Chapter Text

Chapter 1: An Unexpected Discovery

80AGW - Early April

The small village of Meadowbrook sat nestled between rolling hills and dense forests, far from the bustling energy of Vale. For the past six weeks, teams JNPR and RWBY had called this place home, tasked with clearing the surrounding areas of Grimm and helping fortify the village's defenses. It was a two-month assignment—Professor Ozpin's way of giving his students real field experience after the excitement of the Vytal Festival tournament.

Jaune Arc adjusted his armor as he set out for his evening patrol. The late summer sun was beginning to dip toward the horizon, casting long shadows across the dirt path leading into the western woods.

"You sure you don't want company?" Pyrrha asked, checking the alignment of her spear and shield as she prepared for her own patrol to the north.

"I've got this," Jaune assured her with a confidence that would have been unthinkable six months ago. "Besides, I've memorized this route by now."

Pyrrha smiled. "Just be back before dark. The Ursai have been more active at night lately."

Jaune nodded and set off, following the familiar path into the trees. His patrol route formed a wide arc around the western perimeter of the village, designed to intersect with Ruby's southern patrol and Weiss's eastern route. Ren and Nora would relieve them after nightfall, along with Blake and Yang.

The assignment had been good for him. Away from the pressures of Beacon Academy, without the constant reminder of his fraudulent admission, Jaune had flourished as a leader. Coordinating patrols, working with the village council, and even leading several successful Grimm-clearing operations had built his confidence in ways that sparring sessions never could.

The western forest was peaceful this evening. Birds chirped overhead, and the occasional rabbit darted across his path. As Jaune approached the halfway point of his patrol—a small stream that burbled over smooth stones—he checked his scroll. Still an hour of daylight left.

He was about to continue when he heard a sound that seemed out of place in the forest—a faint cry, almost like a kitten. Jaune drew Crocea Mors, extending his shield as he moved cautiously toward the sound.

The crying grew louder as he approached a dense thicket near the base of a large oak tree. Pushing aside the tangled branches, Jaune discovered a small bundle wrapped in a white blanket.

"What in the world..." he murmured, kneeling down.

Inside the blanket was a baby—a faunus baby with tiny black cat ears poking through wisps of dark hair that had hints of blue when the light caught it just right. The infant, who looked to be only a few months old, was whimpering softly, hands curled into little fists.

Jaune quickly sheathed his sword and picked up the bundle, looking around for any sign of the baby's parents. There was nothing except a small cloth bag containing a few diapers, an empty bottle, and a handwritten note:

"Please take care of my daughter. She won't be safe with me anymore. The White Fang would find her and use her for their cause. Thank you to any person who will take care of her."

Jaune read the note twice, his mind racing. Who would abandon their child in Grimm-infested woods? The mention of the White Fang suggested the parent was probably a faunus themself, perhaps someone trying to leave the organization.

The baby began to cry more insistently, her small face scrunching up.

"Hey, hey, it's okay," Jaune said softly, adjusting his hold to better support the infant's head. "I've got you now. You're safe."

To his surprise, the baby's cries quieted at the sound of his voice. Tiny eyes, a brilliant amber color, blinked up at him curiously.

Jaune checked his scroll again. The sun would be setting soon, and with darkness came greater Grimm activity. He needed to get the baby back to the village, but what then? The remote settlement barely had resources for its own people, let alone an orphaned infant.

He could contact Ozpin, but the comms were unreliable this far from the CCT network. It would be at least three days before the next supply airship arrived from Vale.

For now, he needed to focus on getting the baby safely to the village. Jaune secured her against his chest, one arm supporting her while the other kept Crocea Mors ready. He moved as quickly as caution would allow, eyes scanning constantly for any sign of Grimm.

The village came into view just as the first stars appeared in the darkening sky. Jaune sighed with relief, quickening his pace as he approached the gates.

"Jaune!" Ruby's voice called out as she jogged over from her patrol route. "You're cutting it close. Pyrrha was just about to—" She stopped abruptly, silver eyes widening at the bundle in his arms. "Is that a baby?"

"Yeah," Jaune nodded, adjusting the blanket to reveal the sleeping face and small cat ears. "I found her abandoned in the woods. Someone left a note saying the White Fang might be after her."

"Oh my gosh," Ruby whispered, peering at the infant with a mixture of concern and awe. "She's so tiny! And those ears are so cute! But why would someone leave her out there? The Grimm could have—"

"I know," Jaune cut her off, not wanting to consider what might have happened if he hadn't found the baby when he did. "Let's get inside. I need to figure out what to do next."

As they entered the village, Weiss approached from her patrol route, looking as pristine as ever despite the dusty surroundings.

"There you are. You're supposed to check in when you complete your—" Her lecture died on her lips as she noticed what Jaune was carrying. "Is that what I think it is?"

"Jaune found a baby in the forest!" Ruby exclaimed, still bouncing with excitement. "She's a cat faunus and someone abandoned her and—"

"Slow down, Ruby," Weiss interrupted, her expression shifting from shock to concern. She moved closer, examining the sleeping infant. "She appears unharmed, but she should be checked by a medical professional. The village has a healer, correct?"

"Mrs. Woodleaf," Jaune confirmed. "But I'm not sure what to do after that. The note mentioned the White Fang might be looking for her."

"Let's get her to the healer first," Weiss decided, ever practical. "Then we can discuss our options."

Word spread quickly through the small village. By the time they reached the cottage of Mrs. Woodleaf, the elderly healer, Pyrrha, Nora, and Ren had joined them, all wearing various expressions of surprise and concern.

"Oh my, what have we here?" Mrs. Woodleaf said, ushering them inside her herb-scented home. The old woman, whose gnarled hands belied their gentleness, carefully took the baby from Jaune's arms.

"A cat faunus girl, abandoned in the forest," Jaune explained, feeling strangely reluctant to let the baby go. "According to the note, her parents can't keep her because of White Fang threats."

"Poor little thing," the healer murmured as she laid the baby on a clean blanket. "Let's see how you're doing, shall we?"

As Mrs. Woodleaf examined the infant, the door to the cottage opened again. Blake and Yang entered, having been summoned by Weiss's message.

Blake's eyes immediately fixed on the baby, her bow twitching slightly in a way that suggested her hidden cat ears were alert with interest.

"Is it true?" she asked, moving forward to get a better look. "Someone abandoned a faunus baby in the forest?"

Jaune nodded, handing her the note. Blake read it, her expression darkening at the mention of the White Fang.

"This complicates things," she said quietly.

Yang peered over Blake's shoulder. "Cute kid, though. Those ears are adorable."

Mrs. Woodleaf finished her examination with a satisfied nod. "She's healthy and well-nourished. I'd say she's about three months old. Whoever left her must have done so recently—she's not dehydrated or overly hungry."

"What do we do now?" Pyrrha asked, looking around at her friends. "The next airship doesn't come for three days, and even then..."

"We can't just hand her over to the authorities in Vale," Blake stated firmly. "Faunus orphans often face... difficulties in the system."

The room fell silent as they all considered the implications. Jaune looked at the baby, now awake and blinking curiously at the faces surrounding her. Those amber eyes seemed to find Jaune's, and tiny hands reached up toward him.

Without thinking, Jaune moved forward and picked the baby up again, cradling her gently. She made a soft mewling sound, one small hand wrapping around his finger with surprising strength.

"I'll take care of her," Jaune said suddenly, surprising even himself. "At least until we can find a better solution."

"Jaune, do you know anything about caring for babies?" Pyrrha asked gently.

"Actually, I do," he replied with unexpected confidence. "I'm the only boy in a family with seven sisters. The youngest three are a lot younger than me, and I helped raise them when they were babies. I know the basics—feeding, changing, burping, the whole routine."

The others looked at him with newfound respect.

"That's... actually impressive," Weiss admitted.

"She needs a name," Ruby pointed out. "We can't just keep calling her 'the baby.'"

Jaune looked down at the infant in his arms. She was quieter now, her eyes reflecting the soft lamplight of the cottage. Something about how he'd found her, alone under the moonlight in the forest, made a name come to mind immediately.

"Cynthia," he said softly. "It means 'moon goddess.' That seems fitting for how I found her."

"Cynthia," Blake repeated, stepping closer. "It's a beautiful name."

Mrs. Woodleaf chuckled, the sound warm and knowing. "It takes a village, as they say. I'll provide what supplies I can, though you'll need more than I have here."

"We can request baby supplies on the next airship," Ren suggested. "Until then, we'll improvise."

"I can help with the specifics of caring for a faunus child," Blake offered, her eyes not leaving Cynthia. "Cat faunus have keen senses even as infants. She'll be sensitive to loud noises and certain scents."

"Then it's settled," Jaune said. "For now, at least, Cynthia stays with us."

As the others discussed logistics, Blake moved beside Jaune, her voice pitched so only he could hear.

"The White Fang wouldn't be interested in a random faunus baby," she murmured. "If what this note says is true, her parents might be former members trying to escape the organization. That would make her a target."

Jaune nodded, the weight of responsibility settling more firmly on his shoulders. "All the more reason to protect her."

Blake studied his face for a moment, then looked back at Cynthia. "I'll help you," she said simply. "I know what it's like to be a faunus child with nowhere to belong."

In that moment, as the evening light faded and their friends continued planning around them, something unspoken passed between Jaune and Blake—a shared purpose, perhaps, or the beginning of an unexpected alliance.

Whatever lay ahead, Jaune knew one thing for certain: his life had just changed in ways he couldn't begin to imagine.

Chapter Text

Chapter 2: A Midnight Conversation

80AGW - Early April

The house provided to teams RWBY and JNPR during their stay in Meadowbrook was modest but comfortable—a two-story farmhouse with enough rooms for everyone to have some personal space. It hadn't been designed with a baby in mind, however.

"This should work for tonight," Jaune said, examining the makeshift crib he and Ren had fashioned from a wooden crate lined with blankets. "Tomorrow we can see if anyone in the village has a proper bassinet."

Blake nodded, gently rocking Cynthia in her arms. The baby had been surprisingly cooperative throughout the evening, tolerating being passed between various squad members as they took turns fussing over her. Now, though, she was starting to fuss, tiny face scrunching up in displeasure.

"I think she's hungry," Blake said, looking up at Jaune.

"Mrs. Woodleaf gave us some formula," Jaune replied, reaching for the bag of supplies the village healer had provided. "It's goat's milk mixed with something else—she said it would be easier for her to digest than regular cow's milk."

The others had given them space, retreating to the common room to discuss their plans for the coming days. Only Jaune and Blake remained in the small bedroom that had been hastily converted into a nursery.

Jaune prepared the bottle with practiced ease, testing the temperature on his wrist just as he'd done countless times for his younger sisters. Blake watched him, a flicker of surprise crossing her face.

"You really do know what you're doing," she remarked.

Jaune shrugged, offering a modest smile. "Like I said, I helped with my younger sisters. My mom had her hands full with the older ones, so I became the default babysitter pretty early on."

When the bottle was ready, Blake hesitated, then offered Cynthia back to Jaune. "You should feed her. You have more experience."

"Actually," Jaune said, "I think she might prefer you. Cat faunus to cat faunus, you know?"

Blake's bow twitched—a telltale sign of her hidden ears responding to emotion. After a moment's pause, she nodded and took the bottle.

With unexpected tenderness, she adjusted Cynthia in her arms and guided the bottle to the baby's eager mouth. The infant latched on immediately, amber eyes blinking up at Blake as she fed.

"She has your eyes," Jaune commented without thinking.

Blake looked up sharply. "What?"

"I just meant—the color. Her eyes are amber, like yours." Jaune felt his face growing warm. "Sorry, that was weird to say."

To his surprise, Blake's expression softened. "No, it's... fine." She looked back down at Cynthia. "I suppose they are similar."

A comfortable silence fell between them as Cynthia finished her bottle. Blake shifted the baby to her shoulder, patting her back gently until a small burp escaped.

"You're a natural," Jaune observed.

Blake's lips curved in a small smile. "I had a cousin who had a baby when I was younger. I helped sometimes."

She carefully placed Cynthia in the makeshift crib, tucking the blanket around her tiny form. The baby's eyes were already drooping, exhaustion finally overcoming curiosity.

"We should talk about the note," Blake said quietly as they watched Cynthia drift off to sleep. "About the White Fang."

Jaune nodded, gesturing toward the door. They slipped out into the hallway, leaving the door cracked so they could hear if Cynthia woke.

"What do you think it means?" Jaune asked as they settled on a bench near the window at the end of the hall. Moonlight streamed in, casting Blake's features in silver.

"The White Fang has become... aggressive in recruiting," Blake explained, her voice low. "Under Adam Taurus's leadership, they've started targeting faunus families who refuse to join. Those with useful skills or connections are pressured hardest."

"And Cynthia's parents?"

"My guess is they were members who wanted out. Maybe when they found out they were having a baby, they decided that wasn't the life they wanted for their child." Blake's voice took on a distant quality, as if she were speaking from personal experience. "Leaving the White Fang isn't simple. Some have been... made examples of."

Jaune absorbed this soberly. "So they left her to protect her."

"It would explain why they abandoned her somewhere so remote," Blake agreed. "Far from Vale, away from White Fang operations."

"But why not just keep her and stay hidden themselves?"

Blake's eyes met his. "Because Adam doesn't give up when he's hunting someone. They probably realized the only way to truly protect her was to separate themselves from her entirely."

The implications hung heavy in the air between them.

"We need to keep her safe," Jaune said finally. "Not just for a few days, but... properly."

"What are you suggesting?"

"I don't know yet. But sending her to an orphanage in Vale isn't the answer. Not if the White Fang might be looking for her."

Blake nodded slowly. "My thoughts exactly."

From the room behind them came a soft whimper. Both turned immediately, but the sound didn't repeat.

"False alarm," Jaune murmured. "Though I should warn you—newborns tend to wake up every couple of hours."

"I don't mind," Blake replied. Then, after a pause: "You're good with her, Jaune. It's... not what I expected."

"What did you expect?"

A ghost of a smile crossed Blake's lips. "The boy who threw up on the airship to Beacon doesn't exactly scream 'responsible caregiver.'"

Jaune laughed softly. "Fair enough. But that was motion sickness, not incompetence. Well, not just incompetence."

"You've changed since then," Blake observed. "We all have."

Silence fell between them again, but it was comfortable—a shared moment of reflection.

"I should check if the others need help with anything," Jaune said eventually, rising from the bench.

Blake looked up at him. "I'll stay with Cynthia. In case she wakes up."

"Thank you, Blake." He hesitated, then added, "For everything. Your help means a lot."

She nodded, that small smile returning. "Get some rest, Jaune. I have a feeling we're going to need it."

As Jaune headed downstairs, he found the common room buzzing with activity. Nora was sketching something that looked suspiciously like baby furniture plans. Ruby and Yang were making lists, while Weiss appeared to be drafting a formal requisition for supplies. Pyrrha and Ren were poring over a map of the surrounding area.

"Operation Baby Arc is officially underway!" Nora declared upon seeing him.

"Baby Arc?" Jaune repeated, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, she needs a last name," Ruby pointed out. "And since you found her..."

"We're not adopting her," Weiss clarified quickly. "This is a temporary arrangement until we can determine the appropriate authorities to handle the situation."

"Right," Jaune agreed, though something inside him bristled at Weiss's clinical assessment. "Temporary."

Pyrrha looked up from the map. "We've been discussing security. If the White Fang really is a concern, we should adjust our patrol patterns to provide better coverage around the house."

"Good idea," Jaune nodded, grateful for her practical approach. "We should also limit who in the village knows about Cynthia's faunus traits. Just to be safe."

"Already ahead of you," Yang said. "We've told everyone she's your cousin who was orphaned recently. You were expecting her to arrive with the next supply ship, but her escort brought her early and left her with you."

"My... cousin?" Jaune blinked.

"It explains why you're so comfortable with her," Ren pointed out. "And why you'd have her here with you during a mission."

"The village council bought it," Ruby added proudly. "Especially after we explained that you needed to keep it quiet for security reasons."

Jaune was impressed. His friends had accomplished all this while he and Blake were upstairs with Cynthia.

"Thank you, everyone. Really."

"Don't mention it," Yang grinned. "Though I have to say, watching you and Blake play house is pretty adorable."

"We're not—" Jaune started to protest, but stopped when he saw the teasing glint in Yang's eye. "Very funny."

"She's good with Cynthia," Pyrrha observed, her tone carefully neutral. "Blake, I mean."

"She is," Jaune agreed, oblivious to the subtle tension in Pyrrha's voice. "She understands what Cynthia might need as a faunus better than any of us."

"We should all get some sleep," Ren suggested, diplomatically changing the subject. "We'll need to maintain our regular duties tomorrow while accommodating Cynthia's care."

Everyone nodded in agreement, gathering their notes and preparing to retire for the night.

"I'll take first watch with Cynthia," Jaune said. "Blake's with her now, but I'll relieve her in a bit."

"We can take shifts," Ruby offered. "Like a real mission!"

"Operation Night Watch begins!" Nora declared, pumping her fist in the air before Ren gently lowered it.

As the others dispersed to their rooms, Jaune felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned to find Pyrrha looking at him with a mixture of concern and affection.

"Are you sure about this, Jaune?" she asked softly. "Taking responsibility for a baby is... it's a lot."

"I'm sure," he replied without hesitation. "At least for now. She needs someone, and... I don't know, Pyrrha. When I found her, it just felt right."

Pyrrha studied his face for a moment, then nodded. "Then we'll support you. All of us."

"Thanks, Pyrrha."

She squeezed his shoulder once more before heading upstairs, leaving Jaune alone with his thoughts.

As he made his way back to the makeshift nursery, he found Blake still sitting by the crib, one hand gently resting on Cynthia's blanket. The baby was fast asleep, tiny cat ears twitching occasionally as she dreamed.

"Any change?" he whispered.

Blake shook her head, removing her hand and standing up. "She's sleeping soundly."

"You should get some rest. I can take over."

Blake hesitated, glancing back at the sleeping infant. "I don't mind staying a bit longer."

Jaune considered this, then settled into the chair opposite Blake's. "How about we both stay? Until she wakes up for her next feeding."

After a moment, Blake nodded and resumed her seat. They sat in companionable silence, the moonlight casting gentle shadows across Cynthia's peaceful face.

In that quiet moment, watching over the sleeping baby they'd unexpectedly found themselves responsible for, something shifted between Jaune and Blake—a wordless understanding, a shared purpose that neither of them had anticipated but both now embraced.

Whatever challenges lay ahead, they would face them together, for Cynthia's sake.

Chapter Text

Chapter 3: Midnight Scare

80AGW - Early April

The farmhouse was quiet, moonlight streaming through half-drawn curtains as the members of teams RWBY and JNPR slept. It was just past midnight, and Jaune had taken over the second watch shift from Blake about an hour ago, allowing her to get some much-needed rest.

He sat in the rocking chair beside Cynthia's makeshift crib, thumbing through a tactical manual while occasionally glancing up to check the sleeping baby. The past few days had established a rhythm—Cynthia typically slept through this part of the night, waking around two for a feeding before drifting off again until dawn.

Which was why the sudden, sharp wail caught him by surprise.

Jaune dropped his book, moving immediately to the crib. "Hey, hey, what's wrong?" he whispered, carefully lifting Cynthia. Her tiny face was scrunched up in distress, her cries more urgent than her usual hungry fussing.

He checked her diaper—clean. He tried rocking her—no effect. The bottle he offered was refused with increasingly agitated cries.

"Something's not right," he murmured, placing a gentle hand on her forehead. The skin felt hot to the touch—much warmer than normal.

Jaune's heart rate spiked. Fever in infants could be serious, especially one so young. He tried to recall his mother's methods for dealing with his younger sisters' illnesses, but panic made his thoughts scatter.

"What's going on?" Blake's voice came from the doorway, her amber eyes alert despite having been asleep minutes before. She wore a simple yukata, her bow missing, cat ears fully visible and twitching with concern.

"She's burning up," Jaune said, trying to keep his voice steady. "I think she has a fever. She won't take her bottle, and she's crying differently than usual."

Blake crossed the room in swift strides, placing her own hand against Cynthia's cheek. Her faunus ears flattened with worry. "She is hot. How long has she been like this?"

"She just started crying maybe five minutes ago. I checked everything—diaper, hunger—but nothing's helping."

Cynthia's wails continued, small hands balled into tight fists, her distress palpable.

"We need Mrs. Woodleaf," Blake decided, already moving toward her clothes. "She'll know what to do."

Jaune nodded, shifting Cynthia to his shoulder and patting her back in a vain attempt to soothe her. "I'll get her wrapped up for the cold. Can you grab a spare blanket?"

They moved with urgent efficiency, Blake helping Jaune secure Cynthia in a warm blanket while he pulled on a jacket over his sleep clothes. Neither bothered changing fully—the need for speed outweighed propriety.

"Should we wake the others?" Blake asked as they headed for the stairs.

Jaune considered it briefly. "No, not yet. Let's see what Mrs. Woodleaf says first. No need to worry everyone if it's something simple."

The night air was crisp as they stepped outside, the village of Meadowbrook silver-washed in moonlight. Most homes were dark, their occupants fast asleep, unaware of the small drama unfolding in their midst.

"This way," Blake said, leading them through narrow lanes toward the healer's cottage on the village outskirts. Her night vision proved invaluable, guiding them around obstacles that Jaune could barely discern in the darkness.

Cynthia continued to cry, though her wails had diminished to exhausted whimpers that somehow seemed worse than her earlier screams.

"Hang in there, little one," Jaune murmured against her hot forehead. "We're getting help."

Mrs. Woodleaf's cottage stood apart from the others, surrounded by a garden of medicinal herbs that released their fragrance into the night air. A single light burned in the window—whether by coincidence or the old woman's intuition that she would be needed, they couldn't tell.

Blake knocked firmly on the wooden door. Moments later, it swung open to reveal the elderly healer, fully dressed despite the late hour, as if she'd been expecting visitors.

"I thought I might see you tonight," she said, stepping back to admit them. "Bring her in, quickly now."

The cottage interior was warm and smelled of herbs and honey. Mrs. Woodleaf gestured toward a table covered with a clean cloth.

"Lay her here," she instructed, already gathering various bottles and instruments. "Tell me what you've observed."

As Jaune gently placed Cynthia on the table, Blake recounted the symptoms—the sudden crying, the refusal to feed, the elevated temperature.

Mrs. Woodleaf nodded, her gnarled hands surprisingly gentle as she examined the fussing infant. She checked Cynthia's temperature, listened to her breathing, and examined her ears, throat, and chest with practiced motions.

"How bad is it?" Jaune asked, unable to keep the worry from his voice.

The old woman's face softened. "A cold, most likely. Not uncommon in infants her age, especially given what she's been through."

"A cold?" Blake repeated, relief and concern mingling in her voice. "Just a cold?"

"Just a cold," Mrs. Woodleaf confirmed with a small smile. "Though to little ones, even a cold can feel quite miserable. And to new parents—or caregivers—it can seem like the end of the world."

Jaune released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "So she'll be okay?"

"With proper care, certainly." The healer moved to a shelf lined with jars and bottles, selecting several with practiced ease. "She needs fluids, rest, and something to bring the fever down."

As Mrs. Woodleaf prepared a mild herbal remedy, she glanced back at them with knowing eyes. "You two were right to bring her quickly. Fevers in infants should never be ignored. You've good instincts."

As Mrs. Woodleaf prepared the herbal remedy, Jaune found his attention drifting to Blake. She was sitting by the window, cradling Cynthia against her shoulder, gently patting the baby's back while whispering soothing words too soft for even Mrs. Woodleaf to hear. The moonlight streaming through the cottage window cast Blake in a silvery glow, illuminating the gentle curve of her profile.

For a moment—just a fleeting, sleep-deprived moment—Jaune felt something shift in his perception. Despite her disheveled appearance—hair slightly tangled, shadows beneath her eyes, clothes wrinkled from the hasty journey to the healer's cottage—she looked... radiant. Not in the polished, perfect way that magazine models did, but in something deeper, more profound. There was a quiet strength in how she held Cynthia, a tenderness in her amber eyes that he'd never noticed before at Beacon.

The realization struck him with unexpected force: Blake Belladonna was rediant.

Jaune blinked, the thought vanishing as quickly as it had formed. He rubbed his eyes, attributing the strange observation to exhaustion. Long days and a night of almost no sleep would make anyone's mind wander into peculiar territory. Besides, this was Blake —reserved, mysterious Blake who barely spoke to him before Cynthia arrived in their lives.

"Your mind's playing tricks on you, Arc," he thought to himself, forcing his attention back to Mrs. Woodleaf's instructions. "Sleep deprivation. That's all it is."

But even as he nodded along to the healer's advice about fever management, he couldn't help stealing another glance at Blake and Cynthia by the window, the moonlight still bathing them in that ethereal glow.

"We panicked," Jaune admitted, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "I couldn't think straight when I felt how hot she was."

"A little panic is normal," the healer chuckled. "I've seen parents with their tenth child still rush to me in the middle of the night over a sneeze."

She returned with a small bottle of amber liquid and a dropper. "Two drops in her formula every four hours. It will help with the fever and ease her discomfort."

Blake accepted the bottle carefully. "What else should we do?"

"Keep her cool but not cold. A damp cloth on her forehead can help. Make sure she stays hydrated—she may not want to eat much, but fluids are essential." Mrs. Woodleaf demonstrated with a cool, damp cloth, gently wiping Cynthia's flushed face. The baby's cries diminished slightly at the soothing touch.

"And one more thing," the healer added, her eyes twinkling. "Take turns caring for her. You both need rest too."

Jaune and Blake exchanged glances, neither wanting to admit how exhausted they already felt after just a few minutes of worried panic.

"Thank you," Jaune said sincerely, gathering Cynthia back into his arms. The baby still whimpered, but seemed calmer after the healer's ministrations. "We don't know what we would have done without you."

"That's what village healers are for, young man." Mrs. Woodleaf patted his arm. "Especially for first-time parents who got their little one in... unconventional ways."

Her eyes sparkled with gentle humor, and Jaune felt a blush creep up his neck. Before he could correct her assumption, Blake spoke up.

"We're not... I mean, we're just taking care of her temporarily," she clarified, her own cheeks tinged with color.

"Of course, dear," Mrs. Woodleaf replied, her tone making it clear she didn't entirely believe them. "Temporary or not, you're doing right by her, and that's what matters."

She escorted them to the door, offering a few more words of advice about managing the cold. "Come see me tomorrow if the fever hasn't improved. And don't hesitate to return if you're worried, day or night."

The walk back to the farmhouse was quieter, Cynthia having exhausted herself into fitful sleep against Jaune's shoulder. The medicine Mrs. Woodleaf had administered seemed to be taking effect, her small body no longer radiating as much heat.

"That was scary," Jaune admitted as they navigated the moonlit paths. "For a minute there, I thought..."

"I know," Blake nodded, her voice soft. "I did too."

They walked in silence for a few more steps before she added, "You did well, though. Noticing so quickly that something was wrong."

"So did you," he countered. "Coming to help right away. Knowing we needed Mrs. Woodleaf immediately."

Blake shrugged, but Jaune could see the small smile playing at her lips, visible in the moonlight. "I guess we make a decent team."

"A pretty good one, actually," he agreed.

When they reached the farmhouse, they found the common room still empty, the others apparently having slept through their departure. A small mercy, given how they must look—disheveled, in sleep clothes, with a feverish baby between them.

"I'll prepare a bottle with the medicine," Blake offered as they headed upstairs. "You should get her settled."

In the makeshift nursery, Jaune gently placed Cynthia in her crib, then dampened a cloth with cool water from the basin as Mrs. Woodleaf had instructed. The baby stirred at the touch but didn't fully wake, her breathing still slightly congested but more regular than before.

Blake returned with the prepared bottle, a determined set to her shoulders. "I'll take the rest of this shift," she stated. "You've been up longer."

Jaune started to protest but was silenced by a look. "She needs at least one of us fully functional tomorrow," Blake reasoned. "And you look exhausted."

"Pot, kettle," Jaune retorted with a tired smile, but conceded the point. "Wake me in three hours for her next dose? Or sooner if anything changes?"

"I will," Blake promised, settling into the rocking chair beside the crib. "Now go get some sleep."

Jaune hesitated at the door, watching as Blake gently stroked Cynthia's hair, her touch infinitely tender. The moonlight cast them both in silver, creating a tableau he wished he could preserve somehow—Blake's quiet vigilance, Cynthia's peaceful rest under her care.

"Thank you," he said simply.

Blake looked up, her amber eyes meeting his. "For what?"

"For caring about her as much as I do."

A moment of understanding passed between them, deeper than words could express. Blake nodded once, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that had formed—not just between each of them and Cynthia, but between the two of them as well.

As Jaune finally retired to his room for a few hours of much-needed rest, he reflected on how quickly Cynthia had become the center of their shared world. Tonight's scare had only cemented what he was beginning to realize—that whatever happened after their mission concluded, the three of them were connected now in ways he couldn't have imagined when he found that tiny bundle in the forest.

And somehow, that felt exactly right.

"You two look terrible," Yang observed the next morning as Jaune and Blake joined the others for breakfast. "Rough night?"

Jaune nodded, gratefully accepting the coffee Ren offered. "Cynthia developed a fever. We had to take her to Mrs. Woodleaf around midnight."

Concerned exclamations erupted from around the table. Ruby immediately abandoned her cereal to check on the baby, who was resting more comfortably in her bassinet beside Blake's chair.

"Why didn't you wake us?" Pyrrha asked, her green eyes filled with worry. "We could have helped."

"It happened quickly," Blake explained, stifling a yawn. "And we didn't want to disturb everyone if it wasn't serious."

"Is she okay?" Weiss inquired, leaning over to examine Cynthia with uncharacteristic softness in her usually sharp blue eyes.

"Mrs. Woodleaf says it's just a cold," Jaune reassured them. "Probably from exposure when she was... you know, left in the forest. She gave us medicine and showed us how to manage the fever."

"The temperature's already down," Blake added. "She's sleeping more comfortably now."

Nora bounced over, peering into the bassinet. "Poor little kitty cat," she cooed. "Don't worry, Auntie Nora will make you all better!"

"Perhaps with less volume," Ren suggested gently, guiding his energetic partner back a few steps. "Infants with colds need rest."

"Operation Quiet Time begins!" Nora whispered dramatically, making everyone smile despite their concern.

"We should adjust today's schedule," Pyrrha suggested practically. "Someone should stay with Cynthia at all times."

Ruby nodded eagerly. "We can take turns! Like baby-fever-fighting shifts!"

"That would be helpful," Jaune admitted, exchanging a grateful glance with Blake. "We're a little short on sleep."

"You two should rest," Weiss decided with her usual efficiency. "Ruby and I can handle the first shift with Cynthia while the others manage the morning patrols."

The teams quickly reorganized their duties, creating a rotation that would allow Jaune and Blake to catch up on sleep while ensuring Cynthia received proper care and the mission requirements were still met.

As the others prepared for the day's responsibilities, Yang sidled up to Blake, a knowing smile on her face.

"So," she drawled, "midnight adventures with Mr. Arc, huh?"

Blake rolled her eyes, too tired to rise to her partner's teasing. "Caring for a sick infant isn't exactly romantic, Yang."

"Maybe not," Yang conceded with a grin, "but watching you two work together? Definitely something happening there."

Before Blake could formulate a suitably dismissive response, Jaune approached, carrying two plates of the breakfast Ren had prepared.

"Thought you might be hungry," he offered, setting one before Blake. "Figured we should eat before getting some sleep."

"Thank you," Blake said, accepting the plate with a grateful nod.

Yang's eyebrows waggled suggestively behind Jaune's back, earning her a warning glare from Blake. Her partner merely grinned wider before sauntering off to join Ruby at the bassinet.

Jaune took the seat beside Blake, apparently oblivious to the exchange. "Mrs. Woodleaf seemed to think we were... you know. A couple. Parents."

Blake concentrated on her breakfast, unsure how to respond. "People make assumptions," she said finally. "It's not important."

"No, I guess not," Jaune agreed, though something in his tone made her glance up. He was watching Cynthia with an expression of such tenderness that Blake felt something twist unexpectedly in her chest.

"We did good last night," he continued softly. "As a team, I mean. We kept her safe."

Blake found herself nodding. "Yes. We did."

And as the morning sunlight streamed through the farmhouse windows, illuminating their friends gathered protectively around Cynthia's bassinet, Blake realized that something fundamental had shifted in their dynamic—not just between her and Jaune, but within the entire group.

Cynthia, with her tiny faunus ears and amber eyes, had become more than just a responsibility. She had become the heart around which they all orbited, a silent reminder of why they fought, why they trained, why they strove to make Remnant safer.

Chapter Text

Chapter 4: The Dream

80AGW - Early April

Despite her insistence that Jaune get some sleep first, Blake found herself fighting exhaustion as the night wore on. Cynthia's fever had decreased after the medicine, allowing the baby to sleep more peacefully. When Jaune returned three hours later as promised to relieve her, Blake could barely keep her eyes open.

"Your turn," Jaune whispered, gently placing a hand on her shoulder. "She's doing better?"

Blake nodded sleepily. "Temperature's down. She took a little formula about an hour ago."

"You did great," he said softly. "Now go rest. I've got her."

Too tired to argue, Blake relinquished the rocking chair to Jaune and made her way to her bedroom. She barely managed to remove her yukata before collapsing onto her bed, sleep claiming her almost instantly.

The morning sunlight streamed through pale yellow curtains, casting a warm glow across a kitchen Blake didn't recognize and yet somehow knew intimately. She stood at a stove, spatula in hand, flipping pancakes with practiced ease.

"Mom! Have you seen my history project?" The voice came from upstairs—young, female, with a hint of exasperation that sounded eerily familiar.

"Check under your bed!" Blake called back, her response automatic. "And hurry up or you'll be late for school!"

Footsteps thundered down the stairs, and a girl about twelve years old burst into the kitchen. Her dark hair fell in waves past her shoulders, streaked with hints of blue that caught the light. Atop her head, two cat ears—black as midnight—twitched with excitement.

"Found it!" the girl declared triumphantly, waving a model of what appeared to be the Beacon Academy clock tower.

Blake smiled, setting a plate of pancakes on the table. "Sit down and eat, Cynthia. You need breakfast before school."

Cynthia. Of course it was Cynthia. Somehow, in the strange logic of dreams, Blake wasn't surprised to see the infant she'd been caring for transformed into this vibrant pre-teen.

"Did you remember to sign my permission slip for the field trip to the museum?" Cynthia asked, drowning her pancakes in maple syrup.

"It's in your backpack," Blake replied, joining her at the table with her own plate. "I packed you some tuna sandwiches for lunch. And an apple."

Cynthia rolled her eyes, an expression so reminiscent of Blake herself that it was almost startling. "You always pack tuna."

"Because it's good for you," Blake countered with a smile. "Brain food."

"Dad says cookies are brain food too," Cynthia argued, amber eyes—so like Blake's own—sparkling with mischief.

"Your father would say that," Blake laughed, the sound easy and natural. "He spoils you."

Cynthia grinned, showing a missing tooth on one side. "That's why he's my favorite."

"Is that so?" Blake raised an eyebrow in mock offense. "And here I was, making your favorite blueberry pancakes."

The girl giggled, reaching across to squeeze Blake's hand. "I'm kidding, Mom. You're both my favorites."

The word 'Mom' settled into Blake's chest with a warmth she'd never experienced before, filling spaces she hadn't realized were empty.

The scene shifted, dissolving and reforming into a street lined with autumn-colored trees. Blake stood outside a school building, watching as children streamed through the doors at the end of the day. Her eyes searched the crowd until they landed on Cynthia, walking alongside a red-haired girl who looked remarkably like a young Pyrrha.

"Mom!" Cynthia called, breaking into a run when she spotted Blake. "You'll never guess what happened in combat class today!"

Blake opened her arms, embracing her daughter with a fierce protectiveness that felt as natural as breathing. "What happened, kitten?"

"I finally managed to unlock my semblance!" Cynthia exclaimed, practically bouncing with excitement. "It's like yours, but different. I can create shadow copies, but they're solid for a few seconds before they disappear!"

Pride swelled in Blake's chest. "That's amazing, Cynthia! I knew you could do it."

"Ms. Rose said I have really good control for a first manifestation," Cynthia continued, falling into step beside Blake as they walked home. "She said I might be ready for advanced techniques by next semester."

"Ruby always did have an eye for talent," Blake remarked, adjusting the bow in Cynthia's hair—a violet ribbon that matched the one she wore herself.

"Can we practice together when we get home?" Cynthia asked, her eyes shining with hope. "Please? Dad promised to help me with sword training later, but I want to work on my shadows with you first."

"Of course we can," Blake agreed, feeling a sense of rightness, of belonging, unlike anything she'd known before.

As they rounded the corner onto a quiet residential street, a small house came into view—modest but welcoming, with a garden in front and what looked like a training area in the back. It was nothing like the grand mansions of her childhood in Menagerie, nor like the austere dormitories of the White Fang. It was simply... home.

Cynthia raced ahead, bounding up the steps with the energy only a twelve-year-old could possess. Blake followed more sedately, taking in the details of this place that was simultaneously foreign and intimately familiar—flowers she would have chosen, books visible through the window that she recognized as favorites, a wind chime that sang in the breeze with a melody she somehow knew.

As she reached the porch, the front door opened, and Jaune appeared, his blonde hair slightly longer than she was used to, his face more mature but still bearing that same warm smile. He wore an apron over casual clothes, and the smell of something delicious wafted from behind him.

"There are my favorite girls," he said, his voice deeper than she remembered but filled with the same gentle kindness that had always been Jaune's hallmark.

Cynthia launched herself at him, chattering excitedly about her semblance breakthrough. He listened with rapt attention, his expression showing the perfect balance of surprise and pride that made Cynthia beam even brighter.

When he finally looked up, his blue eyes met Blake's with such warmth and love that something caught in her throat.

"Welcome home," he said softly, extending one arm to her while the other still held Cynthia.

Blake moved forward as if drawn by an invisible force, stepping into his embrace with a sense of homecoming so profound it almost hurt. Without thinking, she tilted her face up to his, their lips meeting in a kiss that felt like the most natural thing in the world—familiar, comfortable, and yet still filled with a gentle passion that made her heart race.

"Ew, gross!" Cynthia protested, squirming between them. "Can you guys be mushy later? I want to show you my semblance!"

They broke apart, laughing, and Jaune pressed a kiss to the top of Blake's head, right between her cat ears.

"Later," he promised in a whisper meant only for her, his eyes conveying a depth of feeling that made her breath catch.

Blake woke with a start, her heart pounding as the dream dissolved around her. Sunlight streamed through the window of her room at the farmhouse, indicating she'd slept well into the morning. For a moment, she lay perfectly still, the remnants of the dream clinging to her consciousness with unusual vividness.

The emotions it had evoked lingered—that profound sense of belonging, of rightness, of... family. A life she had never imagined for herself, with people she had barely thought of in that context until just days ago.

"That was... unexpected," she whispered to the empty room, her hand unconsciously touching her lips where she could still almost feel the phantom pressure of Jaune's kiss.

Heat rose to her cheeks as the full implications of her dream registered. A house. A life. A daughter—Cynthia, grown into a beautiful, confident young girl with Blake's eyes and both their spirits. And Jaune... as her partner in every sense of the word.

"I can never tell Yang about this," she murmured, mortified at the thought of her partner's inevitable teasing if she ever discovered that Blake had dreamed of domestic bliss with Jaune Arc of all people. "Never. Ever."

But as Blake rose to prepare for the day, she couldn't fully suppress the small smile that tugged at her lips, nor the warmth that lingered in her chest at the memory of that dream world—a world where Cynthia was truly theirs, where they were a family, where they had built something beautiful together.

A world that, just days ago, would have seemed impossible. But now...

Blake shook her head firmly, forcing the thoughts away. They had a sick baby to care for, a mission to complete, and countless complications to navigate. A fanciful dream was just that—a dream.

But as she headed downstairs to check on Cynthia and Jaune, Blake couldn't quite silence the small voice in the back of her mind that whispered: What if?

Chapter Text

Chapter 5: Facing Uncertainty

80AGW - Early April

Blake's eyes snapped open at the first whimper from the makeshift crib. She blinked at the unfamiliar ceiling, momentarily disoriented until reality rushed back—the farmhouse in Meadowbrook, the mission, and Cynthia, the abandoned faunus infant whose care had somehow become her responsibility. Their responsibility.

Glancing at her scroll, she saw it was barely past three in the morning—the fourth time she'd woken tonight. Her limbs felt leaden as she forced herself upright, pushing aside the memory of that unsettlingly domestic dream that had haunted her thoughts for the past two days.

"I've got her," came a whispered voice from the darkness.

Blake squinted to see Jaune already at Cynthia's side, his silhouette outlined by moonlight as he gently lifted the fussing baby.

"You should sleep," he said, noticing Blake was awake. "You took the last three shifts."

"I'm already up," Blake countered, her voice rough with exhaustion. "Besides, you need rest too."

Jaune didn't argue as Blake crossed the room, her movements sluggish from multiple nights of interrupted sleep. She reached for Cynthia, their hands brushing briefly during the exchange. Blake ignored the small jolt the contact sent through her—just another symptom of her overtired mind playing tricks.

"Temperature?" she asked, cradling the infant against her chest.

Jaune ran a hand through his disheveled hair. "Better than earlier. The medicine seems to be working."

Blake nodded, settling into the rocking chair with practiced ease. Two days ago, she'd barely known how to hold a baby. Now the motions came naturally—testing the bottle temperature against her wrist, adjusting Cynthia's position, soothing her with gentle pats when she fussed.

"You're good at this," Jaune observed, his voice hushed in the quiet room.

"Just following what Mrs. Woodleaf showed us," Blake replied, avoiding his gaze. She focused instead on Cynthia, whose amber eyes—so eerily similar to her own—were already drifting closed as she took the bottle.

"Still," Jaune insisted, "not everyone adapts this quickly."

Blake said nothing, uncomfortable with the praise and even more uncomfortable with how much it pleased her. She blamed the warmth in her chest on simple exhaustion—her defenses were down, her emotions too close to the surface. That's all it was.

"You should try to sleep," she told him. "I'll wake you if I need help."

Jaune hesitated, then nodded, returning to his bedroll on the floor. Within minutes, his breathing deepened into sleep. Blake envied his ability to rest so easily, though she knew he was just as exhausted as she was.

As she rocked Cynthia, Blake's mind drifted back to the dream—the vision of a future so foreign to everything she'd planned yet somehow so appealing. A home. A family. Jaune and Cynthia, both looking at her with such genuine affection...

Blake shook her head sharply. That wasn't real. It was just her subconscious processing the strange situation they'd found themselves in. After years of fighting, of struggle, of always being on guard, perhaps her mind had simply manufactured a comforting fantasy. Nothing more.

Cynthia stirred in her arms, making a small sound of discomfort. Blake checked her forehead—still warmer than it should be, but not the frightening heat of the previous night.

"It's okay," she whispered, adjusting the baby against her shoulder to burp her. "You're going to be fine."

The night stretched on, and Blake fought to stay awake, focused on the rhythm of Cynthia's breathing and the small weight of her against her chest. Eventually, Blake's eyelids grew too heavy to keep open, and she drifted into uneasy sleep, still cradling Cynthia securely in her arms.

"Blake."

A hand on her shoulder pulled her from restless dreams. Blake jerked awake, instinctively tightening her hold on Cynthia before recognizing Weiss standing over her.

"You fell asleep in the chair," Weiss explained, her voice gentler than usual. "It's nearly seven. The others are having breakfast."

Blake blinked, trying to clear the fog from her mind. Her neck ached from the awkward position, and her arms felt numb from holding Cynthia all night.

"Here, let me," Weiss offered, carefully taking Cynthia, who remained asleep despite the movement. "You need to eat something."

"I'm fine," Blake protested automatically.

Weiss fixed her with a skeptical look. "You haven't had a proper meal in days. Or a proper sleep, for that matter."

"None of us have," Blake pointed out, though she knew it wasn't entirely true. The rest of the team had been taking shifts, but she and Jaune had insisted on handling the night watches themselves, resulting in a level of sleep deprivation that was starting to take its toll.

"Perhaps," Weiss conceded, "but the rest of us aren't making crucial decisions about a child's welfare." She nodded toward the door. "Go. Eat. I'll watch her."

Too tired to argue further, Blake made her way downstairs, pausing in the hallway to straighten her rumpled clothing and smooth her hair. She adjusted her bow, ensuring her faunus ears remained hidden—though in her exhausted state, she'd nearly forgotten why that mattered.

The kitchen was a scene of morning activity. Ruby and Yang were setting the table while Ren flipped pancakes at the stove, Nora hovering eagerly nearby. Pyrrha and Jaune sat at the table, heads bent together over what appeared to be a map, discussing patrol routes.

"Blake!" Ruby called when she spotted her. "You're awake! How's Cynthia?"

"Sleeping," Blake replied, sinking into an empty chair. "Weiss is with her."

Yang set a steaming mug of tea in front of Blake. "You look terrible."

"Thanks," Blake muttered, wrapping her hands around the warm mug.

"She means you need rest," Pyrrha clarified gently. "We're all worried about you—both of you." She glanced at Jaune, who looked nearly as exhausted as Blake felt.

Blake sipped her tea, letting the warmth flow through her. "I'm fine. Just tired."

"We've adjusted today's patrol schedule," Jaune explained, tapping the map. "Smaller groups, more frequent rotations. That way we can all get some rest while still covering the village perimeter."

Blake nodded absently, her mind already drifting back to Cynthia. Was her fever truly improving? Should they call Mrs. Woodleaf again? What if—

"Remnant to Blake," Yang waved a hand in front of her face. "You're zoning out again."

"Sorry," Blake straightened, forcing herself to focus. "What were you saying?"

Yang exchanged a concerned look with Ruby. "I said Ren made blueberry pancakes. Your favorite."

"Here," Ren placed a plate in front of her. "You need to keep up your strength."

Blake stared at the food, suddenly realizing how hungry she was. "Thank you."

As she ate, the conversation flowed around her—mission updates, Grimm movements, village security. Blake tried to pay attention, but found her thoughts continually circling back to Cynthia and, more troublingly, to Jaune.

She caught herself watching him across the table—the way his brow furrowed in concentration as he discussed patrol routes with Pyrrha, how his exhaustion didn't diminish the care and consideration he put into every decision. When had she started noticing these things about him?

It's just the shared responsibility , she told herself firmly. Just the crisis bringing us together. Nothing more.

"Blake?" Jaune's voice interrupted her thoughts, and she realized with embarrassment that she'd been staring. "We were discussing the eastern perimeter. Any thoughts?"

Blake scrambled to catch up, grateful when Ruby jumped in with a suggestion that drew everyone's attention away from her momentary lapse.

"I think Blake should sit out today's patrols," Yang announced suddenly. "She's dead on her feet."

"I'm fine," Blake insisted automatically.

"You nearly fell asleep in your pancakes," Yang countered. "Twice."

"Yang's right," Jaune agreed, his expression concerned. "We can handle the patrols. You should rest while Cynthia's sleeping."

Blake wanted to protest, but the weight of exhaustion was becoming impossible to ignore. "Fine," she conceded. "But just for today."

Relief flickered across Jaune's face, and Blake told herself that the warmth she felt at his concern was merely gratitude for a teammate looking out for her welfare. Nothing to do with that dream or the confusing emotions it had stirred.

As the others prepared for their patrols, Blake finished her breakfast and made her way back upstairs. She found Weiss rocking a now-awake Cynthia, humming softly—a sight so incongruous with the heiress's usual demeanor that Blake paused in the doorway.

"She's been quiet," Weiss reported, looking up. "And her temperature seems normal."

Blake crossed the room, placing her hand gently on Cynthia's forehead. The fever had indeed broken—the baby's skin was cool to the touch, her eyes bright and alert.

"Thank you for watching her," Blake said, carefully taking Cynthia from Weiss's arms.

"It was no hardship," Weiss replied with surprising softness. She hesitated at the door. "Blake? You should know that what you're doing—what both you and Jaune are doing for this child—it's admirable."

The unexpected praise left Blake momentarily speechless. Before she could respond, Weiss continued:

"Just... be careful. Not with Cynthia—I know you'll protect her. But with yourself." Her clear blue eyes held a knowing look that made Blake uncomfortable. "Shared crises have a way of creating bonds that might not otherwise form. It can be... confusing."

"I don't know what you mean," Blake replied too quickly.

Weiss gave her a small, sad smile. "I think you do. Get some rest, Blake." With that, she left, closing the door quietly behind her.

Alone with Cynthia, Blake sank into the rocking chair, her teammate's words echoing in her mind. Was it that obvious? Were her confused feelings written so plainly on her face that even Weiss had noticed?

Cynthia made a small, contented sound, her tiny hand wrapping around Blake's finger with surprising strength. Looking down at the baby's face—at those eyes so strikingly like her own—Blake felt something shift inside her. Whatever was happening, whatever these feelings might mean, one thing was certain: Cynthia needed her. And somehow, against all logic and planning, Blake needed her too.

"It's just exhaustion," she whispered to herself, even as Cynthia gazed up at her with trusting eyes. "Just my tired mind playing tricks."

But as she settled back in the chair, Cynthia secure in her arms, Blake couldn't quite convince herself it was true.

The days blurred together in a haze of fatigue and routine—temperature checks, feedings, brief moments of sleep snatched between Cynthia's needs and mission responsibilities. Blake moved through it all in a fog, her usual sharp awareness dulled by exhaustion.

On the third morning after Cynthia's fever first appeared, Blake found herself in the farmhouse kitchen at dawn, mechanically preparing a bottle while Cynthia fussed in the portable bassinet nearby. She'd managed perhaps three hours of broken sleep, and her movements were slow, uncoordinated.

"Here, let me help."

Blake startled at Jaune's voice, nearly dropping the bottle. He looked as tired as she felt, dark circles under his eyes, hair disheveled from the few hours he'd spent on his bedroll.

"I've got it," she insisted, fumbling with the formula.

"Blake," he said gently, taking the bottle from her unresisting hands. "You're mixing cold water."

She blinked down at the bottle, realizing he was right. "Sorry. I just... I can't seem to think straight."

"Neither of us can," Jaune acknowledged, emptying the bottle and starting over with warm water. "We're running on empty."

Blake moved to pick up Cynthia, whose fussing had grown more insistent. The baby quieted somewhat in her arms, though she continued to make small sounds of hunger. Blake swayed gently, an automatic motion she'd developed over the past days.

"She looks better," Jaune observed, testing the bottle temperature on his wrist before handing it to Blake. "The fever's completely gone."

"Yes," Blake agreed, settling into a chair to feed Cynthia. "Mrs. Woodleaf said she'd make a full recovery."

Jaune sat across from her, watching them with an expression Blake was too tired to interpret. "You're amazing with her, you know that?"

Blake focused on adjusting the bottle, unsure how to respond to the compliment. "Anyone would do the same."

"No," Jaune shook his head. "Not everyone would step up like this. Especially not for a baby they just met."

Blake kept her eyes on Cynthia, afraid of what Jaune might read in them if she looked up. "You did. You're the one who found her, who brought her back."

"That was different. I couldn't just leave her there." He leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "But you didn't have to get involved. You could have kept your distance, let the rest of us handle it."

"She's a faunus," Blake said simply, as if that explained everything.

"It's more than that," Jaune insisted. "The way you are with her—it's not just duty or responsibility. You care about her."

Blake finally looked up, meeting his tired but earnest gaze. "So do you."

A small smile touched his lips. "Yeah. I do."

The simple exchange held more weight than Blake was prepared to acknowledge. She returned her attention to Cynthia, who was nearly finished with her bottle, amber eyes growing heavy with contentment.

"We should both try to sleep," Jaune suggested. "While she's settled."

Blake nodded, exhaustion pulling at her limbs. "You go ahead. I'll just finish feeding her."

"Wake me for the next shift," he said, rising from the table. He hesitated, then gently touched Cynthia's head, his fingers brushing against Blake's arm in the process. "Sleep well, little moon goddess."

The casual endearment, spoken with such natural affection, sent an unexpected wave of emotion through Blake. She watched Jaune leave the kitchen, then looked down at Cynthia, who had fallen asleep with the bottle still in her mouth.

"It's just the situation," Blake whispered to herself, carefully removing the bottle and shifting Cynthia to her shoulder. "Just the crisis bringing us together. Just exhaustion making everything seem more significant than it is."

But as she carried the sleeping baby back upstairs, Blake couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental had shifted—between her and Cynthia, between her and Jaune, and within herself. Something that couldn't be explained away by fatigue alone, no matter how desperately she tried.

In the quiet of the early morning, with Cynthia's warm weight against her chest and the memory of Jaune's gentle smile still fresh in her mind, Blake allowed herself to acknowledge what she'd been avoiding: this felt like more than temporary guardianship. It felt, impossibly, like the beginnings of something she'd never dared to want—a family.

"Just exhaustion," she murmured one last time, without conviction, as she settled Cynthia in her crib.

Chapter Text

Chapter 6: Recovery

80AGW - Mid April

The midday sun cast dappled shadows through the trees as Jaune and Blake made their way toward Mrs. Woodleaf's cottage, Cynthia securely nestled in a fabric carrier against Jaune's chest. The past three days had been challenging—midnight feedings combined with medication schedules and constant temperature monitoring—but the baby's recovery had progressed steadily.

"She feels completely normal now," Jaune said, placing a gentle hand on Cynthia's forehead. "No fever at all."

Blake nodded, relief evident in her relaxed posture. "Her appetite is back to normal too. She finished her entire bottle this morning."

"And her lungs are definitely working at full capacity," Jaune added with a chuckle. "I think the whole village heard her crying at 4 AM."

"Sorry about that," Blake winced. "I was trying to change her before feeding, but she had other ideas."

"Hey, no apologies needed. We're figuring this out together."

The word 'together' hung in the air between them, carrying more weight than perhaps either intended. Since her dream three nights ago, Blake had found herself hyperaware of every interaction with Jaune, analyzing her reactions to his presence with a scrutiny that would have impressed even Weiss.

"I appreciate that you're handling the checkup with me," Jaune continued, oblivious to her inner turmoil. "Mrs. Woodleaf seems to respond better when we're both there. Less skeptical, you know?"

"She thinks we're parents," Blake remarked, keeping her tone carefully neutral. "A family."

"Is that so terrible?" Jaune asked, then immediately backtracked at Blake's startled expression. "I mean, for Cynthia's sake. Having people think she has a stable situation."

"No," Blake admitted after a moment's hesitation. "It's not terrible. It's just... not what I expected."

"Tell me about it," Jaune laughed. "If someone had told me two weeks ago that Blake Belladonna and I would be co-parenting a faunus baby in a remote village, I'd have asked what they were drinking."

"And yet, here we are."

"Here we are," he echoed, smiling down at Cynthia, who had begun to wake, tiny hands reaching up toward his face.

Blake watched their interaction, struck by how natural Jaune looked with the baby. His initial awkwardness had transformed into confident competence, his movements gentle but sure as he adjusted Cynthia's position. Something about the sight tugged at her heart in a way that was becoming uncomfortably familiar.

"She has your eyes," an elderly voice observed as they approached Mrs. Woodleaf's garden gate.

The healer stood among her herbs, pruning shears in hand, a knowing smile on her weathered face. "Those distinctive amber eyes. Beautiful."

Neither Blake nor Jaune corrected her assumption this time, exchanging a brief glance before Jaune simply replied, "We're here for her follow-up checkup."

"Of course you are," Mrs. Woodleaf nodded, setting aside her gardening tools. "Come inside, let's see how our little patient is doing."

Inside the cottage, the healer conducted a thorough examination, checking Cynthia's temperature, listening to her breathing, and testing her reflexes. The baby tolerated the inspection with surprisingly good humor, gurgling and batting at Mrs. Woodleaf's fingers.

"Fighting spirit, this one," the old woman commented approvingly. "The fever's completely gone, and her lungs are clear. You've done well."

"We followed your instructions," Jaune said. "The medicine helped a lot."

"Medicine helps," Mrs. Woodleaf agreed, "but care and love help more. Babies know when they're wanted, when they're cherished. It strengthens them."

Blake shifted uncomfortably at the sentiment, though she couldn't deny the truth in it. Cynthia had become the center of not just her and Jaune's attention, but the entire team's—a focal point around which they had all rallied.

"Is there anything special we should be doing now that she's recovered?" Blake asked, steering the conversation to practical matters.

"Just the usual," Mrs. Woodleaf replied, handing Cynthia back to Jaune. "Regular feedings, plenty of rest, and stimulation for a growing mind. Talk to her, sing to her. She's at an age where she's absorbing everything around her."

The healer's eyes twinkled as she added, "And don't forget to take care of yourselves as well. Young parents—or caregivers—often forget their own needs when focusing on a baby."

She moved to a small cupboard, retrieving a jar of honey-colored liquid. "Tea," she explained, pressing it into Blake's hands. "For restful sleep. You both look like you could use it."

"Thank you," Blake said sincerely, touched by the thoughtfulness. Sleep had indeed been elusive, though not entirely due to Cynthia's illness.

As they prepared to leave, Mrs. Woodleaf paused them at the door. "You know," she said contemplatively, "I've been a healer in this village for over fifty years. Seen all manner of families—traditional and otherwise." Her gaze moved between them meaningfully. "What matters isn't what shape a family takes, but the love within it."

Blake felt her cheeks warm slightly, unsure how to respond to the implied observation.

Jaune saved her from having to answer. "We'll remember that," he said, offering the healer a genuine smile. "And thank you again for everything."

"Bring her back in a week," Mrs. Woodleaf called after them as they headed down the garden path. "Routine checkup. Or sooner, if needed."

They walked in companionable silence for a while, Cynthia contentedly watching the world go by from her carrier.

"She's a perceptive woman," Jaune finally commented.

"Very," Blake agreed. "Almost unsettlingly so."

"Does it bother you?" he asked after another pause. "People assuming things about us?"

Blake considered the question carefully. "Not as much as I would have expected," she admitted. "It's easier than explaining the truth, at least while we're here."

"That's practical," Jaune nodded, though something in his tone suggested he'd been hoping for a different answer.

Blake glanced at him, wondering if she should elaborate, but decided against it. Her own feelings were still too confused, too new, to articulate properly—especially to the person they centered on.

"We should pick up some supplies while we're in the village center," she suggested instead. "We're running low on diapers again."

Jaune accepted the change of subject gracefully. "Good idea. And maybe we could stop by the bakery? I've been craving those honey rolls they make."

"Cynthia is too young for solid foods," Blake reminded him with a small smile.

"Who said anything about sharing with Cynthia?" Jaune replied, his expression so comically affronted that Blake couldn't help but laugh.

The sound of her laughter, rare and unguarded, turned heads among the villagers, many of whom smiled approvingly at what appeared to be a young family enjoying a pleasant afternoon together.

And for just a moment, Blake allowed herself to embrace the illusion, to imagine that this simple happiness could be permanent rather than a temporary arrangement born of unusual circumstances.

It was a dangerous thought, but one increasingly difficult to dismiss.

Back at the farmhouse, Ruby and Yang stood at the window, watching Jaune and Blake's retreating figures as they headed toward the village.

"Yang?" Ruby asked, her tone uncharacteristically contemplative.

"Mmm?" Yang responded, adjusting the curtain for a better view.

"Have you noticed how Blake has been acting around Jaune lately? Even when Cynthia is asleep or being watched by someone else?"

Yang's lips curved into a knowing smile. "You mean how she finds excuses to be in the same room as him? How she actually laughs at his terrible jokes? How she gets this soft look on her face when she thinks no one's watching?"

"Yes! Exactly that!" Ruby exclaimed, turning to her sister with wide eyes. "I thought I was just imagining things."

"Oh, you're not imagining anything, little sister," Yang assured her, letting the curtain fall back into place as Jaune and Blake disappeared from view. "Our Blake is developing a serious case of feelings for Vomit Boy."

"But Blake's so... and Jaune is so..." Ruby waved her hands vaguely, unable to articulate the unexpected nature of the pairing.

"Opposites attract," Yang shrugged, looking entirely too pleased with the situation. "Plus, there's nothing like co-parenting to fast-track a relationship. Shared responsibility, middle-of-the-night bonding moments, working as a team..."

"Like us with Zwei!" Ruby suggested brightly.

Yang paused, considering this. "Kind of, except with more diapers and less fetch. But same principle—taking care of something together creates a bond."

"Should we say something to them?" Ruby asked, bouncing slightly on her toes with suppressed excitement.

"Absolutely not," Yang declared firmly. "Blake would retreat faster than if we'd dunked her in a bathtub. She needs to figure this out at her own pace."

"But they'd be so cute together!" Ruby protested. "And they're already like a little family with Cynthia!"

"Which is exactly why we don't need to intervene," Yang pointed out. "The situation is doing our matchmaking for us. Just watch and enjoy the show."

Ruby sighed dramatically but nodded her agreement. "Fine. But if they don't figure it out by the time we go back to Beacon, I'm locking them in a closet together."

"That's my sister," Yang grinned, ruffling Ruby's hair affectionately. "Always with the subtle approach."

"I learned from the best," Ruby retorted, ducking away from Yang's hand.

As they moved away from the window, Yang cast one last glance in the direction Jaune and Blake had gone, her expression softening with genuine affection.

"You know," she said thoughtfully, "I never would have put those two together, but seeing them with Cynthia... they just fit somehow."

"Like puzzle pieces," Ruby agreed, her romantic heart clearly enchanted by the developing situation.

"Exactly," Yang nodded. "Now the question is: how long before they realize it themselves?"

Based on Blake's increasingly transparent behavior when around Jaune, Yang suspected the answer was: sooner than her partner was ready to admit.

"That's preposterous," Weiss's crisp voice cut through their conversation as she entered the room, a stack of neatly organized patrol reports in her arms. "Blake and Jaune? Of all the unlikely pairings."

Ruby and Yang exchanged glances, caught in their gossip session.

"You haven't been watching them," Ruby insisted, turning to face Weiss. "They've been practically inseparable since Cynthia got sick."

Weiss set her reports on the table with a precise thump. "Out of necessity, not romantic interest. They're the two who've taken primary responsibility for the child. Correlation doesn't imply causation, Ruby."

Yang leaned against the windowsill, crossing her arms with a confident smirk. "Then explain why Blake keeps finding reasons to be near him even when someone else is watching Cynthia. Or why she's been reading in the common room instead of our bedroom like she usually does."

"Convenience," Weiss countered without missing a beat. "The lighting is better downstairs."

"She blushes when he compliments her," Ruby added.

"Blake blushes at any direct attention," Weiss dismissed with a wave. "She's naturally private."

Yang raised an eyebrow. "She made cookies yesterday. Blake made cookies ."

"So?"

"Blake doesn't bake," Yang emphasized. "Ever. And they just happened to be lemon shortbread—which Jaune mentioned was his favorite the day before."

Weiss paused, her brow furrowing slightly. That detail was harder to explain away.

"And," Ruby continued, gaining momentum, "she's been asking me questions about how Jaune and I became friends, and what kind of things he likes to do outside of training."

"That could simply be her trying to better understand someone she's co-parenting with," Weiss argued, though with less certainty. "It's practical to know your partner's preferences when sharing responsibilities."

"She brushed his hair out of his eyes yesterday," Yang delivered the coup de grâce with a triumphant grin. "While he was feeding Cynthia. And then she got all flustered and made an excuse to leave the room."

Weiss's mouth opened, then closed without a retort.

"Face it, Weiss," Ruby said, bouncing on her toes. "Blake likes Jaune!"

"But he's so..." Weiss gestured vaguely, searching for the right word.

"Earnest? Kind? Devoted?" Yang supplied helpfully.

"Unrefined," Weiss settled on. "And Blake is so composed and intellectual. They don't match."

"Sometimes the best matches aren't obvious at first," Ruby said with surprising wisdom. "Like puzzle pieces that look like they couldn't possibly fit until you actually try them together."

Weiss sighed, her resistance weakening. "I suppose I've been too occupied with mission logistics to notice these... developments."

"So you agree there's something happening?" Yang pressed.

"I'm acknowledging the possibility," Weiss corrected primly. "But even if you're right, what exactly do you propose to do about it?"

"Nothing," Yang said firmly before Ruby could interject. "Absolutely nothing. Blake would build another wall around herself if she thought we were meddling."

Ruby pouted. "But—"

"No buts," Yang interrupted. "We watch, we wait, and we support whatever happens."

"Fine," Ruby conceded. "But my closet idea is still on the table if they're being stubborn when we get back to Beacon."

Weiss rolled her eyes. "You can't just lock two people in a closet and expect them to emerge as a couple, Ruby."

"It works in books," Ruby muttered.

"This isn't one of your romance novels," Weiss pointed out.

Yang tilted her head thoughtfully. "I don't know... orphaned baby, unlikely caretakers falling for each other while nursing said baby back to health, friends watching from the sidelines... it's pretty storybook."

Chapter Text

Chapter 7: Balancing Act

80AGW - Mid April

Dawn broke over Meadowbrook with a chorus of roosters and the gentle bustle of village life resuming. Inside the farmhouse, however, the normal morning routine had been thoroughly disrupted.

"Her diaper's changed, and she just had her bottle," Jaune reported, gently bouncing Cynthia in his arms as the teams gathered around the kitchen table. "She should be good for the next couple of hours."

"Perfect timing," Ruby said, spreading a map across the table. "Because we still have a job to do."

Cynthia cooed softly, reaching up to bat at Jaune's chin. Despite the interrupted sleep—she'd woken three times during the night—everyone seemed energized by the baby's presence.

"The eastern Grimm nest still needs clearing," Pyrrha pointed out, indicating a marked location on the map. "We were scheduled to handle that today."

"And the northern forest needs a patrol sweep," Weiss added. "The villagers reported Beowolf sightings near the lumber camp yesterday."

Jaune frowned, looking down at Cynthia. "We can't exactly bring her along on Grimm-clearing missions."

"Mrs. Woodleaf offered to watch her," Blake suggested, setting a cup of tea in front of Jaune. She'd taken the pre-dawn feeding shift, allowing him a few hours of uninterrupted sleep. "She has experience with children."

"That's probably our best option," Ren agreed. "We need all hands for the eastern nest. Intelligence suggests it's larger than we initially estimated."

Nora pumped her fist. "More Grimm means more fun!"

Yang grinned. "That's the spirit!"

"We should split into our usual teams," Jaune decided, shifting into leader mode even with Cynthia still in his arms. "JNPR will take the eastern nest, RWBY handles the northern patrol. We rendezvous back here by sundown."

Ruby nodded. "Agreed. We can take turns with baby duty in the evenings."

"The supply ship arrives tomorrow," Weiss reminded them, consulting her scroll. "We should prepare our requisition list—adding baby supplies, of course."

At the mention of the supply ship, Blake and Jaune exchanged glances.

"About that," Blake began. "We need to be realistic about our options for Cynthia."

"What do you mean?" Ruby asked.

"She can't stay with us indefinitely," Weiss stated matter-of-factly. "We're huntsmen and huntresses on an active mission."

"But we can't send her back on the supply ship either," Jaune said firmly. "It's not a passenger vessel. They literally airdrop the supplies—there's no landing."

"That's true," Pyrrha confirmed. "The village clearing isn't large enough for a proper landing. That's why all personnel transport is scheduled separately, with specialized Bullheads."

"And the next personnel transport isn't for three weeks," Ren added.

"Even if there was transport available," Blake pointed out, "we need to consider the White Fang threat mentioned in the note. Sending Cynthia to Vale without proper protection could be dangerous."

The room fell silent as everyone considered the implications.

"So she stays with us," Ruby concluded. "At least until the mission ends."

"And then what?" Weiss pressed. "We need a long-term plan."

Jaune looked down at Cynthia, who had fallen asleep against his chest. "Let's focus on keeping her safe and completing our mission. We can figure out the rest later."

Though Weiss appeared unsatisfied with this answer, she didn't press the issue further.

"We should get moving," Pyrrha suggested, standing up. "The sooner we clear that nest, the sooner we can return."

As the others prepared their gear, Blake approached Jaune, who was carefully bundling Cynthia in her blanket.

"Are you okay with leaving her?" Blake asked quietly.

"Not really," Jaune admitted. "But Mrs. Woodleaf is trustworthy, and we have a job to do."

Blake nodded. "I can take her to WoodLeaf's cottage on my way to meet my team."

"Thanks, Blake." Jaune gently transferred the sleeping baby to her arms. "I packed extra diapers and formula in the bag."

"Of course you did," Blake said with a small smile. "You're surprisingly well-organized."

"Seven sisters, remember? Organization is survival."

Their eyes met briefly, a moment of shared understanding passing between them before Blake looked away.

"I should go," she said. "Team RWBY will be waiting."

"Be careful out there," Jaune called as she headed for the door, Cynthia secure in her arms.

"You too," Blake replied, pausing at the threshold. "Don't do anything reckless."

"Me? Reckless?" Jaune feigned offense, earning another small smile from Blake before she departed.

Once she was gone, Jaune turned to find Pyrrha watching him, an unreadable expression on her face.

"Ready to lead us into battle?" she asked, offering his armor.

"As ready as I'll ever be," he replied, pushing thoughts of Cynthia to the back of his mind. For now, he needed to focus on the mission at hand.

The eastern Grimm nest proved more challenging than anticipated. What had been reported as a moderate concentration of Beowolves turned out to include three larger Alpha specimens and a young Deathstalker.

"Nora, grenade launcher! Target the Deathstalker's legs!" Jaune called, deflecting a Beowolf's claws with his shield. "Ren, cover her! Pyrrha, with me on the Alphas!"

Team JNPR moved with practiced coordination, having honed their tactics over months of training and field operations. Pyrrha's spear and shield complemented Jaune's more defensive style perfectly, allowing them to contain the largest Alpha while Ren's rapid-fire pistols kept the lesser Grimm at bay.

Nora's gleeful battle cry accompanied a series of explosions as she targeted the Deathstalker's legs, immobilizing the massive scorpion-like Grimm.

"Pyrrha, now!" Jaune shouted.

His partner understood immediately, using her polarity semblance to launch herself high into the air before descending with devastating force onto the Deathstalker's exposed back, driving her spear through its armor and into the soft tissue beneath.

The Grimm thrashed once, then dissolved into black mist.

The victory was short-lived as more Beowolves emerged from the forest.

"There's too many to engage directly," Ren observed, reloading his pistols. "We need a strategy."

Jaune assessed the situation quickly. "The nest must be in that cave system. We need to collapse it rather than pick them off one by one."

"Collapse a cave?" Nora's eyes lit up. "Now you're speaking my language!"

Implementing Jaune's plan required precise timing and coordination. While Pyrrha and Ren lured the Grimm away from the cave entrance, Jaune and Nora strategically placed her specially designed explosives at key structural points.

"Fire in the hole!" Nora called, triggering the detonation sequence.

The explosions rocked the forest, sending birds scattering into the sky as the cave entrance collapsed in a shower of rock and dirt. The remaining Grimm, suddenly cut off from their nest, became disoriented, making them easier to dispatch.

By late afternoon, the forest had fallen silent, save for the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze.

"Good call, Jaune," Pyrrha said, wiping sweat from her brow. "That saved us hours of fighting."

"And it was way more fun!" Nora added, slinging her hammer over her shoulder.

"We should check for survivors before heading back," Ren suggested, ever thorough.

Jaune nodded, though his thoughts had already drifted back to Meadowbrook—and to Cynthia.

Meanwhile, Team RWBY's patrol of the northern forest had its own challenges.

"Behind you, Weiss!" Yang called, her gauntlets firing a round that incinerated a lunging Beowolf.

Weiss pivoted gracefully, summoning a glyph that launched her safely away from danger while Blake's ribbon-bound weapon sliced through two more Grimm in a single fluid motion.

Ruby's scythe whirled like a tornado of blades, clearing a path through the encroaching monsters. "They're coming from the ridgeline!" she shouted. "We need higher ground!"

The team fought their way up the slope, gaining the tactical advantage before systematically eliminating the Grimm pack. Unlike JNPR's explosive solution, RWBY's approach relied on speed and precision—four specialists working in perfect harmony.

As the last Beowolf fell to Blake's blade, she found herself scanning the forest, ears alert beneath her bow for any sound that might indicate further danger.

"All clear," Ruby announced after a final sweep of the area. "Good work, team!"

"We should mark this location for monitoring," Weiss suggested, making a note on her scroll. "This is the third Beowolf pack we've encountered in this sector."

"Something's drawing them here," Blake murmured, her thoughts momentarily drifting to Cynthia. Would the baby's presence in the village attract more Grimm? Negative emotions—fear, anxiety, desperation—were like beacons to the creatures.

"Blake?" Yang's voice broke through her thoughts. "You okay?"

"Fine," she replied quickly. "Just thinking."

Yang's expression softened with understanding. "Worried about the little one?"

Blake hesitated, then nodded. "It's strange. I've only known her a day, but..."

"But you already care," Ruby finished, smiling. "It's not strange at all."

"We should head back," Weiss interrupted, checking the time. "It'll be dark soon, and we promised to rendezvous with JNPR by sundown."

As they made their way back toward Meadowbrook, Blake found herself picking up the pace, eager to ensure Cynthia was safe—a feeling she wasn't entirely comfortable examining.

By sunset, both teams had returned to the farmhouse, tired but successful in their respective missions. Mrs. Woodleaf had brought Cynthia back just before their arrival, reporting that the baby had been perfectly behaved.

"She's got a good temperament," the elderly healer observed as she handed Cynthia to Jaune. "Strong, too. She'll make a fine huntress someday, perhaps."

The comment sparked something in Jaune—a strange feeling of pride, quickly followed by concern. Would Cynthia grow up to face the same dangers they did? The thought was sobering.

After Mrs. Woodleaf departed, the teams gathered in the common room to share reports and make plans for the following day. Cynthia was passed from arm to arm, receiving attention from each of the huntsmen and huntresses in turn.

Even Weiss, initially the most reserved, found herself smiling as tiny fingers wrapped around her own.

"The supply drop is scheduled for noon tomorrow," she informed the group, bouncing Cynthia gently. "I've updated our requisition to include formula, diapers, proper baby clothes, and a bassinet."

"Nice!" Ruby exclaimed. "Operation Baby Arc is fully funded!"

"Please stop calling it that," Jaune groaned good-naturedly.

"What else should we call it?" Nora wondered. "Operation Kitty Cat? Mission Midnight Meow?"

Blake's bow twitched in mild annoyance at the cat references.

"How about we focus on more important matters?" Pyrrha suggested diplomatically. "Like our patrol schedule for tomorrow?"

They quickly established a rotation that would allow them to maintain their mission duties while ensuring Cynthia always had proper care.

"I checked with the village council," Ren reported. "They've confirmed what we already knew—the supply ship doesn't land. It's a high-altitude drop with parachute-equipped containers."

"And it's definitely not equipped for passengers, especially not infants," Ruby added.

"Which means Cynthia stays with us," Jaune concluded, taking the baby back from Weiss. "At least until our mission concludes."

"And after that?" Weiss questioned.

Jaune and Blake exchanged glances.

"I've been thinking about it," Jaune admitted. "My family has the resources to keep her safe. Once we return to Vale, I could take her home with me, at least temporarily."

"The White Fang doesn't have much presence in that region," Blake added, supporting his suggestion. "She'd be safer there than in Vale."

"Are you sure your family would be okay with that?" Pyrrha asked. "Taking in an orphaned faunus baby is no small responsibility."

"They would," Jaune said with certainty. "The Arcs have history of taking in orphaned children, a couple of my Uncles were taken in."

The conversation shifted to practical matters—upcoming Grimm clearance operations, perimeter defenses for the village, supply management. Throughout it all, Cynthia remained contentedly in Jaune's arms, occasionally making soft sounds that drew smiles from everyone present.

As the meeting concluded and the teams began to disperse for evening duties and much-needed rest, Blake approached Jaune.

"Need help getting her ready for bed?" she offered.

"That would be great," Jaune admitted. "She probably needs changing again."

They headed upstairs to the makeshift nursery, working together with the easy coordination of partners who had found their rhythm.

"You were impressive today," Blake commented as she prepared a fresh bottle for Cynthia's evening feeding. "The cave collapse strategy. Ren told me it was your idea."

Jaune shrugged, carefully changing Cynthia's diaper with practiced motions. "It just made sense. Minimizing risk while maximizing impact."

"It's good thinking," Blake persisted. "Your tactical skills have improved significantly."

"I had good teachers," he replied, securing the clean diaper. "Pyrrha, Goodwitch, even Ozpin in his cryptic way. And honestly, having seven sisters taught me a lot about battlefield management."

Blake raised an eyebrow, amused. "Your family sounds... interesting."

"That's one word for it," Jaune chuckled, lifting Cynthia into his arms. "They're loud, chaotic, and completely overwhelming—but also fiercely loyal and loving. They'd welcome Cynthia without hesitation."

Blake handed him the prepared bottle. "You really believe that."

"I know it," he confirmed, beginning to feed Cynthia. "My parents raised us to help others, especially those who can't protect themselves."

Blake watched them for a moment, her expression thoughtful. "That explains a lot about you."

"What do you mean?"

"Why you want to be a huntsman, even though..." She trailed off, not wanting to reference his academic struggles or combat difficulties.

"Even though I'm not naturally talented like the rest of you?" Jaune finished, not offended. "Yeah, I guess it does. Some things are worth fighting for, even when the odds are against you."

