-(=RWBY=)-

Chapter 29

-(=RWBY=)-

Outside, the crimson clouds and cerulean sky bled together – all fading, all vanishing, into a violet twilight with neither end nor beginning.

Looking through the windows of his gilded cage – and the diplomatic suite he was assigned on the Atlesian warship was just that – Jaune had the melancholic thought that perhaps dying wouldn't be so terrible a thing, if his last moments could be spent admiring so beautiful a sight.

Two things allowed him not to succumb to such poisonous melancholy, however. The first thing was obligation; he still had to tell Ozpin about the Spring Maiden. The second thing, however, was a woman.

Winter Schnee, leading the group of specialists guarding him, stood stiffly six paces behind him, one hand on the hilt of her sword and both eyes watching him warily.

Seeing her reminded Jaune of Weiss – of feelings unspoken and promises unkept – and as those clear blue eyes gazed suspiciously at him, Jaune knew that he had to make it out alive, to tell Weiss what he ought to have told her ages ago.

And it was for that same reason that Winter had little to fear, not that she knew it. He was hardly going to hurt Weiss's beloved sister – even if he could get out of the new aura-suppressing collar he had been bound in, which he most certainly could not.

Cunning and luck had facilitated his escape the first time round; but luck had deserted him, and the same strategy would not avail him twice. Weaponized killing intent was the only card he could play, and it would do him little good here – elite soldiers of Atlas, like Winter and the other three watching him, might perhaps be shaken by the crushing force of his intent, but they would certainly not be driven to their knees and left incapacitated. If he tried what he previously did, he would have a bullet in the head or a blade of ice through the throat because he could even think twice.

Jaune had done all he could on his own; now all that was left to do was trust that Ozpin would come through.

If he even wants to. If he even believes you.

The thought was disquieting. After breaking from the initial parameters of his undercover mission, Jaune had been so caught up with trying to kill Raven that it had never occurred to him that Ozpin could well think him a deserter to his cause, and a murderer to be put down.

Jaune grimaced.

This wasn't a possibility lightly dismissed, and Jaune found himself beginning to pace in thought.

The moment he did, however, weapons were drawn, semblances readied, and Winter herself snapped,

"Don't you dare try anything, Arc. We'll kill you if we have to, even if the General prefers you alive."

Jaune glanced at Winter, before sweeping his gaze over the rest of his captors. Not wanting to dogpiled by wary Atlesian specialists, Jaune said, mildly,

"I'm merely pacing. But if that bothers you, I'm happy to sit and be still."

His words, said without irony, were nonetheless ill-received. Doubtlessly taking his offer as mockery, the hostility from the specialists – already fierce – only intensified, in the form of deepening glares and bared teeth. Jaune could not blame them, in any case – he did kill their fellows, no matter how good his reasons and how justified his cause.

Jaune let their hatred wash over him, as water over a rock; it wasn't as if he hadn't had enough practice with playing the villain after his cover was broken in Vale and then as an outright bandit with Raven.

Letting his captors stew, Jaune turned his attention away, to look across the diplomatic suite they were in. It was used to host high ranking politicians or officials making foreign trips. The rooms making up the suite were richly furnished – all dark oak panelling and velvet upholstery, all elegant carpets and a single, sinful glass chandelier crafted the shape of Atlas itself, hanging from the ceiling and casting soft light into the dimming eventide.

Taking a seat on the large couch before the window, Jaune continued his long, silent wait.

According to Ironwood, Ozpin was on his way. The headmaster had come, once Ironwood had notified him that Jaune was in his custody.

In the meantime, Jaune had but Winter and her specialists for company.

As Jaune watched those tense faces, Jaune saw that it was not just anger in those eyes – but fear, too, and a not inconsiderable amount of it.

Of course.

It occurred to him only then that they hadn't figured out how he had even escaped in the first place, and so were terrified that he would even now, somehow, someway, escape his restraints.

And while he didn't presently mean them harm, these elite huntsmen's fear was frankly reasonable – they would have been stupid, to not be at least somewhat afraid.

They did, after all, think him a Champion-level huntsman gone rogue – and at the end of the day, an elite huntsman simply wasn't a match for a Champion. Under standard huntsman classifications, to be in the same class of combat power as your opponent was to have even odds of victory, or something close to it – no more than two-to-one odds of victory, one way or another.

