A couple of people had issues with the numbers of dead and dying last chapter and suggested that I'd not even looked at average death records, etc, and that Ansel would have to have a population of over 300,000 to have that many deaths in a day. I tried to convey it in the story – and did have the doctor specifically say that it is the dying who are coming to Ansel – but I'll explain it here and mention it in this chapter in an easier manner to understand.


Cover Art: GWBrex

Chapter 4


Funnily enough, it was the scent of bacon that brought Jaune back to reality. Sizzling, smoky bacon the likes of which his mom would cook in a huge cast-iron pan sixteen strips at a time. When you had eight children, almost everything had to be scaled up lest you wanted to spend every morning dealing with arguments. There were plenty of weekends where he'd woken up late, sometimes as late as eleven in the morning, and the smell of bacon welcomed him downstairs. This played on that, called back to those times, and Jaune slowly blinked his eyes open, struggling against the bright light and a general fuzziness that made him feel nauseous. He clenched his eyes shut, groaned and looked away, hoping the darkness that was the insides of his own eyelids would ease him. They didn't. Bright white spots danced across his closed eyes as if someone was shining a light directly into them.

"Jaune…?" a voice asked. Hazel – or Jade. He couldn't place it. "I-I'll tell mom! Wait there!" A chair scraped back, a door slammed open and Jade, definitely Jade, shouted, "Mom! Dad! He's awake! Jaune's awake!"

Subtle. Jaune tried to laugh but managed only a croak.

Stampeding feet warned him of the new intrusion seconds before Nicholas burst into the room. Juniper came after, pushing her shocked husband aside and falling to her knees beside his bed. "Jaune? Baby, can you hear me?"

"Is… Is there a reason I shouldn't…?" Her face lit up. His vision was blurry still but slowly clearing up. He thought he caught tearstains on her face and immediately knew he was responsible for them. "I'm sorry."

"Don't!" Juniper didn't snap, but she said it so quickly and so sharply that she might as well have. "Don't, Jaune, just please – don't make this your fault. Not after what those horrid people said and did to you."

Horrid people? His head hurt, especially when he tried to think back, but he remembered the tv crews pushing into him and demanding answers. The specific questions were lost and fuzzy, but the fear and distress he remembered all too clearly. "What happened? The elevator opened and I… I fell…?"

"You tripped on the carriage and fell into the elevator." Nicholas said. "You hit your head. Badly. Fractured your skull. It was only a small one with no brain damage, but Dr White… they said the exhaustion and stress combined with that kept you out for much longer than it normally would have."

Longer…? Out…? Oh no. No, no, no. Jaune's heart began to race and he felt tight and jittery. His eyes burned, not yet crying, but just knowing he was about to. "How many?"

"Three days. That's all. Enough to worry us all but-"

"Not that." Jaune interrupted. His voice cracked and came out small and afraid. "H… How… How many died…?"

His parents looked shocked. Juniper's fingers tightened on the bedsheets she was gripping onto, scrunching them up until she had great fistfuls. Her hands were shaking, he noticed, and her lips were pressed together so hard they turned white. Nicholas knelt, placed a hand on her shoulder and said, "That's not important. What's important is that you were hurt and your body took longer to heal because of how exhausted you were. Leaving aside that if you weren't so worn out, you likely wouldn't have tripped in the first place."

It wasn't an answer. That scared him. There was only one reason they'd refuse to answer and given the mortality rates that he'd become increasingly aware of, he knew what that reason was. "How many died?" he asked again. "Please, I… I need to know."

"Why?" Juniper asked. This time, her voice came out as raspy as his. As weak. "Why do you need to know? Why should a fifteen-year-old boy have to worry about how many people die in a week? Why should he have to spend every day of his life at a hospital? Why are the first words out of his mouth when he wakes up from a fractured skull to ask how many other people died?"

"June…"

"Don't June me, Nicholas! This is my son – our son! He was… He was bleeding from his skull!" Her words tore off in a fractured sob, and Jaune's eyes widened. "You could have died, Jaune! They could have killed you! And for what, the next big story? They were pressuring you and saying such awful things, awful things about what you will and won't do, and acting like you're some commodity for them to use. You're not! You're more than a machine for healing people. You're more than a Semblance!"

