Enjoy.


"Whitaker, you're distracted again," Pyrrha said, lowering her shield. Her sword, Miló, came to rest at her side. Over the last month or so, Whitaker had asked Pyrrha to help him train, in addition to spending time training with his team and attending combat classes. He needed all of the training that he could get, after all.

After relinquishing Lightbearer to the Headmaster, Whitaker needed to get back into fighting shape with Lightning. Against a human opponent, he could manage, thanks in large part to his Semblance. But Whitaker knew that he wouldn't last two seconds fighting a Grimm without a weapon.

See, Whitaker knew that getting Lightbearer back would be the easiest thing to do. Strolling to the Headmaster's office, riding the elevator up to it, and then asking Ozpin for the sword back was simple. It could be done in a matter of minutes, and Whitaker was certain that Ozpin would be more than willing to hand him back the sword.

But he'd already decided to let Lightbearer go. To return for it another time, when he knew that he was ready for it. And right now, he wasn't anywhere near prepared to wield the blade.

To wield its powers.

To shoulder its burden.

To fight against the Dark.

The thing that bothered him the most, however, was how unsure he felt about the whole situation regarding the Dark. And worse yet, he had no information regarding it— he couldn't even find any in the Beacon Library. Sure, there were Grimm encyclopedias that listed all known types of Grimm, but none of them mentioned Shadows, the monsters that Harros Vesta had shown him.

And unless Harros and Corinth were both lying… then even the staff at Beacon had no information available on the creatures of the Dark.

Or they were hiding it from the students.

Whitaker couldn't decide which was worse.

"Whitaker?" Pyrrha repeated, pulling him out of his stupor.

"Yeah, sorry." Whitaker sheathed Lightning. The tightness and tension in his fingers eased. He'd done better this time around, at least in terms of endurance. Going from not being able to wield Lightning for more than a few seconds to a full minute in less than a month was huge progress in his eyes. "Just a lot on my mind."

"Wanna talk about it?" offered Pyrrha.

He smiled at her, but ultimately shook his head. "It's a lot to process, even for me."

"Then, will you talk to me about it when you figure it all out?"

"If I figure it all out," Whitaker corrected with a grin.

Pyrrha shot back with a grin of her own, her verdant eyes alight with joy.

The two warriors shared a laugh, and took a brief moment of respite from their harsh training. Ever since they'd started one-on-one training together, Whitaker grew to appreciate Pyrrha's skill, and he also learned more about her as a person, instead of as a celebrity. The more time they spend together, the more that they learned about one another— and Whitaker couldn't lie: Pyrrha was beginning to grow on him. In a romantic sense.

The small crush that he had for her, however, was just that. A small crush. As it was, the Invincible Girl was rather preoccupied with school and one Jaune Arc. Whitaker didn't know what Pyrrha saw in him, but he was a firm believer that she should pursue whatever she believed made her the happiest.

"Thanks for the training again today, Pyr," Whitaker said as he packed up his belongings and waited for Pyrrha at the exit door of the practice room.

"No worries." She smiled. "You're improving."

"Not without your help."

"You're welcome, Whitaker."

And with a brief hug and a wave, the two separated at the hallway.

[;]

Whitaker tossed and turned beneath the covers of his bed. The constant shifting of the fabric felt all too loud to him, and with an irritated sigh, he sat up. Ruby and Yang were sound asleep— with the latter snoring loudly, her hair a nest and drool leaking from her opened mouth. Ruby laid completely still, the gentle rise and fall of her chest being the only indication that she was even alive.

He rubbed his eyes, pulling out his Scroll to check the time.

05:19.

Only three hours of sleep, Whitaker lamented. He closed his Scroll, swung his legs over his bed, and stood up. There wasn't even a sliver of hope that he would get any more sleep, so Whitaker simply chose to just start the day instead. He was only about forty minutes earlier than he would normally wake up. If 'normal' was four months ago when he was still in Patch. Ever since Verdant, since Atlas too, he'd been getting less and less sleep.

A sudden stirring from the corner of the room caused Whitaker to snap to attention— his hands flew up in a defensive motion, and his blue eyes flashed dangerously. Then, he realized that it was just Blake waking up. Whitaker shook his head, lowering his hands and placing them on his waist. "Sorry, Blake. Just… jumpy right now, I guess."

Blake flicked the light switch for her lamp. Sleepily rubbing her eyes, she glanced over at Whitaker. "It's okay. Didn't get much sleep?"

"I got enough," he deflected.

Blake held him in her amber eyes for a time, before deciding to release him. "Fair enough. You would know better than I would."

