Enjoy.


"One would think that an individual would do their best to avoid death." An all-too familiar voice rang out in the darkness that surrounded Whitaker.

"Well, human stupidity knows no bounds," was Whitaker's curt reply. He sat up and came face-to-face with the brown eyes of Harros Vesta. A strange feeling settled in Whitaker's chest— a cold and warm sensation at the same time. "How is Blake?"

"Aside from some first degree burns, she's completely unharmed."

"Good. That's good." Whitaker sighed. "What about the others? Pyrrha, Glynda, and Sun?"

"They are all fine. They managed to clear the blast radius of the explosion in time." Harros raised a brow. "No questions regarding yourself?"

Whitaker hadn't asked any questions because he believed he already knew the answer. "I'm dead, aren't I?"

"Do you believe you are?" Harros asked. He sat before Whitaker, his legs crossed.

Whitaker looked around at their surroundings. It was filled with nothing but strange, wispy darkness. He glanced at his own hands— they were still corporeal, and they felt real enough. He was wearing the same clothes from the night that he and Pyrha found Blake. They were in perfect condition without a single stain or scratch on them. "No, I guess not."

"You came close," Harros revealed. He brought his hands together and laid them on his lap. "Very, very close."

"How close?"

"Were you five feet closer to the explosion, you and I would not be speaking right now."

Whitaker let out a breath he didn't even know he was holding. "That close, huh?"

Harros nodded once.

Whitaker leaned onto his back, staring up at the void. "So, where am I?"

"A physical manifestation of your soul," Harros answered.

"I… feel like that was an incredibly simplified explanation." Whitaker stood up and began to walk around. There was a floor— the fact that he was standing on a flat surface told him as much. It was a strange sensation, walking on top of what his eyes perceived as nothingness. "Why is it so empty?"

"A good question," Harros said. "Personally, I have never seen such an empty soul."

"That's concerning."

"I disagree," Harros stated firmly. The strength behind his words caused Whitaker's eyes to swivel over to him. "The emptiness of your soul, while unique to me, is not too unsurprising."

"Why?" asked Whitaker.

"You have not used Lightbearer in months," was Harros' frank and flat answer. "Have you been able to activate your Semblance at all?"

"No."

"And your Aura?"

"Thinner than ever," Whitaker realized. He hadn't thought about it, but with what Harros was telling him, he'd confirmed that Lightbearer was doing more than just making it nigh-impossible to use Lightning. In the short time that he'd used it, Lightbearer had molded his Aura— shaped it so that only Lightbearer was compatible with it. And anything that wasn't Lightning was deemed an enemy of his body, his Aura. His soul.

During his test, when he fell into the ruin that stored Lightbearer, when Whitaker encountered Ruby in what he perceived was a dream, it was his soul. It was the very same space that he stood in now. From a field that held a foreign and almost alien beauty, to an utterly empty void of darkness.

It was like Lightbearer had taken over its immune system and purged any aspect and remnant of his old Aura. Purged it like a disease. A plague.

"That stupid sword almost killed me."

Harros' eyes bore no sympathy. "And I told you that you would come to regret the decision, Whitaker."

"And I didn't think that the decision would have resulted in my near-death."

"Then you have not fully understood the gravity of the war we fight."

Whitaker glared at him. "How am I supposed to believe that when the only thing you've told me is that I'm supposed to be the 'savior of Remnant?' All because I found that sword."

"You did not find it. It chose you. It allowed you to wield it." Harros stood up. He stepped towards Whitaker, his brown eyes alight with something indescribable. "Lightbearer is your Destiny, Whitaker. You cannot run from it. Take this brush with death as a moment to reflect, and accept it. You are not the first to try and reject Lightbearer, as you know, and you will not be the last; but know this:

"Only death comes for those who run from their Destiny."

With his piece said and his warning delivered, Harros' visage wiped away, joining the nothingness that surrounded Whitaker.

[;]

Whitaker awoke to the sound of a squeaky door knob twisting. The familiar sensations of a hospital room surrounded him. The air was almost bitterly clean, the subtle beeping of the heart-rate monitor at his bedside, the padded shuffling of footsteps pacing across the room, and the tapping of fingers against the screen of a Scroll.

Whitaker slowly opened his eyes.

There was a slight gasp to his right. It was the nurse, her dark green scrubs almost black in the low light of the room. "Oh, you're awake."

