AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is a pretty rough chapter too. Note that in real life, of course, people don't come back from trauma that fast. But this is a story.

Probably one or two more chapters after this, and it will be the end of "On RWBY Wings II." There will be an "On RWBY Wings III," and I will be adding all the chapters of this story onto the original "On RWBY Wings" (since I think a lot of people didn't realize there was a continuation), so all the chapters are in one mega-fic. I'll probably take a few weeks' break after this fic is over before starting on the next one, but there will be a next one. Especially after what takes place in this chapter.

Schnee Manor (Herrenchiemsee)

Near Munich, Federal Republic of Germany

19 May 2001

Weiss Schnee stepped off the helicopter, ducking underneath the rotor blades as she did so. There was a temptation to jump into them—but only for a moment. Schnees didn't commit suicide. Drank themselves to death, possibly, but not suicide. Such things were histrionic and would ruin the sidewalk.

She walked down the long path towards the manor, past the immaculately trimmed hedges that seemed to hem her in even more. There was another temptation to vault those hedges and run for it, but although no guards followed her, where would she go? She was on an island, and there was nowhere to run.

Finding Klein Sieben waiting for her was no surprise, and despite the rage that was building up inside of Weiss, it was, at least, good to see him. What was a surprise was that Winter was waiting as well at the top of the staircase. Like Weiss, she was wearing her formal Luftwaffe uniform, with a lot of silver braid and medals. "Good morning, Weiss," Klein said with a small bow.

Despite the desire to lash out at anything living, Weiss controlled herself. Klein was a good man, more of a father than her own father, and he deserved none of her wrath. "Hello, Klein." She hugged him, which took the butler back a little. Klein had always warned the girls and Whitley about public displays of affection; he was their servant, after all. The warning had always been ignored.

Then she turned to Winter. As usual, her sister wore her normal expression—that of faint irritation—but Weiss thought she detected a bit of rage beneath her sister's icy exterior as well. She wondered who Winter was angry at. Just in case it was her, Weiss came to attention and gave a formal salute. "Oberst Schnee." It felt strange to be speaking only German again, after so long speaking only English.

"Oberleutnant Schnee." Winter returned the salute with the same amount of crispness. She looked at Klein. "Klein, would you mind leaving us?"

"Certainly, ma'am." He smiled at Weiss. "I will have coffee and Black Forest cake waiting for you in your room."

Weiss' stomach rumbled, reminding her that she'd had very little to eat in the past two days. Her mouth watered as well: Klein wasn't just the chief butler, he was also a baker, one that any high-class German restaurant would've cheerfully killed for. "Thank you, Klein."

Klein gave the small bow again, and trundled off. Winter and Weiss entered the palace and began walking towards their father's office, down the hall of mirrors. Once Weiss had seen this hall as a place of wonder, a statement of what the Schnee family stood for. Now she saw it as pretentious, garish, and stolen. "How was the flight over?" Winter asked, startling Weiss.

"Took two days to replace the engine at La Crosse. Then another to get to Furstenfeldbruck. And when I get there, I'm treated like a prisoner, confined to quarters until I got orders to report here. I don't even know what's happened."

Winter didn't reply for a moment. "Ruby Flight is all right…mostly. General Ironwood notified me last night that Ruby has woken up. She had a concussion, but she will almost certainly make a full recovery. Yang lost an arm—"

"I know. Nora told me," Weiss interrupted.

"—but she has been fitted with an artificial one, and is recovering."

"And Blake?"

Winter shook her head. "Unknown."

"But you'll tell me as soon as you know?"

Winter glanced at her and dropped her voice. "Not here." Then she raised it again. "Juniper Flight is also recovering, but…" A pause, and a slight misstep in Winter's stride. No one else would've noticed it, but Weiss did; for her sister, it was a violent display of emotion. "Jaune Arc is dead."

