//------------------------------//
// Fear and Loss (New) 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
//------------------------------//


Fear and Loss


The streets of Vale were quiet, or at least quieter than they had been before, to Pyrrha’s recollection. 
Vale was as large as Mistral, perhaps a little larger — if less steeped in history — and on Pyrrha’s visits into Vale, she had found the city streets to be as bustling as ever those of Mistral had been. 
Not that she was particularly well-versed in all the flows and currents of movement down all the streets of Mistral — she had never claimed to be streetwise, nor had she denied having lived a sheltered, privileged life — any more than she was vastly familiar with Vale. But all the same, she could not remember it having ever been so quiet before. 
The streets were not quite deserted, not yet, and not just because Pyrrha and her friends were walking down them, but there was a quiet to them; the footfall was — in Pyrrha’s opinion, admittedly, and equally admittedly drawn only from her own experience — down quite dramatically; instead of throngs moving down the streets like a river, human currents flowing into and out of the shops in an almost equal exchange that never lessened the overall volume of the surge, there were only individuals and small groups, and they moved with a palpable anxiety to their tread, eyes and faces darting around them. Children, in particular, were incredibly hard to come by. Pyrrha had noticed only a handful since they had gotten off the airship. The shop doors were open, but hardly anyone seemed to be coming out, much less going in. People moved with hurried steps, as if unwilling to linger out of doors for even a moment longer than necessary. 
It wasn’t difficult to guess why it should be so. Since the start of this academic year, Vale had endured crime, terrorism, and finally, a grimm attack; although the news declared that the Valish were handling all of these repeated shocks with a stoic determination, although the new First Councillor urged everyone to live their lives as normal without disruption, it seemed to Pyrrha now that not only were his urgings falling upon deaf ears, but at the same time, the assertions of the news appeared to be based more in hope than in reality. 
Especially when those same news sources were grimly predicting huge losses for the hospitality industry. 
That, at least, was substantiated by the evidence of Pyrrha’s own eyes: the pubs and cafes that they passed as they walked down the street all had signs out in front of their doors proclaiming that they were open for business in ways that made them seem ever so slightly desperate. 
Mind you, considering the sparse and empty states of some of them — the cafes where you could see in through the windows and see for yourself exactly how many empty tables there were — Pyrrha could accept that they had cause for desperation. 
It seemed that, despite the presence of police and soldiers on the streets — they had passed five police cars since leaving the skydock, and there were as many soldiers on patrol in some streets as there were ordinary people going about their business — the people of Vale did not feel safe in their own city. 
Pyrrha felt sorry for them. She felt sorry for all of the Valish, whose city had been battered and hammered and wounded, but strangely enough, she felt most sorry for the people working in the empty bars and coffee shops, whose jobs would be at risk if things didn’t turn around soon. 
Hopefully, the Vytal Festival would restore their fortunes; although thinking of the Vytal Festival reminded Pyrrha that her own kingdom had not yet made up its mind what it intended to do about the Vytal Festival just yet, although the council of the court was expected soon. If Atlesians and Mistralians decided to stay at home, as so many Valish were staying at home, then all these places might struggle to survive. 
Although she found it hard to condemn them for staying at home after what they’d been through. It was one thing to say, as she had to Sunset, that they must live on, but there was a difference between that and needless risk. If people had decided that going out represented the latter rather than the former, then who was Pyrrha Nikos to tell them they were wrong?
Pyrrha was out, not only with her own teammates but also with Team YRBN — minus, of course, Blake, who had reached Atlas by now. Arslan had joined them too, claiming boredom and the need for a change of scenery. She might even have been telling the truth. 
In any case, their party of eight was the largest that Pyrrha had seen on the streets that day as they wandered ever so slightly aimlessly through the quiet Vale. Aside from just getting out of school, no one had anything that they pressingly wanted to acquire — at least not that they’d mentioned — and so, they simply walked, heading in the vague direction of the ice cream parlour where Jaune’s friend worked, sometimes drifting into shops that were empty or nearly so as the fancy took one of them. 
“It sure is quiet, huh?” Ruby observed, matching Pyrrha’s own observations.
“Hmm,” Sunset murmured.
“So it appears,” Pyrrha said.
“Is everyone really staying home?” Yang asked. “I mean what are they doing? Watching TV?”
