They returned to the safehouse, and by the time they got there, Night’s fear turned to anger. He didn’t say anything to Twilight as they walked and didn’t speak to her as they walked inside the small warehouse he owned on the edge of Las Pegasus. He said nothing as he charged forward into the room and slammed his hooves into a table.
Twilight watched and said nothing.
Night slammed the table again, and again and again, before he finally sat down, fuming.
Twilight waited a while longer before she stepped forward and sat next to him. Night looked away and didn’t even glance in her direction. The Princess didn’t immediately push him, not did she demand his attention. She simply sat next to him and waited.
Night said nothing.
“Did you get the diamond?” Twilight asked gently after another few minutes.
Night grumbled. “I got it. I stuffed it back into the dragon’s bag with a note. He should know that there’s a fake in the box. The job’s done.”
Twilight nodded. “Are you alright?” she asked.
“Fine.”
Twilight didn’t believe it, but she also knew she couldn’t make him talk without violating his privacy at the very least. It didn’t really matter right now, though. After all, she didn’t become the “Princess of Friendship” without being patient with her friend’s secrets. “Okay,” she said, “we’ll talk about it later.”
Night shook his head. “Doubt it.”
“We’re not talking about it right now,” Twilight repeated, “but we will talk about it.”
Night shook his head. “Seriously doubt it.”
Twilight raised an eyebrow before a flash of magic removed her hideous disguise, and she drew all of her regal bearing into her sentence. “We’re not talking about it now, but we will talk about it.”
Night didn’t reply.
“I’m going to get us some dinner,” she said. “Then I’ll probably stay the night. The others aren’t going to expect me back at the castle until tomorrow anyway.”
“Fine,” Night said.
Twilight nodded and stepped away, heading back out of the safehouse long enough to run her errands.
Night sat in the safehouse alone before he shoved the table. “Great, now the Princess thinks you’re a nut. Great job, Night,” he muttered to himself. “Next, she’ll want to examine you like she’s some kind of shrink!”
He sighed before he set the table back into place. He took another breath and slowly began to peel his outfit off of him, calming down as he waited for Twilight to return.
She wanted to talk about it. Night shook his head. Why anypony would care to talk about it was beyond him. Sure, it made a great sob-story, but that stopped helping him when he turned, what, eleven? And before that, so few ponies believed it that it barely helped to begin with.
“Stupid dragon. Who does he think he is, strangling me like that?” he muttered to himself.
He got the table back to some semblance of normalcy before he turned to the rest of the room. He erased his blackboard, set a couple of places at his table, and continued to work on a few busy-body tasks before Twilight returned.
She brought a few plastic bags filled with Chineighse take out. She slipped a box of lo mein in front of him and a box of rice for herself before she sat at the table and began to eat. Night picked at his meal for a second, using a fork to spin the noodles around his plate.
Twilight waited for a moment, scooping the rice up and into her mouth before she stared at Night.
Night stared back at her over his dish. He could feel how quiet she was being, and he really didn’t like the expectation that now sat on him. He set his fork down before he sighed. “It’s nothing important,” he said.
“Friends listen to friends, no matter how important or unimportant their worries may seem,” Twilight said. “I learned that one a long time ago. I nearly enslaved a town to chase after a doll for all eternity because of that. It’s a long and funny story, really.”
Night raised an eyebrow.
“You’d be surprised how easy it is to accidentally enslave a town,” Twilight said. “All the more reason for me to listen to exactly what the problem is.”
Night sighed. “A very good turn around, Princess,” he replied before picking up his fork again to skewer his noodles and spin them around. ‘“I grew up in an orphanage and a few foster homes. And a couple of them were awful.”
Twilight listened.
“And I just had a bit of flashback, is all, when the dragon grabbed me by the neck.”
Twilight listened and nodded. “I’m sorry.”
“I don’t want your pity.”
“It’s not pity,” she said. “It’s sympathy.”
“Well, I don’t want that, either,” Night said. “It’s fine.”
Twilight stared at him, and he felt himself wither under her stare. It wasn’t a harsh glare or cynical sneer; he could have handled those. He could have even shrugged off a judgemental look. No, her stare was calm and soft and understanding.
And that was somehow worse.
She ate her food quietly before she stood. “Eat up. I’ve got to blow up my mattress.”
Night didn’t say anything but stared down into his plate.
---$---
Twilight was having trouble sleeping again. This time, she couldn’t blame Night’s cot, though the mattress wasn’t incredibly comfortable either. Instead, she knew, she simply had too much on her mind.
Between stealing the gem, slipping it back into the dragon’s bag, only for him to nearly strangle Night left her with more nervous energy than she thought she had. Would the dragon believe the note Night left behind, or would he try and get the gem back out there, out of pride? She knew several dragons who would.
She rolled over and stared at the warehouse’s empty space, which she could barely see in the darkness. A large, open space, a void that she felt more than saw, stretched in front of her. Nothing stirred in the dark, though her wild, wandering thoughts kept conjuring movements and sounds that were so quiet she had to frequently ask herself if she imagined them or not.
