//------------------------------// // Part 15 // Story: Butterflies In Her Tummy // by Hivemind //------------------------------// Something bigger was going on, Remi believed with a strong thought process accumulated in power over his weeks of observing his ex-friend’s behavior. Angel’s motives were perfect, as harsh as they were, but some things just did not seem to add up. He knew Fluttershy had a sister, learning this only through eavesdropping on remote conversations that occurred in the living room between his two caretakers, but had never actually seen her until just nearly an hour ago. She appeared very worried about something, maybe even scared. To what he could recall, Redheart was not a part of Angel’s original plan for cottage-wide domination. …or was she? That bunny was as full of secrets as he was full of shameless immorality! He needed good, hard evidence to convince his caretakers that the vile ingrate would be better off somewhere more suited for a monster of his type. The Everfree Forest looked quite nice this time of year. He would get along well with all things small, defenseless, and half-eaten by timber wolves. Remi’s face was so red with anger that steam could practically shoot out of his ears at any minute. Where Angel was going there were no fields of golden carrots as far as the eye as could see. Remi could do nothing but think about Angel’s torturous ways of mental manipulation and just how vile they were as he approached Ponyville’s homely medical center. He arrived at the twin glass doors of the front entrance after justice had been served in the form of a wild daydream consisting of a boiling cauldron and an audience of hungry owls. Usually he would just slip underneath any doors he had to move past, but these doors had no such bottom crevice, not like it was a problem, anyway. He managed to let himself in by carefully slipping one paw through the separating slit and obtaining a grip on the other side, pulling one door open and quickly slithering inside. Not wanting to cause a panic, although the main lobby was bare-bones empty at this time of night, he hugged the walls and moved lowly along the floor. When it was in range, he found that nopony was crewing the front desk. A quick inspection underneath it, as well as down both hallways that branched off further into the building nearby, gave him the assurance that he was all alone. He sharpened his senses just in case and then went to work. He darted back to the front desk and scurried up the legs of the rolling chair behind it, leaping onto the desktop from the birth of the chair seat. The whole of the workspace was neat and tidy. Even the pens, each topped with some sort of fake flower, were arranged in a perfect row in a holster off to the side. Folders bulging with patient records, and even various amusing knickknacks were in their own tidy arrangements as well. He hunched over, aggravated knowing that he wasn’t going to find the dirt he needed among this spotless wooden landscape. Just then, a partially opened desk drawer caught his attention. A ray of hope was left after all! He climbed down from the desk and pushed hard against the chair closer to where he needed to be before allowing his nimble physique to take him back up. With both paws, he gripped the drawer handle and pulled hard, opening the compartment with ease. He held no intention of wasting time for the sake of wanting to bring Angel to justice. He climbed inside and found himself standing amongst a firm pile of various portions of junk paper and empty tubes of lipstick and hoof polish. He growled under his breath, crossing his arms in distaste. What a mess, he thought. Would it kill someone to move just a few extra inches to the left to properly reach the waste bin? With a hefty sigh he commenced digging, plowing through the debris and tossing out whatever hindered his progress. Besides the fossilized make-up casings and papers jam-packed with faded doodles, probably the product of one really bored desk clerk made several years ago, he kept his spirits bright with hopeful insights for the future, just like in his most recent of pleasant dreams that he often kept on a mental standby. It would be wintertime again, with pillow-soft snow falling outside of the warm, cozy cottage and occasionally tapping against the window to then melt and trail alongside their brethren to the landscape below. He himself would be curled up in front of a roaring fireplace while his caretakers, more than happy to have gone through with their decision, would be cradling their newborn on the couch. He would not care for the attention the little one received, for he would feel happy enough knowing the ones who loved him were happy as they were. Then, should one of his fellow animals ask, he could rightfully respond with ‘What bunny?’ Yes…what bunny? Remi grinned deviously. A malevolent thought indeed, but well deserved. Remi had reached the back of the drawer, and was still without even the weakest sort of convincing evidence to prove that Angel was behind Redheart’s sudden influx of gloom while common in Fluttershy’s family, as far as he knew, was taking things way too far. He had emptied the whole compartment, leaving a tall pile of rubbish just outside, yet there was still no sign of any sort of special document he could use to put an end to this, like a note, a planner, or maybe even…a photograph. The little detective suddenly recalled seeing a large, blue binder on the desktop above with the words ‘Hospital Memories’ scrawled onto the plastic spine in black marker. He was not about to let his flame die out just yet. Ignoring both the mess and, temporarily, his manners, he quickly climbed out of the drawer and scampered to the surface. It did not take him long to find what he was looking for. To him, the album weighed as much as a sack of lead potatoes with all that it held within its folds, but a worthy bit of force from his lean figure aided him in dragging it to the center and laying it down gently on its side. Upon opening the cover, he was greeted immediately by a large picture of all the hospital staff including the doctors, surgeons, nurses, and a few fillies wearing junior nurse caps who were all lined up in curved rows that spanned the length of the hospital lobby where they stood. He found