.

Ren and Nora shared a quizzical glance, and then they mentioned something about dinner. Emerald said, "You go on ahead. Jaune and I will meet you up there."

Jaune did not like the sound of that.

He spent a while saying goodbye to Ochre, mentioning he could come down anytime they needed him, and he could probably manage fine since his Aura snapped back like an elastic band, easy as anything, and really, he had never felt so useful. Emerald tapped her foot.

They went for a walk through the courtyard which wrapped back around to the ziggurat. It was a beautiful garden, mostly sand and rock, but arranged so as to look like a picturesque scene. It was dusk, making the shadows longer, and he thought of Cinder, what she was doing. It would be poor to call on her now.

"I'm not going to give you a lecture, not as— one of them," Emerald said. "I'm not even going to give you an annoying lecture because I used to work with her. I'm just going to tell you what I know. She's using you."

"You think it didn't occur to me?"

"No, I think it did and you might want to ignore it anyway."

Jaune nodded. That was fair. "So why do you think she helped Mercury, then? Was that part of her plan, too?"

Emerald went quiet, as quickly as she had first piped up. "I… don't know. Mercury always said she never cared and I never listened, and by the time I wised up and realised she treated me the same way Salem treated her, well…"

"Yeah," he said.

"Just because she let us go it doesn't mean she suddenly does. Or that she's got a moral compass. I was there for everything she did at Beacon." She narrowed her eyes at him and stopped walking. "Didn't she kill your friend?"

It was funny how cold it grew once the sun drew back. Jaune felt a chill. "I killed Penny," he said, instead.

"That doesn't make you the same as her."

"You helped kill Penny the first time."

Emerald did not reply. Her red eyes judged him, maybe as much as she judged herself. "You've had this conversation before, haven't you? With her?"

"Once or twice," he allowed.

"I don't get it."

"Search me," he said, and outstretched his arms. "I don't get it either."

Sometimes, though, it made too much sense. He wished he would do something silly, like trip, because then he would feel more normal, and think less about Cinder.

"When do you plan to tell them?" Emerald crossed her arms.

Jaune searched for anybody around, people walking past. A man dressed in tidy clothes came through seeming too worried to even notice them, but still Jaune waited for his footsteps to cease echoing before he said, "Once I figure out what's going on with the Summer Maiden. If anything, the kind of trouble Cinder's in with Tyrian, we're—" he paused, ready to say the thing that sounded sort of ridiculous, "—close enough to allies, honestly. And I don't think Cinder will be interested in helping us, don't look at me like that, but both of us have a vested interest in stopping Tyrian for now. And besides which, Salem is sleeping."

"Sleeping?"

"You heard Tyrian mention Cinder got put on guard-dog watch. Salem is sleeping after she pulled that giant Grimm stunt. This is probably the most downtime we'll have until the end of the world."

Emerald barked out a laugh. "Shit."

"Obviously I can't tell them how I know that—"

"But that's why you're so cool about it," she finished for him.

"As cool as you can be when you're Aura-bonded to your enemy, I guess. Whom you also saved. Twice… who also saved you… so." Jaune put his hands on his hips. "It's a little weird when I say it out loud, but I guess there are weirder things."

"Mercury's pretty weird," she said.

"You weren't lying about that at Beacon, huh."

"Oh, no, he didn't have to pretend very much."

Jaune laughed at that, and it seemed to satisfy her. Once they had eaten dinner, Emerald had even stopped shooting him suspicious looks, and Jaune figured, for the time being, he would wait to tell the others about Cinder, and maybe she and Mercury would not mind. At least they knew Salem was not coming again, not yet, and their biggest problem was Tyrian and the Summer Maiden, plus the aggressive Grimm. They could hold it off. After all, every kingdom at one point or another had had to deal with them, and what place was better at it than Vacuo? That, and the fact they had as hard a time as Grimm as they once had with Atlas. That did not help with the settlements, and if Jaune were to speculate, did not help with the remnants of the Crown piecing themselves together in the desert with the new Summer Maiden.

When he opened the door to his room, he expected the Fall Maiden to be gone. He thought that she would leave when he was not looking, and had prepared for it, so he was surprised and sort of softly shocked to see her still here. He swiftly shut the door behind him, and let out a breath as he heard people filter through the hallway.

"You're still here?" he asked. "Not through the bond?"

She was wearing his clothes and her silver armour was still neatly sitting up on the wardrobe, beside his. Of course she was here. Her long legs were stretched out on the bed and her thighs were soft and curved and her knees delicate, which sort of struck him oddly, like, why would he think about her knees?

"Still here," she said. Her voice was always deep and smooth, and he did not want to really admit it, but he liked when she talked.

He let out a long, long sigh. He had been so braced for disappointment that the joy of her not having left made him unable to disguise it, that, too, along with the day he had.

He put his selfish impulse aside and said, "You know you can leave whenever you want. Not that you need my permission, that is, but that window is yours to open and fly out of. It's not like you can freely wander the school as it is, and jeez, I'm not sure you'd want to, we had a pretty bad Grimm attack that bled through the city, and you should've seen the people lining the medic wing."

