A/N: Chapter 15, 16 and 17 are being uploaded at the same time, so if you've come from the recent update, this is where you start. I wanted to say thank you to everybody for all of your reviews. I'm not as active on this as AO3, but I appreciate the follows and reviews very much.
Dead air. The desert-smell of dryness on each inhale and the resistance on each exhale. In Ruby's absence, the Vacuo dunes were dead quiet. She was gone. They were here.
Jaune heard Yang interrogate her mother, "Did you know?" because it was the sort of terrible knowledge you would keep to yourself, at all costs.
Jaune knew that, at least.
The passing shadow of loss turned into resolve when he tried to herd his friends in the wake of it all. Ruby chose to go. Ruby chose. Ruby was a black speck in the eye on the flat horizon and further and further away she went with Salem in the black cloud, and she would not turn back if asked.
The least he could do for her was make sure it was not in vain, that she had bought them a little time, just a bit, to prepare for getting her back. He knew she could manage it. He had to believe that, anyway.
"Not to this extent," eventually Raven said. Hand on the sword, shaking. "I knew she went to Salem alone. She came to see me—" and in her gaze passed a night so bleak Jaune did not need her to tell them how bad it was, "— it was the last time I saw her. I thought she was dead."
"But you saw her," said Qrow quietly. "I never knew. Why did she tell you?"
Nora had a gash in her brow. It bled with indolence and dripped down her left eye. Ren was at work trying to stymie it, but Jaune just reached out and used his Semblance. It was the least he could do. She looked at him, and where he expected to find betrayal, it was curiosity.
"I suspect," said Raven very slowly, "I was the only one whom she thought could talk her out of it. My cynicism failed her." A pause. "Yang and Ruby had childhoods because of her."
"Some childhood," Yang snapped, but where it should have been mean it was just sad. Blake put an arm around her.
Cinder had fled again. Why did they always have to leave? He looked in the opposite direction of where Salem had left. A speck of fire. Then Emerald came up and said. "She couldn't have gone far."
"We should just get back," he said, not looking at her. "I haven't slept since before the party."
He could sense her judgement, but he was not budging. Not talking.
"Head back?" said Yang. "We need to go after her!"
She meant Ruby. Jaune said nothing. He disagreed when they should have been in agreement. He waited for someone else to say something first: Oscar, kneeling; Weiss, with a reassuring hand on one of Yang's shoulders, Blake's arm wrapped around her waist now; Nora blinking through red.
"Yang, she chose to go," Jaune tried, with wariness. It was not lost on him that he had been as anxious as her to get Oscar back, when the Hound had taken him. But it was different.
"Sometimes," began Yang, "Ruby is wrong."
"We know that!" Finally, he sheathed his sword and gave up the fight. "But do you seriously think we have any— any— hope of getting her back right now?"
"Does that thing have weaknesses, could we— we have four Maidens—"
"Cinder didn't even know what it was," he cut in, "and you need four willing Maidens who aren't on their last legs. Do you know where Salem's taken them? Evernight. It's her base."
"Great. More secrets up your sleeve from your secret… whatever." Yang's shoulders slumped. She was a worried sister.
He could not fault her, not at all. "I've been there," he said. "It's—" but there were no words to really describe it. Like death. The moon hollowed out and stowed underneath Grimm pools. The smell of rot. Dried blood. You came and went as quickly as you could in a place like that, and Cinder had stayed there for a very, very long time. It was the sort of place that would make you believe nothing was worth saving, not even yourself. "It's the place you go to die," he eventually decided on.
"Death is a kindness," Raven interjected, "by comparison."
"Then we have every reason to go after Ruby," Yang insisted.
"And every reason to believe that she won't be killed," Jaune said. "Salem got better at her experiments with Cinder. She won't end up like— that…"
"What would you do, Yang?" asked Blake. "We could split up. Some of us stay here to help, some of us go after Ruby now. Oscar?"
Oscar looked up from where he had said nothing yet.
"Does Ozpin… does he know where they're going?"
"No," said Oscar shortly.
"But Jaune and Cinder do. What about Emerald and Mercury?"
Jaune shuffled awkwardly where he stood. The tense silence hung, unwanted, as Ruby went further and further away unseen.
"I don't think we should be making that choice for you," said Mercury. "You sort it out."
Emerald steadied him beside her. They both looked run down, worn down after Tyrian.
"And Jaune doesn't want to go," Yang said.
"Ruby knows more than she's letting on," finally Weiss said. "And I don't know what she meant by that— God of Light business— but it made her leave. It made her upset, and now we know what happened to your mom. Summer. I thought she had a plan, but I didn't know it was this bad."
"I don't think she had a plan until she saw Summer," Jaune said. "Salem will know we'll try to come. She's not going to give Ruby up easily. Cinder said that Salem had a surprise. So I guess that was the surprise."
Speaking of, he thought, checking on Nora's gash— healed— then decided to start his way back after her.
Yang turned her back and started walking the other way, any other way. Blake went after her, and Weiss too.
"Vacuo's been hard hit. I'm doing clean-up. Wanna join?" drifted Qrow's pained voice to his twin. There was no murmur of assent but Jaune caught the two making off to go find Theodore.
Jaune leant down, put a hand on Oscar's shoulder. "We managed to get you back. We'll save Ruby too."
Oscar turned to him forlornly and said, "It's just— when has she ever needed our help? When has she needed to talk about what hurts her? Did I— did I let this happen?"
"She needs our help now." He helped Oscar up. "That's what we can do. Sometimes people don't let you help them until they accept it."
What a gift she had given him. Facing the heart of Vacuo, the school and its surrounding enclave, seeing it again, seeing it properly, he knew where his true north was. Even under Grimm dark he would have known. They could see now. His sight had taken only a short while to adjust; the first thing he had seen clearly was Cinder. Free of the arm, because of Ruby. All dark and lovely and scattered and whole. Blinking sweetly, waking up.
"Let's go," he said, beginning to lead them back. He checked after Nora again, hovered by Ren's side, made sure Oscar was doing alright. He had used more magic. Jaune could tell from the way he gripped the cane. Oscar was Ozma's and Ruby was Salem's thrall now.
At least she chose it. That was the only thing which kept him going. The smell of Vacuo burning lingered in the air, woodsmoke and dirty smoke and burning bodies intermingling to just the scent of fire. The remnants of Cinder's lightshow, the glass waves. The dying light pierced through and glittered across the nightfall. It cast radiant little flickers across the sand dunes.
