//------------------------------//
// Back (New) 
// Story: SAPR 
// by Scipio Smith 
//------------------------------//


Back


Starlight pulled out her chair and sat down. “You know, as good as it is for you to treat us all like this, I am a little curious as to why.”
Sunset sat down herself. The four huntresses who had returned from Arcadia Lake were now ensconced in Benni Haven’s; they had stolen back to Beacon in the early evening, like thieves slipping in under cover of darkness, and instead of going straight back to their waiting dorm rooms and their beds, Sunset had guided them to the restaurant on the outskirts of the grounds. Luckily for her, it was still open; even more luckily for her, it was mostly empty at the moment, with only a few tables occupied by students Sunset didn’t know. 
Benni had given them a warmer welcome than Sunset suspected she was going to get from her teammates when she showed her face — Pyrrha had stopped leaving messages, but that didn’t mean there wouldn’t be questions once Sunset was in a position where simply not answering wasn’t an option — and had showed them to a table more or less in the middle of the restaurant, with an internal divider standing against the left hand side of the table where Trixie and Ditzy were sitting opposite one another. Starlight sat by Trixie, while Sunset sat by Ditzy, opposite Starlight. As they had not yet returned to school, they still had their weapons with them: Sol Invictus and Soteria were propped up against the table beside Sunset, while Starlight’s Equaliser was underneath the table at her feet; Trixie’s wand was at her side next to her fork, and of course, Ditzy had no weapons but those that nature had bestowed on her. 
Menus sat in front of each of them, while Benni had already taken their drinks orders. 
Sunset rested her fingertips upon the menu before her, not opening it, just resting her fingers on the coated cardboard. “Would you like an honest answer to that question?”
“That would probably be for the best, yeah,” Starlight replied. 
“I don’t want to face my teammates,” Sunset said. “I don’t want to have to explain to them where I’ve been or what I’ve been doing so … I’m putting it off.”
Starlight sighed. “You can’t put it off forever, Sunset.”
“I know that,” Sunset replied. “But I can put it off for the next … however long, maybe an hour, if I’m lucky.”
“Sunset,” Starlight said reproachfully.
“Do you want me to treat you to supper or not?” Sunset asked.
“Trixie certainly won’t refuse,” Trixie declared. “Starlight, stop making our host regret her generosity.”
“Trixie!” cried Starlight reproachfully.
“Leave her be, Starlight, or at least back off from her a little,” Trixie insisted. She looked Sunset in the eye. “Sometimes, there’s nothing harder than admitting a mistake, is there?”
“You think I’m worried because I’ll have to admit I was wrong?” asked Sunset.
“Don’t you think you were wrong?” responded Trixie. 
Sunset allowed a gap of silence — Benni Haven’s was not absolutely silent, but with so few customers, the general hubbub of conversation was rather diminished — into which Ditzy could interject. 
“You guys never told me what you were doing there,” she pointed out. “Although I guess I didn’t really give you a chance with the way I acted.”
“We came to help,” Starlight replied. “And to find out why comms had been lost with Arcadia  Lake; because of the dome, as it turns out. How are we going to explain all of this?”
“We say that Eve was the one jamming communications, that she was a grimm cultist who intended to offer up Arcadia Lake as a sacrifice to the grimm, so she used lures to draw them in, where they killed the huntsman hired by the village and the other two members of Team Eden,” Trixie said, rattling off the words quickly without time for the thoughts to be spontaneous. She’d clearly been giving this some thought. “We fought our way through to the village, uncovered her plot, destroyed Eve’s grimm lures, and repelled the attack. Eve fled when her plan failed, and we were too beat from dealing with the grimm to stop her. That’s what we say.”
Sunset folded her arms. “You’ve thought that through, haven’t you?”
Trixie shrugged. “Much as Trixie would like nothing better than for the existence of magic to be an acknowledged fact which the world could no longer deny … Trixie does not believe that this is the right time for that. The right time is under stage lights, making people smile, not under a dome of evil concealing a living nightmare, literally. So, that being the case, we need an explanation that small, closed minds can accept. This story casts Eve as the villain she was, if not quite in the exact way she was, allowing everyone to be on the lookout for her if she reappears, it explains the disappearance of the rest of Team Eden while ensuring that they’ll be remembered as the heroes I’m sure they were, and gives us roughly as much credit as we deserve for our efforts while at the same time avoiding any awkward questions.”
“Unless anyone from Arcadia Lake starts talking about living nightmares,” Starlight pointed out.
“The grimm are a living nightmare, are they not?” Trixie asked. “Any wild talk from the citizens will be seen as merely trauma from the shocking experience they’ve endured.”
“You have thought this through,” Sunset commented.
“But of course. Trixie isn’t just a pretty face with great hair, you know,” Trixie said.
Starlight pursed her lips together. “They’re your teammates, Ditzy; how do you feel about it?”
Ditzy was quiet for a moment. Her hands were folded upon the table. “Ellie and Nick … you really think they’ll be remembered as heroes?”
“They gave their lives to defend a village from the grimm,” Trixie said. “What else could have been asked of them?”
Ditzy didn’t look at Trixie, or at any of them. “I think they deserve that.”
“Then it’s settled,” Trixie declared. “That’s our story, and we’ll stick to it.”
Starlight reached across the table, placing her hand on top of Ditzy’s wrist. “What about you, Ditzy? What are you going to do now?”
“Here you go, kids; I’ve got your drinks right here,” Benni said, bustling up to their table with a black tray balanced upon the palm of one hand. “Sorry that it took a little while.”
“It’s not a problem,” Sunset assured her.
“Okay, so … we’ve got a double espresso for the Great and Powerful Trixie,” Benni said, with a smile in one corner of her mouth. 
“Thank you, ma’am.”
“I don’t know how you can drink that at this time of night,” Starlight said as Benni put the cup down in front of Trixie. “You won’t sleep.”
“Whatever, Mom,” Trixie replied.
“Which is why it makes sense that you have the cucumber lime mocktail,” Benni said as she placed down in front of Starlight a glass, with condensation starting to form on the outside, with a pale green liquid visible inside beneath the crushed ice. “Then we’ve got a strawberry milkshake for Sunset and an orange juice for you — who I don’t think I’ve seen around here before,” she added, as she put down Sunset and Ditzy’s drinks in front of them.
“No,” Ditzy murmured. “This is my first time.” She looked up at Benni Haven. “It looks like a real nice place, though.”
“I’m glad you like it,” Benni replied, holding the black tray — now empty — in both hands, pressed against her upper legs. “Maybe you can bring the rest of your team with you next time.”