She at least had some sense of comfort with her back to the wall, no matter how simple it may be. Still, her overworked mind played with the darkness, moving shadows in twisting patterns of worry and overthinking.
Something shifted in the dark, Night twisting in his bed with the nearly deafening sound of fabric rubbing against fur. Twilight glanced toward him, though she couldn’t see more than a dark blob in the corner. He went still again, having not said anything beyond ‘goodnight’ since their conversation at dinner.
Night twisted again.
Twilight watched the blob for a moment or two more before she re-adjust to try to go to sleep.
Night shifted again, and a whimper escaped him.
Twilight glanced up and watched as the blob rolled again. His hooves reached into the air, and he twisted, frantically. More whimpers and half-formed cries reached her ears as he flailed.
The alicorn stood, Creating a light of Energy next to her as she quickly approached the sleeping thief.
---$---
“Where is the little Shade?” the voiced boomed like thunder, and Night ran to hide. The hallways were empty, nowhere to hide. All he could do was run.
“Get the little shadow!” another voice called, urging Night to run faster.
It was too bright. Too bright everywhere. He couldn’t find any shadows to hide in. No safety, nothing to keep him hidden.
The sound of cracking stone echoed behind him, and he knew that Foster Care was behind him, a large club in his hooves. “Boy, you better get back here!”
Night kept running, looking for anything to hide him, a dark corner, or a table to duck under. He needed something!
“You need to learn to be proper, boy! Stop hiding!”
He couldn’t stop.
He found the Door. It swung open silently, revealing the basement below. “Come, child,” the Darkness said, its voice sinister and wispy. “Come, hide, be safe…”
Night ran for it, without even looking back.
The Darkness was cold but welcomed him with open, grasping arms. It embraced him tightly and dug its claws into him. He soared down into the basement on chained wings of black.
And he was safe.
The Light from the open basement door couldn’t reach him down here. Its bands of brilliance could not stand the all-consuming Darkness. It ate the Light as Night fell, and the Darkness’s massive teeth were already beginning to close around him. The icy death grip clung to his fur and chilled his bones till he shook.
But Night was safe.
And then the Light got brighter. It shot forward with blinding radiance, cutting at the arms of the Darkness around him, it screamed in pain, and Night couldn’t help but feel his heart swell as his protection was hurt.
He glanced at the Light, and he went blind. His eyes weren’t made for its majesty, and they dissolved in his head. His skin began to burn, for it could not exist alongside its beauty.
A figure he could not see with his eyes but that his mind recognized reached out for him, wings spread wide and her horn piercing his shelter. Her fur was a brilliant, golden-white, burning like the sun as the Darkness melted around and with him. “Come to me,” she said, her voice familiar, in a way that seemed wrong to him.
Night reached out, but his arm turned to ash. It would not mar the immaculate perfection of the Light.
“Come to me,” the figure ordered again, and Night so dearly wished he could, but he belonged to the Darkness, and he could not stand before her.
His other arm reached out, and it too melted away.
He was too far gone.
“Night?” the figure called.
“No,” he said, as his body began to dissipate before her.
“Night, are you okay?” she said again.
Night shook his head, and then he began to realize that he knew that voice.
“Night! Night!”
It was Twilight’s voice.
“Night!”
The thief started awake, glancing around with wide and wild eyes, taking in everything he could. Twilight stood beside his cot; a hoof held up as though pulled back from his sudden reaction.
In fact, now that his brain was moving, that’s precisely what happened.
There were no sounds outside, the warehouse was quiet, and the only light was the small light spell the Princess had by her side.
“Are you okay?” she asked, concern in her voice. “You were...well, it sounded like you were having a nightmare.”
Night breathed heavily, adrenaline pumping through his veins. “Yeah,” he said. “Yeah, I’m fine.”
Twilight looked at him, obviously unconvinced.
“It’s nothing you need to worry about, Princess,” he said.
“Well, I am worrying about it,” she said, “whether I need to or not.”
Night turned away from her, annoyance on his face.
“Night,” she said, her tone hardening.
“Don’t bother, Princess,” Night said. “I’m not worth the time or effort.”
“Night,” she said again, as though warning him.
“Just...just go to sleep, Princess. Everything will be better in the morning.”
Twilight glared at him for a long time, even as he rolled back over, leaving his back toward her. She stared as his breathing began to slow, and as he forcibly closed his eyes, until she sighed. “We’re not done talking about this,” she said. “We’ll have this conversation.”
“Sure, Princess,” Night muttered as he pulled his blankets tighter.
Twilight shook her head and climbed back into her own bed, unable to shake the feeling that she lost this time around.
---$---
“Morning, Princess,” Night said as Twilight peeled her eyes apart, crust nearly sealing them shut.
She slowly rose from her sleep and groaned at the fact that she didn’t get a good night’s sleep. “Is it really?” she asked, blearily, as the smell of breakfast wafted her nose.
