Spike found that once he had started writing the letter to Fluttershy, asking for her help in treating Thorax and his ailment, it proceeded quite rapidly. Of course, he needed to take precautions to ensure that what he wrote wouldn’t be discovered by any pony that wasn’t Fluttershy, but he planned for that. Any pony who did read it other than the intended would only find one seemingly blank piece of parchment and another that basically just greeted Fluttershy, asked for her help but not specify how, specified that it was for a “friend,” and ask she come alone to assist but give no address or location to come to. There wouldn’t even be a visible signature, just a line that read “your friend.” But there was also a line below it that read “Say hi to Pinkie’s friend Inkie for me!” which wouldn’t mean much of anything to most; it would just seem like a polite request to pass along a pleasant greeting from one friend to another.
But as far as Spike knew, Pinkie had no friend named Inkie. It was instead a hidden message that Spike knew only he, Twilight, and her five friends would understand the meaning of.
What had happened was that some time ago, after Pinkie and Rainbow Dash had taken to pranking Twilight by swapping out her ink wells with invisible ink one time too many, Twilight began to aggressively learn every way to detect the invisible ink through magic and other means, until the prank no longer worked on Twilight; she’d catch onto the prank ink too quickly. So, to more or less retaliate, Pinkie took it upon herself to create a new custom blend of invisible ink that Twilight couldn’t detect…and eventually succeeded. The new ink was so successful that despite rigorous testing from Twilight, other than the accompanying and very specific solution from Pinkie that made the ink visible again, the studious mare couldn’t find any way to detect it. Rather than be annoyed by this for a change, Twilight instead saw the new blend of invisible ink could be used for a far greater purpose than mere pranking.
By this time, she and her friends had gotten mixed up in the dangerous happenings of villains threatening Equestria often enough that Twilight thought it wise that, in the event of an emergency and they were for some reason separated, they needed a secure means to communicate that couldn’t be readily detected by foes. Pinkie’s new blend of invisible ink was the answer. At her insistence, she had her five friends, as well as Spike, all memorize the recipe for the new blend of invisible ink and how to make it visible again afterwards. They all agreed upon using the code phrase “say hi to Pinkie’s friend Inkie for me” written on any messages using the new ink to convey to the receiver of the message the ink was present and take steps to make it visible again, a phrase only they knew the significance of.
Thankfully, to date as far as Spike was aware, none of them had ever needed to rely upon this invisible ink…until now when Spike decided to use it to write his letter to Fluttershy. Once the ink was made visible again, it would reveal additional text that explained Spike’s situation in more depth: that it was Thorax who was ill and the state of his condition, a plea to come as soon as she could—immediately if possible—as well as Spike’s signature, to confirm that it was him sending the letter. On the second sheet of parchment that would appear blank to everyone else, revealing the invisible ink would expose additional information on where Spike was in Vanhoover, a simple map guiding Fluttershy to the address of Fly’s shop, what times would be best for her to come so to avoid being seen by Fly, and an empathic plea to tell no one about any of this, especially Twilight. All the information Fluttershy would have to have if she agreed to help, but also all kept hidden enough that he felt confident only Fluttershy would be able to read it when she got it.
Even though there was a fair bit of information he needed to put down in order for Fluttershy to have any reference of what was happening, as well as take the needed precautions to ensure security in case anyone other than Fluttershy saw the letter and its contents, he had it finished that same evening, before Fly Leaf had announced dinner was ready, which just left sending the letter. Though it wasn’t a skill he had needed to use much before now, Spike knew how to use his magical firebreath to send any sort of message to any of Twilight’s friends if ever needed and that certainly included Fluttershy, so he initially wanted to just send it that way as that was the fastest.
But he hadn’t used his firebreath for sending any messages since fleeing the Crystal Empire and Thorax had cast his spell upon Spike to block messages from coming through after realizing Princess Celestia had tried to use it to track him. So not only was Spike uncertain if that spell was still active and if it would permit Spike to send letters out if it was (he couldn’t recall off-hoof how long Thorax had said it would last before wearing off), he wasn’t sure if sending a letter out with his firebreath would only alert parties trying to track him where he was, and he didn’t want that. So to play it safe, he instead hurried out real quick to the Vanhoover post office, catching them right before they closed for the night, and paid to have it sent express to Fluttershy so that it should arrive later that same night. For added security, he permitted the return address required to be printed on it be for a post office box number, adding to the anonymity of who sent it and where, exactly at least, it came from.