"Ninety-six." Nicholas said. Juniper whirled to face him with raw fury, and Jaune felt like he'd had a hand punched through his stomach and out his back. His chest stuttered and he felt the hot, acrid tang of vomit working its way up his throat before he could stop it. His body thrust itself up, driven by the pain, and he hurled off the edge of the bed, narrowly missing Jade, who jumped out the way in alarm.

"Ninety-six!?" he cried the second he could. Sick crusted to his bottom lip and some had splashed on his chest, which Juniper was doing her best to dab away. He hardly noticed. The average was a little over a hundred for a week. How had ninety-six died in the span of three days? It didn't make sense. "How? How could there be so many?"

"Because panic spreads. The journalists were the first to die. Literally dragged out the homes they were staying at and beaten to death."

Jaune was almost sick again and would have been if there was anything left. They were dead-? He'd been angry at them, sure, but death? That was too much. Their only crime was making a mistake. It wasn't their fault he'd tripped. "Who killed them? Why?"

"The sick who think you exist for no other reason than to save them. When the news aired, they saw your head being cracked open and assumed the worst. The hospital worked quickly to make sure you were okay and then announced your safety, but by then it was too late. Some people claimed you were dead and we were covering it up. The blame fell on those responsible. It was disgusting. Humanity at its worst. Normal men and women reduced to wild animals lashing out at those they held responsible for the dead you couldn't bring back. They were dragged out screaming and murdered in the street."

"Nicholas!" Juniper howled, spinning and striking at him. He caught her fist but was unprepared for her to headbutt him in the mouth. His father staggered back, lip cracked and bloody. Jade and Hazel cried out in distress and even Jaune made a horrified sound. Their parents argued every now and then but he'd never, never seen them physically strike one another. It shook him. "Why are you telling him this? You're hurting him!"

Nicholas rubbed his jaw and wiped away some blood with his thumb. "I'm hurting him because apparently pain is the only way to get through his thick skull. We've tried the soft approach for months. We've tried being there, talking to him and hoping he'll open up. He won't."

"That's… That's not fair. He's only just woken up!"

"And the first question out his mouth is how many died!" Nicholas snarled back. It was horrible to hear, a sound that frightened Jaune and his sisters both. Worse, he knew it was his fault. They'd never argued like this and they were doing so over him. He was the cause.

"Please!" he begged. "Please don't fight!"

Nicholas strode past his stunned wife to stare down at him. "People die, Jaune," he said harshly. Cruelly. "People die all the time. All those people you brought back were dead before and they died as all people do. You cannot hold yourself responsible for them. People make shit choices and pay the price every day of their lives. It's not your responsibility to pick up the pieces for other people's mistakes."

"But-"

"I'm a huntsman. I save people. That's what I've told you all. I tell you that because I don't want to ruin dinner meals over stories of all the people I didn't save. Those I couldn't, or those I fucked up over and let die because of my own inexperience. Whole villages butchered before I could arrive. Children torn to shreds with their upper bodies dragged across whole streets and their entrails rotting in the open air." He tossed his head from side to side. "It's horrible," he gritted out. "It's evil. But it's life. You can't have life without death, and there isn't a huntsman alive who hasn't let someone down. Same in any job. Doctors can't treat every illness; firemen can't save every person trapped in a burning building and the police can't be everywhere. Neither can you."

"I-I know that. I just-"

"You know it but you don't believe it. Not fully." He crossed his arms and said, "Yes, nearly a hundred people died. Was that your fault? No. There was a riot among the camps inside the village. Some idiots got it in their heads you were alive and being kept prisoner in the hospital, being kept for money and used only by rich clients, so they banded together to storm the place and get you out. People died in the press, and more when they had to be subdued. More than needed to. I'd say forty people died of natural causes and fifty to riots and unrest."

"Because I wasn't there."

"No!" he snapped. "Because they believed they had a right to have you there. All those people, Jaune, all these sick and dying people coming to Ansel, who believe access to you is their God-given right are who is at fault! Not you! And we can't keep going on like this. We just can't. Your sisters had to be pulled out of school for being heckled and threatened, we've been on lockdown since the day you were injured, not even able to leave the house. A man immolated himself in the centre of the village yesterday because his wife died and he wanted to stage a protest you not bringing her back. He burned to death in front of children!"

