Chapter Twenty-Two

It was almost ten at night before Professor Peach came to see me. After the air-lift, things had gone from very exciting to very boring, and I was completely okay with that.

Being told I was a 'Low Priority Patient' by a girl, maybe a third of fourth year student, had been unpleasant, but her explanation of "Well, you're awake," as to the reason why I was down the list was hard to argue with. Part of me had been wondering if Oz would drop by, Dumbledore-style, and we'd talk about Salem's desire to kill me, but without ever saying why, but instead I was left to just wait, nap, and wait some more.

Thankfully, I'd been able to send Scroll-mail to my team, who were all fine. Tired, and thoroughly freaked out, but most of all uninjured, which helped set me at ease, finally able to fall asleep after Ruby told me everyone was back, safe and sound, in their rooms.

Resting in that space between sleep and focus, I dozed, my mouth feeling like someone had laid a hot compress on it, despite the fact that the medicated gauze a student applied was cold, and shouldn't have heated. Then, with an almost silent flicker, the curtain around my bed swished open and I was instantly awake, claws out, and sitting up, only for the warmth around my mouth to flare to full heat and my head to spin, but I pushed through it.

However, it was just Professor Peach, and I felt silly, as who would be a threat here in the school's medical bay? The woman, however, did not look at me with the anger she had when I'd fallen from the wall, but smiled slightly, having stopped her step towards me, and just waited. It wasn't until I leaned back in my bed, the back of which was raised, that she moved to my bedside, clip-board in one hand.

"First battle jitters," she stated conversationally, not judging. "They'll pass. I'll send a note to your team, some of them should be able to help. Now, young man, I must know how you managed to hurt yourself. I've patched enough students up, I know most Grimm injuries, and that isn't one of them."

I tried to respond, but my voice was cracked, thin, and raspy, like how you'd expect someone's to be if they were dying of thirst. "my semblance is-" was as far as I got before I couldn't go any further, my throat on fire.

Peach frowned, grabbing something from a pouch she wore at the small of her back, putting the clipboard on the bed, which dimpled the covers more than it should. She pointed a device towards me, before stopping herself. "Please open your mouth, but don't say anything," she instructed, and I did so, the thing some kind of blue, wavering flashlight. She saw something that made her frown, grabbing a scroll and sending off a message. Flicking open a program, she handed me the device, instructing, "Type out your answer. If you talk more, you'll just hurt yourself."

Nodding, well aware of the pain, I typed out ~My semblance is Fire Breath. Part of it is. I can use Dust to enhance it. Tested it before with fire. Wasn't this bad. Used too much.~

Reading my message upside-down, Peach nodded before I could turn the screen around. "How much and what were the effects?" she requested, all business.

~1 grain. Slagged steel.~

"No," she clarified, "What were the effects on you."

Oh, that makes more sense, I thought, typing ~Throat felt spicy~

I had no idea how that translated into literally burning my lips black, but from how she nodded, it followed logically. "Slight irritation," she explained. "I'll need to consult with Timonious, but that sounds like a normal Dust backlash. How much did you use in Forever Fall?"

That. . . . was a good question. Holding up a finger, I grabbed my own scroll and messaged Weiss. Getting the response, I held it up so Professor Peach could read it.

"You used around two hundred and fifty?" the woman confirmed, skeptical, and I shrugged, typing ~I think so. It was kind of a blur.~

She sighed, "Well, that explains how it could damage you through your Aura. Enough concentrated damage can bypass the defenses it gives, though it needs to be a single attack that drains over two thirds of a person's total reserves. You managed to do that to yourself. This," she stated, tapping my lips, sending a spike of pain through me, "is going to scar, and you're lucky you aren't dead."

I winced, hanging my head, realizing that I'd screwed up, again, feeling that feeling of, no matter what, being an eternal failure that I almost missed her next statement. "And if you hadn't, a quarter of your class would've probably died instead."

"what?" I wheezed in surprise.