He returned to the shop in time for Fly Leaf to announce dinner was ready, and upon checking on Thorax again real quick to make sure the changeling was managing, he joined the earth pony mare for a light dinner. Seeking something that could help Thorax in the meantime, Spike warmed up some of the leftover vegetable stew from the night previous, strained out the solid bits so that he had only a bowl full of broth instead, and took that to Thorax. As Thorax admitted his throat had been “put in quite a state” by his illness, he greedily gulped down the hot broth in hopes it would soothe it. Unfortunately, he only threw it back up a half-hour later, leaving how much it had actually helped the changeling questionable. Thankfully, Thorax noted that he had kept the emotions he had been able to ingest since lunchtime down, so Spike could be assured he was keeping fed, and as Thorax was able to find sleep easily enough that night, Spike found comfort enough to get some sleep himself.
By morning, he found Thorax hadn’t gotten any worse, but his condition hadn’t improved either. As the shop was still open that day, Spike had to leave Thorax on his own in their room while he worked downstairs in the shop. Here he was at least kept busy, especially seeing he had to pull double-duty in Thorax’s absence, but Spike couldn’t help but worry about his friend upstairs, fearing something else might go wrong to him while Spike was downstairs. As a result, he checked in on Thorax as often he could.
Whenever he came back, Fly Leaf made it a point to inquire about how he was doing. Fearing Fly would get concerned enough about Thorax to break what had been the longstanding unspoken rule of not entering their room and catch Thorax undisguised among other things, Spike chose to downplay Thorax’s condition and continue to claim that all Thorax had was a cold, saying he was managing fine, but empathizing that, as it was a supposed cold, Thorax was potentially contagious. Fly never really questioned him on this, but she always did give him this small frown that left Spike wondering if she believed him every time. Soon he grew worried enough that he advised Thorax to play it safe and try and keep his disguise up as often as he could.
Which presented a problem; Thorax no longer could.
“You try maintaining a disguise when your head feels so clogged it’s going to pop,” the changeling weakly but passionately proclaimed at this suggestion through a series of wheezes and coughs.
Spike also noticed that Thorax typically was dozing off and napping, especially when Spike was downstairs working, and knew the changeling couldn’t sleep and maintain a disguise at the same time anyway. So he was left hoping that Fly wouldn’t decide to go and check on Thorax herself and otherwise try and act normal. He found himself worrying more about other things anyway. On top of his fears of Fly getting suspicious or Thorax’s decreasing health, he was soon second-guessing himself on the wisdom of sending a letter to Fluttershy.
It wasn’t that he feared it would be read by the wrong hooves; his precautions were such that should his letter be intercepted for any reason en route, it wouldn’t give the offending pony any solid information. But he still realized all this information was more than enough to get himself caught should Fluttershy opt not to heed his wishes for any reason and tell the others. It seemed hard to envision Fluttershy doing such a thing; she was so self-conscious about offending her friends over things like this that Spike was counting on it urging her into agreeing to privately lend what assistance she could. But he also knew Fluttershy was intelligent, and had no doubt had heard Twilight’s misleading version of his and Throax’s banishment; she may already be biased against him. A greater fear he had was that Fluttershy would simply become too divided and overwhelmed over her choices that she’d choose not to act at all…at least not until Spike feared it would be too late.
But he had already sent the letter; he knew it was out of his claws now, so all he could do was sit, wait, and have faith Fluttershy would make the right decision. Though because of his uncertainty on all of this, Spike chose to not even tell Thorax he had sent the letter. No point in adding to the sick changeling’s misery until he knew more. So Spike awaited further word from Fluttershy very anxiously. He checked in with the post office the morning after he had sent the letter to see if Fluttershy had sent back any sort of response. She had not, which didn’t especially surprise Spike considering how short a time it had been since he had sent it, but he did get the post office’s assurances that the letter was successfully delivered at the requested address during the night. Fluttershy had the letter. It was in her hooves now.
Spike hoped to have some sort of confirmation on the pegasus’s intended course of action by that evening, when Spike went into the post office to check again for any responses. There were none though. Nor were there any signs Fluttershy was coming to Vanhoover as requested. The lack of knowing this left Spike in was almost intolerable, and otherwise marked a troubling end to his distressed day. The only good development that took place on this day was that Fly Leaf managed to score the attention of a notable stationery distributor she had long been trying to strike a deal with, and who had agreed to arrange a meeting over lunch and discuss setting up a contract permitting Fly to sell his wares in her shop. If she succeeded in getting this contract, it would be a boon for her shop and give her a boost against her competition, most notably putting Fly on par with rival Letterpress and her shop, who had already gotten a contract struck with this same distributor a year or so previous.
