//------------------------------// // Chapter 14 // Story: Asylum // by Daemon of Decay //------------------------------// Asylum Chapter 14 “Pinkie?” “Yeah, Twilight?” “I have a question for you.” “Oh? What is it?” “Does Trixie always use those magician’s tricks when teaching?” “Yeah! Isn’t it great?” Twilight glanced away. “Yes, the classroom is so much better when you combine mathematics and a stage show. It’s not like it’s hard to sleep through a thrilling lecture on something you learned years ago when she’s setting off magical fireworks in class.” “I knew you’d like Miss Lulamoon!” Pinkie said with a broad grin, the sarcasm sailing right over her head. “See? Isn’t school great!” Twilight grunted in reply, fighting to keep her scowl from getting any deeper. At least they weren’t real fireworks, she told herself, as if that were some kind of consolation. It hadn’t made much of a difference to her – a loud burst of magic sparkles was still real enough to keep her from sleeping her way through class. For a moment, Twilight felt a surge of guilt at the very idea of falling asleep in class. She never would have contemplated it back when she was a filly. It was pure contempt for the teacher, the classroom, and the subject matter. Even though it was a subject she had learned years earlier, being taught by a mare she had little respect for, she couldn't wash away her shame completely. Still, it’s not like I didn’t try to make things work out, she reminded herself. At first she had been cautiously optimistic, hoping to get some answers she might use to get a better grasp on the world around her. However, Trixie had been unresponsive to Twilight’s inquiries, reminding her each time that the lesson for the day was math and that questions about social studies or science would have to wait until the appropriately scheduled day. Trapped at her desk, she felt her patience erode away as the class transformed into an hour of monotony and frustration. Her attempts to use the time productively had been sabotaged by Trixie’s use of simple magical cantrips to make brightly colored numbers float in the air, the equations bursting apart in intangible sparks in celebration of a correct answer. The students had loved it, but Twilight found the pops and whistles an infuriating distraction. It was hard for her to even think straight when a miniature fireworks display was set off every time a patient managed to correctly divide two sums. Still, Twilight felt a sense of accomplishment at having kept her cool. She only had to be told twice to keep from answering other students’ questions, and she felt like she had displayed real self-control throughout the whole episode. She’d been stuck listening to an egotistical show-off teach elementary math to a room of hospital patients, but she’d at least managed to act like a normal pony. No tantrums thrown, no desks flipped, and nopony ended up crying. As far as things went around Broadhoof, that was something to be celebrated. Thankfully, the period after the class was free time in an outdoor yard of the hospital. The sensation of warm sunlight and fresh air had been a balm for Twilight’s frayed nerves, pulling the tension out of her body like a skilled masseuse. She didn’t realize how much she had been missing nature until she felt the grass beneath her hooves and could hear the birds singing in the trees. I needed this, she thought as her eyes roamed around the field. It was a simple rectangle of open land, with its boundaries marked on two sides by a fence, and two sides by the hospital itself. There were a few trees scattered about the area, along with patients engaged in an assortment of activities. It was a serene, peaceful, and relaxing place – if she ignored the imposing hospital and razor-wire topped fences. Twilight shifted her eyes to Broadhoof itself. It was her first good look at its exterior, and the building displayed an uncharacteristic amount of style and flair. The central portion of the hospital was a large stone structure with fantasies of being a fortress, complete with spires and decorative crenellations along the roofline. It was a romantic reinterpretation of a Medieval Equestrian castle, but lacked the sleek lines and noble arches of Canterlot. The vines growing up the walls and the weather-worn stones gave the structure a sense of age and permanence that the historian in Twilight found appealing. The contrast with the rest of Broadhoof couldn’t have been more pronounced. Extensions radiated out from the central building like skeletal fingers, everything straight lines and sharp angles. A heavy coat of white paint covered the simple brickwork, the patches of grime beneath the windows and along the ledges making it clear it had been too long since it had felt the touch of a wet brush. Stern and imposing, it didn’t resemble any building Twilight could remember. The cottages of Ponyville were bursting with individuality, no two buildings exactly alike. Even in large cities like Manehattan and Canterlot, there was a sense of artistic appreciation in their design. Whatever sense of beauty Broadhoof once possessed had been cut out a long time ago, leaving nothing behind but drab architecture and cheap paint. Even the buildings here don’t look right. Twilight sighed, turning away from the hospital to look over at Pinkie Pie. Her friend was humming some tune as they walked abreast of one another, her eyes tracking the clouds crossing the sky. She’s probably looking for ones that resemble animals. Twilight grinned, remembering how they used to do the same thing after picnics. Her gaze drifted, drawn inexorably to the scars on Pinkie’s flank. Her smile vanished. It doesn’t matter how cheerful she looks. She’s suffering. You have a job to do, Twilight. The Princess is counting on you. Straightening up a bit, Twilight cleared her throat, awkwardly catching Pinkie Pie’s attention. “So Pinkie, I