Chapter 10: Epilogue

The twitter of birds and bustle of people outside their dorm floated through their open window. It'd been left that way for a while, days perhaps. No one could be bothered to close it.

Jaune blinked slowly as he stared at the ceiling fan from his bed. It wasn't on, but if he looked close enough, he thought he saw the blades turning ever so slightly.

Ren was meditating on a mat he'd laid out on the floor, and Nora was resting her head on his shoulder. Usually, she would have been bouncing all over the place, poking him here and there and trying to get him give her a piggyback while he tried to ignore her. Not today.

Pyrrha was at her desk, textbook open and pen in hand. She'd been on the same page for over half an hour.

None of them spoke. None of them wanted to speak.

Thanks to their auras, JNPR had been discharged and free to return to Beacon after only a day of rest and recovery in Doss Memorial Hospital. The Breach had been sealed. They'd done their duty as Huntsmen in training. They'd sacrificed more than most could ever imagine. And now, they were meant to return to their normal lives at Beacon. Normal lives with normal studies, normal routines, and normal…just normal stuff.

They rarely left their room. Classes had been cancelled for now. And until they started back up, food was their only calling. They ate quickly, then returned to their quarters. Staff came by regularly to check on them and the other remaining teams. When that happened, they'd give brief answers. Yes, we're fine. Thank you. Have a nice day, Professor.

They were trying to handle the stress, the suffocating atmosphere. Ren and Nora found solidarity in each other. Pyrrha was trying to get back into a cycle. Jaune…wasn't sure what his coping mechanism was, or if he even had one. If he did, it was doing a piss poor job, as every time he closed his eyes, he felt like he was rolling the dice on whether he'd be greeted with a comforting darkness, or the flaming hell of last week.

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"Hey, Jaune…"

The voice was muted, but to him it felt like someone had jammed a taser to his arm.

They were visiting Irisa before heading back to campus. Her lower form was covered by hospital sheets. None of them had the courage ot ask how many limbs she had left. Baylee was at her side, head resting in her own arms and in a restless slumber. They'd chosen to leave her be.

When they'd talked, he'd felt his stomach churn and had the sudden urge to throw up. It didn't take him long to realise he was feeling guilt. Irisa must have sensed his distress because she'd smiled. It had traces of pain, but still exuded a level of tranquility that he could only have dreamed of achieving. She'd tried to assure them that she and Baylee didn't blame them for what had happened. How could they, when they hadn't even ordered the ships to fire? Jaune wished he could agree with her sentiment.

He hadn't heard the door open, but he did hear Ruby calling out to him.

JNPR found themselves staring at what might as well have been a mirror. Different though they may have been in quirks, skills, attires and aspirations, today they all looked the same. Dark rings had formed under their eyes, symbolising the eerie, sleepless nights they'd experienced. Their backs were slightly hunched, and their heads bowed. The muscles in their faces and hands twitched in response to things they'd never have perceived as a threat before: a sudden flash of light from a newfound angle, a coughing exhaust from an old car, the static of a radio or television.

Yang had immediately gone to Irisa and given her a hug, uncharacteristically silent and with a strength that went so much deeper than brute force or bravado. Blake and Weiss had hung back, eyes flicking this way and that, almost as if they were guarding the door in anticipation for some unseen lurking entity that was ready to jump out and maul the lot of them.

He'd spoken with Ruby, hearing her side of the story. Hearing of how they'd tried so desperately to stop the train. How they'd fought so hard to just get to a better fighting position when the Grimm had started pouring into the city. How they'd relied so helplessly on Doctor Oobleck to keep them focused and driven to just see the battle through, to not fall to despair at the destruction they'd failed to stop and could only now try to stymie. He'd shared his side too. From the mobilisation to the bombardment, he'd told her everything. And she'd listened with a maturity that no one her age should have ever possessed.

The sound of rustling fabric and Yang's subsequent exhale of breath caused them both to look over at Irisa's bed. The sheet had been pulled to one side, giving them the answer to the question that had been left unasked.

There were a pair of stumps.

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When they'd parted ways, he'd seen Ruby hesitate. Her lower lip had quivered, and for a second, he'd felt the numbness threaten to give way to the tide of emotions he'd been holding back, voluntarily or otherwise. But then it had passed, and she'd given him a tight smile and a small wave. He'd done the same.

Jaune blinked when he heard a knock at their door. The others slowly turned their heads. With a token grunt of effort, he rose into a sitting position and waved off the others to let them know he'd answer.

He was greeted by Headmaster Ozpin, who was accompanied by a pair of Atlesian officers. Unconsciously, he straightened his back and brought his arms to his sides. He wondered if he should salute, but worried he might get it wrong.

"Professor," he said, internally wincing at how his voice cracked. He'd spoken maybe five words in the last day or so.

"Hello, Jaune," said Professor Ozpin. "How are you and your team doing?"

Was this another checkup? If so, Jaune was getting tired of them. He wasn't planning on jumping out the window to snap his neck on the cobblestone beneath. His aura would ensure he'd remain in miserably good health. And besides…

I don't want to die.

He mentally shook the haunting words out of his head and tried to smile.

"We're still sorting through some issues, sir. But we'll be back to normal soon."

Ozpin nodded. He didn't believe Jaune. Hell, Jaune didn't believe himself. But what else could he do? He'd denied the chance to see a therapist. Not because he didn't think he needed one, but because there were so many students who'd needed them more.