Ditzy looked away. “No,” she said. “No, I can’t.”
Benni’s face fell. “Oh, gods,” she murmured. “Kiddo, I … I’m so sorry. I know how little it helps to hear that, believe me, but … I’m sorry.”
“It’s okay,” Ditzy murmured.
“No,” Benni replied. “It isn’t. Maybe it will be, some day, but right now, it’s not, and you don’t have to pretend like it is.”
Ditzy was silent for a moment. “Thank you,” she whispered.
Benny scratched the back of her head with her prosthetic hand. “This life … like I said to Sunset when she came in here for the very first time: these smiles don’t last forever. I see kids come in here, so bright-eyed, so eager, so brave; I take their pictures, and I stick them up on my wall to remember them that way … because they never stay that way. This life … it takes from you kids for the sake of the world; it takes your smiles, it takes your joy, and in the end, it takes your lives as well, for lots of you.”
“But it’s worth it, right?” Starlight asked. “Because it’s for the sake of the world.”
Benni hesitated for a moment. “There comes a point,” she said, “when you’ll have to answer that for yourselves and decide if this road with all its risks is really the road you want to go down.” Again, she paused. “What were their names, Ditzy?”
“Huh?” Ditzy asked.
“Your teammates,” Benni explained. “What were their names?”
Ditzy swallowed. “Ellie and Nick,” she said. “Ellie Macra and Nick Bryce.”
Benni’s brow furrowed. “I thought you said that your whole team was—”
“Her team leader is…” — Sunset hesitated momentarily — “part of the reason the others are gone.”
“Gods and spirits,” Benni muttered. “You’ve had it rough, kid. These things happen, but I don’t think I’ve ever heard of something like that happening so young. Even if it is the life, you’re still too young for this. What’s your school?”
“Haven,” Ditzy replied quietly.
“And your team?”
“Team Eden.”
“Right,” Benni said, and she turned away for a moment to bang on a nearby empty table with her robotic fist, making a loud thumping sound that echoed through the quiet restaurant and made everyone inside jump a little. 
“Okay, listen up!” Benni yelled, her voice striking the wooden roof above them. “We lost two good people. Two kids, just like you. And I want you all to think about that, because next time, it could be you. Even if you do everything right, even if you watch each others' backs, even if you look before you leap and don’t do anything stupid, it could still be you. So raise what you got to Ellie Macra and Nick Bryce, of Team Eden from Haven Academy. Ellie and Nick!”
It took a moment, but gradually, amidst the sound of scraping chairs and legs knocking against tables, the other students dining in the restaurant all got to their feet, all raising cups or mugs or glasses in their hands. 
“Ellie and Nick,” they murmured.
“Ellie and Nick,” Sunset said softly, raising her glass. 
“Ellie and Nick,” Starlight and Trixie both said as one, raising glass and cup respectively. 
“May they rest in peace and live in memory,” Benni muttered. 
One by one, the other students around began to sit down, returning to their meals, their drinks, their conversations; the level of chatter inside Benni Haven’s rose until it was again at a soft ambient level. 
Sunset put down her milkshake and waited a discreet moment or two before putting her lips around the straw and sucking. It was cold and viscous and just what she’d wanted. 
Benni grabbed a chair and pulled it up to the edge of their table and sat down there, next to Starlight and Sunset. 
“I hope you don’t mind,” she said. “If you want me to leave you alone, I will, but I’ve seen this kind of thing before; I might be able to offer you some advice. You don’t have to take it — Team Bluebell didn’t — but it doesn’t cost you anything to listen to it.”
“'Bluebell'?” Sunset asked. “You spoke to Team Bluebell?”
Benni nodded. “They come in here often enough. I feel sorry for them; losing Sky has hurt, clearly. It’s hurt them a lot. I think that’s why … well, that’s their business, and I’m here for Ditzy, if you want me.”
“I…” Ditzy began. “What kind of advice?”
“About what you do next,” Benni said. “About what you want to do next. Do you still want to be a huntress?”
Ditzy nodded. “Yes,” she said. “Yes, I do. I want to help people. I want to help because I can, because my semblance lets me, and that means that if I don’t help people and bad stuff happens, then … then that’s on me, isn’t it?”
Benni nodded. “Spoken like a true huntress,” she said softly. “But you can’t be a student without a team, you can’t go on missions without a team, you can’t graduate without a team; about the only thing you can do on your own is attend classes. So what are you going to do about that?”
“I … I don’t know,” Ditzy admitted.
“She doesn’t need to decide that right away,” Trixie protested.
“No, you don’t,” Benni admitted, “but you’ll need to decide some time, so the sooner you start thinking about it, the better.”
“What about Team Bluebell?” Starlight suggested. “They’re a man short; I know that you wanted to go to Haven, Ditzy, but would it be so bad if you transferred to Beacon? You already know Lyra and Bon Bon—”
“I’m not sure that would go down too well if you suggested it,” Benni muttered.
“That was what they didn’t take your advice over, wasn’t it?” Sunset guessed.
“I suggested they should find a fourth team member to take over from Sky,” Benni replied. “Teams are four for a reason, after all. They … didn’t like it. Bon Bon near bit my head off, and Lyra looked as though she was going to start crying.”
“Trixie knows that you meant well,” Trixie ventured, “but it does sound—”
“A little heartless,” Sunset concluded. “They only just lost a teammate, and a friend—”
“And this isn’t summer camp; we’re here to do a job to the best of our abilities,” Starlight declared. “We can’t make that job harder for ourselves or for the people who depend on us out of misguided sentimentality.”
“'Misguided'?” Sunset declared. “You think that grief is misguided?”
“No, of course not, that’s not what I meant.”
“Then what did you mean?” demanded Sunset.
“I mean that if I died, I’d want Trixie to replace me!” Starlight snapped. “If there is anything else after this life, I’d feel a whole lot better there knowing that someone was watching Trixie’s back, and Sunburst’s too, rather than knowing that there was an opening for an enemy to exploit that had been left open out of sentiment.”
“Some people aren’t replaceable,” Sunset declared.
“No one is replaceable,” Starlight replied. “But sometimes, you have to make do regardless.”
“Starlight’s right,” Benni said. “You can mourn, you can grieve, you can remember — nobody’s saying you can’t; gods know that I’d never say that — but it’s one thing to leave an empty chair at the table, and it’s another thing to leave an empty space on the battlefield.”
“It’ll be difficult to fill that space if Team Bluebell doesn’t want you to,” Sunset said. “And is that really … if that happened in my team, I’m not certain that I could give the new guy a fair shake.”
“In all honesty? Neither is Trixie,” Trixie added.