"I know," Weiss sighed. She'd learned it at La Crosse, when they'd brought Pyrrha and Ruby in on the rescue helicopter. Pyrrha had said nothing, merely stared into space, broken. Ruby was unconscious. That night, Weiss had cried, cried harder than she had in years, for the man—boy, really—who had flirted with her, who she'd blackmailed, who she'd used, but then grew to respect and like. Once or twice, she'd even regretted not pursuing him, though she was happy he'd ended up with Pyrrha. He was gone now, like so many others she'd known at Beacon, and the survivors would have to somehow pick up the pieces. "Do you know…how Pyrrha is?"

"Recovering," was all Winter said, but there was a lot in the way she said the single word, letting her sister know that Pyrrha Nikos was far from recovering.

They finished walking down the long hallway, and took the stairs to Jacques Schnee's office. Weiss felt her insides clench, and once more fought the instinct to run. But the Luftwaffe had ordered her here, and Schnees obeyed orders. Winter opened the door, and followed her sister inside.

Jacques Schnee sat behind the desk, writing. He looked up, and to Weiss' surprise, smiled. He stood, adjusted his tie—a clip-on, Weiss snickered to herself; Jacques Schnee would never figure out how to tie a tie—and came around the desk. "Hello, Weiss."

"Father." Weiss thought about coming to attention, but instead slouched a little. She came to attention for people she respected. Her father didn't seem to notice, though Winter frowned a little.

"Welcome home." He actually hugged her, another surprise, and then stepped back. Between her service with the Luftwaffe and Vytal Flag, it had almost been a year since she had seen him. He hadn't changed—his hair was still slicked back in the style of an earlier generation, both hair and mustache gone completely gray, the white suit immaculate, his blue eyes still piercing. Jacques could be intimidating when he wished to be, but now he was being affectionate. That told Weiss she was in considerable trouble. "You look well." He motioned to the seats. "Please, please."

"I'd rather stand, Father. I don't anticipate being here long."

Jacques looked down and let out a long sigh. "I'd hoped that we could get off on the right foot, Weiss, but I suppose that's not going to happen."

Weiss softened her voice a little. "It could. I'm happy to stay a few days—" that was a lie "—but after that I must return to duty. The Americans will hold a court of inquiry, and I will need to fly—"

Jacques cut her off with a wave of a hand. "That will not be necessary. You have already written a formal report, yes?" He returned her nod, then went back around the desk and sat. "The US government tells me that will suffice. The Americans are in no place to demand anything." He looked at Winter. "You haven't told her?"

"I thought you might want the honor of doing that yourself, Father." Winter's voice fairly dripped with sarcasm.

"Very well." Jacques tapped a manila folder on his desk. "Weiss, you are being promoted to Hauptmann. Overdue, in my opinion." Weiss steeled herself for what was coming next; poison was often coated in honey. "And you will be my liasion to the Luftwaffe. Schnee GmbH will be ramping up DUST production, and it will be your job to ensure that the fighting squadrons of our air force are successfully integrating the software. DUST has been one of the few success stories of this debacle." It was the first time he had referenced Beacon, however obliquely.

"I see," Weiss said. "And I suppose that means I will be working mainly from Herrencheimsee." She used the old term, deliberately to irk him.

"Yes," Jacques replied, with steel in his voice.

"And this will be a nonflying assignment?"

"Again, yes." Jacques spread his hands. "Weiss, please. You have done your duty to the Fatherland. You are being promoted, you will be awarded medals—twelve victories, I understand? That makes you one of the highest scoring pilots of the Luftwaffe. There is no need for you to do anything further! Please, stay here and relax. Help your family. Learn how to run the company."

Weiss raised an eyebrow. "I thought I was no longer the heiress."

Jacques waved that away as well. "You are again. I admit I lost my temper with you, but that is behind us."

"And this is an order from the Luftwaffe?" Weiss asked crisply.

"Yes." Weiss looked at Winter, who nodded.

"How long is this assignment?"

