When Flash Sentry came out the other side, multiple sets of hands caught him. It was a good thing too, for his weeks as an Equestrian had diminished his skill at standing on two bipedal legs. He expected to meet people on the other side—what he hadn't expected were the hugs that he received. First Pinkie Pie, then Fluttershy, then Rarity and even Applejack. One by one, they took turns giving his awkward, teenage body a gentle embrace, showering him with smiles and cheers and affectionate statements. More than a few times he heard from the girls' harmonic lips just how "wonderful" and "nice" and "smashing" and "awesome" it was that he had returned home in one piece—that he hadn't gotten kidnapped or been run over by a car or mauled by a bear or forced into suicide by a hobo or all of the other hyperbolic rumors that had been floating around since his absence... most likely perpetuated by Pinkie Pie. The entire situation sobered him—but not half as much as the expression Sunset Shimmer gave Flash once he had stumbled through the assembled gaggle of seven.
At its fiercest, Sunset's gaze was still only half as stern as Flash had anticipated, and he wasn't certain how he was supposed to receive it. She approached him, murmuring a few chiding words that he was barely able to register in the dizzying moment. The world seemed smaller than he remembered, and the whole gray malaise of it swayed as he teetered on two gangly monkey legs. When Sunset finished with her monologue—no doubt chock full of wise, benevolent platitudes, it was her turn to hug him. It was a clumsy, sisterly affair, and Flash Sentry spent the whole time squinting awkwardly at Twilight Sparkle who stood pigeon-toe'd behind Sunset along the fringes of the school courtyard. Twilight bit her lip, and the two made their first visual connection in months. Both were tender, alien souls—still struggling with the most basic concepts of friendship, and Flash had to wonder why he had spent so long trying to avoid the look of her... as if the wilting violet was anywhere near as venomous and dangerous to the eye as he had long feared.
What came next was something Flash hadn't expected, but made sense in hindsight: a trip to the Principals' office. Celestia and Luna met with Flash, Sunset, and the rest of the girls. It had evidently been a pre-ordained affair... something worked out by Sunset Shimmer the top administers once Flash's location beyond the portal had been made known to the inclusive "clique" of Canterlot High. Upon first sight, Flash finally received the accusatory glares that he had expected. But—somehow, coming from Celestia and Luna—it was far less intimidating. The two women were a thousand years younger than when he saw "them" last, and he felt anything but fazed when they spoke in their mortal, authoritarian voices.
First came the obligatory "disappointment" speech, appropriately delivered by Luna. But that ended swiftly. Soon Celestia was talking about how they as a group—with the sacred knowledge of the portal and Equestrian magic at large—were collectively responsible for keeping the gateway off limits to "would-be-cross-dimensional-trespassers." Measures had to be put into place to keep other students from wandering through the door... no matter the emotional need or blind happenstance that brought them to it. Celestia promised to get right on assembling what she called "a protective barrier" around the portal. After all, the school was still intending on reconstructing the horse statue mascot atop the pedestal and a wrought-iron cage could potentially fit in with the gothic aesthetic. It was Twilight Sparkle who suggested that a locked gate be erected—with a corresponding set of keys that the group would keep in secret so that they could open it just for when Princess Twilight and other sanctioned individuals from Equestria endeavored to arrive, but only when previously "announced" through the communication that Sunset Shimmer kept with the Princess through her magical journal. Celestia and Luna mutually liked the idea, and they bounced it off the rest of the teenagers—as if the sovereign seven had suddenly become a harmonic council of magical defenders while Flash wasn't looking. He soon realized there was a lot more that he had missed out on since Camp Everfree than he had initially thought.
Sunset Shimmer softened up the entire conversation by claiming responsibility for everything that happened to Flash. Naturally, Principal Celestia dismissed the girl's statement—at least halfway—and she then proceeded to agree with corroborating with whatever excuse they had concocted to explain to the local law enforcement precisely why Flash had been missing for so long... which he found rather odd... or perhaps he didn't. Flash could scarcely think straight. His head was spinning from just standing bipedally in that room and he felt that his entire future existence was being decided by an estrogenical cabal of super-teenagers... which it probably was. In another life, perhaps, he would have been upset by this, but he was finding it extremely hard to care. The self-importance of the entire conversation was exhausting, and it was with blissful relief that he, Sunset, and the others took their leave.