“Trixie,” Starlight said reproachfully.
“I know that it’s right, but that doesn’t make it easy,” Trixie said. “And if Ditzy wants to go down that road, she should be prepared for the fact that she might not be welcomed with open arms.”
“That’s the truth,” Benni added. “I’ve seen it happen, where one student makes up the numbers on a team that’s gone a man down. It seems heartless; it seems bureaucratic. Because it is heartless and bureaucratic, just stuffing a spare kid into a team with a space like you’re sardines; it’s for the best for all concerned, but I don’t blame any team that doesn’t like it, and I don’t blame any kid that doesn’t want to be a part of it. It’s an option, but it’s not your only option.”
“What are the others?” asked Ditzy.
“You can re-enroll next year,” Benni informed her. “Start again, new partner, new team. Yes, it will mean re-sitting a year’s classes, but you won’t be stepping into any dead man’s shoes; you won’t have any of the baggage that comes with it. You get a clean slate, a chance to make a fresh start from the beginning.”
“A fresh start,” Ditzy murmured. “I think … I think I’d prefer that. A chance to make new friends and not cause anyone any trouble.”
“You don’t have to decide right away,” Benni reminded her. “But if that’s what you want, then go for it.” She got up. “And you can find me here if you ever need to talk.”
Ditzy smiled slightly. “Thank you.”
Benni replaced the chair that she had sat down on. “And now I’ll let you decide what you want to order. Whatever you want, it’s on the house tonight.”
“That’s very generous,” Starlight said.
“It’s the least I can do,” Benni said, before she walked away and left them to it. 
Sunset drank some more of her milkshake and opened up the menu. She wasn’t sure how hungry she was, to be honest; she was mainly here to stall for time, after all, but she was beginning to wonder how much good was being served by putting it off. 
Maybe if I put it off long enough, everyone will be asleep by the time I get back to the dorm room. 
Then I’ll have to answer questions in the morning when I’m only half-awake; is that a great improvement?
Probably not, but … I don’t want to face them right now. 
But I’ll have to face them eventually.
“Hey, can I ask you something?” asked Ditzy.
“Of course,” Trixie said. “What is it?”
“What were the three of you doing at Arcadia Lake?” Ditzy inquired. “I mean, why did they send you three? Why not Team Tsunami or Team Sapphire? Why only three huntresses, and why you three? I guess I was too upset about the fact that Trixie was there to realise that it didn’t make much sense for any of you to be here.”
“Trrrrixie and Starlight were doing a favour, helping Sunset out,” Trixie declared. “Sunset would have been there all alone if it wasn’t for us.”
“And on my own, I would have failed,” Sunset muttered. “I’m not unaware of that, believe me.” 
Without Starlight, Trixie, and Ditzy to hold off Eve, there was no way that Sunset would have been able to enter Plum Pole’s mind and defeat the tantabus, and the truth was that she probably would have had a hard time defeating Evenfall Gleaming anyway, strong as she was and possessed of the dark regalia as she was. Sunset might not have had the imagination that Trixie had possessed when faced with a battle inside a nightmare. 
“Then why were you going to go on your own?” Ditzy asked. “Students are supposed to work in teams of four, right?”
Sunset sighed. “Yes,” she muttered. “Yes, they are.”
“Then why?” Ditzy asked.
Sunset glanced at her, then looked away. That left her looking at Starlight, so she turned her head aside so that she didn’t have to look at any of them. “Because,” she said. “Because … I was going to go alone because…”
Because that is the term of my agreement with the First Councillor.
Because I deserve to risk my life alone against the hazards of the field.
Because this is my atonement. 
Because that is more important to me than whether I accomplish anything useful doing this. 
Because how I feel about myself means more to me than whether or not I save anyone. 
Because I am a fool, and so is the First Councillor.
“Because … because I’m an idiot,” Sunset admitted. “Because I’m an idiot, and I didn’t think, and I didn’t think about the people of Arcadia Lake. Because I’m an idiot, and I have to go.” She got up. “I’d apologise, but since this is on the house, you’re not missing anything by my not being here. But since I owe you, I’ll pick up the tab some other time.”
“Wait, you’re leaving?” Starlight asked.
“Yes,” Sunset said. “Wasn’t that clear when I stood up and said I had to go?”
Trixie snorted. “Well, yes,” she allowed. “But you were the one who wanted to come here in the first place. What happened to putting off that awkward conversation?”
“That was stupid too,” Sunset said. “I need to talk to my teammates.”
Starlight smiled. “Yeah, you do. Good luck out there.”
Sunset nodded. “Thank you,” she said. “Thank you all, for … for doing more of the work than I did, to be quite honest.”
Trixie primped her hair with one hand. “All part of the Tsunami service.”
Sunset grabbed her gun and her rifle, slinging Sol Invictus over her shoulder and holding onto Soteria where it sat in its scabbard; she levitated her pack — containing, amongst other things, the Dark Regalia — over her other shoulder and walked briskly down the gap between the rows of tables towards the exit from Benni Haven’s. 
Fluffy, the stuffed beowolf, faced her as she walked towards the door, baring his fake fangs at her, his arms outstretched. 
As Sunset approached, she could imagine the four of them stood around him for their picture taken, a few weeks into the first semester. Celestia, that felt so very long ago. 
Benni was right; the smiles didn’t last forever. In their case, they hadn’t even lasted a year. 
We will smile again. We will have the chance to smile again. Rainbow’s right: Cinder bet the house, and she lost; whatever mischief she may try to make in future will be nothing compared to this — not least because I’m right too that she’s not as smart as she thinks she is; she’s every bit as stupid as I am. 
We will smile again. We must. 
And I will be with them when they do.
Sunset managed a smile, right then and there, as she reached out and placed a gentle hand on Fluffy’s nose. 
“Wish me luck,” she murmured, then turned away and opened the door, stepping out into the cool night air, getting cooler by the night as fall approached. 
She adjusted her pack where it rested on her shoulder, and then began to walk down the path leading from the restaurant towards the school, first the gravel path that led from the door, and then joining onto the road that approached the school proper from the direction of Vale. 
Atlesian Knights patrolled the way, moving up and down the road, as well as standing sentinel at fixed points upon it, but none of them bothered her. None of them hindered her progress; they had facial recognition, didn’t they? They knew that she was a student at Beacon, and unlike Atlas, there wasn’t even a curfew for them to enforce. To all intents and purposes, they ignored her, barely even glancing her way, walking past her with clanking steps in that stiff gait that they possessed. Sunset ignored them too, not stopping to look at them twice as she walked by, her eyes and attention fixed upon the road in front of her, while her mind was busy turning what she might say over and over in her mind. 
