Jaune wanted to turn around and go look for her. It was the last thing he needed to do.

And yet. The only thing that made sense would be calling for her and pleading with her to go with him. It might work this time. Why could it not work, anyway? Why did they have to fight? Did she not know what he would do for her?

Then, what would she do for him? Crash a party and warn him of demise, apparently. But she did not see that option available to her. It was out of the question. When he had been in her head, everything had been so dark. It was dark as midnight. All he had wanted to do was to cup that little fire inside her and blow on it. It was dark still, the party only just behind them, all standing around each other waiting for the first person to talk again, person by person punctuating space in the meeting room. The milky moonlight was weak and thin.

But here he was. She was gone. In front of him, Ruby stared, silver-ceaselessly.

"We shouldn't be doing this," he said.

"It changes everything," Ruby said. She had said this twice now.

"Does it."

"She came and gave us warning! Why would she do that?"

Blake stood worriedly next to Ruby. "And she said— strange things—"

"Like, what was with that with Salem?"

"And why were you even using your Semblance on her—"

Jaune waited for Nora to add, "You're in love with her," before he said anything.

It was very, very quiet at that.

"And why," said Oz— it was not Oscar—, "do you have an Aura bond with her?"

He inspected each of them. In the dim light of the staffroom, with the sky shadow-blackened by Grimm, it was like one of those days when there was a big storm but it had not broken yet. Theodore was somewhere securing the school. Winter, the Winter Maiden, had been so furious with him she had nearly cut his throat by the time they had all got up here. Well, all the more reason he had said nothing.

"I don't even know how you want me to start," he said. He looked at Oz. It was sort of funny. He had been so angry at him once for lying, and now he was all too familiar with it. Yes, it had been very hard to tell them about his secret ex-wife. Now Jaune had to tell them about… his Aura bonded partner. Whatever she was. She always evaded anything he tried to give her or name her.

"Well, you could start with familiar territory," Oz said, when nobody else would speak.

Jaune crossed his arms. "She was dying and I didn't let her die." He could see Nora about to say that's not how his Semblance works. So he added, "You know she's fused with Grimm. It was draining her Aura. I fixed it. I fixed it too well. And then I killed Penny, and I was on the beach by myself… down there, and I saw her. I thought I was crazy for a moment, but I sort of knew I wasn't. And then it didn't stop."

"But you said you saw…" Ruby trailed off.

"You assumed." He cleared his throat.

"Because Neo saw Roman."

"I thought you saw your mom."

"I didn't," Ruby gritted out. "If we're truth-telling. No, I didn't see her."

Then what had happened to Ruby? She closed up again, and he could see the deflection in her posture.

"How long?" Nora asked. She held one elbow, forefinger tapping against her thumb, intently scrutinising Jaune.

"How long what," he said.

Nora burst out, "How long you talked to her, I don't know, how long you've apparently been in love with Pyrrha's killer, something like that— oh, I guess she killed Ozpin too, so you better not forget him. Sorry, Oscar, but there's a reason you're like this, SHE APPARENTLY MAKES JAUNE HAPPY."

Nora was not breathing over his shoulder, but she may well have been. She was on the other side of the desk. She was his friend. They had supported each other after Pyrrha's death. Ren, beside her, looked just as troubled, and he had no calm mask on: he looked as conflicted as Jaune felt, probably because Ren had seen his Aura signature. He should have known something was up. That was what he must have been thinking. Where did all that sorrow come from, anyway. It was hers, of course it was hers. He carried it for her.

"You could have told us. It goes without saying. We would have helped you avoid this," Ren said measuredly.

"Avoid a fight or avoid knowing her?"

"You can't seriously think it was a good idea."

Jaune looked at him and looked at him and thought about it. The longer he looked, the less he saw. He said, "I thought everything changed when we found out Salem couldn't be destroyed. You remember how angry I was then. Pyrrha didn't even know what she died for. Now I'm not even sure anymore. I killed Penny, I was on the beach down there by myself… she was the only person I saw and so we talked. She could have walked away and so could I. I don't know if she were lonely or not, but I was. I wanted to know why she was the way she was. I always had. How do you kill someone and not even break a sweat?" He shrugged but it was sad. "Once it started it never stopped with her. She needed the Maiden powers to feel safe. Pyrrha was going to stop that."

"You didn't mention it. Once," said Ren.

"Why does it even matter if she feels safe," Nora snapped.

So Jaune said, "Because I understand her now. And maybe Ruby's right. It does change everything. She'd help us."

"She'd what," Nora repeated flatly.

"She held off Grimm when she was staying with me, you know. She didn't tell me, but I found out eventually because of what happened to Sun. She fixed my sword. She saved me from the beach… though she didn't mean to, I don't think, she could've killed me but she didn't. I don't— know what she really wants, and she left now, but—"

"She's a monster."

"She's part Grimm," Ruby said. "That's like— Salem did to Mom, and then she figured out she could do it to Cinder, too."

Jaune nodded. "I know."

"Does she know what Salem might do to her? Does she know about Salem and—" Ruby flicked her gaze to Oz.

"I think she has a pretty good idea," he said. It had grown up her arm some bit. Cinder had shown him where it had started. Cinder had not been awake for its grafting. She had woken up with it up her forearm. By the time he found her bleeding, it was up her shoulder, and at night in bed he could see it winding up her shoulder.

Ruby's silver eyes watched him sadly.

"Do you think you could—"

She turned away from him, her shoulders shaking.

"We have the bond. We could—" Jaune tried.

"What are you two talking about?" Nora asked. "Can we go back a second? You're talking about Cinder and her Grimm arm when, Jaune, you betrayed us."

Horribly, he said, "I'd do it again."

"What."

"I'd do it again. I know you're angry, but I'd do it again, because it was the right thing to do. You might not understand it and maybe you never will. You don't know her. And I know you might say that whatever happened to her doesn't justify what she did, not anything, but everything I know now… I wondered once or twice if there were any point to this at all. The only thing I want to do right now is go find her. You're my friends, and I— I didn't want to lose you, but she's— how do I even explain it? She's like—" connected to him in his Aura, close enough to a soulmate.

