//------------------------------//
// Suppressed truths 
// Story: Conversion 
// by CrutioAstarothChaos 
//------------------------------//

Buzzer sat down in Redheart’s office. Across the desk in front of him sat the nurse herself, rubbing her forehead with a worn out expression. The shifter was thinking about why she was tired, but his thoughts were soon disturbed.
“You can drop it,” she said. “You don’t need to hide anything from me.”
“I feel more secure if I keep it on,” Buzzer replied.
“I’m going to make a wild guess, and say that it’s exhausting to keep it up, am I right?” Redheart asked. “You have injuries, and your body requires the least amount of stress. Just, drop it, please.”
Lime dropped his disguise after a short pause, and the nurse let out a small sigh.
“I’m glad you are at least half as cooperative as your brothers were,” she rubbed her forehead again with a hoof.
“Where are they?” Buzzer inquired impatiently.
“Zaffre went back to the orphanage,” Redheart replied. “And I’ll get right onto Lancet, but only after you heard me out.”
“I’m listening,” Lime stated, tilting his head a bit.
“Your brother, Lancet showed a lack of knowledge about emotions,” she started.
“That’s because we don’t need to know details about any other than love,” Buzzer explained. “We only learned how to identify potential sources of love, and how to exploit those. Other than that we never truly explored further, although some basic emotions we know about.”
“I didn’t mean it that way,” Redheart replied. “I meant he started feeling emotions, which he didn’t know how to handle.”
“He did what?” Buzzer asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“He felt guilt for some reason unknown to me. He kept telling me he would solve it, but I guess his solution was to get drunk.”
“You say he started feeling anything beyond anger, fear sadness and satisfaction?” Lime inquired, his curiosity washing away his professional poker face. “That is unlikely.”
“He said a past memory haunted him, though he never truly talked about it,” Redheart explained. “Listen, Lime, I wanted to help him, I really did, and I still do. But he won’t talk to me, and he seemed certain that he must solve it before you or Zaffre would learn about it.”
“That seems reasonable,” Buzzer said, tapping a hoof to his chin.
“Well, it’s not!” she snapped. “There is no way out of feeling guilty, not unless he talks about it! I tried to help him, Celestia is my witness I tried everything and he refused to accept! I saw families fall apart, I was forced to watch ponies experiencing pain beyond anything that physical harm could cause, and I was useless!”
“Where is my brother?” Lime asked point blank.
“I don’t know,” Redheart replied. “He ran off, after I told him that either he talks, or he leaves.”
“Then I’ll go find him,” Buzzer said, standing up to leave.
“Lime, I must ask,” the nurse stopped him, “Is there anything unusual you experienced in the past few days? Anything you felt?”
“Yes,” he replied after a long pause. “I felt something strangely... pleasant”
“Then maybe you should tell it to him,” she suggested. “Make him feel less like an outcast, make him realize he’s not all alone!”
“You think that will help?” Lime asked.
“I’m out of options,” Redheart stated with a frown. “I tried to help him. Now all I can do is ask others to try.”
Buzzer nodded, surprising himself how easily he trusted a pony.
The hive would cast us out, he thought. But right now, I either live, to become an outcast, or die obeying our ways.
The changeling closed the door, and sat down for a minute. Lime had no idea where to start. He was unconscious during the argument, and now had more to confess to his brothers, than Zaffre and Lancet could probably have. If he starts playing the ‘being honest’ game, he would have to spill enough to make his brothers panic.
And from the looks of it, Lancet was already panicking from something. Nonetheless sitting on his flanks brought no results, and Lime found himself exiting the hospital, taking off to the dark streets of Ponyville, putting his fate in his own skills.
After all, as a changeling infiltrator, he was the best at improvising.
 
Zaffre was tossing and turning in his bed. The shifter was unable to sleep, some strange feeling pressing his insides. The scene of him yelling at Lancet played over and over again, and he tried to convince himself he was doing the right thing. No matter how logical his reasons were, no matter how flawlessly he thought he preformed his duties, he just couldn't get rid of the memory.
What he did just didn’t felt right.
Zaffre decided to take a walk in the quiet old building, hoping that he might find some meaningless task that could help him occupy his thoughts. He looked around in the kitchen, but all the dishes were clean, and put to their places. The bathroom was clean too, and every foal was sound asleep in their beds. The changeling sat down in the corridor with his hopes crushed. He took flight, and proceeded to the attic of the building, which somehow he hadn't explored during his days in the orphanage. He found a lot of dusty boxes, all of them labeled properly.
“Black Cirrus,” he read the writing on the boxes, dropping his disguise to be able to dimly light up his horn. “Dandelion, Little Stork, Grey Spark, Fuzzy Moth... these belong to the foals!”
He curiously opened one of the boxes, namely Dandelion’s, and looked at what was inside. He quickly realized that any stuff that the foals wouldn’t need in their daily lives, but didn’t have enough personal space to store it in their bedrooms was moved up in there. He found several fancy clothes, some toys, a crystal ball, trinkets and an album.
Zaffre gently took out the album, and opened it. He found many photos of the filly’s family, her parents, grandparents, some of her friends, but what he found on the last page was something he would’ve never expected from a filly this young.
It was a photo of her parents’ graves, with one word written under the photo.
“Remember,” Zaffre read out loud the word.
The message sent shivers down the changeling’s spine, and he closed the album. No matter how deeply he tried to bury his own memories, now they were flooding his brain, breaking every dam he could ever raise. The pain washed over him, and after he was able to think again, he realized: if this was what Lancet felt, no wonder he wanted it gone so badly.
“No, I must not forget what happened to Lime!” he reminded himself, “We will think of a way to figure it out together, just the two of us!”
 
