"Max, come here. It's bed time."

"I don't wanna!"

The father summoned a single, firm glare, which quickly made the little boy skittishly rush for his bedroom. He only sighed and shook his head as he followed his son into a cramped, messy little room; the floor was strewn with toys and comic books. An unkempt pile of papers and books marking the day's homework sat on a desk in the corner, the bare minimum of which had been completed.

The boy hopped up into the bed and pulled the blankets close, wiggling until he became sufficiently comfortable. He looked expectantly at his father, who crossed the room and sat down on a chair beside the bed. There was a nightstand next to him, on which rested a well-worn book covered in stains and scratches, looking frail enough to fall apart.

"The usual story?" he asked.

The son nodded.

"Well alright then," the father said, picking up the book. He held it carefully, not wishing to damage its ancient pages any more than it already had been. He cautiously opened the cover, eyes flashing over the proudly written script of 'Catherine' marking the old owner. For just a moment, he felt a pang of sadness upon seeing the word, but then he looked over to his son, saw the excited shine in his little blue eyes, and he felt happiness instead. He smiled and turned a few pages, getting to the first lines of the book. He coughed to clear his throat, then started reading aloud, the first words of young Maxwell Noble's favorite story.

"Joan of Arc was a hero unlike any before her, unlike any that has come since—"

Jaune woke from his dream with a smile on his face. A smile that quickly disappeared once the warm memory faded and the present seeped in. Things were dark. That wasn't unexpected, considering it was night. Ruby had brought him back to the Beacon clinic early that morning, where he'd quickly been registered, treated, put in a bed and explained to a displeased Miss Goodwitch that he'd only pried himself out of bed and hurled himself through a second-story window because of a bad reaction the pain killers. A lie, but one she'd bought, or at least was unwilling to protest.

So he'd spent the rest of that day letting the nurses look over him, letting his team and Ruby's team visit him. He'd assured them that he was alright… and that they'd get the explanations they desired. Explanations about everything. What was the reason for his two-faced behavior? Why had he run away?

Well, just give me some time to pull myself together… I need to think things over.

It was true. He needed to mentally steel himself for telling them, and sort everything out in his own head. He'd been contemplating it all day, how he was going to say the things he needed to say.

Talking had never been his strong suit. Talking about emotions? Even less.

However, this was something he needed to do, so it would be done, and he would try his best. After thinking everything through, he'd closed his eyes and settled in for the night, looking forward to another long, exhausted rest. But this time, he'd be in a good, clean bed instead of a grimy dumpster.

Yet here he was, waking up from pleasant dreams in the middle of the night. He closed his eyes once more and fidgeted under the blankets, getting back into a nice, comfy position…

Before something poked his face.

Again.

And again.

Something was jostling him awake, and he blearily blinked a few times, before his eyes snapped open and instinct kicked in. He lashed out, trying to strike at whatever had gotten close, too close. He hit nothing but air.

Adrenaline poured into his system and he sat up in bed, raising his hands before him, ready to fight. He squinted and strained his vision to peer into the darkness, perceiving across the room two beady orange dots. Eyes.

Suddenly, the light switched on, and the room was filled with that kind of sterile, pale shine that hospital's love. It careened down onto the white floor and the white walls and the white sheets, forcing his eyes closed at its harshness.

He quickly pried them open again, ignoring the pain to take stock of what was happening. What he saw, quelled his panic.

"Blake, what are you doing?" He yawned. "I'm tired."

"We need to talk."

"I told all of you I'd—"

"No, I mean about what happened at the docks. We need to talk about it, now."

His eyes narrowed as he looked at her, sleepiness evaporating as he saw the unbridled distrust etched on her face. "What do you mean, what happened back at the docks?"

"Don't you remember? Don't you feel bad about it? At all?"

Jaune scrunched his brow. What the heck was she even talking about? He thought back to that night and the things he's done, but as he glossed over the evens, he couldn't really think of anything that stood out to him.

He shrugged. "I have no idea what you're talking about… did I do something I should regret?"

"You killed people."

"Umm… so?" It was just a moment later, that Jaune remember where he was, what world he was now living in and who he was talking too. The people here were too soft for the truth. "O-oh, I mean, yeah, I killed people. It was terrible, but I had to do it. I feel really bad about it though. It's going to haunt my dreams and stuff… yeah." He smiled awkwardly to try and appease her. He examined her expression for any sign that his gambit had succeeded. Her scowl made it clear it had not.

