Fine watched with bemusement as Pinkie loudly slurped down the contents of her bowl. It was some sort of ‘breakfast soup’ Mr. Collate had decided to make, with egg and strong herbs. Fine admitted it was good, and he was still ravenously hungry after having spent an entire day fasting with his companion. Even so, the animated way that Pinkie attacked her bowl seemed just a little over the top. Not that he expected anything less from her, of course.
Pinkie dropped her bowl to the table with a blissful look on her face. “Oooh, that hit the spot. I want another!”
“Ooh, no.” Fine waved his spoon in her face with a smirk. “Your stomach just got better. You want to threaten it with more than it can handle again?”
Her shoulders slumped and her lips fell into such a sagging frown Fine wasn’t sure it should be physically possible. “I guess not. My stomach does still feel a little icky.”
“And it’ll feel a lot more so if you keep putting things in it.” He ate a spoonful of his own soup while she pouted and poked at her bowl with a hooftip. “Don’t worry, in fifteen minutes you won’t be hungry anymore.”
“That doesn’t help me now,” she whined. “Besides, soup never stays in the stomach long. If I don’t eat enough, I’ll be hungry halfway to lunchtime.”
Her concern seemed valid. Fine had little trust in the ability of soups to keep him feeling full for long. He hummed and rubbed his chin, eyes drifting to the door to the kitchen. “Maybe we can get Mr. Collate to give us some to go? We can have it as a snack while we’re out.”
She perked up instantly. “Hey, that’s a great idea! I’m gonna go ask him.” She bounded out of her chair and pranced for the kitchen, leaving Fine alone with his soup.
For a while, he enjoyed the peace and quiet. He had thought he’d be exhausted after being trapped in a room all day with Pinkie, even if she was bed-bound. That wasn’t the case at all. If anything, he was eager to get started with whatever she had planned for today. This he found more than a little curious.
But then again, had he not been spending every day with her for most of a week now? And not once had he grown weary of her. He defied his own expectations. Glancing at the door, he wondered when she’d get back. This dining room was really too quiet.
He blinked. Too quiet? Since when has that even been a possibility for me?
“He said yes!” Pinkie erupted from the kitchen, slaughtering the quiet with the same ease Applejack bucked apple trees. Wrapped in her curly tail was a pair of jars filled with the yellow soup. “He offered us spoons but I told him ‘we don’t need no Celestia-slappin’ spoons!’ I mean, it’s soup, you can drink it, which is really convenient when you think about it. The amazing and wonderful soup, perfect for your travelling culinary needs!” She twisted as she got to the table, whipping her tail such that the two jars slid onto it, each coming to a stop next to their respective owner’s bowls just as Pinkie slipped back in her seat. “But they still don’t fill you up right.”
Fine smiled warmly at her. Much better. “Well then, is there anything else we need to get for this walk through town?”
“Yes.” She said this with such conviction that Fine paused in finishing off his soup to give her his utmost attention. She met his gaze, expression so firm as to be almost comical. “You’re gonna eat something else while we’re out.”
He met her gaze, then took a look at the jars on the table. Sure enough, they were filled to equal levels. “Why?”
“You let me worry about the why.” She tapped her hooves on the table as if it were a drum. “Now hurry up and finish that breakfast, buster! We’ve got some walking to do.”
Deciding that pressing her would do him no good at the moment, he obediently took his bowl in his magic and drained it in two big gulps. After a long gasp of air, he set the bowl aside and saluted. “Breakfast consumed, ma’am. Shall I carry you outside while we’re at it?”
This elicited a stream of delightful giggles from her. “That won’t be necessary, soldier. Maybe another time, like when I’m all mopey and whiny and won’t listen to reason. Ponies say I do that a lot. Don’t know why, I think I’m a great listener. Fluttershy says I drive Twilight up the wall sometimes though.” She frowned, worry igniting behind her eyes. “I don’t drive you up the wall, do I? I mean, you’re kind of Twilight-y.”
He opened his mouth to respond, only to wonder as to how. There was a time, once, when she was…
Catching her worried expression, he shook his head, more to clear it than as an answer. Now was not the time for deep deliberation. “You used to, but I think I’ve acquired the taste of Pie.”
Her eyes slowly widened, and her frown became a flat line. Gradually, like a fire growing hotter, her cheeks gained an extra shade of red. “R-right. Good. I, uh…”
Was that steam coming out of her ears? Fine leaned forward to get a closer look, but saw nothing. As she continued to sputter and spout nonsensical words, he wondered just what he’d said to get that kind of reaction. He let her run on for a few seconds, gradually growing more worried as her focus grew less and less on him. At last he asked, “Do you, uh, need help?”
“Nope I’m okay let’s get going now bye bye!” An instant later she was out the front door. Fine stared at it as it creaked closed behind her, wondering just what had gotten into her. When it became clear she wasn’t going to come back, he grabbed their jars of soup, poked his head into the kitchen to compliment Mr. Collate on his new recipe, and went outside.
