A/N: ...added more content. Hope you enjoy it. That said, can anyone see this? Its impossible to tell anymore. I can't work properly with all these these bloody 503 site glitches! They've ruined my inspiration this week. I had a slew of double update days planned, which cannot happen now.

I had intended to update Take the Girl and Kill the Boy today in conjunction with this chapter. Long May He Reign would've been tomorrow with Foxfire, possibly with Welcome to Heaven and By Any Other Name being updated this Monday -days off got switched about- instead of Tuesday. It was going to be a slew of updates. I was content, if not quite happy with the state of things and had a busy week planned.

Now? Between all this crap with the site and the drama with my job, now I just want to curl up in a corner and cry.

Thar said, would you prefer weekly updates to remain? Do let me know what you think in your reviews! One open slot remains!

Sorry for the delay. Site glitches and my health are affecting my work, but I'm still here, still alive, still wading through life. Hope you enjoy this long-awaited chapter.

As ever, the fate of this story depends on you, the reader. Your feedback determines the fate of this tale, and many others. I own no references, quotes, memes or themes! They're all tributes to legends far greater than I. I'm just a humble author trying to make his way in this wild world, one word at a time Time and feedback will determine if this remains a story. Simple as that. In other words...its up to YOU, the reader. Do let me know in the the comments~!

Once more, hopefully I captured the feeling of a proper RWBY episode from the old days.

I'll leave that to you, the reader, to determine. Do tell me what you think! It matters!

I didn't really highlight the depth of Amber's injuries, so I expanded upon them.

"Even the coldest of souls will warm with just a little kindness...

~?

Just a Little Healing

Jaune was reeling.

Not from what he'd just been told, but rather what he was currently experiencing here, in this moment.

Crammed into an elevator car with a man he scarcely knew, he couldn't help but fidget and stare into space. It took all he had to keep his eyes staring forward as the cable dragged down into darkness, carrying him and Ozpin with it. Even now his mind dwelled on the headmaster's last words to them before they'd set out.

"You may be...related to me."

Was there a chance? He'd say no, he'd known his grandfather for only a short while before he passed away, but Ozpin claimed to be older than that. Much older indeed. The rest of his story was so fantastical that he really had no way of knowing whether it was true or not. Magic? Maidens? Monsters? Dad had never mentioned any of that. Maybe he was from his side of the family? Or mom's? He had a feeling there was something more to all this, something he was holding back, something he didn't want to know.

Were they related...?

Kurama huffed. "On your mother's side, maybe. Not so Naruto."

"How do you know?"

"I'm an immortal fox who has seen more years than you've drawn breaths. Trust me. I know. Just as I'm not surprised to find another immortal kicking around. They're like cockroaches. You always find someone, somewhere...

What was the saying? Ignorance is bliss?

"Pot meet kettle."

'Hey!'

Down they went, further than they should have. Much further.

Jaune finally glanced at the man who may-or-may-not be his ancestor. "Beacon has a basement?"

"Indeed it does, my boy." Ozpin tapped his cane against the floor, producing a hollow clanking noise. "You'll see soon enough."

At length the elevator glided to a gentle halt and the doors opened, revealing their destination.

Ozpin sauntered out ahead of him.

"There's someone I'd like you to meet."

Jaune followed him warily, craning his neck to survey their surroundings. Even then, he couldn't help but balk a little at what he beheld. A long hallway stretched out into the darkness before them, lit by dim lamps of eerie greenlight; their eerie jade radiance casting flickering shadows the like of which he'd never seen. Strange symbols had been carved into the marble floor, markings he knew not the meaning of. Deeper within, the traces of a vast energy tickled at his senses...a powerful one at that.

There had been something down here once, something contained, something powerful, now long gone and moved elsewhere. If he closed his eyes, he could almost see it in his mind. It rather resembled..

.

..

...a crown?

Kurama made a pleased noise. "See? I told you; that sixth sense of yours really can shine when you let it."

Ozpin rounded the corner ahead of them, forcing him to follow or risk being left behind in this eerie place.

