It was only a painting. There was absolutely nothing to fear from it. Jaune knew he would see it eventually, but it had never felt so… intimidating. It had always been a distant thought, an event always resting on the horizon ever since he made that spontaneous decision to ask for one.

But now that it was in front of him, it felt like an indomitable beast in front of him. It represented so much of his time with Cinder, that a part of him felt that time would end the moment he drew back the canvas.

Internally, Jaune registered that it had been years since he felt this kind of fear. Not that he was fearless, Gods no. It kept him sharp and wise, saving his life countless times. But that was a fear of death, capture, or worse. But this wasn't physical or mental it was… just confronting something abstract.

His instincts and reflexes slammed into each other at full force, different reactions crowding his head all at once. One told him to run, another told him to come up with some excuse, while an eerily-adolescent one told him to curl up into a ball. As a result, none of these things happened, resulting in him staring wide eyed at Cinder.

She sat there patiently, though not without a bit of worry in her own eyes.

And that was just it, really.

Jaune's jaw worked uselessly up and down for a few seconds before the words came out weakly, "Can I-...?"

Nothing changed in Cinder's countenance; she was still sitting with that look frozen on her face. Jaune nodded to himself, and dragged himself up to the canvas.

"It's just a painting," Jaune whispered, even though he doubted his own words.

Gripping the covering with both hands, Jaune tugged it off. And there it was.

Ruby. Yang. Ren. Nora. Blake. Weiss.

Jaune's reached a trembling hand out in front of the painting, though he didn't dare touch it. Lovingly drawn was a page right out of history. It was all of them huddled together and smiling with the long towers and awnings of Beacon visible in the background, little more than a thinly painted shadow. Every curve gave the sense that it had been planned, fitting into a master plan. Nora's figure didn't have the accented, crystal definition of Ruby, while Yang's hair was far longer than it had been towards the end. No one could have seen the minor discrepancies hidden here and there in the painting except Jaune.

And it all made it better. As he looked at the painting, memories washed over him as though they had happened not even a day ago. Laughter, moments, and experiences he had long thought lost or locked away all came back as he compared these figures with his friends in his mind's eye.

He knew he was crying, he could feel it, yet he didn't feel his vision blur as he looked on, admiring just how much Cinder had gotten right. Their stances, the smiles, their eyes, and how much they meant to each other. She had managed to isolate the quirks of his best friends and keep them alive.

His mind lurched off the beaten path as he heard Cinder move. He didn't dare take his eyes off the painting, eyes still absorbing every detail. She wordlessly moved against his side and wrapped her arm around his waist, leaning her head on his shoulder.

There in the middle of it all, standing perfectly straight with a proud smile etched in time- was Pyrrha.

It was a smile Jaune hadn't seen in so… so long. It was one that had always been reserved for him, one that showed such an unshakeable faith in him.

Every single detail of her was perfect. Etched like a photo, it was a flawless depiction of her. Her hair was slightly tousled like it was after a good fight, her face flush with exertion. Cinder had somehow even managed to convey the slightly weathered buckles and engravings on her weapons.

And her eyes. Her gorgeous, green eyes stared straight into his soul from beyond the grave, holding that proud crinkle in them as she looked on. Jaune couldn't help but wonder as a thought wiggled its way into his brain - would she still be proud?

Ten years ago, he would have said yes. Two months ago he would have said no. But now…

"It- it's… yeah. How did you-..?" Jaune said, adding after a minute.

Cinder was silent for a while. Eventually she sighed and moved away from him, holding a hand delicately over the image of Pyrrha.

"It never left me. Some people remember every face, but I don't. Not something so small. I couldn't even tell you who my first was. And that's because it was just normal to me after a while. You don't remember how many times you've looked at a clock or gotten sick. It was never supposed to be something to think about in the grand scheme of things. But… not her." Cinder shivered. "It was like- like a bright light in my eyes every time I closed my eyes. I could remember every single part of her face and outfit, burned clear as day into my mind. I can even remember what she sounds like."

"She didn't have her powers for… for a long time. And she barely had any of the Fall Maiden in her. I didn't inherit her memories either," Cinder added when Jaune's eyes widened. "I just knew. Not that I was given much of a choice but I…" Cinder trailed off.

Instead, she pushed a small scrap of paper into Jaune's hand.

"I'm just glad I remembered her."

Scribbled on the note was a curt sentence in Jaune's own handwriting:

Better Days.

Tears still ran down Jaune's face, ignorant of the smile that blossomed. It still hurt to look at the painting, it really did. It probably always would. But he finally felt the last piece of the puzzle slide into place.

