Thunderhoof's memoirs
Do I want things, in life? Sure. I could write a whole book about it. I've even got a title for it: What I want. By Thunderhoof Butterscotch: a nice gin and tonic. A carrot. Money. The last ten years of my life back. But do I want something else, apart than things I already have? Something impossible to have? I don't know. In a way, not knowing what you want is not wanting anything at all. I had goals, back when I was in the Army, in spite of what my mother said. But deep down, she was right. I don't have hopes, anymore. I don't have dreams. I only have high standards and nightmares now.
Every night, I go to bed, feeling the same twitching in my right foreleg. Every night, I go to bed, their screams rocking me to sleep. Why am I still here? Am I here only to torture myself over my past mistakes? Am I here just to make myself suffer? I can see the comrades I lost. My true family. It's like they're all still here.
But I've been trying to change all of that. I'm going to try and give my life a purpose. During my life, I've seen ponies desperately trying to rebuild the past, and others trying to build a future for themselves. And for far too long, I've been stuck in the middle...
"So... there," said Thunderhoof, finishing his explanation as to how and why the criminals had kidnapped Fluttershy. "It's basically my fault."
"So, let's get this clear," said Twilight. She cleared her throat. "You were hired by Canta Del Pronto to track down a witness. But as you cornered him, some gangsters cornered you, and you had to fight your way out."
"Yes."
"So, to lay low, you came to Ponyville, and stayed at Octavia's house. But the gangsters tracked you down to Ponyville, and, as all the hotels are closed, they assumed you'd be staying at Fluttershy's Bed and Breakfast."
"Also yes. Again, I'm sorry about what happened." Thunderhoof ruffled his wings nervously.
"Thunderhoof," said Twilight, soothingly. "I don't see how any of this is your fault." She smiled at the investigator, to try and raise his spirits, but it only seemed to worsen his feelings.
"That's what I try telling myself," explained Thunderhoof. "But... well, what I want to think and what I do think are two different things. When you're in the combat zone, sometimes, you screw up. And when you look back at these screw-ups, you think that you'd have done things differently. But that's not how it works. What's done is done."
"I know exactly what you mean," said Twilight.
"You do?"
"Yes. No. Well, sort of. A while ago, I had a veteran in this very room," explained Twilight. "He had faced the same problems as you do. Guilt, a lack of self-worth, and... well, even though he explained all of it to me, I don't think I can possibly fathom all of the pain and heartache he went through. I don't think I ever will. I don't think that I can fully understand yours, either. Nopony who isn't a veteran can."
Thunderhoof stayed silent.
"However," said Twilight, standing up, "I think I know somepony who, well... she hasn't been through war, but she can explain that sort of thing better. How about we go and see her?"
"Cadance speaks very highly of you," said Twilight.
"I bet she does," responded Thunderhoof, a hint of annoyance in his voice. He didn't like receiving comments about his personal life from strangers.
"She loves you very much," continued Twilight. "She worries about you."
"Where are we going?" asked Thunderhoof, trying to change the subject.
"To the hospital," answered Twilight.
"Are we seeing a psychiatrist?"
"Not exactly."
As they entered the hospital, Nurse Redheart, who was on duty, welcomed Thunderhoof and Twilight. "Good morning, Your Highness. Good morning, sir."
"Hello," said Twilight. "We're here to see Fluttershy."
"We are?" asked Thunderhoof, surprised. "I mean..."
"It'll be alright," said Twilight, as they both followed the nurse down the hall.
"She was badly injured," explained Redheart, "but the doctor said that there won't be any long-term physical trauma if the right treatment is given."
"What about the others?" asked Thunderhoof.
"That's another story," answered the nurse. "One of them is comatose, and all of the others have sustained some heavy injuries that'll follow them for the rest of their lives. They're being transferred somewhere else next week."
Next to the door to Fluttershy's room, there was a humongous pile of flowers and get-well cards, almost the entirety of which came from the Equestrian Veterans' Foundation. There was also a table on which a large metal box had been placed, with a label on it which read 'Fluttershy's medical bill'. As he walked by, the investigator filled the box with as many gold bits as he could. As he did so, Twilight looked at him, in a mix of pity and admiration.
"I've gotta warn you, though," said the nurse, carefully placing her hoof on the door. "She's pretty jumpy." She pushed the door open gently, and asked "Miss? Princess Twilight is here to see you."
She opened the door a bit more, and let the royal and the major in.