He found Pinkie sitting in the shade of a tree down the street, frantically fanning her face with a hoof. “Are you alright?” he asked as he approached.
“Y-yeah. Just needed to cool off for a moment.” She giggled anxiously at his nonplussed expression. “Don’t worry, I’m all better. Just don’t ask, okay?” Asking was the first thing on his mind, but at her pleading look he decided to drop the matter. For now.
“I hate to sound like I’m plagiarizing Rainbow Dash,” he said once they started down the street, “but it has to be said: Pinkie Pie, you are so random.”
“Don’t let Rainbow know you said that. She’d charge you for using her intellectual property.”
He raised an eyebrow at her. “You’re joking.”
To this she offered an exaggerated pout. “It’s no fun when you get it right away.”
With a light laugh, he said, “I apologize! Next time I’ll act dumb.”
Pinkie shot him a deadpan look. “Next time?”
He blinked, considered her manner, then rolled his eyes. “Har har. So, are we visiting Sunflower today or taking the east road through the commercial side of town again?”
“Neither.” Catching his fetlock, she dragged him down an unfamiliar road aimed towards the heart of Rockstead. Her next words came out with a grave certainty. “We’re taking the direct route. We need to do this. I need to do this. No more delays.”
Fine almost asked if she was sure about that. Almost. He had to admit, he’d been wondering when she’d finally push herself. His curiosity regarding her home hadn’t waned at all since they’d gotten here, but after the whole pancake incident he hadn’t wanted to press her. It was quickly becoming apparent that he had a discipline-related soft spot for her. He’d have pushed most ponies forward long before now. Why did he keep wanting to give Pinkie a pass?
Travelling through downtown Rockstead made the trip faster by hours. It also gave Fine the opportunity to see some of the governing buildings of the place, including the town hall and Royal Guard barracks. The latter of those was rather pathetic, and he doubted it held more than a half-dozen Royal Guards at any given time. Even Ponyville had something bigger than that. But then, Ponyville was right next to the capital of Equestria and hosted some of the most influential ponies in the country, so perhaps that made sense. Even if Rockstead was only a little smaller than Ponyville, culturally speaking it was a relative backwater.
Pinkie did her usual, greeting half the ponies they passed – by name if she’d met them once before. There was a strain to her cheer, however. A subtle thing, but Fine had been around her enough to notice how her smile wasn’t quite so wide as usual. It got worse as they got closer and closer to the edge of town. When they came upon the familiar road towards the farms, her smile was a feeble remnant of what it once was, valiantly struggling to hang on.
Only once the last pony had moved out of sight and they’d been alone on the road for a few minutes did she let her hair down. The motion came quickly, the curly locks dropping like anvils with a finality that made Fine suspect something. He didn’t speak. Didn’t study her. When he did glance her way, she was staring straight ahead with haunted eyes, blue pools that spoke of memories flitting across her vision.
When they passed the path to the river, Pinkie finally spoke up, her words solemn. “Do you think we deserve to be punished?”
He looked to her. She didn’t look back. “I felt like I was punishing myself every day and night for years.”
Her ears folded back. “How?”
He thought back on those first few years, years when he was aimless and hopeless, murdering because he couldn’t fight his own body. Nights of sleeping cold and alone on Manehattan streets. Or later, when he took to sneaking into the homes of ponies for shelter and dreading what might happen if he was found. And the kills. Staring at the bodies. Wondering why it wouldn’t end, why he wouldn’t end it. Because he could. He knew all along: he could.
Licking his lips and shuddering, he replied with a quiet, “By living.”
Pinkie paused, and Fine followed suit. A smaller, overgrown path left the road to their right. Pinkie’s gaze drifted to it, her face pallid and her body tense. Fine watched as her tail tucked between her legs and her head lowered nearly to the ground. Should he help her move on? “If—”
“This way.” She stepped past him. The first step on the path brought her to a sharp stop. She let out a whine that stabbed his heart, but after only a second the rest of her legs followed. Body hunched, knees shaking, she proceeded on to their destination. Fine followed close behind, ready to offer her support should she need it. They didn’t get very far before Pinkie slowed to a stop. Her head turned at a grinding pace towards some bushes to their left. Trembles attacked her entire body, from ear tip to hoof, and she soon fell to her haunches.
Without hesitation, Fine pressed against her side. Her shaking didn’t stop at all from the contact. A sickness ate at his heart when he realized how little his presence was doing for her. How was he supposed to help her? “Pinkie?”
“It was here,” she whispered, words chopped and breathless. “It was right here. My second time.”