"Is it sex?"

"It wasn't like that," he finally snapped. "Nora, you know I would never. How could you..."

"Do I know? People get them confused. Did she seduce—"

"I'm not repeating myself. If we have any chance of stopping Salem, you never, ever ask me that again." He had no right to slam a fist on the table in front of him, and he immediately felt poorer for it. It was not going the way he had hoped, but then again, he had hoped this would never happen. This was exactly what Cinder had wanted him to avoid, too. No hope and no way out.

He did not believe that. For a long time he had feared that no one would come back, that if he turned his head he would look back and find them gone. Every time he reared his head, there she was, and if she were not there yet, she would be eventually. He found it funny that she gave him that fear and then she fixed it, like she was the only person who really could.

"Did she ever hurt you?" Blake asked. She looked so kind and so concerned. "While you were… you know."

"No," he said.

"Okay. Okay," she said, and then she looked at Weiss funnily, and she added, "That was… very odd what happened with Salem. Can you tell us anything?"

"She wouldn't want you to know, but that's because she's ashamed. I think you should just…"

"Tell us what you can," Weiss said. "Let's just put what you kept from us aside. Please."

Jaune let out a long, long sigh. It was not his story to tell, not really. She had barely borne it herself, and had barely let him see. She could not speak it, because it was too hard, and because she knew she had never really left it. He could see it in her. But maybe if they understood, if they had any idea…

"When she was a little girl, she was orphaned. A rich businesswoman from Atlas bought her and enslaved her. A Huntsman came by every now and then and tried to train her to go to the military academy. One night her owner's daughters found her practice sword, and Cinder killed them when she was… I think she might've been fifteen but she doesn't know when her birthday is. Rhodes found her and then he tried to punish her and fight her, so she killed him, too. She was on the run for murder and she was a loose ward, and she—" he stopped, "I'm not telling you what happened there. Salem found her when she was dying and then, I guess, you could say it started all over again. She found a new master. If you asked her, she'd tell you she doesn't serve her."

He paused, and added, "She doesn't really care about Salem."

Jaune would have killed Madame, too. He would probably not even feel that bad about it. If he had known she was locked away there, it would be the first thing he would do. He would stop Salem, too, if it meant she were free. If there were any reason other than saving the world, it was her.

He got up out of his chair. It had been hard and uncomfortable and he did not want to linger anymore.

"Why her?"

Jaune looked up. Nora did not look as angry. Her cheeks were red and her shoulders were drawn straight, as serious and dour as she had ever seemed. He said, as conciliatory as he could, in want of a better answer, "I don't think it could have been anybody else."

"Do you just love the person she could be?" Blake asked. "Do you know who she really is?"

He tapped his fingers along the table again and thought about how angry she was when he had acted like he did. She had been so offended that he presumed she had chosen the arm being fused to her. She had been so angry she had pulled him out of the beach place and then dragged him to Salem's sad fortress, with the red sky and the red walls. He almost laughed at the thought of it.

"I bet you don't know her at all," Yang added quietly. She had been simmering, that was for sure. She had been waiting to say that.

"You might not believe me, but I know her just as she is. Good and bad," he said. That was all he needed to say. But he still added, "She knows me. Good and bad."

"But you weren't bad until her," Ren said. "I'm sorry. It needs to be said. I know I used you cheating into Beacon against you, but that's not a stain on your record."

"I killed Penny."

"Because of her!"

"So you make excuses for me," he said, "but you won't for her."

"You're not a murderer."

"I AM a murderer," he said, "and I would kill for her, too. In fact, if it came down to it, I'd probably kill for you, too. But the minute she killed her slavemaster, what happened to her? She was condemned for it, forever. The minute Rhodes came in and found her she was already done. She's already been let down. I'm not afraid to say what I'd do, and I'd have killed Tyrian, too, if I could have. So don't you see?" He looked to Ruby. "But I can't kill her. That's not happening. Whatever we do today, we don't hurt her."

"What if she tries to hurt us," Nora asked flatly.

"She won't."

"She likes hurting people," Weiss said.

"I don't even think she knew what she liked."

"Don't you remember what happened on the way here? She—" Weiss said and stopped, then continued, "she did it all with a smile on her face. She'll never change."

Jaune had not quite thought this through. He was more than prepared to never hurt himself. Now his side was still prepared to do it.

"Fine," he said. "I'm not going to convince you. Then let's drop it. You know what's on the board now. The Summer Maiden's trouble and Cinder doesn't like her. Something's going on with Theodore. I'm Aura bonded to Cinder. What else? I don't know what could really surprise me right now. Salem's apparently going to turn up on our doorstep for the next Relic. I don't know, I guess I could tell you the two loose Relics are under my bed."

Jaune heard a few gasps. He should not have saved it. It felt a little cruel. He did not like the sense of smugness. He was a liar.

He continued, "Yeah. Cinder stole them. To get my armour back. Where I buried it on the island. And I think she wanted an excuse to leave. Salem had locked her up."

"YOU HAD THE RELICS—"

He was not sure who was talking, because most of them were surprised and making noise, so he said very firmly, "Cat's out of the bag now. Salem knows. I can only imagine what she's doing to Cinder. That's why I didn't tell you. You saw what she did to her."

Blake covered her face with her palms, and Weiss beside her put a hand on her shoulder. Ruby looked blank. He did not catalogue the rest; Nora was looking angry again.

"You were protecting her," Ruby said blandly.

"Yes," he said.

"She was protecting you."

"It's all we could do."

Jaune waited for somebody to say something. It was silent.

Nora broke it with, "You seriously expect us to go along with it. Not even just her, the fact that you lied about it. You could've told us at any point."

"Then you'd have made me leave her," Jaune said. "You know you would have."

"But you didn't…" Nora tried, and then her mouth worked before she added, "but you didn't love her from the start. You told me you think you're falling in love with her. So somewhere between when you— did whatever you did, and now, you didn't. You hated her. So—"

He did not quite know what to say to that.

