//------------------------------// // Twelfth Entry // Story: Even the Strong Need Help // by Charlie_K //------------------------------// Celestia sat at her desk, trying to focus on the paperwork currently before her, and not feel a sense of being overwhelmed by the height of the stack that sat on her desk in the inbox. This wasn't the first time she'd found herself in such a position. And she knew that it wouldn't be the last either. But with the subject at hoof with this particular paperwork, she hoped this was the last time she'd ever have to run across this. All of the various piece of paperwork relating to Thunder Strike's employment at the palace was laid out before her on the desk, painting a very depressing picture to behold. And in the wake of last night's discoveries relating to him, it was all the more depressing to seen laid out before her like it currently was. All of it had been seen in the course of their initial investigation in the wake of his collapse, and the discoveries made had been disturbing. But they had been lacking vital context the first time around, and weren't able to comprehend the full scope of the matter. Seven and a half years of service. Two thousand seven hundred and forty continuous days of work without interruption. All of it spent without any vacation time being taken. Nor any sick days. Nor any weekends, holidays, unit picnics, or even birthdays when every staff member was free to have the day off with pay, no questions asked. That in itself should've stuck out sooner into the investigation than it had, but at the time it hadn't. An oversight on their part, and one there was no excuse for. But what else was uncovered and now seeing the light of day was almost as unsettling. In those same seven and a half years, he had never received a piece of mail at mail call. No letters, no packages, apparently not even a piece of junk mail with his name on it. Outgoing mail wasn't anymore promising in comparison. Visitor logs were practically a ghost town all in their own, showing that nopony had ever come to the palace for the purpose of meeting with him. And unless somepony on staff had forgotten to log it into the official records, he'd only ever once signed out when leaving the palace near the start of his time here. And she seriously doubted he'd simply forgotten to, as he made sure to sign back in yesterday when he'd returned from the hospital. His expense account showed at least some signs of life. But it consisted entirely of the occasional purchase of those dreadful five-hour energy shots available in the palace commissary; likely to help keep himself awake and powered through those insane thirty-two -and sometimes even forty- hour sessions he sometimes pulled. And unless there was a paperwork snafu somewhere that hadn't yet been uncovered, a lost document that hadn't been accounted for, he had no known address of residence listed in this file for off-site housing. For all intents and purposes he lived in the palace barracks. What she didn't understand about it all, was how? How had he gotten so far into his career without anypony ever noticing the fact that he had nothing and nopony other than his career? Were they truly so inattentive that he'd simply slipped through the cracks, simply because he was so outstanding at not being outstanding, and could easily go unnoticed? She hated the thought of that actually being a possibility. Because if it could happen with one guard, how many others were in a similar predicament? Even now, she had aides combing through all the staff records to see if there was anything to indicate similar work patterns in need of being addressed. But there were hundreds of ponies who worked at the palace, and it could take quite a while for everything to be analyzed. But before she could stew for too long on her possible failings as a commander, the door to her office opened as her Raven poked her head inside. "Your Highness, Lieutenant Strike is here to see you," she announced. "Again." The first time had somewhat been expected. But she honestly hadn't thought to expect Thunder to make an appearance again so soon. "Send him in," she replied Raven nodded in response and opened the door further before ducking out of the way, standing aside to let the stallion slowly step into the room. Celestia observed his entry as he slowly stepped inside. And how, even after everything he'd been through so far, he still carried himself with as much pride and discipline in his presentation as ever. Even his salute was nothing less than crisp and professional. "I've come to apologize for my unprofessional behavior and conduct last night, Your Highness," he stated as he set his hoof back down on the ground, not even waiting for her to greet him in return. "I have no excuse for my actions." She could already tell this was going to be a long day. "Thunder Strike," she started softly yet also firm, "please have a seat." He looked at her, unsure of exactly how to respond, but moved to sit down regardless. Much to her relief, he opted for the chair in front of the desk rather than making use of the floor like he'd attempted last night. At least that was looking up. "You don't have anything to apologize for, Thunder Strike," she stated as she slowly shook her head. "I understand that you may feel otherwise, that you may believe some sort of transgression was committed somehow. But the simple truth of the matter is that's simply not the case." "Your Highness, I..." he started