Whitaker silently thanked Blake for her understanding.

Even if he was sure that she knew he was lying.

[;]

Whitaker watched as Jaune acted out a large, wolf-like creature to Pyrrha, who held a Scroll to her forehead and stared at Jaune in utter confusion. Whitaker, on Pyrrha's invite, had decided to join Team JNPR for their weekly game night while the rest of Team RWBY was busy catching up on work they'd been procrastinating on.

Tonight, Team JNPR decided to play a simple game called "Head's Up," where one player had to guess what the other players were acting out based on a word prompt. After Nora's stellar performance as a guesser— she'd gotten every single answer correct— Pyrrha was up right after her, much to the girl's protest.

Whitaker had to give credit to the blonde wolf-man. He played a damn good Beowolf. Though Pyrrha, for all her brilliance, was a bit airheaded at times. With a small smirk, Whitaker caught her gaze and he mouthed the answer to her.

"Beowolf?" Pyrrha tried.

Jaune jumped for joy. "Correct!"

The Scroll swiped to the side and provided the next prompt.

Semblance.

"Oh. Uh…" Jaune glanced around at the rest of us. "I don't have it?"

Pyrrha's response was lightning fast. "Proper experience in a battle!"

In utter shock at the sudden callout, the blonde fell to his knees. "Ouch," Jaune whimpered, and he wiped his eyes of what Whitaker hoped were fake tears.

"Here." Whitaker closed his eyes and focused on his Aura. He projected it outwards, and a red field began to surround him.

"Aura?" Pyrrha asked.

Whitaker motioned for her to keep going.

"Semblance?"

"Correct," Whitaker said with a smile. He released his control over his Aura, the barrier dissipating like dust in the wind.

"Wait, why is your Aura so thin?" Jaune asked.

"It has to do with my Semblance," explained Whitaker. "It enhances my natural reflexes, and when I activate it, they're enhanced even further. to dodge attacks. And apparently the Gods chose to balance that out with a paper-thin Aura."

Jaune shrugged. "Sounds fair to me."

"I thought so too. Only until I realized that it was useless against the Grimm."

Everyone on Team JNPR stared at me in utter shock.

"Nor can I use it on more than one person."

Nora's and Jaune's mouths dropped to the floor.

"Okay, that's just unbelievable," Nora decided.

"Definitely." Jaune nodded.

"Agreed," Ren said with his arms crossed.

"It's cruel," Pyrrha growled.

"Pyr…" Whitaker sighed. The Invincible Girl had told him about her Semblance two weeks ago, when he'd told her about his. They were in the same boat. They had Semblances that were extremely effective against human opponents, but useless against the Grimm. Yet here they were, training to become a Huntsman and a Huntress. "It's alright," he continued. "There's nothing that can be done. No point in getting worked up about it."

Ren nodded. "That's a good perspective to have, Whitaker. Not everyone would be so ready to accept their Semblance like that."

"Yup! I mean, my Semblance isn't that useful all the time, so I do my best to not let it bother me," Nora chirped, placing a hand on her chest.

"What is your Semblance, Nora?" asked Whitaker.

"Lightning makes me super strong!" Nora emphasized her point by flexing her admittedly muscular biceps.

"Nora is able to absorb lightning and channel it into her muscles, which makes her… super… strong," Ren explained slowly, finishing with a sigh.

Whitaker was pleasantly surprised. "Oh. I'll need to keep that in mind whenever we end up on the same mission or something."

"Why?"

He smirked. "My weapon channels lightning."

"Ooh! That sounds like fun." Nora giggled excitedly.

Whitaker laughed along with her. He couldn't deny the amount of enjoyment that he got from hanging out with Team JNPR. He loved his team, but Whitaker believed that there was nothing wrong with trying to make some new friends. And he'd already succeeded with Pyrrha, so why not the rest of Team JNPR?

"Whitaker," Nora said, poking him in the side. "Do you mind convincing Jaune to tell us about his problem with Cardin?"

"You have a problem with Cardin?" Whitaker asked the blonde, unbelieving.

Jaune shook his head, his long hair waving along with the movement. "No, guys. C'mon, Cardin just likes to push me around a bit, that's all." He tried a laugh and rubbed the back of his neck in an attempt to dissuade the tension in the room.

"It's more like Cardin has a problem with him," Pyrrha corrected. "He's been bullying Jaune, asking him to do his homework for him, and even pulling him away from his team." She crossed her arms. "And Jaune hasn't been doing anything about it."
"Is he really not giving you any trouble?" Whitaker double-checked.