"—so you felt something for her then," Nora finished.

"I don't know," he said, which was as damning as any other reply. 'No,' would have been better. Less true, but better. He did not know where it began and ended with her. It was not like it took him only one day to realise it. It was not even the continued certainty that he would see her that drew him in. It was choosing it, over and over again, and something ineffable that he did not really know how to name, which was as mysterious as the feeling of his own Semblance, which sort of burnt and made his skin hot, like that little look in her eye when she thought of something clever, and she asked him for help. He wanted to help her again.

So he left for his room. The safekeeping place of the two Relics. He heard the others following him. It was the place he returned to, every day, and the winding halls of the ziggurat, piece by piece stonework narrating his circuitous path back to her, always back to her, led to him finding the window left wide open, as if whoever had been in his room wanted him to know that she had been here. Of course she had. There lay his sword, and his armour, and there were her things, and she was gone, long gone, the drawer under his bed disturbed.

So much for a Maiden hunt. She had lied. He knelt, and behind him heard the flurry of footsteps which signalled his audience: hushed hisses, and decisions, decisions about what to do. He pulled the drawer open. He did not know what to expect. After all, what a silly place to keep a Relic or two. It had seemed so simple, though, so simple it was stupid, so simple it was the most sensible option. Keep her here, and keep the Relics.

He shuddered out a shocked breath: he did not quite know the feeling, but it was the most intense of balms. He let out a full body shudder. The Relic of Knowledge glowed the sort of blue of a hot Dust crystal about to explode. Its sibling, the Staff, was gone somewhere else, and its user with it.

"It's still here," he pronounced, more to himself than to the crowd at his door. "The Relic of Knowledge is still here. The Staff's gone."

"But… why would she leave the Lamp?" Weiss wondered the question everybody was thinking.

He touched the handle of the Lamp, and blinked, blankly.

"Is she playing mindgames?" he heard.

Whatever game it was, he was losing. She was better at this than him.

Ochre and the nurse ward did not actually need that much help. She patted him on the shoulder and said, "Well, we'll weather it, won't we?" and then he had just sort of nodded.

"Where are your grandkids," he asked blandly.

"My daughter wanted to leave, but she's staying. She's got the kids under the tables and all the doors locked. Not sure if there's anything else to do. Told her to put some water in the tub if it goes off."

"It's not really that normal," Jaune said, helping her move a blood pressure machine, which he did not even know how to use.

"So what do you know, then?"

"I've met who's coming, if you would believe it."

"And what's she like? Move left, yes, there you go."

Jaune tried for humour. "She's very stern." It was sort of true. Salem was stern. She was just world-endingly stern.

"And do you think we'll live? Silly question. I'm sure you don't know."

"Well," he said, "I think I might know somebody who could still help."

"And what are you going to do, then? When are they coming?"

He tried again for her, but it was like she had turned her back to him. Every time he reached out for her, it was blindly feeling in the dark. She was telling him to go away. He had to try, though.

"I've still got to find her," he said.

"You'll have to tell me about her, too. She sounds very mysterious. A stern lady coming for the city here… another who might help us."

He thought of how to describe Cinder, to Ochre, the kind nurse, who had taken him in and had probably heard Cinder's Beacon broadcast. So he tried to think of telling her of the Cinder he had come to know, as plainly as he could, "She's… stubborn, and kind, when she wants to be. Funny, too, but you know… we have the same humour. Very clever."

"Oh, that sort of girl," Ochre said, nodding quickly. "You should have just said so."

He laughed at himself, sort of sad. "I should have, yeah."

At least they had organised some students to protect the clinic. It was still dark out, and the night was ghostly, odd. It did not quite have the same feeling at Atlas when Salem knocked on their doorstep. It was more like if he had seen this place before in a nightmare.

He checked in with the students, and some of the professional Huntsmen and Huntresses, who all looked at him funnily, when he asked how they were, if they needed help.

"Oh, I've met Salem," he said to one of them. "In the flesh. So have some of my friends, yeah."

"But like, what can we expect?"

He wanted to say: for everything to go wrong. The longer he considered his answer, the more the Huntress' furrowed brown intensified, until he decided on the truth, "Well, Salem's only half as good as she is because she knows where to dig in. So, I guess, don't give her an opening."

He bid them good luck, and felt sort of weird about it, because his friends were angry with him, and Cinder was gone, but they few were being kind, and cared enough to stay here with Ochre and the other nurses. Had the medical wards in Atlas been protected? He had to admit, at least Vacuo had this.

Huntsman and Huntress ant-like shapes dotted the far-flung dunes of Vacuo, sugarbowl shaped landscape. There were makeshift battlements. There was a Winter Maiden surveying the security. Through the ground, a distant rumble could be felt. Something was coming, soon enough anyway, or maybe it was just a poorly-timed earthquake. The day had broken uneasily, and it wore on like chafed skin. Jaune thought it was kind of mad, just waiting for Salem to turn up, and fight her again. Then they would go back to Vale, and would they simply fight her there, too? One horde of Grimm after the other, until one of them gave into the nothingness.

If there had ever been a sign that there was a different way, it was Cinder. He nursed that feeling, almost petting it, hoarding it. Maybe they did not have to fight anymore. He would like to believe in it.

His armour fit him well. He had found a black chainmail in his room which he had put on underneath. Who had made it, he wondered. She must have done it sometime he was not looking, and squirreled it away with his things. Black and white armour, black and orange clothes, his dark trousers, and the black boots: well, he was nearly dressed like her. They were matching.

"She said it would be worse than Atlas," Ruby said beside him. She was watching the same sight as he. From this vantage point of the school, they could see everything.

"Yeah."

She looked at him quizzically, awaiting explanation.

"Well, Salem's angry, for one. Two, she had a full night's rest and then some. I don't… really know more than that," he said. "Cinder mentioned once— there's something about the Grimm out here that are different, which aren't like Salem's." He shrugged.

