//------------------------------//
// Day 2 
// Story: No Heroes: Life of Pie 
// by PaulAsaran 
//------------------------------//

The first thing Fine did upon waking was cast a simple life detection spell that informed him Pinkie’s room was empty. This came as a mild surprise, for it was only just after sunup. Pinkie was known to be an early riser, but this seemed a little early for her. Driven by curiosity, he went through his morning routine quickly before heading downstairs in search of his missing partner.

Partner. Was that the right term? If felt personal, and he couldn’t decide if it was in a good way or not. Travelling companion? Accurate, but it lacked a certain something.

Shaking himself from his thoughts, he reached the bottom floor. The area was quiet, at least this part of it. He could hear some activity going on in the back of the building, presumably the employees getting ready to open up shop. Except… hadn’t he read a sign stating the restaurant didn’t open until eleven? Doubting his recollection, he opened the front door to check the sign nailed to it.

His memory corroborated, Fine went to the back to confirm a suspicion. He paid the “employees only” sign no attention whatsoever, pressing through and directly into the kitchens. Sure enough, he found Pinkie happily at work making something. Cupcakes? Yes, cupcakes. She already had three batches cooling on the counter, while the owner watched on in apparent perplexity.

“Pinkie Pie, why are you making cupcakes in this stallion’s kitchen?”

Pinkie whipped around to flash a wide, toothy grin. “Good morning, sleepyhead! I thought you’d be out all day.”

Fine shot a raised eyebrow at the  owner, an earth pony named Petri Collate (perhaps one of the strangest names Fine had encountered, and he’d seen a lot). Mr. Collate merely shrugged, appearing wholly bemused by Pinkie’s activities. Seeing no explanation forthcoming from the pale blue-maned proprietor, he turned back to Pinkie and replied in a deadpan, “It’s seven in the morning.”

“Is it? Huh. Well, time flies when you’re making cupcakes!” She turned back the bowl she’d been mixing – using her tail to hold the spoon – and began pouring its contents into cupcake pans with practiced ease. “I made plenty, so feel free to have one for breakfast.”

Seeing no reason not to, Fine plucked what appeared to be a blueberry one from a pan with his magic even as he turned back to the owner. “Tell me she’s offered to reimburse you for the ingredients.”

Mr. Collate returned a lopsided smile. “She did. I mean, she started baking before I got here to start work, but as long as she paid for them, I guess it’s no big deal. Just unexpected. And she clearly knows her way around a kitchen.”

“That she does.” Fine took a bite of the cupcake and couldn’t resist a smile at the warm confection. Without the icing it was just the right level of sweet. That always struck him as curious; for all her love of food that would give a dentist early retirement, her cupcakes were always subdued in that aspect. At least until the mountains of icing landed on top of them. Fine always got his without.

“Alright, Pinkie, I’ll bite: why are you making cupcakes at all, much less earlier than you would for your actual job?”

The pan entered the oven and the timer was set. As she brought the dirty dishes to the large sink for cleaning, she replied, “Well, I realized that I don’t really know Rockstead anymore, and that made me real sad because we’re supposed to go around town today and I won’t know anypony that I used to. Then I realized that if I don’t know anyone here, that means none of them are my friends, and Pinkie Pie is nothing without friends, so I thought ‘what better way to make friends with everypony in town than with cupcakes?’ So I came down here to bake lots of goodies to share with ponies we meet while we’re touring Rockstead!”

By the time her longwinded explanation was over, she’d cleaned all the dishes and set them in the automated dryer. She grinned at Fine before taking a look at the cupcakes she’d made. “This will have to do. I couldn’t make too many, how would I carry them all?”

There were two fundamental things Fine saw wrong with the entire scenario, but he elected to still his tongue for now. The answers she’d give might lead to a discussion inappropriate to have around strangers. He was worried, but also mildly relieved, for he suspected that the issues he was seeing were going to be important to the main purpose of this ‘vacation.’ So instead he smiled and replied, “That sounds fine.”

She promptly broke into a fit of giggles. “Whoa, I hope not! It would be really weird if I sounded like you, don’t you think?”

Fine facehoofed. “As shameless as that was, I gotta admit I walked right into it.”

“Yeah, you did!”

“Woe is me,” he declared theatrically before raising his half-eaten cupcake between them. “If this verbal abuse is what I must put up with for the duration of our trip, I may be forced to consume all the cupcakes. For the sake of my sanity and comfort, you understand.” He promptly devoured the whole thing in one big bite (which was harder than he expected).

Pinkie gasped and, despite being much too far away from them to do so, snatched up the baked goods in their pans and held them well out of his reach. “I must protect the cupcakes! Get your comfort somewhere else. My future friendships depend upon it!”

“Oh, I see how it is.” Scoffing, Fine sat and crossed his arms before turning his head up and away with a pout. “Your future friendships, which you don’t even have yet, are more important than your relationship with me! If that’s the way it’s going to be, I guess… I… should…” Only now did he notice Mr. Collate watching him with a sly, amused smile. Heat bloomed in Fine’s cheeks at the realization of exactly how he’d been acting just now. He coughed, trying to recover his playful manner, but it eluded him now that he was so well aware of having an audience. “I, um… I should…”

Pinkie was abruptly at his side, gently ushering him to the door. “Come on, Fine, there’s something you gotta see. Be right back, Mr. Collate! Oh, you’ll take those cupcakes out for me, won’t you?”

Mr. Collate chuckled. “Sure thing, Miss Pie.”

See something. Yes. That worked. Fine could already feel his jittery nerves steadying as they entered the empty, quiet dining room. Trying his best to cover his bout of self-consciousness, he asked, “S-so, what did you want to show me?”

“What I want is for you to sit down,” she replied, her tone almost motherly as she pushed him onto a cushion next to a table. “You looked a little scared back there.”

“Oh.” He took a deep breath. Then another. The tightness in his chest relaxed its grip somewhat. “Sorry. I spoiled your fun.”

“Don’t be. These things happen.” Pinkie offered a wan smile, which he returned in thanks. Then she shuffled her hooves, eyes going to the floorboards. “So, um, I know it’s supposed to be my turn to talk and all, so you don’t have to say anything, but…”

Replaying the scene in his head, Fine stared at the door to the kitchen. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I got like that. One moment I was fi—okay.” He shot her a one-eyed look of warning, to which she smirked and said nothing. “One moment I was okay, and the next I realized how I was behaving in front of a complete stranger and I… I just shut down.” He glanced down and realized his tail was tucked around his flank. He willed it straight with a scowl. “Why the hay did I do that?”

“It was kind of odd,” Pinkie admitted, sitting next him and studying him as a doctor might a patient. “I usually have to poke and prod you for a while before you start getting silly.” Then she grinned. “You’re getting better at it, though. Maybe you’re finally starting to loosen up.”

“Maybe.” Brushing his mane back, he pondered what had happened once more. He’d done some silly things in the past, for a variety of reasons. He liked to portray an aura of seriousness, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t have some nonsensical fun every now and then. What made this different? The audience? He had no answer, but as he met Pinkie’s curious blue eyes, he wondered if it had to do with whom he had been playing with just as much as whom he’d been playing in front of.

Perhaps deciding to be merciful, Pinkie stood and turned away. “Those cupcakes will be done soon. I’ll grab ‘em and load ‘em up. Then we can… um…” Pausing halfway to the door, she ran the tip of her hoof in a circle on the floor while her hind legs crossed anxiously. “W-we can… go home. My home, I mean. The r-rock farm.”

Her reluctance made him immediately abandon the line of questioning that had been on his mind mere seconds ago. “That sounds good,” he replied cautiously. “If you think you’re up to it.”

She turned her head, but couldn’t look at him. After two failed attempts as speech, she gave up and turned away. Within seconds her head was raised to its full height and she was trotting at her usual, easy gait. “Hey, Mr. Collate! How are those cupcakes coming?” The door closed behind her, muffling the rest of her conversation and leaving Fine alone in the dining room.

The way she’d perfected that cheerful persona was nothing short of astounding. It was also deeply worrying, now that Fine had seen it so many times. If Pinkie had grown that good at masking whatever pain she felt, how long had she been using the mask? She’d told him that it was still the ‘real’ Pinkie Pie when she acted all happy and carefree, but he couldn’t be convinced of that. Not now. Had she been hiding herself from the world for so long that she’d honestly forgotten that it was, in fact, a fake persona?

Not that Fine could prove that. It was a theory, nothing more. The idea still left a bad taste in his mouth, though.

…he could use another cupcake.

Minutes rolled by as he thought on what the coming day would bring. He still wanted to address the questions that her little explanation left in their wake. Would they have to wait until later? Perhaps. Pinkie wanted to show him her old home, ‘wanted’ being used in a rather dishonest sense in this case. If it was really that big a deal, maybe it could wait?

Pinkie bounced out of the kitchen wearing some large saddlebags Fine recognized as meant to carry fragile objects. They rose to an unusually high height over her backside. Her cheer seemed to have returned in full force, which Fine hoped was a good thing. “Okay, Fine, I’m ready to go! Wanna explore town? ‘Cause I wanna explore town.”

