It ought to have been distressing how quickly he came to terms with Amber's passing and found peace. His friends were still worried about him, though he had suffered a heart attack at seventeen so maybe they had good reason to. Oobleck's private tutoring was helping to teach him the dangerous of aura and semblance he'd just never known – which was a lot, seeing as how he'd come to Beacon without a proper education.

The short of it came down to the fact his semblance would work unconsciously, so he needed to make sure he either went to sleep with aura reserves, or he didn't expend any at night. As long as he kept that in mind, he'd be fine. Outside of those lessons about aura, they also talked about psychology, grief, loss, and coping.

It was thinly veiled therapy but Jaune didn't mind it. Oobleck was a good listener and just as good a talker, which was strange because his lessons in class always seemed so boring. Maybe psychology was interesting because it was relevant to him now, or maybe it was just more interesting than history full-stop. Learning how people thought and how the human mind worked made for good reading no matter what reason he was doing it for.

And, of course, it did help. There was no denying that. Learning about grief helped him compartmentalise the feelings he experienced and avoid some of the dangerous pitfalls like blaming others or even himself. Amber wouldn't have wanted that anyway. He'd even had a private meeting with Ozpin to discuss Amber and make sure he was okay, which seemed to end well. Ozpin had even said General Ironwood was easing up on him after his help, recognising that trying to charge a young man who'd just had to be there when someone died was a cruel move.

It was in one of his lesson-slash-therapy sessions with Oobleck that he said, "Why is therapy not mandatory for huntsmen? It feels like it would be useful."

"Preaching to the choir," replied Oobleck. "And it is a choir. Ozpin, Glynda, Peter, myself, I don't think there's anyone here who doesn't see the merit in such, but it can be hard to convince people to accept therapy. Huntsmen and huntresses, especially. Our career is focused on the idea of people being strong enough to defend themselves and their team, and that often doesn't lend well to the idea of people accepting help from outside. It doesn't help that budgets from Vale are tight as well. They like to see it as an unnecessary cost and suggest that anyone suffering should seek help privately."

"That's a shame..."

"It is. I do my best privately and I know that Glynda also has an open-door policy to a few female students. They tend to find it easier to talk to her, especially if their issues are related to men in some way." Oobleck didn't expand further on the problems of other people. "Why bring it up?"

"I'm just thinking that a lot of the people I've been in the dreams of could use it."

"Hmmm. Keep in mind you're seeing their nightmares; you're seeing them at their worst, which might not be representative of how they really are."

"I know. But even so I know some of them have issues that probably seem really small to them but keep dominating their dreams. It makes me wonder if I shouldn't do something about it."

"Do so if you wish."

Jaune was surprised. "Really? I expected more of a respect their privacy angle from you."

"You should respect their private thoughts around me, certainly, but you are their friend, and there's no reason you can't offer them comfort and your time if you want to. Either in the waking world or beyond it. Just remember one important aspect of therapy, Mr Arc. A therapist is not there to fix their problems for them. They are there to help lead the individual in understanding and fixing their problems themselves."

"Can I come to you for advice if I mess it up?"

"Of course!" Oobleck smiled at him. "I'm here to help, so don't be afraid to ask. Just be sure to respect their privacy and not give me any details they wouldn't be comfortable with me knowing. Did you have anything particular in mind?"

"Well..." He thought back to Amber's final moments, which didn't hurt so much now as they had at the time. He remembered her smile, her laughter, and that made him feel at ease. "I guess one question I have is whether it's okay to pretend to be something I'm not in someone's dream."

"Hmm. Deceit is a tricky one. Any vague examples?"

"Well, in one person's dream they thought I was their father." Coco, when he pulled her out the never-ending cupboard she'd been locked in. "And in another I was their babysitter." Velvet, Vanille and her sister. He'd also played the role of Ruby's father in one dream, though he hadn't been able to control his words or voice at the time. "I guess I'm mostly asking if that's a problem somehow. I obviously didn't take advantage of any of them; I was just acting out the dream."

