The smell of antiseptic, acted like it wanted to erase the stains of what had happened but Jaune had already grown used to it over the last several hours.
By the time the clock on the wall ticked to seven, the nurse came back with a wry smile. "You're clear to go, Arc. Just remember not to strain those arms. You'll be fine in the Dream realm but in the waking world, not so much."
Jaune nodded, grateful just to be allowed to stand. His muscles felt somewhat stiff, but the pain was dulled to a faint throb, almost background noise now. He flexed all of his fingers once more, reassured that they responded, then swung his legs over the side of the bed.
The infirmary was quieter now, with most of the operatives who were bound there, leaving after they were healed. Pyrrha and Mocha had also left a while ago, promising they talk to him tomorrow. Weiss hadn't stayed much longer either—three hours ago she'd slipped out, her eyes more focused. She hadn't said much when leaving, but Jaune understood enough to know she was determined not to let herself cry anymore.
Even so, he thought she should probably see one of the therapists stationed here in the base. LUCID provided them for a reason. He made a mental note—maybe he'd bring it up later, carefully. But not now. For now, he would just let her have her space.
Besides, they weren't really close so maybe the suggestion wouldn't make its way across to her as well intentioned at it might seem to him.
Right now, his stomach reminded him of a more immediate priority.
Food.
The cafeteria in the Vale branch of LUCID wasn't the school's bright, bustling mess hall. This one was quieter and more utilitarian. White walls, rows of tables and a kitchen window where trays of food were set out. Agents and operatives trickled in and out, some still in uniform, others looking like they'd rather be anywhere else.
Jaune walked in, the weight of the day still heavy on his shoulders, and scanned the menu boards without much thought. His eyes landed on a plate of roasted chicken with rice and vegetables—simple, hearty, and most importantly, ready to eat. He grabbed a tray, thanked the server, and turned toward the tables.
He almost missed her at first. Yang sat alone at a corner table, elbows resting on the surface, her usual confidence muted into something quieter. The golden tips of her hair caught the fluorescent light, but there was no grin on her face, no sly glance that suggested she was about to fire off a quip.
"Yang?" Jaune asked, approaching.
She looked up, blinking as if pulled from her thoughts. Recognition softened her expression, and she gave a small nod. "Hey, Jauney boy."
The nickname came out half-hearted, without the playful jab it usually carried. Still, it was something.
Jaune slid his tray down onto the table and sat across from her. "Mind if I join?"
"Go ahead." She nudged her empty cup aside to make room.
For a moment, they ate in silence. Jaune shoveled down a few bites of chicken, his body too hungry to care about conversation. Yang just toyed with her drink, spinning it slowly between her fingers.
Finally, Jaune broke the quiet. "You look… tired."
Yang huffed out something between a laugh and a sigh. "That's one way to put it."
He tilted his head, waiting.
Her eyes flicked toward him, then away. "I was caught up in an Amalgamation attack. It happened while I was at the shop, picking up parts for Bumblebee. Just… kind of erupted. Out of nowhere."
Jaune's fork froze halfway to his mouth.
Yang leaned back in her chair, arms folding loosely across her chest. For once, there was no bravado in her posture. "The people there... didn't have a chance. Some of them ran and some didn't. Couldn't. I thought I could—" She cut herself off, jaw tightening. "I couldn't get them all out in time."
The words landed heavy. Jaune set his fork down, appetite suddenly dulled. "I'm sorry."
Yang gave a small shrug, but her eyes stayed fixed on some invisible point past him. "Counselor Vex showed up before it could spiral too far. Rank Two. You know how it goes—calm, efficient, like they've done it a hundred times. She cleaned up the mess. I just… tried not to get in the way, afterwards."
Her voice lowered. "Still, I saw a quite a few people die. Right in front of me. And the thing is, I was barely even hurt. Just bruises due to the nature of my rune. Felt like I was standing in the eye of a storm, watching everyone else get ripped apart."
