I had the rough drafts for both this chapter and last chapter completed, was just waiting a while to edit them. It just feels better to have last chapter on its own, rather than combined with anything else.
"I hope you find it," Ren said.
"Thanks," Blake replied as she stepped past him and into team JNPR's room.
He was going to go back and train with the others. Jaune was still resting in the nurse's office, recovering from whatever the hell had happened to him just a few hours earlier. Then Blake had mentioned that one of her earrings was missing. She supposed that she would retrace her steps to find it, starting with JNPR's room. Ren obliged to come back and let her in, but she turned down any offers from the others to help her find it.
The moment Ren closed the door, Blake took a chair from the nearest desk and jammed the door shut with it by jamming it below the handle. Only then did she allow herself to let out a breath she did not know she had been holding. She stared at the blocked door, and as there was no other sound in the room, she became uncomfortably aware of her own heartbeat.
She reached into her pocket, pulled out her "missing" earring and put it back in. As she did, she sighed again.
"Sorry for this," she muttered.
Blake felt sorry for Jaune. She really did. There was, however, an ingrained sense of paranoid that had infected her. She was simply unable to trust easily. She was unable to look at him and not have at least a hint of suspicion.
She had batted that suspicion away earlier, chalking up his behavior to just nerves about the crowd. That could be true. Or maybe it was not.
It was easy to pity Jaune. It was easy to look at his anxiety and his clear mental issues and feel sad. It was easy to feel guilty for being suspicious. Blake had learned the hard way, however, that people can be swayed toward unsavory things. People you thought you knew can be twisted into something unrecognizable.
In Jaune's case, she never knew who he was in the first case. To be honest, none of them did.
Now here he was, freaking out over the return of old allies, old enemies. Then he refused to speak at all about who they were? He refused to give any information to the authorities? He did his own investigations?
Blake well understood deeply distrusting power and wishing to do things on your own, but she at least had told everything relevant the moment it was requested. She was now an open book. Jaune was the opposite. He only became more secretive and reclusive, which the others may have been willing to tolerate for love or sympathy.
Blake knew, unlike the others, that his history was full of blood.
She stood before Jaune's desk, hesitating. She and Jaune had never been friends; for a time, she had even regarded him as something of an enemy. She had viewed him as a dangerous unknown, a threat to her new life. Over time, that had changed. She had begun to respect him for caring for the others as she did.
That is what she was still doing. She was making sure that the things she cared about were safe. If Jaune was not comfortable sharing important information, then she would help him along with that. If he was hiding something bad, she would find out.
Blake pulled his desk open. She first took out her scroll and snapped a picture of how it looked; she would rearrange it again in perfect order once she was done.
Mainly, there was various writing utensils, a roll of tape, a box of paperclips and stacks of old school notes and homework. On top of that, however, was a black notebook, and on top of that was an envelope.
Blake set her scroll on the desk and picked up the letter. It was still unopened, but she had come prepared. The envelope itself was a bland, ordinary white; there were innumerable others just like it. Blake pulled out a new white envelope from her pocket (she had taken it from Ruby and Yang, who liked to send letters back to their father) and compared them. After a second of scrutiny, Blake was glad to see that her new envelope and the letter's were practically identical.
She had been ready to dismiss his strange behavior as a result of his anxiety in public. After Sarah showed up, however, she had thought back more to his actions at the fair. That included the envelope. At the time, she had just shrugged and figured him gracious, but she had remembered something since then. Security personnel had told them not to take anything from fans, lest they actually be dangerous material from their enemies. Jaune had wholeheartedly agreed, and she had seen him turn down gifts from fans a couple times.
So, what was special about this letter, that he made an exception?
Confident that he wouldn't noticed the switch to a new envelope, Blake tore the original one open. Inside of it was a single piece of paper that she slipped out and unfolded. There was writing as well as a small hand-drawn map. It read as such:
Mr. Arc,
Again, thank you for assisting us before. We are unsure how likely it was that we could have driven out the White Fang on our own. The help of you and your team is appreciated by us all. That you have continued to keep our secret is also massively appreciated. We thank you. Please visit us when you are able.
Also, Orion would very much like to speak with you again. He said he'd like to discuss old times.
-Angela, on behalf of the council of New Refuge
Blake stared at the letter, mind practically blank. She had felt guilty when her paranoia drove her to do this. A rational part of her mind had told her that she would find nothing other than a fan letter and notes on Bishop and the Enclave; innocent things. Now her heart was racing.
Blake truly had no idea how to think. All she knew was that all her alarm bells rang erratically and loudly, and this was giving no answers but a lot of questions. When had Jaune fought the White Fang if not at the docks and Mountain Glenn? Where was New Refuge? Who are these people?