And none of these elite huntsmen would have anything close to such good chances against him, even sans semblance. As a team, they could definitely match him, so long as he stuck to just his sword, but even that would be a coinflip at best, as to who won and who lost.

Jaune blinked, as he caught himself thinking such pointlessly hostile thoughts.

Perhaps I've been too long away, undercover amongst bandits where everyone is an enemy and no one a friend; where strength is esteemed and weakness held in contempt.

It wasn't healthy, to size up allies like that – and partly because he wanted to break that habit, and partly just to get along better with Weiss's sister, Jaune spoke up, to say,

"Winter. May I ask how Weiss has been?"

The look on Winter's face could have murdered a Beowulf. Her clear blue eyes now as the sea in storm, and her lips thinned to a line, she snapped,

"Keep my sister's name out of your filthy mouth, Arc. She's too good for you – and once Headmaster Ozpin clears up this obvious lie about you working for him, rest assured you'll never get to see her again. There's a nice cell in the Tower of Tranquillity waiting for you, assuming you don't have an accident when we're transporting you back to Vale."

Jaune had to hide a wince. The venom in her voice was real, and hearing her say all that only reminded him of his fear that Weiss, too, wouldn't take a kind view of all his morally questionable actions while undercover – not his murder of the Ace-Ops, nor his banditry with Raven, and certainly not his brutal rampage abroad an Atlesian warship that could have seen her own sister dead.

Jaune's jaws clenched, and in his agitation, let his need to lash out get the better of him. Against Winter's cutting words, he riposted –

"You love to pretend that you care about your sister, but where were you when she was kidnapped by the White Fang and almost tortured to death? Where were you when Hazel Rainart and a pack of ravenous Grimm fell upon Rothenburg? Both times I was the one to save Weiss, while you were nowhere to be found. But that's par the course, I guess, for a woman who, as soon as she could, abandoned her sister and brother to an abusive father and alcoholic mother, just to chase her own dreams. A loving sister, indeed."

Jaune twisted the knife, deep as he could. Drawing on everything Weiss had told him about her difficult childhood, and of the sister Weiss clearly felt had abandoned her, Jaune cruelly let Winter Schnee have the truth.

And Winter, like her sister, clearly had a temper. His words hit home, hit deep, and Winter's eyes narrowed even as her lips curled in rage. Her patience at an end, she drew her blade.

"If you won't hold your tongue, Arc, I will gladly remove it for you."

Jaune could feel the aura-suppressing collar around his neck; could feel, just how powerless he currently was –

– but even then his mind was weighing the odds, and calculating how he could turn any attack to his advantage; translate any aggression, into leverage.

"Come, Schnee, and cut my head off – if you can."

Winter's raised her sword, but then –

"Schnee!"

One of Winter's specialist teammates snapped at her, and Winter froze. Armoured in a tight-fitting bulletproof vest and with a pair of swords sheathed in the two mechanical chambers at her waist, the dark-haired woman warned Winter –

"Get a grip. Are you really going to let him bait you, like that? It's obvious what he's trying to do. If you accidentally damage the collar..."

As her teammate's words sunk in, Winter grimaced, before stepping back and sheathing her blade once more. Her eyes never leaving Jaune's, she told her colleague,

"You're right, Frances. I... apologize for allowing my emotions to cloud my judgement."

Winter continued glaring at Jaune, as she spat out,

"My sister clearly has terrible taste in men."

The comment was unexpected, and left Jaune both rankled and strangely elated; and before he could reply, Specialist Frances – with just a hint of mischief in her eyes – added,

"Just like you, then, Winter, though I think your tastes run much older, and much more commanding, hmm?"

Winter's face settled into impassivity, as she replied,

"I have no idea what you mean. And this is hardly the forum to talk of such things."

"Well, just don't disappoint him here by doing anything stupid."

Jaune was tracking the back-and-forth, his eyes darting between Winter and her dark-haired fellow Specialist. And for how unprofessional the banter about Winter's ostensible love life was, Jaune could only think –

Clever. Very clever. She calms Winter, uses a joke to lower to the overall temperature, and also reminds Winter of – Ironwood? some senior military officer? – whom she seems to like and admire, and who she would not want to disappoint by messing up simple guard duty here.