His gaze dropped to Cynthia, who was contentedly drinking her formula, tiny hands resting against the bottle. "Some people are worth fighting for."

Blake's expression softened. "Yes. They are."

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by Cynthia's occasional sounds as she fed. The moonlight filtered through the window, casting the room in a gentle silver glow reminiscent of the night Jaune had found her.

"We should establish a night watch rotation," Blake suggested eventually. "So you're not waking up for every feeding."

"I don't mind," Jaune replied. "But you're right, we all need to stay sharp for the mission."

"I'll take first watch," Blake offered. "You handled most of last night."

Jaune nodded gratefully. "Wake me for the middle shift. Cynthia tends to be most active around 2 AM."

"Noted," Blake said, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. "It's almost like we're planning a military operation."

"In some ways, it's more demanding," Jaune joked, shifting Cynthia to his shoulder to burp her.

Blake watched them, a strange emotion crossing her face too quickly to identify. "You're good at this, Jaune. Being a caretaker. It suits you."

"Thanks," he replied, feeling oddly touched by the observation. "You are too, you know. Good at this."

An unexpected warmth colored Blake's cheeks. "I should check the perimeter before settling in for night watch. Make sure all the windows and doors are secure."

"Right, of course." Jaune recognized her need for space. "We'll be here."

With a brief nod, Blake slipped from the room, leaving Jaune alone with Cynthia.

"She's not used to compliments," he told the drowsy baby in a soft voice. "But she deserves them. Blake's one of the best people I know—brave, smart, compassionate. Even if she doesn't always let people see it."

Cynthia's only response was a tiny yawn as her eyes drifted closed.

Jaune smiled, gently placing her in the makeshift crib. "Sleep well, little moon goddess. Tomorrow's another day."

As he quietly left the room, Jaune reflected on how quickly Cynthia had become integrated into their lives. In just over a few days, she had transformed from an unexpected discovery to the center of their shared mission—a responsibility that somehow felt more significant than all the Grimm they'd ever faced.

And somehow, despite the added complexity, he wouldn't have it any other way.

Chapter Text

Chapter 8: Finding Rhythm

80AGW - Early May

The supply drop came exactly at noon, three large containers floating down on brilliant blue parachutes to land in the village square. The entire population of Meadowbrook turned out for the event, treating it as a community celebration—children racing after the descending crates, adults gathering to help unload the precious supplies, elderly villagers supervising from shaded benches.

"Our requisition is in Container B," Weiss announced, consulting her scroll as Teams RWBY and JNPR approached the landing site. "The baby supplies should be clearly marked."

Jaune nodded, adjusting his hold on Cynthia, who was watching the colorful parachutes with wide-eyed fascination. In the four days since he'd found her, she had become more alert and responsive, especially to movement and bright colors.

"Look at that, Cynthia," he said softly. "Pretty parachutes."

The baby made a small cooing sound, tiny hands reaching toward the sky.

Blake walked beside them, her usual reserved demeanor softening whenever she glanced at Cynthia. "She's starting to track movement better," she observed. "Her eyes are focusing."

"Is that normal for her age?" Ruby asked, bouncing alongside them with characteristic energy.

"Cat faunus develop visual acuity slightly faster than humans," Blake explained. "Their night vision begins forming early."

Jaune looked at her with interest. "I didn't know that."

Blake shrugged, a slight flush coloring her cheeks. "Just something I picked up."

They reached the square as the village elder, a silver-haired woman named Hazel, oversaw the distribution process with practiced efficiency. Upon spotting their approach, she smiled warmly.

"Here come our protectors—and the little one!" she called. "Your supplies are being sorted now. Special delivery, it seems."

Yang grinned. "Weiss pulled some strings."

"I merely emphasized the unexpected nature of our situation," Weiss corrected primly. "And the Schnee name might have expedited matters slightly."

"I've got it!" Nora exclaimed, emerging from the crowd with a large box balanced precariously on her head. "Baby loot acquired!"

Ren quickly moved to stabilize the package before it could topple. "Perhaps we should take this back to the house before unpacking."

"Good idea," Pyrrha agreed. "I'll help with the rest of our supplies."

As the others organized the distribution of standard mission supplies—dust ammunition, medical kits, rations—Jaune, Blake, and Nora headed back to the farmhouse with the baby items.

"I wonder what they sent," Jaune mused as they walked. "I just asked for the basics."

"With Weiss involved? Probably the finest baby products in Remnant," Blake remarked dryly.

Her prediction proved accurate. When they opened the box in the farmhouse living room, they found premium diapers, organic formula, soft cotton clothing in various sizes, and a collapsible bassinet that, according to the instructions, converted into a portable crib.

"This is... a lot," Jaune said, surveying the generous supply.

"Ooh, look at these cute little booties!" Nora cooed, holding up a pair of tiny blue shoes. "And this jumper has cat ears on the hood! It's perfect!"

Blake examined the bassinet parts with approval. "This is actually well-designed. It can be moved from room to room easily."

"Let's set it up," Jaune suggested, passing Cynthia to Nora, who immediately began a dramatic retelling of "The Girl in the Tower" with enthusiastic sound effects that had the baby staring in rapt attention.

Working together, Jaune and Blake assembled the bassinet, their movements becoming synchronized as they anticipated each other's needs without speaking. When Jaune struggled with a particularly stubborn latch, Blake's hand covered his, guiding it to the correct angle.

"Thanks," he said, suddenly aware of her proximity.

Blake nodded, withdrawing her hand perhaps a bit too quickly. "It's... similar to a weapon assembly. All about finding the right pressure points."

Once completed, they lined the bassinet with the soft blankets provided, creating a comfortable sleeping space for Cynthia.

"What do you think?" Jaune asked, stepping back to survey their work.

"It's perfect," Blake replied, a rare smile crossing her features. "Much better than a wooden crate."

Nora's dramatic storytelling reached its climax—"And then the huntsman slew the evil dragon with ONE MIGHTY BLOW!"—causing Cynthia to startle slightly before her face scrunched up in preparation for a cry.

"Nora," Blake cautioned, "maybe a little gentler?"

"Oops, sorry!" Nora whispered theatrically, lowering her volume to a stage whisper. "And they all lived happily ever after... quietly... peacefully..."

Despite Nora's adjustment, Cynthia's distress continued to build. Jaune reached for her, but Blake moved faster, taking the baby from Nora with surprising gentleness.

"She might need changing," Blake suggested, sniffing discreetly. "Yes, definitely needs changing."

"I'll do it," Jaune offered.

"I've got it," Blake countered. "You set up the changing station."

While Jaune organized the changing supplies from the box, Blake spoke softly to Cynthia, her voice taking on a soothing cadence that seemed to calm the baby. The words were too quiet for Jaune to catch, but the effect was immediate—Cynthia's fussing subsided to occasional whimpers.

"What did you say to her?" Jaune asked as Blake laid Cynthia on the changing pad he'd prepared.

"Just an old story," Blake replied, her focus on the diaper change. "Something my mother used to tell me."

There was something intimate about watching Blake—usually so guarded and self-contained—tenderly caring for Cynthia. Her movements were efficient but gentle, her expression softened from its usual vigilance.

Blake glanced up briefly, then returned her attention to securing the fresh diaper. "I had a large extended family before... well, before. Lots of cousins with babies."

Jaune understood her reluctance to elaborate. Blake rarely spoke of her life before Beacon.

"There we go," she said, finishing the change. "All better."

As if in agreement, Cynthia gurgled contentedly, tiny feet kicking in the air.

"I think that calls for her first outfit change," Nora declared, diving back into the box. "Let's see what Miss Schnee has provided for the young lady's wardrobe!"

The next hour passed in surprising domesticity as they sorted through the baby supplies, organizing everything for easy access. The rest of the teams trickled in with the standard mission supplies, contributing to the increasingly homey atmosphere of the farmhouse.

Ruby arrived with a hand-carved wooden rattle—a gift from one of the village craftsmen. "He said every baby needs something to make noise with!"

"As if babies need help with that," Yang joked, making a face at Cynthia that earned a wide-eyed stare.

Even Weiss seemed drawn to the baby, though she maintained a certain dignified distance. "The formula should be prepared with precisely measured water at the correct temperature," she instructed, reviewing the labels with scientific precision. "Nutrition is critical for cognitive development."

"I've got it, Weiss," Jaune assured her, amused by her intensity. "I've been making bottles for four days now."

"Yes, well, now you have proper equipment," she sniffed, indicating the bottle warmer and sterilizer she'd included in the requisition.

As evening approached, the teams settled into what had become their routine—dinner prepared by whoever wasn't on patrol duty (tonight, Ren and Pyrrha), followed by mission reports and planning for the next day.

"Grimm activity has dropped significantly since our raid on the eastern nest," Pyrrha reported as they ate. "Today's patrols encountered only isolated specimens, easily dispatched."

"The village council is pleased with our progress," Ren added. "Elder Hazen mentioned that the lumber teams will be able to resume full operations tomorrow if conditions remain stable."

"That's great news," Ruby enthused. "Maybe we can actually get some downtime!"

"Don't get too comfortable," Weiss cautioned. "Grimm patterns can shift rapidly, especially with changing weather conditions."

"Still, a reduced patrol schedule might be appropriate," Pyrrha suggested. "Perhaps we could rotate teams, keeping one in reserve each day?"

The strategic discussion continued through dinner, but Jaune found himself distracted. Cynthia was beginning to fuss in the new bassinet they'd placed beside the table, her small sounds growing more insistent.

"I think she's hungry again," he said, rising from his seat. "I'll prepare a bottle."

"I can do it," Blake offered, already standing. "You should finish eating."

"We've got this," Yang interjected with a knowing smile. "You two handle the little princess. We can manage the battle plans."

With only token protest, Jaune and Blake retreated to the kitchen, where the new bottle warmer was already set up. Working in tandem, they prepared Cynthia's evening feeding—Blake measuring the formula with precise attention while Jaune tested the temperature on his wrist.

"Perfect," he pronounced. "Not too hot."

Blake lifted Cynthia from the bassinet, settling into a chair by the window as Jaune handed her the bottle. The baby latched on eagerly, amber eyes fixed on Blake's face with what almost looked like recognition.

"She likes you," Jaune observed, taking the seat opposite them.

"She's a good baby," Blake replied, adjusting the bottle slightly. "Adaptable. That's a valuable trait."

The way she said it—with a mixture of approval and what might have been regret—made Jaune wonder about Blake's own experiences growing up as a faunus. Had she needed to be adaptable too? To adjust to changing circumstances and unexpected challenges?

"What was it like?" he asked softly. "Growing up as a faunus?"

Blake tensed slightly, her eyes remaining on Cynthia. For a moment, Jaune thought she wouldn't answer.

"It was... complicated," she finally said, her voice equally soft. "There were good moments—community, belonging, pride in our heritage. And difficult ones—discrimination, fear, being treated as less than human."

She adjusted Cynthia in her arms, a gentleness in her movements that contrasted with the hardness in her voice. "My parents protected me from the worst of it for as long as they could. Not all faunus children are that fortunate."

Jaune nodded, understanding her concern for Cynthia's future. "She'll have protection," he promised. "Whatever happens, she won't face those challenges alone."

Blake met his gaze, something vulnerable and fierce in her eyes. "No, she won't."

The moment stretched between them, filled with unspoken understanding and shared resolve.

"I've been thinking," Jaune said eventually. "About what happens after our mission concludes."

"Your family," Blake nodded. "Taking her home with you."

"Yes, but..." He hesitated, uncertain how to articulate what he was thinking. "I was wondering if you might want to come as well. To help with the transition. And because, well, you understand things about her that I never could. Being a faunus, I mean."

The suggestion clearly caught Blake off guard. She focused on burping Cynthia, using the moment to collect her thoughts.

"Your family wouldn't mind?" she asked finally. "Having a faunus guest?"

"They'd welcome you," Jaune assured her. "And it would make things easier for Cynthia, having both of us there at first."

Blake considered this, her expression thoughtful. "I'd need to check my schedule. I had planned to use the break between semesters to research some... personal matters."

"Of course," Jaune backtracked. "It was just a thought. No pressure."

Blake's features softened. "I didn't say no, Jaune. Let me think about it."

He nodded, relieved. "Take all the time you need."

Cynthia, having finished her bottle and been properly burped, was now contentedly nestled in Blake's arms, her eyes growing heavy with the satiated drowsiness that followed feeding.

"I think someone's ready for bed," Blake observed.

"I can take her," Jaune offered, standing.

"Actually," Blake said, a hint of hesitation in her voice, "would you mind if I put her down tonight? I've been reading that establishing a consistent bedtime routine is important for babies."

"Sure," Jaune agreed, surprised but pleased by her initiative. "Do you want me to show you the routine we've been using?"

Blake nodded, and together they moved to the makeshift nursery, where the new bassinet had been set up. Jaune demonstrated the simple bedtime ritual he'd established—a gentle rocking motion, a soft humming of what he admitted was the only lullaby he could remember from his childhood, and finally, a light kiss on Cynthia's forehead before laying her down.

"That's it," he finished. "Nothing fancy, but she seems to respond to the consistency."

"It's good," Blake approved. "Simple routines create security."

She took over, cradling Cynthia and beginning the same rocking motion Jaune had shown her. But instead of humming, she began to sing very softly—a melody Jaune didn't recognize with words in a language he couldn't identify. Her voice was surprisingly sweet, with a gentle, lilting quality that immediately captivated both Cynthia and Jaune.

When she finished the song, she placed a feather-light kiss on Cynthia's forehead, just as Jaune had done, before laying her in the bassinet. The baby's eyes were already closed, her breathing deep and rhythmic in sleep.

"That was beautiful," Jaune whispered as they backed away from the bassinet. "What language was that?"

"Old Menagerie dialect," Blake replied quietly. "It's a traditional faunus lullaby about the moon watching over sleeping children."

"Fitting for our little moon goddess," Jaune smiled.

Blake returned the smile, small but genuine. "Yes, it is."

They stood watching Cynthia sleep for a moment longer before quietly leaving the room, keeping the door cracked so they could hear if she woke.

Returning to the dining room, they found the others had finished their meal and moved to the living room, where mission plans were spread across the coffee table. Ruby looked up as they entered.

"Baby down for the count?" she asked.

"Out like a light," Jaune confirmed, reclaiming his seat at the table to finish his now-cold dinner.

"We've adjusted the patrol schedule," Pyrrha informed them, pointing to the new rotation on her scroll. "With the reduced Grimm activity, we can operate with smaller teams, allowing more downtime."

"Perfect timing," Yang remarked with a meaningful glance between Jaune and Blake. "The new parents could use the rest."

"We're not—" they both began simultaneously, then stopped, exchanging awkward glances.

"You know what I mean," Yang waved off their protest with a grin. "Co-caregivers. Baby buddies. Infant associates."

"Please stop," Blake groaned, though without real annoyance.

The evening progressed with the comfortable familiarity between the two teams over their weeks in Meadowbrook. Plans were made, stories were shared, and occasional checks were made on the sleeping Cynthia.

When it came time for sleep, they established the night watch rotation that had become standard—three shifts, with two people per shift to ensure someone was always available for both baby duty and security monitoring.

"I'll take first watch with Blake," Jaune volunteered. "Cynthia usually wakes up for her first night of feeding around eleven."

No one commented on how naturally Jaune and Blake had fallen into a partnership regarding Cynthia's care, though knowing glances were exchanged among the others.

As the house quieted for the night, Jaune and Blake settled in the living room, taking up their usual positions—Blake near the window where she could monitor the perimeter, Jaune closer to the stairs where he could hear Cynthia if she cried.

"Thank you," Jaune said after a comfortable silence.

Blake looked up from her book. "For what?"

"For everything with Cynthia. The song. The diaper changes. All of it."

She marked her place in the book, closing it thoughtfully. "I was just thinking about how strange this all is. Weeks ago, we barely spoke outside of mission objectives."

"And now we're caring for a baby," Jaune finished with a small laugh. "Life is unpredictable."

"Very," Blake agreed, a hint of a smile playing at her lips. "Though I must admit, there are worse people to co-parent with than Jaune Arc."

He raised an eyebrow, surprised by the almost-compliment. "High praise from Blake Belladonna."

"Don't let it go to your head," she warned, though her tone remained light. "I still remember you throwing up on the airship to Beacon."

"I'm never going to live that down, am I?"

"Not likely."

Their quiet laughter mingled in the dimly lit room, creating a moment of companionship that neither had anticipated but both found unexpectedly comfortable.

From upstairs came a soft whimper, then another.

"Right on schedule," Jaune noted, checking his scroll. "Eleven o'clock feeding."

"I'll get the bottle ready," Blake said, already moving toward the kitchen.

"I'll get her," Jaune replied, heading for the stairs.

They moved with the coordination of partners who had found their rhythm, each anticipating the other's needs without discussion. In the quiet of the farmhouse, as their friends slept and the village rested under a canopy of stars, Jaune and Blake had discovered something neither had been looking for—a partnership built not on combat strategies or academic alliances, but on the shared care of one tiny, unexpected addition to their lives.

And somehow, it felt more significant than either of them was quite ready to acknowledge.

Chapter Text

Chapter 9: Deliberations

80AGW - Early May

Morning light filtered through the curtains of Team RWBY's shared room in the Meadowbrook farmhouse. Blake sat cross-legged on her bed, a book open but unread in her lap as she watched her teammates prepare for the day. Ruby was polishing Crescent Rose with methodical care, while Yang stretched through her morning workout routine. Weiss meticulously organized her dust vials, arranging them by type and potency.

Blake cleared her throat. "I need some advice."

Three heads turned toward her with varying degrees of surprise. Blake Belladonna rarely asked for advice, particularly about personal matters.

"What's up, partner?" Yang asked, pausing mid-stretch.

"Jaune asked me to go to his family home with him after the mission," Blake said, then quickly clarified as Yang's eyebrows shot up. "To help with Cynthia. He thinks it would be good for her to have both of us there during the transition."

"That makes sense," Ruby nodded thoughtfully. "You're really good with her."

"And you understand her faunus traits better than any of us," Weiss added pragmatically.

Blake fidgeted with the corner of her book. "I'm not sure if it's a good idea. Meeting his family is... complicated."

"Because you're a faunus?" Yang asked directly.

"Partly," Blake admitted. "But also because of what this might look like. We'd be arriving with a baby—a faunus baby—that we're both caring for."

"Like a family," Ruby said, her eyes widening with realization.

"Exactly. And we're not... I mean, Jaune and I are barely even friends."

Yang set aside her exercise band and sat beside Blake. "Come on, that's not true. You two might not have been close before, but things change. You've been co-parenting for almost a month now."

"It's not parenting," Blake protested. "It's temporary guardianship."

Weiss made a skeptical noise. "Blake, I've seen how you look at that baby. How you both do. There's nothing 'temporary' about those feelings."

Blake felt heat rising to her cheeks. "That's not the point. The point is, what would his family think? A human son bringing home a faunus girl and a faunus baby?"

"Jaune wouldn't have invited you if he thought his family would have a problem with it," Ruby reasoned. "He seems pretty confident they'll welcome you both."

"Besides," Yang added with a mischievous glint in her eye, "aren't you even a little curious about the family that produced Jaune Arc? Seven sisters, Blake. Seven. Think of the blackmail material."

Despite herself, Blake smiled slightly. "I'm not going to spy on his family, Yang."

"Of course not," Weiss said primly. "But there is practical value in understanding Cynthia's potential future environment. If Jaune is serious about providing her a home, you should know what that home is like."

Blake hadn't considered that angle. She looked down at her book, thinking of Cynthia's tiny face and delicate cat ears. "I do want to make sure she'll be safe. And happy."

"Then it sounds like you have your answer," Ruby said with characteristic simplicity.

"Besides," Yang added, stretching back out on the floor, "what's the alternative? You go back to your empty apartment in Vale for the break? At least this way you get home-cooked meals and baby snuggles."

Blake raised an eyebrow. "I'm capable of cooking for myself."

"Heating up canned tuna doesn't count as cooking," Yang teased.

Before Blake could retort, a soft knock at the door interrupted them. Ruby bounded over to open it, revealing Jaune with Cynthia in his arms.

"Morning," he greeted, looking slightly frazzled. "Sorry to bother you, but is Blake—oh, there you are. Cynthia's been fussy all morning, and she keeps looking around like she's searching for something. Or someone. I thought maybe..."

Blake was already crossing the room. "Let me see her."

The moment Cynthia spotted Blake, her tiny face lit up and her arms reached out, making grabbing motions in the air.

"See?" Jaune said, relief evident in his voice. "She wanted you."

A warmth spread through Blake's chest as she took Cynthia, who immediately settled against her, tiny hands clutching at Blake's shirt.

Yang caught Blake's eye over Jaune's shoulder, her expression practically screaming "I told you so."

"Thanks," Jaune said. "I tried everything—feeding, changing, the little wooden rattle—but she just kept looking toward your room."

"It's fine," Blake assured him, bouncing Cynthia gently. "She probably just got used to our routine."

"Speaking of routines," Jaune continued, "I was thinking we should start planning for the trip to my family's place. The mission officially ends in ten days, and we'll need to arrange transportation."

Blake looked up, meeting his hopeful gaze. Behind him, she could see her teammates watching with varying degrees of encouragement—Yang's thumbs-up, Ruby's enthusiastic nodding, even Weiss's subtle nod of approval.

"Alright," she decided. "I'll come. For Cynthia's sake."

Jaune's face broke into a relieved smile. "Great! My family will love you—both of you. And it'll be good for Cynthia to have the consistency."

As he launched into details about his family's home and the travel arrangements he had in mind, Blake caught Yang mouthing "for Cynthia's sake, sure" with a knowing smirk.

Blake chose to ignore her partner's teasing, focusing instead on the warm weight of Cynthia in her arms and the unexpected path that lay ahead. She hadn't planned on visiting the home of a fellow student during break, let alone with a baby in tow. But then, nothing about the past week had been according to plan.

And somehow, that didn't seem like such a bad thing anymore.

The days leading up to their departure passed in a blur of mission reports, baby care, and preparations. As the teams wrapped up their final patrols around Meadowbrook, the reality of what came next began to settle on Blake's shoulders.

It was three days before they were scheduled to leave when Jaune approached Blake in the farmhouse kitchen. She was preparing a bottle for Cynthia's afternoon feeding, her movements now automatic after weeks of practice.

"Hey Blake," Jaune greeted, looking slightly hesitant. "Can I ask a huge favor?"

Blake glanced up from the formula she was measuring. "What is it?"

"Ozpin called. He needs me to file our final mission report in person tomorrow—something about 'irregularities in our status updates.' I think he knows about Cynthia."

"That's... concerning," Blake said carefully.

"Maybe, but I don't think he's upset. Just being Ozpin—mysterious and needing to know everything." Jaune ran a hand through his hair. "Anyway, I need to take a quick trip to Vale tomorrow. I'd be back the following day, but..."

"You need someone to watch Cynthia," Blake finished for him.

"Would you mind? She's most comfortable with you, and your team will be here too, so you'd have backup."

Blake nodded without hesitation. "Of course. We'll be fine."

"Thanks," Jaune said, visible relief washing over his face. "You're a lifesaver. I already talked to my family—everything's arranged for our visit once I get back. They're excited to meet both of you."

After a few more details about Cynthia's schedule and the supplies he'd prepared, Jaune left to pack for his brief trip to Vale. Blake finished preparing the bottle, her mind occupied with thoughts of the upcoming visit to the Arc family home.

The next morning, Jaune departed early, placing a sleeping Cynthia in Blake's arms with such natural trust that neither of them commented on it. He'd be back the following evening, and then they would leave for his family home the day after.

Blake spent the morning with Cynthia in the common room of the farmhouse, reading quietly while the baby napped in her portable bassinet. The rest of Team RWBY had gone into the village to help with a community project, leaving Blake to enjoy the rare peace.

When they returned for lunch, Yang spotted Blake sitting cross-legged on the floor beside Cynthia, who was awake and batting at a small mobile Ren had crafted for her.

"Well, look at you, playing the devoted mom," Yang teased, dropping onto the couch. "Getting in some practice before meeting the in-laws?"

Blake's bow twitched in irritation. "They're not my in-laws, Yang."

"Not yet," Yang winked exaggeratedly. "But you're going to his family home. With a baby. That's practically domestic bliss right there."

"Yang," Weiss sighed, setting down her bag. "Stop teasing Blake. This is a practical arrangement for Cynthia's benefit."

"Right, right," Yang agreed, though her grin remained. "Totally practical. Just like how 'practically' the whole village thinks you two are a couple with an adorable baby."

"What?" Blake's head snapped up.

Ruby darted between them, hands waving. "Yang, come on! Blake's just being a good friend to Jaune and Cynthia."

"A very good friend," Yang emphasized with another wink. "The kind that meets the parents. I wonder if Mama Arc will give you the third degree. 'What are your intentions with my son, young lady?'"

"Yang, that's enough," Weiss said more firmly. "Blake is clearly uncomfortable."

But Yang was on a roll. "I bet they'll have baby pictures of Jaune all over the walls. Little Jauney in the bathtub. His first steps. Oh! And his sisters can tell you all the embarrassing stories—"

Ruby's eyes widened as she finally noticed Blake's expression. "Um, Yang? Maybe you should—"

"—and then you'll have to sleep in his childhood bedroom," Yang continued, oblivious. "With little Huntsman posters and—"

"STOP!" Blake shouted, startling Cynthia, who began to cry.

The room fell silent except for the baby's wails. Blake immediately picked up Cynthia, cradling her close and murmuring soft apologies as she rocked her.

"Blake, I was just kidding around," Yang said, her teasing grin replaced with genuine concern.

But something had broken loose in Blake—a dam of anxiety that had been building since Jaune's invitation.

"It's not funny," she said, her voice tight as she paced with the still-fussing Cynthia. "None of this is a joke. I'm going to his family's home—a human family I've never met—with a faunus baby we found in the woods. Do you have any idea how terrifying that is?"

Ruby stepped forward cautiously. "Blake—"

"What if they hate me?" Blake pressed on, unable to stop now that the words had started flowing. "What if they're prejudiced against faunus? What if they think I'm not good enough to be around their son? What if they think I'm trying to trick him into raising someone else's child?"

"Blake, Jaune wouldn't—" Weiss tried to interject.

"And what about Jaune?" Blake continued, her pacing becoming more agitated as Cynthia continued to cry. "Is he really okay with all this? A baby dropped into his life, a responsibility he never asked for? What if he's just too nice to say he regrets finding her? What if he feels trapped? What if—"

"BLAKE!" All three of her teammates shouted simultaneously.

Blake stopped pacing, breathing hard, her arms still protectively wrapped around Cynthia. The baby's cries had subsided to hiccuping whimpers, her tiny hands clutching at Blake's shirt.

Yang approached slowly, hands raised in a gesture of peace. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were so stressed about this."

"It's not your fault," Blake said, the fight draining out of her. "I've been keeping it in. I just... I don't know how to do this. Any of this."

Ruby came to her side, placing a gentle hand on her arm. "None of us do. But you're not doing it alone."

"Jaune chose to invite you," Weiss pointed out practically. "He wants you there. And from everything we've seen, his concern for Cynthia is genuine."

"And if his family turns out to be a bunch of jerks," Yang added, "which I seriously doubt, we'll come get you. Immediately. Team RWBY extraction mission, no questions asked."

Blake looked at each of her teammates, feeling a rush of gratitude for their support. Cynthia had quieted in her arms, amber eyes blinking up at her with what almost looked like concern.

"I'm sorry for exploding," Blake said softly.

"Don't be," Ruby insisted. "We're a team. That means being there for the hard stuff too."

"Besides," Yang added, more gentle now, "it's nice to see you care so much. About both of them."

Blake looked down at Cynthia, who had calmed completely and was now sucking contentedly on her own fist. "I do care," she admitted. "That's what scares me."

"Caring always involves risk," Weiss said with unexpected softness. "But from what I've observed, Jaune Arc might actually be worth that risk."

Blake raised an eyebrow at this uncharacteristic endorsement from Weiss.

"As a friend and co-guardian," Weiss clarified primly. "Let's not get carried away."

A small smile tugged at Blake's lips. "Of course."

"So," Ruby ventured, "feeling better?"

Blake took a deep breath, considering the question honestly. The anxiety hadn't disappeared, but having voiced her fears aloud had somehow made them less overwhelming.

"I think so," she said. "At least, I'm not going to back out. Cynthia needs this stability, and I promised Jaune I'd help."

"That's the spirit," Yang encouraged. "And hey, I really am sorry for pushing your buttons. No more in-law jokes, I promise."

"At least until they actually become your in-laws," Ruby muttered under her breath, earning a sharp look from Blake and an approving grin from Yang.

"One step at a time," Blake said firmly. "For now, I just need to get through this visit without panicking or offending anyone."

"You'll be fine," Weiss assured her. "Just be yourself."

"Except maybe the brooding, mysterious part," Yang suggested. "Maybe dial that down a notch for the family dinner."

Despite everything, Blake found herself laughing. "I'll try."

As her teammates moved on to discussing the village project they'd been working on, Blake looked down at Cynthia, who had fallen asleep in her arms. The baby's peaceful expression centered her, reminding her why she'd agreed to this intimidating journey in the first place.

For Cynthia's sake, she could face her fears. For this tiny life that had unexpectedly become so important to her, Blake would step outside her comfort zone—even if that meant facing the unknown territory of the Arc family home.

And maybe, just maybe, a small part of her was doing it for Jaune too.

Chapter Text

Chapter 10: Debrief

80AGW - Mid May

The Bullhead hummed steadily as it carried Jaune toward the nearest CCT relay station. Meadowbrook was too remote for direct communications with Beacon, requiring him to travel to this outpost—a small military installation that maintained communication links for the outlying settlements.

As the craft began its descent, Jaune reviewed his notes on the mission. He'd prepared a thorough report: Grimm activity statistics, village security improvements, cooperative efforts with local leadership. Everything was in order, except for the one detail he hadn't included in any official documentation—Cynthia.

The thought of the baby made his chest tighten with unexpected emotion. Just this morning, he'd placed her in Blake's arms, and the trust in those tiny amber eyes had nearly undone him. In less than two weeks, Cynthia had become a central part of his life in ways he couldn't have imagined.

After landing, Jaune was escorted to a private communications room. The screen flickered to life, revealing Professor Ozpin seated at his desk, ever-present coffee mug in hand.

"Mr. Arc," Ozpin greeted with a slight nod. "I trust your journey was uneventful?"

"Yes, sir," Jaune confirmed. "No Grimm encounters on the flight path."

"Excellent. I understand from your reports that the situation in Meadowbrook has stabilized considerably."

Jaune straightened his posture. "Yes, sir. Grimm activity is at its lowest point since we arrived. The eastern nest has been neutralized, and the northern migration patterns have been diverted away from the settlement. All village functions have returned to normal—the lumber operations resumed three days ago at full capacity."

"Impressive work," Ozpin commented, taking a sip from his mug. "Both teams have performed admirably under your coordination."

Jaune felt a flush of pride at the rare praise. "Thank you, sir. Everyone has been incredible."

"Indeed." Ozpin's expression remained neutral, but something in his eyes shifted. "And how is your unexpected addition faring? Cynthia, I believe?"

Jaune froze, his prepared report forgotten. "I... how did you—"

"I have my ways, Mr. Arc," Ozpin replied with the faintest hint of amusement. "Village officials tend to report unusual occurrences, particularly when they involve my students and abandoned infants."

Jaune's mind raced. He hadn't mentioned Cynthia in any official reports, concerned about potential complications. "Sir, I can explain. We found her in the forest during a routine patrol. There was a note mentioning the White Fang, and we couldn't just—"

Ozpin held up a hand, stopping Jaune's rushed explanation. "Mr. Arc, you're not in trouble. I'm merely inquiring about the child's welfare."

Jaune exhaled slowly, collecting his thoughts. "She's doing well, sir. Healthy, growing. We've managed to integrate her care into our mission schedule without compromising our duties."

"So I've gathered from the thoroughly detailed reports that somehow managed to never once mention her existence," Ozpin noted dryly.

"I wasn't sure of the protocol," Jaune admitted. "Or if mentioning her might put her at risk if the reports were intercepted."

Ozpin studied him for a moment. "A thoughtful precaution. And what are your plans for the child once your mission concludes?"

Jaune straightened. "I'm taking her to my family's home in Radiare. They have the resources to keep her safe, at least until we can determine a more permanent solution."

"I see." Ozpin's gaze was penetrating. "And Miss Belladonna will be accompanying you, I understand?"

Jaune blinked in surprise. "Yes, sir. Blake has been instrumental in Cynthia's care. She understands her needs as a faunus."

"A practical arrangement," Ozpin observed, though something in his tone suggested he might be seeing more than Jaune intended to reveal. "And how do you feel about this situation, Mr. Arc?"

The question caught Jaune off guard. He'd expected inquiries about logistics, security concerns, perhaps even a reprimand for not following proper protocols. But this personal question from the typically reserved headmaster left him momentarily speechless.

"I... well, it wasn't what I expected when we took this mission," Jaune began cautiously.

"Few things in life are," Ozpin commented.

Jaune nodded, gathering his thoughts. "At first, I was just focused on keeping her safe. It seemed like the right thing to do. But now..."

He trailed off, images flashing through his mind: Cynthia sleeping peacefully in her bassinet; her tiny hand wrapped around his finger; the way she looked at Blake with such trust; the unfamiliar but profound feeling that surged through him whenever he held her.

"Now, it's different," Jaune continued, his voice growing more certain. "She's not just a responsibility anymore. She's... Cynthia. This little person who somehow became important to all of us, but especially to Blake and me."

Ozpin remained silent, allowing Jaune to continue.

"I know it's complicated. I know there are a thousand reasons why this shouldn't work. But when I think about her future, I can't imagine not being part of it." Jaune looked directly at the camera, surprised by his own conviction. "I want to protect her, Professor. I want to give her a good life."

"Even if that means significant changes to your own plans?" Ozpin asked, his tone neutral.

"Yes," Jaune answered without hesitation. "Some things are worth changing plans for."

Ozpin studied him for a long moment, then nodded slightly. "Life often presents us with unexpected turns, Mr. Arc. The measure of a person is not in avoiding such complications, but in how they rise to meet them." He set down his coffee mug. "From what I've observed, you are rising admirably."

"Thank you, sir," Jaune replied, surprised by the approval.

"As for the official aspects of this situation," Ozpin continued, "I'll have Professor Goodwitch prepare the necessary documentation. Temporary guardianship papers, to start with. They'll provide legal protection for Cynthia while longer-term arrangements are considered."

"That would be helpful," Jaune agreed, relieved by this practical support.

"I understand your concerns about the White Fang connection," Ozpin added. "Rest assured, we'll maintain appropriate discretion in all official records."

Jaune nodded gratefully. "And... what about my family? Will they need special clearance or anything?"

"The Arc family has a long-standing relationship with Beacon Academy," Ozpin replied with a slight smile. "I believe they can be trusted with sensitive matters."

Something about the way Ozpin said this made Jaune wonder just how much the headmaster knew about his family.

"Now then," Ozpin continued, "I believe we've covered the essential points of your mission report. Unless there's anything else you wish to discuss?"

Jaune hesitated, then asked the question that had been nagging at him. "Sir, do you think I'm doing the right thing? Taking Cynthia to my family, I mean."

Ozpin's expression softened almost imperceptibly. "Mr. Arc, in my experience, the 'right thing' is rarely clear-cut. But providing safety, care, and love to a child in need? I can think of few endeavors more worthy."

He paused, then added, "And for what it's worth, I believe you and Miss Belladonna have shown remarkable judgment and compassion throughout this unexpected situation."

Jaune felt a weight lift from his shoulders. "Thank you, Professor."

"The paperwork will be waiting for you when you return to Beacon after your... family visit," Ozpin said. "Safe travels, Mr. Arc."

The screen went dark, leaving Jaune alone with his thoughts. The conversation had gone nothing like he'd expected, but somehow, he felt more confident in the path ahead.

As he prepared for the return journey to Meadowbrook, his thoughts returned to Blake and Cynthia. He found himself eager to get back to them, to share the good news about Ozpin's support and the promised documentation.

For the first time since finding Cynthia in the forest, Jaune allowed himself to consider a future where she remained a permanent part of his life—their lives. The thought both terrified and exhilarated him.

Whatever challenges lay ahead, Jaune was increasingly certain that they'd face them together—him, Blake, and their unexpected little moon goddess.

Blake paced the hallway outside Team RWBY's room, Cynthia sleeping soundly in her arms. She'd managed to get the baby down for her afternoon nap, but every time she tried to set her in the bassinet, Cynthia would stir and fuss until Blake picked her up again.

"You miss him too, don't you?" Blake whispered, adjusting the blanket around Cynthia's tiny shoulders.

After another unsuccessful attempt to put the baby down, Blake decided to check if Jaune might have returned early. It was unlikely—he wasn't due back until the following evening—but perhaps there had been a change of plans.

She made her way to Team JNPR's room, hesitating briefly before knocking softly. The door opened to reveal Ren, calm as always, though his eyes brightened at the sight of Cynthia.

"Blake," he greeted quietly. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, I was just wondering if Jaune had returned yet."

Ren shook his head. "Not yet. We expect him tomorrow evening as planned."

Blake nodded, trying to hide her disappointment. "Right. Of course."

She turned to leave, but hesitated. This might be her best opportunity to gather information without Jaune present. Taking a breath, she faced Ren again.

"Actually, before I go... have you met Jaune's family? His sisters?"

Ren raised an eyebrow slightly. "I have not had the pleasure. Nora has met them once, briefly."

"Who's at the door, Ren?" Nora's voice called from inside the room, followed by the girl herself bouncing into view. "Blake! And baby Blake! Come in, come in!"

Before Blake could protest, Nora had ushered her into the room. Unlike the organized chaos of Team RWBY's quarters, JNPR's room was surprisingly tidy—undoubtedly Ren's influence—with the exception of Nora's bed, which was surrounded by what appeared to be dismantled parts of Magnhild.

"Weapon maintenance," Nora explained, following Blake's gaze. "Gotta keep the boom-stick in top condition!" She flopped down on Pyrrha's neatly made bed, patting the space beside her. "So what brings you to our humble abode?"

"Blake was asking about Jaune's family," Ren explained, taking a seat at the desk.

"Ooooh," Nora's eyes widened with delight. "Pre-visit intelligence gathering! Smart! You don't want to walk in unprepared."

Blake shifted Cynthia to her other arm. "I just thought it might be helpful to know what to expect."

"Well, I only met them that one time when they came to visit Vale," Nora began, "but let me tell you, they are a FORCE. Seven sisters! SEVEN! All blonde, all talking at once, all poking and prodding at Jaune like he's their personal teddy bear."

"They're very protective of him," Ren added more calmly.

Blake sat down on the edge of Pyrrha's bed, careful not to disturb Cynthia. "Protective how?"

"Well," Ren considered his words carefully, "from what Jaune has shared, his sisters have always looked out for him. Being the only boy in a family of eight children, and the second oldest at that, he has a unique position in the family dynamic."

"He's got the big brother role for most of them, and second dad to the youngest; but his oldest sister still treats him like her baby brother," Nora interjected. "It's this weird mix of him being protective of the younger ones while still getting fussed over himself."

"That sounds... complicated," Blake observed.

Nora leaned forward conspiratorially. "You might want to be careful around them, though. Especially the younger sisters and the mom."

"Why is that?"

"Jaune hasn't had the greatest track record with girls," Nora explained. "And his sisters have seen him get hurt."

"Weiss's rejections would seem kind compared to some of the stories we've heard," Ren added.

Blake's bow twitched in surprise. "What happened?"

Nora and Ren exchanged glances.

"It's not really our place to tell those stories," Ren said gently. "But suffice it to say, there have been incidents that have made his family very protective."

"So expect to be questioned," Nora warned. "Thoroughly. Extensively. Possibly while being stared down by seven pairs of Arc blue eyes."

Blake swallowed. "I see."

"They're good people," Ren assured her. "Just concerned for their brother."

"And they're gonna absolutely FREAK OUT about little Cynthia here," Nora cooed, gently tickling the baby's cheek. "In a good way! I bet they'll spoil her rotten."

"What about Radian itself?" Blake asked, remembering the name of Jaune's hometown. "What kind of place is it?"

"It's a small agricultural settlement about a day's journey from Vale," Ren explained. "Known for its orchards and grain fields. Relatively peaceful, with natural barriers that keep Grimm activity minimal."

"Jaune said his family has a big farmhouse on the outskirts," Nora added. "Apparently it's been in the Arc family for generations. Very homey, according to him."

Blake tried to picture it—a sprawling farmhouse filled with blonde sisters, open fields, apple orchards perhaps. It was so different from her own upbringing in Menagerie's tropical beaches or the White Fang's hidden camps.

"And how do they feel about faunus?" she asked quietly, the question she'd been most hesitant to voice.

Ren's expression softened with understanding. "Jaune has never expressed any prejudice, so I would expect his family shares similar values."

"Plus, he specifically invited you," Nora pointed out. "He wouldn't do that if he thought his family would make you uncomfortable."

Blake nodded, somewhat reassured. "Thank you. Both of you. This helps."

"Just be yourself," Ren advised. "Authenticity is always the best approach."

"And maybe wear something with armor!" Nora suggested. "Those sisters can get physical with the hugging."

Despite her nerves, Blake found herself smiling at Nora's exuberance. "I'll keep that in mind."

"Oh! And bring earplugs," Nora continued, warming to her theme. "From what Jaune says, meal times are LOUD. Like, combat-zone loud."

"Nora," Ren chided gently, "you're making Blake more nervous."

"No, it's fine," Blake assured him, though her tightening grip on Cynthia suggested otherwise. "I appreciate knowing what to expect."

Cynthia began to stir in her arms, tiny face scrunching up as she woke from her nap.

"I should get her back," Blake said, rising to her feet. "She'll need feeding soon."

"Of course," Ren nodded. "If you need any assistance with her, please don't hesitate to ask."

"Yeah!" Nora bounced up. "Auntie Nora and Uncle Ren are always ready for baby duty! We can teach her all about sloth calls and pancake appreciation!"

Blake smiled, genuinely this time. "Thank you. For everything."

As she made her way back to her team's room, Blake processed what she'd learned. Jaune's family sounded... intense. Loving, but overwhelming. The protective sisters concerned her most—what would they think of a former White Fang member helping to care for their brother's foundling?

Cynthia made a small mewling sound, amber eyes blinking up at Blake.

"It'll be fine," Blake whispered, trying to convince herself as much as the baby. "They love Jaune, and Jaune cares about you. That's what matters."

As she rounded the corner to her team's corridor, Blake spotted a familiar figure at the far end—tall, blonde, and laden with bags.

"Jaune?" she called out, surprised.

He turned, his tired expression immediately brightening at the sight of her and Cynthia. "Blake! I caught an earlier transport."

As he hurried toward them, Blake felt an unexpected wave of relief wash over her. Whatever challenges lay ahead with the Arc family, at least she wouldn't face them alone.

Chapter Text

Chapter 11: Unknowing Hearts

80AGW - Mid May

While Blake was gathering intelligence from Ren and Nora, Pyrrha Nikos found herself standing outside Team RWBY's door, hand raised to knock but hesitating. She'd spent the afternoon training alone in the small clearing behind the farmhouse, trying to clear her mind and focus on combat forms rather than the uncomfortable feelings that had been growing since Cynthia's arrival.

Taking a deep breath, she finally knocked.

The door swung open to reveal Ruby, whose face lit up at the sight of her friend. "Pyrrha! Come in!"

Pyrrha stepped inside, scanning the room automatically. Yang was sprawled on her bunk, scrolling through her scroll, while Weiss sat cross-legged on her bed, reviewing mission notes with meticulous attention. No sign of Blake or Cynthia.

"Looking for someone?" Yang asked, glancing up with a knowing expression.

"I was hoping to speak with Blake, actually," Pyrrha admitted, settling on Ruby's offered chair. "Is she around?"

"She took Cynthia to check if Jaune was back yet," Ruby explained, perching on the edge of her bed. "Which is silly because he's not supposed to be back until tomorrow, but I think she misses him."

"She's been fussing over that baby all day," Yang added, sitting up. "Every time she tries to put her down, Cynthia starts crying. Total momma's girl already."

Pyrrha nodded, a tight smile fixed on her face. "They've certainly bonded quickly."

Something in her tone caught Weiss's attention. The heiress looked up from her notes, studying Pyrrha with sharp blue eyes. "Was there something specific you wanted to discuss with Blake?"

"No, not really," Pyrrha said, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Just checking in."

Yang's eyebrows rose as she exchanged glances with Ruby. "Checking in? Or checking up on?"

Pyrrha sighed, abandoning the pretense. These were her friends, after all. "Do you think... I mean, have you noticed if Blake might be developing feelings for Jaune?"

The question hung in the air for a moment.

"Feelings?" Weiss repeated, setting her notes aside. "For Arc? Unlikely. Blake has always been focused on larger causes—equality for faunus, defeating the White Fang. She's never shown interest in... romantic entanglements."

"I don't know," Ruby countered thoughtfully. "She looks at him differently now. Especially when he's holding Cynthia."

"And she gets this little smile when he figures something out with the baby," Yang added. "Like when he realized Cynthia sleeps better with that humming thing he does."

Pyrrha's hands twisted in her lap. "So you think she might—"

"Have feelings for Vomit Boy?" Yang finished, sitting up straighter. "Maybe. But the real question is why you're asking, P-Money."

A flush spread across Pyrrha's cheeks. "I'm just concerned about team dynamics. If there's a... situation developing, it could affect how we work together."

Weiss made a skeptical noise. "Pyrrha, please. We all know about your feelings for Jaune."

"What? No, I—" Pyrrha's protest withered under three knowing stares. "Is it that obvious?"

"YES!" all three girls responded in unison.

Pyrrha groaned, burying her face in her hands. "Wonderful."

"Hey, it's okay," Ruby said gently, moving to sit beside Pyrrha. "Jaune's still oblivious, if that helps."

"Completely clueless," Yang confirmed. "The boy wouldn't recognize romantic interest if it wore a neon sign and did backflips."

"That's not exactly comforting," Pyrrha murmured, looking up. "But thank you for trying."

Weiss turned fully to face Pyrrha, her expression softening into something rarely seen by those outside their circle. "Pyrrha, regardless of whether Blake has feelings for Jaune—which I still doubt—the situation with Cynthia is complicated. They've been thrust into a co-parenting role that naturally creates a certain... intimacy."

"That's what worries me," Pyrrha admitted, her voice dropping lower. "I'm getting more and more worried about Blake and Jaune together. Every day, they grow closer, and I can see him slipping away right in front of me."

She looked up at her friends, her emerald eyes reflecting a vulnerability she rarely showed. "It's becoming harder and harder to build up the courage to tell him how I feel. I've waited too long, and now..."

Ruby placed a hand on her shoulder. "It's not too late, Pyrrha."

"Isn't it?" Pyrrha asked, shaking her head. "They're going to his family home together. With a baby. By the time they return, who knows what might have happened between them?"

Yang sat forward, her expression unusually serious. "Pyrrha, can I ask you something? And I need you to be honest, not polite."

Pyrrha nodded cautiously.

"Are you upset about the idea of Blake and Jaune together, or about Jaune having priorities that don't revolve around you and the team?"

The blunt question struck Pyrrha like a physical blow. She opened her mouth to protest, then closed it, genuinely considering the question.

"Both," she finally admitted with unflinching honesty. "I care for Jaune deeply, but I also respect him enough to want his happiness, even if it's not with me. But everything is changing so suddenly, and I feel like I'm losing my chance without ever having had the courage to take it."

"Change isn't always bad," Ruby offered. "Sometimes it's just... different."

"And for what it's worth," Weiss added, "I still think you're jumping to conclusions about Blake's feelings. She's helping with Cynthia because it's the right thing to do, not because she's secretly harboring romantic intentions toward Jaune."

"But even if she does like him," Ruby said, "that doesn't mean he feels the same way. Jaune's still Jaune. Remember all those months he spent pining after Weiss?"

Weiss rolled her eyes. "Please don't remind me."

"The point is," Yang said, "nothing's set in stone yet. They haven't even left for his family home. A lot could happen between now and then."

Pyrrha took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders. "You're right. I'm getting ahead of myself."

"And whatever happens," Ruby assured her, "we're here for you. That's what friends are for."

"Thank you," Pyrrha said softly. "All of you. I appreciate your honesty."

Yang stretched, a mischievous glint returning to her eyes. "Though if you really want to know how Blake feels, we could always set up a little test. Maybe have you walk in on them during a baby feeding, see if Blake gets all territorial..."

"Yang!" Weiss scolded. "That is completely inappropriate."

"Just a thought," Yang shrugged, unrepentant.

Despite everything, Pyrrha found herself laughing. "I think I'll pass on the espionage, thank you."

The conversation shifted to less fraught topics—the upcoming supply delivery, the village's harvest festival preparations, the reduced Grimm activity that had made their mission unexpectedly manageable.

Yet as Pyrrha participated in the lighter discussion, part of her mind remained occupied with the image of Jaune, Blake, and Cynthia—the picture-perfect family they made without even trying. Whatever her own feelings, she couldn't deny they had something special, a bond forged in unusual circumstances but undeniably real.

And perhaps that was what troubled her most of all.

Pyrrha left Team RWBY's room with a heart heavier than her shield. The conversation had crystallized what she'd been feeling since Cynthia's arrival - that something profound was shifting between Jaune and Blake, whether they recognized it yet or not.

As she walked down the farmhouse's creaking hallway, a familiar voice drifted up from the entryway below. Her steps faltered. Jaune wasn't supposed to be back until tomorrow. Taking a steadying breath, she moved to the top of the stairs and peered down.

Jaune stood in the entrance, travel bag still slung over his shoulder, his tired face brightening as Blake approached with Cynthia in her arms. The baby was making excited sounds, tiny hands reaching toward him.

"Look who's back early," Blake said, her voice carrying a warmth Pyrrha rarely heard from the reserved faunus.

"Caught a transport ahead of schedule," Jaune explained, dropping his bag to take Cynthia. The baby settled against his chest with a contented sound that made his entire face soften. "Did you miss me? I missed you."

Pyrrha wasn't sure if he was speaking to Cynthia or Blake. Perhaps both.

Blake adjusted the blanket around Cynthia. "She wouldn't sleep in the bassinet. Kept looking for you."

"Just like her mom," Jaune teased gently, then froze, seeming to realize what he'd said. "I mean—not that you're—I didn't mean to imply—"

"It's fine," Blake interrupted, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "I understood."

The simple exchange, laden with unspoken meaning, decided Pyrrha. If there was ever a moment to speak her truth, it was now, before they left for the Arc family home and whatever changes that journey might bring.

"Jaune?" she called, descending the stairs with practiced grace despite her racing heart.

Both looked up, startled.

"Pyrrha!" Jaune greeted with a smile. "I was just about to come find everyone. The meeting with Ozpin went better than expected."

"That's wonderful," Pyrrha said sincerely. "Would you... could we talk privately for a moment? Once you've settled in, of course."

Something in her tone must have conveyed the importance of her request. Jaune glanced at Blake, who nodded.

"I'll take Cynthia back to the room," Blake offered. "She probably needs changing anyway."

Jaune reluctantly handed the baby back. "I'll come find you after I talk with Pyrrha. I have news about the guardianship paperwork."

Blake nodded, her amber eyes flicking briefly between them before she turned and headed down the hall.

"Everything okay?" Jaune asked once Blake was out of earshot, genuine concern in his voice.

"Yes—well, no—I mean..." Pyrrha took a breath. "Is there somewhere we could speak privately?"

"Of course."

He led her to the small study at the back of the farmhouse, a rarely-used room with dusty bookshelves and a desk pushed against the window. The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the wooden floor as Jaune closed the door behind them.

"What's on your mind?" he asked, leaning against the desk. "Is it about the mission? Did something happen while I was gone?"

Pyrrha clasped her hands together to stop them from trembling. Four years of tournament championships, countless Grimm battles, and yet this simple conversation terrified her more than any of those challenges.

"Jaune, I need to tell you something," she began, her voice steadier than she felt. "Something I should have told you a long time ago."

His brow furrowed with concern. "You can tell me anything, Pyrrha. You know that."

"I have feelings for you," she said simply, the words falling into the space between them like autumn leaves. "Romantic feelings. I have for quite some time now."

Jaune's expression shifted from concern to surprise, then settled into something more complicated—a mixture of confusion, affection, and what looked painfully like regret.

"Pyrrha, I..." he began, then faltered.

"Please," she said gently, "let me finish. I've watched you grow from the boy who didn't know how to activate his aura to the leader you are today. I've seen your kindness, your determination, your willingness to put others before yourself. And through all of it, my feelings have only grown stronger."

She took a step closer, emerald eyes meeting his blue ones directly. "I've been too afraid to tell you, afraid of changing what we have. But seeing you with Cynthia, with Blake... I realized I might never get another chance."

Jaune ran a hand through his hair, his expression pained. "Pyrrha, I don't know what to say. I owe you so much. Without you, I wouldn't even be here. You've trained me, supported me, believed in me when no one else did—"

"Stop," Pyrrha said softly but firmly. "I don't want you to feel obligated. I don't want you to think of this as a debt to repay. I only want you to be with me if you share the same feelings. Nothing less."

The silence stretched between them, filled with the weight of unspoken truths.

"I care about you so much, Pyrrha," Jaune finally said, his voice gentle but clear. "You're one of the most important people in my life. But I don't... I don't have those same feelings. I'm sorry."

Though she'd prepared herself for this answer, the words still stung. Pyrrha nodded, blinking rapidly to keep tears at bay. "Is it... is it because of Blake?"

Jaune looked startled. "Blake? What do you—"

"I've seen how you are with her, especially since Cynthia arrived," Pyrrha explained. "The way you look at each other, how you work together. There's something growing between you two."

"I don't..." Jaune began, then paused, considering her words with unexpected thoughtfulness. "I don't know, Pyrrha. Honestly. Everything's happened so fast with Cynthia, and Blake and I have been focused on keeping her safe and healthy. I haven't really had time to think about... about what it might mean for us. If it means anything at all."

He looked at her with genuine confusion in his eyes. "Blake is incredible with Cynthia. She understands things I never could about being a faunus, about the world Cynthia will grow up in. We've become partners in this unexpected way, but I don't know if it's more than that. I haven't let myself consider it."

Pyrrha nodded, both pained and touched by his honesty. "Perhaps you should, before you go to your family home together. For all your sakes."

Jaune sighed, leaning more heavily against the desk. "This isn't how I expected our conversation to go when I walked in the door."

Despite everything, Pyrrha found herself smiling slightly. "Life rarely follows our expectations. Finding Cynthia certainly proved that."

"Yeah," Jaune agreed, a soft expression crossing his face at the mention of the baby. "She changed everything."

Including us, Pyrrha thought but didn't say. Instead, she straightened her shoulders, summoning the composure that had carried her through countless battles.

"Thank you for your honesty, Jaune. That's all I ever wanted from you."

"Pyrrha," he said, stepping forward to take her hands in his. "You deserve someone who feels for you what you feel for them. Someone who sees how amazing you are. I'm sorry that person isn't me."

She squeezed his hands once before letting go. "So am I. But I respect your feelings, just as you've respected mine."

As she turned to leave, Jaune called after her. "This doesn't change anything between us, right? We're still partners, still friends?"

Pyrrha paused at the door, looking back with a sad smile. "Of course. Always."

It wasn't until she reached the sanctuary of the training ground behind the farmhouse that Pyrrha finally allowed herself to cry. The tears came silently, falling onto the packed earth as she drew Miló and began the training forms that had always centered her.

Each movement was perfect, precise, a physical meditation that slowly eased the ache in her heart. She had spoken her truth, and though the answer wasn't what she'd hoped for, there was freedom in finally having it voiced.

By the time the sun began to set, painting the sky in shades of gold and crimson, Pyrrha's tears had dried. She moved through her final forms with renewed purpose, accepting that some battles couldn't be won with skill or strategy.

Sometimes, the bravest thing was simply to acknowledge defeat with grace and continue forward.

As she sheathed her weapon and turned back toward the farmhouse, Pyrrha caught sight of Jaune through a window, cradling Cynthia while Blake prepared a bottle beside him. They moved in perfect synchronicity, a team in every sense of the word.

And despite the lingering ache in her heart, Pyrrha found herself hoping that whatever was growing between them—spoken or unspoken—would bring them both happiness.

They deserved that much, at least.

Chapter Text

Chapter 12: The Aftermath

80AGW - Mid May

As the darkness of evening settled over the farmhouse, Pyrrha finally made her way back to Team JNPR's room. Her training session had helped clear her mind, the physical exertion pushing away the worst of the emotional pain, at least temporarily. But now, with her muscles pleasantly sore and her adrenaline fading, the weight of Jaune's gentle rejection settled back on her shoulders.

She paused outside the door, composing herself. She was Pyrrha Nikos—four-time Mistral Regional Champion, top of her class at Beacon, the "Invincible Girl." She'd faced down countless opponents in the arena and hordes of Grimm in the field. She could face her teammates with dignity intact.

Taking a deep breath, she opened the door.

Nora was sitting cross-legged on her bed, methodically reassembling Magnhild, while Ren sat on the floor nearby in his meditation pose, eyes closed in peaceful concentration. Both looked up as she entered.

"Pyrrha!" Nora exclaimed, immediately setting aside her hammer. "We were wondering where you— wait, what's wrong?"

Despite her best efforts, Pyrrha couldn't quite hide the redness around her eyes or the slight droop to her shoulders. Ren's eyes opened, his expression shifting to one of quiet concern as he rose fluidly to his feet.

"It's nothing," Pyrrha attempted, forcing a smile that didn't reach her eyes. "Just a long day of training."

"Nope! Not buying it," Nora declared, bouncing off her bed to stand directly in front of Pyrrha, hands on her hips. "Something happened. Your eyes are all puffy, and you've got that same look you had after the Vytal Festival match when your tiara got damaged but you pretended you weren't upset about it."

Pyrrha let out a small, almost involuntary laugh. "You know me too well."

"Of course we do," Nora said softly, her usual boundless energy giving way to genuine compassion. "We're a team. Now spill."

Ren stepped forward, guiding Pyrrha to sit on her bed. "Whatever it is, you don't have to bear it alone."

Pyrrha looked between her teammates—her friends—and felt a rush of gratitude for their unwavering support. The dam broke.

"I told him," she said simply. "I finally told Jaune how I feel."

Nora's eyes widened, and she immediately plopped down beside Pyrrha, taking her hand. "And?"

"And... he doesn't feel the same way," Pyrrha replied, surprised by how steady her voice remained despite the renewed ache in her chest. "He was kind about it, of course. He's always kind. But the feelings aren't there for him."

"Oh, Pyrrha," Nora whispered, squeezing her hand.

"Did he say why?" Ren asked gently.

Pyrrha nodded. "Not exactly. But when I asked if it was because of Blake, he... he said he didn't know. That he hadn't let himself think about it that way."

"Which means he has been thinking about it," Nora translated, "but hasn't admitted it to himself yet."

"Perhaps," Ren agreed. "The situation with Cynthia has created a unique bond between them."

Pyrrha sighed, looking down at her hands. "If I had been braver, if I had told him sooner—before Cynthia, before Blake became so important to them both—maybe things would be different. Maybe if I hadn't waited so long..."

"Stop that right now," Nora interrupted firmly. "You don't know that. Nobody knows that."

"Feelings aren't determined by timing alone," Ren added, his calm voice a counterpoint to Nora's intensity. "They grow from compatibility, from shared experiences, from countless factors beyond our control."

"But—"

"No buts!" Nora declared. "Look, I've watched you pine after Jaune for ages. You've had plenty of chances. But maybe—and I'm just putting this out there—maybe it wasn't meant to be. Maybe the universe had different plans for both of you."

"There is wisdom in acceptance," Ren said quietly. "Not of defeat, but of a different path than the one you envisioned."

Pyrrha looked between them, their faces filled with such care and understanding that it nearly brought fresh tears to her eyes.

"It just hurts," she admitted, her voice finally breaking. "I thought... I really thought..."

"I know," Nora said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "Trust me, I know all about waiting too long and wondering if you missed your chance."

Ren's expression softened further at Nora's words, a silent acknowledgment passing between them that Pyrrha was too absorbed in her own pain to notice.

"But here's the thing," Nora continued. "You're Pyrrha freaking Nikos. You're amazing. And if Jaune can't see that—or if he sees it but doesn't feel it—then maybe someone else will. Someone who'll appreciate everything you are without you having to wait."

"Indeed," Ren agreed. "The end of one possibility is not the end of all possibilities."

"And until then," Nora added, "you've got us. Always."

A small, genuine smile finally crept onto Pyrrha's face. "What would I do without you two?"

"Probably win a few more tournaments without Nora's snoring keeping you up before matches," Ren suggested with the faintest hint of a smile.

"Hey!" Nora protested, throwing a pillow at him. "I do not snore! I breathe enthusiastically!"

Just like that, the tension broke. Pyrrha found herself laughing despite her heartache, grateful for friends who knew exactly when to push and when to lighten the mood.

"So what now?" Nora asked once their laughter subsided.

Pyrrha took a deep breath, straightening her shoulders. "Now... we continue our mission. We support Jaune, and Blake, and little Cynthia. And we prepare for our return to Beacon."

"And eventually," Ren added gently, "you allow yourself to move forward."

Pyrrha nodded, the pain in her heart still present but somehow more manageable now that it was shared. "Eventually. But for tonight, I think I'd just like to rest."

"Sloth cuddle pile!" Nora announced, throwing her arms around both Pyrrha and a startled Ren. "Doctor Valkyrie prescribes comfort and pancakes for dinner!"

"I don't think sloths typically form cuddle piles," Ren pointed out, but made no move to extract himself from Nora's embrace.

As her teammates—her friends, her family—surrounded her with their unconditional support, Pyrrha felt the first stirrings of acceptance. The path ahead would not be easy, especially seeing Jaune and Blake together with Cynthia every day. But she wouldn't walk it alone.

And perhaps, someday, that would be enough.

Author note:

Speaking for the universe, plans have been made

Chapter Text

Chapter 13: Unspoken Truths

80AGW - Mid May

Jaune stood outside the study for several long minutes after Pyrrha left, his mind racing with the conversation that had just taken place. Her confession had caught him completely off guard. How had he missed something so significant? And her question about Blake... that had rattled him more than he cared to admit.

With a heavy sigh, he pushed away from the wall and made his way back to where he'd left Blake and Cynthia. He found them in the makeshift nursery, Blake seated in the rocking chair with Cynthia cradled against her chest. The baby was awake but calm, amber eyes blinking slowly as Blake spoke to her in a soft voice.

"...and that's why fish is clearly superior to any other food," Blake was saying seriously. "When you're old enough for solid foods, I'll make sure you understand this fundamental truth."

Despite the weight on his mind, Jaune couldn't help but smile at the scene. "Indoctrinating her already?"

Blake looked up, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. "Just sharing important life lessons." Her expression shifted as she took in his face. "Is everything alright? You look... troubled."

Jaune forced a casual shrug, moving to sit on the edge of the bed near them. "It's nothing. Pyrrha just wanted to talk about the transport arrangements for when we leave. Making sure the team knows the plan."

Blake's bow twitched slightly—a tell Jaune had begun to recognize when she was skeptical about something. Her amber eyes studied him with a penetrating gaze that made him feel unexpectedly transparent.

"I see," she said simply, clearly not believing him but choosing not to press. "Well, Cynthia has been fed and changed. She should be ready for bed soon."

Grateful for the change of subject, Jaune reached for the baby. "I can take her. You've been on duty all day."

As Blake carefully transferred Cynthia to his arms, their hands brushed briefly. The simple contact sent an unexpected jolt through Jaune, Pyrrha's words echoing in his mind: "I've seen how you are with her..."

"Jaune?" Blake's voice broke through his thoughts. "You're staring."

"Sorry," he said quickly, focusing on adjusting Cynthia against his shoulder. "Just tired from the journey, I guess."

Blake nodded, though her expression remained thoughtful. "You should get some rest. Tomorrow will be busy with preparations for our departure."

"Right," Jaune agreed, beginning the familiar rocking motion that usually helped Cynthia drift off to sleep. "Did you manage okay while I was gone? She didn't give you too much trouble?"

"She was perfect," Blake said, a rare softness entering her voice. "She missed you, though. Wouldn't settle in the bassinet at all."

"I missed her too," Jaune admitted, pressing a gentle kiss to Cynthia's head. "And you," he added without thinking, then immediately felt heat rise to his face. "I mean, it's easier when we're sharing the responsibilities. Not that you can't handle it alone, you definitely can, I just—"

"Jaune," Blake interrupted, amusement flickering in her eyes. "I understood what you meant. And for what it's worth, we missed you too."

The simple statement, delivered in Blake's matter-of-fact tone, somehow meant more than all of Weiss's elaborate compliments or Yang's effusive praise ever had. Jaune felt a peculiar warmth spread through his chest that had nothing to do with the baby nestled against him.

"Thanks, Blake," he said softly.

They fell into a comfortable silence as Cynthia's eyes grew heavier, her tiny body gradually relaxing against Jaune's chest. When she finally drifted off completely, Blake rose from the rocking chair.

"I should get back to my team's room," she said quietly. "Give you some time to settle in after your trip."

Jaune nodded, carefully placing Cynthia in her bassinet. "I'll see you in the morning?"

"I'll be here," Blake assured him, pausing at the door. For a moment, she looked as if she wanted to say something more, but instead, she simply offered a small smile before slipping out.

Jaune watched her go, then looked back at the sleeping Cynthia. His thoughts were a tangled mess—Pyrrha's confession, his own confused feelings, the looming visit to his family home, and at the center of it all, the question he hadn't allowed himself to consider until now.

What exactly was growing between him and Blake?

Blake found her teammates still awake when she returned to their room. Ruby was sketching weapon modifications on her bed, while Weiss organized her dust supply for what seemed like the tenth time that week. Yang lay on her stomach, flipping through a motorcycle magazine.

All three looked up as Blake entered, their expressions a bit too innocent to be genuine.

"Finally decided to leave the lovebirds' nest?" Yang teased.

Blake rolled her eyes, claiming her usual spot on her bed. "Cynthia's asleep. Jaune needed to rest after his trip."

"How is he?" Ruby asked, setting aside her sketch. "Everything go okay with Professor Ozpin?"

"I think so," Blake replied, reaching for her book. "But something was off when he got back from talking with Pyrrha."

The subtle exchange of glances between her teammates didn't escape Blake's notice.

"What was he talking to Pyrrha about?" Weiss asked, her tone just a shade too casual.

Blake's eyes narrowed. "He claimed it was about transport arrangements, but he seemed distracted afterward. Almost... confused." She studied their faces, recognizing the look of people who knew more than they were letting on. "Alright, what do you three know that I don't?"

Another round of glances was exchanged, before Yang sighed dramatically. "Well, if we're doing the whole girl talk thing..."

"It's not gossip if it affects team dynamics," Weiss rationalized primly.

"Pyrrha has feelings for Jaune," Ruby blurted out. "Like, romantic feelings. Has for a long time."

Blake blinked, processing this information. "And you think she finally told him?"

"Based on his 'distracted' behavior afterward?" Yang nodded. "Almost certainly."

Blake sat back against her pillows, pieces falling into place. "That explains a lot."

"And based on said distracted behavior," Weiss added, "I'm guessing he didn't reciprocate."

"Poor Pyrrha," Ruby said softly.

Blake frowned, a strange feeling in her chest. "How long has this been going on?"

"Since pretty much the beginning of the school year," Yang replied. "It's been painfully obvious to everyone except Jaune."

"Yet none of you thought to mention this before now?" Blake asked, glancing between them.

"We thought you knew!" Ruby protested.

"And it didn't seem relevant until recently," Weiss added, her eyes sharp and assessing. "When you started spending so much time with Jaune because of Cynthia."

Blake felt a defensive response rising but tamped it down. "We're caring for a baby together. Of course we're spending time together."

"Blake," Yang said gently. "It's more than that, and I think you know it."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Blake replied automatically, even as she felt heat rising to her cheeks.

Yang sat up, her teasing tone giving way to genuine concern. "Look, we're not trying to put you on the spot. But whatever's happening between you and Jaune—intentional or not—it affects more people than just you two."

"Nothing is happening between us," Blake insisted. "We found a baby, we're taking care of her, and now we're going to his family's home to figure out the next steps. That's all."

"If you say so," Yang conceded, though her expression remained skeptical.

Ruby, ever the peacemaker, quickly changed the subject. "So what did Ozpin say about the guardianship papers? Jaune mentioned he had news."

Blake accepted the deflection with relief. "He didn't get to tell me yet. I assume we'll hear about it tomorrow."

As the conversation shifted to safer topics, Blake found her thoughts drifting back to Jaune and Pyrrha. Had Pyrrha really had feelings for him all this time? And if so, what did it mean that Jaune apparently didn't return them?

More unsettling was the implication in her teammates' eyes—the suggestion that there might be something developing between her and Jaune beyond their shared responsibility for Cynthia.

The very thought should have been ridiculous. After Adam, after the White Fang, Blake had sworn off complicated entanglements. She'd come to Beacon to focus on becoming a Huntress, on making a difference in the world. Romance had never been part of the plan.

And yet, she couldn't deny that something had shifted in her relationship with Jaune. Something undefined but undeniably present, growing in the spaces between bottle feedings and diaper changes, in shared smiles over Cynthia's achievements and midnight conversations when the rest of the house slept.

As Blake retreated behind her book, she murmured almost inaudibly, "It's because of that dream..."

Yang's ears caught the whispered words. Her lilac eyes lit up with interest as she leaned forward. "What dream? Did you say something about a dream?"

Blake stiffened, realizing her slip. "It's nothing," she said quickly, raising her book higher to hide her face.

"Oh no you don't," Yang responded, sliding off her bed to sit beside Blake. With gentle insistence, she lowered the book. "You've been acting weird for days, and now you're muttering about dreams? Spill."

"Yang, leave her alone," Weiss interjected, though curiosity was evident in her voice. "If Blake doesn't want to share—"

"It's fine," Ruby said, bouncing onto Blake's bed as well. "We're a team! We share dreams all the time. Like when I had that one about cookies that could transform into weapons—"

"Not that kind of dream, Ruby," Yang interrupted with a knowing smirk. "I think Blake had a different kind of dream. About a certain blonde team leader, perhaps?"

Blake's bow twitched in agitation as heat rushed to her face. "It wasn't like that."

"But it was about Jaune," Yang pressed, her voice gentler now despite the teasing glint in her eyes.

Blake looked between her three teammates—Ruby's innocent curiosity, Weiss's poorly concealed interest, and Yang's determined expression—and sighed in defeat. Between the long day watching Cynthia, the emotional whiplash of Jaune's return, and now this revelation about Pyrrha, she was simply too exhausted to maintain her usual defenses.

"Fine," she conceded, setting her book aside. "I had a dream about Jaune... and Cynthia... and me. When Cynthia was sick."

Yang's eyebrows shot up. "Oh? Do tell."

Blake took a deep breath, focusing on a point on the wall beyond her teammates' eager faces. "It wasn't inappropriate, so you can stop looking at me like that, Yang. It was... domestic."

"Domestic?" Weiss repeated, moving closer despite her earlier pretense of disinterest.

"Yes," Blake continued reluctantly. "In the dream, Cynthia was older—around twelve. She was a cat faunus, like me, but with hints of blue in her hair. And she was... our daughter. Mine and Jaune's."

Ruby gasped softly. "You dreamed you were married to Jaune?"

"The dream didn't specify that," Blake clarified quickly, though her blush deepened. "But we were together, living in a house. A family."

"Tell us everything," Yang insisted, settling in more comfortably. "What was Dream Jaune like? What was your life like?"

Despite her embarrassment, Blake found herself wanting to share the details of the dream that had lingered so vividly in her memory. "It was... peaceful. Ordinary, in the best possible way. I was making breakfast, Cynthia was rushing off to school with a history project she'd made—a model of Beacon's clock tower. She was a student at a combat school, learning to be a huntress."

Blake's voice softened as she continued, remembering. "She'd just unlocked her semblance—similar to mine, but the shadows she created were solid for a few seconds. And she was so excited to show us."

"Us?" Weiss prompted.

"Me and Jaune," Blake admitted. "In the dream, we walked home together, and he was there, waiting for us. He was... happy to see us. And I was happy to see him."

She carefully omitted the details of the kiss they'd shared in the dream, some things still too private to voice aloud.

"That's... really sweet, Blake," Ruby said, her silver eyes wide and sincere.

"It was just a dream," Blake insisted, though the conviction in her voice wavered. "Probably because we've been taking care of Cynthia together."

"Dreams can be revealing," Weiss observed thoughtfully. "They often reflect desires or fears we haven't fully acknowledged in our waking hours."

"Exactly!" Yang agreed triumphantly. "Your subconscious is trying to tell you something. Something about a certain noodle-boy and your feelings for him."

"It doesn't mean anything," Blake protested, though with less certainty than before. "I was exhausted, worried about Cynthia's fever. My mind just... created a scenario where everything worked out well for her."

"For her, or for all of you?" Yang asked softly.

Blake fell silent, unable to answer.

"It's okay to want things for yourself, Blake," Ruby said, placing a hand on her arm. "Even if they're unexpected things. Like a family with Jaune and Cynthia."

"I don't—" Blake began automatically, then stopped herself. What was the point in denying what had become increasingly obvious, at least to herself? "I don't know what I want," she amended honestly. "Everything's happened so fast with Cynthia, and Jaune and I have been so focused on her needs. I haven't let myself think beyond that."

"Well, what better time to start thinking about it than right before you go to meet his entire family?" Yang pointed out with a grin.

"Yang!" Weiss scolded. "Don't make this more stressful for her than it already is."

"I'm just saying," Yang shrugged, "spending time with the Arcs might give you a pretty good idea of what domestic life with Jaune could be like. Consider it a preview of your dream."

"That's not helping," Blake groaned, burying her face in her hands.

Ruby patted her shoulder sympathetically. "It's okay, Blake. Nobody's saying you have to figure everything out right now. But maybe... maybe the dream is worth thinking about? What it might mean?"

"If nothing else," Weiss added pragmatically, "it suggests you've developed some attachment to both Jaune and Cynthia. Which is understandable, given the circumstances."

"More than some attachment, I'd say," Yang muttered, earning another glare from Weiss.

Blake lowered her hands, looking between her teammates with a mixture of gratitude and resignation. "Is it that obvious? How I feel about them?"

"Only to people with eyes," Yang quipped.

"It's becoming more apparent," Weiss acknowledged more diplomatically. "Especially in how you interact with Jaune over Cynthia's care."

"You get this really soft look when you watch them together," Ruby added. "Like you're seeing something precious."

Blake hadn't realized she was so transparent. The thought both alarmed and oddly relieved her—as if some part of her had wanted these feelings acknowledged, even if she wasn't ready to voice them herself.

"And now with Pyrrha having confessed to Jaune..." Weiss trailed off delicately.

"And him apparently not returning her feelings," Yang continued, "the timing might be... significant."

Blake frowned. "I would never want to hurt Pyrrha. She's our friend."

"Of course not," Ruby assured her quickly. "But you can't control how you feel, or how Jaune feels. Sometimes hearts just... do what they want."

"Eloquently put," Weiss remarked with a fond eye roll.

Blake reached for her book again, needing something solid to hold onto as her mind whirled with implications. "I don't even know if Jaune feels anything for me beyond friendship and our shared responsibility for Cynthia."

"Only one way to find out," Yang suggested with waggling eyebrows.

"Absolutely not," Blake replied firmly. "Even if—and that's a big if—there is something developing between us, now is not the time to explore it. Not with Pyrrha's feelings fresh, not before this visit to his family."

Yang raised her hands in surrender. "Fair enough. But promise me you'll at least think about it? About what you might want, if the choice was yours?"

Blake nodded slowly, her thoughts returning to that vivid dream—the peace she'd felt, the sense of belonging, the rightness of the three of them together.

"I promise," she said softly. "But for now, I think I need some sleep."

Her teammates took the hint, returning to their own beds with minimal teasing (from Yang) and supportive smiles (from Ruby). As the lights dimmed and conversation faded into the rhythmic breathing of sleep, Blake allowed her mind to revisit the dream once more.

Perhaps her subconscious was trying to tell her something. Or perhaps it was merely a reflection of her exhaustion and the intense circumstances of the past two weeks. Either way, she couldn't deny that the vision of that possible future—a home, a family, a life built with Jaune and Cynthia—had filled her with a longing she hadn't known she was capable of feeling.

Blake pulled her book closer, using it as both shield and distraction from her increasingly complicated thoughts. Whatever might or might not be developing between her and Jaune, now was not the time to examine it—not with Pyrrha's feelings freshly expressed and rejected, not with their imminent departure for his family home, and certainly not with the watchful eyes of her teammates tracking her every reaction.

Chapter Text

Chapter 14: Partings and Beginnings

80AGW - Mid May

The farmhouse bustled with activity as the two teams prepared for departure. After nearly two months in Meadowbrook, they had accumulated more belongings than they'd arrived with—souvenirs from the village market, gifts from grateful residents, and of course, the small mountain of baby supplies that now accompanied Jaune and Blake everywhere they went.

Blake folded the last of Cynthia's tiny outfits, placing them carefully in the travel bag Weiss had requisitioned. The baby herself was contentedly watching from her bassinet, fascinated by the unusual activity around her.

