Clark stood off to the side and watched as Qrow set a hand on Oscar's back. The man closed his eyes. Meanwhile, Oscar's heart was beating fast in excited anticipation.

Qrow started to speak. "For it is in passing that we achieve immortality. Through this, we become a paragon of virtue and glory to rise above all. Infinite in distance and unbound by death, I release your soul, and by my shoulder, protect thee."

Light surrounded Oscar. It was faint compared to the sunlight shining in through the window, but Clark could make out the details easily. The young man held up his hand, marveling at the sight. "Wow."

"Congrats kid, you got your aura unlocked. You're up next, Clark."

He nodded and stepped over in front of Qrow. Normally, he'd consider aura redundant when he was already tough without it, but Ozpin had pointed out that it would be a helpful defense against magical attacks. That was fairly obvious, but Clark hadn't considered the possibility that he had aura.

Ozpin seemed to believe he should though, and considering he was an immortal wizard, Clark would defer to him. Qrow laid a hand on his shoulder and repeated the incantation.

When he finished, Clark waited a few moments for the same light to cover his body. Soon though, it was clear that nothing was going to happen.

"Hold on, let me try again," Qrow said. This time, he didn't say anything. He just rested his hand on Clark's shoulder.

Nothing.

"Um, guys, Ozpin says he's coming out." Barely a moment passed before Oscar stiffened. Even though his body was the same, it was a complete transformation. The way Ozpin held himself with experience and self-assurance was a far cry from the Oscar's demeanor.

"Qrow, what is the issue?" Even his voice was different. The same pitch, but now it was steady and calm.

"What it looks like. I can't unlock his aura."

"That shouldn't be possible."

"Why not?" Clark asked. "I'm an alien from another dimension. It doesn't seem that strange that I shouldn't have aura even if everyone has the potential for it."

"To you perhaps not, but all living creatures should have aura." Ozpin said. "It's not a characteristic that the gods gave this world during its creation. It only appeared after they took away nearly all magic. Even if you are from another world, you shouldn't lack it."

"Well even if it's not working, I'm pretty sure I still have a soul."

"Please don't joke, Mr. Kent. Qrow, can try unlocking his aura a third time?"

"I could, but Oz, something's off here. I think you're right, Clark does have aura. I can feel it. It's just . . . not coming out. I don't know how else to say it."

Ozpin's eyes narrowed. "I've never encountered a case like this. We must fix it."

"Do we?" Clark asked. "I don't think aura's going to be all that useful for me. If the phantom's attacking, then it'll all be gone in one hit. If I'm in a serious fight against Cinder, I can handle it fine without aura."

"That may be true, but it's still important to minimize the risk to you as much as possible. Not only that, it would also have been convenient for spars. Draining your aura would be a concrete win condition during spars rather than continuing until your opponents exhaust themselves."

Clark rubbed the back of his head. He hadn't been that concerned about having aura or not, but Ozpin had a point. Having aura would help him fit in more. Like that spar against Velvet back at Beacon, he could have handled it a lot easier if he'd had aura. Plus, aura would also let him spar anyone in the academy without suspicion.

"Why didn't you try to unlock my aura before?" he asked.

"Before, Cinder hadn't crafted magical weaponry capable of hurting you, and you hadn't nearly lost a battle against your double," Ozpin said. "Even if aura only deters a single attack, that may be the difference between life and death. Do you now understand the need for it?"

"Yes, but what are we supposed to do? Qrow says it's not coming out."

"Aura still holds many mysteries, but there is a science to it," Ozpin said. "Atlas is the most knowledgeable on it, they're even capable of creating machines that can transfer it."

"So we have to call Ironwood?"

"Yes, but I'm not sure how much assistance he can offer unless you submit to a thorough examination by his scientists."

"I'm not doing that."

Ozpin sighed. "I expected as much. Very well, we'll find time to contact him and only ask. For now, Qrow will provide training for Oscar."

\\

The building was clean. It had smooth white walls and polished linoleum floors, a lot like a hospital. Although, unlike most hospitals Clark had been to, there were plenty of colorful decorations. Flowers were painted on the walls alongside scenes like starry skies and beaches. The ambient sound was also a lot calmer, no one sounded like they were in pain, so Clark felt a lot more comfortable here than he would have in a hospital.

This was a public mental health clinic. Important in a world where negative emotions attracted monsters, and it definitely showed. Anyone was welcome to come in for a consultation and it was a government service like public libraries.

This was Mistral though, so places like these in the lower levels were scarce. From the research Clark had done, the few public mental health clinics down there were also underfunded and sloppy.

