The technicians roamed the roof, not doing anything in particular. There was not much to do. Patients were very seldom delivered by flight. Pegasi would sometimes deliver flying ambulances, but even those were uncommon. Usually injured Pegasi used the door downstairs, as most of them only ever came to see a doctor when they could no longer fly. And, as rural as Ponyville General was, air ships were still uncommon aside from the occasional hot-air balloon. But, in the quest to modernize the ever-growing city, the hospital had received the upgrade regardless.
While sweeping the landing pad for the hundredth time, the sky suddenly darkened. The technicians looked up, expecting to see a loose and unscheduled cloud—but instead seeing a massive and impossible airship, a dreadnought of crystal and steel and marked with black shields.
Fluttershy had no idea why they had been brought to a hospital—let alone Ponyville General. She had been given the option to stay on the ship, to be disembarked at the local balloon park after a few hours—but her curiosity was too great. She needed to see this through. To know what this had all been for.
So she found herself jogging through the semi-familiar halls of the hospital, following a stallion who seemed to have suddenly lost forty years of age as he ran past doctors and patients alike.
“Move! For Celestia’s sake, MOVE!”
“Sir, you can’t be here, this is a closed ward—”
“Get out of his way,” snapped Flurry, now wearing a conservative and ceremonial violet suit of armor. She had changed in flight and, dressed in armor, looked oddly like a spindly version of her father.
“P—Princess—”
“Royal Authority! Do what I say, small-winged peasants! MOVE!”
They obliged, clearing a path. A path that Caballeron seemed to know all-too-well.
He finally came to one room, a wooden door in a quiet part of the hospital. Pausing and finding himself barely able to breathe, he took a moment to gain his composure—and gently pushed the door open.
Fluttershy was hesitant to enter, but found herself nearly pushed into the darkened room by Argiopé—because the changeling knew that she needed to understand.
Fluttershy’s eyes took a moment to adjust—but as they did, she gasped softly at the sad sight before her—and she did, finally, understand.
There were two ponies in the room. One was in a hospital bed, linked to seemingly every type of machine. Her body, mostly covered in blankets, was tiny and frail. IV’s connected to both of her front legs, slowly dripping. She was unconscious, her deeply lined face contorted slightly by what seemed to be pain—and, even with her mane having fallen out from the treatment, her identity was obvious.
“Who is she?” asked Flurry, standing awkwardly in the back.
“A.K. Yearling,” replied Fluttershy, softly.
“What’s wrong with her?”
“She’s old,” said Argiopé, softly. “Pegasi...they have fast metabolisms. A Pegasus is lucky to get to her mid sixties. And she’s already seventy four.” She pointed a feathery wing at the images plastered on the wall, against the imaging screens. The x-rays that answered the question with definite finality. Pictures with clouds of spots throughout them. In bones, in lungs, inside her head. Things that the doctors could slow, but that even the wizards did not know how to treat.
The other pony, who had been sitting by the bed, stood up violently, nearly toppling her chair. She was dressed in a suit, somewhat reminiscent of a butler, save for the very high collar that covered her neck. She was young and all-white, even her mane. Her eyes were bright red and strangely empty, as if they might have been glass. She glared at Caballeron with mute but distinct anger.
“Calm down, Ms. White!” whispered Caballeron. “Please! I—I found it! I finally found it!”
He produced from his jacket the shell fragment, which he had carefully wrapped in a handkerchief—and with a shaking hoof, he held it out before the white Pegasus. She eyed him suspiciously, her mechanical pupils narrowing as she focused on it, but she did not interfere further. She only continued to watch.
“Argiopé...help me, I can’t...do it myself…”
The changeling obliged, shifting her form into that of a dragon, and taking up tools required from the drawers and carts in the room. She began to process the shell and, when done, approached the IV with a large syringe. She inserted it into the injector port and pushed the plunger, filling the dying pony with a glimmering, golden elixir.
“Daring, please,” said Caballeron, tears welling in his eyes as he took her hoof, his own growing increasingly shaky as he tried to suppress his coughing. “Please. I found it. You were right. You were always right. But this...you deserve so much better than this…”
She did not respond. He sniffled slightly, and quietly took her thin, pale hoof, its surface bruised from having held so many needles during her long battle with the illness consuming her. She remained still, and he lowered his head, beginning to cry softly.
Then a thin, aged voice cut through the near-silence.
“Pon...tracio?”
He gasped, and she shifted, opening her dull, gray eyes. A thin smile crossed her face.
“Dang,” she said in the voice of an old mare. “You finally got one, didn’t you?”
Caballeron smiled through his tears. “You weren’t there to stop me, I’m afraid.”
“You came out of retirement? For me?” She sighed, and coughed slightly. “This is so embarrassing…”
“I never really was evil, you know. Despite how you wrote me in the books. Just shrewd. I wouldn’t leave a friend to this fate. Especially not you.”
She smiled—but it faded slowly. “You should have used it on yourself. I’m already too old. It doesn’t reverse aging. You know that.”
“I know. But I’ve bought you a few years, at least.” He paused, then smiled. “I suppose I’ve put us on the same timeline.”
White sniffled slightly, tears welling in her glass eyes. Daring Do laughed, weakly. And Caballeron sat beside her.
They stepped outside. Fluttershy looked up to Flurry Heart, who seemed somber and distant.
“They need time.”
Flurry nodded. “I know. I just...”
“It’s hard, isn’t it?”
She did not look at Fluttershy. “That’s...dad. Isn't it?”
Fluttershy nodded. “I know.”
“I need to think about some things.” Flurry started walking away. She paused, though. “Sorry I tried to unalive you.” Then, without waiting for a response, she left.
Fluttershy doubted she would have, anyway. It was just a matter of being a teenager, and surely she would grow out of it eventually. Hopefully sooner rather than later.
Snails was waiting outside the door.
“What will you do now?” asked Fluttershy.
He took a long time to think. “I think I’m going to find Snips,” he said.
“I’ll be here. If you need me. The Abalone will live in my sanctuary. I can keep her safe there. You can visit her whenever you want to. Or me.”
Snails smiled and nodded. “We won, though. Feels nice.”
“Did we?”
He shrugged. “That’s what I think happened.”
Fluttershy smiled. She supposed they had. And, together, they walked down the long hall toward the door that would lead them both back to Ponyville.