Whitaker bobbed his head. His throat was too parched to even speak.

"Should I get the doctor?"

He shook his head, and closed his eyes once again.

[;]

Whitaker awoke for the second time. And this time, it was to the harsh touch of sunlight against his closed eyes. He raised a hand to block the sun. Realizing that the sun wasn't going to stop shining right on his face any time soon, he tiredly swung his legs over the bed and stood up to pull the blinds closed around his window.

Blessed darkness. Whitaker smiled to himself. Back to getting rest.

The door to his room squeaked open.

"Oh my Gods!" The nurse rushed over to Whitaker and ushered him back to his bed. She laid him down and repositioned the pillows behind him so he was comfortable. "What on Remnant were you doing out of bed?"

"The blinds," Whitaker said, pointing to them. "The sun woke me up."

The nurse sighed. "And here I thought you would be one of the more normal students I had to deal with."

Whitaker shrugged. She was at an academy for Huntsmen and Huntresses; this was about as abnormal as you could get. "How long was I out for?"

"Close to a week."

That long, huh?

"I'll notify the doctor that you're awake now, considering you're capable of moving around when you shouldn't be." She pulled out her Scroll and glanced up at Whitaker as she typed. "Should I notify your team, as well?"

Whitaker considered it for a moment. "Yeah," he decided. They were all probably worried sick about him, and he was certain that the only reason they weren't in his room every day was because they weren't allowed to be there.

A few seconds later, the nurse smiled at him. "They've been notified. I'll get you a glass of water and run your vitals when I get back."

Whitaker nodded and watched the nurse leave his room.

She returned not even a minute later, his water in tow. She placed it on his bedside table and began to re-attach the white electrodes that he'd discarded when he got up to pull the blinds over his window. As she worked, Whitaker idly sipped on his water.

The door opened once again, and Iris stepped inside. Her ears and tail were idle and unmoving as she walked over to Whitaker's bed side, concern written clearly across her features.

"Doctor Iris," the nurse said. She handed her Scroll over to Iris. "I've written down his vitals. They look excellent, apart from his concerning Aura levels."

"Thank you, Amanda." Iris took the Scroll and began to read it over. "Please let the staff know that Whitaker has recovered. I know that Glynda was rather pushy about receiving constant updates concerning his condition."

"Of course, Iris." And with that, the nurse left the room.

Whitaker gazed warily at Iris.

"You should consider yourself extremely lucky that you are alive, Whitaker." Iris' eyes were glued to the Scroll. "All degrees of burns across your neck, back, and legs. Third degrees on the majority of your back, second degrees on your lower back and upper thighs, and first degrees on your neck. Torn tissue along your forearms and hands. You now have more than enough scars to last you a lifetime." Iris looked up. "Congratulations." During the entire duration of her report, her tone was flat and betrayed nothing but cold, calculating emotion.

Ouch.

He reached up to touch his back, to feel for the scars, but Iris' hand slapped him. Before Whitaker could respond, the door burst apart and a flurry of red petals sped into the room.

Ruby Rose appeared before him and shouted, "Whitaker!"

"Hi, Ruby." The teen offered a weak wave in her direction.

Yang and Blake filed into the room.

Yang offered him a small smile and a wave.

Blake was crying. Her sniffles and choked-back sobs filled the room.

"Blake…"

"I hate to ruin the moment," Iris said. "But I do need to make sure that Whitaker is okay. If you could leave the room for only a few minutes so I could talk to him, I would appreciate that."

Yang was the first to respond. "You got it, Doc." She reached an arm around Ruby and Blake. "C'mon, let's wait until they're done."

As they left, Iris turned back to Whitaker. "It's good that you have such a caring team at your side."

Whitaker nodded. "Yeah…" He trailed off.

"Do you not share the sentiment?"

"No, I do," Whitaker quickly replied. "You're right. They are a good team."

Iris nodded. She reached into the pocket of her coat and produced a glass container of burn salve. "Apply a layer of this once in the morning and once at night on the burns on your back and legs, and wherever else it hurts. This will lessen the pain and prevent further damage to your skin." Iris set it down on the bedside table. "How are you feeling?"

"Physically, I'm fine," Whitaker answered. The injuries on his back were a little irritating, but it was nothing that he couldn't get used to. Part of him wanted to say that he was perfectly okay mentally as well, but Iris knew that wasn't true. While the events at the loading area happened a week ago, it only felt like last night to Whitaker.