Ilia went to go find White Fang members and regroup, Relic in tow. She was the Summer Maiden and the Sword was her shackle and key, and of all the people he had known so far he was pretty sure she would not just use with wild abandon. Not like Carmine's gamble. Yang had her mother's Relic and Cinder had stolen away with the Winter Maiden's, but he could also tell she was kind of attached to it.
"Are we gonna talk about it?" said Nora. He supported her on one side and Ren the other. She had hurt an ankle too.
"Which part," Jaune sort of non-asked, but it was a real question.
"Tyrian. Cinder. Ruby. The part where you almost died. I don't know."
"Well, I'm not dead," he said helpfully.
"We're very thankful for that," said Ren, with that easy solemnity he threw around.
In turn, Nora muttered, "And we know who to thank."
Jaune laughed with just an edge of nervousness. "Let's get you to the medical wing. I want Ochre to check on you."
"A mild concussion can't take me down," said Nora very valiantly. "Or a fractured ankle, or a head wound— you know they just bleed a lot, always look worse than they really are— and if you ask me, two Rens isn't exactly a bad thing."
"Yep, okay, Ochre," Ren agreed.
"What does she mean by not a bad— oh." Jaune cleared his throat. "Right. I see."
Two Cinders was just asking for trouble anyway.
The singing had wound its way down the hall from his room. Or their room. It must have been a folk song, one old and that he did not recognise. For a minute Jaune was sure he could have heard it anywhere in Vacuo, could have heard it from when Ruby had left with Salem and the white-shroud who was her mother, could have heard it searching for her, still. Always looking over his shoulder.
He had thought she had been in the shower. Cinder had not.
He nearly died— pretty close to it anyway— his Aura-bonded soulmate turned up and wrecked shit, they faced down the destroyer-of-worlds, ancient enemy of their ex-headmaster, his friend decided to go missing, and then he still managed to screw it up in his bumbling fashion. It felt like some sort of recompense, but what for crime he knew not. Unfortunately for him, he would never get the brief glimpse of her out of his head: soft, curvy, flushed pink, the whole picture of her right in front of him, from her shoulders down to her delicate ankles.
By the time he had her nice and safe and clean in his arms, free of his blood and smelling soap-fresh and only a bit smoky, he had at least forgotten most of that embarrassment. It was bound to happen eventually anyway, though she had not liked his suggestion of another room. Maybe it was just about ceding territory. He let himself have it for just a moment, and then he waited for her to get into bed first.
He had said goodbye to her at his window, after he had got all dressed up, and that was the last time they had been here together. It was like they had gone out to the party together and come home, just with a detour. If she knew that he had brooded for a little bit and wished she were there, well, that would probably be embarrassing. But she had made her way there despite.
Cinder situated herself under the blankets like she had never left. The thin sheet and the heavier woven blanket on top, layered delicately up around her waist, her tucked against the wall. He just wanted to stay and watch.
He sat on the end of the bed and waited, hesitant. "Comfortable?" he asked, once she had curled in half on her side.
"Yes," she said.
He nodded more to himself than anything. When no one had known, it was not as awkward as this. It was less real, only a secret he kept to himself. Now they knew, and she was here, and she was going to stay. She would leave and come back, leave again, and come back. She was free. It was real now, and she had two eyes and two arms all to herself, and when they slept and woke in the morning she would still be here.
He ran a hand over the blanket and smoothed wrinkles absently. Her feet moved under the bed and then she kicked him with all the force of an angry kitten.
"Hey," he chided, "what was that for?"
"Get in," she told him.
"Well, alright, only because you're bossing me around." He did as she said, still uncertain in his movement, certainly not graceful clambering in.
"Just sleep." She rolled over to face the wall. "Even Salem has to sleep. Longer than us, even."
"I know, I just wasn't sure—" he tried and cut himself off. He was not sure how to be around her. That was the problem. It was somehow easier when he had to pretend she was his enemy, but that came with a useful set of excuses for why he let himself touch her and be near her. Hands at his side, flat on his back, staring at the lonely ceiling, flat grey once he turned off the light. It was hard to switch off since he had been on since the night before.
"I can hear you thinking," Cinder said, rough and sleepy.
"Not literally?"
"Not literally. That would be a pain. Imagine being stuck in my head."
"I mean, that's not really the part I'd complain about," he said, like they were at a sleepover, "maybe the invasion of privacy, maybe you hearing the dumb stuff I think."
"Like what? How much you love your friends and you want to hold their hands? What's for breakfast? Where's my sword?"
"Okay, you're the one who asks where breakfast is, and I know where my sword is," he said back. "I'm not commenting on the friends part, that's not fair. Of course I like my friends."
"Love or like?"
"What?"
"Love or like?" she repeated.
He swallowed but that probably gave away the game. With her slender back to him and her face hidden, he could not tell what she was thinking. He settled on saying, "I mean, love for friends is different, I guess, but love. It's hard not to love."
"Is it," she asked flatly.
"There's different love, I guess? But it all makes up the bigger picture. You… might never be loved by your parents, even if you should be, but you can learn to love with your friends, or someone— special, when you love other people they teach you different ways to love, right? It's not always the same but it teaches you different things. I love my friends, but I wouldn't have babies with them."
He knew he had said too much, babbling. He finished it off with a shaky chuckle, bracing his hands across his chest, less for comfort and more so he would not put them all over Cinder. The last thing she needed was him to be grabby and clingy now she was back.
Eventually she said, "Children."
"That wasn't the part I thought you'd pay attention to." He cleared his throat.
"You love your friends," she said instead. "You'd do anything for them."
"Of course I would." Somehow he knew they were not having the conversation he thought they were having and he was giving the wrong answer. He wanted her to know, though, that there was even more to it than him. That maybe, one day, she would have friends like he did, and she would accept it the way she had accepted him. He could not imagine her wanting to hear that now.
She let out a long, long breath, confirming his suspicion.
So he asked, "What are you really trying to ask?"
"You answered my question." On her side, she had curled up tighter.
He knew better than to let that go. "Did I? Why were you wondering?"
"I don't know." A beat passed, and then she relented and added, "You awakened your Semblance helping Weiss. When I nearly killed her."
"Yes," he said very slowly.
"She was your friend."
"Um, yes?" He sat up on one elbow to try and get a better look at her.
"There you go," she mumbled.
"I still don't get it."
"There are some things you're not meant to get," she said evasively, then sat up to thump her pillow. "Are you going to sleep yet?"
"Well, I was talking to you, but if you're done with me now, yes."
She turned, swanlike, to glare at him, but it was that sort of gentle glare which was the equivalent of a gentle nip to a bite. "I'm not done with you. Why are you all the way over there?"