Redheart smack in the middle of the crowd alongside her colleagues. Something about her smile told Remi that she hasn’t aged a day. It disappointed him greatly knowing that such an innocent mare was the unfortunate victim of Angel’s ailments. The pages that followed displayed tedious, but otherwise heartwarming photos of patients, bedridden or otherwise, smiling alongside the ones that took care of them and kept them comfortable in this sanctuary. What surprised him was the fact that Redheart was included every one of them. One picture in particular was too adorable for common words. It displayed Redheart standing beside a bed in the colorful space of the children’s ward, sharing a hug with a young, orange-coated filly with a bandaged foreleg. What was he looking at? A photo album or a dummy’s guide to tear-jerking? Much page-flipping ensued afterward. He sped through each photo, some cheerful, some depressing, but this wasn’t the time to get all mopey. Before he knew it he was at the back of the book and still without the material he so desperately needed. Frustrated, he lifted the back cover and prepared to slam it down when, at the last moment, he caught eye of a slip of paper taped onto the back of the last page, hidden from first-glancing view. Curious, he set the cover down and carefully peeled the tape away, retrieved it, and flipped it over. He was not prepared for what he saw, and his whole world suffered for it. ~~~~~ “That. Was. Disastrous!” Twilight moped after returning to the library later that night. She slammed the door hard behind her as she walked in, startling Owlowiscious from his perch in the library proper, who greeted his horned caretaker with an all-too common coo that continued to puzzle all who tried conversing with him, though some part of Twilight’s extensive collection of knowledge seemed to know what he was talking about. “Sorry, Owlowiscious.” Twilight apologized. The simple owl responded with another coo and then proceeded to preen his feathers. “Spiiike!” Twilight called out while going to hang her saddlebags. The pitter-patter of sharp claws on hardwood signaled the baby dragon’s approach. Spike sluggishly walked down the stairs, yawning and stretching his arms behind his back. A pink towel was wrapped around his scaly head, and the heavy scent of herbal bath mix quickly filled the room. He stopped halfway down, scratching his back and turning to face the goaded mare. “Can’t a dragon get a little sleep every once in a while?” Spike asked, yawning again. “Did you fall asleep in the bathtub again?” “Probably…” Spike mumbled, removing the towel from the top of his head and using it to wipe his face. Twilight rolled her eyes. “I’ll just sleep down here tonight…right after I finish studying.” Twilight sighed, starting off towards her writing desk with the hopes of a cure from her disconcerting infirmities to arise from the pensive-to-paper workings of Clover the Clever and her marvelous studies on concealment spells. “Whoa, whoa! Wait a minute!” Spike’s grogginess vanished in the blink of an eye after he tossed his towel aside and hurried down the stairs and up to Twilight’s side. “How’d it go? Was it everything you hoped it would be?” “Of course not!” Twilight snapped, staring him down. “It was one of the worst dates I’ve ever been on in my entire life!” “Geez, Twi’…” Spike took a few minor steps back. “Sorry for asking…and I think you’ve only been on one date.” “And it’ll be the last one I ever go on!” Twilight stormed over to her bookshelf and tore a small stack of books right off the nearest shelf. She slammed them down on the writing desk, once again startling Owlowiscious, picked one out and began reading, burying her furrowed brow and uptight cheeks deep within the sheets of ink and venerable parchment. “And that’s that!” “Whoa, whoa, whoa! You can’t just give up that quickly. ” “I already have, Spike,” Twilight spoke sternly. “It couldn’t have been that bad.” Spike waved off Twilight’s hasty decision. “What happened out there?” “Nothing.” “Err…nothing?” “Nothing. At. All.” Twilight lifted her head, still very much grumpy. “You should’ve just seen me out there, Spike. I just sat around like an inconsiderate foal while Big Mac made several attempts to move closer to me for some reason and—“ The sudden mention of the red stallion caused Spike to gasp with astonishment. “Big Mac? As in AJ’s big brother? That Big Mac?” He asked, pointing a thumb over his shoulder in the general direction of Sweet Apple Acres. Twilight went wide-eyed, and her cheeks were beet red in moments. She covered her mouth in embarrassment before then trying to conceal her face again only to be suddenly grabbed by the shoulder and spun around in her seat. “C’mon, Twi! Spill the beans!” Spike shook his fists in excitement. “Was it really Big Mac you went on a date with? Huh? Huh?!” “I-I…w-well, yes and no, err…maybe! Yes, maybe!” Her facial temperature soared, and Twilight knew there was going no getting out of this one, let alone the eventual questionings born of the gossip soon to follow should the word get out. A stern talking-to could keep anypony’s cake socket sealed shut for a few hours, or a day is she was lucky. She still had so much to research on the cosmic puzzle that is love as well as dating techniques, and it hasn’t even been a full day since her first date, which was a failure from the very beginning. She feared that if the word reached Big Mac he may never want to go out with her again, and only Celestia knows what would happen if Applejack picked it up. “Hey, you feelin’ alright, Twilight?” Spike asked, pointing to the student’s rosy, stretched cheeks and dismissive stare off into space. Having noticed this, Twilight sat up tall and cleared her throat, which thankfully did the trick in pushing aside her young fears of what was meant to be a field study turned complicated relationship. “Spike,” Twilight plainly started, staring down at him. In his mind, Spike geared up for another lengthy, boring lecture about secrecy and the importance of a balanced friendship, but was surprised to discover that his ears were laden with only two words of well-aged, solid wisdom that seemed to have worked in every troubling situation personal or private since the birth of Equestria itself…and the art of lying. “Tell. Nopony.”