Chapter Text
“Did you honestly think this was going to work?”
Jaune gasped, eyes bulging as he strained to bring his head up, looking for the threat as it approached. His torso screamed as he tried to sit up, a sharp piece of metal debris piercing his ribcage and lower lung, pinning him in place. He could hear the footsteps clearly now, the mechanical click of a tall heel striking concrete. He let out a grunt as he looked over his own prone body to see his foe.
Cinder.
“I mean, everywhere we’ve been, you were right there! Always there to thwart my plans, kill my pawns, or just make a general nuisance of yourself.”
She was close enough now that she could reach out and touch him, but stuck as he is, there’s nothing he can do. Perhaps he could come up with some last ditch effort to harm or kill her, or at least just to spite her, but…
God, he was just so tired…
“Yet, despite that…” She trailed a hand along his thigh. “You never could do quite enough to stop me. Or really even hurt me. All you could do was slow me down…”
It was true. Even in death, he could never stop her. How long had it been now? Two, Three thousand years? He’d lost count before, and then lost count of the amount of time it had been since even then. All these years, all this time and he was still useless. Worse than useless.
Powerless.
He’d gotten close before, certainly, but it was always only ever enough to hope. To see the end in sight.
To lose everything all over, right at the point it would cause him the most harm.
“Pathetic,” Cinder continued. Her gleaming eyes watched his expression hungrily, and she licked her lips. “Absolutely pathetic. You’ve given up! No gloating, no last words-”
She leaned down, close enough that he could reach out and strike her, one last stubborn time-
“Nothing. You have nothing”
He was so tired.
Cinder raised herself back up to her full height, and footsteps echoed through the halls of Haven. “Ma’am!” Emerald Sustrai, Cinder’s little puppet could be heard eagerly calling out for her mistress, like a lost dog. “Mistral guard are on their way. Adam’s pulling out.”
In the old days, he would have done her in by now, or at least taken her off the board.
He didn’t really see the point anymore.
“Hear that, boy?” Cinder purred. “It’s over. You’ve failed- and quite spectacularly. I suppose I should kill you, you know. Ensure you can’t come crawling back, that you can’t put any more little knots in my plans-”
She gripped him roughly by the hair, jerking him up off of the steel spike so she could look in his eyes.
“But honestly… I don’t see the point. I don’t think I even need to bother.” She let him go unceremoniously, and he flopped back down to the ground. The pain honestly didn’t even register.
She wasn’t wrong, he supposed.
He didn’t know how long he laid there after that. It really didn’t matter.
Eventually, he just… stopped.
When he came to, he expected to see the familiar cool tones of his childhood bedroom. He expected to wake up in his bed, numb to it all, or perhaps angry at himself for his worthlessness-
What he hadn’t expected was to be greeted by the sight of Roman freaking Torchwick!
He forced his body to relax, centuries of practicing self control only barely able to prevent him from lashing out at what his body registered as enemy, enemy, enemy! But in that split second, he managed to wrangle his adrenaline and instinct so as not to die right then and there.
Even after all this time, he had no idea what would happen if he died before Beacon-
Would he finally be at peace?
He shoved that ugly, bastard of a thought deep down where it belonged- in the garbage, with the rest of him. Finally, he glanced down at what Roman had in his hand. A manilla file, splayed out towards him oh so genially, and Roman grinned as Jaune took it from him.
“There you go kid! I don’t bite!”
Jaune glanced back up at him, before slowly opening the file.
‘Combat Academy Transcripts:’ It read, ‘Vacuo School for Gifted Youths.’
What… What the hell?
Jaune had little to no idea how the hell he’d managed to get through that meeting without Torchwick thinking he was a spy, a rat, a cop or at least a weak link, but apparently the other him had been nervous enough meeting with a career criminal that he’d been just as, if not more nervous. Thankfully, Jaune had been able to shakily find the envelope filled with what must have been his entire life’s savings that had been secured in his hoodie pocket. What a moron Jaune Arc was in his first life.
Needless to say, he’d lucked out.