was, uh, thinking that maybe you could tell me a little about yourself? You know, since, ah, I don’t really remember everything correctly?” “Oh! I almost totally forgot about that. It’s kinda easy to, since you’re not really acting very different or anything,” said Pinkie Pie. “So, what do you want me to tell you about?” “I remember some things. Or at least, I think I do.” Twilight paused. “You... grew up on a rock farm, right?” She inhaled sharply the moment she finished speaking, preparing herself for whatever tearful fallout asking about her friend’s past might cause. Oh Celestia, please don’t cry, please don’t cry! “Yeah, I grew–” Pinkie Pie blinked. “Did you say rock farm?” Twilight nodded hesitantly. “Yes?” Pinkie Pie’s laughter exploded without warning, her guffaws bursting out with a nearly physical force. “Rock farm? Ha! A rock farm! What do they plant? Pebbles?” Falling over onto her back, Pinkie wrapped her forelegs around herself, her body shaking in mirth. Twilight stared down at her blankly. “Uh...” “Or maybe it’s gravel instead of seed!” Pinkie howled, rolling from side to side. “It’s not that funny,” Twilight replied with a frown, her cheeks going slightly pink. Pinkie leapt to her hooves and gestured at the open ground around them. “‘Well now, we’ve got a good crop of boulders this year’,” Pinkie said as she chewed on a blade of grass, imitating the low voice of a stallion. “‘I just hope we don’t get an early frost, or it might hurt the granite!’” She finished with another long peal of laughter. Twilight rolled her eyes as Pinkie Pie’s giggles gradually faded away. “Okay, ‘haha’, rock farming is silly. I told you I might not remember everything exactly like you do.” Pinkie flinched, her smile crumbling like sandstone under a firm hoof. “Oh gosh, Twilight, I’m so sorry!” she gushed. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you like that! I mean, I wasn’t laughing at you at all. It’s just that rock farms sound really funny, and I, uh...” The look of fierce concern in her friend’s blue eyes sent a ripple of guilt racing down Twilight’s spine. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” she declared, forcing a reassuring grin onto her face. “It was kinda silly.” Pinkie leaned forward until her muzzle was uncomfortably close, the look of terrible seriousness on her face strong enough to make Twilight start to sweat. “Do you mean it? You’re not upset?” “Y-Yeah, absolutely,” she replied as she pulled back a little, forcing herself to smile wider. “See? I’m not upset at all.” “Whew!” Pinkie wiped her brow, her shoulders sagging in exaggerated relief. “I was really worried there! I wouldn’t want my bestest friend to think I was making fun of her or anything.” “Oh, not at all! I know you well enough to know you’d never do that to a friend,” Twilight said, keeping her grin plastered on her face in case she said anything else that risked sending Pinkie into a fit of self-conscious depression. “It’s just me and my, you know, ‘messed up’ memories that make some of the details... fuzzy.” Pinkie Pie nodded. “That makes sense. After all, Doctor AJ did say that you had some trouble with side effects making your memories all wonky. Do you wanna talk about it? I promise I won’t laugh.” She frowned, tapping her chin with her hoof. “Well, unless you made a joke, of course. Then I’d laugh a whole bunch – just like this!” “That’s alright!” Twilight said as Pinkie took a deep breath, interrupting her demonstration before it could begin. “You don’t need to show me how you’d laugh. I remember that pretty well. I’m just eager to learn about you some more and make sure everything in my head matches up with... this.” She gestured around her before resuming her slow trot around the field, considering her words carefully. They walked in peace for a few minutes, their path taking them along the inside of the steel fence. As they passed beneath the branches of one of the field’s lonely trees she halted, turning back to face Pinkie. “I’m sorry if I seemed short with you, Pinkie. I’m just... there’s a lot going on right now, lots of stuff I just don’t understand.” As she spoke, Twilight did her best to look sad. It wasn’t difficult – the confusion and loneliness were real. Still, she didn’t see any point in holding back. Her friends were good ponies, and gaining their sympathy would make them more willing to help her. And the sooner they’re willing to help me, the sooner I can help them. Giving a melodramatic sigh, Twilight glanced away. “Even my memories don’t fit. In my head, I can clearly remember you telling me about growing up on a rock farm. I can picture you talking about your family, your parents, and your sisters. But how can I be a good friend to you when I don’t even know your past?” To Pinkie’s credit, she didn’t even bat an eye when Twilight mentioned rock farms again. Instead she lowered herself down onto the cool grass and gestured for Twilight to do the same. She didn’t speak as she settled in, content to look at Twilight, waiting for her to continue. “Hypothetically,” Twilight said as she looked down at her hooves, “imagine that you needed to do something very important, but you couldn’t because all your information is suddenly wrong. And whenever you tried to get the information you needed, you kept hurting the ponies you were trying to help. Worse, you can’t even tell if the question will hurt them, or if it’s even the right question to ask in the first place! And then–” “You’re wondering about my scars, aren’t you?” Pinkie Pie’s question was painfully soft, her gentle tone freezing Twilight mid-sentence. She flinched when Twilight lifted her head to stare at her, but she held her gaze. “That’s what you’re talking about, right? You want to know how I got them.” Twilight licked her lips, unable to look away. “Well... I was...” “It’s okay if you want to ask me. You’ve wanted since yesterday,” Pinkie said