It was all very well to realise that she’d been stupid and vow not to do it again, but that didn’t solve the problem of how to explain what she had already done. What was she going to say to all of them? How was she going to explain it? What could she say that would satisfy their curiosity?
The school drew closer; the buildings loomed larger in the darkness with every step she took, the Emerald Tower with its glowing lights blocked out more of the stars with every step she took, her destination and the conversation she had little idea how to approach grew closer with every step she took. And yet, for all that, Sunset’s mind was not so clouded by these thoughts that she didn’t notice, as she approached the school, someone standing in the middle of the road. 
It was Professor Ozpin, the tip of his cane resting up the surface of the road, one hand upon it, the other behind his back. He did not seem to be putting his weight upon his walking stick, nor did the chill of night appear to be troubling him. He was so still that he might have been fashioned out of marble, invulnerable to the elements, untouchable and impossible to mar. But as Sunset drew near, he turned his head a little to look at her. 
“Good evening, Miss Shimmer,” he said. “I am glad to see you back home safe.”
“Professor,” Sunset said softly, as she came to a halt in front of him — not directly in front, at a slight angle. She paused, adjusting Sol Invictus. “I hope I didn’t keep you waiting too long.”
“Not too long, no,” Professor Ozpin. “Did you enjoy your meal at Benni Haven’s?”
Sunset let out a slight laugh. “I haven’t actually eaten, Professor; in the end, I thought it was better to come back and make my … my apologies and my excuses to the others.”
“Yes, when it comes to excuses, I was hoping to talk to you about that,” Professor Ozpin said. “Hence my being here to welcome you back.”
“I’m sorry to hear that you aren’t here just because you like me this much, Professor,” Sunset said.
Professor Ozpin chuckled slightly. “Your teammates were very worried about you,” he said. “You left with no word to them of where you had gone or when you might return.”
Sunset bowed her head, turning her eyes towards the tarmac road beneath her booted feet. “No, Professor.”
“That was rather cruel of you, wouldn’t you say?”
Sunset’s tail hung limp between her legs, falling towards the road. “I … I was afraid … I didn’t know how to tell them where I was going, and I knew that they wouldn’t let me leave without an explanation, so … it seemed easier to simply go without a word.”
“Understandable,” Professor Ozpin conceded. “But cruel, all the same.”
“Yes, Professor,” Sunset murmured. “It won’t happen again.”
Professor Ozpin did not respond to that; rather, he said, “I take it that the First Councillor engaged you upon some operation of his?”
“Yes, Professor,” Sunset repeated. “That won’t happen again either.”
“Oh?” Professor Ozpin murmured, surprise in his voice.
Sunset looked up at him. The old man’s eyebrows were raised, disappearing into his artfully untidy bangs. 
“Do not mistake me, Miss Shimmer; I am glad to hear it,” Professor Ozpin said. “As you will recall, I was not happy with this arrangement when you told me of it, but nevertheless, I am surprised, given your vehemence when last we spoke of this.”
“Given that you knew I was coming back, Professor, I can only conclude that it will come as less of a surprise to you that I did not go alone,” Sunset replied.
“I am aware of the absence of Miss Lulamoon and Miss Glimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “I was forcibly made aware by General Ironwood, who raised the issue with me.”
Now it was Sunset’s turn to raise her eyebrows, and to boggle her eyes a little bit for good measure. “They didn’t tell him?”
“I can only imagine that they found the idea of bridging the notion as difficult as you did, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said dryly. “I did not tell General Ironwood why you had gone, only that you had and that they had gone with you.”
“Thank you, Professor,” Sunset murmured. “Although I am not sure why you protected my secret thus.”
“General Ironwood has many fine qualities,” Professor Ozpin informed her. “Not least of which is that he sees things in quite a different way to myself from time to time; I fear that if he knew what you had done, he would find it harder to forgive you than I do. Do Miss Glimmer and Miss Lulamoon know the reason behind your expedition?”
“No,” Sunset said with a shake of her head — of her tail, which swished back and forth once behind her. “They only know that I took this mission on myself because I wanted to atone for my mistakes, but they don’t know what the mistake was.” 
She looked over her shoulder, back towards Benni Haven’s, where Trixie and Starlight lingered still with Ditzy. Had they ordered yet? Did they have any idea that they were going to be called out on the carpet by General Ironwood for their absence? 
“I feel as though I owe them more thanks than I gave them, or perhaps an apology.”
Professor Ozpin smiled slightly. “I’m sure they’ll muddle through somehow. Might we return to the question of your change of heart on the subject of throwing yourself into the fire for the First Councillor? Is it somehow connected to the assistance you received from your Atlesian friends?” He paused for a moment. “Might we walk as we talk, Miss Shimmer?”
“Of course, Professor,” Sunset said, and as Professor Ozpin turned away and began to walk towards the Emerald Tower, his cane tapping upon the road as he went, Sunset fell in beside him. 
“I think — feel like — I owe you an apology, Professor, on behalf of Equestria,” Sunset said softly.
“Really, Miss Shimmer, why?”
Sunset glanced at him. “You didn’t know that Eve Viperidae, leader of Haven’s Team Eden, was a unicorn as well?”
Professor Ozpin was silent a moment, and he failed to tap his cane upon the ground for a couple of steps. “No, Miss Shimmer, I was not aware,” he murmured.
“Her real name is Evenfall Gleaming,” Sunset said. “She is very old, very powerful, and she was banished here centuries ago because she was very dangerous. Too dangerous to remain in Equestria.”
“But not too dangerous to trouble us here,” Professor Ozpin said with evident disapproval.
“It seems not,” Sunset admitted. “It does not change the fact, but Princess Celestia was unaware of this; she had not yet come to the throne and rule when it was done, although her assumption of the royal dignity was close at hand. I guarantee, Professor, all of this stopped at that point.”
“Not soon enough, some might say,” Professor Ozpin replied. “And yet, I find myself more disappointed in myself — and in Leo; yet another monster infiltrated our ranks, infiltrated this school, and Haven too, and we were not aware of it?”
“Eve has had a lot of experience in fooling people, Professor; she’s been doing it for many years now,” Sunset told him. “She has … she was much better at hiding her powers than I was. And although she was certainly willing to do harm in order to get her way, she bore no truly malign intents towards Remnant. Her wish was to return to Equestria by any means and finish what she started there.”
“If I had known that, I could have provided such a way,” Professor Ozpin murmured.
“I am very glad that you did not, Professor,” Sunset said, her voice quiet but firm. “Remnant does not deserve her, true, but Equestria scarcely deserves her back again after so long.” Just because I’m confident that Twilight and the Elements of Harmony could have defeated her doesn’t mean I want them to have to.
