I'm curious what everyone's favorite moments/chapters are? For me, it has to be chapter 28. It's got Jaune meeting Zwei, engaging in shenanigans with his friends, a wholesome talk with Peach, his team enacting an operation to help him dance with Ruby and, of course, the confession. I think it has to be the happiest Jaune's ever been in this fic.

Far, far below him the ocean swelled, shifted, foamed and swirled. Ozymandias stared down through the flat glass eyes of his mask and took in the seemingly unending, blue massiveness that was the sea.

The airship pilot peered at the horizon through a telescope. They were coming into the tail end of the trip from Vacuo to Mistral. It was morning, and the sun was behind him, as was all the life on Remnant that he had ever known.

Certainly, he had traveled to the other kingdoms and schools, but ninety-nine out of every one-hundred days he had spent on Remnant were in Vacuo, in that magnificent paradox of a city that simultaneously embodied decay even as it thrived with life and passion. It felt ancient but also new, in constant flux, a state of chaos that defied reality.

Ozymandias coughed and leaned over the airship's railing. It was harder to breathe that high up. He had needed to vomit over the side a few times, not necessarily because of the rocking motions that the airship's balloon and wings occasionally gave way to. He felt unwell.

The pilot brought down his telescope but still peered at the horizon. The light blue of the sky slammed into the dark blue of the ocean far out there, a perfect line that promised nothing.

"We should be seeing land soon," he reported. "Had some especially fortunate winds this trip, some of the luckiest I've ever had. We're well ahead of schedule."

"That is good." Ozymandias coughed.

He couldn't explain it to the pilot, but it would be good no matter what; if they were on schedule, if they were behind schedule, it would all be good. Because everything would pass as it was going to pass, one way or another. Although maybe, possibly, that wasn't good.

"So," the pilot said. "Excited to finally get on solid land again, eh?"

"Yes." He shrugged. "I suppose that being so long on a raft in the sky takes a bit of a toll."

"Hey!" He scoffed and pulled out a pipe. "This girl's more than a raft. She's at least a dinghy."

They shared a chuckle. The pilot placed some tobacco in his pipe and set it alight. A gentle breeze blew away the smoke into the air around them. Some of the strands of smoke passed too far away from the ship, however, past the dust field that filtered out most of the elements at that altitude. The smoke instantly got dashed away by a stronger wind high above the ocean.

"Are you going out here to visit the academy?" the pilot asked.

"Yes"

"What for?"

"A mission I've been assigned to."

"Ah, sounds important."

"And then"– he coughed, placing a hand on his aching chest as he did so –"then, I believe I'll be retiring"

"Retiring? That's nice. Did they throw a big party for you when you left?" The pilot was not the talkative sort, normally. These sorts of men, solo pilots over long distances, fall into two camps: either they constantly make conversation (mutual or one-sided) with their charges or even inanimate objects around them, or they preferred the company of their silence on the long voyages. This man fell into the latter camp, and they had shared very few words over the journey. However, the excitement of finally reaching their destination managed to fire up what little extroverted spirit he had left.

"A party? Something like that. Something like that," Ozymandias said.

He sat back on the bench and sighed. A party? He was never one for parties.

And what he had experienced as his sending off from Shade had been far from a party. The studentry had simply been informed via a quick memo sent by email that he was going on a trip to Mistral, no further details needed.

The faculty, however, knew the truth. The masters knew he was not going to return. Even before Fatu told them, most guessed it. Their executioner was old, after all. He limped and coughed everywhere he went. Traveling across continents would hardly be good for his health. When Fatu had told them that Ozymandias did not believe he would return, they looked crestfallen but not surprised.

Ozymandias had not expected them to force him to the sanctum before he left.

Alright, the term 'forced' is a bit strong. They insisted, repeatedly and stubbornly. He gave in.

The sanctum of Shade was a small, holy place. Locked behind an immense door in the deepest part of the ziggurat's crypts, the tiny room encompassed only a mat in the middle with slots carved out the walls for incense sticks and candles. Legend had it that the founder of Shade had died there, his body dissolving into his spirit.

Ozymandias had sat down on the mat. The masters around him had spoken in whispers so quiet that he could not hear them, that not even the person next to them could hear. The massive stone door had been shut. The whispers—secret words of thanks and prayers for safe travels—percolated around the room like spirits in a graveyard.

"Yes, a party," Ozymandias said. "A party."