"Hello, Fluttershy," said Twilight, in a gentle voice.
"Hi, Twilight," answered Fluttershy, groggily.
The yellow filly was... worse for wear, to say the least. She had some bandages wrapped around her head, her right wing was being held up by a metallic contraption, and the rest of her body was hidden by her bed sheets. But despite her injuries, she was still smiling as she looked at her friend. A truly heartwarming sight.
"Had any visitors?" asked the princess.
"Not many," answered Fluttershy. "I had a few soldiers. They were very gentle, they didn't want to bother me, so they didn't stay long. They've all been so charming."
"Hello," said Thunderhoof, sheepishly.
Fluttershy looked at the investigator, and smiled as she saw the guilt on his face. "I'll never be able to thank you enough for what you did," she said. "Thunderhoof, isn't it?"
"Yes, that's me," said The investigator.
"Thunderhoof had something to tell you," said Twilight. "But I think he wants to tell you in private."
As Twilight made her way to the door, Thunderhoof thought of protesting, but Twilight was out of the room before he could say 'no'. Instead, he sat down next to the filly's bed, and she placed her hoof on his.
"What I wanted to tell you, erm... well, I don't really know how to put this... what happened was my fault."
Fluttershy looked surprised. "How so?"
Thunderhoof explained his case in the same way he'd explained it to Twilight. When he'd finished, he looked down, ashamed.
"It isn't your fault," said Fluttershy. "Once, when the Map called us over to solve the feud between the Hoofields and the McColts, we tried to have the Hoofields apologize, and maybe talk. But that only made the fighting worse. We finally did manage to bring peace, but we momentarily made it worse."
"How does that compare?" asked Thunderhoof.
"Well," said Fluttershy. "You won't find this in our journal, but one of the lessons we learnt on that day was that sometimes, doing the right thing- or at least, trying- makes things worse. Good fights Evil. And sometimes, by doing good, you contribute to creating evil."
Thunderhoof let Fluttershy's words sink in. She was about a decade younger than him, and he felt like she was a million times wiser than him.
"Do you create it? In a way. Did you know that by fighting those ponies in Canterlot, you'd cause others to come and attack me? No. Is it your fault? No."
"Thanks," said Thunderhoof. "I guess..."
"My pleasure. But you look sad," said Fluttershy, blushing. "I mean, I didn't want to offend you, but, erm, it's, er..."
"That's okay. I'm sorry, I just still feel guilty. It's been the case for years. That's all."
"Years?" asked Fluttershy. "Is that from the army? If you don't mind me asking."
"Yes," said Thunderhoof. "Survivor's guilt, they called it. That's the feeling you get when you lose all of your squadmates. Those ponies were like family to me. But they died, when- when they had just as much to live for than I. And the worst thing is that... I'm aware of my guilt. I'm aware that it's holding me back, that I should move on with my life... and every day, I wake up, thinking that the day after, my guilt will have vanished. Every day, I mean to move on. But one day, I woke up... and three years had gone by."
"Have you ever read Princess Luna's books?" asked Fluttershy
"No," answered Thunderhoof, dryly. "No, I haven't."
"Well, erm... In Trauma in the Modern Veteran, she wrote that survivor's guilt is a bit like a phantom pain. In a way. You lost your brothers-in-arms. And just as if you'd lost a part of yourself, you feel as if the brothers you lost were still there, with you."
"That's... that's it, yeah."
"But consider this," said Fluttershy, "and you won't find this in her book. I can feel that you carry hate, including some that you direct at yourself. Remorse. Thoughts of worthlessness. Regret. But think of them. Think of your brothers, who are looking down at you, imploring you to move on and forgive yourself. They're telling you to live, to love, and to laugh. They love you, no matter what you think you did. No matter how many times you cry and torture yourself over their loss, it won't bring them back. But you have to forgive yourself. Honour their memory, but fight day and night to preserve yourself. Fight for the living, Thunderhoof. And one day, these lost brothers won't be like limbs that you've lost. They'll be part of you. Of your heart. Move on, Thunderhoof. Live."
Thunderhoof, once again, sat in awe in front of Fluttershy. He remembered why he was there. He remembered every single day of his years spent in the Army. Fluttershy had opened his eyes, and now, the point of his life seemed crystal clear, like a splendid summer sky.
His mother had been unforgivably nasty. His foalhood had been hard. Some of his brothers-in-arms were in hospital, and some were dead. But it was alright. Or at least, it was better than it had ever been.