My, its been a while.

I feel sick today. Don't know why, but, throat is itchy and I've got a feeling the small fever will (hopefully not) turn into a big deal. I have work to do. The school variety. Heh. Deadline is now. But here I am, churning out this chapter, where I should be doing my homework fist and foremost. In my defense, I never said, nor implied, that I was a good student role model...

Anyhow, you can just ignore this small tad bid venting and go straight on with the chapter below. Speaking of which, hope you enjoy.

Now, Shall we begin?

_- A Place To Call Home -_

"NO! P-please don't!"

Jaune Arc screamed. Then, after panting and grasping in pain as his every breathe burned like daggers within him, he slowly put a halt to his rapid intake of oxygen. It was painful. Afterwards, he managed to calm himself down and reduce the pain in his aching chest, then he noticed that his right arm was being covered by a piece of white fabric- A torniquet, he realized, to which narrows down the why was he in a tent scented with medicinal plants and healing supplies.

Someone healed him. Saved him from a tragic death at the hands of a monster. He was going to thank them when he'll be fully recovered. He remembered a young teenage boy and a very large man rescuing him from the damn supermarket store, but, before he could ponder deeply, the natural light of the outside moon washed over his prone frame. He tensed. Eyes zooming in on what little he could discern from the figure walking briskly towards him.

"Jaune?" the stranger said as she kneeled beside only a few feet away from the white mattress he was laying. If he were in a better state, then he would have noticed how the stranger called him by name, however, he was too overwhelmed, his attention taken away by the hauntingly familiar voice.

"W-who…" Jaune asked, mouth and throat rasping, and, whether his deduction skills are hindered by his injured state, or just plain hunger, the identity of the person was at the tip of his tongue.

"Don't you remember me, silly?"

It can't be.

He gasped, dried throat opened, heart jumping, and, as his fingers gripped the thin fabric underneath him, Jaune Arc then, after the stranger removed her brown hood, chocked at the sight of a familiar orange hair. "N-Nora?" he begun, tone grew ever fearful, as his free hand grasped at the solid face. "Are… are you real?" he begged, at life, at the brother gods, at the universe itself, to please tell him that this was no mere byproduct of his hallucinations-

"It's me." Nora Valkyrie, his former teammate, friend, and the ever-beacon of brightness whispered quietly.

Both of them stared.

In a moment, the other moved and, before Jaune could even register his dire state, he chocked again in sudden agony as he felt his entire body screaming at him in responsive anguished. "N-Nora! H-hurt!" Jaune protested, his physical body literally moving in unison with the soft mattress under him as he felt a smaller, yet stronger, build latching onto him like a meteor on planet remnant.

"Nora… Please, l-let- ah! … please let me go- "

"NO!" She responded.

"It hurts…" he moaned.

"I don't care! I miss you! A-and where have you been? Do you have any idea how worried I am for you!? A-and it's been so fucking long! I thought you were… were gone! ... And- oh brother gods, I'm so sorry Jaune! I forgot you were injured! Who did this to you!? Tell me who and I'll break their legs! J-jaune are you even listening?"

He wasn't. Too busy, too overwhelmed, at the silver lining presented upon him. All those nights, to think that he would not only wake up alive but to have the chance to meet one of the people he thought long gone- it was so disarming and too good that he dared to think what he thought was once an impossible dream.

Am I home?

"Jaune… You're… oh… let me wipe that one for you." Nora said as she slowly gave him space to breathe and, as she sat closely from his laying state, she gently raised her arm and cleaned his face, not saying a word from the flowing tears, and, after a while, both of them eventually grew fond of the comforting silence that took precedence over the small tent and stayed close to each other.

Eventually, as the adrenaline from the recent pain worn off, Jaune gave a soft pause as he was beseeched by the soft winds from outside singing in sharp contrast to the many rough nights he experienced, alone. The peaceful experienced gave him a moment of comforting solidity, as he, since the lonely nights of refusing to acknowledged the horrors of the outside in fear of reducing his sanity, allowed himself this small chanting of hope.

Jaune then felt the touch of moonlight from outside the flaps of his tent as his tired gaze witness the oh so familiar broken moon dancing in slow rhythms. He didn't miss the fact that the ever-present ominous howls of inhumanity outside were… absent, giving him an unfamiliar comfort as he felt his broken state experience a semblance of safety from long days of fear and haunting loneliness.

Loneliness and fear, silenced.

He never thought it was possible.

For the first time in months, he was now safe. For a minute, it took a while for it to register to him but, as he was beginning to feel the urge to sleep and recover his body, he turned his head to the right side of his bed, silently giving his teammate a quiet thank you for helping him feel at home and not alone. Though, he knew she really wasn't sleeping, evidenced by the lack of the infamous nightly snores, as Jaune chuckled at the memories that they share together of a place he once called home, Beacon.

