//------------------------------// // Epilogue // Story: No Heroes: Beyond the Everfree // by PaulAsaran //------------------------------// Fine stepped out of the Everfree Forest to a sight both familiar and not. Ponyville stood in the distance, larger than it ever was before. The chill of late autumn brought smoke from the chimneys, but that did nothing to hide the sunset. Even if it was bigger, it still had an idyllic, small town appearance, especially now that the shanty towns were starting to disappear. Props to Twilight Sparkle; when she started a reconstruction program, things got done. He glanced about the worn path, but found nothing; no buildings, no ponies, no distractions. Effectively reassured, he trotted along the path and towards town. Rainbow Dash and Lightning Dust were visiting Fluttershy’s. They were settled around her picnic table, chatting animatedly about something or other. He could just make out Tree Hugger in the window, probably making dinner for them all. Little Keen Arrow was playing with some squirrels nearby. She waved excitedly upon seeing him, her long white mane fluttering in the wind. He grinned and waved back. She was getting taller. And cuter. Some colt was going to get his heart broken with that one. The mares noticed him and waved. Fluttershy gestured, inviting him to join. He shook his head with a smile and pointed to town; he had something else that needed doing. The mares gave a collective shrug and went back to their conversation, but Fluttershy's gaze lingered a little bit longer. There was something in her smile: an understanding, and encouragement. Fine accepted both gratefully, and turned away with ease. Into town he went. Few ponies were out at this hour, but even so, being out in the open left a feeling of eyes on his back. There were so many shadows, it would be foal’s play to hide and make his way by stealth. But no. That would defy the point, wouldn’t it? A gang of foals ran past, chattering loud enough to wake the dead. He noticed Applejack’s sister among them. Now what were they doing running about at this time of day? He’d have followed them, but decided against it; if a bunch of kids weren’t safe in Ponyville, they weren’t safe anywhere. He came to a familiar street corner. Down the street to his left was the Carousel Boutique, which was starting to get crowded in by the new shops. Rarity complained sometimes, but her business was booming, so only a little. Word was she planned on opening a second boutique in Canterlot once the relief efforts finally died down. Ah, and there was Nye’s Nights and Jimmy’s Days. The lights were off at Jimmy’s, indicating he’d closed shop early. Most unusual for that workaholic. His brother’s coffee shop, however, was as alive as ever, the lights shining brightly and a crowd visible even at a distance. Fine steered clear; as proud as he was of Nye’s success, he wasn’t about to get caught in the middle of so many ponies. Another six months before the wedding. Plenty of time for the couple to plan things. Knowing them, they’d wait until the last minute. Then again, with friends like Twilight and Rarity on their side, they may have already finished all of that. The latter had practically exploded at the news, and Fine still had to honor a promise to come in for a suit fitting. The fact he already had a dozen formal suits didn’t faze the unicorn an iota. He supposed he shouldn’t complain about a free outfit. The Golden Oaks Library. Still dark, but not for long. After four months away from home, Twilight’s job in Canterlot was coming to an end. Another week and she’d be back in the old tree, offering up books with lectures free of charge. She’d be just in time to meet the thestral envoys. He couldn’t help but smile at that; it would be nice to see Fang and Polar again. And then, just like that, his destination came into view: Sugarcube Corner. Most of the shop lights were out by now, though a kitchen window and the upstairs residency remained brightly lit. Fine’s steps slowed him to a stop. His throat was so dry. He stood there, staring at the confection-themed building. She was inside, and as much as he knew this had to happen… he didn’t know if he wanted it to. Sucking down a long breath, Fine forced his legs to move. The building loomed over him like some sort of sugar-coated sentinel, just daring him to knock. Despite his stomach cutting flips, Fine called its bluff and did so. A moment passed before the door opened a crack. An eye peered out, and then the