"You sure you've got everything?" Yang asked, leaning against the doorframe with arms crossed. "Diapers? Formula? Emergency contact numbers for when Jaune inevitably does something dumb?"

Blake rolled her eyes but couldn't suppress a small smile. "We'll be fine, Yang."

"I know you will," her partner replied, her teasing tone giving way to something more sincere. "Just... call us if you need anything, okay? Vale isn't that far from Radian."

"I will," Blake promised, touched by the concern.

Yang crossed the room to peer down at Cynthia, tickling her gently under the chin. "And you, little miss, be good for your... for Blake and Jaune."

The deliberate hesitation didn't escape Blake's notice, but she chose not to comment on it. The question of what exactly she and Jaune were to Cynthia—and to each other—remained carefully unaddressed between them, a conversation postponed by unspoken mutual agreement.

"The transport to Merrowdale leaves in an hour," Ruby announced, poking her head into the room. "We should start loading our gear."

Downstairs, the members of Team JNPR were engaged in their own preparations. Nora was attempting to fit an improbable number of souvenirs into her already overstuffed bag, while Ren methodically checked and rechecked their inventory of supplies. Pyrrha stood by the window, her posture perfect as always, though Blake had noticed a certain tension in her shoulders over the past few days.

The atmosphere between Jaune and Pyrrha had been polite but strained since their private conversation. They still worked together effectively, maintaining their roles as teammates and friends, but something had shifted—a subtle distance that hadn't been there before. Blake couldn't help feeling partially responsible, though she knew logically that Pyrrha's feelings for Jaune had predated Cynthia's arrival in their lives.

As Blake descended the stairs with Cynthia in her arms, she spotted Jaune standing alone in the kitchen, staring out the window with an unusually pensive expression. He turned at the sound of her footsteps, his face brightening at the sight of them.

"There are my girls," he said, then immediately flushed. "I mean—you know what I mean."

Blake nodded, ignoring the warm flutter in her chest at his words. "Everything packed?"

"Just about," he confirmed, reaching out to take Cynthia, who gurgled happily at the transfer. "The transport to Merrowdale should get us there by mid-afternoon. From there, the others will head to Beacon, and we'll catch the evening airship to Radian."

"Sounds like a plan," Blake agreed, watching as Jaune adjusted Cynthia against his shoulder with practiced ease.

His expression grew more serious. "Blake, before we go, I wanted to thank you again. For coming with us, for everything with Cynthia. I know this isn't what you planned for your semester break."

"It's nothing," she replied automatically.

"It's not nothing," Jaune insisted. "It's a lot, actually. And I just want you to know how much I appreciate it."

Before Blake could respond, Nora's voice called from the front of the house. "First load ready for transport! Strong backs needed!"

"I should go help," Jaune said, carefully handing Cynthia back to Blake. "I'll be right back."

As he headed toward the front door, Blake noticed Pyrrha standing alone in the study doorway, watching Jaune with a carefully neutral expression. Making a quick decision, Blake moved toward the kitchen pantry, positioning herself where she could hear but not be immediately seen. It wasn't her proudest moment, but her concern for both her friends overrode her usual respect for privacy.

Jaune paused as he saw Pyrrha, his posture shifting awkwardly. "Hey, Pyrrha."

"Hello, Jaune," she replied, her voice composed. "Need help with the bags?"

"No, I've got it." He hesitated, then took a step toward her. "Listen, Pyrrha, about what happened the other day. I want to apologize again—"

"Don't," Pyrrha interrupted gently. "Please don't apologize for being honest with me."

"But things have been weird between us, and that's the last thing I wanted."

From her position, Blake could see Pyrrha's profile as she offered Jaune a small, genuine smile. "It doesn't have to change anything about our partnership, Jaune. I knew it was a long shot when I told you how I felt."

"You deserve someone who—"

"Who feels the same way," Pyrrha finished for him. "Yes, you said that. And you were right." She straightened her shoulders. "I value our friendship too much to let this change things between us. When you and Blake return to Beacon, we'll still be partners, still be a team."

Jaune's relief was evident in his voice. "I'd like that. A lot."

"So would I." Pyrrha hesitated, then added, "I hope you find what you're looking for in Radian. For you and for Cynthia."

Something unspoken passed between them—an acknowledgment, perhaps, of the thing they weren't directly mentioning: Blake.

"Thank you, Pyrrha," Jaune said softly. "That means more than I can say."

Pyrrha nodded once, her composure remarkable. "We should finish loading the transport. The others will be waiting."

As they moved toward the front of the house together, Blake stepped back from her hiding place, Cynthia still cradled against her chest. The baby looked up at her with those intelligent amber eyes, as if sensing the weight of what Blake had just witnessed.

"That was private," Blake whispered to her. "I shouldn't have listened."

Cynthia made a small noise that Blake chose to interpret as agreement.

"Your dad has some complicated relationships," she continued softly, then caught herself. "I mean Jaune. Not—he's not officially—" She sighed, giving up on the clarification. "Let's just go help with the bags."

The village of Meadowbrook had turned out in force to bid farewell to the huntsmen and huntresses who had protected them for the past two months. Elder Hazel presented each team with a small carved box containing local specialties—honey, dried fruits, and handcrafted tokens of appreciation.

"You've restored safety to our community," the elderly woman said, her weathered hands clasping Ruby's. "You will always be welcome here."

Mrs. Woodleaf approached Blake and Jaune separately, pressing a small cloth bag into Blake's hands. "Herbal remedies," she explained quietly. "For the little one. The instructions are inside."

"Thank you," Blake said sincerely. "For everything."

The old healer's eyes twinkled knowingly. "Take care of them both," she said, nodding toward Jaune, who was receiving similar well-wishes from the village craftsmen. "They need you more than they realize."

Before Blake could formulate a response, Mrs. Woodleaf had moved on, leaving her with burning cheeks and the herbal bag clutched tightly in her hand.

The loading of the transport was completed with efficient teamwork, the result of months working closely together. Blake noticed how carefully Pyrrha and Jaune maintained their normal interaction—perhaps a touch too carefully, but the effort was sincere on both sides.

As they prepared to board, the teams naturally gravitated into their farewell configurations. Ruby hugged Blake tightly, whispering, "Call us! Send pictures of Cynthia!"

"I will," Blake promised, surprised by how emotional she felt at this temporary parting from her team.

Yang's hug nearly crushed the breath from her lungs. "Remember what we talked about," her partner murmured. "It's okay to want things for yourself."

Even Weiss embraced her, though more reservedly. "Take care of yourself," the heiress said. "And ensure Arc doesn't do anything too foolish."

"No promises," Blake replied with a small smile.

On the other side of the transport, Jaune was receiving similar farewells from his team. Nora's enthusiastic embrace lifted him clear off the ground, while Ren offered a more restrained but equally sincere handshake that turned into a brief hug.

When it came to Pyrrha, there was a moment of hesitation before they embraced. Brief but warm, a wordless reaffirmation of their commitment to move forward as friends and partners despite the changed landscape between them.

"Safe journey," Pyrrha said as they parted, her eyes flickering briefly to where Blake stood with Cynthia.

"You too," Jaune replied. "See you back at Beacon."

With final waves to the villagers, they boarded the transport—eight young huntsmen and huntresses, one baby, and an uncertain path ahead.

As the vehicle rumbled to life and pulled away from Meadowbrook, Blake found herself seated beside Jaune, Cynthia securely fastened in a special carrier between them. In the seats ahead, the other members of their teams chatted excitedly about returning to Beacon, the upcoming tournament, the classes they'd missed.

"Ready for this?" Jaune asked quietly, nodding toward the road ahead—literally and figuratively.

Blake met his gaze, finding unexpected steadiness in his blue eyes. Whatever uncertainties lay ahead, they would face them together.

"As ready as I'll ever be," she replied.

Cynthia made a small noise, reaching out to grab one of Blake's fingers and one of Jaune's simultaneously. They shared a smile over her head, a moment of perfect understanding passing between them.

The future might be uncertain, but in that moment, it felt full of possibility.

Chapter Text

Chapter 15: Unexpected Visitor

80AGW - Late May

The Beacon Academy airfield buzzed with its usual activity as the Bullhead carrying Teams RWBY and JNPR—minus Blake and Jaune—touched down on the landing pad. The familiar silhouette of the academy's towers rose against the afternoon sky, a welcome sight after nearly two months in the rural setting of Meadowbrook.

"Home sweet home!" Ruby exclaimed, stretching her arms above her head as the engines powered down. "I've missed proper shower pressure!"

"And decent coffee," Weiss added, primly straightening her combat skirt as she rose from her seat.

"And my workshop! Crescent Rose needs some serious TLC after all those Grimm," Ruby patted her folded weapon affectionately.

Yang grabbed her duffel bag from the overhead compartment, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. "I wonder how Blake and Jaune are doing. They should have caught their airship to Radian by now, right?"

"Assuming the transport schedules are accurate," Ren confirmed, helping Nora gather her excessive collection of souvenirs.

"I'm sure they're fine," Pyrrha said with practiced composure. Only those who knew her well would notice the slight strain around her eyes when she mentioned the absent pair.

As the hatch opened and the ramp extended, the returning students made their way down onto Beacon's grounds. The familiar weight of school life settled on their shoulders once more—assignments to catch up on, training schedules to resume, tournament preparations to begin.

Ruby was the first to notice the woman standing at the edge of the landing pad, her feline ears twitching with alertness atop her dark hair. She wore a simple but elegant purple and white outfit that spoke of a comfortable life, though her posture suggested tension. Beside her stood a tall, muscular man with visible faunus traits—a snow leopard, by the look of his spotted ears and distinctive facial markings. He wore the formal attire of what appeared to be a professional guard, his stance alert but non-threatening.

"Um, guys?" Ruby murmured, nodding toward the strangers. "I think someone's waiting for us."

The woman approached as soon as they disembarked, her amber eyes—strikingly familiar—scanning their faces with increasing concern. Her gaze lingered on Yang's blonde hair before moving to Ruby's red cloak, recognition flickering across her features.

"Excuse me," she called, her voice cultured but carrying an edge of urgency. "Are you Team RWBY?"

Ruby exchanged a quick glance with her teammates before stepping forward. "Um, yes—well, most of us. I'm Ruby Rose, the team leader. Can we help you with something?"

The woman's shoulders sagged slightly with relief before she straightened again. "I'm Kali Belladonna, Blake's mother. I was hoping to find her with you."

A startled silence fell over the group. Yang's eyebrows shot up, Weiss's mouth formed a small 'o' of surprise, and Ruby's eyes widened to comical proportions.

"Blake's mom?" Ruby finally squeaked. "But she never mentioned you were coming to visit!"

"Because she didn't know," Kali replied, a hint of maternal exasperation in her tone. "I wanted to surprise her. I saw her competing in the Vytal Tournament broadcast, and it's been... well, it's been far too long since we've seen each other."

Her expression clouded slightly at this admission, suggesting there was more to the story than a simple visit. Yang and Ruby exchanged knowing glances—Blake rarely spoke of her family or her past before Beacon.

It was Weiss who stepped forward, assuming the diplomatic role that came naturally to her. "Mrs. Belladonna, it's a pleasure to meet you. I'm Weiss Schnee, Blake's teammate. I'm afraid there's been a miscommunication—Blake isn't with us at the moment."

Kali's ears flattened slightly. "Not with you? But the school records indicated she was on a field mission with your team."

"She was," Yang confirmed. "We've just returned from a village called Meadowbrook. But Blake... took a detour."

"A detour?" Kali repeated, her voice sharpening. "What kind of detour?"

The members of both teams shifted uncomfortably, unsure how much to reveal about the unique circumstances surrounding Blake's current whereabouts.

"She went to Radian," Weiss finally explained, maintaining her diplomatic tone. "With our friend Jaune Arc. He's the leader of Team JNPR." She gestured to the other students standing nearby.

Kali's expression transformed before their eyes. Confusion gave way to shock, then to something that looked dangerously close to maternal fury. "She went home with a boy? Without telling me? Without any notice at all?"

"It's not like that," Ruby rushed to explain, waving her hands frantically. "They're just—"

"Blake is a responsible young woman," Ren interjected calmly. "And Jaune is an honorable team leader. There is a perfectly reasonable explanation for their journey."

But Kali appeared not to hear them, her mind clearly racing with implications. "Radian? That an agricultural settlement? What could possibly—" Her ears stood straight up in alarm. "She's not... they haven't... is my daughter eloping?"

"ELOPING?" Yang choked, torn between horror and laughter. "No! Definitely not eloping. They're just—"

"It seems I've arrived just in time to welcome our returning students."

The smooth, measured voice cut through the escalating confusion. Professor Ozpin approached from the direction of the academy, coffee mug in hand as always, his cane tapping a rhythmic pattern against the ground.

"Professor Ozpin," Weiss greeted with evident relief. "This is Mrs. Belladonna, Blake's mother."

"Yes, I'm aware," Ozpin replied with a slight nod. "We spoke briefly when Mrs. Belladonna arrived yesterday inquiring about her daughter's whereabouts."

Kali turned to Ozpin, her composure slipping further. "You told me she had been rerouted on a mission extension," she accused. "You never mentioned she'd gone off with some boy to his family home!"

Ozpin took a calm sip from his mug, seemingly unperturbed by the faunus woman's indignation. "I informed you that Miss Belladonna's mission had concluded but she had been temporarily reassigned to an auxiliary objective with Mr. Arc. Which is entirely accurate."

"Auxiliary objective?" Kali's voice rose dangerously. "What kind of auxiliary objective requires my daughter to accompany a young man to his family home without so much as a message to her own parents?"

The returning students watched this exchange with expressions ranging from fascination to discomfort. Nora leaned toward Ren, stage-whispering, "Should we tell her about Cynthia?"

"Perhaps not just yet," Ren murmured back.

Unfortunately, Kali's faunus hearing caught the exchange. Her head snapped toward them, ears perked forward attentively. "Cynthia? Who is Cynthia?"

An awkward silence descended over the group. Ruby looked panicked, Yang winced, and even Weiss seemed at a loss for words.

"Mrs. Belladonna," Ozpin interjected smoothly, "perhaps this conversation would be better continued in my office, where we can discuss the full situation with appropriate... context."

"I don't need context, Professor," Kali replied, her tone clipped. "I need answers. Who is Cynthia, and what does she have to do with my daughter going to Radian with this Jaune person?"

Pyrrha stepped forward, her inherent grace and composure offering a calming presence. "Mrs. Belladonna, I understand your concern. Jaune is my partner and a close friend. I can assure you that whatever you might be thinking, the situation is almost certainly not what it seems."

Kali's expression softened slightly at Pyrrha's sincerity, but her determination remained unshaken. "Then I would very much appreciate someone explaining what the situation actually is."

Ozpin glanced at the assembled students, then back to Kali. "Mr. Arc and Miss Belladonna have temporarily assumed guardianship of an orphaned faunus infant who was discovered during their mission. They've traveled to Mr. Arc's family home to establish a secure environment for the child while more permanent arrangements are considered."

The revelation landed like a bombshell. Kali's eyes widened, her ears standing perfectly straight in shock.

"An infant?" she repeated faintly. "Blake is helping raise a baby?"

"A cat faunus baby," Ruby clarified helpfully. "Her name is Cynthia. She's super cute! Blake is really good with her."

"My daughter... with a baby..." Kali seemed to be processing this information in slow motion, her expression cycling through surprise, confusion, and something that might have been wonder.

"It's a temporary arrangement," Weiss added quickly. "Just until they can ensure the child's safety. There were... complications regarding the circumstances in which she was found."

Kali's sharp gaze fixed on Weiss. "What kind of complications?"

Ozpin cleared his throat. "Those details fall under mission confidentiality at present, I'm afraid. But I can assure you that both Mr. Arc and your daughter have conducted themselves with admirable responsibility throughout this unexpected development."

"I see," Kali said, though her expression suggested she wasn't entirely convinced. Her gaze moved between the students, assessing each face as if searching for the truth behind their explanation.

"So," Kali continued, her voice carefully controlled, "my daughter, who hasn't contacted me in over a year, is now playing house with a young man I've never met and a baby they supposedly found during a mission?"

Yang recognized the skepticism in Kali's tone. "Mrs. Belladonna, I know it sounds weird, but it's true. Jaune found Cynthia abandoned in the forest. She was all alone, and they've been taking care of her ever since."

Kali's ear twitched, a subtle sign of continued disbelief that only Blake might have recognized. Inside, her thoughts raced with a much more plausible explanation: her daughter had gotten involved with this boy, become pregnant, had a child, and for some reason felt she couldn't tell her own mother. The "found in the forest" story seemed like the kind of elaborate cover-up a panicked young couple might invent.

"And you expect me to believe this... story?" Kali asked, her voice betraying only a hint of her internal suspicions.

"It is rather extraordinary," Ozpin acknowledged, "but I can assure you it's entirely factual. The circumstances have been thoroughly documented, and temporary guardianship papers have been prepared to ensure the child's legal protection."

Kali studied Ozpin's face, looking for any sign of collusion, but his expression remained impassive. She glanced at the students again, particularly Blake's teammates, who appeared to be sincere in their concern and explanation.

"Mrs. Belladonna," Pyrrha spoke up again, "I understand how this must sound. If I hadn't witnessed it myself, I might have trouble believing it too. But Jaune and Blake are taking on this responsibility out of compassion, not... anything else."

Though still unsettled, Kali seemed to recognize the sincerity in Pyrrha's words. Her shoulders relaxed slightly, though her expression remained troubled.

"I need to see for myself," she decided aloud. "I need to speak with my daughter and meet this child."

"Of course," Ozpin agreed. "I can arrange transport to Radian if you wish. Though perhaps it might be courteous to inform Miss Belladonna of your impending arrival?"

Kali considered this for a moment, then shook her head, a gleam entering her amber eyes that was eerily reminiscent of Blake when she was plotting something. "No, I don't think so. After all, she didn't inform me about any of this. It seems only fair to return the favor."

Yang coughed to hide a laugh. "Definitely Blake's mom," she muttered to Ruby.

"I can have a Bullhead ready by tomorrow morning," Ozpin offered. "Would that be satisfactory?"

"That would be perfect," Kali agreed. Her gaze swept over the assembled students, lingering on Yang. "In the meantime, perhaps Blake's teammates could fill me in on what my daughter has been doing this past year. Over dinner, perhaps?"

Ruby, Weiss, and Yang exchanged glances that contained equal parts trepidation and curiosity.

"We'd be happy to," Ruby finally replied for all of them. "Though, um, we might leave out some of the more dangerous parts?"

"Oh, I don't know about that," Kali said with a smile that revealed where Blake had inherited her occasional predatory look. "I think I'd like to hear everything. After all, a mother has a right to know what her daughter has been up to, don't you think?"

The snow leopard faunus who had remained silently vigilant during the entire exchange stepped forward. "Mrs. Belladonna, shall I prepare your things for tomorrow's departure? And should I inform the Chieftain about this... development?"

Kali turned to him, considering the question before shaking her head. "Not yet, Juno. I think it's best we wait until we're with Blake before contacting Ghira. I'd like to have a complete understanding of the situation first."

"As you wish," the guard nodded respectfully before stepping back.

As Ozpin excused himself and the group began moving toward the academy proper, Nora bounced alongside her teammates, whispering with barely contained glee.

"Oh man, I wish we could see Blake's face when her mom shows up in Radian! It's going to be EPIC!"

Pyrrha smiled despite herself. "It certainly would be... illuminating."

"Perhaps we should warn Jaune," Ren suggested mildly. "So they have some time to prepare?"

Yang overheard and shook her head, a mischievous grin spreading across her face. "Oh no. This is too perfect. Blake kept her family a secret from us; let her explain that to her mom. Besides," she added with a wink, "what kind of friends would we be if we deprived them of this character-building surprise?"

As Kali walked ahead with her guard, her composed exterior had returned, but the students couldn't help noticing the determined set of her shoulders and the occasional twitch of her ears. Unlike the others, she wasn't convinced by the fantastical story of a baby found in the woods. She had raised Blake, after all—she knew when her daughter was hiding something.

Whatever awaited in Radian, Kali was determined to uncover the truth about her daughter, this Jaune Arc, and the mysterious baby they were raising together.

Chapter Text

Chapter 16: Welcome to Radian

80AGW - Late May

The airship descended toward Radian as the late afternoon sun bathed the agricultural settlement in golden light. Stretched below them, carefully tended fields formed a patchwork of greens and golds, intersected by dirt roads and the occasional cluster of buildings. In the distance, fruit orchards created dense patches of foliage, their neat rows a testament to generations of careful cultivation.

Blake sat tensely beside Jaune, Cynthia sleeping soundly in her arms. Despite her usual composure, she couldn't quite suppress the nervous flutter in her stomach as the landing pad came into view.

"It's smaller than I expected," she observed, trying to distract herself from her anxiety.

Jaune smiled, following her gaze through the window. "Most people say that. Radian isn't big, but it's... home." There was a warmth in his voice that Blake rarely heard when he spoke of Beacon.

"Are you sure your family won't mind me staying?" she asked for what must have been the fifth time since they'd left Meadowbrook.

"Blake," Jaune replied patiently, "they're excited to meet you. Both of you." He nodded toward Cynthia. "My mom practically ordered me to bring you when I told her you were helping with Cynthia."

The airship touched down with a gentle bump, its engines gradually winding down. As the door slid open, Blake caught sight of a woman standing alone on the landing pad, her silhouette unmistakably familiar even at a distance.

"Is that—?"

"My mom," Jaune confirmed, his face lighting up. He grabbed their bags, gesturing for Blake to go ahead with Cynthia. "She couldn't wait for us to reach the house."

Blake took a deep breath, adjusting Cynthia in her arms as they stepped onto the ramp. The baby stirred but didn't wake, her tiny face peaceful in sleep.

Juniper Arc stood waiting with her hands clasped before her, practically vibrating with barely contained excitement. Blake noted immediately where Jaune had inherited his blue eyes and blonde hair, though Juniper's was streaked with elegant silver at the temples. She wore practical clothes—sturdy pants, boots, and a simple blouse beneath a light jacket—but carried herself with a natural dignity that reminded Blake, oddly enough, of Pyrrha.

"Jaune!" she called, rushing forward as they approached. She embraced her son tightly, then pulled back to examine him with maternal scrutiny. "You look tired. Have you been eating properly? Getting enough sleep?"

"Mom," Jaune protested weakly, though his smile betrayed his pleasure at her concern. "I'm fine. And yes, I've been eating."

Juniper's gaze moved to Blake, then down to the bundle in her arms. Her expression softened instantly, a mixture of wonder and something more complex—the slightest hint of skepticism that she quickly masked with a warm smile.

"And you must be Blake," she said, her voice gentle so as not to disturb the sleeping baby. "Jaune's told me so much about you. Thank you for coming to help with this... unexpected situation."

Blake shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, hyperaware of her faunus ears beneath her bow. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mrs. Arc. Thank you for having us."

"Please, call me Juniper," she insisted. "And may I...?" She gestured toward Cynthia, a hopeful gleam in her eyes.

Blake hesitated only briefly before carefully transferring the sleeping infant. Juniper took her with practiced ease, cradling her as if she'd been holding babies all her life—which, Blake supposed, she had.

"Oh," Juniper breathed, her eyes widening as she got her first close look at Cynthia's tiny face and the small cat ears that twitched slightly in sleep. "She's beautiful."

Something in her tone made Blake glance at Jaune, who was watching his mother with an unreadable expression.

"She is, isn't she?" he agreed softly.

Juniper studied Cynthia's features intently, her gaze lingering on the baby's ears before moving to her hair with its subtle blue tint. After a moment, she looked up, her eyes moving between Jaune and Blake with a calculating expression that made Blake distinctly uncomfortable.

"Found her in the forest during a mission, you said?" Juniper asked, her tone casual but her eyes sharp.

"Yes," Jaune confirmed. "I was on patrol near the village where we were stationed. She was just... abandoned there." He shifted his weight, suddenly appearing as nervous as Blake felt. "There was a note mentioning the White Fang might be after her family."

"Hmm," Juniper responded noncommittally. "Well, Professor Ozpin confirmed your story when he contacted us about the guardianship papers, so I suppose it must be true."

Blake tensed at the implication that there might be reason to doubt them. Beside her, Jaune cleared his throat awkwardly.

"Mom, why would we make something like that up?"

Juniper's expression softened as she looked back down at Cynthia. "Oh, I don't know, dear. Parents have been known to create all sorts of stories when unexpected babies appear." She winked at Blake, whose cheeks immediately flushed hot.

"Mom!" Jaune protested, his face turning an alarming shade of crimson. "It's not—we didn't—Cynthia isn't—"

"Relax, Jaune," Juniper laughed, the tension breaking. "I'm only teasing. Besides, this little one is clearly a full-blooded faunus." She gently touched one of Cynthia's cat ears, which twitched in response.

Blake felt a strange mix of relief and—unexpectedly—something almost like disappointment, which she quickly pushed aside as irrational.

"Well," Juniper continued, already turning toward the road that presumably led to the Arc home, "let's not stand around here all day. Everyone's waiting at home, and they're absolutely dying to meet both of you."

She began walking, still carrying Cynthia with an ease that suggested she had no intention of handing the baby back anytime soon.

"Everyone?" Blake asked quietly as they fell into step behind Juniper.

"Almost everyone," Jaune clarified, shouldering their bags. "Saphron's still in Argus with Terra and their son, but the rest of my sisters are home." He hesitated, then added in a lower voice, "Sorry about my mom. She can be... direct."

"It's fine," Blake assured him, though her ears remained flattened anxiously beneath her bow. "I'd probably wonder the same thing in her position."

Ahead of them, Juniper was already cooing softly to Cynthia, who had woken and was staring up at her with wide, curious eyes. "Aren't you just the sweetest little thing? Yes, you are. You're going to meet all your aunties soon, and they are going to absolutely adore you."

"Aunties?" Blake whispered to Jaune, raising an eyebrow.

He shrugged helplessly. "Just go with it. Once my mom gets an idea in her head..."

The dirt road took them past several smaller farms before cresting a gentle hill. From the top, Blake could see their destination—a sprawling two-story farmhouse surrounded by outbuildings and bordered by an orchard on one side and what appeared to be a training field on the other. Though not as grand as the Schnee mansion or the Belladonna family home in Menagerie, it had a warmth and substance to it that spoke of generations of family history.

"There it is," Jaune said, a distinct note of pride in his voice. "Arc family home. Been in the family for five generations now."

"It's lovely," Blake replied sincerely.

As they approached, Blake noticed several blonde heads peeking through windows and around the corner of the house. One by one, young women began emerging onto the wide front porch, their excited chatter carrying clearly across the yard.

"They're here!" "Is that the baby?" "Mom's already hogging her!" "Is that Jaune's girlfriend?" "Look at her bow! Do you think she's-"

"Girls!" Juniper called, cutting through the excited voices. "Give them a chance to at least reach the house before you start the interrogation!"

Blake shot a panicked glance at Jaune, who offered an apologetic smile.

"Too late to run," he whispered.

Indeed it was. The Arc sisters were already descending from the porch, a blonde whirlwind of energy and curiosity converging on the new arrivals. Blake straightened her shoulders, preparing herself for what promised to be the most intensive introduction of her life.

Whatever she had expected when agreeing to accompany Jaune home, Blake suspected the reality would prove far more overwhelming—and enlightening—than she could have imagined.

As the excited sisters surrounded them, Juniper caught Blake's eye over their heads, her gaze warm but undeniably shrewd. "Welcome to the family, dear," she said with a smile that somehow managed to be both welcoming and knowing. "I have a feeling this is going to be a very interesting visit."

Blake could only nod in agreement, watching as Cynthia—seemingly unbothered by the commotion—reached up to pat Juniper's cheek with a tiny hand, already at home in the Arc family chaos.

Chapter Text

Chapter 17: Private Conversations

80AGW - Late May

Marcus and Jaune

The dying embers in the fireplace cast long shadows across the study as Marcus Arc closed the heavy oak door behind them. Outside, the sounds of dinner cleanup and sisterly chatter faded to a distant murmur. Jaune stood awkwardly in the center of the room, suddenly feeling like a child called to his father's study for a serious talk—which, in many ways, he was.

"Have a seat, son," Marcus said, gesturing to one of the worn leather armchairs flanking the fireplace. He was a tall man with broad shoulders and the same blonde hair as most of his children, though his was beginning to gray at the temples. Unlike his exuberant wife, Marcus Arc was a man of measured words and thoughtful silences.

Jaune sank into the chair, watching as his father poured two glasses of amber liquid from a crystal decanter.

"We don't need to pretend this is a social chat," Marcus said, handing one glass to Jaune before taking the seat opposite him. "Your mother and I have questions. Important ones."

Jaune nodded, taking a small sip of what turned out to be apple brandy—the special reserve his father saved for significant occasions. The gesture wasn't lost on him.

"About Cynthia," Jaune stated rather than asked.

"About Cynthia," Marcus confirmed. "And about what exactly you plan to do moving forward."

Jaune had been expecting this conversation since their arrival that afternoon. Despite his mother's warm welcome and his sisters' enthusiastic acceptance of Cynthia, he'd noticed the calculating looks his parents exchanged over dinner.

"I know it must seem crazy," Jaune began. "Finding a baby during a mission, bringing her home..."

"Less crazy than forging transcripts to get into Beacon," Marcus remarked dryly.

Jaune winced. "You know about that?"

"Ozpin called us the day you were assigned team leader. Said he thought we should be aware of your... creative approach to admission." A ghost of a smile touched his father's lips. "Your mother nearly tore the CCT tower down, but I told her to let you find your own path."

"Thanks, Dad."

"Don't thank me yet," Marcus warned. "What you did was foolish and dangerous. But it seems to have worked out. Ozpin says your leadership skills are impressive, despite your combat limitations."

Jaune absorbed this unexpected revelation in silence, unsure how to respond.

"But we're not here to discuss Beacon," Marcus continued. "We're here to discuss that little girl upstairs who has, by your own admission, no biological connection to you whatsoever. What are your intentions regarding her, Jaune?"

The directness of the question didn't surprise Jaune. His father had never been one to circle a subject.

"I want to be part of her life," Jaune said simply, his voice growing more certain as he continued. "When I found her in that forest, I was just doing what anyone would do—keeping her safe. But now..." He paused, searching for words to explain the feeling that had been growing in him since that first night with Cynthia. "Now I can't imagine not being there for her. I've grown more attached to her than I thought possible. She feels like..."

"Like she's yours," Marcus finished for him, his voice gentler than before.

Jaune nodded, relieved that his father seemed to understand.

"And what about Blake?" Marcus asked, watching his son's face carefully.

"What about her?" Jaune replied, suddenly defensive.

"What exactly is the nature of your relationship? Beyond co-caring for Cynthia, I mean."

Jaune opened his mouth, then closed it again, finding himself unexpectedly at a loss. "We're... friends. Teammates." The words felt inadequate even as he spoke them.

"Just friends?" Marcus pressed. "Because from what I've observed today, and from what your sisters have been whispering about since you arrived, there appears to be something more developing between you."

"It's not—we haven't—" Jaune struggled, his face warming. "It's complicated."

Marcus leaned back in his chair, studying his son with knowing eyes. "Let me ask you this: when you picture Cynthia's future, who else do you see in that picture?"

The question caught Jaune off guard. His mind immediately conjured the image of Blake singing softly to Cynthia in the rocking chair, the three of them together in a quiet moment that had felt strangely like...family.

"Blake," he admitted softly. "I see Blake."

Marcus nodded, a slight smile touching his lips. "I thought as much."

"But that doesn't mean—"

"Jaune," his father interrupted gently, "do you remember the story of how your mother and I met?"

Jaune blinked at the apparent non sequitur. "At a tournament in Vale, right? You were competing against each other."

"That's the simplified version we tell at family gatherings," Marcus chuckled. "The full truth is that I spent nearly two years convinced we were just good friends and training partners. I was completely oblivious to my own feelings, even while everyone around us could see them plainly."

"Dad, I don't think—"

"You have the same look now that I had then," Marcus continued, undeterred. "The same confusion when someone points out what should be obvious. I see how you look at her when she's with Cynthia. I notice how you gravitate toward her in a room full of people. I recognize the signs, son, because I've lived them."

Jaune stared into his glass, watching the firelight play across the liquid's surface as he processed his father's words. "Even if that were true," he said finally, "Blake and I are focused on Cynthia right now. Her safety, her future. That has to come first."

"Of course it does," Marcus agreed. "That's what good parents do—they put their child's needs first. But don't use Cynthia as an excuse to avoid examining your own feelings, Jaune. That wouldn't be fair to any of you—especially not to that little girl, who deserves to grow up in a home filled with honesty."

The weight of his father's words settled on Jaune's shoulders. "I don't know what to do," he admitted.

Marcus finished his brandy and set the glass aside. "You don't have to figure everything out tonight. But at some point, you will need to be honest—with Blake, with Cynthia, and most importantly, with yourself."

He rose, placing a hand on Jaune's shoulder. "For what it's worth, I think you're handling this unexpected responsibility remarkably well. Your mother and I are proud of the man you're becoming, Jaune. We just want to make sure you're making these decisions with your eyes open."

As his father moved toward the door, Jaune found his voice again. "Dad? Do you and Mom... do you think I'm doing the right thing? Wanting to raise Cynthia?"

Marcus paused, his hand on the doorknob. "There's no manual for situations like this, son. But I know this: that child has brought a light to your eyes that I've never seen before. If that's not the right path, I don't know what is." He opened the door, then added quietly, "Just make sure you're not walking it alone when you don't have to."

With that, he left Jaune alone with his thoughts and the dying fire, both casting long shadows across the room.

Juniper, Violet, and Blake

The kitchen was warm with residual heat from dinner, the air fragrant with the scents of home cooking and the apple pie cooling on the windowsill. Blake dried the last plate and handed it to Violet, who placed it carefully in the cabinet. Juniper worked nearby, preparing a bottle for Cynthia's evening feeding with practiced efficiency.

"I think that's the last of them," Violet said, closing the cabinet. At fifteen, she was the most mature of Jaune's younger sisters, with her father's thoughtful demeanor and her mother's sharp eyes. "I should check on the twins. They promised to give Lily her bath, but that probably means they're flooding the bathroom."

"Actually, Violet," Juniper said casually, "why don't you take this bottle up to Jade? She's watching Cynthia, and it's nearly time for her feeding."

Violet glanced between her mother and Blake, clearly recognizing the dismissal for what it was. With a knowing smile that reminded Blake startlingly of Yang, she took the bottle and headed for the door.

"Don't interrogate her too harshly, Mom," she called over her shoulder. "We like this one."

As the door swung shut behind her, Blake found herself alone with Juniper Arc for the first time since their arrival. She busied herself with wiping down the counter, suddenly very aware of the older woman's thoughtful gaze.

"She's right, you know," Juniper said, leaning against the kitchen island. "We do like you, Blake. Very much."

Blake looked up, surprised by the directness. "Thank you. Everyone's been very welcoming."

"Of course they have. You brought a baby into a house full of Arc women. You could be a Grimm and they'd still adore you." Juniper's smile softened the joke, but her eyes remained calculating. "What I'm curious about is how you feel about all this."

Blake set the dishcloth aside, recognizing that there was no avoiding this conversation. "About Cynthia?"

"About Cynthia. About Jaune. About whatever is happening between the two of you that neither of you seems ready to acknowledge."

Heat rushed to Blake's cheeks. "Mrs. Arc—"

"Juniper, please."

"Juniper," Blake corrected. "Jaune and I are just friends. We found Cynthia during a mission, and we're trying to do what's best for her. That's all."

"Is it?" Juniper asked, her tone gentle but persistent. "Because I've watched my son with six younger sisters, Blake. I know how he looks when he's caring for a child he loves. And I've never seen him look at anyone the way he looks at you when you're holding Cynthia."

Blake's bow twitched nervously, her faunus ears betraying the emotion she was trying to control. "We've been through an intense experience together. It creates a certain bond."

"It does," Juniper agreed. "But there's more to it than that, I think." She moved to the refrigerator, retrieving a pitcher of iced tea. "Tell me something, Blake. Where do you see yourself in five years?"

The question caught Blake off guard. "I... I'm not sure. Hopefully graduated from Beacon. Working as a Huntress. Making a difference for faunus rights."

Juniper poured two glasses of tea, sliding one across the counter to Blake. "And does Cynthia feature in that future?"

Blake's hand stilled around the glass. The question echoed the dream that had haunted her since that night in Meadowbrook—Cynthia at twelve, calling her "Mom," a home, a family, a life she'd never imagined for herself.

"I care about her," Blake said carefully. "More than I expected to. But her future should be Jaune's decision. He found her. He has the right to decide what happens next."

"And if he decides he wants to raise her?" Juniper pressed. "If he commits to being her father in every way that matters?"

"Then I think Cynthia would be very lucky," Blake replied sincerely.

"And what about you? Would you just walk away? Go back to your huntress life and forget them both?"

The very thought created a hollow feeling in Blake's chest. "No," she admitted softly. "I wouldn't want to lose either of them."

Juniper's expression softened. "I thought not." She took a sip of her tea, then continued more gently. "My son has never been particularly skilled at recognizing his own feelings. He takes after his father that way. But I see the way you two orbit each other, like you've created your own little world around that baby. It's beautiful to watch, and a little terrifying."

"Terrifying?" Blake echoed.

"Of course," Juniper smiled faintly. "You're both so young, taking on a responsibility that most people twice your age would find overwhelming. And there are... complications."

"Because I'm a faunus," Blake stated flatly.

To her surprise, Juniper laughed. "My dear, if you think that matters to our family, you haven't been paying attention to how my daughters have been fawning over your ears since you arrived."

Blake's hand flew to her bow. "But I've been wearing—"

"A bow that twitches whenever you're emotional? Yes, we noticed." Juniper's eyes were kind. "This family has never cared about such distinctions, Blake. What concerns me are the more practical complications—your training, your careers, the fact that raising a child requires stability when huntsman work is anything but stable."

She set her glass down, regarding Blake with a mother's knowing gaze. "But mostly I'm concerned that neither you nor my son seems willing to admit what's growing between you, and that could lead to decisions made in silence that should be made in conversation."

Blake stared into her tea, unable to deny the truth in Juniper's words. "It's complicated," she said finally, echoing Jaune's words without knowing it.

"Life usually is," Juniper agreed. "Especially the parts worth living." She reached across the counter, covering Blake's hand with her own. "I'm not trying to push you into anything, Blake. I just want you to be honest with yourself about what you want, before you make choices you might regret."

Blake looked up, meeting the older woman's gaze. "What if I don't know what I want?"

Juniper's smile was both knowing and sympathetic. "I think you do know, deep down. The question is whether you're brave enough to admit it—to yourself, and to my son."

Before Blake could respond, the kitchen door swung open and Jade burst in, cradling a fussing Cynthia against her chest.

"She's getting impatient for her bottle," Jade announced. "And Jaune's still locked in Dad's study for their 'man talk.'" She made air quotes with her free hand, rolling her eyes dramatically.

"I'll take her," Blake said, grateful for the interruption as she reached for Cynthia. The baby immediately quieted as Blake held her, tiny hands clutching at her shirt in recognition.

"See?" Jade remarked. "She knows her mom."

The casual comment sent a jolt through Blake, but she managed to keep her expression neutral as she took the bottle Juniper offered.

"I'll go check on the girls," Juniper said, heading for the door. She paused beside Blake, touching her shoulder lightly. "Think about what I said, dear. Sometimes the family we choose is more meaningful than the one we're born into."

As Juniper left the kitchen, Blake settled into a chair with Cynthia, who eagerly took the bottle. Looking down at the contentedly feeding baby, Blake allowed herself to imagine, just for a moment, that this could be her future—a warm kitchen in a house filled with love and acceptance, a child who reached for her, a partner who...

Blake closed her eyes, finally admitting to herself what she'd been avoiding for days.

When she pictured a future with Cynthia, it wasn't just the baby she wanted. It was this whole life—and it was a life with Jaune.

Chapter Text

Chapter 18: Protective Sisters

80AGW - Late May

The front door burst open, bringing with it a gust of fresh air and the unmistakable energy of children returning from play. Blake looked up from where she sat in the living room, a book open in her lap though she'd barely read a page. Jaune was beside her on the couch, Cynthia dozing against his shoulder after her latest feeding.

"We're back!" announced a cheerful voice as a procession of blonde girls tumbled into the entryway.

Amber entered first, the sixteen-year-old moving with the easy confidence that seemed common to all the Arc siblings. Behind her came two identical girls that Blake recognized as Azure and Celeste, the eight-year-old twins. They were followed by the smallest Arc sister—six-year-old Lily, whose hair was tied in slightly lopsided pigtails and whose knees bore the telltale grass stains of childhood adventures.

"Did you have fun at the Wilsons'?" Jaune asked, his face lighting up at the sight of his younger sisters.

"Ethan has a new training sword," Azure reported, dropping her jacket carelessly on the bench by the door.

"And Mrs. Wilson made apple dumplings," Celeste added, her voice a perfect match for her twin's, though Blake noticed her gestures were slightly more animated.

"Inside voices, remember?" Amber reminded them, neatly hanging up the discarded jackets. "Cynthia's sleeping."

At the mention of the baby, all three younger girls turned their attention to Blake and Jaune on the couch. Blake felt a subtle shift in the atmosphere as they registered her presence beside their brother.

"Hi," Blake offered with a small smile, setting her book aside. "I'm Blake."

Azure and Celeste exchanged identical glances that somehow managed to convey an entire conversation without words. When they looked back at Blake, their expressions were neutral but assessing—not hostile, but distinctly reserved.

"We know," Azure said finally. "You're Jaune's friend from school."

The emphasis on 'friend' was subtle but unmistakable. Blake's bow twitched slightly as she caught the implication.

"From Team RWBY, right?" Celeste added, moving closer to peer at Cynthia. "And you're helping with the baby?"

"That's right," Blake confirmed, maintaining her smile despite the clear wariness in the twins' demeanor.

Amber, meanwhile, had positioned herself near the doorway, arms crossed as she observed the interaction. Her stance reminded Blake suddenly of Yang in protective mode—casual on the surface but ready to intervene at a moment's notice.

"Mom says you found her in the forest," Amber stated, her tone making it clear she hadn't entirely decided whether to believe this story.

"During a mission," Jaune confirmed, seemingly oblivious to the undercurrent of tension. "Blake's been amazing with her ever since."

Blake felt the weight of three pairs of skeptical eyes evaluating this statement. The twins might be young, but they were watching her with the shrewd assessment of children who had seen their brother hurt before.

It was Lily, however, who made her suspicion most apparent. The youngest Arc had said nothing since entering, instead moving deliberately to Jaune's side of the couch. Now she squeezed herself into the narrow space between Jaune and the armrest, effectively creating a barrier between Blake and her brother.

"Careful, Lil," Jaune cautioned, adjusting Cynthia. "Don't wake the baby."

Lily nodded solemnly, but her eyes remained fixed on Blake with unmistakable wariness. "Why does she have a bow?" she asked Jaune, though her gaze never left Blake.

Blake tensed, surprised by the direct question. She'd grown accustomed to people politely ignoring her bow, either out of courtesy or discomfort with addressing faunus traits directly.

"Blake wears a bow because she likes it," Jaune replied easily, though Blake caught the quick apologetic glance he sent her way. "Just like you like your pigtails."

Lily's expression made it clear she wasn't satisfied with this answer. "It moved earlier. When Mom was asking her questions at dinner."

Blake's breath caught. Children's observational skills were often underestimated, and clearly Lily had been watching her closely.

"Maybe it was the breeze," Jaune suggested, a hint of warning in his voice. "Lily, remember what we talked about being polite to guests?"

Lily's response was to press herself closer to Jaune's side, one small hand coming to rest protectively on his arm. The message couldn't have been clearer: she was staking her claim to her brother's attention.

Blake suddenly recalled Nora's warning back at Meadowbrook: "You might want to be careful around them... They've seen him get hurt." This, she realized, was exactly what Nora had meant. These sisters—especially the youngest—were Jaune's fierce protectors, just as much as he was theirs.

"It's okay," Blake said gently. "Lily's right to be curious." She met the little girl's suspicious gaze directly. "The bow does move sometimes. That's because I'm a faunus." She decided honesty was the best approach, even if Jaune had been trying to protect her privacy.

The twins' eyes widened, but Amber's expression didn't change—as if she'd already guessed this fact.

"Like Cynthia?" Celeste asked, glancing at the sleeping baby's small cat ears.

Blake nodded. "Yes, though my ears are a bit bigger than hers."

"Can we see them?" Azure asked, curiosity momentarily overcoming caution.

Blake hesitated, looking to Jaune, who gave her an encouraging nod.

"Maybe later," Blake replied. "They're... private for me."

Lily's frown deepened. "If you're a cat faunus and Cynthia's a cat faunus, are you really her mom? Is that why you're here with Jaune?"

The directness of the question stunned both Blake and Jaune. Before either could respond, Amber stepped forward, placing a gentle hand on Lily's shoulder.

"That's enough questions for now, Lily," she said firmly. "Mom said you need to get cleaned up before dinner. Those knees are a disaster."

Lily looked ready to protest, but Amber's expression brooked no argument. With clear reluctance, she slid off the couch, but not before giving Blake one last scrutinizing look.

"Come on, squirt," Amber said, guiding Lily toward the stairs. "You two as well," she added to the twins. "Hands washed, grass out from under your fingernails."

The twins followed with minimal protest, though their backward glances at Blake made it clear the conversation wasn't over. As they disappeared upstairs, Blake could hear Lily's high-pitched voice asking Amber more questions about "Jaune's special friend."

When they were alone again, Jaune turned to Blake with an apologetic expression. "Sorry about that. Lily can be... protective."

"All of them are," Blake observed quietly. "Nora warned me this might happen."

Jaune sighed, shifting Cynthia to his other shoulder as she stirred slightly. "They've seen some of my... less successful attempts at relationships. Especially when I was younger."

Blake waited, sensing there was more to the story. After a moment, Jaune continued, his voice quieter.

"When I was fifteen, there was this girl in town—Marigold. I had this massive crush on her for months. Finally worked up the courage to ask her out, and she said yes." His expression clouded with the memory. "I was so excited. Spent two weeks' allowance on new clothes, even practiced what I'd say with Violet."

He shook his head, a hint of old pain flickering across his face. "When I showed up at the meeting spot, she was there with six of her friends. As soon as I walked up, they all started laughing. Marigold announced loudly that it had all been a prank—that she'd never actually go out with a 'loser' like me."

Blake felt a rush of indignation on his behalf. "That's horrible."

"Yeah, well," Jaune shrugged, trying to appear nonchalant though Blake could see it still bothered him. "The worst part was that Lily and the twins had followed me into town. Lily was only three then, and the twins were five—they were always trailing after me whenever they could. They saw the whole thing. They didn't understand what was happening, but they knew I was upset. Azure and Celeste started crying, and little Lily—she tried to defend me. Ran right up and kicked Marigold in the shin while the twins shouted at her friends."

Despite the painful story, Jaune smiled faintly at the memory. "Anyway, since then, my sisters have appointed themselves my guardians. Especially Lily. She doesn't remember the details, but she remembers that a girl made me sad."

"That explains a lot," Blake said softly, her heart aching for the teenage Jaune who'd been so cruelly humiliated.

"It doesn't matter now," Jaune said, though his tone suggested otherwise. "But it makes them protective. Maybe too protective sometimes."

"I understand," Blake assured him. "They love you. They don't want to see you hurt."

"Still, they shouldn't be giving you the third degree. You're my guest, and—"

"And a stranger who's shown up with their brother and a baby," Blake finished for him. "I'd be suspicious too."

Jaune's expression softened as he looked at her. "You're handling this really well, you know. Meeting my family, dealing with all the questions. I know it can't be easy."

Blake felt a warmth spread through her at his words. "It's actually nice," she admitted. "Seeing how much they care about you. It's... what family should be."

A comfortable silence fell between them, broken only by Cynthia's soft breathing. After a moment, Jaune spoke again, his voice more hesitant.

"Blake? Would you mind if I told them? About your ears, I mean. Not the whole White Fang thing," he added quickly. "Just that you're a faunus who prefers to keep that private sometimes. I think if they understood, they might be less suspicious."

Blake considered this. Her faunus identity wasn't the secret it had once been—her own team knew, as did JNPR and many of their friends at Beacon. Coming here, to a household of strangers, she'd instinctively fallen back on old habits of concealment. But perhaps openness would build the trust she needed with Jaune's sisters.

"It's fine," she decided. "You can tell them. But let me be there when you do? I'd rather answer their questions directly."

Jaune's smile was worth any discomfort the conversation might bring. "Of course. And don't worry about Lily. She'll come around once she sees that you're not planning to steal me away or break my heart."

There was a lightness in his tone that suggested he was joking, but Blake found herself genuinely hoping he was right. She wanted these girls to trust her—not just for her own comfort during this visit, but because they had become important to her through their connection to Jaune and, by extension, to Cynthia.

"I'm not going anywhere," Blake said softly, her eyes dropping to the sleeping baby. The words held more weight than she'd intended, a promise to both Cynthia and Jaune that surprised even her.

Jaune's hand found hers on the couch between them, his touch gentle but sure. "I'm glad," he replied simply.

From upstairs came the sound of running water and sisterly bickering, the normal chaos of family life continuing around them. Yet in that moment, with Cynthia sleeping peacefully and Jaune's hand warm around hers, Blake felt a sense of belonging she had rarely experienced—as if perhaps there might be a place for her in this story after all.

Chapter Text

Chapter 19: Family Matters

80AGW - Late May

The dining hall at Beacon Academy hummed with the usual evening activity—students gathered in groups, discussing classes and upcoming assignments, their voices creating a pleasant backdrop of white noise. However, one table near the windows stood out from the rest.

Team RWBY (minus Blake) and NPR (minus Jaune) had gathered for dinner with an unexpected guest: Kali Belladonna, whose elegant poise and graceful feline ears drew curious glances from passing students. The snow leopard guard, Juno, stood at a respectful distance, his watchful eyes constantly scanning the room out of habit.

"I must say, the food here is quite impressive for an institutional setting," Kali remarked, delicately cutting a piece of grilled fish. "Much better than what we had during my academy days in Mistral."

"You attended an academy?" Ruby asked, silver eyes wide with surprise.

Kali smiled. "For two years, yes. Before I met Ghira and became involved in the early equality movement." Her amber eyes—so like Blake's—moved around the table, studying each of the young faces. "It's where I learned to appreciate good teammates. Speaking of which, I'd love to hear more about your experiences here at Beacon."

Yang exchanged a quick glance with Weiss before leaning forward. "What would you like to know? Blake's study habits? Her secret tuna stash?"

"Yang!" Weiss hissed, though Kali merely chuckled.

"Actually," Kali said, setting down her fork, "I'd love to hear about the Vytal Tournament. I watched it on television, of course, but it's never the same as hearing about it firsthand."

Nora immediately perked up. "It was EPIC! Especially the finals between Pyrrha and Penny!"

All eyes turned to Pyrrha, who blushed slightly under the sudden attention. "It was certainly a memorable match," she said modestly.

"Memorable?" Ruby exclaimed. "It was incredible! Two undefeated champions facing off like that!"

"I was particularly impressed with how you adapted your strategy," Weiss added, nodding respectfully to Pyrrha. "When you realized your polarity wasn't working as effectively against some of Penny's weapons."

Pyrrha's blush deepened. "I had to rely more on traditional combat techniques. Penny was a formidable opponent."

"That's putting it mildly," Yang grinned. "The girl from Atlas had you on the ropes for the first half of the match."

"I believe the commentators called it 'the clash of invincibles,'" Ren noted quietly. "The Invincible Girl versus Atlas's Rising Star."

Kali's ears perked up with interest. "This Penny must be quite talented to have defeated someone of your caliber, Pyrrha."

"She has unique fighting abilities," Pyrrha explained diplomatically. "Very precise and technically perfect. Atlas's combat program has produced an exceptional fighter."

"It was the match of the century!" Ruby added enthusiastically. "Even better than when Yang fought Mercury in the quarterfinals."

"That's right," Kali nodded, recalling the broadcast. "There was some controversy about that match, wasn't there? Something about an illegal attack after the buzzer?"

The mood at the table shifted subtly. Yang's expression darkened as Weiss placed a supportive hand on her arm.

"It was a misunderstanding," Weiss explained carefully. "Mercury and his team were later found to be involved in... irregularities regarding the tournament."

"We don't know all the details," Ruby added, glancing at her sister. "But they were arrested before the final rounds."

"General Ironwood made a brief statement about a security threat that had been neutralized," Pyrrha continued. "The tournament officials determined Yang had been set up to appear as though she attacked after the match ended."

Kali set down her teacup, her expression serious. "Yes, I remember the news mentioning something about that. A group of Haven students who weren't actually enrolled there, correct?"

"That's the official story," Weiss confirmed carefully. "The authorities haven't released many details, just that it was some kind of criminal infiltration plan."

"The important thing," Nora interjected brightly, "is that they caught the bad guys and the tournament continued! And the final match was AMAZING!"

"Indeed," Kali smiled, clearly sensing the need for a lighter topic. "I remember being quite impressed with Penny's victory. It was unexpected, from what the commentators were saying."

Pyrrha nodded graciously. "Penny deserved the win. Her fighting style adapted to mine faster than I could adapt to hers. In the end, she outmaneuvered me."

"You were still awesome!" Ruby assured her. "And that final move where you redirected her own blades? That was genius!"

"Not genius enough," Pyrrha laughed softly. "But thank you, Ruby."

"Atlas was quite pleased with the outcome, as you might imagine," Weiss remarked dryly. "General Ironwood could barely contain his smugness during the award ceremony."

"Speaking of ceremonies," Kali said, "I noticed Blake standing with your team during the closing events. She looked... different than I remembered."

There was a wistful quality to her voice that didn't escape notice. Yang and Ruby exchanged glances, silently debating how much to share about Blake's time at Beacon.

"Blake has grown a lot since coming to Beacon," Weiss offered carefully. "We all have."

"She's an incredible fighter," Ruby added enthusiastically. "Her match in the singles round against that guy from Vacuo was amazing!"

"And she's smart," Yang continued. "Top of the class in several subjects."

"But most importantly," Ren added quietly, "she's found a place where she belongs. Friends who care about her."

Kali's eyes glistened slightly as she looked around the table. "I'm glad. After she left home, we worried constantly about whether she was safe, whether she had people looking out for her."

"We've got her back," Yang assured her firmly. "Always."

"Even when she's off playing house with Jaune and their adorable baby?" Nora asked innocently, earning sharp looks from both Ren and Pyrrha.

Kali's ear twitched, her gaze fixing on Nora. "Yes, about that situation. Perhaps one of you could explain exactly how my daughter and this young man came to be caring for an infant together? The story I've been told seems rather... fantastical."

Another round of glances was exchanged across the table. Finally, Pyrrha spoke up, her voice gentle but firm.

"Mrs. Belladonna, I understand your skepticism. But I was there when Jaune found Cynthia abandoned in the forest. Everything they've told you is true."

"I found the note," Ren added, his calm voice lending credibility. "It was written in haste, but the message was clear—Cynthia's parents feared the White Fang would find them."

"And why would Blake involve herself in this situation?" Kali pressed. "She's never shown interest in children before."

Yang leaned forward. "Because she cares about doing what's right. And because Cynthia is a cat faunus—Blake understands what she might face growing up."

"They've been amazing with her," Ruby added earnestly. "You should see them together, Mrs. Belladonna. They're like a real fam—" She caught herself, glancing nervously at Pyrrha before amending, "—a real team."

Kali sat back, absorbing this information with a thoughtful expression. "And this Jaune Arc... what kind of young man is he?"

This time, it was NPR's turn to exchange glances.

"Jaune is our team leader," Pyrrha said, her voice warm despite the complicated emotions behind it. "He's kind, dedicated, and deeply loyal to those he cares about."

"He makes terrible jokes," Nora added with a grin. "But he'd do anything for his friends."

"Jaune has grown significantly since coming to Beacon," Ren contributed. "Both as a fighter and as a leader. His tactical abilities in particular have impressed even Professor Ozpin."

Kali studied each of them in turn, her motherly instincts picking up on the unspoken currents beneath their words—especially from Pyrrha, whose praise came with a subtle undercurrent of something more complex.

"I see," she said finally. "And you believe he and Blake are handling this responsibility appropriately?"

"They've been amazing," Ruby reiterated. "Cynthia is healthy and happy, and they've figured out how to balance caring for her with their other duties."

"They complement each other well," Weiss added, her tone analytical. "Blake's attention to detail balances Jaune's improvisational approach. And they're both incredibly protective of Cynthia."

Kali was silent for a moment, considering everything she'd heard. Finally, she looked up with a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes.

"Thank you all for your candor. I'm looking forward to seeing this situation for myself tomorrow." She took a sip of her tea before continuing. "Now, perhaps you could tell me more about this tournament. I believe there was an interesting doubles match involving ice dust and a volcano arena?"

As the conversation shifted back to safer topics, Pyrrha caught Yang's eye across the table. A silent understanding passed between them—tomorrow's reunion in Radian promised to be even more complicated than they'd anticipated.

Meanwhile, in the Arc family home, dinner was in full swing. The large farmhouse table barely contained the assembled family—Marcus and Juniper at either end, their daughters arranged along the sides, with Jaune, Blake, and Cynthia (secured in a high chair that had belonged to Lily) positioned near the center.

The noise level alone was overwhelming to Blake, whose sensitive faunus ears picked up at least three separate conversations happening simultaneously. Jade and Violet were debating training techniques, the twins were plotting something that involved their school's upcoming science fair, and Amber was patiently trying to help Lily cut her meat into more manageable pieces.

"More potatoes, Blake?" Juniper offered, holding out a serving bowl heaped with garlic mashed potatoes that smelled divine.

"Thank you," Blake replied, accepting the bowl. Despite her initial nervousness, the food was proving to be everything Jaune had promised—hearty, plentiful, and delicious.

"So, Blake," Marcus said from the head of the table, his deep voice cutting through the chatter. "Jaune tells us you're quite the fighter. Ninjas of Love and all that."

Blake nearly choked on her potatoes. "Excuse me?"

Beside her, Jaune turned a brilliant shade of red. "DAD! It's Gambol Shroud! Her weapon is called Gambol Shroud! It's a ballistic chain scythe, NOT a—not what you said!"

Marcus's eyes twinkled with mischief, making it clear the mistake had been intentional. "Ah, my mistake. These old ears, you know."

Juniper shook her head, though her expression was amused. "Stop terrorizing our guests, Marcus. Blake, please ignore my husband. He thinks he's funny."

"I am funny," Marcus protested. "Just ask the girls."

The chorus of groans from around the table answered that claim eloquently.

"Blake was watching the Vytal Tournament on the big screens in the village," Jaune said, clearly trying to change the subject. "You know, the bakery sets them up in the square?"

"Oh?" Juniper looked interested. "Did you see any good matches?"

Blake nodded, grateful for the redirect. "I caught the final between Pyrrha and Penny. It was quite impressive."

"Pyrrha's your teammate, right Jaune?" Amber asked. "The one on all the cereal boxes?"

"That's her," Jaune confirmed. "She's amazing. I still can't believe Penny managed to beat her, though it was super close."

"Penny's the Atlas girl, right?" Jade asked, leaning forward with interest. "The one who can control all those floating swords?"

"That's her," Jaune replied. "She's got this really unique fighting style—totally different from anyone else at Beacon."

This sparked interest among the Arc sisters, with the twins particularly excited by the weapons technology.

"Those floating swords were so cool!" Azure exclaimed.

"Do you think she controls them with her mind?" Celeste wondered aloud.

"Can she make them transform into different weapons?" Lily asked, eyes wide with childish imagination.

As Jaune fielded these questions with patient amusement, Blake found herself watching the family interaction with a sense of wonder. There was a warmth here, a genuine interest in each other's thoughts and experiences that reminded her painfully of what she'd left behind in Menagerie.

"Blake was in the singles round too," Jaune mentioned, drawing her back into the conversation. "She made it to the quarterfinals before facing that guy from Shade with the dust-infused tattoos."

"Ooh, I remember that match!" Violet said. "That was you? With the shadow clones and the ribbon techniques? That was seriously impressive!"

Blake blinked in surprise at the enthusiasm. "Thank you. Though I still lost in the end."

"But it was close," Jaune insisted. "And that guy went on to the semifinals, so it's not like you lost to some nobody."

"Jaune mentioned you're a book lover," Marcus interjected, his tone gentler now. "Any particular genres you enjoy?"

Blake felt herself relax slightly at the more comfortable topic. "Classic literature, mostly. Some philosophy. And..." she hesitated, then decided on honesty, "...some adventure romance."

"NOT Ninjas of Love," Jaune clarified quickly, earning confused looks from his younger sisters and knowing smirks from the older ones.

"The library in town has a decent collection," Juniper offered. "Nothing like what you'd find at Beacon, I'm sure, but you're welcome to visit while you're here."

"Thank you," Blake replied sincerely. "I'd like that."

As the conversation continued around her, Blake found herself relaxing into the familial atmosphere. Cynthia was contentedly mushing peas on her high chair tray under Jaune's supervised encouragement, occasionally making happy noises that drew doting attention from everyone at the table.

It was during a momentary lull in conversation that Lily, who had been watching Blake with undisguised curiosity throughout the meal, finally asked the question that had clearly been on her mind.

"Are you going to be Cynthia's mom forever?"

The table fell silent. Blake froze, her fork halfway to her mouth, as every Arc turned to look at her.

"Lily!" Juniper admonished gently. "That's not an appropriate question for dinner."

"But I want to know," Lily persisted. "Jaune said he's going to be Cynthia's dad, and Blake is helping him, so is she going to be the mom? Or just until they find a different mom?"

The directness of a child's questioning often cut straight to the heart of adult complexities. Blake glanced at Jaune, finding him equally frozen in place, clearly unsure how to answer.

"It's... complicated," Blake finally said, setting her fork down. "Right now, Jaune and I are both taking care of Cynthia because she needs us. We haven't made any permanent decisions yet."

Lily frowned, dissatisfied with this non-answer. "But don't babies need two parents forever? That's what you said when I asked about Sapphron's baby, Mom."

Juniper shot Blake an apologetic look. "What I said, Lily, was that babies need people who love them and care for them. Sometimes that's a mom and dad, but not always. What matters is that they're loved."

"And Cynthia is definitely loved," Jaune added, reaching out to gently stroke the baby's head. "By me, and by Blake, and by all of you."

"So she's staying with us?" Lily asked, brightening considerably at this possibility.

"She's staying with me," Jaune clarified. "At least for now. But where exactly that will be—here, at Beacon, somewhere else—we're still figuring that out."

Blake felt the weight of Marcus and Juniper's gazes, the silent questions behind their careful expressions. Across the table, the older Arc sisters watched with varying degrees of interest and concern, while the younger ones seemed merely curious.

"You'll figure it out," Marcus said eventually, his deep voice carrying a certainty that somehow eased the tension. "The right path has a way of revealing itself when you need it most."

With that philosophical observation, he deftly steered the conversation back to safer territory—the upcoming harvest festival, the renovations needed on the barn roof, Jade's recent acceptance to a prestigious combat training program in Mistral.

As the meal concluded and the family dispersed to their various evening activities, Blake found herself helping Juniper with the dishes while Jaune took Cynthia upstairs for her bath. The kitchen was peaceful compared to the dining room, the rhythmic sound of dishes being washed and dried creating a meditative atmosphere.

"I'm sorry about Lily's question," Juniper said, handing Blake a plate to dry. "Children have a way of asking exactly what everyone's thinking but no one dares to say aloud."

Blake accepted the plate, carefully wiping it dry. "It's a fair question. One I've been asking myself, to be honest."

Juniper's hands paused in the soapy water, her eyes studying Blake with that same penetrating look she'd given earlier. "And have you found an answer?"

"Not yet," Blake admitted. "Everything's happened so quickly with Cynthia. It's hard to think long-term when we're still figuring out the day-to-day."

"That's how parenting often works," Juniper smiled. "One day at a time, until suddenly you look up and realize you've built a life around this little person who depends on you." She handed Blake another plate. "But sooner or later, you and Jaune will need to have that conversation. For Cynthia's sake, if nothing else."

Blake knew she was right. The unspoken question of what would happen after this visit—after they returned to Beacon, after their training continued, after graduation eventually arrived—loomed larger with each passing day.

"I know," she said softly. "We will."

What neither of them knew was that circumstances would force that conversation sooner than expected—with the imminent arrival of a certain feline faunus from Menagerie, whose questions would be far more direct than little Lily's had been.

And far more difficult to answer.

Chapter Text

Chapter 20: The Warning Debate

80AGW - Late May

The common room of Team RWBY's dorm was bathed in the soft glow of evening light, the atmosphere tense as six students gathered around the coffee table. Kali Belladonna had retreated to the guest quarters Ozpin had arranged, leaving her daughter's friends to process the implications of her impending visit to Radian.

"I still can't believe Blake's mom just showed up out of nowhere," Ruby said, perched on the edge of her seat. "She hasn't seen her in years, and now she's about to surprise them while they're playing house with a baby!"

"It's like something out of a daytime soap opera," Yang agreed, sprawling across the couch. "I'd pay good money to see the look on Blake's face when her mom shows up at the Arc family doorstep."

Weiss sat primly in the armchair, smoothing invisible wrinkles from her combat skirt. "The question is whether we should warn them. Mrs. Belladonna's transport leaves early tomorrow morning."

"Of course we should warn them," Ruby insisted, turning to the others for support. "Wouldn't you want to know if your mom was about to surprise you while you were staying at a friend's house with a baby you found in the woods?"

"When you put it that way, it does sound rather alarming," Ren acknowledged from his position near the window.

"I don't know," Yang countered, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Blake's been keeping secrets from us since day one. Maybe a little surprise is exactly what she needs."

"This isn't about secrets," Pyrrha interjected softly from the doorway where she'd been standing, slightly apart from the others. "This is about giving them time to prepare. Especially for Cynthia's sake."

Nora bounced up from her seat, pacing with characteristic energy. "But think about it! If we warn them, Blake might run. She's done it before when things got uncomfortable."

"She wouldn't leave Cynthia," Ruby argued.

"No, but she might come up with some elaborate story instead of just being honest with her mom," Weiss pointed out. "I think there's value in having genuine reactions."

"Exactly!" Yang agreed, sitting up straighter. "Besides, Blake should have told her parents where she was going. Mrs. Belladonna was worried sick when she found out Blake wasn't at Beacon."

"That's not entirely fair," Ren countered. "Blake didn't expect to be leaving with Jaune and a baby when the mission began. And once they found Cynthia, their focus was on her welfare."

"Still," Weiss insisted, "she could have sent a message once they decided to go to Radian. A simple courtesy call would have prevented this situation entirely."

Ruby looked between her teammates, brow furrowed in concern. "So you think Blake deserves to be surprised as... what, punishment for not keeping in touch?"

"Not punishment," Yang clarified, her expression softening slightly. "But maybe a reality check. She can't keep compartmentalizing her life forever."

"I believe in giving people the opportunity to present their best selves," Pyrrha said quietly, drawing everyone's attention. "Jaune has been nervous about making a good impression on Blake's family someday. He deserves the chance to prepare."

There was a moment of silence as the group absorbed Pyrrha's words and the selflessness behind them. Despite her complicated feelings for Jaune, she was still advocating for what would help him most.

"I agree with Pyrrha," Ren stated firmly. "This isn't just about Blake. It's about Jaune, who has opened his family home to Blake and Cynthia. And it's about the Arc family, who would likely want to prepare properly to receive Blake's mother."

The room fell silent as the group considered these perspectives. Finally, Ruby stood up, moving to the center of the room with uncharacteristic authority.

"Look, I understand both sides. But I think we need to remember that this isn't just about Blake or Jaune or even Mrs. Belladonna. There's a baby involved. Cynthia deserves a calm, drama-free environment." She looked at each of her friends in turn. "So I think we should send a warning, but do it in the morning—right before Mrs. Belladonna arrives. That way, Blake doesn't have time to run or come up with elaborate stories, but they still have a few hours to prepare."

Weiss tilted her head, considering this compromise. "That... actually makes sense."

"A tactical delay," Ren nodded approvingly. "Enough warning to prevent chaos, but not enough for evasion."

"I suppose that's reasonable," Yang conceded. "But I get to be the one who calls. I want to hear the panic in Blake's voice when she realizes her mom is on the way."

"Yang!" Ruby protested.

"What? I'm her partner! If anyone gets to enjoy this drama, it should be me."

Nora hopped back onto the couch beside Yang. "Can I listen too? I want to hear Jaune's reaction! He's probably going to make that high-pitched squeak he does when he's caught off guard."

Pyrrha cleared her throat softly. "Perhaps we should focus less on their distress and more on helping them prepare?"

"Spoilsport," Nora pouted, though there was no real resentment in her tone.

"So it's settled," Ruby declared. "Yang will call Blake first thing tomorrow morning, once Mrs. Belladonna's transport has left. That gives them a few hours to prepare without time to overthink things."

"And we should emphasize that running would only make things worse," Weiss added pragmatically. "Mrs. Belladonna seemed quite determined. If Blake disappeared before she arrived, I suspect she would simply track her down elsewhere."

"Definitely," Yang agreed. "Blake needs to face this head-on."

Ren caught Pyrrha's eye across the room, his expression thoughtful. "Perhaps you should message Jaune separately. He might appreciate hearing from you directly."

A flicker of emotion crossed Pyrrha's face before her composure returned. "I'll consider it."

As the group dispersed to prepare for bed, Pyrrha lingered in the doorway, her thoughts evidently elsewhere. Ruby approached her cautiously.

"Are you okay?" she asked, her silver eyes reflecting genuine concern.

Pyrrha offered a small smile that didn't quite reach her eyes. "I'm fine, Ruby. Just thinking about tomorrow."

"You know, it's really kind of you to still be looking out for Jaune like this. Even after..." Ruby trailed off, uncertain how to reference the rejection Pyrrha had experienced.

"That's what teammates do," Pyrrha replied simply. "And friends."

Ruby squeezed her arm gently. "You're a good person, Pyrrha Nikos."

As she turned to leave, Pyrrha's voice stopped her. "Ruby? Do you think..." She hesitated, then continued more softly, "Do you think they'll be happy? Jaune and Blake, I mean. If they decide to raise Cynthia together."

The question hung in the air between them, layered with unspoken emotion. Ruby considered her answer carefully.

"I think... they could be," she said finally. "They're both good people who care about doing the right thing. And they're amazing with Cynthia." She met Pyrrha's gaze directly. "But I also think happiness sometimes finds us in ways we never expected."

Pyrrha nodded, accepting this wisdom from her younger friend. "Goodnight, Ruby."

"Goodnight, Pyrrha."

As Pyrrha made her way back to JNPR's room—quieter now without Jaune's presence—she pulled out her scroll, fingers hovering over the keyboard. After a moment's hesitation, she began typing:

Jaune, something you should know. Blake's mother arrived at Beacon today, looking for her daughter. She's coming to Radian tomorrow morning. The others will call with details, but I wanted to give you a heads up. Hope you're both well. - Pyrrha

She stared at the message for a long moment before pressing send. Whatever complicated feelings she might have about Jaune and Blake's situation, she couldn't bring herself to let him face such a surprise unprepared. That wasn't who she was, nor who she wanted to be.

As the message confirmed delivery, Pyrrha set her scroll aside and prepared for bed, wondering what tomorrow would bring for her friends in Radian—and for the unexpected family they were forming, one day at a time.

Chapter Text

Chapter 21: The Warning

80AGW - Early June

Early morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of the Arc family's guest room, casting a warm glow across the simple but comfortable furnishings. Blake sat cross-legged on the bed, a weathered paperback from the family library open in her lap, though her attention was fixed on the bassinet beside her where Cynthia slept peacefully.

The baby had woken twice during the night—once for feeding and once seemingly just to ensure Blake was still there. Each time, Blake had soothed her back to sleep with gentle words and a soft humming that she'd picked up from Jaune over the past weeks.

The buzz of her scroll broke the morning quiet, causing her bow to twitch in surprise. Blake quickly grabbed the device before it could wake Cynthia, frowning at the unfamiliar number displayed on the screen.

"Hello?" she answered softly, moving toward the window to put some distance between her conversation and the sleeping baby.

"Morning, partner!" Yang's cheerful voice boomed from the speaker, loud enough that Blake had to pull the scroll away from her ear. "Did I wake you?"

"Yang?" Blake's confusion quickly shifted to concern. "Is everything okay?"

"Define 'okay,'" Yang replied cryptically. "Listen, is Jaune around? I need to talk to both of you."

Blake felt a flutter of apprehension in her chest. "He's probably in his room. We were up with Cynthia at different times last night, so we've been taking turns sleeping in." She glanced at the clock. "Why? What's going on?"

"I'd rather tell you both at once," Yang insisted, her tone making it clear this wasn't negotiable. "Can you grab him?"

"I—yes, just give me a minute," Blake conceded, moving to check on Cynthia once more. Finding her still soundly asleep, Blake tucked the blanket more securely around the baby before slipping into the hallway.

The Arc family home was quieter than she'd expected given the number of people under its roof. Soft morning sounds drifted up from the kitchen—the clink of dishes, the murmur of conversation—suggesting that at least some of the family was already awake. Blake padded down the hallway to the door Yang had indicated the previous day as Jaune's room.

She hesitated before knocking, suddenly aware that she'd never actually been to Jaune's room before. Even at Beacon, she'd rarely had reason to visit Team JNPR's dorm. Taking a deep breath, she rapped gently on the door.

"Jaune?" she called softly. "Are you awake?"

After a moment, the door opened to reveal Jaune in sleep pants and a faded t-shirt with a cartoon bunny on it, his blonde hair tousled from sleep. Despite the situation, Blake couldn't help but smile at the sight.

"Nice shirt," she remarked.

Jaune glanced down, his face flushing. "Gift from Lily," he explained quickly. "What's up? Is Cynthia okay?"

The immediate concern in his voice for the baby warmed something in Blake's chest. "She's fine, still sleeping. But Yang's on the scroll and wants to talk to both of us."

Jaune's brow furrowed. "Yang? What does she want?"

"She wouldn't say, just that she needed to tell us something together." Blake held up her scroll. "Can I come in? I don't want to wake Cynthia with the call."

"Oh! Yeah, of course," Jaune stepped back, opening the door wider.

Blake stepped into the room, taking in the surroundings with a quick glance. Unlike the neutral guest room she occupied, Jaune's space was distinctly personal—posters of famous Huntsmen on the walls, bookshelves crammed with comics and adventure novels, and a desk covered with what appeared to be sketches of weapon modifications. It was exactly what she would have expected from him, yet somehow seeing it made her feel like she'd been granted access to a new layer of Jaune Arc.

"Sorry about the mess," Jaune said, hastily kicking a pair of shoes under the bed. "Wasn't exactly expecting company."

"It's fine," Blake assured him, moving to sit on the edge of the desk chair. She placed the scroll between them and activated the speaker function. "Yang, we're both here. What's going on?"

"Hey, Vomit Boy!" Yang greeted cheerfully. "How's fatherhood treating you?"

"Yang," Blake warned, her patience wearing thin. "You said it was important."

"Right, right," Yang's tone sobered slightly. "So, I've got some news, and you're probably going to want to sit down for this. Actually, Jaune, are you sitting? This might hit you harder."

Jaune and Blake exchanged concerned glances as he perched on the edge of his bed. "I'm sitting," he confirmed. "What is it? Did something happen at Beacon?"

Yang took an audible breath before continuing. "Blake, your mom is here."

The words hung in the air for a moment as Blake processed them, her ears flattening against her head beneath her bow. "What do you mean, 'here'?" she asked, her voice suddenly brittle.

"She showed up at Beacon yesterday looking for you," Yang explained. "Apparently, she saw you on the Vytal Tournament broadcasts and decided it was time for a mother-daughter reunion. Imagine her surprise when she found out you weren't here, but rather shacking up with a boy and a baby in some rural village."

"We're not—" Blake began automatically before the full implications hit her. "She knows about Cynthia?"

"Yep," Yang confirmed, popping the 'p' sound. "Ozpin told her the basics, and we filled in some details over dinner last night."

"Dinner?" Blake echoed weakly.

Beside her, Jaune had gone pale. "Mrs. Belladonna is at Beacon? Right now?"

"Well, not exactly," Yang's voice carried a note of what could only be described as mischievous dread. "See, that's the thing I'm calling to tell you. She's on her way to Radian. As in, the Bullhead left about twenty minutes ago."

"WHAT?!" Blake and Jaune exclaimed simultaneously.

Blake shot to her feet, her mind racing. "She's coming here? To the Arc house? Today?"

"Yep," Yang confirmed again, sounding far too calm for the bomb she'd just dropped. "Should be there in a few hours, actually. Ozpin arranged private transport."

"But—but she can't—" Blake sputtered, looking to Jaune in panic. His expression mirrored her own shock, his eyes wide with alarm.

"My parents don't even know about your mom," Jaune said, running a hand through his already messy hair. "We need to explain, to prepare them. And the house isn't exactly—" He glanced around his cluttered room. "This isn't how I imagined meeting your parents for the first time!"

The casual implication that he had imagined meeting her parents at all might have given Blake pause under different circumstances. At the moment, however, she was too busy calculating escape routes.

