A/N

Hi, how are ya? Been good? I haven't, as you may very well be able to see from my lack of activity.

Heh. Just for the sake of doing it, I'll even post my activity on this chapter, though I'm only counting it as visited when I add more than 100 words or change the story bits around.

I started this chapter on October 9th.

100 words.

Have just picked it back up October 22nd.

644 words.

December 26th: 1050 words.

January 5th: 1280 words.

January 9th: 2000 words.

Posting it!

Do enjoy!

Chapter 5

Tingling Sensation

He was falling, his breath had left him, his heart stopped beating. Down, down, and further still he fell, absent in fear as he was in hope. This was death, this eternal drop. He could not move, he could not shout, the air that passed by held no scent, not that he could inhale to find out. Although there was nothing for him to taste, he could very well assume that sense was out the door as well. Though he was frozen, dead, and falling, one thing would not leave him alone.

His final sense, encompassing that feeling of touch. He could feel the cold, even as the air brushed past his body. He felt a weight, undefined and unobservable, even as it pulled him. Most of all, deep inside the place one might find a soul, he felt heat. Neither destructive or bright, a flame grew within his sacred self. As he fell, the fire spread throughout his body, halted only by the flesh that defined him. Thus came to be, that even in this lifeless void, a man might still be annoyed by the tingling sensation of his own nerves. It grew and forced itself against the prison of flesh. A corpse was no match for the soul trapped within, thoughtful or otherwise. It slithered and expanded, always increasing in magnitude, until it finally found the path out.

Or paths, as was the case.

Through his tongue and throat, he could easily taste thick smoke and rich ash, as if he had inhaled the source itself, although, 'exhaled' fit far more accurately. From his nose, a charred, yet smokey scent made itself known. He felt hunger rise as his mouth tried to water, but no food would be found for those who could do without. Soft crackling, sharp sparking, violent roaring, all engulfed his ears. The flames of Hell, he might have mused, are worryingly soothing to my spirit. Finally, his last sense, and yet the most valued, sight. He could not see, and all the same he could see everything. The light forced him to squint, even as he gazed lazily at his own form.

His old form.

And then he hit the bottom, all of his velocity leaving him in an instant, not that he would know, because the feeling of falling had forced him awake.

"Shit!" Jaune yelled, jumping up from the bed he had been asleep in barely seconds ago.

Looking around the room proved to be difficult, as if someone had placed a spotlight in front of his face. Bright, blindingly white light burned it's way into his pupils, preventing him from ever seeing more than a few blurry shapes around the room. He could just barely make out a very strangely designed couch that was placed beside the bed, adorned with orange, black, and tan pillows, apparently decorated with a rather fancy trim. His eyes slowly began to adjust to the light, even as he desperately tried to ascertain where it was he had awoke. So far he gathered a blue-white bed, a very fancy-most likely of sophisticated design-couch, and a sun hanging from the middle of the room. Nearby, sitting just to the left of the bed, was a chair just as oddly designed as the couch that sat across from it. A high-backed chair, with vibrant red paint and beautifully crafted gold accents, proving that this was something of noble bearing, a rare piece very few would associate with someone like himself. Oddly enough, the chair almost seemed to wobble, as if some unseen force acted upon it. Turning back to the last section of this strange room, Jaune realized that his eyes felt dry and irritated. Holding them closed for just a scant few seconds, he rubbed the sleep from his eyes, opening them to find that he had finally adjusted to the light.

He was stunned.

Not by the decor, mind you. All around the room where basic home furnishings, perfect for recovering patients, such as himself. He was not awed by the knowledge that the 'hanging sun' was actually a light bulb. No, Jaune was stunned because, immediately after opening his eyes, he was locked into a staring contest with one Lie Ren.

"Should I be dissatisfied by the fact that I am just 'Lie Ren', or just grateful that he didn't poetically call me a piece of furniture?" Though Ren maintained eye contact with Jaune, it was painfully obvious he was speaking to someone else. His smile also gave Jaune the impression that he was being messed with.

Hearing excessive giggling, Jaune swallowed his spit and prepared to defend his tattered pride. Keeping his face as stoic as he could, he turned to face the source of laughter. What had once been a strange couch was now Nora, sitting on a couch, trying (read: failing) to keep herself from laughing. He wondered if everything he had thought while he was waking up had been broadcast to everyone in his room.

Mortified, Jaune came to the very sudden, fairly obvious, realization of why there might be a quivering gold and red chair beside his bed. Glancing at the chair, almost laughing himself at how silly he was acting(as if Pyrrha would be anywhere else), he found himself surprised to see an empty red chair, with soft gold decorations. Gazing without comprehension, he squinted and focused on the chair, as if willing his partner to appear out of thin air. The sensation of cold water sliding up his neck was ignored entirely, even as his hands became numb. Finally accepting that she wasn't somehow invisible to his senses, he sighed before turning back towards Ren and Nora, only to find himself face to face with the person he was looking for. Belatedly, he could still taste smoke and ash on his tongue, which was probably doing wonders to his morning breath.