'All the way over there' was the small gap between her and him. He tilted his head. He was a few steps behind whatever she was expecting. Hesitantly, he reached out with a shaky hand, so uncertain for how sure he normally touched her; affectionate, unconditional, unreserved. He brushed a loose bit of hair escaping her plaits aside. He heard a little noise, almost a squeak. That was surely not her. He thinned his lips and tried not to smile. She was so warm to the touch, and no matter how hot Vacuo got at night, he always got the chills at night alone.
He pulled his hand back and settled down again. He closed his eyes. The fatigue which hung over him was the sort that made lying still uncomfortable, his shoulder muscles knotted, his feet too hot, his neck too cold, the mattress too stiff. He huffed and rolled over away from Cinder and then he rolled onto his back, dissatisfied. Maybe Yang was right. Then he thought about Nora with the nurses, and all the others trying to hold Vacuo together, and Ruby alone somewhere by herself.
That only made the bed harder.
"Would you sit still?" Cinder hissed.
"I can't get to sleep!" he whispered back.
"Who knew it was sleep hygiene which would finally undo you. Should have tried that first."
"Yeah, and where would we be then," he muttered.
"Somewhere I don't want to think about." It sounded too sincere, and it seemed like she knew that, from the way she wiggled with almost a sense of guilt.
He hoisted himself out of bed and padded over to get a drink of water and maybe stare out the window. That would help. Cinder liked staring out of it, stewing. When he tried it, staring out into the dark, he felt a chill come over him. Still unsettled.
"Come back to bed," Cinder said. "Get in."
He relented and got under the blankets again.
"Turn over."
"Okay, what do you want me to do, because I'm about to start counting sheep—"
Cinder reached behind her and dragged his arm over the curve of her waist. His elbow fit in just right, and his chest against her back soothed him. He got what all that space was about. That his tummy swooped a little low was a problem for himself in the morning. It was just more comfortable this way, and then he could stop annoying her.
"Better?" she asked, but not kindly.
"Yes," he admitted sheepishly. It was much better. It was just for one more night, anyway, and then he knew it really had to stop. They thought he had been sleeping with her. Not just in a bed. At least Nora had cast such an aspersion, but she was hurt and trying to figure out how in the world he had reached out to Cinder Fall anyway. No, but now they all knew about her, and saw her with him, saw what he would do for her, and knew she slept in his room and she used his Semblance and they had an Aura bond he was happy to keep and not complaining about, and what else— it was very messy.
It was very messy and Cinder was still a problem to him, just a very, very different one from what she used to be. Jaune, however, was not so foolish and as brazen as his hatred had once made him confronting her at Haven heedlessly. He was much more sensible now, though he was not sure that he would exactly call himself calculating.
He could at least appreciate that he had to treat her carefully, that she deserved tenderness, that his only expectation of her was that she be safe. She took to his affection like a wilted flower did to fresh water. Near-dead and now all green. She drank it up easily, no questions asked, and he, at least, was glad she experienced that.
Jaune was also not an idiot. All of that, yes, but she was Cinder: she might have been evil and bad, but she was also good and magnificent, and just as she had wondered once, Why you? he knew the implication of that, Why him? which was the same question he asked himself often. He was not going to take advantage of her either, try to worm his way in just because her heart was open. For just a moment he let his thumb rest over her heart and he wished he could put his whole hand there to feel it thud. Her skin was so soft. He toyed with the hem of her shirt, the cotton worn.
When he woke in the morning she was the first thing he saw.
Cinder had a new dress on, shoes, and a longbow at her side, held in her glass hand. She waited for him, her milky eye following him getting ready. How she was quicker than him, he did not know. He checked his hair and tied it back again, pretending he was not thinking about when she said she liked it like that, then threw on his hoodie and jeans.
"I want to see if I'm a better shot," she said, once he was ready.
It felt weird and also right to go down with her to one of the training ground pavilions. They passed students and some people Jaune knew and nobody batted an eye at Cinder walking beside him. She did not look out of place. The dress she wore sashayed behind her. It was two-toned, blue and purple, which was colour-matched to her pin. He liked it. He liked the bit where it gathered at her waist and then flared out in a waterfall of silky fabric. He tried not to check her out for too long or at least too obviously.
"Your armour needs fixing, and the chainmail," she said beside him.
He averted his gaze and hummed in agreement. "Yeah. Sorry about that."
"Thankfully you have me and the Maiden power."
"I think it's you that matters more." They passed through a throng of worried-looking students and a teacher herding them, so he did not catch her expression. "You've really taken to it, haven't you?"
"Taken to what?" They stopped at the pavilion. It was plain and sandy as he had remembered, since he had little reason to come by other than to find Emerald and see what she was up to. Mercury had taken to joining her down here too, but it was mostly empty, what with the aftermath of siege.
The sky was blue and if you asked Jaune, he would say it could have been any other day. It was hot. There was target practice down one end and seating if you wanted to watch a fight. Cinder went straight over to the targets ahead of him.
"The Maiden power," he said eventually.
She turned as he leant against one of the pillars. "I suppose," she allowed.
"And you don't want the other ones anymore." Like it was not a big deal. Like it was the weather.
"No. You know that." Her voice carried across the short distance like a melody.
"So what's it like?"
The obsidian longbow at her side gleamed, like it was waiting for her to hurry up and use it. He watched her roll her shoulders, ready her stance. He never forgot what she was really made of; that this was her element, that she let him see her this way not as a foe but as an ally. Then she reared back, nocked an arrow and loosed it. It hit the bullseye. "It's like that," Cinder said slyly.
"Wow, nice hit," he said, because it was.
He caught her preening though. The little smile on her face was just this side of playful. She went for it again, nock and loose, and it was close to the last strike. She tilted her head, considering, when she eventually said, "Do you remember that day with the flowers?"
The flower she had put over his ear he had dried out so he could keep it. "Yeah," was his simple answer, hiding how much he really did remember. He had not seen anything like it before, all purples and pinks so vivid he had thought he was just imagining it.
She was lost in thought for a moment before she elaborated, "They might have told us that all the Maiden power happened to be was just that: power. I believed it. You knew I believed it. I would have done anything to have it." A brief pause, then, "It's more than that."
For a moment it was like he could sense it on her, the magic. She was enough by herself: that long hard stare, the flowing dark hair down her back, the way she stood poised like a statue. But there was something more.
"Of course," she added, with a degree of levity, "it does make for an impressive spectacle at times. Particularly of fire."
"Or flowers."
"Yes, or flowers." She went for another shot. Easy.
"What made you want to try?" he asked, gesturing at the bow. "You've already got your arsenal at hand."