It was a long shot, to try and get Winter to accidentally slice his collar open –

– and stupid, too, since chances were he would just get beheaded in the bargain. And even if he got the collar off without dying, his aura would not return for ten minutes, and in that interregnum the Specialists would kill or recapture him with low if not no difficulty.

He was being reckless – and it all stemmed from the fact that he hated feeling helpless.

It was good, therefore, that the door to the diplomatic suite opened just then, before he could try anything else stupid.

He looked the same as ever, with his silver hair and shaded eyeglasses, a green scarf around his neck and a walking cane in hand. With his mild and kindly demeanour, so befitting a schoolmaster, it would have been so easy to forget – that here stood Salem's eternal opponent, the shadowy chess master manipulating all Remnant.

"Mr Arc. It has been a long time."

Headmaster Ozpin's voice gave nothing away.

General Ironwood, who had followed the headmaster into the room, instructed Winter and her team –

"Please, leave us."

The four specialists snapped off a smart salute, and then trooped out. And only once they did so, did Ozpin continue speaking, to say,

"James. May I have a moment with my former student?"

Ironwood glanced at Jaune, and then to his fellow headmaster, before replying,

"Take as long as you need. But I will need satisfactory answers, Ozpin. The boy has killed Atlesian soldiers – all good men, my men – and that is not something that can be forgiven or forgotten."

Headmaster Ozpin peered at Jaune over his shaded glasses, those dark and ageless eyes never leaving Jaune's, even as he told his peer–

"I understand, James. Now, please, time is short – let me speak to Mr Arc alone. The seasons are ever changing, and delay might lead to disaster."

Ozpin's words were cryptic –

– but also understood by every man present. As Ironwood gave a curt nod, and strode out of the room, Jaune was left alone with the man who was once his headmaster, and then his handler.

Ozpin took a seat on the sofa next to Jaune's couch, before tapping his cane on the floor.

Immediately, the lights went dark, as did all sound die – the background hum of the airship engines, and the ticking of the clock on the wall; they had vanished, replaced only by deep and abiding silence.

As the setting sun behind Jaune cast the room into relief, the headmaster said, coolly,

"I have disabled all electronics in the room and put up a soundproof wind barrier around us. We may now speak freely. Mission report, Mr Arc, and I hope for your sake and Remnant's that you have an excellent explanation for abandoning your mission."

This moment had been a long time coming, and Jaune knew exactly what he needed to say.

"I do, sir, but first things first – the Spring Maiden is Yang Xiao Long. I made sure of it, by getting Raven Branwen to think of her daughter before she died. We need to ensure that is Yang is protected before –"

"Mr Arc."

The headmaster interrupted him.

"The new Spring Maiden is safe, of that I assure you. Let us focus on why you abandoned the mission I set you – the mission on which the fate of Remnant rests."

Ozpin would not be dissuaded, and with the immediate worry – Yang's safety – out of the way, Jaune was more than willing to start explaining his actions since absconding with Raven.

"Team RYVL tracked me down to my hiding place in the abandoned Mountain Glenn train terminal, and our confrontation attracted Raven Branwen's attention via her Kindred Link – leading us to both cross blades and trade words for a bit. During our conversation, she let slip that Salem is trying to ally with her because the Queen of the Grimm thinks Raven's semblance useful for breaking into the vaults, and hence for stealing the Relics and destroying the world. To stop that, I took up Raven's offer to join the Branwen Tribe.

"It took me some time, but I eventually managed to procure some Kingsbane. At a dinner with Raven and all her top commanders, I poisoned their wine and persuaded them it was safe by drinking myself; they didn't realize I had broken my own aura and made myself less susceptible to the Kingsbane. So they drank, and to the man died – which now leaves absolutely no possibility of the Queen studying Raven's semblance and developing a spell that can bypass the vault's defences, to steal the Relics and end this world."

It was a short summary of all that had transpired since that fateful night he had met Raven and abandoned his original mission.

Ozpin listened, his eyes never betraying his thoughts. Only once Jaune was done did he speak up, his voice precise and to the point.

"What exactly did Raven say, to make you believe that Salem is interested in Kindred Link for its potential use in breaking into the Relic vaults?"