"I rushed to try and help you… just in time to see you rip someone's head off." Blake stared at him. He stared back.

He dropped the fake smile and took on a scowl of his own.

"Yeah, I killed some people. So what? They were my enemies, and I got rid of them. You expect me to cry over it?"

"I reiterate: you ripped someone's head off, someone who was unarmed, captured and posed no threat. That's not a fight, that's murder."

He shrugged. "Well, it's just par for the course where I come from. What was I going to do with the guy, try and knock him out? What if I messed up, gave him the chance to fight back, which in turn let Torchwick get a shot at me? Even if I managed to put him under, then he could recover and come back to attack again." The Lone Wanderer shook his head. "It was the best thing to do."

"That's not true."

"It is."

Blake shook her head. "How can you be so blasé about this? What you did was horrific!" She turned away, unable to bare the sight of him. "There was blood everywhere… you were covered in it. Drenched. The others were all terrified at first that it was yours… how are you fine with everything?"

She rounded back to face him, a sneer on her face.

"You've done this before, haven't you?"

"Killed people? Yeah."

"Have you executed people before? Like this? Murder?"

"Yup." He shrugged. "I don't see how this matters. This is just how things work. Fighting is fighting, and there are no rules."

"The Vytal Treaty says otherwise."

He shrugged again. "Do you think a bunch of terrorists and criminals care about the rules? Of course not, so why should I?" He shook his head and sighed. "I don't see any problem with what I did."

"Oh, but I do, and I'm certain the others would to."

Jaune gasped. "You told them?"

She turned away from him again and glared at him from the corner of her eye, before shaking her head. "No… no I've kept this to myself."

Jaune let loose a breath he hadn't even known he was holding. A strange, uncomfortable heat burned just under his skin. If Blake had told the others about that… if she'd told the authorities…

He thought back to Professor Oobleck's talk about war crimes. Oh boy, he'd be recovering in a prison's clinic right now, rather than the nurse's office of a school. Blake had done him something solid here… but why?

His eyes narrowed.

"What do you want?"

"Hm?"

"What do you want? You've got me in your debt now, so how are you planning on using it?"

Blake scoffed. "I hardly had extortion in mind when I chose not to tell the others. I never trusted you… you were always too aloof, too guarded. I recognized that; I've seen that in other people, bad people."

"And you think I'm a bad person?"

"That's why I'm here."

"Huh?"

"I want to see who you are, before I let the truth out. The only reason I didn't tell the others is because I know that Ruby would never forgive you if she learned about it, neither would anyone else."

Those words frightened him, for they were true.

These were good people, he was with. Ruby and the rest… if they knew he'd executed someone in cold blood… and in such a barbaric manner? If they knew about half the stuff he'd done back in the wasteland… it would be over. It would all be over. They'd never be able to accept it, to understand.

"Don't tell them! You have to understand," Jaune pleaded. "The place I grew up in… it's brutal beyond belief. I just… just did what I needed to do in order to survive, to get things done. This is just what I learned, what I was taught."

"You were taught to kill?"

"Kill or be killed, yeah. Back where I come from… it was terrible."

"And now that your here?" she asked. "Now what will you do?"

"And now that I'm here… I just want to settle down. I want to be happy again and leave all that behind me." He sneered, though it was directed nowhere but inwards. "Though I guess some things never change…"

Blake continued to stare at him, to look him in the eyes, and he forced himself to look back, to gaze into that sharp amber and try to convince her through sight alone that his words were true. She held the key to his acceptance. The eyes are the gateway to the soul, so if she looked there long enough, would she find the truth?

He was broken.

He was terrible.

But he wasn't evil.

Eventually, Blake broke the staring contest, closing her eyes and humming in thought. It took her a few more seconds to respond, during which Jaune could only hope that she'd been convinced.

"Yang once told me that you and I were pretty similar," she said. "I didn't want to believe it then, since I didn't like you, but I think I have to believe it now." She sighed and walked closer to the bed.

Jaune tensed his muscles as she approached, but slowly relaxed when she pulled out a stool and sat down on it, beside him.

"I wanted to start a new life, get away from everything," she said. "I wanted things to be new, so I could rebuild it all. I wanted to make myself new, so I came here. That's the same thing you've done?"

Jaune nodded, and realization finally dawned upon him. "You wanted to get away from the White Fang?"

Blake chuckled bitterly. "So you managed to figure that out?"