"You know as well as I do the point of a good sword or shield. I haven't been able to use it. I meant to make the shot when Gillian—" she stopped and huffed. "Sometimes fire isn't enough. I'm not used to protecting. I needed to be precise. I couldn't make it."
"I think you're doing a good enough job of it so far," he said.
"Now you're just being nice." The thud of the arrow punctuated her speech. "I would not like a repeat of the incident. Hence."
"And the dream," he added. The one she was so secretive and coy about. If she wanted to keep it to herself she could, he had no problem with that, but he was also nosy and he wanted to know what else she had seen, of herself with a glass eye and arm. When it was, what she had dreamt of.
"I had a feeling about it anyway. Sometimes you need a push. I told you: the power is more than it seems."
She was more than she seemed, he knew that now. "And is that when it changed? That day? With the flowers."
"Maybe sooner. Maybe later." There was a considerate pause. She drew breath, and then said, "I met Fria. Tried to kill her. The old Winter Maiden."
He nodded. He remembered. She had been kept in a room, locked up all by herself.
Cinder continued, "She was old and weak, forgotten about. Forcibly, I suppose, at the general's discretion, other than her groomed successor. Of course, I was foolish. I thought she would be easy prey; if she were easily discarded, she were easily taken. But she had clearly been trusting of the general and if you ask me, equally distrusting. No one knew the extent of her real power. The only kind of power which came with experience. Age. Trust. Love." Cinder huffed out a dry laugh and sent him a look. "I found out firsthand. Maybe that was when it started to change."
"It wasn't right, passing her around like a— like a vessel."
"And I had believed it worked that way too," Cinder said. "Funny."
"You're a lot more than that. Much more. Power or not."
She closed her eyes. The scarred tissue moved with her skin instead of straining against it. "How much?"
"That kind of thing isn't quantifiable. But if you really want an answer? Priceless." He crossed his arms. "Does that help?"
Something passed over her, not a shadow but it was bright and sweet. Then she shook her head, as if to brush it off, and she said, "So needlessly dramatic."
"Me? Dramatic? I'm not the dramatic one, we've been over this."
He heard footsteps approaching, echoing off the hard sandstone floors, so he pushed off where he was leaning against, probably not looking as cool as he had hoped, and went to see who was coming. There were a few sets of them, and over his shoulder he heard Cinder say, "I think we both are," as his team and Emerald and Mercury came in sight.
"Hiiiiii," he said, long and totally not suspicious, like he had not just spent the early morning alone with Cinder again. Well, it was not his fault he liked being with her, and he had to help her with the bow. A little bit of peer support was nice for her, surely.
"See? Told you. I'm the best tracker," said Emerald.
"Uh, where else would Cinder go if it's not to shoot stuff?" said Mercury.
"To eat," Jaune supplied, as Cinder sent him a betrayed glare.
"Don't you bring her breakfast in bed?" Emerald quickly said back, as she came up to watch Cinder loose more arrows. "So that kind of rules it out."
Nora and Ren hung back but they both had their arms crossed, making faces at Jaune: Nora was unimpressed and Ren was stifling a smile.
It was not like they walked in on Jaune being too handsy with her anyway.
"Wow. Nice eye," said Mercury, all cocky, crossing his arms. "Where'd you find that?"
"I made it," Cinder replied shortly. She melted the longbow in her hands as if it did something to offend her. "I could've made a shot I missed." A beat. "You were both in trouble. What are you here for?"
"Well, you know that part where Ruby gave herself to Salem and left us all here?" said Mercury. "Well, we're going to try to get her back. Obviously."
"Obviously," Emerald reiterated, inspecting the shots Cinder had made earlier. Bullseye after bullseye.
Nora and Ren came up beside Jaune and Nora said, "And we guess that Cinder knows more than a thing or two about where Salem is now."
"I would," Cinder said. "And so does he."
"Can we trust you?" Ren asked, but from the sound of it, he was not just asking for himself.
Cinder spared Jaune's teammates both a glance, and then her old ones another, before she settled on Jaune. She softened and then hardened again just as quickly, enough for him to notice, though, despite how practiced she may have been hiding it. "It's a risk. I owe her, though."
"Since when did owing something matter?" Nora asked. "Do you owe us, because you killed our teammate? Our friend? Is that why you're here?"
They stared at each other. It was just as bad as Jaune had feared and maybe even worse. Sometimes he was afraid of himself, that he pretended Cinder was someone she was not, but he never forgot, he could never forget for a minute. That was why, in the beginning, when they had been seeing each other, he only grew more and more frustrated with himself. He could never forget her. The only time he pretended was to keep up the farce he would ever hurt her again.
"Do you want that?" Cinder asked back. "Life for life? Do you think I want your forgiveness? Do you think I care?" She scoffed. "Ruby helped me. I hated her. I don't hate her now. It's not more complicated than that."
He wanted to laugh but it was poor timing. It was more complicated than that. It was so much more complicated than that, and he had talked to her for nights on end about it, what she wanted, what he wanted, what they would do. In a way it almost pleased him, that she was trying, and they could see this now.
Jaune, still unsure around Nora, at least put a hand on her arm to try to show her he was listening. She had that look about her which meant she was thinking very hard and not liking the conclusion of her thoughts, but she was not angry, either. Jaune said to Nora, "I trust her."
Cinder whipped her head at him like she did not already know that.
"With your life?" Ren asked. He already knew the answer.
"Yes."
It was quiet for a moment. A fierce gale whipped somewhere but there was no sound of Grimm, all clear in the air, the sunlight fierce and hot. Then Emerald said, "You took a chance on us."
"Yeah, I turned up here bleeding and asking pretty please to take me in," Mercury added. "I didn't even do all that much except complain and then Ruby made fun of me."
"You helped me," replied Emerald.
You helped me, Jaune did not repeat, staring at Cinder and her milky-bright gaze. He wondered what she was thinking as she stared back at him, like there was no one else with them now.
"You don't have to do that," she said then to Emerald and Mercury.
"Too bad," Mercury said. "Don't you know killing with kindness is how they do it now?"
"Thanks, Mercury." It came out dry as she wandered past them to stand in front of Jaune. "As long as there are no speeches about the power of friendship, I'll help."
"He hasn't regaled you with one?" Ren asked.
Jaune sent him a sobering look but it did not work.
"No," Cinder said, with mirth, the uptick of her mouth almost cute. "Thankfully."
"I know my audience," was Jaune's only defence.
She hummed in agreement. "Only person who can handle me."
