With the surviving students out of harms way, Atlas razed the forest. A second wave of airships had remained in Atlas long enough to pick up incendiaries before following after the three that were sent to rescue team LSTRDLN. The sector burned for what it wrought. The glow from the fires were visible even as the airships landed in Atlas. The Grimm there would never hurt anyone again.
But it was too late for Daniel. The third airship had stayed back, circling where he fell until it was running on fumes. But no sign of him ever appeared. Not a smudge on thermals, not a bloodstain on snow. It was the final injustice of the entire mission. They couldn't even bring him back to Vale, back to home.
When the somber airships touched down on Atlas soil, attendants rushed the seven students to the student wing of an Atlesian hospital. The two teams were split up in to stark white rooms with four beds, one for each member of a Huntsman team. At first, the horde of nurses and doctors had pestered them with questions as they bandaged the injured students. That was several hours ago. The hospital room was near silent now. Nothing but the beeping of monitors and whirring of machines to distract the three members of team Dandelion from their own thoughts
Nick was the only one not confined to the bed, although he sat on one given to him. Bandages covered Dakota's head in a thick layer of protection, and Lewis' foot was wrapped and elevated. It was only luck that they hadn't gotten anything worse. Not that any of them felt lucky. Despite the gorgeous sunset that came through a window on the far wall, no one glanced in its direction. That would mean looking at the empty fourth bed.
Sixteen minutes, forty-seven seconds. Atlas had retrieved the crashed fighter's black box and compared its records to that of the rescuing airships. Nick didn't know why they had given them the number, but it echoed through his head. Sixteen minutes and forty-seven seconds was the time from when Daniel first arrived to when he fell. In a quarter of an hour they had regained their friend, and then lost him forever.
A soft tapping on the door alerted Nick to the presence of visitors. Glazed eyes turned toward the door, but his legs refused to respond. After a moment, his eyes returned to staring blankly forwards. The knock repeated, this time louder. To his right, Dakota shifted and swung his feet off the bed. The part of Nick's mind that still registered thoughts told him it wasn't good for Dakota to be moving yet. Nick closed his tired eyes and willed his body to move from its stupor. Left foot off the bed. Right foot off the bed. Push off. Walk to the door. Open, and see who it is. Slide out and close the door before Dakota sees the unwelcome guests.
"What are you doing here?" Nick growled. It was the first full sentence he had uttered since the doctors left. He wanted to be alone with what was left of his team, not dealing with, these people.
"We wanted to see how you were doing," Yarrow answered. He and two others, Ebon and a redhead girl sporting a white bandage taped over her cheek, stood morosely in the corridor. The Faunus' tail dragged against the floor, the girl hugged her arms and traced patterns in the tile. Yarrow held something long and thin wrapped in a cloth. He gestured at the girl and continued. "You've met before, but this is—"
"I know who you are," Nick lied. He had no desire to know the girl's name. The sooner they were gone, the better. He planted his feet wide and planted his hands on his belt. His right thumb brushed against the grip of his weapon. Empty casings still filled the cylinder, but that mattered little to Nick. "What the hell are you doing here?"
Yarrow winced. "We wanted to tell you, how sorry we were. We're," he caught himself, "we were Daniel's teammates."
Nick laughed a low, hollow laugh. "No you weren't," he said.
"Yes, we were," the girl said. "He trained with us for six months."
"Then where were you when he came to save us?" Nick asked. "I don't recall seeing your pretty faces when he crashed."
"We had our orders," Ebon said. "We wanted to, but." He petered off.
"That didn't stop Daniel, did it?" Nick asked. "Maybe if you'd stuck your neck out for him, we wouldn't be having this conversation. If you'd acted like the damn teammates you're supposed to be, he wouldn't—" His eyes fell toward the floor and he had to choke back a sob. "He wouldn't have had to come alone."
The three seniors looked down at their shoes, embarrassed to watch as Nick calmed himself down, ashamed at the truth.
"Nick, right?" the girl, Rojoe, he finally remembered, spoke up. "I, I don't know what to—"
Nick held up a hand. He took a deep breath and spoke. "Just do what you came to do and get out of here."
Yarrow pressed the cloth bound object in to Nick's outstretched hand. Even through the wrappings, the weight and feel told Nick what it was before he tore the fabric loose. Fire had blackened the metal scabbard and the leather wrapped handle was all but burned away, but Daniel's sword sat in his grip. With shaking hands, Nick grasped the handle and pulled the blade halfway out. Untouched by fire, the blade shone from the hours of maintenance Daniel put in to it.
"Our leader, Greeve, went out to look for Daniel himself," Ebon explained. "He didn't find him, but he brought this back. He's not one for," he stopped himself and backtracked, "we think you should have it. Maybe you're right about things."