"He's not," Jaune affirmed. "Really. It's not that big of a deal."

Whitaker couldn't decide if Jaune was brave or foolish. But if the blonde was that sure of himself, then there wasn't anything to be done about it. So, Whitaker shrugged. "Sorry, guys. Not sure how much help I'll be here." Ultimately, the issue was one that Team JNPR needed to solve.

"No problem, Whitaker," Ren said. "I suppose it was asking too much to just dump our problem onto you."

Witt shrugged. "I don't fault you for trying." He smiled. "So, we got any other games in store?"

As the games continued, Whitaker's fondness for Team JNPR grew. He found Jaune to be a good-natured guy, someone reliable, despite his clear combat deficiency. But that wasn't something Whitaker held against him— Jaune was a similar case as Ruby. If Ozpin had chosen him to be the leader of Team JNPR, then who was Whitaker to argue against that?

Jaune and Nora were both the life of the party, excited and excitable. Nora, for all her peculiarities, Whitaker believed that she was incredibly intelligent, as evidenced by her perfect score as a guesser. Ren, on the other hand, was the near opposite of Nora. In a way, Ren balanced her out— and that seemed to be the dynamic that the two had with one another, and it was a dynamic that they were used to.

Whitaker liked Team JNPR. They were like a sister group to Team RWBY. And he was greatly excited for the future that their two teams held.

[;]

"Blake?" Whitaker called out to the quiet corner of the Beacon library. It was one of the few places where he'd actually seen Blake outside of the classroom and their dorms, and Whitaker figured that she would have to have something of an interest in literature to be in this corner of the library.

It was the history section, of all things. A section that not even Whitaker had bothered touching due to the sheer depth of every book, and the fact that after Atlas and Harros, the Icecross War and the Igniter's Crusades, Whitaker wasn't sure if he could trust what was in any history book anymore. Especially if there was someone out there actively seeking to hide information. Extremely important information at that.

"Hi, Whitaker," Blake said as she met him in between two shelves. She carried a stack of books with both hands.

"Need a hand?"

Blake gave him a smile of relief. "Thanks."

Courteously, Whitaker took most of the books from her stack and put them in his arms. He fell into step behind her as Blake walked towards one of the many desks at the library.

"Here is fine," Blake said as she rounded the corner of a desk in another infrequently traveled area of the library.

Whitaker placed the books on the desk as requested, and took the open seat opposite of Blake. "I didn't picture you to be one so interested in history." He picked out one of the books that Blake selected.

"It's… not exactly history." Blake's cheeks slowly turned a shade of red.

"It's not?" Whitaker flipped to the first page of his chosen book.

The wind that blew through my window that night was as swift and as cold as the love that Yukino gave me. But I welcomed both all the same.

Whitaker slammed the book shut. He glanced up at Blake. "You really weren't kidding about it not being history."

"Okay, it's not entirely history— there's a lot of story and stuff to it too."

"Historical fiction?" He asked.

"Historical fiction," she agreed with a small nod of her head.

He set the book down and pushed it towards Blake. "Are they all like that?"

She shook her head. "Just a few of them." Blake proceeded to pluck specific books from the piles and separate them. Coincidentally, that pile was put as far away from Whitaker as possible. Blake produced a few more books that looked much more like history books, just from their thickness alone.

"So, why the intense research?"

"Studying for Oobleck's class," was her curt response.

"It's a hard class for you?"

"I wouldn't exactly say that."

"Oh. Okay," Whitaker said with a nod. He stood up and placed his hands into the pockets of his pants. Judging from Blake's quick deflections, he figured that she wanted to be left alone. So, he would get out of her hair. "Good luck studying, Blake."

She smiled, gratitude washing across her features. "I'll see you back at the room later tonight, Witt."

[;]

"That will be all for today, everyone!" Professor Goodwitch announced, her arms crossed as she stared out at her class. "Work hard, and train harder!"

Whitaker stood up from his seat and immediately made his way to the professor. The rest of Team RWBY was still talking to Team JNPR, so he figured that he had some time before the group noticed his absence. He caught the eye of the professor, and she raised a brow at him.

"Whitaker? Do you have a question for me?"

He nodded. "I do, Professor." Whitaker cleared his throat. "Ever since classes started, I've been struggling quite a bit to properly handle Lightning. As I'm sure you've noticed."

"Correct. I found it concerning that a student of your caliber had rarely pulled out his weapon," Professor Goodwitch said with a nod. "Do you have a solution to this problem?"

"Yes. Your help."