"Well, sir, I don't quite recall the exact words, but it was something like –"

So it went, as Ozpin pressed Jaune for more details, and as Jaune did his best to supply them.

This went on endlessly, until Jaune had given all he could give, and until finally the headmaster lapsed into silence, and fell deep into thought. His eyes were distant, and his body still, as he seemed to take in everything Jaune had said, and used them to draw his own conclusions.

Jaune waited, quietly, not wanting to break the professor's train of thought; but he was not kept waiting long, for soon enough Ozpin broke his silence to say –

"I agree with your assessment that Kindred Link was the key that Salem sought, to help her break into the Relic vaults. And that means congratulations are in order, Mr Arc. Your mission has been successful – you've discovered how Salem intended to steal the Relics, and stopped those plans before they could come to deadly fruition."

Jaune exhaled, nodding as he did. Something like relief was blossoming inside him. After all the lies and loneliness; after all that pain he suffered and all those murders he committed –

– someone else agreed that it had all been worth it; that his sacrifices had mattered, and that the evils he had effected were necessary rather than pointless.

The relief would have shown on Jaune's face, for Ozpin looked at him curiously, even while continuing to say,

"I would also like to commend you for helping to discover that White Fang plot to unseal the Mountain Glenn tunnels and draw Grimm into the heart of the city. Acting on the information you provided, Valean huntsmen forces led by Qrow Branwen destroyed the White Fang forces in Mountain Glenn and secured the stolen dust. Adam Taurus managed to escape, but Vale is safe – which is what matters."

The update from the headmaster was welcome news indeed, and Jaune nodded. There wasn't much he could do about that planned Mountain Glenn subway attack, while undercover with Raven – only trust that his last report on the matter had been enough, and that Ozpin would handle things from there.

And on that note –

With all the relevant threats – to the Relics, to the Spring Maiden, and to Vale itself – all firmly stamped out...

"Does this mean, headmaster, that I can finally come back to..."

Jaune struggled, to find the right word, before settling on –

"... to the right side of the law? To normal huntsmen duties?"

And to the light. That was what he really wanted to say; that was he truly meant. He wanted to stop doing dark and despicable things, but –

– if he expected kindness, and understanding, and acquiescence; well, he had clearly forgotten who he was talking to.

Behind the placid demeanour and eccentric glasses –

Ozpin had the eyes of a chess master – the cold gaze, of a player for his pawn, utterly lacking in human warmth; of a person consumed with victory, and heedless of the price that would have to be paid, to earn his long-desired checkmate.

There was no compassion in those fathomless, ancient eyes, when Ozpin said, calmly,

"You are guilty of some very grave crimes. Atlas would not take it ill, to allow you to go free."

Bile rose in Jaune's throat, as unpleasant surprise took him –

– but hot on its heels came a stronger emotion altogether, as resentment boiled up, so intense it almost made him dizzy, and so strong it left him in speechless, at this ingratitude and faithlessness.

Only after a moment could he muster his outrage into making himself snap –

"All I did was at your behest, and for the sake of Remnant. You agree it was necessary, so how why hold it against me? And Atlas tortured me! Ironwood's own loyalties are suspect – he didn't even let me see you until he tried to extract the Spring Maiden's identity from me, with beatings and threats of worse! I had to escape, to get free and to get the truth to you, and this..."

Jaune trailed off, bitterness leaving the taste of ashes in his mouth. When he recovered, it was to close with –

"... this is the reward I get? Life imprisonment in an Atlesian prison, if I'm lucky, and extrajudicial execution, if I'm not?"

His complaints were as wind to Ozpin, who looked unimpressed.

"Come, Mr Arc, let us not be childish. Torture is unpleasant, but you are alive, with no permanent injuries, as far as I can see – and it is not as if you haven't done worse, no? Your family would certainly agree."

Time seemed to stop. There was a profound stillness in the world –

– until a storm erupted from the void of Jaune's heart.

Fury and hate; regret, and utter heartbreak – his emotions were a maelstrom, swirling around the singular memory of Domremy, and the day his childhood died along with his family.

Jaune had to struggle to get those emotions control, and in the end, he failed.

It was with pure loathing – though directed at who, Jaune could not say – that he snarled,

"That is low – and an insane complaint to make. What else could I have done?"