"That's-"

"Horrible. Sick. His wife had cancer. It's unfair I know, but people die and no one has the right to blame you for it, least of all yourself." He took a deep breath, his frame trembling as he did. Jaune had never seen his father afraid, not of anything, and yet he looked so fragile now. They all did. "We can't go on like this," he said again. "You're falling to pieces; your sisters are nervous wrecks; I'm scared to go out and earn a living for fear of what'll happen to you all. None of us are living. Everyone else wants you to bring their loved ones back to life, but none of us have a life anymore. You least of all."

He hadn't realised. He hadn't even thought about how this felt for them. In fairness, he hadn't had the time or energy, but all he knew was that Amber had been crying lately and had nightmares over the woman who tried to abduct her. He hadn't thought of how everyone else was faring, how his dad hadn't left home for three months despite usually going on a mission every few weeks. He couldn't. How could he with any confidence leave his family when some random psychopath might break in to try and get at them? How could they even sleep at night? Jaune had the advantage of being too exhausted to think, but they were probably up until the late hours twitching at any noise.

"I'm-"

"If the next words out your mouth are `I'm sorry` then I won't be held responsible for what I do." Nicholas said. He forced a smile – or tried; it was wafer thin. "It's their fault. All you did, all you've ever done, is try and help people. They're the ones taking advantage of it and you. We… that is your mother and I, and your sisters, have had a long talk about this."

Behind his back, Jaune thought unpleasantly, before realising this was probably in the days while he was unconscious and Ansel had fallen into anarchy. The thought brought a fresh dosage of misery and snuffed out any arguments he might have had. "Okay…"

"We want you to talk to someone."

That was it? It didn't seem enough for such dramatic words. "That's it?"

"We want you to talk to him, listen and consider his offer." Nicholas said.

"We want you to accept it!" Hazel interrupted.

"Hazel!"

"What, dad? He deserves to know." She shoved her hands in the pockets of her ripped jeans, bringing up her shoulders to shield herself from the harsh scrutiny of both their parents. "Yeah, we want you to take his offer, bro. Your choice obviously, but dad's right about one thing. We don't have a life here. Not anymore."

"Ansel is a cage." Jade whispered. "What?" she asked, echoing her twin. "Hazel is right. We have a say in this as much as anyone. If Jaune won't accept it, I'm gonna pack up and leave anyway, and I won't be the only one who does. I'm not living the rest of my life hiding in my room looking at pictures of the outdoors online. I've lost my friends. We all have."

It felt like a foregone conclusion. He had pushed them to that point. Jaune fell back onto the pillow and closed his eyes, fighting against the feeling that his family was falling apart, and that it might in some way be his fault.

"Who is it you want me to talk to?"

/-/

The man who stepped into the room was a giant. He stood over six feet tall with a face set into a perfect square. His short black hair was slicked back and streaked on the sides with grey. He looked scary, especially in his long white overcoat, and when he took it off and hung it on the back of his bedroom door, the gleaming silver arm of solid metal didn't make him any less so. Jaune felt unusually uncomfortable being alone in his room with such a man, but for his parents to leave him here must have meant he was trusted.

"I'm sorry we have to meet under such unpleasant circumstances," the man said. He drew out one of Jaune's chair and sat. It creaked ominously under his weight. "My name is James Ironwood. I am a General of Atlas, Councillor on the Council of Atlas and Headmaster of Atlas Academy for Huntsmen."

"I'm Jaune. Jaune Arc."

The man's smile almost made him look approachable. "I know who you are. I doubt there's a person on Remnant who doesn't. You're a very special young man, though to hear it from your parents you're also one who takes too much responsibility onto himself."

"I don't think I do." Jaune frowned. "Or I didn't before now…"

"Would you like me to be frank?"

"Huh?"

"I can dance and politick with the best of them," the man said, "but it looks to me like you've had your fill of that. I'll promise you right here and now that I will tell you nothing but the truth, if you'll extend the same courtesy to me."

"Uh. Sure?"

