Pony Gear Solid

by Posh


9. Impasse

"You don’t know the truth yet. But sooner or later you’ll have to choose."


Carrying herself with poise and confidence, Princess Celestia strode out of her bedchamber. Typically, she was greeted by a chambermaid or servant filly, not by her very sleepy and nervous-looking sister. Not that she would mind the change in routine.

"Luna," she greeted warmly. "This is a pleasant surprise. Care to join me for breakfast?"

Luna's stomach chose that moment to rumble. "'Tis business I come to discuss with you, not pleasure," she said, ignoring Celestia's sly smile.

"Luna, Luna," Celestia chided playfully, shutting the doors behind her with a quick flash of her horn. "A good ruler knows how to mix the two. The drear of politics is very much alleviated when performed over a hot cup of tea and a plate of fresh scones. It's scientifically proven." She winked.

"I imagine that's so, but – Tia!" Celestia had begun to walk away, humming to herself, and Luna had to gallop around and in front of her to cut her off. "This is serious, sister. We need to talk. Something..." She glanced around nervously and lowered her voice, leaning closer to Celestia to be heard. "Something happened last night, during my watch. The castle – our castle, in what has become the Everfree – collapsed."

A sympathetic look – though, to Luna's dismay, an unconcerned one – crossed Celestia's face. "The loss of our old home is tragic, but hardly surprising. It was old when we were in diapers, Luna. Entropy happens." She chuckled lightly. "What's surprising is how well it's weathered the years."

"It did not collapse on its own, I think." Celestia continued her slow trot forward, and Luna fell into step beside her. "Late last night, some hours after raising the moon, I left the castle to stretch my wings, and I saw smoke rising from the Everfree. From where I knew our castle to be," she added pointedly.

"A forest fire?" asked Celestia.

"I thought so. But when I drew closer, I noted some irregularities. The keep had crumbled into its lowest levels, as if demolished from the inside, but other parts of the complex looked as though they had been smashed. Rubble from the gatehouse was strewn outward, away from the rest of the castle. And in what little remained of the courtyard, the one overlooked by the throne room, were recent signs of battle. More rubble, scorched spots here and there – not the kind of destruction one expects from a forest fire. This wasn't entropy. Something happened to collapse that castle." She hesitated. "There was a corpse."

The pair exited the royal apartments. The world outside was still cast in shadow, yet untouched by the warmth of the newly-risen sun. Luna put a hoof on Celestia's shoulder and pulled her to a stop, looking her squarely in the eye; Celestia, listening intently, bade her to continue with a nod.

"Sister, it was a human. There are humans in Equestria."

Celestia's reaction was immediate and alarming – alarming, precisely because she so seldom looked alarmed. "Humans," she breathed. Her eyes left Luna's and found the floor, as if the answer to her questions lay somewhere on the impeccably polished tiling of the Canterlot palace. "Impossible. To open the Threshold of the Moon would require magical power of terrible proportions. We would have sensed it!"

"That we sensed nothing makes this no less possible," said Luna. "Long have I pondered this. However improbable it may seem, whatever they used to wrench open the path between worlds, it is beyond our ability to detect. They're here, Tia. And what's more..." A cold gust whispered through the garden and crept across Luna's coat, chilling her. She shuddered. "Something else came with it. Something malevolent. A spirit, a demon, something. I cannot say what. 'Tis unfamiliar. Alien. And fueled by hatred so powerful that its sour taste still lingers on my tongue."

At this, Celestia shot a narrow-eyed glance at Luna – a look of skepticism. "The human world doesn't have spirits the same way that we do, Luna. What you're saying is impossible."

Luna felt a tingle of suspicion. Her sister had answered too quickly, too dismissively. "Impossible? Like a well of power that we cannot detect, tearing a hole in the fabric of reality?"

"That is different," Celestia insisted, suddenly impatient. "Luna, I'm asking kindly – whatever you've felt, forget about it. It's an impossibility. Leave it at that."

"Why should I? What are you afraid of?" Luna took a step forward and squinted at Celestia, as if only now taking the time to look closely at her. "A fine job you did, with that glamour. At a glance, nopony would ever notice the redness in your eyes, the crow's feet, the bags beneath your lids. How much sleep have you missed, sister? How many nights have you lost, ruminating on this 'impossibility'?"

Celestia could only look away, face flushed and frowning. To Luna, it was tantamount to an admission of guilt. "Were you ever planning on telling me?" Her words were angry, but fueled by hurt. I thought us beyond this. "Did you know about the humans as well; did you hide that from me too?! We are supposed to be partners, Celestia!"

"I didn't—" Celestia gestured for Luna to lower her voice, warily glancing at a passing chambermaid. She smiled radiantly at the mare until she was out of earshot, then leaned in close to Luna to whisper. "I didn't know about the humans. The rest I've been aware of for some time."

Luna watched the servant pass out of sight, and bit back further reproach for the sake of subtlety. "Strange that you knew about it," she said through clenched teeth, "and that I did not."