Ozpin considered Jaune, his face as impassive as ever.

"Nothing, Mr Arc. You did the best you could, but then again I did not imply that you acted wrongly. All I meant to say is that men like you and me, willing as we are to sacrifice others to make this world better, cannot complain when it is our turn to step into the fire."

Jaune snorted, derisively. He agreed, philosophically and in principle – of course he course he did – but such words were rich, coming from Ozpin of all people.

"And what have you sacrificed, headmaster? You, sitting safe in your office, giving orders that others risk life and limb to execute? You, with your immortal's semblance, unable to die, no matter what anyone tries."

His words, said on impulse, somehow drew a reaction from Ozpin. There was anger, now, in his eyes, but sorrow, too – a deep sorrow, too profound for words and too deep, for it to be deceit.

"What do I sacrifice, Mr Arc? What have I given up? Where should I even begin?

"Love – for I am condemned see all my family and friends die. My dreams – since the war against Salem demands everything, including letting die the hopes and ambitions of all the men that I have been. Happiness – or do you think I have time for pleasure and pastimes, as opposed to spending ever waking minute of my lives fighting this monster that will not die? Freedom – trapped as I am in this eternal war, where giving up is not an option unless I want to see this world fall to ruin. And above all else, peace. Without anything to make it worth living, life is mere suffering – which I grimly bear, because the alternative is to let Salem have the Relics and destroy this world to which she and I are both bound, from now till the sun burns out.

"So what do I sacrifice, Mr Arc? Myself, of course, now and forever, until the stars fall nameless from the sky and I can finally die."

Ozpin's extended answer left the room in silence.

The resentment had utterly drained from Jaune, leaving him empty, and not a bit ashamed.

"I –"

He tried, but words would not come.

It took force of will, and heartfelt belief that it was right, that he made himself say,

"I'm sorry."

His own life was – by any and all objective measures – a tragic and unenviable one, full of sacrifice for a world that never returned the favour; but no man could doubt, that the headmaster, blessed and cursed to never die, suffered a fate infinitely worse, and paid a price immeasurable greater, than what any mortal man would ever have to experience.

Ozpin, for whatever it was worth, did not seem still aggrieved at Jaune's ingratitude. If anything, his eyes seemed to have softened, and he did say,

"I accept the apology, Mr Arc, and I hope you will accept mine. I may have been too harsh. Do understand, Mr Arc, that my exceptional demands are driven by my exceptional respect for you. I know, from your past and present deeds, that you will put the good of the world over the selfish interest of individuals, no matter how dear to you. In other words, I can trust you – and trust is precious indeed, in this war against Salem where betrayal could mean the death of millions."

Jaune lowered his head, solemnly and gratefully accepting the generous praise.

"But I am old, and grown cold, Mr Arc. I oft forget, how difficult even the strongest-willed humans can falter and fail. Perhaps you need a rest – some time, back in Vale, back in the fold. I will certainly do my best to secure your immediate release, even if it means Vale burning our diplomatic bridges and James expending political capital."

The headmaster checked his watch, and noting the time, he stood.

"Someone else is eager to see you, and I am loathe to keep her waiting any longer. I promise that you will not have to wait too long to be released. The General is a good man, and true. There is a traitor within my cabal, yes, but I have no more reason to suspect James than I do any of the others. And I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive him for the torture.

"James also suspects a traitor within the cabal, and distrusts me for trusting the members all the same. He does not realize that I need the other headmasters still for their anti-Salem efforts, nor that I have been moving behind the scenes to identify the traitor, while entrusting more work to those I can trust with absolute certainty – people like yourself, or Professor Fall. I suppose he could have thrown caution to the wind, and unilaterally moved to protect who he suspected to be the Spring Maiden – but that would have risked a diplomatic break with Vale and threatened international peace.

"Bluntly, he tortured you because he thought it best for Remnant. He was grievously wrong, but he is only human. Good evening, Mr Arc... and all the best for your reunion."

With that apologia for the General delivered, and those last cryptic words said, the headmaster finally took his leave.

Jaune had no time to ponder what Ozpin had said of Ironwood, because what concerned him more was –

A reunion?

The door opened, and there she was.

All thoughts fled. All concern for the world and its people, all care for the eternal war of good against evil, was in one instant vanquished by her.