"You act like it's simple but the politicians back home would have a fit if they heard me offer this. It'll be our little secret. I find most men your age, most people really, don't appreciate roundabout offers and flowery nonsense, and so I'll give you the truth. Atlas wants you, Jaune. Atlas would like to have you move to the city and take up residence there."

"You want my Semblance…"

"Yes." The simple one-word answer shocked him; not because he hadn't thought it, but because he couldn't believe Ironwood would up and admit to it. He'd expected the man to dance around it like that ambassador from Vale had. "Yes, we do. Your power is great, your potential greater, and in a span of just three months you've taken a small village like this and turned it into a bustling hotspot."

"And you'd like for me to do that for Atlas?"

"We do."

"Why would I? Why wouldn't I stay here?"

"Because Ansel will destroy itself if you do." Ironwood said, shocking Jaune to his core. He had to be lying; this had to be a trick. He was about to accuse the man of such until he kept speaking. "The problem is you cannot turn a village into a city overnight. There are thousands of new people here, and there simply aren't thousands of jobs available for them. Unemployment is sky-high. Worse, the people who have come aren't healthy, fit, working people. They're sick, dying and elderly. That is putting an impossible strain on your services, and on you especially. Your mortality rates per one thousand people are ridiculously above the average. Shockingly so. To look at it from the outside, you'd think this a village under the grip of a life-threatening plague."

That brought Jaune's anger to a slow, faltering death. "It's… Is it really that bad?"

"In Atlas, the mortality rate is predicted to be around eight people per one thousand. That's annually. Here, it's closer to three hundred people per thousand, and not even for a full year - you muddy the stats, Jaune, meaning that some of the deaths come back to die again and make them even more complicated. That is ridiculous. It should be impossible. That is the problem Ansel is facing. There are a lot of people who would like to come move here and have the security of your presence, but if they are hale and healthy then they will take one look at the unemployment and the housing crisis and decide against it. The only people who are coming, the only ones, are those who literally have no other choice. The dying. That's what is pushing the mortality rate to unacceptable levels."

That… That sounded insane. Was he saying that thirty per cent of Ansel's population was on the verge of death? That was ridiculous. Except, Ansel's population had increased fivefold in the last three months, and most of those were sick, on the verge of death or family of those who were. Healthy people weren't coming to Ansel. Of everyone who came, around one in two were terminally ill. It was only being dragged down to that level because Ansel's population had been mostly healthy before. Without that, the mortality rate of the newcomers was probably a lot higher.

"The conditions they're forced to live in are making it worse. A lack of housing, heating and sanitation is bad enough now but wait for the winter and colder weather and they will die en masse." Ironwood said. Jaune made a strangled sound. "It's horrible to say but it's true. Their immune systems are already compromised in many cases, and more are elderly. The average age in Ansel has pushed upward as well. I cannot imagine how bad things will get if sickness spreads throughout the camp. With so many vulnerable people to incubate it, you may actually foster a pandemic here. If they don't all die sooner in the first snows."

Nothing he said wasn't so difficult that he couldn't understand it. Cold weather was bad, not having access to baths, showers and toilets was just as much so. He had no idea how they were handling their business in those huge camps. Maybe they had portable toilets, maybe they took dumps on the grass, but either way it wasn't safe in the long term. It'd be a breeding ground for sickness, and all those people were already vulnerable. "There has to be something we can do!" Jaune said. "There has to be."

"You can build new homes, new infrastructure. Ansel is trying and I commend you all for it, but I tell you now that the moment you build homes for all these people, more will arrive. It's not a problem that will go away as long as you're here."

"Then it is my fault."

"Indirectly. You did not decide your semblance; you did not decide Ansel's capacity for housing; you did not tell these people to abandon their homes and jobs and trek across the world to come here. The problems Ansel faces are the result of human greed and fear, and not any poor decision making on your part. Your complicity is only in existing, and in wanting to use your Semblance for good."

He'd heard that plenty of times already. It felt like people were making excuses for him. Wasn't his life better than people who had nothing and lived in tents? Was it really so much to ask for some of his time, less than five minutes, in exchange for all the suffering they were going through? He had a feeling asking that question would upset his family even further, and he'd just get the same answers he always did. It wasn't his fault; he shouldn't feel bad; they were the ones who risked themselves.

