Summary: Post Volume 3. Half a year has passed since the 'Battle of Beacon'. How does the world continue after all that has happened? What's left after everything has been swept away?

Stay

Chapter One

Cold Beginnings and Colder Hearts

RWBY

A puff of white breath released into the darkened sky, dispersing in the quiet breeze. Its owner ran a hand through unkempt blonde hair as he leaned on the railing of the balcony. The sounds of rich orchestral music could be heard through the glass doors to the mansion. The clinking of chatter served as its accompaniment as rich men and women talked of rich people things.

It was safe to say that Jaune Arc was not a fan of these rich people things.

Half a year after the fall of Beacon, Jaune, alongside Ruby Rose, Lie Ren, and Nora Valkyrie, had finally found themselves in Atlas. Along the way they had encountered what could only be defined as a world on fire. Sometime, all those months ago, a woman decided to disrupt the world's order, leaving madness in her wake.

A light snow covered Atlas and, combined with the pale moonlight, left the city in a peaceful glow. Brightly lit signs and billboards felt alien amongst empty streets, filled only with the mechanical-esque footprints of Atlesian soldiers. Strict curfews had been implemented for civilian safety due to rising Grimm attacks across Remnant. It was the only way to make people feel safe, no matter how much of a farce it may be.

Jaune stretched, groaning as his back cracked, releasing ingrained stress from months of traveling and fighting. Dressed in an ill-fitting black suit, hastily hired from a local tailor, he stood alone outside while one of the many Schnee Dust Company functions proceeded behind him. Having all been invited, Ruby had implored for them to attend, saying they needed a break. The mansion itself was richly decorated from head to toe, with a manservant in every crevice and a maid in every corner. Shimmers of gold could be seen wherever the eye looked.

But Jaune didn't much care for any of that.

Once upon a time he may have, but not now. And so he found himself outside, away from the rich aristocrats who pretended as if all was still right with the world. The only thing he could stomach was the music. Murmurs of it could be heard playing from the ballroom, reminding him of a much simpler time. With a wistful smile, he closed his eyes as it took him away to a more different, more familiar balcony.

The wind picked up around Jaune, and for a moment he swore he could feel a woman's embrace.

Clack, clack, clack.

Black heels gracefully moved along the smooth stone as a womanly figure draped in gradient blue walked onto the balcony. With every step, her dress moved, exposing the pale flesh of her left leg. Coming to a rest beside Jaune, she quietly looked towards the sky. And for a moment, there was nothing but serenity between them.

"It's your party," Jaune said quietly, breaking the silence. "Won't they miss you?"

"It's my father's party," the figure corrected. "I'm just forced to attend them."

Jaune slowly opened his eyes and turned towards the figure. "Then I guess that makes two of us."

Weiss Schnee stood before him, her white ponytail gleaming ethereally in the moonlight. A long-sleeved blue shrug graced her shoulders, keeping her warm. Her arms wrapped around herself as she met his eyes. Once filled with silent mirth, her gaze was now subdued with sadness and frustration at her predicament. She was a prisoner in her own home, and unjustly so too.

Time had been cruel to everyone, and Weiss Schnee was no exception. When order is thrown out the window, people show just how vile they truly are. When they don't understand something, they don't seek answers. They fear the truth because of the pain it brings. Instead they find a scapegoat and pile their problems onto it. To them, Atlas was responsible for Beacon's fall. No one asked why. No one wanted to. It was Atlas' fault. It was all of the Schnee's' faults.

"It's kinda interesting." Jaune said, looking out towards the horizon. "It's really bad out there, but here…" His grip tightened on the railing. "It's almost like nothing's changed."

"It does seem that way," said Weiss. "But it's not like that."

His anger flared at her words. "What do you mean?"

"Put yourself in their shoes. For them, this is the only life they've ever known."

Jaune paused, processing her words. His anger slowly died. His grip slowly slackened. "I guess you're right," he admitted, fading back into silence.

The world outside was slowly burning. There was no denying that. And yet, while the pillars of men crumbled under anarchy, there were those who chose to be ignorant. There were those who chose to wine and dine on hills that looked down on valleys of tears. Maybe these hill-dwellers were villains who craved a life of gluttony and grandeur. Or maybe they were just as sad and confused as the rest, clinging to what was left of the life they had before everything turned upside-down-sideways.