“No, Miss Shimmer, I am sure you are correct,” Professor Ozpin conceded. “Perhaps you had better tell me what transpired upon this mission, that prompted Miss Viperidae — or Miss Gleaming, as she is apparently called — to reveal herself to you.”
Sunset let out a nervous laugh. “I … I scarcely know where to begin, Professor. But I will try, nevertheless. I suppose … I suppose the story began before we arrived at Arcadia  Lake, our destination, a village—”
“I know the place,” Professor Ozpin told her. “At least, I can find it on the map.”
“It seemed a rather lovely place,” Sunset said. “Save for its troubles, which, as I said, began before we arrived. A certain Professor Scrub, a descendant of an Equestrian exile, had been studying magic—”
“'Magic'?” Professor Ozpin repeated.
“Yes,” Sunset confirmed. “He too was hoping to find a way to travel to Equestria, and he succeeded in crafting certain magic rings, rings for outward journeys and rings to return to Remnant again afterwards. He tricked a friend of his nephew, one Miss Pole, into taking such a ring and using it to travel to Equestria, where she was attacked by a creature called a tantabus — a creature of dreams, or rather. of nightmares; it infects the mind, forcing its prey to relive their nightmares constantly, and all the while. it feeds upon their fear and sadness, their guilt and their regret.”
“I have never encountered such a thing,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “And now that you tell me of it, I find myself very glad of the fact. What became of the child?”
“She was put into a coma from which she would not wake,” Sunset said. “She was rescued by Professor Scrub’s nephew, who brought her back to Remnant, but there, the tantabus began to expand its power — you see, as a tantabus grows in strength, it can start to affect the waking world, eventually escaping from the mind of its host and breaking free to turn the world around it into a living nightmare. The nightmares … the nightmares began to affect the people of Arcadia  Lake, manifesting in the form of grimm attacks and other things. The huntsman sent to Arcadia Lake, as well as two members of Team Eden, were lost to such nightmares.”
“I see,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “This must all be very hard upon Miss Doo.”
“Ditzy is considering her options,” Sunset replied. “What she wants to do now that she doesn’t have a team.”
“There are two main approaches,” Professor Ozpin said. “To—”
“To fill in with an existing team that has a spot open or to start again next year,” Sunset said. “Ditzy is leaning towards the latter, but she is aware of both.”
“I’m glad she is aware,” Professor Ozpin said. “Though not, obviously, glad of the need for her to be aware. But please, Miss Shimmer, continue.”
“Eve recognised the signs of a tantabus,” Sunset went on. “She raised a shield around Arcadia  Lake and the surrounding lands, blocking communications and preventing anyone from getting close to the village that she didn’t wish to get close. She let me through, and Starlight and Trixie, because she sensed my magic and recognised me as a fellow Equestrian. Once we got there, I eventually recognised the signs of a tantabus and got the whole story from Professor Scrub. That was when Eve revealed herself to me.”
“She wished to use the rings to return to Equestria?”
“And to take Miss Pole with her, so that she could use the tantabus to help her take power,” Sunset said. “That, as much or more than her going home, we could not allow. In truth, Starlight, Trixie, and Ditzy did a lot more than I did. While they held off Eve — and the nightmares that were consuming the village — I used my semblance to enter Miss Pole’s mind—”
“I beg your pardon, Miss Shimmer?”
Sunset blinked. “Have I not told you about my semblance, Professor?”
“I wasn’t aware you had one, Miss Shimmer, so no.”
“Empathy,” Sunset said. “Which sounds like a bad joke, I know, or touch telepathy, which doesn’t sound so bad but also probably isn’t as accurate. I found it on the night Cinder fled the school. I touch people, and I … I can see their memories, experience their feelings … I used that semblance to reach Miss Pole and persuade her to defeat the tantabus.”
“Was it so easy?” Professor Ozpin asked.
“It depends on what kind of person you are and what is fuelling them,” Sunset explained. “A tantabus is powerful, but vulnerable. All you have to do to destroy them, before they get fully out of the mind, at least, is to … to come to terms with the feelings they pray on.”
“Were it so simple for everyone,” Professor Ozpin murmured.
“I know what you mean, Professor, but Miss Pole accomplished it,” Sunset said, “and while she did so, the others were able to withstand and weaken Eve. I destroyed Professor Scrub’s magic rings, and she fled.”
“So she is alive, then?”
“Yes, Professor.”
“We must keep an eye out for her in future,” Professor Ozpin murmured. “Were there any casualties?”
“Not after we arrived, Professor.”
Professor Ozpin nodded. “It sounds as though you did well, Miss Shimmer.”
“As I said, Professor, the others—”
“Have received your praise most fulsomely,” Professor Ozpin said. 
“Because it is deserved,” Sunset insisted. She hesitated. “Professor … may I ask you a question?”
“As many as you wish, Miss Shimmer.”
“Were you ever tempted to return the compliment?” Sunset asked. “To banish Salem to Equestria, as so many Equestrian horrors have been visited on Remnant in the past? Were you ever tempted to inflict upon Equestria the same treatment and see how they liked it, to foist your problems off on someone else?”
Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “If it could be done, Miss Shimmer, would you help me to do it?”
“No, Professor, I would not,” Sunset replied instantly.
“Because you value Equestria more than Remnant?”
“Because I would be responsible for what she did once in Equestria,” Sunset declared. “What if her magic became more powerful in my world, as my magic has been diminished in yours? What if the magic that protects my home will not avail against her? By your own words, you told me that she cannot be destroyed; she is immortal and invulnerable … Professor, I do not excuse the actions of Starswirl the Bearded and his ilk, but if I might offer some explanation: we have no warriors in my world. We do not train our fillies and foals to take up arms; we are a peaceful people to a degree that you would find absurd, maybe even pathetic. The great champions of Equestria are no soldiers trained in arms, but a baker, a dressmaker, a farmer, a lover of beasts and birds, a performing athlete, and a princess who was a librarian ere long. All they have, all my people have, is the magic. If Salem’s power wards her against it as it does against all the weapons of huntsmen and General Ironwood’s bombs, then any evil that she did… that would be my doing, and I would not have it on my conscience. But I would find it hard to blame you if you could have it on yours.”
“Yet I would not,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Others might be content to visit their difficulties upon perfect strangers, casting off their troubles with a shrug, making them someone else’s problem and then forgetting … but I am not inclined.”
“You are a good man, Professor,” Sunset murmured.