As this meeting was scheduled for Monday and the weekend proceeding it began tomorrow, this had the upside of meaning that Fly would be busy making preparations for it and thus distracted from the problem of Thorax and his ailment. It was still clear Thorax was not entirely forgotten and she regularly asked Spike for updates on his condition, fretting about the fact he was still ill. But she didn’t have time to put much more focus on that, and was left trusting Spike that he was handling the matter…which Spike naturally promised that he was…although he wasn’t so certain if that would be a ruse he could maintain for much longer.
For that Saturday Thorax still wasn’t showing improvement, and if anything, had gotten weaker still. Fortunately, because it was the weekend and the shop was closed, Spike didn’t have to work and could instead focus his time on keeping Thorax treated. But by this time it was discovered that while Thorax could still maintain eating his usual diet of positive emotions, largely gleaned from Spike, the ill changeling could only eat so much at a time. If he tried to eat his fill, the full stomach would set off Thorax’s nausea and he’d end up throwing it back up shortly after downing it. This meant that Thorax had to more “nibble” at the emotions he could glean, take it in little by little, avoiding upsetting his stomach, but left Spike concerned if Thorax was really getting enough nourishment from it.
Whatever the case, Thorax was left lethargic and with little energy, and as such, he was rarely awake, spending most of his time sleeping. When he was awake, he generally wasn’t in the mood or possessing enough energy for much conversation. This left Spike consciously aware of the fact that he couldn’t rely on Thorax for further input on what he could do to help the changeling recover. If Thorax were to suddenly take a turn for the worse, something Spike was hoping against hope they were in no danger of, Thorax wouldn’t be able to advise Spike on what to do, and Thorax was all Spike had for explanations on what the illness was doing to the changeling’s biology. Spike found himself increasingly hoping for word from Fluttershy on whether or not she was going to help as he requested…but by the end of that day there was still no word from the pegasus mare, nor any sign some would soon be coming…though there was also no sign she had done anything to sell Spike or Thorax out…yet.
The next day found Thorax developing new symptoms from his illness; his chitin began to blister and peel like a bad sunburn would, the light fever that had been coming and going began to increase, and Thorax was so rarely awake now that Spike wasn’t certain if he was actually sleeping, or was more unconscious. In the rare instances Thorax did seem to be at least close to awake, he would do little more than murmur incoherently, and didn’t seem to be aware of Spike. He was also so weak now that Thorax seemed to barely have strength enough to cough, and his breathing had turned into a labored wheeze as a result due to his congestion. More alarming still, Spike also noticed that the area around the base of Thorax’s horn had become inflamed and swollen, and he had no idea what to do about that. It all worried Spike to the point he almost couldn’t stand it. And as he still found there was no word from Fluttershy by that morning, he began to fear that she, for whatever reason, would not be coming. He was increasingly on his own.
The most Spike could do was try and keep Thorax hydrated—not an easy task when the changeling was struggling to keep anything down now—and try to keep him cool and his fever down as much as he could. Otherwise, the only options left to him was try and keep Thorax comfortable, wait, try to think positively, and hope for the best. He wished he could give Thorax something to at least take the edge of the illness off and ease some of these symptoms…at the very least get his fever to break.
But Spike knew the only things he had were the pony medicines he knew he had no idea would even work on a changeling or could instead react badly and make things worse for Thorax, and with him being in the poor condition he already was…Spike couldn’t bear to think of the consequences. He was still downplaying all of this to Fly, but he was increasingly starting to believe Fly wasn’t buying it anymore, and it was only her high respect and trust in both Spike and Thorax that was keeping her from getting involved. The moment that changed, Spike knew she’d, with good intentions of course, intervene, either by personally stepping in or calling for a doctor. Either one spelt game over. It left Spike feeling alone and helpless…and he hated it.
Eventually it got to the point that the rain that was still coming down upon Vanhoover outside seemed cheerier than sitting and watching Thorax weakly lie there and be ill, wishing there was more he could do. So finally, after Fly slipped out to go visit a friend that had agreed to help her finalize her pitch for her important luncheon tomorrow afternoon, Spike, against his better judgment, slipped on some rain gear and stepped out himself. He desperately needed something to clear his head and give him the motivation to keep pressing on and not simply cave in from the stress.