Here? He allowed himself a second to check their surroundings. It was nothing special. Just a wooded spot on the path, the thick foliage making it impossible to see more than a foot or two beyond the road. Ahead was a curve, thin but leafy trees obscuring anything that might be beyond it. The main road was still visible, but some fifty yards away. It was a perfectly obscure place. The kind he had used for an assassination or two in his time.
Or let a powerful vision take hold. He brought his leg around her shoulder and fought down the urge to give her an out. Instead, he asked, “Do you want to tell me about it?”
She met his gaze, eyes watering and lip trembling. “I w-want my sister back.” Rubbing her eyes, she settled down to lay on the ground. She did so carefully, gradually, as if afraid to disturb the very grass beneath them. Once settled she spoke again. “Maud was my elder sister, and my absolute bestest best friend in the whole wide world. She never left my side after Surprise… after I k-killed Surprise. I would have done anything for her, I loved her so much.”
Now Fine suspected he knew where the ‘punishment’ topic had stemmed from. Keeping firmly pressed to her side, he nuzzled her cheek. “I’m sorry to ask, but how?”
“No, I need to say it, don’t I?” A ragged breath. “It was a couple weeks after I k-killed Surprise. Maud had been trying so hard to cheer me up. I think she was at the end of her rope. I don’t blame her. She didn’t know what I’d done, wouldn’t believe me when I said it was my fault. One day she brought me out for ice cream. One more attempt to help that fell flat.”
Pinkie nudged a peddle with the tip of her hoof, entire body sagging. “She bought me a balloon, too. A big green one with a pretty red cord. I… I liked balloons, and I appreciated what she was doing. So of course I took it. I took it. I wish I’d never done th-that.” Sniffing, she let her chin drop to the gravel. “I’d been a week without seeing a vision of me killing anypony. I thought I was safe. We were walking home. A vision hit. I didn’t… didn’t realize it was happening until it was too late.”
She brought both forehooves before her face, body hitching from suppressed sobs that tore into Fine’s heart with devilish abandon. He watched, transfixed, as she began rolling her hooves in a familiar motion, one he’d used himself a few times.
“Maud carried me. She had no way to know what was coming. Sh-she thought I was giving her a hug. I wrapped the balloon’s cord around my hooves, then bit down on it between them. Then I squeezed. She never even noticed I’d put it around her throat until…” Pinkie’s forelegs, hooves aimed at herself, grew tense as if she were pulling tight on something. They vibrated with the force she put into keeping them locked like that, her teeth gritting with visible effort. Tears began to drip off her cheeks as she continued the morbid demonstration.
“Maud was amazingly strong,” she whispered, legs still locked. “She could break solid boulders with her bare hooves and lift whole carriages as if they were paper. You’d think she’d have been able to rip me right off her back, but she couldn’t get to me. I was in that b-blind spot, the one most ponies can’t reach. She bucked and kicked and rolled and… a-and…” Pinkie’s body spasmed as a choked sob escaped her. “I th-think she tried to scream. I don’t know. I just remember how much fun I was having! Fun. Fun. Fun.”
Her legs continued to tremble, their shaking growing more violent as she began to hyperventilate. Fine came out of his tranced listening and gave her a light shove. “Pinkie? Pinkie!”
“Fun,” she hissed, eyes wide and wild, pupils tiny. A fleck of saliva flew from her peeled back lips. Her gaze wouldn’t leave her vibrating hooves. “Fun. Why was it fun? It shouldn’t have been fun. Fun. Fun! So much fun! What’s wrong with me? Fun. So m-much—”
Fine was at a loss. Was she simply reliving the moment? Should he find some way to stop her? He didn’t know! But to see her behaving like this, this familiar, hideous caricature of the mare he’d come to know, it left a cold emptiness inside him. “Pinkie!”
Abruptly, the tension in her legs left. Her eyes lost their mania as she let her hooves touch the ground again. Fresh tears flooded her face as she gazed at something invisible on the ground. “M-Maud? Sis?”
He caught her by the cheeks, forced her to look at him. He had to flash his horn to get her to properly focus on him, her dilated pupils shifting in tiny, jerky motions. “Pinkie? You with me?”
The confused, hurt expression on her face rapidly collapsed into despair. “I killed her. F-Fine, I killed my Maud. I-I’m evil, aren’t I? I—”
“No.” He held her face firmly, kept his eyes locked with hers. “No. It’s not your fault. You’re not evil. It was the vision, Pinkie. The Bloodmane. Nothing more. You hear me?”
If anything, her features only grew more desperate, her eyes crying out her pain. “Th-then why do I feel like a monster? Why do I…” She lunged forward, grasping him in a death grip, and wept with a ferocity that startled him. Too stunned to do anything else, he returned her embrace and listened to her pained cries that were nearly screams.
