Remnant played home to a great many airborne species, songbirds, raptors and owls among their number, if one chose to discount the Nevermores, Gryphons and other flying Grimm, as many did when discussing ornithology. But no matter the presence of a soul, these creatures were graceful masters of their element, soaring on the wind like spirits of the sky, a beauty to behold from the earth-bound.
On the other hand, humanity, when they find themselves in such a situation as to enter that domain, are more akin to watching a car crash in slow motion. Jaune Arc was no exception, and it was to his credit that even with a gale force wind forcing its way into his lungs, he still managed to scream as he plummeted through the dark.
The scream persisted, despite Jaune's deceleration, and only petered out when he finally came to rest on a solid surface, suffering nothing worse than a slight bump. Jaune just lay there for a moment, breathing heavily, trying to get his head back in working order.
His hands soon quested to their limit, as he tried to determine if he was on a platform of some kind. When he failed to discover a void of any sort, however, he relaxed, and managed to get to his feet. His hands went to his hips as he spun around. It was disconcerting though, as the only evidence of his movement were his own senses; the world around him was empty to a degree unmatched by even the night skies over Beacon...
Jaune's brain ground to a halt. Recent memories, displaced by the terror of freefall, flooded back to him. Scattered thoughts came together to paint a picture of what had happened after his resolution under the moonlight. His mind had been adrift in a roiling ocean of rage and pain, and he had sought relief and vengeance in equal measure as he ran to Beacon, searching for an end to either himself or the Grimm. He remembered snapshots of the battle, but most of it was a red haze of effort and pain. Speaking of which...
A moment's thought made Jaune cognisant of two facts. Firstly, despite the vacuous nature of the world around him, he could see himself; his armour, clothing and flesh were all perfectly visible, even Crocea Mors were sheathed at his side. A quick inspection revealed the disturbing lack of any shadows, however; even when he pulled open his sleeve to look within, his entire arm was lit as if under a lamp. That was...unnatural in the extreme. Jaune shuddered as he let his arm drop.
Secondly, every injury he'd sustained in the course of the battle had vanished. A thought occurred to him, and he pulled his hoodie aside to check on his right shoulder. The scar which had been inflicted in a childhood injury was gone, as well. That was just as strange as the lack of shadows.
Jaune knew that no healing power of that magnitude existed in remnant, not in aura, magic or science. Ruling out those possibilities allowed the penny to drop in Jaune's mind. That kind of healing was impossible...so that meant it wasn't his body he was looking at. His heart sank as the fact sank in. He was dead. He'd managed to accomplish both the goals he'd set out of himself, he congratulated himself bitterly.
He'd managed to get himself killed, and now he was in the afterlife. He looked around at the nothing again. Maybe he'd been sent straight to Hell for basically killing himself? The priest in his home town had said something about that once...he thought.
As Jaune wrestled with the possibility of having his second emotional breakdown in as many hours, he became aware of a sensation not coming from his own body. He stopped moving, and it registered that he was hearing something. It was a soft noise, repeating regularly and growing slowly louder. Footsteps. Jaune turned to face where he though they were coming from, straining his eyes to try and make something out against the void. He didn't have to wait long, as a figure moved into view after only moments. Jaune examined it as it approached.
It was a young man with dark hair, hanging low over his forehead and framing features that reminded Jaune heavily of his friend Ren, with slanted eyes and an interesting facial structure. He stood effectively level with Jaune, sporting a build which spoke of exercise in pursuit of health instead of training. He was dressed simply in a jacket and jeans only shades lighter than the surroundings, but his clothing was much less interesting than his eyes. They seemed to shift in colour as Jaune watched, cycling back and forth along the rainbow, occasionally flashing silver or something darker, a whirlpool of colour around the black points of his pupils.
If the young man took offence at Jaune's staring, he certainly didn't show it. Instead he smiled, nodding to Jaune. "Ah, Jaune. Greetings! I do apologise for the wait, but I felt it appropriate to give you a little time to acclimatise and calm down. I know you have questions; but before you begin, would you like a seat?"
The man gestured over Jaune's shoulder, and a quick glance told the blonde warrior that what had definitely been empty space earlier was now host to a circular wooden table with two accompanying, high-back chairs. A cursory tap revealed that they were in fact real, and Jaune wasn't sure if that was creepier than the omnipresent luminescence he'd been experiencing.
Nonetheless, with basically no other useful options, Jaune took a seat. His mysterious company made himself at home in the other available space, both placed on the same side of the circle, rather than across it. It felt far friendlier to Jaune, who watched as the young man folded his right leg over his left and rested his hands in his lap, leaning back somewhat in his chair. "Ah. Much better. Now then Jaune, you can feel free to ask away."
Jaune decided to go straight to the big issues. "Where am I?" he asked, trying to be polite. He was in completely unknown waters, and the last thing he needed to do was come across as rude. The figure rubbed his chin as he considered.