"Hello again!" With a smirk and a tilt of her head, she obviously knew he had been looking for her. Her cheeks were a bit red, but no more than might be expected of this rather cold room.

"H-hey Pyrrha, what's up?" Aw c'mon, that sounded stupid, why couldn't he be more charismatic? Cutting his losses, and hoping she treated his question as a greeting, Jaune gestured to his team, gathered together in this little room. Man, that put a smile on his face every time he thought about it. His friends would always be there for him, and he would certainly do the same.

"So, first order of business, what's been going on while I was, er, resting?" Wonderful, that should get the ball rolling. Maybe he had only missed a few classes or even slept in for a day? What class would they be in around now, if that were the case? Looking at the clock on the wall, he assumed it would be a few minutes until Professor Port's class…

Was it too late to fake a concussion? More importantly, did he actually have a concussion? Was smelling burnt wood and fabric a symptom of his head injury? Looking to his friends for advice, he saw Ren's eyes suddenly shining with inner knowledge, as if he had an epiphany. Ren hurriedly shoved and prodded his teammates, all the while they seemed to reach that same glowing understanding.

It was getting awfully hot in the room, but between the newly discovered head trauma and the attention of his team, he couldn't help but feel nervous. Taking a step back, he lowered himself onto the chair that reminded him of Pyrrha, easily disregarding the feeling of a soft breeze as it washed over his body. He definitely needed to get his head checked if he felt wind in a sealed room. Ah, and now his friends were absolutely going into a frenzy. Would he be able to restrain them until a doctor or nurse came by?

Hell no. If Nora's exuberance didn't slap him into fine paste, then certainly Pyrrha would just walk right over him. In fact, she was walking towards him right now. Well, actually she was leaping, but that wasn't a concern at the moment.

Squee~l! Squee~l! Squee~l!

The fire alarm that just suddenly decided to lose its shit? That was far more important. If this wasn't a drill, they could be in real danger. He needed to get his team out of here as fast as possible. Remembering the layout for the building, as well as the easiest routes to get out of the building, he made a plan, along with a few backups, and prepared to set out.

And then Pyrrha tackled him.

The last thing he saw was the frame of the bed he had been resting on, even as it went up in spectacularly bright flames. The last thing he felt was shared betwixt his physical and mental nerves. Pain flared against the back of his head, even as his consciousness wearily withdrew itself.

However, a strong feeling assailed his failing mind. It propped him up, set him against a wall, and proceeded to force him back to full awareness. This wonderful sensation? Kindly twas annoyance. Thus, he rose again from slumber, far and away from the realms that plagued him nightly. He cried out against the void that would assail him so ferociously, words forming before rational thought could cull them.

*Oh fuck no!" Jaune shouted, barely managing to catch himself, and then Pyrrha, before they could hit the floor. He rose suddenly, pulling her up, blissfully ignorant of the breeze surrounding him.

Of course, it would not do, holding this anger towards his own partner. Surely she had a reason to all but attack him? Even as he turned to ask, fate prepared a new interruption, this being the Emergency Rescue and Aid staff stationed at Beacon. The room was filled to bursting with foam and water, coating the students, cutting off their access to oxygen.

Panic ensued.

Surprisingly, (depending on who's perspective you used,) Ren was the first to react, leaping headfirst for the doorway. Conveniently, for no other word or combination thereof would fit, he was immediately out of the vicinity of Nora Valkyrie's quite extensive reach.

For good reason, of course, as he could stop the apparently all too excited crew that was… 'helping' his friends. After all, his other teammates could probably withstand at least a few hits from Magnhild. Yup, they had avoided a tragedy here, as the fire that started inside Jaune's room had been swiftly, if a bit too assuredly, snuffed out. He almost gave himself a pat on the back, as his quick thinking was able to calm down the response team before anything bad happened. He felt a breeze tussle his hair, a breathless 'why' uttered into existence for but a moment.

And then, only then, did Jaune slam, full force and all-abandon, into the far wall of patient room 12. It should be noted that Jaune's own room was 15. Conveniently, in the matter of ease and not coincidence, Jaune left his wakeful mind in his original room.

A/N

Anybody else noticing that I seem to really like knocking Jaune unconscious? I mean, I'm really starting to see too much of a pattern there, so I guess I'll just have to change it up next chapter.

Whenever THAT comes around, however, is an entire subject in and of itself. Though I might, might, try to apply myself to writing more.

Might.

(I'M LAZY)

So, if you see any, and I do mean any, glaring mistakes or plot holes, please let me know. I'm almost begging you.

Oh! And I am still interested in finding out what you like and don't like, so don't forget to review… er if you want, that is.