“Exploring will do.” With a smile, he climbed to his hooves and approached the door, opening it for her. “After you.”

“Aww, such a gentlepony.” The chuckle that rose from her was very distinct compared to her typical giggling. She trotted past him, all smiles, and he got a whiff of strawberries as she passed that he was sure hadn’t been there a few minutes ago. “Think you can hoof out cupcakes for me? These things aren’t exactly meant to be opened by the pony wearing them.”

“That I can,” he agreed, pausing next to her as they took in the sight of Rockstead in the early morning. The road was still mostly empty, though a few fellow early risers were going about their business. He glanced around at the assorted stores and shops on their street. “So, where to first?”

“I thought we’d walk a semi-circle.” Pinkie pointed to their right and aimed her hoof steadily left. “That’ll let us see lots of the town before we hit our d-destination.” Her smile cracked, but only for a fraction of a second. “It’ll also take longer and let us meet lots more ponies. And more ponies means more friends!”

Fine elected not to go anywhere near that breach in her mask. “Sounds good to me. Lead on.”







They travelled at a slow, steady pace. The speed had just as much to do with Pinkie’s frequent greetings of strangers as it did the leisureliness of her steps. Fine knew she was stalling. He didn’t mind. Whatever they were set to do later, it was obviously a challenge for her. If she needed to do it slowly, he’d let her do it slowly.

They passed through the commercial sector of Rockstead and into a residential area. It became immediately apparent that this was the older part of the town. The arrangement of the homes lacked the fine organization of the other parts near the inn and train station, having the semblance of being built wherever their respective owners felt like it. It undoubtedly harkened back to when the town had been founded, back when none of the locals saw the need to worry about streets and addresses and urban planning in general.

In between giving out free cupcakes to strangers – which Pinkie eagerly reminded everypony came from the Rock Bottom Inn – she explained that Rockstead had been a rock farming community from the very beginning. Indeed, she claimed her family heritage had always been rock farming, at least as far as she knew.

Curious, Fine asked, “So did you learn all of this from your family or…?”

She shook her head, which may have been more related to her ostensible desire to take in every piece of the town visually than his question. “I did research when I was younger. I was curious to know more about where I came from.” She gave him a playful smile. “Haven’t you ever wondered the same about yourself?”

He blushed and averted his gaze. “Heh, my family were all carpenters and gardeners, actually.”

A gushing “Really?” escaped Pinkie before she screwed up her face in a questioning expression. “But I’ve never seen you build anything, and you don’t have a garden.”

“Says the baking party pony who never does anything with rocks.”

“Touché.” She giggle-snorted as they entered a large area covered in white and purple tents. “Oh, what’s all this?”

They stopped to look around, soon spotting a nearby sign indicating they’d entered a local park. Another, temporary sign marked the park as the Rockstead headquarters of the Royal Egalitarian Laborers, or REGAL. Fine gestured at the area as he said, “Looks like this is where Rarity’s and Fancy’s ponies set up shop.”

“Awesome!” Pinkie tugged on his shoulder and trotted forward. “And it totally makes sense to set up here where it’s out of everypony’s way. Maybe we’ll meet some of the cool ponies from the inn last night.”

Fine frowned as he followed. “So if we meet them, and we give them cupcakes, doesn’t that mean fewer cupcakes with which to make more friends later?”

Spinning around, Pinkie gave him a look that was actually hard, her eyes narrowed and her lips set in a taut frown. Her tone grew more forceful with every word. “Now, Fine, that’s no way to think. I didn’t make these cupcakes to buy friends, I made them to be friendly. You don’t make friends by giving away random goodies. Any relationship based on that alone is a sham!”

His ears folded back involuntarily and he took a step back. He required a few seconds just to recover from the initial shock of her forceful manner. “Sorry. I, uh… I guess I’m still not used to the whole ‘friendship’ thing.”

After another second or two of peering, she abruptly perked right up and grinned. “Aww, that’s okay! Ol’ Pinkie Pie is always happy to educate you on the matter.” She stepped up and patted his cheek playfully. “Let this be a lesson for you, young ponywan: if I make three dozen cupcakes and run out within an hour, that doesn’t mean I only made three dozen friends. There’s a lot more to friendship than that.”

Fine snorted, replying with a half-serious “I’m eleven years older than you.”

“Yet still so far to go.” She sighed melodramatically before grinning, turning around, and bouncing her way into the REGAL camp. Fine watched her go, wondering at how serious she’d become. It was like he’d truly offended her with his suggestion. Which, in afterthought, had been a dumb one. Of course friendships didn’t work like that, and it had been shallow of him to suggest otherwise. So maybe he had it coming. But the forcefulness of her reprimand still stuck out in his mind as he followed.

It seemed most of the REGAL volunteers were living in the camp itself. Fine and Pinkie passed several large tents that appeared to have bunk beds and hammocks set up within. Of the eight tents they passed, five were empty, indicating to Fine either that the ponies were out in other towns working or had gone home due to a lack of needed horsepower. Probably the latter, given what they’d already learned. A few ponies were out and about, and Pinkie wasted no time greeting them and offering cupcakes.

They were nearly out of the camp when they came across a large stone pavilion. Assorted boxes and indeterminate objects covered in sheets were set on the sides of it. A large, covered wagon sat nearby, which Fine recognized from the night before. Pinkie and he were prepared to move past, paying it little attention, but paused upon noting a lone pony sitting at the edge of the stage. It was the same dark-tan pony he’d seen the night before along with the wagon, now clearly a unicorn. Her cutie mark…

“Wow,” Pinkie whispered, leaning forward to study the mark.

Wow, indeed. The young mare’s mark appeared to be a… sun? No, not quite. A-hah, a sunflower! Except instead of petals, it had playing cards angled so that only a corner could be seen. Each playing card looked like the real thing, and not a one repeated. It was truly one of the most complex and intricate cutie marks Fine had ever laid eyes on. He and Pinkie shared a wide eyed look, and he knew they were thinking the same thing: What does a pony’s special talent have to be to get a cutie mark like that?

Only then did Fine note just what the mare was doing. Her forehooves worked in a fluid, continuous rolling motion. In so doing, she was effectively juggling bits, but was doing so in a way that every time a coin landed on her right hoof she would roll it, sending the coin twirling around and under her hoof before flying to the left hoof, which in turn caught and rolled the coin in a similar fashion over the top, around to the left, and then up into the air after completing almost a full circle. It was hard to count the number, but Fine guessed she had at least seven of them moving at once, the coins dancing so quickly it seemed neither hoof went without touching one at any point in the routine.

And to make matters more interesting, the mare wasn’t even watching her own actions. Instead, her gaze was set straight forward, locked on something beyond their view. It was almost like she was meditating. Pinkie and Fine shared another glance, and he noticed the corner of her lip quirked up. He couldn’t blame her, the mare’s trick was fascinating. She wasn’t even using any magic, if the lack of lighting from her horn was any indication. He might have been more entertained if the sight wasn’t tickling something in the deepest depths of his memory.

Without warning, the mare stopped her hoof motions, catching all the coins in her right hoof with deft ease. She then clapped her hooves together and then held them forward and up as if presenting a prize.

There were only two bits.

A second passed. Another.

“Oh my gosh that was amazing!”

The mare let out a cry and collapsed onto her side, away from where Pinkie had all but shouted in both her’s and Fine’s ears (he had to take a step back himself). Still lying on her side, the mare shifted her head up to look wide-eyed at her hitherto unnoticed audience. “Um… thanks?”

Giggling, Pinkie offered a hoof to help her up. “Sorry, it’s just that I’ve never seen a trick like that one before. Are you a magician pony? Do you do other coin tricks? Are coin tricks all you do? You really should expand beyond coin tricks, because even if that was amazing I imagine your show would get kinda dull after a few hundred times doing the same trick and hey do you know Trixie because she’s another magician pony and she’s kinda sorta a meanipants at times but maybe if we just—”

Fine wrapped a leg around Pinkie’s neck, placing his hoof over her lips to stop the onslaught. “Don’t mind her, she’s excited.”

“So I see.” Accepting Pinkie’s hoof, the mare sat up straight and shook her head as though to clear it. That done, she beamed at them. “So you saw my rolling coin trick? It’s an oldie, but a goodie. I’ve got a lot more, but you’ll have to wait for my next show.” She gestured to herself. “I’m Sunflower Sweet, magician and gardener! I’ve been travelling with the REGALs, trying to use my show to spread some good cheer.”

Sunflower? Fine struggled against his faltering recollection, but the name definitely rang a bell. It had to have been really far back in his past for him to not readily remember, but she was much too young for him to have known before his turn to the Bloodmane. Maybe she just reminded him of somepony?

His distraction was enough for Pinkie to escape his hold, ducking under his arm and bouncing forward. “Heya, Sunflower Sweet! My name’s Pinkie Pie, baker and professional party pony, and after seeing that I just know we’re gonna be bestest best friends.”

Sunflower’s smile didn’t fade, but it did gain a hesitant quality to it. Fine promptly added for her, “Don’t take it personally, Pinkie’s friends with everypony.”