Only now did Fine fully understand the depth of what they were doing. In all his life, his murders had been ponies distant to him. Strangers, unknowns, criminals and thieves. He’d thought that he’d suffered. With every fresh stab of Pinkie’s sobs into his heart, he came to better know how simple things had been for him. All those years feeling sorry for himself, like he’d been cheated by fate, now felt paltry and selfish. What was his pain compared to hers?
It went so far beyond that, though. He remembered all the moments he’d taken for granted, all the ways she’d communicated to him her fear without him fully grasping it. Most of all, he remembered a hard night within the Crystal Caverns beneath Canterlot. He could still see her lying there, oozing blood from the wounds he’d given, listening as she spoke of returning to a life of murder and torment. She’d been so frightened. He’d seen it. He’d known it.
But he hadn’t really understood. Listening to her weep in his arms, feeling her desperate hold, his promises from back then felt so shallow. No wonder she pounced on an opportunity to have a friend with her experiences. No wonder she turned to him for understanding when she hid from all others. How could any reasonable pony expect forgiveness for something so terrible? She deserved better than his unaware, worthless promises. They’d been spoken in earnest, but that did nothing to alleviate their paltry nature.
He would do better. Pinkie was owed that much. By fate, if not by him.
“V-Verity?”
He pulled back to take in her visage. She was a mess, her face a wasteland of tears, her eyes red and her mane a tangled, frizzed ruin. “I’m here, Pinkie.”
She rubbed a fetlock across her muzzle. It came away covered in snot. She didn’t seem to notice. “Are you sure I’m n-not… evil?”
He somehow found it in him to smile warmly at her. Taking her hoof gently in his own, he lifted it up and magicked away the mess she’d made of it, never taking his eyes from hers. “Pinkie Pie, out of all the ponies I’ve met in my life, I think you might be the least villainous.”
Pinkie’s eyes widened just a fraction. “B-but that means I’m still at least a little villainous, right?”
It took a considerable effort to keep from being exasperated by her stubbornness. “Everyone is villainous to some degree, Pinkie. Even Fluttershy.”
Whatever she’d been about to say died on her tongue. Her brow became a mess of furrows and her eyes crossed. “Wait… Fluttershy? How in Equestria could you say that?”
Fine grinned, cleared his throat with a light cough, and then did a faux scream of “You’re going to love me!” The result had Pinkie giggling up a storm, accompanied by the occasional hiccup leftover from her earlier fit. Fine grinned and shook his head. “Yes, I can say that, because it’s true. We all have some capacity for villainy. You, Pinkie? You’re an angel.”
Her laughter faded, but her smile didn’t. She nudged the ground with the edge of her hoof and blushed. “Y-you’re just saying that to make me feel better.” Then the smile disappeared as well. “After all the things I did, I can’t possibly be a good pony.”
He scoffed. “You spend your days running a bakery and making ponies happy at every conceivable opportunity. You are a living embodiment of joy and laughter. Everything you do, even the selfish things, are done with the intention of making the lives of others better in some fashion. You, Pinkamena Diane Pie, are a paragon of goodness even in comparison to your companions.”
“But after all I did—”
“Do you think I’m evil?”
“Huh?” Her ears perked, lowered, perked again. She stared at him as if he’d just told her parties were stupid. “Don’t be silly. Why would I think you’re evil? You didn’t kill…” Her eyes fell once more, the energy fading all over again. “You didn’t kill family.”
“I killed, regardless,” he said firmly. “I killed dozens. And that’s before you count my job as an Archon, back when killing was my job. And then I became the Mane Archon. Do you know how many kill orders I’ve signed since I took this role?” He studied her, watching as she considered his words and avoided his gaze. “I honestly couldn’t tell you. Hay, I signed two of them in the days before we left for this vacation.” That earned him an alarmed look to which he only nodded solemnly. “That’s right. You didn’t think it stopped after I met you and discovered friendship, did you? Because Fluttershy already learned that in this I can’t be sidetracked.
“So if you think you’re evil,” he concluded, wrapping his hoof around her shoulder once more, “then you’ll have to look upon me as a bona fide King Sombra.”
She grew quiet, eyes on the ground. Chewing her lip, she mumbled to herself. Fine watched this, wondering if he’d reached her. He hoped so. The last thing he wanted was her feeling as if she were in any way a bad pony. The very idea that she could think of herself that way was appalling, and he refused to stand for it.
Time passed. Ten minutes, perhaps twenty. Pinkie continued to be lost in her own little world, and Fine was wary of pulling her out of it. She was thinking, and he hoped that was a good thing. Still, with no way of knowing how his little monologue had affected her he began to fret.
Abruptly, she stood up. “It’s time to go.”
He followed her lead, taken aback by her calm, stoic manner. How was he supposed to gauge that? She led him further along the path, silent save for the soft plodding of hooves in the dirt and rock. The trees and the bushes remained as thick as ever, and before long it felt like they were walking some wilderness trail far removed from civilization. A fork in the road saw Pinkie turn left without pause. Fine began to wonder about her quiet manner. Perhaps it was only because they were so close to her old home. That warranted some solemnity. So even though he deeply questioned the wisdom of it, he kept his mouth closed and let Pinkie lead him on.