Cinder crossed her arms. "I know I can leave."

"Good, good, okay," he said, and nodded, awkwardly, then took off his shoes to busy himself.

"But as you said. There were Grimm. Not exactly the best time to go, especially with the Relics. Here's hoping it hit the Summer Maiden."

Jaune huffed and slumped to the floor in front of the bed. He had not got anything on him, he was mindful of that, but the smell of hospital probably clung to him.

"You look… exhausted. Worse than on the beach."

"I must really look bad, then," he said.

"What did you do?"

"Well, there were lots of people hurt, you know better than anyone what I did." He snorted. "Probably too well."

She shuffled closer on the bed and said, "Such a martyr. Now look at you."

"Think I overdid it a little."

"Think? You've gone from ripping open Aura to wearing yourself thin. That's beyond overdoing."

"I'm pretty sure that was the arm," he blurted.

"What was the arm?" she repeated.

Jaune had figured it out around when the first wave of nausea hit on the way back. He had disguised it well, because the last thing he wanted Cinder to see was him puking his guts out in the middle of the desert, which had reminded him of his fear of motion sickness with her flying, and he had managed to avoid it then, too.

"I'm pretty sure that Grimm arm of yours and the bond and my Semblance did something really bad and I opened Tyrian like a scarecrow," he said in one cascade, "and pulled his stuffing out."

He turned his head towards her. She said, "For me." He was not expecting that reply.

"For you," he said. Then he could not help smiling, even if he had probably done the thing he should never have done with his Semblance.

She reared back dumbly, and he let her digest that as he peeled off his clothes which were in sore need of washing, so he could go get the stench of the hospital off him. They were the clothes she gave him, too. She averted her gaze and he pretended that she was doing it out of a sense of modesty, not because she was probably still thinking about the implication of his reply, and the bond, and everything else that sat between them and simmered. Murder, grief, longing.

Sometimes he scarcely believed it at all. It should have been impossible. But he had not come back the same, and maybe neither had she.

"Will you tell me?" he asked her, once he had come back and changed, washed off death. "What Tyrian did to you? Why he did that?"

Her shoulders drooped, her long, shiny black hair spilling over her petite collarbones. He could see that she was hesitant, more hesitant than he had ever seen her. Before he thought arrogant was the only word to describe her, maybe sadistic the next. She looked anything but. It intrigued him, the same way he had once wanted to know why she could kill with a smile. Maybe nobody had ever asked.

"I can't tell you," she nearly whispered. He was close enough to hear. With her voice so low it carried none of the usual purr and came close to a softness he only glimpsed of her in brief, secret moments.

"He knew how to hurt you," Jaune said equally as quietly. "He knew what to say, to call you a failure."

"That's because I am one."

"You're not."

"I am. Ruby beat me at Beacon, Raven nearly killed me, I never seized the Winter Maiden power, and now I barely crawled out of that tomb. Exactly what part went right?"

"Mercury lived," he said.

"Salem will be so delighted."

"So maybe you're looking in the wrong place." He could not help scooting a little closer, back pressed against the stone wall. "Maybe you… need to see things differently."

When her brow furrowed, the scarred tissue moved with it, and the creases of her skin were somehow beautiful.

"I can't tell you," she said again quietly. She shook her head. "You'll—"

"I'll what? Judge you?"

"Yes," she said, miserably.

He could not help how he softened watching her. He had once wanted so desperately, desperately to make her feel how he felt, when he lost Pyrrha, but now he was pretty sure she already had.

Now he wanted to reach out and put himself all around her the way his Aura did. He said, "You don't have to tell me, then." She hugged her arms closer to herself. She was vulnerable. "Show me."

"I don't think it works like that," she said, already two steps ahead.

"We could try. If you really can't say it."

He scooted even closer, and her legs moved so he could.

"Come on, show me your worst," he added. "I've seen it all already, and you've seen mine." He telegraphed what he was about to do by sliding his hand slowly up the blanket until he touched that knee. It had sort of driven him mad.

"What if you go in my head and you never get out?"

He told her what he already knew. "I feel more of myself now than I did before." Even with the secret. Maybe, in part, because of it.

"So it's like that for you too," she murmured. He nodded.

She deliberated, searching him until she came to a conclusion: she reached out and grabbed his jaw, pressed their foreheads together. Jaune felt very naked, even though he did not need to look down and double-check.

"I'll only see what you want me to see," he said, and tried not to blush when he realised his air brushed over her mouth. In the dark it was still that dried rosebud colour.

He could not help how his breath caught, and his hands shook. He was not sure where to put them so simply steadied himself, trying not to load-bear on her own head, and he caught her eye fluttering closed, her lashes brushing against her skin.

She opened up the way it felt like pouring himself in the first time. It was sort of like falling asleep and sort of like using his Semblance, and even a little like jumping in a pool, all three at the same time, that and whatever made her, her: fire and moonlight, lying on grass in the middle of summer, the first catch of autumn, the sound of the front door opening back home.