door opened wide to reveal the pleasant smile of Mrs. Cake. “Why, hello, Fine. Should have known it was you. Who else would come calling at this time of day?” Fine inclined his head to her politely. “Good evening, Mrs. Cake. I was hoping to get the chance to visit Pinkie. She still up?” The mare chuckled and stepped back, inviting him in with a gesture. “Oh, yes, you know her. With no way to expend all that energy, she ends up staying awake at all hours of the night. She’s finally able to move on her own, don’chaknow.” Fine’s ears perked. “Good news! When did that happen?” “Two days ago. Poor thing’s still stiff and can’t move around much at all, but at least she can move, which is quite the improvement.” Mrs. Cake sighed and shook her head as she guided him through the dark shop and to the stairs. “Still sucking down soups, though, the poor thing.” Fine paused at the bottom of the steps, his gaze on the first one. Gradually, he followed them up with his eyes. The second floor was brightly lit, and yet… somehow it seemed ominous. Fine’s chest tightened as he thought of what he was about to do. Mrs. Cake, standing beside him, gave him a curious look. “Is something wrong, Fine?” He didn’t look at her, just kept watching the second floor with a solemn expression. “Did she ever tell you just how she received those injuries?” There was no need to look; he could feel Mrs. Cake shuffling her hooves. “Well… yes.” “And you’re okay with me going up there?” She was quiet for a time. “Pinkie trusts you. That’s good enough for us.” He looked to find her smiling in her motherly way. He wasn’t sure what to say, so he settled for a quiet, “Thank you.” “Don’t mention it, dearie. Now you go up there and do whatever has you so nervous.” She waited, watching him. Fine stood as still as could be, listening to the world around him. It was so quiet. She was watching. He was stalling. His eyes drifted up the stairs, and his stomach churned. "That was a good day." Fine blinked and glanced at Mrs. Cake. Her gaze had fallen past him, on a picture that hung from the wall. He'd never taken the time to look at it before. It depicted a filly Pinkie, maybe ten, covered in flour and looking sheepish while a grinning Mr. Cake looked on. Fine stared at it for a few seconds, a smile slowly curling his lips. Mrs. Cake hummed and nodded to herself. "Pinkie wasn't always as great in the kitchen as she is today, don’chaknow. She wanted to bake a cake all by herself for the first time ever. The bag of flour was as big as she was, but she just had to carry it all on her own." She sighed and moved up the steps. "She'd been with us less than a year at that time." Fine found himself taking a few steps with her, pausing as she did. Another picture on the wall: the Cakes, younger and standing close together in the snow before their shop. A ‘Grand Opening’ sign hung just over the happy couple. "That was the year before," she said, her voice wistful. "Opening the shop was hard, but we were young and determined. What could possibly stop us? Pinkie showed up a month later, hungry and alone and looking for work. Can you imagine, a nine year old asking for a job? We really couldn't afford it, but we didn't have the heart to turn her away. Pinkie, and Pinkie alone, made it work." Another few steps, another picture. This one showed Pinkie, a plump teenager, working with unusual focus in the kitchen, unaware of the camera. A dollop of cake batter hung precariously from her ear and she glared into a cookbook, the tip of a wooden spoon between her teeth. "Pinkie was homeschooled, you see. Carrot and I taught her everything we knew. She's a more diligent student than most ponies would think." Mrs. Cake reached past Fine to rub the frame, a soft frown on her lips. "She didn't treat herself well back then. She worked so hard. I can't help but think that she was trying to avoid something. Or maybe forget." A little higher. The next picture showed Twilight’s library, bedecked with streamers and confetti and all the proper party trimmings. The unicorn didn’t look very happy with her soon-to-be friends. Spike, on the other hand, appeared to be having a blast. "But even in her growing years, Pinkie was a social butterfly. She used to be so nervous and excited at the same time. 