"I think it's something else," Ruby said.

"Like what?"

"I think she has a surprise," she continued blankly.

"What could be more surprising than just showing up in Atlas?"

"That's the horrible question." Ruby leant against Crescent Rose, letting it hold her weight. Her chin pressed hard into the ammunition chamber.

"Ruby…" he tried, "something's happened to you, and I don't know what. I'm going to be honest for the first time in a while and tell you that you remind me of somebody. Can you… tell me what's going on?"

"You didn't," she said.

"I couldn't."

"Exactly," she did not snap, but near enough. "You couldn't. I couldn't. So what are we even doing. Trust comes with risk, and you didn't trust us. Because the risk of losing her was worse than telling us you were with Cinder." Ruby huffed.

"Yeah, I did the math. And to be straightforward, look at what came out of it. I know whatever she means to me isn't the same as what she means to you, but there's a Relic sitting in—" he looked around to make sure no one was listening, and then hissed, "in my room. Which Salem doesn't have."

But Ruby continued as if he had not spoken and said, "And you killed Penny! Because of her!"

"I thought— I thought you forgave me," he said, dangerously.

Oscar, over Ruby's shoulder, surveyed the beginning of their argument with worry. He said, "Hey… come on, let's just focus on what we can do now, yeah? We're protecting the school. We'll do what we can to protect everybody." He sent a look to Jaune. "That's all we've been trying to do, haven't we? You were protecting her."

"And what's our plan, just wait and retreat? Atlas had a whole army and it fell. All Cinder needed to do was put a glass chess queen on Ironwood's desk and we were done. It was already over by that point, and then by the time we got everybody to Vacuo, we already fell, and I saw—" Ruby switched her glare to Jaune. "We got out, and we're here, and what do we have to show for it?"

"Everybody we saved from Atlas, who we've helped here," Oscar said.

"What about everybody who died! What about— hey, Jaune, what about Pyrrha?"

"Ruby, stop it," Jaune said. "This isn't like you. I don't know what happened to you, but you're not—"

She looked downright wolfish. "No one came for Atlas. We might've met with the White Fang here, but what are they even going to do to stop Salem? Is Ilia going to reason with Carmine? Is that it? Do you think a human trafficker's going to listen to a freedom fighter?"

"Ruby!" Weiss said, coming up the rear. "I hear you. I'm listening to you. We lost Beacon, we lost Atlas, but we didn't lose Haven. We won't lose Vacuo. We have one of the Relics. Smarten up and look at me!" Ruby did as she asked. "I'm not letting you out of my sight, do you hear me?"

Ruby sullenly shook her head.

"Do you hear me? Please?" Weiss asked again.

Eventually Ruby nodded her head.

Jaune ran a hand over the pommel of his new sword. Inside its sheath, it appeared just as it did before. When he drew it, it would reveal its true nature. He wondered what Ruby hid inside herself now, if she would be able to tell him at all, or Weiss, or Yang, or Oscar, or if it were just too much for any of them. But he knew it would never be too late.

There was still time to turn back around. So he said, "Where's Theodore?"

After a beat, Oscar said, "He went to secure the Vault."

"Who with?"

"Some of the other students. Team CFVY is providing security on the entry with them." Oscar drew his gaze up, up, up to the very top of the ziggurat, where the not-Vault was. It was not down below like the others, but at the highest and holiest point.

"Why's it up there?" Yang asked. "Why not below?"

"Sentiment," Oscar said. "And I think it was too much like the king's tombs, if it had been down below. Oz… wanted to do something different here." He laughed briskly. "Though he certainly got the idea for the other Vaults from somewhere."

Jaune drew away his attention, not quite as guilty as he should have been. Truthfully, when he looked out across the desert sea, he looked for her. He wondered what she was doing with the Relic.

"Didn't you visit one?" Oscar asked. "You were with Emerald. And… Cinder, and Mercury."

"We might've… destroyed one of them," Jaune said.

"Oh, great, property destruction," Yang muttered.

"Well, we didn't have any other plan."

And, horribly, it had looked pretty impressive when Cinder had wrought down those imposing, overly large pillars. He had been healing Mercury and trying hard not to watch her: she was devastatingly terrifying, and devastatingly… something else he was unable to name.

He tried calling for her again. It might work this time. It did not work. She was still turning away from him. He sighed.

"Is there anything we can do?" Blake asked, sensing Yang's impatience. "Is there any way we can prepare?"

"Half of war is waiting," Oscar mused.

"The other half is dying," Yang added.

Then where was she, when he waited all this time for her. They were dying or they were waiting for each other, and he was sick of it. He tapped his knee.

"Nora said that you loved Cinder," Blake said quietly. She was looking for something to talk about. That must have been it.

Jaune searched her for what she was thinking. There was something knowing in her gaze, which made him feel uncomfortable. He decided to just nod his head at her. She and Yang were happy together.

"She seems… very hurt," Blake continued.

"Yes," he answered shortly.

"But you've… been careful."

"As much as she would let me." Jaune swallowed and searched the empty space again. "I'm… glad you're being generous with her. But I wouldn't— I wasn't lying when we said we never— and I'm not even sure she—" he huffed angrily. "I realise things are kind of twisted up."

"Yes, they are," she said, wearing an inquisitive expression. "What she was saying when Salem was there made me think about a few things. And for what it's worth, I'm not commenting on what you've kept from us, but I understand why you did. You didn't lie for the same reasons as me, when I kept Adam from everybody, but it is hard." She cupped her hands together, and her ears twitched. "You're just… trying to protect each other. I think I understand that."

"But she's our enemy," he said weakly.

Blake sighed. "I've wondered a lot about who my enemy's supposed to be."

"I agree," Oscar said. "I've wondered, too. And Jaune? I think you should go."

"What?" Jaune turned to Oscar. "Are you— getting rid of me?"

"No, I think you should try to find Cinder," Oscar replied, as meek as a monk. "I mean, what else should you do? Forget about the Relics, and forget about the Vault. What do you wish you could do right now?"