slowly, trying to think of what to say in response. "I disobeyed your orders when I sleepwalked my way back onto duty even after you said no to my return. I disgraced my uniform and my position as a Royal Guard in front of both you and Princess Luna. There's... there's no excuse for what I did," he insisted. It was going to be a long, long day indeed. "If I recall correctly, you were asleep at the time everything happened; hence why it's called sleepwalking and not simply walking," she pointed out. "I'm not about to punish somepony for something they did while asleep and unable to control their actions. Especially not when that pony was simply trying to perform his sworn duties. If anypony should be apologizing, it should be me to you." Looking at him in response was uncomfortable. The look on his face did much to convey the fact he was confused by what she'd just said, as if the very notion had never even been considered by him before, and he was trying to think of how to comprehend this development. He honestly looked like he was at risk of falling off of his chair. "I... don't understand, Your Highness," he admitted uneasily. "You want to blame yourself for not being able to live up to your standard of what a Royal Guard should be, even when that standard is ultimately impossible for anypony to achieve; I don't know if even I could do it." The look on his face was one of utter disbelief at the words he'd just heard. "You-" "Contrary to popular belief, we're not perpetual motion machines. I'm sure an alicorn could theoretically weather the strain better than others, but even we have our limits and would eventually break from trying to bear the burden you've set for yourself. It might take a while longer, but it would happen regardless. How you've lasted as long as you have, without taking any illicit substances to help keep yourself running, is both a mystery and nothing short of amazing. "I can't very well fault you for having unrealistic goals, as everypony has those. I can't exactly blame the Royal Guard for existing and being what captivated you at such an early age. And I certainly can't blame the local theatre production that put on the play you watched. The only one left to assign any blame to is myself." "... I don't understand, Your Highness. How can you be at fault?" "The same way you could be at fault for not being able to live up to your own unattainable standards, even when trying to do just that was tearing your body apart at the seams," she replied. "The Royal Guard is my organization, and it was my organization that you became enamored with at such a young age so many years ago. So enamored, you couldn't bear the thought of not being a part of it, and spent the majority of your foalhood desperately trying to make yourself into a pony you thought would be worthy of joining them. The way I see the matter, that makes me guilty in turn. Wouldn't you agree?" The look of shock and confusion he was wearing was gone, and he was already shaking his head in disagreement, looking ready to object to her evaluation. But she wasn't done just yet. "I listened as you spoke, Thunder Strike. And I've seen your service record for myself," she continued as she gestured to the papers in front of her. "You were so devoted to the idea of being a Royal Guard, you did everything in your power to make yourself worthy of being one. I can't even imagine what that had to entail. I can only assume that, once you finally reached that point, you started pushing yourself farther and further, just to make sure you were good enough. "Yours is not the typical sort of service record. Yours is dedication and focus incarnate. You sacrificed everything for that one goal, that one desire, and you did so without a second thought. What could've been was essentially stolen from you, because you were so enamored with my organization. Luna really was right last night about you essentially being a child soldier; a child soldier that I technically created myself without even realizing it. Wouldn't you say that makes me just as guilty, as if I'd marched into that orphanage and drafting you into service when you were still five years old?" "No, Your Highness," he stated as he finally found his voice. "Oh no? And why not?" she asked him. "Because it was my-" he started, but paused. She observed him as he sat there, the look on his face and the focus of his eyes slowly shifting as he tried to think of how to respond. "You don't actually believe what you're saying." It was a statement, not a question as he looked at her. "You're using yourself as bait, because you want me to say something specific to explain why you're not at fault for my actions and decisions. So that you can turn around and use the logic of my own argument to try and make me understand that I'm not at fault either, even though I feel like I am," he surmised. Celestia didn't say anything at first. But she slowly smiled in response. "I want to say I'm impressed. But that might come off as implying your work is usually substandard," she stated. "You figuring it out as fast as you did certainly saves me some time and steps, though." "It doesn't change the fact that I still feel like a failure to the Royal Guard, Your Highness," he stated and uneasily looked down towards the floor. "Neither the organization, nor you, deserve anything less than the absolute best that I can offer. But no matter what I do, no matter how many hours I may log, or how much I try to improve myself, it never feels like