"I have no explanation for that," Celestia said, looking for once abashed. "I noticed it some months ago. It was faint, at first – a whisper of what it is now – but it's only grown louder, stronger, with time. When I felt it, I thought that you surely did as well, but you showed no sign. So I never approached you about it."

"Why?"

"To protect you," Celestia said quietly.

Luna reacted with a snort of exasperation. Celestia's patronizing was as ill-deserved as it was ill-advised. It was, however, touching enough for Luna to let go of her initial anger. "My thanks," she said sarcastically. "But we must needs act together, immediately, for the sake of the realm." She inhaled, held her breath, exhaled the last traces of negativity in her. "Going by history, we must assume hostility on the part of the humans. We should take the initiative, seek them out and strike first. I propose we recall the guard from the frontier and mobilize. Enact war protocols, if necessary. And as for this dark spirit—"

"No," said Celestia, curtly and with finality in her voice. "There will be no mobilization. No war protocols. No war, period. As for the spirit, that is being taken care of."

"Taken care of? Who have you – " The obvious answer to her own question came to Luna, and her eyes widened. "You cannot be serious."

"Luna—" said Celestia, placating.

Luna, having none of it, stomped. "You sent it. You sent that, that..." Luna sputtered, unable to articulate her shock, and finally groaned with frustration. "I thought when I returned from my banishment, and saw neither head nor hide of it, that you'd disposed of that... thing, as you ought to have generations ago!"

"Luna, I will not have this conversation with you," Celestia said sternly, steel creeping back into her voice. "Heaven knows we've had it enough times over the years."

Luna pointed her hoof into the distance – in truth, she had no idea where the target of her ire was; it just felt good to point. "Dark forces marshal their strength against us. We should respond in kind. Not with craven subterfuge, but directly, with the full strength of Equestria behind us!"

"Craven?" Celestia's alabaster features twisted into a scowl. "What you consider cowardice has kept this realm safe for one thousand years, Luna. We limit ourselves out of necessity, not fear. We are not gods." She spat the final word as an epithet. "Nor are we of a kind with humanity. Equestria will not answer war with war, for as long as I rule."

"The humans – and this spirit – may mean to destroy our nation, sister." Luna crushed her lips together tightly, and turned her head so as not to look her sister in the eye. "Your rule already survived one coup this year. Do you think it can survive another?"

She didn't see Celestia's reaction. She didn't need to. "That was low," said Celestia, now deathly quiet.

Luna sucked her teeth and glanced sidelong at Celestia; she couldn't look her in the eye and expect to maintain her own composure. Celestia had drawn herself up, unfurled her wings, and seemed to shine with the very light of the sun. Big-Sister-Celestia had left the conversation.

"We know nothing about the humans or their purpose here," continued Celestia, in the same chilling voice. "We have no way of knowing what, if any, connection exists between them and this... this spirit. The Changelings are still our primary concern. The guard will remain in pursuit of them. This other matter will be taken care of, quietly, without anypony ever needing to know of it. End of discussion."

"This is not—"

"Matters of national security fall within my purview, Luna," Celestia interrupted. "I value your counsel, at all times, but this is my decision to make, not yours."

Luna shook her head, bitterly chuckling. There was nothing more she could do. Before Celestia the Autocrat, she lost what gall she had mustered. But just as she couldn't maintain her own courage, neither could Celestia maintain her anger. She sighed, and released everything with it; her posture fell, her wings dropped to her sides, and even her voice turned conciliatory. "Luna, I'm sorry I didn't tell you sooner, and I'm sorry for speaking to you the way that I have. But this matter – it's better for everypony, for the realm, if it gets solved quietly." Her voice took on a pleading tone. "Events are coming to a head, Luna. Should this spiral out of control..."

Luna cocked her head inquisitively. "You fear for Twilight Sparkle's ascension?"

"Among other things. Many other things, which have been in motion for a long, long time. Luna..." Celestia trotted closer to her younger sister, and extended a wing to shield them from prying eyes – pointless, Luna knew, as they were alone, but even a pointless gesture can hold meaning. "I don't mean to seem apathetic. But this is a delicate stage. This spirit, these humans – these things should not be. Publicly, they must be treated as though they don't exist. To do otherwise could undo centuries of planning."

Luna smiled unhappily. "You do not fear that a horde of humans storming Ponyville could undo Twilight Sparkle?" Her heart felt heavy with worry for her friend.

Celestia thought silently before answering. "I will instruct our... agent... to investigate the human presence, and establish a connection between them and this phantasm. I'm not convinced one exists, but it's worth exploring nevertheless. Should it become necessary, we will recall the expeditionary force sent after the Changelings and mobilize the guard." She added, after a moment's quiet, "Wartime protocols are a last resort – the last resort."

Luna leaned closer. "Why not warn Twilight directly?" she whispered. "Task her and the others with solving this riddle?"

"Too many unknowns. I'm confident that he can handle the situation." At Luna's scoff of disgust, Celestia added "I know you don't like him. To be frank, I don't either. But, the situation being what it is, we must be discreet. And he is nothing, if not discreet."