He knew he shouldn't feel bad for all those people who died but he did – so people telling him not to was pointless. It was like someone telling you to "suck it up" when your beloved pet died. It didn't work and it didn't help.

"What's your solution then?" Jaune asked. "How will be going to Atlas make this better?"

"I'm glad you asked." Ironwood smiled. "And I'll start with how it benefits Ansel. Firstly, the influx of new people trying to come to live here stops immediately. Ansel has a chance to catch its breath, finish its expansion and stop these people freezing to death. That's if they don't just up and leave to Atlas, which I guarantee you most will do. They're here for you after all. As part of the package we're prepared to offer you, we'll agree to transport anyone who wants to leave Ansel to their chosen destination. That includes those in the camps. Ansel's population will fall back to normal levels, and to normal age, unemployment and mortality rates. That will make life much easier for everyone living here."

Part of the package? How much were they thinking of offering him? Jaune ignored that and asked, "Won't that just be bringing the problem to Atlas?"

"It will, but Atlas has the infrastructure to cope with it. A crippling influx of people driving your population up 500% to you is not a drop in the ocean to a major city. We have numerous hospitals that can easily shoulder the burden, enough housing to see them all safely set, and room for expansion and the capability to provide it very quickly if we need to. We can roll out prefabricated homes in a matter of days. Our mortality rates might rise to nine of out of a thousand rather than eight, but it won't strain our economy like it is yours. Ten thousand new residents is nothing to us. We can handle hundreds of thousands. We also have schools, jobs and other facilities that can handle the influx, not to mention access to more food, medicine and clothing than a small village like this."

They could do it better, basically. All of it. Jaune frowned, wracking his mind for some question, some excuse, that would punch a hole in his argument. "Ansel will be in trouble if it suddenly loses all these people though. The Hope Hospital has grown and the walls are being expanded."

"A further part of the package we're prepared to offer. We will provide financial aid packages to Ansel totalling one eighty million lien a year." Jaune spluttered and stared, unable to even comprehend such a figure. "I know that amount won't make much sense, but to put it in practice we'll provide funds to continue running the hospital, to expand schools, homes and parks and finish construction on the new homes and your walls – with even some left for Ansel to use as it sees fit. We're prepared to pay this every year you stay with us. No questions asked."

"Why!?"

"I promised you I would be frank and I shall. It's because you're potentially worth a lot more to the economy that has you. Atlas stands to make a hefty profit off this investment. People will want to come live in Atlas to be close to you, and unlike Ansel, we can make use of them. More jobs means more lien, which means a greater GDP and ultimately more taxes. All in all, you'll make Atlas wealthier for your presence."

He could do the same for Ansel as well, couldn't he? No. The village would collapse before it got to that point. The reason Atlas could make use of him was because they had room for all those people and could offer them work. Ansel couldn't.

"I'll start next with what we can offer your family," Ironwood said. "First of all, security. Your family will be well-protected and looked after, both financially and in terms of their personal safety. Your siblings will have access to the finest schools or distance learning, whichever they prefer, and we have the manpower necessary to provide them escorts so they can go out into the city and enjoy themselves. A riot like what happened here would be shut down within minutes in Atlas, and anyone who attempted to harm your family would be arrested. Your parents would be offered paying jobs that will let them stay closer to you all, and a home in a safe and well-protected part of the city. They wouldn't need fear stepping outside, going to school or leaving you alone for an hour like they do now."

A better life for all of them. It was impossible to deny it after what he'd just heard, and it sounded like all his sisters were hoping he'd take the deal. It didn't feel fair for all that to depend on him, but then was it any fairer that they had no control over their own lives? He'd ripped their lives here apart.

"And finally, I want to talk about what we can offer you. I'd have mentioned this first but looking at you, and hearing what your family says about you, it's clear to me that you've put your own happiness last."

"I'm happy." The protest sounded weak even to him. Ironwood only raised a single eyebrow. "Or… I was." He'd thought he was, helping people and feeling fulfilled about that, but that was back when it was just a few people and he knew he was making a big difference to their lives. Back before he'd become famous. "Things were better back then, back when it was just a few people."

