One of the best parts of recruiting is seeing how many people are dumb enough to apply and use their "gamer tag" as their email. I kid you not, I've had things that include the word "sniper" on emails, and plenty of XX or XXX here and there. At least one reference to sex as well. Trust me, I know it's easy to have your one email, but it takes so little effort to at least make an extra with a more official-sounding email address.
Lots of interesting ideas in the reviews to last chapters – I know some people are turned off by the angst and that's fine, but I personally feel that you can't have a really wholesome and uplifting friendship story without being down in the doldrums first. Really, this is still going to be a "Jaune in Beacon" story, but I wanted to do the prelude to that justice, which is why there's going to be quite a lot of backstory before Beacon. And yes, there will be some angst and depressive bits here and there, but that's to set up the recovery and support later.
Cover Art: GWBrex
Chapter 3
Jaune stepped back and wiped his brow as the last body stirred to life. The man sat up on the trolley, looking around with a confused expression. They all did, though some would scream and relive their final moments. This man had died in surgery, however. His last memory was of being given anaesthetic. A fairly gentle end by all accounts.
"You're the boy… I guess… I guess I died. Wow." The man, easily fifty and greying on the temples, chuckled morbidly. "It's a good job I moved here after all. The village that defeated death…" He laid back with a long sigh. "What a world we live in."
The man was wheeled away by one of the Hope Hospital's new employees. There were too many for Jaune to keep track of now. The hospital now had wards and wings, multiple floors and had long since expanded out of Dr White's home. There were teams of doctors and surgeons now, interns and students, x-ray theatres and staff rooms. They'd had to expand, what with Ansel's population ballooning by over 500% in just three months.
Jaune walked out the room on wobbly legs and would have stumbled if not for the nearby wall to catch himself on. His vision swam and the bright, fluorescent hospital lighting burned his retinas just as harshly as the antiseptic stench did his nostrils. Automated PA systems calmly called out for doctors to come here and there, and nurses wheeled people by on gurneys, each and every one of them pausing to give him a respectful, sometimes reverent, nod. The people on those stretchers would strain to sit up and look at him, and their own expressions were caught between awe and fear. Awe for what he represented, and fear for whether they were being brought to him – for it would inevitably mean they were dying.
Luckily, they were not. Not yet anyway. Jaune moved to the nearby water fountain and drank greedily, then splashed some more against his face. He ran his hands down his skin, stretching his eyes open to try and refocus them. A heavy sigh came out before he could stop it.
He shook it away. What right did he have to feel sorry for himself when people were dying here? Whatever exhaustion he felt meant little compared to that. He splashed himself again, took a deep breath and forced his tired legs to carry him down the corridor, past vending machines and closed surgeries, past offices and potted plants. Finally, he reached the Chief Physician's office, a mahogany door with a bronze plaque reading Dr J White. Jaune knocked quietly on the door and waited to be called in.
Dr White's office was spacious and neat, with all the comfortable furniture and pastel colours you'd expect of a doctor. He had a stand-up model of the human anatomy by one wall, bookshelves beside it, and a wide window looking out over Ansel on the other. They were on the third floor with a view over the village. Or the town as it was now. New homes stretched out, many in stages of construction, and caravans, portable homes and tents dotted the areas in between. In the distance, cranes worked on the outer walls, expanding them yet again. By the looks of it, they'd realised they would have to expand the layout again, because they were angling the construction outward. That must mean more people coming; more ill and dying desperate to see him. Jaune felt his legs wobble. Dr White caught it.
"Sit down. How are you?"
"Fine."
"If I had a lien for every man in my office who has told me they're fine I'd be rich beyond your wildest dreams. You're not bleeding all over the floor so you're better than most of them, but I can still tell you're exhausted." He came around and took out a scroll. "Give me your arm."
Jaune did and let Dr White place the scroll against his skin. As he did, he also wrapped a rubber sleeve around him to check his blood pressure. He puffed on a ball, hummed and checked both screens. Jaune used to be terrified of doctors and needles and anything related to his body, but after three months of working here he'd grown so accustomed to it that he almost found it relaxing.
"Your blood pressure is spiking and your aura is at just under 25%. You need to slow down, Jaune." He took the devices away and set them on his desk, then poured Jaune a plastic cup of water and handed it to him. Jaune downed it in one. "Semblances take a toll on the body just as much as they do the soul. There's a reason huntsmen rest between missions."