Before she could respond, a student opened the curtain, carrying a glass full of a blue liquid that glowed under the half-lights of the infirmary at night. She took it from the upperclassman, handing it to me, and I took a sip. It was. . . cold, on a level that nothing else I'd ever drank was, almost as if someone had distilled all of the qualities of ice-water and concentrated them, refining it until it was pure icy liquid, only without any actual ice.

Taking another sip, I felt some of the pain lessen, and had to pace myself. It was only when I was done, that I something familiar click into place, and I felt my inner fire, which had remained stable, surge forward.

I panicked, not sure which way to point it, so raised my head and hoped for the best as the fire within me blast forth, out of my control, straight up. Blue-white flames painted the ceiling, before, with a crack, they flash-froze, forming an enormous icicle hanging from the rafters, even as the curtain was pulled back, several students, weapons at the ready, charging forward, only to stop at Professor Peach's upraised hand.

"I thought so," she nodded sagely, and I fell back on my bed, staring, wide eyed, at the hardened ice which now hung like a sword of Damocles over me, and at the person who'd given me. . .

"was that Ice Dust?" I tried to demand, and while the words didn't hurt as much, they were still weak, and unpleasant to say.

"It was," she nodded, not explaining any more.

Thankfully, however, one of the other students did. "Fire Dust in the wound tract?" A girl with bright blue hair asked, getting a nod from the professor. "But why did. . . a Semblance interaction?"

"The same that injured him," Peach agreed. The others watched as the professor moved forward again, motioning for me to open my mouth. I did, and whatever the medic saw pleased her. "Xana, if you could escort him back to his room, all he needs now is time, and something for the scarring, but that will have to wait for the wounds to heal. Now that Mr. Arc no longer has Fire Dust particles burning him from the inside out, he should recover quickly, given his Aura levels."

A girl with pale skin and faded green hair put away her shortsword, which folded up into something she clipped on her belt, and walked over my bed to help me up, helping me not hit my head on the tip of the ice above me.

"Mr. Arc, as I was saying, without the time you bought us, several students would've been killed when the Triclops reached us," the professor stated, matter-of-factly, though with a hint of. . . gratitude? "Just don't hurt yourself that badly again unless you need to," she added, turning her back on me to address the others. "Now, as you can see from his chart, Mr. Arc has above average Aura reserves and Regeneration. You must be careful with patients with either, as a serious ailment that will normally kill in hours, if not minutes, will have its symptoms slowed or hidden entirely. In an emergency, they can last longer, but in recover you need to. . ." her voice petered off as we left the infirmary, half carried as I was by the upper-year, and we headed for the first-year dorms.

The infirmary was, I'd first thought, needlessly large, especially when Aura prevented more common injuries. However, while not full, it was definitely being used now, and I had to mentally re-adjust what I knew of the world, Jaune's sheltered status doing nothing to offer insight into my situation.

Then again, I had a source right with me. "grimm tides. how common?" I wheezed as my head spun a little, but less than it before, the heat that'd been pushing itself out of me since I'd burned the forest gone at last.

"We trigger them as part of the Senior's final exam," the medical student, Xana, replied. "Completely clears the Grimm out of an area, and wakes up any sleeping Alphas that are close to emerging naturally. That's what you freshies fought?" she whistled. "PP was right, you're lucky not to have lost anyone. My first year a Junior trip set one off, and they lost almost a dozen. Without defenses, all you can do is run from it."

Defenses I'd given them time to build, I realized, the feeling of failing fading. On one level, what I'd done, killing close to a hundred Grimm, if not more, was an accomplishment, but it felt. . . selfish? Personal? Not real. Having helped other people, even if I didn't know them, but especially my team. . . it helped.

I was coasting on my natural abilities, I knew, the only person who was a worse fighter on our team was Weiss, and maybe Nora, and today it hadn't been enough, not on its own. I'd painted myself into a corner, rendering myself unable to talk in order to evac people when I needed to, and it'd only been blind luck that'd saved us, the teachers arriving just in time to help. I needed to get better, in order to protect my team.