He spoke with a hollow voice, each word breathed out with all the life of a flat note from a broken flute; his gravelly throat and mask made those already inspirited sounds shake, distort and crumble.

"Party…"

"Well, good you got one," the captain said simply.

Then they returned to the amicable silence. In the shadow of such a simple conversation, Ozymandias's mind wandered. He thought back to the last words he had shared with Fatu.

"And what if this new student of yours refuses?" she asked. "You yourself said he is strong-spirited and stubborn."

"But he is not stupid." Ozymandias shook his head. "No, I feel it. The vision showed me where to go, and it gave me intuition enough as to what I should do. He'll say yes. He doesn't know it yet, but he will."

Fatu frowned. In a rare nervous gesture, she looked away and tapped her fingertips against her horn as she thought. "And even beyond that… what of Ozma?"

"I trust you will follow my advice."

"I will. Especially if…" she sighed and stopped fidgeting with her horn. "If even half of what you've said is true."

"It all is."

"I have faith in that. If anyone else had told me what you have, anyone else in the world, I would have thought them mad."

"Perhaps I am," Ozymandias said with a detached shrug. "At least a little."

"You're burdened." Fatu crossed her arms. "Anyone who gets to know you realizes that."

"That's why I do this. There's too much at stake."

"If only you'd take some hunters with you—"

"And weaken Shade? No." He reached out his hand. "Trust your old teacher."

Fatu looked at the hand. She took it.

"I do. Fare well."

"Thank you."

I wonder, Ozymandias thought, if she wishes she had said more after that. I do.

He turned his attention back to the horizon. The sun loomed behind him, rising in the East, illuminating the vast way before him.

Jaune shielded his eyes with one hand and looked at the horizon. The sun, rising from the East, glared back at him and made it difficult to see; as far as he was able, there stretched deep green forests under the orange early-morning glows.

"Practically in the middle of nowhere," he said unhappily. "We need to pick up the pace."

Orion sat back on his haunches. "Hm. Yes. We need to reach Mistral as soon as possible. Our enemies try the same."

Jaune stood beside Orion on a ridge. It had been a short night for them. The bullhead had run out of dust, and they sure as hell weren't anywhere close to somewhere or somebody who'd refuel them. So Neo had landed it ungracefully in a field (which some might call crashing). Then they had used the last dregs of what dust remained in the tank to set it on fire.

From there, they'd trekked the rest of the day and well into the night before making camp. Jaune and Orion had volunteered to split the watch shifts between themselves. Neo had agreed, knowing and not caring that they didn't trust being asleep around her.

She herself had chosen some perch in the trees to spend the night. Out of their reach.

Jaune scowled now. The sunrise was beautiful, but the dark bags under his eyes and the anger behind them kept him from enjoying it. He barely saw it, actually. He barely even saw the foggy breath rising up from his mouth and billowing past his face.

He looked over his shoulder and glared at Neo, who was busy stamping out the fire they had made to cook breakfast (some unfortunate deer Orion had hunted).

"Sheesh," Jaune said. "Don't even know if that's really her or her semblance."

"It is." Orion spoke surprisingly softly. One might think that his big maw could only form big words and loud growls, but now he breathed out light whispers. "I can sense her."

"That's a relief, forgot about your semblance." The ability to sense life forms and recognize ones he had met before.

Orion nodded. "I can smell well, also. I already know her scent."

"Good. Got to keep an eye on her." He glanced back again.

Neo noticed and scowled defensively.

Jaune scoffed. He had informed Orion that he was going to throw Neo under the bus (perhaps literally). She was small, but she could still be a meat-shield, or a distraction of some kind. Best outcome was she maimed Bishop but got killed in the process, leaving him for Jaune.

Worse comes to worse, he could blow her brains out once she stopped being needed.

"She's trash," Jaune said, "trust me."

"No further convincing necessary," Orion said. "Anyone threatening my people at Mountain Glenn… their death would take no mourning from me."

"Good to hear." Jaune put his hands on his hips. "This weird 'team' of ours is going to do some nasty things. Then we're gonna go back to where we belong. Neo, a grave; you, New Refuge; me…"

Jaune looked—truly looked—at the sunrise for the first time that morning.

"Where are you going to go?" Orion asked. "After all this?"

Jaune shook his head. "That's probably the worst question anybody could ask me right now."

"My apologies."