It only felt like last night that he'd taken another life.

"And mentally?"

"Probably worse than I think."

Iris hummed. "Then, we'll talk about it during our next session."

"Thank you, Iris."

"You're welcome," she said with a smile. "Now, onto your Aura."

A tingling sensation crept along Whitaker's fingers and up his arm. He waited for Iris to continue speaking.

"It's at a… concerning level, to say the least. Readings have consistently shown it to linger around fifty-percent of its original amount when compared to your initial readings from Beacon registration," she detailed. "Normally, this isn't really a cause for concern since lots of students experience Aura Growth during their time at Beacon. In your case, however, this isn't a matter of your total Aura growing and your soul not being able to keep up with its growth, it's a matter of you not being able to regenerate Aura."

"So, whatever I have left is what I'm stuck with, huh?"

Iris nodded. She pursed her lips before continuing. "I have not told anyone about this, not even the Headmaster nor any of the staff. Do you wish for it to remain this way?"

"Yes," was Whitaker's immediate response. The last thing he wanted was for his team to worry about him. As long as he avoided any more ceaseless danger, then he would be fine. Apart from the Vytal Festival, and the assigned missions that he would embark on, if he trained consistently, Whitaker believed that his Aura would be manageable until he wielded Lightbearer again.

50% isn't so bad.

Iris held his gaze for a moment, her ears twitching. Then, she released it. "Very well. I'll keep it between you and me."

"Thank you." Whitaker leaned back in his bed, the back of his head resting against the headboard.

"Well, I'll leave it there for now," Iris said as she walked towards the room's door. Her tail swished slightly behind her. "Please come by my office some time later this week." She smiled. "And enjoy your winter break, Whitaker. I hope to see you feeling better once the next semester arrives. You're cleared to leave whenever you wish."

"I'll see you around." Whitaker nodded. "Thank you once again, Iris."

"You're welcome, Whitaker." She placed a hand on the door knob. "And please do me a favor."

"Stop getting myself nearly killed?"

"Stop thinking you're invincible."

Before he could respond, Iris opened the door and Team R_BY burst into the room and bombarded him with questions about his health and safety.

Whitaker caught only a glimpse of Doctor Iris as she left the room.

Iris smiled— but there was no mirth behind it.

Only a trace of sadness.

[;]

"So… you're doing fine?" Ruby asked for what seemed like the hundredth time. Knowing her, it very well could have been. It certainly felt like it to Whitaker.

"I'm good, Ruby," Whitaker replied. "My skin is a little irritated right now, but that's just because the scars haven't healed yet." He picked up the container of salve. "Ir— The doctor told me that I needed to spread this on my back."

Yang plucked the container from Whitaker's fingertips. "Then we'll do it now."

"Wait, you guys don't need—"

The brawler reached over and forced Whitaker onto his stomach. The hospital gown opened at the back— and Whitaker heard a sharp gasp from Blake. The room was filled with a deathly silence.

"Is it.. bad?"

"Yeah." Yang swallowed. "It's bad."

"I'll take your guys' word for it," Whitaker said. He wasn't particularly interested in knowing just how extensive his injuries were.

Yang twisted the container open and began to wordlessly spread it across his back. Whitaker inhaled sharply at the coolness of her calloused hands.

"Does it hurt?" Yang asked.

"Just cold," Whitaker replied. He fought a pained hiss. It did hurt, but he would have to sit through the pain regardless. He'd rather not have his teammates worry about him more than they already were.

Another set of hands, much smaller than Yang's, began to swipe across his upper back. Then, a final set of unbelievably smooth and soft hands began to massage his neck with the salve.

"Enjoying yourself?" Yang teased. "Not every day you get to have your back rubbed by three girls."

Whitaker chuckled. "True enough. But, considering you guys are literally rubbing burn salve into third and second degree burns, this is about as far from something sexual as you could get."

The hands around his neck froze.

Yang let out a small breath. "Alright, that should be enough, right?"

"Yeah." Whitaker stood up and closed the back of his hospital gown. He hadn't taken the time to look at Blake, but from what he could see, it looked like she hadn't gotten any sleep. Her golden eyes were absolutely bloodshot, and several layers of dark bags filled the space beneath them. She looked like she was on the verge of collapsing any moment.

