Grief is the Price We Pay

by Scyphi


Fallen Ill

The rain persisted on into the next week, leaving everything in Vanhoover feeling damp, cool, and rather gloomy. As this was traditional for the area by the end of the summer season, Fly Leaf wasn’t especially bothered by it, but Spike and Thorax were, more used to climates that were less likely to have so much rain in a row. Thorax reacted with occasional bouts of melancholy behavior until he found refuge in the books he was reading, which seemed to keep him in good spirits. Spike, on the other hoof, was just annoyed with the persistent rain.

“I swear, if I ever see another rain cloud before I hit middle-age, it’ll be too soon,” he’d taken to frequently grumbling, and reminded Thorax once that middle-age for a dragon was at a substantially higher age than it would be considered for a pony…or a changeling, for that matter.

The rest of Vanhoover seemed to reflect the gloomy weather too, like the whole city was being mired down by the rain, even though the city was in fact well-adapted to it. Regardless, the constant rain, even though scheduled moons in advance and everypony knew it was coming, made it so that most ponies didn’t particularly care to go out and about. It left the normally busy streets of Vanhoover emptier, and in turn, it meant a notable downturn in business for Fly’s shop. Again, Fly was used to this for the time of year.

“All this rain will be over before you know it,” she kept assuring her employees. “And then business will be back up to its usual height like nothing had happened.”

Nonetheless, it still left the task of getting through the waiting game. Like most of the other Vanhoover inhabitants, Spike and Thorax typically avoided going out into the rain if they could help it. When it started and seeing they had been lacking in that department, Spike had gone out and invested in some rain gear for himself and Thorax, which helped. But despite Thorax’s progress on conquering his instinctual fear of being wet around unfamiliar ponies they had achieved at the beach, the changeling still preferred to not get wet unless it was on his terms, and had taken to staying cooped up at the shop. So both Spike and Fly were surprised when Thorax announced he was running to the library real quick during his lunch break.

“You’ve been avoiding going out all week because of the rain, Thornton,” Spike pointed out from where he had been setting out new stock on a shelf. “But now you’re okay going out for something as mundane as a trip to the library?”

“I need to return the books I’ve checked out,” Thorax explained as he slipped Spike’s backpack onto his back, which he was borrowing so to exploit the waterproofing spell on it, keeping the books inside nice and dry. “I’ve finished reading all of these, and they’re due back today.” He motioned a hoof out the front window. “Besides, it’s stopped raining for the moment.”

And though the sky was still quite overcast, a quick glance was all they needed to see it had indeed stopped raining…for the moment.

“It’s only stopped because this rainstorm has rained itself out,” Fly pointed out from where she was manning the cash register. “The weather team’s probably already working at moving it out of the way to set up a new rainstorm in its place, and then it’s going to start right back up again.” She nodded her head at the changeling’s disguised form, which save for the backpack remained bare. “You could get caught out in it when it does. Shouldn’t you at least take a raincoat? Or maybe an umbrella, so to be prepared?”

Thorax persistently shook his head, politely refusing. “I plan to go and be back before it starts back up again, so I won’t even need those things,” he stated. “I know exactly where I’m going and what I plan to do at the library, so I’ll be back before the rain resumes, I promise.”

Fly sighed, but after glancing at Spike for help, who only shrugged in resignation, she relented. “All right,” she said in a knowing tone. “But I don’t want you walking in the rain dressed like that, so if for some reason you don’t get back before the rain resumes, then never mind if you’re late to come back from your lunch break, I want you to stay inside and wait it out. Spark and I can handle things here in the meantime.”

“I appreciate the concern Miss Fly,” Thorax said confidently as he proceeded to step out the store. “But I guarantee I’ll be back before the rain resumes. You’ll see.”

However, when the rain did resume in earnest some minutes later, Thorax wasn’t back yet.

Spike watched the rain fall through the front window while he stood on a stool, restocking shelves. “Well, so much for Thornton avoiding the rain,” he muttered, mildly amused at this predictable outcome.

Fly, however, was much less amused by it. “I fully expect him to not be back until this new rainstorm lets up then,” she said firmly as she handed a customer their change. “I don’t want him trying to walk in this weather underdressed like he was.”

“Thornton’s smart,” Spike assured his employer as the customer walked out and he noticed another stepping up to enter the shop. “He likes to think ahead and plan for every possible outcome. He’ll have something worked out to keep him dry.”

Fly’s counterargument to that was cut short as the front door opened again, the service bell ringing as a pony crossed the threshold into the shop, and the mare turned her attention to the new potential customer. “Welcome to Fly Leaf’s Books and Stationery, how can—Thornton!