“Some of them are probably watching movies too, or playing video games,” Arslan said. “But yeah, TV watching will be a big part of it; they’ll be switching to the news every so often to check if it’s safe to come out.”
“But it is safe to come out,” Yang declared.
“Is it?” Arslan asked.
“Yes!” Yang cried. “We beat the grimm, the tunnel got sealed up, the White Fang got nearly wiped out. I mean, in a way, it’s kind of safer now than it was before all of this started.”
“I’m not sure that a lot of people feel that way,” Jaune said. “I get what you’re saying, but I think you’d be hard pressed to find anyone who actually feels safer now than they did when they could … when they could just pretend that the White Fang weren’t a problem and that the grimm were always going to stay away.”
“When it was morning in Vale,” Sunset muttered. “Like Councillor Aris’ campaign speech.”
“It doesn’t feel like morning anymore,” Jaune said, and said it so disconsolately that Pyrrha didn’t know whether he was talking about the Valish or about himself.
She slipped her hand into his and squeezed it gently. 
“So … what?” Yang asked. “People are just going to hide in their homes getting takeout delivered for the rest of their lives?”
“No,” Arslan said. “It’ll pass.”
“Do you really think so?” Jaune asked her.
Arslan scratched the back of her head with one hand, her fingers disappearing into the untidy mane of her hair. “Where I grew up, these kinds of robberies that got the city into such a tizzy — as I understand — and started the pebbles falling on your councillor getting thrown out, that was all a Friday night 'round ours on the lower slopes. Where I grew up, we had real gangsters, the kind that would have ripped out this Roman Torchwick’s throat with their teeth.”
“I think you’re underestimating Roman Torchwick a little,” Pyrrha said mildly.
“And you don’t know the people who ran the neighbourhoods down the hill, P-Money,” Arslan replied. “There were killings, there were firefights, and nobody bothered to cover their tracks at all because they knew that no one was going to touch them for it.”
“What about the police?” Ruby asked.
“Scared or paid off,” Arslan said.
Ruby frowned. “Was this before or after the police commissioner got killed?”
“That didn’t make any difference as far down as I’m talking about,” Arslan said. “Yes, they put the criminals in their place, as it were, but their place was down where we lived. Some of them kept grimm as pets, to execute people they didn’t like.”
“That sounds incredibly unwise,” Ren said.
“It was,” Arslan said. “One night one of them got out, everyone barricaded their doors and windows until a huntsman finally showed up to kill it.”
Pyrrha’s brow furrowed. “I don’t remember that.”
“You didn’t exactly live in that neighbourhood,” Arslan pointed out.
“I know,” Pyrrha conceded. “But I’m surprised that a grimm getting loose in the city wasn’t reported on. I’m surprised it didn’t cause a panic.”
“That’s probably why it wasn’t reported on,” Arslan said. “Anyway, my point is that after something like that — or after the worst stuff, anyway — people would be on edge for a little bit. They’d stay indoors more than usual, they’d only go out for necessities … and then, after a few days, if nothing else happened, then everyone would calm down again, and things would get back to normal. Because you’re right: it’s no way to live, but you can’t blame people for being scared, and you can’t blame scared people for being cautious. It’s just the way things are, and the press trying to tell everyone what to think or some politician telling people what to do isn’t going to change that. People know how they feel, and sometimes, how they feel has to be left to change on its own.”
“It’s not about being scared,” Nora said. “We’re all scared, and there’s so much to be scared of; the difference is what you do with that fear; you can’t let it control you.”
“Do you want to knock on some doors and tell people that?” Arslan asked.
Nora made a wordless rumbling noise in the back of her throat but said nothing. 
“Hopefully things will pick up, just like you say,” Yang said.
The group lapsed into silence for a moment, the sounds of their footfalls on the street the only noise that they were making, before Pyrrha said, “Arslan, you said that that grimm that got loose from those rather foolish criminals was killed by a huntsman.”
“Yeah,” Arslan said. “Why?” She grinned. “Please don’t tell me you’re astonished that I didn’t have a moment where I realised that, after a huntsman saved my life, I would be inspired to work to become a huntress myself and save others the way that I had been saved. That’s a little bit of a cliché, don’t you think? And anyway, it’s not like the grimm got into our house, and the huntsman got there in the nick of time.”
