Chapter 2: Classy, Bougie, Ratchet

"O God of Shape, O Twitching God of color, carve our bountiful flesh with thy beautiful razors."

— 3 —

This wasn't even the first time I've died. Probably the third or fourth time, depending on how we're counting. The first time—

No, that didn't work. Let me try again.

My knees felt like I'd run a marathon after leg day. I could move forwards through the January air, but if I paused to actually think about what I was doing, where I was going, I could feel my legs buckle at the edges of perception. It—

No, fuck. We know I'm a psychotic gym bro. My entire self identity and worth as a person is tied into being fit and able. We've covered this before.

I once talked to Ruby about the Ship of Theseus, in an abstract kind of way. Talking about what I learned of myself after fighting my dad and meeting her uncle. She told me that was just the nature of weapons, of people. We're never the same person day by day and—

I slammed my shield through the tree with the full force of my Aura. The impossible strength ripped into the old oak, sending it cracking and creaking. It buckled to the side and collapsed onto a mess of broken beer bottles. It was an angry power fantasy, plain and simple. Not the kind I constantly strove for, becoming a better man, being seen as worthy by the people I cared about. It was a blind, pointless rage.

I collapsed against the ruined tree, holding my head in my hands. My breath misted. I couldn't get my thoughts in order. Couldn't relate to anything. Couldn't boast or make a joke or crack some witty observation. Everything was a frothy scramble.

All because of that look in Blake's eyes. Pure, naked hatred and disgust.

Holding my knees to my chest, I scrunched my eyes shut. I moaned and made noises, sputtering nonsense to try to distract myself. But I couldn't rip the mental image from my mind. It was the midnight pain of remembering a time you embarrassed yourself sometime as a kid magnified by a thousand fresh wounds to the heart. Icy and cold, like deepthroating an icicle.

I had seen that look before. Or had I? Not to that level, no. When we first met, Blake had been upset, disgusted, but she didn't hate me. When I destroyed her plans for whatever and got everyone detention, she was angry, told me to kill myself, but didn't hate me. And when she dragged me back from Doc Croaker's bloodletting, and she'd broken down crying with hatred for her lot in life and everything, and told me to leave her alone, it wasn't hate.

This was… I looked up, catching the snow in my glove. January. It still felt like January. When I died before, I'd also been put earlier in the timeline. In Brockton Bay, I'd been there a solid year before the story began. And here, despite having no memory of it through the drunken haze, I had shown up a week before the start of the entire debacle that began this.

But this was January. It was practically the same day I'd died. Less than an hour ago I'd held Blake and did everything I could to keep her standing. She'd seen something and even tried to protect me. And then Simone had killed us all.

Simone and that…

I hissed in a breath, willing myself not to remember. Digging my palms into my eyes to make it fucking stop.

Hate.

This was today. But in a world where I had shown up, but where I'd never fixed things with Blake or my team. That had to be it. Just a world where I was Jaune Arc, the drunken addict. It was over a month between meeting Blake and then getting my Aura. And then a couple months from then to now. What the hell could I have done to her if I was still the happy-go-lucky retard over the course of four whole months?

Hate.

Enough for the person I cared about most in the world to hate me to the core of her very being.

I stood up and went… somewhere. Anywhere. I didn't know. What else had I fucked up in this world? How much more damage did I have to fix? Goddamnit, could I fix it? Did I even have the mental wherewithal to try?

I walked past Coco, idly chatting with Fox. They looked fine. Her spine wasn't broken, and she was wearing shoes this time. And a fashionable winter coat. Neither of them paid me any attention. Fox just made a weird face and spaced out before Coco nudged him and they continued chatting. I didn't have the energy to do anything but look at my boots and walk past, hoping no one would say anything.

They didn't, and I was alone ago. Just walking. Apparently without trying to get my team back up to spec, I'd never made inroads with Coco. Cross another friend off the list.

