Yo. Without further ado and whatnot.
Start Chapter 9
"Do you not understand your role?"
Jaune looks up at the military operative in front of him. The white of Atlas adorns his clothing, seems to eat away at the very expressions he should be wearing, until he is a faceless, nameless husk.
An idea more than a man.
"I…" He can't quite manage to maintain eye-contact. "I understand what you want me to do, but…"
"But?"
"I can't… you want me to manipulate her." He shakes his head. "To… to make her trust me, and then…"
"She is a monster. Do not forget that."
"But… but she's not… she's never–"
"Do you, or do you not, understand your role, boy?"
Jaune just stands, completely helpless.
"I…"
His eyes dim.
"I understand."
/
Pyrrha's smile when he enters into the hospital room housing her is practically radiant, and he returns it with one of his own. He hadn't really planned on crushing the poor girl in a hug, but it takes until she lets out a laughing wheeze for him to get the idea that he's perhaps squeezing a bit hard.
"S-Sorry." He murmurs.
"No, don't apologize. I'm…" Jaune can actually see some unshed tears in Pyrrha's eyes then, even as she wipes them away. "I'm really glad to see you too."
He laughs, a little free thing, and Pyrrha returns it with one of her own.
Of course, then someone in a bed a few feet from theirs coughs awkwardly, and Jaune finds himself blushing in embarrassment.
Because even if she's Pyrrha Nikos, championship fighter, someone who'd nearly died defending Beacon, it's not as if Vale has the room to be giving anyone their own hospital rooms right now.
Or, well, at least anyone who isn't a danger to everyone around them.
That thought brings down the mood of the moment he'd been within, dulls his already half-lifeless gaze even further.
"Jaune?"
"Oh," He remembers where he is. "It's uhm… it's nothing."
Pyrrha doesn't really seem to believe him, but she's always been too polite to call people out for things like this, so she doesn't say a thing, just lets the moment drift away.
Jaune finds himself keying into the other people in the room during the awkward silence. He watches that same person who'd just coughed go back to reading his magazine, with his left leg suspended in the air, in a cast.
He's missing two toes.
Another woman has a fairly similar injury to Cinder herself, the stub of a right arm wrapped in bandages and padded. The woman herself is simply staring at the space where her arm should be, occasionally moving the phantom limb. The look on her face, the almost bewildered expression of shock there, is forever etched onto Jaune's brain. He's fairly sure he'll never be able to forget it, no matter how much he wishes already that he could.
Such injuries seem almost common.
There's a boy at the back of the room, seated with his parents, who's got gauze over one eye. Another child, at the back, has both arms in casts. A young man in a wheelchair. An older gentleman being fed through a tube. A woman on life support whose heart monitor gives a steady 'beep… beep… beep' every second or so.
Jaune can't help the way that he stares at them all, despite it perhaps being seen as a rude or improper thing. It's just…
They're all Cinder's doing.
Every single person here… they're all here because the dark existence on the other side of his soul had acted. She is responsible for all of them. For every injury, every maiming, every death…
And just like Ren, every person in this room has reason to genuinely hate Cinder. To want her dead, or hurt, or imprisoned. And Jaune… can he really argue with their logic?
He feels he can't, oddly enough, despite how that makes him want to throw up the modest breakfast he'd managed to force down that morning.
"How is your soulmate?"
Pyrrha's voice forces him back into the here and now, and idly, he's grateful for that, even if the can of worms she's opened up with her question is…
"What?" He says rather dumbly.
"Well… Ren and Nora came by yesterday. They said that you'd been talking with the woman who… who I fought atop the tower. Whatever her name was."
"Cinder." Jaune says without thinking.
"Cinder, then." If it had been anyone else saying that, then Jaune might've thought there'd be vitriol in their voice, but it's Pyrrha, perhaps the kindest person alive, so there's no malice there. Somehow, even after everything. "I asked how she's doing. If I understood correctly, she was rather horribly injured by that odd… light that Ruby somehow conjured."
So, it was Ruby… Jaune mentally confirms.
"Oh, uh… I don't know," Jaune says, rubbing at the back of his neck. "I haven't really spoken with her today."
"Well, couldn't you feel her?"
"Hm?"
"Through your link." Pyrrha says, reaching out and poking his chest. "Can't you feel her emotions through here?"