Spike turned around and saw it was indeed Thorax who had stepped into the shop, and as he was sopping wet from head to tail, he had clearly walked through the rain anyway. Despite shivering from the cold and wet state he was in, he wore a pleased grin on the face of his disguise. “I’m back with the new books I wanted to check out,” he announced with a hint of pride.

Fly repaid it by promptly stomping up to him and lightly slapping him across the face with one hoof. “You blithering idiot!” she exclaimed as she pulled him to one side in a motherly manner. “I explicitly told you not to try walking in the rain dressed like that! Spike, go fetch towels, quickly!”

Spike nodded, and darted upstairs to fetch clean towels from the linen closest on the third floor. When he returned, Fly had escorted Thorax into the kitchen in back and was in the middle of telling him off.

“…I told you not to worry if you were going to be late coming back from your lunch break!” Fly declared, pacing back and forth in front of her employee while Thorax sat on the floor before her, shivering still and sniffling every now and then. “I explicitly told you that, and you went and did it anyway! What were you thinking doing that?”

“It’s just rain,” Thorax responded. “When I got caught out in it as I was starting back, I decided I just wasn’t going to let it bother me. All it was going to do, really, was get me wet.”

“You hate getting wet Thornton,” Spike reminded pointedly as he strolled up with the towels and took the liberty of unfurling one and throwing it over his wet friend.

“I’m trying to not let that bother me anymore,” Thorax replied with a sniffle as both Spike and Fly took towels and proceeded to try and dry him off. Though he was still covered with his false Thornton disguise, the disguise still behaved precisely as if it was the real thing. Thorax put on a slightly smug look as he continued. “Like I’ve been getting urged to do as of late, and I did so.”

If anything though, it spurred Fly Leaf further. “That doesn’t mean be an idiot about it!” she argued as she rubbed a towel over the top of Thorax’s disguised head with more vigor than was strictly necessary. “Not even ponies native to Vanhoover are that dumb to walk that sort of distance in the rain without any protection! You could’ve caught pneumonia doing this!” Her tirade was cut short when they heard the service bell ring again in the other room, announcing the entrance of another customer into the shop, and she sighed. “Look, someone needs to run the shop. Spike, can you finish getting him dried off?”

“Yeah, sure,” Spike said, already in the process of helping Thorax dry off. He watched Fly exit the kitchen before turning his attention back to his friend. “Why did you do it?” he asked wearily. “Were you trying to prove something?”

“Like I said, I decided I wasn’t going to let the rain bother me,” Thorax simply repeated. He was shivering less now as the cold water on his body was wiped away and warmth started to seep back in. “And it’s not like it’s hurt me or anything.” He snuffled his nose again.

Spike folded his arms, unconvinced. “Need a tissue?” he asked flatly.

“Actually yeah,” Thorax said, sniffling again as he rubbed at his nose with one hoof. “All that rain seems to have gotten it running a little…but I’m sure one good blow and it’ll be fine again.”

Once he was dried off and the new library books he had checked out (kept dry thanks to Spike’s waterproof backpack he had taken to put them in) put away, Thorax went back to work like usual. But as the day went on, the sniffle Thorax was sporting didn’t go away, and if anything, only grew worse. Gradually he began to cough lightly and to repeatedly clear his throat as if trying to clear a persistent tickle. It wasn’t long before both Spike and Fly had deduced what was happening.

“Sounds like you’ve caught a cold,” Spike observed with a frown later on near the end of the work day.

Thorax cleared his throat before responding. “I’m fine,” he repeated, but not directly denying it while he worked the cash register. “I can still operate fine, runny nose or not.” He coughed briefly, drawing a worrying gaze from a nearby customer who moved to put some distance between her and Thorax.

Fly then strolled up, looking grumpy, and set a tall glass of water down beside Thorax with a gentle thump. “Drink,” she ordered simply.

Thorax blinked at her, and realized it’d be better not to object. “Yes ma’am,” he replied, and quickly downed the glass of water.

Thorax’s sniffling and cough didn’t let up as the evening rolled in though, yet Thorax persisted in saying there was no need to worry. Perhaps as her way of subtly saying what she thought about that, Fly Leaf made it a point to make a warming vegetable stew for dinner that evening, and though he avoided eating too much of the solid bits in the stew as per the norm with him, neither she nor Spike missed the fact that Thorax did seem to like gulping down the warm and soothing broth. Regardless, Thorax went to bed with the promise it’d all be over by morning. In the morning though, his cold-like symptoms had only gotten worse, and now Thorax didn’t seem quite so confident.