"Ruby, Yang, could you two leave the room for a moment?" He requested. "I would like a moment to talk to Blake."

The two sisters shared a look, and, at once, nodded. They left the room, leaving only Blake and Whitaker inside.

They shared awkward, silent glances. While he was the one to ask for the time to talk to Blake alone, Whitaker wasn't really sure how to broach the topic. There was so much to talk about— from what he'd said to her, how he found her, what happened at the loading dock, and the White Fang.

Blake looked up from her intertwined fingers, her thumbs still circling around each other. The sound of her clearing her throat drew Whitaker's attention. "I'm sorry," she murmured.

"For?" Whitaker replied, trying to keep his emotion out of it.

Blake swallowed. She seemed to be fighting for the right words. "For overreacting. Not listening to you or Ruby or Yang. For not trusting my team enough. For… For almost killing you. I'm sorry."

Whitaker nodded once. "I forgive you."

Blake froze. "That's it? Just like that?"

Whitaker nodded again. "You're right. You did overreact. You didn't listen. And you didn't trust us." He smiled at Blake. "You're not the type to live with inadequacy, not like I would even let you, but you're always striving to be better. And the fact that you're acknowledging your mistakes and seeking forgiveness is already a good sign." He grinned. "So, you're forgiven."

"Oh. Well. I was worried that—"

"I might hold a few grudges here and there," Whitaker interjected. "But I never hold grudges against my friends. And you're my friend, Blake. My teammate. I trust you with my life. Like I did tonight. And like I will every day from now on."

Blake pursed her lips and nodded, clearly still in shock. But after a time, she replied. "Thank you, Whitaker."

"I should apologize too," Whitaker said. "I wasn't exactly the most responsive to you either, nor did I do too much listening. I'm not completely in the right. I took out my vindication against the White Fang on you."

"No, you're right in that regard." Blake looked up at the plain plaster ceiling of their room. "The White Fang… They can't be saved. Not anymore. What happened at the docks is proof that they're willing to resort to the unacceptable extremes to get what they want. Even if it means sacrificing each other. It was never about this. It was never supposed to come to this. This isn't how we're supposed to get what we're owed. We were never supposed to take from humans.

"We were supposed to stand together. United." Blake's hand came to rest at her chest, her fingers tightening around the fabric. "But, instead, we're more divided than ever. We're destroying each other. Killing each other." Her hand dropped weakly onto her knee.

Whitaker reached over and placed his hand over Blake's. With his thumb, he gently rubbed the side of her hand. "Blake," he said. "You're not the White Fang anymore. That's not who you are."

"But it's who I was, Whitaker."

"People change. Everything changes. Nothing ever stays the same," Whitaker said. "Ideals change, agendas change. And that's what the White Fang was. An ideal. An agenda."

"It wasn't just an ideal," Blake replied. "It was our hope."

"I… understand that." Whitaker looked up at her. "So, what are you going to do about it?"

"I don't know." She shrugged helplessly. "Right now, honestly, doing something about it is the last thing on my mind." Blake's eyes ran across Whitaker's body. They began to well with emotion before Blake quickly blinked it away. "If this is the result of me trying to do something about it, I won't ever try again."

"Blake—" He raised his hand.

"You were dead, Whitaker!" She lashed out, her hand slapped against his. "At the loading bay, you didn't have a heartbeat! I thought you were dead— I was certain of it. As I watched you get carried away by the paramedics, all I could think about was what the fuck I was going to tell Ruby and Yang!" A cry escaped her lips.

"'Hiya! I just got your best friend killed because I was too immature to handle criticism! Sorry about that! I'm sure we can make a new friend soon!'" She laughed. Her voice cracked.

"It should have been me. I should be where you are right now. But instead of me, you're paying for my mistakes." Her tears fell freely now— they tore across her pale cheeks, as sobs wracked through her small form. Blake leaned towards him and pressed her head against his leg. She gripped the sheets of his bed so hard her knuckles turned white as they shook. Her entire body released every ounce of tension that it was once carrying in a violent series of inhales, sobs, exhales, and choked back cries.

Whitaker could do nothing but reach out and place a hand on the top of Blake's head. He gently rubbed the base of her ears. The girl twitched at the initial contact, but she loosened as time went on and as her tears dissipated.

"I'm sorry," Blake sniffled. "I… I don't even know if I deserve to cry."