Luna made a sour face. "On that, we can agree. But Twilight—"

"Has enough of a challenge ahead of her without adding this one to her burden," said Celestia.

Luna begrudgingly agreed. In truth, she was loathe to place Twilight in danger. Celestia's insistence on following ancient signs and prophecy to prepare Twilight Sparkle for what was still to come frustrated and unnerved Luna. But at least the prophecies and signs provided guidance, and offered the remote possibility that all would go according to plan. No, thought Luna, best to keep Twilight Sparkle far away from this.

What to do, then? With Celestia unwilling to act, and Twilight Sparkle removed as a possibility... who did that leave to stand for Equestria? Luna imagined a yoke fastened around her neck. She suppressed a grim smile at the image. "Very well," she said. "I do not approve. But for Equestria's sake, I will follow your lead."

Celestia bowed her head. "Thank you, Luna." Gathering herself up as best as she could, Celestia resumed her stroll toward the throne room. The problem still plagued her; it was evident in the way that she carried herself. At the same time, though, her conversation with Luna seemed to have eased her burden somewhat. My consent means something to her. No, she corrected herself, it means everything to her. She felt a sense of warmth at the thought. But the warmth was tempered by knowing that her consent was a lie.

"Tia!" she called. Celestia stopped, turned her head around to regard her sister curiously. "You are no craven," said Luna, fidgeting. "'Twas wrong of me to say so."

A tremor ran through Celestia. She turned her gaze to the floor. "Craven? No," she said, her voice now feathery soft. "Arrogant, though. One doesn't rule alone for a thousand years without growing complacent. I was so secure in the infallibility of the prophecies that I never saw the Changelings coming. My overconfidence nearly cost us the realm." She glanced toward Luna again, her expression hard. "That will never happen again." And with those parting words, she left Luna alone.

Luna shook her head, sighed. "It was not just you, you know. We were all fooled. I wish..." She stared at the spot where her sister had stood. "I wish you would talk to me about it."

A voice inside her reminded Luna that she had more pressing concerns. Her heart ached with concern for Celestia, but that matter would have to wait. When the realm was safe again, perhaps they could revisit the matter, but for now... Forgive me, Tia, she thought, but my defiance may yet save us all.

If only she knew where to start. Equestria's contact with humanity had been limited – once, in antiquity, and never again. She knew only that they were warlike, and had to be frighteningly powerful. Celestia knew more, but she was off limits, lest Luna tip her cards prematurely by inquiring.

There was, however, one other being in existence who might yet recall humanity...

Ghostly, mocking, droll laughter echoed in Luna's mind, and her stomach knotted with anxiety. That was not a conversation she looked forward to. It could be done without releasing him, she knew... but the simple thought of coming face-to-face with a monster of his caliber shook even her nerves. And how did she expect to stand up to Discord when she had difficulty facing down her own sister?

An unbidden yawn passed through her lips; simply thinking about him reminded Luna how tired she was. "Tartarus take me," she groaned. "If I'm to do this, I'll need a nap." She slouched, and trudged toward her own bedchamber, trying vainly to dispel thoughts of the confrontation to come.


"You say you came here through some giant arch?"

I looked up from the book in my hands – a treatise on something called "The Crystal Empire" – to see Twilight neck-deep in a stack of books, levitating a tome the size of my chest in front of her face. "Yeah, with a bust of a smiling white unicorn at the top."

"And there was one back at the castle, right? Can you describe it?"

"Same unicorn bust at the top, except this one was black. And frowning. At the bottom of a pit, surrounded by what looked like a viewing gallery. The whole thing was enclosed by a ring-wall that looked like it was carved from solid obsidian." My interest piqued, I set my book down on a precarious stack of more books, and afforded her my undivided attention. "Don't tell me you found something."

"You tell me." Twilight cleared a path through her book fort and trotted toward me, thrusting her tome in my face. The page she showed me was tattered and yellow, and would probably crumble if anyone laid hands on it, but the illustration, though faded, was recognizable. It was a view of the castle's arch, as seen from the gallery which surrounded it – without, I noted, the wall of obsidian. The throng of ponies, their colors dull and washed-out from the age of the picture, were cheering for something happening just beneath the arch, though the picture was too decayed to discern what. A stylized emblem of a sun, faded-red with fiery rays lashing out on all sides, decorated the top of the illustration. There was an inscription beneath the sun, in some rune language that I didn't recognize.

"That's it," I said. "Back in its heyday, if I'm not mistaken. Just how old is that book?"

Twilight pulled it away from me and held it in front of her face again as she walked back to corner of the room. "Search me, but it's the oldest in the library by far. I can tell you that it's pre-Discord, though, which makes it pretty remarkable."

I picked up another book ("Diamond in the Rough: A Love Story") and leafed through it, not really paying attention to what was on the pages. "Why is that?"

"Discord was – or is, I suppose – a demon who ruled Equestria for a time, eons ago. His reign ended when the Princesses cast him down with the Elements of Harmony." She rotated the book in mid-air, peering closely at it. "Most records of what Equestria was like between the time of its founding and the fall of Discord have been lost, so as far as scholars are concerned, recorded history begins there."