After walking about for a bit, listening to the pitter-patter of the rain on the streets and the raincoat he had donned, Spike eventually found himself wandering near the Vanhoover park, and as he gazed at the green block of land, he started reflecting back to the past times he and Thorax had been in the park. When he recalled the first time they had entered the park, he abruptly decided to change course, heading deeper into the park, searching for a specific feature. He found that thanks to the rain, the park was utterly devoid of ponies, and it seemed Spike had it all to himself. The dragon was glad for this privacy as he strolled up to a little cluster of oak trees—the same that had held Thorax’s attention more than two moons earlier when they had first come to Vanhoover…and where they had almost miraculously gotten a copy of the classifieds that had led them to Fly Leaf and her shop.
He recalled what Thorax had explained was the changeling belief about the acorns the oak trees still bore in excess; that the acorns could be a source of knowledge, wisdom, enlightenment, maybe even comfort. Spike had pondered about it frequently afterwards, wondering if there could really be any real truth to it. But today, as he stepped under the small canopy of branches that shielded him some from the pounding rain, he desperately wished that it was; he could use some of all of that.
So, sheepishly and somewhat self-consciously, he stood under the acorn-laden limbs of the trees and stared up at them, trying to decide how to proceed from here. When a couple raindrops slipped through the leafy canopy to pelt him in the face though, he sought if there was any place a bit more shielded from the rain. He quickly saw a damp corner of the cluster of trees where they were grouped together the closest in which the rain only seemed to reach when a gust of wind blew the raindrops into the area. As he stepped into this spot, he also saw it was off the common paths ponies would use when trotting through the small grove and as such seemed completely undisturbed…until, to his surprise, he spied a series of familiar notched circular symbols drawn into the damp dirt, looking to be a few days old and not quite washed away by the rain yet. Though he didn’t recognize the word they spelt and thus couldn’t be certain why they had been drawn, he still recognized the changeling letters, and realized only one person could have put them there, and it wasn’t hard to theorize why.
“I see Thorax has been slipping away to visit here in private,” Spike observed aloud, managing a small sad grin as he gazed back up at the tree limbs. He sighed as sat himself down on the wet ground beside the letters drawn in the dirt. “Look…I don’t know if there’s actually something listening to me at the moment, or if I’m just an idiot talking to nothing,” he admitted to acorns hanging above him. “But Thorax clearly believes there’s something special about this place…and at the moment I dearly hope he’s right.”
He let out his breath with a deep shudder. “I guess you’d already know…but Thorax is sick. Very sick. I’m trying to do everything I can for him, but…it’s not enough. And I can’t give him any medicine, or take him to a doctor…I can’t even count on Fly Leaf’s help without revealing ourselves and put ourselves in even more trouble! And I tried sending for someone who could help, but it’s been three days now with no word, and I’m thinking she’s not going to come.” Spike paused to let out a sob, surprised at the suddenness of the tears that were now springing to his eyes. “I just…I feel alone…abandoned…I don’t know what to do or who to turn to…” He peered mournfully up at the tree limbs. “How the hay are we supposed to get out of this one? I need help! I need direction! I just…” he shrugged helplessly. “…I just need to know what to do! And if what Thorax says is true and you acorns really can do something to point the way…then please…” Spike lowered his gaze, his voice dropping into a soft murmur. “…don’t hold back.”
A long moment passed in which the only sound was the noise of the ongoing rain and the faint shuffling of the breeze pushing through the tree limbs. Spike silently sat through it, letting his mind wander, waiting for the guidance he hoped would just miraculously appear. But when it didn’t immediately come, his mind eventually went back to Thorax lying ill in their room, and suddenly felt like, hard as it was to face the reality unfolding there, that was the best place for Spike to be. So, reluctantly, Spike rose, shook the cold rainwater that clung to his rump due to sitting on the wet ground, and sluggishly ambled out from the group of oak trees.
He had gone only a few paces away from the trees when he suddenly realized the green lawn under his feet was aglow from the golden shine of sunlight. Puzzled, he gazed blankly upwards and saw that there was a small break in the rainclouds above him, a pinpoint just big enough to allow the sun shining on the other side to peek through with its warm rays. Spike fleetingly wondered if maybe the break had been left by a weather pony working at maintaining the storm. But whatever caused it, it brought unexpected warmth within the troubled dragon, and Spike found himself making a small smile at the sight. He found he was able to cling to hope yet again. Perhaps things would still work out somehow.