Blake looked down at the map drawn with the rest of the paper. It showed a big dot for the city of Vale, along with major markers such as rivers, certain hills and forests. All of this led in one direction: to Mountain Glenn and past it. For beyond a dot that marked Mountain Glenn was a dot labeled New Refuge.
Blake shook her head. This was… more confusing than she had possibly expected. He fought the White Fang with his team and then kept a secret? When? With JNPR? With his old team?
She looked at the marker for Mountain Glenn, then at the marker for New Haven. They weren't too far apart. Was it some group that had also gone to Mountain Glenn? Scavengers, looters, or survivors from the city? JNPR had fought the White Fang there, after all.
But then there's this Orion person, whoever that is. He'd like to discuss old times. That means this was someone Jaune knew from Vacuo? Another person like Sarah?
"Just how many contacts have you kept hidden?" Blake said under her breath. Silently, something within her started to creep up. Anger. Soon enough she was seething. How much was this guy keeping from them? How many dangerous people did he know and work with behind their back?
Blake took a picture of the letter with her scroll and put it into the new envelope she had prepared. She licked it, sealed it and bent it a bit to make it look slightly worn, just like the real one. Then she turned her attention to his notebook, the one she had seen him with in the library, the one he kept close, the one he kept his recent investigation notes in.
"What else are you keeping from us?" she muttered with a scowl on her face. What else did he hide? And Why? Was it really something so simple that his past was too traumatic for him to bring up, as he claimed?
No, not at all. That letter proves he's been doing things behind their backs. He's up to something.
Blake opened the notebook, and the first thing that hit her was confusions. Taped into the first page was a picture of a grotesque looking cockroach. It was dead, and it was massive. The picture was taken by a person who had their hand on its corpse, proving that the insect was twice as long. Grotesque lumps sprouted out of its head.
"The hell?" Blake muttered. Things only got more confusing from there.
On the inside of the notebook's cover, she saw a list titled "sources". Indeed, it was a list of academic articles and textbooks; at least, that was what was at the top. As Blake looked down the list, she saw that more and more websites were written down, and they got more and more bizarre. It seemed like the last few at the bottom were all websites about aliens.
Then she flipped through the notebook… which was truly bizarre. All of it was scrawled in his poor handwriting. Some of it appeared to be have been written particularly quickly. Some sentences trailed off into squiggles, indicating where he had dozed off while working. Naturally, that all made it even harder to understand. Blake had a feeling, however, that it would have been a mess even if it had been all typed out.
She skimmed the pages and topics covered, many of which were strange and completely unrelated. There were pages dedicated to listing of all the known sources of cancer; there were outlines of alternative energy sources to dust; there was a copy of Remnant's periodic table taped onto one page; there were notes on the causes of gigantism; there were maybe twenty different cases of people who claimed to be aliens or to have been abducted by aliens; there were notes on the theories about how the moon was broken; and there were pages upon pages upon pages of scrawled info on the Englo people, the ancestors of civilization on Remnant.
When Blake finally got through all of the notes he had taken, her brain felt like it had been twisted into a knot, and this was really the only reaction she could muster:
"What the hell?"
Weiss tapped her foot as she waited for the kettle to boil. It was not a real kettle, but an electric one—thoroughly barbaric.
Nevertheless, it would have to do. It was the only way to heat up water in the dorms. As it were, she stood beside the countertop of a small recreational kitchen that was in the Beacon dorms. Ruby had dragged her here to makes cookies and cakes and the like on numerous occasions. It was also her habit it to come here early in the morning, wearing just her nightgown and slippers, when the rest of her team was still asleep, and brew herself a cup of peppermint tea using the ghastly, cheap electric kettle that was kept in the kitchen. The tea helped wake her up, and no one was ever awake and around there in the morning, giving her a quiet respite. It was usually relaxing.
That morning was not relaxing. She flipped through different apps on her scroll as she tapped her foot and waited impatiently for the water to boil already. Maybe the tea would help her clear her mind. Doubtful. She had run out of the expensive brand she usually ordered to be shipped in from Mistral, forcing her to rely on the disastrously subpar bags of tea provided at the cafeteria.
Besides that, her mind was clouded by uncomfortable thoughts that would not easily be shooed away. Jaune had, for whatever reason, decided to spend the night in the Nurse's office. He had refused to see any of them. Only Peach had been allowed in the day before to speak with him. She had relayed to the rest that Jaune simply wanted alone time to think.
"Idiot," Weiss said with a sneer. "Scaring your girlfriends and all your friends…"
She supposed she couldn't be too angry at him. Who knew what exactly was vexing him. Certainly not her. Maybe a night along would do him well. Maybe it wouldn't. Peach had looked exasperated, but she had stalwartly refused to answer a single question from them. She had referenced "patient privacy" and left it at that. Weiss knew it was only proper for a professional not to divulge personal information like that, but it was still frustrating. Everything was frustrating.