“I am, in any case, a somewhat practical man, I hope; it is not possible,” Professor Ozpin informed her. “I would not seek it though it were possible, but it is not. Salem is … bound to this world. She will exist so long as Remnant exists, and upon Remnant, she will remain.”
“You make it sound like a curse,” Sunset said.
“Perhaps it is a curse, to live so long,” Professor Ozpin said quietly. “Now, for the third time, what about this has turned you against the arrangement you entered into with the First Councillor, and which you defended to me so vehemently?”
“Because I would have been beaten on my own,” Sunset said. “As I told you, it was Trixie, Starlight, and Ditzy who fought off Eve until Miss Pole could defeat the tantabus within her own mind. Without them, Eve might have escaped to Equestria, Miss Pole would have been kidnapped, and while that might have been the end of it, what if the distress of the village had drawn the grimm?” She paused. “I let people die because I was not willing to sacrifice the lives of my friends; I thought that fighting alone, free of such constraints, would free me to do what was … what was right and necessary, but it turns out that, fighting alone—”
“You lack the strength to do anything,” Professor Ozpin said. “Right or necessary or otherwise.”
Sunset let out a sigh. “Indeed, Professor.”
“There is a reason huntresses are assigned to teams, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said lightly.
“So I’ve been told, Professor,” Sunset murmured. After a pause, she added, “Does it make sense?”
“Does what make sense, Miss Shimmer?”
“My rationale,” Sunset explained. “I may die at the First Councillor’s command, but I am no longer certain that I will accomplish anything before I do. If I had gone alone to Arcadia Lake, there might well be no Arcadia Lake today, and what good does that serve? What good do I serve on my own?”
“Nothing except to sate Councillor Emerald’s anger, I fear,” Professor Ozpin replied. “I quite agree with you, Miss Shimmer, that you are likely to accomplish nothing on any solo missions. Skilled though you are, the hazards of the field are too unpredictable for any single student to brave them.”
“What of a single huntsman, Professor?” Sunset asked. “Why are huntsmen in such haste to go their separate ways after graduation?”
“Not all are,” Professor Ozpin informed her. “But, for those who are not so lucky as to form such close bonds with their teammates, I fear that school is a rather stultifying experience that they are well glad to be away from, although it may be unwise for them to embrace so much freedom so swiftly. Personally, I would prefer it if our graduates continued to work in teams after graduation, but once they leave the school, everyone who does so is free to do as they please, and I must concede that if all huntsmen remained in their school fours, it would greatly reduce the number of missions that could be undertaken. Nevertheless, I think that you are as correct now as you were fundamentally misguided when we spoke on the cliffs.”
“I’m not sure the First Councillor will see it that way, I admit,” Sunset murmured.
“Leave the First Councillor to me,” Professor Ozpin told her. “I will deal with him.”
“Professor?” Sunset asked, looking at him. “Are you … are you sure you want him to know that you know what I did? It could cause trouble for you.”
“Perhaps,” Professor Ozpin conceded.
“Then you cannot do it!” Sunset declared.
“Better me than you, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “I assure you I am far better prepared to weather any trouble Councillor Emerald might wish to cause me than you are.”
“Professor … that’s nonsense,” Sunset said. “That is the reverse of sense; you are our captain; who will lead the fight against Salem if something were to befall by the machinations of the First Councillor? General Ironwood? Professor Goodwitch? You are worth more than I am, by virtue of your place; it is not right that you should suffer on my account.”
“Before you get too worked up, Miss Shimmer, let me remind you that we do not yet know that anyone will be suffering,” Professor Ozpin said gently. “And you are wrong; my life is worth no more than yours, as the lives of your friends were not worth more than the lives you inadvertently caused to be lost.”
Sunset frowned. “Because all lives are worth the same in your eyes, Professor?”
Professor Ozpin was silent for a moment. “Is it not so in your eyes, Miss Shimmer?”
Sunset was silent for a moment, choosing her words and her formulation with care. “There … there is a hierarchy, is there not? Determined by birth and blood in some cases, by virtue in others, by place at the head of great affairs or mighty movements, by standing in the eyes of men, some are set higher than the rest.”
“And yet that need not mean that their lives are worth more,” Professor Ozpin murmured.
“The body may endure body blows more easily than it can bear the loss of a head,” Sunset replied. “Is that not so? You are the head of our body, Professor; you must not allow yourself to be decapitated on account of a mere finger upon your hand, if that. I will speak to the First Councillor myself.”
“No, Miss Shimmer, you will not,” Professor Ozpin said firmly. “I think, rather than debate with you, I will show you by my actions that I trust in my own values in this over your own. Even if it means facing the wrath of the First Councillor.” 
He stopped, resting his cane upon the ground, looking up at the glowing green lights of the Emerald Tower that now loomed high above them, a true beacon in the night sky. 
“You are wrong, Miss Shimmer,” he said softly. “I hope that you can come to understand that, in time. There will always be another head, there will always be someone willing to step forward and lead—”
“That they are willing to do so is not a sign that they should, nor that they would be better suited to do so than the one who is already leading,” Sunset replied.
“Meanwhile, some fingers, some — to use your analogy — cells of the body may turn out to be quite irreplaceable.” His voice became a little more stern as he said, “It is not your place to judge who is most worthy of life. I beg you, Miss Shimmer, to tell me that you did not do as you did at the Breach because Miss Nikos is the Princess Without a Crown of Mistral?”
Sunset swallowed. “No, Professor. In that moment, my only thought was that I love her.”
Professor Ozpin nodded. “I will speak to Councillor Emerald,” he said again, “and explain to him that sending you out on perilous tasks alone will not serve those who rely upon a huntress to guard them. I hope he is not so lost to anger that he will not see the reason behind it.” He chuckled.
“Something amusing, Professor.”
“A certain irony, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin said. “You see, in order to explain away your absence to your teammates, I told them I had dispatched you on a mission alone.”
Sunset’s eyebrows rose. “That … is out of character for you, Professor.”
“Indeed, I don’t know how I shall explain this momentary bout of madness that overtook me,” Professor Ozpin replied. “Fortunately, when I told your friends that circumstances around the mission were unique … that appears to have been the case.”
Sunset could not restrain the snort. “Yes. Yes, I suppose it does. Lucky me. Thank you, Professor; you didn’t have to cover for me like that.”
“And what would be gained from allowing your teammates to fall out with you, Miss Shimmer?” Professor Ozpin asked.
Sunset hesitated a moment. “How did they take it?” she asked.
“I fear that Miss Nikos is not best pleased with me at present,” Professor Ozpin said.
“Professor—” Sunset began.