“I suppose that was rather trite of me,” Pyrrha conceded. “I apologise.”
“So why do you want to become a huntress?” Ruby asked.
“She doesn’t,” Sunset said.
“Really?” Yang asked. “Then what are you doing here?”
“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves,” Arslan said. “It’s … okay, it’s true, that the reason I went to Haven was so that I could fight in the Vytal Festival.”
“Really?” Ruby asked, sounding rather disappointed.
“Don’t say it like that; it’s not that unworthy a motive,” Arslan said.
“Actually, yeah, it is,” Ruby said. “Huntsmen and huntresses are meant to protect people, not fight in contests to make themselves look good. The tournament is for fun; it’s not the reason why we ought to be here. What if you took a spot from someone who understood what it really means to be a huntress?”
Arslan folded her arms. “That’s a lot of self-righteousness in a few words. I’m not sure I appreciate it.”
“Well, maybe I don’t appreciate—”
“Ruby,” Pyrrha cut her off, a warning in her tone. She had her disagreements with Arslan and her attitude, but the Golden Lion had her pride, and if Ruby let her words run away with her, then it could easily end in a duel.
Arslan met Pyrrha’s gaze for a moment. “In any case, that was before.”
“Before the Breach?” Jaune guessed.
“Mmhmm,” Arslan replied. “I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“None of us had,” Ren pointed out.
“Yeah, but I bet some of you had imagined something like it, hadn’t you?” Arslan said. “I hadn’t. When I think back on it … when I imagine what that could have done if it had shown up in Mistral …”
“It scarcely bears thinking about,” Pyrrha murmured.
“So maybe you’re right,” Arslan said to her. “Maybe there is some value in all of this, this line of work. Maybe there’s some value in committing to it.”
Pyrrha’s eyebrows rose. “You’re going to leave the arena? You’re going to retire and become a huntress?”
Arslan shrugged. “I’m thinking about it. I haven’t made up my mind one hundred percent yet, but … when I think about what those grimm would have done back home. Beowolves swarming down the lower slopes. Ursai smashing the neighbourhood to pieces. You were right, Pyrrha: someone needs to stand up.”
“And that someone is you?” Pyrrha asked gently. “What about all your fans?”
Arslan grinned. “I’ve actually been thinking about that too; it occurs to me that the only reason why nobody knows about huntsmen and huntresses is because nobody tries to publicise them. But you and me, we’re already famous, so there’s no reason why we can’t publicise ourselves! Or have ourselves publicised, at least! Even if I do decide to become a huntress, it’s no reason I have to fire my agent. I’ve got it all worked out for if I make a go of this: I’m going to find someone who is willing to travel around with me and chronicle my adventures on a blog, or serialised in a magazine, or both. Preferably someone my age and good-looking so that our frisson of romantic tension will provide a long-running subplot to all the action.”
“I’m still not sure you’re taking this as seriously as it should be taken,” Ruby said.
“If a thing is worth doing,” Arslan replied, “it is worth other people knowing that you’re doing it and how. Jaune, you should learn to write.”
“Jaune,” Pyrrha declared, asperity lacing her voice, “is my partner, not my biographer.”
“I think that sounds like a pretty great idea,” Nora said, “Ren—”
“No,” Ren said firmly. “I’m not doing that.”
“It does sound like a fine idea,” Sunset said, although her voice was soft, and Pyrrha, at least, had to strain her ears a little to hear it. “I hope that you still feel like carrying it off by the time that you graduate.”
“Is there any reason why I wouldn’t?” Arslan asked.
Sunset hesitated for a moment. “You may find,” she said, “that there comes a time at which the desire for glory, for fame, the desire to be lauded and praised above all others … it all fades to nothing. A moment when you reach … the end of vanity. When you realise that all the honours that you sought, all the things you thought you wanted … they mean nothing. Less than nothing.”
“Sunset,” Pyrrha murmured. Is there nothing that can be said to lift you out of this abyss?
“Then what’s left?” Arslan asked.
“Friendship,” Sunset said, the corner of her lip twitching upwards. "Love.”
“Easy for you to say; half my teammates can’t stand me,” Arslan muttered. “So it’ll have to be glory, as it always has been. That … and inspiring the generations that come after. You can say that my ideas aren’t fitting for a huntress, but why not? Why shouldn’t people know what huntsmen and huntresses do for them? Why shouldn’t kids learn that they don’t have to be afraid of the monsters, that they can grow up strong enough to kill them?”