Then, at a curve in the road, the trees and shrubs vanished. Fine and Pinkie paused in tandem to stare at a long, grey field of dirt, rock, and grass. The grass in particular appeared as an invader, something that didn’t belong in the scene before them. The plain, perfectly flat, stretched on so far Fine had no hope of determining its size, even though an end was clearly marked in the distance by a thin line of green. Dead center of this dreary, lifeless landscape sat a farmhouse. Plain, two stories, apparently made from wood, with a ceiling of thatch. The home appeared dilapidated and neglected, with one wall caved in and holes visible in the roof even at this distance. Nearby was a silo, presumably for storing rocks, that had toppled over some time past. The windmill still stood, though its wheel didn’t move in the light breeze. A barn, not unlike that belonging to the Apple Family, stood nearby, short and stout and seemingly untouched by the passing of years. Cutting clear across the landscape was a ravine of indeterminate depth, like a scar on the face of Equestria.
If Fine had to describe in a single word, he would have said ‘bleak’.
“I’m home,” Pinkie whispered. There was no energy to her words, neither joyous or fearful. It was as if she had lost all her emotions and become as dull as the land before them. Fine looked to her, then to the farm. That she had somehow come out of a place so dry as this seemed like nothing short of a miracle.
Without another word, she began to walk down the hill. Fine kept at her side, close enough that he could lend a hoof should she need it. Her eyes remained locked on the old farmhouse with every slow step. The sun beat down on them in the open plain, but even so the air felt cool. They passed a fence, the gate of which had disappeared with only the old, rusted hinges left to suggest there’d ever been one. Pinkie’s legs began to shake again, but even so she plodded ever onward, movements stiff and tail tucked.
She only stopped when they were a few yards away from the front door, which somehow remained in place. Pinkie was taking her breaths in slow gasps at this point, her chest and shoulders heaving. Fine’s worry only grew with every passing second. Should he take her away from here? Maybe it was too soon. He watched as her wide eyes gradually lowered to the ground before them.
He couldn’t take it anymore. “Pinkie.”
A choking sound rose from her throat. She reached a hoof forward and touched at the spot just in front of her with intense care, as if doing so were a sacred act. “G-Granny…”
He looked to the spot on the ground. It appeared no different from everything else around them. His eyes darted back to her. “Pinkie?”
Sucking in a deep breath, she turned away from the farmhouse. “N-not yet,” she muttered. “I can’t go in there. Th-this way, okay?” She walked along the side of the house, keeping it at a great distance from herself. Fine frowned, glanced at the spot once more, then followed. His eyes drifted to the house, which was in a far better state than it had seemed at a distance. Yes, that one wall was still collapsed and there were holes in the roof, but ignoring that it appeared structurally sound. Even the windows were intact, albeit with a thick coat of dirt and dust.
Even so, it felt so very… lonely.
Pinkie brought him round the corner, where they encountered a massive rock that reminded Fine of an egg. The thing towered almost as tall as the farmhouse itself, and was sectioned off by a separate wooden fence.
“Holder’s Boulder,” Pinkie said with a hint of curiosity in her tone. “We treated it like it was some super important landmark, but I never understood why. I think there was a story to it, but… but nopony got a chance to tell it to me.”
Curious. Fine wondered if any of the townsponies knew the story. He elected not to ask that now. Pinkie was clearly moving towards something specific, and he didn’t dare interrupt. Killing her momentum now might undo everything they’d been working for on this trip. They continued on, headed for the massive gash in the plains.
Until the barn came into view. The instant it did, Pinkie froze. Back came the shivers and gasping breaths, only this time far more intense. Fine stopped at her side, but she barely registered his presence. She could see it. It. The barn.
“Pinkie?”
Fine’s voice was like a whisper. She ignored it. Swallowing to moisten her dry throat, she exercised all her willpower just to turn her head in the direction of that building. Was she still there? Was she watching?
No. Get a hold of yourself. She’s not there.
“Pinkie.”
It’s all in your head. Y-you should get it over with now. Now. Now. Take Fine over there and…
Pinkie.
A faint whimper scratched its way out of the tight confines of her throat. Stop thinking about it.
Pinkie.
Stop thinking about it.
Her eyes burned from the need to blink. She could hear something… wind?
Pinkie.
Stop thinking about her.
It looked at her. Pale mane. Hidden face. But it looked.
Pinkie!
She tried to move away. Tried to scream. She could do neither. Don’t think about her!
“Pinkie!”
Her vision was blocked. She reared back with a choked sound that she’d meant to be a shriek and flailed her hooves. Fine caught both of them with his magic and pushed her back with it, walking in step with her as he did. Pinkie’s eyes darted from his to the barn. There was nothing…
But the door was open.