“I really am, and even some non-ponies. Oh!” She turned and gestured to him in a grandiose manner. “And this fine specimen of a stallion—” She paused, blinked, giggled. “You’re right, it is really easy to do that. A-hem, this is Fine Crime.” She leaned over to stage whisper, “But don’t call him Mr. Crime, he doesn’t like it.” Then in her normal voice and volume, “Which is a shame, because ponies should like their name, especially if it’s one they picked out for themselves. Why did you pick that, Fine?”

He raised an eyebrow at her, realizing that she’d touched upon an interesting topic. “Y’know, I think we might have to talk about that. Later.”

Sunflower stared at him. Indeed, she’d been staring with her mouth partly opened and eyebrows hidden in her yellow mane ever since his name had been announced. It was starting to make him anxious. “Are you alright?”

“Your name is… Fine Crime.” Sunflower took a cautious step closer, her eyes centered on his. “That coat, those eyes. We’ve met, haven’t we?”

Now Fine was really scouring his memories. Ears folded down, he glanced at Pinkie, but she merely looked back with a nonplussed frown. “I… Maybe? I admit, there’s something familiar about you, but…”

Tapping her hooves together and blushing, Sunflower spoke softly. “I was your little flower.” At his cocked head, she shrank a little. Her next words came so quiet he almost didn’t hear her in spite of the quiet. “You were my shadow pony.”

Shadow pony? Shadow pony.

…

I want to see the shadow pony. I want to thank him. Are you watching, shadow pony?

Fine could almost feel his jaw hitting the ground. He reached up to point tentatively at her. “The homeless filly of New Clusterdam.”

With a gasp, Sunflower sat up as straight as her ears. “Yes!”

“Y-you… you lived under a scenic overlook in an abandoned park. Slept under a fallen sign. I used to sneak you food. You stole my knife.”

“Yes!” Sunflower pronked about with a silly grin. “You remember, it’s really you! Oh my gosh, I never thought I’d see you again! And your—” She paused, staring once more with an awed expression. “Your name’s Fine Crime. All these years, I never knew your name. Fine Crime.”

“Uh, Fine?” Pinkie sidled up next to him and poked his ribs with her elbow. “What’s going on?”

He looked from her to Sunflower’s warm smile and back. “She’s… It’s quite a story, really. But in a nutshell, she’s the pony that taught me that I’m not…” He licked his lips and averted his eyes. “That I’m not evil.”

Seeming to grasp the significance of the moment, Pinkie regarded Sunflower with an expression of wonder, then concern. “I might want to hear this story in detail later. If that’s okay?” The last part with a hint of indecision.

“It most certainly is.” Fine smiled warmly at Sunflower, who returned the expression. “I think it’s one of my better memories.”

Sunflower began twiddling her hooves. “I a-always wondered if you might still be watching. If I might have made you proud. There’s so much I wanted to say to you! But…” Her ears folded back. “I guess if you didn’t remember me that easily then you haven’t been, have you?”

“I told you I wouldn’t.” Though he imagined it would have been more appropriate to look stern at this point, Fine couldn’t stop smiling. That this bright, clean, and talented mare was the same dirty, hungry filly from his youth boggled the mind. “It was the right decision at the time. Looks like it worked out.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Glancing at Pinkie as if she’d forgotten she was there, Sunflower asked, “So how do you know Fine?”

Promptly perking up, Pinkie started with, “Oh, he’s my—” Her mouth froze mid-word, her eyes going wide. Tiny pupils darted between Fine and Sunflower like little ping pong balls. “Um… he’s my…”

Fine didn’t have to wonder about her sudden bout of indecision. The question plagued him just as much as it surely did her. Pinkie Pie needed rescuing, though how to do that eluded him. He had an idea, and the thought of it brought heat to his cheeks. But he had to get used to it, didn’t he?

So he stepped forward and wrapped his leg about her shoulder. Pinkie looked up at him, disbelief in her gaze, as he looked to Sunflower. “Pinkie and I are close, but we don’t rightly know what we are. We came here, to her hometown, to try and figure it out.”

“Oh.” Sunflower examined them curiously, then grinned. “So you two are…?”

“Maybe.” Fine smiled and, though the action added kindling to the flames in his face, nuzzled the top of Pinkie’s head. “We’re testing the waters.” Pinkie’s only addition to the conversation was a giddy giggle spiced with no small amount of nervousness.

Sunflower nodded. “Right, I gotcha.” But then her face went pale. “W-wait, does she know?” At their combined stares she fidgeted, tail flicking. “I m-mean, how I stole your knife and… a-and I probably shouldn’t say, but…”

“Yes,” Fine said firmly. “She knows.” He glanced at Pinkie, whose lips were pursed in a thoughtful, uncertain expression. “She means the trait we share.”

Pinkie raised an eyebrow, thought a little more, then deflated. “Oh. That.”

When Fine looked towards her again, Sunflower had retreated from them with eyes like saucers and her tail tucked between her legs. “Sh-share? A-as in you’re both—”

“Used to be,” Fine corrected, raising a hoof in a calming gesture. “Neither of us have done that in a long time.”

“Oh. Right.” Sunflower relaxed, but only a little. “That’s good.”

Sensing that it was time to give her some space, Fine pulled back from Pinkie and nodded for the nearby exit. “Pinkie was just about to show me some things from her past. But if you’re interested in catching up, we’re staying at the—”

Pinkie’s gasp, truly an extravagant thing, bowled over his words. She pounced, landing before a startled Sunflower with her rump in the air and tail wagging. Fine couldn’t see her face, but he had seen her like this enough to easily imagine the stars in her eyes. “You’re a cool magician pony with cool magician tricks! That kind of show would be perfect for the party we’re hosting next weekend at the Rock Bottom Inn. Can you come, please please pretty please with cherry-flavored frosting on top?”

Sunflower blinked, her ears twitching, perhaps trying to process what had just been said. But then her face lit up in recognition. “Oh, so you’re the one hosting that party they told me about last night. Yes, I absolutely will come! In fact, I had intended to find you and ask about it.”

With a whoop that probably woke up the entire camp, Pinkie bounced circles around her and Fine. “We’re gonna have a magician at our party! Now it’s gonna be that much better! Isn’t this great, Fine?”

Fine waited until she landed nearby to jerk his leg out over her back, keeping it stiff as she attempted another pronk. When she hit his steadfast leg she rattled with the accompanying sound of a wobbling spring, her head blurring with the rapid vibrations. She landed on four hooves, calm once more, and rubbed the back of her neck with a sheepish smile. Sunflower watched this with the look of somepony who’d witnessed… well, Pinkie Pie.

“It’s certainly great news,” Fine conceded with a nod to Sunflower. “And you’re welcome to come by the inn any time to talk. But the two of us are in Rockstead for a reason, and we’ve a lot to talk about. So…”

Pinkie’s mane wilted as she slumped a little. “Oh, right. Why don’t you come by the inn tomorrow morning? We can make plans then. But now…” Pinkie glanced at Fine, her eyes pleading.

They were like blue knives piercing his heart, and Fine wished he could hate her for them. But as much as it hurt, he had to steer them along. If he permitted Pinkie to keep avoiding this, he doubted their relationship’s potential to last. This had to happen, and so he gestured once more to the exit. “Come on, Pinkie. It’ll be like ripping off a bandage.”

She flinched and muttered a quiet “owie.” Before leaving, however, she tapped her saddlebag meaningfully. Getting her message, he opened it up to reveal the narrow racks of cupcakes within. They’d already given away more than half of them. Pulling out a vanilla one, he offered it to Sunflower. “Pinkie made these to share with anypony we met today. She’s generous like that.”

“Oh, I couldn’t—”

Fine shushed her with a wry smile. “Trust me, take the cupcake.”

He noted that Sunflower was quite good at giving warm smiles. He imagined she represented her namesake well. “If you insist. Thank you.” She took the cupcake in her magic and nodded to Pinkie. “I’ll see you tomorrow then, Miss Pie?”

Having already regained some of her cheer, Pinkie gave a sloppy salute. “Tomorrow it is. See ya later, Sunny!” With her saddlebag properly closed and Fine back at her side, she trotted for the exit. As they reached the gate, Fine glanced back to find Sunflower watching them, still wearing that pleasant smile.







Pinkie’s brain was running a mile a minute, and her mental highway barely held on.

Sunflower seems like such a nice pony. I bet her magic tricks will go great at the party. I can’t wait to hear the nitty gritty details about how Fine knows her. Unless they’re too gritty, then Fine might not like talking about it. But he said it was a good memory, so it can’t be that bad! Then again, Sunflower clearly knows he’s a — he used to be a Bloodmane, which means something bad happened and she saw it. What if Fine remembers that part and doesn’t want to talk about it? Then again maybe he just told her but why would he tell a filly about being a Bloodmane? I think she’s a little older than me but still I don’t know if she was old enough for that lesson. But she’s still real young like me which makes me wonder if Fine’s got a thing for young mares because he likes Fluttershy and wait Fluttershy’s yellow and Sunflower’s tannish which is kinda like yellow and she’s got a yellow mane! Does Fine really like the color yellow? I’m not yellow oh no Fine’s going to start paying attention to Sunflower because she’s young and yellow and kinda pretty and I’m none of those things well I am young but that’s only one out of three and he told her to come by anytime which isn’t like him get a grip Pinkamena she’s just an old friend but she might not be and oh no why did I invite her to the party Fine’s going to spend all his time with Sunflower and forget all about me because I’m not yellow or pretty and I don’t have that childhood connection with him what am I gonna do I wish Rarity was here to help me!