"I need to—we should—" she began, her instinct to run warring with her responsibility to Cynthia.

"Don't even think about running, Blake," Yang's voice cut through her panic. "Your mom is determined. If you're not there when she arrives, she'll just track you down elsewhere. And trust me, she's got questions that only you can answer."

Blake sank back into the chair, her hands trembling slightly. "I haven't seen her in years, Yang. Not since I left home. And now she's coming here, to find me with Jaune and a baby we're raising together?"

"Not helping, Yang," Jaune said, his own shock giving way to resolve as he noticed Blake's distress. He moved to kneel in front of her, placing a steadying hand on her arm. "Hey, it's going to be okay. We'll figure this out together, just like we've figured out everything else with Cynthia."

Blake looked into his eyes, finding unexpected strength in his certainty. "My mother is very... protective. And I haven't exactly kept her updated on my life. She's going to have a lot of questions."

"So we'll answer them," Jaune said simply. "Honestly. We've done nothing wrong, Blake. We found a baby who needed us, and we stepped up. Your mom might be surprised, but once she understands the situation..."

"You don't know my mother," Blake countered, though there was less panic in her voice now. "She can be quite... intense."

"Runs in the family," Yang chimed in helpfully from the scroll.

Blake shot the device a glare before returning her attention to Jaune. "This is going to complicate everything. Your family has been so welcoming, and now my mother is going to show up unannounced and probably think..." She trailed off, the implications hanging in the air between them.

"Think what?" Jaune asked, his brow furrowed in genuine confusion.

Blake closed her eyes briefly. "Jaune, think about how this looks. I'm staying in your family home, helping you care for a baby. My mother hasn't seen me in years, and now she finds me playing house with a human boy she's never met. She's going to assume... things."

Understanding dawned on Jaune's face, followed by a blush that spread to the tips of his ears. "Oh. Right. That we're... that Cynthia is..."

"Exactly," Blake confirmed, grateful she didn't have to spell it out.

"Well, technically you are playing house," Yang pointed out unhelpfully. "Just not in the way she might assume."

"Yang, you're not helping," Blake hissed.

"Sorry, sorry," Yang replied, not sounding sorry at all. "Look, I'm just the messenger here. Ruby and Pyrrha thought you deserved some warning, and the rest of us agreed it was only fair to give you a heads-up. But my advice? Just be honest with her. She seemed really worried about you, Blake. And she was surprisingly cool about the whole baby situation once we explained."

Blake's ears perked up beneath her bow. "She was?"

"Well, 'cool' might be a stretch," Yang amended. "But she wasn't angry, just concerned. And very determined to see you."

Jaune stood up, pacing the small confines of his childhood bedroom. "We need to tell my parents. They'll want to prepare. Mom always says guests deserve a proper welcome, even unexpected ones." He turned to Blake. "Is there anything specific your mom would appreciate? Any foods she particularly likes or doesn't eat?"

The practical question anchored Blake, giving her something concrete to focus on beyond her swirling anxiety. "She's partial to seafood. And tea—she prefers it with honey, not sugar."

Jaune nodded, clearly filing this information away. "Okay, we can work with that. Dad was planning to go fishing this morning anyway; we'll ask him to bring back something special." He glanced at the clock. "It's only seven-thirty. If the Bullhead left twenty minutes ago..."

"You've got about three hours," Yang supplied. "Maybe a bit more, depending on headwinds."

"Three hours," Blake repeated, her mind already racing through everything that needed to be done. "I should change. And we need to explain to your family, and prepare Cynthia, and—"

"Blake," Jaune interrupted her gently, stepping closer again. "Breathe. We've got this."

His steady confidence calmed her racing thoughts. In the weeks since finding Cynthia, they'd faced countless challenges together—midnight fevers, Grimm attacks, the skepticism of villagers. Somehow, they'd managed each crisis as a team. This would be no different.

"You're right," she agreed, taking a deep breath. "We should start with your parents, then get everything ready."

"That's my cue to hang up," Yang announced. "But Blake? For what it's worth, I think this might be good. Your mom seemed like she really just wants to know you're okay. And to meet her honorary grandbaby, of course."

"Yang!" Blake protested, but her partner had already ended the call with a final chuckle.

The silence that followed felt heavy with implication. Blake looked up to find Jaune watching her with an uncharacteristically serious expression.

"Are you really okay with this?" he asked quietly. "Your mom showing up here, meeting Cynthia, seeing us together like this?"

Blake considered the question honestly. Was she ready for her mother to see the life she'd built at Beacon—and more recently, with Jaune and Cynthia? To face the questions about her past, her choices, and her future that would inevitably arise?

"I don't know," she admitted. "But I don't think I have much choice at this point." She met his gaze directly. "Are you okay with it? This isn't what you signed up for when you invited me here."

Jaune's expression softened into a smile. "Hey, we're a team, remember? Whatever comes, we'll handle it together."

The simple declaration eased something tight in Blake's chest. Whatever complex emotions existed between them, whatever questions remained unanswered about their future, in this moment, they were united in purpose—to protect and care for Cynthia, and now, to face Blake's mother together.

"Okay then," she said, standing up with newfound determination. "Let's go tell your parents they're about to have one more houseguest."

As they headed downstairs to break the news to the Arc family, Blake's scroll buzzed with a message from Weiss:

Remember to breathe. Your mother is concerned, not angry. She just wants answers. And for what it's worth, I think she'll like Jaune. He has that annoying quality of growing on people.

Despite her anxiety, Blake found herself smiling at the message. She glanced at Jaune, who was already mentally reorganizing the day to accommodate this unexpected development, his face set in the same determined expression he wore when tackling any challenge.

Yes, Blake thought, he does grow on people. More than any of us expected.

Now they just had to hope her mother would see that too.

Chapter Text

Chapter 22: Kali's Arrival

80AGW - Early June

The Bullhead touched down on Radian's modest landing pad with a gentle thud, stirring dust from the well-worn concrete. Kali Belladonna smoothed her travel-creased clothing as the engines wound down, mentally preparing herself for the confrontation ahead. The journey had given her ample time to consider what she might say to her daughter after nearly five years of separation—though admittedly, none of those imagined scenarios had involved a baby.

"Mrs. Belladonna," Juno said, collecting their luggage with efficient movements, "I've plotted the most direct route to the Arc residence. According to local maps, it's approximately three kilometers from the landing zone, situated on the settlement's northern boundary."

Kali adjusted her shawl, amber eyes scanning the modest rural settlement spread before them. Radian was nothing like the densely packed dwellings of Menagerie or the towering structures of Vale. Instead, well-maintained dirt roads connected scattered buildings, with cultivated fields and orchards creating a patchwork landscape that stretched toward distant rolling hills.

"Thank you, Juno," she replied, her mind made up. "But I think it would be best if you remained in town while I visit my daughter."

The snow leopard faunus frowned, his spotted ears twitching with obvious disapproval. "Madam, the Chieftain was explicit in his instructions. I'm to remain with you at all times."

"And you've fulfilled that duty admirably," Kali assured him, her tone gentle but firm. "But I'm about to walk into a family home uninvited. Arriving with a guard in tow sends entirely the wrong message."

"With respect, Mrs. Belladonna, this isn't a social call," Juno countered. "Your daughter has been out of contact for nearly five years, and now appears to be involved in a situation with... complicated implications. The Chieftain would insist—"

"My husband isn't here," Kali interrupted, a hint of steel entering her voice. "And while I appreciate his concern, I'm quite capable of handling a conversation with my daughter without armed protection."

Seeing that Juno remained unconvinced, she softened her approach. "There's a small inn near the town center, according to the pilot. Why don't you secure accommodations for us? We don't know how long this visit might last, and it would be prudent to have a place to retire should discussions become... prolonged."

Juno's professional training warred visibly with his protective instincts. Finally, he gave a reluctant nod. "As you wish, Mrs. Belladonna. But I must insist you take your scroll and keep it active. At the first sign of trouble—"

"I'll call immediately," Kali promised, though they both knew there would be no trouble—at least not the kind that required a bodyguard's intervention. The challenges ahead were entirely familial in nature.

As Juno collected the luggage and headed toward the town center, Kali allowed herself a moment to take in her surroundings more fully. Radian had a peaceful quality that reminded her of Menagerie's quieter settlements, away from the crowded central district. The air smelled of freshly tilled earth and apple blossoms, a far cry from Vale's industrial notes or Menagerie's salt-laden breeze.

"Excuse me, ma'am?"

The voice startled her from her observations. Kali turned to find a tall, lean human approaching the landing pad. He wore the practical clothing of someone accustomed to outdoor work—sturdy boots, well-worn pants, and a forest-green jacket with what appeared to be an official patch on the sleeve. A wide-brimmed hat shaded his weathered face, and a simple wooden staff served as both walking stick and, she suspected, potential weapon if needed.

"Yes?" she replied cautiously.

The man offered a respectful nod, keeping a polite distance. "Name's Woods. I'm a local Ashwood ranger." He gestured to the badge pinned to his jacket. "Professor Ozpin contacted our office, mentioned you might need escort to the Arc homestead."

Kali's eyebrows rose in surprise. Ozpin's efficiency was both impressive and slightly unnerving. "That was thoughtful of him."

"The Arc place isn't hard to find if you know where you're going," Woods explained, "but there's been increased Grimm activity in the east quadrant lately. We've adjusted patrol routes accordingly, but it's safer to have company while traveling the outer roads."

Kali studied him for a moment, weighing her options. While perfectly capable of defending herself, she knew nothing about the local terrain or potential hazards. Besides, a local guide might provide useful insight into the family her daughter had become involved with.

"I would appreciate the escort, thank you," she decided, retrieving a small travel bag from the pile Juno had left with her. "My associate will be remaining in town to arrange accommodations."

If Woods found anything unusual about a faunus woman traveling with a bodyguard, he gave no indication. "Sensible planning," he commented, offering to take her bag. "The walk's about forty minutes at a comfortable pace. Road's well-maintained, but dusty this time of year."

As they set off from the landing pad, Kali found herself appreciating the ranger's unobtrusive company. He didn't fill the silence with unnecessary chatter, instead pointing out relevant landmarks as they made their way through the town's main thoroughfare.

"General store there carries most essentials," he noted, gesturing to a two-story building with a wide porch. "Post office and communications center is attached to the back. We get CCT signal, but it's not always reliable during storms."

Kali nodded, noting the easy familiarity with which townspeople greeted the ranger. Radian might be modest in size, but it clearly functioned as a tight-knit community. "You seem to know everyone," she observed.

Woods shrugged. "Part of the job. Keeping the peace is easier when folks know you're looking out for them." He adjusted his hat as they turned onto a less-traveled road leading toward the settlement's outskirts. "Mind if I ask what brings you to the Arc place? Not many visitors from outside Radian these days, especially not from as far as Menagerie."

The question, though direct, was asked without judgment. Kali decided on honesty—to a point. "My daughter is staying with the Arc family. It's been some time since we've seen each other."

"Ah," Woods nodded, understanding dawning in his expression. "You'd be visiting the young couple that just arrived yesterday with the baby. Marcus mentioned his son was bringing friends home from that Huntsman academy."

Kali nearly missed a step. "You know about the baby?"

"Small community," Woods explained with a slight smile. "Word travels. Marcus stopped by my office yesterday to let me know his son had brought home guests. Mentioned something about a child they were caring for. Didn't get many details, but unusual news travels fast in a place like this."

"Yes," Kali agreed carefully. "Quite the situation indeed. You seem to know the Arc family well?"

Woods nodded, guiding them around a particularly muddy section of the path. "Known them all my life. Marcus and I have worked together for a few years now; whenever there is a spike in Grimm activity. Good man, Marcus. Solid as they come."

"And his son?" Kali couldn't resist asking. "Jaune, is it?"

The ranger seemed to consider his words carefully. "Bit of a late bloomer compared to his sisters. Not a natural fighter like Marus or tactical like his Uncle was. But he's got heart, that one. Never gives up, even when maybe he should." He chuckled, apparently recalling some private memory. "Reminds me of his father that way."

"And what do people think about this... situation? A young Huntsman-in-training bringing home a baby?" Kali pressed, watching for any sign of disapproval.

"Folks around here mind their business for the most part," Woods replied evenly. "Arc family's respected. If Marcus and Juniper have welcomed them, that's good enough for most." He paused, then added with a hint of amusement, "Though I hear the sisters have already started speculating about the young couple. Quite exciting for a quiet place like Radian."

Kali felt a twinge of indignation. "Young couple?"

Woods looked momentarily confused. "Apologies if I've misunderstood. I was told Jaune returned with a young woman and a baby they're caring for. Natural assumption in a small town like this."

"I see," Kali murmured, processing this new information. So the town already viewed Blake and Jaune as a couple – that would certainly complicate matters.

"For what it's worth," Woods added after a thoughtful pause, "Marcus isn't one to suffer fools or troublemakers. If your daughter's been welcomed into their home, there must be good reason."

The simple observation gave Kali pause. Throughout her journey, she'd been focused on the apparent recklessness of Blake's situation—moving in with a boy she barely knew, caring for a child of unknown origins. But perhaps she'd been too quick to assume the worst.

"There it is," Woods announced, pointing ahead to where the road crested a gentle hill. "Arc homestead. Been in the family for generations."

Kali followed his gesture, taking in the sprawling farmhouse with its weathered silver-gray siding and wide wrap-around porch. Several outbuildings dotted the property, and an orchard stretched behind the main house. It was exactly the sort of place she'd imagined when Yang had described where Blake was staying—though seeing it in person made the situation feel suddenly, intensely real.

Her daughter was here. After years of worry and wondering, after sleepless nights and tear-stained letters that were never sent, Blake was just beyond that front door. With a young man. And a baby.

"Would you like me to accompany you to the door?" Woods offered, seemingly sensing her hesitation.

Kali straightened her shoulders, gathering her resolve. "No, thank you. I believe I can manage from here."

Woods nodded, understanding the moment's significance without needing explanation. "I'll wait until you're inside, just the same. Matter of professional courtesy."

As they approached the front gate, Kali noticed movement at one of the windows—a quick flash of blonde hair disappearing behind a curtain, followed by the sound of hurried footsteps and a door closing. Her arrival had been spotted, which meant Blake likely knew she was coming.

Good. She preferred her daughter prepared rather than ambushed, despite Yang's suggestion that surprise might yield more honest reactions.

Kali paused at the gate, turning to the ranger with genuine appreciation. "Thank you for the escort, Mr. Woods. And for the insights."

He tipped his hat respectfully. "My pleasure, Mrs. Belladonna. Whatever happens in there—" he nodded toward the house, "—remember that most family tangles look worse from the outside than they really are."

With that simple wisdom, he stepped back, giving her space to approach the house alone.

Kali took a deep breath, smoothed her clothing once more, and started up the path to the front door. Whatever awaited her inside—explanations, excuses, or something entirely unexpected—she was determined to face it with the dignity expected of the Chieftain's wife and the openness needed from a mother who had missed too much of her daughter's life already.

The first step toward reconciliation, she reminded herself, was showing up.

Chapter Text

Chapter 23: The Reunion

80AGW - Early June

The living room of the Arc family home had never felt quite so small to Blake as it did in that moment. She sat perched on the edge of the sofa, back rigid and ears flattened anxiously beneath her bow despite hours of mental preparation. Cynthia dozed in the portable bassinet nearby, blissfully unaware of the tension surrounding her.

Jaune paced near the window, occasionally peering through the curtains at the path leading to the house. The rest of the Arc family had tactfully made themselves scarce—Juniper had taken the younger girls to the back garden to "check on the strawberry plants," while Marcus and the older sisters had suddenly discovered urgent tasks in the barn and orchard. Their absence, meant to provide privacy, only amplified Blake's growing anxiety.

"She's here," Jaune announced, stepping quickly away from the window. "Coming up the path with Ranger Woods."

Blake's hands tightened in her lap, knuckles whitening. She had faced down Grimm, criminal organizations, and academy exams, yet the prospect of confronting her mother after five years of silence left her paralyzed. What would she say? What could she say that would explain everything—leaving home, joining Beacon, finding Cynthia?

"Blake?" Jaune's voice broke through her spiraling thoughts. "You okay?"

She managed a stiff nod that convinced neither of them.

The knock, when it came, was firm and decisive—three clear raps that seemed to echo through the suddenly silent house. Blake's entire body tensed, her faunus ears pressing flat against her head beneath the concealing bow.

Jaune moved toward the entryway, then paused when he realized Blake hadn't moved. He returned to her side, crouching down to meet her eyes.

"Hey," he said softly, taking her cold hands in his. "It's going to be okay."

"You don't know that," Blake whispered, amber eyes wide with apprehension. "You don't know my mother. You don't know what I did, how I left—"

"I know you," Jaune interrupted gently. "I know you're brave and kind and that you're trying to do the right thing. That's what matters."

The knock came again, slightly more insistent this time.

"We should answer that," Jaune said, still holding her hands. "Together."

Blake looked at him—really looked—and found nothing but steadfast support in his blue eyes. No judgment, no uncertainty, just quiet confidence that somehow, they would get through this.

"Okay," she agreed, drawing strength from his certainty. "Together."

Jaune helped her to her feet, keeping one hand at the small of her back as they moved toward the door. The simple gesture grounded her, reminding Blake that whatever happened next, she wouldn't face it alone.

Taking a deep breath, Blake reached for the doorknob, hesitated for just a moment, then pulled it open.

Kali Belladonna stood on the porch, hands clasped before her, looking almost exactly as Blake remembered—perhaps a few more silver strands in her dark hair, a few more lines at the corners of her eyes, but still unmistakably her mother. Those familiar amber eyes—so like her own—widened at the sight of her daughter, a tumult of emotions crossing her face too quickly to identify.

For a heartbeat that seemed to stretch into eternity, neither spoke. Then:

"Blake," Kali breathed, her voice catching on the name like a prayer.

"Mom," Blake replied, the word feeling strange yet familiar on her tongue after so long unused.

Another moment of suspended animation before Kali took a half-step forward, arms rising slightly before hesitating, uncertain of her welcome.

That small, vulnerable gesture broke something inside Blake—the careful wall she'd constructed between her past and present, between the daughter who had run away and the young woman who now stood before her mother. Before she could second-guess herself, Blake crossed the threshold and stepped into her mother's embrace.

Kali's arms closed around her instantly, holding her with the fierce tenderness unique to mothers who have spent too long fearing for their children. Blake felt herself melting into the familiar warmth, a scent of jasmine and home enveloping her as years of tension began to dissolve.

"I've missed you so much," Kali whispered against her hair, voice thick with emotion. "So very much."

Blake couldn't speak, her throat too tight with unshed tears, but she tightened her arms around her mother in wordless response. They remained locked in embrace for several long moments, worlds of pain and separation beginning to heal in the simple contact.

When they finally separated, Blake was startled to find dampness on her cheeks. She hastily wiped away the tears, embarrassed by the display of emotion. Kali reached up, gently catching another tear with her thumb in a gesture so achingly familiar that Blake nearly broke down again.

"I'm sorry," Blake managed finally. "I should have... I wanted to call, to write, but—"

"Shh," Kali soothed, cupping her daughter's cheek. "There will be time for all of that. Right now, I'm just grateful to see you safe."

Only then did Kali's gaze shift beyond Blake to where Jaune stood, respectfully giving mother and daughter their moment while remaining close enough to offer support if needed. Her eyes narrowed slightly in assessment as she took in the young man who had apparently become so important in her daughter's life.

Blake stepped back, suddenly remembering her manners. "Mom, this is Jaune Arc. Jaune, this is my mother, Kali Belladonna."

Jaune stepped forward, extending his hand with a warm smile that somehow managed to be both respectful and welcoming. "It's an honor to meet you, Mrs. Belladonna. Blake's told me a lot about you."

Kali raised an eyebrow, clearly doubting this statement given Blake's long silence, but accepted his hand nonetheless. "Has she? How interesting, considering my daughter has told me virtually nothing about you, Mr. Arc."

There was a hint of steel beneath the politeness, a mother's protective instinct barely veiled. Blake tensed, but Jaune's smile never faltered.

"That's understandable," he replied easily. "Things have happened pretty quickly. We have a lot to catch you up on."

As if on cue, a small sound came from inside the house—the unmistakable stirring of a waking baby. Kali's ears perked up, her attention immediately drawn toward the source of the noise.

"And I believe that would be the most significant development," she said, her voice carefully neutral. "Perhaps we should continue this conversation inside? I'm quite anxious to hear exactly how my daughter came to be raising a child with a young man I've never met."

Blake and Jaune exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. Whatever happened next would shape not just this reunion, but potentially the future they were tentatively building together.

"Of course," Blake said, stepping aside to welcome her mother into the Arc home. "It's... it's a long story."

"I would expect nothing less," Kali replied, her expression softening slightly as she followed her daughter inside. "We Belladonnas have never been known for simplicity."

As Jaune closed the door behind them, Blake took a steadying breath. The hardest part—the first moment of reunion—was over. Now came the explanations, the justifications, the careful unraveling of five years of separation and secrets.

But as she watched her mother's face transform with wonder at the sight of Cynthia, who had awakened and was blinking curiously at the new arrival, Blake felt something she hadn't expected: hope. Not just for forgiveness or understanding, but for a future where the walls between her past and present might finally crumble.

Whatever happened next, they would face it together—all of them.

The living room of the Arc home had transformed into an unexpected scene of domesticity. Kali Belladonna, who had arrived prepared for confrontation, now sat in the armchair nearest the window, completely captivated by the tiny faunus baby in her arms. Cynthia, for her part, seemed equally fascinated by this new person, her amber eyes wide with curiosity as she reached one small hand toward Kali's face.

"She's very alert for her age," Kali observed, gently catching the exploring fingers in her own. "And those eyes—such a beautiful color."

Blake and Jaune exchanged glances from their position on the sofa across from her. They had prepared for anger, skepticism, even outright disbelief. The sight of Kali immediately bonding with Cynthia had thrown their carefully rehearsed explanations into disarray.

Thank the gods for the universal power of baby cuteness, Jaune thought, watching Kali coo softly at Cynthia. The fierce, protective mother who had greeted them at the door had momentarily receded, replaced by an adoring grandmother figure who seemed to have forgotten—at least temporarily—that she had come for answers.

As if sensing his thoughts, Kali looked up, her expression shifting from warm affection to composed attentiveness. "Now then," she said, adjusting Cynthia more comfortably in her arms, "perhaps one of you would like to start at the beginning? Professor Ozpin provided some rather vague details, and your friends filled in a few gaps, but I'd prefer to hear the full story from you."

The direct request hung in the air between them. Blake straightened her posture, hands clasped tightly in her lap.

"It started during our mission to Meadowbrook," she began, her voice steadier than she felt. "A small settlement outside Vale that needed help clearing Grimm from the surrounding forest."

"Teams RWBY and JNPR were assigned together," Jaune added. "Two months on location, helping secure the area and train local defenders."

Kali nodded, her attention divided between their explanation and Cynthia, who had begun to play with the pendant hanging from her necklace. "And this was... what, six weeks ago?"

"Almost seven now," Blake confirmed. "It was during the second week when—"

"When I found Cynthia," Jaune interjected, leaning forward slightly. "I was on evening patrol in the western forest. Alone. There had been reports of Beowolves in the area, so I was being extra cautious."

He continued, describing the isolated stretch of forest, the faint sound that had caught his attention, the discovery of the tiny bundle nestled at the base of a large oak tree. As he spoke, Blake watched her mother's expression, searching for signs of disbelief or judgment, but Kali merely listened, her fingers absently stroking Cynthia's soft hair.

"There was a note," Blake added when Jaune paused. "It said her parents couldn't keep her safe anymore. That they were worried the White Fang would find them."

Kali's ears twitched at this detail, her gaze sharpening. "The White Fang? You're certain?"

Blake nodded. "The note specifically mentioned them. We think her parents might have been trying to leave the organization."

"Which would make them targets," Kali murmured, understanding immediately. "And their child as well, by extension."

"Exactly," Jaune confirmed. "I couldn't just leave her there. So I brought her back to the village. That's when Blake got involved."

Blake's ears flattened slightly beneath her bow as her mother's attention returned to her. "I have experience with faunus children," she explained, somewhat defensively. "And I understood the dangers the White Fang might pose."

"So you decided to help care for her," Kali stated, her tone carefully neutral. "The two of you."

"It wasn't exactly a decision at first," Jaune admitted, rubbing the back of his neck. "More like... a necessity. Cynthia needed care, and between mission responsibilities and limited resources in the village..."

"We fell into a routine," Blake finished. "Taking turns with feedings, learning her schedule, figuring out what worked."

"And your teammates?" Kali asked. "They helped as well?"

Blake nodded. "Everyone pitched in. Ruby and Yang were great with keeping her entertained. Weiss handled the logistics of getting supplies. Ren and Nora took night shifts when we needed rest."

"And Pyrrha was amazing with handling our team responsibilities while I was focused on Cynthia," Jaune added, a note of appreciation in his voice.

Kali rocked Cynthia gently as she processed this information. "And when the mission ended? What then?"

This was the crux of the matter—the decision that had brought them to the Arc family home with a baby in tow. Blake glanced at Jaune, unsure how to explain the evolution of their arrangement.

"We couldn't just hand her over to the authorities," Jaune said, his voice quieter now but firm with conviction. "Not with the White Fang possibly looking for her. And the local orphanage in Vale... it wasn't equipped to handle a faunus child with potential security concerns."

"So you decided to bring her here," Kali concluded. "To your family home."

"It seemed like the safest option," Blake interjected. "Remote enough to be secure, but with enough people to help with her care."

"And your involvement in this plan?" Kali asked, fixing her daughter with a penetrating gaze. "Why did you decide to come along, Blake? Surely Mr. Arc could have handled the journey himself if it was merely a matter of finding temporary shelter."

The question cut straight to the heart of what Blake had been avoiding—her own growing attachment to both Cynthia and, though she hesitated to admit it even to herself, to Jaune.

"I..." Blake hesitated, searching for the right words. "Cynthia has special needs as a faunus. Things that a human family might not understand without guidance."

"And that required you to move into their home?" Kali pressed gently.

Jaune shifted closer to Blake on the sofa, his shoulder brushing against hers in silent support. "I asked Blake to come," he said simply. "Because Cynthia needs both of us."

The statement hung in the air, loaded with implications neither of them had fully articulated until that moment. Kali's expression softened as she looked between them, seeming to perceive something beyond their careful explanations.

"I see," she said finally, returning her attention to Cynthia, who had begun to grow restless. "And what are your long-term plans for her?"

This was the question they had been circling in private conversations, in late-night discussions over Cynthia's bassinet, in quiet moments when the weight of their responsibility seemed most acute.

"Professor Ozpin is arranging temporary guardianship papers," Jaune explained. "For both of us, actually. So we have legal standing to make decisions for her while we... figure things out."

"And what does 'figuring things out' entail, exactly?" Kali asked, her tone gentle but persistent.

Blake took a deep breath. "Mom, I know how this must look. We're young, we're still in training, and we've suddenly taken responsibility for a baby. But Cynthia needs us. She needs people who understand the challenges she'll face as a faunus, who can protect her from potential threats, who..." She paused, feeling the truth of her next words even as she spoke them. "Who love her."

"And do you?" Kali asked softly. "Love her?"

"Yes," Blake and Jaune answered simultaneously, without hesitation.

The simple, unified response seemed to satisfy something in Kali. She nodded, looking down at Cynthia with newfound understanding. "I thought as much. You can see it in the way you look at her. The way you gravitate toward her even now." Her amber eyes, so like Blake's own, lifted to regard them both. "Love isn't always convenient or planned, but it is always transformative."

Blake felt a weight lift from her shoulders at her mother's words—not absolution, exactly, but understanding. "We're still working out what happens next," she admitted. "Whether we stay here, or return to Beacon with her, or..."

"Or find another solution entirely," Jaune finished. "But whatever we decide, it will be based on what's best for Cynthia."

Kali studied them for a long moment, her expression thoughtful. Finally, she rose from her chair, still holding Cynthia securely against her shoulder. "Well, it seems I've arrived at rather a pivotal moment in all your lives." She approached them, her posture relaxed but still carrying the dignity of the Chieftain's wife. "I'd like to help, if you'll allow it."

Blake blinked in surprise. "Help? You're not... angry?"

A small smile touched Kali's lips. "Oh, I have many feelings about this situation, Blake. Concern, surprise, perhaps a touch of exasperation that my daughter couldn't find time in nearly five years to let me know she was alive, let alone involved in raising a child." Her expression softened as she looked down at Cynthia. "But anger? No. How could I be angry when you've done exactly what your father and I raised you to do—stand up for those who need protection, even at personal cost?"

Blake felt tears prick at the corners of her eyes, unexpected emotion welling up at her mother's acceptance. Jaune's hand found hers on the sofa between them, a gentle squeeze communicating his understanding.

"So what happens now?" Blake asked, afraid to hope too much, to believe that reconciliation could be this simple after years of estrangement.

"Now," Kali said decisively, "I believe this little one needs changing, and you two could use a break. After that, perhaps you can introduce me properly to the rest of the Arc family who have so generously opened their home to my daughter and her..." She paused, a hint of mischief entering her expression. "...her partner in this unexpected venture."

The deliberate ambiguity of the term wasn't lost on either Blake or Jaune, who both flushed slightly.

"And later," Kali continued, her voice softening, "when this little one is asleep, perhaps you and I can have a proper talk, Blake. About everything that's happened since you left home. I think we're both ready for that now."

Blake nodded, emotion making speech difficult. All the anxiety, all the fear of rejection or disappointment that had built up over years of separation seemed to dissolve in the face of her mother's simple acceptance.

"I'll show you where the changing supplies are," Jaune offered, rising from the sofa. He gave Blake's hand one more reassuring squeeze before leading Kali toward the stairs.

As they left the room, Blake remained seated, processing what had just happened. The reunion she had feared for years had come and gone without the recriminations or anger she had expected. Instead, her mother had looked at the life Blake was building—unexpected and unconventional as it was—and offered not judgment, but support.

It wouldn't all be this easy, she knew. There were still difficult conversations ahead, explanations needed, wounds to heal. But for the first time in years, Blake felt the possibility of reconciliation—not just with her mother, but with the parts of herself she had tried to leave behind when she fled Menagerie.

From upstairs came the sound of her mother's voice, speaking softly to Cynthia, interspersed with Jaune's deeper tones as he explained their routine. The domestic sounds washed over Blake, creating a sense of rightness she had rarely experienced.

Family, she thought, testing the word carefully in her mind. Perhaps that's what they were becoming, in their own unconventional way. Not the family she had expected or planned for, but one forged in unexpected circumstances and sustained by choice rather than obligation.

As Blake finally rose to join them upstairs, she felt a sense of peace settle over her. Whatever came next—whatever decisions they made about Cynthia's future, about their own intertwined paths—they would face it together.

All of them.

Chapter Text

Chapter 24: First Impressions

80 AGW - Early June

The kitchen of the Arc family home bustled with activity as Juniper orchestrated dinner preparations with the practiced efficiency of someone used to feeding a small army. Marcus stood at the counter, filleting the day's catch with careful precision while Violet and Amber chopped vegetables nearby. The air was filled with the mingled aromas of baking bread and simmering broth—a special seafood stew Juniper had decided to prepare upon learning of their unexpected guest's preferences.

"Mom, do you think Mrs. Belladonna will like the stew?" Amber asked, brushing a strand of blonde hair from her face with the back of her wrist. "I mean, she's from Menagerie. They probably have way fancier seafood there."

Juniper smiled as she stirred the fragrant broth. "Good food is good food, dear. It's the welcome that matters, not how exotic the ingredients are."

The sound of voices from the hallway caused all four Arcs to pause in their tasks. Footsteps approached the kitchen—more than two sets, Blake and Jaune joined by a third. The entire family had been briefed on the surprise arrival, but still, a tangible tension filled the air as they awaited their first encounter with Blake's mother.

Kali Belladonna entered the kitchen first, her posture graceful and composed despite the travel weariness evident in the slight shadows beneath her eyes. Blake followed closely behind, with Jaune bringing up the rear, Cynthia nestled securely in his arms. The baby was freshly changed and dressed in one of the new outfits from the care package, her tiny cat ears twitching with interest at the kitchen's enticing smells.

"Mr. and Mrs. Arc," Blake began, her voice carrying the faintest tremor of nervousness, "I'd like to introduce my mother, Kali Belladonna. Mom, these are Jaune's parents, Marcus and Juniper Arc."

Juniper wiped her hands on her apron and stepped forward with a warm smile. "Mrs. Belladonna, what a lovely surprise! We're so pleased to meet you, though I wish we'd had a bit more notice to prepare properly."

Kali's amber eyes—so strikingly similar to Blake's—crinkled with genuine warmth as she accepted Juniper's extended hand. "Please, call me Kali. And I must apologize for arriving unannounced. It seems our children have a talent for unexpected situations."

Marcus chuckled as he approached, offering his own hand to Kali. "That's putting it mildly. Just last month, Jaune was calling about combat strategies. Now he's returned with a partner and a baby. Keeps life interesting."

Blake's bow twitched noticeably at the word "partner," but if Kali registered her daughter's discomfort, she gave no sign. Instead, she smiled warmly at Marcus. "Indeed. When Blake left home, I never imagined her path would lead here, yet somehow it feels... fitting."

"Life rarely follows the paths we imagine for our children," Juniper said, returning to her stew with a knowing glance between the two mothers. "Though I confess, even I couldn't have predicted a grandbaby arriving quite this suddenly."

"Mom," Jaune protested weakly, his face flushing as he adjusted Cynthia in his arms.

"Honorary grandbaby," Juniper amended with a wink toward Kali. "For now, at least."

Kali's lips curved into a smile that mirrored Juniper's mischievous expression. "Precisely my thoughts."

Blake and Jaune exchanged a panicked glance, suddenly united in the universal fear of parents who had found common ground in gentle teasing.

"Perhaps we could show Mrs. Belladonna to her room?" Blake suggested hastily. "She's had a long journey and might want to rest before dinner."

"An excellent idea," Marcus agreed, taking pity on the young pair. "Amber, would you help your brother and Blake get Mrs. Belladonna settled in the guest room? The blue one, I think—it has the better view of the orchard."

Amber nodded, setting down her knife and wiping her hands. "Of course. It's just upstairs, Mrs. Belladonna. We've already prepared it for you."

"That's very kind," Kali replied. "But before I rest, I'd like to thank you both properly." She turned to face Marcus and Juniper, her expression growing more serious. "For welcoming my daughter into your home, and for supporting both of them through this... unusual situation. It means more than I can express."

Juniper stepped away from the stove to stand beside her husband, a united front of parental solidarity. "There's no need for thanks. Any friend of Jaune's is welcome here, especially one who's helped care for Cynthia."

"Besides," Marcus added with a gentle smile, "it's clear how important Blake is to Jaune and to little Cynthia. That makes her family in our eyes."

The simple declaration hung in the air for a moment. Blake looked down, blinking rapidly against the sudden warmth behind her eyes. Beside her, Jaune shifted Cynthia to one arm, his other hand coming to rest reassuringly at the small of Blake's back—a gesture not missed by any of the parents present.

"Well," Kali said finally, her own eyes suspiciously bright, "it seems our children have found themselves a remarkable support system. I'm grateful for that."

"As are we," Juniper assured her. "Now, dinner will be ready in about an hour. Amber will show you to your room, and perhaps you'd like to join us in the kitchen for tea afterward? I find that mothers often have the most interesting perspectives to share."

Kali's answering smile held a hint of conspiracy. "I'd like that very much."

As Amber led Kali from the kitchen, with Blake and Jaune following close behind, Juniper and Marcus exchanged a knowing look.

"She seems lovely," Juniper observed quietly. "Though I suspect there's steel beneath that gracious exterior."

Marcus nodded, returning to his fish fileting. "Much like our Blake, I'd wager. Gentle until there's something worth fighting for."

"Our Blake?" Juniper echoed, her eyebrows lifting as she stirred the stew.

Marcus shrugged, a slight smile touching his lips. "You saw how he looks at her. How they move together with the baby. I'm just acknowledging what seems increasingly inevitable."

Juniper hummed thoughtfully, adding a pinch of herbs to the broth. "Perhaps. Though they both seem determined to pretend otherwise, at least for now."

"They'll figure it out," Marcus said with the certainty of a man who had watched seven daughters navigate the complexities of growing up. "Some things can't be rushed."

Violet, who had been quietly observing the entire exchange while continuing to chop vegetables, finally spoke up. "So we're all just going to act like this is completely normal? Jaune brings home a girl and a baby out of nowhere, and now her mom shows up unexpectedly, and we're just making stew and having tea?"

Juniper and Marcus exchanged another glance, communicating volumes in the silent language of long-married couples.

"What would you suggest, dear?" Juniper asked mildly. "Dramatics? Accusations? From what I can see, those two are handling an extraordinary situation with remarkable maturity. The least we can do is offer a calm harbor while they navigate these waters."

"Besides," Marcus added, "nothing clarifies a young man's priorities quite like unexpected responsibility. I've never seen Jaune so centered, so certain of his path. That alone tells me all I need to know."

Violet absorbed this perspective, her knife resuming its rhythm against the cutting board. "I guess so. It's just weird, seeing him so... grown up all of a sudden."

Juniper smiled softly, understanding in her eyes. "That's how it happens sometimes, dear. Life presents a challenge, and we either rise to meet it or we don't. Your brother is rising."

As the kitchen returned to its harmonious rhythm of preparation, Juniper found herself reflecting on the young couple who had arrived on their doorstep just yesterday—so uncertain, so tentative in their shared purpose, yet so clearly devoted to the tiny life that had unexpectedly become their responsibility.

And now, with Blake's mother added to the equation, the dynamics would shift yet again. But perhaps, Juniper thought as she seasoned the stew with a practiced hand, that was exactly what the young pair needed—the grounding presence of family to help them see what was plainly visible to everyone else: that what had begun as coincidence and necessity was blossoming into something much more profound.

Upstairs, in the crowded confines of Jade's bedroom, five blonde heads bent together in intense discussion. The Arc sisters had convened an emergency meeting, motivated by equal parts curiosity and protective instinct.

"So what do we think?" Jade asked, perched on the edge of her bed. At thirteen, she was the most analytical of the sisters, prone to examining situations from all angles before forming opinions. "About Blake's mom showing up out of nowhere?"

"It's only been a day since they arrived, and now this?" Violet added, her voice hushed even though they'd closed the door. "This can't be a coincidence."

Amber leaned against the wall, arms crossed defensively. "I still don't understand why Jaune brought her here in the first place. He barely knows her."

"They seem pretty close to me," Jade observed. "The way they move around each other with Cynthia—it's like they've been doing it for years, not weeks."

"That doesn't mean we can trust her," Amber countered. "You know how Jaune gets. He sees the best in everyone, even when they don't deserve it." The fourteen-year-old's expression darkened. "Remember Marigold?"

A collective grimace passed through the older sisters at the mention of that painful memory.

"Blake seems different," Violet said, though uncertainty tinged her voice. "But now that her mom's here... what if she decides to take them both away?"

Jade nodded, the same worry creasing her brow. "Exactly. Mrs. Belladonna clearly has influence. What if she convinces Blake to return to Menagerie with Cynthia?"

"Can she do that?" Violet asked. "I mean, I know they found Cynthia together, but does Blake have any legal right to take her?"

"Jaune mentioned something about joint guardianship papers being arranged," Jade recalled. "If those go through, they would both have rights."

Azure and Celeste, the eight-year-old twins, sat cross-legged on the floor, exchanging meaningful glances as they often did when processing new information.

"I don't like her," Azure declared suddenly. "She barely looks at Jaune when she thinks no one's watching."

"And she jumps every time he gets close," Celeste added. "Like she's uncomfortable around him."

"She's hiding something," Amber agreed. "Why keep her ears covered like that if she's not ashamed or hiding something?"

Lily, clutching her stuffed rabbit to her chest, looked up from her spot on the floor. "She made Jaune sad before."

The older sisters turned to their youngest sibling with surprise. "What do you mean, Lily?" Jade asked.

"Last night," Lily explained, her six-year-old perception surprisingly acute. "When I asked if she was going to be Cynthia's mom forever. Jaune looked happy, then she said it was 'complicated,' and his smile went away."

Violet and Jade exchanged concerned glances. If even Lily had noticed tension...

"I think we need to be careful," Jade said finally. "For Jaune's sake. He's already attached to both of them, but they've only been here a day. And now with her mother suddenly appearing..."

"It's a disaster waiting to happen," Amber finished, shaking her head. "He's going to get his heart broken all over again."

"We don't know that," Violet countered, though her own worry was evident. "Mrs. Belladonna seemed... nice. Not like she came to snatch them away."

"Nice on the surface," Azure muttered skeptically.

"Like a stealth attack," Celeste agreed.

Jade took a deep breath, assuming the leadership role that came naturally as the eldest sister present. "Here's what we need to do. Violet and I will keep an eye on Mrs. Belladonna—try to figure out what her intentions are. Is she supportive of this arrangement, or is she planning to convince Blake to leave?"

"What about us?" Amber asked, gesturing to herself and the younger girls.

"You watch Blake," Jade instructed. "See how she acts around Jaune when her mom is watching versus when she thinks no one's looking. If she's putting on an act..."

"We'll know," the twins said in unison, their expressions unusually serious.

"And we protect Jaune," Lily added solemnly, hugging her rabbit tighter.

"Exactly," Jade agreed. "Operation Family Protection is now in effect."

Violet nodded, but her expression remained troubled. "And what if we're wrong? What if Blake and Cynthia are the best thing that's ever happened to him?"

Jade's expression softened slightly. "Then we adjust. But Jaune's been through enough disappointment. I'd rather be cautious now than pick up the pieces later."

The sisters exchanged determined nods, their impromptu council reaching its natural conclusion. As they prepared to disperse before dinner, Lily's small voice piped up once more.

"I just want Jaune to be happy," she said, her eyes wide with childhood sincerity. "And he smiles a lot when he holds Cynthia."

"We all want that, Lil," Amber assured her, bending down to her level. "That's why we have to make sure Blake isn't going to take that away from him."

As the Arc sisters headed downstairs to help with dinner preparations, each was privately committed to their newly established mission: protecting their brother from potential heartbreak, while carefully assessing the true nature of Blake's intentions and her mother's sudden appearance.

Because that's what family did—they looked out for their own, especially when threats might be disguised as opportunities. And to the protective Arc sisters, nothing was more important than safeguarding Jaune's heart, especially when it had so clearly already begun to attach itself to both Blake and Cynthia after just one day in their home.

Chapter Text

Chapter 25: First Impressions (Continued)

80AGW - Early June

The dining room of the Arc family home bustled with unusual energy that evening. Extra chairs had been brought in to accommodate their unexpected guest, the table expanded to its full ceremonial length. The fragrant seafood stew that Juniper had prepared steamed in the center, flanked by freshly baked bread and a colorful array of roasted vegetables from the family garden.

Blake sat beside Jaune, who held Cynthia in one arm while attempting to manage his soup spoon with the other—a precarious balancing act he'd somehow mastered over recent weeks. Kali had been given the place of honor at Marcus's right hand, with Juniper at the opposite end of the table keeping watchful eyes on the entire assembly. The Arc sisters filled in the remaining seats, strategically positioned according to their hastily devised observation plan.

"Mrs. Belladonna—Kali," Juniper corrected herself with a warm smile, "I hope the stew is to your liking. It's an old family recipe, though I've adapted it somewhat for tonight."

Kali took another appreciative spoonful before answering. "It's absolutely delicious. The hint of saffron is particularly inspired."

"Mom's a great cook," Jaune offered, skillfully shifting Cynthia to his shoulder as she began to fuss. "She's taught all of us the basics, though I'm probably the worst student."

"Not true," Blake countered softly. "Your pancakes are excellent."

The simple compliment brought a flush of pleasure to Jaune's face—a detail not missed by any of the observing Arc sisters. Jade and Violet exchanged meaningful glances across the table, while Amber's eyes narrowed slightly.

"Blake mentioned you live in Menagerie," Marcus said, steering the conversation to safer waters. "I've never had the privilege of visiting, though I've heard the coastal areas are quite beautiful."

"They are," Kali confirmed, her eyes warming with fondness for her homeland. "Though somewhat crowded these days. Space has always been our most limited resource."

"Is that why Blake left?" Lily asked innocently, her child's directness cutting through the pleasantries.

Blake's bow twitched noticeably, her hand freezing around her water glass.

"Lily," Juniper admonished gently. "That's a rather personal question."

Kali, however, seemed unruffled by the inquiry. "It's quite alright. Children have a refreshing way of asking what adults dance around." She turned a gentle smile toward Lily. "Blake left home to pursue her education and to make her own way in the world, as many young people do. Though I confess, we had hoped she might write more often."

A flicker of guilt crossed Blake's face, visible to all despite her attempt to mask it.

"Did you know she was at Beacon?" Celeste asked, following her sister's lead.

"I had my suspicions," Kali replied diplomatically. "Though confirmation came only recently, when I happened to see her competing in the Vytal Festival tournaments."

"So you came looking for her," Amber stated, more accusation than question in her tone.

"Amber," Marcus warned quietly.

But Kali merely nodded, unperturbed by the teenager's protective hostility. "Yes, I did. After seeing her on the broadcast, I realized it had been far too long since we'd spoken. Parents can be remarkably patient, but eventually, concern outweighs respect for independence."

"And now you've found her," Jade observed carefully. "With Jaune and Cynthia."

"Indeed," Kali agreed, her gaze moving between her daughter and Jaune, who was now quietly humming to Cynthia as the baby's eyes began to droop. "A most unexpected situation, but life rarely follows the paths we anticipate, especially where our children are concerned."

"Blake is really good with Cynthia," Violet offered, her tone deliberately casual as she watched for Kali's reaction. "They've bonded quickly."

"So I've observed," Kali replied, a hint of something unreadable in her expression. "She seems to have natural instincts in that regard."

"She's teaching me about faunus children," Jaune added, clearly trying to highlight Blake's contributions. "Things I wouldn't know otherwise, like how sensitive Cynthia's ears are to certain sounds, or why she startles at smells that don't bother the rest of us."

Blake glanced at him with quiet gratitude for the acknowledgment, another small interaction dutifully noted by the watching sisters.

"That knowledge will serve Cynthia well," Kali agreed. "Growing up with mixed human and faunus influences could give her a unique perspective."

The choice of words—with its implication of a sustained future arrangement—caused another round of silent communications around the table. Violet and Jade seemed cautiously relieved, while the younger sisters remained skeptical.

"Mrs. Belladonna," Azure began, setting down her spoon with deliberate care, "is Blake going to be staying at Beacon after this?"

The seemingly innocent question carried layers of meaning understood by everyone at the table over the age of ten. Blake tensed visibly, while Jaune's humming faltered momentarily.

"That would be Blake's decision, of course," Kali replied diplomatically. "Though I imagine her education remains a priority."

"But what about Cynthia?" Celeste pressed, completing her twin's thought as they often did. "If Blake stays at Beacon, and Jaune stays at Beacon, who takes care of Cynthia?"

The question hung in the air, heavy with implications. It was the practical concern that lay at the heart of their entire situation—one that Blake and Jaune had clearly been avoiding addressing directly.

"We're... still working through the details," Jaune answered carefully, his hand unconsciously moving to rest lightly against Blake's shoulder—a gesture of solidarity that made Amber's eyes narrow further.

"Professor Ozpin is arranging temporary guardianship papers," Blake added, finding her voice. "That will give us time to establish a more permanent arrangement."

"I've offered my assistance as well," Kali interjected smoothly. "There are certain resources in Menagerie that might prove useful in ensuring Cynthia's security and well-being."

A ripple of tension passed through the Arc sisters at the mention of Menagerie. Jade's fingers tightened around her water glass while Violet's expression grew carefully neutral.

It was Lily, once again, who cut through the careful adult evasions with a child's devastating directness.

"Are you going to take Blake and the baby away?" she asked Kali, her small voice carrying clearly in the suddenly silent dining room. "Back to Mena...Mena-whatever?"

Everyone froze. Juniper half-rose from her seat, clearly intending to intervene, while Marcus laid a restraining hand on Amber's arm as the teenager opened her mouth, likely to follow up with an equally blunt question.

Kali's eyes widened momentarily, genuinely caught off guard by the stark question. For the first time that evening, her composed facade wavered, revealing the complex emotions beneath—surprise, consideration, and something that might have been understanding.

Then, just as quickly, her poise returned. Setting down her spoon, she turned to face Lily directly, giving the child's question the respect of a thoughtful answer.

"That's a very important question, Lily," she began, her tone gentle but not condescending. "And the honest answer is that I haven't come here to take anyone away against their will. Blake is my daughter, and I've missed her terribly, but she's also an adult capable of making her own choices."

Kali's gaze shifted to Cynthia, now sleeping peacefully against Jaune's shoulder, before continuing. "As for this little one... she clearly has people who love her and are committed to her well-being. My only concern is ensuring that whatever arrangement is made serves her best interests."

The careful diplomacy of the answer seemed to satisfy some around the table, but Lily's brow remained furrowed.

"But you want Blake to come home with you, right?" she persisted. "And if Blake goes, Cynthia might go too. And Jaune would be sad."

The blunt assessment—cutting straight to the emotional core of the matter—caused a flush to rise on both Blake and Jaune's cheeks. They carefully avoided looking at each other, though their proximity at the table made their discomfort all the more noticeable.

Kali regarded Lily with newfound appreciation, recognizing the protective instinct behind the child's persistence. "You care very much about your brother's happiness," she observed. "That's admirable."

She paused, seeming to weigh her next words carefully. "I want my daughter to be happy, Lily, just as you want your brother to be happy. And while I would love to have Blake visit Menagerie someday, I understand now that her life has become... interconnected with others in ways I'm still coming to appreciate."

Her gaze moved between Blake and Jaune, lingering on how naturally they supported each other with Cynthia between them. "Family isn't always about being in the same place. Sometimes it's about recognizing where someone belongs, even when that place is far from what you imagined."

The words, laden with meaning, settled over the table. Blake looked up at her mother with a mixture of surprise and tentative hope, while Jaune's expression reflected dawning relief. Among the Arc sisters, reactions varied—Jade and Violet exchanged cautiously optimistic glances, while the younger girls remained watchful, not entirely convinced.

"Well," Juniper said into the weighted silence, her tone deliberately light, "I think we're ready for dessert. Violet, would you help me bring in the apple tart?"

The strategic interruption broke the tension, allowing conversation to resume along safer channels. As the meal continued, the earlier nervous energy gradually dissolved into something more relaxed, if not entirely free of underlying currents.

When dinner finally concluded, Cynthia had begun to stir, signaling her readiness for evening feeding. Blake rose to prepare her bottle, with Jaune following automatically, his hand brushing against Blake's back in a gesture so subtle and unconscious that only the most observant would notice it.

Kali, however, was among the most observant. As she helped clear dishes alongside Juniper, her amber eyes tracked the young pair's movement out of the dining room, noting their synchronized steps and the quiet communication that passed between them without words.

"They move like a unit," she murmured, almost to herself.

"They've been that way since they arrived," Juniper confirmed, keeping her voice low. "It's rather remarkable, given how recently this all began."

"How much of it do you think they recognize themselves?" Kali asked, genuine curiosity in her tone.

Juniper's laugh was soft but knowing. "Very little, I suspect. They're so focused on Cynthia that they haven't had time to examine what's growing between them."

"Or perhaps they're afraid to acknowledge it," Kali suggested. "Given the circumstances."

"Perhaps," Juniper agreed, stacking plates with practiced efficiency. "But some things become obvious with time, whether acknowledged or not."

As the Arc sisters dispersed to their various evening tasks—some with ostensibly casual glances toward where Blake and Jaune had disappeared with Cynthia—Kali found herself reflecting on the unexpected dynamics she had witnessed. She had come prepared for confrontation, for difficult explanations and perhaps even resistance.

Instead, she had found herself immersed in a family system that was already adjusting to include her daughter and the baby they'd found—with all the protective instincts, careful observations, and cautious hope that entailed.

And most surprising of all, she had discovered that her daughter—her independent, often solitary Blake—had somehow found her place within it all, moving in tandem with a young man who handled a baby with the gentle confidence of someone who had discovered his purpose.

It wasn't what Kali had expected to find in this remote agricultural settlement. But as she helped Juniper load the dishwasher, listening to the distant sound of Blake's voice singing softly to Cynthia upstairs, she found herself oddly reassured.

Whatever came next for her daughter, for Jaune, and for the baby who had unexpectedly united them, at least they would face it surrounded by people who cared—both the family Blake had been born to, and the one she seemed to be finding, one day at a time.

After dinner had concluded and the last of the dishes were put away, Juniper found Kali alone on the back porch. The faunus woman stood with her hands resting lightly on the railing, her gaze fixed on the orchard where silvery moonlight filtered through the apple trees, casting dappled shadows across the well-tended ground.

Juniper approached quietly, carrying two steaming mugs of tea. "I thought you might appreciate this," she offered, extending one of the mugs. "It's a local blend with honey, the way Blake mentioned you prefer it."

Kali accepted the mug with a grateful smile. "Thank you. Your hospitality has been remarkable, especially given how unexpected my arrival was."

"The Arc home has always welcomed visitors," Juniper replied, leaning against the railing beside her. "Though I must admit, we've had quite a few surprises lately."

A comfortable silence settled between them as they sipped their tea, two mothers contemplating the strange circumstances that had brought their families together. From inside the house came the muffled sounds of the Arc sisters preparing for bed—running water, closing doors, the occasional burst of laughter quickly hushed.

"I wanted to apologize," Juniper said finally, her voice soft in the evening stillness. "For Lily's question at dinner. She's... well, they all are, but Lily especially is very protective of Jaune."

Kali shook her head slightly. "No apology necessary. Children often see to the heart of matters that adults prefer to approach more delicately."

"Still," Juniper insisted, "it was rather blunt, and placed you in an awkward position."

"It was an honest question," Kali countered. "And one I suspect many around the table were wondering."

Juniper smiled ruefully. "I can't deny that."

She turned, leaning her back against the railing to face the house. Through the kitchen window, they could see Marcus helping Violet with a late homework assignment, their blonde heads bent together over textbooks spread across the table.

"What Lily doesn't understand—what none of them fully appreciate—is that Jaune has been a second father to the youngest girls for years," Juniper explained, a note of pride mingling with something like regret in her voice. "With Marcus away on assignments so often when the twins and Lily were babies, Jaune stepped in. He was only a child himself, really, but he never complained."

Kali listened attentively, recognizing the weight of shared confidence in Juniper's tone.

"He would get up for nighttime feedings, learn to prepare bottles, figure out which songs would soothe which sister," Juniper continued. "By the time Lily was born, he had practically become a co-parent alongside me."

Understanding dawned in Kali's expression. "So his competence with Cynthia..."

"Isn't new," Juniper confirmed. "Though I've never seen him quite so invested, so... centered by the responsibility. There's something different about how he is with Cynthia. And with Blake."

She turned back to face Kali directly. "So while I apologize for Lily's bluntness, I can't honestly say I didn't have the same questions myself. Not out of hostility, but out of concern for my son, who has given so much of himself to caring for others that I sometimes worry he forgets to consider his own happiness."

Kali nodded, weighing her response carefully. "When I arrived, I had... assumptions about the situation. About what might be best for Blake and, by extension, for Cynthia." She paused, her gaze returning to the moonlit orchard. "I'm finding those assumptions challenged by what I've observed."

"And what have you observed?" Juniper asked, genuine curiosity in her tone.

"A young man who cradles a baby with natural ease," Kali replied thoughtfully. "A daughter who moves around him with the synchronized rhythm of a partner rather than merely a co-caretaker. And between them, a child who somehow seems to belong exactly where she is, despite all logical reasons why she shouldn't."

She turned to meet Juniper's gaze directly. "It isn't at all what I expected to find. But I'm beginning to think that perhaps expectation is the enemy of understanding in this situation."

Juniper's expression softened with approval. "That's a remarkably insightful perspective, especially given how recently you've arrived."

"I've had practice adjusting to unexpected circumstances," Kali said with a small smile. "Being married to the Chieftain of Menagerie requires flexibility."

Juniper's eyebrows rose slightly. "Chieftain? I suspected you held some position of importance, but—"

"It's not something we advertise widely," Kali clarified. "Ghira leads our people, but we've always tried to maintain a certain... normalcy for Blake. Though I suppose that became rather moot once she left home."

The revelation hung in the air between them, adding yet another layer to the already complex situation.

"Does Blake know you're here?" Juniper asked after a moment. "Your husband, I mean."

Kali sighed softly. "Not yet. I thought it best to assess the situation before involving Ghira. He can be rather... protective where Blake is concerned."

"I understand completely," Juniper assured her, thinking of Marcus's carefully controlled reaction to their son's unexpected return with Blake and Cynthia. "Fathers have their own way of processing these matters."

"Indeed," Kali agreed. "And learning that his daughter is helping raise a child with a young human man she's only recently met would certainly provoke a reaction."

Both women shared a knowing look that transcended species differences, united in their understanding of paternal protectiveness.

"For what it's worth," Juniper offered, "I believe Jaune truly cares for Blake, not just as Cynthia's co-guardian, but as... well, I'm not entirely sure they know what they are to each other yet. But there's something there, something genuine."

"I've sensed the same," Kali admitted. "Though Blake has always been guarded with her feelings. She comes by it honestly, I'm afraid. Neither Ghira nor I are particularly demonstrative in public."

"And Jaune has always been almost painfully earnest," Juniper added with motherly affection. "Wearing his heart so openly that his sisters have developed a protective fierceness in response to seeing him hurt."

"Hence Lily's question," Kali concluded, understanding dawning. "She fears I'll separate them."

"Not just Lily," Juniper confirmed. "I suspect the older girls have been strategizing since you arrived. They can be quite the force when united in purpose."

Rather than taking offense, Kali laughed softly. "Blake spoke of teammates at Beacon who became like family to her. I see now that she's found another such family here."

"The Arcs adopt strays with alarming regularity," Juniper said with a smile. "Marcus blames me, though he's just as guilty."

They shared a comfortable moment of understanding before Kali's expression grew more serious. "I won't lie and say I have no concerns about this situation. The practical challenges alone are daunting—they're both still students, the rigors of huntsman training are hardly compatible with child-rearing, and the White Fang connection Blake mentioned introduces security concerns I find deeply troubling."

"All valid points," Juniper acknowledged. "And ones I suspect they haven't fully reconciled themselves."

"Yet despite all that," Kali continued, "I find myself reluctant to disrupt what appears to be working, however improbable it seems."

Juniper studied the other woman's face, recognizing the internal conflict playing out behind her composed exterior. "Perhaps the best thing we can offer them isn't answers, but support while they find their own way forward."

Kali considered this, then nodded slowly. "A wise approach. Though I still believe Cynthia's safety must remain the priority, regardless of whatever... attachments may be forming."

"On that, we are in complete agreement," Juniper assured her. "Marcus and I have already discussed security enhancements for the property, given what Jaune shared about the White Fang concerns."

Surprise flickered across Kali's features. "You're preparing for a prolonged arrangement, then?"

"We're preparing for possibilities," Juniper clarified. "Whatever form this unusual family takes, we want to ensure they have options."

Family. The word hung between them, laden with significance. Neither woman had directly addressed what Blake and Jaune might become to each other, yet both had recognized the potential taking shape before them.

"It seems our children have led us into rather uncharted territory," Kali observed, a hint of wry humor returning to her voice.

"Parenthood is nothing but uncharted territory," Juniper replied with a laugh. "Just when you think you've figured it out, they change the map entirely."

As if to emphasize her point, the soft sound of a baby's cry floated down from an upstairs window, followed by the murmur of voices—Blake and Jaune, moving in their now-familiar rhythm to soothe Cynthia back to sleep.

Both mothers glanced up instinctively toward the sound, united in that most basic parental response, before sharing a look of rueful understanding.

"I should check on Blake before turning in," Kali said, finishing the last of her tea. "Thank you for the conversation, Juniper. And for welcoming us so generously into your home."

"You're family now," Juniper replied simply. "However unconventional the connection might be."

As Kali made her way back inside, Juniper remained on the porch a moment longer, gazing up at the stars scattered across the night sky. Life rarely followed predictable paths—that much she had learned through years of raising eight unique children. But sometimes, the unexpected detours led to exactly where you needed to be.

Upstairs, Blake and Jaune continued their nighttime routine with Cynthia, unaware of the maternal alliance forming below—one that would become a foundation of support for whatever future they were slowly, perhaps unknowingly, building together.

Chapter Text

Chapter 26: Long-Distance Advice

80AGW - Early June

The guest room assigned to Blake was surprisingly comfortable, with pale blue walls and a window that overlooked the orchard. After ensuring Cynthia was soundly asleep in her portable crib, Blake had retreated here for a moment of solitude—a chance to process the whirlwind of emotions that had accompanied her mother's unexpected arrival.

She sat cross-legged on the bed, a dog-eared paperback open but unread beside her. Her mind kept replaying fragments of the evening—her mother's embrace after five years of separation, the careful dance of conversation at dinner, and the watchful eyes of Jaune's sisters tracking her every move.

The buzz of her scroll startled her from her thoughts. Glancing at the screen, she was surprised to see Yang's contact information. It was nearly midnight in Vale—late for a social call, even by her partner's standards.

"Hello?" Blake answered softly, mindful of Cynthia sleeping in the adjacent room.

"BLAKE!" Yang's voice boomed through the speaker, causing Blake to wince and hastily lower the volume. "How did it go? Is your mom there? Did she freak out? Give us all the drama!"

"Yang, volume," Blake chided, though she couldn't suppress a small smile at her partner's characteristic enthusiasm. "And what do you mean 'us'?"

"You're on speaker!" Ruby's voice chirped from the background. "We're all here! Well, except Pyrrha. She said she needed to train, but I think she just wanted to give us privacy."

"How considerate," Weiss's crisp tones joined in. "Unlike some people who insist on shouting into the scroll at full volume."

"Hey! I'm excited!" Yang protested. "It's not every day your partner's mom shows up out of nowhere to find her playing house with a boy and a baby."

Blake sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. "I'm not 'playing house,' Yang."

"Sure, sure," Yang replied, her voice rich with skepticism. "So tell us everything! How did Mama Belladonna take the news? Is she demanding you return to Menagerie? Did she threaten Jaune? We need details!"

Blake leaned back against the headboard, gathering her thoughts. "It was... not what I expected," she admitted. "I thought she'd be angry, or at least disappointed. But she was just... relieved to see me."

"Well, you did disappear for five years without a word," Weiss pointed out with her characteristic bluntness. "I imagine relief would be the primary emotion."

"Thanks for the reminder, Weiss," Blake replied dryly.

"So she's not mad about Cynthia?" Ruby asked, cutting to the heart of the matter as she often did. "Or about you staying with Jaune's family?"

"Not mad, exactly," Blake said carefully. "Concerned, definitely. She has questions about the practicalities—how we'll manage with school, what our long-term plans are, security concerns with the White Fang connection."

"All valid points," Weiss noted. "The same issues we've been discussing."

"What did you tell her?" Yang pressed.

Blake sighed softly. "The truth. That we're still figuring it out. That Ozpin is arranging temporary guardianship papers. That Cynthia's safety is our priority."

"And she accepted that?" Ruby asked, sounding slightly awed.

"Surprisingly, yes," Blake confirmed. "She seems... cautiously supportive, I guess? She's observing, taking everything in. I think she's still forming her opinion."

"That's a good sign, right?" Ruby's hopeful tone brought a small smile to Blake's face.

"I think so," she agreed. "She and Jaune's mom seem to be getting along well, which helps. They were having tea together on the porch earlier, looking entirely too comfortable for my peace of mind."

Yang's laugh echoed through the scroll. "Oh man, mom solidarity! That's either really good or really terrifying."

"Probably both," Blake admitted.

"And what about the rest of the Arc family?" Weiss inquired. "How are they handling your mother's arrival?"

Blake hesitated, her bow twitching slightly as she recalled the intense scrutiny she'd been under throughout dinner. "That's... complicated."

"Uh-oh," Yang's voice took on a more serious tone. "What happened?"

"Nothing explicit," Blake clarified quickly. "It's just... the sisters are watching me. Constantly. Especially the younger ones. I can feel their suspicion."

"That's not surprising," Weiss said. "From what you've told us, they're extremely protective of Jaune. And now with your mother arriving unexpectedly..."

"It goes deeper than that," Blake said, her voice lower as she processed a realization. "I've been watching Jaune with his younger sisters. The way he interacts with them... it's obvious he's been more than just a brother to them. He's practically been a second father."

"What do you mean?" Weiss asked.

Blake took a moment to organize her thoughts. "Today at lunch, before Mom arrived, I watched him help Lily cut her sandwich without her even having to ask. He knew exactly how she liked it. Then with the twins—he can tell them apart instantly, even from behind. He knows all their little preferences and habits."

"That just sounds like a good big brother," Weiss suggested.

"It's more than that," Blake insisted. "His mom mentioned that when the younger girls were babies, Jaune would get up for nighttime feedings, learn to prepare bottles. She said by the time Lily was born, he had practically become a co-parent alongside her."

"Ah," Yang said, her tone shifting to understanding. "That explains a lot."

"I feel like I'm being evaluated not just as some girl their brother brought home," Blake continued, "but as a potential... I don't know, maternal figure? Like when a single dad introduces someone new to his toddlers."

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the scroll. Then, Ruby's voice came through, uncharacteristically somber.

"We get it," she said quietly. "We know exactly what that's like."

"Our dad went through something similar," Yang explained, all teasing gone from her voice. "After Summer—Ruby's mom—died, Dad was... well, he wasn't in a good place for a while. When he eventually started dating again, we were pretty tough on the women he brought home."

"Really tough," Ruby admitted. "We'd scrutinize everything they did, looking for any sign they weren't good enough for Dad or for us."

"We set impossible standards," Yang continued. "No one could replace Summer, and we made sure they knew it."

Blake hadn't considered this perspective. "So you think that's what I'm experiencing? The sisters are judging whether I'm... worthy of their family unit?"

"Probably," Ruby confirmed. "Especially if Jaune's been like a dad to them. They'll be super protective."

"And now with your mom showing up," Yang added, "they're probably terrified you're going to leave and break their brother's heart."

"And potentially take Cynthia with you," Weiss pointed out. "Which would be a double loss for them—both you and the baby they're starting to get attached to."

Blake felt a new weight of understanding settle over her. "That makes their behavior make so much more sense," she murmured. "The constant watching, the pointed questions..."

"They're trying to figure out if you're planning to stick around," Yang confirmed. "If you're committed enough to be trusted with their brother's happiness."

"Which is complicated by the fact that I'm not even sure what Jaune and I are to each other," Blake admitted, voicing the confusion that had been building for days. "We're partners in caring for Cynthia, yes, but beyond that..."

"How about Jaune?" Ruby asked. "What does he think about your mom being there?"

"He's been amazing, actually," Blake said, a warmth creeping into her voice without her noticing. "Accommodating, respectful, making sure Mom feels welcome. He even remembered how she takes her tea."

"Aww, look at him scoring points with the mother-in-law," Yang teased.

"Yang!" Blake protested, heat rising to her cheeks. "It's not like that."

"Isn't it?" Yang countered. "Because from where we're sitting, it looks an awful lot like a family forming. You, Jaune, Cynthia—adjusting to each other, creating routines, meeting the extended relatives..."

"That's—we're just—it's practical," Blake stammered, unusual uncertainty coloring her words. "Cynthia needs both of us."

"And does Jaune need you?" Weiss asked suddenly, her precise tone cutting through Blake's defenses. "Beyond your practical help with Cynthia, I mean."

The question struck Blake silent, her mind racing through countless small moments—Jaune's hand at the small of her back, the way he seemed to relax when she entered a room, how he instinctively turned to her first when sharing Cynthia's small milestones.

"I..." she began, then faltered.

"And do you need him?" Ruby added softly, her young voice somehow wiser than her years.

Blake closed her eyes, the weight of the question settling over her. Need was such a dangerous concept—so close to dependence, to vulnerability. After Adam, she'd sworn never to need anyone again.

But Jaune wasn't Adam. He never pushed, never demanded, never made her feel less than equal. He valued her input, supported her decisions, and stood beside her rather than in front of her.

"It's not about need," she finally said, her voice barely above a whisper. "It's about... choice."

"And what are you choosing, Blake?" Yang asked, all teasing gone from her tone.

"If you want the sisters to trust you," Ruby added, "they need to know you're not just passing through their lives. That you're not going to disappear with their brother's heart and the baby they're starting to love."

"Ruby's right," Yang agreed. "We were impossible to please because we were scared of getting attached to someone who wouldn't stay."

Before Blake could formulate a response, a soft knock at the door provided an unexpected reprieve. "Just a second," she called to her teammates, setting the scroll aside to answer the door.

Jade stood in the hallway, her blonde hair pulled back in a loose ponytail, her expression carefully neutral. "Sorry to disturb you," she said quietly. "Cynthia's getting fussy. Jaune's trying to settle her, but I thought you might want to know."

"Thank you," Blake replied, grateful for both the information and the interruption. "I'll be right there."

Jade nodded, her observant eyes noting the scroll on the bed. "I'll let him know you're coming," she said, before turning to leave.

Blake watched her go, noting the careful assessment in the older girl's gaze. Of all the Arc sisters, Jade was the most analytical, the most reserved in her judgment. Blake couldn't tell if that was good or bad for her current situation.

She returned to the scroll, finding her teammates still waiting patiently. "I need to go," she explained. "Cynthia's awake."

"Duty calls," Yang acknowledged. "But Blake? Think about what we said. About the sisters' perspective. If you want to be part of Jaune and Cynthia's life, you need to convince them you're all in."

"And remember we're here for you," Ruby added earnestly. "Whatever you decide."

"All of us," Weiss confirmed, her crisp tones softened with genuine care.

Blake felt a swell of gratitude for these teammates who had become family in their own right. "Thank you," she said simply. "I'll call again tomorrow."

As she ended the call and headed toward Jaune's room, where Cynthia's increasingly insistent cries could be heard, Blake found herself reflecting on Yang and Ruby's insight. Their perspective on the Arc sisters' behavior had illuminated so much—the watchful eyes, the protective questions, the cautious distance.

These girls weren't just evaluating her as their brother's friend. They were assessing her as a potential permanent addition to a family unit where Jaune had already played a paternal role. They were looking for commitment, for stability, for someone who wouldn't disappear when things got difficult.

And given her history of running when confronted with complications, their suspicion was more justified than she'd initially realized.

Blake paused outside Jaune's door, taking a deep breath. Whatever was developing between her and Jaune—whatever they might become to each other beyond Cynthia's co-guardians—would require more than just their mutual agreement. It would need the blessing of two extended families, the support of their teams, and most importantly, the trust of these protective sisters who had already seen their brother step up as a father figure once before.

If she wanted to truly be part of this unexpected family that was forming around Cynthia, she would need to prove herself worthy of that trust—not with words, but with presence, with consistency, with staying power.

Blake knocked softly on Jaune's door, ready to step into the role that felt increasingly natural, despite its unexpectedness.

Whatever choices lay ahead, this was her path for now. The rest would follow, one day at a time.

Chapter Text

Chapter 27: Summer Plans

80AGW - Mid June

The common room of the dormitory was bathed in the golden light of late afternoon as the remaining members of Teams RWBY and JNPR gathered around the low coffee table. With classes officially ended for the summer break and most students already departed for their destinations, Beacon Academy had taken on a peculiar quiet that felt both peaceful and slightly melancholic.

Ruby sprawled on her stomach across the carpet, idly flipping through a weapons magazine while Yang tossed a small stress ball repeatedly into the air from her position on the couch. Across from them, Pyrrha sat with perfect posture in an armchair, while Nora bounced excitedly on the arm of Ren's chair, nearly causing him to spill his tea with each enthusiastic movement.

Weiss was the last to join them, entering with a stack of neatly organized papers clutched to her chest.

"Finally finished?" Yang asked, catching the stress ball and sitting up straighter.

"Yes," Weiss confirmed, placing the papers in her bag with characteristic precision. "My end-of-term report for Professor Goodwitch. I wanted to ensure it was perfect before submission."

"But classes ended two days ago," Ruby pointed out, rolling onto her back to look up at her partner.

"Excellence doesn't adhere to a calendar, Ruby," Weiss replied primly, though a small smile took the edge off her words. She settled into the remaining armchair with a barely audible sigh. "Besides, I needed something to occupy my thoughts."

They all knew what she meant. The dormitory felt strangely empty without Blake and Jaune, and the sudden appearance of Blake's mother had added an extra layer of uncertainty to an already complicated situation.

"Any word from the lovebirds?" Yang asked, tossing the stress ball toward Ruby, who caught it without looking.

"Yang," Pyrrha admonished gently, though there was no real censure in her voice. "They're co-guardians, not..." She trailed off, unable to complete the denial with much conviction.

"Blake messaged me earlier," Ruby offered, sitting up cross-legged on the floor. "Apparently her mom and Jaune's mom have formed some kind of alliance. She sounded slightly terrified."

"As she should be," Yang laughed. "Mom solidarity is a powerful force. Especially when it involves unexpected grandbabies."

"Has anyone heard from Jaune?" Ren asked, carefully setting his teacup on the side table to avoid Nora's increasingly vigorous bouncing.

Pyrrha nodded. "He sent a short message this morning. Apparently, Mrs. Belladonna has been... surprisingly accepting of the situation."

"That's good, right?" Ruby asked, looking between her friends.

"It's certainly better than the alternative," Weiss acknowledged. "Though I imagine there are still many details to be worked out regarding their long-term plans."

A brief silence fell over the group as they each contemplated the unusual path their friends had found themselves on. It was Nora who finally broke the contemplative moment, exploding with her characteristic energy.

"So!" she declared, jumping to her feet. "Are we going to sit around all break worrying about Jaune and Blake's domestic situation, or are we going to make PLANS? Because summer break waits for no one, people!"

Her enthusiasm provoked smiles all around, even from Weiss.

"Nora's right," Ruby agreed, brightening. "We should figure out our summer plans! I know Blake and Jaune are busy with Cynthia, but the rest of us deserve a break too!"

"Well, Yang and I are heading back to Patch tomorrow," she continued, tossing the stress ball back to her sister. "Dad's expecting us, and I can't wait to see Zwei again!"

"How is your father?" Pyrrha asked politely.

"He's good!" Ruby replied cheerfully. "Teaching at Signal keeps him busy, but he always takes some time off when we come home for breaks."

"What about you, Weiss?" Ren inquired. "Will you be returning to Atlas?"

The question caused Weiss's expression to shutter slightly, her posture growing more rigid. "I... had considered it," she said carefully. "But recent communications with my father suggest it might be... best if I explore other options this summer."

The careful phrasing didn't fool her friends. Even Nora's boundless energy dimmed momentarily at the hint of family tension.

"What happened?" Yang asked, her protective instincts flaring.

Weiss sighed, smoothing an invisible wrinkle from her combat skirt. "Nothing specific. Just the usual... expectations. My father has arranged several 'social engagements' that are thinly veiled business networking opportunities. And Winter is deployed on a classified mission, so she won't be there to run interference."

"That sounds awful," Ruby said with uncharacteristic vehemence. "You shouldn't have to spend your break being paraded around like a business asset!"

"It's the Schnee family way," Weiss replied with a brittle smile. "Though I had hoped to spend at least some time with Winter this summer."

Yang and Ruby exchanged a quick glance, some unspoken communication passing between the sisters before Yang leaned forward.

"So come to Patch with us," she suggested, as if it were the most obvious solution in the world.

Weiss blinked in surprise. "I... what?"

"Come to Patch!" Ruby echoed enthusiastically, bouncing to her feet. "It'll be great! Dad won't mind—he loves having guests. And you can meet Zwei properly, not just over video calls! And we can show you the island, and go swimming, and—"

"Slow down, Rubes," Yang laughed, placing a calming hand on her sister's shoulder. "Let Weiss process before you plan the entire vacation."

Weiss looked between the sisters, genuine emotion flickering across her usually composed features. "You'd really want me to come home with you? For the entire break?"

"Of course we would," Ruby said simply. "You're our teammate. Our friend."

"And it beats the heck out of stuffy Atlas parties," Yang added with a wink.

"I..." Weiss seemed at a rare loss for words. "That's incredibly kind of you. Are you certain your father wouldn't mind?"

"Are you kidding? Dad would love it," Yang assured her. "He's always telling us to bring friends home. Plus, he's a pretty amazing cook—way better than the cafeteria food here."

"He makes the BEST cookies," Ruby added, her eyes shining at the mere thought. "Even better than the ones Jaune makes."

The genuine warmth in their invitation seemed to melt something in Weiss's careful reserve. "Well, if you're certain... I would be honored to accept."

"YES!" Ruby exclaimed, pumping her fist in victory. "Team RWY summer vacation is going to be AWESOME!"

"Just promise me I won't have to sleep in a bunk bed," Weiss stipulated, though she couldn't entirely suppress her smile.

"We've got a guest room," Yang assured her. "With an actual adult-sized bed and everything."

As the three teammates began discussing logistics for their trip to Patch, Pyrrha turned to Ren and Nora. "What about you two?" she asked. "Will you be returning to... where was it again?"

A flicker of something passed between Ren and Nora—the kind of wordless communication that came from years of shared history.