Weiss covered her mouth and yawned. She glanced over at the lazy kettle which really did like to take its sweet time with heating up. By the sound of it, it had just begun to boil. Not much longer then, before she could have her tea and really start her day.
Weiss turned back to her scroll and refreshed the news app for the fifth time that morning. This time, however, she was glad to see that a new article had been added: Atlas Specialists Arrive. She smiled, for it was about her sister. She was planning on meeting Winter later that very evening, actually.
Weiss tapped on the article and was immediately greeted with a picture of her sister, as stoic as ever, stepping out of a bullhead and onto a landing pad outside of Beacon. She would have been there to meet her if not for the mess with Sarah Pride.
She read through the article, skipping past parts about the arrival of Atlas military and geopolitics and whatnot, focusing entirely on every mention of her sister's name. She smiled as one officer was quoted as being excited to work with "Specialist Schnee" who so did impress the native Vale forces.
Then she reached the bottom of the article, which had a picture of Winter and the other specialists that had come with her. Just as her eyes laid upon it, they widened. Whatever drowsiness was still in her immediately evaporated.
The kettle suddenly began to hiss and steam rose up from it. Weiss did not notice that, for she was still too in shock from the picture.
Standing beside Winter, wearing the full regalia of an Atlas Specialist, was Sarah Pride.
Pyrrha, Ren and Nora had been waiting in the nurse's office for ages. Under normal circumstances, they would have been training for the upcoming tournament; now, however, it seemed that forfeiting their match was a very real possibility. They didn't care for the match. They just wanted to wait and make sure that Jaune was okay.
In that pursuit, they were sitting down in uncomfortable chairs in the uncomfortably white waiting room for the nurse's office. The walls and floor and ceilings and even the uniform of the receptionist behind the desk was a polished, chalky and pale white, the same shade as bare bone.
When Jaune stepped out, however, they were all on their feet.
Their excitement and gratitude quickly collapsed when they saw what he looked like. His face was as white as the room around him, a sickly pale. His hair was slick and greasy from sweat. He did not look at them.
Right behind Jaune came Qrow, who wordlessly glanced at the rest of the JNPR but did not stop; he walked out the room.
"Are you alright?" Pyrrha asked Jaune, coming straight to his side.
"Nah," he replied. His voice was dry and quiet. "Not really."
Pyrrha laid a hand on his shoulder and led him to one of the chairs, which he fell right into with a tired sigh. She looked back up to Nora and Ren. They could all agree that Jaune did not seem like himself.
"What did you talk about with Peach?" Nora asked him.
"She just helped me calm down for a while," he replied.
"And what did you talk about with Qrow?" Ren asked.
The three of them had dutifully waited there, even as RWBY had gone away to train and clear their minds with exercise (oh how unhappy Ruby had been with the idea, even if the others managed to convince her to go along). They had gone back to sleep without rest in their rooms, and they came back right after breakfast. They had seen Peach walk in earlier. They had seen her leave. They had seen Qrow walk in not long ago.
Jaune massaged his temples with his fingertips for a few seconds, trying to ease his fuzzy head. "I haven't eaten in a while," he said. "Let's got get lunch. And our match is soon, right?"
"Who cares about the match!" Pyrrha said, voice tough with anger. "Are you even okay? What's going on?"
"Sarah brought up some things I didn't want to talk about," he said. He sighed again and rubbed his forehead, still plagued by a cloudy mind. "And Qrow just…"
Jaune closed his eyes. He breathed in deep. He held it. He let it go in a tired sigh. He opened his eyes.
"Apparently Ironwood has gotten clearance to send a team out to Vacuo to investigate Bishop and the Enclave there. They want me to tell everything that I know, so they can start their investigation."
The others didn't respond immediately.
"And you can't do that?" Nora asked; her confusion was plain. Shouldn't it be easy for him to give information about Bishop? Shouldn't he be ready and rearing to go to help them investigate?
It would have been easy, and he would have loved to help. But Bishop was not from Vacuo. They would find nothing about the Enclave in Vacuo. Jaune had never been to Vacuo. Just as he had feared back after the talk with Sarah…
His lies were catching up to him. The best he could do was simply refuse to tell them anything, to try and claim that his trauma made that impossible. They might back off if he said that… leaving him with a disgusting feeling of guilt. The most responsible thing to do would be to admit that investigating in Vacuo would be useless, that he could provide them no leads because Bishop was not from Vacuo. That, of course, would lead them to question where he was really from. An impossible question to answer. They would put him in a mental ward, just like they had the other knight who had come before.
