Jaune had over two years to think about this moment would go. Two years to figure out a good way to do this. Now that the time had come however, he found himself in a bit of a dilemma.

Jaune Arc had finally made it home.

Jaune Arc also had no idea in hell what to do.

That's why despite the sun having set and the cold beginning to settle in, Jaune was still standing on the porch in front of his family door.

It was a simple but large wooden house, built by Jaune's forefathers and having housed generations of Arcs. The Arc family home was located far enough away from others to ensure privacy, but still close enough that the Arcs could make it into town for school and supplies.

It was almost… idyllic, surrounded by a large green yard, spotted with bushes and trees for children to play in and climb on.

It was home, and it had never seemed so intimidating.

The journey was not an easy one, but it was simple enough. Jaune's weeks of travel had consisted of very few things. He would sleep when he was tired. He would scrounge for food when he was hungry, quickly learning what was safe to eat after a few too many poisonings. He would be killed by, and then in return kill said Grimm whenever the situation arose. Most of all however, Jaune walked.

So he walked and fought and ate and slept and walked some more, until finally the path became more familiar. Then he started recognizing places, like the tree he had fallen out of as a kid, or the pond his sisters had pushed him into on the way back from school one day.

And then he was home.

So many doubts plagued his mind as soon as he came close.

Should he have found some new clothes? His current ones were tattered, worn, and covered in dirt and grime. He had long since lost the jacket, a particularly nasty Grimm to blame. His shirt had one too many holes, and his pants were more like a skirt or at best shorts.

Should he have taken a bath? He himself was also tattered, worn, and covered in dirt and grime. He also probably smelled horrific, judging from the various woodland animals that had run away or passed out in shock. His hair was also a mess. It had finally grown back enough that one could easily tell Jaune was a blond, but only after digging under the blood, grime, dirt, and twigs that covered it.

In short he looked like a hobo. A dirty, smelly immortal hobo who was probably about to interrupt a nice family's dinner.

Jaune took a deep breath, steeling himself as he finally raised his hand.

"Oh shush you," Jaune said as his stomach growled at the smell of dinner having finally wafted outside. It was as if his own stomach was telling him "come on already!"

Jaune wasn't going to have that kind of back talk from his own stomach.

Taking one more deep breath, Jaune finally knocked.

*Knock* *Knock* *Knock*

Three short raps, just like how Jaune had done countless times before. Jaune resisted the urge to sprint away as he heard light footsteps approach the door.

The door opened and Jaune had to blink as the light from the inside blinded him momentarily. Jaune heard a gasp as a figure stood in the doorway.

Jaune inwardly cringed, he kind of expected this coming. He did look like a hobo. Gasping was definitely a reasonable reaction. He half-expected to be punted off the porch. His family were good kind folk, but opening the door to find a strange man on it was definitely pushing it.

"...J-...Jaune?" a voice spoke as Jaune snapped out of his thoughts. Hope to began to peek its way into Jaune's life as his eyes adjusted enough to see who was talking.

Crystal. Her name was Crystal. Crystal was Jaune's older sister, and the oldest out of all eight Arc children. She had changed so much since Jaune had last seen her and yet was still so similar. She was tall,blonde, and had a lithe figure that Jaune had heard many an embarrassing remark about from his classmates. Her hair was now long and flowy, reaching down to her shoulder blades. She wore a simple dress with a floral print, a simple hairband in her hair.

'Okay. Remember Jaune. Short and simple. You can do this. The first words that you've said to your family in ages.'

"Hi Crystal," Jaune said as his face broke out into the biggest grin his face could handle.

'Nailed i-'

Jaune's world exploded as something small yet hard hammered into his face. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as Jaune felt his nose crush into his face, the blood already beginning to gush out of his now definitely broken nose.

Jaune idly noted that the blow had sent him flying backwards, his world inverting itself before he finally landed in a lump of pain off of the porch.

'Did… Did I just flip?'

A groan escaped his lips as he struggled to figure out which way was up. Finally orienting himself, Jaune sat up with his hand cradling his still bleeding nose. His eyes locked with Crystal, whose hand was still clutched tight into a fist.

"What the hell was that for?!" Jaune said as he glared at his sister.

His eyes were only met with righteous fury as Crystal ground her teeth. She stared down at the ground in front of her, refusing to make eye contact with him.

"I don't know who you are, or what kind of sick joke you're making," Crystal said, her voice slow but absolutely filled with fury. Her eyes glistened as tears threatened to fall.

"My family has been through... a lot. And we don't need some sicko messing with us to get his jollies off. So please. I'm begging you…"

'Don't say it…' Jaune thought as he sat there, staring in disbelief at his sister.

Of course… they thought he was dead. Why would they believe him if he were to just show up at their door? He should have seen this coming… If his sister said those next words though…

"Just leave"

And there it was. Jaune didn't think he had anything left to break.