Jaune smiled. It was a humorless, pitiless, sad little smile. It was the sort of smile a person sardonically takes on when they have no idea what else they can do. "You're good. Not your fault. None of this."

"I—"

"Orion, you're a really nice guy," Jaune said frankly. He didn't look at his companion. "I kinda just talked myself into a real shitty spot just now so…" He whistled a long, petering note. "... let's just get going."

He brought a hand to his mouth and suddenly whistled so excruciatingly loudly that you would swear no person could make that sound on their own. Neo jolted like someone had tapped ice against the back of her neck. Even Orion looked surprised, insofar as his claws twitching might be taken for surprise.

"Being able to make loud noises out in the Wasteland can be surprisingly useful," Jaune said. He clapped his hands togethers and shouted at Neo: "Come on! We're heading out now! You sure you know which damn way this smuggler's den is at?"

Neo flipped him off, then trudged up and past him, into the forest.

"Alright," Jaune said, "no more wasting time."

"Alright everybody, no more wasting time!" Ruby clapped her hands together. She had gotten used to the slight sting on her human right hand whenever she clapped it with her metal hand now. She'd done a lot of clapping at Amity, after all. "We got another long walk before we make it to the next town."

She looked over her shoulder. The road they had taken stretched on far, far behind them. Covered with dead brown leaves, their path receded away into the dying autumn forest. They were far from New Refuge by now, but a part of her still thought that a posse from there would show up one night, mad at Blake eavesdropping on them.

Blake and her eavesdropping.

Ruby looked over at her teammate, who now yawned and finished stuffing her backpack. They were mostly all ready. Only Nora really had trouble waking up in the mornings; said girl was stumbling around, eyes half-shut and backpack still open with her sleeping roll half out. Ren was packing it back in.

"Hey Blake," Ruby said. She said it before she could stop it, and she regretted it almost immediately. But hey, guess I have to commit now. She waved her teammate over.

"What is it?" Blake asked. Her tone had just the slightest tinge of worry, and her eyes darted around to the woods around them. "Something wrong?"

See—that's it, Ruby thought. All the paranoia, all the time, coming from everywhere. Now I always have this feeling of something bad right around the corner, because there could be.

Ruby shook her head. "No, actually… I just wanted to…" I should probably stop here. "...talk to you a bit about some things." She glanced past Blake at the rest of their friends. "Just a few things." Her voice was quiet enough to be certain that no one else could hear.

Blake's ears twitched. She bowed her head ever so slightly. "What things?" she said quietly.

Ruby nodded down the road, and Blake followed along with her as they walked. Further from the others.

"I just wanted to talk about…" She tapped the back of her robotic hand with her human fingers. "You went through Jaune's things back at Beacon."

Blake frowned. "I did."

"Have you ever gone through my things like that?"

Blake stepped back. "No! Absolutely not! I would never—never." She looked so offended that Ruby couldn't help but feel guilty. "No, none of you ever gave me a reason to. So of course not."

"Because we never gave you a reason to?" Ruby resisted the urge to immediately apologize. "Not because you trusted us or because it's wrong to just go through people's stuff?"

Blake crossed her arms. "You didn't complain about me going through Jaune's things when I first brought it up. You all went along with it, no problem."

"Yeah, cus we're desperate." Ruby didn't look at her friend. "But it's just been on my mind. So I had to ask you. I didn't think you did. I just needed to ask."

"Ruby, you can trust me."

"Sorry that I thought maybe you had gone through my stuff the way you had gone through my boyfriend's."

"Like I said. You never gave me a reason." Blake turned away. "Now are you done accusing me? I get it. I used to be a part of a terrorist group. I sneak around. I'm a Faunus—"

"That's not why and you know it," Ruby hissed out. "That's not why."

Ruby shut her eyes.

Breathe deep. Hold. Release.

It still helped calm her down.

"I'm sorry. Really, I am. I… I just had to ask. I… I don't know. I worry about everything now. It wasn't fair to ask you that and I'm sorry if you thought that I…" Ruby shook her head. "I'm sorry. I don't want to make you feel bad or anything it's just that…" She gave up trying to explain. "I'm sorry."

Ruby shuffled her feet for a moment, uncertain of where to go or if she should go anywhere at all and feeling bad inside. She stepped back to the others—

Blake set her hand on Ruby's shoulder.