He laughed and ignored the looks the other four sent, which all felt like their own special assaults. Nora because of the tentative peace; Ren because of his ability to see what Jaune was feeling, which was probably very embarrassing and very loving, so he really had to have a talk with Ren about that and making sure he did not let that part on to anybody else; Emerald because, well, Cinder was kind of her ex-leader or something; Mercury because he was probably offended Jaune could handle Cinder and not him when he was much more hardened than Jaune and also like, cool.
Jaune was not cool, but he was, in that very, very secret corner of his soul, possessive, and if he liked being special and liked being the one who knew Cinder, he would keep that to himself. He sent a shifty, wordless glance at Ren and Ren, his horrible, wonderful friend, just smiled politely, eyes creasing with the breadth and sincerity of it.
"I need to talk to you," Jaune said, before they all agreed to go up. "We'll catch the rest of you ahead."
"Can I stay?" asked Nora.
"Did Yang come back with Blake and Weiss?"
"She did, but I haven't seen her. Is that your subtle way of telling me to go check on her?"
"Yeah, very subtle," Jaune said, "if you could, please. I think she'd rather see you than me right now anyway."
"Right, okay, mister. I'll check on Yang, and I suppose the other three…" Nora trailed off, eyeing up Cinder, Emerald, and Mercury. "I suppose you three can come up to the war room when you feel like it."
Cinder seemed curious, but she knew what Ren's Semblance was, and she did not seem all too uncomfortable. Jaune was. He and Ren left Cinder to her target practice whilst Mercury offered his commentary: "… first person to make her miss a shot wins."
"Wins what?" Emerald's voice drifted.
"I won't miss."
Jaune tried to find somewhere quiet where he was also sure Cinder could not eavesdrop, but the school did not offer many places like that. Back at Beacon he had heard it was because those sorts of quiet places were used by couples to make out, but if you had a room to yourself in Vacuo it probably did not matter. Not that Jaune made a habit of getting cosy with anybody like that. As it was, he found a quiet seating area outside with a view of a curved sand dune.
"You seem agitated, and I don't need my Semblance to see that," said Ren. He braced himself with his hands behind his back, plait blowing in the breeze. Nora had done that for him, he remembered.
Jaune leant against the balcony and said, "We talked about what you saw."
"Yes," Ren agreed easily.
"I know it's not the best time right now, but the last thing we need is anything screwing the plan up. I need— I want Cinder to be okay, and I don't want her thinking that just because I— because I—" Ren knew who he was talking about, Nora knew who he was talking about, and it was harder to say now, but he went on, "— she's the key to saving Ruby, and a lot more than that. But I need you to not say anything about what you know. About me. About. You know. Maybe best in general not to be too forward about it anyway. Cinder wouldn't like you knowing what she feels." He at least tried to be apologetic about it. "She even struggles to let me in sometimes."
"I understand," Ren said. "Thank you for telling me. For what it's worth, I wasn't going to say anything anyway. My Semblance developed very quickly during the Fall of Atlas; it took some time to adjust to. Admittedly, I may have been very forward about the intensity of your feelings during the Grimm blackout, just because I wanted to demonstrate the purity of your intentions. I can see how that may have been intrusive."
Jaune shrugged. "I also had Cinder randomly appearing and starting arguments with me since the bond opened up, so the intrusiveness isn't a problem. I just don't want her to know."
At that, Ren cleared his throat, which was clearly put-on.
"What?"
"Will she ever know?"
His stomach swooped low, with fear and maybe even embarrassment. "I don't want to think about it."
"It's alright. You'll figure it out on your own, I'm sure. It's easy for me to say, isn't it?"
"It's not fun being on the other side of my own advice, you know."
"Now I can hardly fault you for how easily you give it," Ren said, with a hint of humour. "Things seem very simple on paper, but it's always more than that."
Cinder was easy on paper. Enemy. Soulmate. Well, maybe not so easy on paper now he thought about it. Then he said to Ren, "What about you? How are you keeping up?"
"Given that we've managed to lose you twice and you've come back twice, I can say with some certainty I'm doing alright now. I know you mean to ask about Nora, and it's going fine, Jaune. Though it would be rich of you to offer advice for that."
"It would be," Jaune said, and then he laughed at himself and kicked at a small rock, watching it ricochet off the opposing fence. "Besides, you know Nora loves you."
Ren laughed too. "No, we're not talking about the requited nature of feelings, Jaune. If you don't want to tell her, you can't know."
"I do know," Jaune petulantly muttered, "and we're not doing this now. We have a mission. Get Ruby back."
"Get Ruby back." Ren steadfastly nodded, spine straight. "She's always saving us, let's save her."
Ren turned to leave, and Jaune let out a frustrated sigh. "Before you go? Can I ask?"
"Yes, I'm fine with Cinder," Ren answered for him. "It's a strange development, but not an unwelcome one." For a long moment, he did not look at Jaune, seemed to spend time searching for the right words to say. "Don't tell Nora this…"
Jaune waited patiently, used to waiting. He shuffled and re-crossed his arms, wondering what Ren would say, what he would not want Nora to know.
"… I would much rather believe that there were good in Cinder— that she could be understood— than her violence to be senseless. Wouldn't you? Isn't it kinder, and better, that perhaps she could be reasoned with? That someone like Emerald or Mercury could help us, instead of us having to hurt them and stop them? It frightens me, that in some way we are not the same as our enemies. Maybe that's why I've always feared the Grimm more than anything— no Aura, no soul. It would be terrifying to live like that. Once I agreed with Ironwood, that the bigger picture mattered, but big pictures are made up of little pictures. You know how afraid I was, that we were just students with no idea of what we were doing. What did they know better than us? Nothing. Nothing. Look at what you've achieved with Cinder. She doesn't have to be in the same pain anymore. She doesn't have to be alone. I know she's done bad, but I know why you— I know why you've done this. Why you risked it. And honestly, Jaune, I believe in you."
Jaune did not know what to say. He just nodded. That was more than anything Ren had said to him in one go.
"Nora might agree with me one day," Ren said. "I don't think she needs to hear it right now. But you do, and so does Cinder. She matters, Jaune. I would pick that anyday over having to help you kill her."
"I could never do that," finally Jaune uttered. It was the last thing he was ever capable of now.
"That's why I trust you." Ren laid a hand on his shoulder, the same sort of reassurance he would give. "That's why I understand what you did to Tyrian."
Jaune half-smiled. "I even tried with him, you know. When I traded myself for Theodore's family. I wondered. Cinder made me wonder. Maybe that was part of why I grew to hate him so much." He drew in a breath. "He tortured her in front of me. The night we got Mercury out. I wanted to kill him. I wanted to do it so badly."