"Everyone deserves to cry," Whitaker said.

Blake rubbed her eyes. "I haven't cried," she inhaled, "like that in a long, long time."

Whitaker hummed as he continued to rub her ears. "Do you feel a little better?"

"Yeah, I do."

"Good."

Blake, whether consciously or subconsciously, began to lift her head upwards in rhythm with Whitaker's massaging. She let out a small sigh of pleasure.

Whitaker cracked a smile. "Are you gonna start purring?"

"Mm. I might," Blake said. She looked up at him. Her golden eyes swollen and more bloodshot than he'd seen before. In all honesty, Blake looked like a mess. But even through her physical appearance, it still seemed like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

Blake poked his leg. "You're staring."

"Sorry," Whitaker said. "You look… a little better now."

"Do I?" Blake sighed. "I feel awful."

"Well, you also look like you just cried a storm," Whitaker japed.

Blake lightly hit his leg. "I should probably get the rest of them, huh?"

Whitaker hummed. "I was actually wanting to get out of here," he said. "I'm not too interested in staying on this bed any longer than I have to. And I really want a shower."

"Let me help you up," offered Blake as she stood up.

Whitaker smiled at her. "Thank you, Blake."

"You're welcome, Witt."

[;]

During the whole walk back to their dorms, Ruby and Yang hovered over Whitaker like a pair of overprotective mothers. Like a hawk, they watched every step he took and made sure that there were as few obstacles in his way as possible. Whitaker took that time to remind that he could walk just fine. He'd had a full week to rest and heal, after all.

Whitaker stepped into the bathroom and shut the door behind him, double-checking that it was locked. Despite his assurances, he was fairly certain that Yang and Ruby would break into the shower if they heard any sound that concerned them.

With a small chuckle, Whitaker set his clothes down and turned the shower on. He stripped and climbed into the shower facing the showerhead. Cautiously, he slowly turned around. He let out a pained hiss as the hot water impacted against his burned skin.

It stung at first, but the pain normalized and eventually went away entirely.

Whitaker finished his shower, taking great pleasure in how clean he felt. While he was grateful for the nurse's washing of his body while he was unconscious, nothing felt better than a shower after an extended period of time. He put on a clean change of clothes and stepped out of the bathroom.

"Whitaker," Yang said, approaching him. "How are you feeling?"

"Better now that I'm actually clean," Whitaker replied. He folded up his hospital gown and made a mental note to return it to Iris when he saw her next. His stomach grumbled irritatedly, then he looked up to the rest of his team.

"Let's eat!" Ruby rushed over to Whitaker and took his hand. She popped open the room's door, thrusting him and herself through it.

Team JNPR's door opened at the same time— Jaune, Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren filed out of their room.

Whitaker met Pyrrha's eyes.

He cracked a small smile.

The Invincible Girl surged forwards and wrapped Whitaker in an inescapably tight hug. She buried her head into the crook of his neck. Whitaker could feel moisture begin to gather, and he placed his arms around Pyrrha. He reached up and began to gently stroke her hair.

"I'm okay," he whispered. "I'm okay now."

Pyrrha pulled away with a sniffle. Tears gathered at the edges of her verdant eyes, and she rubbed them away, finishing the rest off with a firm blink.

"Ruby told us about what happened to you," Jaune said from the side. "We were all really worried."

"Thanks, Jaune." Whitaker patted the blonde's shoulder twice.

"How is your condition?" Ren asked.

"I've got a lot of scars on my back. The ladies will love it." Whitaker grinned. His joke caused a ripple of chuckles and giggles within the group. "In all seriousness, I'm fine. Sometimes the burns get irritated, but the skin will heal as time goes on. Once the second semester starts, I'll be back to normal."

"Great," Nora cheered. "Now let's get some pancakes!"

"Normally I would be against this," Ren began. "But since we all know that Whitaker's fine— I suppose a few pancakes couldn't hurt."

Nora magnetized over to Ren, her arms locking around his. "Woohoo! Renny's gonna make some pancakes! Does anyone else want some?"

Ruby's hand shot up into the air. "I'll have some!"

Yang joined her. "Eh, why not?"

Jaune, with a bright smile, raised his hand too. "Sure."

Pyrrha glanced back at Whitaker. Then, her hand came up. "As Ren said: a few pancakes couldn't hurt."