Maybe if his Interference work turned out well that would change. For now though, he had to focus on his own mind and had chosen a well-rated clinic on one of the middle levels. He could have used Haven's services. Ren had said they were excellent, but there was no way he'd ever use them. He didn't doubt the trustworthiness of the workers, but he couldn't take the risk that Lionheart would find some way to find out what he said to them and report it to Salem.

Clark had already arranged an appointment with a therapist, and the receptionist had given him directions to the door. There wasn't much need for them though, since the doors had the names of their doctors in big black letters.

He stopped at a door which was two away from the corner. On the plaque, it said

Dr. Greer Coeus

Clark knocked on the door. A light male voice called out. "Come in."

He walked into a room with tall, wide windows that let in the afternoon sun. They showed a view of the inner courtyard, which had plenty of green grass and good-sized trees. Many offices seemed to share the view as the walls of other parts of the building had plenty of windows into the courtyard. The interior was decorated with warm brown wood in the desk and shelves, while the walls and chairs were a creamy white.

The therapist sat behind the desk. Instead of being dressed in a lab coat like a doctor, he was in casual office wear. A blue checkered dress shirt, gray slacks, and thin-rimmed glasses on his face. He looked like he was in his early thirties and had a small, welcoming smile.

"Hi," Clark said.

"Hello. You're Clark Kent, right?"

"Yeah." He sat down at a couch, and Dr. Coeus left his desk and sat across from him with a notepad and pencil.

"Okay, Clark. You don't have any problem with me calling you by your first name, right?"

"No, not at all."

"Great. It's usually better when we can talk on a first-name basis. You can call me Greer if you want, although I understand if you prefer Dr. Coeus."

"I think I like Greer."

Greer nodded and his smile widened. A genuine gesture, Clark could tell and appreciated it. Although he wouldn't have thought worse of the man if he'd done it just for his job.

"Great. Now, let me tell you the basics. We have 55 minutes for each session, but don't worry if you go over by a few minutes. Also, if you mention a topic that I think needs more time, I might stop us early so we can continue another time. Are there any problems with that?"

"Nope."

"Good. Let's start. I've read through the information you sent, but I think it's better for you to say face-to-face why you came here."

"Okay. Up until recently, I wasn't eating or sleeping properly. I was still doing my job and taking care of my responsibilities, but my friends noticed I was getting cranky. A few days ago, after I'd had some trouble, the whole situation sort of blew up and I yelled at them even though they were only trying to help. One of them had also been telling me to come here for a while, but I ignored them until, well, now." He hunched over, slightly embarrassed by the admission.

"Don't worry, Clark. Better late than never. Are you still having problems eating or sleeping?"

"No no, I'm good. My friends are making sure of that."

"Would you still eat and sleep properly if they didn't?"

"Ah, yeah, sorry if I gave the wrong impression. They showed me that I needed to take the time to eat and sleep, that's not what I'm here for. They were only symptoms from something that happened a while back, I'll explain that first."

Clark spoke about how it had all started months ago, after the attack on Vale. He couldn't say that he'd stopped eating and sleeping completely, but he could say that he'd been eating and sleeping less. Enough to take care of his needs, but not enough to stop his behavior from changing. That was true at least. Greer seemed to zero in on his lies a few times, but thankfully, he didn't say anything about it.

"You know, my colleagues and I had a substantial number of people come to us after the attack on Vale," Greer said. "Mostly tourists who'd been there for the Vytal Festival, so few of us talked to huntsmen that were there. Yours is an interesting perspective. You weren't traumatized by the violence or Grimm. Your main trouble is the loss of the two friends you mentioned."

Clark nodded. "Yeah, Penny Polendina and Velvet Scarlatina. Penny was an Atlas student and Velvet was at Beacon."

"Does it still hurt to think of them?"

Clark thought for a few seconds. It did, of course it did, but what was worse was how raw it was now. "Yes, but . . . I don't know. Back when they died, I just soldiered on. For a few days it was like I was numb. I found a mutual friend of Penny's to mourn her with, so I didn't ignore her completely, but it wasn't as bad as it is now. I cried for them for the first time a few days ago, just after the blow-up. And it was just before the blow-up that I even felt the urge to cry."

"Do you feel guilty that you didn't cry until then?"

"I-I do." Clark clutched the arm of the chair. "They were my friends. I mourned them, but I should have felt the way I'm feeling now when they'd died. I shouldn't have thrown myself in my job to make it easier for myself."

"Your job as a huntsman?"

Clark nodded, even though it wasn't true. By his job, he meant everything he'd focused on in response to the attack on Vale. Training his speed by himself and combat skills with the others. Reading through reams of articles and staying in the city for entire nights for the Interference.

"That's a dangerous job. I hope you've realized that those who love you would be devastated if you got hurt."

"Yes, I know." Clark smiled. He'd received plenty of care and concern after fighting the phantom and telling them how he'd been avoiding food and sleep.