“Well … when you put it like that,” Ruby murmured.
“You’ve put a lot of thought into this for something that you haven’t actually made up your mind to do,” Pyrrha observed.
“It’s eighty-twenty,” Arslan said. “If I manage to beat you in this tournament, I’ll do it for sure.”
Pyrrha chuckled. “It would almost be worth throwing the fight in order to see that happen.”
Arslan pointed at her, the smile sloughing off her face. “Do that, P-Money, and I will never forgive you.”
“I know,” Pyrrha said. “That’s why I said 'almost.'”
“So, you’re definitely staying for the Vytal Festival, then?” Jaune asked. “I know that Mistral and Haven weren’t really sure—”
“What?” Yang demanded. “Haven’s going to pull out of the Vytal Festival?!”
“Not necessarily,” Pyrrha said.
“Haven is thinking about pulling out of the Vytal Festival?” Yang rephrased. “Can they even do that?”
“No one can be forced to fight in the tournament against their will,” Ren remarked.
“But if they do that,” Ruby said, “then what does that mean? What kind of a symbol of unity is it when one of the four schools doesn’t want to take part?”
“There’ll still be Mistralians competing,” Nora pointed out. “Like me and Ren and Pyrrha.”
“And I’m not backing out, no matter what Professor Lionheart or the Council says, even if I have to solo all three rounds,” Arslan declared.
“But still,” Ruby murmured. “Are they really thinking about pulling out? Taking their students home?”
Pyrrha nodded. “There are some who are as scared as anyone here in Vale. But nothing has been decided yet. And I hope that they will decide to continue onto the festival and the tournament.”
“It would be kind of late to turn back now, when everything has kind of settled down,” Yang said.
“Except that Cinder’s still out there,” Ruby said.
Pyrrha did not miss the way that Sunset flinched as she said that, and she did not like it.
“Yeah, but she’s just one person,” Yang said. “She’s got no allies left, and she’s got no plan, so what’s she going to do?”
Pyrrha nodded. It was true that Yang was not entirely correct — Cinder was not just one person; she was a finger on the hand of Salem — but her general assessment was undeniable: Cinder had no more followers, no more grimm, no nothing. Her plan had failed. She was defeated, if only for the moment. And though it might be only for the moment, that moment would hopefully last until after the festival was over. 
Surely she could not devise a new plan so soon after the failure of the first?
At that moment, before silence could settle too deeply upon the group, the giant screen on the nearby corner, which had been playing various advertisements for health and beauty products, began to broadcast a news bulletin. 
“Good afternoon and welcome to The Lavender Report with me, Lisa Lavender. We go live now to Regent Street where First Councillor Aspen Emerald is giving a press conference.”
The image of Lisa Lavender in the studio, seated upon her red sofa, was replaced by the exterior of the First Councillor’s residence, with a podium set up in front of the door just as it had been when Aspen Emerald had taken office not too long ago. 
And once more, Councillor Emerald stood behind the podium, resting his hands upon the varnished wood. 
He looked straight into the camera. “People of Vale,” he said, “friends and citizens. When I took office, I promised that the first priority of my administration would be the security of Vale. That is, as a former colleague reminded me, the first duty of any administration, and in the current circumstances, it is clearly not a duty that can be ignored.
“I know that many of you have grave concerns about the security of our kingdom, and though I wish to assure you now that this Council is doing everything it can to make this kingdom safe and secure against all threats and enemies, I must be honest with you that some of these measures will take time. Negotiations to purchase ships and weapons, the reports on the readiness or otherwise of our civic infrastructure, the training and possible expansion of our defence forces, all of these things will take time. But, while the Council works to shore up our defences and ensure that there will be no repeat of the Breach, I propose to utilise at once Vale’s greatest resource: you, the people of Vale.” He gestured at the camera and, thence, to everyone who might be watching.
“The Council has decided to form a new corps of volunteers who, in case of emergency, will resist any assault on Vale by any means necessary. Any volunteers, and we appeal for as many volunteers as have the courage and the capacity to serve, will not be required for continuous service, although you are encouraged to drill and train against the unlooked for eventuality of another assault upon our kingdom. You will not be paid, but you will be given uniforms, and you will be armed. This new corps will be known as the Home Guard, and you — the people of Vale — will be the last bastion of the defence of Vale in extremis. Your safety, and your security, will be in your hands.”