"Me too," Blake mumbled. Her hand didn't come up, but Yang reached over and raised it for her.

"Don't be such a sad kitty, Blake," Yang teased.

"What Yang said!" Nora cut in excitedly. "To three stacks of pancakes!"

With a laugh, Whitaker followed behind everyone as they all walked to the cafeteria.

Four years of this, huh? He smiled to himself. I wouldn't trade it for the world.

[;]

Whitaker sat with both his team and Team JNPR in the cafeteria. Everyone ate Ren's genuinely delicious pancakes as they talked about their plans for winter break.

"Ruby and I are heading back to Patch," Yang stated. "Dad wants home."

"Aww," Nora bemoaned. "Our whole team is staying at Beacon. I was excited for game nights with you guys!"

Ruby's eyes widened. "Your whole team? That's… surprising."

"Mistral is not very exciting for me this winter," Pyrrha explained slowly.

"Nora and I don't really have a place to go back to," was Ren's quiet answer.

"Well, I… Uh… Like my team a lot," Jaune tried.

"What about you, Whitaker?" Pyrrha asked.

"My parents live in Vale, so I'm probably going to stay with them," Whitaker replied after he finished chewing a slice of his pancakes. "But since I have no real way to kill time until I'm healed enough to train, I figured I might hang around here until I am."

"What are you parents like?" Ruby asked suddenly.

"My father's a good man," Whitaker found himself saying. "Stern and uncompromising. The very definition of tough love, I suppose."

"And your mom?"

"I have… a distant relationship with her."

The mood dimmed.

"Not because I don't like her or anything," Whitaker quickly amended. "She's just afraid to lose me. And after last week, I can't say I blame her." He could just imagine her screaming at him and his father because of it.

Pyrrha leaned forwards slightly. "Do you look anything like your father?"

"Interested to see what Whitaker will look like when he's older, Pyr?" Yang snickered.

The girl flushed. "No! It's just.. idle curiosity."

Whitaker shook his head. "I look more like my mother than anything else. She was a Schnee, so that's where I get the white hair and blue eyes."

"Oh. I see…" Pyrrha mumbled something else, but he didn't hear it.

Nora did. Her bright blue eyes shot wide open and her head creaked over to Pyrrha. "Pyr… What did you just say?"

"Nothing!" She replied hastily. Her cheeks darkened, and her head lowered.

In that moment, Whitaker chose to move on from the situation. Whatever Pyrrha had said or what she was thinking, he was probably better off not knowing.

"So, if we're all in Vale for winter break…" Yang trailed off. "Why don't we all hang out?"

"Sure," Whitaker said. "That sounds—"

A voice of pure ice cut through the entire conversation.

"Whitaker Ash." Glynda Goodwitch's hand came to rest on his shoulders.

Pressure began to build as she pinched him harder and harder. Whitaker winced. "Glyn— Professor Goodwitch… Your hand," he murmured.

"What's wrong, Whitaker?" The hand grew tighter. Whitaker could swear that she was using her Semblance to increase the pressure even more. Glynda looked around at both Team RWBY and Team JNPR. When Whitaker attempted to respond for his team, Glynda promptly crushed his shoulder.

He let out a small cry of pain.

"Uh," Ruby drawled. "Professor Goodwitch, I think you're hurting Whitaker."

"Oh. Am I?" She released her grip on his arm. "I didn't notice," Glynda said flatly.

Guess I deserve that for not telling her I was fine. Whitaker sighed.

Glynda fixed a glare on every member of both teams. "If none of you mind, I will be borrowing Whitaker for a bit to discuss something in my office," she stated in a tone so cold that it froze any semblance of an argument dead in its tracks. "I feel it prudent to remind him that informing those who care about him of his health condition is important." Glynda reached over and, like a hawk, latched onto Whitaker's shoulder again. "We'll be on our way now."

[;]

"I suppose you have an excellent reason for not telling me about your condition, Whitaker?" Glynda asked as soon as she closed the doors to her office.

"I… don't," Whitaker cautioned.

Glynda sighed. "Well, I'm glad to see that you're up and moving, at the very least." The professor sat on her desk with her legs crossed. She raised a brow in his direction. "What did Iris say about your health?"

"Other than scarring from the explosion, I would be fine," Whitaker summarized. "She'll probably have more to say during my session later this week, but that's all she and I have talked about so far."

"Very well." Glynda nodded.

