RWBY: LUCID

The suitcase thudded against the porch step as Jaune dragged it toward the car. His dad stood leaning against the driver's side door, sipping from a battered travel mug, his eyebrow raised at the oversized luggage.

"You packing for war or a weekend?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. "There's not a gun in there, is there?"

Jaune flashed an awkward grin and gave the case a half-hearted kick toward the trunk. "Gym clothes, snacks, and uh... an entire backup Jaune...in case this one breaks?"

His dad snorted, unimpressed. "You know we're gone for two nights, right kiddo?"

"Never know when you'll need... fresh socks," Jaune mumbled. Beneath the layers of hoodies and shirts, the steel bat lay nestled like a smuggled relic—his silent companion through the nightmares that no one else knew about.

"Seriously? Socks...?"

Jaune shrugged in response.

With the trunk shut and their bags loaded, they hit the road. Four hours to Ansel. Plenty of time for silence, music, or something in between.

The freeway unfurled before them in long stretches of gray and white. The sun glinted off the windshield and indie rock hummed through the stereo—his dad's taste, not Jaune's, but it was catchy, in a strange nostalgic way.

They drove in relative quiet for the first leg. Jaune leaned against the passenger window, watching trees and telephone poles whip past in a blur. His body's physicality had reverted to normal, now having none of the benefits of his dream self's body stat. Unfortunate as that was, at least Jaune wouldn't have to worry about his injuries from the dream realm. It was an interesting experience every time. Although, this time, his mind felt oddly still, and empty. He wasn't waiting for something to go wrong nor did he feel nervous about things to come.

For now, everything felt… normal. Too normal, apparently. Where had all of his anxiety gone?

"So," his dad said suddenly, eyes fixed on the road but voice heavy with a smirk. "You've been smiling like an idiot since breakfast."

Jaune blinked. "What?"

"I'm just saying," his dad continued, "either you got laid, or you're running a very successful blackmail campaign. And I've raised you better than blackmail."

Jaune choked. "Wha—no! I—Dad, seriously?!"

His dad chuckled, clearly enjoying himself. "Hey, I'm not judging. You're of age. Just let me know if there's a little Arc on the way. I'll start stocking up on baby powder."

"Oh my God, stop," Jaune groaned, sinking into his seat.

"Name the firstborn after me and all is forgiven."

"Dad—!"

Their banter filled the car, brighter than the music. It faded into a comfortable rhythm after that—light laughs, shared smiles, and the occasional mock insult. His dad flicked between radio stations, and Jaune even introduced him to a few tracks he liked. A surprising number made it onto his dad's "acceptable noise" list.

Eventually the conversation shifted to Beacon.

"You really sure about the Sword Arts Club?" his dad asked.

Jaune nodded. "Yeah. I need something physical and it helps keep me focused, too."

"Makes sense. Nothing wrong with learning to swing a sword, either. Cool as hell, too." He grinned. "Still… not gonna lie, part of me hoped you'd join the Track Team or something. Less risk of getting hurt, especially when sparring is considered. You guys spar there right?"

"Yes we spar. Besides, getting hurt...builds character?"

His dad snorted. "Is that your new occult friends talking, or you?"

Jaune smirked. "Don't tempt me into joining. Next thing you know I'll start conducting rituals of my own, in our living room."

That launched a whole detour into the ridiculous things the Occult club had said and done. They joked that the chanting was more likely to summon a pizza delivery guy than a demon. His dad nearly cried laughing, which was dangerous considering that he was driving.

Jaune idly wondered what a pizza demon would look like. Perhaps it would have pepperoni eyes or pineapple fingernails. It might even ask you to sell your soul for pizza...

Now that was a scary thought.

"Reminds me of your uncle," he said at last, wiping his eyes. "We used to pretend the attic was haunted just so we'd have an excuse to scare our friends during sleepovers."

"You ever actually summon anything?"

"Only trauma."

Jaune chuckled again, head tipping back against the seat rest.

The rest of the ride passed like that—breezy and warm, the kind of car trip that didn't need a destination to feel like home.

Eventually the green signs for Ansel began to appear on the roadside. Suburbs gave way to familiar streets, the places of Jaune's childhood flickering past like old photos. Another fifteen minutes of weaving through sleepy neighborhoods brought them to the driveway of the Arc family home.

It stood tall—three floors of white siding, large windows, and a roof that always looked like it needed patching. But it was big and proud. A pool sparkled in the back and a narrow side gate opened into a backyard with a small garden and a patch of worn field grass, perfect for kicking a ball or running around barefoot in the summer sun.