I knew on some abstract level this was always a possibility. In the back of my mind that dying was just another part of the trip. I'd joked about it with Qrow and Blake, in more obscure terms. But I'd hoped I wouldn't die this time around. I could stick it out and just live. This was worse than waking up in a new face, adding another soul to the conga line I've got jumbling around in my head. And probably with a new set of Earth memories to go along with it. Watch me show up in, I don't know, She-Ra with five years experience as an NCO that I couldn't explain. When I was Greg, I remembered college. As Jaune, I remembered years in the Army. Even though the time between dying as Greg and waking up with Jaune's face only felt like a matter of subjective minutes.

Instead, I was back in the same world, on the same day, without any of the friends I'd come to love and care for. It was a one-sided affair. Imagine it from their point of view: the boy they hate most in the world suddenly acting friendly, like they know each other; and just how creepy and awful that would be. I'd earned my friends. No, not 'my'. It was mutual, equal. We were friends together. A partnership with me, Blake, Weiss, Shamrock, even Coco and Cardin if you squinted. Ruby too, the brat.

I blinked, looking up at where I was. I was holding my room key outside Team BASS' dorm. The nametags on the door listed the familiar team. The only difference is Ruby hadn't scratched out my last name to rechristen me Jaune Rose. I just stood there, contemplating if the keycard would even work, if I even wanted to see it. Filled with beer and drugs and everything else.

Listening in, I heard noises behind the door. Probably Weiss or Shamrock. Weiss had loathed me especially. She'd been the last to really come around to me. Even Shamrock had always vaguely tolerated me. I remembered eating Weiss' bagels as we chatted stupid stuff like food and love, and then the time she threatened to castrate me.

If Weiss was in the room, behind it, could I really handle her hatred too? In this state, right this now? What would I say if she demanded I leave? Called me out for the unpleasant creep I was?

I… I couldn't do it. Couldn't handle it.

I stumbled into the dorm's common room and turned the sink on. The water felt warm when I splashed it against my face, rubbing away at invisible wounds. Not an hour ago my skin had been sloughing off and bleeding. Now it was fine. Baby smooth like it was before Weiss stole my skincare products.

"I see you—get away from the microwave!" Ruby shouted.

It was a force of will to turn my head on rusty gears to face the pint-sized brat. She was standing there, fists balled at her sides. I uttered a single, pathetic laugh. "No. Not you too."

"Yes, me!" she said. "In fact, me three. Even four of me. What are you doing with the microwave?"

I turned the sink off lethargically. "Not eating."

She scowled. "You can't fool me. I found broccoli in my lunchbox the other day."

"You have a lunchbox?"

"I keep gun oil and spares parts in it," she said quickly, huffing. "How do you think I feel when I go to change Crescent Rose's barrel and I accidentally load broccoli into it? My poor gun!"

"It's also a scythe," I croaked, feeling my knees go weak just looking at her and the distrust in those silver eyes.

Ruby frowned, crossing her arms. "Yes, yes it is. Thank you for noticing. Now why are you sobbing into the sink? You look pathetic. It's killing the room's feng shui."

"Ruby," I said weakly.

"That's my name. I didn't think you knew it," she said, and clicked her tongue. "Are you hungover? Trying to vomit up actual good food you ate? I swear to, like, the gun gods that if you ate the cake I was saving, I'll cry at you! This is a threat, Jaune. I was saving that for a special occasion, like Thursday—the worst day."

"Ruby." A little stronger. Even if everything else was shaking.

"Actually, is that my necklace?" she asked, making a face. She grabbed at her neck. "No, still there. Why are you copying me? I know you have, like, zero style, but c'mon. That's just sad. Get your own cool swag. And get away from my microwave. I had to buy a whole new one after the last time you cooked fish in it. You do that again and I'll stab you. I mean it. Putting my foot down on this one, Jaune."

I said, no, I begged her with all the strength I had left. "Ruby, please, stop."

The hostility in her face gave way to something approaching concern. Her silver eyes roved across me, going over my tattoos, my clothes, and back to my face. "Jaune?"

I sniffed. "Yeah. 'S my name last I checked."

Ruby just stared up at me, eyes wide, confused. "Are… are you okay?"

I shook my head. "No, Ruby. No, I'm havin' me a pretty shitty day."

"Oh."

"Yeah."

Ruby sniffed the air. "You don't smell of booze. That's weird."

"I don't drink anymore."

She made a face. "My uncle, Qrow, says the same thing every time I see him."