Jaune hung his head, and held his sword. He could not see much except the curtain of his hair. "Find her."

"You all came for me when Salem took me."

Ruby ignored the conversation. Her cloak blew out behind her in the breeze, the red reminding him of blood.

"But she's—" Jaune tried, "she's— she's gone. She left. I mean, I know I'll see her again. I wasn't lying when I said that. But…" the worry pushed in his chest, "I have to stay here and help you."

"I think Oscar's right," Blake agreed. She searched around the others for answers, but none of them said anything, Yang seeming doubtful in particular. Weiss only watched Ruby with worry, running a hand over her shoulder as her heels were pressed together in fencing formation.

"If I don't find her?" Jaune tested.

"Then you come back here." Oscar stretched his arms out imploringly. "One try, one hope, I think."

"But what would I even say? I don't know— if there was anything I could have told her then that would make her leave. I think she has to choose herself." He swallowed the bitter truth. "And I'm not sure that she would right now."

"How can you put so much in her when you're not even sure she's put as much back?" Ruby asked. "How can you believe in her when she doesn't believe in you?"

Jaune's jaw tightened. He pursed his lips, and did not turn to Ruby. He stared squarely away. "She came here," he broke out. "Her first thought when whatever happened, happened, was to find me anyway, even when her Aura was broken. I don't know what else she's thinking… if it's possible… that she…" He chopped his hands in the air for emphasis. "None of that matters. She's done things I never thought she would do. And I— I did things for her she never thought anybody would do, without expectation. I don't. Expect. Anything. From her! I just want to save her!"

It was quiet. The only sound which pierced the air was the distant sound of thunder rumbling again.

Blake covered her mouth, and he surveyed the others' reactions, one at a time, not embarrassed anymore, and slightly relieved that he had finally said it. Because he was pretty sure where his path had been leading him, if he were asked now.

"What do you think she's doing now?" Yang asked. "Think about it. She's on Salem's side. You said she got into a fight with Carmine and Tyrian…"

"I don't know. She won't talk to me." He crossed his arms.

"I thought you said you couldn't control it."

"I… thought so too at first," Jaune said, more to himself than to Yang.

On the beach, where he had stayed depressed and broken, she kept appearing to him almost by chance. They had contented themselves with each other because she had been alone and so had he, and, well, he had marked it up to luck. What luck he had. The bond had seemed out of control, not until she had called on him in the tomb intentionally. Then they had to confront it. Then he asked her to sleep in his bed.

He felt his mouth fall open a little bit, as he thought about each time he had spoken to her. The first time, when they had said nothing and she had tried to burn him and only lit his kindling. The second, the third, and then how many more? He had lost count. They had a truce. Then eventually it petered out into just play-pretend secrecy. He kept her. He let her stay.

The return of Salem was just a cold shock of reality. So of course she had to leave. They had a little world where neither side had really mattered, and now it did. Still, he wanted her to stay. He wanted her to be free. Whether she would let herself have that was the real question.

"Go find her," Oscar said, surmising the matter. "If I could have gone down to that place you fell and found any of you—" he skittered a glance towards Ruby, still refusing to look at anybody, "— I would have."

"Well, she was focussed on manipulating Ironwood, so I'd guess she's toying with Theodore," Ruby said blandly. "Is that why she stayed here in the school so much?"

"No," Jaune said. "That was just because it was safer with me. Tyrian and Carmine weren't happy with her."

He would have to find Theodore, then. Because, sadly, Ruby was right. Theodore was their weakest link, and Salem had said something very, very worrisome. Cinder, at least, needed to know he would look for her, even if she left. Maybe that was what she wanted all along, and why she had left in the first place.

"That's all you were thinking of?" Blake asked.

"Of course," he said, faraway.

"And Emerald and Mercury lied for you," Ruby surmised.

"I asked them to."

"Of course you did."

Jaune did not know what to say, so he said what he could. "I'll see you later, then. "I'll— go by myself—"

He nodded at them all. He hoped Nora and Ren were safe with the Happy Huntresses. He went searching for the headmaster, and only hoped the Fall Maiden had not found him yet. So much for Maiden hunting: that was his task now again.

The stairs were steep and long, footprinted worn curves guiding his feet up after all the previous ones. Heavy doors and arches gave way to more doors, and up and up he went, to the uppermost level, not as high up as a skyscraper in Atlas, not anywhere near that, but for how flat Vacuo was it was pretty high. It was quieter up here, and he all he could hear was the tap-tap lonely echo of his own feet. On instinct, he called for her. He felt the barest of shimmers and then it went away.

He found Theodore harried, holding out his scroll carefully, as team CFVY talked amongst themselves on the opposite side of the entryway to what seemed to be the Vault. A sphinx statue guarded the entrance.

"I don't know what to do," Jaune heard Coco mutter, frustrated as he had ever heard her. She had seemed unruffled to him.

"What's going on?" he asked.

"What are you here for, Jaune?" Velvet asked back.

"I'm… I'm worried about the headmaster," he said.

"Not to be rude… but it's not like there's much you'd do here by yourself," she replied evenly. "Where's your team?"

"I'm looking for somebody important." He flicked his gaze to Theodore. "Has something happened?"

"My family's been taken," the headmaster answered mournfully. He did not like look much of a headmaster; mostly a sad old man.

Jaune felt his expression fall. Jaune did not know Theodore very well, but he had a family, and a life outside the school. Of course that was where they had decided to push hard. Perhaps Ironwood's equal weakness had been his whole life being the Atlas military. He waited for Theodore to continue.

"They won't harm them if I let them into the Vault," Theodore said.

"Carmine."

"Unfortunately."

He had a good solution. Jaune thought very quickly, and on his feet. "Offer me."

"What's that?"

They all looked at him like he was stupid. But this he was not stupid about. "I met Carmine. Well, sort of informally. Offer me in exchange."

"What would Carmine want to do with you?" Coco asked. He could not see what half her expression was behind those sunglasses. "I've met her too. She's not the type to be… concerned… with you."