Weiss Schnee stood before him, dressed as she was the last time they had met, white military-style dress buttoned up on one side, with a snowflake-emblazoned coat hanging off her shoulders, and a captain's hat decorated by a crown-like badge resting atop her white hair.

It was an outfit worthy of winter, and fitting –

– for her eyes, too, were utterly chilling.

There was no joy at their reunion, nor even anger by his absence; no concern for his well-being, nor any eagerness to share how she herself had been. There was no love, no longing, no proof that he and her were more than strangers meeting in passing. There was a distance between them two, vast and ever growing.

Jaune felt dismay grip him, even as he greeted her.

"Weiss."

"Jaune."

Her voice was cold, and a return to the days before he saved her from the Fang – to those turbulent early days of Team JWBN when all of them hated each other and they were like enemies forced to work together.

Jaune's mind whirled, and he reasoned to himself that Weiss could not appear glad to see him – not when he had the murder of Atlesian soldiers still hanging over his head, and not when Ozpin had yet to formally vindicate him.

He told himself that, but at the same time, he felt a whisper, from that part of his mind that refused to be fooled –

You say that, but what evidence have you that she isn't genuinely upset? However good your reasons, you are murderer still, of good huntsmen and loyal soldiers.

Dismay turned to dread, then, as a sick and dark feeling filled him.

Weiss stepped around the table in between the two of them, to take a seat on the couch, right next to Jaune. Upon seeing this, Winter Schnee, who alone had accompanied Weiss into the room, stepped closer as if to stop her sister. However, before the specialist could do anything, Weiss put a hand up, to firmly say,

"Winter, please. I need to speak to Jaune – alone. I understand that you must be in the room for my own safety, but perhaps you would consent to keep watch by the door? You would still be able to monitor Jaune for any dangerous behaviour, and step in if needed – while still letting us converse in privacy."

Winter sighed, her mouth twisting somewhat – but she relented, saying,

"Very well, Weiss. I will allow you your privacy, foolish though your hopes may be, that this boy is anything but a traitor and a terrorist."

She retreated to a position right by the door, leaving Weiss to lean in close to Jaune, and whisper,

"I need a good explanation, Jaune, of all that you've done. Why did you kill those specialists? Why did you abandon Ozpin's mission and become a Branwen bandit? And why – just today! – did you murder so many Atlesian soldiers in a pointless escape?"

Her voice, though soft, was thrumming with emotion – laced, with anger, but shot through, too, with hope and desperation. She found his treason and terrorism repugnant – but was his friend still, and so needed to believe that he was still a good person, with good reasons for his otherwise horrific actions.

Even more so than with Ozpin, Jaune found that he was desperate to explain himself. Bringing himself close, and putting his mouth next to her ear – so close that her loose strands of hair tickled him, and so near he could breathe in the intoxicating smell of her.

He did not let that distract him, instead softly saying,

"That mission I got, the night it all went wrong, was to kill the Ace-Ops. I checked in with Ozpin, and he approved it – because it was paramount that I keep my cover, if I were to successfully infiltrate Salem's inner circle, discover how she was going to steal the Relics, and then stop her to save the world. The world, Weiss, against five lives – it was a horrible choice, but in the end there was never any doubt what was right.

"And for joining Raven Branwen – you may have heard that Team RVLY discovered me, and we had a small scuffle that drew in Raven. We fought for a bit, but also spoke, and Raven let slip that Salem wanted her semblance to help her breaking into the vaults. Kindred Link – that was how Salem was going to steal the Relics, and that I had to prevent. When Raven offered me the chance to join the Branwen tribe, I accepted, and worked my way into her trust – helping her take territory, obviously, all but without ever killing anybody. Using that trust, I eventually managed to poisoned Raven's wine with Kingsbane – a poison capable of killing huntsmen despite their aura – and even then, it took me drinking the poisoned wine myself to actually get her to do the same. I managed to survive, just barely, but Raven died, and as did her semblance. And so the Relics are safe, as is the world – and not a single innocent life had to be lost here."

"I fainted, after the poison, and woke up to discover I had been captured by Atlas. Ironwood wanted the identity of the new Spring Maiden, and when I refused, he had his soldiers torture me."