He was wrong.

"F-... Fine." Jaune said as he continued cradling his broken nose. He somehow made his way to his feet, feeling colder than he had ever felt before.

"Crystal wha-"

Jaune closed his eyes, hoping that wasn't who he thought it was. Hearing it from Crystal had broken him. Hearing it from her?

Jaune opened his eyes to find his mother staring at him. It looked like Juniper Arc had not aged a day since Jaune had last seen her. A kind face, with clear blue eyes that had only grown a little more tired looking. Bright blonde hair done up in an orderly bun with a single pin in it. She wore a simple dress, accenting a figure slightly fuller than Crystal's.

She had this… soothing aura, a welcoming warmth. She was a mother. She was Jaune's mother. She was just like how Jaune remembered her.

He took a step back, hoping to get out of there before his mother delivered that killing stroke.

"...Jaune?"

'Oh god… please not again.' Jaune thought as hearing his name once more brought up long forgotten feelings of warmth and comfort. He closed his eyes, waiting for that final death blow to his psyche.

It never came.

Instead Jaune felt something ...warm?

A hand, soft and tempered with kindness, gently caressing the side of his face.

"Jaune... It is you…" Her voice became broken with tears, as Jaune opened his eyes to see the happily crying face of his mother.

'Oh'

And just like that… it felt like everything was right again.

"What are you talking about mom?!"

'Oh right… I've still got that problem'

Jaune had almost forgotten about Crystal.

"Jaune's… Jaune's dead mom…" The last words were almost whispered out, as Crystal's tears finally fell from her eyes.

"Do you think I wouldn't recognize my own child?" Juniper asked, still staring into Jaune's eyes. "Sure he may look different. A bit more worn. Kind of like a hobo actually…"

'I should get that fixed…' Jaune thought, only to be knocked out of his thoughts by his mother's other hand coming up to his face.

"But a mother knows," Juniper finished with firm conviction as she finally held her son's face after so long.

"Mom…" Crystal said, as she watched what she thought was a desperate mother's delusions over a small child.

'I… I can still convince her. I can do this. I can be with my family…' Jaune thought as he wracked his brain to find some way to convince Crystal he was real. Something only he would know…

And then he had it.

"Crystal!" He said, her head snapping back up to glare at the hobo that would be her brother.

"Remember back when I was in middle school? And I found that porno book that you had hidden under your mattress?"

'She was sure to remember that! Right?'

Jaune looked into Crystal's eyes to find that the rage in her eyes had instead been replaced with… More rage?!

"I told you to never to talk about that you brat!" Crystal yelled before her hand came smacking down on the back of Jaune's head.

"Ack!" Jaune said he reached up one hand to hold his now smarting head.

As he cradled his abused head, he felt two arms envelope him. Crystal hugged him tight, as if he might disappear if she let go.

"Welcome home…" she said as she pulled Jaune closer.

Jaune simply leaned into the hug, his nose beginning at sniffle as his eyes began to water.

Home. He was finally home.

All of the sudden Jaune froze, as he realized tears weren't the only thing on his face.

"Uh…. Crystal?" He said hesitantly.

"Yes Jaune?" She said as she burrowed her face into her little brother's hair. She didn't mind the muck. She finally had her brother back.

"I'm bleeding on your dress…"

Crystal froze. Muck aside, she had just gotten that dress! She simply sighed as she tightened her grip.

"I'll just kill you later,"she mumbled as she heard the rest of the family approaching.

"Oh… ok," Jaune said as he leaned into his sister's touch.

He finally felt warm again.


They were relentless. They were unceasing in their assault. They were swarming Jaune in a flurry of bodies and limbs. Jaune thought he might die again.

He was loving every second of it.

"It's Jaune! It's really him!" Crystal and Juniper had called out to the family huddling in the doorway.

That had been the signal for the assault to begin.

The first to strike was the youngest.

Rouge was like a cannonball full of happiness and pain. Both emotional and physical. The emotional pain of having lost and then regained her brother. The physical pain of her brutally ramming her head into Jaune's stomach when he had tried to catch the young projectile.

"Oooof!"

Jaune felt the wind get knocked out of his stomach as two tiny steel girders seemed to wrap around his waist.

The twins were next. Hazel and Ivy struck low, his younger sisters wrapping around Jaune's ankles and sending him stumbling.

Noire struck high, her older sister status giving her the reach to wrap her arms around Jaune's neck. As he stumbled, air knocked from his lungs, windpipe strangled closed; Jaune felt the end was near.

The final and literal tipping point came with Rose and Violet. They both latched onto his arms, causing his stumbling form to finally fall. With no hands to catch himself, Jaune's descent to Remnant was a painful one.