However, as the sweet temptations to sleep and rest begun to finally take hold and win over his desire to reflect, he gave his partner one final look, noted the way her face scrunched and the way her aura bleed a certain uneasiness, afterwards, Jaune allowed his hand to hold her back and pulled her into his embrace. He felt relieved that he was able to give some small comfort to her as she always did to him. But, as he observed the way she paused, relaxed, then slowly grew at ease, he paused and wondered, for it was usually his other teammate giving the deed.

Speaking of which.

"Nora?"

"…Yes, Jaune?"

"How's Ren?"

"…"

"Nora?"

"He's… he's here… but, jaune, your tired, go to sleep."

"I… I guess I am…"

"You are."

"O-okay… Night."

"Goodnight, Jaune."

He slept peacefully, that night.

_- A Place To Call Home -_

Somethings wrong.

He could feel it. For a while, Jaune lay beneath the comforting mattress and took in everything. The shuddering of his breath, groans of pain that comes out from his bruised lips, and then the tent he was in. But he couldn't shake the fact that he was missing something. Something important. Though he knew he should leave it be and just allow himself to rest, after all, surely, if his teammate was here, then it was a solid guarantee that he was in the proximity of safety.

However, he still could not shake the fact that he was missing something. Idly, he looked around the tent he was on. He never had the pleasures of being in one before. His family was always busy to take them hiking and, even at the apocalypse, they never use a tent. His father told him it was because that the soft layer, apart from offering no defensive importance, blocks their vision when they needed it the most. Sure, they usually delegate a sentry among them to watch. But, he supposed, safety over comfort takes precedence. Speaking of which, his father always reminds (more like chastising him every morning whenever Jaune forgets to bring one at least two feet near him) that to be even more safe he would have to have a weapon near… near him…

"N-nora- Ah! Damnit!" He hissed, berating himself seconds later as his unbandaged free hand clutched his stomach in pain. Eventually, as the pain worn off, he looked around his surroundings and searched for something to act as a walking stick.

"Nora, Where's my sword?" Jaune queried, then, when nobody answered, panic took place. Hastily and, after enduring the occasional grunts of pain, he eventually found a piece of wood (probably belongs to the broken chair at the back of the tent) some few feet besides him to serve as his temporary walking instrument, and, as he adjusted the piece upright, he took hold of the top with his right hand and pulled himself upwards.

"S-steady now." He whispered shakily as he took a moment to balance himself with his bandaged left leg in mind, and, after a few awkward moments of re-learning how to walk in his current state, he finally moved, but ever slowly. Half limping and another half dragging, he could feel his body nearing towards the ends of the tent. "T-too much light." He swore, painfully aware of his free arm, covering him from the blinding light of the afternoon sun, strangely, the presence of the unusually high breeze gave him a pause, as he took a second to adjust himself to the new currents. Finally, after numerous times of accidentally hitting sharp rocks from his feet below, he was able to find an adequate motion and continued to trudge on.

"Nora? Nora! W-where are you?" Jaune shouted, voice shaking (body more so), as he, while hunching his aching physique, walked and walked the solid ground like a blind man in the middle of a winter storm.

Why is it so windy here?

His unspoken query was, once more, never conveniently answered as he kept moving and moving for what felt like hours. Nora would berate him for this, might even force him to rest more then he needed to, but, as Jaune nearly fell on a small rock (again), got up, instinctively look at his surroundings (An exercise in futility, the damn light was still harassing his vision), then he continued as he roam around. Searching for assistance. He knows that this was an illogical move, fueled by emotion, and, in other circumstances, may even get him killed.

But, right now, he did not care.

He would be damn if he lost, or brother god's forbid, someone stole it while he was asleep, the very weapon that his father, at his last moments, gave him. It was important to him. It was beyond to just being a family heirloom, for it was the last cry of the memories of his home. He would get it, or he would die trying.

"Hey!" A voice, strong and authoritative, like his mother whenever she spells out his full name, boomed from behind. "Are you trying to get yourself killed kid? Open your eyes!" The women behind him shouted and when Jaune argued that he can't see because of the- "So? I've seen blind and drunken men walk with more finesse then your shitshow! And, last I heard, you only got a few broken bones to content with! Now, shut up, open your damn eyes, before I get tired and let you go!" The stranger interrupted.

Let go?