Yet upon returning to the shop it was hard to see how this would happen. Spike found Thorax was showing no signs of improvement still, and seemed to have lost his appetite entirely, emotion or otherwise, making Spike worry if he could even keep the changeling fed in this state. Additionally, when Fly Leaf returned from her visit with her friend, she was heartened greatly by the work she had accomplished on her proposal she would make at the scheduled luncheon tomorrow, but had also freed her to turn her attention back in full on Thorax, expressing concerns for his condition. Upon receiving the same answer that he was “coping” from Spike after inquiring about his condition, Fly pointed out that Spike had said the same several times before and notes that it sounded like he wasn’t actually improving any. She wanted to go and see Thorax herself, but knowing Thorax wasn’t disguised, Spike was able, only just barely, to dissuade her, reminding her that Thorax was potentially contagious.
This was enough to dissuade Fly for the time being. But it didn’t stop her from pointing out that for being someone who had been handling the ill and supposedly contagious Thornton this whole time, Spike had somehow managed to escape coming down with it himself and further alluded that she was beginning to suspect that Spike’s claims of Thorax being contagious to be the lie it was. She also announced that, while she understood that Spike and Thorax wanted to keep this illness a private matter, if Thorax didn’t start to show improvement soon, she intended to overrule Spike and get a doctor involved so Thorax could get some proper treatment. Spike realized that the truth of what was really happening would soon be getting out, whether he liked it or not, unless something in the whole situation changed, and quick.
Such a change had not arisen by that evening, though. Another visit to the post office revealed no news from Fluttershy and confirmed what he had already deduced. He was on his own now. Meanwhile, Thorax only proved to be getting worse still as Spike was dismayed to find that Thorax now couldn’t seem to keep much of anything he ate down for long, food or emotion. This added the fear that Thorax could end up starving himself if this illness continued to go this badly for much longer. It made Spike wonder for the first time, as much as Spike loathed admitting it, if maybe letting Thorax be revealed as the changeling he was would really be the best thing that could happen, as it could very well save Thorax’s life at this point. It was with that troubling thought in mind that Spike went to bed, unable to let himself sleep too deeply so he could keep an alert ear in case Thorax needed something during the night.
For the first several hours of the night though, Thorax seemed to sleep peacefully enough, marred only by the ill and weak changeling’s feeble attempts to cough. Spike took it to be a blessing, figuring that the rest could only help Thorax. Though Spike found this thought didn’t reassure him much at all, he knew it was all the hope he had left that Thorax could do as he claimed and pull through this illness on his own, even without treatment. But a couple hours past midnight came the event that would take even that away.
“GAH!” Thorax suddenly exclaimed, bolting upright into a sitting position in his sleeping nest, completely without warning.
Startled by the unexpected event, Spike awoke and pushed himself up from where he had been sleeping in his usual spot on the window seat. “Thorax?” he asked in a mix of alarm and confusion.
“The letter survives!” Thorax croaked without facing Spike, instead gazing straight ahead with wide, unseeing, eyes.
Spike’s brow furrowed, rubbing sleep out of his eyes quickly as he sat up fully, further confused. “What?”
“The letter survives!” Thorax repeated, but he didn’t react like he was aware Spike was there speaking to him, and continued ranting. “The favor is returned! The needed one returns but never arises!”
“Thorax, what are you talking about?” Spike asked again, growing baffled and upset by Throax’s seemingly random statements as he clambered off the window seat and watching the ill changeling closely.
“I was blind, but now I see!” Thorax continued to utter without answering. “The embers fly up from the flames to bar the path of the confused! Disorder is a boon to the cause! The eventide seeks! Listen everyone, this is sabotage!”
Spike hurried up to the rattled changeling, taking his hoof in his claws and trying to find an explanation for this sudden behavior. “Thorax, you’re not making any sense, what are you—”
“She won’t give up on you even though you give up on her!” Thorax exclaimed, suddenly turning to face Spike and grabbing the dragon’s head with his forehooves, as if it was imperative he know this. “Stars and moons scattered onto violet! The tricks are merely superficial! The bite remains unproven! What a bold move to make!”
“Thorax! Thorax!” Spike repeated to bark, fruitlessly trying to get his attention while growing increasingly frightened as Thorax stared at him with wild eyes. “You’re scaring me! Calm down! Thorax!”
Thorax didn’t seem to listen and pressed on, holding onto Spike in such a way that he was gradually pushing the dragon down to the floor. “Forgiveness comes forever thrice hence! The wild drawing four are doubled! The naughty gives all for good!” The tirade was then brought to a sudden halt as Thorax abruptly burst into a harsh coughing fit. He released Spike and sank weakly back onto his sleeping nest as the fit persisted and the changeling clearly began to have trouble drawing a full breath.