"I'm sorry?"

Whitaker smiled shyly. Professor Goodwitch's gaze was like a Beowolf's sharpened claw that threatened to pierce through his very being. "I… understand that you are a busy person, but I wanted to request some of your time to train me. I can't explain my situation very well given the little time we have left, considering I have to get to my next class and all—"

Professor Goodwitch's eyes narrowed further. She rested a hand on her hip. "You have Dr. Oobleck next, correct?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Then, I will notify him of the reasoning behind your tardiness," she said. "As for your team…"

Whitaker glanced back to see Team RWBY patiently waiting for him near the doors out of the hall. He gave them a wave, motioning for them to go on without him. Thankfully, Yang managed to catch his message and relay it to the other two girls. Ruby grinned at him as they made their way out of the hall and to their next class.

"To my office, Whitaker."

Following a few steps behind the professor, Whitaker found himself back in Professor Goodwitch's office. But at least this time, he was here on his own terms… and he was fairly confident that he wasn't about to get a lecture from her.

"So," Professor Glynda began, her arms crossed once again. Whitaker silently wondered if she ever went half the day without crossing her arms. "Explain the situation to me, Whitaker."

"Has the Headmaster informed you of my… weapon change?"

"In his own way of informing people," she answered. "I remember you having another sword during Initiation."

"Right. That weapon…" Whitaker trailed off. He couldn't say too much. As trustworthy as Professor Goodwitch, anyone that got involved in knowing the truth behind Lightbearer would be endangered. The Dark and the Light… "It was burdensome. And too powerful for me to properly wield as I am right now. So, I left it with the Headmaster and chose to use Lightning again."

"And how long have you used Lightbearer?"

"Before giving it over, the better part of two months."

"And Lightning?"

"Three years now."

"And you lost all ability to use Lightning?"

"Something to that effect," Whitaker said slowly. "There's more to it that I can't disclose, but… Lightbearer changed me."

"What do you mean you can't disclose it, Whitaker?" asked the professor. "Is someone or something forcing you not to?"

"It's for your— and everyone else's— safety, Professor Goodwitch," Whitaker explained. He didn't want to get her involved. Even just having his father… He shivered at the thought of telling anyone else. But it looked like Professor Goodwitch wasn't having any of it.

"Whitaker," she said with an eerie calmness. "I hope you understand that if someone was endangering one of my students, then I wouldn't hesitate to cut their existence short."

Whitaker, in that moment, facing the terrifying power of Glynda Goodwitch, realized just how insignificant he was compared to her. Even just from her seat, Professor Goodwitch radiated power, her green eyes flaring like a small star. "I… I understand, Professor. But I also hope that you can understand my own hesitance. Perhaps we can reach a compromise?"

"And this would entail?"

"Once I have decided to wield Lightbearer once again, then I will tell you everything."

"You have a deal." Glynda smiled. "Now, back to your original proposition regarding your training with Lightning?"

"Ah. Right." Forgot about that. "Your Semblance is Telekinesis, right?"

Professor Goodwitch flinched. "Yes. It is. How you managed to figure that out is beyond me."

"A few days ago, as we were leaving class. You were adjusting your appearance without touching anything. Small shifts in your hair and your clothes."

"Very observant. And this connects to your training how?"

"I have trouble… holding Lightning. Your telekinetics can help with that. And more so, dealing with competent ranged opponents. Aside from Pyrrha Nikos or Ruby, most people in my year aren't really able to keep up with my speed."

"Not satisfied with just those two to train with?"

"I need to be able to fight against any enemy. Even ones with rare Semblances such as yours. It doesn't need to be often. Training just once a month would be immensely helpful."

"Well," Professor Goodwitch began. "The Vytal Festival won't be until next semester, which means I'm actually not very busy right now. You've made this request at a good time, Whitaker. Very well. I will tutor you twice a week. In the evenings on Tuesdays and Fridays. Does that sound manageable?"

"Twice a week? Are you sure—"

"I am sure, Whitaker. Otherwise I would not have made the offer." She smiled. "Do we have an agreement?"

"Yes. We do." Whitaker nodded, bubbling with excitement. He figured that he had about a fifty-fifty shot. Maybe sixty-forty, depending on Professor Goodwitch's mood. But to get the chance to train one-on-one with a professor of Beacon Academy was like a dream come true. Something that Whitaker almost couldn't believe. Almost.

"Good. You may see yourself out, Whitaker. I've already notified Dr. Oobleck of the reason for your late arrival to class."