"If you're looking for a clear answer then I can't really give one to you, but I can give you my opinion. It would seem fine to me as long as you weren't taking advantage of them, as you say. Sometimes, therapists engage in roleplay with their clients. I've had cases where I've pretended to be someone's father so that they can say the things to me that they never could to him."

Jaune perked up. "Is that okay?"

"If it helps the client, then yes. Sometimes it gives them peace. Sometimes it helps them put their subconscious thoughts into words. It's easier in therapy because I can ask permission while you can't, but if you are acting in what you genuinely believe is a manner that will help them? Then I cannot see the harm. Just remember that you're not there to get secrets out of them, but to let them speak their mind."

/-/

Blake had always been a consistent presence in Beacon's library, enjoying her afternoons alone with a good book while her team messed around after classes. Jaune had initially thought it a little anti-social, but he'd come to realise it was just a hobby she couldn't enjoy in her dorm with how loud the rest of Team RWBY were, and they were fine with her slipping off for an hour or two. Teams didn't need to be attached at the hip after all.

He'd become something of a presence there as well, and they'd taken to sitting together and occasionally talking. She'd been a little odd about it at first, like she thought he might be hanging around her for some other reason or trying to get something out of her, but that suspicion faded quickly once it was obvious he was just as focused on his reading material as she was.

"More psychology?" Blake looked down at the books and then up at him, curiosity shining in her eyes. "What is it about today?"

"Grief and loss."

She flinched.

"Don't worry, it's not for me," he said. "I'm coming to terms with her death." Like his team, Blake didn't know who Amber had been, only that she'd been someone close to him. "I've just been trying to understand how it all works."

"It's in five stages, isn't it?"

"That's the most common model, yes, but it's not the only one."

"Really?"

Blake lowered her book to the table they were sat at, her natural interest in anything cerebral coming to the fore. It was an odd little dynamic they had. Friends with a shared hobby. Nothing more. In fact, she seemed to enjoy their relationship all the more for there not being any feelings to muddy it. It made him wonder why – but not, specifically, in terms of him. She'd been pretty avoidant of Sun as well at first, even though he was a great guy.

"The five stages of grief is the most commonly known mode," he said, "but like most things that are common knowledge people have ended up taking it as fact when there's a lot of evidence it isn't 100% correct. A more recent model proposes four stages, though they're a bit more combined."

"What are they?"

"Shock and disbelief, searching and yearning, disorganisation and repair, and finally rebuilding and healing."

"I feel like that should be eight stages rather than four."

"They're sort of combined, but there's also another model that's popular among narrative psychologists that will probably sound a lot more cynical."

"Oh?" Now Blake looked even more interested. He wouldn't say she was a pessimist, but she seemed to like the less idealised versions of things. "How does that one work?"

"The idea is that people building their expectations of how the world works around a narrative model. Have you heard of the concept that everyone is the centre of their own universe?" Blake nodded. "It's similar to that. You have a narrative expectation of how the world works. You are in it, you have two parents, you are alive and the world works by a set of laws you have created in your head. A narrative set of rules of the universe. But they're wrong."

"Because we're not the centre of the universe."

"Exactly. So, when someone close to you dies – maybe a parent – those rules you were so comfortable with and so reliant on come apart with a snap. Suddenly, the world doesn't make sense, and the model claims that is what leads to people being angry or in denial after grief. It's them refusing to accept the idea that their narrative worldview was incorrect, and then being forced to either accept it or create a new one with changed rules."

"You're right. That does sound much more selfish."

"A lot of grief is selfish," said Jaune. "Typically, you're grieving because you have lost someone you cared about and won't ever get them back. There might be some elements of you feeling for them, but for the most part grief is internal and about you."