Ruby looked back. Her friend still faced away. Her ears, though, drooped down a little bit.

"No—I'm sorry," Blake said quietly. "I know you didn't mean it like that. I shouldn't have said it. The thing is… when you're Faunus, you kinda get used to people meaning it like that."

Blake let her hand slip from Ruby's shoulder and meandered a couple steps away. "It just popped in my head. But it wasn't fair for me to say. Of course you wouldn't mean it like that." She shook her head. "And yeah, guess if I were you, I wouldn't trust me either."

"Yeah…" Ruby stepped beside her teammate. "I… I felt like I had to ask."

"I didn't do it." Blake swallowed a rock. "Please believe me."

"I do. Of course I do."

Blake showed Ruby a relieved, slightly sad smile. "Thank you. Thank you for putting your trust in me."

"Of course." Ruby smiled back. "We're a team."

Blake chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, we are. I'd never spy on you or Yang. Weiss? I might have spied on her a little bit, but not anymore."

She paused. Then they both laughed.

"She's nice," Blake said.

"Yeah, didn't start out that nice."

"No, she definitely did not." Blake's smile widened.

Ruby faltered.

"Jaune didn't either."

Blake's smile died. "Don't compare the two of them."

"I—"

"Jaune's a liar, always has been." Blake practically growled. "Weiss was a bitch, sure, but at least she wasn't hiding herself the entire time. Jaune, for as long as we've known him, has been lying to us. He lied about what he's done, what he's capable of and who he is. And then he abandoned all of us. He abandoned you.

"And yes, I know I must sound like a hypocrite. The girl who was part of a terrorist group. The Faunus who hid she was a Faunus, who ran away the second her secret got found out. I know it sounds like the pot calling kettle black.

"But guess what? I learned my lesson. I've told you all everything. I told you about the White Fang; I told you that my parents helped found it.

"And I told you that I left when it got violent. Because I don't want to kill people. I don't have any more secrets, not to you. Jaune kept secrets from all of us, you included.

"And now I hate him, but I did him a pretty big favor before. I didn't tell any of you what I saw at the docks. I could have; would you have started dating him if you knew?"

Ruby said nothing.

"I kept his secret because I pitied him." Blake continued. "Because he reminded me of me. He reminded me of… a little bit of someone else, too. But a version that actually had a chance at being better. I gave him that chance. He had helped me, too, so it was only fair. One good turn deserves another, right?

"And that's why I hate him so much. Because he tricked me. And because he didn't fess up, not at all. Yes, telling the truth, the whole truth, the unpleasant truth—it isn't easy. But I did. And I hate him for pretending that he did."

Blake rubbed something out of her eyes.

"It… that's why I'm taking it personally. It just reminds me of my own screw-ups, and then I can't help but just get madder." She finished rubbing something out of her eyes. "And you all… I love you. You all… are probably the best thing that's ever happened to me. And I'm protective of that. I don't want anyone to hurt that. To hurt any of you."

Blake narrowed her eyes.

"But then you have him. Even after he decided to 'get honest' after the docks." She held up a finger. "He didn't tell us about the super-powered psychopath who cut off your hand." She held up a second finger. "He didn't tell us about the human supremacist monsters running around Remnant." A third. "He didn't tell us about the insane research he was doing." Four. "He didn't tell us about whoever was at Mountain Glenn with him, even though it was a warzone, and keeping secrets from your allies in a warzone could get them killed." A fifth. "And he didn't tell us about Sarah, or Orion, or whoever else he's got now. A bunch of dangerous, deadly people who have a bone to pick with him or who he might betray at a moment's notice; or who might betray him; or us." Blake held up her hand, fully open with all five fingers outstretched. "Five. Off the top of my head. Five things that we really, really should have been told. If he had any respect for us, for you, then he would have."

A few words popped up in Ruby's mind:

He's been through so much, give him a break.

But he's good inside. I know it.

There's something about him that I can't explain, but it makes me trust him.

I believe in him.

Ruby didn't say anything this time.

"And who knows what else he's hiding. With that crazy notebook and whoever he's teamed up with. His whole life is a mystery. We can't even be sure why he left us."

"He…"

I think I know why he ran.

"I don't know," Ruby said.

I stopped him from running before.

"I couldn't stop him."

And that makes me mad. At him. At myself.

Blake crossed her arms. She was so worked up that she didn't even notice the chilly wind that swept through, scraping her bare skin and blowing gracelessly through her hair. "Do you still love him?"