It started out in the dark. It was lonely. It was always lonely. She liked picking flowers and hiding them under pillow, see-through yellow and pretty. The boys drowned her doll. They beat her and she beat them, then she got in trouble. She swam for a while in the river looking for Lady and, well, she had to keep her wet clothes on as punishment for going near the river they were banned from. She had always wanted to go to the beach but had never been. Madame came for her and said this is your home now, and it was dark too, the moon her only guide when she was alone, the sun weak even so high up in Atlas. Rhodes came and he made her better and stronger, the same way the collar did, so when she finally snapped and killed them because she had waited years and years and her whole life to be free she knew it was meant to happen.

The sisters had dangled food in front of her and the patrons turned a blind eye to her, she who was always covered in soot, and grime, and dirt, and her hair a little messy, and it was the same day again and again and again. It was the same day she lived out forever, even when she had left, and Salem had found her. They were searching for a girl, about this tall, last seen employed at the Glass Unicorn, having slain a woman, her two daughters, and a proud Huntsman, one of Atlas' best, though they had no name because there was no record, paid under the table, of course; a violent killer, sadistic, even; she let her Aura down to slit her wrists because it would be easier, with nowhere to go and no real freedom, wandering forever, the snow thick, the cold setting in, eyes growing heavy, her waiting to freeze to the bone; it was very cold.

She hated the cold. She was cold. She hated herself. She waited to die, and hoped this would be easier than Madame or Rhodes, and then the lady in the night had appeared, with a sad frown, and a magical carriage made of tentacles and the Grimm, purple smoke, her voice ringing out like the way she imagined fireflies would sound if they could talk; Salem mocked her when she said that sort of thing. But today, Salem said she would not die, would set her free, would give her everything she wanted and bring down everything that had failed her, lift up all that helped her succeed. Magic was real, and she was free. Atlas was a hopeless city in the sky, destined to fall, but Cinder would rise as high as the broken moon, and make it whole.

Jaune did not notice the tears streaming down his face until they hit his lap. They left behind saltwater marks.

"I'm so sorry," he said.

"What?" Cinder said blankly.

"You went through all of that alone, and you— she found you—" he pulled her close, "—how did you go through that alone?"

"It made me stronger," she said in monotone.

"But you were alone. You were just a little girl. Nobody looked after you and nobody protected you, not really, that woman just took you and that Huntsman just left you there, every time, even when he came back he still left. I don't get it. And then Salem… found you." He shook his head. "It doesn't matter how strong you are. You still hurt, and nobody made that better."

Her eyelid fluttered. "Are you forgetting who I am now?"

"Of course not. I know who you are now. And I know who you were then, too. It doesn't change it. If I were there—"

"What, you'd kill Madame? The sisters?"

"I would help you," he said. "I'd kill Tyrian, too, if I had to. You know that." He ran a hand up her shoulder, her skin scalding like a brand. "I think there's probably nothing I wouldn't do."

He knew that to be true as suddenly as he said it. He would do anything to help his friends, terrible things that he was sure Ruby would not be happy with him for. He felt a protectiveness for Cinder which sort of struck him with irony and intensity. He knew exactly what had not been done for her and he had seen it with his own eyes. He had seen it before she had even shown him.

"I recognise that place. The Glass Unicorn," he said, "I think I saw it before in a dream."

"I have strange dreams," she said in absent reply.

But she was still reeling from what he had said, he could see that. Her lip quivered, and her gaze flickered across his face and his shoulders and all over him, as if trying to decide if he were real. Well, he was.

Something twisted in his chest like one of those old hand-spun musical boxes. He ran his thumb over her wrist. The scars were thick, red and raised. She was not that little girl any longer, and he knew that she was the woman in front of him. But how could she see any other way out, if this was the way it always was? She, who seemed rebellious at heart, who could not reason her way out of the cycle of pain and death?

Of course it was all she could see. He tilted his head at her and then she reached up with her right hand and wiped his cheek.

Jaune really did not have much time for cycles anymore.

"It's too late," she said sadly, as if she already knew the question he was thinking. He was not inside her head, looking through her eyes anymore.

"You don't know what I was thinking."

"Ah, but I do. You forget that this whole time I've come to know you, too. You might have thought yourself a deadened cynic once you killed Penny because of me, but I knew better. You think I could still be stopped." She half-smiled, as if the idea were ridiculous but she was entertaining it anyway. "Maybe in another life."

"I'm talking about this one. You could—"

"Pain may have been my teacher, but it doesn't make me fit for your cause. Isn't that what it comes down to? Which side I'm more useful for? You need your Fall Maiden the same way Salem does. I pick the lesser of the two evils. I would never fit into your world, not since the day I killed Rhodes. And Madame. And the sisters."

Tremulous, he said, "Please. It's not about that. You were alone."

Something ruinous crossed her, as sorrowful as it was joyous, like she did not know what to feel at once, her gentle mouth sad and her fiery eye alight. "If it makes you feel any better," she said, dropping her hand and pulling back to gauge him, "I'm not anymore."