"He ever telling the truth?"

Ruby shook her head. "No."

Add Qrow to the list of people I needed to square up with. I think I still had his hipflask on hand. "Well, I am."

"You look different. And weird," she said, sucking on her lips.

"Not my fault," I said. "I had to do better. I got engaged against my will."

"Wow, that sucks."

"I know."

"No, I mean, for her. Imagine getting forced to marry you. Blegh. Couldn't be me."

I looked away and laughed mirthlessly. "In her defense, it was for tax benefits."

"Oh. That's reasonable. I think?"

"Yeah, she's a complete minx," I said, smiling at nothing. "She convinced me that when we're both eighteen, I should be her cameraman for JustFans. We were gonna split the profits from her nudes together and buy a video game console."

She blinked. "I can't tell if you're messing with me or if that's true. It's stupid enough to be true, and that kinda scares me."

"I scare a lot of people."

We kind of just stood there in silence. I didn't know what to say. I didn't know what to do. But the fact that Ruby had unballed her hands and was looking at me like I was almost a person made it easier to stand, to hold myself up, to breathe in and out in rhythm.

"Hey," Ruby said quietly. "Are those tattoos? Those are new."

"They're symbolic," I said.

She swallowed. "That's kinda cool. I mean, I know you don't really do cool, but that's almost like a start. My Dad tried to ruin tattoos forever when he got one, but I refused to let him win. I can't really decide what I want, if I want one. So I rotate. Look what I got." Ruby pulled down her sleeve and showed me her arm.

I leaned in, examining. "You… got tats?"

Ruby shook her head. "Not really. I'm trying out temporary tattoos to see what looks cool. I think the one that makes Yang panic the most is the one I'll go for. But, still, whatcha think? It's a spider; we're practically the same!" Her eager, hopeful little smile hurt.

I rubbed my eyes and smiled. "Aw, sick, he's doing a flip!"

She nodded happily, almost bouncing in place. "Yeah—and he's riding a skateboard!"

I couldn't help myself. I broke down laughing. Just seeing Ruby smile like this as we talked over nothing at all, seeing her go from mistrust to almost friendly—it reminded me of everything. Of the first time I made Blake truly smile. Of being able to have a nice conversation with Weiss and her lack of social skills over sushi. Chatting bullshit with Shamrock over religion, Dust, and rocks. It reminded me of the reason I fought and bled for these people. Not to save their lives or the world or anything so pointlessly grandiose. But just so I could hang out and vibe with people I liked, making them laugh and enjoy their time with me as a friend.

I died.

But did that change anything?

The people I loved were still the people I loved. Ruby was a dork. Weiss was an awkward mess trying her best. Blake was driven and passionate. Coco was a girl in the Emperor's New Clothes doing everything she could. Cardin was probably still a retard who catcalled women, but I could fix him.

It hurt. It was painful. They hated me. But beneath it all, they were the same people I cared for and would die for. That I had died for. And would do so again without a second thought. But even if I got shunted back to the beginning, I would do it all over again. I would be the friend they all deserved to have. The man I wanted to be. It wouldn't be easy, let's not fool ourselves. But nothing ever worth doing ever was.

I mean, look at me? The skin disorder lookin' ass Queen of Darkness herself personally murdered me, and I was fucking fine. Literally no skin off my back. I think I even got better, since I wasn't melting anymore.

"What am I doing here?" I asked.

Ruby perked up. "Sobbing into a sink?"

I snorted. "Nah, fuck that. Fuck all of that. You know who I am?"

"The guy who ruined the microwave?"

"Yes!" I said, dragging over a chair from a nearby table so I could Captain Morgan my leg onto it and thrust my fist into the sky. "I'm the guy who'll ruin a thousand microwaves before I learn my lesson and quit! My name is Jaune Arc, the baddest motherfucker in Beacon!"

She looked to the side. "I mean, I bought that microwave after the last one. Please don't make me do it again."

"I'm Jaune Arc! I CAN CRUSH A WATERMELON USING ONLY MY ABS—I AM INVINCIBLE!"

Very hesitantly, looking around as if to call an adult over for help, Ruby slow-clapped for me. "Uh, yeah! What he said."

