To clear up some minor confusion Jaune didn't lose it at the tv hosts in the last chapter. He knew they were going to be assholes. It'll be cleared up here, but Jaune's break was obviously a combination of all the shit he's been through lately adding up. It wasn't him being "super patient" and then "randomly loses his mind." Obviously not.

Cover Art: GWBrex

Chapter 29

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Exclusive Poll: 65% of our readers believe Jaune Arc "overpaid" and "burden" to Atlas economy

Atlas Times

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Vale scrambles as ungrateful Atlas public turn on boy who saves over 10,000 lives a year

Vale Daily Tribune

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Exclusive interview with Pyrrha Nikos reveals she "supports her friend and his choices." Claims residents of Atlas never respected him for the work he did.

The Mistral Review

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Mayor of Vacuo offers support to Arc family as allies in Atlas turn against them

Vacuo Today

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Atlas in SHAMBLES after miracle healer quits

Kuo Kuana Express

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It was a decision made in the heat of the moment.

He knew that. Accepted it. The moment he stormed backstage and to a stunned Elm and Clover, he felt the doubt creep in. It had felt good to see the shock on everyone's faces, and he'd imagined doing this in quiet moments alone in his room, but now faced with the consequences of it all there was a part of him that wanted to take the words back, curl up into a ball, and hide under the covers of his bed. There had been little to no conversation between the Arc-Ops and him as they made their way back to Atlas. He knew they didn't know what to say any more than he did, and they were afraid to say the wrong thing and make it worse.

There was a very real terror coming back to Atlas. He expected General Ironwood, one of the Councilmembers, or maybe even an armed squad. There was no one. And then he realised his family would have seen it all. His sisters, who had just started to rebuild their lives after he'd ripped them away from Ansel, and whom would now have to be torn away from this one as well. Atlas wouldn't want them to stay and even if they did there would be people in their schools who would pressure them about him. Jaune felt nauseous. Sick. He wanted to cry. That, in turn, made him angry. Shouldn't it be his choice? Why was everything balanced on his shoulders? Why did he have to choose between his own sanity and his family's suffering? It wasn't fair.

The moment the door to their home opened he was swept up into his mother's arms. She was crying, he realised, pressing her face into his hair and crying. A steady hand landed on his shoulder from behind, and his father's words echoed in his ears. "I'm proud of you."

He did cry, then. He cried louder than he had in who knows how long. It was stupid, childish, but it was an outpouring of emotion he'd kept locked inside for two years, and it came out like a waterfall. He was exhausted by the end of it, too tired to think or speak, but awake enough to hear his father shouting at someone outside the door that he was in no state to talk, let alone about this. Jaune fell asleep with his mom stroking his hair and whispering that it'd all be alright. Jaune knew she didn't mean to lie; it was just that Juniper Arc couldn't change reality; she couldn't force her wishes on the world. And, come morning, things were not alright.

The world had learned of his words and actions. Throwing away his citizenship card was a symbolic thing more than anything, but it was enough for every journalist the world over to have an easy morning sourcing news over. Words like "ungrateful" and "selfish" were being thrown around like candy, and one Atlas newspaper had accused him of trying to "blackmail the nation" over his threats to stop healing people. They suggested he wanted more money and was going to withhold healing for it, completely missing – or intentionally misconstruing – his words. Others had it closer, but then they went off on their own tangents by saying he was already well-liked and respected, and that what he really wanted was slavish devotion. That he wanted to be free of any and all consequence and above public opinion.

I'm not a politician, thought Jaune, angrily. I just want you to ignore me. Treat me like any other doctor. I go in, do a job, leave, and have a normal life. You're the ones who couldn't stop trying to butt into mine.

He had three missed calls from Weiss. One from Pyrrha as well, along with a text from her with four simple words – "I'm on your side." They meant more at that moment than he cared to admit, but even then he wasn't sure he could bring himself to call her in person. It wasn't like he had much time anyway because the second he'd come out his room he was practically kidnapped by Atlas military personnel and marched to a meeting room within which General Ironwood sat flanked by several members of the Atlas Council. Weiss' father was not among them, and Ironwood looked haggard and worn, no doubt his fault. The man must have been up all night trying to deal with this.

What followed wasn't a discussion. A discussion suggested there was equal representation on both sides, or that he got much of a chance to say anything at all. He wasn't sure what it counted as – verbal assault, maybe? They talked at him and over him and adjacent to him but never to him. They told him he was mistaken, that he didn't understand, or that he was overreacting, but they never gave him the chance to reply back, and he wasn't sure their words would have changed if he had. Anything he said would just be more of him overreacting and not understanding.