It's funny, the moment he'd had access to actually seeing her, being with her, he'd almost entirely forgotten about the means with which they'd once had no other options with which to communicate. The sole way they'd known of one another for ever so long.
"It's not really a foolproof thing. It's really only negative emotions, or… maybe it's more than that, but…" He finds that he doesn't want to admit that he doesn't think Cinder as a person is very capable of feeling positive emotions given current happenings. "Besides, I… it feels a bit like I'm spying on her…"
"I think… maybe that's not fair to yourself." Pyrrha says with a shake of her head, and though she's not looking at him, Jaune can see the way her eyes have a certain haziness to them. "After all, that connection you share… it's something just for the two of you."
"Pyrrha?"
"I…" She smiles, but it's a sad, melancholic, thing. "I couldn't ever hope to match up to that."
And it's then that Jaune remembers.
He'd gotten so caught up in everything else. And then he'd been so distracted with Cinder. Never given a moment to breath. Never a moment to think. And then, coming here, he'd been so consumed by the relief of seeing her again, hell, of knowing that she's alive, that he'd managed to forget the realization he'd come to, seconds before being shoved into that locker.
Pyrrha, she… she had feelings for him.
He's not quite sure how severe they are, but… even so, that probably deserves some words from him, doesn't it? After all, she's his partner. And whether or not he can return her feelings… well, he still has to do right by her.
And so, he will.
"…I'm sorry." He says, forcing himself to look right at her as he says it. "I don't think I can…"
"Don't be sorry." Pyrrha says, smiling with a strength Jaune doesn't think he could possibly possess. "It's not like it's your fault. Our feelings… they're not things we can control.
He thinks in that moment of all the things that Cinder has done, the horrors which she has unleashed unto Vale. Someone like that… for him to genuinely care about someone like that…
"We don't get to choose our soulmates. We don't…" Qrow had said, his voice so full of bitter memories he'd seemed to choke on them for just a moment. "We can't make their choices for them. We can't control what they do. What… what happens to them, even if we wish we could."
"…Is it bad that I only even clued into your feelings just before you shoved me into that locker?"
Pyrrha somehow has the strength to laugh.
"Really? Honestly, I'm almost impressed. That takes… a certain kind of density, Jaune." Pyrrha says playfully, despite everything.
"Ouch. You're awfully harsh."
"Yes, well, forgive me for perhaps being a tad bitter about having my feelings go unnoticed for a good year, and then after all of that, still being rejected."
"In my defense," he starts.
"Oh, this will be good." Pyrrha says, rolling her eyes amusedly.
"I am an idiot."
Pyrrha's sing-song laughter brings some warmth back into his soul, and some life back into his eyes.
"So… you wanted an update on Cinder, then?"
"Yes, though admittedly, I can't say I'm feeling terribly magnanimous about the situation."
Jaune feels like the girl can't really be blamed for that given… well, everything.
Even still, he reaches into his soul, into that little link inside of him, and reads what's 'written' there.
The feelings that cry out of it are almost enough to stun him entirely, even if he manages to hang onto his faculties by a thread. He's inundated with so much in that moment that he has to take a brief moment just to orient himself, to remember that he's in a hospital room, alongside his partner.
And he remembers just whose soul he's peeking into.
It's the uselessness, really, that bothers him the most. Surely, the doubt, the insecurity, the fear that's inevitably there that Cinder tries to hide, all gets to him. But the uselessness…
It hurts.
It hurts because Jaune has begun to understand that Cinder thinks of things in use-cases. She thinks of everyone, everything, as a tool to be spent and discarded. Perhaps he himself is immune to that thought process. The single bright spot amongst a sea of black. And yet…
Clearly the woman herself is not.
No. She thinks of herself as the 'useless' little girl who'd been too weak to stop her own abuse. Who'd been too weak to stop herself from being sold into slavery, into being taken advantage of, into being manipulated and molded by a megalomaniac witch hellbent on destruction.
He doesn't know the full story – even if he wishes he did. But… he doesn't want to pry too terribly much, especially not with Cinder unable to speak – and more than that, even if she could speak, Jaune would have her pretend she couldn't.
Because as long as she's silent, those men from Atlas… they can't use her.