“That was the First Councillor with a radical announcement. Joining me is retired—”
“Are they serious?” Ren demanded, with an aggression in his voice that Pyrrha had never heard before. “They’re going to arm anybody, untrained civilians, and tell them to fight the grimm if there’s another attack?”
“I know it’s not the greatest idea—” Jaune began.
“It’s a terrible idea!” Ren snapped. “If just anyone could fight off the grimm, then why would anyone need to go to combat school, why would anyone need to go to Beacon?” 
Jaune looked down at his feet, his feet which shuffled uncomfortably upon the pavement, and said nothing. 
Ren went on, “Even someone who was skilled and trained, someone who knew how to use weapons, how to fight and survive, even someone like that would struggle against the creatures of grimm, even they wouldn’t be able to stand up to them. People will join this ‘Home Guard’ because they have a fantasy of defending their homes, but in the end, all that they’ll be is fodder!”
“Ren,” Nora murmured.
“Stupid,” Ren growled. “Senseless. Doesn’t anyone ever learn anything from—?”
“Ren!” Nora cried, grabbing him by the hand. 
Ren gasped, his gaze flying to her, looking down on her. He looked as though he half wanted to recoil from Nora’s grasp, but he did not. He fell silent, and his breathing seemed to grow heavier. 
“It’s okay,” Nora said, her own voice calm. “It’s going to be okay.”
Ren’s chest rose and fell. “Will it?” he asked. “Do you really believe that?”
“I do,” Nora said, gently and with great tenderness. “I know … I understand, but …” She smiled up at him. “All those people won’t be necessary, because we’ll be there. We’ll stand in front of them, so that they don’t get hurt.”
Ren hesitated for a moment. “We will? We will.”
Nora nodded. “We will.”
“You bet we will,” Yang added.
Ren closed his eyes. “Jaune, I’m sorry; I shouldn’t have snapped at you—”
“It’s okay,” Jaune assured him. “You … you made a good point.”
“We’re not even talking about soldiers here; we’re talking about people,” Ruby said. “And if people could defend themselves against the grimm … well, there wouldn’t be a need for huntsmen, would there?”
“He’s doing what he thinks is right,” Sunset said.
“I’m sure,” Pyrrha said, “but I think the First Councillor may be as afraid as his people.”
“Hmm,” Yang murmured. “Let’s hope that sorts itself out after a few days too, huh?”
They walked on, down the unusually empty streets, where even the betting shops that had been so full of hollow-eyed addicts before now were bereft of custom; it seemed almost that the people most numerous on the streets were beggars. 
“Spare any lien? Spare any lien, ladies and gents, so I can get a bed for the night?” one asked. He looked … it felt rather cruel even to think so, but he looked rather less ragged than most of the homeless one saw on the streets of Vale; he also looked less prepared for it, lacking any sort of warm coat or blanket with which to cover himself, only a lightweight jacket which seemed like it wouldn’t do much when the cold set in. “Please, ladies and gents, I lost my home in the Breach; any spare lien so I can get a bed for the night?”
Sunset stopped abruptly, halting dead in her tracks even as the rest of the group kept moving for a little while before they noticed. 
“Sunset?” Pyrrha asked.
Sunset didn’t reply; she crossed the road — there was no need to look both ways — to where the homeless man sat in his lightweight jacket. “You… you lost your home in the Breach?” she asked.
He nodded. “Atlesians blew it up when they dropped all their bombs. Lost everything I own. I know it had to be done in order to keep the grimm out, but what am I supposed to do now, eh?”
“You don’t have anywhere else to go?” Ruby asked as the others crossed the road to join Sunset. “No friends, family?”
He shook his head. “No, I…” He blinked. “You’re Sunset Shimmer, aren’t you?” He looked at Pyrrha, then at Yang, “And you’re Pyrrha Nikos, and you … you were all there, weren’t you?”
“I wasn’t,” Ruby admitted shamefacedly.
“You were there down the tunnel; that’s close enough,” Sunset murmured.
“Yes, sir,” Pyrrha said. “We were there.”
For a moment, she thought that he might berate them for failing to stop the grimm, for making it necessary that his house be bombed, but then he smiled and said, “Bless you, ladies and gents, bless you all. Thank you for what you did that day.”