Night was cooking breakfast, and the smell of it almost had Twilight forget the previous Night’s events.
Almost.
She glanced up at him, feeling sick from her fatigue before she got to her hooves. “Coffee,” she muttered.
Night slid her an extra-large mug, which she took.
“Don’t think I forgot,” she muttered.
“Wouldn’t dream of it, Princess,” Night said, “but you do have to get going today.”
Twilight glared at him. “Hiding trauma doesn’t heal anypony.”
“Neither does dragging up the past for no reason,” he replied.
Twilight shook her head but didn’t have any more energy to argue. “We’ll talk more about this once I’m awake.”
Night smiled. “Sure, Princess. In the meantime, here’s your train ticket,” he said, sliding a plate of food her way with a small piece of paper.
Twilight glanced down at it. “Are you trying to get rid of me?”
Night shook his head. “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he said. “Besides, we’re going to have more jobs to do in the future.”
Twilight nodded. Still too tired to argue with him. Besides, she had an ace in the hole as his boss. She could just say that he could continue working for her if he went to a therapist. He wasn’t going to win this. She bit back a yawn and failed, mouth opening wide before muttering. “Alright, fine. You’re not getting away with this, though.”
“And you’re not the first pony to tell me that, either,” he replied.
Twilight shook her head and dug into her breakfast proper.
---$---
The train ride back to Canterlot was as tedious and dull as Twilight remembered it to be. That's why she started bringing a book with her when she packed her things for these trips. It actually felt good to crack open a new novel. She hadn’t been able to read for fun for the past few years now, and the train rides alone gave her a fantastic opportunity.
Yet despite that, her book lay safely packed away, and she found herself staring out the window as the desert passed behind her. She somehow found her book hard to hold her attention at the moment.
Night was hurt and hiding it. That much was obvious. There had to be a lot of deep-seated trauma that Inferno managed to re-awaken when he grabbed the thief by the neck. She had to wonder what kind of abuse he faced there.
Of course, there was also the fact that things went so wrong, so fast with this mission. Yes, they managed to succeed, and they switched out the gems without much issue, but she had to wonder if Night would still be alive if she hadn’t intervened. At the very least, he’d be in a hospital, she was sure, but if Inferno wanted to beat him to a pulp, she wasn’t sure that anyone could have stopped him.
The train rattled while her brain played through the thousands of possibilities that could have happened on the casino floor yesterday. No, Night needed someone to watch him. He needed someone to watch his back. He needed a friend, and, well, Twilight happened to be an expert on the subject.
She smirked at the thought. She needed to just needed to put in some of that classic friendship magic. It worked almost every time.
---$---
Boot Legger was an older stallion, his mane graying at the edges. He’d been in smuggling for years, back when the short-lived alcohol prohibition got started by the Celestian Temperance Union. A part of him missed those days, running moonshine between speakeasies in Manehatten.
Nowadays, though, he typically sat in his manor house on the outskirts of the city, working from his office. In fact, he was sitting at his desk right now. Opposite him was a mare nearly half his age, who just made the most ridiculous offer he ever heard. “You want to buy my business?” he asked.
The mare who introduced herself as Gleaming Coin nodded. “Exactly that,” she said.
“And why do you want to buy out a barely-functioning real estate company?” Boot Legger asked.
“Now, Mr. Legger,” Gleaming said. “There’s no need to pretend. We both know that bad real estate doesn’t make this kind of cash. I’m almost insulted that you'd think I wouldn’t notice.”
Boot might have kept pushing with denial, but Mrs. Coin was flanked by two large ponies, and he’d seen enough thugs to know what would happen when he tried her patience. “Which business, then?”
“Your ‘moving,’ business,” she replied, smiling.
Boot nodded. “And why should I sell it to you?” he asked. “It’s how I plan to retire, after all.”
Gleaming nodded. “Understandable, understandable. Let me put it to you this way then,” she said. “I plan to, not buy you out, per se, as much as buy your loyalty.”
Boot nodded.
“In exchange, I ask for a cut similar to your own. However, I am also offering you access to my other business,” Gleaming said, motioning to the ponies on either side of her.
Boot nodded. “I see,” he said. “And what does your crew have to offer me?”
“A cut in anything we sell,” she said, “which, of course, I want your help to move.”
Boot nodded again. “I see,” he reached down to one of the cabinets of his desk and pulled out a bottle of liquor. “Whisky?” He asked. “I’m of a mind that business isn’t something to be discussed without a drink.”
Gleaming glared at the bottle. “Just a small glass,” she said.
The smuggler nodded and poured her and himself a glass. “So, in short, you want me to give up my place as the head of a de-centralized smuggling organization and turn completely to thievery.”
Gleaming nodded.
“And what is the treasure that makes all of this worth it? What product are you going to sell that will make up the difference in prices and cost?” Boot asked.
Gleaming gave him a wide, terrible smile. “Artifacts. Magical artifacts.”