Jaune could not see Weiss's face, from his positioning whispering into her ear, but he could feel her stiffen, when torture was mentioned –

And not a heartbeat later did she turn, horror and disbelief writ across her face. Loud enough for her sister to hear from across the room, she exclaimed,

"Torture? We – Atlas – tortured you?"

In her shock, she gripped his right arm –

– and that act made Jaune wince, and release a long, pained hiss. It went far from unnoticed, as Weiss – now even more taken aback – examined his forearm more closely.

She saw the dark-red bruises mottling his right arm, and drew a sharp intake of breath. Looking over at his left arm, and seeing that the same held true there, her outrage only built. Unable to help herself, she pulled up the prisoner's cotton shift that he wore – and Jaune let her.

It would usually have been utterly embarassing, for both him and her – but the red in Weiss's face was purely that of rage, now, as she saw the massive bruises on his torso, so numerous that he barely had any skin left that wasn't a fresh and angry red.

Jaune, on his part, explained what happened with simple understatement.

"They beat me. Badly. On every part of my body. No respite, no mercy."

Weiss's eyes were transfixed to his solar plexus, the unusually large contusion gracing it the result of the especially intense battering the centre of his abdomen had received.

Hesitantly, she brought up her right hand, and reached out.

Gently, she stroked him on his injury – sending fire racing up his spine, a fire that was pain and pleasure entwined.

When she stopped, Jaune could not but feel disappointed. A terrible yearning for more had been lit inside him – and this feeling he had to crush, because there would be time enough later for matters of the heart, later. Now, however –

Winter Schnee had stepped forward; she had hear Weiss cry out initially, then seen her remove his shirt, and discover the extent of Atlesian ruthlessness.

"Weiss. Don't be taken in by his lies."

Fury shook Weiss's body, and she had to grind her jaws shut, to stop herself from screaming at her sister.

But even as she got her visible emotions under control, and even as she stood up and drew herself to her full height –

Her clear blue eyes blazed with a terrible light – with cold rage bordering on madness; and with disgust, so profound and pitiless.

Weiss's fury made her sister wince, but as for Jaune –

A strange but sublime feeling swept him.

He had know, all along, that she cared; but now, he felt it, deep in his bones, and in the depths of his soul. The world wouldn't have objected, and if anything would have celebrated, if he had died a brutal death down in those cells. And Ozpin would have found it an inconvenience, but even the most useful soldiers had replacements. Weiss, and Weiss alone, would have mourned him –

– and for that, he loved her.

As Jaune gripped Weiss's right hand – for its own sake, and also to keep her from doing anything too foolish – she asked her sister, coldly,

"Have you an explanation for this?"

"Weiss..."

Winter, already on the defensive, hastily sought to justify the unjustifiable.

"Arc was subject to enhanced interrogation – some roughing up, no more – because he was withholding information that General Ironwood determined was critical to the security of Atlas and the world."

At this point, Jaune had to interrupt.

"It started off with beatings, true, but in the first instance that is bad enough, and illegal all the same under international law – to which Atlas is party, might I remind you. And in the second instance, after I held out against the beatings, Ironwood's interrogators threatened to start cutting things off. They also asked me – and I quote verbatim, here – 'Have you been impaled before?'"

The sheer barbarity he described chilled the room – shocking Winter into silence, even while further stoking Weiss's wordless rage, if the hardening around her eyes were any indication.

Winter, on her part, found herself forced to deny his claims.

"He's lying. Atlas would never do such a thing."

Weiss's contempt was a sight to behold.

"Just as how Atlas would never use torture in the first place? I see. How far we have fallen – I really expected better. And pray tell me, sister – what is this information so vital to Atlesian national security and to international peace, that we would resort to such horrors?"

Winter frowned, though whether at Weiss's open disdain or the cutting question, he could not tell.

"I am not privy to that information, Weiss, and even if I were I could not disclose it to you. Suffice to say, General James Ironwood was satisfied that such critical information did exist, and that it had to be extracted from Arc by whatever means necessary."

Even as she made her case, Winter Schnee could tell how weak it sounded – how flimsy, was this justification she offered. And perhaps understanding that the best defence was a good offence, she pivoted and went on the attack –

"You are being awfully selective, Weiss, in your concern. You are distraught at the treatment of your old teammate, but have you paused to think of those he slaughtered in his escape? How many good men died as he cut his way loose? As he burnt them to death, with his terrible semblance? He would have killed me, too, if General Ironwood hadn't stopped him – have you considered that?"