Whitaker stood up from his chair. "Thank you very much, Professor—"

"Glynda," she interrupted. "When we are training, or otherwise alone, I would like you to see me as an equal. After all, I believe that you will have some things to teach me as well." The professor smiled.

Whitaker gave a short nod. "Of course. Thank you, Glynda."

"Any time, Whitaker."

[;]

"I think she just hates you," Coco said as she munched on a bag of chips. She adjusted her legs so that they laid across Whitaker's lap. She and Whitaker sat on her bed in Team CFVY's room. Aside from spending time with Team RWBY and weekend nights with Team JNPR, Whitaker did his best to spend some time with Coco, and her team.

"Think so?"

Coco shrugged. "Either that or she just wants to keep you at arm's length. From the moment I saw her, Blake always seemed mysterious and broody."

"She has her bright moments," Whitaker said with a smirk. "Not everyone can be a ray of sunshine."

"Fair. Team RWBY already has three of those."

"Three?" Whitaker wasn't sure if Coco counted him as a 'ray of sunshine.' He doubted he was.

"Ruby counts as two."

Whitaker chuckled. "Fair enough."

Coco's nail pricked his arm. "Speaking of Ruby… she's got quite an interest in you."

Whitaker bit his tongue. He'd figured that out sometime ago, but he had no idea what to do about it. Ruby was young— as was he, but that didn't necessarily matter. Her attraction to him was likely nothing more than a crush. Something that built up as a result of the four months that he spent training her and tutoring her. And Whitaker was fairly certain that crushes didn't exactly evolve into the best of relationships.

"Lien for your thoughts?"

"It's probably just a crush," Whitaker said.

"And if it's not?"

"Then I wouldn't know what to do."

"Are you not attracted to her?"

Ruby was a pretty girl. Cute. But… There was the matter of their gap in age. Whitaker couldn't mentally justify dating someone three years younger than him. It didn't exactly help that he was eighteen, and Ruby was fifteen. "She's a little too young for me."

"Isn't she our age?"

Witt shook his head. "She's fifteen."

"Fifteen?!"

"Yeah, that's what I said."

"Well, guess I can't blame you for not being interested in her." Coco put a finger on her chin. "And Yang?"

"More of a sister than anything else. She's made it clear that she isn't interested in me romantically." Yang was fairly adamant about her lack of feelings for him, and that she was more excited at the prospect of having someone her age to help her take care of Ruby. Not that she minded caring for her younger sister, but Whitaker could see why the girl would want some time to herself.

"She made it clear?"

"She just told me," Whitaker explained simply. "'You're like a brother to me. And that's cool' is what she said. Word for word."

Coco laughed, her amber eyes lighting up. "That seems just like her."

"You've talked to her?"

"We've had a few conversations in the hallways."

"Mmm."

Coco tapped his leg with her finger. She traced vague shapes onto his pant leg while glancing up at him. "And how are you holding up?"

"What do you mean?"

"How's Beacon? Classes? Homework? And yourself."

Whitaker hummed in thought. "It's more easy-going than I expected in terms of the classes. But they're fun, especially Glynda's class."

"Glynda? I didn't know you were on a first-name basis with her."

Whitaker flushed. "Sorry. Professor Goodwitch." Try as he might, he couldn't stop the color from rushing to his cheeks.

"Oh? Is Whitaker crushing on the good professor?"

He shook his head fervently. "She trains me. Helps me get used to wielding Lightning again. And I'm learning more about how to deal with ranged combatants too."

"Why ask Professor Goodwitch and not me?" Coco pressed as she adjusted how she was laying on her bed. Previously perpendicular, she now sat parallel to Whitaker and laid her head on his shoulder.

"Don't wanna spoil the surprise for the next time we spar." Whitaker grinned.

Coco elbowed his side. "I'd rather we just spar whenever. I'm free right now, you know. Not sure how free I'll be in the coming weeks, though."

"Why's that?"

"We were assigned a mission. Somewhere near Mountain Glenn. I haven't gotten the full report on it, though," she explained. There was a hollowness to her tone.

"Not excited?"

"It just concerns me. The last time I went on a mission was to Verdant. And that… Well, you know how that went."

"Right. Ve— Verdant," he managed weakly. Whitaker pursed his lips. "I could see why you're not thrilled at being assigned another mission."

Coco bobbed her head. She placed her hands on her lap and stared up at the ceiling of the room. Soft sunlight drifted in through the large, four-pane window that occupied the wall opposite Coco's bed. "So, if I die—"

Whitaker's heart froze. "Don't."