Meanwhile Lime was running around on the pitch black streets of Ponyville. He looked around in every park, every hiding place he could’ve imagined for a changeling infiltrator, but he couldn’t find any trace of Lancet. He asked every patrolling guard he encountered to keep an eye out for his brother, but so far none of them managed to find any trace of him. Lime almost gave up hope, when he reminded himself of an important fact.
I need to calm down, he thought, and think of what I’m doing.
He knew Lancet was confused. Hopefully not confused enough to think of returning to the hive, but he optimistically ruled that out as a possibility. His brother couldn’t have gone far; not to criticize Lancet, but he wasn’t really the smart one to come up with new ideas. Once Lancet learned something, or accepted a plan, he did it without changing anything, no matter what. So adding two and two together, he was somewhere in Ponyville, thinking that his brothers would never want to see his ugly chitin face again, but a coward enough to not try to return to the hive.
“The train station,” Lime concluded, a newly found hope brightening up his face. “He must be there!”
 
Lancet sat alone in the dark, certain that nopony would think of looking for him there. He got in using the junkpicks that they used back in Canterlot; after all they all decided to keep at least one with them at all times, should the worst case scenario happen. Lancet was glad he did so, and closed his eyes in the small dark room. His head began to get clearer, the alcohol burning up and his mind calming down; he was now able to think.
The changeling’s thoughts circled around Redheart; the nurse, who offered him help, knowing, that he might turn on her. The pony, who trusted her for no reason, who spent time with her, and practically stuck her neck out for a bug, who never even showed any sign of friendship. Redheart was the ultimate puzzle for Lancet to solve: a creature of no reason. He knew that ponies were sometimes sentimental, but he wouldn’t have expected somepony to behave like this.
Not after the downright invasion of their capital city.
Shiftlight was so caught up in his own thoughts that he noticed the sound of hoofsteps closing in too late. He let out a small gasp, then covered his mouth with both hooves. After a few tense seconds he heard the hoofsteps leaving, and after he was sure that the stranger left, he let out the air he held back. His muscles eased up, and his head hit the door with a gentle thud.
“Really?” Lancet heard from outside his hiding place. “The restroom?”
“Crud,” he swore.
“Excuse me brother, but I think, I shouldn’t risk losing your hiding place out of sight, so I’ll just laugh here,” the voice said.
“Lime, you slimebag,” Lancet hissed, hearing his brother’s uncontrolled snickering. “Thanks for the support, brother!”
“Oh come on!” Lime pleaded, opening the door. “I managed to forgive you for getting my face redecorated; can’t you look the other way while I’m laughing?”
“Fine, I can,” Shiftlight said, rolling his eyes, while Buzzer still giggled like a dope.
“There, all better!” he stated, once he managed to stop. “Now, why don’t we sit down and talk?”
“About what?” Lancet asked, stepping back, obviously trying to defend his own privacy.
“Lancet, I know you are experiencing something unfamiliar,” Lime said, dropping the joking act, turning dead serious. “And I had an experience like that too.”
“You too feel this ‘guilt’?” Shiftlight inquired suspiciously.
“No,” Buzzer shook his head. “I experience something less unpleasant, but similarly... unnatural.”
“Tell me about it.” Lancet asked his brother, sitting down.
“I... really wouldn’t,” Lime replied looking away, but then decided otherwise. “But I will, hoping that it would make you less distrustful.”
“It all started back the day we were thrown the party,” Buzzer started. “Zaffre and I were talking about something I don’t quite remember, and then... I saw her. It was like I was mesmerized by the mere sight of a pony, but I never truly found out what that feeling was.”
“What do you mean by ‘mesmerized’?”
“I told you, I can’t really describe it,” Buzzer answered. “But ever since then I... I crave for the mere presence of that mare. Like I’m...”
“Under a spell?” Lancet guessed. “Hypnotized?”
“Like I’m in love,” Lime stated with a weak smile. “I know it sounds stupid, but as far as my knowledge goes, it’s the closest thing I can imagine.”
“That is stupid,” Lancet agreed, and noticed the curiosity on his brother’s face. “So you wanna hear my story?”
Buzzer only nodded, and Shiftlight let out a sigh.
“Only if you tell me the mare’s name,” he said finally, holding a hoof up.
“Well, it’s Lyra,” Lime whispered, hoping that Shiftlight wouldn’t hear it.
“I couldn’t quite catch that,” Shiftlight replied, leaning closer.
“It’s Lyra!” Buzzer sputtered a little louder.
“I still couldn’t...” Lancet started, but his brother interrupted.
“I don’t care if your ears are bad; I want to hear your story!” Lime snapped, putting both of his hooves on Shiftlight’s shoulders. “So tell me!”
“Nope.”
The two shifters looked each other steadily in the eye, until finally Buzzer gave up.
“Lyra. Lyra Heartstrings.”
“Was that so hard?” Lancet asked with a grin.
“You’re going to use that to blackmail me!” Buzzer cried out.
“Like you won’t do the same with my secrets,” he replied. “But nonetheless, I shall tell you.”
“You remember our days as novice infiltrators?” Shiftlight asked, and Lime nodded. “From all of us who hatched on the same week only four of us became infiltrator material.”
“Yeah I remember; it was you, Zaffre our fourth brother and me.” Buzzer replied.
“Well, do you know what happened to our ‘fourth brother’?”
“Wait, are you saying that you feel bad because he got stupid?” the short changeling asked.
“No.” Lancet shook his head. “I feel bad because I was the one to report him.”
 