The others, those not on my team, needed to get stronger too. On one hand, they were trying their best, and deserved help. On the other, I'd experienced the 'help' of others, or more specifically the lack thereof, that I knew it was almost certainly a one-way street. No, it was better to focus on my team, on protecting what was mine, I thought, sensing a certain rightness to the idea that resonated deeply. Others I'd help if it suited me, but me and mine, especially mine, needed to be protected, and to do that I needed to be stronger.

"What floor?"

The sky's the limit! I thought, before I blinked having faded off mentally as I'd been helped to walk. "third" I rasped, and Xana helped me to my door, waiting until it unlocked and I started to open it before she left, nodding at my rasped "thanks", and not saying another word.

She did, however, look back when I gasped in pain, hit by a red missile that slammed me to the ground. "Jaune!" Ruby cried, and Xana shook her head, walking away. "We were so worried! You looked so bad, with all the blood, and Yang said you were going to be okay, but you didn't look okay, but Miss Goodwitch told us we couldn't visit, but I was planning on doing it anyways, but then you walked in, and, oh god, are you okay!" the mini-reaper let out in a long rush.

"can't breath," I choked out, and she leapt off me with a gasp. The hallway seemed to spin, and I laid there for a moment, before rolling over and trying to stumble to my feet, but slim, strong hands reached under me, carefully picking me up and helping me stand.

"thanks," I tried to smile to Pyrrha, who was now supporting me, but the feeling sent a fissure of pain across my face.

She tried to hide her grimace, but didn't quite succeed, helping me inside, putting me down on my bed, taking a seat next to me. Looking around, everyone was still awake, despite the late hour. Blake was reading a book, though likely not actually reading it, as the cover was upside down. Yang was on her bad, her sister sitting down next to her, looking at me worriedly. Nora was on Pyrrha's bed, along with Ren, the former with a very strong grip on the latter. The only person missing was-

"Weiss said she was going to bed, since staying up wouldn't help you," Ruby supplied, likely reading my expression.

I nodded, not really sure what else to say in response to that. The Schnee Heiress wasn't wrong, but part of me felt a little slighted anyways, which was dumb.

"Jaune, what happened?" Yang, of all people, asked, not even going for a pun. "You talked with GG, then flew off, and then. . ."

"It was like the day was night, but then it was dawn, but the sun was in the forest!" Nora filled in. "It. Was. Awesome!"

Pyrrha shook her head, "That is not the word I would use. What is that you did, Jaune?"

I took a second, considering how to word it. "can breathe fire," I started, trying to cut down on the words, every one scratching lightly at my throat. "can enhance with Dust. fire makes it hotter. used once before."

"And it was like that?" Blake questioned skeptically. "I think someone would've noticed if you'd blown out a building."

Shaking my head, I held a finger. "one grain, thirty-foot cone, melted steel."

The others look confused, before something in what I was saying got their attention, the two sisters sitting up straight and looking at me in concern, and I felt's Pyrrha arm, which had still been around me when I'd sat down, tighten. "How much did you use for that, Arcs?" Yang asked, looking worried.

Ruby, however, answered, questioning "It was all of it, wasn't it?" I nodded. "Well, at least you're still alive?" she offered, eyes looking at the gauze covering the lower half of my face like a mask. "How bad?"

"scarring. will heal. Aura took most of it," I replied, looking around. "how bad could it have been?"

Ruby winced, looking towards the door. "This is really more of a Weiss thing, but, um, you know how Dust comes in crystals and grains?" I nodded. "Grains are easier to use, but its also easier to use too much. Bigger crystals last a lot, lot longer but have a set output, and it's harder to get more than that. Grains, though, well. . . Each one's output is itself, so more together mean it doesn't last any longer but enough and, well. . ."

"Boom," Yang shrugged, smile a little strained. "So even a tiny bit can go off and then."

"crater-face," I nodded sagely, Ruby pouting at the nickname. "but Weiss has five vials of the stuff."

Looking like the words themselves tasted vile, Blake stated, "She's as good at Dustcasting as she is at being unpleasant."

"Maybe even better!" Nora added, even as Ruby winced.

Thinking about it, I put forward with a grimace, "so using that much Dust. . ."

Yang held up a fist, and opened it with an explosion sound. "It's, like, the first thing they tell ya 'bout Dust, Arcs. Like, before they let ya touch it, ever. I know ya said you were homeschooled, but did ya fail out?"