She jerked right out of Fine's magical grip. Galloping with all her might, past Holder’s Boulder, away from the farmhouse and into the abandoned rock field. Tears streamed down her face. She struggled to breath, struggled to think. Somepony was calling for her. Somepony? Her? She closed her eyes tight and desperately sucked in air. She should have known better, should have—
She slammed into something soft, and an instant later was on the ground in a tangle of hooves. Fine was on top of her before she could scramble back up, pinning her forelegs to her sides and sitting on her barrel. She kicked her hind legs, squirmed and twisted and shook, but Fine’s hold was firm. “We… We… Run… Have to… Sorry… R-Run…” Why couldn’t she get anything out? Hyperventilating! She tried to twist and see past him, see if she was there, if she was coming, but she couldn’t—
Fine wrapped her in a tight hug around the shoulders. “It’s okay, Pinkie. I’ve got you. Breathe. You hear me? Breathe. With me. One. Two. In. Out. Breathe. Come on.” He continued to talk, repeating, counting. Unwittingly, she began to follow his instructions, then became more aware of what she was doing. Her hooves vibrated, but she still managed to return the embrace. She made herself breathe through her nose. Slow, deep inhales and exhales. Her heart was like a hummingbird overloaded on sugar, but with every long breath it slowed its pace. She pressed her chin to his shoulder, tried to look beyond him, but there was nothing. Only blue sky.
An attempt to make a sound found her voice worked again despite the painful scratchiness of her throat. “Can we go? P-please?”
Barely had the last word left her mouth than smoke filled her vision. She felt the familiar shift of air around her, and when the smoke cleared they were back on the forested path. She didn’t let Fine go, and neither did he relax his hold on her. They lay there for a long time, Pinkie fighting back tears and Fine as silent as the grave. She was exhausted, but she kept glancing around, expecting to see… she didn’t know what. Something. Maybe her.
By the time either of them moved, the shadows of the trees had shifted noticeably. Fine rose up, stretching his hind legs as he did. She made no attempt to follow, instead letting her arms fall limp. She kept her gaze on the canopy, blinking as the light broke through the leaves and flashed into her eyes. She wasn’t sure she had the energy to even try standing.
And still, Fine said nothing. He flashed his horn, summoning forth the two jars of soup, and proceeded to open them. The pleasant aroma reached her nostrils within seconds of the lids falling off. He set one jar down by her side and sipped quietly on his own. At no point did he look at her. She realized he was giving her space for her own recovery time. Did she appreciate that? She couldn’t be sure. She couldn’t be sure of anything anymore.
Without getting up, and in a hollow voice she barely recognized as her own, she asked, “Do you believe in ghosts?”
He paused, mouth full of soup, and looked at her. There was concern in his gaze, but also a strange kind of awareness. He took a while to swallow, perhaps to give himself time to think. Then he wiped his lips with the back of his fetlock and carefully, by hoof, put his jar down.
“Yes.”
Not the answer she’d expected. Turning her head to him, she asked, “Have you ever seen one?”
He continued to stare at her. What was that expression? She couldn’t place it. Like a pony who knows a deep truth and afraid to share it yet is being confronted by the need. Wide, round eyes, tightly pressed lips, shoulders tense.
“I’ve seen a lot of things in my career,” he finally answered, his words coming slowly. “I don’t know if those things qualify as ‘ghosts’ or not, but they leave me with no doubt that such things exist.”
She forced herself into a sitting position, her movements slow. Once properly on her haunches, she took the jar of soup in both hooves, but didn’t drink. “So if I said I thought the farm was haunted, you… you wouldn’t think I’m crazy?”
He thought on this for a moment, looking down the road past her as he did. “I would say that I don’t know anywhere near enough about such things. So if you say you saw a ghost, I’ll believe you.” His eyes met hers. “Did you see a ghost?”
“I don’t know,” she confessed, looking deep into her jar of soup as if it might hold the answer. “I saw… something. M-maybe it’s in my head. Maybe I’m just being a paranoid, nutty Pinkie Pie. I have done something like that before.”
He hummed and nodded. “The birthday incident, right?” To her alarmed look he replied, “Rainbow told me about it once.”
“Oh.” Wonderful, Rainbow was telling others about her breakdowns? She thought that pony was supposed to be loyal! No, no, calm down, Pinkie Pie. Rainbow had to confide in somepony, right? Who better than Fine Crime? “L-like I said, I have a history of seeing things that aren’t there.”
“That doesn’t mean what you saw wasn’t important.” He leaned towards her. “Do you want to tell me about it?”
She licked her lips. Did she want to tell him about it? She turned in place, staring at the road behind her. Would it make her feel better if she did? Or, if what she was seeing wasn’t an illusion, maybe it would only make her more upset. She was upset. She had to be.