I'm doing enough to meet that standard of performance. I'm always left feeling like I'm doing a disservice to the fine mares and stallions who serve, who see it as a family tradition, because I can't pull my own weight. "The entire time I was in the hospital, laying flat on my back and unable to move because of the condition I was in, all I could do was think about how I should be working. Think about how somepony else was having to take my shift because I wasn't there to do it myself. Feel like I was a burden by being unable to pull my own weight, and compromising the integrity of the Guard at the palace because they had to compensate for my absence. Worry about how I was going to make up for everything. Resenting my own physical weakness that led me to collapsing and forcing the others to abandon their posts and search the palace for me. Vowing that the moment I was discharged I would push myself harder than ever before to make up for my weakness..." Celestia really wasn't liking where this was going. "Your Highness, when I came to see you today, I had every intent of asking again if I could go back to work, because I need to prove my worth. Because being a Royal Guard is the only thing in my life that I actually have," he admitted as he slowly raised his head again to look back at her. And as he did, she could swear she saw the traces of tears forming in the corners of his eyes. "Being informed that even an alicorn would break under the burden I've been trying to live up to, was something that I couldn't have predicted. And now I don't know how to respond. What-" he paused as he took a shuddering breath, "what am I supposed to do?" "Well, if you're asking for advice, I'd suggest starting with not being so unforgivingly hard on yourself," Celestia suggested. "You could extend to yourself, the same courtesy you do the other guards that work here. You don't treat them like they're failures for not keeping pace with your work ethic. Don't you think that you deserve the same degree of consideration?" Thunder looked at her, uncertainty playing out on his face as he slowly looked back down again. "Part of me wants to say yes, Your Highness," he admitted. "And another part of me just... can't. Not even after everything you just said about unreasonable work standards. Even just contemplating the idea, makes me feel like I'm doing something disrespectful to the fine ponies that came before me. Like I'm... making a mockery of those that made the organization what it is..." Celestia wanted to sigh. She supposed what she was seeing now was better than where they were last night, but at the moment it didn't really feel like that. The veneer he'd crafted for himself had cracked enough to allow the pony beneath it to at least be seen. But there was still work that needed to be done. "Like you're trying to live up to their image," she surmised. His only response was a simple, brief nod. "I know just how hard it can be to do something like that, Thunder Strike. I know better than anypony what that strain is like. I didn't exactly start out as Princess material myself, but had to grow into that role over time," she admitted. "I'm immortal and even I feel like I'm being crushed by the strain, day in and day out. I can't imagine how hard it must be on you to try to be doing the same." This time he had no response to offer up. "Please don't misunderstand. There's nothing wrong with a pony striving to embody certain ideals in an effort to better themselves. But there is a problem when those ideals turn out to be unattainable standards," she pointed out. "And there's certainly a problem when attempting to embody these standards, leaves a guard so thoroughly convinced he can't even ask a nurse for a simple hug in a moment of being sick and miserable, because he's worried it might constitute him taking a bribe." The look on his face right now was one of fear, as he sharply inhaled through his nostrils at her words, because his lips were far too pursed to let any air through. "... You knew about that?" he asked, his voice practically cracking in the process. "I did," she confirmed, "and I'm so sorry you ever had to believe that." "Regulations forbid fraternization between staff members," he offered up weakly in response. The urge on Celestia's part to sigh and shake her head was growing, and needed to be subdued and ignored. Now wasn't the time or place for that. She had no doubt that Thunder had committed the various regulations to memory that went into being a guard and working at the palace. But he was obviously lacking the context behind them, if he thought getting hugged could be counted as fraternization. Just what sort of rigid, unforgiving standard of self-conduct had he been holding himself to all this time? "The Royal Guard... needs more than I can possibly give it..." The statement had been so soft, so un-presumptuous, she wasn't entirely certain if she'd actually heard it for herself as he kept his head lowered, making it difficult to see if he'd even moved his mouth at the time. "I shouldn't even be saying this," he mumbled, "you have a kingdom to run, and I'm monopolizing your time in a wholly unprofessional manner like a petulant foal. I apolo-" "Thunder Strike," she spoke up, "one of my ponies is in need right now. And part of being a good Princess, or even a good guard, is making time for those in need, even if others would say they're too small to be of any importance. Even diplomats have to wait their turn. And I'd be hard