“Ugh,” Thorax groaned as he lay, undisguised, in his sleeping nest, sniffling, peering about with squinted and droopy eyes and looking otherwise miserable.

Spike, in the process of getting dressed for the workday, guessed what this was leading to. “Think you’ve got a cold?” he asked again, knowing already what the answer ought to be.

“A light cold,” Thorax persisted, but then he coughed sickly and groaned afterwards. “But all right, I’ll admit it…I might’ve brought this upon myself.” He squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed at his forehead with one hoof. “Informis Una auxilio mihi tribuit, my head hurts.”

Spike studied the ill changeling as he put on his bowtie. “You think you’re not going to be able to work today?” he asked.

“No, no, I should still work my shift,” Thorax croaked, starting to sit up. Instead, his head bobbed about dizzily and he gave up, flopping back down into his nest, coughing. “…but then again maybe I should stay up here…so I don’t risk spreading my cold to the customers or anything.”

“Fair enough,” Spike said, grinning a little, and nodded his head. “I’ll let Fly know. Ah, will I need to do anything to get you, y’know, breakfast?

Thorax hummed to himself for a moment, tongue flickering out briefly to smack at his lips, a sign Spike had come to recognize as the changeling sampling the ambient emotions in the air.

Getting a thought, Spike tilted his head knowingly at Thorax. “Or will my concern for your health be filling enough of an emotion?” he asked, his grin turning into a smirk.

Thorax thought for a moment. “It’ll do for now,” he said with deliberate nonchalance, downplaying the matter.

Spike rolled his eyes, but couldn’t help but keep grinning as he turned to go. “You rest up and get feeling better, Thorax,” he said as he exited. “Drink lots of water; it’ll help with that cough.”

Incidentally, Thorax chose that moment to make a hacking cough. “Will do,” he grunted.

Fly Leaf naturally wasn’t pleased to hear that Thorax was too ill to work today considering how he had fallen ill in the first place, but like Spike she showed concern for his well-being and agreed it would be better for him to rest and recuperate, pleased Thorax was showing concern for the customers by not wanting to risk spreading the aliment on to them. That said however, she was worried that if Thorax’s cold was contagious, herself or, more importantly, Spike, were at risk of catching it themselves. She was concerned enough that Spike felt obligated to assure her that he felt fine still, but appreciating the risk regardless, he agreed to try and limit his exposure to Thorax during his work shift.

Otherwise the work day proceeded on fairly normally, and Fly and Spike managed without Thorax. Spike was quite conscious about the changeling’s absence in the shop though, and worried about his friend, alone and ill upstairs. So when he went on his lunch break, he went upstairs to check on Thorax. He found Thorax in much the same state as when he had left, resting in his sleeping nest and looking miserable…except now Thorax’s face had become a shade or two paler.

Spike felt his concern grow at the sight. “You…sure you’re managing all right up here?” he asked.

Thorax nodded weakly. “Yeah…gotten a little worse though,” he admitted. “Been feeling a little nauseous for the past hour or so.”

Spike winced. “Need me to get a bucket?” he asked.

“No,” Thorax said. He then made a gagging sound and suddenly looked paler. “…yes.”

Spike nodded and turned to fetch one quickly. Fortunately, they kept a bucket for cleaning purposes in the room’s attached bathroom, and figuring it’d work for this purpose, he retrieved it and brought it back to Thorax. Thorax kept it pulled close to him, wrapping his holed, black, hooves around the sides.

Spike, remembering his promise with Fly to try and do what he could to avoid catching the same ailment, moved across the room to sit at the desk, turned so to watch Thorax. The changeling really did look pretty ill, and he wondered what else he could do to try and help his friend recover. “Maybe Fly has some medicine you could take to alleviate some of these symptoms,” he started to suggest.

But Thorax immediately shook his head. “No medicine,” he stated.

“But Thorax…”

“The only medicine you’ll have access to will be meant for ponies. You don’t know if it’ll have the same effect on my changeling biology. For all we know, it could just make things worse.” He shook his head again. “No, it’ll be better to not take the risk.”

Spike hummed in disappointment, but knew Thorax had a point with that. He remembered a much younger Twilight bringing up similar concerns with Princess Celestia about Spike one time when he had fallen sick in his youth. Fortunately for Spike, after a bit of research, they were able to safely determine that pony medicine was safe for dragons too; slightly larger doses were just needed for it to have enough of an effect on his more robust physiology. Unfortunately, neither Spike nor Thorax could know if something similar would apply here, and Spike didn’t know how he could safely find out.