Jaune jogged after him and accidentally barreled into his back.

Confusion dawned, followed by comprehension. The long hallway didn't lead further into the complex as he'd first feared, but rather tucked into a small alcove near the corner of the room sealed by a small door bearing an electronic lock. Ozpin placed his hand on an odd scanner of some sort, then keyed in a number of some sort, causing it to open. Without a word, Beacon's headmaster stepped inside into the room beyond.

Jaune followed and found the one Ozpin wished him to meet. Because there, sitting upon a bed, wearing a white gown, missing her left leg and looking none too pleased for it...

"This is Amber." He gestured to the surly-looking girl. "I recently had her moved here for her own safety when her wounds worsened."

"..." the girl had nothing to say. She only glared.

That lone piercing eye of bright golden-brown glared back at him, wreathed by a flickering, fading flame. Her right eye, however, was sealed shut by a web of what could only be burn scars.

Yet despite all her injuries, he still sensed something within her. Power. Present, but wounded, much like her body.

Was this a Maiden? If so, she'd seen better days.

The brunette glared at him from her bed and ran a hand across her dusky brow, allowing him to glimpse the web of scars there across her ruined eye. "He looks weak."

Jaune twitched. "And you're sounding awfully rude...

"As you can see, she's unwell." Ozpin interjected before the girl could go from inserting her foot into her mouth to the entire knee. "I had hoped your semblance might remedy that."

His brow furrowed and the healer in him itched to look at his potential patient. "I'm not sure what you want me to do exactly."

"She's hurt badly." As though that needed further explanation. "Can you heal her?"

At last, a challenge worthy of him! "I can try."

Amber watched him like a hawk. "I don't want him touching me."

For the first time since he'd met him, a look of anger crossed Ozpin's face. "Would you rather continue as you are?"

Her face fell. "No...

"There you have it." As quickly as it came, Ozpin's irritation faded. "If you would be so kind?"

Amber squirmed as he siddled up to her. "Fine, but you touch anywhere below my shoulders and you're losin' fingers, bub."

Jaune blew out a sigh. "Such a prickly girl...you're worse than Weiss...

Ozpin snorted into one hand.

Amber absolutely hissed. "Excuse me?!"

He barely heard her; he'd already stretched out his senses and gone to work.

Oh jeez, the headmaster really wasn't kiddin' about this mess. It wasn't just Amber's body that was damaged by her soul as well. There was a…disconnect, for lack of a better word. A gap; a sickness in her soul. One was bleeding into the other, insomuch as a soul could bleed. Amber lived, but she couldn't function like this. She'd be comatose given a few months and dead within a year.

Dad could have fixed something like this in his sleep. He wasn't so sure he could.

But did he not owe it to himself to try? Wasn't that what heroes did?

Nothing ventured, nothing gained, and all that?

He wanted to try, but fear held him back.

'What if I hurt her?'

Kurama scoffed in his ear. "She's bedridden, scarred, unable to walk, and probably in constant pain. What could you possibly do to make it worse?"

'Kill her!'

The ancient fox didn't waver. "In her state? Death would be a mercy, Jaune. Practice Makes Perfect."

He lowered his hands carefuly, planted them on her shoulders, just shy of her breasts. "Alright..."

Amber scowled, clearly not trusting him. Yup, he had his work cut out for him here...

(.0.0.0.)

Amber didn't trust Jaune Arc.

Sure, her soul might be damaged thanks to that wicked witch and sure she'd lost a leg, but she was a Maiden, dangit.

She had her pride, and even if her health was failing, she clung to it.

After all, it was all she had left these days.

So when Ozpin introduced the two of them and brought the seemingly weak blond goofball to her sickbed, she didn't think much of him; not at first. How could she, when she'd never met him before? He looked like a first year, probably just some rookie with an overinflated ego. The headmaster had brought a number of people with "healing semblances" to her before, but none of them could help her. This runt wouldn't be any different. It would all fall apart in the end. Everything always did, just as All Things Must Die.