Speaking of, what the hell was that? That’s never happened before! Not once, not once in all his years had anything like that ever happened! The rules of his semblance- time travel, fate decided B.S. or whatever it was- were strict. The longer he lives past Initiation, the longer he goes back in time. He’d been at least two years past Beacon at that point, so he should have gone that far back! It had taken forever to work back up to two years after-
Not going there. Jaune sighed, shaking his head. On top of that, how the hell had he been thrown back into the middle of the day! He’d always, always woken up in his bed.
None of this had ever happened before!
Had he missed something? Had He blacked out, or forgotten part of the day? Surely not! Surely he wasn’t that broken!
… And he had to acknowledge that, didn’t he? For all his pride, for all his stubbornness, he had finally lost his nerve. He couldn’t take it.
So… Did he just give up? Did he try and die before Beacon, surrender to the void?
Would… Would Fate, or whatever his torturer was, even let that happen?
He nearly stumbled headfirst into someone, and he turned to apologize to them, but when he was met with those kind silver eyes?
“Sorry!” Ruby Rose called out, grinning at him nervously from behind those two-tone crimson locks. “My bad!”
And then she was gone. Lost in the crowd.
Jaune Arc stared after her for a moment. Then, deliberately and agonizingly, he looked down at his newly acquired, illicit transcripts.
He couldn’t do it.
Even broken as he was, mentally and spiritually exhausted, battered from centuries, millennia of conflict, loss, and death-
He couldn’t give up on Ruby Rose.
He couldn’t give up on any of them.
He stumbled into the rough, run down old roach motel with a sigh. He tossed down his duffle, only containing a spare set of clothes, the ever faithful Crocea Mors, and his chestplate and Spaulders, and some basic toiletries. He laid down the wallet he’d pickpocketed from some poor jerk for the lien before submitting his transcripts at the postal office on the end table. And wasn’t that a surprise, when he’d checked the date and there was only two weeks before Beacon’s initiation.
Jaune chuckled morosely, wondering what Ozpin would think when he found a late entry with obviously forged transcripts from a school that had apparently been destroyed three years prior, looking just a little too young for his apparent 20 years of age. Jaune wondered if that had been what it said on his transcripts all those centuries ago back at the start, but even then he had no clue how he could forget getting them from Roman Torchwick, even with how clueless he’d been.
But here he was, relying on the goodwill of a master thief and rising crimelord. Perhaps he could have just gone through a preliminary test on skill and experience alone, but Jaune wasn’t sure he could build up the sufficient muscle mass and memory required to catch the attention of someone like Ozpin in such a short amount of time, so close to the cutoff for entry. Let alone, find someone willing to unlock the aura of a scrawny 17 year old in the middle of Vale! Perhaps if he’d gone out into the surrounding settlements, where the laws weren’t so strict and aura necessary for a lone kid to survive, but the what ifs were too many.
So he’d settled for what he’d done the first time.
Allegedly.
The scroll call came over a week later.
When Jaune picked up, he had expected the stern voice of Glynda Goodwitch, or far more likely the saccharine sweet voice of an aide or secretary who wasn’t paid enough, and I’m going to quit in the next week. Jaune had lost count of those in his time at Beacon, and never really bothered to remember their names, even if they were the same every time.
He was not, no not at all expecting to hear Ozpin’s voice.
“No, no absolutely Headmaster,” He grit out nervously. “I absolutely have the time. This Friday? Of course. No, thank you. Yes. Good night.” He dropped the scroll onto the flea ridden bed like it was a piece of maggoty garbage, staring at the device in open concern.
He wanted to meet!? Had that happened before? Again, surely he’d remember something like that!
Could they have somehow connected me to Torchwick? Was that my mistake?
He couldn’t say he was looking forward to rotting in prison until Neo came to clean up the loose ends, but he would have expected a police or huntsman raid, not a nonchalant scroll call from the Headmaster himself! Things were just not adding up, and he hated to admit that for all his incalculable experience, he was out of his depth, and in unfamiliar territory.