Even if, perhaps, she deserves that fate. Even if, perhaps, the people in this room, hell, his team, might cry out for such justice…
Jaune himself has always sworn that he'll protect her.
He's not going to back down now.
Even if it's not fair.
"You know, you have the most beautiful eyes, Jaune."
Something about that statement just rocks him to the core, and it's enough to throw him out of his own head and make him blubber like some variant of seal. Pyrrha, to her credit, just laughs.
"What are you–" He stutters out, before shaking his head. "Just… what…"
"You have this steel in your gaze." Pyrrha elucidates. "It's funny. It's always been there. I think… it was a part of the reason I found you so attractive. Because it's so at odds with the rest of you, all… soft and homely. Like some friendly golden retriever."
There's a lot to digest there, but for some reason, Jaune focuses on… "…Are you calling me a dog?"
"I'm calling you a particularly beloved breed of dog, Jaune." Pyrrha grins mirthfully. "And it's a compliment… probably."
"Uh-huh." He mutters.
"In all seriousness though, Jaune… that steel in your gaze, that fire that's lurking there…"
Pyrrha reaches across the bed and takes Jaune's hand. She holds it in both of her own and squeezes down upon it.
"Don't let the world take it from you. Because she's going to need it."
And Jaune… he just…
"Yeah. I… thank you."
"Don't thank me. Instead…"
And then she meets his gaze with a steel all her own.
"Make it count."
It's all Jaune can do to nod.
/
It takes about a week to begin to build her voice back up from the nothing it'd been stuck at, but it's getting there. In a vacuum, that should be a good thing.
But it's becoming much harder to pretend as if she can't speak when she's now rather capable of doing so. And when they do figure out she can speak, Cinder imagines it won't be very long until it is demanded that she speak.
Probably not very kindly, either.
She knows who it is that's come to visit her when, even after the locks on the door disengage, they still take the time to knock. Only he… only her little light would ever bother. Honestly, she feels she should find such a thing idiotic, and not as endearing as she does.
Cinder hadn't particularly thought herself capable of being endeared to anything, and yet here she is.
"Hey, Cinder!" Her little light, Jaune Arc, steps into the space, waving a bit lamely as he pulls up his normal stool beside her bed. "Uh, sorry I'm later than normal, I've actually been out today! Trying to help with the rebuilding efforts. Uhm…"
He stops. Probably because he thinks it's not exactly the kind of topic she'd want to hear about.
Cinder can't really blame him. After all, the reason things need rebuilt at all is her fault.
"So, yeah, that's where I've been. Uhm… what have you been up to."
It's really all Cinder can do to shoot him a blank, lidded state as she gestures with her singular arm to the room around them.
"Oh, yeah. Right. Sorry."
Somehow, that draws some mirth out of her, and she shakes her head as she breaths out a tiny bit of amusement.
"So, uh… anything you'd like to talk about? Or, well, anything you want me to talk about, since I know talking is kind of hard for you, and maybe you don't really want to stress yourself, and actually, I'm just going to be quiet now, I'm pretty sure I'm rambling incessantly."
He is. Somehow, Cinder finds that, too, endearing.
Funnily enough, however, Cinder actually does have something she wants to say, which is a bit of an oddity in and of itself. She's not really been terribly motivated to speak these last few days – or has it been weeks? Cinder's begun to lose track of time when she sleeps on an irregular schedule, and the dim lights of the operating room not seeming to obey any real timetable certainly isn't helping – and yet here she is.
Even still, despite wanting to speak, she knows she shouldn't. She'd gotten lucky before, when she'd had that conversation with her little light, that the intelligence agents hadn't been listening in on her and his conversation. She doesn't trust herself to get lucky a second time.
She shouldn't speak, she knows that, and yet…
"…Lied for me."
"Huh?" Her little light says, turning to her. "Uh, what was that?"
She wants to growl in frustration, because getting that out had been… well, not difficult, but taxing, but she prepares her raspy throat, and manages to speak an extra word this time.
"You lied for me."
Jaune's eyes go wide at that, and she can tell he hadn't expected to be discussing this. Well, to be fair to Cinder, she hadn't expected to have to discuss this.
She hadn't expected him to do what he had. To lie to the face of an intelligence officer.
"… I did." He admits.