"Glynda, what happened after the explosion?" Whitaker asked. In truth, ever since he woke up, he'd been dying to know. But he knew that the nurse wouldn't know much, and neither would Iris. Blake knew because she was there, but the last thing he wanted was for her to relive that moment just for the sake of his curiosity. "What happened to the White Fang and Torchwick?"

"Torchwick was killed in the explosion," Glynda affirmed. "His Aura was already low from fighting me, and after you and Blake knocked him out, he was essentially Aura-less. The explosion did the rest of the work. Due to his close proximity to the source of the explosion, there wasn't even a body to recover. He's presumed dead.

"As for the White Fang, almost all Dust robberies in Vale have stopped. It's almost as if they'd disappeared entirely. It's a welcome change— Dust prices are normalizing, and the SDC is shipping a normal amount of Dust to Vale now. We have a few Huntsmen and Huntresses out in the city to make sure that no other robberies are occurring within our reach."

"And the settlements outside of Vale?"

"We help where we can," Glynda said honestly.

Whitaker sat in silence as he thoroughly processed the information.

Having Torchwick gone was good for the city, especially if he was getting involved with the White Fang. And with the Dust robberies stopping, it seemed like they were able to put a stop to the White Fang's attack before it became too dangerous. It still felt a little strange to imagine that the White Fang would just stop all operations within Vale. Whitaker was more than a little sure that they were still within the city, sitting, waiting, and likely gathering forces to resume their robberies.

Blake's surprise at the docks too… The cat-faunus had been in utter shock that the White Fang would resort to siding with a human to accomplish their goals— and Whitaker was inclined to agree. It went against their entire ideology. Why would they side with the very people that caused them so much hurt and pain? It didn't make any sense.

Whitaker wasn't sure what the White Fang were thinking (it was hard to know the intentions of an entire terrorist organization, after all), but throughout the entire night on the docks there was an immediate sense of panic.

The White Fang resorted to suicide-jackets and betrayal to avoid being captured and sentenced.

If that didn't scream desperation, Whitaker wasn't sure what did.

There must be something more here. Blake herself might not be too keen on getting involved with the White Fang again, but she wasn't Whitaker.

He would get to the bottom of the situation.

No matter what.

"Whitaker?" Glynda asked. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, I'm fine," Whitaker said. "Just.. thinking about what you've told me." He stood up. "Will that be all, Glynda?"

She bobbed her head. "Before you go, Whitaker." Glynda shot him a small smile. "Enjoy your break."

Whitaker grinned. "I will. Thank you, Glynda."

[;]

Whitaker Ash saw Coco Adel for the first time in what felt like months. He wasn't entirely sure, but it looked like she'd grown an inch or two— from an astounding five-foot-six to five-foot-eight. She was still several inches below Whitaker in height, but that didn't stop the girl from having the energy of being even in height with him.

And, of course, with a tall enough pair of heels, she and him would be the same height.

The two of them stood across from one another in the Beacon hallways.

Coco's eyes were wide with shock, and she took a step forward. "Whi— Whitaker?"

Whitaker waved at her. "Hi."

In an instant, Coco's arms were wrapped around him and her head pressed harshly into his chest. While she wasn't crying, Whitaker knew that she was on verge of doing so and was desperately trying to fight tears. Gently, he returned the hug.

"I… I heard about what happened," she murmured, the words nearly getting lost in his chest. Coco sniffled.

"And?"

"Gods, you're such an idiot." She pulled away, and looked up at him. "I won't scold you because I know you've already gotten it from your team. And you're dad's going to kick your ass when you get home. But just know that I was really, really worried."

"I'm sorry." He genuinely meant it. He knew that what he did was dangerous, and probably more than a little stupid, but in the moment, he knew that it was the right decision to make.

No one else's reactions were faster than an explosion.

"Just don't do it too often," Coco said, placing her hands on her hips. "You're not invincible."

Second time I've heard that today. Whitaker nodded. "So, what have you been up to?"

"Just finished packing all of my stuff for winter break," Coco explained. "Other than that, just training and finishing up assignments for classes."

"So you're going home for break?"

"Yeah, I stayed at Beacon for the whole year last time. And while it was fun, I got really homesick at the start of the second semester," she said. "How about you?"

"I'm heading home too. Still need to get everything sorted and packed before I leave."

"I'll help," Coco offered.