Convenient that it happened to show up in a backwater town library. "And you just happened to have it lying around in the stacks?"

"Not quite," said Twilight. "It came as part of a bulk shipment of ancient texts from the Equestrian National Archives in Marelington last month. It's on loan." She opened the book again and buried her face in it. "As far as I can tell, it covers Equestria's history from the time before its founding, when the three races lived separately, all the way to something called 'The Great Sunset'." She frowned and levitated another book to eye level, flipping through the pages backward a few pages. "It's difficult to say exactly what's in here, though. The book is written in a dead, archaic dialect, and the prose is highly idiomatic. And I've been cross-referencing with other histories to find any corroboration for what little I do clearly understand. But so far..." She stopped flipping through the second book and peered closely at one page. "Huh."

"What?" I craned my neck to get a look at the page.

"Says here that Commander Hurricane and Clover the Clever became lovers after founding Equestria. That's..." She noticed me watching, blushed, and shut the book, turning back to the ancient tome "Probably not relevant."

"Probably not." I set my book down, beside two others I'd flipped through ("A Scientific Analysis of the Cutie Mark" and some asinine creation story involving space-ponies and zebras). "So what does the book say about the arch?"

"Not much," said Twilight. "In fact, the book ends abruptly right after that picture." She flipped forward, showing me page after page of emptiness.

"So it's an incomplete history, then. Did the author die?"

"Maybe. Or maybe the author was interrupted when Discord rose, and she never got the opportunity to finish what she started." Her eyes seemed to shimmer with delight. "This is a true historical treasure. Something this old and valuable belongs in a museum."

I stepped toward her, and nudged her to get her attention; she shook her head, and her eyes cleared. "So what does it say about the arch?" I repeated.

Twilight tilted the book for me to read comfortably. "Like I said, there isn't much. I can read those runes, but the idiom doesn't translate very well. All I can give you is the literal reading. The meaning behind the words might be lost to time."

Find the meaning behind the words. My advice to Jack, biting me in the ass. Whatever god ruled Equestria must have been a sucker for irony. "Do what you can, then."

"Alright." Twilight coughed to clear her throat. "'Here endeth the Vigil of the Eternal Sun, on earth consecrated by the fruit of His most proud and holy loins. May His divine light shineth upon the dissolute, who live detached from His splendor in lands apart. May we live to see Him illuminate our heavens again."

Skeptical, I raised an eyebrow. "'His most proud and holy loins,' huh?"

"I swear, that's what it says."

"I'll have to take your word for it." I stepped away from Twilight, back to my own little stack of books. "So what does that tell us?"

"Not a great deal. Except..." Twilight paused, frowning pensively. "Whoever that arch was dedicated to, the book refers to him in religious terms. A lot of the book is too worn and faded to be legible, and much of the writing is too archaic to be accurately translated anyway, but..."

"But?" I asked, prodding.

"Something Macbeth said in the castle," said Twilight. "Something about Discord defeating the 'god-emperor.' I wonder... could this book be a record of his reign?" She flipped through the book rapidly, pausing on different pages occasionally. "I see the same sort of language used to refer to the sun – or a sun – multiple times throughout. The tone of those passages is worshipful, verging on zealous."

"Sun-worship?" I ventured. "That's not so strange. Where I'm from, the sun was part of a bunch of ancient religions."

"I doubt it's literal sun-worship," said Twilight. "Probably a metaphor for something, or somepony, strongly associated with the sun. Sort of like Princess Celestia, I suppose." She sat on her haunches and tapped her hoof against her chin. "'Wrested Equestria from the rule of the god-emperor...'"

"Is there a mention of a god-emperor in any of your other histories?"

"None whatsoever. But as I said before, most pre-Discord histories are lost. If there was a god-emperor, the records of his existence would have vanished as well. No wonder there's no mention of this anywhere else." She tenderly ran her hoof over its spine. "My gosh. I think we've just discovered a lost era in pony history."

"Don't get too ahead of yourself," I said. "Macbeth knew about this 'god-emperor'. Maybe he read this book, too, back when it was in the archives. Hell, if he was a government official, like he claims, he would have had easy access to them, right?" He may have learned about the portal in the Everfree Forest's castle from that history, too. Was he the one, then, that made contact with Trenton? Did he draw the Patriots' attention by crossing the threshold that separated our worlds?

But all that equipment on the island... no, the Patriots had the means to cross into Equestria already; they knew about the portal, they knew how to turn it on. Did they know about its origin too? What did they know that we didn't?

"I guess," said Twilight, shrugging. "I mean, I'd never have gotten my hooves on it without my association with Princess Celestia, and even then, there was a lot of red tape. A high-ranking government official would have had a far easier time of it than I did." Twilight squinted at the book, scanning the passage she'd read to me slowly, more intently. "You know, this religious fervor, coupled with the tone of the passage..." She shut the book. "Hypothesis. Whoever the god-emperor was, he was using the portal to launch some kind of cross-dimensional holy war."