It's almost damning, what he says. It shouldn't be. It shouldn't matter at all, and yet…
She's always seen him as the little light in her soul. Incorruptible and everlasting. And yet the moment she comes along, interacts with him… suddenly…
"I feel like…" She rasps out, forcing herself to speak beyond where she can. "I'm corrupting you. Dimming you."
She can see the pain on the boy's face as he reaches down and takes her hand, shaking his head.
"Don't say that." He practically whines. "You're not… I want to protect you. That's why I did what I did."
Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out, she turns her head away, to her right side, away from his gaze.
Silence reigns for a while after that. Cinder feels like a better person would try and say something, but, well…
She feels she's established the status quo on that particular case well enough by now.
"Uhm… about what Ren said… I'm going to try and get him to apologize to you, I think Nora might help me, since she seemed a lot more eager to talk with you–"
"Hah…" She murmurs, finding that if she whispers, her voice consistently comes out. It's barely audible, but in the silent room, with just the two of them, it's enough. "'Nora' agrees with him. She's just better at hiding it."
"What do you–"
"She's trying to not hate me for you, but she's not doing a very good job of it." She mutters, shrugging her shoulders to try and feign indifference despite the way her soul burns. "I can tell, believe me. The way she looks as me is the same as her soulmate."
Her soulmate.
That's how soulmates are supposed to be, then, aren't they? People who agree with one another, who stick by one another through thick and thin. Who, even when they have a disagreement, can come back together, and make up with one another.
And yet, who could want that with her?
"I…"
It's in that bout of self-loathing, completely deadened inside, that she speaks the next few words.
"You should hate me, too."
It's a stupid thing to say. Oh, so self-centered in its approach. She feels like some petulant, whiny child the moment the words have left her lips.
"I… I can't."
She sneers inaudibly. "You can." She ekes out, deciding to continue this stupid line of conversation like some kind of actress from out of a melodrama.
"I couldn't if I tried, not after… everything."
"You very much could." She rasps, able to feel herself losing her voice again, and yet continuing regardless. "Hate is easy. It is the cowards way of dealing with hardship. You'll find cowardice rarely begets challenge."
"…Are you saying love is hard?"
There's something so asininely stupid about that statement that Cinder finds she can't help it. She actually laughs. It's a hacking, wretched thing, her throat dying away as she tries to regain control of her faculties, as her little light takes her hand, pours his aura into her – a rather powerful semblance – to try and steady her.
Her little light looks at her with what is almost a pout.
"W-What?"
"What a foolish thing to say." She murmurs, and silently feels some small combination of mirth and guilt at seeing her little light turn away.
"S-Sorry."
"No." She corrects, before wincing at how her voice had subconsciously raised, and now hurts all the worse. "It's… Never apologize for that innocence. And… never let the world take it from you. There are already…" She looks down at her singular remaining arm, at her scarred skin, at her matted hair, cut short, no longer hanging in her face.
"…More than enough people like me."
She's not at all expecting the way the boy giggles, like something's so funny about Cinder's statement. She turns to see the boy holding a hand up.
"Is something amusing?"
"No. S-Sorry. It's not at all funny." He says, bowing his head a little as he massages at the back of his neck. "You just… reminded me of something one of my friends said. To hold onto something. To not let the world take it from me."
Cinder just hums, finding her voice has little strength left.
"I promise I won't… though, well… I guess that's two promises I have to keep now. It's a bit overwhelming, but… I'm going to do it. I promise."
She can't help the way her heart beats at that, this steady ba-bump, ba-bump, ba-bump, almost excited as it looks towards the small boy in front of her.
So ineffectual. So meaningless.
He should be, at least.
And yet…
"…I'll hold you to that."
"Please do." He says with this dopey little smile.
And maybe it's stupid, too, the way she feels some relief in that moment, but…
She finds she can't help it, regardless.
The way she smiles, too, just an absent curling of her lips.
But she wonders, idly, when the last time she'd smiled had been?
And she finds she can't remember at all.
End Chapter 9
Welp, I went and caught Covid last week (It's just a headcold for me, since I'm vaccinated and boosted) but even so I've not been in a writing mood at all. So this chapter is eating into my reserves. Luckily, I'm roughly four chapters ahead of this, so it shouldn't matter much at all.
Anyways not much else to say. Have a good week everyone!