"Well, it's pretty obvious now. You were really hung up over the White Fang back at the docks, and you're a faunus, and you just started talking about getting away from bad things…"

Blake nodded. "Well, it's true. I abstained from talking about what you did because I knew they'd be crushed. I decided I'd do this, confront you about it, assess your danger for myself."

"Why?"

Blake looked away from him, stuck in thought for a few moments, before answering.

"I want a second chance at life, a reset, as if my mistakes never even happened. I guess I failed in doing that… and it seems that you have too." Her bow twitched slightly as her ears flicked underneath it, and Jaune couldn't help but think that it would require some serious agitation to manage that.

"Jaune… I don't want to take your chance away. I want to see some good in you, I do. Others do, like Yang and Ruby, and I trust them. They're better judges of character than I am… and they were willing to see some good in me, too." She drummed her fingers together, lost in thought for a little while. "I don't want to complicate my new life, either."

She rose off her stool and walked to the door.

"I'll leave you to get some more rest."

"Thank you Blake—"

She turned the lights off with a flick of a switch, then turned around. Her eyes shined in the darkness, and the Wanderer was briefly unnerved by the eery similarity they had to the sharp, vicious eyes of all the awful wasteland creatures that stalked about in the night.

"Don't thank me yet; I don't trust you, not at all. I ran away to get away from people like you. I'm not going to let anything, or anyone, ruin my shot at a new life. You helped me at the docks, and I'm grateful. You care for the others, and that makes me grateful as well.

"But I'll be watching you."

With that, Blake's shining eyes vanished from view as she turned away and left the room, leaving Jaune alone in the dark.

"And when I woke up… it all came crashing back to me. Everything just hit me… too hard. The only thing I could think of was running away." Jaune closed his eyes and let his head fall to the side, so he could nestle his cheek against the soft pillow, while hiding the tension on his face from the others. All of them, everyone from both JNPR and RWBY, where present. Everybody needed to know.

Hell, even Weiss, if only for the sake of transparency and context. They needed to know, despite the consequences. It was time to let things out, time to start over, for real. That was the problem, the thing he hadn't realized. He'd figured that by burying his past, he could leave it behind, forget about it. But by internalizing it, he'd only been stuffing everything under the surface, where it would rot and decay, become diseased and infect him, such that he'd never be healthy. Not until it was dug up and burned in the open, for all to see.

Now, done that, and things were out of his hands. It was up to them.

His actions had long been horrendously callous and selfish, reflecting on his personality, his despicable personality. He was a bad person. He knew that. In fact, he was certain of that. He was an awful human being, and the possibility off them truly forgiving him—

"If you weren't in a hospital bed, I'd pick you up and hug you so tight your bones would bend!" Nora proclaimed.

Her tone… she didn't sound angry or bitter at all. He opened his eyes to take a look, to face the final fallout of the truth.

He was met with varying styles of pity on everyone's face. Even Blake, after hearing the extent of his story, had become crestfallen. Weiss, for the first time in all the time he'd known her, looked at him now with an expression that denoted something other than disgust—empathy.

It was the same thing on everyone's face, a basic sense of human care and compassion.

It was something he didn't deserve, not in the slightest. People like him didn't deserve the care of others. He didn't deserve this, the chance he'd been giving. He didn't deserve their forgiveness. None of it, nothing at all! How could they—

"Hey," Ruby said, "it's gonna be okay." She rested on hand on his own, and summoned a small, sincere smile. Her words, and the kindly look in her eyes… it made his worries dissolve, if only for the moment.

He looked back at the others, and he saw in them, especially in Yang and his own team, a resolve, a sense of dedication. A dedication, for him. For him. Care. They were caring for him. These people, they cared for him. He mattered to them. Other people cared for him… they cared… cared…

He couldn't hold back the tears.

Roman Torchwick slammed the door shut behind him.

He stomped into the room, a cozy and plush office fit with expensive amenities. It wasn't the sort of place you'd expect to find in Vale's run down industrial district, but it was Roman Torchwick's personal office and hideout, from which he looked over his criminal empire. This was somewhat literal, considering one wall of the room was a large glass window that provided a view of the factory floor, where Torchwick's underlings and his White Fang 'partners' were busily packaging dust.

Cinder Fall reclined on a large couch that sat just in front of the window, looking down into the factory. When Roman entered, she spared him a single glance, raising her eyebrow at his flustered, angry face, as well as another fact.