She stopped, exhaled, and rubbed a hand over her face. "I took a long shower after. Thought maybe I could wash the image out of my head. Didn't really work."
Jaune leaned forward, resting his forearms carefully on the table. He didn't know what words would help—if any. But he knew exactly what she meant.
"I get it," he said quietly. "I saw it too. At the restaurant which I went to with my sister, Glacier Crest. The Amalgamation… it didn't care who was in the way. Just speared its tendrils through people and spawned grimm from those flesh walls. I keep replaying it in my head—how fast it happened, how helpless I felt. Even after it was dead, I couldn't shake the smell of it. The blood. The…" He stopped, the memory crawling too close to the surface.
Yang's gaze met his then, sharp and raw, and for a moment neither of them spoke.
Finally, she gave a humorless chuckle. "Guess that's one thing we've got in common now. Front row seats to hell."
"Yeah." Jaune's voice was a whisper. "Not something I'd recommend."
They sat in silence again, an understanding. Two people carrying the same weight, not needing to dress it up with jokes or false reassurances.
Eventually, Yang tapped the edge of her empty cup with a finger. "You ever wonder if this is just… what it's gonna be like? Forever? One eruption after another, us trying to hold the line, and people still dying anyway?"
Jaune hesitated. He wanted to say no. He wanted to tell her it would get better, that they'd figure it out, that LUCID had a plan. But the words felt hollow in his throat. He'd seen too much in just the last twenty-four hours to believe them himself.
"I don't know," he admitted. "But if it is… then I guess all we can do is try to be there when it counts. Even if we can't save everyone."
Yang studied him for a long moment, then let out another breath. "You're not wrong. Doesn't make it easier, though."
"No, I guess It really doesn't."
Jaune picked up his fork again, forcing himself to eat. He needed the strength, scars or no scars. Yang leaned back in her chair, finally letting her arms drop to her sides, the edge of exhaustion softening her features.
The cafeteria had thinned out by the time Jaune pushed his tray aside. His food was gone, though he couldn't even remember the last few bites he'd taken. Yang was still sitting across from him, chin propped up on one hand, her drink abandoned. She looked like she could sit there all night, staring into nothing.
For a while, neither of them said anything. Jaune figured that was fine. Sometimes silence said enough.
But then Yang shifted, her fingers tapping idly against the table. Her eyes flicked toward him, thoughtful, like she was debating something.
"You've probably noticed," she said at last, her voice low, "that Ruby and I don't share the same last name."
Jaune blinked, caught off guard. "Yeah, I… figured. Didn't wanna pry."
"Most people don't." Yang let out a dry laugh, but it carried no real humor. "But since we're already swapping horror stories tonight, might as well tell you mine."
She leaned back, arms crossing loosely over her chest. Her tone was casual, but Jaune could see the tightness around her eyes.
"My biological mother's name is Raven Branwen. She didn't stick around long after I was born. Wanted nothing to do with me or my dad. Guess family wasn't her thing. Instead, she and her twin brother, my uncle Qrow, decided to make the world their business. They roam across Vale, putting out fires—literal ones sometimes, Nightmare ones most of the time. I heard they've cleared a dozen Rank Two zones in the past month alone."
Jaune listened in silence. He didn't know what to say. He couldn't imagine being left like that.
Yang shrugged like it was nothing, but her eyes stayed fixed on the far wall. "So yeah. She's out there, alive, doing her thing. Just not for me. That's where I got Xiao Long from, after my dad."
Her fingers drummed once more, then stilled. A beat passed before she spoke again, softer this time.
"Ruby's mom… was different. Summer Rose. She actually cared."
Jaune straightened slightly at the shift in Yang's tone.
"She was—" Yang's voice hitched just a little, and she cleared her throat. "She was the best mom anyone could ask for. Not just for Ruby, but for me too. She treated me like I was hers, even though I wasn't. She baked cookies with us, told bedtime stories, patched me up when I scraped my knees. Hell, she even showed me how to ride a bike before Dad did."