softly, her sad eyes roaming over Twilight’s surprised face. “I know I’m not the smartest pony, but I’m not a dummy. You’re uncomfortable around me. Everytime you look at me it’s obvious you’re trying to avoid staring at my flank. You want to know about the scars, but you’re worried you’ll end up hurting me.” “I don’t...” Twilight began, shifting from side to side. “Yes, you do,” Pinkie interrupted gently. “It’s my special talent to know when my bestest friends are upset, and it’s not hard to see that the memory problems Doctor AJ told me about are causing it. Your memories are there, in your noggin, but are different. You knew who I was, but thought my hair was supposed to be poofy and didn’t know about my... scars. You remember me, but not me me. Like, you remember I grew up on a farm, but you think it’s a rock farm. You’re trying to fit the two together and you don’t know what’s going on and you want to just make sense of the world and it’s just leaving you totally... um... totally discombobulated.” “Discombobulated?” Pinkie Pie nodded. “You got me a dictionary for my last birthday, and I’ve almost finished the D’s.” Before she could catch herself, Twilight had fallen over onto her side, laughing hard enough to make breathing painful. She knew it wasn’t that funny, but she wasn’t laughing at any joke; she was laughing in relief. By the time Twilight managed to calm herself, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her back, the once oppressive air between the two cleared away instantly. Still, Twilight couldn’t help by give Pinkie Pie a guilty look. Before she could apologize for treating so somber a discussion with such disrespect, Pinkie Pie smiled back at her. “Twilight, you’re my bestest buddy, and I don’t want you getting all serious and sad whenever we hang out. So just ask me what you want to know, so we can get back to laughing and smiling and having fun. Because that’s so much better than being all mopey and, um...” Pinkie glanced upwards, furrowing her brow in concentration. “Lugubrious?” Twilight offered. “Hey, no fair!” Pinkie Pie pouted. “I haven’t gotten to the L’s yet!” In an instant both friends were hooting loudly, their mutual laughter enough to startle the last of the birds from the branches above. Twilight took her time catching her breath, staring up at the sky and tracking the birds as they faded into the distance. She knew she was delaying the inevitable, but she was determined to hold onto the fleeting peace as long as she could. After a few long minutes she turned her head to look at Pinkie, her friend resting on her belly and watching Twilight with a look of hesitant expectation. The question clung to the back of her tongue. Twilight didn’t feel ready. Pinkie didn’t look ready. “Are you sure you want to tell me about... uh, you know...” Pinkie Pie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She nodded. “So... how did you get those scars?” Pinkie’s involuntary flinch was a cold icicle to the heart, but Twilight forced herself to remain silent. “I h-had an... accident... on the farm. Back before I had my cutie mark.” Pinkie said as she grabbed her tail as pulled it up beneath her, stroking it slowly like a foal with a blanket. “We were just farmers, and we never had much time for fun or anything like p-parties. It was always so boring and dull, with just lots and lots of wheat. But then one day I saw this... this...” “Big rainbow?” said Twilight quietly. “Yeah!” Pinkie replied, giving her a trembling smile. “It was wonderful! I’d seen rainbows before, but that one... boy, was it was something special! It made me feel so happy that I just wanted to smile forever, and I wanted everyone I knew to smile too. And I thought that, since rainbows don’t come along that often, I could do something to bring some color and joy into my family’s life. S-So I stayed up all night, decorating the barn with anything I could find. But to make it really special I wanted to make sure they had some treats, so I...” Her ears flattened out against her head as her voice tailed away. “I... wanted to bake them a cake, like m-mommy made for our birthdays. But...” Twilight felt the icicle dig deeper as Pinkie Pie clenched her eyes shut, her upper lip quivering as she took a few ragged breaths. She barely noticed as Twilight reached out to squeeze her fetlock. “B-But...” Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes as she tried to continue. “I wasn’t supposed to use the oven. I just... I wanted them to b-be happy and...” Pinkie sputtered as she tried to inhale, her cheeks dripping wet. “But there was a fff... a fff... fff-fire!” Pinkie wailed as she curled up into a mewling ball, burying her head into her hooves. Twilight didn’t have time to register that she was even moving before she had wrapped her forelegs around her friend and pulling her into a tight embrace. Pinkie squeezed her back, holding onto Twilight like she was the only thing in her world. “It was a f-fire and I d-didn’t mean to and I tried to fight it b-but it wouldn’t go out and then it spread to the curtains and then the walls and I couldn’t put it out and the door wouldn’t open and... and... and I’m a b-bad pony!” Finding herself on the other end of the tears, Twilight felt woefully out of her league. She rubbed her friend’s back and mumbled gentle reassurances, their feebleness making her feel terribly inadequate. Desperate for any sort of answer she began to race through books on friendship she had read. No... no... no! Didn’t I read something on how to comfort a friend in emotional distress? Wait, what did Applejack say to me in the bathroom? Think! Pinkie needs your help! It took Twilight a moment to realize that Pinkie Pie’s sobbing had grown quiet while she had been searching for some sort of action to take, her friend’s limp body pressed tightly against her own. Pinkie let out the occasional sniffle as Twilight continued to gently