I blinked, realizing that, once again, being Jaune Arc was likely one of the largest mistakes I'd made. I very easily could've just been me, slipped in with an in-universe knowledge base, made contact with Pyrrha, and done all of this, but I hadn't known where in the timeline I was going to start. In the moment, I'd made the best choice I could, but it hadn't been the right move, not that I could've known that at the time.

At my hesitation, Blake, surprisingly, covered for me. "You took the alternate entrance exam, like I did, right?" Having no idea what she was talking about, I just nodded. "What did your parents want you to be?" she asked.

I responded honestly, pulling on Jaune's memories. "farmer. mom thought bein' a huntsman was suicide," I shrugged. From Jaune's memories I knew quite a lot about planting, farm machinery, and animal husbandry, along with economic knowledge that overlapped pretty well with what I already had, but everything Grimm related, everything about engineering, really anything that didn't concern the hometown or running the family farm had been kept away from him.

In a world where he hadn't fallen in with a group that could hold their own against most fighters before they started school, I had a feeling that Jaune would've either run, faded into obscurity, or died an ignoble death, one of the dozens of Huntsmen who fell in the wild every year.

"Holy shit, Arc. You're a farm-boy?" Yang asked in disbelief. "What the hell are you doing here? Shouldn't you be out tippin' cows or somethin'?"

It was phrased as a joke, but the statement cut deeper than I hoped she meant. Both the part of me that was Jaune and the part of me that was a Dragon rebelled at that thought of being anything of the sort. The first part did so in fear that it was true, the second did so knowing that I would never settle at being something so base.

I flared my wings, and, despite the pain, I bared my teeth in an almost reflexive motion, letting a prismatic finger of flame escape my burned lips, the fire feeling cold on my skin. "do I look like a farm-boy, blondie?" I hissed.

A wave of cold rippled out, and Yang leaned back, hands up, "I didn't mean it that way! Just, well, it kinda explains things. But how can you. . . that's how you know how ta punch, but not swing the sword, isn't it? No one trained you, did they?"

"Jaune has been making great progress training with me," Pyrrha offered, still holding on to me, which was an answer in of itself. "And, given what we saw, even on our first day, I believe you should be here, Jaune," she said, turning to look me in the eye.

I felt the flames of my anger bank themselves, and nodded, stowing my wings, grateful for the support.

"What, oh, I do too, Jaune!" Ruby added. "I'm sure Yang didn't mean it that way, did you?"

Nora spoke up from my other side, "Well, duh, 'cause if he wasn't supposed to be here, then Rennie and I shouldn't, since he beat us. It's the transitive property of butt-kicking! I thought you went to school and got an edumacation!"

"I did, but he," Yang started to argue, before looking around the room. "Um, Pyrrha, you went to a Combat School, right?"

The gladiatrix nodded. "I attended Sanctum. Can I assume you just realized that the two of us and your sister are the only ones on either of our teams who have received a formal education?"

The blond, frowned, "Weiss?"

"Tutors," Ruby replied, shaking her head. "It's why she gets so mad that classes move so slow. We talked," she shrugged at her sister's incredulous look.

"In Jaune's defense, neither of us knew that about Dust," Ren offered. "Though we never had access to enough to overdo things like he has."

"it isn't just me?" I asked, voice raspy, as surprised as Yang was. The show had never touched on it, at all, at least in the first couple seasons, but, thinking about it, Pyrrha was right. Blake had been raised by the White Fang, and Nora & Ren had been orphans on the run, their life before they came to Beacon was never touched on, at least not in the first couple seasons, just nonchalantly mentioned.

"No, Jaune," Pyrrha told me, voice warm for some reason, "it isn't. Though I think we've discovered some of the things we should cover in those team training sessions you've proposed."

It was hard to put the feeling I had into words. It was silly, as I was still a Dragon, while they were humans, and I was still keeping so many secrets from them, but I was just a little bit. . . relieved, half my team in the same boat I was in. On a Machiavellian level it'd help me hide my own ignorance of the world that much better, but it was somehow deeper than that, and that confused me.