"I can't." Jaune said immediately. "I only have four hours to get to someone before it's too late."
"You can only help people so long as you're alive and well to do so. Working yourself to collapse won't aid anyone. How early were you in today? Don't answer, I'll check." Dr White moved behind his desk and tapped on his keyboard. It was probably for the best because Jaune didn't want to say. "Three in the morning!?" Dr White gasped. "What-?"
"There was a car accident…"
It had involved children. A long-time resident of Ansel had been driving back home from work when three children, migrants living in the tented area while their homes were constructed, had run out into the road while playing. The man had swerved and managed to avoid two of them but had struck the third and crashed into a lamppost himself. The child died instantly, and the man bled out in the vehicle as paramedics rushed to cut him free. That had been at midnight, and Jaune had been roused out of bed at one-thirty in the morning.
"I thought I made it clear you cannot be drafted into the hospital against your will."
"They asked me," Jaune defended the junior doctors.
"And you agreed after hearing who was involved. Of course you did."
Dr White slumped in his chair. He appeared to have grown years in the last few months, almost as quickly as his hospital had. He had gone from himself and two students learning under him to a team of thirty doctors and over a hundred nurses. It was ridiculous to think that even with Ansel quintupling in size, the hospital had grown thirty-fold, but then this was what people had moved to Ansel for. They had come for the Hope Hospital.
They had come for him.
"We can't continue like this." Dr White said. "Ansel is bursting at the seams and everyone coming is either on the verge of death, a hypochondriac or a combination of the two. Accidents like what happened last night will only continued if we have so many people squashed into so small a village."
"Town." Jaune said. "We're a town now."
"We have the population of one but we don't have the support structure. Homes can't be built fast enough for all the people coming and all those construction sites are increasing the risk of injury further still. We've had forty people with construction-related injuries this week, some site workers and the rest idiots sneaking onto or playing on the sites. We're lucky only three died and had to be brought back. We've had one hundred and seven deaths this week. A hundred and seven! We'd have considered that a massacre not three months back."
"I got to them all in time."
"All of them?" Dr White asked incredulously. "Every single one?"
Jaune nodded, pride just about managing to poke its head through the cloud of fatigue. "Yep."
"That's… That's insane." The doctor's sigh wiped away all the pleasure he felt. "Jaune, you can't keep holding yourself to these standards. You are one man, a young man, and you've been in and out the hospital every day since you unlocked your Semblance. That isn't healthy."
It was an old argument. He wouldn't even call it that. Dr White was concerned for him and Jaune knew it, so what heat came into it was never accusatory. He was too tired to get that angry anyway. "I know. I know. But it's not like I can choose when people die. I'd take a day off if everyone could just survive for twenty-four hours straight."
"I worry for you. I know your family does and I'm responsible for you here. All those you bring back are often still on the verge of death. You can't fix their problems, so the ill and those dying and brought back of diseases like cancer and heart disease inevitably end up coming back in a few days or weeks. The numbers are only going to rise, Jaune, especially as the news spreads. We've had thousands of people come since your first debut but I reckon most people thought it was a hoax. Now that the world knows it isn't, things are only going to get worse."
"I already agreed not to bring back the elderly…" Jaune whispered.
"I know. I'm glad you saw wisdom on that." Dr White came around again to squat by him and place a hand on his shoulder. The aged man smiled and tussled Jaune's hair. "I know it's hard, Jaune. I know full well the pressure you're feeling, but you mustn't hold yourself responsible for those who die. You did not kill them. You, and we, save all that we can, but we have to look after our own health first. If you collapse then there won't be anyone to save those truly in need."
"I know. I… I just…"
Easy to say, easy to understand, harder to accept. He could have told them this morning that he needed his rest. He did. He was practically a zombie at home now. But then, how could he say no to a child being killed? How could he turn his back on that and look himself in the mirror after? It would be one thing if he was literally broken and incapable, but he'd just been tired. He could sleep later or just get by on less. Jaune thumbed his eye socket and stifled a yawn, now feeling every lost hour of sleep over the last few weeks. They were adding up hard.
"Something has to give." Dr White said. He squeezed Jaune's shoulder firmly. "For your own sake, Jaune, don't let it be you."
