//------------------------------//
// Reassurance 
// Story: For Want of a Horseshoe Nail 
// by Sixes_And_Sevens 
//------------------------------//

Thunderlane circled over Sweet Apple Acres like an eagle, keeping his eyes peeled and his ears pricked for any motion from below. On a pass over the west orchard, he spotted a splash of red making its way over the ground. The pegasus tilted into a steep dive, slowing down and pulling up just in time to make a soft landing. Mac glanced over at the pegasus and nodded. “That was mighty impressive there, Lane,” he said idly.
Thunderlane grinned. “Thanks.”
Mac grinned mischievously. “Now, iffin y’all put half as much work inta makin’ sure these crops got rain on schedule…”
The charcoal stallion chuckled, turning his eyes heavenwards. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Crush the Flim-Flam Brothers! Conquer the fruit trade! Unlimited wealth! Unlimited prosperity! Unlimited applesauce! Et cetera! Et cetera!”
“Well then,” Mac chuckled. “Why don’tcha?”
“Alas, my schedule is set in stone by far greater powers than I,” Thunderlane sighed dramatically. “To go against it would spell my demise, or worse yet, my pink slip.”
Mac grunted, still grinning slightly. “What brings yer lazy flank round these parts then?”
“Uh, Doc sent me. Have you seen your sister lately?”
The red stallion wheeled around to stare at the pegasus, who fluttered back in surprise. “Why d’ya wanna know?” Mac asked.
“Uh, she…” Thunderlane trailed off, desperately racking his brains for something other than ‘she might be the source of a breach in reality’ to say. Sometimes, being the Element of Honesty really sucked. “I didn’t really understand a word of it. You know how he can be.”
Well, that was true enough, anyway. Doctor Raggedy was well known for his technobabble, and frankly, Thunderlane still wasn’t certain what was going on.
Mac eyed the other stallion for a long moment. “Huh,” he said. “Well, as it happens, ya ain’t th’ only one lookin’ for her. She ran outta th’ house ‘bout a quarter of an hour ago, yellin’ her fool head off.”
Thunderlane felt a sinking feeling begin to develop in the pit of his stomach. “What… what was she saying?”
Mac shook his head. “Summat ‘bout how Ma an’ Pa ain't meant ta be here, an’ wonderin’ where Applejack is.”
Thunderlane squinted. “Oh, yeah. How long has it been since she went to live with your aunt and uncle?”
Mac let out a huff. “This time? On ‘round fifteen years, now,” he said shortly. “Never even came back t’ visit. She an’ Granny had…” he trailed off. “Words.”
Thunderlane frowned. “What about?”
“She tried t’ cut some kinda trade deal with Mayor Rich. It went south, an’ she tried t’ hide it. Things jes’ got worse from there, an' she went off in a huff t' Manehattan.”
The two sat in silence for a long moment. Then Mac started trotting away once more. “If ya see her, tell her she needs t’ come home. Tell her… tell her we’ll love her. No matter what.”
Thunderlane nodded. “I will.”
He watched Mac amble off down the path for a moment, then turned and walked the other way. “Okay,” he said aloud. “I’m seventeen. I’ve just realized that something is fundamentally wrong with my world. Where do I go?”
Instinctively, he glanced up at the clouds before shaking his head. Not a pegasus. No wings. That said, there was something to be said about first instincts. Most pegasi would tend to hide in the clouds if they wanted to be alone. Unicorns would likely hole themselves up in books, or work. Where would an earth pony be likely to go? He glanced around. Trees. Okay, he could start there. Keeping a careful eye on the treetops, he started through the orchard.