“You don’t need to thank us,” Sunset muttered.
“If it wasn’t for you, I might not be here to complain about not having no house left, mightn't I?” he asked.
Sunset didn’t reply to that; she simply reached into her pocket and pulled out an array of lien notes of various denominations. Her hands trembled, and the cards slipped from her hands to land with tapping sounds on the pavement at his feet. 
“Here, take them all,” she said quickly. “I’m sorry about your house.” She walked away, pushing past Yang to get ahead of the group, her footsteps thumping upon the stone beneath. 
Pyrrha frowned. She took out a lien card of moderate value from one of the pouches at her belt and handed it to the man. “Here you are, sir; I’m sorry that things came to this. Sunset!” 
As the others, all of them, one by one, gave the man some money — it seemed like the least they could do, somehow, for all that he bore them no malice — Pyrrha jogged after Sunset, catching up with her in short order. 
“Sunset,” she repeated, reaching out to take Sunset by the arm. “What’s going on?”
“What do you mean?” Sunset asked. “He needed something—”
“That must have been most of the money you had on you,” Pyrrha pointed out.
“So? Perhaps he needs it more than I do,” Sunset replied.
“Is that all?” Pyrrha asked.
“What else would it be?”
“Guilt?” Pyrrha suggested. “A guilt which you don’t need to feel.”
Sunset glanced at her. “You don’t need to worry about me so much, Pyrrha.”
“Do I not?” Pyrrha responded. “Your behaviour would seem to argue against it.”
“I’m fine, I just…” Sunset trailed off. “I’m not unmindful of what you told me, but … moments like that, they bring it home, you know?”
Pyrrha sighed. “Yes,” she admitted. “I know. Poor fellow. I wonder how many others there are just like him.”
“The Council should do something for them,” Ruby said as she caught up with them. “They should … make sure they have somewhere to go to. It’s not their fault they lost their homes.”
“It’s rarely anyone’s fault,” Ren observed. “And equally rare for anyone to step in and help. The Councils are supposed to serve the needs of the people, but the wealthy and powerful rarely look down and notice the troubles of those beneath them.”
“That depends on where you are,” Sunset said softly. “There are places where that would not be tolerated.”
“But what are the Council supposed to do?” Jaune asked. “They can’t just make houses out of thin air.”
“They could try and do something about it instead of forming a Home Guard,” Yang suggested.
“I’m sure that they’re doing the best they can,” Jaune said. “I mean, after all, isn’t that what most people do in times like this: the best they can?”
“You’d hope so,” Pyrrha said.
Yang sighed. “Can we talk about something else?” she asked. “This is all getting kind of depressing. Have you guys heard from Blake in Atlas?”
“Not yet,” Sunset said. “I take it you haven’t either?”
“No,” Yang replied. “I’m giving her some time to get settled in before I start badgering her with calls.”
“That must be killing you,” Ruby remarked with a hint of mischief in her voice.
“Watch it,” Yang said, with mock sternness in her voice. “Or I will turn my energies right back on you, young lady.”
They arrived at A&P, the ice cream parlour, where the door was half glass and half wood painted blue, and where the back wall was covered in a mural of flying cows frolicking amidst the clouds, while the wall on the left-hand side as they came in was a Valish cityscape, painted as if at sunset. 
As Pyrrha pushed open the door, she thought that something looked odd about that cityscape, something that looked unusual. 
It took her a moment to realise that the omission that had thrown her was the complete absence of any sign of the Atlesian warships that had become ubiquitous in the Valish skyline thanks to their presence here over these months past. The realisation left her feeling strange, and a little disconcerted, that something so unusual could so easily come to feel normal, until it felt odd when it was taken away. 
Perhaps, in time, it will come to feel so for all of these emergency measures that Vale is taking. Perhaps there will come a time when it feels odd for them not to have a Home Guard standing by in case the grimm return. 
Before she could think on that any further, Pyrrha noticed that Jaune’s friend Miranda was standing behind the counter. 
And she noticed that Miranda was crying. 
Her head was bowed, her brown hair dishevelled and her body trembling, wracked with sobs. 
Behind her as they came in, Jaune noticed this as well. “Miranda? Miranda, are you okay?”