“Pinkie?”

“I’m sorry I’m not yellow!”

Fine reared his head back at her volume, ears pressed against his skull. “Uh… I forgive you?”

Get it together, Pinkamena! She shook her head forcefully to clear it of stray thoughts and hopefully give her inner infrastructure a rest. “Sorry, I was just thinking and that kinda came out on its own?” She offered a smile she certainly wasn’t feeling.

Her lifelong experience with the expression must have worked in her favor, for Fine accepted it with a shrug and a smile of his own. “Just being Pinkie Pie?”

“Y-yeah, that’s it exactly.” She paused to examine their surroundings, realizing they’d left town and were now in a rocky, largely barren area of steep hills. Realizing she had zoned out, she took a moment to go over everything that had happened while she wasn’t paying attention. She knew that most ponies couldn’t do that, and she was glad for the ability, for it had gotten her out of a number of unfortunate situations in the past. Within short order she’d determined that, while on autopilot, she’d managed to traverse the entire circuitous route she’d suggested to Fine and given away all the rest of their cupcakes. This might have something to do with why she asn't wearing the saddlebag anymore. She hoped she’d made some good impressions.

“Hey, Fine?” She waited until he was focused on her once more before asking, “Have I been, um, particularly weird today?”

Lips diving into a nonplussed frown, he replied, “I’m honestly not sure how I’m supposed to interpret ‘particularly weird’ as it applies to you.”

Despite her anxiety, Pinkie giggled. After all, she of all ponies knew how true that statement was. “I mean like how I sometimes get extra silly and do or say things that don’t make any sense at all, even in the context of Pinkie Pie.”

“Ah.” He nodded sagely, or might have if the quirk of his lips hadn’t given away his amusement. “In that case, yes, I’d say you have. Usually when that happens I like to give up and watch the show.”

“Right.” She sat and twiddled her hooves. “I know it can get a bit much when I’m on cruise control, so… I didn’t make anypony nervous today, did I?”

“Cruise control?” he asked with a slightly tilted head. At her imploring look, he flinched and added, “Maybe one or two. You tend to get in pony’s faces and be extra loud at times like that, y’know? Or alternatively very, very quiet.”

Wonderful. She’d probably made a bad impression on half the ponies they’d met today. No matter, she’d fixed those issues before. In fact she had quite the track record of making up for silly faux pas. Noting that Fine still bore a questioning expression, she sighed and said, “Sometimes when I’m thinking really hard on something, I say and do… things like that. All my attention’s in here.” She knocked herself gently over the head a few times. “So I don’t really know what I’m saying or doing. Does… that make sense?”

“It explains a lot, actually.” He rubbed his chin as he observed her. “It’s also fairly unique, I think. Most ponies zone out and don’t respond to anything beyond obvious phrases that make it clear they aren’t listening. By comparison, your ‘cruise control’ may say some odd things, but at least they’re pertinent to the ongoing conversation at least part of the time.”

Flinching, Pinkie asked, “Does that make me weird?”

He shrugged. “It might make you a genius. But genius is often a tradeoff for some form of weirdness.”

“So… I’m weird, but in a good way?”

“Yeah.” He grinned and pulled her to her hooves. “I couldn’t have said it better. So what were you thinking about?”

Oh, no. She couldn’t tell him the truth. And reveal her newfound fears that Sunflower was probably more his type and he might leave Pinkie alone forever once he realized it? Maybe just mentioning it to him could trigger a subconscious attraction! Time to dodge, Pinkie! “Oh, just wondering about the party. You’re still okay with the party, right?”

“Of course,” he replied easily. “Honestly? I’d be more concerned if you went two weeks without hosting a party. That would be my big clue that something’s very wrong.”

Pleased that her cunning escape plan had succeeded, Pinkie grinned and nodded emphatically. “Yep, that makes perfect sense, but there’s nothing wrong here. Just a little distracted is all.”

“Glad to hear it. Now, if you’re done being distracted?” At his querying look, she gave another nod. “Then perhaps you could get back to guiding us to your old home?”

“Right! It’s… uh…” Another look around brought forth a troubling revelation. The area was certainly familiar. Too familiar; she knew exactly where to go from here. Pinkie just wasn’t sure if she was ready to get there. Fine had been patient with her so far though, so she had to at least try. “This way, then.”

It seemed that the route home had been hardwired into her brain, for even on autopilot Pinkie’s hooves had brought them most of the way on their own. They were on a path made of compacted gravel, which she recalled led out of Rockstead and through the hills to where the rock farms resided. Pinkie tried not to think of all the times she’d walked this road with her parents and siblings, tried not to remember their voices. These memories needed to come when they were called upon, not whenever they wanted.

Fine glanced at her, and though he was obviously making an effort to have a neutral expression the worry was clear in his eyes. “Did you have a big family?”

This wasn’t a subject she was at all comfortable with, and he had to have known it. Maybe he was trying to ease into it with something simple? That… that was okay. She could cope with that. “Compared to most ponies, yes. Three siblings, Granny Pie, and my parents all lived on the farm.” At his encouraging look, she sighed and went on. “Two older sisters and one… younger. I was the oddball out, of course.” At that she smiled and shook her head. “I guess all my sisters were quirky too, come to think of it.

“Maud with her constant straight face.” She shot Fine a prolonged deadpan stare as an example and tried her best to emulate a monotone manner. “She really liked rocks. She kept a pet named Boulder. He was a rock. The best rock.”

At Fine’s chuckle, Pinkie tried her next sibling, taking on a grouchy glare and hunching her back. “Then there was Limestone, she’s the eldest and she made sure you knew it! Bit of a grouch, Limey, but she cared in her own way. She’d never admit that out loud, obviously.”

“And then…” She paused, turning her head to a valley opening in the hills. The sight was familiar. Terribly so. But… maybe it was better than the house?

Certainly better than the barn. Aware that her mane had gone flat, Pinkamena turned from the road and moved, slowly, for that valley.

“Pinkie?” Fine trotted after her, observing her face with concern as he caught up. “Are you okay?”

Okay? How could she possibly be okay? She paused to look at his handsome face and his worry that did ease her heart… a little. But even as she did, she saw something behind him. Something on the road. A pony with a pale mane hiding her face. Pinkie sucked in a staggering breath and jerked her eyes away.

“What’s the matter?” Fine placed a leg around her shoulder and tried to look her in the eyes, but Pinkie only stared straight ahead. After a few seconds of this, he sighed and nodded. “I’m sorry. Should we go back?”

Back. Back home? No. To the inn. Fine wouldn’t give up that easily. Nor should he. Gradually, she peeked around his head and over his shoulders again.

The pony was gone.

“No.” She gently brushed his leg off her and resumed her slow, wobbly walk into the valley. “I have to do this. I can’t put it off forever.” He said nothing, and was soon walking at her side yet again. Though tempted, she refrained from leaning against him for support. Maybe later, when… Later. Not now. She had to get as far as she could on her own.

Before long they came to a hillock covered in short pine trees. Pinkie’s ears went flat as she trudged onwards, every step heavier than the one before it. The trees had changed. There were fewer needles, the limbs hung limp, and some of the trunks appeared to be rotting. The sight made a hole in her stomach. When they reached the top of the mound they were met with the wide stream that ran along the northern edge of town, complete with a short dock of stone and wood. That, at least, appeared to have been well maintained over the years. A trio of picnic tables and a stone fire pit completed the quaint scene.

She sat heavily, stirring brown pine needles with the motion, and stared into the murky brown water as it passed by, neat and quiet. “We used to play here,” she whispered. “My sisters and me. Mom was scared to let us go on real camping trips, so she compromised and let us do it here sometimes.” She leaned back to stare at the tops of the trees. “This place used to be so green. So lovely.”

Fine shifted at her side, perhaps looking for the right thing to say. “I’m sorry it didn’t stay that way. I imagine it was lovely in its prime.”

Pinkie’s eyes watered as she watched a pale ghost flit among the limbs. Once such a wonderful sight. She covered her eyes with her hooves, imagining the sound of wings flapping among the trees. If she focused hard enough, she could even hear the laughter. She pulled her hooves down, opened her eyes, and whispered, “Surprise.”

Fine raised an eyebrow. Glanced around. Looked at her again. “Surprise?”

“My big cousin.” Pinkie smiled, knowing it looked as fragile as it felt. “She looked a lot like I do now, but she was this lovely white, and had a blonde mane all curly like mine. And…” She looked back at the cheerful balloons on her flank. “We practically shared cutie marks. She was so happy when she learned I had three balloons like her, she took leave from the Guard to come visit.”