He could imagine it almost felt freeing, if not for the overwhelming dread that it brought on. How long had he toiled, trying everything and anything to change something, only to fail or die? How many attempts had it taken before he realized that the best course of action was to ride out the punches, surviving as long as he could so he could go back, train and prepare as much as he could and finally beat Cinder, beat Fate at their own games?
It was, again, uncalculable.
And now, now the universe decided it was going to change things right from the get go. What was it playing at? What was its goal, had Weiss been right all those years ago?
Stop it.
Thinking of her, that specific version of her would bring nothing but pain. It had been multiple loops at least, perhaps even as many as a dozen deaths after that fateful night for him to finally pick up the sword in earnest again- for all the good it had done him. He’d never been the same, not without his partner at his side.
Perhaps that was my last real chance to end all of this.
Before, he’d always hated those thoughts. He pushed through stubbornly, brushing off the pain and refusing to lose his prideful hope, hidden though it was. Now though, the feelings of worthlessness and pessimism haunted him. He felt thin, frail- and no amount of training could erase that weakness. It was more debilitating than any fatal or crippling wound he’d received in a thousand lifetimes or more.
He cursed, punching the thin, peeling wall and getting a loud protest from the room next door. He ignored it, cradling his auraless hand as he stewed.
Don’t think about it. You can’t afford to spiral now. Not when this could be critical.
In a situation like this, when anything could happen and everything could change, he needed to be at his best. He had to meet it head on, for Team RWBY, and JNPR, and all of the RWBYs and JNPRs before them.
And for JWBY, he thought with a grimace. For Jazzberry and Rubine.
Friday came quickly, and Jaune donned his armor and weapons before catching a bullhead to Beacon early. He didn’t know what awaited him here, not when it had never happened in all his lives, but he would be prepared. He wouldn’t go quietly.
It was ironic that he was probably too nervous to lose his breakfast, when he hadn’t even had any. He hadn’t been nervous like this in a long time, and it was honestly a novel experience. He reveled in the unfamiliar emotion, greeting it like a friend he hadn’t seen in- well, in centuries.
He was on autopilot all the way up to the Academy proper, where he may have accidentally taken a right turn after the courtyard and gone to his dorms if not for Glynda Goodwitch approaching him just in front of the fountains.
“Mr. Arc,” She greeted, holding out her free hand for him to shake, while the other balanced a stack of books and her ever-present riding crop on her hip. “I’m Professor Glynda Goodwitch, Deputy Headmistress. Thank you for being so early.”
If he hadn’t known her so well, and for so many years, he may not have caught on to the pleasant surprise that crossed her face for only the shortest instance, but this was his entire life. Beacon was his home, and its staff and students were his people.
He laughed honestly, shaking her hand confidently and nodding to the stack of books on her hip. “Jaune Arc. Need a hand?”
And if he hadn’t thrown her for a loop before, that certainly had. She nodded, making to pass him about half the stack and hesitantly giving in when he took the entire thing.
“Lead the way,” He gestured with his head, and followed her as she turned.
“Thank you, Mr. Arc. And welcome to Beacon Academy.” She walked just ahead of him, only enough to lead but still be present while they conversed. “I must apologize for the short notice, as Headmaster Ozpin has a tendency to keep this sort of thing to himself.”
Don’t I know it? He snarked internally. The man loved his mysteries, almost as much as he loved keeping them to himself. “And what might this sort of thing be…?”
This new cover was difficult, which made for a novel experience. His typical, mulish and sarcastic persona wouldn’t match that of his apparent experienced and outgoing valedictorian transcripts, thank you Roman, and thus he would have to make sure to stay cool and collected, confident yet with just a touch of expectancy… It was honestly exhilarating. He hadn’t tried something like this in a long time, and it almost, almost numbed the sting of so many recent failures.
But never completely.
“I’m afraid I can’t say,” She apologized again, and to Jaune’s shock she was sincere about it. “Ozpin really would like to have that conversation with you in person.”
So… Not getting arrested? Hell, does Glynda even know these transcripts are fake???