“The head can endure at least mild blows, I think, Miss Shimmer,” Professor Ozpin interrupted her. “Goodnight.”
Sunset was still and silent a moment, then bowed her head. “Goodnight, Professor.”
She left him there, standing in the shadow of the great tower, making a slow and lonely way towards it, his back straight, the moonlight shining upon his silver hair, giving him an air of immense dignity as he went. 
It was not met that he should bear any risk for her sake, Sunset saw that now, but it seemed that that was something about which they would not, perhaps could not, agree. 
She was too much a product of the palace to believe in the fraternity of all mankind. 
Sunset turned away from him, leaving headmaster and tower alike behind as she walked towards the dorm rooms. Her steps quickened as she approached the building. Thanks to Professor Ozpin, she no longer felt as nervous as she had done; her stomach felt less knotted and less icy cold. At least her friends had already been primed with an excuse for her absence — and an excuse, what was more, which primed them to accept the truth about what she had been up to and where she had been. She need not have recourse to Trixie’s story, although she would have to warn them to keep the truth to themselves. 
Yet nevertheless, she still owed them an apology. Even if Professor Ozpin had spoken true, even if he had dispatched her straightaway upon this mission of grave urgency and where her special skills might be of particular value, it would still have been wrong of her to leave the rest behind. She would still owe them an apology, and that went double since Professor Ozpin had lied, and she had stolen away for more mundane reasons by far. 
But she felt less nervous than she had done; it was not right, perhaps, to trespass upon the goodness of her friends, but being so good as they were, she felt they would forgive her. 
She very much hoped so.
The dorm rooms were mostly quiet. The corridors were dark, the lights only flickering on as Sunset passed down them, and doubtless, they would turn off again ere she departed from the range of the motion sensors. The doors were shut; there was no movement in the kitchens. Of course, many students had gone home for the break, and it seemed that the ones who remained were either out or else very much indoors. 
A little music, the occasional strain of a voice, the sound of keys on a piano, floated out of one or some of the dorm rooms, too softly for Sunset to make out the tune, but no one troubled or interrupted Sunset as she made her way up the stairs and down the corridors until she stood in front of the door to the SAPR dorm room. 
It had their name on it, in those big colourful letters that parents got to spell out their children’s names on their bedroom doors, and that picture of the four of them with Fluffy, a twin to the one that hung on the big wall at Benni Haven’s. 
It had seemed a cute thing to do at the time, to put their name on the door, to hang their picture up so that everyone knew who they were. YRBN had done the same on the opposite door — they’d done it second, of course, because they didn’t have any original ideas — having their name and putting two pictures up, one on top of the other: the original generation Team YRBN, with Dove Bronzewing, and then their second incarnation with Blake taking Dove’s place. 
It seemed a cute idea, but at the same time now … it seemed a little vain as well. 
Or perhaps Sunset’s soul was just so weighted down that she couldn’t appreciate the cuteness at the moment. 
But we will smile again, like we did that night.
But not, perhaps, tonight. Nevertheless, we will smile just like we did then.
Sunset got her scroll out of her pocket with her free hand and used it to open the door. As the door swung ajar, Sunset half hoped that the lights would be off, that everyone would be asleep, or out perhaps. That Jaune and Pyrrha would be training outside and Ruby … would be somewhere else. With her sister, maybe. 
The lights were on inside the dorm room. There would be at least one person in there waiting for her. 
And yet, there was no sound as Sunset pushed the door open the rest of the way with her foot. As she stepped inside, she could feel the anticipation in the air, like electricity crackling around her. 
Everyone was waiting for her inside the dorm room. 
Ruby was sitting on the window seat above the bookshelves, reading The Song of Olivia — or at least, she had presumably been reading it, because it was in her hands and upon her lap, even if her silver-eyed gaze was now turned towards Sunset. 
Pyrrha was lying on her bed, with little earbuds in her ears, half-concealed behind the red hair that fell around her, and her scroll lying on the bed beside her. As Sunset walked in, she sat up and pulled the earbuds out of her ears. 
Jaune was sitting at the desk that ran along the inner wall of the dorm room, writing something that Sunset could not have guessed at. He too turned to look at Sunset as she entered, and the pen dropped from his fingers to land upon the desk. The rattle it made was the only sound. 
Sunset stood just beyond the doorway, using her foot to nudge the door closed behind her. 
Nobody said a word. They just stared at her, with gazes sharp, the inquisition in their eyes that they would not give voice to.
Sunset took a deep breath. “Hi,” she said. “I’m back.”
Ruby looked away. Pyrrha and Jaune continued to stare at her, but said nothing. 
Sunset waited, still and silent. 
“Yes,” Pyrrha murmured. “We see that you are.” Her voice was soft, but crisp and brittle, with a sense that it might shatter into sharp shards of glass at any moment. “Professor Ozpin told us that he sent you on a mission.”
“Yes,” Sunset said softly. “I was given a mission.”
“By yourself?” Pyrrha said, and already her tone was sharpening.
“I … didn’t end up going alone,” Sunset admitted. “But that was the plan.”
“You didn’t end up going alone?” Jaune repeated.
“No,” Sunset said. “Trixie Lulamoon and Starlight Glimmer of Team Tsunami went with me.”
Ruby made a noise, a sort of harrumph, or perhaps more of an outraged squeal; it was hard to make out. She still didn’t look at Sunset. 
“I … see,” Pyrrha replied.
“That would make one of us,” Jaune muttered. “You could take Trixie and Starlight — do you even know them?”
“They’re friends of Rainbow Dash,” Sunset said.
“So you can take two of Rainbow’s friends, but you can’t even bother to tell us where you’re going?” Jaune demanded, getting to his feet. 
“It’s not like that,” Sunset said defensively. “I didn’t seek them out; they imposed their company upon me. They didn’t think that I should go on this mission alone.”
“So someone who calls themselves 'The Great and Powerful' has more sense than you do now?” Jaune asked.
Listen to the mouth on him all of a sudden. Not that I don’t deserve it. “So it would appear.”
“Professor Ozpin also told us that there was no time for you to tell us about your assignment, or to get us,” Pyrrha said, as she, too, got to her feet. “But you could have answered my messages.”
“Yes,” Sunset conceded. “Yes, I could. I’ve got no excuse for that, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. None of this will happen again.” She looked at Ruby. “Ruby…”
Ruby still didn’t look at Sunset. 
Sunset frowned. “Ruby, come on, don’t be like that.”
“Oh, you don’t like it?” Ruby demanded. “Try putting up with it all night.”
“I suppose I had that coming,” Sunset muttered, as she walked the short distance across the room to her bed. 