"Where's the other one?" she asked.

The door to the office swung open so hard it slammed against the wall and rattled on its hinges. The now familiar sound of a voice muffled via gas mask resonated through the room. "The gall, closing a door in my face!" The raspy, deep voice may have been devoid of nuance, but it still conveyed anger with ease. "Your disrespect for your betters is ever persistent!"

"Oh, my betters?"

"A soldier is superior to a thief, yes."

"Hah, and people call me arrogant. That's rich, buddy."

Roman turned to Cinder. "I present to you, the man who ruined our operation at the docks!" He thrust one hand out toward Art.

"Ruin? I recall that it was you was unable to stand up to a few children, costing us the swift victory that was necessary." Art shook his head. "No, the only mistake I made was trusting an undisciplined street-rat to hold his own."

"An undisciplined street-rat? Funny, you weren't saying that when I was hooking you guys up with contacts, or when I was planning all these heists, or whenever else I was doing things right!"

"The only reason I was previously cordial is because it was required, but recent events have forced me to reconsider this requirement."

"Is that so? Reconsidering some direct orders from your leader, the Commander in Chief?"

"The only reason I continue to tolerate you is per the Commander's orders, which I still follow, as will I always. Were it not for him, I would eliminate you."

"You damn—"

Cinder loudly cleared her throat, and the two men looked at her.

"However much I enjoy watching you two squabble, I'm going to be cutting this off." Her eyes shined with a threatening energy. "Now."

The men turned silent. Art nodded and snapped into a ramrod straight stance, unmoving as an astute statue. Roman only sighed and grumbled his assent.

"Excellent," Cinder said. "There's too much at stake for us to allow petty infighting to complicate our operations. We need to be efficient and subtle in this, and neither of those are possible so long as you're at one another's throats."

"Gotcha."

"Yes ma'am. Understood."

Cinder smiled. "Good, good. The Vytal Festival will be coming upon us in just a few months' time, and we have to be ready by then. There will be no second chance." She turned away from the two, instead looking down upon the various terrorists and gangsters working in the factory below.

"Roman, I need you to continue your operations and pick up the pace." Cinder held up her hand before the thief could protest the demand. "The White Fang will be sending in more manpower for you to work with. I understand you don't think highly of them, but you're a smart man. You'll figure something out."

Torchwick could only grunt a belligerent assent as he pulled out a fresh cigar, cut it, chewed on it and lit it. Beside him, Art was silent and attentive as ever, waiting for the orders he knew were to come.

"Art, your Commander has been doing excellent work out in Atlas. Aside from procuring that bullhorn, he's also gathered enough equipment for a whole new unit. If I recall correctly, your first squad is almost prepared, no?"

"You recall correctly. They will be graduating from our black site training camp within a few weeks, and after that, we'll begin training operations with the bullhorn. We're also canvassing for more recruits and compiling a list. We can begin training a second squad at the black site within a month, after the Commander returns with the new equipment."

"Excellent, and can I trust that the civilian side of your operation is seeing similar success?"

"Indeed, ma'am," Art replied. "Our political efforts are gaining more traction every day. After the next elections, we'll have all the clout we'll need."

Cinder smiled. "Perfect."

Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon Academy sat in his office, looking over some of the day's paperwork. Beside him, Glynda Goodwitch impatiently strutted back and forth in front of the large windows that overlooked the school, analyzing data on her scroll, all of it to do with the recent mess at the docks and the fallout it incurred.

On Ozpin's the desk, lay a scroll. Its screen lit up and it rang out a chiming tone, indicating that a call was being received.

Ozpin leaned over and looked down to check who it was, and he raised one eyebrow, surprised. He pressed a few buttons on the scroll, starting the call and setting it to speaker phone, so both himself and Glynda heard the person on the other end.

"Hey Oz, you wanted to talk?" The voice was raspy and lilted, unsurprisingly. But the Headmaster had known Qrow Branwen long enough to tell when he was truly drunk as opposed to lightly inebriated. He might have tried to sober himself up just for this call.

"That I did. I'm glad you've managed to contact me this soon. Usually, you wait a few days, not a few hours, before returning a call."

"Yeah well, I figured this was too important to screw around with."

"That it is."

"So spit it out, what's going on with the kid? What'd he do?" A tired sighed emanated from the other side of the scroll. "You'd better not be calling me over something stupid, Oz. What, did he get in a fight?"

"He did."

