//------------------------------// // One Last Job // Story: Binky Pie // by Miyajima //------------------------------// One of the advantages of having a town library made mostly out of tree is that it’s relatively easy to reconstruct; at least when you have access to magic.  A few days had passed since the most eventful night of Ponyville’s recent history*, and in that time even the Princesses themselves had come to visit (at Twilight’s behest), and had aided in regenerating the Golden Oak Library.  Twilight would have to count, of course, but she was almost certain it was exactly the same, down to the last leaf and twig. Many ponies had come and gone, helping to clean out debris and rescue what books they could from the ashes.  Still others had donated their own to make up the loss.  As for her lost personal effects, Twilight had already been given six toasters by the generous citizens of Ponyville.  She hadn’t actually owned a toaster before the fire but she felt it would be rude to refuse. It was as she was sifting through another pile of singed and burnt books, looking for any she could salvage, when she noticed a large, black tome with golden lettering and yellowing pages. “Of course you survived,” she said half to herself, rolling her eyes as she picked up the Necroponicon and buried it behind a pile of books on advanced magical theory on a shelf she hoped no one would ever peruse.  Behind her, she could hear increasingly raised voices. “... and that one should go in second-  Hey!  Spike, are you listening to me?  It’s important all these go in the right order, right?  Well, I’m the expert on it and I say that Daring Do and the Jade Mask goes after Daring Do and the Cloak of Gems!” “Look, Dash, you just said that Jade Mask went after Prisoner of Griffonstone, and that Cloak of Gems wasn’t canon!” “What?  I never said that!  I said Jewel of the Sun wasn’t canon and that it went after Cloak of Gems!  And besides, you’ve got those four back to front, too.” Twilight turned to see Spike sigh wearily as he began rearranging the Daring Do series on the shelf while Rainbow Dash hovered just over his shoulder, her arms folded.  They were currently the only thing on that shelf.  Spike had a large pile of novels standing next to him that were also meant to go on there, but he’d spent the last fifteen minutes dealing with the ‘expert’s’ ‘help’**. “Thanks again for donating your collection of Daring Do books, Rainbow.  It’s a good thing they’re so popular; so many of them were on loan that we only lost three in the fire!”  Twilight said, shuffling diplomatically over to give Spike the time he needed to re-order everything.  Again. “You’re welcome, Twilight.  I found a guy in Canterlot who’s going to sell me all the first edition copies anyway, so I thought I might as well donate my old ones to a good cause!” “Everything’s coming back together,” Twilight nodded.  “I’ve even got a new section: ‘Otherworldly Literature’!  That lovely orangutan gave me some of the best novels and reference guides from his world, I’m sure I’ll spend hours reading them all.  And it’ll be good to re-open!  I can host a book-signing, or a read-a-thon, or even advanced crosswords!  It’ll be great!” Rainbow Dash grimaced a little.  “Yeah.  Great.  … Say, what time did Pinkie say she’d be leaving?” “Later this afternoon, she’s said she’s got a lot of special treats to make before she goes back with Bill Door to clear things up over there.” “Wait, it’s afternoon already?” Dash exclaimed, “I was meant to help move a stormfront before lunch!  Okay, see you later Twilight, and make sure Spike gets it right this time!” “Don’t worry, I will!” Twilight lied to the rapidly retreating blur that had previously been Rainbow Dash.  Spike let out a sigh of relief. *’Recent history’ encompasses at least the last month.  Except for that incident three weeks previously with the belligerent geraniums. **Dash was highly insistent that Spike followed her ‘Certified Most Awesome and Official Timeline (Ever)***’ when arranging the books. ***Spike agreed that it wasn’t without its merits, but Dash’s notes explaining her headcanon looked less like a structured, ordered timeline and more like a bowl of spaghetti with novel titles sticking out the ends of each individual noodle, so it was easy to get confused.  Especially when she contradicted herself every other minute. Outside Ponyville, Bill Door and Fluttershy were sitting on top of a small hill under the shade of an old oak tree while sharing a last lunch together.  Fluttershy had prepared sandwiches and a pitcher of fruit squash, and had made particular effort in buying the best tomatoes she could find for a salad.  She had hoped that Bill Door would appreciate it, and although he had said very little to her throughout the meal, she got the impression that he did. However, a feeling of sadness had been hanging low over their time together.  She knew he had to go back to his own world today.  As he had explained to her, with neither himself nor Pinkie playing the role of ‘Death’, things would… start to get out of hand.  He had made a vague reference to an earlier, similar incident that he preferred not to go into. The question she wanted to ask danced on her lips, but she couldn’t find the confidence to say it.  She suspected she wouldn’t want to hear the answer. I am sorry, he said at last.  I have enjoyed our time together, however brief, more than anything in these last eons of my existence. She smiled, and the question rose in her throat again.  She gritted her teeth, blinked welling tears from her eyes, and chose to ask it. “Will I ever see you again?” To her surprise, he seemed genuinely taken aback.  His eyes, which she saw now were not eyes at all, but little specks of cold blue light that shone in the darkness of empty sockets, were searching hers with uncertainty. You… want to? Fluttershy looked at him, and the corners of her mouth began to turn up in a smile.  She sniffed, wiped her eyes on her leg, and laughed. “Of course I do!  I was afraid you were going to say ‘no’.  Sorry, I mean… ’No’.” This time, he laughed.  That is a good impression.  I thought you would not want to see me again, now that you know what I am. “You’re a kind and gentle man who cares about everyone they meet, no matter what.” She moved closer to him and nestled herself into his side, spreading a wing to embrace his shoulders.  “And I’ll miss you.” He looked down at her, and although his jaw didn’t move, Fluttershy understood that he was smiling. And I you. Later that afternoon, it seemed as if the whole town were gathered outside the Golden Oak Library, ready to wish ‘Bill Door’ farewell.  Admittedly, most of them weren’t really sure what was going on, but they had been informed that there was free cake available, and who could turn that down? Death and Pinkie stood together at the centre of the circle, as he waved goodbye and she au revoir.  Once all were satisfied, Death turned to Pinkie.  He had packed his pinstripe suit into a bag, and had returned to wearing his traditional cloak, freshly laundered and ironed courtesy of Rarity.  The Scythe of Office was by his side once more. Ready to go? Pinkie nodded, and together they stepped between the worlds. On the Disc, life was mostly returning to what passed as normal.  The little people, the people that narrative tends not to notice, the ‘background characters’ who provide atmosphere and backdrop to the main plot, they were going about their daily business without a thought for the events that had been unfolding around them for the past few months. At least, most of them.  There was still quite a dedicated number of the citizens of Ankh-Morpork who were very much aware of what had been unfolding.  They dressed in pink with conical hats of many colours and held services for the blessings of birthdays, graduations, the passing of seasons, or any social gathering.  The Congregation of the Pink Pony of Death were Ankh-Morpork’s hottest new religion, although in the absence of their founder (who had been taken into the great after-party, her work completed), they were struggling to remain relevant. So it was that Roderick Wheatby, a lowly baker’s son, received a vision.  As he recounted it to his brethren, he had been kneading the dough for the next morning’s bread when out from the floury haze appeared a shining pink figure, and it had given him a new recipe, burned into a slice of toast, to spread to the faithful in reward for their dutiful service. It called for chipped potatoes, lemon juice, sweetened beverages through which air had been alchemically embedded, and earthworms.  The vision of the Pink Pony had called them ‘Baked Bads’. The schism in the church that followed this revelation (and the resulting epidemic of minor food poisoning) became known as the First Croissade.  It was to spell the death of the Congregation of the Pink Pony of Death as a major religion, and very soon all the altars of the Pink Pony had been taken down and replaced with the traditional favourites; Offler, Blind Io, and Om, amongst others. Pinkie felt a little guilty about the whole affair, but Death had assured her that it was the kindest way.  In his experience, most religions tended to only die off when their followers did.  En masse. That dealt with, Pinkie and Death returned to his Domain to make amends with Albert and the Death of Rats.  Albert was so overjoyed to see his master return to his work that he quite forgot all the hassle, worry and clean dishes Pinkie had put him through, and the Death of Rats summed up his feelings with a simple and forgiving ‘Squeak.’ After the pair of them had returned to their own duties, Pinkie and Death were left alone in his office.  Following a moment of quiet contemplation, Death turned to her. Tell me, he said, as he fiddled with a timer, Why did you perform the Ritual of Ash’Kente that day, to summon me to Ponyville? I have been wondering. She seemed slightly subdued as she answered, “I didn’t mean to do it, to pull you into Ponyville, I mean.  I was actually trying to… talk to someone.” Death thought a moment longer. Your grandfather? “Yes!” she blurted out, looking back at him. “I just wanted to let him know I was working with you.  I’m sure he’d have been happy.  I guess I got the wrong spell, or maybe it’s because I’m an Earth Pony.” There was a short pause.  Death put down the timer and raised himself from his seat, walking around to the front of his desk.  Once he came to where Pinkie sat, he knelt down from his full eight feet in height to bring his face level to hers. I have just remembered.  I have one last task for us to perform together. “Don’t cry, my love.  There are many worse ways to go than this.  I’m grateful and thankful that you’re all here with me, many wouldn’t even have that.  Believe me, I know.” Binky struggled to push himself upright in his bed, and took the hoof of his beloved wife in his own, trying to bring her a measure of comfort.  Around the bed stood his whole family; his sons and daughters and all of his grandchildren.  He had been ill for some time, and the doctor had advised him to call them all here. Of course, Binky knew he was dying.  He had a bit of a knack for it.  You picked up these things, over the centuries.  His time in Equestria had been very short, relative to his unnaturally long life in Death’s service, but he had spent his time here to the fullest. He began coughing again, and Granny Pie nodded for everyone to leave the room.  She didn’t want them to see him pass away.  They sat together for what felt like hours. As the clock chimed midnight, Binky Pie grinned.  “You have impeccable timing,” he said, to no one in particular.  Granny Pie had long loved, and later tolerated his eccentricities, but this she knew wasn’t one.  Although she couldn’t see what she imagined her husband could, she knew the time had come.  She steeled herself and bit back the tears.  There would be time for that later. “My old friend,” Binky continued, “I would like you to meet my wife.  She has stood by my side for all the long years I’ve spent here.  I wish you could have seen our wedding!  The cake!  It was magnificent!” He chuckled, which set off a fit of coughing.  When it had abated, he slumped back into the pillows with a sigh.  He turned to face his wife, and breathed his last words. “He says he sends his sincerest condolences.” Pinkie dried her tears as Death cut the cord and raised Binky to his feet.  They looked at one another like old colleagues, and firmly shook hand and hoof. I confess, I am not alone.  She was quite insistent. Binky looked confused for a moment, and looked around him as the room faded away into darkness.  A figure persisted, one his old eyes, now free of mortal frailty, began slowly to recognize. “Why, is that…?” Pinkie smiled as she walked over and threw her arms around him. “Hi, grandpa.  You wouldn’t believe what I’ve been up to…” THE END