Pinkie would be in her place.
“No. Not yet.” She turned forward and took a drink of her soup. “Sorry.”
“Don’t be.” Settling back on his haunches, he took his own soup in his magic, but didn’t eat. “Honestly, I never thought you’d react so poorly to being here. I…” He glanced away, mumbled something to himself. Shook his head. “I’d understand if you wanted to call the whole thing off.”
“No.” The word came with a firmness that surprised her. “I did better this time. We made it all the way to the back of the house. I can do this! I j-just need to work my way up to it.”
Another of those long silences passed between them. Pinkie wondered if she shouldn’t be warier of those. But then, Fine tended to take his time before speaking. He thought about his words a lot. She shouldn’t take it as a sign that things were getting awkward, no matter how it might feel. She wasn’t anxious at all, no. Not after having a terrible freak-out and talking like a crazy pony. Or after stupidly forgetting the she had a life-or-death problem with her tummy that made them have to spend an entire day starving. Or that they were currently sipping on soups because he felt obligated to remind her of the aforementioned tummy problem.
He should be mad at me. Is he mad at me? I can’t tell when he’s going all Twilight Sparkle thinky mode on me. Oh, face it, Pinkamena, you’ve screwed this up ten times too many. He probably okay no he doesn’t hate me, but he’ll never want to be my coltfriend at this rate. Maybe that’s for the better. I’m all muddled up in the noggin. He is too, but I’m so much worse. And now I’ve got her on my case and he probably doesn’t want anything to do with that oh why did I bring her up she might not even be real! I’m just being a stupid, gullible, seeing-things-that-aren’t-there dummyPie who doesn’t deserve Fine’s friendship much less—
“You’re not eating?”
She jolted out of her thoughts. Fine was watching her, concern clear on his face. Oh, great! Now you’ve got him thinking you’re not eating. Good job, Pinkamena, you stupid pony. She put the lid on her jar of soup and tucked it away in her mane. “I’m not hungry right now,” she muttered, ignoring her empty stomach.
He watched her do this, then sidled a little closer. Fidgeting, eyes unable to focus on her, he reached up to touch her shoulder. “Pinkie… I, uh, got a letter from Luna.”
Her heart sank. Oh, no. Now he’s coming up with an excuse to leave me behind. Eyes on her hooves, she asked, “Okay?”
Brushing his mane back with his free hoof, he asked, “Are you having… nightmares? Maybe related to this ghost?”
A cauldron buried deep within Pinkie’s soul ignited, and the boiling energy that resulted hit her before she knew it. “Oh, is she sneaking into my private moments now? Having fun watching me squirm like taffy over a fire? You can tell her that if she doesn’t want to help me then she can just butt out!”
“Whoa, whoa!” Pupils shrunk, Fine waved his hooves as if to ward off a blow. “Calm down. She only asked me to talk to you about it.”
“Well maybe I don’t want to talk about it!” Crossing her hooves, Pinkie turned her head with a huff. “And here I thought it was her job to help ponies get over their nightmares. I guess she couldn’t bother with freaky Pinkie’s dreams. I’m too coco in the loco.”
Perhaps when he realized she wouldn’t say more, he spoke, his tone weary. “If this defensive posturing is meant to make me give up, it won’t.” At her one-eyed glower, he added, “You’re only making me more confident that something’s wrong, you know.”
“There’s nothing—!”
“Denying it only convinces me more.”
She puffed out her cheeks and growled even as she berated herself for her anger. It’s not him you’re mad at. You’re mad at Luna, and you shouldn’t use Fine as a bucking bag! “Well, maybe if—” Do not take it out on him! “It’s not that I—” Don’t lie to him either!
Fine watched her going through these wild emotions with a long, depressed frown. “Why are you so upset?”
“Because I’m being stupid!” She threw up her hooves, toppled backwards, and landed on her back with a puff of dirt and leaves. “I don’t even know why I’m mad, but I am! I was supposed to show you the mines and I couldn’t even get past the farmhouse. I wanted to tackle two things today and I barely managed one. I’m making you miserable by being a Forgetter Forgettingpants and made you starve all day yesterday and now you’re eating soups and you had to chase me down because I’m also a Scaredy McScaredy and can’t get over my fears even though that’s the whole point and I’m wasting your time and you’re probably going to be mad at me now and I need to shut up but I just feel so stupid and I can’t stop thinking that stupid stupid stupid!”
With all that released, her inner cauldron was reduced to a simmer. She sucked in some sharp gasps, glaring at the sky through the forest canopy and ignoring the burning in her eyes. “Stupid tears,” she muttered. She waited for Fine to agree with her. He might not even do that. Perhaps he’d just teleport away and leave her to her misery. She certainly had it coming.
“Oh, are you finished?”
She blinked, then raised her head to stare at him over her chest. “Huh?”