“Oh Celestia, Thorax!” Spike declared in a panic, grabbing an empty glass lying next to Thorax’s nest and running for their room’s attached bathroom to fill it with water. “Just hang in there!”
Thorax’s response was to continue coughing, but by the time Spike came running back with the overfull glass, splashing water about as he went, the coughing fit was already winding down and the changeling was raspingly regaining his breath. “Okay Thorax, get this down your throat, see if that helps with that cough,” Spike requested, dropping down to his knees beside the changeling.
“All animation is black magic,” Thorax had begun to rasp again as Spike brought the glass to Thorax’s chitinous lips. “When gravity falls and earth becomes sky, fear the beast with just one eye.”
“Yes, yes,” Spike pretended to assure, having by this point dismissed what Thorax was saying as addled nonsense brought on by Thorax’s ill state. He began to tip the glass to pour the water into Thorax’s mouth. “Drink up, please!”
“Yroo xrksvi, girzmtov,” Thorax mumbled on before the taste of the water spilling onto his lips seemed to distract him from it and he began to greedily guzzle down the water Spike was giving him. Afterwards, all the energy seemed to drain away from Thorax and he began to relax, letting himself sink into the blankets making up his nest, slowly veering back towards sleep. Yet even then he still mumbled on his rantings, having lapsed back into his native language. “Pretium pendimus luctum est…iterum Vergilius volat…”
“Shh, shh,” Spike cooed soothingly, gently rubbing the changeling’s side to get him to relax all the way back to sleep. “Just relax…go back to sleep Thorax.”
Gradually, Thorax’s eyes began to flutter close again, his murmurings beginning to fade out as he drifted back into his slumber. “…mihi lacrimo non…mihi lacrimo non…” were the last utterings he made before he finally fell quiet, and the next noise he made was the faint wheezy snore he made as he slept.
Spike fell back onto his rump, panting and exhausted from the sudden display of energy, his mind trying to make sense of what just happened. As he gazed at the ill Thorax laying there before him asleep, with bags under his eyes, peeling chitin, and swollen horn, it struck him in full magnitude just how very sick Thorax was…just how deeply in over his head Spike was in trying and treat him himself…and just how very little he could do about it all. It suddenly all became far too much for the little dragon to cope with. Starting to hyperventilate, he suddenly sprang up and fled for the door to the room, tears seeping from his eyes, and once he had flung the door open, hurried instinctively downstairs.
He didn’t know where he was going, or even if he had an intended destination in mind, but his blind flight eventually led him to the couch in Fly’s living room, dark and empty given the late hour, and there he sat himself down and let his emotions surface at last. He was there for some time, with most of it spent weeping in bouts of varying intensity at the helplessness he felt. By the time the hours of the early morning and sunrise arrived though, heralding the new day properly, Spike had run out of tears and simply sat there, staring at the floor. He knew in the back of his head that he should go back to his room…check on Thorax…get ready for the new workday Monday would bring…something productive at least…but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. So finally, an outside source intervened.
“Ahem.”
Spike jerked his head up and was startled to see Fly Leaf standing soberly in the doorway to the living room. Her vermillion-colored mane was presently in a mussy bedhead state and she wore a lavender bathrobe about her middle, suggesting she had just gotten up and revealing the early hour in the morning. Her gaze was soft yet unrevealing…except for this knowing glint in them that left a knot in Spike’s stomach. Spike sat up straighter under that gaze, realizing that he probably looked in quite a state himself, and more importantly realized, as he rubbed at his eyes to clear any lingering gunk his crying may had left, that he was not wearing his glasses…or any other part of his customary disguise. It made him realize that this was quite possibly the first time Fly had clearly seen him without it all.
If that was significant to Fly in any way though, she made no comment on it. “You’re up unusually early,” she noted aloud after a moment of silence.
Spike thought about how to respond for a moment before shrugging half-heartedly. “Couldn’t sleep,” he offered for an explanation.
Fly didn’t respond right away to this. But after a moment, she slowly walked over to the couch and gently sat herself down beside Spike. “How’s Thornton?” she asked.
Spike avoided looking at her, keeping his eyes gazing at anything other than her. He swallowed the lump he felt forming in his throat. “Coping,” he replied softly.
There was a momentary pause, and then he felt Fly’s hoof gently drape itself over his back and Spike closed his eyes, already knowing what Fly was going to softly speak next.
“Spark…tell me the truth, please.”