That Ruby could not answer the question made her heart hurt.

It was as bizarre as it was excruciating. She wanted to say no as much as she wanted to say yes. She wanted to hug him and she wanted to punch him. She wanted to see him as soon as possible and she wanted to never see him again.

I want to turn my back to him just so that he knows how it feels. I want to yell at him and scream and say every bad thing I can think of and more.

But a big sad part of me just wants to feel him hold me again.

Because I remember that he promised me that he would never leave, and I wanted him to stay by the promise for forever; and now I'm half glad he broke it and half hurt that he did.

"I…" She could not even begin to find words.

If only he'd stayed. Maybe we could have talked—

I've killed just about everything that's walked or crawled; hell, I even killed a couple of fucking kids. Kids! I blew them to pieces! And now—!

Those were the words he had said, and for as long as she lived, Ruby didn't think that she could ever forget them. How had she managed to push them out of her mind thus far? How could she ever… ever not wonder what more he had done? How many more like that man he had—

She gagged as if the man's mulched corpse had suddenly appeared before her. She remembered the taste of her own bile and could smell the pool of blood that Jaune had made. It sickened her beyond sick.

"Ruby?" Blake stepped forward and grabbed her friend's arm to steady her.

Ruby stumbled back, barely keeping her footing; she waved off Blake's hand and swallowed back any more gags. Blake patted her on the back.

"Are you okay?"

Ruby shook her head quietly. "I don't know."

Breathe deep. Hold. Release.

"I don't know if I still love him. I never felt for anyone else in my life the way I felt for him. It was like my whole life was for him. But now… not after…"

Blake narrowed her eyes.

"Ruby, you told us you couldn't find Jaune when you ran back out into Beacon."

Her silence was all the answer Blake needed.

"Ruby, what did you see?"

Again, the silence was her confirmation.

"Gods… I'm sorry."

Ruby shook her head again.

"Hey, you guys ready to go?" Yang called out to them. "We're all packed up here. Packed your stuff too." She tilted her head. "You good?"

"We should really get back," Blake whispered to Ruby. "They're gonna ask what's wrong."

And you don't want to tell everyone, do you?

Ruby nodded. She shuffled back to the others, incrementally pulling herself together and bringing her head up inch by inch as they approached their group again. Blake rubbed her shoulder for just a second.

"You'll be okay," she said.

"Right."

"Alrighty," Nora said as they returned. "We all good?"

They nodded.

"Perfect! Now, we don't have any pancakes, but we got jerky and granola bars!" She hoisted in either hand plastic bags filled with nondescript, dark chunks of something that might be edible. "Who wants breakfast?"

"Thank you for breakfast."

"I wanted to give you a proper welcome to the team."

Agent Sundown sipped on a cup of black coffee; Sarah Lyons did the same.

"We're excited to work with you," Sundown said. He breathed in the coffee's rich aroma, blew on it, took another sip and set it down. "I wanted to get to know you a little better, as well. Person to person."

"I appreciate the gesture."

Agent Sundown had invited her to breakfast in one of the single-room VIP lounges of an Atlas battleship for a private conversation. She was not so naive as to believe that the director of their spy-hunting operation just wanted to have a nice chat.

Sundown shook some black pepper on his omelet. Sarah cut into her gravy-covered slices of ham.

"So, tell me about Vacuo," he asked. "I've been there only a few times myself.

"Not much to tell," Sarah said. "Fought bandits, survived, left."

"That's about as much as your file says."

"That's about as much as there is." Sarah bit into her meat, chewed and swallowed. "Nothing I've done is relevant to where I am now. Aside from the Enclave, of course."

"Of course." Sundown bit into his omelet, chewed and swallowed. "I'm glad to have someone with firsthand experience of these brutes from their earlier days."

"What they are now is more disturbing than what they used to be."

"Is that so?"

"They have more influence now than before."

Which is true. The Enclave back on Earth had come very close to ruling the wasteland. But that was it. The Wasteland. It would have been impossible for them to impose their insane principles of purity onto the whole world with what scarce resources they barely had.

But here? They didn't hate most of the people alive just for having a bit of radiation in them. There was actual civilization here, millions of people to abuse. And they had infiltrated the most powerful military on the planet.