caress her back. “I don’t wan’be a bad pony...” whispered Pinkie Pie, her face hidden beneath her mane of straight hair. “Shh... it’s okay,” Twilight cooed, doing her best imitation of her mother comforting a younger Twilight when she had been upset. She cradled Pinkie Pie’s head as she thought back to what Applejack had said at dinner. “You’re not a bad pony. It’s okay. You’re not a bad pony.” Pinkie Pie pressed her muzzle a little tighter against Twilight’s damp shoulder and whimpered. “Shh now. It’s all okay.” Twilight lost track of time as they embraced, her hooves gently brushing up and down Pinkie’s sides as she noiselessly cried into Twilight’s fur. The quiet was deafening. She continued to repeat the same bland reassurances over and over as she wracked her mind for something more meaningful to say. Should I ask her to go on? Should I just stop talking and stay quiet? Should I get a nurse? she asked herself, shifting her position slightly. Oh Celestia, why didn’t I read something about helping ponies in emotional distress? I read books about throwing sleepovers, for crying out loud! Twilight frowned as she shifted again, a lump pushing into her side. She reached back to adjust where she thought Pinkie was squeezing her when her hoof pressed against something soft and pillowy crammed into one of her pockets. The lightbulb went off in Twilight’s head as she pulled the bundle free. “Pinkie?” she asked gently, hiding the object behind her back. Her friend’s response was muffled noise. “I have something for you.” Pinkie Pie sniffled. “W-What is it?” “It’s a, uh, friend for you.” Slowly, Pinkie lifted her head. “A friend?” she asked as she rubbed her puffy eyes. “What do you mean?” “It’s my good pal Smarty Pants,” Twilight said as she revealed the old doll, giving Pinkie a large smile. Her grin slipped a little when Pinkie just stared back at the toy. “Here, why don’t you hold onto her,” she added as she placed the doll in Pinkie’s hooves. Pinkie glanced between Twilight and Smarty Pants a few times, her red eyes glistening with moisture. Twilight mentally kicked herself, having somehow managed to make things worse again. “Smarty Pants!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed as she hugged the doll tightly. Making a noise somewhere between a giggle and a snort Pinkie nuzzled the old toy, her broad grin banishing Twilight’s doubt. “Oh, so you know her?” “Of course I do!” Pinkie Pie chirped, her cheerfulness marred by her constant sniffling. “You and me and Gummy and Smarty Pants used to have tea parties like all the time. Sure, they didn’t let us have real tea, but it was still lots of fun.” Pinkie’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “Twilight! How could you try to give away Smarty Pants? That’s so rude! She’s like your oldest friend. I can’t believe you’d just give her away to someone else. Besides how are you going to have your group study sessions in your room if you don’t have Smarty Pants? Huh?” Twilight blushed despite herself. “I didn’t know you, uh, knew Smarty Pants.” “That’s no excuse! You need to apologize to her this instant,” Pinkie declared, thrusting Smarty Pants out towards Twilight. The unicorn glanced down at the doll. “I’m... sorry?” Like a judge recognizing a just verdict, Pinkie gave a single sharp nod of her head. “That’s better,” she added as she pulled Smarty Pants in close against herself once again. Wiping her nose clean she gave Twilight a more even look. “But why would you want to give Smarty Pants to me, even if I didn’t know her?” Her expression saddened. “Don’t you still like her?” “Of course I do!” Twilight protested loudly, not wanting Pinkie to backslide into depression and tears. “I promise. It’s just that I’m a little old for dolls, and–” “But she’s your friend!” interrupted Pinkie Pie, her eyes threatening to start leaking again. “Do you just give up your friends like that when you get too old for them?” Her words dug into Twilight’s heart, the cold bringing with it illumination. “Pinkie, nothing in the world could make me give you up,” she stated, injecting as much warmth and conviction into the words as she could. “I only gave Smarty Pants to you because you are my best friend, and I couldn’t stand seeing you crying again. Especially not when...,” Twilight lowered her gaze, “when it’s my fault in the first place.” Twilight almost jumped when Pinkie Pie suddenly wrapped her forelegs around her shoulders and hugged her. “Don’t be upset,” Pinkie said. Pulling back, she gave Twilight an awkward and fleeting smile. “I told you to ask me about... that stuff. Just because I’m sad doesn’t mean I don’t want to tell you. My talent is making ponies happy, and you’re not happy because you have too much stuff missing from your memories. I want to help you, and the only way I can is by telling you the truth. It might hurt, but I wouldn’t want to keep a secret from my bestest friend. After all, you can’t solve every problem with a party.” Pinkie Pie cracked another soft grin. “I mean, a party never hurts, either.” Pinkie dried her cheeks with her forelegs, looking a little more confident than before. “Besides, Doctor Roy says that talking about the things that make me cry at night is actually really good because it helps me to deal with the sadness. I still have my sad periods, but I’m happier oftener.” Twilight patted Pinkie Pie on the shoulders. “Well, that’s great!” Pinkie hesitated before slowly nodding in agreement. “That is good news, right?” “Yeah, I guess...” “Pinkie, you can’t possibly want to stay here.” Pinkie shook her head. “No, I just... I’m scared about what will happen if I go back home. Before I came here I couldn’t make anypony happy because I wasn’t happy. Now I have good friends and I’m surrounded by ponies who are nice to me and I don’t have to worry about accidentally hurting somepony.” She nuzzled the back of Smarty Pants’ head as she looked over at