After having spent in excess of 24 hours in bed, Cobin was actually fairly restless when he woke up on Monday morning. After opening his eyes, and taking in the ceiling for a minute or two, he sat up slowly and pulled his hands from under the covers. For some time, he simply stared at them, this small vibration in them that was only visible to a trained eye. The bandage on his hand remained, but now the gauss looked more worn, peeling back in places where it had succumb to water, sweat, chemicals, and personal violence. Surprisingly though, there was no longer any pain underneath it. Cobin decided he would leave the bandage be for another day, not wanting to risk the health of his good hand on faith in medical technology he had no personal experience with.

He raised his head and looked around the small room. He was alone. He couldn't remember exactly what time he had fallen back asleep, or what time he and Ruby had stopped talking, but he did recall her saying she was going to stay the night and Cobin insisting that she go back to her dorm. Thankfully, it looked as though the girl had followed his instructions. The office space was completely untouched from his tantrum, but he already knew that whatever state the main shop area was in would take a long time for him to get straight again. He sighed, and swung his legs over the side of the bed.

Then the music started again…

Now when my mother died, I had to take it in stride,

There ain't no room for pride in watching your father cry…

Cobin shook his head, trying to make it go away, but it was no use. The music always had to play. He stood and let the covers fall off the bed as he did. He still didn't have a shirt on, and whoever had been generous enough to move him into bed had neglected to remove his boots and -understandably- his pants. He had this all too familiar feeling of simply existing in his own ooze, which is something that he had sort of taken comfort it when he was young and full of "Hooah," but when you start to bank down the wrong side of 30 and you're still in the Army, your whole attitude moves toward cynicism with it.

...And dad made it until maybe, a year later,

when they found his suicide inside of a grain elevator…

He went and cleaned himself up quickly, only taking a moment to pause to look at the destruction while moving between the office and wash room. He changed into a fresh work uniform, and as he did, he thought about all those nice new clothes he had left behind in the wake of the bombing. He didn't expect it too, but the thought made him really sad. When he finished getting dressed, he immediately resigned himself to a day of cleaning and damage control in the wake of his personal natural disaster. But then, as it normally did at these times, his scroll began to buzz.

...Got over it, had no other offers or options,

thought about whether or not, mom and pop was watching…

He pulled the device from his pocket and opened it, revealing one of Professor Goodwitch's short and sweet messages: Counseling, today, ASAP. Very busy. -Goodwitch. "Right," Cobin said to himself, "it's always something." He put the device back in his pocket and walked into the main floor of the shop to get a better look at the damage. Looking around the large room, he really got the full picture of how much he had been able to do in his short, drunken rage. It amazed him, but only slightly; the military's most dangerous weapon is a solider with a handle of Fireball.

...Never bothered with caution, no time for fear,

Saw my folks carry fear for most my early years…

Goodwitch had packed a whole lot of serious into her relatively short message, so Cobin decided it was best to deal with the mess later and make his way to the Clocktower. He treaded carefully over the floor of the shop, not knowing what was lying around that could sprain, stab, or otherwise fuck up his day. But when he got near to the door, he paused as something out-of-place caught his eye in the corner of his vision.

...And I learned from it, turned numb and ignored the storm,

a burning sun waiting for the world to plummet…

He couldn't believe his eyes as he approached the shopping bag that was sitting just within the threshold of the shop. It looked exactly like the one that the kid behind the counter at the clothes store had packed his new things in, but it couldn't be. As Cobin leaned over the bag and peered inside, his spirits rose quite considerably; it was in fact the clothes that he was sure had been lost in the blast, all still -relatively- nicely folded in the bag. He thought that he would probably have to buy a beer for a whoever had brought him his things and gotten him into bed after his bender. But then, after a moment of pondering, he quickly realized who it probably was. Well, at least she didn't take my pants off, Cobin thought, sighing.

… Finished growing up under my uncle's roof,

he taught me how to count all the way up to 100 proof…

After putting the bag of clothes away in his office space, Cobin made his way out of the shop and down the street, making sure to seal off the disaster zone behind him. He couldn't exactly be sure what hour of the morning it was, but the sun was still relatively low in the sky. The normal Monday movement seemed to be absent, and as Cobin walked through empty plazas and outdoor seating areas he realized it was probably in the middle of the period, and all students would be in class. Cobin figured the place would feel strange and eerie, but in reality it was just sort of peaceful. This world he was in defied all known laws of reality; nothing should go from explosions and violence to peace and silence this quickly. But Cobin just shrugged it off and allowed himself a small smile as he approached the clock tower.