Nurse Redheart was sitting in her office, head resting on the desk, a cup of now cold coffee in front of her. She made the brown liquid half an hour ago, but hasn’t touched it since. Too tired to do anything, but too worried to sleep the mare was now hovering on the edge of consciousness, every little noise sparking up her imagination as of what was happening outside the boundaries of her office. One of her sleepy visions was that Lime and Lancet entered through the door together.
“Whoa, I really need to go to sleep,” She said with a weak smile, closing her eyes. “I’m dreaming awake.”
“Nurse Redheart?” Lime asked, but the nurse didn’t reply. “She must have worried herself sick.”
“No kidding, she has a fever!” Lancet stated, feeling the temperature of the pony with his hoof. “And a bad case of it! Quick, help me get her in a bed!”
“The corridor is empty!” Buzzer said, waving a hoof to his brother. “All clear this way too!”
Shiftlight put the barely conscious mare on his back, and swiftly moved through the halls of the hospital. The trio moved silently, with Buzzer leading the way to Lancet’s room. Once inside, Shiftlight put Redheart on the bed, and grabbed several books with his magic.
“Somewhere here I read something about fever,” he was viciously turning the pages with his magic. “We should get some cold ice packs, a lot of water for her to drink, and an injection of Algoponin.”
“A what now?” Lime asked, cocking an eyebrow.
“Just stay here and watch her, all right?” Shiftlight answered, rushing out the door. “I’ll be right back.”
“Oh hey Lime,” Redheart said when she opened her eyes. “This isn’t my office. Wanted to move me somewhere more private to ‘extract’ my love?”
“Hoo boy.” Buzzer sighed. “Here we go.”
 
Zaffre was sitting on the roof of the orphanage, watching the moon shrouded by clouds, drifting in an ocean of doubt. He never wished to leave their third and only surely alive brother, but he couldn’t really trust him either. But he was keeping a secret too: He never told Lancet about Lime and Lyra. Or his own compassion towards the ponies. In fact, if their roles would be reversed, the ponies would be feeding off of his affection towards the foals of the orphanage. Zaffre never truly wanted to admit it, but he had a lot in common with the foals.
For starters, they lost their parents, just like him. In fact he was probably the truest orphan of them all; by pony standards maybe not even his brothers were his blood relatives. The only thing that surely bound them was that they all hatched on the same day. Nothing more, nothing less. They never had birthday parties on their own, no others to talk about their problems, nothing.
Thorax even doubted that they had a culture at all, or whether it was simply a masquerade, just like the everyday life of every infiltrator.
The changeling sighed, and shook his head. Being away from the hive, forcing their own selves to keep away from their home was one of the hardest decision they made, and the very thought took its toll on all of them. Distrust had seeped into the bond between, and now they were at each other’s throats, before their first week in Ponyville could’ve passed.
I need them to survive, just as they need me, he realized. Just as we needed each other back in our best days. Those who refused to trust the other, failed.
Zaffre stood up, and took flight towards the hospital. If he knew anything it was that he refused to be a failure.