Fine’s ears perked at this. “She’s a Royal Guard?”

“She was.” Taking his silence as encouragement to continue, Pinkie began walking to the dock. “The Guard was still on alert because of the Selene River Incident, so she couldn’t get off duty until two months after my cute-ceañera. She flew half-across Equestria, and I was so happy when she got here. I… really needed a happy face at the time.” She paused, just waiting for him to ask about it. She wasn’t even sure if she could answer.

What he said wasn’t what she’d anticipated. “I guess you two were pretty close.”

Relief washed over her, but it was short lived as she came to a stop next to the dock. Her eyes trailed along the wooden slats one at a time. “Yes. She understood me better than the others. I could smile when she was around. That’s why I…” She closed her eyes tight and fought the hitch in her throat. “That’s why I can’t stand she was my first.”

She glanced at Fine. He returned the look, expression solemn. When he nodded, she sighed and walked around the dock, taking a couple steps into the water. The brown river curled around her hooves, but underneath she could feel the pebbles in the sand. Digging around a little, she found what she was looking for, and carefully lifted it up. Her sight was greeted by a simple brown, muddied stone, almost as wide as her hoof. It wasn’t the rock, of course. How could it be? But nonetheless, memories seeped into her.

“Surprise took me and my sister Maud out here. She was trying to cheer us up with a little camping trip. I wasn’t into it that day, but I appreciated what she was trying to do. Maybe if I’d stayed home, I…” Her throat constricted. She closed her eyes tight and tried to get control of herself.

When at last she regained power over her vocal cords, she tossed the rock lightly. It made a big splash anyway. “It was late in the day. Surprise was showing off over the water, doing tricks and stuff. I liked how the light glistened off her wings when wet. The drops were like pretty diamonds. Rarity would have approved.

“The first vision came then. I didn’t even know it was real. I took a big rock…” She stepped onto the dock and began walking to the end of it, “walked along to the end of the dock…” Right before reaching the water, she paused and reared up. Her hoof felt heavy, as if the weight of the rock was still there. Pulling her leg and shoulder back, she gave as strong a faux-throw as she could. “And threw it. Surprise had been coming in for a dive. Didn’t see it coming.”

She swore she could hear the impact. The memory gave her shivers. Her gaze lingered on the calm waters, head low and feeling as if she wore a jacket made of bricks. “The rock hit her head, and she hit the water. When she floated back to the top, there was so little blood. I… I was disappointed by that. So I jumped in, climbed on her back, and held her head down. She didn’t even struggle all that much.

“And then even that stopped.” Pinkie sat, rubbing the moisture from her eyes. Her breathing came in a slow rhythm. She welcomed the needles piercing her heart. She had it coming, after all. “I d-didn’t realize that it was real until I dragged her out of the water. Maud found me downstream an hour later, curled at her side and still sobbing. I tried to apologize, but nopony understood. They thought it was an accident. Everypony tried to reassure me, to tell me that my ‘attempt to save her’ hadn’t killed her.”

She sniffed and turned to Fine, who remained on dry land. He watched her with serious eyes that denoted a clear understanding. Pinkie could only look at them for a few brief seconds before staring at her hooves. “They didn’t know. They hadn’t seen it. I was so scared, scared I’d do it again, b-but they all thought I was a little filly who didn’t understand. All I could do was cry and p-pray to Celestia it didn’t happen again.”

Fine said nothing for a while, and Pinkie couldn’t bring herself to move from the end of the dock. She kept imagining the ghost of Surprise coming out of the river to drag her down. If it happened, Pinkie didn't intend to resist. How could she? She’d killed the bestest best cousin in the whole world. Drowning would be going easy on her.

“Pinkie…”

She cringed, but after a time managed to conjure up the willpower to look at him from across the dock.

“Did I ever tell you about my first?”

She half-nodded, paused, shook her head. “Y-you said she was your friend. That’s all.”

“My only friend.” He moved as if to approach but hesitated when his hoof touched the wood of the dock.

Indecision tore at Pinkie. She should stay here and give Surprise her chance at revenge. But if she stayed, Fine would come to her, and he still didn’t do well around water. If he came, would Surprise take him down too? That was a scarier idea than just her being taken by herself, so Pinkie whispered an apology to her murdered cousin and trudged back to land. Fine looked as if he wanted to protest but couldn’t get the words out.

“It’s okay,” she said as she dropped to her barrel by his side. “Baby steps, right?”

Guilt washed over his face as he glanced between her and the end of the dock. “I suppose.” He settled nervously at her side, not close enough to touch but still close enough for it to seem ‘private’. “My friend’s name was Sugarcube.”

Pinkie’s ears perked, her own anxiousness fading in light of this reveal. “Really? She wasn’t related to Applejack was she?”

Fine’s gained a lopsided smile, the look on his face suggesting he’d seen the query coming. “Not that I could find, but I wouldn’t be surprised if she had Apple blood in her. She was a stubborn, wrinkly old mare who didn’t take any guff from anypony. She once killed a unicorn over a jacket and took his horn as a souvenir.”

Pinkie could feel her eyes going round. “She killed… for a jacket? Why?”

“It was winter. They were cold. There was only one jacket.” He shrugged. “Do the math. Somepony was going to freeze that night, and Sugarcube was determined it wouldn’t be her.”

After shivering, Pinkie noted, “You had some scary friends when you were a kid, Fine.” Then the implications of his statement hit her. “Wait, getting a jacket was the difference between life and death? W-was she homeless?”

“No.” He scowled and shook his head. “But her house was so old and dilapidated that it did nothing to protect from the cold. I would have helped her if I’d had access to my father’s finances, but she probably wouldn’t have accepted it. Sugarcube was big on me not falling too far down the criminal rabbit hole, and she was stubborn about getting by on her own.”

He reached for his neck, patting it a few times as if trying to find something, then looked down with a miffed expression. His ears drooped, and Pinkie knew he’d been trying to tap that knife he used to always carry around. Seeing him without it was… strange. “Was it hers?” At his questioning look, she nodded to his bare neck.

“Yeah…” He sighed and let his hoof back down. “It was made from the horn of the unicorn she’d killed.”

This probably should have horrified her, but she’d already learned what the knife had been made from, if not how it came to be. She took the news calmly and asked, “She gifted it to you?”

He scoffed, bitterness clear in his manner. “More like I stole it for myself.” Cocking his head, he studied her with thoughtful eyes. A self-conscious moment passed for Pinkie as she wondered what he was thinking.

He spoke before she could conjure the nerve to ask. “One night, I had a vision. It wasn’t my first. I’d been resisting them for some time at that point, knowing what they were but hoping I could deal with it on my own. In that night’s vision, however, I murdered my own father.”

Flinching, Pinkie looked away and said nothing. She was too busy sorting out her memories and trying to make the bad thoughts go away.

“I didn’t do it,” he admitted, “but the vision terrified me, so I ran away. Sugarcube found me, lost and alone and miserable in some back alley on the bad side of town. The crazy old mare refused to let me be, and when the vision came again I was in no state to resist. So I…” He shuddered. “I gored her throat with my horn.”

Unicorns can do that? Pinkie resisted the query as she stared into Fine’s forlorn eyes. He didn’t look away from her gaze, which both impressed her and made her feel weak. He didn’t seem as broken up about it as she felt for Surprise. But then, he’d been a lot older than her, just as he was now. Maybe that made a difference.

As if reading her thoughts, he said, “I’ll always feel guilty for it, of course, but… I think by now I’m mostly over it. Honestly, I don’t think Sugarcube would even be mad at me. And if she was?” He gave a feeble smirk. “I’d take my beatings like a big colt, just as she’d demand.”

She glanced away with a pout. “I don’t think I’ll ever be over my first.”

“Well, I suppose our circumstances were very different,” he said, indecision in his tone.

She toyed with a few blades of grass as she pondered that. “Since you told me, I’ve often wondered why my visions kicked in so quickly. It took years for you to have them after your mother died, and only months for me after—” She bit her lip and clenched her eyes shut. Why’d she bring that up? He was going to ask. She didn’t want him to ask!

“Hey, Pinkie?”

She cringed and buried her head in her hooves. No, no, no, no, no…

“How about we get some lunch?”

When the words registered her head popped out from beneath her legs, complete with sound effect. She gaped at him, only to find him watching her with a thoughtful expression. Realizing his intent, she forced her trembling lips into a smile and nodded, brushing a foreleg over her eyes. “Lunch sounds great.”







Fine chose a small café on the outskirts of town, and even then picked a table in a corner away from the other patrons. The seclusion left Pinkie feeling anxious, but she didn’t complain. For one, Fine was paying. For another, she felt she should do things his way every now and then, as a sign of her willingness to work things out between them. That’s what couples did, right? Even if they weren’t officially a couple yet, it was good to start practicing as early as possible.