I thrust my finger at Ruby. "And Ruby, I'm coming over to your house next Long Night."

She snapped me a pair of finger guns and said happily, "No, you are not!"

"Too bad!" I said, sticking out my tongue. "I'm gonna come over anyway and intercourse your dad."

"Hey, better idea! How about you do the exact opposite of that?"

I sighed loudly, and laughed. "God, kid, I really needed this. Thanks."

She grimaced. "Y'know, someone once told me that girls mentally age faster than boys and I didn't think it was true. But the more we talk, the more I think it is."

"And sorry for ruining the microwave," I said. "I'll, I don't know, I'll make you some deep fried treats to make up for it. No more fish in the nuker."

"Aaaand now you're scaring me."

"Fear is how we know we're alive!" I said, flexing at her.

She blinked, and decided to just flex her arms back at me in a posture like she was trying to demand I hand over my toes. "Then I regret being alive, rah!"

"No one flexes like Jaune-ston!" I grunted back, assuming my best Johnny Bravo. "Witness my muscly ability to resemble a human uterus on steroids. Watch as I grip all the dicks that get near me and crush them!"

"Weird flex, but okay!" she laughed.

"Hey, Ruby," Yang called out, walking into the kitchen in sweat pants and a crop top. "Have you seen my—oh, hello! What the heck am I looking at?"

I stood up straight, breathing hitching. And then I had to wonder what the hell I was scared of? Even at her worst, Yang hadn't ever really been able to hurt me. Mostly just yell and scream and be offended on behalf of her little sister. I literally had my face melt like two hours ago. Compared to what, what the hell was there to be spooked by?

"Oh hi, Yang," Ruby said, waving. "I'm flexing for my life. Send help."

Instead of getting angry, which I was going to roll my eyes and stand my ground at, Yang just gave me a skeptical look. I did not like the way she scanned me up and down. "Who's your friend, one of the foreign kids?"

"Abstractly, yes," I said.

Yang blinked. Hard. She sort of spasmed her head back in a series of disbelieving half-scoffs. "Wait. That voice. Jaune?!"

"The one and only," I said. "What's good in the hood, Yang?"

"Nothing," Ruby said, eyes narrow. "We try to pretend otherwise, but deep down we know there's many socioeconomic problems in the hood."

I patted her head. "That's nice, sweetie."

Yang held up her hands, shaking them at me. "No. Ho-ho-hold on. Jaune. Jaune Arc."

"That's my name," I said dryly. "Get me a watermelon. I'll prove it to you."

"Don't!" Ruby said suddenly. "He threatened to crush it with his abs."

Yang gave my core a skeptical look. "I'd… pay to see that. Sounds rad."

"If you cancel my microwave debt to your sister," I said, "we'll call the accounts settled."

She laughed. "Yeah, I don't know. She was pretty pissed about that."

"In my defense, I have zero memory of this event," I said. "Which means it never happened."

"I like your logic."

Ruby huffed. "I don't."

"But, for real," Yang said, "did you always look like that? I mean, the tats alone look weird. What are you even wearing?"

"My mommy said it makes me look like her special little boy," I said with an exaggerated frown.

"Is your mom trying to sleep with you?" she asked with a snort, walking over to the fridge. She opened it and started searching.

"You pointed it out. Are you?"

Ruby watched the exchange and gagged. She mimed the action of digging with a shovel, shaking her head at us with disgust. Not that I could blame her. I remembered the time right after I met Indigo, thinking how she was basically like Jaune's own version of Yang, and shivering in terror of the idea that any version of me might actually like Yang.

That was a slippery slope to introducing Yang as "the buxom brawler" or something equally cringe.

She blew through her lips. "Shirtless or not, you're still Jaune, and I have standards. You're the same loser I talked to this morning. And hey, Ruby, have you seen my left boot? It just kind of vanished and I can't find it anywhere."

Ruby just blinked, mouth opening slightly. "Uhhh…"

I came in to the rescue for whatever stupid scheme of hers by asking, "We never talk about anything, Yang. I think this is the first time we haven't tried to kill each other."

Pulling out a diet soda from the fridge, Yang said, "Uh, yeah, we did. How drunk are you?"

"Unseasonably sober," I said with a scoff.