"We don't really have a 'home' to go back to," Nora admitted, her usual exuberance momentarily subdued. "Not like the others."

"We usually stay at Beacon during breaks," Ren explained. "Or sometimes travel to nearby villages."

"We were going to go with Jaune to his family home this summer," Nora added, her energy returning somewhat. "We had it all planned! Team JNR summer adventure at the Arc farmhouse! But then..."

"But then Cynthia happened," Ren completed the thought.

"And Blake," Nora added with a waggle of her eyebrows.

"And now Mrs. Belladonna as well," Ren concluded. "It seemed... prudent to give them space to sort through those dynamics without adding more variables to the equation."

Pyrrha nodded in understanding. The unspoken message was clear—Jaune needed to focus on Cynthia and navigate the complex situation with Blake and her mother without additional distractions. It was a selfless decision, typical of both Ren and Nora, but it left them without plans for the summer.

"Come to Argus with me," Pyrrha said suddenly.

Ren and Nora both turned to her in surprise.

"My family has a home there," Pyrrha continued, warming to the idea. "It's quite spacious, and my parents would welcome the company. Argus is beautiful in the summer—there are festivals, excellent training facilities, and the coastal views are spectacular."

"Are you sure?" Nora asked, excitement building in her voice. "We don't want to impose."

"It would be my pleasure," Pyrrha assured them with genuine warmth. "In fact, I insist. Consider it a thank you for all your support during the tournament."

"That's very generous," Ren said, a small smile softening his usually stoic expression. "If you're certain your family wouldn't mind..."

"Not at all," Pyrrha confirmed. "They're always encouraging me to bring friends home. My mother, especially, worries that I spend too much time training alone."

"Well, you definitely won't be alone with Nora around," Ren said dryly.

"ARGUS VACATION!" Nora exclaimed, bouncing with renewed vigor. "This is going to be the BEST! We can explore the city, and try all the food, and maybe see some Atlesian military ships, and—"

"And breathe, Nora," Ren interjected gently, though his fond expression belied any real admonishment.

As the newly formed vacation groups began excitedly planning their respective trips, the common room filled with the warmth of friendship and anticipation. The concerns about their absent teammates hadn't disappeared, but they had been temporarily set aside in favor of summer adventures and the simple joy of being together.

"We should call Blake and Jaune later," Ruby suggested, always mindful of including everyone. "Let them know our plans, see how things are going with Cynthia and Blake's mom."

"Good idea," Yang agreed. "Though maybe we should wait until tomorrow. Give them some space to deal with the whole 'surprise visit from mom' situation."

"A wise decision," Pyrrha concurred. "Besides, we have our own preparations to make."

"Speaking of preparations," Weiss interjected, her organizational instincts kicking in. "Ruby, Yang, when exactly are we departing for Patch? I'll need to make arrangements for my luggage to be transported."

"The airship leaves at noon tomorrow," Ruby replied. "And don't worry about your stuff! Dad's picking us up at the Vale terminal in his truck. Plenty of room for whatever you need to bring."

"Plus," Yang added with a teasing grin, "it's not like you need to pack your tiara collection for Patch. We're pretty casual there."

"I do not have a tiara collection," Weiss protested, her cheeks coloring slightly. "They're ceremonial headpieces, and they remain secured in Atlas."

"Suuuure," Yang drawled, winking at Ruby. "Just like Pyrrha doesn't have a trophy room."

"It's not a trophy room," Pyrrha insisted, her own blush matching Weiss's. "It's simply a... dedicated display area."

The good-natured teasing continued as the afternoon wore on, plans solidifying amid laughter and friendly banter. By the time darkness fell outside the dormitory windows, a sense of excitement had replaced the earlier melancholy.

Summer break stretched before them, full of possibility and new experiences. And while their thoughts occasionally drifted to Blake and Jaune—and the tiny, unexpected addition who had changed everything—they found comfort in knowing that all of them, separated though they might be, were forging new paths together.

"To summer adventures," Ruby declared, raising an imaginary toast.

"And to family," Yang added meaningfully, "in all its forms."

Chapter Text

Chapter 28: Morning Reflections

80 AGW - Mid June

The first light of dawn had barely begun to filter through the curtains when Cynthia's soft cries pulled Blake from sleep. She blinked drowsily, momentarily disoriented by the unfamiliar surroundings of the guest room before the events of the previous day came rushing back—her mother's unexpected arrival, the tense family dinner, the late-night conversation with her teammates.

Cynthia's cries grew more insistent, tiny fists waving in the portable crib beside the bed. Blake slipped from beneath the covers, her bare feet silent against the wooden floor as she approached.

"Shh, it's okay," she murmured, lifting the baby with practiced ease. "I've got you."

Cynthia's whimpers subsided slightly at Blake's touch, though her small face remained scrunched with displeasure. The soft patter of footsteps in the hallway announced Jaune's arrival moments before his gentle knock.

"Blake?" he whispered through the door. "Is she up?"

"Come in," Blake called softly, already checking Cynthia's diaper. "I think she's hungry."

Jaune entered, looking rumpled but alert in sweatpants and a faded t-shirt. His blonde hair stuck up at odd angles, and a pillow crease marked one cheek. Despite the early hour, he offered Blake a warm smile that created an inexplicable flutter in her chest.

"Morning," he greeted, stifling a yawn as he crossed to her side. "I've got a bottle ready. Heated to exactly the right temperature, as per Weiss's precise instructions."

Blake couldn't help but smile at the reference to their teammate's exacting standards. "Of course you do."

They moved in their now-familiar rhythm—Blake changing Cynthia while Jaune retrieved the bottle, then settling into the window seat together as the baby eagerly accepted her breakfast. Outside, the Arc family orchard was painted in soft pinks and golds as sunrise began in earnest, dew glistening on the apple blossoms.

"Your mom still asleep?" Jaune asked, his voice low to avoid disturbing the peaceful moment.

Blake nodded. "She was exhausted from the travel. I heard her talking with your mother until quite late."

"Yeah, I noticed that too," Jaune replied with a slight smile. "They seemed to be getting along well."

"Almost too well," Blake murmured, adjusting Cynthia in her arms. "I can't decide if that's reassuring or terrifying."

Jaune chuckled softly. "Probably both."

They fell into a comfortable silence, watching as Cynthia drank her formula with single-minded determination. Blake found herself studying the baby's features—the dark hair with its hints of blue, the small cat ears that twitched occasionally as she fed, the tiny fingers wrapped trustingly around Blake's own. In just a few short weeks, this little life had become precious to her in ways she hadn't thought possible.

"Blake?" Jaune's voice broke through her thoughts. "Can I ask you something?"

Something in his tone caused Blake's ears to flatten slightly beneath her bow, a flutter of anxiety rising in her chest. "What is it?"

Jaune seemed to consider his words carefully, his blue eyes serious in the early morning light. "Where do you see us in the next few months? After summer break, I mean. When we go back to Beacon."

The question hung between them, deceptively simple yet laden with implications. Blake focused on Cynthia, avoiding Jaune's gaze as her mind raced. The future had always been a nebulous concept for her—during her White Fang days, planning too far ahead had been a luxury she couldn't afford. Even at Beacon, she'd lived semester to semester, unwilling to place too much faith in permanence.

Now Jaune was asking her to envision a future that included not just her academic path, but him and Cynthia as well. A future where the temporary arrangement they'd formed might become... something else. Something more defined. More binding.

The thought both warmed and terrified her.

"I... haven't really thought about it," she lied, the words feeling hollow even as she spoke them. "I suppose we'll need to work out a schedule with our teams. Figure out childcare during classes."

It was a deliberately practical answer, sidestepping the deeper question she suspected Jaune was really asking. From the slight fall in his expression, she knew he'd noticed.

"Right," he said, his tone carefully neutral. "Logistics. That makes sense."

Guilt twisted in Blake's stomach. She knew she was being unfair, retreating behind practicalities rather than acknowledging what had been growing between them since that first night with Cynthia. But acknowledging it would mean making herself vulnerable in ways that still frightened her.

Cynthia finished her bottle, and Blake shifted her to her shoulder for burping, grateful for the momentary distraction. Jaune watched them, something unreadable in his expression.

"Blake," he began again, more hesitantly this time. "I know this whole situation is complicated. Cynthia, your mom showing up, my family watching our every move... it's a lot. And I don't want to add to that pressure."

He paused, running a hand through his already tousled hair. "But I also don't want to pretend that something isn't happening here. Between us, I mean. At least... I thought..."

The uncertainty in his voice made Blake's chest ache. She knew she should say something—acknowledge the connection that had been building, the moments of synchronicity, the way her heart seemed to skip when he smiled at her. But the words stuck in her throat, old fears rising like shadows.

What if she admitted her feelings, only for everything to fall apart? What if Cynthia was eventually claimed by relatives or authorities? What if returning to Beacon made them realize this tentative bond was merely a product of unusual circumstances? What if she wasn't what Jaune truly wanted, once the haze of shared responsibility lifted?

What if she allowed herself to need him, only to lose him?

"Jaune, I—" she began, not entirely sure what would follow.

Cynthia's loud burp interrupted the moment, a comical punctuation that startled both of them into surprised laughter. The tension broke, replaced by the simple absurdity of caring for an infant.

As their laughter subsided, Jaune's expression softened into something more understanding. "It's okay," he said gently. "We don't have to figure everything out right now."

Relief and disappointment warred within Blake. She'd been granted a reprieve she wasn't entirely sure she wanted.

"I was thinking," Jaune continued, his tone deliberately lighter, "maybe we could use a break. Get out of the house for a bit, just the two of us."

Blake blinked in surprise. "What about Cynthia?"

"Mom and Violet have been practically begging for solo time with her," Jaune explained. "And now with your mom here too... I think they could handle her for a few hours while we go into town."

The idea was both appealing and slightly terrifying. They hadn't been truly alone together since finding Cynthia—there had always been teammates around, or his family, or the baby herself serving as both connection and buffer between them.

"Just to relax," Jaune added quickly, perhaps misinterpreting her hesitation. "Get some fresh air, grab coffee at this little café I know. Nothing... you know, complicated."

His earnest expression made something warm unfurl in Blake's chest. He was offering exactly what she needed—space to breathe, to think, to simply be in each other's company without the weight of family expectations or parental responsibilities pressing down on them.

"That sounds nice," she managed, relieved to find her voice steady. All she could do was nod, not trusting herself to say more without revealing the tumult of emotions beneath her composed exterior.

Jaune's smile brightened the room more effectively than the rising sun outside. "Great! I'll go talk to Mom or your mom about watching Cynthia for a bit. Maybe around ten, after breakfast?"

Blake nodded again, cradling Cynthia closer as Jaune stood to leave. At the door, he paused, looking back with a mixture of hope and uncertainty that made Blake's heart twist.

"It'll be good for us," he said softly. "To just... talk. Without distractions."

With that, he was gone, his footsteps fading down the hall as he went in search of one of their mothers. Blake remained in the window seat, Cynthia now dozing contentedly against her shoulder, the baby's soft breath warm against her neck.

Alone with her thoughts, Blake felt panic rising. Talk without distractions? What did that mean? Was Jaune planning to press for clarification about their relationship? Would he want definitions, commitments, promises she wasn't sure she was ready to make?

Almost without conscious decision, Blake reached for her scroll with her free hand, navigating to Weiss's contact information. Of all her teammates, Weiss would be the most objective, the most practical about this situation. She would help Blake sort through her tangled emotions without Yang's teasing or Ruby's romantic idealism.

The call connected after just two rings, but instead of Weiss's precise tones, Blake was greeted by an exuberant chorus:

"BLAKE!" Three voices exclaimed in unison, the scroll's speaker nearly crackling with their combined enthusiasm.

"Ruby? Yang?" Blake frowned in confusion. "I thought I was calling Weiss."

"You were," Weiss's voice confirmed, slightly more subdued than the others. "But we're all packing for our trip to Patch, and these two barbarians insisted on answering when they saw it was you."

"We miss you!" Ruby's voice declared. "How's everything going? Is your mom still there? How's Cynthia? Is Jaune being nice? Are his sisters still watching you like suspicious hawks?"

Blake felt a headache forming at her temples. She'd hoped for calm, reasoned counsel—not an interrogation squad. But as frustrating as her teammates could be, she couldn't deny the warmth that spread through her at their familiar voices.

"Everything's... complicated," she admitted, keeping her voice low to avoid waking Cynthia. "Mom's still here, Cynthia's fine, Jaune is..." She paused, unsure how to characterize their current situation. "Jaune just asked me to go into town with him. Just the two of us."

There was a beat of silence, then an explosion of responses:

"Ohmigosh it's a DATE!" Ruby squealed.

"Way to go, lover boy," Yang chuckled appreciatively.

"Finally, some adult conversation without an infant present," Weiss noted pragmatically.

"It's not a date," Blake hissed, glancing at the door to ensure no one was passing by. "He just thought we could use a break from... everything."

"Uh-huh," Yang drawled, skepticism dripping from her tone. "A 'break' that conveniently involves just the two of you, alone, away from prying eyes."

"It's not like that," Blake insisted, though a traitorous heat crawled up her neck. "We just need to... clear our heads."

"Blake," Weiss's voice cut through the sisters' teasing, her tone uncharacteristically gentle. "What is this call really about? You didn't contact us just to share your coffee plans."

Blake sighed, caught by Weiss's perceptiveness. "He asked about our future," she admitted softly. "What happens after summer, when we go back to Beacon. With Cynthia, with... us."

"And?" Yang prompted when Blake fell silent.

"And I panicked," Blake confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I couldn't answer him. I just... froze."

There was a moment of understanding silence from her teammates.

"Oh, Blake," Ruby said softly, compassion in her young voice.

"I get it," Yang said, her usual teasing absent. "After Adam... committing to anything probably feels like putting your head in a Beowolf's mouth."

The mention of her ex sent a cold shiver down Blake's spine, but she couldn't deny the accuracy of Yang's assessment. "It's not just that," she said. "It's everything—Beacon, our training, his family, my family, Cynthia's uncertain status... there are so many ways this could all fall apart."

"You're catastrophizing," Weiss stated bluntly, though not unkindly. "Considering all potential negative outcomes without acknowledging the positive possibilities."

"Isn't that just being realistic?" Blake countered.

"No," all three teammates replied in unison.

"Blake," Weiss continued, her tone softening slightly. "I understand the instinct to protect yourself from potential hurt. But you can't make decisions based solely on what might go wrong."

"Yeah," Ruby chimed in. "You gotta think about what might go right, too!"

"Like having a ridiculously supportive partner who clearly adores both you and the baby you're raising together?" Yang suggested innocently.

Blake felt her cheeks warm, grateful her teammates couldn't see her blush. "It's not that simple."

"Actually," Weiss said, "it might be simpler than you're making it. From what you've told us, Jaune isn't demanding declarations or commitments. He's just asking you to consider possibilities."

"And inviting you for coffee and conversation," Ruby added helpfully. "Which sounds pretty reasonable, if you ask me."

Blake glanced down at Cynthia, still sleeping peacefully against her shoulder. "But what if we try, and it doesn't work? What happens to Cynthia then?"

There was a pause before Yang spoke, her voice uncharacteristically serious. "Blake, you can't let fear of what might happen stop you from living your life. Trust me on this one."

"Besides," Weiss added practically, "you're already co-parenting. Whether you define your relationship or not, you're in this together. The only question is whether you'll allow yourself to acknowledge what's already developing between you."

Blake sat with that thought, turning it over in her mind. Were her teammates right? Was she creating obstacles to protect herself from potential pain, rather than allowing herself to explore the connection that had been growing since that night in the forest?

"I don't know what to do," she admitted finally.

"Go get coffee with the boy," Yang advised simply. "Talk to him—really talk to him. Not about logistics or schedules, but about what you both want. What you're afraid of. What you hope for."

"And remember," Ruby added, her voice gentle with understanding beyond her years, "Jaune's not Adam. He doesn't want to control you or own you. He just wants to walk beside you."

The simple truth of Ruby's words struck Blake with unexpected force. She was right—Jaune had never tried to dictate her choices or dominate her will. Even with Cynthia, he had always treated Blake as an equal partner, valued her input, respected her autonomy.

Perhaps that was what frightened her most of all—not that Jaune would try to control her, but that she might actually want to stay.

"Thank you," Blake said softly, genuine gratitude warming her voice. "All of you. I... I'll think about what you said."

"That's our girl," Yang approved. "Now go put on something cute for your not-date date."

"Yang!" Blake protested, though a small smile tugged at her lips.

After a few more minutes of lighter conversation about their respective summer plans, Blake ended the call, her thoughts still churning. Cynthia stirred against her shoulder, tiny eyes blinking open to regard Blake with that strangely perceptive gaze that always made her wonder what the baby was thinking.

"What do you think, little one?" Blake whispered, gently stroking one of Cynthia's velvety cat ears. "Should I be brave?"

Cynthia responded by reaching up to pat Blake's cheek with one small hand—a gesture that felt oddly like encouragement.

From downstairs came the sounds of the household awakening—voices in the kitchen, footsteps on the stairs, the distant clatter of breakfast preparations. Soon, the peaceful bubble of early morning would burst, replaced by the cheerful chaos of Arc family life.

But for now, in this quiet moment with Cynthia, Blake allowed herself to consider possibilities rather than catastrophes. To imagine what might be, rather than what might go wrong.

To be brave, not just for Cynthia's sake, but perhaps for her own as well.

Chapter Text

Chapter 29: Morning Reflections (Continued)

80 AGW - Mid June

Jaune found his mother in the kitchen, already busy preparing breakfast for the household. Juniper Arc moved with practiced efficiency between stove and counter, managing multiple tasks with the skill of someone who had spent years feeding a small army. The rich scent of coffee filled the air, mingling with the yeasty aroma of fresh bread baking in the oven.

"Morning, Mom," Jaune greeted, sliding onto one of the stools at the kitchen island.

Juniper turned from the stove, a warm smile lighting her face. "Good morning, sweetheart. You're up early." She gestured toward a freshly brewed pot of coffee. "Help yourself. Breakfast will be ready in about thirty minutes."

"Thanks." Jaune poured himself a mug, wrapping his hands around the warm ceramic. He took a fortifying sip before continuing. "Actually, I wanted to ask you something."

Juniper raised an eyebrow, turning down the heat under a pan of sizzling bacon before giving her son her full attention. "That sounds serious."

"It's not, really," Jaune assured her quickly. "I was just wondering if you could watch Cynthia for a few hours this morning. Blake and I were thinking of going into town for a bit."

"Just the two of you?" Juniper clarified, a subtle note of interest coloring her voice.

Jaune felt heat rising to his cheeks but maintained a casual tone. "Yeah. We thought it might be nice to get some fresh air, maybe grab coffee at Harmon's. It's been kind of intense around here, with Mrs. Belladonna arriving and everything."

A knowing smile spread across Juniper's face, though she admirably attempted to temper it. "I think that's a wonderful idea. You two deserve some time to yourselves."

"So you don't mind watching Cynthia?" Jaune confirmed.

"Mind?" Juniper laughed softly. "Sweetheart, I've been waiting for an excuse to have that baby all to myself since you arrived. Between me, Kali, and your sisters, Cynthia will have more attention than she knows what to do with."

Jaune grinned, relieved by his mother's enthusiasm. "Thanks, Mom. We'd probably leave after breakfast, around ten? We won't be gone long."

"Take all the time you need," Juniper assured him, returning to her cooking with a suspiciously satisfied expression. "Cynthia and I will have a marvelous time together. I might even show her those baby pictures of you in the bathtub."

"Mom!" Jaune protested, nearly choking on his coffee.

Juniper laughed, the sound bright and warm in the morning kitchen. "I'm teasing, dear. Mostly." She flipped the bacon with practiced precision. "Now, is there anything else Cynthia might need while you're gone? Special instructions? Preferences?"

Jaune considered the question, mentally reviewing Cynthia's routine. "She had her morning bottle already, so she probably won't be hungry again until around noon. There are clean diapers in the bag by the crib, and her favorite stuffed rabbit is in there too—the one Violet gave her. She likes it when you stroke her ears gently, but only if she's already calm. If she gets fussy, sometimes humming helps."

Juniper listened to these instructions with an indulgent smile. "I think I can manage," she assured him, her eyes twinkling. "I did raise eight children, including two sets of twins, if you recall."

"Right," Jaune acknowledged with a self-conscious laugh. "Force of habit, I guess."

"It's sweet," his mother said, her expression softening. "You're a natural father, Jaune. Always have been, even when you were just helping with your sisters."

The simple compliment warmed him more than the coffee. "Thanks, Mom."

Juniper studied her son for a moment, spatula poised midair. "This outing with Blake... is it just coffee, or something more?"

Jaune hesitated, unsure how to articulate the complexity of his feelings. "I honestly don't know," he admitted finally. "I care about her—a lot. And I think she might feel the same way, but she's... cautious."

"With good reason," Juniper noted gently. "You two have been thrown into an extraordinary situation. Most relationships have time to develop naturally, without the responsibility of an infant or the scrutiny of both families."

"Yeah," Jaune agreed with a rueful smile. "Not exactly the conventional path."

"Few worthwhile things are conventional," his mother countered. "Your father and I met when I accidentally set his tent on fire during a camping trip."

"What?" Jaune blinked in surprise. "I thought you met at a tournament in Vale."

Juniper's eyes sparkled with mischief. "That's the story we tell at family gatherings. The truth is far more embarrassing—and much more interesting."

Jaune shook his head in disbelief. "I can't believe you never told me this."

"The point is," Juniper continued, returning to her cooking, "meaningful connections often emerge from unexpected circumstances. The question isn't how your path with Blake began, but where you want it to lead."

The kitchen fell silent except for the sizzle of bacon and the soft ticking of the old clock above the doorway. Jaune contemplated his mother's words, turning them over in his mind as he sipped his coffee.

"I just want a chance," he said finally, his voice quieter. "To see if what's between us is real, or just... a side effect of raising Cynthia together."

Juniper nodded, understanding in her eyes. "Then today is a good first step. Just be patient with her, Jaune. From what little Kali has shared, Blake has experienced her share of challenges. Trust doesn't come easily to her."

"I know," Jaune replied, determination settling over his features. "But she's worth waiting for."

The simple conviction in his voice brought a soft smile to Juniper's face. "Well then," she said, turning back to her cooking, "I believe I have a granddaughter to spoil while you two enjoy your coffee date."

"It's not exactly a date," Jaune protested weakly.

Juniper merely hummed noncommittally, her knowing smile saying more than words could express.

With preparations settled, Jaune finished his coffee and headed back upstairs to shower and change, his mind already racing with thoughts of the conversation ahead. Behind him, Juniper continued her breakfast preparations, a contented smile playing at her lips.

Juniper was sliding a second batch of muffins into the oven when Kali entered the kitchen, looking refreshed despite the previous day's travel. The faunus woman moved with quiet grace, her dark hair neatly arranged, her simple lavender outfit elegant yet practical.

"Good morning," Kali greeted, her amber eyes—so like Blake's—taking in the breakfast preparations with appreciation. "Something smells wonderful."

"Blueberry muffins and bacon," Juniper replied, wiping her hands on her apron. "Coffee's fresh, if you'd like some. Or I have tea, if you prefer."

"Tea would be lovely, thank you." Kali settled onto one of the kitchen stools, her posture perfect even in the casual setting. "Can I help with anything?"

"Not at all," Juniper assured her, filling the kettle and setting it on the stove. "You're our guest. Besides, I've had years of practice managing breakfast for ten."

Kali nodded, her eyes drifting to the window that overlooked the orchard. A moment of comfortable silence passed between the two women—different in many ways, yet united by shared maternal instincts and the unusual situation their children had created.

"I just had an interesting conversation with Jaune," Juniper remarked casually as she prepared the teapot. "He and Blake are planning to go into town for coffee this morning. Just the two of them."

Kali's ear twitched slightly, the only outward sign of her interest. "Is that so?"

"Mmm," Juniper confirmed, selecting a tea blend she thought her guest might enjoy. "They've asked if we could watch Cynthia for a few hours."

"How convenient," Kali replied, a smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. "And how did Jaune seem when he mentioned this outing?"

Juniper chuckled, setting the teapot and a delicate cup before her guest. "Nervous. Hopeful. Trying very hard to pretend it's nothing special while clearly feeling otherwise."

"Sounds familiar," Kali mused, accepting the tea with a grateful nod. "Blake called me earlier to let me know they might be going out. She was very careful to emphasize it was 'just coffee' and 'not a big deal.'"

Both mothers shared a knowing look, years of parental experience allowing them to see through their children's casual pretenses.

"They're dancing around each other," Juniper observed, checking on the bacon. "It would be amusing if it weren't so painfully obvious how they feel."

"Indeed," Kali agreed, sipping her tea appreciatively. "Though I can understand Blake's hesitation. This is... not the path I imagined for her."

Juniper turned, leaning against the counter as she studied the other woman's expression. "Is that concern I hear? About Jaune?"

Kali considered the question, her amber eyes thoughtful. "Not about Jaune specifically. He seems like a wonderful young man—kind, responsible, clearly devoted to both Blake and Cynthia." She paused, gathering her thoughts. "It's more about the timing, the circumstances. They're both so young, with their training not yet complete, and now with a child depending on them..."

"Life rarely waits for convenient timing," Juniper pointed out gently. "Especially when it comes to matters of the heart."

"True enough," Kali acknowledged with a soft laugh. "Ghira and I were younger than they are when we married. My parents thought we were rushing headlong into disaster."

"And were you?" Juniper asked, genuinely curious.

Kali's expression softened with memory. "There were certainly challenges. But finding the right partner makes even the difficult paths worthwhile." She took another sip of her tea, eyes twinkling above the rim of the cup. "Though I admit, I might have appreciated a slightly more... traditional introduction to motherhood."

Both women laughed, the shared humor bridging any remaining distance between them.

"Well," Juniper said, turning to retrieve the muffins from the oven, "I've promised Jaune we'll look after Cynthia while they're gone. I hope you don't mind being recruited for grandmotherly duties."

"Not at all," Kali assured her, a warm smile lighting her features. "I've been waiting for an excuse to have more time with that precious little one." She hesitated, then added more softly, "She has Blake's eyes, you know. Not just the color, but the expression—that same curious intensity."

Juniper nodded, setting the golden-brown muffins on a cooling rack. "I noticed that too. And sometimes, when she's concentrating very hard on something, she gets this little furrow between her eyebrows—just like Jaune."

They exchanged a meaningful glance, neither voicing the thought that hung between them: how strange and wonderful it was that this child, with no biological connection to either of their children, could somehow reflect them both so clearly.

"I hope their coffee date goes well," Juniper said finally, breaking the contemplative silence. "Those two deserve some happiness, after everything they've taken on."

"Agreed," Kali replied. "Though perhaps we shouldn't call it a 'date' to their faces. Blake might spontaneously combust from embarrassment."

Juniper laughed, the sound bright and warm in the morning kitchen. "Fair enough. We'll call it 'coffee between friends who are raising a child together and clearly have feelings for each other but are too nervous to admit it.'"

"Much better," Kali approved with a grin. "Completely subtle."

As they continued their breakfast preparations, both mothers found themselves secretly hoping for the same outcome, though neither voiced it aloud: that this simple coffee outing might be the first step toward something more permanent between their children. Not just for Cynthia's sake, though the baby's welfare was paramount in both their minds, but for Blake and Jaune themselves—two young people who seemed to bring out the best in each other, even amidst extraordinary circumstances.

And if such a permanent arrangement might someday lead to more grandchildren—well, neither grandmother would object to that outcome either. Though that particular hope remained carefully unspoken, hidden behind knowing smiles and the shared understanding of maternal ambition.

For now, they would focus on the immediate task: caring for Cynthia while her young guardians took a crucial step in defining their relationship. The future, with all its possibilities, would unfold in its own time.

Chapter Text

Chapter 30: Coffee Shop

80AGW - Mid June

The town square of Radian bustled with quiet activity as Blake and Jaune made their way toward the small coffee shop nestled between a bookstore and a local bakery. Harmon's Coffee, with its warm wooden exterior and hand-painted sign, exuded the kind of welcoming charm that could only exist in places where the owners knew every customer by name.

Blake walked beside Jaune, acutely aware of how different this felt from their usual outings. Without Cynthia between them—the baby who had become both their connection and their buffer—she found herself hyper-conscious of his proximity, of the casual way his hand occasionally brushed against hers as they navigated the cobblestone streets.

"Harmon makes the best strawberry scones in all of Anima," Jaune was saying, his voice carrying a note of hometown pride. "They're Ruby's favorite, I gave her some when Violet sent some last semester. And their coffee is actually better than that fancy place near Beacon that Weiss likes."

Blake nodded, grateful for his easy conversation that filled what might otherwise have been an awkward silence. She'd been unusually quiet since they'd left the Arc home, her mind still racing with the implications of her conversation with her teammates.

Be brave. Talk to him—really talk to him.

Yang's advice echoed in her mind, both encouraging and terrifying in equal measure.

A small bell chimed as Jaune held the door open for her. Inside, Harmon's was everything Blake would have expected from a small-town coffee shop—worn wooden tables polished to a soft gleam, mismatched cushions on comfortable chairs, the rich aroma of freshly ground beans permeating the air. A handful of locals occupied various corners, reading newspapers or engaging in quiet conversation.

"Jaune Arc!" a booming voice greeted them from behind the counter. "Haven't seen you in months, boy! Your mother said you were home, but I was beginning to think you'd forgotten your old friends."

The speaker was a broad-shouldered man with salt-and-pepper hair and laugh lines etched deeply around kind eyes. His apron bore coffee stains that suggested years of dedicated service.

"Mr. Harmon," Jaune greeted with genuine warmth, approaching the counter. "Sorry for the delay. It's been a... busy visit."

"So I've heard," the older man replied, his curious gaze shifting to Blake. "And this must be the young lady everyone's talking about."

Blake stiffened slightly, her bow twitching with nervous tension. Of course people would be talking. In a town this small, a stranger accompanying the Arc boy would be notable enough—let alone one with a baby in tow.

"This is Blake," Jaune confirmed, either missing or deliberately ignoring her discomfort. "Blake, this is Harold Harmon. He makes the best coffee in Anima and knows more about what's happening in Radian than the town council."

"Pleasure to meet you, miss," Harmon said, extending a calloused hand across the counter. "Any friend of the Arcs is welcome here."

Blake accepted the handshake, offering a small smile. "Thank you. Your shop is lovely."

"Kind of you to say," Harmon beamed. "Now, what can I get for you two? On the house, of course. For Juniper's boy and his... friend."

The slight pause before "friend" wasn't lost on Blake, who felt heat rising to her cheeks.

"We can pay," she began, but Jaune shook his head.

"Never argue with Mr. Harmon about hospitality," he advised with a grin. "It's a losing battle. I'll have my usual—double espresso with cinnamon, and one of those strawberry scones if they're fresh."

"Made this morning," Harmon confirmed before turning to Blake. "And for the lady?"

"Earl Grey tea, if you have it," Blake requested. "And... I suppose I should try one of these famous scones."

"Excellent choice," Harmon approved. "Find yourselves a quiet corner, and I'll bring everything over."

Jaune led Blake to a table near the window, slightly apart from the other patrons. Sunlight streamed through the glass, creating dappled patterns across the worn wooden surface. As they settled into their seats, Blake found herself captivated by the motes of dust dancing in the golden beams, a welcome distraction from the conversation she knew was coming.

"So," Jaune began once they were seated, his blue eyes studying her with a gentleness that made her heart skip. "How are you holding up? With everything—your mom arriving, my sisters watching your every move, Cynthia's nighttime schedule..."

The simple question, asked with such genuine concern, caught Blake off guard. She'd expected him to immediately pick up where their morning conversation had left off—pressing about the future, about what was developing between them. Instead, he was offering her space, beginning with safe territory.

"It's... been a lot," she admitted, tracing a finger along a knot in the wooden table. "I never expected to see my mom again so soon. Or under these circumstances."

"Yeah, that was quite the surprise," Jaune agreed. "Though she seems to be taking it all remarkably well. Better than I would have expected, honestly."

Blake nodded, a small smile tugging at her lips. "She's always been adaptable. And your family has been very welcoming, despite the... unusual situation."

"They like you," Jaune said simply. "Even the younger ones, though they're trying very hard to pretend they're still evaluating you."

"They're protective of you," Blake observed. "It's... nice, actually. Seeing how much they care."

"Sometimes a little too much," Jaune chuckled. "But yeah, that's family for you."

Mr. Harmon appeared with their order, setting down Blake's tea and Jaune's coffee with a flourish, followed by plates bearing generously sized scones topped with fresh strawberries.

"Enjoy, kids," he said with a wink before retreating to the counter where another customer waited.

Blake inhaled the fragrant steam from her tea, gathering her thoughts as Jaune took a sip of his espresso. The moment felt both ordinary and monumental—just two people sharing a quiet moment in a coffee shop, yet laden with unspoken significance.

"Blake," Jaune began after a moment, his voice softer. "I wanted to apologize for this morning. I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that, asking about the future. It wasn't fair."

"No, I—" Blake started, then paused, gathering her courage. Yang's words echoed in her mind: Talk to him—really talk to him.

"Actually," she continued, setting down her teacup with a determined motion, "I'm the one who should apologize. I shut down when you asked a perfectly reasonable question."

"You don't have to—"

"I do," Blake insisted, meeting his gaze directly for perhaps the first time that day. "Jaune, I... I'm not good at this. At opening up, at admitting what I'm feeling, at... at being vulnerable."

Something shifted in his expression—surprise, followed by careful hope. "What are you feeling?" he asked quietly.

The question hung between them, simple yet profound in its implications. Blake took a deep breath, steeling herself for what might be the most difficult conversation she'd had since leaving the White Fang.

"I don't know how to do this," she began, words tumbling out faster than she could control them. "I care about you—both of you, you and Cynthia—more than I ever expected to. When we're together, it feels... right, somehow. Like we fit. And that terrifies me because what if it doesn't last? What if we go back to Beacon and realize this was just a product of unusual circumstances? What if I'm not what you really want once the immediate crisis passes?"

She paused, drawing another shaky breath before continuing, unable to meet his eyes now that the floodgates had opened.

"And then there's Cynthia. She deserves stability, consistency. What if we try to be... something more, and it falls apart? She'd be the one hurt most. Or what if someone comes forward with a legitimate claim to her? What if Ozpin's guardianship arrangements fall through? We could lose her, and then what would even be the point of us?"

The words continued to pour out, years of built-up fears finding release in this quiet coffee shop.

"And your family—they have expectations, traditions. I'm a faunus with a past I'm not proud of. Your sisters are already suspicious of me. What if they never accept me? What if I'm not good enough for their standards? And my mother—she seems supportive now, but what about my father? What would he say about all this?"

Blake's hands trembled slightly around her teacup, her amber eyes fixed on the rippling surface of the liquid.

"Even if we somehow navigate all of that, there's still our training, our careers. Being a Huntress has been my goal for so long—my chance to make a difference, to atone for the mistakes I've made. And you have your own dreams, your own path. How do we reconcile all of that with raising a child? With being... whatever we might be to each other?"

She finally ran out of words, her rapid-fire confessions leaving her feeling hollow yet somehow lighter. When she finally dared to look up, she found Jaune watching her with an expression of such tender understanding that it made her heart ache.

"Are you finished?" he asked gently, no judgment in his tone.

Blake nodded, suddenly embarrassed by her outburst. "I'm sorry. That was a lot."

"It was," Jaune agreed, reaching across the table to cover her hand with his. "And every concern you raised is valid, Blake. I'd be worried if you hadn't thought about these things."

His simple acceptance of her fears, without dismissal or platitudes, loosened something tight in Blake's chest.

"The truth is," he continued, his thumb brushing lightly across her knuckles, "I don't have answers to most of those questions. I don't know what happens when we go back to Beacon, or if the guardianship will work out exactly as we hope, or how we'll balance everything."

He paused, a small smile touching his lips. "But I do know a few things. I know that my family already respects you—yes, even my suspicious little sisters. They see how good you are with Cynthia, how you've stood by us through all of this."

Blake's bow twitched in surprise.

"I know that whatever happens with Cynthia's legal status, you and I have already committed to making sure she's safe and loved. That doesn't change, regardless of what else develops between us."

His blue eyes held hers, earnest and steady. "And I know that I've never felt this way about anyone before. Not a schoolboy crush like with Weiss, not admiration like with Pyrrha. Something... deeper. More real."

The admission hung in the air between them, honest and unadorned.

"When I picture my future now," Jaune continued softly, "you're in it. Whatever shape that takes, whatever challenges come our way—I want to face them with you, Blake. Not because of obligation or circumstance, but because... because I'm falling in love with you."

The words, simple yet profound, struck Blake with physical force. She stared at him, amber eyes wide, any response lodged somewhere in her throat.

"You don't have to say anything," Jaune assured her quickly. "I'm not asking for declarations or promises. I just... wanted you to know where I stand. To know that despite all those very real concerns you listed, I think what we have—what we could have—is worth exploring."

He squeezed her hand gently before releasing it, giving her space. "We don't have to figure everything out today. We can take it slow, see how things develop naturally. But I couldn't let you believe, even for a moment, that this is one-sided or temporary for me."

Blake sat in stunned silence, processing his words. The earnestness in his expression, the steadiness in his voice—there was no deception here, no manipulation, just simple truth offered without demand.

How different from Adam, whose declarations of love had always come with expectations, with the implicit demand for reciprocation, with subtle assertions of control masked as devotion.

Jaune, by contrast, had laid his heart bare and then stepped back, giving her room to breathe, to think, to decide for herself. He hadn't dismissed her fears or promised impossible solutions. He'd simply acknowledged the complexity and expressed his willingness to navigate it together.

"I don't know what to say," Blake admitted finally, her voice barely above a whisper.

"You don't have to say anything," Jaune repeated, a gentle smile softening his features. "Just... maybe consider the possibility? That this could work, despite all the complications. That we could be good together, not just for Cynthia, but for each other."

Blake looked at him—really looked at him. At the boy who had grown into a young man capable of such compassion, such steadfastness. Who had taken responsibility for a child not his own without hesitation. Who had welcomed her into his family home, valued her input, respected her autonomy.

Who was now offering her his heart, with no demands attached.

"I'm afraid," she confessed softly, the admission both painful and liberating. "Not just of all those external factors, but of... of how much I already care. Of how much it would hurt if this fell apart."

Understanding dawned in Jaune's eyes. "That's the thing about caring, isn't it? It always comes with risk. But Blake... some risks are worth taking."

A memory surfaced—Ruby's voice on the scroll just hours earlier: Jaune's not Adam. He doesn't want to control you or own you. He just wants to walk beside you.

The simple truth of it resonated now, sitting across from Jaune in this sun-dappled coffee shop.

"I'd like to try," Blake said finally, the words both terrifying and exhilarating. "To see where this goes. To... to walk this path together."

The smile that broke across Jaune's face was like sunrise—bright with hope and promise. "Yeah?"

Blake nodded, a small smile of her own forming. "Yeah. But slowly, okay? One step at a time."

"As slow as you need," Jaune agreed, happiness radiating from him in almost palpable waves. "We've got time."

As if sealing their agreement, Blake reached across the table, tentatively placing her hand over his. The contact was simple, yet somehow more intimate than all their previous interactions—a deliberate choice rather than practical necessity.

Outside the window, life in Radian continued its peaceful rhythm—farmers heading to market, children playing near the fountain, neighbors stopping to chat on street corners. Inside, in their quiet corner of Harmon's Coffee, Blake and Jaune had taken their first steps toward defining what had been growing between them since the moment they found a tiny bundle abandoned in the forest.

It wasn't a resolution to all the questions that still surrounded them, nor a guarantee against future challenges. But it was a beginning—one founded on honesty, mutual respect, and the courage to be vulnerable despite the risks.

For now, that was enough.

Chapter Text

Chapter 31: Tour of Radian

80AGW - Mid June

They emerged from Harmon's Coffee into the late morning sunshine, the air between them transformed by their conversation. Blake felt strangely weightless, as if several heavy burdens had been lifted from her shoulders. The fears and anxieties that had been building for weeks hadn't disappeared, but having voiced them—and having Jaune accept them without judgment—had made them somehow more manageable.

"So," Jaune said, his voice carrying a new note of quiet confidence, "we have at least an hour before Mom expects us back. Would you like to see a bit more of Radian?"

Blake nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. "I'd like that."

"Great!" The enthusiasm in his voice was genuine, his blue eyes bright with purpose. "There's not a lot compared to Vale, but it has its charms."

They set off down the cobblestone street, Jaune naturally falling into the role of tour guide. Blake noticed that he walked closer to her now, the careful distance he'd maintained on their way to the coffee shop replaced by a comfortable proximity—not intrusive, but present.

"Radian started as a farming settlement about a hundred and fifty years ago," Jaune explained as they passed a row of well-maintained storefronts. "It was originally just a handful of families who came for the fertile soil and natural barriers against Grimm—those hills to the north and the river to the east create a sort of protected valley."

Blake listened attentively, taking in the details of the quaint town. Unlike the crowded, often chaotic streets of Vale, Radian had a deliberate orderliness to its layout. The town square formed the center, with streets radiating outward like spokes on a wheel. Buildings were predominantly wooden with stone foundations, many decorated with hanging flower baskets or colorful shutters.

"That's the schoolhouse," Jaune pointed to a larger building with a small bell tower. "All ages from five to sixteen study there. I spent twelve years inside those walls, mostly causing trouble with my friends and trying not to fall asleep during history lessons."

Blake smiled, easily picturing a younger Jaune fidgeting at his desk, gaze constantly drifting toward the windows. "Were you a troublemaker? That's hard to imagine."

"Not intentionally," Jaune laughed, rubbing the back of his neck in that characteristic gesture Blake had come to find endearing. "But I was always daydreaming about being a huntsman, having adventures. Regular school seemed... I don't know, too ordinary."

"And now?" Blake asked, genuinely curious. "After everything you've experienced at Beacon—the training, the Vytal Tournament, actual combat against Grimm—is it what you imagined?"

Jaune considered the question seriously, his pace slowing. "Yes and no. The adventure part, the feeling of making a difference—that's everything I hoped for. But I never really understood the weight of it. The responsibility."

He glanced at her, his expression thoughtful. "It's strange, isn't it? We set out to protect villages like this one, to keep people safe from Grimm and other threats. And somehow along the way, we ended up becoming guardians to a baby faunus instead."

"Life rarely follows the paths we expect," Blake observed, echoing the wisdom Juniper had shared with her earlier.

"No kidding," Jaune agreed with a soft laugh.

They continued their stroll, Jaune pointing out various landmarks—the community hall where seasonal festivals were held, the small clinic where he'd gotten stitches after falling from an apple tree, the mechanic's shop run by a retired huntsman who had taught Jaune his first sword techniques.

Each location came with a story, a memory that Jaune shared openly, giving Blake glimpses into the life he'd lived before Beacon. She found herself enchanted by this side of him—the local boy with deep roots, connected to his community in ways she'd never experienced herself.

"And this," Jaune announced as they rounded a corner, "is my favorite spot in all of Radian."

They had reached the edge of town, where the neat rows of buildings gave way to a small hill crowned with a lone, massive oak tree. Its thick branches spread like a canopy, creating a natural shelter beneath.

"Come on," Jaune encouraged, leading her up the gentle slope.

At the top, Blake gasped softly. The hill offered a perfect vantage point, with Radian spread out below them and the surrounding countryside stretching toward the horizon—fields of grain rippling like gold in the breeze, patches of forest in vibrant greens, the distant shimmer of a river winding through the valley.

"It's beautiful," she murmured, turning slowly to take in the panoramic view.

"I used to come up here whenever I needed to think," Jaune said, settling onto the grass beneath the oak's shade. "Or when my sisters were driving me crazy. Or when I just wanted to imagine what lay beyond those hills."

Blake joined him, drawing her knees up and wrapping her arms around them. "I can see why. It's peaceful."

"Yeah," Jaune agreed, leaning back against the tree trunk. "When I was a kid, I'd bring books up here and spend hours reading about legendary huntsmen, imagining myself fighting monsters and saving villages." He chuckled softly. "My mom always knew where to find me when I missed dinner."

The mental image of young Jaune, absorbed in tales of heroism beneath this same tree, brought a genuine smile to Blake's face. "What were your favorite stories?"

"The usual stuff—epic battles against Grimm, last-minute saves, grand adventures." He grinned somewhat sheepishly. "The heroes always got the girl, too, which seemed pretty important when I was twelve."

Blake laughed softly, the sound carrying on the gentle breeze. "Typical."

"What about you?" Jaune asked, turning to face her more directly. "What kind of stories did you read growing up?"

The question was simple but personal, inviting her to share something of her past. A week ago—perhaps even a day ago—Blake might have deflected, offering only vague details. But something had shifted between them in that coffee shop, a foundation of trust that made opening up feel less frightening.

"I loved stories about justice," she admitted. "Characters who stood up against oppression, who fought for what was right even when it was difficult." She traced a pattern in the grass beside her. "There weren't many faunus protagonists in the books available in Menagerie, so I often had to imagine them differently than they were written."

Jaune listened attentively, his expression thoughtful. "That makes sense. I never really thought about how human-centric most stories are."

"Most things are," Blake replied, though without the bitterness that might once have colored such an observation. "It's changing, slowly. But fiction shapes how we see the world, and when you don't see yourself represented..."

"It sends a message that you don't belong in the story," Jaune finished, understanding in his eyes.

Blake nodded, surprised and touched by his insight. "Exactly."

"Well," Jaune said after a moment, a soft smile playing at his lips, "I think you'd make an amazing protagonist, Blake Belladonna. The mysterious huntress with incredible agility and a sword that transforms into a gun on a ribbon." He gestured dramatically with his hands. "Best-selling material right there."

Blake rolled her eyes, but couldn't suppress a smile. "You're ridiculous."

"Maybe," Jaune admitted cheerfully. "But I made you smile."

And he had—more than that, he'd made her feel seen, understood in a way that was both surprising and deeply comforting. The heaviness that had been her constant companion for weeks—the anxiety about her mother's arrival, the uncertainty about her feelings for Jaune, the fear of becoming too attached to Cynthia—had lifted, replaced by a cautious optimism that was as refreshing as it was unfamiliar.

For a while, they sat in comfortable silence, watching the clouds drift across the sky. Blake found herself acutely aware of Jaune beside her—the steady rhythm of his breathing, the warmth radiating from him in the cool shade of the oak, the occasional glance he sent her way when he thought she wasn't looking.

"Thank you," she said finally, her voice soft but clear in the quiet afternoon.

Jaune turned to her, eyebrows raised in question. "For what?"

"For this," Blake gestured vaguely around them. "For sharing your hometown with me. For... for listening, back at the coffee shop. For not pushing."

"You don't have to thank me for that," Jaune replied, sincerity warming his voice. "I meant what I said. We'll go at whatever pace feels right for you."

Blake met his gaze, finding herself drawn to the openness, the genuine care reflected in his blue eyes. Without overthinking it, she leaned over and placed a soft, brief kiss on his cheek.

"I know," she said simply as she pulled back, a blush warming her cheeks. "That's why I'm thanking you."

Jaune looked momentarily stunned, his hand lifting to touch the spot where her lips had been, a slow smile spreading across his face. He didn't comment, didn't try to push for more—just smiled at her with such joy that Blake felt her heart skip.

"We should probably head back soon," she suggested, suddenly shy under the intensity of his gaze. "I promised your mom we wouldn't be gone too long."

"Right," Jaune agreed, the grin not leaving his face as he stood and offered her his hand. "Cynthia's probably wondering where we are."

Blake accepted his hand, allowing him to help her to her feet. To her surprise, once she was standing, Jaune didn't immediately let go. Instead, he gently interlaced their fingers, his touch tentative—a question rather than a demand.

After a moment's hesitation, Blake tightened her hold, accepting the silent offer. Hand in hand, they made their way back down the hill toward Radian, the town bathed in warm afternoon light before them.

As they walked, Blake couldn't help but reflect on how much had changed since morning. The weight of unspoken thoughts and fears had been replaced by a lightness she hadn't experienced in years. The future still held countless uncertainties—Cynthia's guardianship, their return to Beacon, the complexities of balancing training with parenting—but somehow, those challenges seemed less daunting when faced together.

For his part, Jaune felt a profound sense of relief washing through him with each step. When he'd suggested coffee that morning, he'd been terrified that Blake might shut down completely at the mention of their relationship—that she might retreat behind her walls, or worse, decide that the complications were too great to justify exploring what had been growing between them.

Instead, she had surprised him. Despite her fears and reservations, she had opened up, allowed herself to be vulnerable, and accepted the possibility of them as more than just Cynthia's co-guardians. The small kiss on his cheek and her hand now warm in his were physical affirmations of that tentative new beginning.

It wasn't a grand declaration or a passionate embrace—Blake wasn't ready for that, and neither was he, if he was honest with himself. But it was a step forward, taken together, and for now, that was enough.

As they reached the edge of town, the distant silhouette of the Arc family home visible on the horizon, both felt the quiet certainty that something significant had shifted between them—not just in the words they had shared in the coffee shop, but in the comfortable silence that had followed, in the simple act of holding hands as they walked back toward the family and the child that had unexpectedly brought them together.

It was, Jaune thought with quiet wonder, the beginning of a story neither of them had planned but both were now choosing to write together, one page at a time.

Chapter Text

Chapter 32: Mothers' Reaction

80AGW - Mid June

The Arc family home came into view as Blake and Jaune crested the final hill on their walk back from town. They had maintained their handhold for most of the journey, only reluctantly separating as they approached the front gate—not quite ready to face the inevitable speculation such a display of affection would trigger among Jaune's sisters.

"Ready to face the inquisition?" Jaune asked with a wry smile, nodding toward the house where a curtain had just twitched suspiciously in one of the front windows.

"As ready as I'll ever be," Blake replied, adjusting her bow slightly. "Though I think your sisters have been taking surveillance lessons from Weiss."

Jaune chuckled. "They mean well. Mostly."

As they stepped onto the porch, the front door swung open before either could reach for the handle. Juniper and Kali stood in the entryway, their expressions carefully neutral though their eyes sparkled with barely contained curiosity.

"Welcome back," Juniper greeted, stepping aside to let them enter. "Did you have a nice morning in town?"

"It was good," Jaune replied, his tone deliberately casual despite the smile he couldn't quite suppress. "We had coffee at Harmon's, walked around a bit. I showed Blake some of the sights."

"All three of them?" Kali asked with gentle teasing, her eyes studying her daughter's face with maternal perceptiveness.

Blake offered a noncommittal shrug, though she could feel warmth creeping into her cheeks. "It's a charming town. Very... peaceful."

"Peaceful is one word for it," Juniper agreed, exchanging a quick glance with Kali. "Small might be another. I hope you weren't too bored, Blake."

"Not at all," Blake assured her, perhaps a bit too quickly. "Jaune was an excellent guide."

Jaune rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture both mothers recognized as a sign of his embarrassment. "I just showed her the basics. The school, the town square, the old oak on Harper's Hill..."

"Harper's Hill?" Kali repeated, her eyebrow arching slightly. "Is that significant?"

"It's just a nice viewpoint," Jaune explained, though the faint color in his cheeks suggested otherwise. "You can see most of Radian from up there."

"I see," Kali murmured, her knowing gaze shifting between the two young people. "Well, it sounds like a lovely outing."

"How was Cynthia?" Blake asked, deliberately changing the subject. "Did she give you any trouble?"

"She was an absolute delight," Juniper assured them, allowing the deflection. "Had her bottle right on schedule, played with Lily and the twins for a while, and just went down for her afternoon nap about fifteen minutes ago."

"You can check on her if you'd like," Kali added, "but she seemed quite content when I left her."

Blake nodded, grateful for the excuse to escape further questioning. "I think I will. Just to peek in on her."

"And I should find Violet," Jaune said, following Blake's lead. "I promised to help her with summer homework this afternoon while I'm home."

As they moved toward the stairs, Juniper called after them, "We'll have tea on the back porch if either of you would like to join us. Once you've... checked on things."

The emphasis in her tone made it clear she wasn't fooled by their hasty retreat, but was allowing them their privacy—for now.

"Thanks, Mom," Jaune called back, following Blake up the stairs with perhaps more haste than the situation strictly required.

At the top of the landing, they paused, sharing a look of mixed amusement and relief at having navigated the initial maternal interrogation.

"That wasn't so bad," Jaune whispered, leaning close enough that his breath tickled Blake's ear, sending a small shiver down her spine.

"They were definitely holding back," Blake countered softly. "Probably saving the real questions for when they can corner us individually."

Jaune grinned. "Divide and conquer. Classic mom strategy."

"I should check on Cynthia," Blake said, though she made no immediate move to leave.

"And I really did promise Violet some training time," Jaune admitted.

Neither moved, caught in a moment of uncertain possibility in the quiet hallway. After a brief hesitation, Jaune leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to Blake's forehead—brief, chaste, but undeniably deliberate.

"I'll see you at dinner?" he asked as he pulled away, his expression a mixture of hope and nervousness.

Blake nodded, a small smile playing at her lips. "I'll be there."

With a final lingering glance, they parted—Blake toward the guest room where Cynthia napped, Jaune toward the backyard where Violet likely waited. Both carried with them the warmth of their morning together, a private happiness that not even the prospect of maternal interrogation could diminish.

In the kitchen, Juniper and Kali exchanged knowing looks as they prepared a tray of tea and small cookies to take out to the porch.

"Well," Juniper said, selecting a floral-patterned teapot from the cabinet, "I'd say that went rather well, wouldn't you?"

Kali nodded, a small, satisfied smile gracing her features. "Indeed. They were trying very hard to appear casual, which is always a good sign."

"Jaune took her to Harper's Hill," Juniper noted significantly, arranging cookies on a plate. "That's where he always went to think, to dream. It's his special place."

"And did you see how they kept glancing at each other?" Kali added, gathering cups and saucers. "As if they shared a secret?"

Both mothers smiled, their hopes for their children's happiness finding confirmation in these small, telling details.

"They still have much to navigate," Kali acknowledged, her expression growing more thoughtful. "The situation with Cynthia, their education at Beacon, all the practical challenges ahead..."

"True," Juniper agreed, pouring hot water into the teapot. "But they're facing it together now. That makes all the difference."

As they carried their tea service out to the back porch, both mothers shared a silent, mutual understanding: whatever was developing between Blake and Jaune had taken a significant step forward during their morning in town. The details could wait; for now, it was enough to know that their children were finding their way toward happiness, one careful step at a time.

Blake closed the door to the guest room quietly, pausing to check on Cynthia who slept peacefully in her portable crib. The baby's tiny chest rose and fell with deep, even breaths, her small cat ears occasionally twitching as she dreamed. Blake felt a surge of tenderness watching her, still amazed at how quickly and completely this tiny being had captured her heart.

After ensuring Cynthia was comfortable, Blake sank onto the edge of the bed, allowing herself a moment to process the events of the morning. The conversation at the coffee shop, Jaune's gentle confession, her own tentative acknowledgment of her feelings, the tour of Radian, the brief kiss she'd pressed to his cheek, their intertwined hands on the walk back...

It was both terrifying and exhilarating, this cautious step toward something deeper than friendship or co-guardianship. Blake had spent so long protecting herself from vulnerability that opening up to these feelings felt like stepping off a cliff, trusting that the fall wouldn't destroy her.

But Jaune wasn't Adam. The fundamental difference between them had never been clearer than it was today—in the coffee shop when Jaune had listened without judgment, on the hill when he'd shared parts of himself without expectation, in the hallway just moments ago when he'd kissed her forehead with such gentle reverence.

The buzz of her scroll interrupted her reflections. Blake retrieved it from her pocket, unsurprised to see Yang's contact information on the screen. News traveled fast, especially when Ruby and Weiss were involved.

For a moment, Blake considered letting it go to voicemail, not quite ready to share the delicate new developments with her enthusiastic teammates. But curiosity won out—how had they even known to call? With a resigned sigh, she accepted the call.

"BLAKE!" three voices chorused through the speaker, confirming her suspicion that her entire team was on the line.

"Hello to you too," she replied dryly, keeping her voice low to avoid waking Cynthia. "To what do I owe this unexpected call?"

"Don't play innocent," Yang's voice came through, practically vibrating with curiosity. "You went on a coffee date with Jaune! We need details! Did you talk? Like, really talk? Did you tell him how you feel? Did he confess his undying love?"

Blake pinched the bridge of her nose, already feeling a headache forming. "How do you even know about the coffee? I haven't told anyone yet."

There was a brief, telling silence on the other end of the line.

"Well..." Ruby began hesitantly. "Nora may have messaged us..."

"Who heard it from Ren..." Weiss continued.

"Who apparently got a text from Jaune saying he was taking you into town," Yang finished triumphantly. "Our intelligence network is flawless!"

"You're spying on us," Blake accused flatly.

"Not spying!" Ruby protested. "Just... keeping informed! As supportive teammates should!"

"Very supportive," Blake muttered, though without real anger. It was hard to be truly annoyed when their enthusiasm came from a place of genuine care.

"So are you going to tell us what happened or do we have to send Ruby to Radian on a reconnaissance mission?" Yang pressed. "Because we will."

"I would go so fast," Ruby confirmed in the background. "Super stealth mode. You'd never even know I was there."

"Except for the trail of rose petals and cookie crumbs," Weiss observed dryly.

Despite herself, Blake smiled at their familiar banter. "If I tell you a little, will you promise not to overreact or read too much into things?"

"Define 'overreact,'" Yang countered.

"And 'too much,'" Ruby added.

"And 'things,'" Weiss completed the trio of qualifications.

Blake rolled her eyes heavenward, silently asking for patience. "Fine. We had coffee at a local shop. We talked. I told him about my concerns, my worries about getting involved when there's so much uncertainty with Cynthia, with Beacon, with everything."

"And?" Yang prompted when Blake paused.

"And he listened," Blake continued, unable to keep a note of wonder from her voice. "He didn't dismiss my concerns or try to convince me they weren't valid. He just... acknowledged them. Said he didn't have all the answers either, but thought what we might have was worth exploring anyway."

"That's... surprisingly mature for Jaune," Weiss admitted, respect evident in her tone.

"He's grown a lot," Blake found herself defending him automatically. "Especially since Cynthia."

"Oooh, protecting your man already," Yang teased. "This is serious!"

"He's not—" Blake began, then stopped herself, realizing the denial wasn't entirely true anymore. "It's new," she amended. "We're taking it slow."

A series of excited squeals erupted from the scroll, so loud that Blake had to hold it away from her sensitive ears. She glanced anxiously at Cynthia, but the baby merely stirred slightly before settling back into sleep.

"So you ARE together!" Ruby exclaimed, delight evident in her voice. "I knew it! Yang, you owe me five lien!"

"You were betting on us?" Blake asked incredulously.

"Not betting," Yang corrected. "Making friendly wagers on the inevitable. Totally different."

"What exactly were the terms of this 'friendly wager'?" Blake inquired, simultaneously appalled and curious.

"Ruby said you'd admit your feelings before the end of the week," Weiss explained with clinical detachment. "Yang thought it would take at least another week, possibly two. I abstained from such juvenile behavior."

"But you totally thought it would take months," Ruby tattled gleefully. "Which means you were the most wrong!"

Blake could practically hear Weiss's indignant huff through the scroll. "I simply recognized that Blake tends to be cautious with emotional attachments, especially given her past experiences. It was a rational assessment, not a 'bet.'"

"Which makes being wrong even funnier," Yang pointed out.

As her teammates devolved into good-natured bickering, Blake found herself reflecting on Weiss's observation. She did tend toward caution, especially when it came to relationships. What had changed with Jaune? Why had she been able to overcome her usual reticence and take this step?

The answer came as she glanced at Cynthia, still sleeping peacefully in her crib. It wasn't just about her and Jaune anymore. Their decisions, their relationship—it all impacted this little life that had become so precious to both of them. Somehow, caring for Cynthia together had created a foundation of trust between them that made taking this risk feel not just possible, but right.

"Blake? You still there?" Ruby's voice recalled her attention to the scroll.

"Yes, sorry," Blake replied. "Just checking on Cynthia."

"So what happens now?" Weiss asked, her tone softening. "Have you discussed practical arrangements for when we return to Beacon?"

Leave it to Weiss to focus on logistics. "Not yet," Blake admitted. "We're still figuring out the... personal side of things. But we will. Soon."

"And what about your mom?" Yang inquired. "Does she know? Has she given her stamp of approval to the young man courting her daughter?"

Blake groaned at Yang's deliberately old-fashioned phrasing. "He's not 'courting' me. And I haven't told her explicitly, but I think she suspects. She and Juniper gave us some very knowing looks when we returned."

"Moms always know," Ruby confirmed sagely. "It's their superpower."

"Speaking of moms," Weiss interjected, "has your mother contacted your father yet? About Cynthia and... the situation?"

It was a valid question, and one that had been lingering in the back of Blake's mind since her mother's arrival. "Not that she's mentioned," Blake replied. "I think she wanted to assess things for herself first. But she'll have to tell him soon."

"And how do you think he'll react?" Yang asked, her tone turning more serious. "I mean, the Chieftain of Menagerie finding out his daughter is raising a baby with a human boy she barely knows..."

Blake winced at the blunt but accurate summary. "I'm not sure," she admitted. "Dad is... protective."

"But he's also a reasonable man, from what you've described," Weiss pointed out. "Surely he'll understand once the situation is explained."

"I hope so," Blake said softly, uncertainty creeping into her voice. For all the progress she and Jaune had made today, this particular complication still loomed large in her mind.

Sensing her friend's anxiety, Ruby quickly changed the subject. "So did Jaune kiss you? Was it romantic? Did the townspeople applaud?"

The abrupt shift from serious concerns to teasing questions made Blake laugh despite herself. "You've been reading too many of those adventure romance novels."

"That's not a denial," Yang observed shrewdly. "Something happened, didn't it?"

Blake felt her cheeks warm, grateful her teammates couldn't see her blush. "Nothing dramatic. Just... small steps."

"Define 'small steps,'" Weiss pressed, uncharacteristically interested in the romantic details.

Blake hesitated, caught between her natural privacy and the desire to share her happiness with the friends who had supported her through this journey. "I might have kissed him on the cheek," she admitted finally. "And we... held hands on the walk back to the house."

Another round of excited squeals erupted from the scroll, followed by what sounded suspiciously like Ruby jumping on a bed in celebration.

"Our little Blake is growing up," Yang declared dramatically. "First a baby, now a boyfriend. Next thing you know, you'll be picking out curtains and arguing about wall colors."

"It's not like that," Blake protested, though without much conviction. "We're just... seeing where things go."

"And where do you want them to go?" Weiss asked, cutting to the heart of the matter with her usual precision.

The question gave Blake pause. What did she want? A week ago—perhaps even a day ago—she might not have had an answer. But after their morning together, after seeing Jaune in his hometown, after learning more about the boy who had grown into the young man now exploring a relationship with her...

"I want it to work," she confessed softly, the simple truth surprising even herself. "I want to see if we can make this thing between us into something real. Something lasting."

There was a moment of stunned silence from her teammates, clearly taken aback by her uncharacteristic openness.

"Wow," Yang finally said, genuine emotion replacing her usual teasing tone. "You really do like him, don't you?"

"I do," Blake confirmed, the admission both terrifying and liberating. "Probably more than I should, considering how complicated everything is."

"Love doesn't follow convenient schedules or logical progressions," Weiss observed with unexpected insight. "No matter how much easier it would be if it did."

Blake raised an eyebrow at the wistful note in Weiss's voice, filing away that interesting development for future exploration. "I never said anything about love."

"Not yet," Ruby said confidently. "But you will."

Before Blake could formulate a response to that bold prediction, Cynthia stirred in her crib, making the small mewling sounds that signaled she was waking from her nap.

"I need to go," Blake told her teammates. "Cynthia's waking up."

"Go be a mom," Yang encouraged warmly. "We'll call you tomorrow for more updates. And Blake?"

"Yes?"

"We're happy for you. All of us."

The simple statement, delivered with such genuine warmth, touched Blake deeply. "Thank you," she replied softly. "That... means a lot."

After ending the call, Blake set her scroll aside and moved to the crib where Cynthia was blinking sleepily up at her. As she lifted the baby into her arms, feeling the small, warm weight settle against her chest, Blake found herself thinking of the question Weiss had asked.

Where do you want this to go?

The future was still uncertain, filled with challenges both practical and emotional. But as she held Cynthia close, knowing that Jaune was somewhere in this house thinking of them both, Blake allowed herself to hope—really hope—for the first time in years.

Not just for herself, or for Jaune, but for this unexpected family they were forming, one careful step at a time.

____________________________________________________________________________

The Arc household had finally settled into nighttime quiet. Dinner had been a lively affair, with the sisters interrogating Blake and Jaune about their outing in town—questions the pair had fielded with vague answers and telling glances that fooled no one. Afterward came evening routines: Cynthia's bath and bedtime bottle, the younger girls' homework, Marcus's nightly perimeter check of the property.

Now, well past midnight, Kali Belladonna stood alone on the balcony outside her guest room, scroll in hand. The moon hung low and full over the orchard, bathing the countryside in silver light that reminded her painfully of Menagerie's beaches on similar nights. She had been putting this call off since her arrival, knowing the conversation would be difficult, but it could be delayed no longer.

With a steadying breath, she pressed the contact information for her husband.

The scroll rang several times—expected, given the time difference between Anima and Menagerie. When the call finally connected, Ghira's deep voice came through, concern evident despite the static of the long-distance connection.

"Kali? Is everything alright?"

Despite the circumstances, Kali smiled at the sound of her husband's voice. "Everything's fine, Ghira. I'm sorry to call so late."

"It's not the hour that concerns me," he replied, his tone softening. "It's that you've been gone for three days with only that brief message about tracking down Blake at her academy. Did you find her? Is she well?"

"She's well," Kali assured him. "Better than well, actually. Though not quite where I expected to find her."

There was a pause, during which Kali could almost see her husband's expression—brows furrowed, mouth set in that particular line that meant he was bracing himself for unwelcome news.

"Explain," he said simply.

Kali took another breath, considering how best to present the situation. "When I arrived at Beacon, I learned that Blake wasn't there. She and her classmates had been assigned to a mission in a remote village, which had recently concluded. But while the others returned to the academy, Blake took... a detour."

"A detour," Ghira repeated, suspicion evident in his tone. "What kind of detour?"

"She's currently staying with a friend's family in a settlement called Radian," Kali explained, keeping her voice steady. "A small agricultural community north of Vale."

"A friend," Ghira echoed again. "One of her teammates? The Schnee girl?"

"No, not one of her teammates," Kali replied, mentally preparing for the reaction to come. "A young man named Jaune Arc. He's the leader of another team at Beacon."

The silence that followed was exactly what Kali had expected—Ghira processing this information, likely with increasing concern.

"Our daughter, who hasn't contacted us in years, is staying with a boy's family in some remote farming village," he summarized finally, his voice deceptively calm. "Why?"

Here it was—the crux of the matter. Kali took a moment to gather her thoughts, gazing out over the moonlit landscape as she considered her words carefully.

"The situation is... unusual, Ghira. During their mission, they found an abandoned baby in the forest. A faunus infant, just a few months old. There was a note suggesting the White Fang might be targeting the child's family."

"By the gods," Ghira murmured, genuine shock replacing his suspicion. "And they brought this child with them? Why not alert the authorities?"

"Rural areas have limited resources for orphaned faunus children," Kali reminded him gently. "And given the White Fang connection, they were concerned about the baby's safety."

"So they—what? Decided to keep her?" The incredulity in Ghira's voice was unmistakable.

"Temporarily," Kali clarified, though she was beginning to doubt how temporary the arrangement might prove to be. "They've been caring for her while more permanent arrangements are considered. Professor Ozpin is apparently arranging guardianship papers."

Another long silence followed, broken only by the sound of Ghira's measured breathing as he processed this extraordinary information.

"Let me be certain I understand," he said finally. "Our daughter, who is supposed to be training at Huntress Academy, is living with a human boy she barely knows, caring for an orphaned faunus infant they found in the woods."

"That summarizes it rather efficiently," Kali agreed, unable to suppress a small smile at the absurdity of it all when presented so bluntly.

"And you're with them now? At this boy's family home?"

"Yes. It's a lovely farm property. The Arc family has been extremely welcoming."

Ghira made a sound that might have been a suppressed growl. "And what exactly is Blake's relationship with this 'Jaune Arc'?"

The question Kali had been anticipating. "They're partners in caring for Cynthia—that's the baby's name," she explained carefully. "They've developed quite an effective system. They're very good with her, Ghira. Both of them."

"That doesn't answer my question, Kali."

She sighed, knowing her husband wouldn't be satisfied with evasion. "They care for each other. It's evident in how they interact, how they move together. Nothing has been officially declared, from what I understand, but there's clearly something developing between them."

"Something developing," Ghira repeated flatly. "Our daughter disappears for years, then suddenly she's playing house with some human boy and a baby they found in the woods? Do you realize how this sounds?"

"I do," Kali acknowledged. "It sounds improbable, concerning, and frankly, a bit mad. Which is exactly what I thought when I first heard it. But Ghira, you haven't seen them together. The way they care for that child, the way they support each other—it's genuine."

"She's nineteen, Kali," Ghira reminded her, his voice strained. "Barely an adult herself. She has no business raising a child, especially not with someone she hardly knows in a situation this precarious."

"I agree it's not ideal," Kali said. "But the circumstances are what they are. And having observed them for a day now, I'm increasingly convinced they're handling it with more maturity than many people twice their age."

"How has his family reacted to all this?" Ghira asked, his tone suggesting he expected to hear of resistance or judgment.

"Quite remarkably, actually," Kali replied. "Most of them have embraced Blake completely. Juniper—Jaune's mother—has been particularly welcoming. The older sisters are friendly and supportive."

She paused, considering whether to share the next observation, then decided honesty was best. "The youngest sisters are the only ones who've shown any real suspicion toward Blake. They watch her constantly, especially when she's with Jaune. It's rather endearing, actually—this protective wall of little blondes."

"Smart children," Ghira rumbled, a hint of approval in his voice despite himself. "At least someone in that household is exercising appropriate caution."

"I think there's more to it than simple caution," Kali mused, voicing the insight she'd gathered from observing the family dynamics. "From what I've pieced together, Jaune has been almost a second father to the youngest girls—helping raise them when their own father was away on missions. They're understandably protective of him."

"That still doesn't explain their wariness toward our daughter specifically," Ghira pointed out.

"I suspect they read Blake as potentially... flighty," Kali admitted carefully. "And perhaps they're not entirely wrong to worry. Blake has a history of running when situations become complicated, as we well know."

A heavy sigh came through the connection. "When relationships become difficult," Ghira corrected, old pain evident in his voice. "Just as she did with us."

"Yes," Kali acknowledged softly. "But I sense something different now. A willingness to stay, to work through challenges rather than escape them. Cynthia has changed her, Ghira. And so has Jaune, I think."

Ghira's sigh carried through the scroll, heavy with concern. "What about her education? Her training? Everything she's worked for?"

"None of that has been abandoned," Kali assured him. "They're developing plans for when they return to Beacon. Professor Ozpin is apparently being quite supportive."

Another pause, shorter this time. "What does this boy's family think of all this?"

"The Arcs are... remarkably adaptable," Kali replied with a small smile. "From what I can tell, they've welcomed both Blake and Cynthia without reservation. They're good people, Ghira. Warm, accepting. Their home is filled with laughter and light. It's a healthy environment for a child—and for Blake, too, I think."

"I still don't like it," Ghira muttered. "She's too young for this kind of responsibility. And I don't know this boy, this family. What do we know about their character? Their values?"

"I've been making those assessments myself," Kali reminded him. "And while I share your concerns about their age and the unusual circumstances, I can tell you with confidence that Jaune Arc is a good young man. Responsible, kind, clearly devoted to both Blake and Cynthia."

"You've always been a better judge of character than I am," Ghira admitted grudgingly. "But this situation... it's not what we wanted for her, Kali. Not at nineteen."

"Few parents get exactly what they want for their children," Kali observed gently. "But sometimes what they need, what helps them grow and find purpose, comes in unexpected forms."

Silence fell between them again, the thousands of miles separating Menagerie from Radian seeming to stretch the connection thin with more than just physical distance.

"I want to see her," Ghira said finally. "And this child. And meet this boy who has apparently become so important to our daughter."

"I thought you might," Kali replied, her voice warming. "I took some pictures today. I'll send them to you now."

She navigated to her scroll's photo gallery, selecting several images she'd captured throughout the day: Blake sitting on the back porch with Cynthia in her lap, sunlight catching the matching amber of their eyes. Jaune kneeling beside them, offering a small stuffed rabbit that Cynthia reached for with delighted determination. The three of them together at dinner, Cynthia balanced on Blake's knee while Jaune helped her hold a spoon, their heads bent close in shared focus.

As the images transferred, Kali waited, imagining her husband's face as he viewed each one. When Ghira spoke again, his voice had softened considerably.

"The baby has Blake's eyes," he observed quietly.

"I noticed that too," Kali agreed. "Uncanny, isn't it? As if she was meant to find her."

A soft huff, not quite a laugh but close. "You always did have a romantic streak, my dear."

"One of us has to," Kali teased gently. "To balance your perpetual pragmatism."

Another pause, this one more contemplative. "The boy—Jaune. He seems... attentive."

"He is," Kali confirmed. "Remarkably so for someone his age. He has seven sisters, I'm told. He helped raise the younger ones."

"Hmm," Ghira rumbled, a sound Kali recognized as reluctant acknowledgment. "And Blake looks... happy."

"Happier than I've seen her in years," Kali agreed softly. "Despite the circumstances, despite the responsibility, despite the uncertainty—or perhaps because of all those things—she seems to have found something meaningful here."

The silence stretched longer this time, filled with the weight of parental concern and hope warring with each other across the miles.

"What do you suggest?" Ghira asked eventually, his tone indicating he was deferring to her judgment—a rare concession from the proud Chieftain of Menagerie.

"For now, we observe and support," Kali replied thoughtfully. "I'll stay a few more days, make sure they have what they need, offer whatever guidance seems appropriate. Blake is an adult, Ghira. We can advise, but not command."

"And after that?"

"After that, we trust her," Kali said simply. "Trust that we raised her well enough to navigate even this unexpected path. And we remain available—ready to step in if needed, ready to help however we can."

"And the child?" Ghira prompted. "This Cynthia?"

Kali smiled, thinking of the baby who had so quickly captured everyone's hearts. "She's a remarkable little thing, Ghira. Bright, alert, already showing such personality. She could have a wonderful life with them, strange as the circumstances might be."

"With proper cultural education," Ghira added firmly. "If she's to be raised by a human and a faunus, she needs to understand her heritage, her roots."

"All in good time," Kali agreed. "Blake is well aware of that necessity. It's one of her primary concerns."

Another rumbling "hmm" from Ghira, followed by a deep sigh. "I suppose I should arrange a visit. See this situation for myself."

"Perhaps wait a bit," Kali suggested diplomatically. "Let them settle into their routine. Let Blake and this young man determine exactly what they are to each other without the added pressure of her intimidating father glowering over them."

A sound that might almost have been a chuckle came through the scroll. "I do not glower."

"Of course not, dear," Kali replied with affectionate sarcasm. "You merely project protective intensity with your facial expressions."

"Semantics," Ghira grumbled, though Kali could hear the smile in his voice.

They spoke for a while longer, discussing practical matters—how long Kali would stay, when she might return to Menagerie, possibilities for a future family visit. Throughout the conversation, Kali could sense her husband's gradual shift from alarm to cautious acceptance, guided by his trust in her judgment and the visual evidence of the photos she'd sent.

"Give Blake our love," Ghira said as they prepared to end the call. "Tell her..." He paused, emotion briefly overcoming his usual composure. "Tell her I'm proud of her. For taking responsibility, for caring for this child. It's not the path we expected, but it's a worthy one."

"I'll tell her," Kali promised, her own eyes misting slightly at her husband's words. "Though perhaps you should tell her yourself. When you're ready."

"I will," Ghira agreed. "Soon."

As Kali ended the call, she remained on the balcony for a moment longer, gazing up at the shattered moon that hung over all of Remnant—the same moon that shone on Menagerie, on Beacon, on all the places that had shaped her daughter's journey to this unexpected moment in her life.

From the adjacent room came the soft sound of Cynthia's sleepy murmur, followed by Blake's gentle shushing—a midnight moment between the girl who had once been her baby and the infant who had now claimed that role in Blake's life. The circle continuing, unbroken despite all the separations and reunions that had led to this point.

Kali smiled, slipping her scroll into her pocket as she turned to go inside. Whatever challenges lay ahead for her daughter, for the unexpected family forming around Cynthia, they would face them together—not just Blake and Jaune, but all those who loved them, near and far.

It wasn't the future any of them had planned, but it was the one they had found. And sometimes, Kali reflected as she closed the balcony door behind her, the paths we don't choose turn out to be the ones that lead us exactly where we need to be.

Chapter Text

Chapter 33: Unexpected Meeting

80AGW - Mid June

The coastal city of Argus sparkled beneath the midday sun, its terraced architecture catching the light in a cascade of whites and blues. Pyrrha led Ren and Nora through one of the city's many public gardens, pointing out landmarks from her childhood visits with the practiced ease of a tour guide.

"And this fountain was commissioned after the Great War," she explained as they passed an elaborate marble structure depicting huntsmen and huntresses standing together in unity. "It symbolizes the alliance between Atlas and Mistral that led to Argus's founding."