"If it's money then we can expand your salary," said one. "It's been two years. We'll raise it at double the rate of inflation."

"It's not about the money-" began Jaune.

"Reed and Landgreen will never work in television again."

"It's not about-"

"-need you to get back in the hospitals today. If we act quickly then this can be swept away as a moment of anger. Say you've cooled down and had a chance to think things-" The man's head snapped up as Jaune stood and walked away. "Where are you going? We're not done here!"

"I assumed I was," said Jaune, "since my opinion apparently isn't needed."

"Jaune, please," said General Ironwood. It was a plea as much as a request, and however angry Jaune was he forced himself back down. Ironwood had been nothing but supportive, arranging most of the good things in his life. "Gentlemen," he said to the councilmembers. "I don't think ignoring Jaune's input is going to endear you to him, let alone solve this issue – and there is an issue. Ignoring it won't make it go away. Even if you convinced him to carry on as normal today, it'd just mean this happens again later."

"Later is fine," said one. "We can prepare for that."

"Not if I walk out of Atlas," said Jaune.

Silence. Absolute silence. It was so quiet, in fact, that Ironwood's tiny sigh was deafening.

And then Mount Atlas erupted.

"No-"

"You can't-"

"Contract-"

"Agreements-"

"Enough!" barked Ironwood. He slammed his metal hand on the table, shaking it. "Enough. All of you. I am exhausted. I have not slept. We will discuss this like adults or I will choke out the lot of you, and then myself, and we can discuss this when we wake up in a better mood."

There was a nervous chuckle from Councilman Sleet. "James speaks well, even if his words are highly questionable. We cannot be so emotionally charged over this. Mr Arc's contract with us does preclude him simply walking out, but then we can't really enforce that, can we? It would be no better than slave labour and we would be eaten alive. No, we need to find a middle-ground we can all agree on." He paused, allowing interruptions, but his words brought none. He smiled and said, "What about you, Jaune? I'm going to assume it's not the presenters who pushed you to the breaking point. Has it been our fault?"

The reasonable tone annoyed Jaune more than the shouting because it meant he had to reply in kind. Or, he didn't, but he'd look the asshole if he didn't.

"It's not you. The Council have been fine. Great, even." He watched shoulders loosen and faces be wracked with relief. There must have been a lot of blame going around before this moment, with everyone faulting everyone else. "General Ironwood has been supportive as well – he's honestly the reason I've lasted this long. Without him pushing me to therapy or offering me the Arc-Ops I'd have lost it last year."

It was true, but he also wanted to make sure this heap of steaming crap didn't fall on their shoulders when they'd genuinely done their best. The last thing he wanted was Elm, Clover, Harriet, Vine or Tortuga to lose their ranks or be demoted. They'd been great to him.

"It's the public," he said. "I thought it was the media at first, I really did, but I've come to realise they're not the ones starting this. They're just parroting what their readers want to hear. It's their jobs. The problem is all those people who want me to be a selfish, greedy, corrupt piece of human waste because then they can feel justified in hating me." Hating him for what they saw as his charming and easy life. Hating him because they were jealous or felt he didn't deserve it. "It's always been there. For every one person who was grateful for me saving their family there's a thousand people who despise me because their loved ones weren't on the list."

He laughed bitterly. "I told them I saved over 13,000 people in a year expecting them to be awed by that number, but I forgot that way more people than that died. Those 13,000 people and their families love me for what I did, but the families of every other death in Atlas have pretty good reason to hate me, don't they? Even if they know deep inside I couldn't be there for everyone there's bound to be this little bit of anger inside them festering away. Why was their family saved? Why wasn't it my family? Why did my child, wife, mother, or brother have to die?"

"Death is a natural part of life," said Councilman Sleet.

"Not while I'm here. And that's the problem. Atlas became this place where they were promised death wouldn't matter anymore, but it does. I can't heal everyone but everyone has to pay their taxes and that's reason enough for them to feel bitter."

"Taxes weren't even increased among the populace!" complained another politician. "We offset it against savings elsewhere, and more than made up the difference on new businesses and people coming into the city. If we even tried to increase taxes then there would have been riots."