If he could go back in time, knowing what he did now, Jaune wasn't sure if he'd stop himself from going to Beacon. Those final years of his youth were the greatest and worst parts hand-in-hand. And he didn't know what he'd do if he could change any of it.

But he couldn't. And standing right here, in this moment, he finally knew.

"So, do you like it?" asked Cinder tentatively. Worry and hope flickered across her face in such an openly raw way that Jaune reached a hand out and cupped her face gently.

"I love it. It's perfect." Jaune rasped out, not even trying to get his breathing under control.

Cinder's eye watered, her lips trembling as she tried to control her emotions. Jaune leaned forwards, pressing his forehead against hers.

"I just- I finished it a week ago and… and I was so scared to give it to you, th-that you would leave and I-" Cinder cried, tears falling freely as the last of her walls came crashing to the ground.

"Thank you, Cinder… thank you for everything."

Their lips connected, a gentle and personal spark between them. When they separated, Cinder looked him in the eyes, her own still sporting tears. Jaune could see it slowly bubbling out of her, until she was snorting quietly and looking away.

"What?" Jaune asked, bemused.

"I'm just glad you liked my 'art' so much you placed an order instead of killing me."

"Hey! In my defence, it was good art."

"Oh yes, yes I'm sure it was."

"Ech. Come on, I didn't know if you could blow my head off. I had to think fast."

"Simply saying 'I'm lost' would have been a better way to get out of trouble than that."

"It worked, didn't it?"

Cinder bit her lip, "Hmm, I suppose it did."

Jaune kissed her again, pulling her close and holding her there. He held her until he a strong breeze swept against his back. All around them, the signs of the seasons immanent change were appearing.

"You know…" he began, "I've been thinking… now that the deal is over…" Cinder stiffened in his arms.

"I was just thinking that, well, maybe you'd want to keep doing this."

Cinder narrowed her eyes at him, "What, the painting or the se-"

"Both!" Jaune said hurriedly, "and everything else. Maybe. I don't know, this is all fast and I just… I just realized that I could do this for the rest of my life. There's nothing else out there for me that'll be better than you. I want to do this, if you're up for it."

Cinder's face looked blank, a carefully composed form as she processed his words. Jaune almost started to panic before Cinder kissed him and took his hand in hers.

"I'm sure we can come to some sort of an arrangement to make that work. Perhaps over tea?" She said slyly.

Jaune's free hand picked up his painting and tucked it under his arm.

"Lead the way."

"Thanks mister!" Screamed a small boy, holding his new trophy high above his head as a gaggle of his friends swarmed around him gabbling questions. It was a long, wooden sword, though with the way it was painted, itlooked like it was freshly forged steel.

"You be careful with that now, Stevie! If you lose an eye your mother will have my head!" shouted, holding back laughter Jaune. Shaking his head, he stepped back through his door and closed it behind him, breathing in the deep scent of fresh wood. It always felt good to be back in his workshop, nothing but him and his work.

"You're letting all the heat out, close that door properly," came the irritated voice from the other end of the room.

Eh. Well, mostly just him.

"Ah! But my love, it's not like we're lacking it, are we?" Jaune said sweetly as he closed the slightly ajar door properly this time.

"It's for appearances, dear. Can't have people thinking we're well insulated," Cinder replied, hunched over a large map spread out across a table. Bits of wet paint and thumbprints marred its edges, but on top of it was Cinder's great undertaking. An entire, updated map of Remnant. Progress was slow-going, and for the moment she had focused entirely on the larger towns that had managed to hold out against what was left of the Grimm and banditry.

Jaune had a feeling she would have gone out and checked them all herself instead of relying on information and lesser maps if not for her condition.

"You know you're not supposed to be standing like this, right?" Jaune asked, easing his heavily pregnant wife onto a waiting seat, to which she grudgingly complied.

"Yes well, sitting around doing nothing doesn't exactly get better with time," Cinder grumbled as Jaune stepped around the corner and came back with two hot mugs of tea.

"But you've had so much practice!" Jaune said coyly.

Cinder jabbed a finger at him, "That's your fault!"

"I'm not the demi-goddess of fertility."

Cinder narrowed her eyes at Jaune. "Oooooouh, your luck knows no bounds, Mr. Arc."

"And neither does your mercy, Mrs. Arc."

Cinder preened slightly under that title, even after all these years. If he had to admit, so did Jaune.

"Could you paint some of the toys instead? You could probably do that sitting down without exerting yourself too much," Jaune ventured.