Twilight. “Plus, I’m scared what will happen when I see the farm again. My family says they don’t blame me, but I know it was all my fault. I don’t think I could face them again.” Twilight paused. “Your... family? I thought your family...” Pinkie tilted her head to the side as she stared back at Twilight. “Didn’t your family... um...” Twilight’s voice trailed off as she searched for the gentlest way to phrase the question. Don’t assume anything. The thought popped into her head without warning, and Twilight mentally slapped herself. Since she had been taken by the shadow, she had been assuming things about her friends and the world around her. No scientist assumed anything when dealing with the unknown. Collecting herself, she rested one hoof on Pinkie’s shoulders. “I know it might be painful to talk about, but what happened to your family?” “What happened to my family?” Pinkie asked, her melancholy replaced with confusion. “What happened to them in... the fire.” “Oh,” whispered Pinkie Pie. “They were... they were upstairs sleeping when the fire started. I shouted at them but by then there was too much smoke, and the whole downstairs was already burning up.” Pinkie spoke softly and paused often, but to Twilight’s relief there weren’t any more tears. “The noise of it was so terrifying I couldn’t hear anything. I ran outside to use the well to get some water and do something. It seemed like it took forever to get the bucket filled up, but by the time I got back the whole house was on fire. Daddy always told me what to do if there was a fire, but I disobeyed him and ran inside with the bucket. I had to do something! I couldn’t just sit there and watch it burn down. Not when it was m-my fault in the first place.” Pinkie closed her eyes and winced, her tail wrapping back around her scars. “That’s when the roof collapsed.” Twilight stared at her, her mouth working uselessly. “I don’t really remember much,” Pinkie continued. “The doctors told me afterwards that I’d passed out from smoke inhalation. My dad told me that he found me unconscious and pinned beneath a piece of the roof that was on fire.” “So your dad... he made it out of the house?” “Oh yes! Daddy was a real hero,” Pinkie gushed. “The smoke woke him up right away. So, grabbing my mom, he rushed to the room I shared with my sisters and got them all out through a window onto the roof. He hurt his ankle when he jumped down, but he still helped them all down too. Then he told them to run for town to try and get help while he went to try and find me.” “How did he know where you were?” Twilight asked. Despite knowing the story was nothing but an implanted memory, she was hanging onto Pinkie’s every word. “He says that he heard somepony shouting from downstairs, and when he saw that I wasn’t in my bed he assumed it was me,” Pinkie said, her voice growing as animated as her body as the story went on, gesturing for emphasis as more of her sadness drained away. “So he circled the house and bucked kitchen door straight off the hinges and, without any kind of protection or anything, ran inside. Well, he says he actually had to crawl inside because there was so much smoke, but he still found me and managed to drag me outside. He’d been a soldier back in the war, so he knew a little first aid. The doctors said that if he hadn’t know CPR, I would have died.” Pinkie’s eyes shimmered as she smiled off into the distance. “My daddy is my bestest hero ever,” she added softly. A stretch of silence followed the story, with Pinkie caught up in her memories and Twilight unwilling to interrupt her. Eventually Pinkie turned back to look at Twilight, as if finally remembering that she was there. Her smile vanished. “So, that’s what happened. I was a bad pony, I didn’t follow the rules and got distracted, and I nearly... I nearly k-killed my family.” Pinkie’s transition from excitement to self-loathing grated against Twilight’s heart like sandpaper. “You were just a little filly,” Twilight argued as she hugged her friend again. “You were trying to bring joy into your family’s life, and something went wrong. Accidents happen.” “Don’t you understand? I almost killed my family,” Pinkie snapped, making a sound somewhere between a growl and a whimper as she glared at Twilight. “I was supposed to make them feel better, and we ended up losing everything! Everything! And it was all my fault!” In an instant the fire in her eyes vanished and she fell limply into Twilight’s embrace. “It was all my fault,” she repeated softly. “I cried for days, and I couldn’t even look at my family without getting sad. I knew it was only making them feel worse whenever I cried, but I couldn’t stop. I just wanted to die.” The statement stunned Twilight, leaving her speechless as more of Pinkie’s doubts poured out of her. “What if... what if that happened again? What if I wanted to help someone and make them happy, but I didn’t know I was doing something bad and then I ended up really really hurting them?  I can’t be on my own.” “That’s not going to happen, Pinkie. I know you, and you’re not a bad pony,” Twilight said, injecting some of her own conviction and strength into her firm reassurances. She could feel it at the back of her mind: this was what Princess Celestia had warned her about. Her friends were out of sync with their true selves. I’m not going to leave Pinkie thinking she is some accident-prone mare who can’t take care of herself, she promised as she stroked Pinkie Pie’s mane. If I can get them back to how they should be, if I can help heal the wounds this shadow has carved into their minds, then they should be able to throw off its delusions. They’re counting on me. I’m the only one that can save them. And once I’ve saved my friends, then I’ll be one step closer to defeating this shadow and saving all of Equestria! Feeling suitably buoyed by her optimism, Twilight nuzzled Pinkie. “I believe in you, Pinkie Pie.” Pinkie