Spike squeezed his closed eyes tighter, trying to hold back the hot tears he felt returning, and let himself tip over to lean against Fly’s warm body. Fly’s hoof wrapped tighter around him, pulling him close for a comforting hug.
“He’s been getting worse…hasn’t he?” Fly asked next, still maintaining her even and soft tone.
Spike felt the knot in his throat tighten. Not knowing how to reply, he hesitated to respond altogether, leaving Fly to again speak next.
“Let me send for a doctor then,” she coaxed. “Get him the treatment he needs.”
Spike still hesitated. He knew deep down he was only delaying the inevitable. He knew that Thorax needed the help, no matter what form it came in now, and knew it was help he himself could no longer provide. Delaying, if anything, was only going to make things worse for everyone. But the determined part of him still didn’t want to give up and surrender to it just yet, not ready to admit defeat, and he couldn’t bring himself to agree to Fly’s request.
“Just give him one more day Fly,” he pleaded softly. “Please.”
He felt Fly shift suddenly, and gently, she took him and turned his head so he was looking her in the eye finally. “Spark,” she began. “I wish you’d tell me why it is so important that I hold off on that. But I need you to know that both you and Thornton are my employees, my tenants, and my friends. I’m accountable and responsible for both of your well-being, and as such, I will personally walk myself off to Tartarus before I willingly allow harm to come to either of you while you’re staying under my roof.”
Spike was touched by her words, but was undeterred. “Please, Fly,” he again pleaded with sad, still, eyes. Pleading was all he had left; he had otherwise surrendered completely and was all but motionless in her hooves. He knew he was at her mercy now.
And knowing this herself, he could see the gears turning behind her eyes as Fly inwardly debated Spike’s appeals. “One day,” she finally relented despite it clearly being against her better judgment, and with that Spike felt the tension start to drain out of him again. “But…if Thornton has shown no signs of improving by this evening, I will be taking him to a doctor, or sending for one to come here, or whatever I need to do to get him the help he needs. Do we have an understanding?”
“Yes,” Spike replied limply, who had already started the metaphorical clock in his head ticking.
Fly pulled him close again. “I don’t want to be an enemy to you Spark,” she said. “I’m only trying to help…you understand that, right?”
“Yes,” Spike said again, as he let himself lifelessly get pressed against Fly’s side. “I know that. It’s just…” For a fleeting moment Spike nearly told all to his employer, feeling the whole story resting heavily on the tip of his tongue. How easy it would be to confess everything. To get that weight off his shoulders at last. But his nerve failed him at the last moment and he held his tongue. “…it’s complicated.”
He felt Fly shake her head in dissatisfaction. “One of these days you need to trust me,” she said. “Both you and Thornton. I’d like to think I could help you two more than either of you let yourselves consider.”
“One day, Fly,” Spike reminded gently. “One more day.”
Fly took a deep breath and let it out again. She nodded her head. “Well then,” she said, pulling away and standing up suddenly, all business again. “The day isn’t going to wait for us two sourpusses.” She turned to exit the living room. “Get dressed. I’ll get breakfast ready. What would you like? Oatmeal?”
Spike numbly stood up. As ordinary as it was, oatmeal suddenly sounded very good. “Oatmeal’s fine.”
And indeed, it was perhaps the best bowl of oatmeal he had ever eaten.
He proceeded to go through the day feeling like he was in a daze, conscious of the fact that by this evening, his way of life in Vanhoover was going to end. He didn’t see a way around it. Knew no way to delay it any longer. He knew that without outside help, Thorax wasn’t going to get better on his own. In fact, he realized that, in the state Thorax was in, it was conceivable that it was impossible for him to recover on his own now unless he got treatment. So when he would be forced to admit as such to Fly this evening, she’d call for the doctor, who’d of course see immediately that Thorax was a changeling, and then it’d all come out for all to see or hear.
In a way, Spike felt ready for it to end. At the very least, he could take heart in the fact that Thorax would still get the treatment he needed; Equestrian law demanded that even enemy prisoners receive any medical attention or treatments they needed to keep healthy, despite personal feelings on the matter. Not even the princesses themselves were exempt from that law; purportedly, Celestia herself had seen to that for reasons known only to her…though Twilight had long suspected the Nightmare Moon incident had something to do with it.