This time the only thing that came out was a wheeze, as Jaune had no more breath left to knock out. The corners of his vision began to grow dark, Jaune feeling the familiar embrace of death as he lay there in a pile of blonde hair and tangled limbs.

'Well this is a new way to die.'

The constricting mass on top of him was abruptly lifted away, and the dark edges began to rescind from his vision.

"Oh sweet, sweet air…" Jaune said as he took gulps of air. Strangulation wasn't that bad of a way to in the grand scheme of things. Sure, there was a lot of panicking and stress at the beginning. But at the end you just sort of… went…

'Do NOT start rating your preferred ways of dying Jaune… That way lies madness…'

Jaune was broken out of his death-ridden musings by a hand held open in front of his face. It was a weathered hand, scarred and callused from a lifetime of work and dedication. Jaune followed the arm back to its owner, staring into the quietly crying azure eyes of one Brun Arc. Father of a lost son. Husband to a broken wife. Patriarch of an incomplete family, now finally whole.


After the initial crying, hugging, strangling, and attempted murder everyone had realized one thing.

Jaune stunk. Not like a "I just worked out and haven't had a shower yet stink", but a "I haven't showered in days or weeks and I think there's a rotting body somewhere on my person".

So Jaune was sentenced to a thorough scrubbing and showering, which Jaune didn't mind. What Jaune did mind however, was when everyone tried to follow him into the bathroom and to help him bathe.

They had refused to back off, even after Jaune started hissing and throwing water at him. They were just afraid that Jaune might… disappear again.

And so Jaune had taken the most awkward shower of his life, the entire eyes of his family upon the shower curtain that he hid behind.

Dinner was a more sordid affair. Having showered and found himself in a clean pair of shirt and shorts that somehow still fit him, Jaune felt more alive than he had ever been. When he had sat down to dinner with the rest of the family, he still felt their eyes upon him. He still felt their eyes on him as he took that first bite.

That first bite of his mother's cooking tasted like… Well it tasted like heaven. Jaune reacted in a way that he should have seen coming. He began to cry.

Then Rouge began to cry, after seeing her older brother cry.

Then the twins.

Then Crystal.

Then his Mom.

At that point, everyone else had taken they could stand, and they too burst into tears.

After a tear-soaked dinner, came the part that Jaune dreaded.

He sat on the couch with Rouge on his lap, and his sisters and parents arranged around him and sitting with a silent desperation to hear about what had happened.

His nose was bandaged and the bleeding had stopped long ago. Now however, he bit at his lip, wondering what to do. Should he tell them what had happened to him? Should he tell them everything? Nothing? Something? How would they react to his frequent deaths? How would they react to his non-deaths?!

Jaune thought he was nervous before. Now…

"Um… I don't know where to start…" Jaune said as he idly petted Rouge's head as she leaned back into her brother's embrace. Rouge seemed to melt into Jaune's lap as his ministrations slowly turned her into goo.

Jaune took a breath before starting his story. Not the full one. No. He didn't know how they'd react. More importantly Qrow's words came back to the forefront in his mind as he gazed fondly at his family. If they know about his ability, they could be in danger. Him being there put them in danger and he couldn't risk putting them in anymore.

"It all started in lab…"

Jaune's family listened intently, their grips on him becoming tighter as they heard his story. His family thought he should have died in many parts of his story. He actually had died. They didn't need to know that though. Not now.

When Jaune finished, his family's gaze had changed to a mixture of sorrow, anger, but in the end joy.

Joy that Jaune was home. Joy that his trials were over. Joy that Jaune would soon have to end.

"Does anyone remember how we got separated? All I remember is.. an explosion maybe?"

Jaune's father spoke up first.

"It was a terrorist attack. A massacre more like it. " Jaune's jaw clenched as memories of that day came back, his eyes burning in old rage.

"We thought…. We thought you died…but that doesn't matter anymore. All that matters is that you're safe. You're home."

Jaune winced. This was going to be the hard part.

Jaune sighed as he worked up the courage, his family looking at him with confusion on their face as they noted his pained look.

"About that…"

And then the yelling and strangling started.


The strangling was pretty bad, the heartbroken cries had been the worst.

Jaune sat with his father rubbing his throat, tiny like arm marks still visible around his neck. They sat in the living room, the rest of the family having left with a fight and swearing vengeance upon Jaune's body for daring to leave them again.

He needed to leave however, every second here was putting them in more danger. He needed to go to Beacon, and find this Ozpin. Maybe he was a wizard of some sort. He sounded like one from little Qrow had spoken of him.

His father understood. His mother understood. He felt like his sisters understood. They all hated it.

Brun Arc had all but demanded Jaune some privacy however, as it had already grown late into the night. Jaune could already see the sun beginning to peak over the trees. Everyone had reluctantly agreed, the many cups of coffee doing little to prevent the adorable yawns and drooping heads.