"I have a Semblance they want. And an Aura bond. And… Carmine doesn't like Cinder, and Cinder doesn't like Carmine, but Cinder… wants… to protect me," he said, and he raised his hands defensively, "don't ask, this is not the time for questions, but this will work."

He heard a few mixed reactions about the Aura bond, and he ignored it. Big deal. It was old news to him.

"Do you truly think they'd hold up their end of the bargain?" asked Theodore. "Do you truly think I can trade a student?"

"Well, it's your only option right now, isn't it? It's not fair. Your family doesn't deserve this. They shouldn't have been brought into it." He paused and then added, "They won't say no to this."

"Then I'll— call the number they gave me."

So Theodore called. So much for looking for Cinder. It would be alright. He would figure something out. But he loved when plans worked out like this. Like it was meant to be.

"Yes, yes, it's Theodore… no, I'm… I have a proposition for you… I understand I'm not in any position to— please, Tyrian. The boy Jaune Arc has offered himself in exchange for my family—" Jaune heard a shriek through the tinny speaker, "— you'll take him? Then…"

Jaune tapped his foot. He remembered what Cinder had said to him once: bargaining does not become you. Well, look at them now. It was one bargain after another until someone reached their bluff, and right now, he was trying to outdo her.

"It won't… no, no ambush… yes, my family… will die if I don't… yes, yes… you've said that a few times— no, I'm not being— please, just send them back to my home and we'll— deposit him outside— the jail. I see."

Jaune knew where he was going, at least.

"Don't give up yet," he told Theodore. "If it means anything coming from me."

"I would never do this to a student. You know that, don't you?"

"No," Jaune said evenly. "I'm pretty sure you would."

"The boy gives himself over. You know how long it took for that silly trick you pulled on me to heal? WEEKS," Tyrian growled in his ear.

Weeks he had spent in bed with Cinder.

Jaune was presently tied up. It was not as high-tech as Atlesian-grade handcuffs. Plain rope. It was a different tomb this time, smaller and danker, less grandeur. Whomever this one belonged to was not as highly praised as the last one. Why had they come back here?

"I thought you were supposed to be the pathetic one!" Tyrian continued. "But he has anger! Teeth! Hatred, hatred, yes, so full of hate. Oh, I can sense it coming off you in waves." He rubbed his hands together.

"When do we strike?" Carmine said absently.

"She'll be here soon," Tyrian sneered. "Then we take them from all sides. Oh, this is the most exciting part. I did not get to do this in Atlas. Never give them a narrow opening. The best military generals would tell you to never let them control the space. Or for that matter: surrender yourself to the enemy. Though I suppose you've done quite a bit of that already, hm?" He was talking to Jaune now.

Jaune had to come up with a plan quicksmart, which meant that, at least, he had to answer questions about his Semblance and the bond. That would give him some time.

"I do wonder how it happened," Tyrian said.

Easy bait. Jaune said, "Yeah, I'm really going to regale you with that story."

"I'm sorry, do you think you're being funny? Just explain it," Carmine said. She flicked her hair over her shoulder. The woman named Gillian, with the dark hair and the blank gaze, hovered near her.

Gillian said, "My Semblance is like yours."

"But why would I—"

Tyrian socked him across the face. He tested his jaw and felt the ebb of his Aura.

"Try again," Tyrian said.

"I used my Semblance to heal Cinder," he said. Same story, told over and over.

"I've never had anything happen using my Semblance on other people like that," Gillian said conversationally. As if he were not tied up.

He cast her a suspicious look and said, "Salem experimented on her and grafted a Grimm arm to her. Have you seen it?"

Carmine shared a glance with Gillian and said, "Well. That explains that mess of an asymmetrical outfit."

The rest of the audience had clearly not either. Tyrian clapped his hands together and knocked his knees.

"I was there for it!" Tyrian said gleefully.

"What?" Jaune said.

"Oh, yes! I was there! She was fast asleep, from the silver-eyed girl's awakening. Salem wrenched her skin back, and fixed the Grimm arm to her in her sleep. But to make the arm first, you see, you need an eye of a Maiden or a silver-eyed warrior. One or the other will do; they must be of the old magic. Cut the eye out, mix with the Grimm, attach it, and there you have it! A Grimm-human! A delightful chemistry experiment! My goddess is so clever! So creative!"

Jaune reared back as far as he could, but it was not far. His stomach twisted. It was as he had suspected; Tyrian seemed like he was telling the truth, in a strange way, where he sounded mad but he never lied at all. Ruby's silver eyes could never have hurt Cinder the way she had insinuated they had. But it was worse to hear it from the mouth of Tyrian; to know it maybe before even Cinder did.

"That's… sickening," Gillian said. "Incredible, but sickening. When I experimented with my Semblance on Grimm, it only… ate my Aura."

"Yes, yes, you need the eye," Tyrian said. "The eye is the soul, the soul is the Aura. No eye, no Grimm. It just eats you."

"It was eating her," Jaune snapped. "I fixed it. That was how we made the bond."

The three pairs of eyes fixed on him, and he squared his jaw and tried not to be afraid.

So he continued, "I found her dying and I helped her, because it would have been like murder, killing her unarmed and injured. Then I helped her too much, and she let me. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. So you'd need to be part Grimm, I guess. You won't be able to make one like we did." Jaune pursed his lips. "It's ours."

Gillian and Carmine laughed. Tyrian scowled.

"Well, no matter. You'll make dealing with her a lot easier. She got one up over me the last time." Carmine put her hands on her hips, like he was a plot of land she was deciding what to do with.

"What last time?"

"Oh, last night. After we got the message his mistress is awake. I heard she lost all her fights against the other Maidens, and I thought: easy pickings. Apparently not. She had a trick or two up her sleeve, I'll give her that." She shrugged. "It's not like I need her power yet. I think she's just a little too desperate, don't you?"

Jaune strained against his tied wrists and glared at her. Yes. Cinder was desperate and hungry for everything. He found himself wanting to give her anything she wanted, even having kept the Winter Maiden power from her.