Yang made a face. "Not what you said this morning before you ran off after your partner."

I blinked. "I did what?"

She shrugged. "You ran off saying something like 'ah yes, sounds like she's on some thot shit' or whatever."

"Since when do I quote Megan Thee Stallion?"

"Who?"

"You're supposed to ignore my out-of-context references!"

"Okay," she said passively.

"But for real, Blake? When did I go chasing after her?"

Yang popped the tab and sipped. "After breakfast. You stole my bacon. You were all confused but were pretty sure you wanted to find your partner. Then here you are, nearly shirtless. It's a good look, by-the-by."

"But… I'm the only Jaune? I'm dead, not a clone," I said.

She shrugged. "Whatever. Anyhow, Ruby, for real, where's my boot?"

"Why would I know?"

I took a step back as the sister argued over who did and did not steal Yang's boot. Yang had seen another me, one who looked different, drank, and called Blake a thot? That was… sort of like what I used to do once upon a time. My kind of bullshit, before I went clean, before I learned to love.

A couple of things clicked. Blake had been precise with her wording when she screamed me down. I told you to go before. Before what? And then, I can still smell you from earlier. As if I was already just there. And she was pissed because she'd told me to go away, only for me to show up the very next moment.

I looked down at my armored gloves and flexed my fingers. I was Jaune, a boy redeemed, if with a couple extra souls for baggage. But Yang had talked to me earlier, and so had Blake. People still knew me as if I had always been here, always been a piece of shit, more than you'd expect if I just suddenly took over Jaune's body wholesale like I had when I first had. I mean, I was wearing my armor, I had my sword and tattoos, and XO was on my hip. I had died.

But then how come I was here so late in the timeline with all my stuff, all the work on my body? This didn't match the pattern of my last two deaths. This was different.

My nose felt bloody.

I stepped away, legs numb.

"Wait, Jaune, I take it back!" Ruby called out. "Don't leave me with her. Where are you going?"

I paused, feeling the blood pump through my veins, ringing in my ears. "I just realized I think I'm the superpowered evil twin. I… I need to go find another stranger me and kill myself."

"Oh." She made a face, and then waved me off. "Well, have fun with that? Send a postcard from heck. It'll give me a return address to send the microwave invoice."

"Ruby, do you even know what an invoice is?" Yang asked.

"Depends. Does it mean I don't get a new free microwave?"

The girls faded into the background until they were nothing more than so much ringing in my ears. I needed to find someone. I needed to find out what was really going on. And I needed to find out who had seen the other Jaune first.

I needed to find Blake.

— 4 —

I needed the bitches to shut up.

After finding my room key, the only thing I'd wanted was to sleep somewhere warm. My own bed, thank you very much. Damn near think I caught pneumonia or something. My nose kept feeling like it'd bleed. But instead, I could hear a bunch of biddies arguing through a wall. I tried to ignore them, I really did, but the thing about a hangover is it gives you superhuman powers. Specifically, hearing. The slightest noise was like an obese Englishman jerking off inside my ear canal, cumming to pictures of the Queen as all Limeys are required to by law.

But when they kept talking, first two voices, then three, and back to the original two, I gave up hoping the bitches would go away. I rolled out of bed and briefly considered going out in my underwear. Only to reconsider as I looked down at my stomach. It wasn't that I was fat, which was hard to get on a diet of mostly amphetamines and painkillers. But, y'know. I felt more at ease in my own stolen body with an undershirt. Pants were too far, though.

I creaked open the door like Gollum. "Hey, y'all forget-me-thots, shut your dicksuckers. I'm trying to sleep here! It's fuckin' Saturday."

Through the blurry light, I saw Ruby and her sister, the buxom brawler Yang out there in the dorm commons, arguing together in the kitchen. When I yelled, more than anything they seemed startled. I hoped they'd scattered like roaches when you turned the lights on, but they just stared at me.

I stepped out of the door, give a yeah, so what? shrug at them. "Yeah, y'all. Sssshut up."

Yang pointed at me, then down towards the stairwell in the other direction. Then back at me. "Jaune?"

"Yeah, the one and only. What of it? Wanna fight about it? Y'all loud."