Ren said, "There's very little you wouldn't do for her."
"I would do anything for my friends," Jaune said, almost pathetically.
"Yes, but. You know what I mean."
"I do know what you mean and I already told her that, so, you know, she knows. She deserves someone like that." A self-conscious groan, then Jaune rolled his eyes at himself. "Just, generally speaking. She needs to know that I don't want more from her than she can give. She doesn't need me there— expecting it, using her. I don't think I want to talk about it anymore. She's—" he said, stopped and sighed, "she's precious."
Why did Ren look like he was trying to stifle a laugh? A laugh, of all things. "Come on, let's go see where everybody is. Maybe we can see how Yang is doing," Ren offered.
"And maybe we can see how many Maidens want to come on a suicide mission," Jaune muttered. One Maiden in particular was necessary, and her Relic was still at large. But she was also very clever and very powerful, and she had people behind her.
"Do you think it was right?" Jaune asked Ren as they left. "To stay."
"I do think so, yes. Ruby bought us time. It was not right to waste it. Nora was in bad shape, Jaune. I don't think I could've gone on without her. Ilia was rounding up White Fang members and mourning their losses; Raven… well, does it need saying; Winter, she was helping out with all of the students and citizens; none of them were in a position to go. It's not as simple as before. I think you did the arithmetic and your arithmetic was right."
"Is it something that… is it something that Ironwood would have done?"
"He wasn't all bad," Ren said smoothly. "And no, I don't think it's what he would have done, because I'm not sure an assault on Salem's base of operations makes all that much sense to begin with, and I don't think he would have allowed for reasoning with the enemy. Ruby reasoned with Salem." Ren huffed a laugh out properly now. "You reasoned with Cinder. Let's say they were not decisions he would have made. What's the fear, anyway? We're trying."
They made their way down the halls of Shade Academy like it was their own school, like Beacon had not fallen. They went to gather Cinder and her old teammates from target practice, and Jaune went in to see her like they did it every day.
"So? Did she miss?" he asked, and just as he came in, she did. "Sorry!" he called.
"Oh, come on!" Mercury called back. "How does he turn up and score a point when I've been trying for ages?"
"He was trying to trash-talk her," Emerald explained, rolling her eyes. "'Cinder, you looked better in red,' this, 'Cinder, you're not even that mean and bossy anymore, you can't even order me around' that. Did it work? No. Of course Cinder can still put up with Mercury's shit."
Cinder turned to Jaune and said, "It doesn't count, you weren't playing."
"Just because I can walk in a room and instantly win at a game I didn't know I was playing doesn't mean you can disqualify me for my good luck," Jaune said back, but then he clasped his hands together in front of him and tried to seem extra cute. "What do I win?"
That earnt a short dissatisfied huff from Cinder. "Surely you can content yourself with simply winning."
"But I want a prize."
"What's there to give? I'm already fixing your armour later. Thanks for the chainmail, Cinder."
Jaune shrugged. "I don't know, what do knights usually get from maidens?"
"Oh, great," he heard Mercury mutter.
"Favours," Cinder said quickly. "Fine." She stowed the longbow down instead of melting it, walked up to him and appraised him. She took the brooch off, the blue and purple feathered one, and fixed it at his hip. The pressure of her fingers against him made him a little stupid. "It brings you back safely. You return it when we save Ruby."
Jaune awkwardly said, "It's very pretty. I like the blue."
"I like the blue too," she agreed, with a bit of stiffness. She was looking in his eyes, though, not at the brooch.
He admired it instead, since he was not sure what he had said wrong which made her lock up. The feathers were so soft to the touch, as soft as her skin, in the dip of her décolletage. He had always seen her wearing the brooch. He wondered where she had got it from. She was letting him wear it now, anyway.
"Thank you," he said quietly.
"Better you than either of those two." She gestured with a nod towards Emerald and Mercury. "I'd never hear the end of it if they managed to distract me."
Jaune smiled at her, and at that Ren came up beside him and said, "Perhaps it's time to head up," which mercifully saved Jaune from having to figure out what to say to Cinder, since she was making him kind of giggly and shy and it was no good. He tugged at the back of his low ponytail and only hoped it looked casual and not like he was hoping Cinder would pay attention to how handsome he was (or not).
The Maidens had all convened in the one room.
"We'd been waiting for you," said Winter, to Jaune and Cinder and their pack arriving. "I suppose you took your time to play."
"Play?" Cinder said. "Play. Yes, plenty of time to play when Salem holds your silver-eyed warrior in her hand."
Jaune pinched the bridge of his nose. He would have pulled a chair out for Cinder, so she could sit, but he knew she would not want to. She took a vantage position in the corner of the meeting room with an eye for every entry.
He thought about where he should go. Yang sat near her mother and her teammates, and Ren and Nora sat with each other and Emerald and Mercury, Theodore was at his requisite chair at the end of the table where Oscar talked to him in low tones, Qrow was with Raven, Ilia sitting near Blake, and there was Cinder, brooding in the corner.
So Jaune went with Cinder because what else was he going to do.
"Don't brood," he told her.
"It comes very naturally to me," she said.
"What are you brooding about?"
"All sorts of things. Playing nice. Huntsman academies. Winter Schnee bossing me around." She sent him a sly glance. "At least you're here."
"Are you two quite done?" asked the Winter Maiden in question.
"You can't even start without me," Cinder bit back. "You need me for the last Relic and you need me for getting to Salem."
"Yes, and I'm interested in where you've stowed my Relic."
"Your Relic is under his bed," Cinder said, and thrust a finger in Jaune's direction. "And I've used it more than you have—"
"Enough," Raven cut in. She moved to stand next to Winter. "We have one job. I failed at it before. I would not like to fail at it again."
"What joy. Now I'm working with you again. Let's see who backstabs whom first," Cinder said.
"Hey, come on," Ilia piped up, "we're all Maidens, we could be—"
"If you say friends—" Winter and Cinder said at the same time, then glared at each other.
Jaune could not help himself stifling a laugh, and he put a hand at Cinder's little pointy elbow. He watched her shoulders loosen, and when Winter had looked away, he offered his Semblance for good measure. It always seemed to calm her, though he was not sure why. He had not noticed it doing that for anybody else. Maybe it was the bond. It had felt nice when she had used it on him. A warm blanket, safety, home.
"Alright, Maiden problems aside," Yang started, "how many do we need to go to Evernight and how many do we need to stay?"
"I can answer for Vacuo," Theodore said. "There have been no Grimm here. In fact, none have been sighted, not even on the far borders where the worst of them are. An exodus of Grimm were seen last night, when most of you retired to the academy. I suspect we know where they've gone."