Sundown yawned and stretched back in his chair. It was a velvet-lined seat, better than what most people would expect to find in a military ship. This little room they were in, though—sleek and clean and silver—was designed to be different. It hosted conversations between commanders and guests in privacy and comfort. Even their food came through a compartment in the wall that would deliver whatever they asked for from a screen beside their table.

"My apologies," Sundown said after stifling his yawn and readjusting his silver-rimmed glasses. "It was a long night."

"I'm sure it was."

He grinned and held up his cup of coffee. "We're in a ship full of soldiers and killer robots, but the real savior is this stuff." He laughed.

Sarah feigned a smile to go along with it.

"Oh you don't have to worry about that," Sundown said. "I know it wasn't very funny. Don't feel like you have to act anything but yourself around me."

A frown tugged her lips down. No one had ever called her out before for her feigned social compliance.

"You're very good at keeping your cards to your chest," Sundown said. "That's another thing I like about you. I can appreciate a good poker face." He sliced up his omelet. "That's one of the reasons I requested you for this outfit."

"You did?" Sara put her fork and knife down. "Specialist Schnee informed me of this assignment."

"Yes, I requested a list from her of specialists she believed might be a good fit for the mission. I narrowed it down to you."

"Only me."

"Indeed." Sundown idly tapped a finger against the side of his mug. "In truth, the Atlas Intelligence Service doesn't exactly get along well with the Atlesian Specialist Corps.

"We agents pride ourselves in our discretion, our innovation and our problem-solving. We work hard to fight things that no one else can see or comprehend.

"The Specialists, meanwhile, love to revel in the spotlight and show off their combat prowess. I'll never disparage a specialist's ability to fight. In that regard, they're the best of the best.

"But when it comes to finesse?" Sundown took another sip from his coffee—a longer one, for it had cooled off a little. "Ah, that's nice. Anyway, the specialists generally lack the acumen and subtlety we require for our investigations."

"Except me."

"Oh, you don't seem like a subtle person," Sundown said with a smirk. "No, I didn't pick you for subterfuge. I didn't even just pick you for your prior experience, like I'm sure you assumed to have been the only reason."

Sarah had.

"I did it because I think I can trust you."

"Is that so?"

"Indeed. And that's not something I give to people easily."

Sarah picked up her knife and fork again and cut off another slice of ham. She slowly raised it and bit down, her teeth scraping against the metal with a cringe-inducing sound reminiscent of nails on a chalkboard. The meat was getting cold. At no point did she take her eyes off of Sundown.

"Your record is perfect," Sundown said. "None of the debauchery usually expected of a foreign legionnaire. No drinking incidents. No fighting with other soldiers. No attempted abuses of power. A lot of legionnaires get it stuck in their head somehow that they're worth more than they are."

"Which is?"

"Just another person, at the end of the day," Sundown said. "Just another soldier."

"That's all I've ever aimed to be."

Sundown tilted his head, as if he were a visitor at an art museum who was looking at a painting from a different angle. "You were a soldier back in Vacuo."

"I was."

"Not just a fighter, or a mercenary, or a bandit. You were a soldier. You had a loyalty, a chain of command, a cause. Something to fight for.

"That must have hurt," he said with a sad shake of his head, "to lose that."

Sarah laid her hands on the table, one resting on the other.

"Is that why you joined the Foreign Legion? Wanted to get that sense of order back?"

The only sound in the room came from him taking another sip of his coffee.

"That, that's why I trust you more than any other legionnaire. You've got something real to you. And I trust that Atlas has proved itself deserving of your loyalty."

"It is an impressive place." Truth.

"That it is."

"I admire this country." Truth.

"And you've served her well thus far."

"I live to serve." Truth.

"Very admirable."

"And I am loyal to Atlas." Lie.

Sundown smirked. "Lovely."

"Now, see, I also trust you for another reason. You're an outsider, which means you can hardly be connected to the entrenched elements in the Atlesian military which would love to shake things up, even if it meant allying with the likes of the Enclave.

"And because you're an outsider, you've been under extensive scrutiny. Quite literally. The moment you applied for the specialists and tried to be accepted, we put you on an observation list." Sundown cut into his omelet.

Sarah pushed her plate to the side. "What do you mean: I've been put on an observation list?"

Sundown took too long chewing and swallowing a particularly large piece of his meal. He wiped his mouth with a napkin.