Miranda looked up. Her blue eyes, which had always been watery, were now even more so; even as she wiped them with the back of her hand, more tears sprung up in their place. Her lip quivered as she said, “Jaune?”
“Yeah,” Jaune said, approaching the counter with his arms out. “What’s up? What’s wrong?”
“It … it’s nothing,” Miranda said, wiping at her eyes. “I, uh, I see you’ve got a big group with you, do you all know what you want or do you—?“
“Wait, just wait a second,” Jaune insisted, placing his hands down on the counter. “That can wait until after you—”
“No, it can’t,” Miranda replied. “I still have to work here for a little while, and if anyone from management comes down—”
“Is that really likely?” Sunset asked. “So likely that you can’t take a break? I mean, no offence, but it’s not like this place is packed out. Unless there are people in the basement we don’t know about.”
Miranda hesitated. “It has been kind of quiet. You’re the first customers we’ve had all day. Seems like no one wants to come out for ice cream at the moment. I don’t blame them.” She sagged, leaning against the counter for support. “I’m glad you came by, Jaune. I should have asked you for your number, but … I forgot.” She glanced at Pyrrha. “Or perhaps I just didn’t want to give you the wrong idea.”
Pyrrha walked forwards, to stand by Jaune, “If there is anything that we can do to help—”
“You’ve done enough,” Miranda interrupted. “You … thank you, for what you did. I heard that you were right there at the Breach when it happened. They say that you helped save the city.” She smiled. “You’re a big hero now, Jaune; what will they say back home?”
Jaune shook his head. “I’m not a hero. I just—”
“Fought as bravely as any of us,” Pyrrha said. “And has as much right to claim the name as any of us.”
“And more than some,” Sunset added.
Miranda smiled slightly, or tried to smile at least. “You should listen to your girlfriend and your team leader,” she said. She sniffed. “Anyway, I’m glad that you’re here, because it means that I can tell you that I’m leaving. I’m going back home to Alba   Longa.”
Jaune blinked. “Going home? You don’t mean for break, do you?”
Miranda shook her head. “For … for a while. Maybe forever.”
“But what about your studies?”
“What about them?” Miranda replied. “This city was just attacked by the grimm! Knowing about poetry or being able to analyse the classics wouldn’t have protected me from them, just like … just like it didn’t save Pearl.”
“Who?” Pyrrha murmured.
“Pearl Wheatley,” Sunset said; her voice was hoarse and she looked like she was going to throw up. “One of the five people who died when the beowolf got into that shelter.”
Miranda nodded, and a sob escaped. “She was my friend,” she whimpered. “We were out shopping, we headed to the shelter, and then … when the grimm came, she … she distracted it so that I could … she told me to run and then … and then she … and then it…” Her body was wracked by a sudden sob. 
Jaune reached out and put his arms around her, half pulling her across the counter into his embrace. Miranda kept on sobbing as she buried her head in his chest. 
“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry,” Sunset said, the words tumbling out of her mouth as she stared at Miranda with wide eyes. 
Miranda ignored her. “I’m still here until my notice period expires,” she said. “And then I’m gone, back home. I can’t … I don’t want to be here any longer than I have to.” She looked up at Jaune. “How can you stand it, Jaune? How can you face that again and again? How can you not be scared?”
“I am scared,” Jaune replied. “I’m … I’m scared; sometimes, I’m really scared.”
“We’re all afraid,” Pyrrha said, to Jaune and to Miranda both. “And that is nothing to be ashamed of.” She thought that perhaps Ruby was not afraid, but making that point would be of little help to Miranda.
Miranda sobbed. “Then … then why…?”
“Because … because I don’t think I could look at myself in the mirror if I didn’t,” Jaune replied.
Miranda frowned. “Do you think I’m a coward?”
“No,” Jaune said firmly. “No, of course not. You have to do what’s right for you, Miranda. If you want to go home, then that’s fine; who am I to tell you different? I hope you’re happy there.”
Miranda snorted. “'Happy'? I’m not so sure about that, but at least … at least I’ll feel safe there. I can’t … I just … every time I hear a dog bark, I feel like I’m going to … I can’t stay here any more.”
Fear stalks this city, Pyrrha thought, like the only grimm that neither we nor the Atlesians could slay. 
Will its rampage ever come to an end?
And what will be the final cost when, or if, it does?