"Salem was true to her word," Oscar added. "They'll not plague us here. They're at… her base."
Where Ruby is went unsaid. It passed through the room as a ghost. Yang shivered, and Raven watched her feet. It was where Summer was too.
Jaune tightened his grip just a little on Cinder and if she moved closer to him, he allowed it. "Well, Cinder?" he asked her. "What do you think?"
Her mouth flattened into a dissatisfied pout. "I need to go to her first."
"That's handing her the last Relic," replied Winter. "It's idiotic."
"I wouldn't be handing her my Relic, I'd be handing her the other Relics."
A shocked gasp came, from whom he could not identify, then, "You can't do that—" and a cacophony of objections. Jaune furrowed his brow in confusion but he already knew better. Cinder was going to beg for peace with Salem herself, or at least pretend to offer it.
"It would buy us time, is what you mean," he interrupted.
"Yes, that's right." Cinder crossed her arms and sent a brooding look at the other Maidens. "Salem thinks I've only… infiltrated your side. I bring the Relics to her as she expects. You strike. She would be taken unawares and self-satisfied. If all the Grimm are there, and her, and what remains of Summer Rose— it's the best you could possibly ask for."
Jaune did not pay attention to anybody else. He said, "You could get hurt. She could kill you. How does Salem treat traitors?"
"Not well."
"And you would use the bond to tell us," he said, explaining her own plan he seemed to know aloud.
"She thinks it nothing more than a party trick and mistake. Her own arrogance undoes her." Cinder barked a laugh. "It's unflatteringly familiar."
He liked planning with her. She was cunning. It was cut short when Yang said, "And have you? Infiltrated our side, I mean."
It was so tense Jaune could feel it in his spine. Cinder turning to stare at Yang. Yang glaring at Cinder. Blake putting a worried hand on Yang's thigh. Jaune drawing Cinder closer. The others waiting. Oscar looking disappointed, but at whom he did not know.
"It's neat you've already got a plan. That's all I'm saying," Yang continued. "It's neat to believe that you wouldn't just turn up to Salem, give her all the Relics, and invite us into a trap."
"To save your sister," Cinder answered coldly.
"I mean, do we need you? Three Maidens is short of four, sure, but should you even be trusted near Salem? Who's to say you don't just— revert?"
"Revert." She shook her head. "Revert. I see. A dog with its master waits at the door when they're gone. Of course. A collared thing will grow to love the warmth of its tight embrace. Is that what you think of me?"
Jaune had to say something. It was hard to hold back. "Do you seriously think that I would—"
"I think you're too damn close to the issue," Yang snapped. "Least of all the fact that you've got some—"
"Yang," Blake interrupted quietly. "I know you're worried and hurt. But we shouldn't hold… that against Jaune. Cinder's offering us a way in to Ruby. Is there another way? Could Emerald and Mercury go back with Cinder as well?"
"I'm not welcome there," Emerald said.
"Yeah, think I messed that one up for myself," Mercury added.
Jaune shared a look with Cinder. He wanted to say that he was sorry. He hoped that he could tell from his expression, anyway. He was sorry for Yang, too.
The tense bubble snapped when Winter eventually said, "Let's face it: it's the best plan there is. Ruby missing is bad for morale. For that matter—"
"She also has silver eyes," Weiss interrupted her sister. "Other than strict morale, Winter, there is the fact she can purify Grimm. Don't forget that part." It sounded like Weiss was politely pointing out Winter's focus on the wrong thing, which was saving Ruby because Ruby mattered, but Jaune was also pretty sure that was how they showed affection to each other.
"Thank you, Weiss," Winter tightly said. "As I was saying. Could Salem possibly accept you back without the Relics? Could you provide distraction in such a fashion?"
There was a long moment where Jaune could tell Cinder was cataloguing each of her various punishments, to what degree each afforded her chastisement, how long it lasted. He put his hand back. No torture was worth it in exchange. She settled on, "Salem wouldn't buy it. She wouldn't kill me, at least, because that would complicate the last Relic. If you want a good enough distraction, I have to give her something. Other than me or Ruby, or the Relics, she wants for nothing else. Unless I take Oscar."
Oscar did not look taken aback. "Yes, I was waiting to suggest it. It still wouldn't be enough, and to be quite honest, I think Salem might be afraid of me now."
"Why's that?" asked Emerald.
"Well, I did manage to talk both you and Hazel out of helping her. Who knows what I could manage. Maybe even corrupt Cinder."
"That's my job, thank you," Jaune said, aiming for levity. "Get your own."
Oscar laughed, light and breezy. "Quite."
It at least made Cinder laugh too, one of her mean ones. "Was that your plan all along?"
"No," he said lowly to her, as if they were having their own conversation alone. "I hoped, though."
A small smile, then, short and sweet. He could spend a long time looking at her eyes. Her orange eye was bright and warm, and her glass eye, pearlescent, sparkling, shone with magic. He heard a groan from someone.
"So we all go, then?" said Ilia. "All of us Maidens, the rest of you… who else?"
"Whoever would come. Some may know her from the transmission. We may not have enough ships for everybody. But most of us here would go?" said Winter. "I cannot say I like the odds, but then, I have never really cared for the odds."
"When was the last time four Maidens worked together?" asked Ilia again. "Did it always used to be like this?"
"If I may," said Ozma, "it's been a very long time."
"That's actually kind of cool." Ilia giggled. "We're the first team of Maidens working together and we're going to help Ruby. I was kind of scared at first, honestly."
"You're… adjusting very well," said Raven almost awkwardly. "Well done."
"Yes, well done," Winter added.
They both stared at Cinder until she relented and said, "What? I already think she's doing a good job. I was there when she inherited the power."
"Thank you," Ilia said very warmly to the other Maidens. The other three stiffly nodded their assent.
It devolved into routine strategy and a lot of coordinating with Theodore and then whomever Theodore could trust to know about transport and flying all the way to Evernight. Qrow asked Raven if they should get Tai. Jaune and Cinder pored over maps as mostly she wrote out the flight path and methods of entry.
"Expect to die. Expect to be thwarted on all sides," she said.
"And have hope," he added to her proclamation, since they needed that, but it was not the sort of thing Cinder would say.
"Ah, yes." She finished drawing a skull above Evernight. The artistic effect was oddly cute.
"The airships won't allow you to plot an automatic destination. It's not on any of the preprogrammed maps and you need to be able to weather thunderstorms and Grimm. Certainly not a trip for an unseasoned pilot. The route is circuitous; many an airship has gone down with no record and no hope of recovery. If all the Grimm are there, then it's even more dangerous than it used to be."