"Holy war?" I mulled the thought for a moment. 'May His divine light shineth upon the dissolute, who live detached from His splendor in lands apart." "You might be on to something. It sounds like they were trying to spread their faith – missionary work, so to speak. Doesn't sound like they were throwing any church picnic, though." Forced conversion, religious persecution – some things really were universal. "There's a portal on my world, too, connected to the one here. He must've been trying to invade us."

Twilight scrunched up her nose. "The book references that arch being constructed as part of the Great Sunset. It didn't predate the god-emperor's reign, which means it must've been built specifically for the purpose of launching that war. And if it's pony-made, then somepony must've built the one on your end, too." She tapped her chin thoughtfully. "But then, they couldn't very well build two portals on two different worlds at the same time. The one in Equestria had to have come first. Maybe that one was a one-way trip, and this god-emperor built the one in your world after the fact as a way home." She shrugged. "Do you have any historical record of war with ponykind?"

"I'm positive that we don't." I thought for a moment. "Myths, though. Not about a war with your kind, but we have old stories about unicorns and pegasi. Might be your god-emperor was the source of some of those myths?"

"Might be." Twilight set her book down, stretched her back, cracked her neck, and groaned. "Six hours of studying, and that's all we could dredge up."

"Hey, a second ago, you were all excited about discovering some lost epoch," I said. "Don't tell me you're changing your mind."

A tiny smile crossed her face. "You're right. Who needs sleep, anyway?"

I huffed a laugh. "Maybe you don't. I could use a nap, though." My night's rest was something on the order of two, two and a half hours, as it turned out. And after waking Twilight with that package, neither of us had been able to sleep at all. She decided to take advantage of that time to catch up on some studying, and managed to drag me into it. Not like I had anything better to do, of course, but if this was her idea of a cure for insomnia, it sure as hell didn't work for her. If anything, the more she read, the more energized she became.

The feather-package reminded me of the other package she'd gotten the night before, the one which I was pretty sure did not come from a cyborg ninja. "You know," I said, glancing at the box with the note from Derpy attached, "you never did open that box."

"Box? Oh." She waved her hoof dismissively. "I must've forgotten about it. Go ahead and open it, if you're curious."

I admit to being curious, so I did open it. What was inside was the last thing I could have expected. "Twilight," I said, pulling the object from the box, "at what point did you decide that you absolutely needed a gilded unicorn horn?"

"What in Equestria are you talking – oh." Twilight's eyes widened at the sight of the thing. "Oh. Oh my."

The horn was the length of my forearm, golden, and polished to a mirror sheen. Light, too, far lighter than a solid gold object could realistically be (gilded it was, then). I turned it over in my hands, examining it. "It's nice, I'll give you that," I said, "but I don't see any practical purpose for owning something like this." I held it out to her. "Kind of morbid, too, if you ask me. Like owning a pencil holder carved out of someone's skull."

Twilight trotted toward me, levitating the horn from my hands and looking over it closely. "I can guarantee you that I never thought of owning anything like this." Confusion crossed her face. "Where did this even come from? I doubt it came from Derpy; it's not like her to pull pranks on anypony. And I don't see the joke in this, anyway."

"Well," I said, "consider why someone would want to gild a horn in the first place." I took it from where it hung in midair and examined it again. Damn, but it was shiny.

Twilight stroked her chin with her hoof, an out-of-place gesture that I found comical. "It's not unheard of. A unicorn's horn is a symbol of pride, after all, so dolling it up somehow – not my cup of tea, but definitely not out of the ordinary. For males, especially, the horn is a symbol of virility and sexual prowess."

I dropped it abruptly.

"Really?" said Twilight, her tone as flat as the expression she gave me.

"You're all a bunch of deviants," I muttered, backing away it.

Twilight sighed. "Boys. I guess insecurity's a constant in the multiverse." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, yeah; middle-aged stallions, especially, tend to mess with their horn as part of some mid-life thing. I knew a unicorn in Canterlot who stuck two extra horns on his head and gilded all three of 'em. A real cornucopia of neuroses, that pony."

The image made me laugh a little. Twilight picked the horn off the ground with her mouth, and set it back on the corner table. "The mystery of the gilded sex object will have to wait for another day." A more serious expression came over her. "This isn't even the most unusual package I received last night, after all."

This again. I was hoping she'd dropped that subject for good. She'd practically worn a hole in the floor from pacing in a circle when I showed the feather and note to her. "You can't let yourself get hung up on that," I said. "It's Trenton, trying to manipulate you – or me, or all of us. I've seen it before." The recorded audio from Jack's Codec was among the information Otacon and I recovered from Arsenal Gear's A.I. The thing which had masqueraded as Colonel Campbell had told him that Rosemary was being held captive, giving him incentive to carry out the mission he'd been assigned. If Trenton was in the Patriots' employ – and nothing made sense if he wasn't – he could easily have been using the same tactic.