...From watching him I learned how to gather nourishment,

living off the different women that he had to nurture him…

The elevator ride up to Goodwitch's office seemed longer than normal. Cobin knew a thing or two about counseling and at the very least he thought it was supposed to be on a regular schedule, not just whenever the counselor in question got frustrated enough to make time for it. He figured that this had something particular to do with all of the happenings from Saturday. When Goodwitch had met them at the Air Hub, she had said little, been quiet, and spoke directly. No punishment and no berating was issued on the spot, and honestly, that scared Cobin more than what he had expected from the woman. He remembered very clearly what Goodwitch had said about what would happen if his presence here began interfering with the education of the students…

...And on the surface I became a normal pre-teen,

More afraid of nuclear war than snake bites and bee stings…

As he stepped through the threshold leading into the Professor's office, Cobin shook off all of those negative thoughts. Nothing good would come out of it if he didn't approach this situation in a neutral fashion.

...My best friend was my TV

game shows and cartoons substituted for puppies, rainbows, and balloons...

"Good morning, Sergeant Cobin," Goodwitch said from behind her desk at the other end of the room, "How are you today?"

...Now here I am, the shy type, and I think I'm doing alright,

Considering what it was like living my life…

"Oh it's all sunshine, nothing but sunshine," He said.

Goodwitch nodded, her neutral facial expression unchanging, "Come have a seat, Sergeant," she said, pointing to a chair in front of the desk, already there and waiting for him.

Cobin made his way through the narrow obstacle course that was the Professor's office and took a seat in the chair once he reached it. He sat with his back straight, hands on his lap, and looked Goodwitch eyes, "So, this has something to do with the mess I made on Saturday, right?" he asked.

"In part," Goodwitch said. She reached under her desk and pulled up what appeared to be a lunchbox, "I haven't eaten in thirty-two-point-five hours, would you mind terribly if I…"

"Not at all," Cobin said, smiling, before Goodwitch could finish her sentence.

The woman finally smiled at him, but only slightly. "Thank you," she said, opening the little tote. She peered into it for a second, and gave it a questioning look before pulling out a sandwich that was very disorderly wrapped in plastic. "So, Sergeant, we're going to be rather brief today, and I'll cut to the chase," she said, unwrapping the sandwich while maintaining eye contact with him, "The Chief of the police department in Vale was rather… perturbed by the way you handled the fugitives from the bombing. Now, nobody's questioning that they're terrorists, and that they needed to be stopped, but what is being questioned is whether or not the force you used was necessary, and…" the professor had to pause for a moment, "whether or not you may have, 'lost control,' so to speak."

Cobin nodded, "Pretty legitimate concerns," he said, "To be honest, I was a bit surprised to. I was wary of holding back because my understanding was that I was fighting people with abilities that I don't have. I figured the Auras of those guys would have done a better job protecting them."

"Well you see, not everyone has an Aura," Goodwitch said, taking a bite from her sandwich.

Cobin was a bit taken aback, "What? But… but you said…?"

"What I said was that everyone has the potential to generate an Aura, and even when it is achieved it is like a muscle and must be constantly exercised and improved to be effective," Goodwitch said, smirking slightly, "A group of random terrorists or street thugs? Probably not that dedicated to improving their spiritual energy."

"That… would have been nice to know," Cobin said, sighing.

"But that's not the end of it," Goodwitch said, getting serious again, "Sergeant, do you believe that at any point in the altercation, you lost control of yourself, and acted completely and entirely on emotion?"

"Yes," Cobin said. There was no hesitation, and no cowering in his tone of voice. "There was a moment when I lost control, undoubtedly, completely," he said, maintaining steady eye contact with Goodwitch, "And if the girls hadn't shown up when they did, I probably could not have stop myself from killing that guy completely."

'Taken Aback' wasn't an emotion or any sort of physical action that Goodwitch ever expressed, but she did sit slightly back in her chair when Cobin said this. "That's very… honest of you, Sergeant," she said.

Cobin shrugged, "Honesty is all I've got," he said, "Nothing is more important than providing you with all of the information you need to make an informed decision, for their sake."

Goodwitch cocked her head to the side a bit, "For the girls' you mean?"

"Yes," Cobin said.