"Hm. Well, I could offer you the so-called 'technical' explanation, but I doubt that would be of any use. So, let's say that you are in a place which didn't exist before you arrived, and won't exist after you're gone. Let's call it... Headcanon, shall we?" He seemed to smile to himself, as if pleased by a private joke. Jaune didn't get it, but he decided to accept the answer.
"All right. Why am I here?" The man nodded sagely.
"A good question; instead of choosing to put forward any assumptions of your situation you may have, which could be considered rude or otherwise negatively impact my view of you, you choose an option which is both tactful and likely to gain the most useful information. Very nice."
Jaune blinked; yes, he'd made some consideration in that direction, but having someone praise him for how he phrased his questions was a new experience. "Uh...thanks, I guess."
A waved hand dismissed the thanks. "Nothing at all, Jaune, nothing at all. Now then...you're here because, depending on your viewpoint, you have been either blessed...or cursed."
Jaune sighed. Of course it had to be something he had no control over. His life had been one long domino effect of circumstance and chaotic machinations; why should his death be any different? The man was continuing, however. "There is something special about you, Jaune; an aspect to your being that no human has ever carried before, and likely never will again. It is a great power, and it is because of that power that I was able to bring you here, to stop you from passing on...for a time, at least." His gaze met Jaune's. "And yes, I'm sorry to say that means what it sounds like."
To most people, being told they were dead would result in an emotional outburst far in excess of almost any other. However, Jaune was (to some degree at least) a Huntsman, and he'd already been prepared for the worst. He just took a deep breath and got over it, his mind still focussed on learning more about his situation. The way this man spoke made him think there was a choice coming in the conversation, and he needed to make an informed decision.
"Anyway," continued the man, "this part of you puts you in a unique position when it comes to...this particular state of affairs. In fact, it gives you a choice." Jaune leaned forward, as the young man before him seemed to age an eternity, and though his appearance didn't change something about him radiated time and wisdom. He sat forward to, clasping his hands together. "Jaune, I'll be straight with you: You have a chance to try again. To go back to the time when you became a part of the events that unfolded so unfavourably for you. I can let you return to when you first arrived at Beacon Academy."
Jaune stared for a long moment. It was the worst joke in the world. It was the greatest possibility he could have been offered. But he didn't doubt even for a moment that this man was telling the truth. He wasn't really a man; that was certain. He was something else entirely. And he was offering Jaune a second chance. He didn't need to hear the figure before him say it to know that his other option was to go on to whatever awaited in the next life...but his choice was made as soon as it registered that he had the chance.
"I'll go back. No matter the condition, no matter the price, I'll go back." The figure nodded to him – Jaune couldn't reconcile the world 'man' with whatever occupied the seat in front of him, not after that display.
"Alright Jaune. Here's the deal: you'll return to when you were first going to Beacon, from the moment you boarded the transport. That was the point of no return, and so placing you there is easiest. Your memories will be fully intact, but your body will be as it was at the time. The physical training you underwent will have to be undergone once more. You will also have a role to play; I will need you to carry out certain tasks for me that I cannot do myself. Working together, I believe we have a chance to do things right this time around. Now, you're absolutely sure?"
Jaune didn't have to answer. His mind had finally put all the pieces together, and he knew who and what he was sitting before. He knew Jaune's every thought – but like any Arc, Jaune's heart was on his sleeve and in his eyes. You didn't have to be a god to understand that look. The deity smiled as he stood, and Jaune followed.
"I would wish you luck, Jaune Arc – but I have faith that your mind will be more than enough." Jaune bowed his head in acknowledgement of the praise.
"I'll make sure it is, Oum."
"Oh please, Jaune." smiled Remnant's creator, maintainer and protector. "Call me Monty."
And with that, Jaune was falling again, the darkness fading to white as he practically felt himself becoming solid again, as the wind plucked at him. He closed his eyes, revelling in the sensation. He'd been stumbling and falling all his life, crawling on hands and knees to make his way in the world.
This time, he'd land on his feet.
Author's Note
Hey guys. I just wanted to thank you all for choosing to read this story, it feels good to know that I can make something people enjoy.
It's at this point that I'd bet most people will decide whether or not to stay with this story; after all, time travel is a plot device that can be horribly misused. With this in mind, after beginning to read the story "The Alternate Path" by Gravenimage here on the site, I just had to give it a shot. So, thanks to him for inspiring me to do this, and thanks also to my friend ZenakuOkami for being my sounding board, having watched as much RWBY as I have and being a fellow writer.
If you have an idea you think would make the story better, or have some criticism, please make it know – I'd love to hear it. (P.S. Currently I'm going to be going with Arkos as far as shipping is concerned, and I'm only going to take it so far – I don't/can't/won't (delete as appropriate) write smut, so just a heads-up. If anyone has some interesting ideas, or has a ship they'd like to see on the sidelines, then don't hesitate to let me know – I'm always happy for new ideas.)