"Coco, it's fine."

She shook her head. "I'm not helping because I think you need me, Witt. I'm helping because I want to." Coco put a hand on his arm. "Let me help. Please?"

"I…" He sighed. "Okay, you can help me pack."

Coco shot him a thumbs-up and grinned.

Whitaker led her back to Team RWBY's dorm. "You've met them before, right?" He asked.

"Yeah. I asked them for updates on your condition pretty often. Not that they had any information on it." Coco glanced at him as they walked. "When we find time later, do you want to talk about what happened?"

Whitaker nodded. "Are you leaving today?"

"I'm leaving when you do. We'll ride a Bullhead back to Vale together," she said with a wide smile.

There was excitement in her eyes, and Whitaker knew that he would be a fool to refuse. Not that he was planning to anyways. It'd been a long time since he and Coco talked, and it wasn't exactly a lie to say that he'd desperately missed her.

"Let's make a date out of it," Coco joked. "Drop our stuff off at home, and then we walk around Vale for a bit."

"Sure," Whitaker said.

"W— wait, really?"

"Why not?"

"Well, that's…" She trailed off. "That was easier than I expected."

Whitaker shrugged. He hadn't had much time to worry about the affairs of the heart lately— that and there wasn't anyone he was particularly interested in. Sure, there was the slight crush he had on Pyrrha, but that it was all it was. And more often than not, crushes were fleeting things.

To be rather honest, Whitaker wasn't sure how to feel about any of that stuff now. He might have had time for it in the past. But now, he was so busy with every other aspect of his life: school, training, studying, and even more training.

Romantic relationships, to him, were nebulous at best.

However, it wasn't like he found the girls around him unattractive or unappealing. They were all beautiful. That was just how their line of work affected them.

"Whitaker?" Coco asked. "Are you alright? You've been quiet for awhile now."

"Just thinking," he said with a small smile. And Coco, for as long as he could remember, had always been very pretty.

Before long, the two arrived at Team RWBY's dorm and Whitaker popped the door open. Blake was sitting on her bed, her nose buried into a book, her ears twitching rapidly. She looked up to see Whitaker and Coco walking into the room, and her cheeks darkened as she slammed her book shut.

"H-hi," she said, avoiding Whitaker's gaze.

"Hi, Blake," Whitaker replied.

"Hey." Coco waved. Her brow was raised slightly. "Were you…"

"I have to go!" Blake shot out of bed, taking her book with her as she sprinted out of the room.

Coco smirked. "Guess she was."

"She was what?"

"Doing teenage things," Coco said.

Whitaker chose not to pry any further for the sake of his own sanity. Curious as he might've been, this was one of the few times that he would leave his curiosity unsatiated.

Working alongside Coco, Whitaker managed to pack all of his things within an hour.

"You pack like I thought you would."

"Efficiently?"

"Like a robot," Coco decided.

Whitaker scoffed. "Hey, I'm human enough."

"Mm… I don't know about that."

Whitaker nudged her side with his elbow, but laughed while doing so.

"So," Coco said as she watched him zip up his luggage bag and stand it up-right. "We've got some time to kill before the next Bullhead. What do you wanna do?"

Whitaker shrugged. "I'm pretty much out of commission for training until after winter break."

"Yeah, I know." Coco sighed. "You know what?"

"Mmh?"

"I haven't actually explored all of Beacon."

"Well, the school is pretty big," Whitaker said.

"Let's do it together," Coco offered with a wide smile.

Whitaker tilted his head in thought. Then, he shrugged. "Sure. Why not?"

Coco rolled her eyes. "At least sound excited about it."

"Let's do it!" Whitaker tried. He cringed at the way his voice sounded.

"Okay," Coco back-tracked. She looked almost offended. "On second thought, never sound excited about anything ever again."

Whitaker laughed. He set his luggage bag against the foot of his bed and watched as Coco walked over to the door. She placed her hand against the door knob, then she glanced back at him.

"What are you waiting for?" She asked. "We have an academy to explore."

Whitaker nodded, and he fell into step behind her as the two began their exploration of Beacon Academy.


A lot of development this chapter. Hopefully it wasn't too boring of a read, but it was definitely needed.

merendinoemiliano - Thanks! Sun's always been one of the more interesting characters in RWBY, and I'm a little sad that he got sidelined after Mistral.

Next Chapter: 5/12/2021