/-/
Jaune had fallen asleep in the back of the black sedan that took him home and had to be shaken awake by the driver. He grumbled and cracked an eye open, yawned and mumbled an apology as the man held the door open for him. Stumbling out, he was welcomed by the guards and escorted through the heavy metal gates that had been hastily erected around their home after the third night people had tried to break in to get to him. The last had been a woman whose son had died two years ago, and who was convinced they were lying about the four-hour limit. She'd threatened to kill Amber if he didn't resurrect her son.
The woman was in a cell now thankfully, and hopefully receiving help for her problems. That hadn't stopped Nicholas asking for help in erecting a big metal fence around their property, and after more and more people came to Ansel, all to see him, they'd decided to hire a team of security guards to monitor the property. It was all too much for Jaune to keep up with, and he tripped and stumbled his way to the front door, slumped against and opened it with a yawn.
"M'home," he mumbled.
It was three in the afternoon. He'd been in the hospital for over twelve hours.
There were three strange people in his home and sat at the dining room table with Juniper. His mother looked up at him with a nervous giggle and asked, "Jaune, sweetie, did you perhaps forget who was coming to see you today?"
He stared back blankly. His brain came up with nothing as if he'd just met a pretty girl and tried to think of a chat-up line. It was two men and a woman, one of the men much older than the other two, dressed in a black, crisp suit with balding hair and a worn, leathery face. The other looked younger despite the mop of grey hair; he wore a dark-green suit, spectacles and a scarf around his neck, and was sipping on a mug that said #1 Best Mom. Jaune sniggered at seeing mom's mug in the hands of a man. The other woman was younger still, maybe thirty or so, with blonde hair tied up into a bun, glasses of her own and a tight-fitting white blouse. Her demeanour instantly made him think she was either a librarian or a teacher.
Of course, while he'd been staring at them, they had been staring back, and his tired eyes lost the contest handily, blinking and looking away. He mumbled out some words that might, in another universe, have made for a coherent sentence.
"Please forgive him," Juniper said, hurrying over to take Jaune's arm and lead him to the table. He was only too happy to let her, slumping in the seat and accepting a cup of coffee. He used to hate the stuff but now couldn't get by without several cups. "The hospital called at one in the morning and he's been working ever since, and that was after only coming home last night at ten. He's running on fumes."
"Oh, it's no problem whatsoever," the oldest of the men said. "The young man must be in high demand. We can hardly expect him to take the full day off to see us. It's quite alright."
Juniper laughed nervously. It was clear she wasn't quite so comfortable. Jaune took that as his cue to take a long drink and wake himself up. The caffeine helped. "Sorry," he said, this time in full words. "I was out of it. I'm sorry but I really don't remember who any of you are. I've had to resurrect fifteen people today and my aura is tanking."
"My name is Richard Wycliffe," the oldest of the men said. "And I am the current ambassador for the city of Vale. This is Headmaster Ozpin of Beacon Academy, and his lovely deputy Glynda Goodwitch."
Oh. Important people, then. Very important people. If Jaune didn't feel stupid enough already, he wished he could shrink further down into his chair. These important and well-known people had come all the way from Vale to speak with him, and he hadn't even been able to remember it was happening. In fact, he was probably late if the fact Juniper had to entertain them was any indication. He wracked his memory and vaguely remembered he was supposed to be meeting someone at twelve noon.
He'd made them wait three hours.
"I'm sorry you had to wait. I didn't realise and then there was an accident in the night, and then a few more people died and there were complications in a routine surgery and…" His words ended in a loud, hacking cough that almost shook the coffee out his hands. Juniper rushed over to take it and pat his back, and Jaune coughed three more times before managing a weak, "I'm sorry."
"Don't be. It's not a problem at all. We came all this way to speak with you, Mr Arc. Jaune. May I call you Jaune?" He smiled when Jaune nodded his head. "Wonderful. As I said, we came all this way to speak with you and we've set aside the whole day for it. Your mother has been a wonderful host in the meantime. There really is nothing to apologise for."
"Perhaps it is we who should apologise to you," Ozpin said. The actual, real-life Headmaster of Beacon – one of the most famous huntsmen in Vale – said to him. If this was three months back, Jaune would have fainted from excitement. As it was, he still nearly fainted, but mostly from fatigue. "It's clear we've caught you at a difficult time. Ambassador, I'm sure we could give Mr Arc here some time to recover, could we not?"