'Nervoucited,' she liked to call it." Mrs. Cake chuckled, but it was a quiet sound. "She was throwing parties from the beginning. Sometimes I think they act as a kind of self-therapy. They worried us in the beginning due to the cost, but that stopped the moment her antics started bringing in more customers than we ever expected." Fine followed her farther along, wholly devoted to this small journey into the past. This picture featured another plump Pinkie, perhaps the same age as the earlier picture. She stood behind a booth full of cupcakes, brownies and pies. She was with a similarly aged, skinny-legged Applejack, and the two proudly displayed blue and red ribbons. Granny Smith stood in between, appearing exhausted but grinning no less than her young companions. "Everypony loves Pinkie, don’chaknow. It is amazing just how good she is at making friends, considering how quiet and scared she was when we first met her. A few times she'd come home after a party or a gathering and just... hide in her room. We could never understand why, since everypony involved agreed she'd had a good time. It worried us for a while. One day she stopped doing that and we let the matter drop, but I still wonder." At the top of the stairs, they came to a pause. The last picture in the set contained five ponies before the counter of Sugarcube Corner. Carrot Cake held Pumpkin on his back. He rubbed cheeks with Cup Cake, who sat with Pound Cake safely trapped behind her forelegs. Pinkie was between them, jumping high with her legs outstretched as if to surprise the couple with a hug from behind. She had the biggest, silliest grin on her face. A hoof touched Fine's shoulder. Mrs. Cake looked him in the eye, her features gentle. "I think I know why you're here, Fine. I am well aware of how our Pinkie looks at you, and don't think we didn't notice how frequent your visits have become." With cheeks burning, he eyed the floorboards, one hoof tracing the grain. "I'm not sure it's what you think it is, Mrs. Cake." "Maybe. Maybe not." She set a hoof under his chin, raising it so he couldn't avoid looking into her eyes once more. "But she is our daughter, and you have her eye. That makes us nervous." He turned his head, eyes lingering on Pinkie's door. The moths were back in his stomach. He licked his lips and closed his eyes. "I don't intend to hurt her, Mrs. Cake." "I know you don't." She released her hold and turned away. "All I'm asking is that you be careful. She's may be tough in body, but on the inside my daughter is fragile. Whatever happens between you two, we'll be alright with it as long as you keep that in mind." She gave him one last, small smile and pressed a hoof to her lips. "Keep quiet, now. The foals are asleep." She walked back downstairs. He watched her go, heart heavy. That weight moved to his legs as he shifted his attention to Pinkie's door. He understood exactly what had just happened. It felt far too early for 'that' talk, but... that was it, wasn't it? It gave what he would do next a lot more heft. Did the Cakes already think that he and Pinkie were 'settled'? He had no idea what to think about that. They were Pinkie's... family. More or less. That they'd never formally adopted her didn't change the fact. Had Mrs. Cake just granted her 'blessing,' then? The thought left a peculiarly warm feeling within him, one that shooed away the moths and lifted the weight from his legs. The reaction was no less curious, but he'd stalled long enough. Fine stood at the door. A glance at the window showed that it was now night. The best time for being out and about. Probably not the best time to be knocking on a mare’s bedroom door. There were those moths again. Determined little buggers, weren't they? He could do this. It was just a talk. He raised his hoof to knock. The door opened before he could. Pinkie’s mane had grown back some, coming down to just below the ears. Fine thought it looked good that way, what with how it let her face have more presence. Though she had bags under her eyes and her legs wobbled, she grinned from ear to ear. The excitement in her voice was tempered by her average volume. “You came to visit me.” Fine chewed his lip and scratched the tip of his hoof on the floorboards. “Actually… Can we talk?” She giggled and walked into the room. “Of course we can, silly billy. What do you expect to do when you visit?” Poof, there went the moths. Funny, how easily they ran away once he actually got to talking to her. He smiled and followed her in. “I guess that was a dumb question.” Her room wasn’t as much of a mess as most ponies might expect. More of a mess than he was accustomed to, but still not bad. Gummy sat atop a pile of plushies, absent-mindedly chewing on the neck