"I mean," he said, "that we bugged your quarters and hooked the audio feed to a program that would single out whenever human voices were talking, then we had an agent monitor sections where more than one voice seemed to be present. Thankfully, that happened only a handful of times, only when a superior or courier came to speak with you on official business.

"We also did a more thorough background check and were not surprised but were not happy to find truly no trace of you back in Vacuo, but we concluded that Vacuo must really be the only place you could be from, since there's no trace of you anywhere else. (As I'm sure you know, half of the legionnaires who say they are from Vacuo most certainly are not.)

"We also interviewed every commander and private we could make sign an NDA to tell us everything they know about you.

"So, by a wide margin," Sundown said as he cut off yet another piece of his breakfast, "you are the most thoroughly vetted specialist in the corps's history."

Sarah's hands were fists.

"Why."

"Because"– Sundown stabbed a floppy piece of cheese-stuffed egg –"a foreigner trying her hardest (going around and asking for recommendations, assembling report collections, writing veritable essays for emails, volunteering for the most dangerous tasks) is idiosyncratic. It is also a possible threat to national security." He at the piece of omelet. It was the last of his meal. He brought up a napkin and wiped his lips as he chewed. He set the napkin down. He swallowed.

"I cannot say," Sarah said, voice taut and cold, "that I entirely find your caution unreasonable."

"I knew you would understand. If not, of course, be unhappy."

"Of course."

"And besides all that," Sundown said, "your semblance is downright perfect for our intentions."

"And what would those be."

"For you to stand by our side while we investigate."

"Understood."

"Already taking orders." He smiled. "Lovely"

"I live to serve."

"But," Sundown continued, "I would also love to make you an offer."

Sarah's intense, crystalline, deep blue eyes locked with his—grey as rain-swollen clouds.

"And what would that be."

He pushed his thin silver glasses up his nose. "Let's be honest, Atlas isn't the most inviting place. As a foreigner, you have faced more walls to climb or break through than most. That ends here. There are unwritten codes in the military. As a foreigner, don't expect ever getting another promotion again as long as you live. You'll be a base-level specialist until you die or retire. I looked into some of command's notes about you. It's set in stone."

Sarah's eyes turned into ice.

"Of course, I am a person who can push and pull things that others cannot. I am able to work around things that otherwise seem insurmountable. I'm convincing."

"I'm sure you are."

The mole-eater. The much reviled and much feared director of the Atlas Intelligence Service's unrelenting, unapologetic and unforgiving counterintelligence outfit. Rumor had it that he had blackmail on every person in the military higher than lieutenant. Secrets real and fake.

He leaned forward and smiled the kind of smile you see on plastic mannequins. "My offer is this:

"I help people who help me. You stick by my side in this investigation, you help me, you prioritize me before even Winter Schnee, and I can assure you that you will reap rewards. You will have the opportunity for promotions currently forbidden to you.

"Of course, I won't ask you to harm the Schnee or any other specialist, but if I ask you questions about them, I would like you to answer. Even if those questions might be considered… invasive. I want you to be my unofficial representative in all the conversations that the specialists may have.

"Because, as I've previously said, we at AIS don't trust the specialists. In fact, we don't trust anybody. To an extent, not even ourselves. Certainly not now, with traitors in our midst.

"I assure you that this advances the interests of Atlas. We need to weed out the disloyal, even if that means working around the loyal. I trust you understand."

"I do."

"And in the process, you will be able to reach whatever height you wish. Which, given your drive and ambition, is nothing short of the mountaintop, I'm sure."

"You would not be entirely wrong."

"Perfect. So, do you accept?"

Sarah tapped a finger on the table. Once. Twice. She did not blink.

"I do."

Sundown drank the last of his coffee. He swallowed. He smiled.

"I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."

Acting Commander Shade marched through the facility, clomping his heavy boots on the cement floor with weighty and imperial strength that was wholly unnatural to the general human gait. He was a strong man.

"Will the Commander be ready for transport?" he asked the doctor striding beside him. Her light, long steps moved in time with his own.

"He should be. So long as we're careful with transferring the machinery, then it should be okay." She patted a scroll-pad tucked under one arm. "This will sound alarm if there's ever a big change in his vitals."

"Good."

The two stopped just in front of the impromptu airfield they had created at the base. This base, which once had been their HQ for Vale, was now a skeleton of its former self. Bishop had convalesced here after the Breach, and now here he clung to life.