"What Mr Arc means is that no one else properly accepts that," said Sleet. "You know how people are when it comes to taxes. We can tell them there's been no change – hell, we can show them – but they'll point to him receiving as much as he does, and the aid package to Ansel, and then complain about how it could be used to improve education, roads, or other services." He sighed. "Jaune, you won't find anyone here who doesn't agree with you in some way. We're politicians. Our jobs depend on public opinion and we're regularly dragged over the coals for any little thing that goes wrong in the city. Murderer? Our fault for not investing more in the police. A lack of students wanting to study science? Our fault for not investing enough into STEM subjects. We know what it's like, and we know how frustrating it is-"

"You knew what you were getting into, though. I didn't. I never wanted this. I accepted the offer to Atlas because my family were in danger in Ansel, and because the one man who tried to help me had been killed by the public stampeding over him." His eyes clenched shut. "I accepted this because I had no choice and because I hoped Atlas could protect me and my family from… from…"

"From the public," finished Ironwood. He stepped his hands and massaged his temples, and around the room the various councilmembers watched on, stunned. "No wonder you hated the fame and the attention. You see them as if they're savage monsters, don't you?"

"I know they're not. But… They killed him. And they killed my mother, too. If I hadn't been able to resurrect her-"

"And one tried to kidnap your little sister. And another tried to kidnap you. They stormed your home, harassed you and your family, and made your lives a living nightmare." Ironwood took a deep breath. "It's no wonder. I should have seen it in hindsight. I assumed you'd feel fine with the Arc-Ops keeping the peace but…" He sighed again. "How bad was it dealing with the crowds outside the hospital?"

Jaune shifted on his chair. "It… It wasn't too bad. I just told myself I'd be safe."

"But it was a mirror of Ansel to you, wasn't it? Another hospital surrounded. Yet more people clamouring to rush in and touch you."

"We can't just stop people going to a hospital," said one of the councilmembers. "They have a right to protest no matter what we agree with, and it's a pedestrian area. We can't stop them wanting to know more about a publicly funded figure either."

"Well, we can't do nothing either," said another, "or they'll drive him away!"

"If they haven't already…" said Ironwood.

Jaune looked away.

It was madness again. More shouting, more chaos, more claims. There was "don't be swayed by the minority" and "a mob is only as intelligent as their stupidest member" but it didn't really fix anything. For all the newspapers with their sensationalist headlines there were others running polls or referring to official statistics from the council's own polling stations. Jaune had always believed that it was the minority who were against him – he really had – but seeing those figures showed sentiment much more evenly split.

Almost half of the people in Atlas didn't want him there. Or they thought he didn't deserve to be there, or that he was overvalued or overpaid, or even that he was an attention-seeking and arrogant brat who wanted the limelight.

"What has he done for us?" was one of the most common quotes he'd seen.

Sure, for the family he helped he was a saviour, but for everyone else – and that made up over 99% of the population of Atlas – he was just an expensive feather in the kingdom's cap. He was someone they could show off. Sure, he brought investment in, and new businesses, and it was because of him that a lot of jobs had been created, but they didn't see that. Or, if they did, then they didn't respect or fully believe it. If someone won themselves a new job then they praised themselves, and if he tried to explain that said company only came because of him being here then they'd say he was arrogantly trying to claim the credit.

The simple truth was that while Atlas paid out almost two hundred million a year in his pay and aid to Ansel, they'd made back five or six times that number, but such fantastically huge numbers were meaningless to the average taxpayer. All they saw was other underfunded parts of the city, his pay, and they drew a line between the two.

"We can't just stop people thinking or acting in a certain way," said someone. He was a pudgy man drenched with sweat. "I wish we could but we'd need some kind of mind control for that. Even coming down on the people complaining now will see us accused of corruption."

"The best we can do is offer our support, but that isn't guaranteed to change anything."

"It won't," said Ironwood. "Because right now Jaune has thrown the gauntlet down at the feet of the people of Atlas and they are furious. If he backs down, they will believe every terrible story about him is true. If we back down, we'll be seen as traitors to the people supporting him over the millions who live here."

Jaune looked down angrily. "Are you saying it's my fault?"

"No. This was bound to happen sooner or later. In hindsight, we asked too much of you. You've given two years of service, every day draining your aura to the point of collapse, and never once complaining." He fixed the various men and women around the room with a stern glare, daring them to argue. No one did. "The public forgets that because all they see if the money you are paid. They don't see the hard work and they don't believe it. That's your problem, isn't it? You feel like your sacrifices aren't being respected and that makes you angry."

He nodded, lips pressed thin. A part of him expected someone to come out saying he "didn't work that hard" like others had online or in the newspapers, but no one did. Maybe they just understood it more since these were the people who saw the reports.

Ironwood heaved a heavy sigh. "What do you want, Jaune? Ideally? It's obvious we don't want to see you go. Furthermore, and I don't mean this cruelly, but I'm not sure any other kingdom will be any better. Oh, they'll act it, but then even the general public here adored you when you first arrived. It'll be the same in Vale, Mistral, or Vacuo."