Coco chuckled. "Witt—"

"Don't you dare joke about that, Coco," Whitaker whispered. As much as he tried to stop it, hurt managed to seep into his words.

Coco's amber eyes wavered. "That scared, huh?"

Whitaker stared at her. He couldn't even believe what he was hearing. "Why wouldn't I be?" he asked, his voice hoarse. "I care about you. Of course something like that, even just the thought of it, it is terrifying." A shaky breath escaped his lips. "Don't ever say that. Even as a joke. Please, Coco."

"I won't, I won't," she said. She crossed her arms and glanced to the side. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay." Whitaker patted her shoulder with a smile. Just as he was about to speak up again, the rest of Team CFVY came in through the door, presumably after finishing their classes.

Whitaker quickly stood up from Coco's bed, and greeted them. "Hey, guys. And Velvet."

"Hello, Whitaker." Yatsuhashi nodded.

"'Sup, Witt," greeted Fox.

"Hi, Whitaker," Velvet said with a wave. She glanced between Coco and Whitaker. "Were we interrupting something?"

The white-haired teen shook his head. "We just finished talking." His gaze flicked to Coco. "I'll talk to you some other time?"

"Wait, why don't you hang around for a bit longer? Everyone just got—"

"I've got my own team to get back to, Coco," Whitaker quickly interjected with a grin.

Coco's brows furrowed, and then she got out of her bed and walked up to Whitaker's side. "Well, I'll see you out, I guess." She followed him out the door, and once they were out of earshot, Coco stepped in front of him, her eyes of amber glaring at him. "What was that about?"

Whitaker sighed. "You've been a team for a year now, Coco. It's not exactly that easy for me— and your team, probably— to have someone disrupt that dynamic." Whitaker smiled slightly. "I'm more than happy to spend time with you one-on-one, but I feel bad if I make your team a little awkward just by being there."

"Mmh." Coco pouted. But, she accepted his answer. "Fine."

"Thank you for understanding." Whitaker pulled her into a brief hug. "I'll see you around?" He asked.

"Yeah," Coco replied, her nose still buried into the crook of his neck. "I'll see you around."

The two of them separated. Their gazes still lingered on each other before Coco broke it off, her cheeks tinged with pink. She skipped back to her room. Then, as she looked back at Whitaker, Coco gave a million-dollar grin and shot him a wink. "Bye, Witt."

Whitaker rolled his eyes in an attempt to fight his own blush. "Bye, Coco."

[;]

A series of short taps resounded from the door of Team RWBY's dorm. "Whitaker Ash?" asked a soft, tentative voice. "Do you have a moment to talk?"

Three pairs of eyes all turned to Whitaker with a mixture of emotions. Confusion. Horror. And unabashed interest. The white-haired teen promptly ignored it all as he made his way to the door. But when he opened it, it was someone that he had never seen before in his life.

A short woman with lightly tanned skin and black hair. She wore a lab coat over a black cotton shirt and a pair of blue jeans. Two tan cat-ears twitched atop her head, and her fuzzy tail swished back and forth. She smiled up at Whitaker. "Iris Ardent. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

"Iris Ardent!" Whitaker exclaimed, suddenly recalling what Doctor Parlys, his doctor in Atlas had told him. He bowed his head low in apology. "I'm sorry! I had entirely forgotten to meet with you."

"No problem!" She pepped. "The first months of being a first-year are always hectic. I can understand your forgetfulness. No need for an apology."

"Ah. Thank you."

Iris smiled. "Well, I suppose you remember what Doctor Parlys said to you?"

"Yes. I do. Are we meeting now?"

She shook her head. "We can meet tomorrow, after your classes. I trust you know where the medical center is?"

Whitaker nodded.

"Good. I'll be waiting for you there."

"Of course. Thank you again, Ms. Ardent."

"Just call me Iris. And you're welcome."

"Then thank you, Iris."

[;]

Whitaker cautiously stepped into the office of Iris Ardent. He'd never been seen by a psychiatrist before. He always believed that his work as a Huntsman would never evolve into something like that. But I guess that was incredibly naive of me. Huntsmen saw danger every day. Huntsmen witnessed death every day. It came with the territory. Something that Whitaker realized all too late during his mission in Verdant and every mission after. Even during Initiation.

When the Grimm killed, they left nothing but death and pain in their wake.

But what do humans leave behind when they kill?

Harros had told Whitaker that some of the worst monsters that he'd known were human. He understood it. He'd accepted it, Whitaker had seen it firsthand at Verdant, after all. He'd seen the White Fang. And that…

Whitaker's hands trembled at his sides.