"Well, well, well." Yang strode up to them with a cheeky grin. "My partner and my boyfriend alone in the library together. Are you cheating on me already? With my own best friend, no less." Yang pulled out a seat. "I'm hurt."

Blake rolled her eyes. "We're discussing death, grief, narrative psychology and the concept of what it means to be selfish."

Yang pulled a remarkable manoeuvre in which she halted her sitting, yanked the chair out her way, twisted without falling, then slotted the chair back under the table, all in one graceful move. "Aaand suddenly I'm already bored. Sheesh. I almost wish you were making out behind my back. At least that would have been interesting."

"Psychology is interesting," Blake defended.

"Yeah, sure. Whatever you say. Look, grief is just a thing." Yang waved her hands before her, as if that explained everything. "It's a thing that happens and it sucks and you never want to have to deal with it. Trust me. But time heals all wounds. That's all you need to know." Though she said that, she looked to him with clear worry. "But are you okay talking about this? You just lost someone."

Jaune smiled. "It helps me cope."

"Ah." Yang grimaced and pulled the chair back out. "Then I can listen if you like..."

"It's fine, Yang. Blake likes talking about this. Don't force yourself. And we're mostly done anyway. I'm going to take a guess that my team sent you after me."

Yang looked aside. "No...?"

Heh. Liar. His team had been hounding his every step to make sure he rested and had probably sent Yang because they didn't want to crowd him. Jaune closed his book and stood. "Like I said, I'm about done. Let's go show my team I'm not draining away my aura in a library of all places."

"Papercuts, Jaune. Millions of papercuts."

"Then I guess you'll have to protect me from the scary books."

Blake rolled her eyes. "Yang definitely strikes me as the type who would rather punch a book then read it."

Yang stuck her tongue out at her partner, and Jaune laughed. Amber might be gone, but there were still people all around him living their lives as best they could, and he didn't want to become so lost in grief that he missed all that. If there was an afterlife, then he would meet Amber again and share stories with her, but, until then, he had his own life to live.

And friends who were still alive that needed his help.

/-/

It was snowing.

Jaune had gotten better at knowing when he was in a dream, and the snow certainly helped. It blanketed a landscape he was unfamiliar with, and carried on into the distance, leaving behind trees that looked black in the dark, their branches barren and leaves long dead. It might have been ominous if not for the fact everything was so still and silent. There were no great monsters or terrifying phantoms, just the quiet of the night.

And a dash of red in the distance fluttering in a non-existent breeze. Jaune crunched his way toward the figure, boots sinking into the snow. He knew it was before he got too close. Ruby was wearing her distinctive cloak, and was her own age for once, making her stand out from a great distance. She was sat with her knees pulled up to her chest before a stone plaque laid out on the ground. On it, beautiful scripting read out a name.

Summer Rose.

Ruby was crying softly.

He wasn't the only one dealing with grief. Of course he wasn't. Time heals all wounds, as Yang had said, but that didn't mean the pain disappeared entirely. It just ended up pushed into the recesses of your mind, left a little colder, a little less emotionally damaging, but still there ready to come forth at any moment.

Jaune closed his eyes and took a slow breath he didn't need. Was it wrong? It felt like it should be, and yet he knew what Ruby would want more than anything in the world right now, and he was in a position to give it. Jaune let a tiny amount of his aura slip out, just enough to reach out and tug at her imagination. He didn't know what Summer Rose had looked like.

But Ruby did.

And this was her nightmare.

His body changed with a slick motion, his clothes and hair washing out as he became a fuller person, with a chest that he didn't know what to deal with. Touch it-? No. It wasn't real for one, and it was rude for another point. Jaune looked down at his clothing, not so dissimilar to Ruby's, yet with a white cloak instead of red. He'd always imagined the cloak was her mother's, but he hoped that wasn't the case now because he didn't want it to be red because of blood.