"I don't suppose you know anything about the Vacuo Relic."

He shook his head.

"That's too bad. And this Aura bond… you appeared out of nowhere. You touched hands to do it, I saw." She gestured to one of the men standing nearby, who seemed bored, not listening. "Make sure he stays tied up. No funny business."

"She's not talking to me anyway," Jaune said sullenly.

"Oh, good. A domestic?"

"No."

"Ah, good versus bad. Well, she's pissed off Salem enough maybe she'll have to go to you. Sad business, but hey. We all make do. Vacuo will be ours soon, and then we can do some real tidying up. I'm even starting to like you," Carmine said, speaking to Tyrian.

"I don't like you," Tyrian said to her.

After a beat of silence, and a scattered handful of jaunty laughs, Jaune got the courage to speak to Tyrian, whose tail sashayed back and forth in meditative contemplation. He said, "Can I ask you something?"

"I could start putting holes in you."

"It's about Cinder."

Tyrian's tail twitched. "Do tell."

"You weren't… working with her. While you were in Vacuo. Not at all. So are you even on the same side now?"

"Anything for Salem. It doesn't mean I need to get along with her puppets." Tyrian squinted, his beady eyes sickly. "You would like to… turn her. Ooooooh, sweet romance. Sweet, sweet romance." Tyrian laughed. "You know about Salem and Ozma, yes? Oz the Great and Terrible told you? They were in love, too. It saved nobody. He died. Don't know why he's still around. Still around. So, too, Salem. It won't help you. You'd do better… to focus on what you can actually do…" at that Tyrian sent him a derisive up-and-down, and said, "… not that there's particularly much you can do, of course. Terrible situation you've put yourself in. No hope. Vacuo falling. Atlas fell. Haven… well that was a little embarrassing, I'll give us that, mostly Cinder's fault in the Vault. Oh, a good rhyme. Beacon was very good; I like how she killed your girlfriend."

Jaune's eye twitched. "She wasn't my girlfriend."

"Knew you'd focus on that part. It was a test. Good boy doesn't care about being good. Good boy cares about… Cinder Fall. Delicious. Wonderful. You gave yourself over like you want her to find you… tied up."

Jaune slunk down, just a little. That was not his plan at all. What was Tyrian even implying.

"That's not my plan. It wouldn't work, anyway. She's not talking to me," Jaune said evenly.

"Poor thing. You know, it's very important to share a similar worldview when you're in a relationship. You need to agree on children, finances, where you'd like to live, oh, what else… One can't want to destroy the world and date another who wants to save it, yes? Did your parents not teach you these values? Consider this your paternal lesson from me. Date someone who won't eventually have to kill you."

"She won't," Jaune said.

Tyrian's shoulders slumped. "You really believe that." He growled in disgust. "Sickening. Absolutely sickening." He stood up off the ground, and dusted himself off. Then he kicked Jaune in the stomach. "For good measure. You know, torture's actually not very effective at getting the truth out; it leads to lies, most of the time, just to make the pain stop. So, I don't actually need you to talk. I just want to hurt you."

"Then why did Hazel beat Oscar up?" Jaune asked weakly, wishing he could nurse his stomach.

"Misplaced sadism. I'm always telling Salem it doesn't work the way she intends, but she's of the old world. It only works on Cinder because she was reared that way; perhaps you should try it yourself. It might keep her—"

"You disgust me," Jaune snapped, vicious as anything, interrupting him. "You know, Cinder made me wonder about the other side and if what we're doing is really worth it. But you— you don't believe in anything at all. You scare me."

Tyrian kicked him again. "Now he's getting it!"

Jaune waited there for who knows how long. His stomach ache eventually went away, and his Aura throbbed. He had felt mildly bad about wanting to kill Tyrian, but he felt less bad now. Cinder made him wonder about Tyrian, if maybe in there were an accessible man, waiting for somebody to talk to him. That there was not was its own cruelty. Jaune felt vaguely betrayed.

The air was putrid stale down here. It reminded him of the deathly Beacon Vault, or the Vault-that-was-not, no Relic to be found. He wondered if his friends were looking for him. They probably assumed he had found Cinder. Well, he had done what he intended to do, shortly after he got here in Vacuo. Offer himself up. He did not think himself prone to martyrdom, but he felt sort of stupid now, surrounded by sycophants of a pack of monarchists and a man who opened Aura right open, just like Jaune had done when he was angry and particularly murderous, and wondered what he had got himself into. They would try to control Cinder through Jaune, was that it? The torture was not enough anymore. She had got too good at saddling it.

Of course, they inadvertently admitted that they needed a Fall Maiden on their side, ideally, at least not on Jaune's, which meant perhaps it was not going to be as bad as he thought. Even if the Spring Maiden were somewhere off in Vale, maybe the other side were unprepared just a bit, too. Vacuo had a headstart.

Jaune was tied up. He tried calling her again, and for a second he thought he saw a brief flicker of her black hair, but it was gone as quickly as he had seen it. He had grown so used to seeing her so frequently that he nearly cried at it. He just wanted to see her. She was all that he had never known he wanted.

He wondered what she was doing and thinking now. If she had that clever little moue of concentration on her face as she decided what to do next, as calculating as him, her warm, narrowed eye as comforting a memory as anything else. That day she had gone and retrieved his armour from the beach, she had worn a look that morning he should have recognised: determined and a bit mischievous. Then she had acted like it was nothing. Like anybody would go and grab a Relic or two from their sleeping master just to prove… that he was worthy.

So what was she doing with the Relic. She would not talk to him through the bond now, and he felt put out. He listened to the Crown members chat amongst themselves, all sending him looks like: why you? You're just like, some guy.

He wondered that himself often. Sometimes, darkly and sadly, he wondered if Cinder only gave him any regard because nobody else had been kind to her like he. But then he had seen it: those who had tried to reach out to her and failed. He had seen it through her own eyes. So why did she let him in?