This, more than just what Sarah had said, had caused his break the day before. The sudden sense of terror from being found out for who he really is, all because of Sarah and Bishop coming out of nowhere. It had felt like his world was going to fall apart. Now it seemed like that might be the reality.
But as fearful as that was, he was only further frustrated that Sarah was right. In some ways, he really was still weak.
Jaune shook his head and ran a hand up through his hair. He realized how greasy his hair was and grimaced. "Can I get a shower?" he asked. Then he pulled out his scroll and checked the time, frowning deeper. "The match is soon, too…"
"We don't care about the match," Pyrrha said again, scowling. "You look awful."
"I'll look better after a shower. Fight the match."
"You don't have to push yourself—"
"I want to." Jaune didn't look at them as he spoke. He stared dead ahead. His thoughts were still jumbled up with worries and concerns. "I want to do something that will distract me. Please." He pushed himself up off the chair stretched up his hands above his head, trying to override some of the stiffness he felt.
"You practically feinted after your talk with Sarah and now you just want to… walk it off?" Pyrrha asked. The annoyance in her voice was prickly and restless.
"Sorry if I made you worry," Jaune said. "I just… don't want to think. I don't want to talk about it, don't want to think."
Pyrrha frowned.
Nora nervously looked at Ren, who slightly shook his head, silently advising her not to speak up.
"Fine then," Pyrrha said with a sigh. "I suppose if this is what you want."
Jaune didn't respond. He shoved his hands in his pockets and sighed again, still looking at nothing. He was vexed by worries. They would send a team out to Vacuo with or without his help. When they got there, the investigators would inevitably find nothing about the Enclave or the conflicts Jaune had mentioned. Because they had not happened there. What would happen then…
"I don't want to think about it," Jaune said with finality. He walked out of the nurse's office, feeling bad for rudely turning his back on his team, feeling like he didn't have any other choice. He was still terrible with communication and arguments. Sarah was right to say that. His first instinct was to try and avoid things, to turn away.
This whole time, he had been running away from his past. He had tried to deny that it even existed. But the past is not something that likes to be forgotten. It panders to you late at night while you're trying to fall asleep, and it whispers to you while you dream. It embraces you when you hear certain sounds and smell certain scents and taste certain flavors. It is kind and cruel and everything in between. It makes you cringe late at night while you toss and turn in your bed—you, fruitlessly closing your eyes and trying to rest—as it reminds you of the mistakes you've made. When you drift off to sleep, it makes you smile with dreams of dream-like days that came long ago. It is tricky. It is will make you happy and let you believe that you have succeeded, for you will remember those old mistakes and failures and look on them anew as necessary steps, as temporary roadblocks, as the tools that led to your current triumph. It will make you cry and feel all the worse when you are sad, as you recall those good old dreamlike days that seemed to be so much better than the pain you are in now. It is stubborn and unkind and, more than anything else, it wishes to be present. The past wishes to affect you in whatever way it can, to control you and exert influence. It is like a ghost that dictates to you the sting of regret, the ache of guilt, the sweetness of satisfaction and the gratitude of progress. The past is fickle, arbitrary and intemperate, wishing only to be relevant and impactful—in whatever way it can manage that. If you truly find your past unpleasant or unbearable, as Jaune has, then you can try to run away. You take off at a sprint. You can change your name, go to another planet, reinvent yourself, find new friends and become a brand new person. But the past persists. It will not forget you. If it seems like you are outrunning it, that is only because it lets you. It is patient and ever in pursuit, always ready to creep up when you least expect it. It may but a step behind you, where it can whisper in your ear and breathe on the back of your neck. Then sometimes it clutches you, bites into your skin, rips your heart out and cracks open your skull like an egg. Even if you are constantly running, it persists.
You will get tired, and it will not; you will try to escape, and it will not let you.
Some people have replied after last chapter that Jaune is still too weak willed. Sarah and others will get their comeuppance from him soon, fear not. I had some different plans for the next few chapters, but honestly I was still a bit hazy about how things were going to go. Making up stories like this on the fly is hard because, if you write it all out at once like a book, then you really do have the benefit of hindsight. Write the whole book, wait a while, then go back and edit it over once you've got a strong feel of how you want the characters to progress and maybe a proofreader's advice. I feel like sometimes this fanfic chapter by chapter format makes it harder for me to think more in terms of the big picture, especially when it comes to character development. Hindsight is honestly pretty important for this. Now I feel more concrete about how things are going to be going down as we finish with Volume 3. I've got some set plans for a bit of a swing in Jaune's character coming up. I also hope I got it across this chapter that the big proponent for Jaune's meltdown at the end wasn't necessarily what Sarah said to him, but the prospect of his life beginning to fall apart as his lies suddenly seem more and more suspicious.
Also, Jaune will only be in this funk for a couple more (short) chapters, just to assuage any frustrations.