"Eh, hardly a problem. Lots of fights went down at Beacon back when I went there. Got in plenty myself. Just working out all those hormones."

"He did not get in a fight with other students," Glynda said. "He got in a fight with criminals and terrorists."

There was a moment of silence, before it was skewered by haughty laughter. "Hah! He's jumping the gun already," Qrow said, chuckling. "Man… they grow up so fast… wait, he didn't get hurt, did he? Is that why you're calling?"

"Mr. Arc sustained harsh injuries requiring plenty of attention and rest, but he is expected to make a full recovery in due time," Ozpin said. "Rest assured, your protégé is guaranteed a good recovery."

"Ah, good thing. The kid's got a lot ahead of him."

"That he does, though it's his past that I'm more concerned about."

"In what way?"

Ozpin leaned over in his seat and steepled his fingers together, a more contemplative position, as he thought over how he was going to word. Qrow was a good man, whom he trusted implicitly, but he was also a man that sometimes held his own agendas. And although he knew that those agendas would never be malicious, Ozpin didn't like being kept out of the loop.

"I've always trusted your judgement, Qrow, which is why neither myself nor Glynda questioned your recommendation or asked for more information than the incredibly bare details you and Mr. Arc provided. However, I would like to know more about him now, after the latest incident." Ozpin leaned back in his chair, and beside him, Glynda walked closer next to the desk, not wanting to miss a single word. "Both of us would just like more context."

Qrow grunted. "Fair enough. Though I honestly can't tell you much about him. He grew up in the Vacuo wastes in some weirdo tribe, or something like that. Left, came here. We met while protecting a village from bandits and then Grimm." Although Ozpin couldn't see him, he could well envision Qrow giving a lazy, dismissive shrug. "There's not much else to it. He'd doesn't have any family or friends, as far as I know. He wants to be huntsman and travel the world. He's a good kid."

"And why, exactly, did you bring him in? You've never shown any similar interest in any other student."

"Heh, that's because I've never seen anyone else like him. To be honest Oz… when I met him, fought with him, got to know him a bit… I saw more and more of myself."

Ozpin nodded. It was as he'd expected. Or, at least partially. He knew Qrow wasn't lying, but he couldn't dismiss the possibility that he wasn't being told everything.

"In what ways?" Glynda asked.

"Well, he came from a strange tribe, for one, raised outside of the kingdoms. And just the way he acts too, all curmudgeony. Reminded me a lot of myself at his age. I could see everything pent up in him, just like how I was back then. A lot of stress, anger." Qrow sighed. "I figured it'd be good to give the kid the same chance I got. I didn't have a purpose before going to beacon. I could tell he didn't have one either when we met, so I hope he's on the right track now.

"Besides, I could tell he'd make for a damn good huntsman. Hell, that's been pretty much proven, yeah? Taking down criminals and terrorists before he's even legally allowed to drink, though I know that won't stop him from washing down a hard day's work." Qrow barked out some laughter. "God, he had some strong stuff on him when we first me, just a swig nearly laid me out. I hope that the next time we meet, we meet in a bar."

"Yes, well, empathy and drinking habits aside, I'm still a little curious. How could you tell he was going to be a good huntsman, Qrow? You said you each protected a village together, is that how?"

"Well yeah. There were some bandits attacking the place, and the kid went all out against them. He didn't even have aura yet, but he didn't care. He took them and did pretty damn good, though I had to bail him out.

"And even after that, when the Grimm came, he kept fighting. Still, without any aura, he managed to take down a few beowolves.

"But I could tell he really had the right stuff, when he saved this little girl and nearly got his insides ripped out in the process. Was about ready to give his life for her, and that's not a trait you can just pass up on. I hope he's found a bit more worth for himself by now, though…"

"So you recruited him for his martial ability and quality of character, is that the case?"

"Pretty much."

Glynda stepped into the conversation. "He's performing extremely well in combat class, but that wasn't the case towards the beginning. He needed some time to adjust his style as necessary. I would say that his abilities, though admirable, where not exactly special when I first saw him."

"Yes, it's taken Mr. Arc a little while to grow into his own," Ozpin said. "Surely, you've seen many young huntsman and huntresses over the years who were his age, yet fought better. There's no questioning his skill as of now, but I'm not sure it would be so easy to tell earlier on."

"Well, I could tell," Qrow said, a belligerent edge to his voice. "Yeah, he wasn't the best, but he fought well, and it seemed like he only really needed to get used to his aura before he got in shape to be something special."