Fine was examining his hoof with a bored expression. “Sorry, I’m just waiting for you to be done.”
Pinkie’s mental highway was threatening to become one great big pileup. “W-what’s that supposed to mean?”
He shrugged. “You’re depressed. You’re angry. And that will all blow over.”
“Blow over?” She bounced to her hooves, all the better to level her best glare at him. “You think this will just blow over? Do you have any idea how serious this is? I’m a mess, a ruin, a party with no reservations, and now I’m seeing things and having nightmares and I haven’t had a good night’s sleep since we got here and you… you…” Her throat burned as fresh tears ran down her cheeks. “It can’t just blow over! I don’t know how to deal with this. I can’t deal with this! I’m s-so scared and now you’re gonna hate me a-and—”
Fine held her. She’d not even noticed his approach, but his grip was tight and his body warm. “That’s it, Pinkie. Let it out. Let it all out.”
She stood no chance. Before she knew it, she was wailing into his shoulder, arms wrapped tight to him. Her mind was fraught with chaos, enough to put Discord to shame, and she didn’t know whether to be furious or ashamed or just plain old miserable. For now, misery won out. She bawled until her throat burned and his shoulder was soaked in her tears, and then she bawled some more. She couldn’t think for all the raw emotion bursting out of her.
But Fine remained. Through it all, he was like a rock, one that she desperately needed. Just like when she was a little filly, back when she would squeeze herself against a nice warm boulder that might protect her against all the scariness of the world. When she was too frightened to face her parents, when Maud was not around to protect her, when Limestone couldn’t give a damn, at least there was that boulder. She clung to it, to him, as one hopeful thought punched its way into her muddled and ravaged consciousness:
Fine would be her boulder.
At last, she upturned her cauldron and began righting the highways. The tears stopped flowing and the hundreds of Pinkie Pies stopped panicking. But she didn’t let go of Fine, nor he of her. They clung to one another long after the shivers ceased and her heartbeat eased. She’d collapsed at some point, supported only by his strong grip. It wasn’t the most comfortable of positions, but she couldn’t bring herself to pull away. In the end, neither of them was able to break the standoff.
So her stomach, apparently having had enough, growled its disapproval.
Pinkie flinched. Fine followed suit. A second passed. They giggled in unison, and at last began to pull apart. But Fine caught her cheeks in his hooves before she could get too far away, his red eyes calm and pleasant. “Pinkie?”
She swallowed to moisten her throat. “Y-yes?”
His words were slow and soothing, and his eyes demanded all her attention. “I know you feel like a monster. But remember, I was a monster first. I’m not going to let you go through this alone. You’ll get through this, Pinkamena. I Pinkie Promise.”
She let out a small gasp. “F-Fine! You can’t Pinkie Promise that. What if I can’t—”
He shushed her, brushing her long, straight mane aside as he did. “None of that, now. None of that. You know better than I do: a Pinkie Promise is never broken. You stumbled, that’s all. It’s to be expected.” He pulled away, but before releasing her cheeks added, with the sweetest of smiles, “I believe in you.”
The world felt so much colder when he let go. Pinkie wanted nothing more than to pounce on him right then and there, but held herself back. Somehow. Instead, she tried to convey her appreciation with a smile, knowing it was woefully inadequate for the task. “Th-thank you. I’m sorry I’m being so difficult.”
Her ears went flat as her stomach interrupted what she had meant to say next. Scowling, she poked her tummy with the edge of her hoof. “Quiet, you! I’m trying to have a touching moment, here.”
Fine laughed and pointed to her mane. “Maybe you should just eat and get it over with.”
Rolling back her head, she moaned. “Oh, alright, then. Since it’s gotta be all pushy and stuff.” She pulled her nearly full jar of soup back out of her mane and popped the lid off. As she did she took a good look at the sky through the forest canopy. It looked like it was well past noon. But hadn’t it been morning when they’d first come down this path? That breakdown must have taken longer than she’d thought.
As she started to eat – slowly, so as to not upset her stomach (boy, was it finnicky lately!) – Fine settled down on his barrel. He observed her for a few moments in contemplative silence, and she tried not to think too much about what was going through his mind.
He waited until she’d gulped down the entire jar to speak. “When you’re ready,” he said slowly, perhaps cautiously, “you’ll talk to me about the dreams, won’t you?” She met his hopeful gaze. She knew what he wanted to hear. And, truth be told, she found she really wanted to say it. But was it the right time?
Somehow, she didn’t think it would help. Not yet, not until he had the big picture. But soon…
“Soon,” she said with a small nod. “If I can just get a little further in this, explain a little more.” She tapped her hooftips together and ducked her head a little. “Is that okay?”
He nodded, offering her a wan smile. “That’s fine. A goal like that can help, I think. I’ll be here when you’re ready.”
She believed him.
That made all the difference in the world.