Slowly, he took to his knees behind the crying girl and wrapped his arms around her body from behind, over her shoulders, to link his hands over her stomach. Ruby went still, tensing up in terror. When Jaune brought his chin to rest on her shoulder, bringing them cheek to cheek, he saw her teary eye dart to his, and widen in shock.

"M-Mom...?" whispered Ruby, her voice cracking. "Mommy...?"

Jaune's voice came out feminine, more through Ruby's subconscious control than his. He wasn't using his aura anymore. Ruby had seen him as Summer Rose, and now her imagination was doing all the work for her. "Hello Ruby," he, or she, said. "Why are you crying?"

"M-Mom..." Ruby's eyes clenched shut and she twisted in his grip, burying her face in Jaune – or Summer's – bosom. "Moooom!" she howled. "I'm so sorryyy! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry!"

"W-What are you sorry about?" asked Jaune, wrapping his hands around Ruby's back and stroking her. "Shh. Shhh. What do you have to be sorry for, of all people?"

"I can't visit your grave!" she wailed. "It's your birthday a-and I promised I'd always visit b-but I can't and- and I'm so sorry!"

Ruby burst into tears, holding onto her tight. It was Summer Rose's birthday today? He hadn't realised, but then unless Ruby or Yang were going to say it then he'd have never known. Had this been an issue? He hadn't noticed. They'd both looked fine. But, then, hadn't he as well? Putting on a brave face was easy.

"Oh Ruby," he whispered, burying his nose and mouth in her hair. "You silly girl. Why would I be upset about that?"

"B-But I promised I'd visit..."

"I'm not there, Ruby." He felt the girl tense up but pushed on. "Why would I be spending all my time at a dusty grave when I could be watching over my two darling daughters?" Ruby cried harder, and Jaune stroked her hair. "I'm so very proud of you. In Beacon already, at fifteen."

Ruby hiccupped and looked up at her. "You... You know...?"

"Why wouldn't I know? Do you really think I wouldn't be watching?" Jaune tweaked her daughter's nose. "My daughter, a team leader just like her mother." Ruby's eyes watered. "I couldn't possibly be prouder."

He held Ruby as Ruby, clinging to her mother so desperately and babbling her words. Jaune continued stroking her until Ruby slid down her form until she lay sideways on the snow, curled up against his knees with her head in his lap. His hands continued playing with her hair as Ruby basked in the attention, and eventually began to talk.

"D-Dad was really broken up..."

Jaune closed his eyes but remembered what Oobleck had said. It was to let them talk. "I'm sorry."

"He got better. U-Uncle Qrow helped. He was upset too, and he's drinking more than ever, but he tries. He really does. He was always there for us a-and he helped dad get back on his feet."

"I'm glad."

"Yang is doing okay. She even has a boyfriend!" Ruby blurted out. Jaune stilled, unsure what to think about hearing Ruby talk to her mother about himself. Ruby must have taken the silence as a sign. "But he's good! Jaune is really nice, and he'll be good to Yang. I know he will. You'd like him."

Jaune didn't know what to say, but his mouth moved and the words that came out of him weren't his own. "Is that so? Well, he had better be good to my little sunflower or I'll be having words with him."

The moment passed, and Jaune's mouth came back under his own control, leaving him feeling cold and afraid. Was that-? No. This was Ruby's dream still, so she must have imagined her mom saying something like that, and that made him say it. He wasn't using his aura to control this anymore, so Ruby had a lot more input, even if she didn't realise it.

"Mooom!" giggled Ruby. "Jaune is a friend. He's okay."

"I'll let it be," he said. "What about your other friends? Do you get on with your team?"

"Hm!" Ruby nodded against his legs. "I didn't with Weiss at first, but we got over it and now we're best friends, even if she won't admit it. Blake is quiet and was kind of scary at first, but she just likes to think a lot. Sometimes too much when she drags us into trouble."

"They sound like quite the characters."

"I wish you could meet them..."