"Yes, but there are many special students here at Beacon and in Vale as a whole, many of whom you've seen rising at Signal. You've never felt compelled to personally support any of them."

"Well, yeah, but like I said, I've never seen anyone like him. Steve—I mean, Jaune—isn't like anyone else. He's like me, and I got all sappy, alright?"

"He's a killer, Qrow."

There was no answer. Silence hung heavy in the office, with not so much as the slightest noise penetrating the dense quiet.

"There were several bodies left at the docks, where'd he fought just a few days ago, that there gruesomely maimed. I stayed in contact with VPD, and they said that that sort of damage could only have been caused by something akin to a chainsaw." Ozpin shook his head. "I hardly think it's difficult to put two and two together."

"You said the two of you fought against bandits," Glynda said. "Did he kill them too?"

The lack of an answer from Qrow was all the answer they needed.

Ozpin sighed. "Qrow, this is information I wish you'd shared with us."

"Would you have let him in if you'd known the sort of things he was capable of?"

"Hmph, we at least would have been more cautious with him," Glynda said. "He's displayed concerning and antisocial behavior ever since arriving here, which I assumed was something much more benign than downright psychopathy."

"The kid's not crazy like that," Qrow said. There was a sharper edge to his voice, a protective tone. "He got disemboweled saving a little kid from some Grimm, does that sound like a psychopath to you?"

"No, no it does not," Ozpin said. "And we've seen Mr. Arc adjust gradually to life here, even make some friends. However, that doesn't change the fact that he may very well be hazardously volatile. For him to be capable of such things at such a young age…?"

"I personally spoke to him earlier once he returned to Beacon. There was no discernable guilt or ill feelings other than his own physical condition," Glynda said. "So either he's excellent at hiding it, or he's become acclimatized. When you first fought with him, was that his first time?"

"No, no it wasn't."

Glynda sighed. "Qrow, you realize the danger inherent in allowing him to come to this school? And with no special treatment? He should have been sent to the school therapists immediately, if he was to be accepted at all." She shook her head. "A young mind shouldn't be tainted by things like this."

"Well, that didn't stop it from happening to the kid, now did it?" Qrow nearly growled. "Listen, you're treating him like a monster just because he's been through some rough stuff—"

"Qrow," Ozpin said, "we were shown the bodies of the White Fang he killed. Gruesome, is truly the only way to describe it. It takes a certain kind of person to do things like that and remain unaffected, and I'm sure if I want that kind of person in my school."

"Well, whether or not you want him, you need him!"

"Is that so?"

"It is."

"And why would that be?"

There was silence from Qrow, and Ozpin mulled over whether or not that was just his old friend thinking of how to word his response, or if he was truly bereft of one at all. It turned out to be the former.

"Listen, I didn't just take him in because he reminded me of myself—"

"That much is obvious," Glynda said. "It's become clear that you've been withholding information from us."

"Yeah, Glynda, it's become clear," Qrow said with a sigh. "Now, just don't interrupt me again, and I'll spill it all, alright?"

Silence was all the affirmation Qrow was given, so after a few seconds with no reply, he took the cue and continued.

"I ran into the kid just a few weeks after Amber was attacked. I was hunting through the Mistral countryside, taking in whatever leads I could find. Then I run into him.

"I see him fight like that, and then we have a conversation. He tells me about himself, and I see more and more how much we need people like him right about now.

"See, Amber wasn't attacked by Grimm, but by people. And when I met Ste—Jaune, when I met Jaune, I saw somebody that was used to fighting people. He fought people, and he killed people, and he put up with all the heinous shit that people can do.

"Because that's where the real danger is, the real evil. Aren't I right? Salem has control over the Grimm, but her biggest tools are the humans and faunus she's got under her thumb. Smart, brutal, capable of worse things than any Grimm.

"I saw the kid do some things, and I heard him talk about some things, that nobody else his age in all of Beacon would know a thing about. Hell, I bet that no kid his age in any of the academies have gone through what he's gone through. Some of the stuff he told me about… and I could tell by the look in his eyes, that he wasn't lying when he talked about it. He won't be phased by even the worst that people can do.

"And it was people, who attacked Amber, and who attacked that village.

"That's the trick. Right now, we're going to need huntsman and huntresses who can fight against people just as well as they can fight against Grimm, if not better. Most of the kids in school can't even conceive the sort of brutality that's going to be going down sometime soon, and we all know it's going to be sooner rather than later.