That was when he noticed everything had frozen. One man with a wrapper of gum held up to his mouth. Another, in the middle of a joke, making a farcical expression. Dust motes froze in the air, like little fairies. It was a silence so acute it was almost like not hearing at all, but more than that, like the silence itself could be heard. He unsteadily got up off his knees, without using his arms. They had not bound his legs. He did not look a gift horse in the mouth. He ran. Tyrian was calling to arms a group of motley-dressed Huntsmen-but-not-Huntsmen-looking men and women, and Carmine and Gillian stood off to the side, under the uppermost arch of the tomb, smugly watching on. They looked like a photograph, but he could walk around them and see each new side. Tyrian's saliva-coated teeth, mid-speech, his sharp canines; Carmine's shrewd golden eyes; Gillian's straight postured, perfect pose.

The exit was as long as the last tomb. Amidst his adrenaline, he noticed, his arms meeting his shoulders with the movement, that his ties had come off. He did not know how, or where, just that when he paused briefly to look behind himself, they were littered about on the floor like loose, wild snakes. Stranger things had happened to him. He kept moving. Time had paused. Somebody had used a Relic, and he think he knew who, given that he could move. By the time he hit daylight, running up the steep stairs, ignoring all of the surely lovely and grand murals, he nearly fell to his knees.

"Cinder!" he called, and he kept moving. It would be a long way back by foot. Answer me, answer me, he urged, of all the times, just answer him. She was still gone to him, and whatever she was doing now, he did not know. Why had she condemned herself so.

So he began the journey. He hoped that he had enough time before they noticed him gone; he sort of knew roughly where to go, but did not expect there to be another car to steal. He navigated up a rocky dune until he found the main road, and kept walking, past the frozen cars of families leaving the city. A father at the wheel here, a grandmother and child in the back there, none of them he could take. They were fleeing the city to go out to the further east settlements, that might be more protected, but the roads were jammed with traffic the further he walked.

Time started back up and he lost his balance, with the quick shock of air, heat, sunlight, noise, car, the smell of exhaust from burning Dust crystals, suddenly alive and awake at once. He was reminded oddly of a memory of Cinder's, the affront to her senses when she had left the Glass Unicorn and met the city of Atlas. It was so bright compared to where she had been kept, and every new sound was a new assault.

Whatever had been done with the Staff had been done, and Jaune had some time to keep getting away. Some of the highway was not safe for a pedestrian on foot, but he took his chances and got beeped at. He felt a little embarrassed, making his escape like this, but what else was he good at? He got it done, anyway. The city came into sight after some time. No one followed him back.

This was the half-world that he had kept her in. He had been in Vacuo longer than he had been anywhere else since Vale, and it had nearly begun to feel familiar. The path back, flat and bare, reminded him of the desert blooms Cinder had shown him. She said the colour was not quite as vivid as the photos, and the dried petals of the flower she had tucked over his ear had intensified to a darker hue, like swollen, overripe pomegranate seeds.

At this border of the city, scattered Huntsmen and Huntresses could be seen holding them off in corners. It would not hold, not if they did not figure out a way to funnel the Grimm. Vacuo may have been sprawling, but that was its inherent weakness.

He walked the long way around to the western barricades where, amongst the crowd of multivaried White Fang members, the Happy Huntresses directed movement. Nora was standing with Robyn, talking quietly with Ren. He came up beside her, pushing past people talking about this and that and strategy, and she did not look up.

"I am sorry I didn't tell you," he said, without hello. "I didn't even give you a chance to understand or decide for yourself. I should have expected more from you, but I didn't. It wasn't fair. And I know now's no time for this."

Nora said nothing. Ren put a hand on Jaune's shoulder, his expression unreadable.

"We need to funnel the Grimm in," Jaune said. "A way to— make sure they're not attacking us on all sides, or Salem, for that matter. I have some bad news, too. The Summer Maiden and company are… coming from the side civilians are heading."

Nora finally met his gaze in fright. "We need to stop them. Get people over there. We're uncovered that side."

Jaune nodded. "It was where they were originally, and I thought they'd left it. But they were back there. I suppose they guessed we'd assume that."

"Then we don't have time to— let me talk to Robyn," Nora said, not quite talking to him as normal, but then, did it really matter? They just had to do what they needed to do. Emerald and Mercury shadowed Ren and Nora, and they four went off. He could not imagine Emerald and Mercury were particularly happy with him now, either, but then, he did not sense that Nora was overly upset with them.

The crowd milled around him. The dry scent of the desert smelt like hot lightning in a bottle. The ziggurat of the school loomed high, the centre of the city. He watched Nora speaking with Robyn, who was already calling on the Winter Maiden to see if she would be up to the task. He felt so lonely.

He felt a nudge somewhere inside him. It was gentle and warm. He turned and saw her. Cinder was up on one of the taller sand dunes, his mind or his ardent wishing supplying where she would be. No one else reacted to her; it was the bond, and the shimmer of her could be seen in the air. He felt his mouth open, just a bit, longing and sad. Hers was pressed flat.

Her Grimm arm shook, and so did her flesh hand. The Relic was secured at her waist. Her long black hair danced in a wind he did not feel on his skin. He reached to touch his own hair, at the low ponytail, as if to pretend that he were touching hers as he touched his.

The Maiden fire ignited around her eye and he could see her little flame just barely. She stared at him with an expression he could not parse. She looked alien. Like she could not remember who he was, and she was trying very hard to. Who are you again? she had asked at Haven, the same scenario playing out: him begging her to see what she had done, and her ignoring him.

Except this time it was the good he wanted her to see. He tilted his head at her, and someone bumped into him. She blinked. Then she disappeared as quickly as she had appeared.

"Come back," he whispered to himself. "Please."

What came was not her. The sky opened up, hungry-mouthed. The beasts which rained were ink-blotted stains on rough grainy paper. Grimm flew high in the air. They were shaped all wrongly. Jaune could not name them for what they were: he considered himself fairly good at Grimm taxonomy, but these evaded all assignation.

She had been warning him again. He let himself smile, sadly and terribly.