Nick sheathed the blade and looked the trio. Tears glistened in Ebon and Yarrow's eyes, and Rojoe was sucking in gulps of air, forcing her emotions back under control. Without a word, they turned to leave when Nick finally spoke. His voice felt and sounded like Glas had stabbed him again, like months of therapy never happened. "Thank you," he managed.
Yarrow stopped and wiped at his face before looking over his shoulder at Nick. "Yeah, you're welcome," he murmured in response.
Lunare attacked the wall with a ferocity the most enthusiastic lecturer could only dream of mimicking. His fifth marker was down to the nub, but that hardly mattered. None of the doctors knew what they were talking about. He was completely fine and in no need of medical attention. So was the rest of team LSTR. Ryler was the worst off, and his foot would be healed in a couple of days. They were still in the hospital room, likely in mourning for Daniel. That was all well and good for them, but he had too much to do to be mourning. Calculations, weight distributions, material costs, he had to figure it all out right now.
The door to the shared room opened, and Lunare's marker paused as someone called his name in a hushed tone. His concentration shattered, he cursed whoever entered. He backtraced his thought process and was about to begin again when a hand fell on his shoulder. Heat flushed through Lunare and he fought to remain in control. He gripped the marker like a knife, rose from his crouched position between two beds, and spun to meet the offender. A tired, tanned face and a battered leather hat greeted his gaze.
"Nick," Lunare said, "you're supposed to be under observation." This was not the intruder he expected. It made sense, the two teams shared the same room, but it still dumbfounded him. He peered over Nick's shoulder to see if anyone else was there and became aware of the mess he'd made of the room. All his belongings, and a good deal of his teammates', were strewn across the room. They'd been in the way of his search for markers and blueprints.
"So are you," Nick said. His eyes were red, and tear marks streaked through a collection of dirt and grime. He held up his other hand. Lunare's gaze fell to the long object held reverently in his grasp. Fire and battle had marked the surface, but Lunare could still remember the day he'd met Daniel and pulled it from its sheath.
No! he had to focus. He could mourn later when he was certain it would never happen again. Not on his watch.
With a start, he realized that Nick was talking again, and he forced himself to listen. "—thought you might have something in your kit to take off the soot."
A distraction for a distraction. Under better circumstances Lunare might be elated that he'd found a solution. Right now, all he needed was uninterrupted concentration. He gave short directions to a black snap bag he'd thrown onto Lewis' bed, and returned to his work.
"Tell me you're not making Scrapmetal two point O," Nick said, his tone disapproving. "Not today."
"Very well, I'm not," Lunare said. It wasn't a lie, it would take more than a firebombing to harm Scrapmetal. As soon as the design was complete, he would charter an airship to pick up the pieces and ship them back to Vale. A few supplies, some off the shelf parts he couldn't make on his own, and Scrapmetal would run better than she ever did before.
"Well that sure is what it looks like," Nick countered. He poked Lunare in the back with a blueprint. "Ain't this its cross section on this paper?"
The marker slid down the wall and the tip broke off. Capping it, he turned to face Nick. He didn't understand, he could never understand how Lunare felt right now. He tore the blueprint from Nick's hand and gestured at the drawing. "A reference point, nothing more," he said. "With Scrapmetal unavailable, I am forced to rely on this if I am going to install proximity sensors on the front." He shoved the paper back in to Nick's hands. "Once I have retrieved Scrapmetal, the blueprint will be unnecessary."
Nick frowned. "I still can't believe this is what you're focusing on."
"It is the only thing I can focus on," Lunare said. He couldn't believe he had to explain himself right now. It would have been so much simpler if this could have waited until later, when he had time to explain everything. But if it was happening now, then it was his job to do it right.
"I assumed that my skill with Scrapmetal was enough, when I was instead hindering her." He shook the broken marker at Nick. "This is the only thing I can do right now to prevent it from happening again, but you can be assured, Nicholas Ochre, that it's not the only thing I'll be changing. No more putting off upgrades, no letting my skills plateau, no giving gifts a day later than I can afford!" Anger boiled to the top, and he threw the marker at a pile of clothes. It struck a jean jacket and bounced off with a dull thud.
Lunare's eyes widened. That was a mistake. He'd been trying to avoid noticing it since he accidentally pulled it out. Scrapmetal was only the final mistake he had made since their arrival in Atlas. The jacket was the first, and his greatest. Lunare numbly felt his legs give way and he fell to his knees as Nick moved towards the jacket. He lifted it and grunted under the unexpected weight. Even from this distance, Lunare could see the rough stitching where he mended the gash Yarrow made. The same gash that inspired him in the first place.