She didn't dare hope otherwise.

Hoping hurt her heart, and she'd lost sight of it long ago.

"Alright," the blond goofball muttered suddenly, drawing her out of her doldrums. "I think I see the problem. I can fix this."

"Don't lie." Amber pushed herself upright on the edges of her elbows. "You can't do anything for me. No one can. Buzz off and go do your homework or something, greenhorn."

He kept smiling, despite her vitriol. Tch. Weak. It reminded her of the earnest first-year she'd once been and she hated it. "Just buzz off!"

Ozpin coughed into a fist. "My apologies. She's always been a bit crass."

Amber promptly flipped him off. "You can go jump up my-

The Headmaster coughed again. "Language."

"Look, this is a waste of time." huffing, she crossed both arms before her bosom and glared at him from her bed. "This kid can't help me."

"Who decided that?"

Amber's heart skipped a tiny beat.

"Eh?" she managed less than eloquently.

She looked down and found the greenhorn holding her hands- when had he grabbed them?!- and staring at her so intently. No one had ever looked at her like that, before. What was she to do with such an earnest gaze? What could she do? What was she supposed to do?!

"I said, who decided that?" his sunny smile never wavered once. "You can't give up on yourself. You still have so much to live for!"

Amber made confused Amber noises. "I...you..ha?!"

He pushed her back to the bed -her body wasn't ready!- and bid her lay down.

"This may sting a little," he warned her. "I suggest you bite down on something."

She scowled, ready to roast him alive if she made any untoward moves. "Whaddya mean sting a meeeeeeeeee?!"

Amber's protest piqued into a startled shriek as Jaune Arc laid a transparent golden hand on her chest and did something to her aura, parting it like so much water. The pain nearly made her black out, but what followed, what she saw, was so much worse. Impossibly, his open palm phased right through cloth and flesh, burying itself deep inside her right up to his wrist. She balked at him, eyes bulging and her free hand came up, ready to spit lightning and immolate him on the spot.

He caught her fingers with with his free hand and gently stroked her palm. "Don't worry, everything will be alright. I won't let you die."

The gestured reminded her of a storybook she'd once read as a child; a knight comforting a princess.

He flashed her a small smile for encouragement; it was Amber's one and only warning.

Then he took ahold of her sundered soul and yanked it free from her chest.

Amber blacked out for a moment; her vision going black.

Reality rushed back.

...eeeeee!"

Pain!

Pleasure!

Oh gods that felt so GOOD but it hurt so BAD!

All the world was bright and light and her SIGHT she couldn't see a damn thing! It felt as though someone were holding the sundered halves of her soul, cradling them together as one might a newborn babe. She felt weak and vulnerable, powerful in a way she'd never been before, yet also utterly broken. Such a strange duality; she didn't know what do with it.

And though she could not see, she could feel and she could hear.

The soft hum of a lullaby filled her ears as she found herself rocked too and fro; with that comforting nameless tune, she felt his aura suffuse hers. It wrapped itself around her, bolstering her own flagging reserves, filling in the cracks and gasps left behind by her assailant. His very soul threaded through with hers, suturing her spirit's wounds with little pieces of himself -such pain it must've caused him- quite literally tearing off bits of his own soul to mend hers. Slowly but surely, he gently made her whole; leaving her warm like every cell in her body was being baked in the sun.

Amber felt him lay a hand on her wounded face, bringing with it a fresh rush of heat.

His palm moved down her leg, touched her thigh in passing, before gliding past her knee.

Her ears twitched in confusion as she heard a strange squelching sound, followed by another burst of pain. What was he doing to her?!

From there she felt his hand slip his hand back inside her-erk, she meant her chest!- and then, quite suddenly, the deed was done; leaving her awake, wasted and gasping for air. At some point she must've lurched up at him; because when she came to, she found her head buried against his chest, her hands clinging onto him for dear life.

"Better?" his voice sounded hoarse even to her ears, a testament to the work he'd put in, a sure sign of his own exhaustion.