At least Fine softened the topic by being sure to ask Pinkie if she was okay with it. The fact she was given the opportunity to object meant a lot more than she would have thought. Plus he ordered the spinach soup, just like her. There were heartier, richer, tastier things on the menu, but he seemed determined not to eat anything solid in her presence, not when she was still limited to liquids. It was a sweet gesture in its own way, but also kind of annoying. Ponies shouldn’t accept less than the best for her sake.

As they were going through their individual meals, Fine interrupted her thoughts. “So, got anything you wanna ask me?”

She raised her head from her bowl. “Wuh? I thought it was my turn to do a reveal.”

He smiled and wagged his hoof at her in mock lecturing. “It’s not a competition, y’know. I still feel like ponying up. Although maybe we could do something lighter than… what we talked about at the river.”

If he was a glutton for punishment, who was Pinkie Pie to argue? There were still a lot of questions wrapped up in the various closets and crawlspaces of her brain. It would be good to let them out before they started getting noisy and making her think her head was being plagued by ghosts or something. And it just so happened that their current circumstance gave her the perfect opening.

“Okay,” she said, looking around at their quiet little corner. “Why are you so…” She pondered the right word as he waited patiently. “Insulated?”

His brow furrowed as he frowned at her. “You’re gonna have to explain that one to me.”

Leaning back on her cushion, Pinkie raised one hoof horseshoe-up and tapped on it as she counted in her head. “You live in a big spooky mansion in the middle of the Everfree where nopony wants to go. When out in public alone you go out of your way to not be seen. You hide even when around friends. Hay, your cutie mark is about how good you are at hiding! And might I add that it usually takes a Pinkie Promise to get you to come to one of my parties.” Deciding she’d given enough examples, she set her hooves on the table and shot Fine a curious look. “I was just wondering why hiding from everypony is such a big deal for you.”

Fine cocked his head backwards and raised an eyebrow, his expression one of wry skepticism. “That’s hardly what I’d call a ‘light’ topic.”

A blink. “Was that meant to be a pun?”

His skepticism was promptly traded for confusion. “A pun?”

“Yeah. You know.” She raised her left hoof. “Light.” She raised her other hoof. “Dark. As in the dark that you hide in?”

He eyed one hoof, then the other before cracking a smile. “Sure, why not? I was punning hard.”

“You were punning so hard,” she agreed with a nervous giggle. “So, um, talk about something else?”

“Oh, no.” He waggled his hoof at her again, his smile not fading in the slightest. “Don’t think you can gigglecharm out of this one. You asked, I’m gonna answer.”

He thought her giggles were charming? Goddess, she must have looked horrible smiling when she’d touched upon something ‘not light’! But then, Fine was smiling too, so maybe it was okay? But he’d asked for something light! “Y-you really don’t have to.”

“As I keep reminding you, we’re here to learn more about each other.” He took a long gulp of his soup, wiped his mouth with a napkin, and settled comfortably against the cushioned wall behind his seating pillow. “This is a pretty good topic, really. I didn’t even expect it to come up.”

Now Pinkie was just plain confused. “So you didn’t expect to get surprised by a very personal topic you probably don’t want to talk about at all, and that’s a good thing? And ponies call me weird.”

Back came that charming smirk. “If I’m going to enter a relationship with you, I have to try to be at least as weird as you.”

“As long as it’s your own brand of ‘weird’.” She grabbed her curly tail and hugged it tightly while giving him a mock glare. “Pinkie Pie-brand weirdness is one of a kind, buster. Hooves off!”

He scoffed and turned up his muzzle at her antics. “As if I would want to steal from your subpar style of weird. All that giddy, silly happiness, bleck.” He made a show of sticking out his tongue and faking a retch. “I’ve got my broody, dark, and creepy weirdness, and I like it just fine, thank you very much.”

“What? I scoff at you, sir, scoff scoff scoff!” She pointed at him just to give her words more weight. “Your mother was a hamster and your father smelt of elderberries.”

“Is that really the best you can do?” Fine waved a dismissive hoof. “Honestly, if I was as ignorant as you I wouldn’t let on.”

“In the short time we’ve been together, you have demonstrated every loathsome characteristic of the unicorn personality and even discovered a few new ones!”

“If your brains were dynamite there wouldn’t be enough to blow your hat off.”

She gasped, hooves hugging her polka-dot bowler to her head. “Everypony in this room is now dumber for having listened to you.”

Fine was unable to keep from smirking at this point. “Thou stink of iniquity, thou fiery-faced quintessence of all that is abominable!”

Pinkie wasn’t even trying to hide hers. “If I wanted a joke, I’d follow you into the John and watch you take a leak.”

Banging his hoof on the table, Fine declared, “You bloody old towser-faced boot-faced totem-pole on a crap reservation!”

Pressing a hoof to her chest in mock distress, she countered with, “You’re so ugly you could be a modern art masterpiece!”

Rising with both forehooves on the table, Fine fired back with a slowly enunciated, “Thou art a base, proud, shallow, beggarly, three-suited, hundred-pound, filthy worsted-stocking knave; a lily-liver’d, action-taking, whorefoal, glass-gazing, superserviceable, finical rogue; one-trunk-inheriting slave; one that wouldst be a bawd in a way of good service, and art nothing but the composition of a knave, beggar, coward, pandar, and the foal and heir of a mungril bitch.”

Pinkie’s eyes narrowed. Her hooves crossed. She licked her lips.

And spoke.

“It looks to me like the best part of you ran down the crack of your momma’s flanks and ended up as a brown stain on the mattress.”

Fine cringed with a “oof” and plopped back onto his cushion. “Owwwwwww. I give, I give!”

“Hah!” Pinkie hoof-pumped. “And now, I expect you to—”

“Uh, Pinkie?”

She noted where he was staring and took a look at the rest of the café. Every single eye was on them. Despite a few ponies trying to hold back their giggles, the rest weren’t exactly appearing friendly. With a guilty grin and ears folded, she turned back to Fine and muttered a quiet, “Whoopsie. Guess we got caught up in the moment.”

“Yeeeah, I think I’ll be leaving a big tip,” he agreed, rubbing a hoof over his overheating face. “And I thought I was the bad influence.”

Taking her bowl in her hooves, she affected her best Rarity tone. “I still expect you to acknowledge that my weird is better.” She announced before taking a sip of her soup.

Fine chuckled with a “Yes, princess.” Settling his cheek atop a fetlock, he sighed with a pleasant smile. “I love that I finally have somepony that will be silly back.”

Pinkie might have done a spit-take where she not wary of offending the café’s other clientele any further. He loves something about me! Forcing the wild, giddy thought back, she set her bowl down and said, “I don’t think most ponies think of you as being silly.”

“True.” In an instant, his entire demeanor changed. Sitting up straight but keeping his head slightly bowed, he affected a hard, judging glare through narrowed eyes and lips barely pulled back into a scowl, complete with a twitch of the left eye. Even knowing he was putting on a show, Pinkie felt a slight sinking sensation and the desire to hide her face, a desire she resisted. Without altering his conversational tone at all – a strange effect considering his visage – he said, “Most ponies see me as ominous and threatening. Which in a lot of cases is intentional.”

The menacing posture disappeared as quickly as it had come, Fine relaxing and lifting his bowl for another taste. “So when I do try to maintain a lighter manner, it tends to confuse ponies, or make them wary that I’m up to something.”

That idea made her a little sad, but she had to admit it made sense. Intimidation was one of Fine Crime’s many tools in his career, and she’d seen him use it more than once. It had to be difficult, though he made it seem easy. How would she feel if everybody treated her with kiddy boots whenever she tried to lighten the mood? It was a unpleasant concept, to be sure.

“You can always be silly with me,” Pinkie told him earnestly. “After all, I am the premier pony of silly.”

Setting his now-empty bowl down, Fine rewarded her with a warm smile. “And that’s just the way I like you.”

Pinkie was left herding butterflies in her chest for the rest of the meal. The problem only intensified when she realized that she was, in fact, having a private lunch with Fine Crime in a dining establishment that he was paying for.

Wasn’t that the definition of a date?

“Pinkie? Are you alright?”

She jolted, slapping on a broad grin and wondering when the temperature in the café got so high. “I-I’m fine.”

“Are you sure?” Fine cocked his head, concern dominating his features. “You look really red.”

“Just the spiciness of the soup! N-nothing to worry about.”

“Oookay.”







They were enjoying a quiet walk through the town. Talking little, taking in the sights, letting the afternoon pass without incident. Pinkie was fine with this. It was good to relax every once in a while, and they had two weeks with which to open up to one another. As such, she let her thoughts linger on the idea that she’d been – was still on? – a date with Fine. Perhaps that was silly. She’d be spending two weeks alone with him, so maybe the entire vacation counted as one big date.

It still felt good to think about. Good enough to make her hooves feel as light as air.

When Fine started talking, it caught her entirely off guard.

“I wanted to be invisible.”

She paused, but Fine’s head was turned away from her. They were on a quiet street in a residential neighborhood, only a few ponies around and all of those too far away to hear their conversation. Pinkie asked, “Invisible?”