I pushed the thought away, and tried to focus on the conversation, as Ruby, with Yang's help, tried to hammer out how to cover 'the basics of the basics'. It was hard to follow, both because I didn't know what I didn't know, and everything was getting. . . more distant. I didn't feel quite as on edge, and the more I pushed myself to focus, the harder it became to do so, until blackness claimed me.

DR

Waking up, I found myself in bed, tucked in, shirtless, and with my shoes off, but still wearing my jeans. Slowly sitting up, Yang and Blake were gone, while Pyrrha was at her desk, working on something, but she looked over at me. "Oh, you're awake!" she smiled, in a way that made my stomach tighten, but also helped me forget about the pain I still felt, a linger ache around my mouth and down my throat.

Grabbing my scroll, she told me, "Wait!" and strode off to the kitchen, I saw it was two in the afternoon. Looking up at her when she walked back in, holding a green vial and a glass of water, the question was apparent on my face. "They cancelled class for the day," she told me, handing me vial, which seemed to glow slightly. "Professor Peach dropped this off for you. Drink it, then the water. It should help reduce problems from internal scarring, or, at least, that's what she said."

Accepting it, I downed it, grimacing at the taste, and chasing it with the water. "The others?" I asked, voice still raspy, but not as bad as it'd been last night.

"Yang's with Ruby, and Blake is probably in the library," my teammate offered, before she looked down, expression falling. "Jaune. . . I'm sorry." I shot her a questioning look. "If I'd been stronger, you wouldn't have had to hurt yourself trying to protect me."

"No, if I was stronger I would've been able to stop them without hurting myself," I argued back. "I'm the one who should be sorry." If I'd said 'screw it', and gone Full Dragon, I might've been able to handle as much Dust as I'd stupidly used, but I'd tried to play it safe and gotten, well, burned.

"No," my partner argued, with a bit of heat. "Jaune, it's not on you to do everything. I'm responsible, too, and if I'd worked harder-"

I cut her off, standing and putting a finger on her lips, and she looked at me, annoyed. My mouth, feeling a bit tight, quirked in a smile that only stung a little. "Pyrrha, how 'bout we say we bothshould work to get better, and also kind of blame it on the staff who sent us out there in the first place. Because I'm pretty sure anything you apologize for I will too."

Pulling my hand back, the gladiatrix stared at me. "I'll accept that, if you stop taking responsibility for it as well," she argued, and I nodded. "Good," she nodded back, looking away as a grin tugged at the edges of her lips, and I got the faintest sense I'd just gotten tricked. "So-"

There was a knock on the door, and we exchanged look, Pyrrha walking over and opening it.

On the other side was Professor Goodwitch.

"Ms. Nikos," she nodded, looking past her to me, eyes flicking down at my bare chest. "Mr. Arc. Good to see you're doing better. If you could dress in the same equipment you wore yesterday, Headmaster Ozpin would like to have a few words with you. Ms. Nikos, if you could do the same, I'll collect you when I drop off Mr. Arc."

Looking to my partner, I nodded, and Goodwitch closed the door, giving me privacy to get dressed. "Where did?" I asked Pyrrha, who moved over to my bureau and pulled out my weapon, shield, and armor, which she'd likely taken off me when I fell asleep.

She helped me don it, reassuring me, "I'm sure you'll be fine, Jaune. Yang dropped by to tell me they'd talked to her. The Headmaster is just talking to people to try to figure out what happened."

Rather than reassure me, however, I felt myself tense further, as I had a sinking feeling that I'd happened, and had, somehow been the cause of everything that'd occurred. I wanted to say that it was dumb, and arrogant, to believe that I was responsible for all of the bad things that happened, but there was the issue that I knew what should have happened if one didn't changed one singular variable.

Me.

With Jaune Arc being Jaune Arc, the teams would be different, the characters would have had different interactions, and, oh yeah, the massive Grimm attack would have never happened. If it had happened originally, then they would've shown it in the show.