“Not a problem,” Jaune laughed. “I’m a fighter through and through, so I prefer to know what I’m getting into ahead of time. Not that we ever get that luxury- but I guess that’s what I get for hoping eh?”
The look that Jaune saw on Glynda’s face just then, the stern Combat Professor who had molded him into a skilled fighter over dozens of lives, before he cut his teeth on knock-down, drag out fights that usually ended with him learning his lessons through literal death, wasn’t one he’d ever seen before.
Not pity, not just commiseration, but real empathy.
“I understand all too well, Mr. Arc. Sometimes the mission just can’t be planned for.”
What the hell kinda transcripts did Roman give me?
He’d expected to be interviewed in the administration office, he usually had been before when he entered through a combat exam after slumming it in the wilds for a couple years- but Glynda led him all the way down the main outdoor concourse to Beacon Tower itself, he realized this was not your typical entrance interview. He had little time to ponder that as he was ushered into the main elevator and shuttled up to the Headmasters office.
As Glynda took her books off his hands and thanked him sincerely for the assistance- seriously, what the hell- Jaune settled his nerves. He’d been called to the Headmasters office more times that anyone in the world could count. He’d played the game before- outplayed even Ozpin, and he could play it again.
When the elevator doors opened, and the muted sounds of clockwork gears filled the air, Jaune was greeted by a smile.
Yeah, he’s got some new B.S. cooking up…
“Mr. Arc! Welcome!” He stood, stepping around his desk excitedly and shaking Jaune’s hand as he approached. “Please, please! Have a seat, sit!”
Jaune did so, subtly taking in the office. He’s obviously seen it before, but for an analytical mastermind, feigning subtle interest in the surroundings would go a lot further than ignoring them as if he’d seen them thousands of times. Which I have.
“Thank you, Mr. Arc for taking the time to meet with me. When I saw your application, I knew I just absolutely must have the opportunity to speak with you.”
Roman, I will kill you.
“I’ve taken the liberty of doing my research, and I must say I’m shocked you decided to enroll here,” Ozpin exclaimed, pulling out a file. “Five years at the Vacuo Academy for Gifted Youths, that’s no small feat. You were nearly a year into your Huntsman schooling when…”
“I remember,” He said, irritation not quite fake- but not really directed at Ozpin or the events in question either. I swear, when I get my hands on him-
“I apologize, I know these events weigh heavily,” Ozpin placated, and Jaune forced himself to calm down. He’d never liked surprises, but he was going to have to get used to them if he was to get through this… Acid trip of a reset. “But let me assure you Jaune, this is all relevant. May I call you Jaune?”
Jaune nodded, reluctantly. He was way out of his depth. “I don’t see why not, sir.”
Ozpin’s smile was as genial as it had ever been, but again… Jaune couldn’t help but feel that it was different. Not as judging, or presuming. He couldn’t place it, but something had changed. What is it?
“Thank you Jaune. Now, I understand you spent a few years in the ruined Academy and its surrounding settlement, helping its residents and survivors?”
Jaune nodded, that was what his files would say- and he supposed it wouldn’t even be a lie, just not the part about attending that school.
“If you don’t mind my asking… Why even reapply to Beacon after all that time? Most survivors from Vacuo either swore off hunting Grimm as a whole, or went on to test into their licenses outright. Why apply to Beacon as a third year?”
You have got to be kidding me… Am I… Am I overqualified to get into Beacon? Young me would be pissed.
And current Jaune was as well. Would Roman’s perfect transcripts really ruin his chances of getting into Beacon? Jaune needed to be here if he was going to keep an eye on things, make sure events played out the way they needed to. The last time he’d tried to sit things out.
He shook off the thoughts. “Respectfully Headmaster…” This wasn’t a lie he was prepared for. What did he say, how would he get through this?