His gaze was set upon two foals, likely possessing no more than five years between them, who were playing with their doting mother in a distant yard. He spoke in a low, quiet tone. “When Riptide appeared under the waves. When it swallowed my mother like a crumb. It looked right at me, and all I wanted was to hide. To disappear in the darkness. To never, ever be seen. I can safely say it was the defining moment of my life.”

Not for the first time, Pinkie wished she could have been the one to have joined him in the Door of Fears instead of Fluttershy. She’d heard of what had happened to Fine’s mother, but imagining what he was seeing in his memories right now proved beyond her. Unlike most of the others, she’d never actually seen Riptide’s face, so all she had to go on was scale. Not being able to imagine what Fine had been through as a foal made her feel… inadequate.

“You asked why I hide. Why I keep away from others.” He reached for a knife that wasn’t there, ears folding flat. “I’ve thought about that a lot over the years. When it comes down to it, I’m scared.”

She sat close, tried to get him to look her in the eyes. He wouldn’t. “Scared of what?”

“So many things.” He turned his head to follow the family until they disappeared inside their home. “Too many things. Riptide instilled in me a fear that I never quite shook off, even after Luna’s pendant helped me get over the worst of my loss. It’s a subtle thing, unconscious, but I know it’s there. I want to hide, I want to be unknown. Ponies fear the unknown. They can’t hurt the unknown.”

At last, he turned his head to her, but still didn’t meet her gaze. He offered a smile that did nothing to hide his nervousness. “Really, it’s just a theory. I don’t know for sure why. I just…” The smile disappeared as he looked at his hooves. “It just makes sense to me.”

Once, while he was still bound to that table in the darkness and rendered sober by her… ‘special’ cupcakes, Fine had confided to Pinkie that he was not as brave as so many ponies tended to believe. She’d soon learned the truth of the matter the first time she’d dragged him to one of her parties, but she’d never understood. She wasn’t even sure she understood now. But thinking about his anxieties, his use of shadows and isolation to calm down, perhaps it did make a strange sort of sense. She’d never put that together with his foalhood encounter with a world-killing serpent, but in hindsight it should have been obvious.

Even with this new information, Pinkie had to acknowledge and accept that she may never fully understand Fine’s phobias. Nor did she have to. The fact he was willing to share their existence with her – and to actively challenge them for her sake – left her feeling like a puddle of warm pony puddy.

But her mind wasn’t so muddled by the heady warmth of her heart as to take away her sense of fair play. She leaned against him, snuggling comfortably into his side, before asking, “If I’m ever pressing you too hard and you need a moment to hide, you’ll tell me, right?”

He shifted his head to finally meet her gaze with a lone eye. He smiled appreciatively. “Of course.”

They shared that pleasant moment for a few more minutes, only breaking up when the giggling of passers-by made them feel a little awkward. But the warm feeling didn’t leave Pinkie for a long time.







“Why parties?”

They were in a small novelty shop selling decor and jewelry made from colorful geodes. Pinkie looked up from a brooch she’d been thinking about getting for Rarity as a souvenir. “What about parties?”

Fine’s gaze lingered on a music box with moving geode pony figurines on top, miming a little dance with their stiff limbs. His words were solemn as he observed their twirls and bounces. “I reacted to my traumas by hiding. You throw parties. It’s… a strange difference.”

“Oh.” She turned back to the brooch, but could no longer focus on it. She supposed it was indeed her turn. If only he’d picked something easier. But no, she wouldn’t back down. She couldn’t. There were far, far worse things to talk about.

Out the corner of her eyes, she noted his anxious glance. He would try to take the question back if she didn’t hurry. Still, she hesitated. Maybe she should let him. No, that wasn’t fair. But…

He opened his mouth. Panicked, she spoke over him. “It’s my talent.”

He blinked. Frowned. Seemed to puzzle over this. “I always thought of your talent as being more about spreading happiness.”

“But I first did that with a party,” she replied, staring at her many unhappy reflections in the brooch’s shiny decorations. “They’re a part of me. I can’t just… not do parties.”

Scratching the side of his head and flicking his red tail, Fine at last admitted, “I’m a little confused. You don’t seem all that thrilled about this, but parties are your special talent.”

“Cobbling is Nye’s special talent, but he’s never happy about it.”

Fine’s lips pursed. “Right. Because of his father.”

She started to speak, but caught herself and glanced around. The store only had one other patron, but she still felt a cold dread rising up her legs. Without a word she prodded Fine into a corner where they might have at least a sense of privacy. Even then, she spoke in a hushed whisper, keeping her head close to his so as to be as quiet as feasibly possible. “This isn’t a good place to talk about this.”

That’s not what she meant to say, but it’s what came out. She flinched and watched him closely, hoping he wouldn’t take offense.

Instead, he blushed and gave a small nod. “You’re right. I’m sorry. Another time, then.”

Oh, but this wasn’t fair at all! He’d told his story out on the open road, and she was holding back? “I p-promise, I’ll talk about it later. Okay?”

“It’s fine.” He smiled and nudged her shoulder with his own. “There’s no rush. Come on, I think I found something Fluttershy would like.”

As he led her back to the collection of music boxes, Pinkie couldn’t fight against the guilt washing over her. She’d talk tonight. She Pinkie Promised to herself.







The dining room of the Rock Bottom wasn’t as active tonight as it had been yesterday. Perhaps because it was Sunday and ponies had to get up early the next day? Pinkie didn’t know whether to be disappointed or relieved. On the one hoof, her social butterfly side was in desperate need of attention and getting to chat and play and make friends with all the ponies there was a welcome reprieve from an entire day of just being with Fine. Not that being with Fine was unpleasant, but a party pony had needs!

On the other hoof, all this socializing was keeping her from keeping her Pinkie Promise! Sure, she’d only made it to herself and not to Fine, but it still counted. Yet as the last hours of the day ticked by and her anxiety grew, she still hobnobbed with the locals. Deep down she knew she was postponing the inevitable.

Fine, ever the loyal trooper, didn’t head upstairs. He put up with the noise and crowds, and even seemed to be having a good time at first. As the night wore on however, he gradually appeared less and less comfortable with the whole ordeal. Pinkie kept glancing at him, half begging him to give up and go to his room and half praying he wouldn’t so she’d never have to talk about the past, even if it did mean breaking a Pinkie Promise.

But he never did.

At last she could take the guilt no more. Bidding the ponies goodbye, she gestured to a very relieved-looking Fine and headed upstairs. Ever the calm and collected stallion, he didn’t rush like she expected. His nonchalance would have fooled anypony. Anypony, that is, except Pinkie. And maybe Fluttershy.

Waiting until they arrived at their rooms, she turned on him. “Why didn’t you just go upstairs and wait for me?”

His eyebrows rose. “You mean you expected me to?”

“Yes!” She threw her hooves up high. “You looked miserable near the end! If you’re not happy, do something to fix it. I don’t want to see you sad under any circumstances.”

His ears lowered and he rubbed his foreleg. “But I came here to learn more about you. How can I do that if I’m not with you?”

She poked him in the chest. “I told you! If I’m making you uncomfortable, you’ve gotta tell me.”

“But you are not the one making me uncomfortable,” he replied sheepishly. “I want to know everything about you. I’m not going to come up here and hide in my room when I could be with you.”

Pinkie’s heart sprouted wings and tried to fly its way out of her chest. It might have, too, had it not been for that darned ribcage in the way. Pawing at the floor, she asked, “Y-you mean that?”

“Of course,” he answered as if it were obvious. “I can put up with a couple hours of discomfort if it means understanding you a little more.”

“Oh.” Now her head was overheating on top of her fluttering heart. “Well, umm, n-next time if you wanna go, just give me a signal or something. I don’t want you to be uncomfortable, okay?”

“And what about your needs?” he demanded, albeit softly. “Isn’t hanging out with the locals something you need to do? We can’t prioritize my desires over yours, and we spent all day doing things I wanted to do.”

She looked into his rosewood eyes, pain and pleasure mixing wildly within her at his sincerity. “You understand that. You really do.”

With a light blush of his own, Fine sat and rubbed a hoof through his red mane. He looked better without all that black dye. “Not really. But isn’t that the whole point of us being here?”

Yes, it certainly was. And Pinkie had made a promise. Despite the lump in her throat, she decided to go for it. After all, it did seem like the perfect opening. “I used to hate my cutie mark.”

His eyebrows shot up again at this abrupt topic change. “Y-you did?” With the expression and unsteady words, he might as well have shouted ‘What brought this up?’ at the top of his lungs. Letting her mane fall flat, Pinkie glanced around swiftly before pulling him towards her room in the corner and unlocking the door. Despite his quiet objections, she pulled him inside and closed the door, making sure to lock it again. Only then, leaning against the door for support, did she let her wobbly knees falter.

Sliding to her belly, Pinkie closed her eyes and let the memories wash over her. The hunger, the loss, the cold nights, the begging. Even past that, the tossing and turning in a bed not her own and crying herself to sleep. She felt as though Rex’s claws were in her belly all over again. Would she throw up? She really didn’t want to do that, so she tried her best to hold back the tide.