"I'm afraid things won't ever return to that. Even in Atlas, you would be bringing many people back. What we can offer, what I can offer, is to prioritise time for yourself. Time for rest, time for enjoyment and living your own life. We have hospitals designed to take care of the worst cases, and I can promise you that accidents in surgery will be much less frequent than they are here, instantly taking a lot off your plate. We'll work to control who you have to see, which will mean only the most vital cases, specifically those that won't come back in two weeks' time dead again. We will guarantee you proper time for rest and for yourself, and we'll also work to provide that narrative to the people. You'll have a team of media managers on your side who will work to remind people that you're human, not some machine, and that you deserve time off for yourself."

Time off? The concept terrified him – so many would die! - but maybe that was the problem. Jaune squashed his fear down and forced himself to nod along.

"We're also prepared to help fund other projects you might have. I hear you wanted to become a huntsman before all this started. We'll be more than happy to offer you training. I can't say you'll want for nothing, but anything you do want we will try our best to provide. We'll also stand as a shield between you and those who might wish you harm, be that physical harm or harm to your reputation like you faced recently. Additionally, we can offer support, both for you and your family. You'll have access to a therapist-"

"I don't need that!" Jaune yelled. "I'm not crazy."

"You're not," Ironwood agreed calmly, "but you're under a lot of pressure and have been through hell. Jaune, I have had therapy myself. Many times. Once when I lost my arm-" He flexed the limb. "Again, when I lost my squad. I even went through it after a particularly bad conflict which I oversaw, where I had to personally command good men and women and many died and where I felt directly responsible. There is nothing wrong with needing someone to talk to, and I can personally attest to how much it helped me. After everything you've been through, and what I've heard you say, I think you need this." He reached out and placed a hand, his human hand, on Jaune's arm. "You cannot think it healthy that you are like this. No one, not your age or an adult, should wake up from a coma and ask how many people they failed. You shouldn't even see it as a failure."

He knew that! Jaune gritted his teeth together and looked down, eyes burning. Everyone said it and he knew intellectually that they were right – he always had. He couldn't help what he felt, though. And perhaps… perhaps that was the problem. Maybe he did need help. Maybe he did need someone to help him figure out why he was so afraid, and how to get past it. Even thinking that in his head caused all the anger to pour out of him, and his body to deflate into the bed. Jaune licked his lips and nodded, hoping the man would leave it be. Thankfully, he did.

"Beyond all that, we're willing to offer you money." Ironwood chuckled as he said it. "Not the most exciting offer, I admit, but you will be very well compensated for your work – and believe me, you will have earned it. We're prepared to offer you a starting salary of fifteen million lien per year."

"F-Fifteen million!?" Jaune choked a little, rasping at such a ridiculous number. "W-What? That's insane!"

"You can bring back the dead. That figure is not insane; it is reasonable. In fact, it's cheap on our end, and it's only so low because we'll already be paying so much more to Ansel and to protect your family. You could earn more in time. But I don't want you to think of the money, Jaune. I don't want you to think of what I'm offering Ansel or your family either. I want you to think of the other benefits to yourself. That is what you should be basing this decision off."

Easy for him to say, Jaune wanted to argue, but he didn't. Ironwood was right – he had to think this through and decide. He knew what his sisters wanted, and it felt like his mom and dad wanted it too but were tyring not to pressure him. He was grateful for that but knew deep inside that choosing to stay would put impossible pressure on them. Hazel and Jade said they'd leave. He wondered how many others would. Mom and dad are arguing, too. What if they split up because of me? The thought terrified him. People would say again that it wasn't his fault, but everyone was beginning to fray at the edges, and it was all because people wanted access to him. Something had to give. Dr White had warned him it might be him, but what if it wasn't? What if it was his family that broke? He couldn't accept that."

Having someone on his side sounded good, too. Not that his family weren't, nor that Dr White and Tommen didn't try their best, but they couldn't stop all the bad things happening. To be fair, they shouldn't have been expected to. Tommen was just a member in the militia and a friend of Nicholas, while Dr White had been dealing with runny noses and minor injuries before this. They needed help just as much as he did, and his presence in Ansel was only making life harder for them.