Weiss stiffened. So far, nothing her sister said could make her doubt Jaune; but this – this did. She loved her sister, and the thought of having come so close to losing Winter gave her pause.

Jaune had to respond, and did. As he squeezed Weiss's hand, he said, quietly but firmly,

"I wouldn't have hurt your sister, Weiss. Believe what you want, but I would have held back – for your sake. Maybe it's hypocrisy on my part, but I have always gone out of my way to protect my friends. When the Fang attacked, I did helped you; and more recently, I saved Penny from Adam Taurus too."

Weiss believed him – Jaune knew that, the moment she squeezed his hand back, and looked at him with nothing but calm in her eyes.

Ignoring her bristling sister in favour of Jaune, Weiss sat down, and leaned in to put her mouth to his ear – returning them to their early conversation, of hushed tones and whispered secrets.

"I'm sorry for how you were treated, Jaune, truly. And I am hardly excusing Atlas's actions... but why didn't you just tell the General what he wanted to know? He's on our side, too."

Jaune gave a small shake of his head, and murmured in response,

"I asked that I be let to see Ozpin, but Ironwood refused – making me suspect that he's the traitor in the cabal that we've all been worrying about all along. I had no choice but to withhold the truth, for fear that that would just be handing the Maiden powers over to Salem. And since I wasn't confident that I could hold out against torture forever... I had to try to escape, Weiss. I had to. I'm sorry for the innocent men who died, Weiss, but far more than them would have been killed if the powers – and the Relic – were lost to the Queen of the Grimm."

Weiss didn't speak, for some time; but when she turned around to face him, Jaune could see –

Her eyes had softened. He saw – with crushing relief – that while some doubt remained, she fundamentally accepted his reasons; accepted him, as still a good person.

His right hand and her left were still intertwined, and now boldness made Jaune go further, laying his left hand atop hers – which Weiss reciprocated, by bring her right hand to gently rub the back of his palm.

She smiled – a brilliant, breathtaking smile.

It was a magical moment, ruined when –

"What?"

A disbelieving Winter was speaking into her earpiece, in apparent communication with her fellow Atlesian soldiers.

"Just to repeat the order – we are to release Jaune Arc, on the grounds that he was actually an undercover agent for the Kingdom of Vale, directed by Headmaster Ozpin to infiltrate the White Fang? The General has agreed to this? This disgrace, justified by a fantasy? Truly?"

Outrage did not even begin to describe Winter Schnee's obvious feelings on the matter.

Her sister, of course, was an entirely different matter.

Weiss didn't even wait. Her hands glowed with dark brown light, as she drew on Myrtenaster's reserves of earth dust and engaged her superb dust sorcery.

As she eyed his collar and as her brows furrowed in concentration, her fingers began to dance –

– and then with a click, his collar came unlocked.

Jaune wasted no time in taking off the belt-like leather collar, even if he had to take care when he pulling out the needles that extended into his neck from the metal plates affixed to the collar itself.

He was free, and not only that –

– Schnee glyphs filled the air around him, and even as Winter shouted in panic, Weiss's aura flowed into him.

It was the hearth in winter, a blizzard with a blazing warmth at its centre; it was brilliant, and lovely, and it was, simply, Weiss Schnee.

He gasped, as Weiss's semblance purged the aura-suppressing poison from his body –

– and just like that, it was back. Like the fog of depression lifting so he could once more partake in life's delights; like the sword pulled from the stone, promising a world made right; and like the clouds parting in the sky to reveal the sun burning bright –

He was whole again, soul and strength and semblance restored to him.

"Welcome back, Jaune."

Weiss smiled, and it really left him no choice.

Leaning forward, Jaune kissed her.

Weiss's lips were soft, and for all her initial surprise, Weiss soon leaned into him, her lips forcefully parting his.

The world had faded to nothingness. There was only him and her, together –

– only love, and searing euphoria.

-(=RWBY=)-

A/N: The next chapter will be the climax for this part of the story, and will easily be around 30,000 words or so. It'll take at least a couple of months to write, but it should be a satisfying end to this long arc.