"If you want an example, look at my niece, Ruby.

"She'd never kill someone. Not today, not tomorrow, not ever. That's great and all, but there are some instances were something like that isn't what you need. You need the opposite, someone who can do bad things to bad people. Someone who can see bad things happen but keep on trucking all the same.

"When push comes to shove, he isn't going to be effected by even the worst of the worst. Others will be paralyzed, but he'll soldier on. That's what we need. Hell, case proved by what you were telling me just before.

"Terrorists and criminals, the ones he fought. Those are the real bad guys, beyond just the Grimm. And even behind the Grimm, is Salem. She may not be human, but she's just as smart as one. So yeah, I think we need someone like Jaune. The kid's even harder than I am, and I've seen some shit.

"Again, compare that to someone like Ruby. She'd never do the things that he's willing to do. Hell, if she'd seen of him what I saw, she'd hate his guts, and Ruby's not used to hating anything. That's just how different it is."

Qrow stopped talking, and a few more seconds dragged on as Ozpin and Glynda waited for him to continue. When he didn't, they instead considered his words and exchanged a look with one another. Eventually, it was Glynda who spoke.

"Qrow… you're not wrong." She sighed. "I just wish you'd given us the full story."

"I was afraid you wouldn't get things from my point of view, and I didn't want to risk the kid getting turned away."

"You really do care for him, don't you?" Ozpin asked. "I wasn't aware that the two of you had much of a chance to bond."

"We didn't, but he made an impression on me anyway. I wasn't lying when I said that he reminded me of myself. I acted a lot like him at his age. And going to Beacon… it was the best thing that ever happened to me. If I hadn't gone, then I'd still be rotting away with the tribe. And besides that…"

There was a tentative pause, before Qrow continued.

"Beside that… I felt scared for him."

"Really?"

"Yeah… I saw the kid almost die. I stood over him while he was bleeding out after damn near getting eviscerated. I looked him in the eye while his was dying. You can tell a lot from a person in their last moments alive. And you know what I saw?

"It wasn't fear, oh no. The look on his face… I didn't ask him about this. I was too afraid to do that. But… he had this… he… he just looked so… tired. Everything about him… seemed so spent. And I could tell it wasn't just the blood loss or whatever, no, it was deeper than that. It was a look in his eyes that told me he didn't even care, that he was done.

"And I picked up on it in our talk afterwards, too. He just… didn't have that will, you know? He seemed hollow. It felt like he was hiding something terrible. I've never seen someone so young be so broken. It… it was just damn sad.

"I thought about what it'd be like if that ever happened to Yang or Ruby, so yeah, it hit me hard. I give a shit about him. He's a good kid, and he deserves more than everything he's been through. I hoped that what worked for me would work for him, too.

"So I sent him here."

"Qrow, that's surprisingly paternal of you," Glynda said.

"Hey, I just lost Amber, alright? She was like family to me, and I couldn't stop thinking about losing my nieces after that, too. I've always had a soft spot for kids."

"So I suppose it's not surprising that you got attached to young Mr. Arc," Ozpin concluded. "No one will fault you for empathy, Qrow." The Headmaster reached over and took a drink from his mug of coffee. When he was finished, he set it back down on the table with a clink. "I'll let Mr. Arc stay here at Beacon, for now. We haven't been keeping a good watch on him, given everything we've had to distract us, but that will change from here on out. I may even mandate he attend therapy."

"That's fine, so long as he gets to stay. I just want the best for him," Qrow said.

"As do I."

"He's doing well," Glynda said. "He's become good friends with his team, and he's even befriended your nieces, as well."

"Really? Heh, guess he can't get enough of the Branwen genes."

"I'd say he was closer to Rose."

"No kidding? A hell of a match that is, though Ruby will make friends with anything, given enough time." Qrow chuckled, and Ozpin had no trouble envisioning that particular smile that the man got whenever he was talking about his nieces. "Well, I need to get to sleep now, start the day bright and early tomorrow."

Glynda snorted. "How early, noon?"

"One, actually, but that's the beside the point. Take care of Steve for me. I want to share a drink with him sometime soon."

"I don't believe he's of legal age—"

"Eh, that's just formality. Anyway, I'll contact you both again whenever I get something new." And with that, Qrow ended the call, leaving Glynda and Ozpin alone once more in the office.