of a rubber chicken. Get well cards were pinned to a cork board on one wall, and a small desk was covered to overflowing with papers. A quick glance revealed most of them to be complex invention designs or plans for future, themed parties. He lifted up one such sheet with his magic, studying a new flying contraption apparently designed to carry multiple ponies. “I see by the hoofwriting that you took my advice and spoke to Jimmy.” “Yep. He has some great ideas.” With careful motions and no small number of winces, Pinkie crawled her way onto her bed. She finally settled down in a sitting position with a relieved sigh. “He might even help me build one, although I don’t know if he’ll ever find the time.” “Just get Nye on your side,” Fine suggested, setting the page back and continuing his idle examination of the room. “Do that and Jimmy won’t stand a chance.” Pinkie didn’t respond at first. When she did, there was a curious tone to her voice. “Wiggly ears. Tickly nose.” He paused to glance at her. She watched him intently. “So… what’s that mean?” “It means…” She shuffled a little before settling down to a laying position with a groan. “That you’re stalling.” Horseapples, there were those moths again. He took a steadying breath before sitting down as well, not quite facing her. “I guess there’s no hiding it from you, huh?” When he looked again, her mane had fallen flat. With its short length, it reminded him of a bob cut. She offered a sad smile. “What did you want to tell me, Fine?” Was the tension in her body due to the pain, or worry? He studied her pose absent-mindedly, quietly noting all the small marks barely visible under her coat. So many scars. The memory made him cringe. He was distracting himself again. He shook his head forcefully and made himself look into her heavy lidded eyes. “Alright. I’ve put this off long enough. And I’m sorry for that, I’m just…” he shuffled and averted his eyes. Why were his cheeks burning? “I understand,” she assured him, voice wistful. “You’re not comfortable doing new things. I think I know what you’re going to say anyway.” This time when he looked into her eyes, he did so with a sense of conviction. “No, Pinkie, I don’t think you do.” “Pinkamina.” There she went again, thinking that… No. He closed his eyes and sucked down a long breath. No distractions. One thing at a time. This was too important to get sidetracked. He opened his eyes. “Three months ago, you confessed.” Pinkie bowed her head. “Y-yeah, I remember. It’s okay if—” His hoof shot up. “Let me finish.” He waited to see if she’d say anything else. When she didn’t, he carried on. “I haven’t decided yet.” She raised her head, eyes wide. “What? After three months?” Surprise faded for a critical look that seemed half-mocking. “Mares don’t like indecisive stallions, y’know.” “Ah, but I intend to try something.” He managed a wry smile, despite his insides performing a circus act. “In all our little visits these past few months, I’ve come to realize just how right you are. We are…” The smile fell. “We’re broken ponies.” She sighed and nodded. “Yeah, we definitely are.” “But why are we broken?” Pinkie’s brow furrowed in uncertainty. “Um… because we used to be Bloodmanes. And we have violent tendencies?” He shifted his head to give her a one-eyed look. “It goes deeper than that, doesn’t it?” “But the Bloodmane is the cause,” she replied with a lost tone. He moved a little closer, until he was right in front of her. She blushed and tilted her head away. Fine raised his hooves, hesitated… then set them atop hers. He did his best to ignore how his own cheeks were burning. “Pinkie, you’re interested. And I… I’m so unaccustomed to this kind of thing, I’m just not sure about myself anymore. Maybe I do like you that way. I don’t know. We both have… secrets.” Pinkie’s gaze locked on his hooves atop hers. Her eyes were as wide as the saucers. Her cheeks could probably light up the room on their own. After a moment of silence, she swallowed audibly and, without looking up, asked. “S-so what do you want to do about it?” “Break down a few walls.” He leaned down until his eyes met hers. The way she shivered and her pupils were dilated, he wondered if she wouldn’t try to run away. “I think we should go on a little trip together.” She blinked. Her eyes darted about the room as she asked, “A t-trip? What kind of trip?” His next words ended the shaking, her eyes snapping to meet his. “To the rock farm. To meet your family.” Pinkamina Diane Pie went whiter than the moon.