Of course he was! What kind of madman carved off pieces of their own soul to stitch someone else back together?!

This one, apparently!

Yet for all that, she couldn't muster any ire towards him. Not now. Not after what he'd just done.

"B-Better." she tripped and stumbled over the word. "I feel...good. Really good. How long...?

"Hours." Ozpin intoned, a faint note of awe in his voice. "The better part of a day, really."

Jaune groaned into her shoulder, rife with weariness. "My team...

"Worry not, I shall make an excuse for you."

"Better be a good one...

Amber pulled away from Jaune as they bantered and looked down at herself, marveling at her restoration. Her leg had grown back. Better yet, she could see with both eyes anew. It was a miracle. No, beyond a miracle. She'd been dying. There had been talk of inducing a coma, of putting her in a special chamber meant to prolong her life until they could find a cure...or a successor for her.

None of that was necessary now.

"Right," Jaune Arc -she couldn't rightly call him Greenhorn now, not after this- arose with a weary sigh. "You probably want to stand up now, don't you?"

She actually kinda wanted to hold onto him a little longer, but he was already moving, rising, tugging free from her.

Beaming, he offered her his hand, like a knight straight out of one of those old storybooks.

Amber's heart skipped a treacherous beat as fiery flush began to warm her cheeks. Gah! No, stoppit! She was older than him, for crissakes! More than that, she was the Fall Maiden! Not some blushing schoolgirl to swoon over a simple act of kindness, no matter how magnificent!

And yet...

She reached for Jaune and her fingers curled around his, allowing him to hoist herself to her feet. He hoisted her to his feet. Her unsteady leg failed her and she stumbled; which in turn caused him to tug her a little too close now, forcing her to plant a hand on his chest to steady herself. No overt moves on his part. He simply smiled at her as though she were the most wonderful woman in the world.

Ba-dump.

"Sorry, I don't know my own strength...

"No, its fine." she hastily averted her gaze, studying his shoes. Sure, they were nice shoes. Just stare at those. Nice job, idiot. "Don't be sorry."

Ozpin made a pleased noise, smug as only an immortal could be. "The apple doesn't fall far from the tree, I see."

Amber's face -her very being!- blushed an incandescent shade of ruddy rose red. "Can it, you!"

Jaune squinted at him, not quite comprehending his words or their meaning. "What?"

Oz beamed. "Oh, nothing. Pardon me. I have a phone call to make...

Amber made pleased Amber noises. "You do that...

Ozpin paused. Considered the two of them, now.

His scroll clicked as he snapped a picture.

Amber made unhappy noises. "OZPIN!"

(.0.0.0.)

Pyrrha felt a sudden chill race down her spine.

Where had that come from just now?

It felt like...competition.

(.0.0.0.)

Velvet Scarlatina sneezed mightily.

She sensed a disturbance.

This meant war!

(.0.0.0.)

Three doors down, every member of Team RWBY sneezed as one.

Ruby sniffled first. "Uh, Yang? What the heck was that?"

The blonde brawler shrugged. "Beats me, sis...

Blake didn't look up from her book. "Like you wish Arc would beat you?"

"Hey, hey! Don't knock it until you've tried it, Kitty-Kat."

Their resident faunus scoffed. "No, thank you. I have more refined tastes."

"Weren't you holding onto his arm before the match and arguing over him with Pyrrha...?"

"Like I said," she turned another page, "refined tastes."

Weiss growled and pinched the brow of her nose. "I'm surrounded by idiots...

Blake, naturally, couldn't let it be. "Doesn't that make you one of us by association?"

Ruby tilted her head with a questioning noise.

Yang whistled. "Daaaaaaang...

Weiss rounded on her, face flaming redder than Ruby's cloak. "Blake Belladona! We are not the same!"

A black brow ose. "You're right. I'm honest about my feelings. You just have a massive chip on your shoulder regarding Arc. Maybe it's because you want him to do more than spar with you-

The Schnee heiress yowled unhappily and tackled her.

(.0.0.0.)