He tried a different approach. “How do changelings treat illnesses such as this?” he asked.

“The healers at the hive have a variety of treatments devised from herbs and such growing in the area,” Thorax explained. He made another gagging sound.

“None of which we’re going to have access to here in Vanhoover though, right?” Spike guessed with a sigh.

Thorax nodded. “I couldn’t tell you how to make the right treatments even if we did anyway,” he explained, who had begun to pant a little, wincing. “No, I know it’s going to be awful, but the best thing we can do is just wait for this to run its course natur—URGH!”

Spike averted his gaze, trying not to gag himself, as Thorax was finally sick into the bucket. He retched for several moments getting it all up, then dry heaved a few more times after that before finally settling back down onto his sleeping nest with a groan, but looking a little less pale.

“You finished?” Spike asked, stepping up.

Thorax nodded weakly, his eyes closed. “For the moment.”

“I’ll clean out the bucket for you then,” Spike offered, retrieving the bucket to take into the bathroom. Despite the unsightly contents he was certain he’d see, he peered inside to see what the damage was like. He was surprised to see the vomit pooled at the bottom of the bucket wasn’t the sort of vomit Spike was expecting, but instead was a mostly clear, almost syrupy, liquid—though it still had the foul acidic scent one would expect. Spike at first thought it was water Thorax had probably drank, but then the fact that he had just watched a changeling vomit struck him fully, and wondered if this was instead something he should be concerned about. “What is this?”

Thorax let out a soft wheeze before answering. “Breakfast,” he stated simply, keeping his eyes closed.

Spike blinked and peered into the bucket again, realizing what he was actually looking at. “You mean that’s emotion?”

“What’s left of it.”

“…you mean to tell me your body takes emotion and turns it into this liquidy stuff?”

“More or less…look, I can tell you all I know about changeling digestion, just another time, okay?”

“Right…right, sorry.”

Spike cleaned out the bucket and returned it to Thorax, but fortunately the changeling didn’t seem to have a pressing need to use it again. He then tried to keep a conversation going with Thorax, but Thorax was more interested in resting, so Spike permitted him and kept quiet. Regardless, he remained in the room watching the changeling for the remainder of his lunch break, worrying. He figured that at the very least he could be around where Thorax could feed off the dragon’s concern for his health…but wondered if Thorax would be able to keep it down any more than he could the breakfast he had already vomited up.

When he went back downstairs to the shop at the end of his shift, Fly Leaf inquired about how Thorax was doing. Unsure how else to respond, Spike decided to just respond with “he’s coping.”

Fly didn’t seem especially reassured by this. “Well, let me know if he starts getting worse,” she asked as she returned to the task at hoof. “He may need to see a doctor.”

Spike winced and didn’t comment, knowing perfectly well that seeing a doctor wasn’t an option; not only would it give Thorax away as a changeling, thus making all of this a moot point regardless, he wasn’t confident how much the local doctor would be able to help considering Thorax was not a pony. Instead, he told himself it wouldn’t come to that and that Thorax would be able to recover on his own in time if he kept rested. But when the shop closed for the evening and Spike went back upstairs to check on Thorax again, he was surprised to see Thorax was not in his sleeping nest and was nowhere in immediate sight.

“Thorax?” Spike called out immediately, alarm showing in his voice as his eyes quickly scanned the room for his missing friend.

He heard the changeling groan in response from within the attached bathroom, the door open. Spike hurried inside and was alarmed when he found Thorax collapsed on the floor, looking weaker and sicker than before.

“Thorax!” Spike declared and hurried over to help heft his friend up to his hooves. He realized the changeling felt warm in his claws and suspected he had become feverish now too. “What happened?” He then caught sight of the bathtub and saw half-formed mass of sticky green gel plastered to the bottom, large enough to be roughly the same size as Thorax. “What the hay have you been doing in here?”

“Trying…to make a cocoon…” Thorax wheezed weakly before being interrupted by a fit of harsh coughing. His breathing was quite labored.

Spike decided to get him back to his sleeping nest where he could rest properly and get him a glass of water to drink. Thorax accepted the drink gratefully, and though marginal, it seemed to help somewhat. With that done, Spike repeated his earlier questions. “What happened? What were you trying to do?”

“I was trying to make…a special type of cocoon,” Thorax explained weakly, letting his body settle into the blankets that made up his makeshift nest. “A…healing cocoon of sorts…”

“Will it cure you of this cold?” Spike asked urgently.