Jaune sat on the couch, as his father rummaged around the kitchen, before returning. He carried with him several things. A bottle of whiskey, two glasses, and something Jaune hadn't seen in ages.

Crocea Mors, sword of his father and of his forefathers. Jaune had practically worshipped the blade, stories of his ancestor's heroics still ringing in his mind.

His thoughts were interrupted as his father placed the two glasses in front of them, pouring a fair amount into each glass. Brun sipped at the amber liquid, as Jaune tentatively raised the glass to his lips and took a sip.

The burning liquid seared his throat, and tears formed in his eyes. He wasn't going to cough here. Not in front of his father. He swallowed the drink and let out a slight rattle.

"Smooth…" he said with a little cough.

Brun simply smiled, taking another sip. The smile was wiped off his face however, as a grim look came upon his face. He tilted his head back and downed the rest of his glass, before setting it down.

Then he took his shirt off.

"Uh… Dad?" Jaune said as he quirked an eyebrow at his disrobing father.

"Shut up Jaune." Brun grumbled as he set his shirt down. Brun's body wasn't bursting with muscle, nor did he have the physique of some kind of super model. It was scarred. It was beaten, but it was not broken in anyway. This was the body of a man who had survived a life time of battle. A body that had been forged in fields of carnage and chaos. It spoke of his life, his trials, and all he had suffered through. This was Brun Arc, and this body was his and his alone.

Jaune made a zipping motion across his mouth as he took another small sip of whiskey, the burning becoming a more manageable scalding rather than outright burning.

Brun took another breath before clenching his jaw and staring Jaune dead in the eye.

"Jaune… I don't know what's going on with you. I don't know what it is you're hiding."

"I-" JAune tried to interrupt but Brun's hand held up silenced him, his mouth clicking shut.

" I won't ask you to tell me. That's your choice. I hope you'll tell us all one day, but it doesn't have to be today. I want to say that whatever you're going through that I can help you with. That I should be able to help you with.

I'm your father dammit! And it's killing me to know the truth...

That I can't help you with everything. That I probably can't help you with whatever you're going through right now.

So instead, I'll do what my father did when I also reached that point in my life. When I had to leave and face the unknown. "

Jaune stayed silent as his father skipped the glass and instead took a swig straight from the whiskey bottle.

When he spoke again, his voice was still raw with emotion, but this time tempered with steel and discipline.

"We are Arcs. We are warriors. Our family is one of battle and conflict. I was a hunter. Your grandfather fought in the Faunus War. Your great-grandfather fought in the Great War.

We are not heroes."

At this Brun unsheathed Crocea Mors, and held the blade in front of him. Jaune stared at the blade. He looked at the sword's steel, polished but lacking the lustre it once had. Scratches and nicks marred its surface, earned from generations of combat. It was an old but good blade, and Jaune could not help but notice the similarities between it and his father.

Both had seen a lifetime of battle. Both had survived.

"Do you know what makes this blade so special Jaune?"

Jaune shook his head, not trusting his voice to speak.

"Nothing. Nothing is special about this sword. It's not indestructible. It has no power. It won't fight your battles for you. It won't grant you strength or wisdom. It's just a sword and nothing more.

It's the same as us. We are not heroes. We are warriors. We are soldiers. We are protectors. We do our duty. We serve. Most importantly however, we survive.

We Arcs are survivors. It's what we do. We are nothing special. We are just men and nothing more.

We do not seek power, or strength. All we want is to come home at the end of the day.

So remember this Jaune. Whenever you look at this sword remember this. Survive. Survive and come back to us. "

Brun sheathed Crocea Mors, the sword sliding in with a rasp and a click, before handing it over the Jaune.

Jaune reached out his hand grabbed the sword, hoping that he was strong enough. Not to hold the sword, but to keep true to his legacy. To come home.

Brun stood up, resting a hand on Jaune's shoulder, an unspoken message between father and son. He quietly left, not trusting his own voice as he went to his room.

Jaune was left on his own in the living room, the morning light finally spilling into the house. He stared at the word in his hand, still sheathed as his father had left it.

He rested his head on the sheathe, closing his eyes as he tried to muster up his courage.

"I'll be back… I swear…" he said both to himself and to the family sleeping in the nearby rooms.

An Arc always kept his word. Jaune just hoped he could keep his.


A/N: I'll be honest. I'm not super pleased with how this chapter came out. I feel like maybe I rushed trying to cram emotion into such a short chapter, but I don't really trust myself to be able to handle more detailed and longer chapters. I'm not even sure if I managed to make it as emotional as I would have wanted. I'll probably end up redoing this chapter once I have more time and experience under my hands.

The Arc family will be fleshed out more later, whether through the story or possibly even omakes.

Same as always, thanks for reading and please review!