Maybe that was what the people needed. To, if just for a moment, be able to reaffirm the dying belief that the world had not yet ended.

"Did you…" It was Weiss' hesitant voice that broke the silence this time. "Did you go to Mistral?"

Jaune could feel her gaze on him. He opened his mouth but no words came out. His throat was too dry to speak. All he could manage was a nod.

"So you went to…?"

Another nod.

"How did-?"

"About as well as it could," Jaune rasped out, squeezing his eyes shut. Flashes from his visit to her household flooded his mind. He saw a strong looking woman looking so pale and frail. He saw a shaking man with shaking legs holding the woman up with shaking arms. He saw trophies decorating the living room. He saw pictures of a happy family in happier times littered across the walls. He saw her smile. Her laugh. Her-

A light touch on his shoulder broke Jaune from his reverie. Wild cobalt turned to meet diamond. "I'm sorry," Weiss said softly. "I didn't mean to-"

It was then Jaune realised that he was trembling.

"Don't be." He shook his head and inhaled shakily. "You were her friend too."

Weiss' eyes were brimmed with worry. Her fingertips lingered on his shoulder a while longer before falling back to her side. They both looked off into the distance again, relapsing into silence. A smattering of laughter could be heard from within the ballroom. Not from the smarmy aristocrats and bankers, but from three younger, freer souls. A smile found its way onto Jaune's face when he heard it.

"The two of you would have made quite the team," he said.

He heard Weiss faintly scoff. "She didn't want to team with me," she said. "And I can't blame her. Even I wouldn't have wanted to team with me."

White flakes entered Jaune's vision, causing him to look up. Powdery flakes began to fall once more, gifting Atlas a new blanket to sleep with through the night. Jaune stared towards the sky in wonder as the ballroom music continued to play. He reached out with an open palm and let a drop of snow land on it. Looking at it, he could only wonder, in a world where people either killed or were killed, how something so beautiful could still exist.

"I'd like to see the snow in person," he remembered her telling Nora one night. "Combat arenas aren't quite the same."

And Jaune was suddenly overcome with loneliness.

As Weiss looked around at the falling whiteness, a haunting familiarity came upon her.

The first thing Weiss noted was how white the walls were. With the hall dimly lit with fluorescent lights, the fumes of bleach continuously overwhelmed her. Weiss never was a fan of hospitals. Not since the day she had to get stitches. Opposite her, behind closed doors lay her friends, all healing after being injured from the 'Battle of Beacon'. At least, that's what she heard General Ironwood call it.

Next to her was an ashen-faced boy, gripping tightly onto a bronze headpiece.

With a sigh, Weiss turned around. "You should come back inside." She hesitated. "Your team is probably worried about you."

Comforting someone wasn't quite in Weiss' nature. Rather, the concept was pretty foreign to her. She wanted to do something - anything to help Jaune, but nothing came to mind. All she could do was sit there as his perfectly crafted world continued to fall apart.

"It's a little cold," she finally said, gingerly rising to her feet. "I'll try and find something for us to drink." She began to walk off.

"Wait."

Jaune's hoarse voice cut through the night, making Weiss' footsteps falter. Turning her head, she saw Jaune staring back at her.

"Don't leave," he said. His eyes were wide with fear. He reached out to her like a child to a parent. His hand was shaking terribly. "Not you too. Please."

"Stay," he said weakly. "Just for a while."

Weiss hesitated. The man before her looked so lost; so vulnerable. It felt like if she were to even lightly touch him, that he would shatter into a million pieces, leaving only the headpiece behind.

"Okay," she said softly, stepping forward. "I'll stay."

Firmly grasping Jaune's hand with hers, she eased his arm back down to his side. His expression, having been so stricken with desperation, slowly relaxed once he realised her intentions. Seeing him calm down, Weiss gently let go of his hand. The world outside may continue to burn, but for now they stood together in a little slice of utopia.

"Don't worry," Weiss said quietly as Jaune trembled beside her. "I'll stay for as long as I can."

And snow continued to fall.

Chapter One Fin

Author's Notes: This will be a somewhat short series. Don't worry, this time it'll be chronological. Also, Weiss' concept art for volume 4 looks pretty.

- Narutochaos22