Pie blushed. “B-But what if I make a mistake? At least here I know the doctors and nurses and orderlies and lunch-mares and janitors can help me be sure I’m not going to hurt anypony.” “Come on, you must want to leave here eventually, right?” Twilight pulled back a little to look Pinkie square in the eye. “At least outside you can be free to throw real parties and make lots of other ponies happy. Don’t you want to do that?” “Well... yeah, that does sound kinda nice,” she admitted. “And you’re not feeling as sad and depressed as you used to feel, right?” “Yeah. I mean, I still get sad about it, but having so many friends around does keep me happy most of the time. And because I’m happy, I can make other ponies happy. But whenever I think about going back to the farm, I just... I can’t think of anything except how I might mess everything up. They say they don’t blame me, but whenever I look in their eyes I think they’re... I think they just see me as the sick little filly who burned the house down,” Pinkie sighed. “Well, do you have to go back to the farm?” asked Twilight. “Why not go into town? I bet you could start a new life for yourself pretty easily. I bet you would do well if you went to Ponyville.” She grinned. “You should look up a place called Sugarcube Corner. I bet you would make a great baker.” Pinkie gave Twilight a frightened stare. “Oh no, I couldn’t do that! Only bad ponies try to cook without supervision! I might get distracted and then something could go wrong and I wouldn’t be there to stop it and–” “I didn’t mean like that,” Twilight said, cutting Pinkie off before she could work herself up into another fit. “I meant you should go to them and ask if they needed help in exchange for teaching you how to bake responsibly. After all, you do love baked goods, right?” “Yeah, but–” “And other ponies like them too, right?” “Yeah...” Twilight smiled. “Well then, if you learned how to do things responsibly, then you’d be able to make lots of ponies happy. Isn’t that what you want?” Pinkie prodded the dirt, holding Smarty Pants in her other foreleg. “Yeah... b-but I don’t think I should bake anything.” “You can’t hide in the hospital forever. There are many ponies out there that are counting on you. They need you. If you stay around here, there isn’t going to be any sunshine in their lives, just shadows and sadness. They need a pony that can spread happiness.” Twilight gave her a smile. “And if there is anyone that could fill them with laughter, it’s you.” A sense of vindication filled Twilight body when Pinkie returned the smile, her grin slowly growing wider as Twilight’s words sunk in. “Yeah, that does sound pretty cool,” she said. “I would love to have lots of friends and be able to really make them happy. Because of the rules here I can’t really throw parties, even with supervision.” She looked at Twilight hopefully. “Would they really teach me? I’ve read those cookbooks you lent me, but I don’t really know how to bake. But since I’m a really hard worker, and I would totally concentrate super seriously on learning everything I could, maybe I could convince them to give me a chance.” “I know they would.” Twilight nodded, fanning Pinkie Pie’s optimism. “You just need to stop dwelling on the past and keep thinking positive. If you can do that, then I bet you could do anything you wanted.” “Yeah!” Pinkie shouted, leaping to her hooves. “I could be a great baker! More than that, I could be a great party pony! I could bake the cakes and cupcakes and pies, then I could plan stuff and get gifts and remember birthdays! I’ll be able to throw parties all the time!” Twilight laughed as Pinkie held Smarty Pants and spun around happily, telling Twilight and the doll about the many things she would do to make sure she could help throw the best parties. Well, that wasn’t too challenging, she thought as Pinkie skipped around describing how to do streamers properly. It was a little unnerving to have Pinkie Pie basing all of her party knowledge around what she had read in books and magazines, but Twilight couldn’t deny that she felt good. While Pinkie was distracted, Twilight unrolled her mental checklist. Okay, so now I know how Pinkie is suffering, and how to fix it. Her internal harmony has been broken because the shadow has convinced her that in her past, the party that gave her a cutie mark– She halted, turning to watch Pinkie Pie spin Smarty Pants around. “Uh, Pinkie?” Pinkie stopped spinning and sat down in one single movement, not looking dizzy in the least. “Yeah?” “How did you get your cutie mark?” she asked as casually as she could. Pinkie blushed. “Oh. Well, it’s not that impressive. I mean, you got yours with Princess Celestia in the room with you.” “Still, I’d love to hear about it,” pressed Twilight. “Okay, but it’s nothing really big,” she said, her cheeks a soft scarlet. “I was in the hospital for a long time after the fire. I slept a lot, and when I was awake it was pretty boring. My parents came to visit me a lot but they were still busy rebuilding the house. Plus I couldn’t be with them very long before I’d get sad and stuff, so most of the time when I was awake I was alone with the nurses and the occasional doctor. Then one day they brought another filly in for the room’s other bed. Her name was Clover, and she was a year younger than me and had... had been caught in a fire too.” Pinkie glanced down at Smarty Pants, holding the doll between her hooves. “I was lucky. Clover had really bad burns up and down her sides, and she couldn’t move very much. Still, she could talk, and we became quick friends. It really helped to pass the time, having somepony to talk to. We talked about everything, really. She’d help me when I got sad, and I’d try to keep her distracted whenever her burns really hurt. We talked about our families – her father worked in the city as a gardener and her mother was some writer – and our