"Why do you have this?" Nick asked. "Dakota threw it out the window months ago. Lewis and me, we searched for it."
"Pull the tag," Lunare managed. Oh gods, what a fool he had been. Hot liquid pooled at the corners of his eyes as he fought back tears. Through watery eyes, he watched Nick peel back a layer of denim. A third layer of metal strips was sandwiched between the two layers of denim. The strips laced together to form an uninterrupted sheet of metal. It flexed under Nick's ministrations, but Lunare knew that even the lightest blow would stiffen the metal and prevent anything from getting through. He should know; he could count on one hand the items of clothing made like that, and he wore one of them.
"Corabellum armor," Lunare croaked. "I wanted to give it to Daniel before we left but—"
he couldn't finish. The tears poured freely from his eyes and streaked down his face. His body trembled as he gasped for air between sobs. After seeing how Daniel reacted to their presence, Lunare had thought it best to wait until after the mission to give Daniel his present. Whatever bothered Daniel might be gone, or they could at least talk it out. Too late.
Boots thudded against the ground and Lunare became dimly aware of Nick crouching down next to him. Thick muscled arms wrapped around Lunare and rocked him back and forth.
"I'm sorry," Lunare mumbled. "It's my fault he's gone. You don't, know how it feels. To be, to be why he's not here." He buried his head in Nick's shoulder and sobbed even harder. Nick kept his rocking and added tears of his own.
Nick said nothing, just held his friend tight. It was about the only thing that he could do right now.
For team LSTRDLN, the rest of their time in Atlas remained uneventful. Team GREY made no more appearances, but the steady procession of visitors more than made up for their welcome absence. Huntsmen in training that had been with them on the fateful mission gave condolences for their loss. Doctors and scientists that worked on Daniel, although they kept their positions a closely guarded secret, spoke of how good a patient Daniel was. Even General Ironwood made an appearance, apologizing for the tragedy and promising that the incident would be investigated. No one mentioned the theft of an Atlesian fighter. In the wake of Daniel's sacrifice, the matter was dropped and hidden as if it never occurred in the first place.
When it was time to leave, seven somber silent students boarded their plane without fuss. Lunare gave the loading of Scrapmetal a brief glance before walking through the accordion-like bridge to the airship.
As the airship pulled away from its mooring, Ryler spoke up. He wanted to break up the silent gloom hovering over the team. "So, anyone have any ideas on what they're gonna write about for Oobleck's essay?"
The question did little to clear the gloom, but the groans it elicited were enough to break the silence. The semester was over now, but Professor Ozpin and the rest of Beacon's staff had accommodated their special circumstances. Most of Beacon's professors wrote their exams off, the experience they gained during the mission more than adequate credit. Only Professor Oobleck's final remained. There was little they could learn about the political turmoil of the great war from fighting Grimm. Still, at least he extended the deadline by another week.
"Anything but Atlas," Tiberius answered. I think that I have had my fill of white snow for a good while, thank you."
"You kidding? I'd never skip a chance to take a crap on Atlas," Schatten countered. "Especially after—" he stopped himself, realizing the territory he had treaded in to. But it was too late, and the idea was already out there. They lapsed in to an awkward silence as the airship climbed through the clouds and headed for Beacon.
"What about you Dakota?" Lewis asked.
Dakota stopped looking out the window and turned to his teammate. Bandages still encircled his head, but the doctors anticipated a quick recovery. "Blowing it off," he mumbled.
"What? You can't just blow a final off man," Lewis argued. "I mean, you'll get left behind without us."
"I'm failing anyways," Dakota said. "Oobleck said I needed an A to pass. Never wrote more than a B paper in my life."
"Well this time will be different," Lewis said. "I'm sure we can all help you write the essay, no problem at all man. What's your idea for a topic?"
Dakota frowned in concentration. His head still hurt sometimes, especially when he went deep in thought. Finally, he answered his teammate. The anti-art group, what were their names? I might do something on them and how they tried to kill emotion."
The group exchanged glances amongst themselves. "You sure you want to do that one?" Schatten asked. "I'm not saying that just because I was going to do the same topic."
"I can pick something else," Dakota said, but Schatten waved him off.
"It's fine. I'll write something about the Faunus and how the war kick-started their civil rights."
"What made you want to do that one?" Nick asked.
"I don't know," Dakota said. He looked back out the window at an expanse of clouds and forest rolling underneath the airship. There was an answer, but not one he was ready to bring up. He thought about the movement, how it took over Mantle. Turning an already cold place into one where emotions were something to be feared and shunned. Mankind lost their emotions, but they still lived. If they could live without that, what else could someone do without?
What did it mean to be human?
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