"So do I," said Jaune, stroking her cheek. "And I wish I could be there for you every day, to wake you up and bake you cookies and watch you both graduate. But I can't. Not anymore." Ruby tensed, but Jaune kept stroking her face. "But that doesn't mean I'm not aware of it all, and it doesn't mean I'm going to be upset because you didn't visit a grave."

"I love you!" Ruby blurted out. "I love you, mom."

Jaune's lips moved without his control once more. "And I love you, my precious little rose. And I love Yang, Taiyang, and little Zwei as well."

Zwei-?

He didn't even know who that was. Another bit of information forced past his lips by Ruby's imagination. She recognised it, and snuggled into him, so he let it go and focused on wrapping her cloak gently around her so she could be comfortable. Ruby was snuggling up tighter still, wanting to go to sleep in his lap. He would gladly allow her, if that was what it took to make her just a little happier.

Even if he wasn't Summer, and even if this wasn't real, he was sure the words would have been the same coming from Summer Rose. From what little he knew. Jaune placed his hand over Ruby's eyes and shielded her from the wind and snow.

"H-Happy birthday, mom..."

He wasn't sure if Ruby really drifted off to sleep in a dream, or if that was even possible. It was more likely she was just resting, laying there imagining she was asleep wrapped up in warm blankets while her mother caressed her. Something white fluttered in front of Jaune's eyes and he looked up, ready to use his aura to ward away any creatures or Grimm that might intrude upon Ruby's dream.

Instead, his throat tightened and his eyes bulged out wide.

Ahead of them, floating over the edge of the cliff, a spectral figure identical to the body he was wearing watched them both. Summer Rose's white cloak fluttered out to her side, and she watched Ruby with adoring eyes, before they rose to meet his.

Not real.

It wasn't real. He knew that. This was Ruby's dream, and the spectral figure in front of him was a representation of Summer Rose as she remembered her, not the real thing or some spirit given form. It was a distant memory, a beloved memory, which had coalesced in this moment as a snapshot of the woman who birthed and raised her.

And she was smiling.

At him.

"Thank you," the ghostly figure mouthed, then burst into white petals which scattered on the wind.

It wasn't real, but Ruby had known her mother better than he ever could have, and if she believed, with all her heart, that Summer Rose would have thanked him for doing this, then he would believe that too. After all, he was unlikely to ever find a truer representation of what the woman was like than how her own daughter remembered her.

"You're welcome," he whispered, into the wind.

He would look after Ruby, as would Yang, Blake, Weiss, Pyrrha, Nora, Ren, and everyone else in her life. Ruby may have lost her mother, but she was not alone, even in the depths of her own nightmares.

Jaune stayed stroking her face and hair until the early hours of the morning.

/-/

Ruby woke up with tears on her face but also a huge smile. The birds were being their obnoxious selves and making noise outside, but it didn't feel nearly as annoying as it normally would have, even on a weekday when she had class. The rest of her team was still asleep, but she crept out of bed and darted to the bathroom, turning on the light and looking at herself in the mirror.

Her eyes were puffy and red, and there were tear tracks down her cheek, and yet, somehow, she'd never felt better. She could still feel her mother's fingers on her face and in her hair, the tingling aftersensation from what she knew had been real.

Taking a deep breath, she flashed her reflection a huge smile.

"Happy birthday, mom. Sorry I couldn't make it, but I know you don't care if I'm here or there. I..." Ruby hesitated, then laughed. "I'm going to kick butt and become the best huntress ever. Just you wait and see."

There was no answer from her reflection, but she didn't need one. She'd got her answers last night, and she could still remember every little detail with an unusual clarity. Ruby clenched her fist tight before her, stormed out the bathroom and picked up the hated whistle off the side. One she'd promised Weiss she wouldn't use again.

Sorry Weiss, but there's no time to be sleeping in if we're going to be the best huntress team ever.

Ruby brought the whistle to her lips and blew.