"You'll be fine," Pyrrha insisted, hesitating before kissing me high on my cheek, just above my bandages. "Now go ahead, and come back. I didn't want to leave in case you woke up, but now that you're awake, Jaune, I'd like to have a meal with my Boyfriend."

She smiled broadly at that statement, and I felt myself smile in return, before she carefully schooled her features, going back to the door and opening it, asking, "Do you know how long this will take, Professor?"

"Shouldn't be more than half an hour, Ms. Nikos," Goodwitch nodded, and I walked out, following her down the halls. We walked in silence, until we entered the headmaster's tower. Once again, though, instead of going up, we went down.

As the elevator descended, the teacher cleared her throat. "In case Thumbelina has not said so. Thank you, Mr. Arc. Without your efforts, the Tide would've reached us before I could finish fusing the walls. That said, do endeavor to try to avoid injuring yourself to such an extreme degree in future."

"I'll try, Professor," I smiled, shrugging. "And, um, you're welcome."

The doors opened, revealing a long hallway, black glass panes lining it, interspersed with stone columns. The headmaster stood halfway down it, under a single light from the ceiling, looking at his scroll, leaning on his cane, not even glancing up at us.

Something about the hallway felt. . . wrong, in ways it was hard to describe, my heart starting to beat faster. Whatever it was, it didn't bother Goodwitch in the slightest, as she stepped out, turning back when I didn't leave the elevator. "Mr. Arc, please follow me," she instructed, though there was a touch of something under her professional demeanor.

Hesitating, I stepped out of the elevator, trying not to flinch as I crossed some invisible line and the wrongness slapped me in the face. Despite myself, I glanced at the pure black flat surfaces. Whatever the sense of wrongness that pervaded the space was, it was coming from them, but not all of them. More by instinct than anything else, I kept an eye on the dark surfaces, following the professor.

Reaching the Wizard, who was facing the right pane, he nodded, finally looking up at us. "I thought so," he murmured to himself. "Greetings Mr. Arc."

"Um, hi?" I replied, my attention dragged to the glass to his left. Refocusing, I started to rasp, "You wanted to tal-"

Something slammed into the opaque, black surface I was staring at, hard, the sound echoing down the hall even as I fell back into a defensive stance, the sense of wrongness intensifying. "Sir?" I asked, noticing that while neither of them had so much as twitched at the sudden noise, they also didn't look surprised at my reaction, which meant I wasn't just hearing things.

Nodding to himself, the Immortal Wizard hit a button on his scroll, and the lights turned on down the hall, the glass turning from opaque to crystal clear. The panes weren't decorative, they were viewing windows, and the hallway was lined with cells. In every one that I'd looked at, there was a Grimm, of varieties I'd never heard of, a winged snake woman, a centipede that dripped black ichor from twitching mandibles, and more.

The ones I hadn't looked at were empty.

A bull with a dozen horns, eyes a glowing, rolling, mad red, and who was seemingly on fire charged the glass again, slamming into it and sent stumbling back, the material not so much as scratched. Looking around, every one of the Grimm seemed to be trying to break out of their cells, none having any luck whatsoever.

"Do you know, you're the only one of your class that has provoked such a reaction?" Ozpin questioned, smiling at a joke only he found funny, while Glynda stared at me, stone-faced. "Though, from your reaction, you don't seem to know why. Curiouser and curiouser."

More looking for confirmation than anything else, and with the sinking feeling that I should've just run, I asked, not bothering to hide my fear, "Do you mean, what happened, was it my fault?"

At my statement, he raised an eyebrow, and turned to face the flaming bull Grimm. "Yes, but also no. But first, there is something I must ask you." He paused, and it took a moment for me to realize he was waiting for my response before questioning me.

Is this where he asks me about neither being Human nor Faunus? I wondered, trying to figure out what else I'd given away, other than an ability to sense Grimm that even I didn't realize I had. Or does he know about me going Home? Or about the Company? Not wanting to damn myself further, I just offered an upraised hand in a 'go ahead' gesture.

The centuries old magic user nodded, watching the Grimm try to break through with a look of disinterest. "Tell me, young. . . Faunus. What is your favorite fairy tale?"

. . . what.