"Maybe," said Twilight. She glanced out the window. The town was just beginning to come to life in the early morning sunlight. Outside, ponies passed by; occasionally, one would glance at the library, at the "CLOSED" sign hanging in the window, and trot right along, disappointed.

Her uncertainty dismayed me. "It's working on you, isn't it?"

She sighed, looked at me. "Snake, when you live around Pinkie Pie for as long as I have, you come to realize that she has—"

"A sixth sense. Right. Applejack tried to sell me on that back in the forest." I folded my good arm across my chest, underneath the one in the sling. "I didn't believe it then. I don't believe it now, coming from you."

Twilight frowned. "You don't know her, so I won't hold your skepticism against you. And if it helps, I didn't believe it either when you told me about it last night. But that note, the feather – all I'm saying is that there might be something to it. We should check it out, at least. What if Rainbow Dash is alive after all? What if it's some kind of prisoner exchange, or a call for help?"

"One," I said, counting off my points on my fingers. "You have no way of knowing who sent that letter, whether Rainbow Dash did it herself, or whether someone else did it for her. Trenton, most likely. Two, you don't know that the feather in the box came from her. Three, she doesn't need to be alive for Trenton to send parts of her body under the pretense that it's her. Four, why would Rainbow Dash use a feather from her body to write us a letter, attach it to a weather balloon that she somehow managed to acquire, then send on a course that would, somehow, manage to intersect with the library? Using her own blood as ink, no less?" That Trenton could do it on his own was unlikely, too, but far more unlikely was that Rainbow Dash did it. "Dammit, Twilight, if you think about this for ten seconds, it won't add up. Trenton's playing you like a damn fiddle."

"I have thought about it, you know," said Twilight, keeping her voice level and patient. "And everything you're saying, I've already considered myself. Even if you're right, I've concluded that it's something worth investigating. We're going to Dodge Junction. " She glared at me. "You don't have to like it. But I need for you to follow my lead on this."

"Why?"

She didn't answer me right away, and when she did, it was with her back to me and her face buried in another book. "Because if I am wrong, Snake, I want you there to rub it in my face so that I don't make that mistake again."

A knock at the door prevented me from asking her what she meant. Without looking up from her book, Twilight magicked the door open, and into the library stepped Applejack and Apple Bloom. The little yellow filly held a thermos in her mouth, while her sister carried a hefty-looking saddlebag, under whose weight her body sagged. That was disconcerting. Applejack's strength and fortitude was impressive, but the events of the night before had nearly broken her – clearly, not a fact that she wanted the world to know. She hid her winces of pain behind a grin that strained at the corners of her mouth, tried to keep as much weight off of her left hind leg as she could without being obvious. Fresh bandages criss-crossed her back, concealing the burns from IRVING's flame thrower, but no doubt the straps of her saddlebag rubbing against them chafed. With the extent of her injuries, she belonged in the hospital. This was a sure road to self-destruction.

Also, she didn't have her hat anymore, and just looked wrong without it.

"Mornin' Twi, Snake," said Applejack. She eyed the mountain of books surrounding the unicorn, and chuckled. "Pullin' an all-nighter?"

Twilight didn't respond. Applejack rubbed the back of her neck, looking abashed by Twilight's cold shoulder, and came toward me instead. "Y'know, I got this feelin' like I oughta pay you back somehow for everythin' you did back in the forest. So..." She took the saddlebag in her mouth and dropped it on the floor, looking instantly relieved once it was off her back, and beckoned me toward it. "Thought I might try feedin' you. Hope ya like apples."

I do like apples, in fact, and the sack was loaded with them. I reached inside the apple sack, grateful for the charity, and pulled one out at random – a golden delicious, I noted, with some appreciation for the congruity. "Thanks," I said.

"Shucks," said Applejack, blushing, "I'm the one thankin' you, remember?" She nodded at Apple Bloom, who very shyly stepped toward me, deposited the thermos on the floor beside the saddlebag of apples, and quickly backed away. I picked up the thermos, unscrewed the lid, and inhaled the earthy aroma of fresh ground coffee, mixed with another scent, pungent and spicy.

"There's cinnamon in this?" I asked.

"Mighty sharp sniffer you got there," said Applejack, impressed. The smile I drew from her looked genuine, not like the grin she'd plastered over her face. It was a nice contrast. "Old Apple family recipe, that coffee. Drink it in good health." She turned her attention back toward Twilight. "Anyway, I didn't jus' come down here to feed y'all. I swung by the hospital a li'l while ago to look in on Spike."

Twilight's tail swished fretfully at the mention of Spike's name.

"He ain't changed. The doc tells me that's a good sign, but then, I ain't a learn'd pony, so I don't know for sure. Doc sneaked some kinda tube down his throat to his stomach, to make sure he's fed, at least. So." She cleared her throat. "Anyway, Fluttershy's there with him. I haven't seen Rarity or Pinkie. An' the doctor said to tell you that you can bring Snake on over any time."

Great, I thought. Time for my invasive magical surgery. I wondered, not for the first time that morning, just how big of a gamble this procedure was. Despite Twilight's assurances, I still had reservations.