From there, the group split ways. Flash found himself riding across town with Sunset and Twilight. At first, he didn't know precisely where they were going... until they met up with a tall, pale young man with a lantern-like jaw. He had electric blue hair and thin, matching blue eyes. It wasn't much of a shock that it turned out to be that Twilight's older brother Shining Armor... and it was even less surprising for Flash to learn that Shining was a first year rookie in the local police department. Apparently, Twilight—courtesy of Sunset's persuasion—had pulled some strings... or at least pulled Shining into pulling some strings. Sunset explained the whole situation to Flash: the working story was that he had run off on a whim to join some online buddies he knew and blow their collective money on a week spent at the second nearest town in order to sneak their way into a famous band's rock concert tour—among other delinquent activities. The whole scenario made Flash look like a ridiculously self-centered idiot. But—he figured—considering the place he had been over the past several months, people would be swift to believe it... or simply not care... or both. It was easy to settle for all of the above, and if Sunset and Twilight figured it could work, Flash wasn't one to argue.
Shining was scowling at him the entire time Sunset and Twilight gave their briefing, as if this whole unnecessary fiasco was all Flash's fault. It was, of course, and Flash was undeniably grateful for the risk that Twilight's older brother was taking to keep the truth of his ponied vacation from being exposed. Still, part of him couldn't shake the feeling that there was a certain degree of comical irony with how identical Shining's glare was to the suspicious squint given Flash by the equine prince from another world. He had a feeling that his presence there would only leave this world's Flash in the same place he left the other one—in a position of paranoia and distrust. Some battles simply couldn't be won.
Soon, the group split up, and Flash was in Shining's hands. The car ride to the police department was as frigid, icy, and silent as anyone could imagine. Shining outright refused to speak with the "wayward teen" that he had just "rescued," and Flash spent the entire time staring listlessly out the window of a four wheeled aluminum machine built by non-horse people in a non-horse land that ran off of dead dinosaurs. Flash had barely been back in this world for a full hour, and already everyone was bending over backwards to protect the magic... the secret of a better life that could be lived elsewhere by anyone impulsive enough—or dumb enough—to waltz through a giant rippling fart mirror. Part of Flash understood why it all had to be done like this, knowing full-well and first-hand the dangers of magic getting into the wrong hands. But it still felt so damnably insane. It didn't make him angry... just very subtly nauseated.
He pushed the sensation away once they arrived at the police department. Once there, Shining Armor performed in spades. He convinced his superiors that he had found Flash on the country road, abandoned by his online buddies who—no doubt broke and dejected—ditched him without warning and took off for the nearest highway onramp, well beyond legal jurisdiction. Flash was questioned—and he did his casual best to maintain the story that Sunset and Twilight had made-up. It seemed to work, or else the officers nodding at him were too bleary-eyed to care. Within the next hour, he was being escorted home by squad car—a job that Shining gladly gave up to the first volunteers.
Next came the inevitable. When the car rolled up to the driveway, his parents were already running out of the house. They were all smiles, hugs, and kisses—which is how Flash knew that he wasn't the only one pretending, and it relieved some of the tension. He held his breath, and soon after both legalities and pleasantries were exchanged, he trudged into the house along with his kin. The moment the door was slammed shut to both the sunset and the departing cops outside, the howling began.
Four letter words flew hotly across the foyer from veiny throats and red faces. Father was a no good lazy son of a bitch and his son became just as horrible a slob all because of him. Mother was a two-faced whore whose vindictive cold-heartedness infected the youngest of the house to emulate her wild stunts. He was guilty of fraternizing too much in the workplace and not spending enough time cultivating values at home. She was guilty of watching rotten television shows that put all sorts of wild and carefree thoughts into a dumb young millennial's impressionable head. There was a myriad crooked insinuations about Flash's character, but somehow the veiled insults were only halfway hurled at him. If nothing else, it was all ammo to get on each other's cases, to righteously crucify the black sheep in the room as an example before their son as some sort of holocaustal solution for the last week's gauntlet of needless agony.
Flash didn't have to say a single word. He simply sat there on the couch, his chin propped lethargically in his hands as he listened to the missiles flying overhead. And it got loud... and it got serious. At one point, a fist was shaken and somebody threw something that shattered against the wall and the words "I hate you" were screamed repeatedly by his mother like a righteous valkyrie mounting her steed...
And then it ended. And that was the worst part of all. Flash perked up in alarm—not at the shouting, but at the abrupt silence as both members of the would-be-armageddon marched off to their separate battlements and slammed the doors shut between them. Which meant it hadn't all ended... for it hadn't even begun. Suddenly, Flash was certain that the next day would continue just like yesterday had. And that was a tragedy.
Flash sighed. He didn't eat that night. He wasn't sure he could ever eat again. He took a shower... a long shower—where he was reacquainted with long, dreary shadows. Long lost friends.
They followed him into bed where he had just as much luck sleeping as he did eating. The dust and the darkness was just the same as when he had left it. His parents hadn't even bothered to walk in there and clean house to cover the anxiety of missing him. It wasn't so much a sad feeling as it was absurd, and it gnawed at his subconscious. Nevertheless, Flash knew he had to get a full night's rest.
Because the very next day...