"Why do you look different?" Ruby asked. "I thought we were bonding over our tattoos."

"You have tattoos?" Yang asked, eyebrow raising.

"Nope!" Ruby said quickly.

I walked into the kitchen, arms folded. "Stop passing the Bechdel test and mira aca. I'm too hungover for this shit. Go away. Go argue and be sad and tragic somewhere else."

"You go away and be pantless somewhere else!" Ruby said, sticking her tongue at me.

I arched my back like a cat. "I coulda just come out naked and chased you down! I have no shame; I'll fucking do it."

Yang made a face. "But, no for real, what happened to your tattoos and, y'know, physique?"

I gave her a blank look. "Hiding under my shirt. I walk around my room naked and stop at every mirror just to ogle my own posterior."

"So that's why no one on your team wants to hang with you," Ruby said, folding her arms.

"That's right. The mighty clap of my asscheeks is so loud that bitches run away in fear."

Ruby scowled. "I liked it better when you were crying like a little girl."

I snorted. "Me, cry? When do I cry? My tear ducts are shriveled up from years of disuse. It's why I need eyedropper to prevent infections."

"Like five minutes ago," she said smugly. "Like a little girl. Crying into the sink. Then you started trying to claim you could break melons with your abs."

"I could break your melons with my abs!"

"Jaune!" Yang snapped.

"You're right," I said simply. "She's got none. Like how she's got none reasons to, uh, be out here yelling."

Yang shoved me away. "Okay, way too far, boy."

"You're welcome. I aim to find every barrier and exceed them," I said, rolling my eyes.

"I can't believe I tried to relate to you!" Ruby said. "Also, your fashion sucks. Stop wearing a copy of my necklace."

"I don't wear necklaces—strangling hazard."

"I bet you wear women's left boots!" Ruby shouted, breathing hard.

"Come again?"

"He's probably the reason your boot's missing!" Ruby said, pointing at me. "Think about it!"

Yang frowned. "Yeah no, he's weird but that sounds a little too much."

"Don't accuse me of having limits or common sense," I said, scoffing, hand to my breast.

"Look at him!" Ruby went on. "Two minutes ago he was dressed like a different person with abs. Now he looks like a wrinkly frumpy-frump. I bet he's a master of disguise! He stole your boot so he could crossdress and get free drinks at the bar."

I looked down at my legs. "Shit, you think my ass is slim and feminine enough to pull off 'ladies drink free' night?"

Ruby gave me this snide little look and snickered. "Ha. Gay."

"Ruby!" Yang hissed.

I paused. "Wait hold up, what do you mean dressed dif? I was in my room the entire morning."

"No!" Ruby said. "You were out here crying and being sad, and then you said you were gonna intercourse my dad. You can't fool me, master of disguise Jaune!"

I looked at Yang for any confirmation. She was just rubbing the bridge of her nose, like she'd given up on life. That settled in. I just stood there, baffled.

Until I remembered the Eurasian girl in the expensive dress from breakfast. I racked my head for why that mattered to me at all. Why I kept thinking about her and her team. She was obviously one of the foreign students and… Oh shit, that was Cinder.

Oh yeah, I knew the future. Kind of. Cinder was, uh, gonna do something evil. I didn't remember what her plan was. Not even sure if it worked. I think it didn't. But that didn't matter. I'd messed with the timeline enough for anything to be possible at this point. And this point is, I'd recognize her poorly animated legs anywhere on her quest to be a nefarious, poorly animated bitch!

Oh shit, Cinder Fall was at Beacon and that shapeshifter girl was trying to replace me.

I hissed and turned on the balls of my feet. I needed to get to my room and get my armor on, and fast. "Okay, I'll demean you for being women later, I need to put pants on and go save the world and kill a dwarf. Ta-ta, bye, love y'all!"

No one was going to believe me. This was a shapechanger problem I needed to solve on my own. I mean, hell, last time I asked anyone on my team for help, really asked, Blake had thought I was trying to ask her out and told me to fuck off in no uncertain terms. I hadn't been able to do anything about the White Fang. But now?

Well, I guess at least my chest wound was healed.

I could fight, and this would be my crowning moment of glory—punching a waifu in the face until she stopped being evil!