Twilight…the thought of her embroiled a tightly contained fury in Spike like no other, now more than ever. He could just picture her dropping everything the moment she got word he and Thorax were in Vanhoover and would no doubt head straight here to personally haul Spike off, away from the changeling he had befriended and she had alienated. She probably planned to give him the scolding of his life for supporting Thorax like he had. But Spike had already decided that, when the moment came, he wasn’t going to let her have that. The moment she walked in through his door he was going to give her Tartarus for what she had done to him.
But for now, the day mundanely wore on. Dressed and having taken position behind the cash register in Thorax’s absence, Spike stood and worked in the shop as he watched the usual Monday patrons come and go. He did so almost vacantly, and perhaps that wasn’t far from the truth. His mind felt like it was miles away, but he couldn’t lure it back to the here and now. Nor did he want to. Eventually noon drew near, and with it came Fly’s important luncheon with the distributor. Dressed up more than usual in a professional business suit and her saddlebags packed with all the needed paperwork for her pitch she hoped would win her shop the distributor’s business, she made preparations to leave, turning operations of the shop solely onto Spike.
“Don’t worry about maintaining the stock for now,” she said, fretting with her things as she moved for the front door, turned so to face Spike standing at the front desk. “Just focus on helping the customers until I get back and help them one by one as quickly as you can. If any of them get impatient about that, apologize, explain you’re working as fast as you can to help everypony, and ask they continue to be patient. Think you can handle that?”
“Yes,” Spike responded with a nod. He motioned at the front door with his head. “Best of luck with your meeting, Fly.”
“Okay,” Fly said and checked to make sure she had everything one last time. She turned back to Spike and addressed one last subject. “How’s Thornton?”
Spike didn’t respond, and lowered his gaze instead. He had checked on Thorax himself just some minutes earlier. There had been no change in his condition; he was no worse than before thankfully, but he wasn’t showing any improvement either, and for the moment was simply resting. He hadn’t woken once that Spike had seen since his strange outburst during the night, nor had he eaten.
Fly sighed, accurately guessing Spike’s unspoken words. “I’m genuinely worried about him, Spark,” she stressed with grave concern.
Spike knew she was and didn’t blame her, but he remained unswayed. “The day’s not over yet, Fly,” he reminded. He didn’t know why, but he felt it was important he stand his ground on this and get fully through this day as they had agreed.
Fly, fortunately, seemed to approve. “All right then,” she said. “But if that for any reason changes…you know where to find me. The Dandelion Café on Crescent Street.”
“I know.” Spike managed a grin and waved for her get going. “Now get going Fly, or you’re going to be late.”
“Right, right, right,” Fly muttered to herself and with one final nod to Spike, she slipped out of the shop, leaving Spike to keep the shop running.
Blissfully, it proved to be a slow day today. There was no clear reason why. The rain was finally letting up today, having gone from a near continuous downpour to a series of sporadic sprinklings, and the mass of clouds hanging over the city was becoming more and more broken, permitting the cheery light of the sun to finally shine down on the soaked city, welcomed by all. Spike especially liked it as it streamed through the shop’s front window. The sight gave him a sense of peace for what was otherwise proving to be an emotionally tumultuous day. Again, he couldn’t help but think that perhaps there was still something good to hope for from all of this.
It was a very small hope though…and the realist in Spike told himself to ignore it. Reality would soon be crashing down on him, if it hadn’t begun already. So he made himself focus on running the shop and helping the customers, dredging up the best cheery persona he could with the circumstances. The minutes passed by slowly. He realized at some point that the usual lunch rush hadn’t arrived like it normally did, but he found he couldn’t care. Instead, finding himself in an empty shop for the moment, he stood at the front desk, head propped up with one elbow, took a pencil and idly doodled on a scrap of paper as he let his thoughts wander.
Finally, he heard the shop door open and close, announcing the arrival of a new customer. He set down the pencil and proceeded to look up at the newcomer. “Welcome to Fly Leaf’s Books and Stationery, how can I…”
He trailed off as his eyes locked onto the pony standing before him. There was very little different about her, yet Spike was aware of how fuzzy his last memory of her had gotten, and it seemed like he was looking at her completely anew. He noticed she bore her saddlebags on her back, one filled with her usual kits of medicinal supplies, the other, books on treatments for all sorts of creatures. She stood with her usual tepidness, and upon seeing Spike look up at her, habitually ducked her head down, hiding her face behind her long pink mane. The familiar action brought a slow grin to Spike’s face.
Stunned, he straightened up and lifted his head off the arm he had been propping it up with, letting said arm gradually fall onto the desk before him. “Fluttershy,” he breathed in awe.
Fluttershy made a timid grin. “Um…hello Spike.”