It would, wouldn't it? Jaune glared at the floor between his feet, realisation setting in that there really was no better option. He could move constantly every year or so and have everyone clamour for his attentions, but that wasn't the kind of life he wanted, or that his family deserved. Other than that, moving back to Vale would be more of the same. They'd love him at first but he'd still be chained to a hospital and made to do their bidding, and sooner or later the mystery and majesty of what he did would be lost on most people, and more would start asking why he wasn't doing more, healing their family, or giving up more of his time to help people.

Two hours, they'd say, ignoring what he did in those hours or how exhausted he left. Two hours of work, for all the money paid, or all the fame given. Even if he did this all for free they'd still hate him for being so famous for it.

He wasn't sure what solution there was.

I'm never going to be free from this, am I? There's no way out. No matter where I go or what I do, I'll always be dragged back. Forced to be nothing more than my Semblance. His eyes hurt. Maybe it would have been better if I'd died in that forest. At least then I wouldn't have to feel like this.

General Ironwood was in front of him with both hands on his shoulders. Jaune wasn't sure when the man had left his seat and come around the desk, or why he hadn't seen it, but all of a sudden everyone in the room looked either awkward or horrified.

"Jaune," said Ironwood. "Are you okay? Can you hear me?"

"Y-Yes. Why wouldn't I?"

"You weren't responding for almost two minutes. You were catatonic."

"I… what…?"

"I'm going to have to end this meeting," said Ironwood. The councilmembers agreed very quickly. "Jaune, I'm going to need you to come with me to the medical bay. It might be nothing. Perhaps you're stressed or didn't get enough sleep."

"I…" Jaune closed his eyes. "Yeah. Yeah, I… I struggled to sleep."

"We'll finish this later," Ironwood told the various people. "Clover," he called. "Elm. Take Jaune to the medical bay. I'll be behind you. I need to make a call first."

Jaune was quickly helped up by a worried Elm. "Come on, Jaune. Let's go. You need to rest."

"Keep the television off in there," added Ironwood. "The last thing he needs right now is the court of public opinion on his back. Contact Dr Seng while you're at it. Tell him to come down and see me as soon as humanly possible."

/-/

"The public are fickle, James. You know this. There will be no changing their minds once they're made up."

"That doesn't help me right now, Ozpin, and I've a mind not to try and change their minds at all."

On the other end of the line, Ozpin paused, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"They think they'll be better off without him. It's not the first time I've heard nonsense like that. People have argued the military gets too much funding all the time; that I should get rid of people, whole divisions, and how much better off Atlas would be with all that taxpayer money freed up. The only difference this time is that they're attacking a single person for all this – someone who has given time and time again. I'm sick and tired of it."

"You're unusually emotional on this, James. Have you grown attached to the boy?"

Ironwood scoffed. Not at the idea that he might grow attached – because he had – but at Ozpin's suggestion such was unreasonable or unlike him. He cared for everyone under his command, but it wasn't the same. Pressure or complaints about military spending were easier to deal with because those complaints were impersonal. People complained about the costs, not the individual, and as such they weren't directly attacking anyone under his care.

Here, they were attacking Jaune. Over and over again. His name was being dragged through the mud to the point that Jacques Schnee had left him a message, in no uncertain terms, that he could either deal with it quickly, or the SDC would deal with it. An increase in the price of dust across Atlas would not help calm people down. Punishments rarely did.

"I've spoken to mine and Jaune's therapist on the matter and spoken to Jaune as well. He's not well, Ozpin. I don't know if it was an isolated instance or not but he went into full catatonia today. Just… stopped working for a whole two minutes. It was terrifying."

"Was it mental or physical that caused it?"

"We're not sure yet, but Dr Seng says it could easily be both. Mentally, he's under incredible strain and pressure. Physically, his aura is being drained twice every day to near empty."

It was a small thing to Joe Public who didn't know better but Ozpin, as a huntsman, knew what it felt like to have your aura drained. In Beacon, the students might see theirs drained to the yellow five days a week, but that was it. Aura was your soul, your literal being, and while it was obviously useful to be able to tank blows from Grimm with it, that didn't mean anyone should want to be siphoning it off so freely. It didn't mean that was healthy. Rest days when training muscle groups existed for a reason, and the philosophy was used when training aura as well.

"Not even hardened huntsmen burn through their aura twice a day every day of the week," said Ozpin. "I've long suspected his Semblance would do him no good. Doctor Oobleck expressed his own concern. He wrote a book once on the philosophy of a politically powerful Semblance and how detrimental it could be. I believe the example he used was a hypothetical precognitive Semblance, and the geopolitical struggle to control it. Mr Arc's is not so dissimilar in consequence. What do you want of me, James? You wouldn't be calling just to rant, and I'm the last person to offer advice on mental health."