"I always wondered what was there," said Weiss absently. "I just heard never to fly near it."
That was that. Yang glowered at Cinder and Cinder ignored her, but it was mostly alright.
"Then to summarise," Cinder said, "I go first. I take the Relics. I size up Ruby's position. I give you the all clear, perhaps with the hope of distracting Salem. I get Ruby out of there. Easy."
But there was something that had gone unsaid. "Cinder. You know what I'm thinking."
"Not literally," she replied wryly. "But yes, I have a feeling. I think it's a bad idea."
"Why?"
"Because it will just be you. I don't—" the first time she had sounded uncertain, "I don't want Salem touching you or you being that near her."
"But I could help you. I've been near her before."
She faced him head-on. "It would worry me, and it's unnecessary. Stay with your friends."
"Oh, you're talking about the magic trick," Mercury interjected, more for the others' sake than his own. "Weird bond stuff. Don't ask. It's kind of dirty."
"Mercury," Cinder said, as Jaune was very unimpressed with him.
"I worry about you," he said, ignoring Mercury.
"It's not a good idea." She pushed away from the map. "I don't want to talk about it here."
"If you need to get out of there quickly—"
"Then maybe," she cut in. "I'm not leaving there without Ruby, otherwise the whole excursion is pointless. At that point, Salem will know the truth. It's just an emergency option. Does that satisfy you?"
"For now." He tried not to let his regard show too much, but Jaune wore his heart on his sleeve, so to speak, and his sleeve was currently brushing against Cinder. "Then when are you leaving?"
"How ready are you?" but it was not only aimed at him.
"When will Salem expect you?"
"She's not picky. Salem doesn't mind waiting."
He let the question hang open for the others. It seemed that sooner would be better, that much Jaune could tell. It was also possibly the biggest assault they had faced after the siege of Vacuo. At least they were taking it to Salem. Better than being sitting ducks.
"This is the day that Vacuo Stood," said the headmaster, Theodore, into the fallen silence. "Let that be one victory under your belt. If you wish to go now, go now. But if you wish to go tomorrow… can you afford it?"
"Well? Yang?" Jaune asked her.
"Tomorrow," she said, with an air of finality, and something righting about her. "Tomorrow morning, Cinder will go with the Relics. We follow."
"Is it much work to fix my armour?"
"Not much," Cinder said beside him, walking lazily. They could just go anywhere in Shade now, and she was not subject to much scrutiny. "Just a little magic and my Semblance. It's not like you went out of your way to break it. How's the sword?"
"It's good. Thank you."
It was still sunny out. The aftermath of the assault left most of the markets strewn about, and they volunteered here and there with the cleaning up, and Cinder said to him that she mostly felt guilty about the fact she had stolen clothing, so it was just her conscience she was making up for. He let her keep that one. They checked in again with Ochre, as well, because Jaune was not sure when he would see her again, and with Cinder in tow, Ochre simply said, hands on her hips, "This is the one, then?"
Jaune had to do a little explaining on that one, but mostly kept out all the references to the fact he sort of talked about her like she was his girlfriend. It was just nice to see the nurses unscathed and the medical wing mostly unharmed. They had been nice to Nora, who seemed fine now, for everything that had happened.
They came to a stop in one of the gardens. Pretty enough, but not as pretty as that quiet place Cinder had found and grown. Vacuo flowers were wild and varied, bright reds and deep yellows, flowers which could go months and years without water. There was something Cinder was waiting to say, he could tell, so he just rambled about this and that: here was where he sat to eat lunch with her, when she was out; here was where he would stop to talk to her through the bond; here was that time Yang and Mercury got into a fight and then settled it with a real fight (he had got a recording of that and shown it to her).
It was the sort of idle talk you did to stave off something bigger and scarier.
"I'm sorry about last night," he said, trying to find something to say. "I heard you singing, so I thought you were just in the shower."
"Singing?" She seemed puzzled. "What singing?"
"What do you mean, what singing? You sing in the shower."
"No, I don't." She was puzzled and disgruntled. "I've never done that."
Her singing was pretty, though. It was unconscious and maybe she was no stage star, but he liked it. He liked, now, that he knew something about her that not even she was aware of, that the sorts of songs she sung were often sad and sounded old. He wondered where she learnt them.
But then, Salem had taught her a litany of things, so maybe Salem sung to herself as well when she thought no one was listening.
"That's embarrassing," Cinder muttered. "I can't believe you can hear."
Jaune laughed, properly and high and happy. "I would've knocked otherwise. I like your singing. I like the happy ones."
"I like the sad ones," she mumbled, and then continued to grouch to herself. "Too nice," she muttered.
"You don't like the happy ones?"
"I've never related."
"I hope you do one day." He smiled at her. "I like the sad ones sometimes… I like when they're sad and end happily."
"Well, I do like those ones."
"See? We're in agreement."
That got her to smile. It was brief, and he could tell something was still weighing on her, but it was just a little victory. He liked all of her smiles, even the mean ones now, but the loose ones, the small secret ones, the ones which made her eyes soft, he had a special spot for those. She went back to staring at the garden. He waited.
She turned to him suddenly and said, "If I die, Emerald will get the power."
"You're not dying," he said flatly.
"If I do, I'm telling you, so you can tell her."
"Why can't you tell her?"
"It would be awkward."
"Would she even want it?"
"It doesn't matter. Someone has to have it."
"But it's yours."
"And I may die."
"You're not dying," he said again, grabbing her by the hip to pull her closer. "That's not happening. I have a Semblance, I'm going to find you and I'm going to help you and I'll die trying."
"If you die I'm going to burn everything down."
"Good," he said harshly. "I'm glad we understand each other."
She crossed her arms and tried to glare at him as he held her close. It was not the best move on his part, but he would tell himself off later.
"I don't think Emerald would appreciate your return being paired with her inheriting the power," Jaune said carefully. "I don't think that's important to her, Cinder."
"It still doesn't erase the nature of the power."
"You told me yourself earlier. It's more than that." He wanted to touch her face. He wanted to caress her. He wanted to hug her. "You matter. You're the reason we can get Ruby out at all. That's what we're going to do. No matter how important that mission is, I'm still going to keep you safe."
She hid herself from him then, her long dark fringe brushing down to cover her expression. "Why are you so… principled."
"I'm really not," he said. If only you knew. "But I have to give this back to you," he continued, pulling a hand back to gently touch the brooch at his waist. "So we both have to get out of there alive."
He would. He would claw his way back to her come Hell or high water.