Professor Arc

Chapter 35

I'm dead.

It was the first thought he had on waking up on the Friday morning, which should have gone some way to disproving the notion in the first place, what with the whole 'being alive' thing Jaune had going on. It wasn't even the fear of lessons or discovery that had his eyes snapping open in fear and terror, nor was it a sudden epiphany as to his situation, trapped in a school he had no right being in, stuck between the rock of Atlas Military and the very hot place of Cinder Fall.

It wasn't even how Neo grumbled in her sleep, spooning against his side as she pushed her head into the crook of his arm. And it really should have been, because the day she actually let him sleep in his own bed – as opposed to kicking him out – was definitely the day Yang declared she was going celibate and Ruby started lopping heads off people. Plus, it was Neo and she was spooning him, which should have been reason enough to start panicking, if only because with how tight her grip was he couldn't run away. But no, it was none of those things.

Jaune was dead because it was Friday, which meant that it was one day before Saturday and he needed to make it to his own funeral on the Sunday. Calm, he tried to command himself, taking a deep breath and sinking back into the pillows and psychopath as though one of them might protect him. I need to calm down. I need to think this through... I need to come up with a plan.

It was what Roman would have done, probably after taking a look around and asking how he could possibly have been so stupid as to get into this situation in the first place. But Roman was currently in prison, which meant Jaune sort of had the last laugh there, even if it was going to be a very shot-lived one.

Neo sighed loudly, something of an oxymoron with her, and pressed her face harder into his arm. The contact wasn't comforting, or rather it shouldn't have been. He still hadn't dealt with her and what she'd nearly done to Yang. He should have taken her to task on it by now, but considering how every other person was currently climbing onto the Jaune murder bus, he figured it might be best to sort Neo out after he'd managed to survive the current problem.

Cinder... that would be the first issue for sure, namely that it was Friday and he had his promised meeting with her in the evening. Just the two of them, alone in her office, no doubt with the promise of death over his head if he said the wrong thing. That would be a problem, since if Jaune was feeling a little arrogant he could admit to being very good at saying the wrong thing. It was a unique skill and one he'd perfected over his seventeen years of life. The only good thing about Cinder was that if he did mess up and get killed, then he wouldn't have to deal with the Saturday which included a potential maybe-sort-of-date with Glynda Goodwitch, but also a fight with Winter Schnee.

If he had a 50-50 chance of surviving Cinder, and perhaps a 50-50 chance of surviving Glynda (the risk of death there being Peter fulfilling his threat of killing Jaune if he messed it up), then Jaune felt fairly confident in saying that he had a 100-0 chance of defeating Winter. No prizes awarded for figuring out on which side of the odds he stood.

Wasn't there a rule about the number three? Actually, there were quite a few. There was 'third time's the charm' which left him wondering whether it would be Glynda that finally led to his death. Then there was the 'rule of three' which promised that things which came in three's were somehow funnier – presumably that was funnier for whomever so happened to witness his incredible ass-kicking.

The digital clock on the bedside table told him it was nearing half-seven. His brain told him if he didn't get up soon, then he wouldn't have time to make breakfast. His survival instinct told him if breakfast wasn't ready by the time Neo was awake, he wouldn't have to worry about any of the three other issues anyway. And so, with great reluctance, Jaune slowly extricated himself from his covers. The small girl shifted lightly but didn't wake, happily giving him up in favour of a soft pillow he placed into her arms. It would have been cute if she didn't smile even wider, as though in the depths of slumber she could still somehow criticise him for being less comfortable than a stuffed piece of fabric.