She put her pack, with the Dark Regalia inside, under the bed — she would need to find somewhere better to put them, like her locker, or buried, but right now, she was too tired to go down to the amphitheatre and put everything away properly. She leaned Sol Invictus and Soteria up against the wall, and considered sitting down, but ultimately decided against it; it might give off the wrong impression, and she wanted them to think that she was taking this seriously. 
She was taking this seriously; she meant what she said: this wasn’t going to happen again. 
“It was cruel to treat you that way,” Sunset said. “I know that now. I shouldn’t have done it. I should have answered.”
“Why didn’t you?” asked Ruby sullenly.
“Because I knew that it would be like this, and I wanted to put it off,” Sunset admitted, spreading her arms out on either side. “I knew that you wouldn’t like what I’d done—”
“Then why did you do it?” demanded Ruby. “What was so important that you had to take off all by yourself without us, without even telling us?”
“Equestrian magic,” Sunset said.
She could sense the change in the mood of the room almost instantly, curiosity and surprise mingling with and somewhat displacing the earlier hostility. Pyrrha gasped, and Jaune let out a wordless squawk of astonishment. 
“Eques— from your home?” Pyrrha asked.
Sunset nodded. “Another unicorn, like myself; an exile, but in less voluntary circumstances; and a monster, a creature of nightmares called a tantabus.”
“Were you able to help them get home?” Ruby asked, her tone a little softer than it had been before. “Not the monster, the unicorn?”
“No,” Sunset admitted. “Nor did I want to. They were too dangerous to go home.”
“'Dangerous'?” Pyrrha repeated.
“Not everyone who has come to Remnant from my world is a good person,” Sunset explained. “In fact, I would say that most of the people who come to Remnant from my home are decidedly not good people.” You might even include me in that. “Quite apart from the question of why anyone in their right mind, possessed of the respect of their fellows, should wish to trade Equestria for this place — no offence — the fact is that, in the earlier days of Equestria’s history, the great unicorn mages of my world had a habit of using Remnant as a place to banish any villain or monster they did not like and feared to deal with.”
“So,” Jaune said, “we’re like your garbage dump.”
“Not anymore, not since Princess Celestia came to power,” Sunset said. “But … yes. On behalf of my people, I am sorry for it.”
“That’s not what you should be sorry about,” Ruby muttered.
“So, this unicorn, she was a bad guy?” Jaune said. “And she’d been exiled?”
“Yes.”
“Even though you just said that that had stopped.”
“She was over a thousand years old,” Sunset replied.
Jaune’s eyes widened. “Is that … do you… will you—?”
“No, not all unicorns live that long, and I will not; our lifespan is about equivalent to your own,” Sunset informed him. “Eve’s preservation has to do with dark magic.”
Which means I could live that long, I suppose, now that I have such magic at my fingertips. Although I’m not sure I’d want to. Yes, it would have its advantages — she could take over from Professor Ozpin as leader of the fight against Salem, blessing successive generations with her wisdom and insights, becoming ever more venerated amongst them, constantly discovering new strategies, possibly even a way to defeat their enemy for good. She could become Remnant’s very own Princess Celestia. 
And she would watch all her friends die around her; like Celestia, she would watch the world change before her eyes. Was that what she wanted? Was all that she might gain worth that price?
That was highly debatable, to say the least, and that was before you remembered that it was dark magic they were talking about, and dark magic always came with a price. The costs of immortality became a lot steeper when they were accompanied by the rotting of the brain or the twisting of the soul. 
“And this monster, this tantabus?” Pyrrha asked. “Was that banished here as well?”
“No, that was brought here, by … by a foolish man,” Sunset said. “It possessed a child and drew the unicorn to the village of Arcadia Lake in an attempt to seize it for herself. The tantabus was the main issue; anyone sufficiently skilled could have fought off Eve, but only I would have recognised the presence of the tantabus.”
“So we could have helped?” Ruby asked. “We could have helped you fight off that unicorn?”
“Yes,” Sunset admitted. “Yes, you could have helped, and you should have been there, and I was a fool to think that I could do it on my own. I couldn’t have. Trixie and Starlight — and Ditzy Doo, who was there already — did more than I did. In the end, they fought the battle; I only had to use my semblance.”
“Your semblance?” Pyrrha said. “But you—”
“Haven’t trained it, no,” Sunset agreed. “I got lucky. I’d like to take you up on that offer still, assuming you’re not so angry at me as to rescind it.” Now, she allowed herself to sink down onto the bed, feeling the mattress give way beneath her. She bowed her head, letting her fiery hair fall down around her. “Ever since the Breach, I … I’ve felt … I let six people die because I wasn’t strong enough—”
“Sunset,” Pyrrha began, “this isn’t—”
“Let me finish,” Sunset pleaded, without looking up. “Six people died because I couldn’t do what had to be done, and I…” She breathed in and out. In and out. She looked up at Ruby. “Everything that I have accused you of and chided you for, I have felt within myself, within my heart, I am … the greatest of hypocrites, and I cry your pardon for that too. The truth is that the mission was arranged in haste, and it did require my special skills, but the reason I didn’t push harder to take you or to tell you was because I hoped to find something that would wound me so badly that I could call it atonement for my weakness.”
“That’s not the point!” Ruby declared. “What good is dying if you’re not dying to protect anybody?”
“I know, there isn’t one,” Sunset said. “That’s what … Miss Pole, Malmsey Scrub, Doctor Diggory, Mrs. Macready, they would all have died if I’d been on my own. Well, maybe. They’d have been at risk, certainly. I couldn’t have done it all without Trixie and Starlight’s help — or without your help, if you’d been there. 
“Ever since the Breach, I have been … not myself. Pyrrha has noticed that already, although she has kindly kept it to herself. I cannot promise that I will miraculously return to what I was before, but I can promise that I will not again forget who and what I am: not a lone wolf, not a hero, but a part of this team. If you’ll let me be.”
There was a moment of silence in the dorm room, and a moment of stillness too, a stillness that was broken by a blur of rosepetals, trailing across the dorm room like little drops of blood, as Ruby closed the distance between herself and Sunset, wrapping her arms around Sunset’s chest. 
“Welcome back,” Ruby whispered. “Don’t do that again, okay?”
“I give you my word,” Sunset murmured. “Upon my tattered honour.”
Jaune crossed the room more slowly, sitting down on the other side of Sunset. Silently, he reached out and took her free hand in his own. 
Pyrrha remained where she was, standing up, looking down on Sunset. But she smiled warmly, and the smile spread into her emerald eyes and said all that needed saying. 
Sunset smiled back and bowed her head to her. 
I am not back. But I may be on the road.