Twilight set her book down. "Thank you," she said quietly. "We'll head over right away." She looked at me and jerked her head at the door, heading toward it herself. I sighed, and reluctantly followed.

"Twilight!" Apple Bloom blurted suddenly. My host stopped mid-step and looked at the filly, who nervously kicked at the floor with the tip of her hoof. "I... I jus' wanted to apologize for runnin' away like I did. What happened to Spike, and Rainbow Dash, it never woulda if I'd just..."

Applejack nervously glanced at Twilight. And Twilight, for all her carefully constructed composure, looked like she was about to start crying, and I couldn't handle a magical unicorn crying right then. So I decided to intervene. "We all knew the risks going in, them included," I said, drawing Apple Bloom's shy gaze. "And they were both willing to lay down their lives, if that was what it took to save you."

Apple Bloom was startled for a moment, clearly not expecting me to speak up. "They wouldn'ta had to if—"

"You're right. They wouldn't have. But dwelling on your mistake means that you'll never truly learn from it." I lowered my voice and spoke more gently. "Growing up means choosing how you're gonna live your life. If you want to honor them, then don't live in the past. Live for the future. Remember them, and live a life worth saving."

I think I failed in keeping Twilight from crying, because she turned her face away and sniffled. Apple Bloom did too, but she nodded at me through her tears. "Th-thanks. I will." She turned to walk out the door, stopped, and looked over her shoulder at me with a strange expression that I couldn't quite place. Then she lunged at me from across the room and wrapped her forelegs tightly around my shin before I could say or do a thing about it. "Snake," she said, in a voice full of warmth and admiration. "You're a real hero. Thank you."

I felt my face go hot and my tongue go numb. Apple Bloom squeezed my leg one last time before detaching herself, smiling at me, and heading out the door, with a very amused Applejack following close behind. "I'm not," I mumbled. "I'm... I'm really not..." My eyes met Twilight's. She smiled knowingly at me, the tears not yet dried upon her cheeks.

Sometimes, I am good with kids.


Ponyville. Nice place, from what I'd seen of it. Residents had a proclivity for being looky-loos, though. Annoying, but being the town freak was an adjustment I'd have to make, as long as I was staying there. Still, with the parents averting their eyes, shielding their children's, fearfully hurrying along past me, as if I'd gobble them whole if they lingered by me for too long... a more sensitive man might have his feelings hurt. Might've been something to that fear, though. I was still hungry, and basashi sounded tempting.

I finished off my apple and tossed the core in a street-side garbage can.

Fluttershy was in the hospital's waiting room when we arrived – the first one there, going by what Applejack said. After we checked in with reception, she hugged Twilight and smiled shyly at me, a faint trace of pink on her cheeks. Oh no. "It's wonderful to see you both," she said. "I know Angel's been dying to meet you, Snake, ever since I told him about you."

The snowy head of a white rabbit poked through Fluttershy's mane and fixed me with a death glare. Creepy.

Twilight stroked one of Angel's ears, by way of a greeting. "Thank you for coming," she said. "It means a lot to me, you being here for Spike."

"Oh, of course," said Fluttershy. "Little Spike means so much to all of us. And when Angel heard about what happened, he wanted so badly to come along and pay his respects. He was so worried about Spike, weren't you Angel?"

Angel's expression of loathing intensified.

"Weren't you?!" Fluttershy snapped, in a voice so uncharacteristically loud and angry that it even startled me.

Angel's ears fell, and his expression wilted. He withdrew into Fluttershy's mane and nodded shakily.

"Desperately worried," she said, turning back to us and smiling gently.

I glanced at Twilight from the corner of my eye; she looked similarly shocked. "Applejack mentioned that you were here," I said to Fluttershy. "Have you seen any of the others?"

"I chatted with Pinkie Pie a little earlier, but when I took my eye off of her, she vanished. You know, the way she does. And I stopped by the boutique on my way here to talk to Rarity. It looked like she hadn't opened the shop, so I knocked on the door, and she called back that she was closed for the day. So I left, and came here."

"Did you say anything back to her?" I asked. "Your name, for instance?"

Fluttershy dipped her head, letting her bangs conceal her face. "I didn't think to until after I knocked, and, well... I didn't want to be a bother."

Oh, heaven save me.

"I'll have to talk to her later, to bring her up to speed. There's been a... development." said Twilight. "We need to be on the same page, here." She drew Fluttershy closer with a hoof and lowered her voice. "Last night, a few hours after we got home..."

She filled in Fluttershy on what happened with the balloon, and gave her the gist of our research regarding the portals connecting my world with theirs. By the end, Fluttershy's eyes were wide and her ears stood on end. "Oh dear, oh dear," she murmured. "Do you think it's true? That there's a chance Rainbow Dash might have survived?"

Twilight answered before I could. "It's possible. We won't know unless we go to Dodge and investigate. If she is alive, she might be in danger, and I don't want to prolong that danger by sitting on this." She glared at me. "Despite what some might suggest."