“I… I don’t feel like I can.” What shocked Jaune about this the most is that it was the honest truth. And once he’d started, the rest just… flowed freely. “My friends… My- my team. They’re gone, sir. We were supposed to do this together, to make a difference, to change things…” Flashes of white, yellow, black and red filled his mind, and he shut his eyes tightly, not willing to bare his tears to Ozpin. “We were going to change the world. After everything… everything I’ve lost, I’m just supposed to forget, to move on?”
When he opened his eyes, he was shocked to find traces of tears in Ozpin’s. Pure shock trembled through him as the man hastily obscured them, offering a second tissue to Jaune. Even more shocking, he could hear Glynda sniffling somewhere off to the side.
“I- I need to know that I’m not dead yet,” He continued, and oh did that feel relieving to say, was this catharsis? Was this what honesty felt like? “I can’t go out there as I am. I’m going to get someone killed, and I can’t add to that tally. But I can’t quit. Not when there are people who need me, people I can help. If you’ll have me…”
He felt exhausted, like an enormous weight had been removed for the first time in centuries, and in a way, he supposed he had.
Is that… Is that really how it felt? His own honesty was surprising, especially because yes, he hadn’t realized that had been exactly what he was feeling. The last time he’d opened up like this had been-
“I think Jaune, that you’re exactly what we’re looking for. Do you concur, Glynda?”
When Jaune glanced at her, she had just closed a compact mirror, though faint streaks of mascara remained on her face, and Jaune openly gaped at that. “I do believe so, Headmaster. I think his perspective is sorely needed for the next generation.”
Jaune nearly sighed in relief, before stiffening in confusion as an unfamiliar sheet of paper was slid across the desk towards him.
“Employment… Contract?”
Jaune’s jaw dropped. What the hell was this!?! They wanted him… Him, as a teacher!?!
“I- You can’t be serious!” He all but dropped the document, eyes wide as he regarded the man, who looked as smug as he could while still wiping tears from the corner of his eye.
“I am, Jaune. While I don’t think you’d quite fit in here as a student, I know your raw experience will be an invaluable resource to the staff, as well as being more approachable to the youth in attendance.”
Him? Approachable? He wanted to laugh, he knew how to handle Ruby, to get her to open up to him, but he’d known her literally forever! And what the hell would he even teach, how to die over and over? Time Travel 101?
“Headmaster, all due respect, but I don’t know the first thing about teaching. Hell, how are these kids supposed to even respect me? I mean if not for the fact that they’re close enough to my own age-” Lie. “But maybe how I just bawled inside the office of a man I’ve never met before!” Also lie.
“Jaune,” He had to admit, hearing his first name coming out of Glynda Goodwitch’s mouth gave him chills. In a good or bad way, he had no clue. “We understand your hesitation. It’s a lot to process at once. But we truly think that being able to relate to a teacher with your experience will go a long way in giving these students the skills they will need to survive.”
“Skills your friends in Vacuo may have needed.”
Jaune froze at Ozpin’s words. Images of the Fall of Beacon came to mind, a myriad flashes of his friends and allies, dying and broken in a thousand waves, and he only snapped out of it when a loud crack made him jump.
He looked down to see the oak arms of his chair splintering to the ground.
“I’m so-”
“Ozpin!” Glynda shouted, coming to Jaune’s aid. “How dare you!”
“No,” Jaune rested a hand on her arm, feeling drained. “It’s alright. It’s fine.”
He removed his hand, settling them against his sides. He was lucky he wasn’t bleeding or injured, as the question of why the hell don’t you have your aura unlocked would raise too many alarms. He could… Could he?
Could he instill in Ruby Rose the harsh lessons he’d learned over the years, could he sober Blake Belladonna to the realities of the world?
Could he convince Pyrrha Nikos to abandon what was surely a losing battle?
The sway, the respect he could have as a teacher… The newfound respect he’d already experienced from Ozpin and Glynda…
Could this be what he needed?
“I… You’re right, Headmaster.” Jaune admitted, again expressing an honesty he was only now discovering himself capable of. “If my friends had learned those lessons… They’d be here with me. I’ll do it.”
The smile Ozpin gave him was nothing short of dazzling, the charismatic bastard.
“Splendid.”