friends, and we played lots word games.” “After a few weeks I was pretty much fixed up and the doctors were getting ready to release me. I was upset because I didn’t want to go back to the farm, but Clover was doing her best to keep me from crying all the time. She was always there for me, always trying to make me smile, even when she came back from surgery. I think because I was so sad all the time I didn’t notice it, but... she never had any visitors. We’d been in the same room for over a month together and I’d never seen her mommy or daddy. When I asked the nurses why, they kept giving me these really sad looks and saying that they didn’t know. After badgering one all day I was able to convince her to tell me, and she said that Clover’s parents had died in the house fire.” Pinkie clenched her eyes shut. “That was the first night I didn’t cry for myself.” Twilight shifted uncomfortably, but Pinkie continued to just stare at the doll. “The next day, I convinced the nurse to help me do something to make her feel better. After they wheeled Clover away to physical therapy, we went around to all the nurses and doctors asking them for anything they had for parties. Once we explained what we were doing we got a lot of support. Nurses brought out bags of candies they’d been using as snacks or holding onto for holidays, and many people went to the cafeteria to round up some more food. It seemed everyone was really excited. I didn’t notice it at the time because I was so focused on getting everything ready, but I didn’t cry at all that day. I wanted everything to be perfect.” “Eventually, after an hour or two, Clover was pushed back into the room and was greeted with a big shout of ‘surprise!’ by everypony there. Oh, she was so happy. We’d filled her bed up with flowers and cards and candy and cake and balloons. Dozens of balloons! It was like a real party, and it was all for Clover. We played games and had some music and even helped her to have a chocolate cupcake – she’d told me it was her favorite flavor. Nurses came and spent their lunch breaks with us, and we always had doctors and visitors coming in to see what was happening, so there was always a big crowd. I don’t think I remember Clover ever being so happy. For the first time since the fire, I felt happy too. I felt alive every time she laughed and smiled.” Lifting her head, Pinkie gave Twilight another grin, her blush returning with a vengeance. “I, uh, don’t know exactly when I got my cutie mark, actually. It happened sometime during the party, but I was too distracted coming up with games we could play with Clover while she was stuck in bed. Near the end, one of the nurses asked me about it, and thats when I realized what had happened,” she said, glancing down at her unblemished flank. “That’s when I realized that I still wanted to make ponies happy. It made me feel good to see other ponies laugh and grin and have a good time. And that night, I didn’t cry once.” “Wow,” Twilight exhaled with her own warm grin. Even in a fake world created by some shadowy evil, Pinkie Pie is still dedicated to her friends and those in need. She wiped the moisture that had gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Wow,” she repeated. “That was quite a story.” “Oh, it’s not that great,” Pinkie replied humbly. “I just felt like she deserved something to cheer her up.” “Still, I think it says a lot about you as a pony,” Twilight continued as she rose to her hooves, eager to push her point home. “You did all of that to give a single day of happiness to a pony in pain. You were willing to talk about something incredibly painful, just to fill in a few gaps in my memory. Even the fear that's keeping you in the hospital is based around the concerns that you might accidentally hurt another pony.” “Twilight...” Pinkie began, holding Smarty Pants up in front of her embarrassed face as if to ward the praise away. “I mean it; every word. You’re something special. You’re my best friend, and I know you’ll always be willing to help others in need. You’re not a bad pony. You’re an amazing pony.” Twilight pretended she didn’t notice a few tears roll down Pinkie’s cheeks as they hugged. Dropping Smarty Pants beneath her Pinkie hugged her back, the two embracing beneath the afternoon sun. “Excuse me, but you’ll have to stop that.” Both ponies pulled back in alarm to find an orderly standing over them with a look of mild annoyance on his face. Twilight glanced between the orderly and her friend. “Stop doing what?” “The hugging,” he explained. “There are rules on physical contact between patients.” “But she was crying!” protested Twilight. He looked at Pinkie Pie. “She’s not crying now.” Twilight opened her mouth to unload on him when she felt Pinkie place a restraining hoof on her arm. “It’s okay. We won’t do it anymore,” said Pinkie with a smile. “I was really sad, but I’m feeling all better now.” He continued to stare down at them. “Fine. Just don’t let me catch you two doing it again,” he said gruffly. Twilight waited until the orderly was out of earshot before she turned back to Pinkie. “No physical contact? We were just hugging!” she growled, her eyes drilling into the retreating stallion’s back. “I’m sorry, that was my fault,” said Pinkie. “It’s not your fault at all. You were upset because of my questions, and I was doing what any friend would do,” Twilight replied stiffly, trying to reassure Pinke even as her mind screamed in frustration. I was doing so well! I was really connecting with her, really earning her trust. With a little more time – and no flipping interruptions – I can show her that she really is a good pony who cares about others. I can save her by convincing her to be like the Pinkie I know. The two friends stood up and resumed their trek around the fence, mindful of standing too close to one another for fear of invoking the orderly’s wrath. Twilight wanted to continue their conversation, hoping that a few more subtle references to Pinkie Pie’s real life might help pull her out of the dark fantasy she was trapped in. However, each time Twilight raised another question about her past, Pinkie redirected the conversation elsewhere. The moment had passed. As Pinkie described how she had gotten in trouble for holding hooves with a particularly cute colt at lunch, Twilight found her eyes wandering back to the imposing walls of Broadhoof. Am I really doing the right thing?  