The more he pondered from the strange demand, the more Jaune endured the sharp pain of the sun's bright light and, to his comfort, and his body's protest, eventually risked it and adhered to the older women's advice. Then, as he opened his eyes-

Jaune screamed. He screamed for what seems to be his worst one yet. Morbidly, he noticed, in the middle of his vocal exercise, the wooden piece that he used as his makeshift walking stick broke in half after diving a random upward pointed rock a few hundred feet below, then said hundred feet below turned into thousand feet, then said thousand feet turned his stomach green as his eyes bulged from the literal death drop below him.

He was hanging at the edge of the cliff from a fucking mountain.

"B-bring me back. Bring me back!" he begged.

"What? I can't hear you, shithead! Is that how you treat your betters!?" The women responded.

Is she serious?

"Don't hear the magic words, kid, perhaps I'll save myself the trouble and just- "

Shit.

In a span of few seconds, he sprouted every manner of ways he could say please to the women holding his life. This was his first time that he was this close to a mountain, and he, at the very moment want this type of novel experience to be the last one, but, as his self-esteem was in shambles, the women behind him laughed cruelly for what seems to be a long minute or so, completely uncaring of the sharp breezes at this height. Eventually, he could feel his handler finally regaining her composure as the hand attached to his back stilled from its merry joy and roughly pushed him back towards safer grounds.

"Ah! Can you at least be a little gentler? Fucking pyscho..." He groaned out, the response given to him was merciless (In hindsight, he should have expected it) as he paused, gulped, and reconsidered his choice of words as the blade pinching the edge of his throat threatened to give him a different manner of demise. Following the weaponry to its owner, he took in the sight of an older women - definitely huntress - garbed in dark clothing, giving him a glare colder then Weiss herself behind two red eyes, and is that a gas mask?

"Why should I? You're a scared spineless shit from what I've heard," The huntress begun, each word hitting him like a bullhead to his chest. "And," The women continued," You're a fucking liability and a dead weight to this place. If I were the old man, I would have left you to rot. To me, you're a sheep to the dead, remember that, shithead." The older women ended, her blade clicked back to its scabbard, leaving him as she turned and walked away.

Sheep.

He hated that word.

It reminds him too much of the past. How his father, like the strong and reliable Shepard, make them feel so safe and untouched from the nightmares outside. It was a lie. It was a thin paper lie, manifested to keep him and his sister safe. A lie proven true when they came and tore the place, he called home apart.

"I…" His mouth moved before he could register it, "I don't want to die. I… I just don't want to fucking die! I'm scared okay! So, call me sheep or whatever, but I just don't want to die alone in this fuck up world! I don't want to die because I made a fucking mistake and I Just want to find what's left of my family!... I- I want to be able to have the fucking capability to save them and myself!" He shouted. At the cruel huntress, at the cruel world-

Jaune blinked.

Is she laughing?

"Ha!... ha, good one, squirt." The women, were, indeed laughing. The strange circumstance made his eyebrows twitch, and, as his temper rises, again, for a moment, he considered to just take the risk and deliver a swift punch right in front of her chortling damn face. However, as his instincts told him, perhaps, its best to let sleeping dragons lie…

"You're still a coward though. But, these days, even cowards have uses, and I reckon you'll be a nice distraction to the dead anyways, sheep. Name's Raven, Raven Branwen, and welcome to the Bastion." The strange and scary women said, all the while her hand dramatically swayed over the heightened landscape in front of him, and, for a moment, his heated ire faded away from the rather picturesque view that revealed itself, previous fear-inducing experience gone.

"Beauty, ain't she?"

It is. This place, despite the fact that it was this close to being an accomplice to his premature end, was a harbinger of peace. The clear clouds of the morning dew blessing his every frame with its warm light, the luminous rising sun from afar seemed to sang words of hope to his addled heart, not to mention the flying aerial fauna roaming above innocently and oh so free, and the sharp breeze trudging his skin. The whole manifesto reminded his very being of, ever since the mad days of descending dark times, a place to call home.

"However, remember kid, this place may not be the fairy tale to the survivors out there… but it's what you have left." She spoke.

"Why are you telling me this?" he asked.

"Hah. You're not special or anything, I'm just telling you this because there's an unexpected horde coming our way."

What.

"We need everyone. Children, elderly, and the injured. We need them all. So, if I were you, grab something that would heighten your role to more than just a meat shield and be there at the lowest cliff before night or I will personally use you as bait for future hunts." She ordered.

"B-but I'm still recovering." Jaune asked, though, in hindsight, he really should not have been surprised at the next set of words.

"I miss the part where I care."

Can… can she just be little gentler next time?

Next chapter will be uploaded Next week

AN: Also, I've forgotten to mention this part, but, I shall be using the Couer Al'Aran Family Arc. If you haven't read his fics, then, seriously, you should read it.

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So, what did you think of this chapter?

Please leave a review, if you want to.

Criticisms are welcomed.

I hope you have a fine day today.

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