"Of course. Of course. How about we meet again tonight?"
"I have to be back in the hospital at six." Jaune said. "I-In case anyone dies in the three hours I'm away. Then I'll be there until nine." But after that, he'd be even more tired. And he needed to try and sleep when he could. "Now is fine. It's just my aura that's low. I'm fine."
"Aura deprivation is a serious condition that can have both short and long-term implications." Glynda said. "You can cause aura burns across your body if you use it too much, or even put yourself into a coma. Don't take it lightly."
It felt too much like he was being judged. Jaune looked down and scowled unhappily – something Vale's ambassador noticed. He quickly changed the subject. "I'm sure Jaune has heard all that before. His father is a huntsman after all. Studied in Vale under Ozpin himself, isn't that right?"
"It is." Ozpin said.
"What!?" Jaune looked up, shocked and confused. His mouth moved before his brain could. "You're that old!?"
Richard laughed uproariously, and even Glynda allowed a small, amused smile to grace her lips. Ozpin chuckled in a self-depreciating manner, sipped from his #1 Best Mom mug and said, "I am that old, yes."
"I'm sorry. I didn't mean it like that. It's just that you don't look old enough to have taught dad."
"The benefits of a huntsman lifestyle, Mr Arc. Aura promotes healing and regeneration, including of skin cells, and it's hard to be unfit as a huntsman with the amount of training we do. Combine the two together and you often end up with people who age gracefully. I, myself, am fifty-two."
No way. He looked… well, he looked ageless, but if Jaune had to guess then he would have said thirty-five to forty. Maybe even early thirties. Aside from the hair and the walking stick, which he supposed ought to have clued him in, he didn't look old enough to teach his father. He's a walking advert for how much a healthy lifestyle looks after your complexion.
"Jokes aside," Richard said, "Both your mother and father grew up in Vale from what I understand. You chose to move to Ansel after having your first child, correct?"
"That's… That's right…" Juniper sounded a little concerned about having government officials knowing her past so intimately, and Jaune was beginning to feel the same way. "Property prices were too expensive in the city," she said, "so we moved to a quiet little village where we could afford a home."
"I dare say it's reversed now. House prices in Ansel have increased 1200% and the value of land to a similar level. Why, you're single-handedly revitalising the construction industry."
"All those people living in tents and caravans is disturbing." Glynda said. "It felt like I was looking at refugee camps."
"But they're not." Richard said. "They're here by choice, giving up their homes elsewhere for a chance to live with the boy who beat death. People feel safer here than they do in Vale."
"Is that a bad thing?" Jaune asked. "Have I upset anyone?"
"No, no, no. Vale had an overcrowding problem spanning years so this hasn't made anything worse. I fear for Ansel's infrastructure, however. It isn't built to house this many people. Your farmland simply won't support this kind of population growth. Inflation will spike, food will run low and you'll be forced to import more from elsewhere, ramping the price even higher. The cost of living in Ansel is predicted to double in the next five years. Triple in the next fifteen."
Inflation. Economics. Jaune didn't understand it but he caught the basic idea – more people meant more food, meant more costs transporting it meant higher prices for food. Then apply that to not just food but everything from clothing to dust to medicine and more. Ansel was just a village three months back, and no matter how hard they tried they couldn't invent productive industry in that short a time.
"Unemployment will be a problem as well. Ansel is sure to grow and have many businesses moving here as the population expands, but that will take time. In the short term, I imagine more than three-quarters of the people moving here won't have jobs. There simply won't be enough available to support them."
Jaune squirmed on his seat. "Is this… Is this all my fault…?"
"It's not about fault, Jaune, only consequence." Richard said. "If there is fault at all it belongs to those who didn't think things through when they moved here. It's those who have put unrealistic pressure on Ansel and yourself because of their fear of death. Ansel is not properly equipped to handle this influx of population." He cleared his throat. "Vale on the other hand… well, Vale is a capital city. We're used to dealing with a high population and the demands of it. We're also secure and well-protected, with a strong infrastructure and a thriving economy. You really should visit. We would love to show you around the city, show you everything Vale has to offer – why, you could bring the whole family-"
"I can't."