"It's beautiful," Ren observed, appreciating the craftsmanship.

"Not as beautiful as the pancake shop you promised us!" Nora reminded Pyrrha, skipping backward in front of them with boundless energy. "You said it was the best in Anima!"

Pyrrha laughed, the sound lighter than it had been in weeks. Away from Beacon, away from the constant reminders of Jaune's absence, she seemed more relaxed, more like her old self. "Patience, Nora. The Coastal Griddle doesn't open for another hour."

"A whole hour?" Nora groaned dramatically, flopping onto a nearby bench. "I might not survive!"

"I'm confident you'll persevere," Ren remarked dryly, though his fond expression belied his tone.

As Nora launched into an impassioned monologue about the importance of pancakes to her survival, Pyrrha's attention was drawn to a young woman approaching from the other side of the park. She pushed a stroller with one hand while checking her scroll with the other, her blonde hair caught in the sea breeze. Something about her seemed strangely familiar, though Pyrrha couldn't immediately place why.

The woman looked up, her gaze falling on their group. She paused, head tilting slightly as recognition dawned in her features. After a moment of apparent deliberation, she altered her course to approach them directly.

"Excuse me," she called as she drew near, her friendly smile revealing dimples remarkably similar to Jaune's. "This might sound strange, but are you Pyrrha Nikos? And Nora Valkyrie and Lie Ren?"

Pyrrha straightened instinctively, accustomed to being recognized but surprised that the woman had identified all three of them. "Yes, we are," she confirmed politely. "Have we met before?"

"No, not formally," the woman replied, extending her free hand. "I'm Saphron Arc-Cotta—Jaune's sister. I recognized you from the Vytal Tournament broadcasts. My wife and I watched every match Team JNPR competed in."

"Jaune's sister!" Nora exclaimed, bouncing up from the bench with renewed energy. "Oh my gosh, that explains it! You have his smile! And his hair! But you're way prettier, no offense to Jaune!"

Saphron laughed, the sound so reminiscent of Jaune that Pyrrha felt a pang of unexpected emotion. "None taken on his behalf. I'm the oldest—Jaune's my only brother."

"It's a pleasure to meet you," Ren said, offering a small bow. "Jaune has mentioned you were stationed in Argus, but we didn't expect to cross paths."

"Argus isn't as big as it seems," Saphron replied with a shrug. "Especially once you know your way around." She glanced down at the stroller, where a small movement indicated its occupant was awake. "And it seems like the little man is ready to say hello too."

She adjusted the stroller, revealing a cheerful baby boy with dark hair and bright eyes who gurgled happily at the sight of new faces.

"This is Adrian," she introduced proudly. "My son."

"A baby!" Nora gasped, immediately crouching to Adrian's level. "Oh, he's adorable! Look at those cheeks! Hi there, little guy!"

Adrian responded with a happy squeal, clearly delighted by Nora's enthusiasm.

"He's beautiful," Pyrrha said sincerely, smiling at the infant who was studying them all with obvious curiosity.

"Thank you," Saphron replied, beaming with maternal pride. "He just turned eight months old." She hesitated briefly before continuing, "Listen, this might be forward, but would you three like to come over for tea? Our apartment isn't far from here, and I'd love to hear about how my little brother's doing at Beacon. His calls home have been... less frequent lately."

The three teammates exchanged glances, a silent communication passing between them. None of them had planned on meeting Jaune's family during their time in Argus, but the opportunity to learn more about their leader from someone who knew him better than perhaps anyone else was too intriguing to pass up.

"We'd be honored," Pyrrha replied, speaking for the group.

"Wonderful!" Saphron exclaimed. "And don't worry—I make a mean cup of tea, and my wife Terra baked cookies this morning that would put Atlas's finest pastry chefs to shame."

"Did you say cookies?" Nora asked, her eyes widening. "Lead the way, Arc Sister!"

The walk to Saphron and Terra's apartment was filled with light conversation, primarily about Argus and Team NPR's tournament performance. Saphron seemed deliberately to avoid pressing questions about Jaune, though her curious glances suggested she had plenty she wanted to ask once they were in a more private setting.

Their destination proved to be a charming apartment in one of Argus's middle terraces, offering a stunning view of both the city and the ocean beyond. The interior was warm and inviting, decorated with a mixture of Mistralian and Atlesian influences that reflected its owners' backgrounds.

"Terra will be home in about an hour," Saphron explained as she settled Adrian in a playpen filled with colorful toys. "She works at the Argus relay tower—communications specialist."

"Your home is lovely," Pyrrha complimented, accepting the cup of tea Saphron offered.

"Thanks," Saphron replied, setting a plate of cookies on the coffee table before taking a seat across from them. "We've been here about two years now. It's a good compromise—close enough to my family in Anima but still within Atlas's protection."

There was a moment of comfortable silence as everyone sipped their tea. Then, with the directness that seemed characteristic of the Arc family, Saphron addressed the elephant in the room.

"So," she began, her blue eyes—so like Jaune's—focusing on them with keen interest. "Is my brother actually going to tell us about the baby he's raising, or was he planning to keep that particular development a secret?"

Ren choked slightly on his tea, while Nora's eyes widened comically.

"You know about Cynthia?" Pyrrha asked, surprised.

Saphron's expression shifted from curiosity to shock. "Cynthia? He named her already?" She set down her teacup with a decisive clink. "Oh, he is in so much trouble. Mom called me two days ago saying Jaune was home with a 'friend' and they were 'temporarily caring for an orphaned child.' She didn't mention they'd named her!"

"Oh," Pyrrha said, realizing they'd inadvertently revealed more than perhaps Jaune had shared with his family. "Yes, well, they've been caring for her for several weeks now."

"Several weeks?!" Saphron exclaimed. "And he didn't think to mention this to his big sister?" She shook her head in disbelief before turning her attention back to Team NPR. "Okay, I need details. All of them. Start from the beginning."

Nora, never one to resist the allure of storytelling, eagerly recounted the tale of Cynthia's discovery in the forest, embellishing certain parts for dramatic effect while Ren occasionally interjected to correct her more creative interpretations.

"So they've really been raising this baby together?" Saphron asked when they'd finished, her expression a mixture of amazement and concern. "Jaune and...Blake, was it?"

"Yes," Ren confirmed. "They've developed quite an effective system. They're both very devoted to Cynthia's welfare."

"And now they're at your family home? With Blake's mother?" Saphron seemed to be processing this extraordinary information in stages.

"Yep!" Nora confirmed cheerfully, reaching for another cookie. "It's super cute. They're like a little family now. Blake and Jaune are officially together-together, and they're figuring out how they'll manage with Cynthia when they come back to Beacon."

Saphron leaned back in her chair, visibly stunned. "My little brother. A father. At eighteen." She shook her head in disbelief. "I mean, I guess I shouldn't be too surprised. He practically raised Lily and the twins when Dad was away on missions. But still..."

"He's very good with her," Pyrrha offered quietly. "With Cynthia. It comes naturally to him—the patience, the care. And Blake balances him perfectly. She's more reserved, more cautious, but equally devoted."

"I need to see this baby," Saphron said, leaning forward eagerly. "Do any of you have pictures?"

"Oh! I do!" Nora exclaimed, already pulling out her scroll. "Yang sent us some this morning that Blake sent her!"

She passed the scroll to Saphron, who swiped through the images with growing amazement. "She's beautiful," she murmured, pausing on a close-up of Cynthia being held by Blake, the baby's amber eyes bright with curiosity. "Those eyes... they look just like Blake's."

"It's remarkable, isn't it?" Ren observed. "Despite no biological connection, there's a certain similarity between them."

"And is this Blake's mother?" Saphron asked, indicating another photo where Kali could be seen in the background.

"Yes, that's Kali Belladonna," Pyrrha confirmed. "She arrived at Beacon looking for Blake and discovered she was staying with your family."

"So now both grandmothers are evaluating the situation," Saphron mused, a smile playing at her lips. "I bet Mom is in her element. She's been pestering all of us about grandchildren for years."

As if sensing he was being discussed, Adrian let out a happy squeal from his playpen, drawing everyone's attention. Saphron set down the scroll and crossed to lift her son into her arms, kissing his chubby cheek affectionately.

"Two Arc babies," Nora said, watching the interaction with growing excitement. "Well, one Arc-Cotta and one honorary Arc. This is the start of a new generation!"

"Would you like to hold him?" Saphron offered, noticing Nora's fascination with Adrian.

"Can I?" Nora asked, eyes widening.

"Of course," Saphron replied, carefully transferring Adrian to Nora's eager arms after a quick demonstration of how to support his head properly.

Nora's usual boundless energy transformed instantly into gentle care as she cradled the baby, her expression one of pure wonder. "Hi there, little guy," she cooed softly. "Aren't you the cutest thing ever? Yes you are!"

Adrian responded with delighted babbles, his tiny hands reaching for Nora's bright hair.

"You're a natural," Saphron observed, smiling at the scene.

"Babies are the best," Nora declared, her expression turning dreamy. "So tiny and perfect."

As Adrian settled comfortably in her arms, a sudden, powerful longing surged through Nora. She wanted this—not someday in the distant future, but now. A baby of her own to hold, to love, to raise. The desire hit her with unexpected intensity, catching her completely off guard.

Her eyes darted briefly to Ren, who was watching her with that small, fond smile that always made her heart skip. Would he want this too? With her? They'd never really discussed a future together—not seriously. Their relationship existed in a comfortable, undefined space of mutual understanding and dependence. But a baby would change everything. It would require definitions, commitments, certainty.

What if Ren didn't want that? What if he didn't want children at all? Or worse, what if he wanted them, but not with her? The thought sent a pang of anxiety through her chest, momentarily dimming her joy as she held Adrian.

"He's absolutely perfect," she said, forcing brightness into her voice to mask her sudden spiral of uncertainty. "You're so lucky, Saphron."

"It's not all cuddles and cute moments," Saphron replied with a knowing smile. "There are plenty of sleepless nights and diaper disasters. But yes, I am lucky. Having Adrian has been the greatest adventure of my life—even more thrilling than huntress training, if you can believe it."

"I can believe it," Nora said softly, her gaze returning to the baby in her arms. The weight of him, the warmth, the complete trust in those innocent eyes—it awakened something primal and protective within her.

As the conversation continued around her, Nora remained unusually quiet, lost in contemplation of possibilities and fears she'd never fully considered before. She wanted a baby—a family—with a suddenness and clarity that startled her. But the path to that future seemed suddenly complex and uncertain, filled with questions she wasn't sure she was ready to ask, let alone answer.

Adrian eventually began to fuss, clearly ready to return to his mother. Nora handed him back with reluctance, already missing the weight of him in her arms.

"Thank you for letting me hold him," she said, her usual exuberance tempered by the new thoughts swirling in her mind.

"You're welcome anytime," Saphron replied warmly. "All of you. Any friends of Jaune's are practically family."

The conversation flowed more easily after that, moving from babies to Academy life to humorous stories about Jaune's childhood that had Nora laughing despite her internal contemplations. By the time Terra arrived home from work, introductions were made and plans were already forming for dinner together the following evening.

As they finally prepared to leave, Nora found herself taking one last, lingering look at Adrian, now happily nestled in Terra's arms. The image seared itself into her memory—the contentment on the young couple's faces, the completeness they seemed to have found in their little family unit.

"The pancake shop should be open now," Pyrrha reminded them as they walked back through the park. "Shall we head there?"

"Yes!" Nora exclaimed, forcing her usual enthusiasm back into her voice. "Pancakes! Just what I need! Race you there!" She took off at a sprint, partly from genuine excitement but partly to outrun the unexpectedly complex emotions Adrian had stirred within her.

As she ran, the cool sea breeze against her face, Nora couldn't shake the image of a different baby—one with bright turquoise eyes, perhaps, or maybe pink—cradled in her arms. A baby that was hers. But was it also Ren's? Could it be? Should it be?

The questions chased her all the way to the pancake shop, where she ordered a triple stack with extra syrup and tried to drown her newfound uncertainty in sugar and carbohydrates. But even as she laughed and joked with her teammates, the longing remained, a new awareness that settled in her heart like a seed taking root.

Someday, she promised herself silently. Someday, somehow, she would hold a baby of her own. And in the meantime, perhaps she could convince Ren that they should visit Saphron and Adrian more often during their stay in Argus.

For practice. Just in case.

Chapter Text

Chapter 34: New Rhythms

80AGW - Early July

Morning sunlight filtered through the curtains of the Arc family home, casting warm patterns across the kitchen floor. The house was quiet in the way only early mornings could be, with most of the household still asleep—an increasingly rare moment of peace in the otherwise bustling environment.

Jaune moved with practiced efficiency at the counter, preparing Cynthia's morning bottle while Blake gently bounced the baby in her arms nearby. In the two weeks since their coffee outing in town, they had settled into a comfortable routine, their movements around each other becoming more natural, more synchronized with each passing day.

"Almost ready," Jaune said softly, testing the temperature of the formula against his wrist. "Perfect."

Blake smiled, adjusting Cynthia in her arms as the baby made eager sounds, clearly aware that breakfast was imminent. "She knows what's coming. Getting more impatient by the day."

"Wonder where she gets that from," Jaune teased, handing the bottle to Blake. "Certainly not from her extremely patient mom."

Blake raised an eyebrow, the effect somewhat diminished by the smile she couldn't quite suppress. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Of course not," Jaune agreed with exaggerated seriousness. "You definitely weren't tapping your foot while waiting for the kettle to boil yesterday. Or the day before. Or—"

"Alright, point taken," Blake conceded, settling into a chair with Cynthia, who immediately latched onto the bottle with single-minded determination. "Though I'd argue that expecting water to actually boil when heated isn't impatience, it's basic physics."

Jaune chuckled, moving to prepare tea for Blake and coffee for himself—another part of their morning ritual. The ease between them was still new enough to feel special, yet familiar enough to be comfortable. Small touches as they passed each other, shared glances over Cynthia's head, inside jokes that had developed during late-night feedings—a hundred tiny threads weaving them closer together with each day.

"Any plans for today?" Jaune asked, setting Blake's tea beside her before taking the seat opposite.

"I thought I might explore your father's library," Blake replied, shifting Cynthia slightly as she ate. "He mentioned having some first-edition Mistralian poetry that I'd love to see."

"Ah, the famous Arc collection," Jaune nodded knowingly. "Dad's pride and joy, after his children of course. Though some days, I think the books might edge us out."

"I heard that," came Kali's voice from the doorway.

Both turned to see Blake's mother entering the kitchen, already dressed for the day in a simple but elegant purple outfit. Though her expression was warm, something in her demeanor seemed more formal than usual, putting Blake instantly on alert.

"Good morning, Mrs. Belladonna," Jaune greeted, rising automatically to offer her a cup of tea. "You're up early."

"Please, I've told you a dozen times to call me Kali," she replied, accepting the tea with a grateful nod. "And yes, I wanted to catch you both before the house wakes up. There's something I need to discuss with you."

Blake's bow twitched slightly with concern. "Is everything alright?"

Kali settled into a chair at the table, her amber eyes—so like her daughter's—filled with a mixture of affection and something more complex. "Nothing's wrong, exactly. But I received a call from your father last night. There's a situation developing in Menagerie that requires my attention."

Blake tensed visibly, her arms tightening slightly around Cynthia. "The White Fang?"

"No, nothing so dramatic," Kali assured her quickly. "Just council matters that have become unexpectedly complicated in my absence. Your father could use my support." She took a sip of her tea before continuing. "I've arranged transport back to Menagerie. I'll be leaving this afternoon."

"Oh," Blake said, a complicated mixture of emotions crossing her face. Relief that there was no immediate danger, disappointment at her mother's impending departure, and perhaps a hint of anxiety about what would come next.

"That's... soon," Jaune observed, glancing between mother and daughter.

"Yes, well, I've already imposed on your family's hospitality for nearly two weeks," Kali replied with a gentle smile. "And I've had the chance to see what I needed to see."

"And what's that?" Blake asked, a note of defensiveness creeping into her voice.

Kali's expression softened as she looked at her daughter cradling Cynthia, then at Jaune sitting protectively nearby. "That you're in good hands. Both of you." Her gaze shifted to include the baby. "All three of you, really."

Blake seemed momentarily at a loss for words, clearly having expected a different response.

"Thank you," Jaune said sincerely, filling the silence. "That means a lot, especially coming from you."

Kali nodded, her eyes warm with approval. "I've watched you both these past weeks. The way you care for Cynthia, how you work together, how you handle the challenges that arise. It's not the path I would have chosen for my daughter at nineteen—" she held up a hand as Blake began to protest, "—but it's a worthy one nonetheless. You've taken on an extraordinary responsibility, and you're facing it with more maturity than many twice your age."

Cynthia finished her bottle, and Blake automatically shifted her to her shoulder for burping, the motion so natural now that she barely had to think about it. "Does Dad know? About... everything?"

"Yes," Kali confirmed. "I've shared the situation with him, including recent developments." Her knowing glance between Blake and Jaune made it clear she was referring to their relationship as well as Cynthia's care. "He was... surprised, as you might expect."

"That's one word for it," Blake muttered, though her tension had eased somewhat.

"He's concerned, of course," Kali continued. "About the practical challenges ahead, your education, the complicated logistics of raising a child while training to be huntsmen."

"All valid concerns," Jaune acknowledged, unconsciously reaching to place a supportive hand on Blake's knee. "We've been talking about it too."

"And have you reached any conclusions?" Kali inquired, her tone genuinely curious rather than judgmental.

Jaune and Blake exchanged a glance, that silent communication that had developed between them over weeks of shared responsibility.

"We're working on it," Blake said finally. "Professor Ozpin has been supportive. There are provisions for student-parents at Beacon—not common, but not unprecedented either."

"And my family has offered to help," Jaune added. "During school breaks, if we need a safe place for Cynthia, or extra hands."

"Your father would like to meet her," Kali continued after a moment. "And Jaune, of course. When you're ready."

Blake's eyes widened slightly. "He's not... angry?"

"Concerned, surprised, a bit overwhelmed," Kali listed with a small smile. "But not angry. He sees the same thing I do—his daughter finding purpose, finding... family, in an unexpected place."

Cynthia chose that moment to let out an impressive burp, followed by a happy gurgle that broke the emotional tension, causing all three adults to laugh.

"Perfect timing, little one," Kali said, reaching out to stroke one of Cynthia's soft cat ears. "You're going to fit right into this family."

The casual certainty of her words—the implicit acceptance of the unusual arrangement that had developed between Blake, Jaune, and Cynthia—washed over Blake like a warm wave, easing tensions she hadn't even realized she'd been carrying.

"So you're really leaving today?" Blake asked, changing the subject slightly as she adjusted Cynthia in her arms.

"Yes," Kali confirmed. "The airship departs from Radian at four. Juniper has already kindly offered to have Marcus drive me to town."

"We'll come with you," Blake said immediately. "To see you off."

"I'd like that," Kali smiled, genuine pleasure in her eyes. "All of you."

Their conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps on the stairs—the rest of the household beginning to stir. Lily appeared first, rubbing sleepy eyes as she padded into the kitchen in pajamas decorated with cartoon Beowolves.

"Morning," she mumbled, making a beeline for Jaune and crawling into his lap without preamble. It was a morning ritual that had continued despite the initial wariness she'd shown toward Blake. Over the past two weeks, the youngest Arc had gradually warmed to Blake's presence, especially after discovering their shared love of books.

"Good morning, sleepyhead," Jaune greeted, automatically smoothing Lily's bedhead with one hand. "Hot chocolate?"

Lily nodded against his chest, still too drowsy for words.

As Jaune moved to prepare his sister's morning drink, Kali watched with an expression of warm approval. "You'll make a wonderful father, Jaune Arc," she observed quietly. "You already are, in all the ways that matter."

The simple statement, delivered with such maternal certainty, brought a flush of pleased embarrassment to Jaune's cheeks. "Thank you," he managed, focusing perhaps too intently on measuring cocoa powder.

The kitchen soon filled with the rest of the Arc family, the peaceful morning giving way to the controlled chaos of breakfast preparations. Juniper, upon hearing of Kali's impending departure, immediately began planning a special lunch before extracting promises of regular scroll calls and photo updates about Cynthia.

Through it all, Blake remained unusually quiet, processing her mother's news with mixed emotions. She had grown accustomed to Kali's presence over the past two weeks—a bridge between her old life and new, a connection to her roots that somehow made this unexpected path feel more grounded, more stable.

As if sensing her thoughts, Jaune appeared at her side, one hand coming to rest lightly at the small of her back—a simple gesture of support that had become familiar in recent days.

"You okay?" he asked softly.

Blake nodded, leaning slightly into his touch. "Yeah. It's just... I just found her again, and now she's leaving."

"But this time, you know where each other are," Jaune pointed out gently. "And you have ways to stay connected."

"You're right," Blake acknowledged, a small smile forming. "It's different now."

"Plus," Jaune added with a playful nudge, "you've got us to keep you company. We're not going anywhere."

He gestured to himself and Cynthia, who chose that moment to reach out toward Blake with a happy sound. The simple synchronicity of it—Jaune's reassurance and Cynthia's apparent agreement—warmed something deep in Blake's chest.

"No," she said softly, taking Cynthia's tiny hand in hers. "I suppose we're not."

The airship dock in Radian was busy with late afternoon activity as Blake, Jaune, and Cynthia accompanied Kali to her departure point. They had made their goodbyes with the Arc family at the house, leaving Kali to have these final moments with her daughter in relative privacy.

"You have everything you need?" Blake asked, eyeing her mother's luggage. "Tickets? Scroll? Emergency contacts?"

Kali chuckled, the sound warm with maternal amusement. "Now who's the parent here? Yes, I have everything. And a very competent bodyguard waiting for me at the Vale transfer point."

"Juno was in Vale this whole time?" Blake asked, surprised.

"Of course. Did you think I traveled alone?" Kali raised an eyebrow. "Your father would have had a fit. Juno's been staying at a hotel in Vale, checking in daily. He'll escort me back to Menagerie."

Blake shook her head, a small smile playing at her lips. "Always prepared."

"A mother's prerogative," Kali replied serenely.

The boarding announcement for Kali's airship echoed through the terminal, signaling the beginning of their goodbye. Kali turned to Jaune first, her expression warm with approval.

"Take care of them," she said simply.

"I will," Jaune promised, his voice carrying all the sincerity of an oath. "But Blake doesn't really need taking care of. She's pretty amazing on her own."

Kali's smile widened. "And that understanding is exactly why I trust you with my daughter's heart."

Before Jaune could formulate a response to that unexpectedly direct statement, Kali had turned her attention to Cynthia, who was securely nestled in Blake's arms.

"And you, little one," she said softly, stroking one of Cynthia's cat ears with gentle affection. "Grow strong, grow wise, and know that you have family who loves you—not just here, but in Menagerie too. Your grandfather is very eager to meet you someday."

Cynthia responded by reaching for Kali's finger, grasping it with surprising strength. Kali's eyes misted slightly at the gesture, her composure momentarily cracking to reveal the depth of her attachment to this child she'd known for mere weeks.

Finally, she turned to Blake. For a moment, mother and daughter simply looked at each other, volumes of unspoken history passing between them.

"Blake," Kali began, her voice thick with emotion. "I'm so proud of the woman you've become. Your choices haven't always been what I expected, but they've led you to people who value you, to purpose that fulfills you, to a path that is uniquely yours."

Blake swallowed hard, fighting the tightness in her throat. "Mom..."

"I just ask one thing," Kali continued, reaching out to take her daughter's free hand. "Please call, Blake. Regularly. Let us be part of your life—yours and Cynthia's. Your father and I have missed so much already."

The simple request, delivered with such motherly restraint, broke something in Blake. Tears welled in her amber eyes, spilling over before she could prevent them.

"I will," she promised, her voice thick. "I'm sorry it took so long for me to come back."

"You're here now," Kali said simply, pulling her daughter into a careful embrace, mindful of Cynthia between them. "That's what matters."

They held each other for a long moment, years of separation and worry giving way to newfound connection. When they finally parted, both had tears in their eyes, though Kali recovered her composure first.

"I should board," she said, glancing toward the airship. "And you three should get back to the house before it gets dark."

"Safe travels," Blake said, making a visible effort to gather herself. "Tell Dad... tell him I'll call soon. And that I'm okay. Better than okay."

"I will," Kali promised. She hesitated, then added with a small smile, "Though he may still insist on coming to see this situation for himself eventually."

"We'll be ready," Jaune assured her, moving to stand supportively beside Blake. "Whenever that time comes."

Kali nodded, approval warming her expression one last time before she turned and headed toward the boarding gate. At the entrance, she paused to look back, taking in the sight of her daughter standing with Jaune and Cynthia—a family constellation she never could have predicted, yet one that seemed to fit together with surprising rightness.

With a final wave, she boarded the airship, leaving Blake watching until the vessel disappeared into the darkening evening sky.

"You okay?" Jaune asked softly as they made their way back through town toward his waiting father, who had agreed to pick them up after seeing Kali off.

Blake nodded, adjusting Cynthia in her arms. "I think so. It's strange—when she first arrived, I was terrified of what she'd think, what she'd say. And now that she's leaving..."

"You miss her already," Jaune finished understandingly.

"Yeah." Blake looked down at Cynthia, who had fallen asleep during the emotional goodbyes. "But she's right. It's different now. We have ways to stay connected."

"And you promised to call," Jaune reminded her gently.

Blake's expression turned wry. "I did. Meaning I'll have to tell my father about us directly, rather than letting Mom handle it."

"Scared?" Jaune teased lightly, though there was genuine question beneath it.

Blake considered this as they walked, the lights of Radian beginning to illuminate the early evening streets around them. "Not exactly scared. But he is... intimidating. Especially when it comes to his only daughter."

"I survived meeting your mom," Jaune pointed out optimistically. "How much more terrifying can your dad be?"

Blake's laugh was answer enough, causing Jaune to swallow nervously.

"That bad, huh?"

"Let's just say he makes my mother look positively reserved in the protectiveness department," Blake replied, a hint of mischief entering her expression. "But don't worry. I'll protect you."

"My hero," Jaune responded dryly, though he couldn't suppress a grin.

As they reached Marcus's waiting truck, Blake found herself reflecting on how much had changed in just two weeks. The cautious, frightened girl who had panicked at her mother's arrival was giving way to someone more grounded, more certain of her place in this unexpected family they were forming.

There were still challenges ahead—returning to Beacon, balancing their education with Cynthia's care, navigating the complexities of their evolving relationship. But for the first time in years, Blake wasn't facing those challenges alone, nor was she planning escape routes at the first sign of difficulty.

She had made a promise—to her mother, to Cynthia, to Jaune, and perhaps most importantly, to herself: to stay connected, to work through problems rather than running from them, to build something lasting from the unexpected gift they'd found in a forest clearing.

As Jaune helped her into the truck, his hand warm and steady against hers, Blake felt something settle within her—a quiet certainty that whatever came next, they would face it together.

And that, she was beginning to believe, might make all the difference.

Scene: Accommodations

The farmhouse study was quiet except for the soft breathing of Cynthia, who slept peacefully in Blake's arms. Jaune adjusted the scroll propped on the desk, ensuring the camera captured both of them for the scheduled video call with Beacon's administration. They had chosen the study for its privacy—the rest of the Arc family giving them space for this important discussion.

"Three minutes," Jaune murmured, glancing at the clock. His fingers drummed nervously on the polished wooden surface. "Do you think they'll approve our request?"

Blake shifted Cynthia slightly, careful not to wake her. "We've made a reasonable case. An empty team room would give us the space we need, and it's not like Beacon is at full capacity this year."

"But it's still asking for special treatment," Jaune pointed out, running a hand through his already disheveled hair. "And changing established housing arrangements isn't exactly standard procedure."

Before Blake could respond, the scroll chimed with an incoming call. Jaune took a deep breath, exchanged one final look with Blake, and accepted the connection.

Professor Ozpin's face appeared on the screen, his ever-present coffee mug just visible at the edge of the frame. Professor Goodwitch stood slightly behind him, tablet in hand and expression professionally neutral.

"Mr. Arc, Miss Belladonna," Ozpin greeted, his voice carrying clearly through the connection. "I trust you're well?"

"Yes, sir," Jaune replied, unconsciously sitting straighter. "Thank you for making time for this call."

"Of course," Ozpin said, his gaze shifting to the sleeping bundle in Blake's arms. "And this must be young Miss Cynthia. I see she's grown since the photos you included with your guardianship application."

"She has," Blake confirmed, angling her arms slightly to give them a better view. "The doctors say she's developing right on schedule, possibly ahead in some areas."

Goodwitch stepped forward, adjusting her glasses as she consulted her tablet. "The guardianship paperwork has been finalized," she informed them. "As of yesterday, you are both legally recognized as Cynthia's guardians, with all attendant rights and responsibilities."

"Thank you," Jaune said sincerely. "We couldn't have navigated all of that without your help, Professor."

"It's part of my job, Mr. Arc," Goodwitch replied, though her usually stern expression softened slightly as she glanced at Cynthia. "Now, regarding your housing request—"

"Yes," Ozpin interjected, taking a sip from his mug. "You've proposed converting an empty team dormitory into suitable accommodations for yourselves and Cynthia. A creative solution, I must say."

Blake nodded. "We thought it would be the least disruptive option. The fourth-floor west wing has two vacant rooms, and either would provide sufficient space."

"While maintaining our positions on our respective teams," Jaune added quickly. "We're not looking to change team assignments, just living arrangements."

Ozpin and Goodwitch exchanged a glance that suggested they had already discussed this matter in depth.

"Your desire to maintain team cohesion is commendable," Ozpin said, setting down his mug. "However, I believe we have a more suitable alternative to offer."

Jaune and Blake exchanged a worried look, concerned that their request was about to be denied.

"Beacon Academy has existing accommodations designed specifically for student parents," Ozpin continued, surprising them both. "They're located in the east residential wing, adjacent to the faculty housing section."

"Student parents?" Jaune repeated, clearly caught off guard. "There are others?"

Goodwitch stepped forward again. "While uncommon, Beacon has a long history of accommodating students with dependent children. The situation arises approximately a couple of times a year."

"Hunters and Huntresses lead complex lives, Mr. Arc," Ozpin added with a small smile. "And life rarely follows convenient schedules or waits for graduation ceremonies."

"The accommodations include a small apartment with a nursery area, private bathroom, and study space," Goodwitch explained, her efficient tone belying the generosity of what she was offering. "It would provide the privacy and facilities you need while remaining within reasonable distance of your team dormitories."

"Your status within your respective teams will remain unchanged," Ozpin assured them, apparently reading the concern in their expressions. "This is merely a housing adjustment to accommodate your unique circumstances."

Blake and Jaune exchanged another glance, this one filled with cautious hope.

"That sounds... ideal, actually," Blake admitted. "Better than what we'd proposed."

"There is, however, one additional requirement," Goodwitch continued. "During class hours and training sessions, Cynthia will need to be placed in Beacon's daycare facility."

"Beacon has a daycare?" Jaune asked, unable to hide his surprise.

"Primarily for faculty children," Ozpin confirmed. "But available to student parents as well. The staff are fully qualified and security-cleared, I assure you."

"That would actually be perfect," Blake said, relief evident in her voice. "We were concerned about how to manage classes and combat training while caring for Cynthia."

"Precisely why these systems exist," Ozpin noted with another small smile. "As I said, yours is not the first such situation Beacon has accommodated, though perhaps one of the more unusual in its origins."

Cynthia stirred in Blake's arms, making a small sound that immediately drew everyone's attention. Blake adjusted her hold, murmuring softly until the baby settled again.

"She seems quite comfortable with you both," Ozpin observed, his expression thoughtful. "A good sign."

"We've had a lot of practice these past weeks," Jaune explained, a note of pride creeping into his voice despite his efforts to maintain a professional tone. "Between us and our families, she's always had someone caring for her."

"And that support system will continue at Beacon," Goodwitch assured them. "The parental accommodations include emergency alerts connected directly to your scrolls and the faculty network. Should any issues arise while you're in class, you'll be immediately notified."

"Thank you," Blake said sincerely. "This is more comprehensive than we'd hoped for."

"Beacon Academy exists to train the next generation of protectors," Ozpin replied. "But we recognize that protection takes many forms—including caring for the youngest and most vulnerable among us."

Something in his tone suggested deeper meaning, but before either Blake or Jaune could inquire further, Goodwitch returned the conversation to practical matters.

"I'll send detailed information about the accommodations, daycare registration procedures, and necessary preparations to your scrolls," she said. "You'll also find a modified class schedule that coordinates your core classes to minimize overlap, allowing at least one of you to be available for Cynthia during non-daycare hours."

"You've thought of everything," Jaune remarked, impressed by their thoroughness.

"It's our job, Mr. Arc," Goodwitch replied, though a hint of a smile touched her lips. "Planning is preferable to crisis management, wouldn't you agree?"

"Absolutely," Jaune nodded, wincing slightly as he recalled various improvised solutions during their first weeks with Cynthia.

"There is one additional matter," Ozpin said, his expression growing more serious. "Regarding the security implications of Cynthia's discovery and the White Fang connection mentioned in the note."

Both Blake and Jaune straightened, their expressions sobering immediately.

"While we have no specific information suggesting active danger," Ozpin continued, "prudence dictates increased security measures. The parental accommodations are equipped with additional protections, and the daycare facility is one of the most secure locations on campus."

"We're also implementing enhanced security protocols for visitors," Goodwitch added. "And it would be advisable to limit knowledge of Cynthia's origins to those already aware. The official record will simply indicate she is under your guardianship following a family emergency."

"We understand," Blake assured them, unconsciously drawing Cynthia closer. "We've been careful about the full story."

"A wise approach," Ozpin approved. "Now, unless you have additional questions, I believe we've covered the essential points."

Jaune and Blake exchanged another glance before Jaune spoke. "Just one question, sir. When should we arrive to set up the accommodations? We'd like to have everything ready before classes resume."

"Three days prior to the start of term would be ideal," Goodwitch replied promptly. "That will allow sufficient time for orientation to the facilities and daycare familiarization."

"We'll be there," Blake confirmed.

Ozpin nodded, satisfaction evident in his expression. "Excellent. Beacon looks forward to welcoming all three of you. And Mr. Arc, Miss Belladonna—"

They looked at him expectantly.

"The path you've chosen isn't an easy one," he said, his tone gentler than usual. "But from what I've observed, you're navigating it with remarkable maturity and dedication. That speaks well of both of you, and of the hunters you're becoming."

The unexpected praise left them momentarily speechless, able only to murmur their thanks before the call concluded with final arrangements for their return.

As the screen went dark, Jaune released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding. "That went... surprisingly well."

"Better than well," Blake agreed, relief evident in her voice. "They've already arranged everything we need."

Jaune nodded, wonder creeping into his expression. "Student parent accommodations. I had no idea that was even a thing."

"Neither did I," Blake admitted, adjusting Cynthia in her arms as the baby began to stir more persistently. "But it makes sense, in retrospect. Hunters' lives are unpredictable."

"Speaking of unpredictable," Jaune said, gesturing to Cynthia, who was now fully awake and beginning to fuss. "I think someone's hungry."

As they moved from the study to prepare Cynthia's bottle, the weight of uncertainty that had shadowed their impending return to Beacon felt considerably lighter. The path ahead would still be challenging—balancing their education, their training, and their responsibilities to Cynthia—but now they knew they wouldn't be facing those challenges without support.

It wasn't the future either of them had imagined when they first arrived at Beacon, but as Cynthia's tiny hand wrapped around Jaune's finger with surprising strength, neither could imagine wanting any other.

Back in Ozpin's office, Glynda Goodwitch closed her tablet with a decisive snap as the call ended. "They seem to be handling the situation well, all things considered."

"Indeed," Ozpin agreed, swiveling in his chair to gaze out over Beacon's expansive grounds. "They've grown considerably in a short time."

"Let's hope their example doesn't spark some misguided 'baby fever' among their peers," Goodwitch remarked dryly. "The logistics would be... problematic, to say the least."

Ozpin's fingers steepled thoughtfully as he turned back to face her, his expression carefully neutral. "Would that truly be such a concerning development, Glynda?"

"Ozpin." Goodwitch's tone carried a warning edge. "Surely you're not suggesting—"

"I'm simply observing," he interrupted gently, though his eyes held that familiar glint that meant his thoughts were running far deeper than his words suggested, "that young people who demonstrate such remarkable dedication to protecting the innocent... well, one might argue they possess precisely the qualities we hope to cultivate in future generations."

Goodwitch's scowl was immediate and formidable. "You can't possibly be encouraging teenage parenthood. The complications alone would be disastrous for our training programs."

"Encouraging? Hardly." Ozpin's smile was enigmatic as he lifted his mug, pausing just before taking a sip. "Though I confess, watching our students discover such profound purpose in nurturing new life... it does suggest certain promising developments for Remnant's future defenders."

"The academy is not a nursery, Ozpin," Goodwitch said firmly, though she couldn't quite shake the feeling that he was thinking several moves ahead of this conversation.

"Of course not," he agreed with practiced innocence, his tone suggesting butter wouldn't melt in his mouth. "Though one must admit, the sight of young hunters learning to balance combat training with caregiving responsibilities is... educational. Character-building, even."

Goodwitch studied his face suspiciously. "You're being deliberately obtuse."

"Am I?" Ozpin's eyebrows rose in mock surprise. "I merely find it fascinating how quickly love and responsibility can transform even the most reluctant students into mature, capable individuals. If such transformations happened to become... more widespread... well, that would hardly be something I could control, would it?"

"I'll add expanded health education to the curriculum," Goodwitch muttered, making a sharp note on her tablet. "Immediately."

"An excellent idea," Ozpin replied serenely, taking another sip from his mug. "Though I suspect nature has a way of proceeding regardless of our academic schedules."

Goodwitch's departing footsteps echoed with particular emphasis, leaving Ozpin alone to contemplate the future taking shape—not just for the young guardians and their unexpected charge, but for all the pieces moving across the greater board of Remnant's destiny.

"Sometimes the most important lessons," he murmured to the empty office, his gaze drawn to the shattered moon barely visible in the afternoon sky, "are the ones we never intended to teach."

Chapter Text

Chapter 35: A Mother's Perspective

80AGW - Early July

The late afternoon sun cast long shadows across the Arc family's back porch as Jaune found Kali Belladonna sitting alone in one of the wicker chairs, a cup of tea cooling forgotten in her hands. She gazed out over the orchard with a contemplative expression that reminded him so strongly of Blake that he almost hesitated to interrupt.

"Mrs. Belladonna?" he said softly, not wanting to startle her. "Do you mind if I join you?"

Kali turned, her amber eyes—so like her daughter's—warming with a gentle smile. "Of course, Jaune. Please, sit." She gestured to the chair beside her. "And I've told you several times now—call me Kali."

Jaune settled into the chair, his hands fidgeting slightly with nervousness. "Thank you. Kali." He paused, gathering his courage. "I was hoping I could ask you something. About Blake."

Something shifted in Kali's expression, becoming more attentive, more maternal. "What would you like to know?"

"I..." Jaune struggled to find the right words. "I care about her. A lot. And I want to understand her better, to be the partner she deserves. But there are parts of her past that she doesn't talk about much. Her childhood, her time with the White Fang... I don't want to push her to share things she's not ready to discuss, but..."

"But you're trying to understand the person you're falling in love with," Kali finished gently, a knowing smile playing at her lips.

Jaune's cheeks reddened, but he didn't deny it. "Yes. I suppose I am."

Kali set down her teacup and turned to face him more fully. "What would you like to know?"

"What was she like? Growing up, I mean. Before everything got complicated."

Kali's expression softened with maternal love and memory. "Blake was... intense. Even as a small child, she felt everything so deeply. When she was happy, she glowed. When she was upset, it was as if the world itself had wronged her." She chuckled softly. "Ghira used to joke that we could predict the weather by Blake's moods—storms always seemed to follow her tears."

Jaune smiled, easily picturing a younger Blake with that same passionate intensity he'd come to recognize. "She still feels things deeply. She just hides it better now."

"Yes, she learned to guard her emotions," Kali agreed, a note of sadness creeping into her voice. "That started early. Blake was always observant, always aware of the injustices around her. Even in Menagerie, where faunus were free, she could see the inequality, the way other kingdoms treated our people."

"Is that what drew her to the White Fang?" Jaune asked carefully.

Kali nodded, her expression growing more serious. "When Blake was twelve, there was an incident. A group of human traders came to Menagerie—legitimate merchants, or so we thought. But they were actually slavers, trying to recruit young faunus for 'work opportunities' in Atlas that were anything but legitimate."

Jaune's hands clenched into fists. "They tried to take people?"

"They tried," Kali confirmed. "But Blake discovered their true nature before they could succeed. She'd been suspicious from the beginning, and she followed them one night when they met with some of their local contacts." Her voice grew heavy. "What she saw... it changed her. The casual way they discussed buying and selling people, the complete dehumanization of faunus lives."

"That must have been traumatic for someone so young," Jaune said quietly.

"It was," Kali agreed. "But Blake didn't retreat from it. She gathered evidence, helped expose the operation. The traders were arrested, their scheme shut down. But the experience left Blake with a burning need to do more, to fight against the systematic oppression she'd witnessed."

Kali paused, picking up her teacup again though she didn't drink. "Around that same time, Ghira made the decision to step down as High Leader of the White Fang. He wanted to focus on Menagerie, on building a safe haven for our people rather than continuing the fight abroad. Sienna Khan took over leadership, and she... had different ideas about how the Fang should operate."

"More aggressive ideas?" Jaune guessed.

"Much more aggressive," Kali confirmed with a sigh. "Sienna believed that peaceful protest had accomplished nothing, that it was time for more direct action. To a fourteen-year-old girl who'd just witnessed the ugly reality of how some humans viewed faunus, and who was frustrated with what she saw as her father's retreat from the fight..."

"Blake saw Sienna's approach as the answer," Jaune finished, understanding dawning.

"Exactly," Kali said, pain evident in her voice. "Blake felt that Ghira was abandoning the cause just when it needed strong leadership most. She believed Sienna's more militant approach was what the faunus needed. We tried to explain our reasoning, tried to show her that there were other ways to create change, but..."

"So she left," Jaune said, understanding beginning to dawn.

"She left," Kali confirmed, her voice thick with old pain. "At fourteen, she walked out of our house to join Sienna's White Fang, feeling that her own father had abandoned the fight for faunus rights. She said she would continue the work he'd given up on, that she wouldn't stand by while injustice continued."

Jaune tried to imagine a fourteen-year-old Blake—passionate, idealistic, angry at her father's perceived betrayal—and his heart ached for both her and her parents. "She must have felt like you were choosing safety over justice."

"That's exactly how she saw it," Kali said sadly. "In her mind, we were retreating to our island paradise while faunus around the world continued to suffer. She couldn't understand that sometimes stepping back is necessary to find a better path forward."

"And terrifying doesn't begin to cover what it felt finding her empty bed," Kali continued with a bitter laugh. "But Blake was—is—stubborn beyond measure. Once she'd made up her mind, nothing we said could change it. And part of us... part of us was proud of her conviction, even as we feared where it would lead."

"Did you have contact with her? While she was with the White Fang?"

Kali shook her head. "Very little. The occasional message to let us know she was alive, but nothing substantial. We tried reaching out, but Blake was... angry with us. She felt we were choosing comfort over action, that we were complicit in the system that oppressed our people."

"And then?" Jaune prompted gently.

"And then she disappeared entirely," Kali continued, her voice barely above a whisper. "No messages, no contact, nothing. For months, we didn't know if she was alive or dead. It wasn't until she surfaced at Beacon that we learned she'd left the White Fang."

Jaune absorbed this information, his understanding of Blake's past growing deeper and more painful. "She never told you why she left the Fang?"

"Not directly," Kali replied. "But from what little she's shared, and what I've been able to piece together, I believe she became disillusioned with their increasingly violent methods. Blake has always had a strong moral compass—she joined the White Fang to protect people, not to hurt them."

"That sounds like the Blake I know," Jaune said softly. "She'd rather put herself at risk than see innocent people suffer."

Kali studied him with those perceptive amber eyes. "You understand her," she observed. "Better than I expected, given how recently you've known each other."

"I'm trying to," Jaune replied honestly. "She's... complex. There are walls she's built around parts of herself, but when you see past them..."

"She's remarkable," Kali finished with a mother's pride.

"She is," Jaune agreed without hesitation. "The way she cares for Cynthia, the way she faces challenges head-on, the way she's learning to trust again... I've never met anyone like her."

Kali reached over and placed a gentle hand on his arm. "Can I give you some advice, Jaune? From someone who loves Blake deeply but has made mistakes in understanding her?"

"Please," Jaune said earnestly.

"Blake has spent years believing she has to carry every burden alone," Kali explained. "Her time with the White Fang reinforced that—she was surrounded by people who valued her skills but not necessarily her wellbeing. Learning to trust others, to share her burdens... it's not natural for her anymore."

"I've noticed," Jaune said. "Sometimes I can see her pulling back, like she's afraid of becoming too dependent on anyone."

"Exactly," Kali nodded. "But I've watched you two together these past days. I've seen how you don't push her to open up, but you're consistently there when she's ready. That's exactly what she needs."

"I don't want to fail her," Jaune confessed. "She's been hurt so much already."

"The fact that you're worried about that tells me you won't," Kali assured him. "Blake needs someone who sees her strength but doesn't expect her to be strong all the time. Someone who supports her choices but isn't afraid to challenge her when necessary."

"And someone who won't leave when things get difficult," Jaune added, thinking of Blake's fear of abandonment.

"Yes," Kali agreed, approval evident in her expression. "Blake has been abandoned by too many people she trusted. The White Fang ultimately betrayed her ideals, even if she was the one who left. She needs to know that you'll stay, even when she's difficult or scared or pushing you away."

Jaune nodded, determination settling in his features. "I'm not going anywhere. Blake and Cynthia... they're my family now. No matter what challenges come our way."

"I believe you," Kali said softly, genuine warmth in her voice. "And I think Blake is beginning to believe it too. That's no small feat, considering how carefully she guards her heart."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the sun begin to set over the orchard. Finally, Kali spoke again.

"There's something else you should know," she said quietly. "About why Blake's time with the White Fang ended the way it did."

Jaune turned to her, sensing the importance of what she was about to share.

"Blake had a partner," Kali continued carefully. "Someone she cared about deeply. His name was Adam, and he... he wasn't a good influence. Blake's natural compassion began to conflict with his increasingly radical views."

"What happened?" Jaune asked, though he wasn't sure he wanted to know.

"I don't know all the details," Kali admitted. "But from what Blake has shared, Adam became obsessed with revenge against humans. He wanted Blake to abandon her principles in service of his cause. When she refused..."

"He hurt her," Jaune said, not a question but a statement filled with quiet anger.

"Not physically, as far as I know," Kali clarified quickly. "But emotionally, psychologically... yes. Blake loved him, and he used that love to try to control her. When she finally found the courage to leave, it nearly destroyed her faith in her own judgment."

Jaune's hands clenched again, anger building at the thought of someone manipulating Blake's compassionate nature. "Is he still a threat?"

"Potentially," Kali replied honestly. "Adam doesn't handle rejection well, from what Blake has told me. But she's stronger now than she was then. And she's not alone anymore."

"No," Jaune agreed firmly. "She's not alone."

Kali smiled, reaching over to squeeze his hand. "Thank you, Jaune. For giving my daughter a chance to believe in love again. For showing her that partnership doesn't have to mean losing herself."

"Thank you for trusting me with her story," Jaune replied. "I know it wasn't easy to share."

"Blake is my daughter, and I want her to be happy," Kali said simply. "From what I've seen, you make her happy. That's what matters most to a mother."

As the last rays of sunlight faded from the sky, Jaune felt a deeper understanding of the woman he was falling in love with settling into his heart. Blake's journey had been long and painful, marked by betrayal and loss. But it had also shaped her into someone remarkable—someone worth fighting for, worth staying for, worth building a future with.

"I won't let her down," he promised quietly, the words carrying the weight of an oath.

"I know," Kali replied with maternal certainty. "Now, shall we go inside? I believe Cynthia will be waking soon, and Blake will want to give her dinner."

As they rose and headed toward the house, Jaune carried with him not just new knowledge about Blake's past, but a renewed determination to be worthy of the trust both mother and daughter were slowly learning to place in him. The path ahead might still be uncertain, but his commitment to walking it beside Blake and Cynthia had never been clearer.

Hard Truths

80AGW - Early July

The afternoon sun filtered through the kitchen windows as Blake finished giving Cynthia her bottle, the baby contentedly drowsing in her arms. Across the spacious room, Marcus and Juniper Arc moved in their familiar rhythm—he cleaning the lunch dishes while she prepared ingredients for dinner, a domestic dance perfected over years of marriage and eight children.

Blake had been working up the courage for this conversation since their second day at the Arc home. Every time she watched Jaune train with his father, every time she saw the careful way Marcus observed his son's progress, every time Juniper's expression grew distant when huntsman work was mentioned—the question burned more insistently in her mind.

Finally, she could no longer contain her curiosity.

"Can I ask you something?" Blake said, her voice cutting through the comfortable kitchen sounds.

Both parents looked up, Juniper pausing in her chopping while Marcus set down the dish he'd been drying.

"Of course, dear," Juniper replied, wiping her hands on her apron. "What's on your mind?"

Blake adjusted Cynthia in her arms, gathering her courage. "Why didn't you want Jaune to become a huntsman?"

The question hung in the air like a physical thing. Marcus's jaw tightened almost imperceptibly, while Juniper's hands stilled completely on the cutting board. For a long moment, neither parent spoke, exchanging a weighted glance that carried years of shared history and unspoken pain.

Finally, Marcus set down his dish towel and turned to face Blake fully, his weathered hands gripping the edge of the counter. "I was terrified," he admitted, his voice rougher than usual. "Absolutely terrified of the idea of Jaune following that path."

"But why?" Blake pressed gently, sensing there was more beneath the surface. "You're both clearly skilled. You've trained hunters before. And Jaune has natural leadership qualities that—"

"Have you noticed," Juniper interrupted softly, "that there aren't any recent pictures of Jaune's uncles around the house?"

Blake blinked, thrown by the apparent change of subject. "I... hadn't really thought about it. I assumed maybe you'd had a falling out, or they lived far away..."

Juniper's laugh was bitter, hollow. "It's worse than that, I'm afraid." She set down her knife entirely, moving to sit across from Blake at the kitchen table. Marcus remained standing, but his posture had grown rigid.

"They're all dead, Blake," Juniper said quietly. "Every one of Marcus's brothers. Four of them, all huntsmen, all gone before their thirtieth birthdays."

The words hit Blake like ice water. She'd known that huntsman work was dangerous—every student at Beacon understood the risks they were accepting. But the stark reality of an entire generation wiped out struck her in a way statistics never could.

"All of them?" she whispered, automatically holding Cynthia closer.

Marcus's voice, when he spoke, was carefully controlled. "Adrian died fighting a pack of Alpha Beowolf pack that was threatening a mining settlement. He was twenty-eight." His fingers drummed against the counter in a rhythm that suggested this was a story he'd told himself many times. "Garrett fell in a Grimm surge when he was twenty-five—stayed behind to ensure civilian evacuation when he should have retreated with his team."

"Thomas made it to twenty-seven," Juniper continued when Marcus faltered. "A village in the outer territories sent a distress call about Geist activity. He went alone because it seemed like a routine extermination. It wasn't."

"And Samuel..." Marcus's voice broke slightly on the name. "Sam was the youngest, closest to Jaune's age when he died. Twenty-three. He saw a group of refugees being stalked by a group of Ursa Majors and engaged them single-handedly to buy time for the civilians to escape." His hands clenched into fists. "He succeeded. Saved every single one of them. But he didn't make it back."

Blake felt her chest constrict as the pattern became clear. "They were all heroes."

"They were all too brave," Marcus corrected harshly. "Too focused on saving everyone else to think about their own survival. Too willing to sacrifice themselves for strangers."

Juniper reached across the table to touch Blake's free hand. "We saw those same qualities in Jaune from the time he was small. That desperate need to help others, that willingness to put himself in harm's way for people he'd never met." Her deep blue eyes—so like her son's—were bright with unshed tears. "We were terrified that if we trained him, if we encouraged those instincts, we'd be signing his death warrant just like his uncles."

Blake's mind raced as pieces clicked into place. Jaune's lack of formal training, his family's discouragement of his huntsman dreams, even his desperate use of forged transcripts to get into Beacon—it all made a horrible kind of sense.

"So you tried to dissuade him," Blake said slowly. "You hoped if you didn't train him, if you didn't encourage him, he'd choose a different path."

"We tried everything short of forbidding it outright," Marcus confirmed, his voice heavy with regret. "We convinced him he wasn't ready, that he needed more time, more preparation. We hoped he'd find something else to be passionate about, some other way to help people that didn't involve throwing himself at Grimm."

Blake looked down at Cynthia, sleeping peacefully in her arms, before meeting both parents' eyes with a directness that bordered on sharp. "Well, your efforts didn't work, did they?"

The words came out harsher than she'd intended, carrying an edge of accusation that made both parents flinch. Blake immediately felt guilty for her tone.

"I'm sorry," she began quickly. "I didn't mean to—"

"No," Juniper interrupted, holding up a hand. "Don't apologize. You're absolutely right."

Marcus nodded grimly. "All we accomplished was sending him into danger unprepared. If anything, we made the very outcome we feared more likely."

"He could have been killed his first week at Beacon," Juniper added, her voice thick with emotion. "Because we were too afraid to give him the tools he needed to survive what he was determined to do anyway."

Blake felt a surge of protectiveness for the boy who had stumbled through initiation with borrowed gear and forged transcripts, driven by dreams his family had tried to crush out of love and fear. "He's stronger than you think," she said softly. "Stronger than he thinks, too."

"We're beginning to see that," Marcus acknowledged, some of the tension leaving his shoulders. "These past weeks, watching him with you and Cynthia, seeing how he's grown at Beacon... We were wrong to try to hold him back."

"We let our grief and fear make decisions that should have been based on love and support," Juniper agreed. "We robbed him of the chance to be prepared for a path he was always going to choose."

Blake nodded, her initial anger giving way to understanding. "You lost four brothers already. The thought of losing a son must have been unbearable."

"But we almost lost him anyway," Marcus said quietly. "Just in a different way. By not believing in him, by not supporting his dreams, we pushed him away. If not for Beacon accepting him despite our failures..."

"If not for you," Juniper added, looking directly at Blake, "helping him find his confidence and his purpose..."

Blake felt heat rise to her cheeks. "I didn't do anything special. I just... saw who he really was. Who he was becoming."

"That," Marcus said with a small, sad smile, "is exactly what we should have been doing all along."

Cynthia stirred in Blake's arms, making small sounds that indicated she would be waking soon. As Blake adjusted her hold on the baby, she found herself thinking about fear and love, about the terrible choices parents made in trying to protect their children.

"For what it's worth," she said quietly, "I think you were trying to do the right thing. It's just... sometimes the right thing for the wrong reasons becomes the wrong thing."

"Wise words from someone so young," Juniper observed with a watery smile. "Perhaps that's why Jaune found his way to you. He needed someone who could see past our fears to his potential."

"And perhaps," Marcus added, his voice gruff with emotion, "it's why fate brought all three of you together. To teach an old soldier and his wife that sometimes you have to trust the people you love to find their own path, even when that path terrifies you."

Blake looked down at Cynthia, now fully awake and gazing up at her with those startling amber eyes. "I'm still learning that lesson myself," she admitted. "Every day I worry about what could happen to her, to Jaune, to all of us. But I'm trying to choose love over fear when I can."

"That's all any parent can do," Juniper said softly. "Love them fiercely, prepare them as best you can, and then trust them to be strong enough for whatever comes."

As if summoned by the conversation, Jaune's voice called from the back door. "We're back! Dad, you should have seen the technique Pyrrha taught me for—" He stopped mid-sentence as he entered the kitchen, taking in the emotional atmosphere and the serious expressions on everyone's faces. "Is everything okay?"

Blake stood, settling Cynthia against her shoulder as she moved to his side. "Everything's fine. Your parents and I were just... having an important conversation."

Jaune looked between them uncertainly. "About what?"

Marcus stepped forward, placing a heavy hand on his son's shoulder. "About how proud we are of the man you've become. And how sorry we are for not believing in you sooner."

Confusion flickered across Jaune's features, followed by understanding as he read the lingering emotion in the room. "Mom? Dad? What's this about?"

Juniper rose and moved to embrace her son, careful not to disturb Cynthia. "It's about us finally admitting we were wrong to try to keep you from becoming a huntsman. And about promising to support your choices going forward, even when they scare us."

Jaune's arms came up to return his mother's hug, his eyes finding Blake's over Juniper's shoulder. She offered him a small, encouraging smile, and some of the tension left his posture.

"You don't have to apologize," he said quietly. "I know you were just trying to protect me."

"But we do," Marcus insisted. "We let our past overshadow your future. That wasn't fair to you."

As the Arc family reconciled over truths that should have been spoken years ago, Blake found herself holding Cynthia a little tighter, making a silent promise to the baby in her arms. Whatever fears might come with watching someone you love chase their dreams, she would choose support over sabotage, trust over terror.

Some lessons, it seemed, were better learned from others' mistakes than through your own.

Chapter Text

Chapter 36: Father's Guidance

80AGW - Mid July

The early morning dew still clung to the grass as Jaune found his father in the workshop behind the Arc family home. Marcus stood at the grinding wheel, carefully sharpening one of the household tools, his movements practiced and precise. The familiar sound of metal against stone paused as Jaune's footsteps approached.

"Morning, son," Marcus greeted without turning around, his hearing as sharp as ever despite years of combat. "You're up early."

"Morning, Dad," Jaune replied, his fingers fidgeting nervously at his sides. "I was hoping to catch you before breakfast."

Marcus set down the tool and turned, wiping his hands on a nearby cloth. His observant gaze immediately noted the tension in his son's posture. "Something on your mind?"

Jaune took a deep breath, squaring his shoulders with newfound determination. "I want to ask for your help. With training."

Marcus's eyebrows rose slightly, the only indication of his surprise. "Training?"

"Combat training," Jaune clarified, unconsciously standing straighter. "I know it's been a while since we... since we tried that. But I need to get better. For my team, for Beacon, and..." he hesitated briefly, "for my family."

Understanding dawned in Marcus's expression as he registered the weight his son placed on that final word. This wasn't the boy who had once fumbled through practice sessions, more interested in heroic dreams than disciplined work. The young man standing before him now had purpose.

"What brought this on?" Marcus asked, though his tone suggested he already had some idea.

Jaune's gaze drifted toward the main house, where Blake and Cynthia were likely still sleeping. "Things are different now. I have responsibilities—to my team at Beacon, and to Blake and Cynthia. I need to be stronger, better prepared for whatever challenges come our way."

Marcus studied his son for a long moment, pride and something like respect settling in his features. "I see," he said simply. "Well then, we should get started."

Jaune blinked, having expected more resistance or at least questions. "Just like that?"

A rare smile crossed Marcus's face. "Just like that. When a man asks for help protecting his family, the only proper answer is yes." He reached for a nearby trunk and unlocked it, revealing a collection of training weapons. "Let's begin with an assessment of where you are now. I want to see what that fancy academy has been teaching you."

Relief and determination flooded through Jaune. "Now? Before breakfast?"

"No time like the present," Marcus replied, selecting two wooden training swords. "And training on an empty stomach builds character."

Jaune recognized his father's teasing tone, so rarely heard in his childhood. "You just don't want Mom to find out and worry."

"That too," Marcus acknowledged with a wink, tossing one of the practice swords to Jaune, who caught it smoothly. "The training field in twenty minutes. Wear something you don't mind getting dirty."

By mid-morning, word of the training session had spread throughout the Arc household. The family training field, a flat stretch of packed earth behind the orchard, had gradually accumulated spectators as the morning progressed.

Jaune and Marcus circled each other, both showing the signs of several hours' intense practice. Jaune's t-shirt was soaked with sweat, his blond hair darkened by exertion. Marcus looked considerably fresher, though the occasional deep breath betrayed that his son was providing more of a challenge than perhaps expected.

On a blanket spread beneath a nearby tree, Blake sat with Cynthia in her lap, providing the baby with a shaded view of the proceedings. She had arrived about an hour into the training, silently taking her place on the sidelines after Violet had informed her where Jaune had disappeared to so early.

Besides Blake, Jade and Amber sat cross-legged, providing running commentary on their father's techniques and Jaune's responses. Further back, the twins watched with uncharacteristic focus, while Lily alternated between observing the match and playing with Cynthia's tiny hands.

"Dad's holding back," Jade observed critically as Marcus deliberately telegraphed a strike. "But less than he used to."

"Jaune's improved," Amber agreed, genuine surprise in her voice. "His footwork is actually decent now."

"Pyrrha Nikos has been training him," Blake offered quietly, adjusting Cynthia's sun hat. "Almost every night at Beacon."

Both sisters turned to her with interest.

"The Pyrrha Nikos?" Jade asked, clearly impressed. "Four-time Mistral champion?"

Blake nodded, a small smile touching her lips. "She's his partner on Team JNPR. Very dedicated to helping him improve."

"That explains a lot," Amber mused, returning her attention to the match. "He's using some of her signature defensive stances."

In the training circle, Marcus pressed forward with a series of rapid strikes that forced Jaune to give ground. For a moment, it seemed the younger Arc would be overwhelmed, but then Jaune pivoted unexpectedly, redirecting his father's momentum in a move that was distinctly reminiscent of Pyrrha's fighting style.

"Good!" Marcus called out, approval evident in his voice. "Using your opponent's force against them. That's smart fighting, Jaune."

Despite the praise, Jaune wasn't given a moment to relish it. Marcus immediately followed with a sweeping low attack that Jaune barely jumped over, landing slightly off-balance. Before he could recover, Marcus had the wooden sword at his throat.

"But never get distracted by success," Marcus added with a rueful smile. "That's how you end up dead."

Jaune nodded, not discouraged but determined. "Again?"

Marcus lowered his weapon, assessing his son's condition. "Water break first. Hydration is as important as technique."

As they moved toward the water jugs set up at the edge of the field, Jaune noticed Blake and his sisters for the first time. Heat that had nothing to do with exertion crept up his neck.

"How long have you been watching?" he asked, accepting a towel from Jade.

"Long enough to be impressed," Blake replied honestly. "You've never shown that pivot move in class before."

"Still working on it," Jaune admitted, taking a long drink of water. "Pyrrha's been drilling it into me for weeks, but I can never seem to follow through properly."

"Your weight distribution is off," Marcus commented, joining them. "You're still leaning too far forward on the recovery. But the initial movement is good—clean, decisive."

Blake shifted Cynthia in her arms as the baby began to fuss slightly. "She's probably getting hungry," she explained, starting to rise.

"I can take her," Violet offered, appearing seemingly from nowhere with a prepared bottle. "You stay and watch. It's not often Dad gives a master class."

Blake hesitated, her natural protectiveness warring with her desire to observe the training. Jaune gave her an encouraging nod.

"Vi's great with her," he assured Blake. "And she'll stay right there under the tree where we can see them."

After another moment's consideration, Blake carefully transferred Cynthia to Violet's waiting arms, along with detailed instructions about supporting her head and proper burping technique. Violet accepted both baby and lecture with good-natured patience.

"I've raised three younger sisters, Blake," she reminded her gently. "Cynthia's in good hands. Enjoy the show—Dad doesn't display his full skills often."

As Violet settled under the tree with Cynthia, Marcus drained his water cup and turned to Jaune. "Ready to continue? We'll work on that pivot recovery next."

"Actually," Jaune said, a new determination entering his voice, "I was hoping we could try something different." He glanced at Crocea Mors, which rested against a nearby fence post. "Real weapons, maybe? Not full contact, but... I need to know where I stand when it matters."

Marcus followed his son's gaze to the ancestral sword, his expression turning thoughtful. "That's not a request to make lightly, Jaune. Live steel changes the stakes considerably."

"I know," Jaune acknowledged. "But at Beacon, in the field... it's always live steel. The Grimm don't use training weapons."

Something shifted in Marcus's demeanor—a recognition of the maturity behind the request. "Alright," he agreed with a nod. "But we set clear boundaries. This is still training, not combat."

As Jaune retrieved Crocea Mors, Marcus approached the weapons rack near the training field and selected a simple longsword. Unlike the family heirloom Jaune carried, this was a practical, unadorned weapon—the kind a career Huntsman might use for everyday missions rather than legendary battles.

Watching them prepare, Blake felt a flutter of anxiety. "Is this safe?" she asked Jade quietly.

"Safer than you might think," Jade replied, though her own attention had sharpened. "Dad's control is incredible. He won't harm Jaune, no matter how it looks."

"Besides," Amber added from Blake's other side, "this is something of a rite of passage in our family. First real steel match with Dad is a big deal."

Blake's bow twitched slightly as she processed this information. "Jaune hasn't done this before?"

The sisters exchanged glances. "Not successfully," Jade admitted. "The last attempt was... not great."

"That's putting it mildly," Amber muttered. "Dad took Crocea Mors away for six months after that disaster."

Before Blake could inquire further, Marcus and Jaune had taken their positions in the center of the training field. The atmosphere had changed perceptibly—the earlier practice session's casual instruction giving way to something more formal, more significant.

"Rules of engagement," Marcus announced, his voice carrying to the spectators. "Contact points only—no full force strikes. First to three clean hits wins. Shields active, but semblances restricted." He fixed Jaune with a serious look. "Are we clear?"

"Crystal," Jaune confirmed, expanding Crocea Mors' sheath into its shield configuration with a practiced motion that spoke of countless repetitions.

Marcus nodded once, then assumed a ready stance. For a heartbeat, nothing moved—father and son perfectly still in the morning sunlight, evaluating each other across the short distance between them.

Then Marcus attacked.

The change in speed and intensity was immediate and dramatic. Where the morning's training had been measured and instructional, this was fluid combat—still controlled, but with a precision and power that revealed Marcus Arc as the seasoned Huntsman he was.

Jaune met the first flurry of strikes with his shield, the metallic impacts ringing across the training field. His defensive form was solid—feet planted properly, shield angled to deflect rather than simply block, eyes constantly tracking his opponent's movement.

"Good fundamentals," Jade observed from beside Blake. "Pyrrha's influence again."

"His guard is tighter than before," Amber agreed. "Less openings."

Blake watched with growing appreciation as Jaune weathered his father's initial assault without giving significant ground. When an opening finally appeared, Jaune countered with a thrust that Marcus barely deflected, the older Huntsman's eyes widening slightly in surprise at the speed of the response.

"He's improved far more than I realized," Marcus commented, not even breathing hard despite the intensity of the exchange. "The Academy suits you, son."

"I had good teachers," Jaune replied, maintaining his guard while searching for another opening. "Both there and here."

Something like pride flickered across Marcus's face before he resumed his attack, this time with a more complex sequence that forced Jaune to give ground. Blake recognized the strategy—Marcus was testing the limits of Jaune's defensive capabilities, probing for weaknesses while simultaneously evaluating his endurance.

Jaune met each strike with growing confidence, his movements becoming more fluid as the match progressed. When Marcus overextended slightly on a lateral strike, Jaune capitalized immediately, catching the blade on his shield while simultaneously stepping inside his father's guard. The tip of Crocea Mors tapped lightly against Marcus's chest protector.

"Point," Marcus acknowledged, stepping back with approval in his eyes. "Well executed."

A small cheer erupted from the watching sisters, with even the usually reserved Jade clapping appreciatively. Blake found herself smiling, a warm sense of pride blooming in her chest at Jaune's accomplishment.

The exchange had clearly energized Jaune, whose face showed a mixture of surprise and growing confidence. He reset his stance, ready for the next round with renewed determination.

This time, Marcus attacked with noticeably increased intensity, his blade becoming almost a blur as he pressed Jaune from multiple angles. Where before he had been testing, now he was truly challenging, forcing Jaune to utilize everything he had learned.

For several tense moments, Jaune held his own, his defense adapting to the increased pressure with remarkable flexibility. But eventually, Marcus found an opening—a slight hesitation in Jaune's footwork during a complex evasion. The flat of his blade tapped against Jaune's shoulder.

"My point," Marcus said evenly. "You're telegraphing your weight shifts. Eyes up, not down."

Jaune nodded, absorbing the critique without discouragement. The third exchange began immediately, both combatants fully engaged now. Blake found herself leaning forward unconsciously, caught up in the intensity of the match.

This round lasted longer, with Jaune showing greater offensive initiative. His strikes were still more straightforward than his father's complex techniques, but they were delivered with purpose and precision. When Marcus attempted to use the same opening as before, Jaune was ready, countering with a shield bash that momentarily unbalanced the older Huntsman.

The follow-up strike should have scored cleanly, but Marcus recovered with preternatural speed, twisting away from Crocea Mors by the narrowest of margins. His counter-attack came from an unexpected angle, finding the gap between Jaune's shield and sword arm.

"Point," Marcus announced, stepping back. "Two-one."

Jaune took a deep breath, visibly gathering himself for the crucial fourth exchange. The score was against him, but he showed no signs of discouragement—only focused determination.

"Notice how he's adapting?" Jade murmured to Blake. "Each round, he's incorporating what he learned from the last."

Blake nodded, seeing exactly what Jade meant. Jaune's stance had subtly shifted, his guard adjusted to protect the opening Marcus had exploited. More importantly, there was a calculating look in his eyes that hadn't been there before—he wasn't just reacting anymore, he was planning.

The fourth exchange began with Marcus again taking the offensive, but Jaune's response was more measured now, more strategic. Instead of meeting force with force, he redirected and deflected, conserving energy while looking for opportunities. Twice he nearly scored, only to have Marcus escape through superior experience and speed.

As the exchange extended, Blake could see Jaune's endurance being tested. Sweat poured down his face, his breathing becoming more labored, while Marcus still appeared relatively fresh. But even as his body tired, Jaune's focus seemed to sharpen, his movements becoming more economical.

Then, in a sequence that seemed to surprise everyone—including Jaune himself—he executed a perfect feint that drew Marcus into a committed counter, followed by the same pivot maneuver they had been practicing earlier. This time, his weight distribution was flawless, allowing him to slide past his father's guard and place Crocea Mors lightly against Marcus's side.

"Point," Marcus acknowledged, genuine pleasure in his voice. "Well done, Jaune."

The tied score brought renewed energy to both combatants. The fifth exchange was by far the most intense, with Marcus no longer holding back as much of his skill. Jaune was forced entirely on the defensive, his shield and sword moving in constant response to his father's relentless assault.

Blake found herself holding her breath as Jaune weathered strike after strike, each one coming closer to breaking through his guard. It was clear to everyone watching that Marcus had elevated the challenge significantly, pushing Jaune to his absolute limits.

Just when it seemed Jaune must surely falter, he did something unexpected—he stopped retreating. Instead, he stepped directly into his father's attack, using his shield not to block but to guide the incoming blade past him while simultaneously delivering a strike of his own.

For a breathless moment, it appeared both had scored simultaneously. Then Marcus stepped back, a broad smile breaking across his usually stern features.

"Your point," he declared, lowering his weapon. "Three-two. Match to Jaune."

There was a moment of stunned silence from the spectators, followed by an eruption of cheers and applause. The Arc sisters seemed genuinely shocked by the outcome, their expressions ranging from disbelief to fierce pride.

Jaune himself looked momentarily confused, as if unable to process his victory. Then a slow, incredulous smile spread across his face. "Really? I won?"

"Fair and square," Marcus confirmed, clapping his son on the shoulder. "That final move—where did you learn it?"

"I didn't," Jaune admitted, still breathing hard. "I mean, not formally. I've seen Blake use something similar with Gambol Shroud. I just... adapted it."

Both men turned to look at Blake, who felt a sudden warmth in her cheeks at the unexpected attention.

"Improvisation based on observed technique," Marcus nodded approvingly. "That's the mark of a true Huntsman, Jaune. Not just learning what you're taught, but creating your own solutions in the moment."

The pride in his voice was unmistakable, causing Jaune to stand a little straighter despite his exhaustion. "Thank you for the match, Dad. And for the training."

"This is just the beginning," Marcus replied, his tone making it clear this wasn't just about today's session. "If you're serious about improving, we have a lot of work ahead before you return to Beacon."

"I am," Jaune confirmed, determination evident in every line of his body. "For them." His gaze moved to where Blake sat beside his sisters, then to Cynthia in Violet's arms under the tree. "For all of them."

Marcus followed his son's gaze, understanding softening his weathered features. "Then we continue tomorrow. Same time."

As father and son collected their gear and headed toward the house, the sisters began to disperse as well, discussing the match with animated excitement. Blake remained seated for a moment longer, watching Jaune's retreating figure with a mixture of pride and something deeper, something that had been growing steadily within her over these weeks together.

"He's really changed, hasn't he?" Violet asked, joining Blake with Cynthia still contentedly cradled in her arms.

"Yes," Blake agreed softly. "Though I think the potential was always there. He just needed the right motivation."

Violet studied Blake with thoughtful eyes. "And now he has it." It wasn't a question, but a statement of observed fact.

Blake accepted Cynthia back from Violet, the baby's warm weight familiar and comforting against her chest. "We all do," she replied simply.

As they walked back toward the house together, Blake found herself reflecting on the morning's events. Watching Jaune train hadn't just been about observing his progress as a fighter. It had been seeing him step more fully into the person he was becoming—someone who faced challenges directly, who asked for help when needed, who fought with purpose rather than abstract ideals.

Someone who was building a future, step by careful step, that included her and Cynthia at its center.

The realization should have frightened her—should have triggered the old instinct to run before connections became too deep, too binding. Instead, Blake found herself holding Cynthia closer, her pace quickening slightly to catch up with Jaune, drawn to the future they were creating together rather than fleeing from it.

Some changes, it seemed, ran deeper than either of them had realized.

Chapter Text

Chapter 37: Virtual Connections

80AGW - Mid July

"Hold on, I think it's connecting," Jaune said, adjusting the position of his scroll against the stack of books he'd arranged on the desk. The screen flickered briefly before filling with three familiar faces, all crowded together to fit in the frame.

"We can see you!" Nora exclaimed, her face dominating the screen momentarily as she leaned closer, her bright turquoise eyes examining every pixel. "Is this the famous Arc homestead? Show us everything!"

"Give him some space, Nora," Ren's calm voice came from somewhere off-camera before he gently guided her back to reveal Pyrrha as well, all three of them seated in what appeared to be a comfortable living room.

"It's good to see you, Jaune," Pyrrha greeted warmly. "You look well."

"Thanks," Jaune replied, unable to suppress a smile at seeing his teammates. Despite the relative brevity of their separation, he'd missed them more than he'd expected. "You guys too. How's Argus?"

"It's AMAZING!" Nora burst out, bouncing slightly in her seat. "The food! The views! The shopping! Pyrrha's family has this incredible house with a training room AND a pool! And we met your sister!"

Jaune blinked in surprise. "You met Saphron?"

"Yes," Ren confirmed, his usual composure softening into a small smile. "We encountered her by chance in a park. She recognized us from the tournament broadcasts and invited us to her home."

"She has the cutest baby," Nora added, a dreamy expression crossing her face. "Adrian is absolutely precious. I got to hold him and everything!"

"Saphron and Terra have been very hospitable," Pyrrha said. "We're having dinner with them again tomorrow night, actually."

"Wow," Jaune said, genuinely pleased if slightly bemused by this unexpected connection. "Small world. How's Adrian doing? He must be getting big now."

"He's crawling everywhere," Nora reported enthusiastically. "And he's got the most adorable little laugh when you tickle his tummy!"

"Nora has become something of a baby expert," Ren remarked dryly, though the fondness in his voice was unmistakable.

"Speaking of babies," Pyrrha interjected gently, "how is Cynthia? Saphron mentioned she was quite eager to hear more about her."

"Oh! Right!" Jaune shifted, angling his scroll to include more of the bedroom he was calling from. "Cynthia's great. Growing every day, it seems like. She's actually right here—"

He moved the scroll to reveal Blake seated on the edge of his bed, Cynthia cradled in her arms. The baby was dressed in a new onesie—soft lavender fabric decorated with small crescent moons, complete with tiny cat-ear shaped accents on the attached hood that complemented her real faunus ears.

"Hi everyone," Blake greeted with a small smile, adjusting Cynthia so she faced the camera better. "Say hello, Cynthia."

Cynthia responded by waving her small arms and making a happy gurgling sound that immediately elicited coos of delight from the other end of the call.

"OH MY GOODNESS!" Nora squealed, her face filling the screen again. "LOOK AT THAT LITTLE OUTFIT! The tiny hood! The little moon patterns! I CAN'T EVEN!"

"It's adorable," Pyrrha agreed, her smile genuine as she gently moved Nora back to share the view. "She looks very happy, Blake."

"The onesie was a gift from Jaune's sisters," Blake explained, a hint of shyness in her voice. "They've been... surprisingly welcoming."

"They've practically adopted Blake," Jaune added, settling beside her on the bed so they were both in frame. "Especially my mom, Violet, is a fellow romance book fan, Jade has warmed to her."

"And the youngest twins have been teaching me their secret handshake," Blake added with a touch of humor. "Though I'm told if I share it with anyone, there will be 'serious consequences.'"

The light-hearted threat, delivered in Blake's deadpan tone, triggered laughter from the team.

"And what about the younger sisters?" Pyrrha inquired. "Are they being welcoming as well?"