"Six months," Winter said, before Jacques could open his mouth. "And then you will return to active duty, flying Myrtenaster."

"Possibly returned," Jacques snapped. He took a moment to calm himself. "Whitley will be happy to see you, Weiss. As will your mother."

"Yes. Where is Mother?"

Jacques found other things to look at in her office. "She is…taking a week or two at Baden-Baden." Weiss translated that in her head: Willow Schnee was drying out at the spa again. "She will be back in a day or two."

"I see." Weiss put her hands behind her back. "So I am a prisoner, then."

"What? Don't be ridiculous!" Jacques laughed. "You are never a prisoner, Weiss. I'm sure when your mother gets back, we will head into Munich for shopping—"

"Then I can leave? Right now?" Weiss knew it was useless, but she had to try. "Speaking of leave, I have several months accumulated. I will take that, right now. Lufthansa has a flight from Munich to Atlanta tonight. I would like to see my friends again, Father."

"You…" Jacques massaged his forehead. "No, you can't leave. By order of the German government. Weiss, the Bundestag has its own inquiries it wants to make about what happened at Beacon."

"Mm. And how many politicians did you bribe to get that order?"

Jacques came out of his chair. "That is enough, Weiss. You are ordered to stay here by the Luftwaffe, by the German government, and yes, by me. I am your father, which is something you tend to forget. And if you try to leave German soil, you will be declared absent without leave, be arrested, and then you will truly be a prisoner. And broken." Seeing the defiance in her eyes, he pointed to the door. "Enough. You have your orders, Weiss."

Weiss snapped to attention so hard the leather of her boots audibly smacked. She executed a salute that would have made any drill sergeant faint with its excellence. "Jawohl." Then she turned on one heel and marched out the door.

Jacques sat, then glared at Winter. "Do you have something to add?"

"Only this, Father." Winter smiled. "How long do you think you can keep her here?"

Eisenhower Medical Center

Augusta, Georgia, United States of Canada

19 May 2001

Ruby looked up from her book as Lie Ren and Nora Valkyrie walked into the hospital room. "Hey!" She slid off the bed, ran over to them, and hugged them both tightly. "God, it's so good to see you!"

Nora returned the hug with equal enthusiasm, and to Ruby's pleasant surprise, so did Ren. "You look well," he said.

Ruby snorted. "Hell, I'm good to go. I could check out today, but they won't let me." She walked back to the bed and sat down, while Nora and Ren took the chairs. "How's the leg, Ren?"

"Good." He flexed it in front of him. "The shrapnel wasn't too deep. It looked worse than it was." Nora leaned over on him all the same. Their hands found each other; Ruby wondered if they were even aware doing so. "Any problems?"

"I told you I was fine." At the disbelief in Ren's expression, Ruby shrugged. "Okay, fine. They haven't cleared me back to duty yet. In fact, they want me to take a few weeks off. Dad's supposed to drive us back up to Patch tomorrow."

"Then Yang's okay to travel?" Nora asked hopefully.

"Yeah, but…" Ruby checked the door. It was closed. "Guys…Yang's…different. She's not all happy and nutty like normal. She's just…" She shrugged again, helplessly. "She just sits in bed and stares out the window. They gave her an artificial arm, but she acts like it's not even there."

"Losing an actual piece of yourself means you lose more than that," Ren observed. "She'll be all right, Ruby. She just needs some time."

"I guess." Ruby toyed with her blankets. "You guys are here to see Pyrrha, right?"

"Yep," Nora said. Ruby looked up. Even with that short response, there was anger in Nora's voice.

"She's in bad shape," Ruby warned. "Worse than Yang." She couldn't suppress a shudder, remembering the day before. "She's gone crazy, guys. I think she's just…she's just lost it. And I don't think she's coming back this time."

Ren got to his feet. "Leave that to us. We have a plan."

"She's been seeing some psych docs—"

"They aren't her friends." Nora got up as well.