In Atlas, he could get help. Help feeling safe, help getting some free time and rest and help for his sisters in regaining a normal life. It would mean a move, but it wouldn't be that bad. Ansel wasn't feeling much like home anymore and he always had wanted to visit the city. At the time, he'd meant Vale, but Atlas would be much the same.

I can get training, free time, rest and help both for myself and for my family and Ansel. Why am I hesitating? Why am I not jumping at the chance?

It was the kind of once in a lifetime opportunity anyone would have killed for. He was miserable here; they all were. There was literally no reason to want to stay, and yet he felt like he should. Like he had to.

Guilt, he realised in what felt like a punch to his gut. He felt guilty. He felt as though accepting this offer would mean abandoning everyone here, all those people who had come for him, and running away to Atlas to profit off his gift. His curse. The realisation made his hands clench into fists under the covers.

Why should he feel bad? Why should he feel guilty or responsible for all these people? They were the ones who had come to him, they were the ones who worked him to the bone, who demanded his time and stalked his sisters and rioted through the hospital when he passed out, who ripped a bunch of reporters to shreds just because they'd upset him. They'd done all that, and he was the one who was supposed to feel guilty? No. Just… Just no. He did still feel guilty, but he bundled that emotion up and tossed it into the deepest parts of his soul. Maybe that was something he could talk to a therapist about – something he would talk to one about.

"I'll go," he said. The man's face lit up. "I'll go to Atlas, I'll work for you, but you have to look after Ansel and my family."

"No village will be so rich as Ansel, and no family so well-protected as yours." Ironwood promised. "I will personally make sure of both. I think you'll find you've made the right choice here today, but I know that's hard to accept now. Instead, I'll prove it to you. You'll come to love Atlas just as much as I do. I promise you that."

He hoped so. The decision made, the uncertainty taken out of his hands, it felt good – like having a weight lifted off his chest. He breathed in easily, knowing his parents and sisters would be ecstatic. It was enough to make him smile a little. "Can I talk to some people before I go?"

"Of course you can, Jaune! There's no rush and we've no intention of trying to control who you spend your time with. Would you like me to bring them to you? You need your rest and I think it's best you stay in bed until you're recovered." He laughed. "And no one will dare accost me on the street like they might your family."

Yeah, he could imagine they wouldn't. "Thank you. I want to speak with Dr White. I'm going to be leaving him and he tried so much to look after me, and he said the same things you have about not blaming myself." Advice Jaune had ignored. "I want… I want to say sorry, and to thank him for everything."

The look on Ironwood's face was grim. Jaune knew the news was bad even before the man stepped off the chair and knelt by the bed. Jaune's eyes widened and he let out a quiet whimper.

"No… No…"

"Doctor White…" Ironwood's lips thinned and he took a breath before carrying on. "Doctor White stood in front of a crowd of people who had broken into the Hope Hospital and tried to talk them down. He bought time for six members of staff, doctors and nurses along with eight patients in critical condition, to get to safety. The… mob could not be talked down, and Ansel's authorities arrived too late to stop them. I'm sorry, Jaune. By the time they arrived, Doctor White's injuries claimed his life."

Jaune's eyes watered. His lips wobbled. "H… How long…?"

"Eighteen hours ago." James said softly. "I'm sorry; it's too late for him."


Rip OC character in a Coeur story – you were always doomed.

A final dagger in Jaune's chest, as if he hasn't had enough. At least he accepts there is a problem now, and that the solution doesn't lay in staying in Ansel. Yes, this story was always planned for Jaune to go to Atlas, at least before he reaches seventeen and comes to Beacon. I feel like a hi-tech and advanced city is the kind of place that could most make use of him, and of course this gives him a chance to meet some important characters and make some relationships prior to Beacon.

We'll time skip straight to their arrival in Atlas next chapter, so this is the last we see of Ansel, the village buckling under the weight of thousands of irresponsible people. Reading over this, it makes me feel like I'm pushing some anti-immigration agenda, but it's not even the same thing. Ansel would be fine if people came in normal numbers, or even if they were of normal health and age ranges, but to be swamped by so many people who are literally dying? I didn't even cover the horrible concept of what they'd have to do with so many dead bodies, because you just know the cemetery would be overflowing and the cremations might become so common the air would grow thick with smoke. Horrible thought no matter how you look at it.


Next Chapter: 19th April


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