A faint smile tugged at her lips, fleeting. But then it faded.
"But... she died in the Dream."
Jaune froze, heart sinking. He didn't say anything.
"It was a Rank Three," Yang continued, her tone turning hollow but factual. "Summer—mom—was a was a part of a force that was supposed to clear an abnormal Nightmare Zone that was was spawning too many Rank 2's in a short moment of time. I don't really know all the details about it, but... apparently a Rank 3 appeared. As we both know, Rank 3's... are walking disasters. They can tear everything apart in their wake. Doesn't matter how many Rank 2's are up against them. They don't stand a chance."
Jaune's throat tightened. He knew exactly what she was talking about. He was already helpless against a Rank 1. He couldn't even imagine the horror of that fight.
"Dad was there too. He fought alongside her. And he… he couldn't do anything. He almost died himself. Would have, if a Rank Three operative hadn't shown up in time and saved his ass. That rank 3 creature didn't die, however. It's still out there, roaming the Dream..."
Yang stopped, pressing her lips together. For a moment her bravado cracked, her hands tightening into fists on the table.
"Summer was gone. Just like that. And nothing we do—no training, fighting or surviving another day—changes that. What's worse was that dad had to lie to us about how she passed. We weren't a part of LUCID, after all. It was only after... when we awakened..." A hint of bitterness clouded her voice.
Jaune stayed silent, because what could he possibly say to that? Sorry wasn't enough. Nothing was.
Yang drew in a shaky breath, and when she spoke again, her voice was softer, threaded with memory. "But before all that… she was just Mom. You know? The kind of person who made the world feel safe even when it wasn't. She used to make these ridiculous chocolate chip cookies. Burned the first batch every damn time, without fail. Ruby and I would hover around the oven anyway, waiting. Ruby couldn't even reach the counter yet, so she'd stand on a chair, grinning like an idiot with chocolate smeared all over her face."
A quiet laugh escaped her, real this time but tinged with sorrow. "I can still smell them. That mix of sugar and smoke. I think that's the hardest part—those little things stick. The good memories. They sneak up on you when you least expect it."
She paused, eyes distant, lost in the image. "She'd braid our hair every night before bed. Even when she was exhausted, even when Dad was out late clearing Dream zones in different parts of Vale, she made time. And she'd tuck me in too, even though technically she didn't have to. She'd call me her little firecracker."
The silence stretched again, heavier now. Jaune sat there, his hands folded together, the weight of Yang's story pressing down on him. He wanted to reach across the table, to offer something—comfort, solidarity, anything—but he didn't move. He just listened, because it felt like that was what she needed most.
Finally, Yang leaned back, exhaling slowly. "Anyway. That's the story. Ruby got her mom's name to honor her memory and my mom's a deadbeat. Funny how things change for the worse, huh?"
Jaune shook his head, his voice quiet. "Not funny."
Yang's gaze flicked to him, searching, then softened just a little. "Yeah. You're right. Not funny at all."
They sat there a while longer, the hum of the cafeteria around them fading into background noise. Two kids in a world far too big for them, carrying losses too heavy for their age.
But at least, for tonight, they weren't carrying them alone.
Yang sat up straighter after a long pause, rolling her shoulders as if she could shrug the weight right off. Then, like flipping a switch, a grin slid onto her face. It didn't reach her eyes, but it was there, bright and practiced.
"Well," she said, voice carrying a forced cheer, "enough of the gloomy talk, yeah? You take the bullet train back home, right?"
Jaune blinked. "Uh… yeah?"
Yang twirled her empty cup once, then set it down with a little clink. "Then how about I give you a ride instead? Bumblebee could use the run, and it'll beat sitting around waiting on a train."
Her grin widened a fraction, daring him to refuse.
Jaune studied her for a moment, catching the strain behind her expression. But he only nodded, managing a small smile of his own. "Sure. A ride sounds good."
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AN: Advanced chapters are available on patreon