She adjusted her glasses and sighed. "He's always given in to his heart and his gut, when it comes to decision making."

"Stoicism isn't exactly necessary for everyone, Glynda. Though I agree he could have put some more thought into all of this…"

"Hmph, an understatement, if I've ever heard one." She pinched the bridge of her nose and shut her eyes, willing the coming headache out of existence. "I just wish he'd been more open about it. It's not like we're totally unwilling to accept students with questionable backgrounds, Miss Belladonna being an example."

"Yes, well, the past is in the past, and for now we must make do with what's already happened. Mr. Arc will be kept under watch, but so long as he continues his progress, I see no reason for him to be expelled."

"Just so long as he keeps on a good course," Glynda said. "He certainly reminds me of a young Qrow, but he is also comparable to a young Raven. I fear that he may yet go in either direction."

"A fear that isn't unjustified."

Glynda nodded. She collapsed her scroll and put it in her pocket, then walked away from Ozpin and toward the elevator. "If our business for the night is done, then I'd like to take my leave… I think I'll give Mr. Arc another visit."

"Is that so?"

"Yes. I don't plan on confronting him about any of this… I merely want to take the time to analyze him a bit more, given the recent revelations." She pressed a button on the wall and called the elevator. "I'd also like to make sure that he's coming along well, physically."

"Worried, are you?"

"Mr. Arc is a dangerous person, undoubtedly, but he is still a child, and he is still my student. I share Qrow's wishes, that the best comes for him. It's always been obvious that he's a troubled young man, and although I don't know what happened to him to make this the case, I can't imagine it was anything but terrible." The elevator dinged and the door opened. "I'll be cautious with him, yes, but I want him to succeed just as I do all of my students." She stepped into the elevator, and the doors closed behind her, leaving Ozpin behind.

He swiveled in his chair and looked out the window, to the large, shattered moon that hung in the night sky. It was bright in a dull sort of way, emitting a sad light from the countless many fragments that hovered together, the only evidence of a catastrophe so old that even he didn't know the reason behind it.

"As do I Glynda," he said to himself. "As do I."

"And you're feeling well?" Miss Goodwitch asked.

"As well as I can, after everything that happened," Jaune said.

She nodded, but otherwise, made no move to speak. She looked him up and down, and he fidgeted somewhat uncomfortably under her gaze. He figured that she was just making sure on her own that he was alright, but there was an edge to the way she was looking, almost judgmental, that he didn't like.

"Is something wrong?" he asked.

She shook her head. "No, nothing. I'm just making sure that you're adjusting well."

"Yeah, well, I'm pretty alright." He sighed and shifted under the blankets, pull them to his chin. "There's… actually something that I need to talk to you about."

"Well, go ahead." She looked around. "No one else is here, and I have the time."

"Yeah… it's actually something that Ruby and I were talking about earlier. Well, Ruby and Yang. The two of them think it might be good for me if…" He trailed off, suddenly captivated by the blank wall beside him.

"If what?"

He gripped the blankets hard, scrunching them up in his fingers. "Well, apparently everyone heard about the idea, and everyone thinks that it might be good for me if…" He trailed off again. His hands shook from how hard he grabbed the blankets.

"Mr. Arc, if this is a bad time, then we can speak later—"

"No." He shook his head. "No, no I need to get this out."

Breathe deep. Hold. Release.

Breathe deep. Hold. Release.

"I…"

Breathe deep. Hold. Release.

"I… I want to see a therapist."

Oh boy, a therapist? I wonder how this is going to pan out. People have been asking since the first few chapters, when Jaune's mental struggles were first made evident, whether or not he'd ever be getting the help he needs. Just wait and see.

Also, glad to see there was such a positive reception to the last chapter. I'd been waiting the entire story to write that, and I'm happy to see that I didn't screw it up, considering it was such an important moment. There were things that could have been done better, of course. Like, I'd always planned on having Jaune talk about how Joan of Arc was his mom's favorite hero and how he was obsessed with her when he was young, but I forgot to include that before the reveal. My bad, would've put in a bit more buildup and made things make more sense. I sorta had to force it in. Still, glad to see it didn't fall flat.

Also, Art's 'Leader' is the same person as his 'Commander' or 'Commander-in-Chief' referred to in this chapter. I'm just changing the name because I like this better than just calling him Leader. From here on out, Hail of the Chief.

Come back next time, where he finally spends some quality time with the team. As ever, any and all reviews and/or questions are appreciated and encouraged.