she asked herself as she tracked the distant figures moving past the windows. Princess Celestia didn’t tell me much. Did I hear her right? Did I even really hear her? Twilight shivered, the chill of doubt brushing over her. No. No, I’m certain I heard her. And I’ve done this all before, in a way. It’s just like Discord; I have to remind my friends of who they are. If I can gain their trust like I have with Pinkie, then I’ll be one step closer to victory. Pinkie turned to face Twilight as they strolled past a pair of patients playing some indecipherable ball game with rules only they could understand, the earth pony showing no sign of having been bawling her eyes out minutes before. “So what are you gonna do for arts and crafts? I’m thinking about a big painting with all my friends on it! Then I can hang it up on my wall so I’ll always have you girls close by. What about you?” “Well,” Twilight began, but her response was cut off by a flicker of lights in the distant windows, catching her attention just in time for her to watch a section of hallway swallowed up by shadow. She squinted as a figure casually stepped out of the darkness, his large frame marking him as a stallion. Is he an electrician? she wondered, noting the thick clothing. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as he moved further down the hallway. One by one, the lights failed as he passed beneath them, making it look like he were leaving shadows in his wake. His body was indistinct and faint. Only his white muzzle stood out, catching the eye like a candle in the night, but there was something wrong with it. Like a beak it was pointed and narrow. It looked like a mask. Twilight shivered. She hoped it was a mask. The flickering lights made the shadows dance around him in a terrible mockery of life, bringing with them memories of a nightmare she wanted to forget. She tracked his progress, the hallway behind him bathed in inky darkness “Twilight?” Twilight squawked as she leapt into the air. Landing on quivering legs, she stared wide-eyed at Pinkie Pie, panting heavily. “W-What?” Twilight asked in a hoarse whisper, trying to keep her heart from bursting out of her chest. “Woah!” gasped Pinkie Pie as she took a few steps backwards. “I was just asking if you were feeling okay! You were just looking at the hospital without saying anything for like five minutes.“ Twilight blinked a few times before she registered her friend’s words. “Did you see that?” she asked, nearly barking the question. “See what?” Twilight gestured at the building. “That!” Pinkie squinted. “The chapel?” “No, the stallion in the window!” she exclaimed with growing frustration, turned back to the hospital to point him out to Pinkie. He was looking right at her. Ice water ran down Twilight’s spine, cold dread locking her joints together. Don’t be ridiculous, he’s not looking at you. He’s just looking out the window, she tried telling herself. It didn’t work. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the gash of white surrounded by darkness. She felt like it was sucking her in, her field of vision filling with that bird-like mask. Twilight gasped for air when Pinkie squeezed her shoulder, unaware she’d been holding her breath. “Twilight, are you sure you’re okay?” Pinkie Pie asked again, her face contorted into a deeply worried expression. The spell broken, Twilight nodded slowly, trying to work some sensation back into her limbs. She glanced back at the building, but the window was empty. “I... I don’t...” she stammered as her eyes roamed up and down the hallway. The lights were working again, but there was no sign of the oddly dressed figure. Shaking the icicles off of her thoughts she faced Pinkie. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just... I thought I saw something.” “Yeah. You said you saw some kind of stallion, then you shivered and and gasped and... oh.” Pinkie Pie’s face slowly twisted into a knowing grin. She winked. “Oh! Twilight’s got a crush on some cute colt!” she declared loudly as she bounced around Twilight. Twilight stumbled back a step. “What?” “Twilight and the stallion, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!” “I do not have some crush!” protested Twilight, blushing despite herself. “I saw some strange looking stallion and–” “Strange looking?” Pinkie stuck out her tongue. “Ewww! What, did he have a hunchback?” She arched her back upwards in demonstration. “Two heads? Three eyes? Oh, maybe he was made of slime!” “Forget it!” Twilight growled as she pushed past Pinkie. Sparing a glance over at the hospital to make sure he still wasn’t there she resumed her walk around the inside of the fence. Pinkie Pie caught up to her after a few moments. She didn’t say anything, but Twilight’s scowl only deepened whenever she caught Pinkie giggling, feeling her friend’s eyes on the back of her head. Just ignore her. Besides, it serves you right for getting jumpy and nervous over an electrician. He had to have been one. It was the logical assumption: a heavy-duty work outfit and a protective mask were essentials when dealing with electricity. You’re just letting the stress get to you. Ignoring Pinkie’s playful winks, Twilight tried to redirect the conversation away from her hypothetical crush and onto more productive areas. Her nerves might be frayed, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She had a mission, and nothing was going to stand in her way.