"That's a relief. I hope that means you've reduced your workload."

"I have," Clark said. He'd slowed down with the Interference and his contact with Phil and Andrea had been sparse after the fight with the phantom. His training regimen had changed now, and it definitely wasn't going to be as excessive as before.

"Good. Now, going back to Velvet and Penny. How often do you think about them?"

Clark clasped his hands together, guilt crushing him. "Before the blow-up, I could go days or even a few weeks without having a thought about them. Now, it's every day. Only once or twice though, small things that remind me of them. Like me eating something and thinking of how Penny . . . well, let's just say she had difficulties with food. Or just walking along outside, seeing something, and then thinking that Velvet would have liked to take a picture. Since she had a photography hobby."

"Well that sounds completely normal. Even if your response was delayed, that doesn't mean anything is wrong."

"Really?"

"Of course. However, there's still plenty to work on. What would you consider to be enough for mourning your friends?"

Clark turned aside to think about it. "I don't know," he finally answered. "It just has to be more than what I did before. Even now I don't feel like I'm doing enough, but I don't know what more I can do."

"Maybe you don't need to do anything special. It could be enough that you've gone back to a healthy work-life balance. I'm sure they would have preferred that over you being hurt."

Maybe. Clark tapped a finger against the chair and thought. There was no way Velvet and Penny would have wanted him to be a mess after their deaths, even if he felt that he should make up for putting them aside for so long

Was he trying to overcompensate? Greer had a point. The balance he had now was probably better than going too far in the other direction after busying himself to avoid thinking about their deaths.

Clark talked with Greer for a little while longer. The therapist asked him for more details on what he thought was an acceptable reaction after death. His dad came to mind, still fresh in his mind after two years, but he refrained from mentioning it. Instead, he just told Greer about a few funerals he'd gone to as a child and what he saw from other people.

"Alright, that's time." Greer put aside his notepad and offered a hand for Clark to shake. "We made good progress today, and you can arrange another session with Jan at the desk. If you want to continue, we'll have them every week."

Clark shook his hand and nodded. "I think I will."

"Great. Also, I'll be sending you a list of questions later tonight. I'd like you to take some time every day to write down your answers and bring them in next time."

\\

Someone knocked on her door.

"Come in," Weiss said, expecting Klein or one of the other servants in the manor.

Her father walked in. "Hello Weiss."

She stood up from her seat and dipped her head. "Father. How can I help you?"

"I need your scroll."

The question nearly froze her. "What for?"

"Nothing important. Only a small matter that I need to verify. I won't look inside it, mind you. Just looking at it should be enough."

Weiss shrugged, making sure that the movement looked casual. "Okay, it's right here." She walked over to her desk and picked up her scroll. Then, she placed it in her father's hand.

He hardly spared it a glance. "No, not this one. I know you have another one."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

He sighed as if her resistance was a minor bore. "Weiss, I know you had a scroll smuggled in that lets you make private calls and I know you've been using it to talk to your friends. Either give it to me now or I'll have the servants look for it."

"Then you'll be wasting their time. I don't have another scroll."

"Why must you be so difficult?"

She crossed her arms. "Excuse me?"

"You're difficult. No, that's too lax. You're a foolish little girl. Do you realize that?" He pressed two fingers against his forehead and closed his eyes. "I allowed you to run off to Vale and study for your little huntress hobby. A ridiculous distraction from preparing yourself to run the SDC in the future. I even brought you back only after it was proven to be too dangerous." He opened his eyes and glared at her. "Yet what do you do? Refuse to go to events, fight me every step of the way, and waste time with calls to your little huntress friends."

"It's not a waste of time!" Weiss met his gaze with her own ire. "And you forced me back here, you didn't even ask if I wanted to!"

"Do you still want to be heiress? Then this is where you should be. Honestly, your complaints about me taking you away from your friends is like an infant crying about a shot."

"Don't treat me like a child."

"I will treat you like one if that's how you insist on behaving. If you show some maturity and give me the scroll, then that may change." He showed his palm. Looking at her like he expected her to obey the same way a dog would raise its paw.

"Again, I don't have another scroll."

He pulled his hand back. "That's the decision you've made? Very well, I accept that. Regardless, you won't be able to make calls with it anymore. I've made sure of that." He left the room.

When she was sure that he was gone, she stomped over to her bed and reached behind the headboard to grab the second scroll. Klein had worked diligently to provide her with it, and it was her sole connection to Ruby and the others. Now it had been cut from her, and she couldn't even warn them that she'd been silenced.

"Rah!" She hurled it at the wall, and it split apart. Electronic components fell onto the floor and the throw had made a mark on her wall.

She sat back down, breathing heavily. A useless device and a useless gesture. Everything became useless when she went against her father.