Jaune answered instantly and automatically and saw the man's face fall. "Is cost an issue? It would be all expenses paid by the city. You and your family wouldn't have to pay for anything and we'd be more than happy to cater to any needs or requests you might have."
Jaune shook his head quickly. "It's not that. I'd love to visit. I've always wanted to see the city at least once. I even wanted to join Beacon and become a huntsman when I hit seventeen."
"All possible!" Richard said quickly. "The very reason Ozpin is here is to offer a scholarship at the prestigious-"
"But I can't." Jaune cut in. "I can't. All the people here – they're relying on me. What if someone dies while I'm away? What if they need me and I'm not here because I'm taking a holiday in Vale? What then?"
A hundred and seven people. That was how many died this week. Jaune imagined that number and found he couldn't. He imagined the faces of their loved ones staring at him as he came back from a week away, a week to himself, asking why he hadn't been there. Why their loved ones had to die, while those of other people had been brought back.
"I… I can't…" he gasped. "It's not- They would. A hundred. I need-"
He needed to be at the hospital. He needed to be there, waiting, waiting for people to die, for accidents and heart attacks, for failed surgery and childbirth, for strokes and robberies gone wrong. He had to be there because the second he wasn't, the single day he couldn't handle it, people would die. They'd die and be left too long for him to ever bring back.
"I need to stay-"
"You need to breathe." a stern voice said. There were hands on him. There was a face in front of his. "Breathe, Mr Arc. Take a deep breath."
He was shaking, he realised. Trembling. Focusing his eyes, he found himself staring into green, the woman down on one knee with a hand on his right shoulder and the other on his forehead. Ozpin was stood beside her, the mug set aside and a concerned look on his face. Richard, the ambassador, looked both shocked and nervous.
He'd frightened them. He felt like such an idiot. "I-I'm sorry."
"Stop that." Glynda ordered. "Just breathe. Focus on breathing. Do as I say. In. Out. In. Hold." Jaune sucked in a breath and held it. "And release." He let it go. "In." He sucked in. "And release." He let it out. "Good. Ozpin, Ambassador, I think we should give Mr Arc some time to himself. He's clearly exhausted."
"Yes. I can see that." Richard stood. "I'm very sorry to have stressed you, young man. I can see now that you care deeply for everyone here; I didn't mean to suggest their lives were less important, or that you should neglect them. I let my excitement get away from me. If a week is too long away then a weekend-"
"Ambassador." Ozpin said.
"Yes. Yes, you're right. This is not the time or place. Thank you for meeting with us, Jaune, and thank you, Juniper, for hosting us. We'll speak again if we have the chance, but for now let us grant you your rest."
By the time Juniper ushered them out the door and came back to check on him Jaune had already fallen asleep in his chair, head lolling back against the hard wood and his chest rising and falling as he snored.
/-/
"What was that back there?" Richard asked. "It looked like a nervous breakdown."
"Panic attack." Glynda said. "I've seen them before."
"The boy is under immense pressure to perform," Ozpin said, pausing in the sunlight to remove and clean his fogged-up lenses. "Much of that, as far as I can see, is from himself. The outside pressure of so many people coming to his home can't be helping."
"We're all of us under pressure, headmaster. You and I to see him brought to Vale."
"Talking economics of Ansel was a poor decision. It framed the problem as his fault, and the boy is clearly quick to feel guilty. He will blame himself."
"I realise that now!" the ambassador groaned. "I didn't mean it as such and nothing I said was a lie. Ansel can't manage this many people. Something is going to give, and if it's the walls to a legion of Grimm then we may well lose Arc and his Semblance forever. Can you imagine that? Can you imagine for even a second the fallout of Vale losing the first ever Semblance that can bring back the dead? The other kingdoms will castigate us. They'd be right to. That Semblance needs to be protected and nurtured."
"That Semblance," Glynda said frostily, "is attached to a boy. A boy with feelings and emotions."
"I know that; I'm not suggesting…" The ambassador sighed and ran a hand over his bald head. "It's no use us being at odds with one another. He's clearly favourable towards Vale and that's good news I can deliver back to the Council. It should buy us time. He's also humble. For all that he's possibly the most important and famous person on the planet right now, he acted as if we'd been wronged for being made to wait on him. The people will love that. There's nothing worse than arrogance for turning public opinion away. Helping people is clearly a strong motivator for him – do you think it would be wise to highlight how many more people he could save in a city like Vale?"