Among the empty buildings remained just a few guards, the only people who knew the truth of the Commander's condition. The most loyal, the most skilled, the ones who had recovered him from Beacon.

Shade and the doctor watched another bullhead land down on the wide patch of cleared dirt that they called their landing platform.

"This should have the containment chamber we need for him," she said. "We'll have to clean him again and replace his bandages. Then we can load him and take him to the south point. It will be a long time before he can make it to Mistral."

"How long?"

"Many months until he won't have to rely on machinery that we can't transport that distance."

"The south point…" Shade crossed his arms. Through his bug-eyed Enclave helmet, it was impossible to tell what he looked at, if he looked at anything at all. "The new recruits will be rendezvousing around there. Our star prisoner is there as well; he's already told us everything—as ridiculous as it all sounds—but perhaps the Commander will enjoy the chance to interrogate him personally. If we don't have to leave first. A grand exodus from Vale..."

"The New Dawn takes it from here," the doctor said. She tapped a slim finger against Shade's arm. "The more militant arm of the Enclave is no longer needed in Vale. Now, our political front can take care of things."

"It just feels wrong. Like we half-completed the mission. Yes, we drove out Atlas, destroyed Beacon and neutralized other enemies… but Vale remains unconquered."

"We could take the city, but we could not hold it. We need the city and its people to come into our arms. Bishop himself said that."

Acting Commander Shade snorted. "You should address the Commander appropriately."

"Oh please," she chuckled, "I've patched him up and checked him over enough times now to be on a first name basis. He calls me Shelly."

"Cute. Still—"

Her scroll pad flashed red.

She instantly flung it in front of her and checked the readings, then gasped—eyes wide with horror. "All vitals down," she said in a rushed whisper, a tone desperately unbelieving. "Total failure."

She and Shade looked at each other, their hearts frozen solid.

They sprinted to the compound. Shade—faster and with aura—grabbed her arm and hauled her along behind him.

They sped past guards and hurtled down the hall that led to the room which contained the recovering Bishop Beauvais. They now feared it to be the tomb of their dead Commander.

Shade reached the door, slammed in the security code, flung it open and—

Stopped when he saw what was inside.

The good doctor pushed past him, only to gasp. She dropped the red scroll-pad on the ground. Its screen cracked.

Bishop had been unconscious and unstable after the explosion nearly ripped him apart. He had lost an arm, an eye, had a leg hopelessly mangled, had virtually his entire ribcage broken and gotten much of his skin stripped off, the muscle burned underneath. He had looked less like a living person and more like a charred corpse.

Now, he sat up in his bed.

The horrible burns peaked through his bandages where they had shifted away during his unexpected movement. He held in his one remaining hand the wires and tubes that had been attached to his skin and pierced into his body to keep track of his vitals.

Slowly, he shifted his neck to look at the two newcomers. His one good eye, bloodshot but still a cold blue, peered at them curiously, vacantly.

"Bishop," the doctor stepped forward. "How…" She shook her head. "No, no, you need to lie back down and reconnect—"

"Shelly…" Bishop's voice slithered out his mouth and between the bandages that covered it, like a snake dragging itself out of its dry and broken scales. "Shelly… I have… overheard…"

He paused, shuddered from some mix of exertion and pain, then continued:

"I have… overheard… your estimates… for my… my… my recovery…"

He wheezed out something that might have been a word or a cough.

"I… appreciate your concern… but you are wrong… to think… to think… think me… so weak…"

His hand trembled as he let the assorted wires slip out his bandaged fingers. His arm shook and he groaned as he reached for the stump of his left arm.

"Don't you know…"

He grabbed the bandages there and pulled.

The doctor's eyes widened. She had not observed the area too closely in a couple days. Now she saw fresh, pink flesh peak out from under the bandages and between the burns and stitches.

"Don't you see…"

He grabbed the bandages covering his missing left eye and pulled them down.

Where not a week ago there had been a vacant, burned hole, now was something else. A small, congealed glob of sludge coalesced in the back of the socket. Red and swelled with blood; a tiny, murky pupil stared blindly into the air.

"You…"

A painful, staccato chuckled shambled out of his lungs.

"You… you underestimate… the power… of the human spirit."

Well, I'll leave you with that little bit of nightmare fuel.

Rest assured, Bishop isn't going to be A-okay, having suffered no real downsides from Jaune's victory. Even he has to face some consequences every now and again.