Hoofsteps.
Marching. Earnest.
Flash Sentry's eyes fluttered open. With a bleary expression, he turned and peered off the edge of his cot.
Beyond the bars of his cell, he saw a trio of bodies descend from the stairwell above. They entered the room in the line—two guards and a pegasus.
A very familiar pegasus. Normally, it would have sent a pang of joy rippling across Flash's chest.
For the time being, he struggled to even sit up.
"Finally..." Soarin grumbled from his side of the bars. He stepped forward, looking over his flank. "Could you guys give us some frickin' space, please?"
"We're to be present at all times when the subject is receiving visitors."
"Yeah... but it's not like I'm going to kick the bars down, bust him out, and start a revolution—"
"Sorry, sir. Captain Shining Armor's orders."
"I get it... I get it!" Soarin rolled his eyes at the crystal guards and turned towards the jail cell with a bar. "Yeesh... you guys certainly got the 'Imperial' part down pat."
Flash Sentry shuffled tiredly towards the bars.
Soarin stood on the other side, smiling weakly—but hopefully. "Hey there, dude. How are you holding out?"
"I'm existing," Flash droned.
"... ... ..." Soarin blinked at that. "Yeah... well... that's good, I guess."
Flash nodded, avoiding Soarin's gaze.
"Flash..." Soarin stood closer to the bars. "Please believe me. I wish I could have gotten here sooner. I've been busting my flank over the last twenty hours... just trying to get a chance to come down here and even speak with you."
Flash exhaled. "Yeah."
"The stewards aren't kidding around here," Soarin said. "They think you might be a changeling. I mean... of course you're not... but they've got a security detail prepared for such a thing as this. They call it... 'an amnesiac drone event'... or some such crap. Apparently members of Chrysalis' hive have crawled into the Empire before... forgetting who they are while impersonating whatever pony they see. It's... never really ended well—for the crystal ponies or the changelings. So they're taking every precaution necessary... for your sake as well as their own."
Flash nodded. "Yeah..."
"I've been trying to tell them that you're not a changeling—that this is a whole misunderstanding. But—now that delegates from all over Equestria are visiting at this very moment—they aren't exactly warming up to making exceptions with their security policy. I... I-I've been trying to get Spitfire to appeal to the Stewards on your behalf... on our behalf. But... but she's not exactly that thrilled about the whole thing. She only got done chewing my ear off about the whole 'Brad' schtick about two hours ago, which is how I was finally able to come down here after she talked with Shining and Cadance."
Flash winced. Hard.
"Dude... just... just relax!" Soarin smiled. "I'm used to being chewed out by Spitfire. Besides, she'll get over it. I mean... it's not like anypony actually... truly believes you were actively trying to deceive or harm us." He pointed up at the ceiling; the sounds and vibrations of the celebration were still in effect. "You hear that? That's all happening because of you, bro. I... I wish you could witness it, Flash. It's a golden date in the history of the Crystal Empire, and it's all because you brought the right ponies together at the right time. You..." Soarin sighed. "...you really deserve to be up there... enjoying it with the rest of them. All of this? This is such stupid nonsense."
Flash Sentry exhaled, staring at the floor of the cell. "Yeah... ... ..."
Soarin arched an eyebrow. "Flash...?"
No response.
"Flash... I... I know this all stinks to Tartarus," Soarin spoke firmly. "But I'm not done fighting for you, bro! I'm gonna get you out of here—in time to experience the last day or two of the festivities, if I can help it! The others—Fancy Pants, Filthy Rich, Miss Hooves, the Ponyvilleans... even Prince Blueblood—they'd all be here themselves if it could be afforded. But Spitfire could only allow me to come down here. I... uh... I-I figured that if I told the others to keep busy with the tasks you assigned them, it'd be for the best." Soarin gulped. "They're handling it all beautifully, Flash. You should be proud. Octavia's music... Vinyl's performances... Bon Bon's treats and the Cakes' delicacies..." He smiled. "Even Lyra's harp has pleased the Saddle Arabian visitors... and Miss Hooves' muffins have gotten the Hawkeye Pack drooling like there's no..." His voice trailed off as his lips pursed in concern. "...there's n-no tomorrow..."
"... ... ..." Flash stared lethargically into the corners of the cell.
Soarin gulped. "Do... do you have anything to say, dude? How are they treating you down here? I mean... I was told they brought you food but... but..."
Flash was silent.
Soarin blinked. "Really? Nothing?" He arched an eyebrow. "No quip? No silly non sequitur from the human world?" His eyes searched around, and he brightened at the last second. "Space Trek!" He grinned. "That's the thing you're always quoting from, right? Why don't you say something silly from Space Trek!"
Flash sighed. "That was Brad, dude." Dull eyes swam through the bars, contacting Soarin's. "This is Flash... the real Flash Sentry. You don't know him. Nopony does... because nopony has had to."
Soarin stared at him.
Flash stared back. "Even after all this time... I guess I still have you deceived."
Soarin took a breath. He leaned forward, gripping the bars with his fetlocks. "Well, maybe I wanna save Flash Sentry too."
"Hooves off the bars, please, sir," one of the crystal guards said.
Soarin's muzzle clenched, as if he was cursing under his breath. Begrudgingly, he leaned back from the cell.
"Just... just do whatever, Soarin," Flash muttered. He shuffled heavily back towards the cot. "Probably for the best that you tell them that I am a changeling," he said, lying down and facing the wall. "I've caused you enough problems, dude. Don't need more than Spitfire chewing you out."
"Flash... don't... d-don't you realize all the things you've done here?"
Flash breathed. "I know nothing," he said. "And it's all the same as it ever was." He stared and stared into the thick wall, ignoring Soarin's presence...
...until Soarin's hoofsteps receded in the background, and he became as distant as Flash wanted.
A deep pit formed in Flash's stomach. He clenched his eyes shut and covered his muzzle with his forelimbs...
He laid there in silence, waiting for the noise of celebration to fade away... like the shouts of angry parents through the walls.