Immortals had rules.

Even as the queen of Grimm, of all things vile and vicious, Salem abided by those unspoken edicts for the most part.

After all, she may enjoy chaos but she had no desire to live in a barren realm.

So yes, rules. And they worked for the most part.

She and Ozma had their little shadow war, but said war could have been so much worse. He could have used the relics against her; she could have unleashed swarms of Grimm and run the kingdoms down. They could've been so uncivilized about all of this, downright feral, even, but they weren't. Rules kept the game going, kept things interesting. In return for her absence from the battlefield, Ozpin would not bring the Relics to bear upon her. He could, she knew, just as she could wipe Remnant clean in a single suicidal charge if such were her aim. And it was, in a sense, but there was no need to be foolish about it.

And when a Scroll rang, she answered.

"Ozma." she set the black device to her ear. "You're early. To what do I owe the pleasure of this call...?"

"There was a survivor that night."

His words shattered her.

Salem squeaked.

The scroll fell from her fumbling fingers, bounced off her throne, and skittered under the table. Blast it all.

Ozma's voice echoed from within the now-cracked screen. "Salem?"

"Just a moment!" She fumbled for it like the young girl she no longer was, cursing the insipid technology all the while. "Infernal device...!"

She could feel Tyrian and Hazel staring, utterly baffled at her as she squirmed under the table to retrieve it. Watts coughed once.

It might've been a laugh. She'd get him for that.

Composing herself, she finally found the scroll, sat up, took a deep breath and rallied. "I am here. How can you be certain?

"I just watched a young man heal a girl whose soul had been all but disconnected from her body. The same girl that your little "minion" is so desperately hunting."

Her mind whirled. He must mean Cinder. "I will attempt to recall her. The girl is willful. I am not privy to her plans. Bring this boy to me and in return, I'll spare Vale this century from any Grimm attacks."

"Surely you jest. And have you turn him against me? I think not."

She smiled. "Then I shall come to you."

"Preposterous. Your presence would start a riot."

"You cannot stop me. I have my magic, and unlike you, I did not see fit to split it among four foolish girls."

Her ex husband made a strangled noise. "You'll never let me live that down will you...

"I will not. It was a foolish move."

A pause followed. "There is another matter." I have reason to believe he isn't the only one.

...what did you say his name was?"

"Arc. Jaune Arc."

Salem wheezed "I beg your pardon?!"

He looks just like us, the best of us, the both of us." Ozma said. "Is it so inconceivable to believe that one of our daughters survived that night, when neither of us were in any shape or condition to check on them? We knew only that they were gone. I died, and you fled that placed, never to return."

She thumped the arm-rest of her throne with a fist. "But then, why didn't they seek us out?!

"Would you if your parents did as we did?"

Salem wilted. "I...no. This doesn't change anything."

Ozpin sounded far too smug. "I disagree. This changes EVERYTHING."

He hung up on her a moment later, the rat bastard.

Alive. One of her children had lived, and sired children of their own. And then their children's children.

And she hadn't known.

She hadn't even thought to look.

Not once had she even considered the matter.

...did this mean she had grandchildren? Grandbabies? No, Great-great-great-GREAT grandbabies?

Something fluttered in her heart. It almost felt like hope. After all these years.

Hope hurt her more than any blade, cut deeper than any spell.

She wanted to see him; this boy, her descendant.

But that would mean doing the unthinkable.

Damn Ozma. Damn him to the hells.

Tyrian was saying something, but the words were distant, muted indistinct. She could scarcely hear him, or Watts, or Hazel, or anyone for that matter. Her heart was pounding, her ears ringing, her mouth dry.

Salem paced to a nearby window overlooking the Grimmlands, emotions roiling deep within. All these armies, and yet she felt so powerless.

Never before had she been so weak as she was in this moment, so tormented, so conflicted...!

She would not cry. She couldn't cry. She refused to cry.

A dark miasma began to bleed from her shoulders.

Tyrian dared reach towards her. "Your Grace...?"

Salem nearly tore his arm off then and there.