"Ah, Whitaker Ash," Iris Ardent said, surprise peeking into her voice as she spotted him in her peripheral version. Thankfully, she'd pulled him from his thoughts. From behind the screen of her Scroll, she stood up to her full height to greet him. "Nice of you to drop by."

"I hope it's not at a bad time?"

The shrink shook her head. "Not at all. I actually just finished everything that I wanted to do for now." Judging from how pleased she looked with herself, it seemed like that was a rare occurrence for her. "So, that being said, how has your day been so far, Whitaker?"

"Good. I'm a little sore from training earlier, but nothing that a bit of rest can't fix."

Iris smiled. "Wonderful. Now, if you'll just take a seat on the couch." She moved from behind her desk to the section of her office that seemed much more comfortable than the rest. The L-shaped couch was pushed against a wall, with a simple glass coffee table in the center. A couple pillows and a neatly folded, fuzzy blanket rested atop the couch.

Whitaker did as Iris directed and made himself comfortable. He figured that he would be here for a while, so why not? He laid on the couch and unfolded the blanket to draw it over himself. Not that he was particularly cold, but the blanket was warm and cozy.

"I would've said to make yourself at home. But, you're clearly doing that already," Iris commented with a small smile. She had a Scroll in her lap and also took a seat on the couch, her tail came to rest at her side. "Alright. Is it okay with you if we get started right away?"

He nodded.

"Do you need anything to drink, or to snack on?"

"I wouldn't mind a glass of water."

Iris quickly fetched him some water, the sound of the tap echoing through the silent office. Upon returning, she handed it to him, which he accepted graciously. She tapped her Scroll a few times, then laid it face down on the coffee table. "I'm going to be recording this conversation, if you don't mind."

Whitaker shook his head between a sip of the water. "Unless you're going to take everything I say and use it against me."

Iris hummed. "Mm. Tempting. But I think I'll just keep it all for myself." She chuckled. "In all seriousness, is it really okay?"

"Yeah. Fine by me."

"Good." She cleared her throat. Her ears twitched slightly. "Now, let's just start with some simple questions. Besides how you're feeling today, how have you felt so far this week?"

"I've been doing well."

"In school or in training?"

"They're one-in-the-same, aren't they?"

"I suppose so," Iris said. "Specifically, how has training been for you?"

"Also good. It's been better than school, if I can be honest. It's a lot easier for me to focus during Professor Goodwitch's classes compared to Dr. Oobleck's or Professor Port's."

That seemed to pique Iris' interest. "So you're able to focus better, why do you think that is?"

"Combat classes are practical. It's easy to see how those lessons translate from the classroom to the real world. And it helps that I've had experience in those exact scenarios in the real world," Whitaker explained slowly.

"It's easier to focus because you're able to translate Professor Goodwitch's lessons into a real battle."

"Exactly."

Iris leaned forward. "I suppose we'll get into the actual conversation that you and I are supposed to have now. Dr. Parlys recommended you to me on a diagnosis of possible Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. Did he tell you this?"

"I came to that conclusion myself," Whitaker said. "His exact words escape me right now, though."

"Fair enough. It was several months ago." Iris kept her eyes trained on Whitaker's as she continued. "So, according to the Headmaster, you spent a year out in the field with your father? That must have been exciting. What was it like?"

"It was exciting. We traveled across Remnant, mostly Sanus, completing missions, hunting Grimm. The works," explained Whitaker. "It felt like I was learning so much every day, both through my father's lessons and the lessons I learned from the missions. It also felt great to put my skills to use. I helped people directly, saved them from the Grimm, and anything else that threatened their safety."

Iris smiled. "Sounds like you've got a real protective streak."

Whitaker nodded once. "We're Huntsmen. We have a duty to the people. To protect them from danger, whatever form that danger takes. In most cases, it's the Grimm."

"Was there one mission in particular that stood out to you in the year you spent out there?"

Verdant. Whitaker stared at Iris with hollow, glassy eyes.

"It seems like there was."

"V— Ve— Verdant," Whitaker stuttered.

Iris hummed. "A settlement south-west of Vale, correct?"

"Yes."

"What was your assignment?"

"It was to locate the source of negativity that was attracting Grimm to the town, and either eliminate it or remove it from Verdant," Whitaker immediately said. Despite the fact that it was nearly a year ago since the mission, he could still remember the exact wording of the mission's details, the way it was organized on his Scroll— with the text wrapped around an expandable map of Verdant.

"And you discovered the source of negativity. What was it?"