***

Lyra’s workshop was a slightly cramped basement beneath Sugarcube Corner, half machinery and half confectionery. Robotic arms and clamps scraped the ceiling. Gears and wires were scattered across the dusty floor. Along one wall, bags and bags of flour and sugar were stacked, because even Princess Celestia’s personal student only has so much sway. Lyra didn’t mind this too terribly, though. It was amazing what technological marvels could be made with sugar.
The Doctor didn’t like Lyra’s basement lab. Whenever he blinked, he could see an army, smiles fixed permanently on faces, the pink uniforms of the Happiness Patrol standing in stark contrast to a city’s grit and grime. One time, the unicorn had actually tried to make a robot out of candy. That was, thankfully, a failure, and the Doctor had taken a certain vindictive pleasure in breaking up the prototype with a pickaxe. He tolerated the fact that most meetings between the Elements took place here only because Mrs. Cake would often come down from work to bring them cookies, and he always insisted that a large pitcher of sticky-sweet lemonade be at the table. Just in case.
Maud and Lyra were busy tampering with the Yspenser in a corner. Idly, the Doctor watched them work. He turned to his compatriot and asked, “Do you suppose that we ought to help?”
The Element of Kindness merely shrugged. “When it comes to the problem of the BABY, too many cooks would spoil it, maybe.”
“Hm,” the Doctor said, shrugging. “What say you, Spike?”
The purple dragon glanced up from his comic book. “I think they’re both workaholics, and if you try to interrupt them now, you might just lose a hoof.”
“That, too, is very true,” Zecora agreed.
“Fair enough,” the Doctor decided.
“From your laissez-faire attitude, might I derive that you aren’t really sure when the others will arrive?”
“Our good Honesty is out looking for a breach in reality,” the bright blue pegasus replied breezily. “As for Generosity… Actually, where is she?”
“Here!” came a voice from the stairwell. A cream-colored mare cantered down into the basement, rather out of puff. “Sorry I’m late,” she gasped. “Buncha customers arrived. Busy day.”
“That’s alright, Thunderlane’s not here yet,” the Doctor replied idly. “Here, take my seat.”
He rose, and the mare all but dove into the chair, letting out a deep moan of contentment. “You have no idea how much I needed that,” she murmured. “I’m on my last wings.”
“Whatever happened at your store, you needn’t worry anymore,” Zecora said, patting her friend’s hoof comfortingly.
The two mares exchanged smiles for a moment, but quickly spun forwards at the sound of a small explosion. Lyra swore loudly, shaking out a soot-blacked hoof as she regarded the carbonized wiring. “That roasted the sugar container,” she groaned. “Now I’m gonna have to take it out, dismantle it, and clean off the layer of burnt caramel blocking the exit valve.”
Maud regarded her for a moment, then selected another wrench and began to undo the bolts holding the container in place. Lyra held up a hoof. “Leave it,” she sighed. “I’ll get to work on it later.”
Spike coughed. “Can I…”
Lyra smiled weakly despite herself. “Yes, Spike, you can eat the caramel.”
“Score!” the little dragon shouted, pumping his claw.
“Well, if you aren’t going to do any more with that, you may as well draw up some chairs and join us,” the Doctor said brightly. “I don’t expect Thunderlane will be too much longer.”
“What did you say he was doing?” Lyra asked, pulling over three more chairs.
“Hunting down a potentially catastrophic breach in the fabric of reality itself.”
“Same old, same old, then?” the cream pegasus asked, chuckling.
“It is my belief, you’re not wrong, Maple Leaf,” Zecora agreed with a grin.


***

Thunderlane sighed and slumped against a tree. Still no sign of Apple Bloom. Sweet Apple Acres was a pretty massive area to cover, and the filly certainly knew the orchards better than he ever would. There wasn’t even any guarantee she was still here; for all the pegasus knew, she could have run to a friend in town, or (Celestia forbid) stumbled into the Everfree. 
Somehow, though, he doubted it. If the Doctor’s idea about the ‘broken timestream’ was true— and he had no reason to believe otherwise— she would likely try to escape to someplace she felt safe. Somewhere as unchanged as possible. Somewhere private… He frowned. Was that… singing?
He turned slowly, trying to get a fix on the sound, but it was faint and halting. Hesitantly, he set off in the rough direction of the music. Slowly, it grew stronger and stronger, and he could just about make out words. “We are… Cutie Mark… questing to…”
Drawing nearer still, he could hear choked sobs interspersing the words. His wings fluttered out slightly, but he resisted the impulse to take flight. Instead, he merely increased his gait over the wet, muddy ground to a quick trot. Through the post-rain mist, he began to make out a roughly rectangular shape. A treehouse? Why hadn’t the Apples looked there first?
It was only when he drew up next to it that he understood. The structure was dilapidated. Spots of mold and mildew and rot dotted the boards, and the paint on the roof was almost all peeled away. And there was singing coming from inside. Thunderlane’s wings fluttered out again as his mind raced. “Uh. Hi?” he said, shuffling a hoof against the ground. The singing stopped, replaced with tense silence.
“...Thunderlane?” a small voice whispered.
“Um. Yep, that’s me,” the pegasus agreed. “I’m guessing you’re Apple Bloom.”
“Ya mean you don’t remember me neither?” the voice asked, rising in pitch.
Thunderlane crossed one foreleg behind the other. “No. Should I?”
“Ah was one o’ Rumble’s best friends! Ah still am, actually, Ah think. But Ah don’t know! Scoots didn’t recognize me, Ah ain’t seen Button, an’ Sweetie and Dinky ain’t nowhere t’ be found!”
Thunderlane rolled this around in his head. “Scootaloo’s the kid that keeps stalking me, right?” he asked cautiously.
“Yes! But she ain’t supposed to be stalkin’ you!”
“Try telling her that,” the pegasus muttered.
“She’s meant t’ be obsessed with Rainbow Dash! But Ah can’t find her nowhere either!”
“Rainbow Dash…” Thunderlane frowned. “That name… actually sounds familiar.”
“... It does?”
“Yeah, I just don’t remember why… Look, the Doctor sent me. He thinks he knows what’s going on, and apparently, you’re right in the middle of it. So, do you want to come with me, or do you want to hide in your tree fort for the rest of the afternoon?”
There was a long moment of silence. Then, a pink bow poked out of the doorway, followed by a red mane atop a yellow mare. Orange eyes regarded him grudgingly. “Can ya help make things right again?”
“We’ll do our best,” Thunderlane said, then winced. The curse of honesty strikes again, he thought to himself.
Apple Bloom eyed him for a moment longer, then shrugged. “Good ‘nuff. Ah don’t reckon it’s safe t’ stay here much longer, anyhow.” She leapt down from the clubhouse. “C’mon, let’s get a wiggle on, afore any o’ mah kin spots me.”