"Dr Seng believes Jaune needs a break from things here in Atlas. I agree. The public here are standing their ground. Sentiment has turned even further against him since he didn't go to the hospital this morning. They don't care about his health, only that he does what they expect."

"How bad is it?"

"Eighteen people who could have been saved were not. Those families are throwing a fit as you might expect. The newspapers are posting their faces – children's faces – and suggesting Jaune had a hand in murdering them. Some are even calling for him to be tried in court as a child-killer."

"Goodness. And, of course, no one cares how they originally died."

"I'm sure a few do but their voices are being deafened by the loud majority. Or the loud minority; it's impossible to tell at this point." He took a deep breath. "I want you to take him."

Ozpin reared back. "Me!? Why!?"

"Beacon is independent from Vale. You don't have council duties dragging you down like I do. Plus, with the Vytal Festival on its way, there was always going to be a political visit in store for Jaune to return to Vale. We can mask this as that."

"You realise how Vale will react to this, don't you?"

"At this point, Ozpin, they're free to try and win him over as far as I'm concerned. I don't think for a moment Vale will be any better in the long run than Atlas, but I want what's best for Jaune. And if the public here see how well he's being treated in Vale then maybe they'll start to realise how badly they fucked up."

"People taking responsibility for their own actions, old friend? I didn't realise you were such an optimist."

Ironwood chuckled. "I don't expect it to go down too well either, but human greed will win out in the end. They'll change their tune when they start to realise how bad it is to lose him. The reason I'm coming to you and not the Valean Council is so they don't try and use him as we did. He needs time away from the hospitals and among friends. He has close to none here."

"While he will have Miss Nikos and Miss Schnee here," finished Ozpin. He leaned back in his own seat. "You're aware of just how much you're asking, aren't you? Not only will I need to house him – the least of the problems – but I will have to fend off the Council, Valean citizens demanding he heal for us, and the media. All around the Vytal festival. To say nothing of security for the school."

"I'm asking a lot. I know. Vacuo is out the question because we still have suspicions about their new mayor, and he was nearly assassinated in Mistral by the White Fang. I'm prepared to offer support toward some of those issues to ease your burden."

"Not more of your robots, James…"

"Not that. I'll provide Specialists to handle his security. If not the full Arc-Ops, then at least Elm Ederne. I'll also provide funding for more on your end – consider it a bribe if you must, or a gift. This will also be the perfect cover for which to transport that machine to Beacon."

"That is a matter of humanity's very survival, James. Don't hold it over my head for Mr Arc."

"Frankly, Oz, I'll do what I need to. Atlas is killing him. This can't go on. We thought things would get better after he opened up about his problems to Lisa Lavender, but it's only gone back to more of the same. It bought him a month or two. That was all. He's going to break at this rate, and I won't have that happen when I could have done something to stop it."

Ozpin drew a deep breath. "How long…?"

"At least until after the Vytal Festival, but I was hoping you might keep him for the full year. Let him rest – put him into classes if you like. I guarantee he's good enough. You can also ask him to resurrect anyone; I'm sure he will as long as you don't push too hard. Safety for your students – maybe even a way to bring Amber back."

"Killing Amber to bring her back would mean the maiden's powers moving to whomever stole them," said Ozpin. "But I admit that if she were to die regardless then I would like her to live again. That poor girl spent most of her adult life with that burden. Freeing her of it would go some small way to repaying her…"

"So…?"

"I will speak with my staff," said Ozpin. "They will have to be involved in this since it'll be them given extra responsibility holding the media and the public back. I'll also need you to put some pressure on the council here. If you were at least to make it clear this is supposed to be a holiday for him to recover then that would prevent them forcing him to work each day. And speak to the boy. Any decision made without his permission is only going to make this worse on him."

James heaved a great sigh. "Thank you, Ozpin. Thank you."

"Don't thank me yet, James. At least wait until I say whether I can do this or not."

Maybe I'm biased, and they're definitely ARE a lot of shitty journalists (as I showed last chapter) but it's worth remembering that such people are only that way because it's profitable for their business/tv station/newspaper, and that the reason it is profitable is because the viewers/readers like it.

Here in Atlas, it's a bigger problem than just the newspapers. It's the fact that Jaune can only save 36 people per day, and that thousands die every day. So, for every 36 people who love and adore him there are all those other people who feel he's a waste because they had to pay for him and he didn't do anything for them.

Next Chapter: 26th January

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