A shadow of hesitation crossed Blake's face, barely perceptible to anyone who didn't know her well. "They're... coming around. Amber's been very helpful with Cynthia, and Azure and Celeste has been showing me some of their favorite books they like reading before bed."

"Lily's the only one still keeping her distance," Jaune admitted, unconsciously placing a supportive hand on Blake's knee. "But she's always been the most protective of the family. She'll warm up eventually."

"If the Arc family is anything like what we've seen from Saphron, I'm sure they will," Pyrrha assured them with warm sincerity.

"Oh! You have to show them around!" Nora exclaimed suddenly. "We want to see the famous Arc homestead! Saphron told us it's been in your family for generations!"

"It's not that exciting," Jaune demurred, though he was already standing with the scroll. "Just a farmhouse."

"A farmhouse with three added wings, a private training field, and an orchard that produces the best apples in the region," Blake corrected with a raised eyebrow. "Don't be modest, Jaune."

"Virtual tour!" Nora demanded, clapping her hands excitedly. "Show us everything!"

With a good-natured sigh, Jaune began moving through the rooms of the upper floor, providing commentary as he went. "So this is my room, obviously. Pretty much the same as it was when I left for Beacon, except Mom finally let me take down some of the more embarrassing posters..."

"I notice you said 'some,' not 'all,'" Ren observed with subtle humor.

"The X-Ray and Vav collection stays," Jaune declared with mock solemnity. "Some things are sacred."

He continued the tour, showing them the upstairs hallway with its family photographs stretching back generations, the room where Blake and Cynthia were staying, and the impressive library that occupied most of the east wing of the house.

"Blake practically lives in here when she's not with Cynthia," Jaune explained as he panned the scroll across floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. "Dad's been showing her his rare first editions."

"It's an impressive collection," Blake's voice called from off-camera. "Some volumes I've only read about, never actually seen."

As Jaune moved downstairs, they encountered various family members going about their evening activities. Lily was sprawled on the living room floor with her homework, while the twins were engaged in what appeared to be an elaborate card game of their own invention. All three waved enthusiastically when introduced to the scroll.

"And this is the kitchen," Jaune continued, entering the spacious room where Juniper was preparing something that filled the air with delicious aromas. "The heart of the Arc household, according to Mom."

"And the only place worth being when dinner's cooking," Marcus added from where he sat at the table, reviewing what looked like maps of the region.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Arc!" Nora called through the scroll. "Your house is AMAZING!"

"Thank you, dear," Juniper replied without looking up from her cooking. "You must all come visit in person someday. Any friends of Jaune's are welcome here."

"We'd be honored," Pyrrha replied sincerely.

After showing them the impressive back porch with its view of the orchard and the training field where he and Marcus had sparred that morning, Jaune returned to his bedroom where Blake was finishing up changing Cynthia.

"And that's the grand tour," he announced, setting the scroll back on its makeshift stand. "Nothing too exciting, but it's home."

"It's wonderful," Pyrrha said warmly. "Thank you for sharing it with us."

"So when are you two coming back to Beacon?" Nora asked, leaning forward eagerly. "We miss you guys! It's not the same without our fearless leader and his ninja girlfriend!"

Jaune and Blake exchanged a quick glance, both coloring slightly at Nora's casual labeling of their relationship. Neither corrected her, however.

"Another week, probably," Jaune answered. "We're still working out some details for Cynthia's care once classes resume."

"Ozpin sent the guardianship papers yesterday," Blake added, joining Jaune in the frame with Cynthia freshly changed and contentedly chewing on her own fist. "So legally, we're her recognized guardians now. That helps with arranging childcare services at Beacon."

"That's excellent news," Ren observed. "It should make the transition back to academic life considerably smoother."

"Beacon has childcare services?" Nora asked, clearly surprised.

"Apparently it's not common, but there are provisions for student-parents," Jaune explained. "Goodwitch is helping us navigate the process."

"That's very accommodating of her," Pyrrha remarked, though a flicker of something—perhaps surprise, or wonder—crossed her face at hearing Goodwitch described as helpful in such an unusual situation.

"Ozpin's been surprisingly supportive too," Blake added. "He's arranged for our dorm assignments to be adjusted to accommodate Cynthia's needs."

This news visibly startled all three teammates.

"Wait," Nora interjected, eyes wide. "Does that mean you two will be... sharing a dorm?"

Another exchange of glances between Blake and Jaune, this one more significant.

"It's not finalized yet," Jaune said carefully. "But we're discussing options that would allow both of us to be available for Cynthia while maintaining our team affiliations."

"The most likely arrangement is a connecting suite," Blake elaborated. "With a shared nursery between modified versions of our team dorms."

"Team RWBY would still be Team RWBY, and JNPR would still be JNPR," Jaune clarified quickly. "We'd just have physical accommodations that make co-parenting possible."

"That... sounds very reasonable," Pyrrha said after a moment's pause, her expression composed despite a fleeting shadow in her eyes. "And practical for Cynthia's needs."

"Connecting rooms?" Nora wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. "How convenient."

"Nora," Ren admonished gently, though his own expression held a hint of amusement.

"It's not like that," Jaune protested, his face reddening. "It's for Cynthia's sake."

"Of course it is," Nora agreed with exaggerated innocence. "Totally for the baby. Nothing to do with the fact that you two are obviously—"

"How are your accommodations in Argus?" Blake interrupted smoothly, changing the subject with practiced ease. "Pyrrha's family home sounds lovely."

Pyrrha accepted the redirect gracefully. "It is. My parents are rarely there these days—they travel frequently for business—so we have plenty of space. There's a beautiful view of the ocean from the terrace."

"And the FOOD!" Nora enthused. "Pyrrha's family chef makes these amazing pastries every morning! I've gained like five pounds already!"

"All of which you work off in the training room by midday," Ren pointed out.

The conversation flowed easily after that, shifting to tournament stories, updates on their other classmates, and Nora's increasingly elaborate plans for when they all returned to Beacon. Throughout it all, Cynthia remained contentedly nestled between Blake and Jaune, occasionally making small sounds that immediately drew coos and attention from the team on the other end of the call.

As the call progressed, Jaune couldn't help but notice how naturally Blake leaned against him, how comfortably they'd arranged themselves—the three of them fitting together as if they'd always been that way. Cynthia stretched between them, one tiny hand clutching Blake's finger while the other grasped the edge of Jaune's shirt. The simple domesticity of it struck him with unexpected force.

This was his family now. Different than he'd ever imagined, formed through extraordinary circumstances, but no less real for all that.

"—Jaune?" Pyrrha's voice broke through his reverie. "Did we lose you there?"

"Sorry," he said, refocusing on the call. "Just thinking. What did you say?"

"I asked if you've continued your training while at home," Pyrrha repeated, her expression curious. "You mentioned a training field during the tour."

"Oh! Yes, actually," Jaune replied, straightening slightly with renewed enthusiasm. "Dad's been working with me every morning. Real combat training, not just basics. I even managed to win a match against him today."

"That's fantastic!" Pyrrha exclaimed, genuine pleasure lighting her features. "I'd love to hear about the techniques you're learning."

As Jaune launched into an animated description of his morning sparring session, complete with demonstrations that nearly knocked the scroll off its perch twice, Blake watched him with quiet affection. He had changed so much from the uncertain boy she'd first met at Beacon—growing into someone more confident, more purposeful, more centered in himself and his abilities.

And so had she, she realized with mild surprise. The guarded, flight-prone girl who had kept everyone at a careful distance was gradually giving way to someone who could sit comfortably in a family home, surrounded by people who were becoming increasingly important to her. Someone who could lean against a boy's shoulder while cradling a baby that, against all probability, had become their shared responsibility and joy.

A small sound from Cynthia drew Blake's attention downward. The baby had fallen asleep between them, one tiny fist still clutching Jaune's shirt, her peaceful expression visible beneath the cat-eared hood of her onesie. Blake adjusted the blanket around her, the motion so natural now she barely had to think about it.

On the scroll screen, their friends continued chatting, the conversation having moved on to upcoming school events and speculation about the next semester's challenges. But for a moment, Blake's focus remained entirely on the sleeping baby and the young man beside her, still enthusiastically recounting his training breakthrough to his teammates.

This wasn't the life she had planned. It wasn't the future she had imagined when she left the White Fang, when she enrolled at Beacon, when she committed to becoming a Huntress who could make a difference in the world.

It was, somehow, becoming something better.

With that quietly revolutionary thought, Blake rejoined the conversation, allowing herself to be drawn into Nora's increasingly outlandish plans for their return celebration. Whatever the future held for them at Beacon, for now, this moment—connected to friends across distance while holding their unexpected family close—was more than enough.

Chapter Text

Chapter 38: First Impressions (Call to Menagerie)

80AGW - Late July

The late afternoon sun slanted through the windows of the Arc family study, casting long shadows across the polished wooden floor. Blake sat at the large desk, making final adjustments to the scroll's position while Jaune paced nervously behind her, running his hands through his hair for what must have been the twentieth time in the past five minutes.

"Maybe we should reschedule," he suggested, glancing at the clock. "It's getting late in Menagerie, right? Your parents are probably tired after a long day of... chieftain stuff."

Blake looked up from the scroll with a raised eyebrow. "Chieftain stuff?"

"You know what I mean," Jaune replied, his voice rising slightly in pitch. He tugged at the collar of his button-up shirt—a garment Blake had rarely seen him wear, donned specifically for this occasion. "Political meetings. Diplomatic duties. Whatever it is your dad does all day."

"Jaune," Blake said, her tone gentle but firm as she rose from the chair. "We've postponed twice already. First because you wanted to 'prepare better,' then because Cynthia had a slight fever." She approached him, straightening his already-straight collar with practiced hands. "She's perfectly fine now, sleeping soundly with your mother watching over her. We're doing this today."

Jaune took a deep breath, attempting to steady his nerves. "Right. Today. Talking to your father. The Chieftain of Menagerie. Who could probably snap me in half with his pinky finger."

"He wouldn't use his pinky," Blake deadpanned. "He'd use his index finger. Much more dignified."

"Not helping," Jaune groaned, though a reluctant smile tugged at his lips.

Blake's expression softened as she finished adjusting his collar. "You've faced down Grimm, survived initiation at Beacon, and become a father figure to a baby you found in the woods. Talking to my parents is nothing compared to all that."

"Those things didn't involve potentially disappointing the father of the girl I'm—" Jaune cut himself off, a flush creeping up his neck.

"The girl you're what?" Blake prompted, a hint of mischief in her amber eyes.

Before Jaune could formulate a response, the scroll on the desk chimed, indicating an incoming call. Blake's teasing expression immediately sobered.

"That's them," she said unnecessarily. "Ready?"

"No," Jaune replied honestly. "But let's do it anyway."

They moved to the desk together, Blake settling into the chair while Jaune stood rigidly behind her, his posture almost painfully formal. Taking a steadying breath of her own, Blake accepted the call.

The screen flickered before resolving into the image of Kali Belladonna, her warm smile a welcome sight even through the digital connection. Behind her loomed a much larger figure—Ghira Belladonna's imposing presence dominating the frame even as he sat slightly back from the camera.

"Blake, darling!" Kali greeted, her voice filled with genuine pleasure. "How wonderful to see you! And Jaune too, I presume?"

"Hello, Mom," Blake replied, her own smile small but sincere. "Yes, Jaune's here with me." She glanced over her shoulder. "Come into frame, Jaune. They won't bite."

"Speak for yourself," came a deep rumble from behind Kali, though Ghira's stern expression was belied by the teasing glint in his eyes—eyes that matched Blake's in both color and intensity.

"Ghira," Kali admonished gently, shooting her husband a look that somehow combined affection and warning in equal measure. "Be nice."

Jaune stepped forward stiffly, moving into view beside Blake. His hand came to rest on the back of her chair, knuckles white with tension. "Good evening, Mr. and Mrs. Belladonna. It's an honor to finally meet you—well, meet Mr. Belladonna, since I've already had the pleasure of meeting Mrs. Belladonna in person." He winced internally at his rambling. "What I mean is, thank you for taking the time to speak with us."

Ghira's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied the young man, taking in every detail from Jaune's carefully combed hair to his nervous posture. The scrutiny seemed to last an eternity before Kali placed a gentle hand on her husband's massive arm.

"It's lovely to see you again, Jaune," she said warmly, seamlessly redirecting the conversation. "You're looking well. How is your family? And little Cynthia?"

"They're all doing great," Jaune replied, seizing gratefully on the safer topic. "My sisters have practically adopted both Blake and Cynthia. And my parents have been incredibly supportive."

"Yes, your mother is a remarkable woman," Kali agreed. "Juniper has such a way of making everyone feel welcome."

"A trait I've found somewhat lacking in some households," Blake commented dryly, shooting her father a pointed look.

Ghira cleared his throat, finally speaking directly to them. "I believe I'm entitled to some... caution when it comes to the young man who is apparently helping my daughter raise a child."

"Dad," Blake began, a warning note in her voice.

"No, it's okay," Jaune interjected, straightening his posture with newfound determination. "Mr. Belladonna, sir, I understand your concerns. This situation isn't what any of us planned. But I want you to know that I take my responsibility to Cynthia—and to Blake—very seriously."

Some of the tension in Ghira's massive shoulders eased slightly at Jaune's direct approach. "So I've been told," he acknowledged, his deep voice rumbling through the connection. "My wife speaks highly of you, Mr. Arc. And while I might have preferred for my daughter to complete her education before taking on such responsibilities, I appreciate that you didn't abandon them when things became complicated."

"I wouldn't," Jaune said simply, the statement carrying all the weight of a solemn oath.

A moment of silence followed as father and potential-but-not-officially-labeled boyfriend assessed each other through the digital divide.

"Where is Cynthia?" Kali asked, once again smoothly stepping in to ease the tension. "I was hoping to see her."

"She's napping," Blake explained. "Juniper is watching her so we could have this call without interruptions."

"A shame," Kali said, genuine disappointment coloring her voice. "I was looking forward to seeing how much she's grown."

"She's changing every day," Blake replied, a soft smile transforming her features. "She's more alert, more responsive. And she's developing preferences—she loves the stuffed rabbit Violet gave her, but only when the ribbon is tied a specific way."

"Strong opinions already," Kali observed with a knowing smile. "She takes after you in that regard."

"And her appetite rivals Jaune's," Blake added, the teasing comment accompanied by a gentle nudge to his side. "Never satisfied with just one bottle."

"A healthy appetite is a good sign in a baby," Ghira remarked, his stern demeanor softening slightly as the conversation turned to Cynthia. "Though it does make me wonder about her background. Have you learned anything more about her parents or how she came to be abandoned?"

The question sobered the mood immediately. Blake and Jaune exchanged glances before Blake answered.

"Nothing specific," she admitted. "Professor Ozpin has made some discreet inquiries, given the White Fang connection mentioned in the note, but so far there's been no clear information. The area where Jaune found her is remote, with few settlements nearby. It's possible her parents were just passing through."

"Or fleeing," Ghira suggested grimly, his expression darkening. "The White Fang has become increasingly ruthless toward those who try to leave their ranks. If Cynthia's parents were defectors..."

He didn't need to finish the thought. Everyone on the call understood the implication.

"This is why we're being cautious," Jaune said, his earlier nervousness replaced by seriousness. "Until we know more, we're keeping Cynthia's existence relatively quiet. Only people we trust completely know the full story."

Ghira studied him appraisingly, seeming to discover something in Jaune's expression that eased his concerns further. "A wise approach. The White Fang's reach is long, and their memory longer still."

"Which brings us to an important matter," Kali interjected, her tone businesslike though her expression remained gentle. "Your return to Beacon. Kali mentioned you'll be going back within the week?"

"That's the plan," Blake confirmed. "Professor Ozpin has arranged accommodations that will allow us to care for Cynthia while continuing our studies. And the guardianship papers have been approved, giving us legal standing as her caretakers."

"Joint guardianship," Ghira noted, one thick eyebrow raising slightly. "That's a significant commitment for two young people who are not..." He paused, searching for the appropriate term.

"Who are not married, engaged, or even in a formally defined relationship?" Blake supplied, a hint of her old defensive edge creeping into her voice. "It's an unusual situation, Dad. We're figuring it out as we go."

"And what exactly is your relationship status?" Ghira pressed, ignoring his wife's warning glance. "Kali has been suspiciously vague on this point."

Jaune, who had just begun to relax, immediately tensed again. Blake, however, remained composed.

"We're partners in raising Cynthia," she stated firmly. "And we're... exploring what else we might be to each other. That's all anyone needs to know right now, including you, Dad."

Ghira's eyebrows rose at his daughter's directness, while Kali made a poor attempt to disguise her smile behind her hand.

"I see," Ghira rumbled after a moment. "Well, that's... refreshingly honest, at least."

"Honesty is important to both of us," Jaune added, finding his voice again. "Especially with so much at stake. Neither of us wants to rush into something we're not ready for, but we also... we care about each other. A lot." He glanced at Blake, drawing strength from the approval in her eyes. "Whatever label eventually fits, we're committed to doing what's best for Cynthia."

"And for each other," Blake added softly, her hand finding his where it rested on the back of her chair.

The simple gesture seemed to communicate something important to Ghira, whose expression shifted subtly from skepticism to something closer to acceptance.

"I don't envy the path ahead of you," he said finally, his deep voice gentler than before. "Balancing your education, your training, and the needs of a growing child will be challenging. But if half of what Kali has told me about you both is true, I suspect you'll manage it better than most."

Coming from the intimidating Chieftain, this qualified approval felt like a significant victory. Jaune's posture relaxed fractionally, though he remained conscious of making a good impression.

"Thank you, sir," he replied sincerely. "That means a lot, especially coming from you."

"Don't get too comfortable, young man," Ghira warned, though the edge in his voice had dulled considerably. "I still have questions. Many questions."

"And they can wait for another call," Kali interjected firmly. "It's getting late here, and I'm sure Blake and Jaune have evening responsibilities with Cynthia."

"Actually," Blake began hesitantly, "there is one more thing we wanted to discuss with you." She glanced at Jaune, who nodded encouragingly. "We've been talking about visiting Menagerie during the next school break. We want Cynthia to know both sides of her heritage—both human and faunus traditions."

The surprise on both Kali and Ghira's faces was evident, though it quickly transformed into pleased approval.

"You would bring her here?" Kali asked, poorly concealed excitement in her voice. "To Menagerie?"

"If that would be okay," Jaune replied. "My family has had their time with her. It seems only fair that your family should have the same opportunity."

"Of course it would be okay," Kali assured them immediately. "We would be delighted! Wouldn't we, Ghira?"

Ghira's expression had softened remarkably, a genuine smile breaking through his stoic facade. "Yes," he agreed, his deep voice warm with anticipation. "We would welcome all three of you to our home."

"Even me?" Jaune asked, only half-joking.

Ghira's smile took on a slightly mischievous edge. "Even you, Mr. Arc. Though I make no promises about intimidating interrogations over breakfast."

"Ghira," Kali admonished, though her eyes twinkled with amusement.

"What? The boy should know what he's getting into," Ghira defended, though his expression remained lighter than it had been throughout most of the call. "Besides, it will give us a chance to properly assess this... undefined relationship."

"Dad," Blake groaned, though she seemed more resigned than genuinely annoyed.

"It's fine," Jaune assured her, a tentative smile forming. "I'd expect nothing less from a father who cares about his daughter."

Something like approval flickered in Ghira's eyes. "Well said, Mr. Arc. Perhaps there's hope for you yet."

The call continued for another fifteen minutes, with the conversation flowing more easily now that the initial tension had broken. They discussed practical matters—the timing of the potential visit, what Cynthia might need for the journey, the climate considerations in Menagerie—before Kali gently reminded everyone of the late hour.

"We should let you go," she said, regret evident in her voice. "But perhaps we could have another call soon? When Cynthia is awake?"

"Of course," Blake agreed readily. "Maybe this weekend? She's usually at her most alert in the mornings."

"Perfect," Kali beamed. "Ghira, make sure you're available Saturday morning."

"As if I would miss it," Ghira rumbled, his gruff exterior doing nothing to mask the grandfatherly anticipation in his eyes.

Final goodbyes were exchanged, with promises of photos and updates in the meantime. As the call ended and the screen went dark, Jaune collapsed into the chair beside Blake, his entire body sagging with relief.

"That went... better than I expected," he admitted, loosening his collar with a grateful sigh.

Blake smiled, reaching over to help him with the top button. "You did well. I think you actually impressed my father, which is no small feat."

"Really?" Jaune asked, genuine surprise in his voice. "He seemed pretty intimidating the whole time."

"That's just his face," Blake assured him with a small laugh. "Trust me, if he was truly disapproving, you'd know it. The fact that he invited you to visit Menagerie is practically a stamp of approval."

"Or an opportunity to interrogate me more thoroughly on his home turf," Jaune pointed out, though he was smiling now too.

"There is that possibility," Blake acknowledged, her amber eyes twinkling with amusement. "But I'll protect you."

"My hero," Jaune replied, echoing their earlier exchange with a warmth that made Blake's heart skip.

For a moment, they simply sat together in comfortable silence, processing the significant step they'd just taken. Introducing Jaune to her father—even virtually—felt like crossing an important threshold in their evolving relationship.

"We should check on Cynthia," Blake said finally, rising from her chair. "She'll probably be waking up soon."

Jaune nodded, standing as well. "And I should change out of this shirt before dinner. I think I sweat through it completely during the first five minutes of the call."

Blake laughed softly, reaching up to smooth his disheveled hair. "For what it's worth, I think you look very handsome in it. Even with the sweat stains."

"Gee, thanks," Jaune replied dryly, though the pleased flush creeping up his neck belied his tone.

As they made their way out of the study, Jaune surprised her by catching her hand in his, intertwining their fingers with newfound confidence. "So... we're going to Menagerie," he said, the statement somewhere between a question and an observation.

"We are," Blake confirmed, squeezing his hand gently. "Nervous?"

"Terrified," Jaune admitted with a self-deprecating smile. "But also... excited? Is that weird?"

Blake shook her head, a soft expression crossing her features. "Not weird at all. I feel the same way."

And she did, she realized with mild surprise. The thought of returning to Menagerie—of showing Jaune and Cynthia her childhood home, of introducing them to the places and traditions that had shaped her—filled her with an unexpected anticipation rather than the anxiety she might have expected.

It was yet another sign of how much had changed, of how far she had come from the girl who had fled her past without looking back. Now she was actively planning to revisit it, to connect it with her present and future in ways she never could have imagined when she first arrived at Beacon.

As they reached the nursery where Cynthia would be waking soon, Blake found herself looking forward to what lay ahead—not just the visit to Menagerie, but all the steps that would follow, all the firsts they would experience together as this unusual family continued to find its shape.

The path wasn't conventional, but it was theirs. And walking it together made all the difference.

Chapter Text

Chapter 39: Departures

80AGW - Late July

The Arc family home bustled with activity as packing for Beacon reached its final stages. Suitcases and boxes lined the upstairs hallway, filled with carefully folded clothes, books, and the seemingly endless supplies needed for Cynthia's care. What had once been a simple process of packing combat gear and school supplies had transformed into a complex logistical operation that had enlisted the entire household.

In Jaune's bedroom, he and Violet sorted through his clothes while Amber carefully packed his textbooks, ensuring the weight was evenly distributed.

"I still don't understand why you need six hoodies that all look exactly the same," Violet teased, holding up two seemingly identical garments for comparison.

"They're completely different," Jaune protested, taking them from her hands. "This one is Pumpkin Pete limited edition, and this one has reinforced stitching for combat training."

"Of course. How could I have missed the obvious differences?" Violet rolled her eyes, though her smile remained fond. "The fate of Remnant clearly depends on you having all six."

Across the hall in the guest room, Blake faced a similar scene with Jade and the twins, who had taken it upon themselves to organize Cynthia's ever-growing collection of clothes, toys, and necessities.

"I've separated her outfits by size," Jade explained, gesturing to the neatly arranged piles. "The ones she's currently wearing, the next size up for when she grows, and a few special occasion outfits."

"Special occasion?" Blake asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Of course," Azure piped up, holding up a tiny formal dress with cat-ear shaped accents on the hood. "What if Beacon has a baby ball?"

"Or a formal dinner with the Headmaster?" Celeste added seriously. "Cynthia needs to make a good impression."

Blake bit back a smile, touched by their attention to detail even as she doubted Beacon hosted many infant-friendly formal events. "I'm sure she'll be the best-dressed baby at the academy."

"The only baby," Jade corrected, though her own lips twitched with amusement. "Unless you know something we don't?"

Blake felt heat rise to her cheeks, remembering Yang's teasing remarks during their video call. "No, definitely the only one," she confirmed hastily, turning to focus on folding her own clothes to hide her blush.

In the nursery that had been hastily assembled when they first arrived, Juniper Arc carefully packed Cynthia's favorite blankets and stuffed animals, wrapping each one with the precision of someone who understood exactly how important familiar comforts would be in a new environment. Cynthia herself was strapped to Marcus's chest in a carrier, contentedly chewing on a teething ring while he checked the structural integrity of the portable crib they'd be taking to Beacon.

"This joint needs reinforcing," he muttered, tightening a screw with practiced hands. "Can't have it collapsing in the middle of the night."

"Daddy mode fully activated," Juniper remarked with a warm smile, watching her husband's careful work. "I haven't seen you this meticulous since Lily outgrew her bassinet."

"Grandchildren get extra precautions," Marcus replied, not looking up from his task. When Juniper raised an eyebrow at his choice of words, he simply shrugged, a hint of a smile visible beneath his beard. "Honorary or otherwise."

The packing continued throughout the morning, with family members flowing between rooms to offer help, advice, or simply to steal a few more moments with Cynthia before her departure. Amid the organized chaos, Blake found herself drawn into the family's rhythm, accepting assistance and offering guidance with an ease that would have been unthinkable just weeks ago.

As she finished securing her books in a sturdy box, Blake realized she hadn't seen the youngest Arc sister all morning. Lily, usually eager to be involved in family activities, had been conspicuously absent from the packing process.

"Has anyone seen Lily?" she asked, glancing around the room.

Jade looked up from her meticulous organization of baby socks. "I think she went down to the orchard earlier. She said something about needing to find something."

Blake nodded, a small frown creasing her brow. Throughout their stay, Lily had remained the most reserved of the Arc sisters, maintaining a cautious distance from Blake even as the others had welcomed her into their fold. While not hostile, the youngest Arc had watched Blake with wary eyes, a silent sentinel protecting her brother's interests with the fierce loyalty of a child who had seen him hurt before.

"I should check on her," Blake decided, setting aside the box she'd been filling. "Everything's mostly packed here anyway."

Jade nodded, an understanding look passing between them. "We'll finish up. Take your time."

Blake made her way downstairs and through the kitchen, where Jaune was consulting with his mother about which foods would travel best for their journey. He looked up as she passed, a questioning glance that she answered with a reassuring smile.

"Just getting some air," she explained. "I won't be long."

The path to the orchard was well-worn, evidence of countless journeys made by the Arc family over generations. Blake followed it through the back garden, past the training field where she'd watched Jaune and Marcus spar, and into the neat rows of apple trees that stretched toward the distant hills.

She found Lily in the third row, standing on tiptoes to examine a particularly low-hanging apple. The six-year-old was so absorbed in her inspection that she didn't notice Blake's approach until the faunus was only a few feet away.

"Is that one special?" Blake asked gently, not wanting to startle the child.

Lily turned, her blue eyes—so like Jaune's—widening slightly before her expression settled into its usual guarded neutrality. "I'm looking for the perfect one," she said simply.

Blake stepped closer, peering at the apple with exaggerated seriousness. "What makes an apple perfect?"

Lily appeared to consider this question with the gravity only a child could muster. "It has to be the right color. And no spots. And it has to fit just right in your hand when you hold it."

"Important criteria," Blake agreed, approaching to stand beside the girl. "May I help?"

After a moment's hesitation, Lily nodded, pointing to a branch just beyond her reach. "I think that one might be good, but I can't tell for sure."

Without comment, Blake reached up and carefully plucked the indicated apple, examining it before handing it to Lily. "What do you think? Does it meet your standards?"

Lily turned the fruit in her small hands, inspecting it from all angles before pronouncing her verdict. "It's perfect." She glanced up at Blake, an unexpected vulnerability in her gaze. "It's for Jaune. To take with him. For luck."

Blake's heart softened at the simple explanation. "That's a lovely gift. I'm sure he'll appreciate it."

Lily clutched the apple to her chest, her eyes fixed on the ground now. "We always give each other something when someone leaves. It's tradition."

"Family traditions are important," Blake said, understanding the weight such rituals carried, especially for children.

A silence fell between them, not entirely uncomfortable but laden with unspoken thoughts. Blake was about to suggest they head back to the house when Lily spoke again, her voice quieter but with a determination that belied her years.

"Are you going to be nice to my brother?"

The directness of the question caught Blake off guard, though perhaps it shouldn't have. Children, she was learning, rarely bothered with the circuitous paths adults took to approach difficult topics.

"Yes," she replied with equal directness. "I care about Jaune very much."

Lily's gaze lifted, studying Blake's face with an intensity that was almost unsettling. "Other girls said that too. And then they hurt him."

The simple statement carried volumes of protective anger, showing just how deeply this youngest sister had been affected by witnessing her brother's past disappointments. Blake knelt down, bringing herself to eye level with the child.

"I understand why you're worried," she said softly. "When we care about someone, we want to protect them from being hurt. That's how I feel about Jaune too."

"But you might leave," Lily pressed, the fear beneath her words now clear.

The echo of her own past fears in this child's words struck Blake deeply. How many times had she run from connections, convinced that leaving was safer than staying? How many relationships had she severed before they could become too important, too vital to her sense of self?

"Lily," she began carefully, "I can't promise that nothing will ever change. But I can promise you that I won't leave Jaune or Cynthia because I'm afraid or because things get difficult." She held the little girl's gaze steadily. "Sometimes people leave because they're scared of how much they care. I used to be like that. But I'm learning to be braver."

Lily considered this, her small brow furrowed in thought. "Do you pinky promise?"

A smile tugged at Blake's lips as she solemnly extended her pinky finger. "I pinky promise to be brave, to be honest with your brother, and to never run away just because I'm scared."

Lily hooked her tiny finger around Blake's, the sacred pact of childhood sealed with all the gravity such promises deserved. "If you break it, you have to eat a thousand needles."

"That seems fair," Blake agreed, fighting to keep her expression appropriately serious.

With the contract established to her satisfaction, Lily's demeanor shifted subtly. She didn't quite smile, but some of the guardedness left her posture as she clutched her perfect apple.

"I found something else too," she announced, reaching into the pocket of her dress. "For Cynthia."

She withdrew a small object and held it out on her palm. It was a charm bracelet, clearly meant for an adult, with only two charms attached—a tiny sword and a small cat figure.

"It was mine, but I'm too big for it now," Lily explained. "You can take the charms off and put them on a necklace for when she's bigger. The sword is for Jaune, and the cat is for you."

Blake carefully took the offered gift, touched beyond words by the thoughtfulness behind it. "This is beautiful, Lily. I'll keep it safe until she's old enough to wear it."

Lily nodded, apparently satisfied with this arrangement. "We should go back. Mom says the airship won't wait even for perfect apples."

As they walked side by side along the orchard path, Lily slipped her small hand into Blake's with the casual trust of a child who had made up her mind about someone. The simple gesture meant more to Blake than any formal welcome could have.

When they reached the house, they found final preparations underway, suitcases and boxes being loaded into Marcus's truck for the drive to the airship dock. Jaune looked up from securing a strap around Cynthia's portable crib, his expression brightening at the sight of them.

"There you are," he called. "We were just about to send out a search party."

"We had important business," Blake replied, sharing a conspiratorial glance with Lily.

"Very important," Lily confirmed solemnly, before marching up to her brother and presenting the apple with ceremonial gravity. "For the trip. So you have home with you."

Jaune knelt to accept the gift, his expression softening with understanding. "Thank you, Lily-pad. I'll keep it safe."

"You better," she instructed, before throwing her arms around his neck in a fierce hug. "And come back.. With Cynthia and Blake."

"I promise," Jaune replied, holding his youngest sister close for a moment before she wriggled free, her emotional display apparently completed to her satisfaction.

As the final preparations continued around them, Blake found herself standing beside Juniper, watching as the Arc siblings engaged in their familiar pattern of banter and cooperation.

"She gave you her apple test, didn't she?" Juniper asked quietly.

Blake glanced at the older woman, surprised. "You know about that?"

"Lily has always had her own way of evaluating people," Juniper explained with a fond smile. "The apple tradition started with her grandfather, who claimed he could tell a person's character by how they helped find the perfect apple. She's carried it on in her own way."

"I didn't realize it was a test," Blake admitted.

"Everything is, with that one," Juniper replied, her expression warm with maternal pride. "She watches, she assesses, and when she's made up her mind, she's unshakable." She glanced at Blake knowingly. "The fact that she sought you out rather than avoiding you until you left speaks volumes."

Before Blake could respond, Marcus announced that the truck was loaded and ready. The ensuing flurry of goodbyes temporarily overwhelmed any private conversation as the entire Arc family gathered to see them off.

Hugs were exchanged, last-minute advice offered, promises made to call regularly and visit soon. Cynthia was passed from sister to sister, each one stealing a final moment with the baby who had so quickly become part of their extended family. Even Marcus, typically reserved with his emotions, held Cynthia with visible affection before carefully securing her in the travel carrier designed for the airship journey.

In the midst of the emotional farewells, Blake felt a small tug on her sleeve. Looking down, she found Lily watching her with those solemn blue eyes.

"Remember," the little girl said quietly. "A thousand needles."

Blake nodded, matching her seriousness. "I remember."

Satisfied, Lily stepped back, rejoining her sisters as they waved from the porch.

The drive to the airship dock passed quickly, filled with Marcus's practical advice about traveling with an infant and Juniper's assurances that they had packed everything essential. When they arrived, the parents helped unload their belongings and navigate the check-in process with the efficiency of people who had sent a child off to academy before.

Before they boarded, Juniper pulled both Blake and Jaune into a firm embrace, Cynthia nestled between them in her carrier.

"Family isn't always about blood," she said softly. "Sometimes it's about who you choose and who chooses you back. Remember that."

"We will, Mom," Jaune promised, his voice thick with emotion.

"Thank you," Blake added simply, the words inadequate for all she wanted to express to this woman who had welcomed her so completely.

Juniper stepped back, discreetly wiping her eyes as Marcus placed a steadying hand on her shoulder. "Go on then," she urged with a watery smile. "Beacon awaits. And so does your future."

As they boarded the airship, finding their seats and securing Cynthia's carrier for takeoff, Blake glanced out the window at the two figures standing on the platform below. Juniper waved energetically while Marcus stood steady beside her, his nod of farewell containing all the words he didn't speak aloud.

Behind them, in Blake's mind's eye, stood the line of Arc sisters—from serious Jade to exuberant twins to solemn Lily—all connected to the boy beside her, all now connected to her through the unexpected bonds of shared care for Cynthia.

"Ready for this?" Jaune asked quietly as the engines rumbled to life beneath them.

Blake turned to him, her hand finding his across Cynthia's sleeping form. "Yes," she replied with certainty that surprised even herself. "I think I am."

As the airship lifted away from Radian, carrying them back toward Beacon and all the challenges that awaited, Blake found herself not looking back at what they were leaving, but forward to what lay ahead. The path wasn't clear, wasn't certain, wasn't anything like what she had imagined when she first arrived at Beacon with her secrets and her bow and her determination to start anew.

It was better.

It was a future she was choosing, with people who had chosen her in return. And as Cynthia shifted in her sleep, one tiny hand curling around Blake's finger with that surprising strength that never failed to amaze her, she knew with absolute certainty that there would be no running away this time.

Some promises, after all, were too important to break.

Chapter Text

Chapter 40: Reunions and New Beginnings

80AGW - Early August

The airship touched down on Beacon's landing pad with a gentle bump, the engines winding down as passengers began gathering their belongings. Jaune unbuckled his safety harness, stealing a glance at Blake beside him. She was already leaning over Cynthia, checking that the baby's special travel carrier had protected her from the minor turbulence they'd encountered on approach.

"She slept through the whole landing," Blake observed with quiet amazement. "I was sure the engine noise would wake her."

"Must get her love of flying from me," Jaune joked, though his relieved expression belied the casual tone. They both remembered all too well his miserable first journey to Beacon.

As they began gathering their carry-on items—significantly more numerous now that they traveled with an infant—Jaune peered through the airship window at the landing area. "Looks like we have a welcoming committee."

Blake followed his gaze, a small smile tugging at her lips as she spotted their teammates gathered at the edge of the platform. Ruby was practically bouncing with excitement, while Nora appeared to be physically restrained by Ren to prevent her from rushing the airship before the ramp was fully deployed.

"Should we be worried about the banner?" Blake asked, nodding toward the large, somewhat lopsided sign that Yang and Nora held between them.

Jaune squinted to make out the words. "'Welcome Home Family Arc-Belladonna'?" He winced. "Definitely Nora's idea."

"At least she used a hyphen," Blake remarked dryly, though Jaune noticed the faint blush coloring her cheeks.

The disembarking process took longer than either had anticipated. Between Cynthia's carrier, their personal luggage, and the seemingly endless bags of baby supplies, they emerged from the airship looking like they were prepared for a month-long expedition rather than a return to school.

"THEY'RE HERE!" Ruby's excited voice carried across the landing pad, followed immediately by a flurry of rose petals as she activated her semblance to reach them first.

"Ruby, wait—" Weiss's futile call was cut short as the young team leader skidded to a halt inches from Blake and Jaune.

"You're back! Finally! It's been forever!" Ruby exclaimed, silver eyes wide as she peered at the bundle strapped to Blake's chest. "Is that her? Is that Cynthia? Oh my gosh, she's so tiny in person! The scroll pictures didn't do her justice!"

"Hello to you too, Ruby," Blake replied, amusement warming her voice as she adjusted the carrier to give Ruby a better view of the now-awake baby. Cynthia blinked curiously at the new face, her amber eyes wide with interest at Ruby's animated expressions.

Before Ruby could continue her enthusiastic greeting, the rest of their friends descended upon them in a wave of hugs, exclamations, and barely contained excitement.

"Let me see her!" Nora demanded, abandoning her end of the banner (which Yang quickly fumbled to catch) as she crowded closer. "Oh, she's perfect! Look at those little ears! And her eyes! They're just like yours, Blake!"

"She's grown considerably since your photos," Ren observed more calmly, though his smile was genuine as he stepped forward to help relieve Jaune of some of his burdens. "Here, let me take some of those."

"Thanks," Jaune replied gratefully, surrendering two of the heavier bags. "You have no idea how much stuff a tiny human needs. We had to ship half of it ahead of time."

"That's why we're all here," Pyrrha explained, stepping forward with a warm smile. "Professor Goodwitch informed us of your arrival time and suggested we might help with the moving process."

There was a brief, almost imperceptible pause as Jaune and Pyrrha looked at each other—their first in-person meeting since her confession and his gentle rejection. But the moment passed quickly, dissolved by Pyrrha's genuine smile and Jaune's grateful nod. Whatever awkwardness might have lingered between them seemed to have been set aside in favor of their friendship.

"That would be amazing," Jaune said sincerely. "We weren't sure how we'd manage all this stuff and Cynthia at the same time."

"That's what teams are for," Yang declared, finally securing the banner under one arm as she moved to embrace Blake. "Welcome back, partner. Missed you."

"I missed you too," Blake admitted, returning the hug with her free arm while keeping the other protectively around Cynthia.

"So, these special accommodations—where exactly are they?" Weiss asked, already mentally organizing the most efficient way to transport the mountain of luggage. "And please tell me there's an elevator involved."

"East residential wing," Jaune confirmed. "Near the faculty housing. And yes, there's an elevator."

"Thank goodness," Ruby said, grabbing one of the lighter bags. "Because I don't think even my semblance could get all this up multiple flights of stairs."

With their friends' help, the mountain of luggage was quickly distributed among the group. Weiss immediately took charge of the logistics, assigning specific items to each person with the efficiency of someone who had organized complex household moves before. Yang and Nora claimed the heaviest items, competing good-naturedly over who could carry more. Pyrrha and Ruby took the more delicate parcels, while Ren somehow ended up with a bag that emitted suspicious rattling sounds.

"Baby toys," Jaune explained apologetically. "Like fifty of them, courtesy of my sisters. Fair warning—some of them make noise."

"I shall bear this burden with dignity," Ren intoned solemnly, though his eyes twinkled with amusement.

As they made their way across campus, Blake couldn't help but notice the curious glances from other returning students. Whispers followed in their wake, with many openly staring at the baby carrier strapped to her chest. She had expected this—a faunus student returning with a baby was bound to attract attention—but the reality still made her ears twitch nervously beneath her bow.

Jaune noticed her discomfort and moved closer, his shoulder brushing against hers in silent support. "Just focus on our friends," he murmured. "The gossip will die down eventually."

Blake nodded, grateful for his understanding. She fixed her gaze on Ruby and Weiss walking ahead of them, deliberately tuning out the whispers with a skill born of long practice.

"So," Yang said, falling into step beside them. "How was the famous Arc household? Everything Blake told us made it sound like a fairy tale with apple orchards and seven blonde princesses."

"It was nice," Jaune replied with a fond smile. "Chaotic, but nice. Everyone loved Cynthia. And Blake too, once they got to know her."

"Your sister Lily finally warmed up by the end," Blake added, a small smile playing at her lips as she remembered the solemn pinky promise. "Though she made me swear a blood oath not to hurt you."

"A blood oath?" Jaune repeated, eyebrows rising. "She usually just threatens people with her plastic sword."

"You must have rated special treatment," Yang teased, nudging Blake with her elbow. "Upgraded straight to blood rituals."

"It was a pinky promise involving a thousand needles," Blake clarified, rolling her eyes at Yang's theatrics. "No actual blood was shed."

"Ah, the needle promise," Jaune nodded sagely. "That's actually worse than the sword. Lily doesn't bring out the big guns for just anyone."

Their banter continued as they crossed the main courtyard, the familiar surroundings of Beacon bringing a strange sense of homecoming mixed with the knowledge that everything had changed since they'd last walked these paths. Blake found herself unconsciously scanning their environment, assessing potential escape routes and safe spaces—not for herself this time, but for Cynthia. Old habits repurposed for new priorities.

When they finally reached the east residential wing, Professor Goodwitch was waiting for them, her tablet in hand and her expression as efficiently neutral as ever.

"Mr. Arc, Miss Belladonna," she greeted with a nod. "Welcome back to Beacon. I trust your journey was uneventful?"

"Yes, Professor," Jaune confirmed. "Thank you for arranging everything."

Goodwitch's gaze softened almost imperceptibly as it fell on Cynthia, who was now wide awake and observing everything with keen interest, her small cat ears twitching at each new sound.

"And this must be young Miss Cynthia," she observed. "She appears to be in excellent health."

"She is," Blake confirmed, unable to keep the pride from her voice. "The doctors say she's developing right on schedule."

Goodwitch nodded approvingly before returning to her businesslike demeanor. "I have your access cards and orientation materials here. Your accommodations have been prepared according to the specifications we discussed."

She handed each of them a small packet, then extracted two key cards from her tablet case. "These will grant you access to both your suite and the childcare facility. Security protocols have been implemented as discussed. The facility director will meet with you tomorrow morning to complete Cynthia's registration."

"Thank you, Professor," Blake said sincerely. "We appreciate all the arrangements you've made."

Something like a smile flickered across Goodwitch's features. "Beacon Academy values all its students, Miss Belladonna. Even those who arrive under... unusual circumstances." Her gaze moved meaningfully to Cynthia before returning to the young parents. "Now, shall we proceed? I'm sure you're eager to get settled."

The group followed Goodwitch down a corridor they'd never had reason to explore before. Unlike the dormitory wings where teams RWBY and JNPR had previously resided, this section of Beacon had a more mature aesthetic—subdued colors, artwork on the walls, plants in corners. It felt less like a school and more like an upscale apartment building.

"The east wing houses faculty members, visiting scholars, and in rare cases, student families," Goodwitch explained as they walked. "Your suite is located on the second floor, accessible by either stairs or elevator."

Given the amount of luggage they carried, the elevator was the unanimous choice. As they ascended, Ruby peered at the control panel with interest.

"I didn't even know this part of Beacon existed," she admitted. "And I've explored practically everywhere."

"There are many aspects of the Academy that students typically have no reason to discover," Goodwitch replied cryptically.

When they reached the second floor, Goodwitch led them down a carpeted hallway to a door marked "2-B." She gestured for Jaune to use his key card, watching approvingly as he managed the task while juggling several bags.

The door swung open to reveal a space that immediately made Blake and Jaune freeze in surprise. Instead of the modest accommodation they had expected, they found themselves looking at a spacious apartment with large windows, modern furnishings, and a layout that had clearly been designed with both comfort and functionality in mind.

"This is... ours?" Jaune asked incredulously.

"Indeed, Mr. Arc," Goodwitch confirmed. "The suite includes a main living area, kitchenette, bathroom, bedroom, and nursery. The furnishings have been selected for safety and practicality, though you are welcome to personalize the space within reason."

Their friends had already begun moving past them, depositing bags and exploring the apartment with exclamations of surprise and appreciation.

"This is twice the size of our team dorms!" Ruby observed, spinning in place to take in the living room.

"Check out the kitchen!" Nora called from around the corner. "Ren, they have actual cooking facilities! No more contraband hot plates!"

Ren's expression brightened considerably at this discovery, and he immediately moved to inspect the appliances with newfound interest.

Blake stepped further into the apartment, Cynthia still secured to her chest as she took in what would be their home for the foreseeable future. The space was tastefully decorated in neutral tones, with subtle touches that showed remarkable forethought—rounded corners on furniture, secure bookshelves attached to walls, soft carpeting in some areas and easy-to-clean flooring in others.

"The nursery is through here," Pyrrha called, standing in a doorway off the main room. "It's... perfect."

Blake and Jaune exchanged a look before moving together to join Pyrrha. The nursery surpassed anything they could have prepared themselves. Painted in soft, soothing colors, it featured a sturdy crib, changing table, comfortable rocking chair, and built-in storage for all of Cynthia's needs. A night light shaped like the shattered moon cast gentle illumination, and blackout curtains hung ready to create optimal napping conditions.

"This is too much," Blake murmured, overwhelmed by the thought and care that had gone into the space.

"Beacon believes in providing appropriate support for all its students," Goodwitch stated from the doorway. "Your situation may be unusual, but your education remains a priority. This environment is designed to help you balance your academic responsibilities with your guardianship duties."

"Thank you," Jaune said, his voice thick with emotion. "Seriously, Professor. This is beyond anything we expected."

Goodwitch's expression softened momentarily. "You are not the first student parents Beacon has accommodated, Mr. Arc, though perhaps the most unexpected. The Academy has considerable experience in providing appropriate support."

As their friends continued exploring and arranging belongings, Goodwitch provided a brief orientation to the suite's features—the security system, the emergency protocols, the direct line to the infirmary and childcare facility.

"The common areas for your respective teams remain in their original locations," she explained. "While your living arrangements have changed, your team affiliations remain intact. You are expected to maintain regular participation in team activities and training sessions."

"Of course," Blake agreed, already mentally strategizing how to balance Cynthia's needs with her responsibilities to Team RWBY.

"Your modified class schedules are included in your orientation packets," Goodwitch continued. "They have been coordinated to minimize overlap, ensuring at least one of you is available for Cynthia outside of childcare hours."

As Goodwitch concluded her orientation and prepared to depart, Weiss stepped forward with a carefully neutral expression that Blake recognized as her 'handling business' face.

"Professor, what about visitors?" she inquired. "Are there restrictions on when team members may visit the apartment?"

Goodwitch adjusted her glasses. "Reasonable visitation is permitted between the hours of 8 AM and 10 PM, Miss Schnee. I trust you will all be considerate of the fact that an infant requires routine and adequate rest."

"Of course," Weiss replied with a satisfied nod. "I merely wished to clarify the parameters."

After Goodwitch's departure, the apartment exploded into activity as the teams helped unpack and organize. Yang and Nora tackled the heavier furniture arrangements, moving the provided pieces to suit Blake and Jaune's preferences. Weiss took charge of organizing the kitchen and bathroom supplies with military precision, while Ruby unpacked books and personal items with enthusiasm if not always accuracy.

"Is this a weapon maintenance manual or a baby care guide?" she called, holding up a thick volume.

"Both, actually," Jaune replied, taking the book with a sheepish grin. "Dad thought I should have practical reference materials."

In the nursery, Pyrrha and Ren were carefully assembling the mobile that Violet had crafted for Cynthia, featuring delicate paper representations of the phases of the moon interspersed with tiny stars.

"Your sister is quite the artist," Pyrrha observed, securing one of the celestial bodies to the central axis.

"She wanted Cynthia to have something that represented her name," Jaune explained from the doorway, a box of baby clothes in his arms. "The moon goddess connection and all."

Pyrrha smiled, a genuine expression without any trace of the awkwardness that might have lingered between them. "It's beautiful. Cynthia will love watching it spin above her crib."

Throughout the unpacking process, Cynthia was passed between cooing teammates, each taking turns holding the baby while Blake and Jaune directed the organization of their new home. Even Weiss, initially hesitant, was eventually persuaded to hold the infant, her usual composure melting into uncharacteristic baby talk when Cynthia grasped her finger with surprising strength.

"She has excellent grip," Weiss noted with approval. "A sign of good muscle development."

"And she hasn't even tried to eat your fancy rings," Yang observed. "She has good taste already."

"Unlike some people I could mention," Weiss retorted, though her smile took any sting from the words.

As evening approached, the apartment gradually transformed from an impersonal space into something that felt like home. Photos of both the Arc family and Team RWBY joined the tasteful artwork on the walls. Books filled the shelves—Blake's novels intermixed with Jaune's comics and a growing collection of children's stories. The refrigerator was stocked, clothes were put away, and Cynthia's toys found their designated places in colorful bins.

"I think that's everything," Ruby declared, flopping dramatically onto the sofa. "Who knew babies needed so much stuff?"

"This isn't even all of it," Jaune informed her, collapsing beside her. "The rest is being shipped and should arrive tomorrow."

"More?" Weiss asked incredulously. "Where will you put it all?"

"We'll find space," Blake replied, emerging from the nursery where she had just laid Cynthia down for a nap. "She's finally asleep, by the way. The journey tired her out."

"Then I suggest we continue this reunion elsewhere," Ren proposed. "Perhaps dinner in the dining hall? I hear they've improved the menu during the break."

"I'm starving!" Nora declared predictably. "Moving furniture burns like a million calories!"

"You guys go ahead," Blake said, glancing toward the nursery door. "I should stay with Cynthia. She might get confused waking up in a new place."

"I'll stay too," Jaune offered immediately. "We can order something delivered."

Their friends exchanged knowing looks that Blake pretended not to notice.

"Or," Yang suggested with a mischievous grin, "we could bring dinner back for all of us. Have a proper welcome-home party right here. Quietly, of course," she added hastily at Weiss's warning glare.

"That sounds nice," Jaune agreed after checking with Blake, who nodded her approval. "As long as you don't mind eating in shifts so someone's always with Cynthia."

"We can take turns," Ruby decided. "Team dinner and baby watching combined!"

With that plan settled, they arranged to reconvene in an hour with food for everyone. As their friends filed out, promising to return with provisions and additional welcomes, Blake found herself standing in the center of their new home, a strange mix of exhaustion and contentment washing over her.

"It's really happening," she said softly as the door closed behind the last of their teammates. "We're back at Beacon. With Cynthia."

Jaune moved to stand beside her, his presence warm and steady. "Having second thoughts?"

Blake shook her head, surprising herself with the certainty she felt. "No. Just... adjusting to the reality of it all. A few months ago, this would have seemed impossible."

"A few months ago, I was still throwing up on airships and embarrassing myself in class," Jaune pointed out with a self-deprecating smile. "Things change."

"They do," Blake agreed, leaning slightly against his shoulder. "Sometimes for the better."

They stood together for a moment, absorbing the quiet of their new home and the significance of this next chapter in their unexpected journey. Then, by mutual unspoken agreement, they moved to check on Cynthia, drawn to the nursery where their daughter slept peacefully, unaware of the dramatic changes in her world.

As they watched her small chest rise and fall with each breath, her tiny cat ears occasionally twitching in response to dreams only she could see, Blake felt the last of her anxiety fade. The path ahead wouldn't be easy—balancing classes, training, and parenthood would test them daily—but standing here with Jaune, looking down at the child who had brought them together, Blake knew they were exactly where they were meant to be.

"Welcome home," Jaune whispered, slipping his arm around Blake's waist.

"Welcome home," she echoed, leaning into his embrace as Cynthia slept on, safe and loved in her new Beacon nursery.

Chapter Text

Chapter 41: A Moment of First Words

80AGW - Early August

The apartment had settled into a peaceful quiet after their friends departed for the dining hall. Blake moved about the living room, making small adjustments to the arrangements their teammates had helped establish—straightening a picture frame here, rearranging a stack of books there. Jaune had disappeared into the kitchen, muttering something about unpacking essentials and setting up the coffee maker for the morning.

The peaceful domesticity was broken by a small, distressed sound from the nursery—not quite a cry, but the unmistakable whimper of a baby waking in unfamiliar surroundings.

Blake was moving before she even consciously registered the sound, her body responding automatically to Cynthia's call. She slipped quietly into the nursery, where the soft glow of the moon-shaped night light revealed Cynthia awake in her crib, tiny hands reaching upward as her face scrunched in confusion.

"Hey there, little one," Blake murmured, leaning over the crib with a gentle smile. "Did you wake up somewhere new?"

Cynthia's distressed sounds intensified, her amber eyes—so much like Blake's own—wide and uncertain as she took in the unfamiliar ceiling and walls. Blake reached down and lifted her with practiced ease, settling the baby against her shoulder in the hold that had become second nature over the past weeks.

"It's okay," she soothed, beginning the gentle swaying motion that usually calmed Cynthia's fussing. "Everything's different, I know. But we're here with you. You're safe."

Cynthia's small hands clutched at Blake's shirt, her whimpers gradually subsiding as she recognized the familiar scent and voice. Blake continued her gentle movement around the nursery, pointing out the new features in a soft, calm voice.

"See your mobile? Violet made that specially for you. And look at this soft carpet—perfect for when you start trying to crawl. And your books are all here, right where you can see them."

Gradually, Cynthia's tension eased. Her curious gaze began to track around the room, taking in the new environment from the safety of Blake's arms. When her eyes landed on the doorway, she made a happy gurgling sound. Blake turned to find Jaune watching them, his expression so tender it made something catch in her chest.

"Crisis averted?" he asked softly, moving to join them.

"Just a little confusion," Blake explained, adjusting Cynthia so she could see both of them. "New place, unfamiliar sounds. She's settling now."

Jaune reached out to stroke one of Cynthia's cat ears, which twitched contentedly under his touch. "You're doing great, little moon goddess. This is home now. You'll get used to it."

Cynthia's eyes moved between them, a small smile forming on her tiny face as she recognized the two constants in her rapidly changing world. Her gaze fixed on Blake, one small hand reaching up toward her face with unexpected determination.

"Ma-ma," she said clearly, her fingers brushing against Blake's cheek.

Blake froze, her eyes widening in shock as she stared down at Cynthia. "Did she just—"

"Mama," Cynthia repeated, patting Blake's face with more enthusiasm now that she had her full attention. "Ma-ma!"

"She did," Jaune confirmed, his voice thick with emotion. "She called you Mama."

Blake felt something inside her crack open—a final wall she hadn't even known still stood. Tears welled in her eyes before she could stop them, spilling silently down her cheeks as Cynthia continued to pat her face, clearly pleased with herself and the response she'd generated.

"Mama," Blake echoed in a whisper, testing how the word felt on her own lips. It felt right—terrifying in its enormity but absolutely right.

Jaune stepped closer, one arm slipping around Blake's waist while the other hand continued to gently stroke Cynthia's hair. "I guess that settles one big question," he said softly.

Blake looked up at him, still cradling Cynthia close. "She really sees me that way."

"Of course she does," Jaune replied with gentle certainty. "You've been her mother in every way that matters since the night we found her. The only difference is now she has the word for it."

"Mama," Cynthia said again, this time reaching for Jaune with her other hand. "Ma-ma."

Jaune laughed, the sound warm and rich with joy. "I think she's still working on 'Dada.' One parental title at a time."

Blake couldn't help but laugh through her tears, the moment too perfect, too overwhelming to contain. "She's smart. She knows exactly who we are to her, even if we've been cautious about the labels ourselves."

"Kids have a way of cutting through the complications," Jaune agreed, pulling both of them closer in a gentle embrace. "Maybe we should follow her lead."

Blake nodded, resting her head against his shoulder as Cynthia continued to alternate between patting her face and reaching for Jaune, clearly delighted with herself and her newly demonstrated verbal skill.

"Mama," Blake repeated softly, no longer testing but accepting—claiming the title that had been thrust upon her by fate and circumstance, and now confirmed by the child herself. "I guess I am, aren't I?"

"You've been her mother since the first night you helped me care for her," Jaune affirmed. "The best mother Cynthia could have asked for."

Blake looked up at him, amber eyes still shining with tears. "And you've been her father just as long. She'll figure out how to tell you that soon enough."

Jaune's smile was radiant as he pressed a soft kiss to Blake's forehead, then leaned down to do the same to Cynthia's head between her small cat ears. "I can wait. This moment is perfect just as it is."

And it was. Standing in the nursery of their new home, holding the child who had somehow become theirs in every way that mattered, Blake felt a sense of rightness she had never expected to find—certainly not at Beacon, not with Jaune Arc, not as a mother to an orphaned faunus child.

Yet here they were. And as Cynthia continued to pat her face and repeat her new favorite word, Blake silently thanked whatever twist of fate had led Jaune to find that tiny bundle in the forest, setting them all on this unexpected path together.

"Mama's here," she whispered to Cynthia, accepting the title and all it entailed. "And I always will be."

A Call and a Revelation

The dorm room at Haven Academy was flooded with midday sunlight, casting bright rectangles across the floor through half-drawn blinds. Sun Wukong lounged on his bed, idly twirling his collapsible staff between his fingers while staring at the ceiling. He'd been in the same position for nearly an hour, occasionally sighing dramatically enough that his teammate had finally had enough.

"Dude, seriously," Neptune said, pushing away from his desk where he'd been tinkering with his weapon. "Just call her already. The suspense is killing me."

Sun caught his staff mid-twirl and shot Neptune a defensive look. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Oh please," Neptune rolled his eyes, crossing the room to pluck Sun's scroll from the bedside table. "You've been moping since we got back from break. Just call Blake and get it over with."

Sun sat up, his monkey tail swishing with agitation. "I'm not moping. And I wasn't thinking about Blake."

"Sure," Neptune drawled, scrolling through Sun's contacts until he found Blake's name. "That's why you've pulled up her contact info like five times today without calling."

"I was just... checking to see if she'd messaged me," Sun muttered, making a half-hearted grab for his scroll that Neptune easily dodged.

"She hasn't," Neptune confirmed, still holding the scroll out of reach. "But you know how to solve that problem? Actually reaching out instead of staring at your ceiling and sighing like you're in some terrible romantic drama."

Sun flopped back on his bed with a groan. "What would I even say? 'Hey Blake, how was your summer? Mine was great, just hung out in Vacuo with the family, nothing exciting, definitely spent zero time thinking about you...'"

Neptune snorted. "Maybe try for a little less desperate and a little more casual? Just ask how her break went. You know, like a normal person having a normal conversation."

"It's not that simple," Sun insisted. "Last time we talked, things were... I don't know, weird. After that whole White Fang business in Vale."

"Which is exactly why you should call," Neptune pressed. "Clear the air. See where things stand." His expression softened slightly. "Look, man, you've been carrying this torch for Blake since the tournament. Either make a move or move on, but this pining thing is getting old."

Sun's tail twitched with irritation, but he couldn't deny the truth in his friend's words. He had been thinking about Blake more than he cared to admit, wondering how she'd spent her summer, if she'd thought about him at all, if there might be a chance for... something.

"Fine," he conceded, sitting up and extending his hand. "Give me the scroll. I'll call her."

Neptune grinned triumphantly, passing over the device. "That's more like it. Just be yourself—minus the excessive stammering and awkward tail movements."

"My tail doesn't make awkward movements," Sun protested, even as said appendage betrayed him by twitching nervously.

"Sure it doesn't," Neptune patted his shoulder. "Want me to clear out? Give you some privacy?"

Sun hesitated, fingers hovering over Blake's contact information. "Actually... maybe stick around? In case I say something stupid and need an emergency interruption."

"So, the entire call then?" Neptune teased, but he settled into his desk chair, positioned just out of the scroll camera's view. "I've got your back, bro."

Taking a deep breath, Sun pressed the video call button before he could talk himself out of it. He quickly ran a hand through his messy blonde hair, wishing he'd thought to put on a shirt nicer than his usual white button-up with half the buttons undone.

The scroll rang once, twice, three times. Sun was just about to give up, almost relieved at the reprieve, when the call connected.

Blake's face appeared on the screen, her dark hair slightly tousled and her amber eyes widening in surprise. "Sun?"

"Blake! Hey!" Sun's voice came out an octave higher than intended, prompting a stifled snicker from Neptune off-camera. He cleared his throat. "Uh, hey. How's it going? Long time no see. Or talk. Or, you know, communicate in any way."

He winced internally at his rambling, but Blake's small smile eased some of his nervousness.

"It's good to see you," she said, and she seemed to mean it. "I didn't expect a call from Haven."

"Yeah, well, I just thought I'd check in. See how your summer went." Sun leaned back against his headboard, aiming for casual but probably missing by a mile based on Neptune's barely concealed eye-roll from across the room. "Did you go back to Menagerie? Or stay at Beacon? Or...?"

"It's actually a long story," Blake began, something flickering across her expression that Sun couldn't quite identify. "I spent a part of the break on a mission to a village called Meadowbrook, and then—"

She was interrupted by a commotion off-camera, and her attention shifted to something—or someone—outside the frame. Her expression softened in a way Sun had rarely seen, a genuine warmth spreading across her features.

"Sorry about that," she said, turning back to the camera. "We're still getting settled in our new place."

"New place?" Sun echoed, curiosity piqued. "You moved out of the team dorms?"

Before Blake could respond, a familiar voice called from somewhere behind her. "Blake, could you grab the wipes? She's got applesauce everywhere, and I think it's in her ears somehow."

"Coming," Blake called back, before addressing Sun again. "Just a second."

She set the scroll down, apparently propping it up against something that gave Sun an inadvertent view of what appeared to be a small apartment living room. Before he could process this unexpected development, his entire worldview tilted on its axis.

Into the frame walked Jaune Arc—the lanky blonde guy from Team JNPR—carrying what was unmistakably a baby. A faunus baby, with tiny black cat ears poking out from dark hair. The infant was indeed covered in what looked like applesauce, giggling as Jaune futilely tried to keep her from spreading the sticky substance to his clothes.

"Here," Blake said, returning to view with a package of wipes. She took the baby from Jaune with practiced ease, her movements suggesting this was a routine they'd established long ago. "Come here, you little troublemaker. Let's get you cleaned up."

Sun's mouth fell open as he watched Blake—the same Blake who had always maintained careful distance from everyone—gently clean the baby's face while murmuring affectionate words. The baby reached up to pat Blake's cheek with a sticky hand, earning a laugh rather than the irritation anyone else might have received for the same offense.

"Ma-ma," the baby said clearly, patting Blake's face again.

"Yes, I'm here," Blake replied with a smile that transformed her entire face. "Though you're testing my patience with this applesauce situation."

Jaune leaned into the frame, finally noticing the active scroll call. "Oh! Sorry, I didn't realize you were on a call. Hi there... Sun, right?"

Sun managed to close his mouth and produce some approximation of words. "Uh, yeah. Hey. Just... calling to catch up with Blake. About her summer." He blinked several times, brain still struggling to process the scene before him. "And... you have a baby?"

Blake looked back at the scroll, seemingly remembering Sun was still on the call. She adjusted the baby in her arms, exchanging a quick glance with Jaune before responding.

"Like I said, it's a long story," she began, settling into what appeared to be a couch with the baby in her lap. "During our mission to Meadowbrook, Jaune found an abandoned baby in the forest. A faunus infant with a note suggesting she might be in danger from the White Fang."

"We couldn't just leave her there," Jaune added, sitting beside Blake and making silly faces at the baby, who giggled in response. "And the village didn't have resources for an orphaned faunus child, so..."

"So we took responsibility for her," Blake finished. "Her name is Cynthia. She's about five months old now, and we're her legal guardians."

"Legal guardians," Sun repeated numbly. "You and... Jaune."

Blake nodded, something in her expression softening as she glanced at Jaune. "Ozpin has been surprisingly supportive. He arranged special accommodations for us here at Beacon so we can continue our studies while caring for Cynthia."

"That's... wow," Sun managed, his tail completely still for perhaps the first time in his life. "That's really something."

"It wasn't what either of us planned," Jaune acknowledged with a self-deprecating smile. "But it's been the best unexpected turn my life could have taken."

The look that passed between Blake and Jaune in that moment told Sun everything he needed to know—and everything he'd been afraid to learn. It wasn't just co-parenting or practical arrangement. There was something deeper there, something that had grown between them through shared responsibility and late nights and the thousand small moments that came with raising a child together.

"Well," Sun said, forcing a brightness into his voice that he definitely didn't feel, "you guys look like you've got this parenting thing figured out. Cynthia seems really happy."

"We're learning as we go," Blake replied with a humility that only enhanced the painful contrast in Sun's mind between this Blake and the guarded girl he'd pursued unsuccessfully. "It helps that she's pretty easygoing. Most of the time, anyway." She looked down at the now-clean baby with fond exasperation.

"The applesauce incident notwithstanding," Jaune added with a chuckle.

Sun nodded, searching for the right thing to say when your crush has apparently acquired a family in the span of a summer break.

"I'm... really happy for you guys," he said finally, and was surprised to find he mostly meant it, despite the hollow feeling in his chest. "Seriously, this is great. Unexpected, but great."

"Thank you, Sun," Blake said sincerely. "That means a lot."

"Anyway, I should probably let you get back to... parenthood," Sun continued, desperate now to end the call before his composure cracked entirely. "Just wanted to check in. It's good to see you doing well."

"You too," Blake replied. "Take care of yourself, Sun."

"Will do," he managed a convincing smile. "See you around, Blake."

He ended the call before she could respond, let his scroll drop to the bed, and promptly face-planted onto his pillow with a groan loud enough to make Neptune wince in sympathy.

"That bad, huh?" Neptune asked, moving to sit on the edge of Sun's bed.

Sun rolled over, staring at the ceiling in disbelief. "Blake has a baby," he said flatly. "With Jaune Arc. Jaune. Arc. The guy who couldn't even talk to Weiss without tripping over his own feet."

"To be fair," Neptune pointed out, "she explained they found the baby during a mission. It's not like they... you know."

"Doesn't matter," Sun muttered, draping an arm over his eyes. "You didn't see how they looked at each other. They're a family now. An actual, real family."

Neptune scratched the back of his neck, clearly at a loss for how to comfort his friend. "Sorry, man. That's... rough."

Sun said nothing for a long moment, then sighed heavily and sat up. "The baby called her 'Mama.' And Blake just... responded. Like it was the most natural thing in the world."

"Wow," Neptune breathed, genuinely surprised. "So it's serious-serious."

"Yeah," Sun agreed, sliding off the bed and moving to the window, his usual energy subdued. "It's serious-serious."

"So... what now?" Neptune asked cautiously.

Sun stared out at Haven's campus, uncharacteristically quiet as he processed the dramatic shift in his romantic prospects. Finally, he turned back to Neptune with a forced grin that didn't quite reach his eyes.

"Now? Now we head to the training hall and you let me kick your ass repeatedly until I work through my feelings like a healthy, emotionally balanced individual."

Neptune snorted. "Your definition of 'healthy' needs work." But he stood and grabbed his weapon anyway, recognizing his friend's need for distraction. "But if it helps, I'll let you think you're kicking my ass for at least the first round."

"Such generosity," Sun rolled his eyes, but some of his usual spirit was returning. He grabbed his staff and headed for the door, then paused, glancing back at Neptune. "Hey... thanks. For, you know..."

"Being an awesome friend when your crush turns out to have adopted a baby with another guy during summer break?" Neptune supplied helpfully. "Don't mention it. That's what I'm here for."

Sun punched him lightly in the shoulder, a ghost of his usual grin returning. "You're the worst."

"And yet, still your best friend," Neptune countered, following him into the hallway. "Which says a lot about your social skills, honestly."

As they made their way to the training hall, Sun couldn't help but reflect on the image of Blake—smiling, settled, motherly—that seemed burned into his mind. It hurt, but there was also a strange sense of rightness to it. The Blake he'd seen on that call was more at peace than he'd ever witnessed before.

Whatever he might have hoped for between them, he couldn't begrudge her finding that peace—even if it came in a package he never would have predicted.

Chapter Text

Chapter 42: Discussions and Schemes

80AGW - Early August

Team RWBY's dorm room had been transformed in subtle ways since their return to Beacon. Though technically no longer Blake's primary residence, her presence remained in the carefully arranged bookshelf and the extra pillows she'd left behind "just in case." The room felt emptier without her, yet no one had suggested rearranging to fill the vacant space—as if doing so would somehow make her absence more permanent.

Weiss sat cross-legged on her bed, meticulously organizing class materials for the semester ahead when her scroll chimed with an incoming call. The familiar name on the screen made her pause, one eyebrow arching in mild surprise.

"Neptune?" Ruby asked, looking up from where she was tinkering with Crescent Rose on the floor.

"Indeed," Weiss confirmed, smoothing her skirt before accepting the video call. "Neptune. This is unexpected."

Neptune Vasilias appeared on the screen, his blue hair as perfectly styled as ever despite the late hour in Haven's time zone. "Hey, Snow Angel," he greeted with his trademark grin, though Weiss noticed it lacked some of its usual confidence. "Hope I'm not interrupting anything important."

"Just preparation for the new semester," Weiss replied, careful to keep her tone neutral. "Is everything alright? You don't usually call without warning."

Neptune rubbed the back of his neck, a gesture that suggested discomfort. "Yeah, everything's fine. Well, mostly fine. It's about Sun, actually."

"Sun?" Weiss's brow furrowed in confusion. "What about him?"

By now, both Ruby and Yang had perked up with interest, the latter abandoning her comic book to edge closer to Weiss's bed.

"He called Blake earlier today," Neptune explained, lowering his voice slightly as if sharing confidential information. "To catch up, you know? And he got... well, let's say it was quite the surprise when Jaune showed up with a baby."

Weiss's expression cleared in understanding. "Ah. I see."

"Yeah, so... what's that about?" Neptune asked, trying and failing to sound merely casually curious. "Blake gave him some explanation about finding a baby in the forest during a mission, but it seemed like there was a lot more to the story. And Sun's been pretty messed up about it."

Weiss glanced at Ruby and Yang, who had made no attempt to hide their eavesdropping, before returning her attention to Neptune. "It's not really my place to share Blake's personal matters," she began diplomatically.

"Come on, Weiss," Neptune pressed. "Sun's my teammate and he's really struggling with this. He just needs some context to help him process what's going on."

Weiss sighed, her resolve weakening slightly. "The basic story is accurate. During a mission to a village called Meadowbrook, Jaune found an abandoned faunus baby in the forest. There were... security concerns... that made traditional channels problematic. Blake and Jaune took responsibility for the child's care."

"So they're just, what, co-parenting as friends?" Neptune asked, a hopeful note in his voice that suggested he was asking for Sun's benefit rather than his own.

Weiss hesitated, choosing her words carefully. "They began as partners in caring for Cynthia," she acknowledged. "But their relationship has... evolved over the summer."

"How evolved are we talking?" Neptune pressed. "Because the baby called Blake 'Mama' during the call, and Sun said they seemed pretty... domestic."

"How romantic entanglements develop is their business," Weiss replied primly, though her tone softened as she continued. "But yes, they appear to be quite serious about each other, not just about Cynthia. Headmaster Ozpin has arranged special accommodations for them to live as a family unit while continuing their education."

Neptune whistled. "That's serious."

"Indeed," Weiss agreed. "They've taken on an enormous responsibility together. It's created a significant bond between them."

Neptune nodded slowly, processing this information. "That explains a lot. Sun's been in the training hall for three hours straight, destroying practice dummies. I think he was holding out hope that he still had a chance with Blake."

"I'm sorry for your teammate's disappointment," Weiss said, genuine sympathy in her voice. "But Blake and Jaune have built something meaningful together. I think even Sun could see that during their call."

"Yeah, he mentioned something similar," Neptune sighed. "Said they looked at each other in a way that told him everything he needed to know."

From somewhere behind Neptune came a crash, followed by muffled cursing. Neptune winced. "That would be Sun returning to the room. I should probably go make sure he doesn't break anything valuable. Thanks for the info, Weiss."

"Of course," Weiss replied. "And Neptune? Perhaps suggest to Sun that he give himself time before attempting to contact Blake again. For his own sake."

"Already on it," Neptune assured her. "Take care, Snow Angel. Say hi to your team for me."

As the call ended, Weiss found herself facing the expectant expressions of both Ruby and Yang.

"So," Yang began, sprawling across Blake's empty bed with casual disregard for personal space. "Sounds like Sun took the news about as well as expected."

"Poor Sun," Ruby said, genuine sympathy in her silver eyes. "I know he really liked Blake."

"Perhaps," Weiss acknowledged, returning to her meticulous organization. "But pursuing Blake at this point would be both futile and potentially disruptive to her new family dynamic."

"You know who else had their heart broken recently?" Ruby mused, her expression shifting from sympathy to calculation with alarming speed. "Pyrrha."

Yang sat up, immediate interest sparking in her lilac eyes. "Ruby Rose, are you suggesting what I think you're suggesting?"

"I'm just saying," Ruby continued innocently, "Sun is nice, athletic, funny... and Pyrrha is amazing, kind, super talented... and they've both had their hearts broken by people who are now a couple..."

"Ruby," Weiss said warningly, "please tell me you're not contemplating matchmaking."

"Not contemplating," Ruby replied with a decidedly mischievous smile. "Planning."

"Oh, I like where this is going," Yang declared, swinging her legs off the bed. "Sun and Pyrrha... Sunny Champion? Invincible Monkey? We'll work on the ship name later."

Weiss looked between her teammates in growing horror. "Absolutely not. You cannot meddle in people's romantic lives based on the coincidence that they both experienced rejection."

"But they'd be so good together!" Ruby protested. "Pyrrha needs someone fun and outgoing to bring her out of her shell. And Sun needs someone steady and kind who could appreciate his energy without being overwhelmed by it."

"On paper, they do have compatible traits," Yang agreed thoughtfully. "And they're both easy on the eyes, which never hurts."

"That is not a foundation for a relationship," Weiss argued, setting aside her perfectly aligned notebook to give this conversation her full attention. "And might I add a rather significant logistical issue you're both overlooking?"

Ruby and Yang looked at her expectantly.

"Sun attends Haven Academy. In Mistral. Which is an ocean away from Vale," Weiss stated flatly. "How exactly do you propose to create these 'opportunities' when they're in completely different kingdoms?"

"Well..." Ruby faltered slightly. "They could... video chat?"

"Oh yes, nothing says romance like scroll lag and time zone differences," Weiss replied dryly. "Not to mention that Pyrrha is still processing her feelings for Jaune, and based on Neptune's call, Sun is actively mourning his chances with Blake. Pushing them together now would be inconsiderate at best and potentially harmful at worst."

"Okay, the distance thing is a fair point," Yang conceded. "But what about during tournaments? Or school breaks?"

"So your master plan is to wait months for a brief window where they might be in the same kingdom?" Weiss asked, her tone making it clear exactly what she thought of this idea.

"Of course," Ruby agreed solemnly, then brightened. "So, about that group outing idea..."

"Ruby!"

"Kidding! Mostly."

As Ruby and Yang continued debating the finer points of "subtle" matchmaking, Weiss returned to organizing her class materials.

"We could arrange an 'accidental' meeting at the next tournament!" Ruby suggested loudly, interrupting Weiss's thoughts.

"That's in six months," Yang pointed out.

"Perfect! Plenty of time to plan!"

Weiss sighed and focused more intently on her notes.

Chapter Text

CH43 New Semester, New Attention

Morning sunlight spilled across Beacon's courtyards as Blake and Jaune made their way through the campus, the new semester bringing a fresh energy to the academy's grounds. First-year students wandered in clusters, still learning the layout and marveling at the architecture, while returning students greeted friends with enthusiastic embraces after the summer break.

Blake carried Cynthia in a front-facing carrier, the baby wide awake and taking in the sights with wide amber eyes that mirrored her mother's. Jaune walked beside them, laden with what Blake had come to think of as the "daycare duffel"—a bag containing everything from spare clothes to Cynthia's favorite toys, emergency bottles, and the special blanket from Violet that had become the only thing that would soothe her during afternoon naps.

"Do you think we packed enough diapers?" Jaune asked, readjusting the bag's strap on his shoulder. "Maybe we should have brought a second pack."

"We packed twelve," Blake reminded him, her tone amused. "For a six-hour day. Unless she's planning on breaking some kind of baby record, we'll be fine."