"No." Ozpin answered immediately. "Do so and you play on his guilt again. You'll trigger another attack or worse. Furthermore, you'll make him fear the city. He'll fear the impossible numbers of dead and dying he would have to try and bring back."
"Hm. I think you're right. I'll be sure to report on that. Something isn't being done right here by the boy if he's being called out every hour of every day. He thinks he's personally responsible for every tragedy that happens, when it's all these people moving to Ansel who are taking advantage of him. What is the local hospital thinking?"
"I expect they were thinking that Ansel would remain a small village and that Mr Arc's workload would not explode like it has. They weren't prepared for this."
"In all fairness, how can anyone prepare?" Glynda asked. "This is new territory we're all treading. Remnant has never played host to a Semblance this powerful. Everyone is watching."
"Everyone is judging too." Richard said. "I've had warnings that Atlas is preparing an offer and an emissary and has only held back so far because they want an accurate analysis of his psyche and what will entice him to move to Atlas. They want him just as much as we do, perhaps even more so. I've seen their offer. There are a lot of zeroes attached."
"I doubt Mr Arc will be bribed."
"Not directly, no, but they're offering funding for Ansel. In exchange for him joining them, they will provide funding to fix all of Ansel's issues, to finish construction, expand the hospital and secure its borders permanently."
"They expect him to sacrifice his happiness for his home village." Glynda surmised. She pinched the bridge of her nose. "After seeing him now, I fear they might have a more accurate evaluation of him than we did. He just might take it."
"We can't let Atlas have him. Jaune Arc is a Valean citizen."
"We cannot force him, ambassador." Ozpin said.
"We can offer more. And we shall. The Council is prepared to offer him the key to the city, diplomatic immunity and a bloody harem of beautiful women if they must. Nothing is off the table. I've been given a blank cheque with their signature on it and it'll be my head if his name isn't written on the top by the end of this week. If you'll excuse me, I need to report to the council. I'll see you both back at the hotel."
Hotel. A quaint name for what was the upper floor of someone's house that had been rented out at the price of a Vale centre penthouse. It was to be expected that enterprising citizens would see a chance to make money, and since a single spare bedroom could rent for more than a full mortgage elsewhere, they'd had to accept it. There just wasn't any room left in Ansel. People were paying good money to rent sheds in back gardens.
Here they were, three of the most prominent citizens in Vale sharing breakfast with two locals and their children each morning. It was amusing to Ozpin, but he imagined it was downright demeaning to someone like Richard Wycliffe. Not that he'd ever suggest as such to their hosts. He was a diplomat first and foremost.
"There's a lot he said that I'm not happy with," Glynda said, "But I cannot say he's wrong, Ozpin. What do we do? The whole world knows of his Semblance, and not everyone in it will have his best interests at heart."
"I won't accept kidnapping him and bringing him to Vale. I'll ask Qrow to look over him and make sure no one untoward approaches him. Nicholas is competent, too. But I daresay Richard is right when he says Ansel cannot support the weight of his presence. Mr Arc won't be able to stay here forever no matter what he wants."
Ozpin sighed sadly and looked up toward the bright sun in the sky, casting its light over a town that existed for the sole purpose of harbouring a single, anxious young man.
"The world simply won't allow it."
/-/
It was late evening when Jaune finished his final resurrections of the night. Hopefully, anyway. There was no telling what would happen in the quiet hours of the morning, but he could hope. With his aura at a measly 10% he hobbled out the final room and leaned on the wall for support. His mind flitted back to the clumsy meeting he'd had earlier before his desperate three-hour nap. He'd woken in his bed, carried there by his mom and sisters.
A holiday to Vale.
He'd always wanted to visit the city, to see all the cool sights, the attractions and go shopping where there were malls the size of Ansel. Well, malls the size of what Ansel used to be. He'd even heard of arcades that were multiple stories tall, with hundreds of different games and even tournaments. It was the kind of thing anyone growing up in the country longed to see.
I can't go. People will die if I do. They'll die and I won't be here to save them.