Thorax shook his head faintly. “No, no…it more would put me into a deep sleep…let my body dedicate all the energy it needs to…to focus on fighting the disease…” He paused to swallow and attempt to clear his throat. “…but I didn’t have enough energy to finish…couldn’t keep myself upright…”

“Maybe I can take over and finish it for you?” Spike offered.

Thorax chuckled, grinning at Spike’s eagerness to help. “Not unless you can secrete the right gels to use to…to form it.”

“What if I helped to prop you up long enough for you to finish it yourself?”

Thorax shook his head and blindly waved one of his forehooves about, motioning to an area in his throat. “I can feel my glands beginning to clog up…I was trying to finish it before that happened, but…I don’t think…I can produce enough gel to complete it now.”

Spike winced and made a series of frustrated noises before figuring out what he wanted to say next. “Then how are you going to get over this cold?” he asked.

“It’s not a cold,” Thorax stated ominously. He closed his eyes but they were squeezed shut in a wince. “I…I didn’t want to admit it before…but there’s no denying it now…it’s mutatum aegritudo…it has to be.”

Spike’s brow furrowed. “Mu…mutatum aegritudo?” he repeated uncertainly.

“A sort of changeling flu.” Thorax chuckled. “On the upside…it’s been proven only changelings can catch it, so you and Miss Fly are in no danger of coming down with it…”

This was the least of Spike’s concerns at the moment though. “This is far worse than any cold, isn’t it?” he asked worriedly.

“It…is a bit more…severe…but we have literally nothing we can use to safely ease the symptoms, Spike.”

“Then what do we do?”

“Only thing we can do…let it run its course.”

Spike liked that option even less now given this new development. “You’re going to come out of this just fine, right? No risk of things just…getting really bad?”

“Oh, of course, no chance of that,” Thorax immediately stated with a warm grin.

But Spike caught the only mostly concealed tone of insincerity in Thorax’s voice and felt a chill run down his spine. He’s lying. “Thorax…”

Thorax reached up with one hoof, gently placing it on Spike’s shoulder as he looked the dragon in the eye. “I know it’s hard Spike…but the best thing we can do is let me rest and allow my body its chance to fight this. I can pull through this on my own, I have to.”

Spike frowned, wrapping his claws worriedly around Thorax’s hoof. “That’s a horrible option,” he complained.

Thorax grinned in sympathy. “Yeah, it is…but unfortunately I don’t have anything else I can suggest.”

He then erupted into another fit of coughing and seemed too tired afterwards to keep up the conversation, so Spike let the changeling relax and try to rest. As he sat at the desk and worriedly watched, Thorax was eventually able to fall into a sort of fitful sleep, but it didn’t reassure Spike any. He understood this illness wasn’t something to take lightly. He knew that they had exhausted all other options, but there had to be some way he could help Thorax overcome this before he got much worse.

But what could he do? He wanted to give Thorax some kind of medicine, but knew he only had pony medicines that Thorax was afraid would only make things worse. With Thorax already being in the state he was, that was the very last thing Spike wanted, and he didn’t know any safe ways around that. His next thought, then, was to find somepony who could, or at least could devise some sort of treatment from scratch that could do the trick. He immediately thought of a doctor, but knew he couldn’t go that route either; he’d have to reveal Thorax’s true identity and that would only get them into more trouble. And even if that wasn’t a concern, he wasn’t confident any pony doctor would be willing to treat a changeling unless ordered to by someone of authority…which would again entail Thorax getting revealed as a changeling and at that point it felt it wouldn’t matter anyway.

What he needed was somepony more on the private level…somepony he could trust to keep the secret. Somepony that would have the knowledge needed to be able to help treat Thorax more than he could and in a meaningful manner, but also with enough compassion to overrule any misgivings they might have about treating a changeling. Someone who wouldn’t be willing to let Thorax go untreated, changeling or not. He immediately thought of one pony, but knew that pony’s affiliations meant it would also be a grave danger to him and Thorax at the same time if he guessed wrong. He knew Thorax wouldn’t approve, and normally he certainly wouldn’t either. But he quickly found he could think of no one else he could be confident would be able or willing to help to the degree he needed.

So finally, Spike relented and turned around to face the desk fully. Pulling out a blank piece of parchment, a quill, and a fresh bottle of ink, he dipped the quill into the ink and began to write out what he hoped would be the right words to sway her to his cause.


Dear Fluttershy,
I know this is going to seem completely out of the blue, but I need your help…