"You want me to come with?" Ruby said.

"Not this time," Ren replied. "I'm afraid this is something Juniper has to do on our own. Sorry, Ruby." Nora jumped to Ruby's bedside, kissed her on the forehead, and followed Ren out the door.

"Good luck!" Ruby called after them.

Ren found Pyrrha sitting listlessly on her bed. In her fingers, she twirled Jaune's dogtag through her fingers, flipping it down, then back up again, not even looking at it; she stared out the window, a faint smile on her face. She turned slowly as they walked in, and her smile widened. "Ren! Where's Nora?"

"Getting some lunch for us," he told her.

She held up the dogtag. "Now Juniper is all together again."

Ren smiled back. "We are indeed. Nora and I were wondering if you might join us on the roof. It's a beautiful day, Pyrrha. And I brought you a surprise. From Jaune."

Pyrrha blinked. "From Jaune? But…" Then she nodded. "Yes, of course." Her smile faded. "But…the doctors. They don't want me to go up on the roof. I went up there a few days ago to try and fly away, but they stopped me."

"We've cleared it with them," Ren lied. He and Nora were taking a gigantic chance. It flew in the face of psychiatry and logic, and if they were wrong, not only might Pyrrha probably end her days in a mental institution, she might just get her wish to fly away. Straight down. But Ren and Nora had talked it over, and agreed it was worth a try.

He helped Pyrrha up, and as she put on her slippers, couldn't help but wrinkle his nose a little; Pyrrha hadn't bathed in awhile, and he could see stubble on her legs. Her hair was beyond help, filthy, overgrown and tangled. He couldn't meet her eyes. Their vivid green was washed out, dead, and her smile never reached them. He put out a steadying hand, and Pyrrha took it gently. He then led her out into the hallway, made sure the coast was clear, and quickly led his friend to the stairwell. They went up a flight of stairs, and onto the roof.

He hadn't lied about it being a beautiful day. Spring had reached Georgia, and the air was alive with the smell of pine trees and the noise of june bugs. It was also humid, but that was something all three of them were used to; Beacon had actually felt a little too cold, most of the time. Nora was waiting, pulling out from a bag a bucket of Kentucky Fried Chicken, Original Recipe. Pyrrha actually clapped her hands in delight, something that brought a smile to Ren's face, a genuine one: they'd noticed Pyrrha's weakness for American fast food—one reason she had jogged every morning. It had also been Jaune's favorite, which was why Nora had chosen it.

Nora spread out a blanket on the roof, and they all sat around it, careful to leave one side open for Jaune. Nora was careful to set out a plate for their friend, as if he was there; Pyrrha nodded approvingly, the dogtag clutched in her hand. Pyrrha reached for a drumstick, but Ren held up a hand. "Your gift, first. From Jaune."

Pyrrha nodded, and Ren reached into his pocket. "Oh," she said, giving a little start. It was Jaune's cell phone. "Where did you find it?"

"There's something you didn't know," Ren said. "Before every mission, whether it was combat or just training, Jaune started giving me his cell. I gave him mine. We had recorded messages on it, for our families…and friends." He glanced at Nora, who began fighting tears. "If something happened. We started doing it after the big fight we had with the GRIMM in the first week. Before we ran across the tarmac at Beacon, while we were suiting up, he handed me his phone, and I handed him mine." Ren had not bothered to ask the graves registration people if anyone had recovered his phone. There had been a message on there, for Nora. But that was all right. "After Jaune went down—" Ren was careful not to say killed "—I listened to the recording. I wanted to make sure that there was nothing on there he didn't want his parents to hear. But he had—has—a message for you."

"Oh." Pyrrha flipped open the phone. Jaune had never bothered to change the picture; it showed a lighthouse. She searched through the buttons until she found his messages. There was only one; she didn't know Ren had erased the others, since Jaune also had never bothered—or didn't know how—to erase various notifications from credit card companies, his bank, and a dentist in Madison. There was just the one now, for her.