pressed to find a request for funding in this pile of paperwork, that's dependent on being read over twenty minutes sooner." "I'm scared Your Highness," he admitted bluntly. Far more bluntly than she'd expected him to, and with far less prompting. "I'm scared and I don't know what to do anymore. And I hate having to admit that fact, but I don't have any choice in this matter. Before I broke my leg the other day, everything was fine, and I knew what I was doing. And in the last twenty-four hours everything has changed, and I'm still trying to catch up to it all. "My entire life was focused solely on becoming a Royal Guard, and now I can't do that job because I'm not physically fit for even standing watch for a few hours. I had to be escorted to turn in my armor after waking up in another pony's bed, because I couldn't be trusted to not put it back on and slip off to do the morning shift like I did last night. All I can think about is how I should be working right now, and I don't know what to do with myself. Your Highness... what am I supposed to do?" She listened as he spoke. And she listened closer as he tried to keep his composure and not panic while speaking. "There are a lot of things that I could say, a lot of pieces of advice that I could give, but I can't guarantee you'll like any of them," she warned. She then waited for him to acknowledge before proceeding further. "In my professional opinion, you should take a few days off from work, and focus on taking care of yourself. You still have residual healing magic in your body trying to fix all the damage you've taken. Let it do its job, before worrying about your job and anypony else." "Then... what should I do, Your Highness?" he asked. "This is all very new to me, and I don't know how to proceed." "I'm afraid I can't give you a definitive answer to that question, Thunder Strike. All I can do is advise rest, recuperation, and relaxation if at all possible," she replied, wishing she had something more substantial to offer up. Just one look at him told her he was like a fish out of water right now. "Maybe see about spending some time with your friends, that's always helpful." "My... friends? I don't have any friends, Your Highness." The statement was so simple, so straightforward, so unexpected, it immediately brought her attention back to him before it could even leave. "I'm sorry, what now?" she asked, not sure she'd heard him right. "You don't? What about the other guards you work with? What about the ones you're always pitching in to help out. Aren't any of them your friends?" He slowly shook his head in response. "We're all just coworkers, Your Highness, not friends." She knew his statement was wrong. The question was whether or not he knew if his statement was wrong. Was his definition of "fraternization" truly so broad and all-encompassing, that it didn't even allow him room for interacting with his fellow guards in a manner that wasn't directly related to their work? "I'm sorry to hear that," she replied softly. "Well, regardless, I'm certain they'd be happy to spend time with you if you simply asked them, even if they aren't your friends." "I'll... do what I can, Your Highness," he stated, replying as best he could as he nodded. "May I... ask a couple of questions before I go?" "Of course." "Ever since I fell in the shower, I've been receiving a lot of attention, and a lot of concern for my well being. I honestly don't remember ever being subject to this much focus. This morning alone the kitchen staff made me a stack of golden brown waffles, drizzled in butter with a side of strawberries for breakfast. I've received several offers to help with brushing my coat. My armor was being kept cleaned and polished while I was away and couldn't tend to it myself. And you've taken time out of your busy schedule to not just help me, but to also listen as I talk. "What I don't understand is why? I'm just a single, unimportant pony, so what exactly makes me so important, that I warrant all of this consideration from everypony? Even when taking my Royal Guard status into account, I just can't see why I'd be on the receiving end of such treatment." This wasn't the sort of question she'd expected to hear. Nor one she was exactly ready to answer. What was the best way to go about explaining the concept of self worth to a pony, who based his entire sense of worth on his ability to do his job? "Because you are important, Thunder Strike. Even if you don't see it for yourself, the others around you certainly do," she answered as best the could. As much as she'd like it if he understood her position, it just wasn't something that she could help him with. For better or worse, he was going to need to come to terms with his own sense of self-worth, and do so on his own terms, in order for him to truly understand what others did. All any of them could do was try and point him in the right direction, and hope for the best. And from the sound of it, they had a lot of work to do, in order to get him pointed in that direction. "Do you have any other questions?" "Can a pony ever stop believing themselves to be nothing but a worthless failure for not being able to meet their own expectations, Your Highness? Feeling like you're not trying hard enough? Like you're not doing enough, even after you've torn your body apart from trying to push harder? Does it ever go away?" "I want to believe that it is possible," she admitted, "maybe one day we'll both be able to experience it for ourselves."