Kinda short, as it's mainly another setup chapter. So if you did not get the memo, the Fall of Beacon did not happen, and instead we got JNPR as its winners. Yay. Anyway, not sure how long chapters will be, but I'll always shoot for 1k+, so don't get to crazy.

I do not own Roosterteeth,

Or the rights to RWBY,

and may Monty Oum be forever unbound by death.

When a bullhead from the Wilds docked back into Beacon's port, Glynda Goodwitch and Ozpin were expecting many things from the people that should reside within its hull. Relief, excitement, cheering, even exhaustion. Especially since this was one of their most promising teams, and the skill of it's members exceeded most others.

Though, as always, the team managed to completely shatter their expectations. This time, however, it was in the worst way possible.

The aircraft had barely touched down when the doors were thrown open by their strongman, or strong-woman, Nora Valkyrie. The small redhead was quickly followed by a distraught Pyrrah Nikos, and a tense, but calm looking Lie Ren. The trio quickly stormed over to the two professors, the cobble beneath their feet cracking in more than one place as they did so. The metal doors of the bullhead shut at much slower pace than when they were opened, whether because the metal was misshapen in some parts or the person was afraid to do so remained unknown.

Upon arrival at the feet of Glynda and Ozpin, team _NPR quickly began pouring out information on the poor professors, and all Ozpin could do was raise a hand to silence them. He succeeded, and after a sip from his mug, decided to ask the question that both professors dreaded.

"Where is your leader?" At this, the trio before them froze. Their faces became taught with sadness, despair, and while Ren seemed calm, they did not miss the tenseness in his muscles. They never looked forward to the response to the question of one's missing teammate, but it was always said.

"He… He is still out there. We need to go retrieve him, Headmaster," Ren said as the two redhead's eyes began to water, tears beginning to fall through tracks made earlier. "We were forced away from him near the retrieval point before we were ambushed. He," Ren paused to take in a breath that held a barely audible shake. Pyrrah openly wept, supporting herself on Nora who sobbed in silence. "He told us to run as we were ambushed. We didn't, but when the fighting separated us, he sent us off saying 'I'm right behind you!' We assumed so, and hurried to the EZ. There we boarded, and the pilot didn't wait before leaving without him." He cast a glare at the bullhead, before giving his head a solemn shake.

"He is alive. His aura tracker says he's at a low percentage and slowly recovering, yet it can't give us a location." The two adults had been nodding along with Ren's recounting, Glynda having been taking some notes on her scroll as he talked. With a final, affirmative shake of her head, Glynda put away the device and looked directly into Ren's eyes, hers having softened at the tale.

"Get to the infirmary, you've all done well to bring this to us. We will send a fourth year team right away," She gave a light squeeze, and could feel some of the tension leave Ren. "We'll bring him home." Ren's eyes seemed to gloss over for a moment before he gave a nod of his own. He moved back to his teammates, their eyes sparkling with hope. Glynda moved away, leaving Ozpin to look over the three before leaving at the appearance of team RWBY.

I can only hope so, Glynda. I can only hope.

Pain.

Unholy, unending, pain.

This pain is what brought forth from Jaune a sharp gasp of breath as he quickly fell forwards onto his hands and knees. His slumber had been deep apparently, yet not deep enough if what awakened him was the feeling that his left side was bathed in fire. He hated this pain, hated what it stood for, but could not hate what it meant.

Pain meant he was alive, and if he was alive, then he could move, walk, fight, live.

It meant he could return home, and he'd be damned to pass this chance up. He quickly reached for the back pocket that held his scroll, and holding it up, was disappointed to find it cracked down the middle, the aura reader frozen on his screen. It also appeared that its location feature was busted, as the indicator was not on his broken screen. With sigh that carried with it the pain of the past day, he leaned onto his left arm to stand up.

Or he would have, had he not instead fallen onto his side, causing his to let out another pained gasp as his shoulder hit the ground. Opening his eyes, he saw a sight that immediately made him begin to shake in shock, pain, and a little fear. Something he had forgotten about, had its reminder not been awaiting him on the ground in front of him.

His left arm lie on the grass that was now stained red near where it would connect with the shoulder, his shield still strapped around its forearm with red staining its face. He could be excused for dry heaving, right? How often was he supposed to see his own severed arm less than twenty feet away from him? Another dry heaved followed the thought. He quickly shook his head as he recalled where exactly he was in the world. The Wild's, where emotions drew hordes of Grimm like moths to a flame. He needed to leave, to head south if he remembered correctly. Settling on his knees, he looked at what little sky he could through the emerald canopy that hung overhead. The rising sun glowed in front of him, or he could only hope it was the rising sun and not the setting sun. He stumbled forward, the pain of moving a still something of a shock to him. He could only brace himself for what he had to do next.

The next step was twofold. First, he had to retrieve his shield. While it would not serve it's purpose as such anymore, it was still the only sheathe for his sword that he had. So he did as such, dry heaving once more as his arm squelched and released some more of his lifeblood upon moving. The shredded muscle and tendon billowed slightly in the wind as he lifted its dripping shape up, and he quickly dropped the limb once he finished the process. The second part came after he strapped on his sword, now sheathed in in his family's crest.

He had to inspect the actual wound.

Granted, this should probably have been his first action upon waking, but he was a little preoccupied by processing the fact that he was not, in fact, dead. So he moved some of the torn sleeve of his hoodie away, and as the blood caking it cracked, he was shocked to the sight beneath it. A mass of scar tissue marred the stump, and dead skin and sinew fell away at his touch. The same touch that almost forced out a scream from him as it made contact. He had known that aura could heal its wielder, hell, his had done so upon activation. This though? This seemed a bit much, even for him. As he prodded the scar tissue once more, only a hiss made it's way past his lips. Even the pain was rapidly dulling.

The miracles of aura, I suppose.

He shook his head to clear it of emotions, of negative thoughts and gave himself one goal, one purpose. He was going to make it home, even if he had to give other arm to do so. Dusting himself off with his one arm, he placed his hand on the hilt of his sword.

Always thought I was better without the shield.

So he left the clearing in the direction of what he thought to be south, his left arm resting upon the damp earth that covered the forest floor, the same earth stained red and black from the battle that took place their the day before.