The Fall of Professor Arc
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Disclaimer and Dedication:
Dedicated to Coeur. Thanks for the stories, and the countless ideas. You've only yourself to blame, you know!
Disclaimer: I don't own RWBY. 'Professor Arc' in particular is the brainchild of Coeur. If you haven't read it already... why are you here?
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A little while later- when drinking had replaced sense and Ozpin had turned from card counting to blatant cheating- Peter saddled up to the bar where Glynda still nursed her drinks alone.
"It will be fine, you know," he encouraged his colleague. "I'm certain that lad will be perfectly alright and be looking up to you all over again soon enough."
"I'm not sure what you mean," Glynda lied, right before admitting "I'm not sure I want that."
She blinked. Perhaps she'd had more to drink than she'd thought. Peter silently encouraged her to share her thoughts.
"He's… so close, and yet so far away Peter," Glynda reflected. "I can almost, almost reach him, and yet he's just out of my grasp. Just like at Amity."
"You saved him, Glynda," Peter said, less boisterous and more gently than he was accustomed. "It's thanks to you he lived at all. You saved his life."
"Did I?" Glynda wondered. "Or just three quarters of it? Four years, Peter, four years. He's just a boy now."
"He's always been just a lad to me," Peter demurred. "No change there."
Glynda scowled at her glass, trying to get her thoughts as clear and convincing as they usually were.
"He's… a boy now. A student, just like the rest of them. Young, inexperienced, small. A minor," she spat.
"Ah. You're referring to his age," Peter acknowledged.
"Sixteen," Glynda said, though it was almost a curse. "Mentally. Emotionally. Legally." This time she really did let loose a short curse under her breath. "I shouldn't let this- let him- affect me like this," she said, trying to pull herself together.
"You know the truth, though," Peter said. "It's not wrong to feel… whatever you feel," he said, tactfully oblique.
"Isn't it?" she countered. "I- we almost had something, Peter," she admitted. "Or at least I think we did. Before Amity. But now?"
She shook her head. "I look at him, and it's like a completely different person- someone different, someone inexperienced and still insecure. I think, 'That's not Professor Arc.' But then there are these moments, and he says something the right way or does the right thing, and it's like Jaune's back. Just for a moment. A glimpse of what he was."
"Or what he could be again," Peter pointed out.
"I miss him, Peter," Glynda admitted, looking at the spirits in the bottom of her glass.
"We all do, lass. We all do."
"I meant what I said about giving him the education he couldn't get at Vacuo. I'll be the best teacher he ever had," she declared. "It's the most I can do for him."
"Don't you mean the least?"
"No. I don't."
Peter sighed. "For now, Glynda. For now. He'll be back with again, if we lead him here." He lumbered to his feet, standing. "And I have a feeling a lot of us will be helping him along the way."
"I've noticed. He and Team RWBY are rather close," she said, offering no other opinion.
Peter sighed again, and dared put a heavy hand on her shoulder in a supportive pat. "Don't give up hope yet, Glynda," he said, supportive. "You deserve to be happy too."
Glynda lazily looked at him from the side of one eye. "You still have money riding on this, don't you?" she asked, too drunk and too tired to be truly angry.
Peter smiled and gave her a knowing wink. "I'm still betting on you," he said. "And this time, I stand to make a lot more."
Glynda gave a half smile. "I knew there was a reason I only broke half of your ribs," she said.
Peter left and soon after, so did she. Finishing her drink, waving off an offer for escort, Glynda shakily walked the Beacon halls towards her own room so far away.
It was a long walk, and her legs were wobbling from all the drink, and so she ended up taking a rest in one of the outdoor gardens- just her, the cool air, and rare crescent moon.
"Miss Goodwitch?"
She blinked as she realized that the moon was attached to a shield, and that shield to a boy. It was him.
"Mr. Arc," she greeted, the name sounding unnatural to her own ears. "What are you doing up this late?" she asked, tone giving no hint of her inebriation.
"Studying," he answered promptly.
"With Team RWBY?" She asked before could stop herself.
But Jaune shook his head. "On my own," he answered. "I thought it'd be best to figure out what I need to study so I know what to catch up on. I found a course syllabus in my office, and-" he shrugged, and looked a bit… uneasy? Embarrassed? "I think you gave it to me," he admitted, pulling out and showing it to her.
It was a well-worn tomb- packed with sticky tabs and color-coded bookmarks. Even without opening it she knew what she would see- that it would be crammed to the margins with efficient, effective notes and points.
It was one of the first things she had given to him when he had arrived in Beacon, so long ago.
"Yes. I did," she admitted, voice dry.
"It's really good, really helpful," Jaune said, blathering on in his praise. "I wanted to thank whoever put it together, which I guessed was you and- did I ever thank you?" he asked, thought occurring to him.
("Thank you. I appreciate it. Is that material for me to look over?")
("You went to so much effort for me, thank you so much.")
("No, this is wonderful Gly- Miss Goodwitch.")
("Thank you then, Glynda. I hope you'll call me Jaune as well?")
"Many times," she managed, voice cracking.
"Miss Goodwitch, are you alright? Do you need help?" Jaune- no, not Jaune, not her Jaune, Mr. Arc- asked in infuriatingly familiar concern. "Is there anything I can do for you?"
You could come back to me.
"No, nothing. Just a little too much to drink. I'll be fine. Leave me and go about your studies, Mr. Arc," she dismissed, looking at the real moon moon instead of some… of some fake imitation.
"I won't do that, Glynda."
It was- the voice, the tenor, the confidence- it was him. And when she looked, the imposter looked almost as surprised as she did.
"I- I won't leave you alone," he said, the familiarity and confidence gone but something with no less conviction left behind. "I won't try to help if you don't want to be bothered, but I won't leave you if you need help," he vowed.
She frowned. "I don't need help," she claimed, and made to rise to her feet. It was a struggle- her legs were in worse shape than she thought- but with a little magic from her semblance-
-or a supportive shoulder that fit so naturally against hers-
He was there. Both, neither, drunken mind flittering between the man with the coat and plate and this boy in a hoodie- it was him.
"Can I help you to your room, Miss Go-" he paused, as if remembering something else, something better to say.
"May I walk you to your room, Glynda?" he asked instead.
Glynda closed her eyes, let her go of her semblance slowly, and let the young man help her instead. Resting her head on the back of his neck, if she noticed how he paused as she leaned against him- as her hair fell past her own shoulder and onto his- she didn't dwell on it.
"I'd like that, Jaune."
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Author Note:
Hi drama. Bye drama.
Comedy returns tomorrow as we approach the end of this story.