Goodwitch sighed, and then did something that she did very rarely, and never allowed another person to bare witness too; slowly, she raised her hand to her face, and removed her glasses, placing them gently down on the desk. The Professor rubbed her eyes once, before looking up at Cobin again. "The police chief said in his call that he had never in his life seen anything like what you did to those bombers. And I'm going to be honest, Sergeant Cobin, I haven't either," she said, "I want you to know that in this short span of time you have been here, you've made an impact that I would never have fathomed when you arrived. You've improved this campus, and I see no reason why you shouldn't continue to do so. But Sergeant, I have to know, what happened to you, back on your own world?"

"Professor Goodwitch…" Cobin stopped, and looked at the ground for a moment, shaking his head before bringing it back up to meet the professor's eyes, "A war isn't like a battle, it's not something I can summarize over lunch. I don't even think it's something I'll be able to summarize over the course of my entire life. But I guarantee you, if you give me enough time, you'll learn way more than you ever wanted to know." Cobin paused for a moment, and let that sink in before continuing, "Professor, I don't know for sure what the very limit of human cruelty looks like, but I know for fact, just by looking in your eyes, that I've been a lot closer to it than you have. Everyday of my life all I'm doing is trying to get further and further away from that, the very edge of that abyss that is what one man can to do another when pushed far enough. I don't want to know what it looks like anymore. I don't want it to be a part of me anymore," His gaze into Goodwitch's eyes suddenly seemed a lot more intense, "But at the end of the day, it's your call whether or not that makes me safe enough to be around your students."

Goodwitch nodded, and then retrieved her glasses from their resting spot on her desk and put them back on her face. She rose from her chair slowly, before saying, "Please, follow me, Sergeant."

Cobin nodded, and rose from his seat as well before following the Professor back through her office, and out the door. Without a word, Goodwitch led him back through the hall and to the main central elevator. When the door opened, it was empty, and the two of them stepped inside. "Time to go to the top," Goodwitch said, before pushing the very final button on the panel inside of the small metal box.

Cobin leaned against the back wall of the elevator, and folded his arms. He felt the thing jolt as it began slowly moving to the uppermost floor, as it did, Cobin turned to look at Goodwitch. "So how long have you been married for?"

For the very first time since Cobin had known her, the woman looked genuinely shocked, and even seemed to lose her balance for a second as the impact of the question hit her, "What? What are you talking about?" She asked, getting a bit angry at first, but then her facial expression softened again, and she shook her head, "I suppose you're a difficult person to hide those sort of things from. But I must ask, Sergeant, how'd you know?"

Cobin smiled at her, "People rarely scoff at food that they make and pack for themselves, and it's not the sort of thing that you have a coworker do for you. Also, if it was just a boyfriend or something you probably wouldn't have bothered to try and eat it," Cobin chuckled a bit, "it's the small things," he said.

Goodwitch allowed herself a small laugh, "Yes it is," she said. She sighed, "Ten years. I've been married ten years."

Cobin whistled, "Hmm, I can see it. Is he a Huntsman?"

"Oh God no," Goodwitch said, "These people are my coworkers, they're amazing scholars and warriors, but I could not have one in my home. They're all insane."

Cobin laughed, "I can tell," he said, "So what does he do?"

"She's an artist," Goodwitch said, she smiled to herself, thinking about it, "To our world, there is little that is more important than art, and the people that dare to create it. Even on my worst days, she always finds a way to calm me down. People say Auras and Semblances are like magic, but that's the real magic to me."

"Good, that's really good," Cobin said, "So why do you hide it?"

The smile dropped from Goodwitch's face, and she returned to her normal stoic expression. "Despite what Huntresses and Huntsman do in defense of humanity as a whole, there will always be people that see our existence as disruptive to their personal goals. Especially at the level of an instructor or administrator at a major combat school. I'm sure you can understand that."

Cobin nodded, "Of course. Operational security," he said.

"Exactly, sergeant," Goodwitch sighed, "The name of every instructor and major staff member here at this academy is on, not just one, but several lists that we really wouldn't like to be on. And the people that are close to us are not immune from those lists either," she said, "Would I like to wear a ring, and cover my desk in pictures of me and my wife? Of course, but it's not worth her safety." She turned, and looked Cobin in the eye, "I don't know if this has really occurred to you yet or not, but you're probably on some of those lists now too. I'd recommend you take some time to think about what that really means, Sergeant."

"Trust me, Professor," Cobin said, "I do."