"But what if—"

"The daycare has emergency supplies," Blake cut in gently. "And you programmed both our scroll numbers as priority contacts. They'll call if they need anything."

Jaune nodded, though the worry line between his brows didn't completely vanish. "I know. It's just... it's her first day."

"It's harder for us than it is for her," Blake assured him, though she felt the same anxious flutter in her stomach. After months of having Cynthia almost constantly with one of them, the idea of leaving her with relative strangers—even highly qualified ones—was unsettling.

Cynthia, oblivious to their concerns, reached out toward a passing student's colorful scarf with delighted grabbing motions. Blake gently redirected the baby's attention to the soft cat toy clipped to the carrier.

"Look who's interested in fashion already," Jaune observed with a proud smile. "She gets that from you."

"I think she just likes anything brightly colored that moves," Blake replied, though she couldn't help but smile at the idea of Cynthia inheriting traits from both of them, genetics notwithstanding.

They approached the eastern quadrant of campus, where the childcare facility occupied a cheerful single-story building surrounded by a securely fenced play area. The structure had been renovated over the summer specifically to accommodate their needs, though Professor Goodwitch had mentioned it would serve future student-parents and faculty children as well.

As they neared the entrance, Blake noticed Jaune's steps slowing. "Having second thoughts?" she asked quietly.

"No," he replied unconvincingly, then sighed. "Maybe a little. What if she thinks we've abandoned her?"

Blake reached for his hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. "She won't. We've been practicing with short separations, remember? And she'll be surrounded by toys, attention, and other children."

"You're right," Jaune agreed, squeezing back before letting go to open the door for her. "I just never thought I'd be that parent having separation anxiety on the first day of daycare."

"It means you care," Blake said simply, stepping into the brightly lit reception area. "That's never a bad thing."

The childcare center's interior was a welcome surprise—spacious, thoughtfully designed, and filled with natural light. Child-sized furniture in primary colors dotted the main room, while educational posters and children's artwork decorated the walls. Through an open doorway, Blake could see a nap area with tiny cots arranged in neat rows, and beyond that, a fenced outdoor play space with miniature slides and climbing structures.

"You must be the Arc-Belladonna family," a warm voice greeted them.

A woman in her early forties approached with a kind smile, her curly hair pulled back in a practical ponytail and her clothing sensible yet cheerful—pastel blouse over comfortable slacks. A name badge identified her as 'Ms. Maple, Childcare Director.'

"That's us," Jaune confirmed, extending his hand. "I'm Jaune Arc, and this is Blake Belladonna. And this little troublemaker," he added with obvious pride, "is Cynthia."

"Welcome to Beacon Early Learning Center," Ms. Maple said, shaking both their hands before bending slightly to address Cynthia directly. "And hello to you, Miss Cynthia. We're so happy to have you join us."

Cynthia, who had been observing the colorful surroundings with fascination, turned her attention to the new voice. After a moment's serious consideration, she broke into a wide, gummy smile.

"She approves," Blake noted with relief. "That's a good sign."

Ms. Maple straightened, her expression professional yet warm. "I've reviewed the information you provided about Cynthia's routine and preferences. We'll do our best to maintain consistency, though there may be some adjustments as she settles in."

"Of course," Blake nodded, beginning the process of extracting Cynthia from the carrier. "She's generally adaptable, but she can be particular about nap time."

"The blanket with the moon phases," Ms. Maple confirmed. "And she prefers to have her stuffed cat nearby when sleeping. All noted in her file."

"Her file?" Jaune asked, surprise evident in his voice.

"We maintain detailed records for each child," Ms. Maple explained, leading them toward a smaller room off the main area where several infants were already engaged with caregivers. "Preferences, developmental milestones, daily reports. You'll receive a summary at pickup each day."

"That's... remarkably thorough," Blake commented, impressed despite her lingering anxiety.

"Beacon Academy applies the same standards of excellence to all its programs," Ms. Maple replied with a hint of pride. "Now, let me introduce you to Ms. Willow, who will be Cynthia's primary caregiver."

A younger woman with a gentle demeanor and faunus fox ears approached, kneeling to meet Cynthia at eye level. "Hello there, sweet one," she greeted softly. "We have a special place all ready for you."

The next fifteen minutes passed in a blur of information exchange, paperwork signatures, and last-minute questions. Blake handed over Cynthia with practiced care, making sure Ms. Willow knew about the baby's recent fascination with trying to roll even when it wasn't safe to do so. Jaune unpacked the essentials from their bag, explaining the labeling system they'd developed for Cynthia's belongings with the seriousness of someone delivering critical mission parameters.

Throughout it all, Cynthia remained calm, distracted by the new surroundings and the colorful toy Ms. Willow offered. When the moment finally came to say goodbye, Blake felt an unexpected lump in her throat.

"We'll be back after our last class," she said, pressing a gentle kiss to Cynthia's forehead. "Be good, little one."

"Have fun with your new friends," Jaune added, his voice suspiciously thick as he stroked Cynthia's hair. "Remember, Mama and Dada love you very much."

The word "Dada" was new—Cynthia had started using it just days ago, much to Jaune's emotional overwhelm—and hearing it in this context made Blake's chest tighten with a mix of emotions she couldn't fully untangle.

"She'll be fine," Ms. Maple assured them, gently but firmly guiding them toward the exit. "The first day is always hardest for the parents. I promise we'll contact you immediately if there are any concerns."

Somehow, they found themselves outside the building, the door closing softly behind them. Blake stood motionless for a moment, listening for any sound of distress from within.

"Nothing," Jaune observed quietly. "No crying."

"That's good," Blake replied, though part of her almost wished for some sign that Cynthia would miss them as much as they already missed her.

"We did it," Jaune said, draping an arm around her shoulders in a sideways hug. "First daycare drop-off complete. Mostly without tears."

"Speak for yourself," Blake muttered, blinking rapidly.

Jaune's laugh was soft and understanding. "Come on. We've got twenty minutes before Professor Goodwitch's Advanced Aura Applications class, and I hear she's even less tolerant of tardiness this semester."

As they made their way back through the main campus, Blake gradually became aware of the attention they were attracting. At first, she assumed it was the usual curiosity about their unusual situation—the rumors about "Beacon's student parents" had spread throughout the school despite the staff's attempts at discretion.

But as they passed a group of first-year students, Blake noticed something different. The looks weren't directed at both of them—or even primarily at her, as the faunus member of their pair. Instead, the gazes followed Jaune, lingering with interest that Blake recognized all too well.

A cluster of first-year girls actually paused their conversation to watch him pass, whispering behind their hands with appreciative glances. One blonde with a green ribbon in her hair actually sighed as Jaune absent-mindedly ran a hand through his hair while checking his scroll.

Blake felt a sudden, unexpected heat rise in her chest—a sharp, possessive emotion that caught her off guard with its intensity. The sensation was so foreign that it took her a moment to identify it: jealousy, pure and simple, with an underlying territorial instinct she hadn't known she possessed.

Her eyes narrowed as she caught another student—a brunette with a red academy uniform—openly staring at Jaune with undisguised interest. The girl actually had the audacity to nudge her friend and whisper something that made them both giggle.

Blake found herself moving closer to Jaune, her shoulder brushing against his in an unmistakably proprietary gesture. When his hand automatically found hers, she felt a flash of satisfaction at the disappointed looks from their audience.

"Everything okay?" Jaune asked, oblivious to the attention he was receiving. "You seem tense."

Blake blinked, surprised by her own reaction. Since when had she become so... possessive? This wasn't like her at all. She prided herself on being independent, rational—not prone to primitive territorial instincts over a partner.

And yet... the thought of those girls appreciating Jaune's newfound confidence, the way responsibility had broadened his shoulders and given him a purposeful stride—it triggered something primal in her.

Mine, whispered a voice in the back of her mind. He's mine. Ours. Part of our family.

"Blake?" Jaune prompted, concern creeping into his voice.

"I'm fine," she replied, shaking herself from her thoughts. "Just... thinking about Cynthia."

Jaune's face softened with understanding. "She'll be okay. We'll pick her up before she even has time to miss us."

Blake nodded, grateful he'd attributed her distraction to parental worry rather than the territorial feelings churning inside her. As they continued toward class, she made a mental note to find Yang before lunch—if anyone could help her sort through these unfamiliar emotions, it would be her partner.

Professor Goodwitch's lecture on advanced aura manipulation techniques passed in a blur. Blake took notes mechanically, her mind repeatedly drifting to both Cynthia at daycare and the unsettling jealousy she'd experienced earlier. When the bell finally rang, she packed her materials with unusual haste.

"I need to check something with Yang before lunch," she told Jaune. "Can you save me a seat?"

"Sure," he replied, looking slightly puzzled at her urgency but asking no questions. "Everything alright?"

"Fine," Blake assured him with a quick smile. "Just team business. Won't take long."

She spotted Yang's distinctive golden hair in the hallway crowd and increased her pace, catching up to her partner just outside the combat arena.

"Yang," she called, drawing the blonde's attention. "Do you have a minute? I need to talk to you."

Yang turned, surprise flashing across her features before being replaced with her usual easy smile. "For my favorite feline mama? Always. What's up?"

Blake glanced around at the busy hallway. "Somewhere private?"

Something in her tone must have conveyed her seriousness, because Yang's expression shifted to one of concern. "Empty classroom over here," she said, gesturing to a door on their left. "Nora said Port canceled his morning lectures due to 'urgent Grimm business'—which probably means he's off hunting something for a new taxidermy project."

Blake followed Yang into the vacant room, closing the door behind them. Now that she had her partner's full attention, she found herself unsure how to begin. How did one explain developing possessive instincts over someone who had started as a friend, evolved into a co-parent, and was now...something more complicated than either label could encompass?

"Is this about Cynthia?" Yang prompted when Blake's silence stretched too long. "How'd the daycare drop-off go?"

"Daycare went fine," Blake said, grateful for the opening. "This is about... something else. Something I'm not sure how to handle."

Yang hopped onto one of the desks, legs dangling as she gave Blake her full attention. "I'm all ears. Well, not literally all ears—that's more your department." Her grin took any sting from the joke.

Blake rolled her eyes but found herself relaxing slightly. This was Yang—blunt, loyal, and surprisingly insightful beneath her carefree exterior. If anyone would understand, it would be her.

"I think I'm getting jealousy," Blake said finally, the words rushing out. "And not just a little. The possessive, territorial kind."

Yang's eyebrows shot up. "Whoa. Okay, that's not what I was expecting. What happened?"

Blake began pacing, her agitation making it impossible to stand still. "We were walking back from the daycare center, and I noticed these first-year girls just...staring at Jaune. Not in a curious way, but in an interested way."

"You mean they were checking him out?" Yang clarified, a hint of amusement creeping into her voice.

"Yes," Blake confirmed, stopping her pacing to look directly at Yang. "And it bothered me. A lot. More than it should have."

"Define 'bothered,'" Yang pressed, leaning forward with interest.

Blake hesitated, then decided complete honesty was her only option. "I wanted to grab his hand and make it clear he was taken. I practically glared at one girl who was being particularly obvious about it. I even caught myself thinking 'mine.'" She emphasized the last word with disbelief. "Since when do I think of anyone as 'mine'?"

To Blake's surprise, Yang didn't laugh. Instead, she nodded thoughtfully. "Since you became part of a family unit," she said simply. "It's actually pretty normal, Blake. You've spent months building something with Jaune—something important. Of course you'd feel protective of it."

"But this wasn't protective," Blake argued. "It was...possessive. Primitive. I've never felt that way before, not even when—" She cut herself off, unwilling to bring Adam into this conversation.

Yang's expression softened with understanding. "Not every strong emotion is toxic, Blake," she said gently. "Feeling a flash of jealousy when someone else shows interest in your partner? That's human. Or faunus," she added with a small smile. "It's only a problem if you let it control your actions or if you try to control him."

Blake leaned against the wall, considering Yang's words. "I didn't say anything to him," she admitted. "I was too surprised by my own reaction."

"Probably for the best," Yang agreed. "Though honestly? Jaune would probably be over the moon if he knew you were feeling territorial. That boy's been crazy about you since before he even realized it himself."

A warm flush crept up Blake's neck. "That's not the point," she insisted, though she couldn't quite suppress the pleased flutter in her chest at Yang's assessment.

"No, the point is you're experiencing perfectly normal emotions for someone in your situation," Yang said. "You and Jaune are raising a child together. You've met each other's families. You share a room, even if you both still insist it's just for 'practical reasons.'" She made air quotes around the last two words, her skepticism obvious. "Of course seeing other women show interest in him triggered some possessiveness."

Put that way, it did sound reasonable. Blake found herself relaxing marginally. "So you don't think I'm turning into some kind of controlling person?"

Yang laughed, the sound genuine and reassuring. "Blake, you're one of the most fiercely independent people I know. Having a moment of 'hey, that's my man they're ogling' doesn't change that." She hopped off the desk and approached Blake, placing both hands on her shoulders. "You're allowed to have feelings, even complicated ones. The fact that you're worried about it actually shows how unlikely you are to become controlling."

Blake let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. "You're right," she conceded. "I just wasn't expecting it. It caught me off guard."

"That's because you spent so long trying not to get attached to anything or anyone," Yang pointed out, her tone gentle but direct. "Now you have a family, and with that comes all these messy, complicated emotions. It's new territory."

Family. The word resonated through Blake's chest with the same steady warmth she'd felt earlier. "I never thought I'd have this," she admitted quietly. "Not after everything...before."

"But you do have it," Yang said firmly. "And it's okay to want to protect it. Just maybe don't hiss at the first-years, okay? Not great for team relations."

Blake snorted, the tension finally breaking. "I didn't hiss."

"This time," Yang teased, slinging an arm around Blake's shoulders as she guided her toward the door. "Come on, mama cat. Let's get to lunch before Nora eats all the good stuff."

As they rejoined the flow of students heading toward the dining hall, Blake felt lighter. Yang was right—feeling protective of what she had built with Jaune and Cynthia wasn't wrong or dangerous. It was simply part of embracing this new life she had never expected but now couldn't imagine living without.

Ahead in the corridor, she spotted Jaune waiting by the dining hall entrance, his eyes scanning the crowd until they found her. His face lit up with a smile so genuine it made her heart skip, and Blake felt the last of her uncertainty melt away.

This was what having a family felt like—something precious that you protected, not because you owned it, but because it was part of you. And that, Blake decided as she quickened her pace to join him, was something worth experiencing in all its complicated glory.

OMake Uniform Troubles:

Blake stood in front of the full-length mirror in their new apartment, tugging fruitlessly at her Beacon Academy uniform. The white blouse strained across her chest, pulling at the buttons in a way that made her feel exposed and uncomfortable. The black skirt was worse—the zipper refused to close completely, leaving a gap that no amount of strategic positioning could hide.

"This can't be right," she muttered, twisting to examine herself from different angles. The fabric that had once fit perfectly now felt restrictive, clinging to curves that seemed more pronounced than she remembered.

She tried again with the skirt, sucking in her breath and attempting to force the zipper up. It moved another inch before stubbornly jamming, leaving her looking disheveled and frustrated.

"Maybe I grabbed someone else's uniform by mistake," Blake said to herself, though even as she spoke the words, she knew they weren't true. The familiar scuff on the left sleeve and the barely visible repair where Gambol Shroud had once caught the fabric confirmed this was definitely hers.

The door to the apartment opened, followed by Yang's distinctive laugh echoing from the living room.

"Blake! We brought coffee and—oh." Yang's voice cut off abruptly as she appeared in the bedroom doorway, her golden eyebrows rising at the sight before her. "Having some... technical difficulties there, partner?"

Weiss appeared behind Yang, taking in Blake's predicament with characteristic directness. "Your uniform appears to be rather ill-fitting," she observed, her tone carefully neutral.

Blake's ears flattened against her head in embarrassment. "It's the uniform," she insisted weakly, even as she abandoned her attempts to close the skirt. "Something must have happened to it during storage."

Yang stepped fully into the room, circling Blake with the appraising eye of someone conducting an inspection. "Hate to break it to you, but I don't think the uniform shrunk." She gestured vaguely at Blake's midsection. "Looks like someone's been enjoying all those home-cooked meals a little too much."

"Yang!" Blake protested, her face flushing.

"Just saying," Yang continued with a grin, "there's definitely more of you than there used to be. Not in a bad way! Just... more cushion for the pushing, you know?"

Weiss moved closer, her analytical gaze taking in the strained seams and gaping fabric. "What exactly were you eating at the Arc family home?" she asked with genuine curiosity. "The change is quite noticeable."

Blake slumped onto the edge of the bed, the fight going out of her as she accepted the obvious truth. "Everything," she admitted with a sigh. "Juniper insisted on feeding us constantly. Huge helpings of eggs and breakfast meats in the morning, protein and potatoes for lunch, hearty dinners with seconds and thirds..." She gestured helplessly at her body. "I couldn't say no to her cooking. It was incredible."

"Clearly," Yang smirked, settling into the chair beside the dresser. "So what about Lover Boy? Don't tell me he's having the same problem."

The mention of Jaune only deepened Blake's frustration. "That's what makes this even worse," she groaned, flopping backward on the bed. "I asked him this morning if his uniform still fit. You know what he said? His shoulders are getting tight and his pants are snug around the legs."

"Oh no," Yang's grin widened. "Don't tell me—"

"He's filled out in all the right places," Blake continued, her voice taking on a distinctly bitter edge. "Broader shoulders, more defined arms, even his chest looks more solid. Meanwhile, I look like I've been inflated."

Weiss's lips twitched with barely suppressed amusement. "I see. So Jaune gained what could charitably be called 'muscle mass' while you gained..."

"Pudge," Blake finished miserably. "Pure, unflattering pudge. It's not fair. We ate the same food!"

"Actually," Yang said thoughtfully, "that's not necessarily true. Guys build muscle differently than girls, especially when they're doing physical training. All that sparring with his dad probably helped him convert the extra calories into actual strength."

"While I was playing with Cynthia and catching up with my Mom," Blake muttered. "Great."

Weiss sat delicately on the edge of the bed, her expression taking on a mischievous quality that Blake had learned to fear. "You know," she said with deceptive casualness, "there might be another explanation for Mrs. Arc's enthusiastic feeding regimen."

"What do you mean?" Blake asked suspiciously.

"Well," Weiss continued, clearly enjoying herself, "in many traditional families, when a young woman is brought home to meet the parents, especially in such... domestic circumstances... mothers sometimes have certain expectations."

Blake's eyes narrowed. "Expectations?"

Yang caught on immediately, her face lighting up with unholy glee. "Oh my god, Weiss, you're right! Mrs. Arc was probably trying to fatten Blake up!"

"I beg your pardon?" Blake sat up sharply.

"Think about it," Yang continued, gesturing enthusiastically. "You show up with her precious son and a baby, living together, playing house... She probably thinks you two are practically married already. All that extra feeding? Classic mother-in-law behavior. She's preparing you for a bun in the oven!"

Blake's face went through several shades of red before settling on a mortified crimson. "That's—she wouldn't—we weren't even dating then!"

"Didn't stop her from hoping," Yang cackled. "I bet she had your whole future mapped out. 'Oh, this nice faunus girl needs some meat on her bones if she's going to give me more grandbabies!'"

"Yang Xiao Long, I am going to murder you," Blake threatened, though her voice cracked slightly with embarrassment.

Weiss, meanwhile, was studying Blake with renewed interest. "It's actually quite a sound strategy from a biological standpoint," she mused. "Ensuring adequate nutritional reserves for potential pregnancy—"

"WEISS!" Blake shrieked, grabbing a pillow and hurling it at her teammate.

Yang doubled over with laughter. "Oh man, this is perfect! Blake got baby-prep fattened up by Mama Arc! No wonder Jaune looks so good—she was saving all the muscle-building portions for her son!"

Blake buried her face in her hands. "I hate you both. And I hate Juniper's delicious cooking. And I especially hate that Jaune looks like he stepped out of a fitness magazine while I look like I've been hibernating."

"Hey," Yang said, her laughter finally subsiding into something more sympathetic, "for what it's worth, you wear it well. Jaune certainly doesn't seem to mind."

"That's not the point," Blake groaned. "The point is I need a new uniform and apparently a gym membership."

"Or," Weiss suggested with a sly smile, "you could simply embrace Mrs. Arc's obvious hopes for your future and give her those grandbabies she's clearly expecting."

The second pillow hit Weiss square in the face.

"I'm getting new uniforms," Blake declared firmly, standing up and attempting once more to adjust her ill-fitting clothes. "And I'm going to start training twice as hard. And if either of you mentions this to Jaune—"

"Our lips are sealed," Yang promised, though her grin suggested otherwise. "Mama Arc's grandbaby preparation program stays between us."

Blake's glare could have melted steel, but before she could formulate a suitable threat, Jaune's voice called from the living room.

"Blake? Is everything okay? I heard yelling."

"Everything's fine!" Blake called back quickly, then shot her teammates a warning look. "Not. One. Word."

Yang made an exaggerated zipping motion across her lips, while Weiss simply smiled with the satisfaction of someone who had just gained excellent blackmail material.

Blake sighed, looking down at her rebellious uniform one more time. "I really do hate Juniper Arc's cooking," she muttered.

"No, you don't," Yang replied cheerfully. "You just hate that it worked."

Chapter Text

CH44 A Parent's Anxiety

The lecture hall buzzed with pre-class chatter as students filed in, settling into their usual seats with the casual familiarity of the semester's routine. Professor Oobleck zipped around the front of the room, arranging his notes and maps with characteristic speed while occasionally taking urgent sips from his ever-present thermos.

Blake sat in her usual spot, surrounded by her teammates, but her attention was decidedly elsewhere. For the third time in five minutes, she checked her scroll, the screen displaying a seemingly innocent weather app that concealed a direct feed from the daycare's security cameras—an accommodation Professor Ozpin had quietly authorized after recognizing the unique challenges faced by Beacon's unexpected student parents.

"She's fine, Blake," Weiss whispered, noticing her teammate's distraction. "You checked two minutes ago. And two minutes before that."

"I know," Blake murmured, reluctantly darkening the screen. "It's just... this is the longest we've left her in someone else's care."

Ruby leaned forward from the row behind them. "The daycare staff are super qualified! Ms. Maple showed us all her certifications, remember? And Cynthia looked so happy playing with those colorful blocks."

"And she's got that cute faunus lady watching over her special," Yang added. "What's her name—Willow? With the fox ears? She seemed totally smitten with our little niece."

Blake's ears twitched beneath her bow, acknowledging their reassurances while her fingers drummed nervously on the desktop. Rationally, she knew they were right. Emotionally, however, being separated from Cynthia felt like missing a vital organ—a constant, nagging awareness of absence that made focusing on anything else nearly impossible.

Across the aisle, Jaune appeared to be faring no better. His notebook lay open but empty before him, his pen untouched as he stared at the clock with an intensity usually reserved for combat situations. Occasionally, his hand would drift to his pocket where his scroll rested, fingers twitching with barely suppressed urges to check it.

"Mr. Arc!" Professor Oobleck's voice cracked through the classroom like a whip, causing Jaune to jolt upright. "Perhaps you could enlighten us on what General Heilfort’s mistake was when approaching Vale?"

Jaune blinked, clearly caught off-guard. "I... uh..."

"Underestimating the local terrain," Pyrrha whispered from beside him.

"Right! The valley attack," Jaune repeated with forced confidence. "He... uh... failed to account for terrain."

"Precisely!" Oobleck confirmed, zooming to another part of the room. "A costly assumption that demonstrates the dangers of underestimating home field advantages in combat scenarios! Now, moving on to the counteroffensive at—"

Jaune slumped in relief, shooting Pyrrha a grateful glance before his eyes inevitably returned to the clock. Only twenty minutes had passed in the ninety-minute lecture. It might as well have been eternity.

A soft vibration from Blake's scroll sent her heart racing. She discreetly checked the notification, tension visibly draining from her shoulders as she read the message: a routine update from the daycare about Cynthia's morning snack and play activities. Nothing urgent, just the standard check-in they'd promised to provide.

Weiss peered over, raising an elegant eyebrow at Blake's reaction. "Everything alright?"

"Fine," Blake whispered back. "Just the scheduled update. She's eating well."

"See? Nothing to worry about." Weiss returned her attention to her meticulous notes, but not before adding with uncharacteristic gentleness, "It's only a few more hours."

Across the aisle, Blake caught Jaune's questioning look. She gave a subtle nod, watching as similar relief washed over his features. They'd developed this silent communication over months of co-parenting—entire conversations conveyed through minute expressions and gestures, particularly useful during Cynthia's more challenging moments.

Professor Oobleck continued his rapid-fire lecture. Under normal circumstances, Blake would have been taking detailed notes, particularly on the faunus-related content that often appeared on exams. Today, however, her notebook remained nearly blank, save for a few scattered phrases and the occasional doodle of a familiar stuffed rabbit.

The remainder of the lecture passed in a blur of restlessness for both parents. When Oobleck finally dismissed the class, Jaune was out of his seat before the professor finished speaking, nearly tripping over his own feet in his haste to reach the aisle.

"Slow down, Jaune," Pyrrha cautioned as she gathered her materials at a more reasonable pace. "The daycare doesn't close for hours yet."

"I know, I know," he acknowledged, bouncing slightly on the balls of his feet as he waited for his teammates. "I just thought maybe we could... check in. During lunch. Just a quick visit."

"We have combat training with Goodwitch after lunch," Ren reminded him gently. "On the opposite side of campus."

Jaune's face fell. "Right. Of course."

"But," Nora interjected brightly, "we could swing by for like, two minutes! Just enough time for a peek and maybe a high-five with the baby! Tiny high-fives are the best high-fives."

Blake, who had reached their location with Team RWBY in tow, exchanged a look with Jaune. "A quick check wouldn't hurt," she said, relief evident in her voice at not having to be the one to suggest it.

"You guys are hopeless," Yang laughed, though her tone held more affection than mockery. "But fine, Operation Lunchtime Baby Check is a go. We've got forty-five minutes until Goodwitch's class, which means exactly seven minutes for baby time if we factor in walking distance."

"I've calculated the most efficient route," Weiss added, consulting her scroll. "If we cut through the eastern courtyard rather than following the main path, we save approximately three minutes each way."

Ruby stared at her partner. "You mapped routes to the daycare center?"

"Of course," Weiss replied primly. "Proper planning prevents poor performance."

"Translation: Ice Queen's just as soft for the kiddo as the rest of us," Yang stage-whispered, dodging the half-hearted swat Weiss aimed at her arm.

The combined teams made their way across campus, their pace considerably brisker than typical between-class strolls. Several students called greetings as they passed, but neither Blake nor Jaune slowed to respond, their focus singular and unwavering.

"You know," Ruby observed as they power-walked through the eastern courtyard, "I don't think I've ever seen you two move this fast outside of combat situations."

"Not true," Yang countered. "Remember when Cynthia had that slit fever last week? I'm pretty sure Jaune actually broke the sound barrier getting to the infirmary."

"That was different," Jaune protested weakly. "She was sick."

"And now she's perfectly fine," Pyrrha reminded him gently. "In a safe, controlled environment with qualified caregivers."

"Who are probably wondering why the paranoid parents are checking in after only three hours," Weiss added.

Blake's ears flattened slightly beneath her bow. "We're not paranoid. We're... conscientious."

"Super conscientious," Nora agreed supportively. "Like, the most conscientious parents ever! Which is totally adorable, by the way."

They reached the daycare center in record time, Weiss's route proving as efficient as promised. At the entrance, Blake and Jaune paused, suddenly self-conscious about their barely disguised anxiety.

"Maybe we should just... look through the window?" Jaune suggested, already moving toward the large glass panel that offered a view into the main playroom. "No need to disrupt her if she's settled."

Blake nodded in agreement, joining him at the window. Inside, they could see several infants engaged in various activities under the watchful eyes of caregivers. It took only moments to spot Cynthia, sitting on a colorful mat while Ms. Willow helped her stack soft blocks. The baby appeared completely content, giggling as the tower inevitably toppled over.

"She looks... happy," Blake observed, surprised by the conflicting emotions this realization triggered—relief that Cynthia was doing well, mingled with an irrational twinge that she wasn't being missed.

"Yeah," Jaune agreed, a similar emotional cocktail evident in his voice. "Really happy."

They watched for another minute, neither making a move to enter despite having rushed across campus for this opportunity. Behind them, their teammates exchanged knowing glances.

"So... are we going in, or just lurking outside like suspicious characters?" Yang finally asked.

Blake shook her head. "We shouldn't interrupt. She's clearly doing fine, and entering might just confuse her."

"Especially if we have to leave again right away," Jaune added, reluctantly stepping back from the window. "Better to wait until regular pickup time."

"Wow," Ruby said, genuine admiration in her voice. "That's... really mature of you guys."

"Indeed," Weiss agreed, checking the time on her scroll. "And fortuitous, as we now have exactly sixteen minutes to reach Professor Goodwitch's class before we're officially late."

As they turned to leave, Ms. Maple appeared at the door, her expression knowing as she regarded the assembled group.

"I thought I glimpsed a familiar face at our window," she said warmly. "Ms. Belladonna, Mr. Arc—did you want to come in for a moment? Cynthia's doing wonderfully, as you can see."

Blake and Jaune exchanged a quick glance before Jaune answered for both of them. "Thank you, but we were just passing by. We have combat training in..." He glanced at Weiss, who mouthed 'fifteen minutes' with exaggerated clarity. "Fifteen minutes. On the other side of campus."

"I understand," Ms. Maple smiled. "First days are often harder on the parents than the children. If it helps, she asked for 'Ma-ma' and 'Da-da' once during morning circle time, but became quite engaged with the singing activity immediately after."

"She did?" Blake couldn't help asking, her ears perking up beneath her bow.

"Just once," Ms. Maple assured her. "It's perfectly normal, and she transitioned beautifully. We'll see you at pickup time—four-thirty, correct?"

"On the dot," Jaune confirmed, unable to hide his eagerness despite his attempt at nonchalance.

As they hurried toward Goodwitch's class—now with only twelve minutes to spare, thanks to the brief conversation—Yang nudged Blake playfully.

"You two are actually going to make it through the day without kidnapping her from daycare. I'm impressed."

"We're not that bad," Blake protested, though without much conviction.

"You literally sprinted across campus to peek through a window," Weiss pointed out.

"And you're both checking your scrolls every three minutes," Ruby added.

"And Jaune looks like someone stole his favorite hoodie," Nora chimed in.

"And you've mentioned Cynthia exactly seventeen times since breakfast," Ren contributed, surprising everyone with his precise tally.

"Okay, fine," Jaune conceded with a sheepish smile. "We might be a little... over-invested in her first day."

"It's sweet," Pyrrha assured him. "Both of you care so deeply for her wellbeing."

"Though perhaps a touch excessive," Weiss added. "The daycare is literally on Beacon grounds, staffed by qualified professionals, with direct oversight from Professor Goodwitch herself."

"Logic doesn't always win," Blake said quietly. "Even when you know everything is fine, there's this... pull. This need to be certain."

Yang draped an arm around her partner's shoulders. "Well, you've both passed the first test of separation with flying colors. Only made one unnecessary check-in, didn't embarrass yourselves by bursting into tears, and might actually make it to pickup time without having nervous breakdowns."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Jaune replied dryly.

"Anytime, Dad," Yang winked. "Now, we better pick up the pace unless we want to explain to Goodwitch why we're late for combat training."

The mention of potential tardiness spurred the group into a near-jog, their conversation shifting to speculation about the day's combat pairings. As they hurried along, Blake found herself falling into step beside Jaune.

"She really did look happy," she said softly, just for him to hear.

"She did," he agreed. "I guess we're doing something right."

"Apparently so." Blake allowed herself a small smile. "Though I'm still counting the minutes until four-thirty."

"Me too," Jaune admitted. "Race you to the pickup door?"

"You're on," Blake replied, the prospect of friendly competition offering a welcome distraction from the hours still stretching between now and reunion with their daughter.

Behind them, their teammates exchanged knowing looks, equal parts amusement and affection for the unlikely pair who had so thoroughly embraced their unexpected roles as Beacon's resident parent-students. For all their teasing, none could deny the admiration they felt watching Blake and Jaune navigate this uncharted territory—their dedication to Cynthia matched only by their determination to continue their huntsman training alongside parental responsibilities.

"Five lien says they both arrive at pickup at least fifteen minutes early," Yang whispered to Weiss as they approached the combat arena.

"I'm not taking that bet," Weiss replied primly. "I've already set my scroll alarm for four o'clock to remind them not to leave class early."

"You're a good friend, Weiss," Ruby said, patting her partner's shoulder.

"I'm practical," Weiss corrected, though a small smile played at her lips. "Someone has to be, with those two setting new records for separation anxiety."

As Professor Goodwitch's classroom came into view, Blake cast one final glance at her scroll—just a quick check of the time, she told herself, ignoring the daycare app icon that seemed to pulse with temptation. Only four more hours, forty-seven minutes, and thirty-two seconds until pickup.

Not that she was counting.

Chapter Text

CH45 The Long Week

The training room echoed with the clash of weapons as students paired off for sparring matches. Professor Goodwitch moved between groups, offering crisp assessments and occasional corrections to form or strategy. Near the far wall, Pyrrha and Blake circled each other, weapons at the ready.

"Your stance is off," Pyrrha observed, not unkindly. "You're favoring your right side too much."

Blake nodded in acknowledgment but made no adjustment, her gaze drifting toward the wall clock for the fourth time in as many minutes. Pyrrha followed her look and sighed softly.

"She's fine, Blake," she said, lowering Miló slightly. "Ms. Maple would contact you immediately if there were any concerns."

"I know," Blake replied, forcing her attention back to the match. "I'm just—"

"Anxious. I understand." Pyrrha's expression softened with empathy. "But we still have thirty minutes of class, and checking the clock won't make it pass any faster."

Blake tightened her grip on Gambol Shroud, determined to focus. "You're right. Let's continue."

They resumed their sparring, Blake managing to stay present for almost a full minute before her cat ears twitched beneath her bow, responding to a faint chime that only she could hear—a notification from her scroll, tucked into her uniform pocket.

Her momentary distraction cost her dearly as Pyrrha's shield connected solidly with her midsection, sending her stumbling backward.

"I'm sorry!" Pyrrha exclaimed, immediately lowering her weapons. "Are you alright?"

Blake barely registered the question, already fishing for her scroll. "It's fine," she muttered, checking the screen with poorly concealed urgency.

The notification was from the daycare's automated system: Afternoon activity in progress: Music appreciation with age-appropriate instruments.

Relief washed over Blake's features, followed quickly by embarrassment as she realized how dramatically she'd reacted to a routine update. She tucked the scroll away, avoiding Pyrrha's concerned gaze.

"Everything okay?" Pyrrha asked.

"Just the daycare's hourly update," Blake admitted. "Sorry for the overreaction."

Across the training room, a similar scene unfolded as Jaune fumbled a shield block against Ren, his scroll buzzing against his thigh with the same notification. His reaction, while less graceful than Blake's, was equally transparent—concern followed by relief, then sheepish recognition of his own anxiety.

Professor Goodwitch, observing both incidents from her position near the center of the room, merely shook her head with a knowing look that suggested she'd witnessed this particular pattern before.

The library hummed with quiet activity as students prepared for end-of-week assessments. At one of the large tables near the reference section, Teams RWBY and JNPR had spread out their materials for a joint study session. Books, notes, and scrolls covered most of the available surface, evidence of serious academic intent.

Despite the scholarly atmosphere, neither Blake nor Jaune had made significant progress on their assignments. Blake's notebook showed only a few scattered sentences, interrupted by doodles of baby bottles and tiny booties. Jaune's textbook remained open to the same page it had been thirty minutes earlier, his attention clearly elsewhere.

"Psst," Yang whispered, nudging Blake. "Your scroll is going off again."

Blake startled, having not noticed the vibration. She quickly checked the message, her expression shifting from tense anticipation to puzzled concern.

"They say she's refusing her afternoon bottle," she murmured, just loud enough for Jaune to hear from across the table. His head snapped up immediately.

"That's the second day in a row," he noted, brow furrowing with worry. "Do you think she's coming down with something?"

"Or maybe she's just not hungry," Weiss interjected reasonably. "Babies do have their own schedules."

"But she always takes her two o'clock bottle," Blake countered, already gathering her things. "I should check on her."

"We should check on her," Jaune corrected, closing his untouched textbook.

Ruby and Weiss exchanged looks of exasperated affection as both parents prepared to abandon the study session over a skipped bottle.

"You do realize the daycare is staffed by professionals who handle infant feeding issues every day, right?" Weiss pointed out.

"And you have Professor Port's test in exactly"—Ruby checked the time—"sixteen hours, which you've barely studied for."

Blake hesitated, caught between parental concern and academic responsibility. Jaune looked equally torn.

"What if we just call?" he suggested, already reaching for his scroll. "We can ask if this is normal or if we should be worried."

"That's... reasonable," Blake conceded, settling back into her seat but keeping her materials packed, ready to move at a moment's notice.

Jaune dialed the daycare's number, putting it on speaker low enough that only their group could hear. Ms. Willow's cheerful voice answered after two rings.

"Beacon Early Learning Center, this is Willow speaking."

"Hi, Ms. Willow, it's Jaune Arc," he began, trying to sound casual and failing spectacularly. "We just got the notification that Cynthia isn't taking her afternoon bottle, and we were wondering if everything's okay?"

There was a brief pause, followed by what sounded suspiciously like a suppressed laugh. "Everything's fine, Mr. Arc. Cynthia had a very active morning and fell asleep a bit earlier than usual for her nap. We decided not to wake her for the scheduled feeding since she ate so well at lunch."

"Oh," Jaune said, relief evident in his voice. "That makes sense."

"We'll offer the bottle when she wakes up," Ms. Willow assured them. "She's sleeping very peacefully at the moment. Would you like me to send a photo?"

"Yes, please," Blake answered immediately, leaning closer to the scroll.

Moments later, a notification appeared with an attached image: Cynthia curled on her side on a small cot, one tiny hand clutching her stuffed rabbit, face relaxed in contented sleep.

"See? Nothing to worry about," Yang whispered, peering over Blake's shoulder at the photo. "She's zonked out in baby paradise."

"Thank you, Ms. Willow," Blake said, her tone much calmer now. "We appreciate the update."

"Of course," the caregiver replied warmly. "First weeks are always hardest on the parents. She's doing wonderfully, I promise."

After ending the call, both Blake and Jaune had the grace to look slightly embarrassed by their overreaction. They returned to their studies with renewed focus, though both kept their scrolls within easy reach, just in case.

Evening settled over Beacon, the dining hall alive with conversation as students gathered for dinner. Team JNPR's usual table sat conspicuously half-empty, with only Ren and Nora occupying their regular seats.

"They're late again," Nora observed, craning her neck to scan the entrance. "Think they got held up at the daycare?"

"Almost certainly," Ren replied, calmly portioning his balanced meal. "Yesterday they spent forty-five minutes discussing Cynthia's 'unusual blinking pattern' with Ms. Maple."

Nora giggled. "Remember when they asked for a second opinion on which blanket texture Cynthia preferred for naps? As if the baby would file a complaint about the wrong fabric."

"They're still adjusting," Ren said, his tone more sympathetic than critical. "The transition has been significant for all of them."

"I know," Nora nodded, her expression softening. "It's actually super sweet how much they care. Just also kind of hilarious how they analyze every tiny baby thing like it's a complex combat strategy."

The dining hall doors swung open to reveal the subjects of their conversation. Blake and Jaune entered together, Cynthia secured in a carrier against Blake's chest. They made their way to the food line, their conversation clearly focused on the baby as Jaune gestured animatedly while Blake nodded in agreement.

"They brought her to dinner again," Nora observed, waving enthusiastically to catch their attention. "That's three times this week."

"Ms. Maple did suggest establishing a consistent pickup routine," Ren noted. "Though I believe she meant a consistent time, not bringing Cynthia to all evening activities."

When the pair finally joined them, Cynthia was wide awake, amber eyes curiously taking in the colorful, noisy environment. Blake had positioned her facing outward in the carrier, allowing her to observe the dining hall while remaining securely attached.

"Sorry we're late," Jaune said as he set down their trays. "Pickup took a little longer than expected."

"Let me guess," Nora grinned. "Detailed debriefing on every minute of baby activities?"

Blake's ears flattened slightly beneath her bow. "We just wanted a full report on her first full week," she defended. "It's important to maintain open communication with her caregivers."

"Of course," Ren agreed diplomatically. "Though perhaps tomorrow's report could be condensed, given Professor Peach's deadline for the botanical analysis."

Both parents had the decency to look chagrined, clearly having forgotten about the looming assignment.

"We'll manage," Jaune assured him, though his confidence wavered as Cynthia made a small noise and both he and Blake immediately gave her their full attention, academic concerns instantly forgotten.

The small apartment was quiet save for the gentle humming of the refrigerator and the occasional creak of floorboards as Blake paced the living room, Cynthia cradled against her shoulder. The baby had been asleep for nearly an hour, yet neither parent had made a move to place her in her crib.

"She feels a little warm," Blake whispered, pressing her lips gently to Cynthia's forehead. "Do you think she might be getting sick?"

Jaune, who had been watching from the couch with equal vigilance, rose to check for himself. "Maybe a degree above normal," he conceded, his palm resting delicately on the baby's head. "But Ms. Willow said she was active all day, and she ate well at dinner."

"True," Blake nodded, though she continued her slow circuit around the room. "But what if it's the beginning of something? The daycare exposure means she's encountering all sorts of new germs."

"We could call the infirmary," Jaune suggested, already reaching for his scroll. "Just to be safe."

Blake hesitated, a rare moment of rational perspective breaking through the anxiety. "This is the third night we've almost called medical services," she admitted. "Last night it was her 'unusual breathing pattern' that turned out to be completely normal sleep breathing."

"And the night before was the 'suspicious rash' that was just an imprint from her blanket seam," Jaune added with a sheepish smile.

They looked at each other, recognition dawning in both sets of eyes.

"We might be overreacting," Blake said slowly. "Just a little."

"Maybe more than a little," Jaune agreed, running a hand through his hair. "Do you think this is normal? For parents, I mean?"

Blake gently swayed, a soothing motion that had become second nature with Cynthia in her arms. "I don't know. We don't exactly have a lot of parent friends to compare notes with."

Jaune's expression brightened suddenly. "Actually, I might know someone we could ask." He pulled out his scroll and began typing. "My mom raised eight of us. If anyone knows about parent anxiety, it's her."

"It's nearly ten o'clock," Blake pointed out. "Won't she be asleep?"

"Mom? No way. With seven daughters and me? She basically evolved beyond the need for sleep." He finished composing his message and hit send. "With any luck, she'll call back soon and—"

His scroll lit up almost immediately with an incoming call.

"See?" Jaune grinned, accepting the video call. "Mom sensors. She always knows when one of her kids needs advice."

The screen flickered to life, revealing a warm-faced woman with blonde hair streaked with dignified silver and laugh lines around bright blue eyes that matched Jaune's exactly. She appeared to be sitting in a cozy kitchen, a mug of tea steaming beside her.

"Jaune! What a lovely surprise," Juniper Arc greeted, her smile widening as she took in the scene. "And Blake, sweetheart! Has it only been a few weeks since you left? The house feels so empty without you both and little Cynthia running around."

"Hi Juniper," Blake said warmly, shifting so the woman could see Cynthia more clearly. "We miss the farm too. Especially your cooking."

"Such a flatterer," Juniper chuckled. "Though you're always welcome back. Your room is exactly as you left it, and the girls ask about you every day." Her expression softened as she gazed at the sleeping baby. "And how is my precious grandbaby adjusting to city life again?"

"That's actually why we're calling," Jaune explained. "We started Cynthia in the academy's daycare program this week, and we've been... well..."

"Completely paranoid," Blake supplied honestly. "We check the monitoring app constantly, call over minor concerns, and I'm currently holding her while she sleeps because I convinced myself she feels warm, even though her temperature is normal."

"And we've been late to classes, distracted during training, and nearly failing our assignments because we're so worried about her," Jaune added. "Is this... normal? For new parents? And if it is, how long does it last? Because I'm not sure our academic standing can survive much more of this."

Juniper's laugh was warm and utterly without judgment. "Oh, my dears. Yes, it's entirely normal. When we brought Saphron home from the hospital, her father and I took turns staying awake for three days straight because we were convinced she'd stop breathing if we both slept at the same time."

"That's..." Blake began.

"Completely irrational?" Juniper finished for her. "Absolutely. But that's parenting for you. Logic sometimes takes a backseat."

"How long did it take you to get over it?" Jaune asked hopefully.

Juniper's eyes twinkled with mischief. "Well, let's see. Saphron is twenty-two now, and last week I called her at midnight because I had a dream she was caught in a rainstorm without an umbrella."

"Mom," Jaune groaned. "That's not encouraging."

"I'm teasing, mostly," Juniper assured him. "The acute anxiety does fade, usually after a few weeks. You'll gradually trust that she's resilient, that the caregivers are competent, and that you don't need to monitor her every breath."

"A few weeks?" Blake repeated, dismay evident in her voice. "Our grades might not survive that long."

"The trick is to recognize when you're being reasonable versus when you're letting anxiety drive your decisions," Juniper advised. "Ask yourselves: is this a genuine concern that requires action, or is it my fear looking for something to fixate on?"

Jaune and Blake absorbed this wisdom thoughtfully.

"Also," Juniper continued, "establish some ground rules. Maybe limit yourselves to checking the monitoring app once per class, not seventeen times. And perhaps agree that you'll only call the daycare for genuine concerns—not because she blinked in a pattern you found suspicious."

Blake's ears flattened in embarrassment beneath her bow. "You remember that story?"

"How could I forget?" Juniper laughed. "You told me just before you left Radian how you were convinced she had some sort of rare eye condition. Reminded me so much of myself with Jaune when he was a baby. I rushed him to the doctor for the exact same thing, only to be told that babies sometimes... blink."

The shared parental neurosis helped Blake relax slightly, a small smile tugging at her lips.

"You know," Juniper added, her expression growing more thoughtful, "I noticed something interesting during your stay with us this summer. You were both much less anxious about Cynthia when you had the whole family around as a support system. Blake, you even let Violet take her to the pond that one afternoon without checking in once."

Blake considered this. "You're right. I felt...safer there. Like there were enough people watching out for her that nothing could go wrong."

"And that's exactly what your academy daycare provides," Juniper pointed out. "A circle of capable caregivers. You're not alone in watching over her anymore, which is wonderful—but it also means surrendering some control, which is hard for new parents."

"Especially when those new parents are used to controlling high-risk situations," Jaune added with dawning understanding.

"Exactly," his mother nodded. "You're both trained to anticipate threats and neutralize them. It's hard to turn that instinct off when it comes to someone you love so deeply."

As if to underscore this advice, Cynthia stirred slightly in Blake's arms, making a soft sound before settling deeper into sleep, utterly content and secure.

"Look at her," Juniper said gently. "Does she look worried? Upset? In danger?"

"No," Blake admitted, gazing down at the peaceful baby. "She looks... perfect."

"That's your answer, then," Juniper said simply. "She's telling you she's fine. Try to believe her."

The wisdom in these words resonated with both young parents. They continued chatting with Juniper for several more minutes, sharing stories of Cynthia's adjustment to Beacon life and receiving reassurance about various normal baby behaviors they'd been overthinking.

"I miss having you all at the farm," Juniper said as they prepared to end the call. "The girls are already planning what to show Cynthia when you visit for the fall harvest festival. Lily's convinced she'll be walking by then."

"She's only seven months old," Blake laughed. "But knowing Cynthia's determination, I wouldn't put it past her."

"Call anytime," Juniper told them as she prepared to disconnect. "Day or night."

"Thanks, Mom," Jaune said warmly. "Love you."

"Love you too, son. And you, Blake. And my precious grandbaby. Sleep well, all of you."

By the time they ended the call, Blake finally felt ready to place Cynthia in her crib, the persistent anxiety receding enough to allow rational thought to prevail. The baby transferred without waking, settling comfortably on her mattress with the stuffed rabbit tucked safely nearby.

Jaune and Blake stood side by side, watching her sleep for a long moment.

"A few weeks," Blake murmured, referring to Juniper's timeline for the anxiety to fade.

"We can handle that," Jaune replied with quiet confidence. 

Blake nodded, surprising herself when she reached for his hand, their fingers intertwining naturally in the dim light of the nursery corner. "Your mother is as wise as I remembered."

"She's had a lot of practice," Jaune said with a soft laugh. "Eight kids worth of parental anxiety to work through."

"I'm glad she's in our corner," Blake said, giving his hand a gentle squeeze. "It helps to have someone who understands without judgment."

"That's Mom for you," Jaune agreed. "She adopted you into the family about five minutes after you arrived at the farm this summer."

They moved quietly from Cynthia's crib area to the main living space, both tacitly acknowledging that they should attempt some of their neglected schoolwork before sleep claimed them.

"So," Jaune said as he retrieved his textbook from the coffee table, "tomorrow we try for a more balanced approach? Limited app checking, no unnecessary calls to the daycare, and actual focus during classes?"

"Agreed," Blake nodded, settling onto the couch with her own materials. "And maybe we trust that our daughter is as resilient as we are."

The word 'daughter' hung in the air between them, weighted with meaning and emotion. Neither commented on it, but both felt its significance as they turned to their studies with renewed determination.

The separation anxiety hadn't magically vanished, but acknowledging it—and having a more experienced parent normalize it—had provided much-needed perspective. They were new at this, making mistakes and learning as they went, but they were doing it together.

And that, both silently agreed, made all the difference.

As the call with Juniper ended, Blake sat quietly on the couch, Jaune's hand still warm in hers. The conversation about parental anxiety had stirred something unexpected within her – a sudden, sharp understanding that crashed over her like a wave.

"Jaune," she said softly, "I need to make another call."

He glanced at her curiously. "Everything okay?"

"Yes. No. I'm not sure." Blake's ears flattened slightly against her head. "I just realized something I should have understood a long time ago."

Jaune nodded, squeezing her hand gently before releasing it. "I'll check on Cynthia and give you some privacy."

As he disappeared into the bedroom, Blake stared at her scroll, finger hovering over a contact she hadn't used in far too long. With a deep breath, she pressed call.

The connection took several seconds – expected, given the distance to Menagerie. When her mother's face appeared on screen, surprise evident in features so similar to Blake's own, the words she'd planned evaporated.

"Blake?" Kali's voice held cautious joy. "This is unexpected. Is everything alright? How's Cynthia?"

"She's fine. We're all fine," Blake assured her quickly. "Mom, I..." She paused, gathering courage. "I need to apologize."

Kali's brow furrowed in confusion. "For what, dear?"

"For leaving. For not calling. For making you and Dad worry for years, not knowing if I was safe or even alive." The words tumbled out, backed by emotions Blake had suppressed for too long. "I never understood what that must have been like for you until now."

Understanding dawned in Kali's amber eyes – so like her daughter's, so like Cynthia's. "Oh, Blake."

"Tonight I was talking to Jaune's mother about parental anxiety – about how worried we get when Cynthia's at daycare or when she's sick." Blake's voice wavered slightly. "And it hit me that what I feel for her after a few hours of separation doesn't even compare to what you must have felt for years when I disappeared."

Tears gathered in Kali's eyes, though she maintained the gentle smile that had always been Blake's safe harbor. "Parenthood has a way of shifting your perspective, doesn't it?"

"I was so wrapped up in my cause, in my pain and guilt, that I never stopped to think about yours." Blake brushed away a tear of her own. "I'm so sorry, Mom."

"My beautiful girl," Kali said softly. "We've always understood why you left. We never stopped loving you, never stopped hoping you'd find your way back to us when you were ready."

"Still, I should have called. Should have let you know I was safe."

Kali nodded, acknowledging the truth in this. "Yes, you should have. But what matters is that you understand now, and that we have today, and tomorrow. Your father will be so pleased you called – he's in a council meeting, but I'll fetch him as soon as it ends."

"I'd like that," Blake said, surprising herself with how much she meant it. "And maybe... maybe we could visit soon? I'd like Cynthia to know her grandparents better."

The joy that bloomed across Kali's face was answer enough, even before she spoke. "Nothing would make us happier. This house is far too quiet without little ones running about."

They talked for nearly an hour – about Cynthia's development, about Blake's studies, about the growing relationship between Blake and Jaune that Kali had observed during their summer visit but tactfully never mentioned. As they spoke, Blake felt something long-knotted within her begin to unravel – not completely, but enough to breathe more freely.

When she finally ended the call, with promises to speak again soon, Jaune was waiting in the doorway, Cynthia sleeping peacefully against his shoulder.

"Better?" he asked quietly.

Blake nodded, rising to join them. "I never though of it be before," she said, gently stroking Cynthia's cheek. "How much anxiety loves creates. How much my parents must have suffered when I left."

Chapter Text

CH46 The Restraint Exercise

Professor Port's booming voice filled the lecture hall as he recounted yet another tale of his youthful heroics. Today's story involved three Boarbatusks, a jar of honey, and what he insisted was "the most effective use of a teacup in combat history." Most students had long since perfected the art of appearing attentive while their minds wandered elsewhere, taking only the occasional note when combat techniques were mentioned amid the rambling anecdotes.

In the third row, Blake Belladonna sat with uncharacteristic rigidity, her posture so perfect it would have made Weiss proud. Her notebook lay open before her, pen poised as though ready to capture every word of Port's discourse. To the casual observer, she appeared to be the model student.

Her teammates knew better.

Yang, seated beside her, could practically feel the tension radiating from her partner. Blake's cat ears, hidden beneath her bow, twitched at thirty-second intervals—exactly when the clock on the wall advanced another notch. Her right foot tapped a silent rhythm against the floor, and her left hand remained suspiciously close to the pocket containing her scroll.

Across the aisle, Jaune was faring no better. His notebook contained exactly three words—"Boarbatusk, honey, teacup"—surrounded by an elaborate doodle of what appeared to be a baby mobile. Every few minutes, his hand would drift toward his pocket, only to be deliberately placed back on the desk with visible effort.

"And THAT, students, is why you should never underestimate the combat potential of everyday kitchenware!" Port concluded triumphantly, his mustache quivering with enthusiasm. "Now, turning to the physiological adaptations of Elder Grimm..."

Blake's pen moved mechanically across the page, transcribing words without processing them. Her eyes flicked to the clock—10:45 AM. According to the daycare's schedule, Cynthia would be transitioning from sensory play to pre-lunch story time right about now. Was she enjoying the books? Had she eaten her mid-morning snack properly? Did she miss them?

A sharp elbow to her ribs jolted Blake from her spiraling thoughts.

"You promised," Yang whispered, her expression sympathetic but firm. "Once per hour, remember?"

Blake's ears flattened slightly beneath her bow. "I wasn't going to check," she protested in a hushed voice. "I was just... thinking about the schedule."

"Uh-huh," Yang replied skeptically. "And I bet Vomit Boy over there is just deeply fascinated by Port's teacup technique."

Indeed, Jaune had given up all pretense of note-taking and was now staring fixedly at the clock, his expression a study in barely contained anxiety. Beside him, Pyrrha gently redirected his attention to the lecture with a subtle touch to his arm.

Blake sighed and forced her gaze back to her notebook. This was ridiculous. They had agreed after their call with Juniper to limit their checking to once per class. It had been less than twenty-four hours, and already the restraint felt like physical pain.

The remainder of Port's lecture passed in excruciating slowness. When the bell finally signaled the end of class, both Blake and Jaune practically leapt from their seats, scrolls already in hand as they made for the exit.

"Whoa there, speed racers," Yang called, catching up to them in the hallway. "You know, scroll reception is exactly the same right here as it is fifteen steps closer to the daycare."

Blake, who had already unlocked her device and opened the monitoring app, barely registered her partner's teasing. "Story time went well," she reported, relief evident in her voice as she studied the screen. "And she ate all of her apple slices."

"Our diligent record-keepers strike again," Nora announced cheerfully, bouncing up with Ren in tow. "What's the latest from Baby Central? Did she blink in a suspicious pattern? Arrange her blocks in concerning formations?"

Jaune, who was equally engrossed in his own scroll, looked up with mild indignation. "We're being restrained, just like we promised. This is our scheduled once-per-class check."

"Which you executed approximately 0.3 seconds after the bell rang," Ren observed placidly.

"That's still progress!" Nora declared, slinging an arm around Jaune's shoulders. "Yesterday you checked seventeen times during Port's class alone. I counted."

Blake's ears twitched with embarrassment beneath her bow. "We're trying," she said defensively. "Juniper said the acute anxiety phase usually lasts a few weeks."

"A few weeks?" Yang repeated, grimacing slightly. "Your scrolls won't survive that long at this rate. You're wearing out the unlock buttons."

"Which reminds me," Weiss interjected as she joined the group, "Professor Goodwitch's class begins in precisely seven minutes, and it's on the opposite side of campus."

This announcement triggered a flurry of activity as both teams gathered their materials and began moving toward the combat arena. Blake reluctantly closed the monitoring app, though she kept her scroll in hand rather than returning it to her pocket—a compromise between anxiety and practicality.

"So," Ruby asked as they walked, "what's the plan for lunch period? Actual eating, or another sprint to the daycare for a window check?"

"We're being reasonable," Jaune insisted, though his tone lacked conviction. "We agreed we'd only visit during designated pickup and drop-off times."

"Plus emergencies," Blake added quickly.

"Of course," Yang nodded sagely. "Emergencies like 'suspicious napping positions' and 'unexpected preferences for the yellow blocks over the red ones.'"

"That was one time," Blake muttered.

"Three times, actually," Weiss corrected. "I've been keeping a log of your daycare-related interventions. For scientific purposes."

"You've been what?" Jaune asked, torn between amusement and horror.

"Someone needs to document the phenomenon," Weiss replied primly. "Current data suggests a 47% decrease in unnecessary checks since your call with Mrs. Arc, but a 22% increase in what I'm categorizing as 'proxy checking behavior.'"

"What's 'proxy checking behavior'?" Blake asked suspiciously.

"Having others check for you," Weiss explained. "Such as asking Ruby to walk past the daycare during her morning run, or persuading Nora to create a distraction so you could call the center without being noticed during Professor Oobleck's lecture."

Caught, Blake and Jaune exchanged guilty glances.

"That's... creative problem-solving," Jaune offered weakly.

"That's finding loopholes in your own self-imposed rules," Yang countered, though her tone remained good-natured. "Which, as your friends, we feel obligated to close."

"What Yang means," Ruby clarified, "is that we've come up with a plan!"

"A plan?" Blake echoed warily.

"Operation Reasonable Restraint!" Nora proclaimed, with such volume that several passing students turned to stare. "Or R-squared, for the mathematically inclined."

Ren, apparently designated as the voice of reason, explained. "We've created a schedule to help you maintain appropriate boundaries while addressing your understandable concerns about Cynthia."

"Each of us has taken shifts," Ruby continued excitedly. "During class transitions, one of us will walk with each of you to your next location, providing distraction and conversation to prevent impulsive daycare checks!"

"Additionally," Weiss added, consulting her scroll, "we've coordinated with Ms. Maple to provide structured updates at predetermined intervals, eliminating the perceived need for constant monitoring."

"And," Yang concluded with a smug smile, "we've changed both your scroll passwords temporarily. You'll receive them back at designated check times."

"You WHAT?" Blake and Jaune exclaimed in unison.

"Consider it an intervention," Yang shrugged, completely unrepentant. "Don't worry, it's not like we're cutting you off completely. You get three scheduled checks during the academic day, plus emergency access if something actually important comes up."

"But how would we know if something important came up if we can't check?" Jaune asked, genuine distress creeping into his voice.

"The daycare has your contact information," Pyrrha reminded him gently. "They'll call if there's a real concern."

"This is ridiculous," Blake protested, though her indignation was undermined by the way she clutched her scroll protectively. "We're adults. We can manage our own anxiety."

"Evidence suggests otherwise," Weiss replied, gesturing to Blake's white-knuckled grip on her device. "Your grades have dropped by an average of 12% since daycare started, and Jaune nearly walked into a support column yesterday because he was watching the monitoring app while navigating the hallway."

"It was a close call, not an actual collision," Jaune muttered.

"The point is," Ruby said, her tone gentler than her teammates', "you both need help with this transition. That's what friends are for, right? Helping each other through tough stuff."

Blake and Jaune fell silent, the truth of Ruby's words sinking in despite their resistance. They had been struggling—and not managing it as well as they'd hoped.

"Fine," Blake conceded after a moment. "But I want my scroll back for lunch period. That's non-negotiable."

"Deal," Yang agreed promptly. "As long as you actually eat lunch while you have it, instead of staring at the app for forty-five minutes straight."

"And I need mine back before and after Professor Goodwitch's class," Jaune added. "Combat training makes me extra anxious about being unreachable."

"Reasonable terms," Weiss nodded, making notes on her scroll. "We'll implement the system effective immediately."

As they approached the combat arena, Nora suddenly clapped her hands together. "Oh! I almost forgot the best part! We've created a reward system!"

"A reward system?" Jaune repeated skeptically. "Like... for children?"

"Like for anyone who responds to positive reinforcement," Nora corrected cheerfully. "Which is basically everyone. Each day you successfully limit yourselves to the agreed-upon check times, you earn points! And points can be exchanged for prizes!"

"What kind of prizes?" Blake asked, unable to resist her curiosity despite her irritation at being managed.

"Excellent question!" Nora beamed. "Twenty points gets you a homemade cookie baked by Ren. Fifty points earns you one hour of free babysitting. And one hundred points—the grand prize—gets you an entire weekend of childcare while you two do whatever grown-ups do when they don't have baby responsibilities!"

"Sleep," Blake and Jaune said in unison, with such heartfelt longing that the rest of the group burst into laughter.

"Sleep it is," Yang grinned. "Though my offer to teach Cynthia how to operate Ember Celica still stands."

"Absolutely not," Blake replied, a hint of a smile finally breaking through her frustration.

They reached the combat arena with two minutes to spare, filing in among the other students preparing for Professor Goodwitch's notoriously demanding class. As they separated to change into their combat gear, Yang caught Blake's arm gently.

"Hey," she said, her usual teasing tone replaced with genuine warmth. "We're not trying to be jerks about this. We just care about both of you, and the little munchkin too."

"I know," Blake sighed, some of the tension leaving her shoulders. "And you're probably right. We have been... excessive."

"Just a touch," Yang agreed with a wink. "But we've got your back. All of us. That's what family does."

The word 'family' lingered in Blake's mind as she prepared for class. Not so long ago, she had been alone—a solitary figure defined by her past and her secrets. Now she had not only Cynthia and Jaune, but an entire extended family of teammates and friends who cared enough to intervene when they saw her struggling.

It was annoying, inconvenient, and occasionally infuriating.

And also, she had to admit, exactly what she needed.

By the end of the day, Operation Reasonable Restraint had proven surprisingly effective, if not without challenges. True to their word, the teams had maintained a constant rotation of companions for both Blake and Jaune between classes, successfully preventing any unauthorized daycare check-ins through a combination of distraction, conversation, and occasional physical blockades (primarily Nora's responsibility, executed with enthusiasm bordering on alarming).

During the scheduled check times, both parents had practically pounced on their temporarily returned scrolls, examining the monitoring app with an intensity that reminded Yang of bomb technicians defusing explosives. But the structure had worked—they'd made it through an entire academic day with only the agreed-upon three checks, plus the lunchtime scroll access that had indeed been spent mostly watching the app rather than eating.

Now, as the final bell rang signaling the end of classes, both teams gathered in the courtyard to assess the day's success.

"Seven points each," Nora announced, consulting a small notebook where she'd been tallying their progress. "You lose three for the 'excessive duration of scheduled checks' and two for the 'suspicious bathroom breaks that coincided with Cynthia's transition periods.'"

"We didn't check during those," Jaune protested. "We just... happened to need the facilities at those exact times."

"Every time?" Weiss asked skeptically. "Your coincidental biological schedule precisely matches the daycare's activity transitions?"

"It's possible," Blake muttered, though her flattened ears betrayed her guilt.

"Anyway," Ruby interjected, "seven points is still really good for the first day! At this rate, you'll earn free babysitting by next week!"

"Assuming they maintain this level of restraint," Ren noted. "The true test will be consistency over time."

Blake checked the time on the central tower clock—4:15 PM. Fifteen more minutes until official pickup time. Her foot began to tap unconsciously against the cobblestones as she calculated how long it would take to walk to the daycare center at a reasonable pace.

"You might as well go now," Yang chuckled, noticing her partner's growing restlessness. "We know you're both dying to see her."

"Really?" Jaune asked, already half-turning in the direction of the daycare. "We don't lose points for early pickup?"

"The points system only applies to the academic day," Weiss clarified. "Once classes end, you're free to exercise your parental anxieties without penalty."

No further encouragement was needed. With hasty goodbyes, Blake and Jaune set off across the courtyard at a pace just shy of undignified jogging.

"Think they'll make it through tomorrow without breaking the rules?" Ruby asked, watching them disappear around a corner.

"Not a chance," Yang replied cheerfully. "But they'll get better at it. Baby steps, you know?"

"Appropriate metaphor," Weiss nodded. "Though I must say, for all their struggles, they're handling the situation with more maturity than I initially anticipated."

"They love her," Nora said simply. "And they're trying their best. That's what counts, right?"

From their vantage point, they could just make out the distant figures of Blake and Jaune approaching the daycare entrance. Even at this distance, the change in their body language was visible—shoulders relaxing, pace slowing, as the anxiety of separation finally gave way to the joy of reunion.

"Definitely what counts," Yang agreed softly. "Even if we have to change their scroll passwords again tomorrow."

"And the next day," Weiss added with a small smile.

"And probably the day after that," Ruby concluded, as the distant figures disappeared into the daycare building, heading toward the daughter waiting inside.

Chapter Text

CH47 Finding Balance

Day Three of Operation Reasonable Restraint

"That's it," Yang declared, watching as Blake practically vibrated with suppressed anxiety during Professor Peach's botanical classification lecture. "I'm confiscating your scroll again."

"I wasn't even looking at it," Blake hissed, clutching the device protectively against her chest.

"You've checked it seven times in twenty minutes," Yang countered, holding out her hand expectantly. "We agreed on once per hour."

Blake's ears flattened beneath her bow, but she reluctantly surrendered the scroll, her fingers lingering on the case as though parting with a limb.

Across the classroom, a similar scene unfolded as Pyrrha gently extracted Jaune's scroll from his white-knuckled grip.

"But what if—" he began.

"Ms. Maple will call if there's any concern," Pyrrha reminded him quietly. "Remember your promise."

Jaune slumped in his seat, his expression that of a man denied water in a desert. Both he and Blake spent the remainder of the lecture stealing glances at the classroom clock, counting seconds until their next scheduled check time.

Day Five

Lunch period found Teams RWBY and JNPR at their usual table, the remains of meals scattered between notebooks and textbooks as they prepared for afternoon classes. Blake's scroll sat face-up beside her plate, the daycare's monitoring app visible but not actively being watched—progress, of a sort.

"Three whole minutes without checking," Ruby observed brightly. "That's a new record!"

"I'm not even thinking about it," Blake lied, her gaze darting to the screen for a fraction of a second.

"Sure you're not," Yang smirked. "Just like Jaune isn't timing his bites to match Cynthia's nap schedule."

Jaune, caught mid-synchronized chew, had the decency to look embarrassed. "It's a system," he muttered. "Helps me focus."

"On something other than your actual lunch, apparently," Weiss noted, eyeing his barely-touched meal. "You realize you've been eating the same bite of sandwich for approximately four minutes now?"

"I'm savoring it," Jaune defended weakly, though he did finally swallow and take a more substantial bite.

Progress was slow, but measurable—they had at least stopped attempting to sprint to the daycare between classes, and the coded conversations about Cynthia's activities had decreased from constant to merely frequent. Their friends exchanged knowing looks across the table, equal parts exasperation and affection for the struggling parents.

Day Eight

The training arena echoed with the clash of weapons as students paired off for combat practice. For once, Blake was fully engaged in her match against Nora, her movements fluid and focused as she evaded the thunderous strikes of Magnhild.

"Your form is back!" Nora exclaimed cheerfully, swinging her hammer in a wide arc that Blake dodged with millimeters to spare. "Did you forget about your scroll, or did you finally accept that Cynthia won't spontaneously combust without your supervision?"

"Neither," Blake replied, countering with a sharp strike that forced Nora to leap backward. "My scroll is set to vibrate for urgent messages only, and Ms. Maple promised to call if there were any actual concerns."

"Look at you, being all reasonable and stuff," Nora grinned, transforming her hammer to grenade launcher mode. "I'm so proud I could explode. Actually, I'm going to explode anyway!"

As pink grenades arced toward her position, Blake allowed herself a genuine smile. For the first time in over a week, she felt truly present in the moment, her anxiety receded to a manageable hum rather than a deafening roar.

Across the arena, Jaune successfully deflected a series of strikes from Ren, his shield work showing marked improvement from his distracted performance days earlier. His scroll remained securely in his locker, its absence a victory rather than a source of panic.

"Thirty-seven points and counting," Weiss announced as they gathered their gear after class. "You're both making excellent progress."

"We might actually reach that babysitting prize after all," Blake admitted, surprised to realize she was looking forward to it.

Day Twelve

The library was quiet save for the soft rustling of pages and the occasional tap of scrolls as students worked on assignments. Blake sat with her notebook open, pen moving steadily across the paper as she composed an analysis for Professor Oobleck's class. Beside her, Ruby worked on a weapon schematic, occasionally nudging her teammate to show a particularly exciting modification.

What was notable wasn't what Blake was doing, but what she wasn't doing—checking her scroll, which lay face-down and ignored at the edge of the table.

"Don't look now," Yang whispered to Weiss, nodding toward their faunus teammate, "but I think we've witnessed a miracle. It's been an hour and fourteen minutes since her last check."

"Remarkable," Weiss agreed, genuine approval in her tone. "And I believe Jaune has achieved a similar milestone. He hasn't mentioned Cynthia's feeding schedule once during this study session."

Indeed, at the next table over, Jaune was deep in conversation with Pyrrha about combat strategy, his usual anxious fidgeting absent as he illustrated a point with animated hand gestures. His scroll was nowhere in sight, apparently left behind in their dorm—a level of detachment that would have been unthinkable just days earlier.

"Ninety-eight points," Nora whispered gleefully as she slid into a seat beside Ren. "They're just two away from the grand prize!"

"Should we tell them?" Ruby asked. "They might not even realize how close they are."

"Let it happen naturally," Ren advised. "True progress comes from intrinsic change, not external rewards."

"Besides," Yang added with a mischievous grin, "watching them figure it out themselves will be way more fun."

Day Fourteen

"One hundred points!" Nora announced triumphantly, bursting into Team RWBY's dorm room without knocking. "You did it! Fourteen consecutive days of reasonable parental behavior!"

Blake looked up from the book she'd been reading, genuine surprise crossing her features. "Already? Are you sure?"

"Positive!" Nora thrust her tally notebook forward as evidence. "Ren double-checked the math. You and Jaune have officially graduated from 'neurotic helicopter parents' to 'moderately anxious but functional caregivers'!"

"That's... quite a title," Blake said dryly, though a small smile tugged at her lips.

"And you've won the grand prize," Ruby added excitedly as she bounced into the room behind Nora. "One full weekend of childcare while you two do 'whatever grown-ups do without baby responsibilities'!"

"Which you specifically identified as 'sleep,'" Weiss reminded them, entering with significantly more decorum than her energetic teammates.

Blake's eyes widened slightly as the full implications registered. An entire weekend. No midnight feedings, no early morning wake-ups, no constantly divided attention between academics and parenting. Just... rest.

"When?" she asked, trying not to sound too eager.

"This weekend," Yang replied, appearing in the doorway. "We've already cleared it with Goodwitch. Starting Friday after your last class, Cynthia will be in the loving care of her honorary aunts and uncles until Sunday evening."

"All of you?" Blake asked, one eyebrow raised skeptically. "For the entire weekend?"

"We've created a schedule," Weiss explained, producing a color-coded chart that looked suspiciously similar to the one they'd made for Operation Reasonable Restraint. "Each team member has designated shifts, with appropriate overlap during transitions. We've accounted for Cynthia's feeding schedule, nap times, and preferred activities."

"Plus bonus fun time with Auntie Yang," Yang added with a wink. "Don't worry, I won't actually teach her to operate Ember Celica. Yet."

"We should tell Jaune," Blake said, reaching for her scroll—but notably, without the frantic urgency that had characterized her every movement just two weeks earlier. Progress indeed.

Friday Evening

The handover had been surprisingly uncomplicated. Blake and Jaune had prepared detailed instructions, packed Cynthia's favorite toys and comfort items, demonstrated her bedtime routine twice, and only asked for reassurance about seventeen times before finally departing—a vast improvement over what might have occurred weeks earlier.

Now, standing in the doorway of their quiet apartment, they found themselves in an unfamiliar state: alone, unscheduled, and utterly at a loss.

"So," Jaune said after a moment of awkward silence. "What should we do first?"

Blake considered the question seriously. "Honestly? I think I just want to sleep. For about thirty hours straight."

"Sleep sounds perfect," Jaune agreed fervently. "No 2 AM feedings, no 5 AM 'let's start the day' babbling..."

"No checking the monitoring app every twenty minutes," Blake added with a self-deprecating smile.

"We really were pretty bad, weren't we?" Jaune laughed, running a hand through his hair.

"Terrible," Blake agreed. "Though I maintain that Cynthia's blinking pattern that one time was genuinely concerning."

"Absolutely," Jaune nodded solemnly. "Any reasonable parent would have called for a full medical examination."

They shared a moment of laughter, the tension of the past two weeks finally breaking. Without discussion, they moved through their evening routine—a simple meal, comfortable silence as they read or reviewed notes, nothing urgent or demanding their attention.

As the evening deepened into night, Blake found herself fighting to keep her eyes open, the cumulative fatigue of weeks of interrupted sleep finally catching up with her. She yawned widely, not bothering to cover her mouth in the privacy of their home.

"I think it's time," she said, setting aside her book. "I'm going to take full advantage of this opportunity and sleep until my body physically refuses to sleep anymore."

"Solid plan," Jaune agreed, already heading toward their shared bedroom. "I might actually use real pajamas tonight instead of just collapsing in whatever I'm wearing."

Their bedroom was the apartment's one genuine luxury—spacious enough for both their beds and desks, with plenty of room to spare. Tonight, the crib's emptiness in the adjacent room was both strange and liberating, a reminder of their temporary freedom.

They moved through their bedtime routines with practiced efficiency, occasionally catching each other's eye in the bathroom mirror with small smiles of anticipation for the uninterrupted rest ahead.

Blake emerged from the bathroom in her yukata-style sleeping robe, her hair loose around her shoulders and her bow removed, ears free in the privacy of their home. Jaune was already in his bed, wearing actual pajamas as promised instead of his usual shorts and t-shirt combination.

She crossed to her own bed, pulling back the covers and sliding beneath them with a contented sigh. The silence of the apartment was profound—no baby monitor crackling, no tiny snuffling breaths from the crib, just peaceful quiet.

"Goodnight, Blake," Jaune said softly from across the room. "Sleep well."

"Goodnight," she replied, already feeling consciousness slipping away as her head nestled into the pillow.

Yet despite her exhaustion, sleep proved elusive. The silence that had seemed so peaceful now felt strangely oppressive. The absence of Cynthia's soft breathing, which she had grown accustomed to monitoring even in her sleep, left a void that her mind couldn't quite process.

She shifted positions, trying to find comfort. Then again. And again.

"Can't sleep?" Jaune's voice came through the darkness after her fifth restless turn.

"No," Blake admitted with a frustrated sigh. "It's too quiet. I keep listening for her."

"Me too," Jaune confessed. "I even caught myself reaching for the baby monitor that isn't there."

Blake stared at the ceiling, considering their predicament. All that anticipation for uninterrupted rest, only to find themselves unable to sleep without the very interruptions they'd been avoiding.

"This is ridiculous," she finally said, sitting up in bed. "We finally have a chance to rest, and we can't because we've become conditioned to listen for a baby who isn't even here."

"Parenting," Jaune replied simply, the word containing volumes of shared experience.

Blake hesitated for a moment, then made a decision. Without overthinking it, she slipped out of her bed, crossed the short distance between them, and lifted the edge of Jaune's blanket.

"Move over," she said quietly.

If he was surprised, he didn't show it, simply shifting to make room as she slid in beside him. The narrow bed wasn't designed for two, but they fit—Blake's back against Jaune's chest, his arm finding a natural place around her waist. The warmth and solid presence of another person filled the emptiness left by Cynthia's absence, creating a new kind of comfort.

"This okay?" she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

"More than okay," he replied, his breath warm against her hair.

They lay in silence for a few moments, the initial awkwardness fading into something comfortable and familiar, as though they'd done this a hundred times before.

"Yang's going to be insufferable if she finds out about this," Blake murmured, already feeling sleep beginning to claim her.

"Worth it," Jaune replied, his voice heavy with approaching slumber.

In the quiet darkness of their shared bed, with no baby to care for and no responsibilities to fulfill, they finally found the rest they had been seeking—not in isolation, but in each other's presence.

And if, come morning, they were still tangled together, Blake's head tucked beneath Jaune's chin and his arms wrapped protectively around her, neither mentioned it. Some progress didn't need to be tallied on Nora's chart or analyzed by Weiss's metrics.

Some things were just for them, a private step forward in a journey neither had anticipated but both had embraced, one day—and one night—at a time.