JNPR and CFVY had emerged from the Breach with all members accounted for. CYAN and BEIJ hadn't. If his team's current state was to be labelled as depressing, he didn't want to think about what Baylee and Conrad were going through right now. So many students had perished in the fighting, most of them first-years like himself who'd had no idea what they were getting themselves into. They'd been brave and righteous in their actions, but also arrogant – so ready to jump in the fire with symbols of heroism and adventure to inflate their egos. When the real fighting had started, they'd been caught off guard, disarmed and overwhelmed. And they'd left their teammates, friends and families to grieve.

Jaune needed an outlet. He needed one so bad, sometimes he felt like he was about to burst. However, Beacon only had so many mental health specialists on hand. More were being called in, but they needed time to arrive and set up a temporary residence. He wouldn't deny that he'd suffered, but he still had his teammates. He had to be thankful for that at least.

His morbid thoughts were interrupted when Professor Ozpin went to introduce the other two men.

"This is General Ironwood, headmaster of Atlas Academy, and Vice Admiral Yamazaki of the Atlas Navy. They have told me they wish to speak with your team."

It didn't take long to connect the dots. It was an Atlesian ship that had fired on Vale, Atlesian weapons that had killed so many and damn near killed him, and unless he was mistaken, the Atlesian officers before him that had ordered the bombardment.

The surge of feelings that came forth felt like trying to down a gallon of water after being stranded in the desert for a week. Anger, denial, guilt, shame, fear, envy, grief, and so much more. It was too much.

"Jaune?"

He'd gone for his sword. Or at least he would have if Crocea Mors had been strapped to his waist. His right hand was grasping air. He didn't know what he would have done if there'd been a blade. Would he have attacked the men before him, knowing full well they or Ozpin would have stopped him before he could have even taken a step? Would he have started swinging it wildly around him, returning to Avanti and the final moments before the laser batteries had fired? Would he have flung it out the window, then screamed at everyone that he was done, that he'd quit?

The three men were looking concernedly at him. But Jaune could also feel their caution. They could see he wasn't exactly stable. He glanced back into the dorm and saw his teammates, who'd risen from their seated positions when they'd seen Ozpin. They'd heard him introduce Ironwood and Yamazaki, and he knew they'd made the connection too.

All of them knew the bombardment had been necessary. They just wished it hadn't been. What physical wounds and ailments that had healed merely concealed the mental and emotional scars of the Breach. When the Grimm had appeared, they'd been thrown out into the streets with their weapons and the juxtaposing orders to kill and protect. It was what they'd been training for. It was the life they'd chosen. It was their duty.

With every ounce of strength, they'd fought, they'd bled, and some of them had died – all in the defence of the people of Vale. It was what they'd signed up for. But they hadn't been strong enough. And their weakness had entailed a brutal rain of fire from Atlas, the instigators of which were standing right before him.

Apparently, he'd been ruminating for too long, because Vice Admiral Yamazaki said, "if this isn't a good time, we can–"

"No."

Jaune was surprised to hear the word coming from his own mouth.

"I mean no, sir," he hastily corrected, recognising the potential repercussions of being curt with such a high-ranking official.

His teammates were hurting. He was hurting. Day in, day out, they'd been plagued by the Breach. By what they'd done, what they could have done, and what they'd let be done.

He didn't know why the two officers wanted to see JNPR. Did they want to apologise? Let them vent? Order them to stay silent about the whole incident? It could be for any number of reasons. But they were with Ozpin. And if Jaune couldn't trust the Atlesians, he was at least comforted by his headmaster's presence. They were either going to have a very long, or very short talk. He wanted to see which one it would be.

So, with a deep breath, he backed away from the door and let them in.

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Codex Entry: Letter

The following is a letter from Bennett Fleyton, Huntsman of Vale, who was killed in action during the Breach of Vale. It was discovered amongst his personal effects, and is addressed to his wife, Tanya Fleyton.

Tanya,

If you're reading this, I'm no longer alive. And for that, no amount of words can express how sorry I am, or let you forgive me for the grief and sorrow my departure has caused you.

Honestly, there are a lot of embarrassing ways to go out. I can only hope that my end was the culmination of an outstanding bout of heroics. Who knows? I might've even gotten a medal for all my troubles. Or maybe I just ate something really bad and couldn't get my stomach pumped in time.

But seriously, there's something I want to tell you. Something I've told you so many times already, and you've said back to me so many more.

I love you. Through every waking moment, and with every fibre of my being, I love you, Tanya.

And I know you're strong. But please don't let that strength weigh you down. If you want to laugh, then laugh. If you want to cry, then cry. If you want to scream out to the skies, then scream with all your might. And never, ever, lose that spark of life that made you into the beautiful, amazing, stunning woman I fell so thoroughly and so helplessly for.

It will be difficult. I can't say it won't be. But in time, I want you to move on, and live your own life. Travel where you want to go. Try new things and meet new people. Find another partner worthy of your affection. Keep growing, write a book, learn to play an instrument, have children. Be ready to admit when you're sad, but in the end, do whatever makes you happy. Live long and live well.

Give my Ma and Pa a hug for me. Stay in touch with Gordon and Ollie.

I don't know if there's an afterlife, or if I'll be worthy enough to be accepted into it. But I do know this: For what it's worth, and no matter what happens in the future, I'll always be with you.

Now once more, for the last time in writing, but never in spirit. I love you.

Ben

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A/N: Thank you for reading.