"Play it," Nora said. She reached out to take Ren's hand. This was going to be rough. Pyrrha nodded, and hit the button.

"Hey, Pyr!" Jaune's voice made them all jump, and Pyrrha nearly dropped the phone. "Hey, listen. I hope you don't mind that I recorded this in English. My Greek's pretty lousy, and your French…well, it's perfect, like everything else, but if you're listening to this, Ren and Nora are there too, I bet, and they don't speak French. Well, Nora does, but she only knows how to say hors d'ouvres.

"But anyway…look, Ren and I have been exchanging cells before we go out on missions. Y'know, just in case. And I've written a letter for my folks, but you…they might not give you a letter, since we're not related or anything." Jaune paused. "Not yet, anyhow. But…heh…maybe soon, huh?"

"Oh God." Pyrrha's eyes filled with tears. Jaune had somehow recorded this only a few days ago, probably when she was out on the mission that had killed Penny. The morning they had made love, they had joked about doing it on a regular basis—and more, what Jaune had laughingly called "authorized ass." It was as close as an engagement as they had ever made.

"Well, maybe I'm just saying that because…well, you know," Jaune was saying. "You know, Pyr…it felt like so much effort just to progress a small amount, when you were training me, all those nights. But I hope I made you proud. I've never met someone so determined to make someone better. I've grown so much since we started training. And I know…this is just the beginning." They could hear the smile in his voice. Then they heard his voice catch, with emotion. "Pyr…I…I…I want you to know that I'm just happy to be part of your life. Somehow, Pyr…I'll always be here for you. And…ah, hell, I'm gonna say it…I love you." Jaune laughed. "Weiss would say I'm a sappy idiot, and she's right. But I do. Anyway, this is a silly message, and if you're listening to it…it probably means Nora found it, and she's playing it to make fun of me. Which I totally deserve for recording some stupid message, like I'm gonna die or something. Yang says only the good die young, so I'm gonna live forever. But anyway…yeah."

The message ended abruptly. Pyrrha stared at the phone, willing it to play more. But that was all. She cradled the phone to her breasts, slowly bent over, and began to cry. Nora was across the tablecloth in an instant, nearly stepping in the mashed potatoes, to hug her friend, and Ren was there too. Pyrrha's weeping became huge, shuddering sobs, and then she threw her head back and wailed, screaming at the top of her lungs. Let it out, Ren thought, unashamedly crying as well, holding both of the women he loved—one as a lover, one as the sister he never had. Scream, Pyrrha. Jaune deserves it. Scream at the whole, stupid, uncaring world. And she did. She screamed until she became hoarse, and could only cough and sob. Nora massaged her back, whispering "It's okay, Pyrrha" over and over, her own tears running down her face.

The door to the roof flew open. A security guard and a nurse came out. "What's going on?" she demanded.

Ren looked over his shoulder. "We're holding a wake, miss. Do you mind?"

The nurse hesitated. She saw Pyrrha, and knew the pilot's condition. She took a step forward, then stopped. "All right," she said. "But keep an eye on her."

"That's what we're doing," Ren replied. The nurse nodded, turned to the security guard, and motioned him back through the door. It was breaking protocol and regulations, but the nurse had been around long enough to know that sometimes one had to do that.

After another few minutes, Pyrrha's crying had subsided. Nora and Ren still held her. "He's gone," she croaked. "He really is gone. He hasn't been to see me. I…I was imagining all of that."

"Yes," Ren said simply.

"Jaune will always fly with us," Nora said reassuringly, wiping the tears from her face. "We just can't see him."

"The doctors…they say…I was hallucinating."

Ren touched her cheek. "Pyrrha, I don't know if Jaune's spirit has passed on, or perhaps he is indeed still here with us, and maybe does speak to you. Metaphysics is not my strong suit." He looked at her, with that direct gaze that unsettled people who did not know Lie Ren. "But I do know that Jaune would not want you to be like this. He would not want you to simply exist, or sit in a room crying."