Fine was kneeling at her side. When did he get there? There was fear in his round eyes. Not just fear. Panic. He didn’t understand what was happening, and she knew that ignorance scared him far more than water. So, with a final shudder, she reached out to grasp his fetlock. “I-I’m okay,” she whispered, though her voice came out strained. “I just… h-haven’t let myself think about this in a very long time.”

By his long face, he didn’t buy her explanation. Even so, he calmed down and sat, not pulling his hoof away. Nor did he speak, giving her the time she needed to recover from her own bout of emotions. She hoped he understood how much she appreciated that, even if she longed for him to tell her to stop for the night.

But he didn’t. So, when she felt brave enough, she spoke. “I know you know what it’s like to be afraid of yourself. And I know it’s a terrible, terrible feeling. But… but my cutie mark.” She cast a long look at the balloons on her flank, barely visible in the darkness. “I got my cutie mark for parties. For joy and laughter. For socializing. But after what I did, how could I ever make another friend? I didn’t want to be around anypony! I couldn’t. I wouldn’t. I d-didn’t want to… to do it again…”

Three balloons became nondescript blobs as tears welled in her eyes. With nothing to focus on, she let her chin fall to the ground and closed her eyes to the world. At least Fine was still holding her hoof. Such a simple thing, but it gave her the strength she needed to keep talking, even through a raspy voice burdened by hiccups. “I didn’t know what to do. If I hung around ponies, I m-might hurt them. But my cutie mark demanded I be with ponies! How could I resist one urge while giving into the other?”

“That—” Fine cut himself off. He squeezed Pinkie’s hoof tenderly. Through her whimpers she could hear his slow, heavy breaths. “I can’t imagine that.”

Though her eyes burned and the tears streamed down her cheeks, Pinkie couldn’t conjure the energy required to do anything about it. It took what little she had to resume talking. “I th-thought about cutting it off. Just taking a knife and butchering my flanks. What’s the point of a cutie mark that makes me miserable?”

Settling on his barrel at last, Fine used his now-free hoof to stroke her mane. It had a pleasant, calming effect, and she eagerly leaned into his touch. After a few moments of silence between them, he asked, “What pulled you out of it?”

The answer came quick. “The Cakes. They don’t know it, but them being there for me… it helped far more than they may ever know.” At last rubbing her eyes, she tilted her head and turned it slightly, such that Fine’s soothing strokes started between her ears. It really did feel good. Like an itch she’d never noticed being scratched. “It took them three weeks to convince me to stay the night at their place. I didn’t sleep a minute. I was so scared that if I closed my eyes, I’d open them with blood on my hooves.

“But it didn’t happen.” She sighed at his ongoing petting, noting that she’d have to ask him to do this again sometime. “Then they learned what my cutie mark was for and encouraged me to do parties again. Every time I went, I was certain I’d end up hurting somepony. Or several.”

“And yet you never did,” Fine whispered encouragingly.

She turned her head to him, which led to the sad cessation of his ministrations, and failed to look him in the eye. She settled for his hoof atop hers, the sight of which brought the heat back to her cheeks. “No,” she admitted after a moment’s falter. “Every time I held a party, I’d come back to Sugarcube Corner and hide in my room. I had to tell myself, again and again, that it wasn’t a dream. That nopony would come looking for me to ask why I’d murdered all my guests. I wasn’t going to find blood on my hooves. I’d look in the mirror and see a perfectly normal pony, not some monster. I remember curling up in my bed and telling myself again and again, I’m not a bad pony.

“I’m not a bad pony.

“I’m not a bad pony.

“I’m not a bad pony.”

For the first time since coming upstairs, she smiled. It was a small thing, she knew, but it had the grace of being sincere. “The Cakes didn’t know what was wrong, but they never stopped supporting me. I don’t know what they’d have done if they knew the truth, but I spend every day grateful to them. Over time, the parties became a sort of therapy. A boost to my confidence. I could hold a party, and nopony died!”

Sniffing, she met his gaze at last. His solemn, gloomy gaze. “You asked, ‘why parties’? Because they were the only way to prove to myself that I wasn’t a horrible, evil pony anymore.”

Fine didn’t stare at her. His eyes were on her, but they were focused on something beyond her. His grave manner hadn’t changed at all through her explanation. “That’s a lot darker than my answer regarding hiding.”

“It’s not a competition,” she chastised him gently, another tiny smile coming to her at the opportunity to throw his words back at him.

Fine didn’t smile. He took a stronger grip on her hoof, using both of his this time, and brought his focus back on her eyes. “I think I’ll be looking at your parties in a very different light from now on.”

“They’re my little victories,” she muttered, feeling the blood rush to her cheeks at his soft gaze and the grip of his hooves. “Um, b-but you don’t have to make yourself stay there to the very end. Just because I kinda-sorta need them doesn’t mean I’ll be offended if you leave early.”

“But you need them,” he softly insisted. “And I want to be there for you.”

“And you need your solitude,” she countered with equal quiet even as her heart started using its wings again. “I don’t want you to sacrifice your needs for mine.”

He hummed. “It would seem we are at an impasse.”

“I guess so.”

They said nothing for a time, merely lay together in the dark by the door, Fine’s hold on her hoof never fading. She was starting to feel a little awkward about it, if only because she felt like she should be doing something in response to his hoof-holding. As she stared into his contemplative, handsome face, she felt an urge to nuzzle him. A friendly, ‘thank you for the support’ kind of nuzzle. Was it too early for that kind of thing? Oh, Celestia, what if he reciprocated? She might not be ready for that kind of contact!

“Tell you what.” His words distracted her from the rising temperatures in the room. “When you feel confident that one of your parties has done its job, I’ll leave. But only if I’m ready to. Sound good?”

Perhaps the darkness hid her burning face beneath her mane. Or maybe it was her pink coat. Either way, Pinkie was relieved he didn’t seem to notice. “I g-guess that’ll be okay.”

“Good.” He at last let go of her hoof, but only so he could reach up and brush her mane aside. His touch, as gentle as a shadow, lingered on her cheek as he stared into her eyes. “But if you ever feel doubt about yourself, with or without a party, come to me. Let me be there for you.”

Though the effort made her neck sore, she resisted the temptation to lean into that hoof in favor of holding his gaze. “Only if you come to me for the same.”

He raised his head, as if giving her reply some serious thought. Then he offered a soft smile that melted the feathers right off her fluttery heart. “Pinkie Promise?”

How could she not smile back? “Pinkie Promise.”

They went through the motions together, Fine blushing as he placed his hoof over his eye. “I still feel silly doing this.”

“That’s sorta the point, silly.” She giggled and lowered her hoof, half-hoping he’d take it again. He didn’t, unfortunately. “I guess this is goodnight?”

“I guess so.” He stood up, stretching as he did. Once standing straight, he looked down at her with a small frown. “We did a lot today. If you wanted to take a break tomorrow and not share anything, that’s fine by me.”

“No.” She shook her head as she sat up. “I didn’t even get to show you the farm like I said I would.”

“There’s no hurry.”

“I know.” She smiled for him, hoping to ease his fears. “But it’s like ripping off a bandage, right? We should get it over with.”

“If you’re sure.” He bowed his head, but only for a moment. “Will you be alright?”

“Mm-hmm.” She nodded, forcing her smile to be a little broader. “Don’t you worry about little ol’ me. Goodnight, Fine. And…” Her ears folded flat as she glanced away. There were words she wanted to offer, but they wouldn’t come. Because of what he might not say. Because of what he probably would say. “And… thanks for listening. It does help to open up to somepony at last.”

It wasn’t a total lie, it did feel good to finally tell somepony these secrets. It just… wasn’t what she had meant to say.

“Any time. Good night.” With one last worried smile, he ignited his horn. A dim red glow filled the room for a second, casting wild shadows on the walls, and then he was gone in a cloud of smoke that faded as quickly as it had formed.

Pinkie lingered for a moment, waiting for she knew not what. Her ears perked, but no sounds met her. This inn had some decent walls, it seemed. That or Fine hadn’t gone directly to his room. Either way, she was convinced she was alone. With a heavy sigh, she bowed her head and whispered, “Won’t you stay the night?”

She couldn’t ask him. It was too soon.

Too soon.

Filled with a compulsory need, she tiptoed to her bed, dropped to her knees, and pulled a box out from beneath. It had taken up the entirety of one of her saddle’s pouches, but she’d brought it. And now she opened it, just so that she could stare at the light blue fabric, topped by a pretty pink bow. She studied the folded dress for a seeming eternity, marveling at Rarity’s showing of skill under such short notice. Hesitantly, she felt the satiny material.

“Soon,” she whispered, but her voice was too weak.

She tried again, struggling to give herself more confidence. “Soon.”

No good. She didn’t detect any improvement at all. Slumping, she fought down the urge to cry while she closed the box with utmost care and pushed it back under the bed. Then she climbed on and buried herself beneath the covers. Curled up in darkness, head beneath the pillow, she willed herself to not imagine Fine’s gentle hoof through her mane. It was a pointless endeavor.

The word came out again, a quiet prayer in the shadows.

“Soon.”