"Leave." she forced the the word out through grit teeth.

Her minions needn't be told twice; they scarpered, slamming the door behind them.

Alone at last, she released a single, solitary, shuddering breath. Her hands clenched into fists at her sides. Black blood bled between her fingers.

Calm. She must be calm. Must regain control of herself.

This mustn't register on an emotional level. So what if one of her children had survived that awful night? So what if she had descendants? So what if there were her grandchildren, or mayhaps her great-great-great-great-GREAT grandchildren? It meant nothing. Changed nothing. Absolved nothing. She would proceed as she always had, indomitable, invincible, alone.

Her scroll pinged where she'd left it upon the table, jabbing painfully into her thoughts.

The soft chime may as well have been a death knell to her sanity.

Salem knew that she shouldn't look at the darn thing.

To do so would surely leave her undone...

...she looked anyway.

Much to her dismay, a picture of this "Jaune Arc" stared back at her, wearing an embarrassed grin, the restored Fall Maiden all but hanging off him. Salem ignored the girl; she meant little in the grand scheme of things. No, her eyes were only for the boy, and the longer she peered at him, the more certain she became. She could see it in him, the resemblance between them, Ozma's jawline, her own wild blond hair, the innocence of a soul not yet corrupted by this world. But more than that...

He had her eyes.

Salem's gaze had been a lovely shade of blue before the corruption. His eyes were almost the exact same shade.

There it was, one final jab at her, courtesy of Ozma, the straw that broke the camel's back.

Salem felt her ironclad self-control begin to fracture. Crack. Break. Shatter apart, now.

Closing her eyes, she exhaled softly. A lone black tear ran down her pallid face.

Her shoulders trembled as emotions long forsaken welled up within her.

From there, she took a deep breath, threw her head back...

.

..

...and she screamed.

Salem screamed and screamed and screamed.

All around her, the windows in her tower shattered in a shower of glass.

(.0.0.0.)

Juniper Arc awoke with a start.

Strange. She could've sworn she'd heard someone scream just now.

Was it her imagination? She wanted to say yes, but it had sounded so visceral, so real...

Shaking her head, she peered out the window, sighing as her anxiety fled and the forest flashed by.

Ghastly metal box. Who enjoyed rising trains these days anyway? Not her, nosiree!

Still, while she'd never been terribly fond of them, she couldn't deny their efficiency; or in this case, the chance to stall her husband. Naruto could've run the lot of them to Vale in under an hour, but that would've meant ambushing poor Jaune.

Their boy had suffered enough, hadn't he?

Craning her neck she found her husband in question sound asleep in the seat beside her, head resting against her shoulder in a rare moment of weakness as he snored softly, their children sprawled in the seats around them, dead to the world.

Well, most of them were.

Sable and a few of the younger tykes had already begun to draw on his exposed cheek with markers, doodling away to their heart's content.

A small smile tugged at the corner of her mouth. Oh, dear. Daddy wouldn't be happy when he awakened.

Juniper couldn't help herself. Out came her scroll and she snapped a few pictures for posterity's sake.

She'd take these little moments while she could, savoring the calm before the storm.

All the while, their train hurtled onward to Vale.

Her son awaited.

A/N: Get the hints?

Better yet, would you like weekly updates? Do let me know! Really need to hear back from you, here.

As ever, we're sticking with the tried and true "Embers" rule. If folks don't like this, it won't be continued. Meaning that if the story itself ain't popular, if folks don't like it...well, I'll not continue it. So by all means, speak up! Your voice matters! Make yourself heard! As ever, reviews are the fuel that sustain me. Without them I cannot write a single word. Simple as that. I'm working two jobs, trying to keep a roof over my family's head, and at the end of the day this is very much a HOBBY. I simply don't have time to write a story no one likes, and feedback sustains me...

Once again, reviews are my fuel. Without them I simply cannot write.

So in the Immortal Words of Atlas...

...Review...Would You Kindly?

No previews this time.

Can't afford spoilers.

See you soon!