She hummed. "Don't think I didn't see you giving away that sword to Stevie Noire. You know his mother hates violence; she'll come for you eventually."

"Bah, his dad paid for it in advance, said I should make him feel like it was a gift to make him care more about the community or something."

"Rather, you've just armed a small menace. Or one of his friends."

"It'll teach him to be tough enough to hold onto the things he cares about."

The two sipped at their tea and enjoyed the last moments of peace and quiet of the day. Outside their windows, they could hear the rattle of wagons on cobblestones as farmers and lumberjacks brought in their hauls for the day, all eager to make it home for supper.

It had all exploded so quickly, and Angort seemed to be getting bigger all the time. What had once been their remote cottage soon became the heart of the city's downtown, and they'd decided it simply didn't fit the city anymore. Plenty of renovations, a basement, and a second floor later, and they finally had a chance to open up their store.

It had been a long debate, arguing what was best to sell and which name would fit the most.

A whole winter was spent bickering about it, leaving notes in sandwiches, names painted at the bottom of mugs, and in one creative case glued to the underside of the toilet lid.

But now, both of them were proud of the sign that hung on the outside of their home, and painted beneath every toy they made together.

The peace didn't last long as three pairs of boots thundered up the street, jeering and calling out to one another. Cinder snorted loudly in the way she only did when they were alone, and Jaune could barely see the tops of three figures running below the windows.

"Took their time, didn't they?" Cinder whispered conspiratorially to Jaune.

"They're exploring. They get it from their dad," Jaune whispered back.

The door slammed open and the trio stampeded in, a frenzy of pigtails, blonde hair, black hair, and one very large backpack. Jaune rose to his feet, stepping in front of his wife and bracing himself to catch the tangle of limbs as it came slamming into his chest.

"Whoa there! Easy, easy!" Jaune laughed uproariously as two young girls and a boy clambered onto him.

"Dad! Dad!"

Jaune swayed back and forth under their weight, but finally managed to get some stable footing thanks to his reflexes, dulled as they may be.

At least, until one of the girls kicked him in the back of the leg.

Cinder, as helpful as always, laughed as her family tumbled to the ground amidst cries of indignation.

Outside, curious faces looked at the house as they walked by, alerted by the noise. But then they would look up, see the sign and shrug before moving on.

Swaying gently in the calm winds of winter was a paint-brush with a flame at its end crossed over an empty map. And below it, painted in simple, golden letters, was its name:

Painting Present's

A/N: Well. This is it.

Man, it's really hard to say goodbye to this story. It's been a constant companion for a while now, and it really helped me finally find my confidence as an author that I could really produce something good if I tried. I really just want to thank you guys for being with me this whole time, with your loving support, eye opening reviews and simply asking very casually how long it will be until I get another chapter out there. Knowing people were eager to read my work was a joy that I can't really explain.

I know some people are disappointed that it ended, and I get that. More than once I was tempted to drag the story on, add some black moments, drag out the slow burn and really crank out extra chapters of nothing. But then I kind of realized that that wasn't the story I wanted. I'd read so many of them on this site, and I guess it's hard to remember how two adults can just... fall in love and enjoy each others company. No external forces pushing them together.

That's why I was really proud with how it turned out. I don't know if there's any chapter I would change, including the chapter where the painting is first brought up (man did my beta beat me over the noggin afterwards for sneaking that by him).

And that brings me to arguably the most important person in this whole endeavor, my editor and numero uno Beta Reader: Darth Browser. Honestly, thank you man for always being there to read my snippets and keep me in line when I try and put a fart joke in the middle of a serious scene because I don't understand comedic timing. And oh yeah, correcting my numerous grammatical errors and teaching me that a semi-colon is not a decoration to be placed anywhere I want. 3

But! I'm not done writing ladies and gentlemen! I've just uploaded a new story called "Old Order", which is a story from a Weiss POV set immediately after the end of RWBY, exploring the apocalypse, being a leader and learning how to run a colony. It's got all the exciting issues of supply, scavenging, sickness, laws, morale, diplomacy, war and the eternal battle to stay warm when the night seems coldest.

It really focuses on building on the world so many of you have commented on or said you enjoyed. I've loved this idea ever since I think chapter 2 of this story, and I'm so excited to publish it. It shall be the second part to my AU I should probably name! And who knows, maybe one day I'll come back to PP and release an epilogue of snippets/slice of life? No promises, but I'll keep you all abreast if it does!

Thanks again for following me on this wild ride! Cheers!