That was that. He let out another sigh and pushed himself off the wall. The hallways were a little darker than usual, the lights turned low both to preserve energy and encourage people in the wards to sleep. It was quieter, too, with less activity and most of the staff off or on break themselves. Jaune managed his way to the elevator and took it down, dreaming of the short drive home and his bed. Maybe he'd have time to speak with his dad. Probably not. He was almost nodding off already.
The elevator dinged and swished open, and Jaune moved out onto auto-pilot, only to freeze as he noticed that the lobby wasn't as empty as it should have been. There were a group of people there, between ten and twenty, and no security. His muscles tensed up even if they shouldn't have. He hadn't had the best experience with crowds of late. Normally, he was escorted through them for his own safety. Gone were the days he could so much as a take a walk around Ansel on his own. People had taken to stealing and selling clothing he owned, and they weren't shy about whether he was wearing it at the time or not.
These were different, though. Professionally dressed and hauling around heavy equipment – cameras, he realised, at the exact time one of them saw him. The man pointed, and suddenly it was a rush of activity. One of the nurses behind the desk tried to intervene, holding her arms out wide to block their way, but they simply brushed past her, knocking her aside. Suddenly, Jaune found three cameras angled at him and three microphones shoved in his face. Another, attached to a large pole, was dangled above him. He backed up but the elevator doors had already closed. His hand hammered the call button to no avail. He was trapped.
"Jaune Arc – a question from Vale News. Rumour has it you're intending to move to Vale and open a clinic there, and that your meeting with a Vale ambassador today was to finalise the decision. Is there any truth to this?"
"W-What?" he asked dully. "N-No, I never-"
"Mr Arc! Mr Arc! What is it like to be able to bring back the dead? How much pressure is there?"
"I… I shouldn't." He tried to push the closest microphone away but it was dragged up over his hand and shoved back into his face. He bumped back against the elevator door. "Please," he begged them, "I'm tired. I… I just want to go home. I've been resurrecting people all day."
"Why is it that you've chosen to stay in a small village like this and resurrect people here?" someone shouted. "Are the thousands of people who die every day in Vale not as important?"
His eyes widened. "Thousands-?" His voice was faint even to his own ears. He looked past them desperately, to the front desk where the nurse was frantically speaking into an intercom. Help. Help was coming. Jaune swallowed and tried to hold his ground. "They're not less important. I just live here and-"
"Don't you think it's selfish to limit your healing to Ansel?"
"I live here!" he tried to shout. His voice was too hoarse for it. "I'm not limiting it. I just can't reach out to people hundreds of miles away. That question isn't fair. Please, I need to go home. My parents-"
"Is it true that both your parents died in front of your eyes, and that you had to resurrect them?"
"Yes!" he yelled. His voice cracked under the strain, physical and emotional. "Yes, it's true but why would you make me remember that!?"
The man shoved the microphone into him. "What about everyone else's parents-"
Jaune leaned back from the microphone and the question just as the doors behind him beeped and swished open. The crowding journalists and photographers drove him back and he fell. It seemed to happen in slow motion, Jaune's hands flailing to catch the doors, only for them to continue opening and pull away from his fingers. His right foot shot back to try and steady himself only to strike the raised lip of the elevator carriage. With that last safety net gone, the world pitched, the bright light at the top of the elevator filling his vision. There was a slow moment where his stomach flipped, another where vertigo swam through his tired mind.
And then the impact came. Sharp and sudden to the back of his head, echoing with a dull crack.
Darkness swallowed him.
And the misery heaps. Just remember that the more misery now, the more room we have to recover and grow later. Props to those who accurately called out Ansel becoming a major city by the way. A bit too early for that kind of development, but you were on the money with the rich, famous and even just the desperate selling everything they own to move to Ansel.
The village is swamped, with people living in squalid conditions and accepting them because of the promise of a cure for death. Early death, anyway. Old age could be brought back, but they'd as like die again in a few days of natural causes.
Also, a few people called me out for suggesting Jaune feel responsible for everyone. I hope this chapter makes it clear, as it ought to have been last, that Jaune is putting that pressure on himself. He's a young man who has always wanted to be someone special, and now he is and he feels like he's personally responsible for anyone who dies in Ansel. Is it healthy? Of course not. That's the point. But it's not unrealistic for someone that young to think that way, especially given what we know of Jaune from the show and how he felt personally responsible for all the issues around the Cardin blackmail arc.
Next Chapter: 5th April
P a treon . com (slash) Coeur