Ren got to his feet, pulling Pyrrha up with him. He pointed to the roof's edge. "If you jump off that roof—and neither Nora nor I will stop you—then you will make a mockery of everything Jaune stood for. You are one of the best pilots in the world, Pyrrha, whichever air force you decide to fly for. Yes, you were shot down—you're not invincible, but you knew that.

"We have lost a battle, Pyrrha. Beacon is gone. Jaune is gone. Ozpin is gone and so are many others of our friends. But we have not lost the war. We have only begun to fight. And we must continue to fight, or it will happen again, and more friends will die."

Pyrrha nodded, remembering Amber and the story of the Maidens. It would happen again. "Yes."

"And if you die," Nora said, "then you've left us behind—me and Ren." She sniffled again pitifully. "We're both orphans, Pyr. Juniper Flight is all the family we've got."

"And let's not forget Ruby Flight," Ren added. "Ruby seems to be all right, but Yang is hurt worse than all of us. Weiss and Blake have disappeared. They need us too." He stepped away from Pyrrha. So did Nora. "But now is your chance, Pyrrha. If you think that—" he motioned to the roof edge once more "—is the quickest way to see Jaune again, then go."

Pyrrha stared at the edge. From here they could see all of Augusta. It was a long way down, ten or twelve stories; death was almost certain. She could be free of all the pain, all the hurt, all the memories of her dead squadron over Crete, all the memories of Jaune Arc. She wasn't sure of an afterlife, and Pyrrha didn't consider herself religious; she had been raised Greek Orthodox, but had turned away after Crete. No God who cared would have allowed that to happen, she had thought. Suicide might be a sin, a mortal one that consigned her to hell forever, but the hell of flame and brimstone couldn't be any worse than the hell she was in now.

But heaven or hell, Pyrrha knew that Jaune would never forgive her if she leapt off the roof. Nora and Ren might not stop her, but they would never forgive her either. And neither would Ruby Flight, or the others, or the dead faces of her squadron that haunted her. None of them would forgive her if she took her own life. And that was a hell far worse than any burning pit.

She was still clasping the phone to her. She closed her eyes, let out a deep sigh, and opened them. "All right." She said at last. Then she handed the phone to Ren, turned, and headed towards the roof door.

"Where are you going?" Nora asked.

"I'll be right back. Please wait for me." Pyrrha left the roof, went down the stairs, nodded to the guard and the nurse that waited on the next landing, and brushed them off when they tried to help. She went into the room, ignored the doctor standing there, then went into the bathroom. She tossed the robe aside, stepped into the shower, and turned on the water full blast. The initial coldness made her gasp, but it warmed soon enough. She scrubbed herself vigorously, then washed her hair. After drying herself, she wrapped the towel around her, and came out of the bathroom. Now two doctors were there, along with the nurse. "Would you mind shaving my legs?" she asked the nurse.

"Sure." The nurse got a razor, and Pyrrha kept her hands in sight as the nurse shaved her legs to the smoothness that Jaune had loved. Pyrrha thanked her, asked for some clothes. They found her some. She thanked all of them, then returned to the roof, flanked by the nurse and the guard, half an hour after she'd left. She let her hair fall free; she'd have to find a circlet somewhere later. The nurse and the guard left, and Pyrrha sat cross-legged. "I don't know about the two of you," she said with a smile, "but I'm famished."

Nora had already polished off two drumsticks, and she filled Pyrrha's plate. Pyrrha dug in. "Mmm. Oh, my. That is good." She downed a third of a Dr. Pepper and smeared a drumstick in coleslaw. "So. What is happening in the world? Have they determined where the Wyvern came from?"

Ren and Nora smiled at each other. There was a long way to go, but Pyrrha Nikos was going to live. For Jaune. For all of them.