"A White Fang hideout in a warehouse. My— my father and I planned to just scout it out, see what they were hiding inside, and how much of it they were hiding. But… but there was so much of it, too much of it. I did what I had to do. I couldn't let it destroy Verdant. I couldn't let everyone suffer, all because I couldn't k— ki— kill someone. I did what I had to. I did what I had to. I did what I had too—" Whitaker sounded almost hysterical now. His thoughts flooded with the memories of that mission.

A dark night alone in the warehouse. Wandering through the shadows. Two pairs of glowing eyes flicking in his direction. A swift rasp of steel. Lightning tearing through skin and flesh. Blood. Blood. Blood everywhere. So much of it. All of it. Too much of it. Too much blood. So much blood.

"Whitaker—" Iris' voice was warbled, like she was speaking underwater. "Whitaker!"

He stared at her with lidded, barely-conscious eyes. He struggled to pull in air, it was like he was already full of breath— but there was nothing but emptiness in his lungs.

Iris reached out and placed her hands on his shoulders. She steadied him. "Whitaker, I need you to look around you. What do you see?"

"I… I see the coffee table."

"Good," cooed Iris. "What else do you see?"

"The… the Scroll on the coffee table."

"Mmh. What else?"

As she asked more questions of him, her voice became clearer and clearer. And once all of the muddiness was gone, Whitaker was brought back into reality. He shakily managed an inhale. Iris returned with a freshly filled glass of water, handing it to him.

After several minutes of nothing but silence, with Whitaker taking small sips of the water, he looked to Iris. "Guess Dr. Parlys' diagnosis was correct," he said with a half-hearted smile.

"He is a good doctor," Iris replied. She picked up her Scroll from the table, tapping the screen a few times to turn off the recording.

"So, how do I… get better?" Whitaker asked.

"We'll try a few different things," Iris explained. "For now, I want you to take some time in the morning to do some… meditation. You can do it in the shower, or in your room if no one will bother you, but try to find a quiet place to think."

"About?"

"Your thoughts. What you're thinking about. How you're thinking about it. And why you think like that. If you're able to, record yourself talking through your thoughts. It'll make my job a little easier." Iris smiled at Whitaker. "Following along so far?"

"Mmhm."

"Good. Then that's the procedure that we'll follow for now. Additionally, I'll meet with you at the end of every week, either Saturday evenings or Sunday afternoons, whenever it's easiest for you."

"How late are you available on Saturday evenings?"

"Not too late. I might be a teacher, but I still have a social life."

"8 P.M.?" Whitaker asked. His training sessions with Glynda tended to finish at around 7, which left him an hour to shower in the training room facilities before meeting with Iris.

"Perfectly acceptable for me." Iris patted her lap before standing up from the sofa. She cradled her Scroll in her arm as she walked back over to her desk. "Then that will conclude our meeting for today."

"That… that's it?"

Iris turned and smirked at Whitaker. Her tail swished back and forth behind her. "We've been talking for nearly two hours, Whitaker. I'm sure that you would much rather talk to your team than me." She sat down behind her desk. "You're dismissed, Whitaker."

"Right…" He trailed off. Standing up from the sofa, he collected the two glasses of water that he'd used and placed it into the sink before washing it.

"Whitaker—"

"It's the least I can do for what you did for me today," Whitaker interrupted. "Consider it me paying you back, I guess."

Iris sighed. "Very well."

A small part of Whitaker half-expected the session with Iris to be nothing more than a short talk. A brief conversation of his missions, his time in Verdant and in Atlas. But after his episode… he knew that he was going through something serious. That he was experiencing something serious. And in all honesty, it terrified him. If Iris Arden was the one person capable of helping him through it, then Whitaker would gladly perform any favor that she asked him to do. Any show of gratitude mattered. No matter how small.

When he finished with the glasses, he glanced at Iris.

Her eyes were glued to the computer screen as she intently, intensely read through something. Almost as if sensing his gaze on her, Iris spoke up. "Thank you, Whitaker. You're free to leave now."

"Are you sure—"

"Yes, yes, I am." Iris smiled at him. "Enjoy your night, Whitaker."

Whitaker walked to the office door and placed a hand on the doorknob. "You too, Iris. Goodnight."

"Goodnight, Whitaker."


Okay, I super-duper apologize for the lateness of this chapter. I had a lot on my plate, and there was also a lot more that I covered in this chapter than I initially intended too.

Guest - Thanks! I'm doing my best to work on syntax variance. It's quite hard to get a strong grasp of. Hopefully it's a bit more noticeable in this chapter.

Next Chapter: 11/18/21