The door to the elevator opened, revealing the massive expanse of space that was the penthouse office of the Beacon Clocktower. Save for the all of the turning and clinking cogs suspended far above the ground, and a grey-hair professor sitting calmly behind a large desk at the very back of the room, it was mostly empty. The expanse of space between the elevator and the desk seemed like a no-man's land, exposing all of those who crossed it to the deadly fire of Ozpin's gaze. And sure enough, when the door opened, Ozpin's eyes were already square on Sergeant Cobin.

As he and Goodwitch exited the elevator and began the walk toward the desk, Cobin kept his back and straight and his eyes forward, but internally he was reeling at the psychological impact the place was having on him. He had never felt as though one man had controlled a space so large so effortlessly before. Nobody spoke until him and Goodwitch had reached the desk, and stood side by side awaiting the professor's instructions.

He turned to Goodwitch first, "You're evaluation, Glynda?" he asked.

Goodwitch nodded, "He's good," she said.

Ozpin turned his attention to Cobin, "So, Sergeant, how are you feeling?"

"Never better, Professor," Cobin said.

Ozpin raised an eyebrow, "Oh really? Because it looks like you had quite a time with some of the valuable merchandise provided by one of my employees down at the staff cafeteria. What's his name? Manny?"

Cobin's eyes got wide, he didn't want to be the one to rat Manny out. "Umm… uh…" he said, stumbling.

"It's alright, Sergeant," Ozpin said, "I can't fire the man, there would be a goddamn riot."

"I… I see," Cobin said.

Ozpin nodded, "But that's not what I brought you here today to talk about," he said, "Sergeant, when I advanced you the money to go out and buy some more suitable attire for a work enviorment, did it at any point occur to you that my motivation might have been more than pure generosity?"

"Yes, it did," Cobin said.

"Good man," Ozpin said, "My staff and I have been watching your interactions with the students over the past couple of weeks, and we have observed an almost universally positive impact that you have had on campus, particularly in relation to student behavior. After a bit of deliberation, it has been decided that you should become a real member of the Academic Staff here at the academy, and have a job that demands regular interaction with the students. How do you feel about this?"

"Well, I'm very honored," Cobin said, "But to be honest, I'm not exactly sure what I could bring to the table as a teacher here. The fighting styles used by your students are much more advanced than those I'm familiar with."

"And that's exactly why you wouldn't be a teacher, per-say," Ozpin said, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Instead, you would have all of the authority and power as an expert-level instructor, but your soul job would be to correct student behavior and educate students on the rules and policies of the campus. You would be our first official 'Disciplinary Officer,' and would take a very serious load off of my overworked assistant here," he said, nodding toward Goodwitch.

"I understand," Cobin said.

Ozpin seemed skeptical, "Now, Sergeant, this would be a real job, not like the 'work' that occasionally falls into your lap over at the shop. You would have regular office hours, just like all of the teachers here, and it would be your job to create files on all of students requiring disciplinary action, keep track of their behavior, and find ways to correct that behavior that don't interfere with their education. Do you think you can handle that?"

Cobin chuckled a bit, "Professor, I was a Non-Commissioned-Officer in the military. When I wasn't deployed, that's literally all I did."

Ozpin smiled, satisfied by this answer, "Good, Sergeant. I do hope that through your methods, the educational experience that we offer here can continue to improve."

"But there is one little thing, though," Cobin said.

Ozpin suddenly looked hesitant, "What's that?" he asked.

"I'd like to keep my shop, if at all possible," Cobin said, "I've grown sort of attached."

The relaxed expression returned to Ozpin's face, "It's yours Sergeant. I'll even have some student-proof locks installed in that skylight if you wish," he said.

Cobin laughed, "Oh, I don't think there will be a need for that," he said, "So when do I get started?"

Goodwitch turned, and smiled at him, "Right now, Sergeant."

…

Wow, so it's been over two weeks. If anyone even remembers my existence at this point, I will be amazed.

Just a little something I wanted to get done while I had a minute, but in reality even on a quiet weekend like this, I'm writing this story on borrowed time that I'm going to have to pay back in the form of a couple hours of sleep. My life is overwhelmingly crazy, and it's taking all of my effort just to hold it together at this point, but I love this story and these characters too much to give up on it completely. Keep on the lookout for more adventures of Cobin & Friends, and I'll do my best to bring more chapters to you.

Today's song is "Nothing But Sunshine" By [you guessed it] Atmosphere.

Thanks For Reading!

-Wahs.