The house hadn't changed at all. Well, he'd only been gone four days, so...

Jaune stepped out of the car and looked up at it, the air filled with distant birdsong and the scent of warm earth.

His dad clapped him on the back. "You miss it already?"

"Eh," Jaune gestured with his hand. "Fifty-fifty."

He rolled his suitcase to the front step, careful not to let the bat knock too loudly against the inside.

It was the weekend and now that he was back in Ansel, Jaune wasn't sure what the dream would bring next. Would he spawn back in Vale within his house or would he change locations, this time?

Jaune supposed that he would find out at night.

The front door hadn't even shut behind Jaune before the chaos began.

"Jaune!"

A blur of blonde and flannel launched into him like a missile. He staggered backward, laughing as arms wrapped around his middle and squeezed tight.

"C-Celeste—!" he gasped, trying not to drop his suitcase.

"You jerk! You didn't text the whole week!"

"Hi to you too," Jaune wheezed.

Behind her, the living room was already filling with the rest of the Arc girls—seven sisters, all loud, all talking over each other, and all blonde like him. Except for his mother, of course, who appeared from the kitchen with a dishrag over her shoulder and a ginger bun tied back like she'd been expecting this precise kind of ruckus.

"Don't knock him over before he even gets a chance to drop his stuff," she called.

Celeste let go, but only so Violet, her twin sister could pounce next. "Tell us everything."

"Yeah, what's Beacon like? Is the cafeteria as bad as Dad said it was?" piped in Amber, already halfway through a bowl of popcorn she hadn't offered anyone else.

"The food isn't like Ansel's middle-school!" Jaune said, raising both hands defensively. "It's actually pretty damned decent!"

"Oh, well that's boring," muttered Violet.

"Is it true Vale's full of crime and punk rockers?" asked Eden, peeking out from behind her phone.

"Where did you hear that?" Jaune asked.

"Internet."

"Right..." Jaune said. "Well, I haven't been mugged once, so..."

"Well, give it time," Eden replied flatly.

Jaune snorted and dropped his suitcase by the stairs. It thudded heavily against the floor.

"Why'd you bring the big one?" asked Jade, lounging on the couch with a book in one hand and a smoothie in the other. She was the second oldest, quiet but sharp-eyed. "You know that you're only here for the weekend, right?"

Jaune tried not to glance at the hidden pocket where his bat was stashed. "Uh. I pack emotionally, okay? You never know when you need your eighth hoodie."

"Uh-huh." Jade raised a brow but didn't push.

"It's not because you're hiding your secret girlfriend in there or anything?" Celeste teased.

Jaune flushed. "What?! No—!"

"He does seem different," his mom said, pausing as she walked by. "Stands straighter now." She gave him a wide smile. "He's even smiling more now, too."

"Yeah," said Amber, now upside-down on the couch. "You got laid, didn't you?"

"MOM!" Jaune groaned.

"I didn't say that!" Mom protested from the kitchen.

"Wasn't her," Violet said with a grin. "That was Amber."

Jaune turned bright red and nearly tripped over his own suitcase. "Doesn't matter! Nobody got laid!"

"Then what's with the glow-up?" asked Eden, flicking her phone off. "Your posture looks better, too. Did you finally start working out or something?"

"Maybe I just started hanging out with decent people," Jaune muttered, tugging at the collar of his hoodie.

"New friends, huh?" Jade asked, more curious than teasing.

"Yeah," Jaune said, his voice softening a little. "They're good people. And as for working out... well, I recently joined the Sword Arts club in Beacon... or I'm going to at least, next week. Not sure if that counts."

That quieted the room for a moment. Even Amber looked up.

"Sword Arts club? I thought for sure that you'd want to go for boxing instead. They don't have it there?"

"No, well there was a mixed martial arts club but I figured that the Sword Arts club would be more interesting."

"I'm glad, sweetheart," his mom said gently, offering him a warm smile. "You were so nervous when you left."

"I still am, you know. Now... well, just… a little less, now, I guess?"

The door swung open behind him and in walked his dad, lugging the cooler full of drinks.

"You all done interrogating him?" he asked, wiping sweat off his brow. "Let the boy breathe."

"Dad!" Violet said, grinning. "Guess what? Jaune got a girlfriend and a personality!"

"Oh-ho?" Their dad raised a brow and looked Jaune up and down. "That right? Naughty, kid lying to your father, now are you? Well, if you knock someone up, you're on diaper duty for the first year. I'm too old for midnight feedings. Not doing that again."

"I hate this family," Jaune mumbled into his hands.

"Love you too, son."

They all laughed. Even Jaune, once he gave up trying not to.