Spare me. I rubbed my aching shoulder. Maybe I should have taken up the doc's offer for pain killers. Then again, swallowing a handful of horse tranquilizers might have some negative repercussions.

The door connecting reception from the exam rooms opened, and a unicorn nurse levitating a clipboard emerged. Glancing at the board, and then at me, she said "Mr. Snake? Right this way, please."

Twilight exchanged goodbyes with Fluttershy and Angel. "I'll look in on Rarity personally," she said to Fluttershy. "Would you mind getting Applejack? Pinkie, too, if you can find her. Meet us at the train station in three hours"

Fluttershy agreed. On their way out the door, Angel poked his head out at me. He bared his teeth and slashed his paw across his throat.

Psychopathic bunny rabbits. Equestria really did have it all.

"Train station, huh?" I asked Twilight as we followed the nurse down the hospital corridor. "So we're actually doing this."

"I'm proceeding under the assumption that we are, yes," said Twilight testily.

I scoffed, but swallowed whatever criticism I had. I didn't want to get sucked into another argument; time enough for that later. Instead, I changed the subject. "What's up with Rarity? Fluttershy suggested that there was something going on with her."

"She's probably upset over what happened to Spike. The two of them..." Twilight seemed to choose her words with care. "They have a somewhat complicated relationship."

I might've done a double-take. "What, don't tell me the two of them—"

"No!" said Twilight quickly. "Not like that. But she – that is to say, he – look, the thing is, with Spike and Rarity—" She fumbled a few more times, before sighing in frustration. "Spike's in love with her," she said at last, exasperated.

What was so hard about saying that? "You mean he has a crush on her."

"I know what I said." She sounded defensive, as if expecting me to contradict her a second time. When I didn't, her voice turned quiet and contemplative. "I doubt Rarity feels the same way, but even so, she's probably closer to him than anypony besides myself. She must be taking it especially hard. Not to mention..." She rolled her eyes. "Rarity's always been rather melodramatic." We came to a stop in front of a door, with the nurse pushing it open for me to duck inside. "I'll talk to her, don't worry."

"Didn't say I was." I was. A little.

"Procedures like this don't take long – a few hours, at the most," said Twilight. "I'll be back around noon to check in on you, okay?" I nodded, and she left.

My room had the usual hospital set-up - cabinet, sink, insipid posters with inspirational phrases on them. Yet another constant between worlds. Somewhat unusual was a fern to the left of the bed, a vain attempt to liven up the place. The nurse directed me to an exam table that looked jury-rigged from two much smaller exam table and masses of pillows and cushions hastily stuck together. "Please forgive the accommodations," said the nurse. "We weren't prepared to meet the needs of someone of your..." She eyed me from toe-to-head. "Proportions."

"Don't stick me with any strange needles, and we'll call it even." The table was surprisingly comfortable when I sat on it, though the way it creaked told me that I wouldn't want to stay there longer than necessary.

"The doctor is with another patient at the moment," said the nurse. "He'll see you momentarily." With that, she left the room, shutting me in. I laid back on my exam table, wincing as a pillow pressed awkwardly against my dislocated shoulder. They didn't put as much thought into this set-up as they wanted me to believe.

I sighed. "I hate hospitals."

"You and me both, brother!" Something exploded out of the potted plant beside me, sending bits of dirt and fern flying all across the room. "Which is why Patch Pinkie is here to—"

I reflexively lashed out at the source of the noise with a left hook. The thing in the plant flew across the room, smashing against the wall beside the door and falling to the linoleum floor. It was Pinkie Pie.

In a dirt-stained doctor's coat.

With a stethoscope around her neck, and wearing a red clown nose.

She was unconscious.

Whoops.


Twilight frowned at the homemade "CLOSED" sign hanging on the door to Carousel Boutique. "You're not fooling anypony, Rarity," she yelled. "I know you're in there."

The hum of the motor on the other side of the door remained constant. "Taking a personal day, dear!" called Rarity from inside. "Come again tomorrow!"

Worry crept up Twilight's spine. That Rarity would be upset after the previous night's events was a given, that she'd retreat into solitude, understandable. Now, though, Twilight found herself wondering just how far gone she was. Did she even recognize my voice? "It's Twilight Sparkle, Rarity. Can I come in?"

The motor trailed off. Twilight lingered, in silence, for a long, tense moment. Her sense of worry grew. Things were grim enough without losing Rarity to despair.

Her answer only deepened Twilight's concerns. "I don't think you should come in. The shop, it's a mess. A disaster zone." The motor whined to life again.

Twilight's concern found itself sharing brain space with frustration. "Rarity, you know I don't care about that. I really..." The motor whirred louder, and Twilight had the distinct, stinging feeling that Rarity was trying to drown her voice with the noise. "We didn't see you at the hospital. Everypony—" She paused, considered Snake, and adjusted her tack. "Everyone is worried."

The motor fell silent again. Rather than wait for Rarity to dismiss her again, Twilight pressed her position. "I just want to talk, Rarity. Can you open the door so that we can talk?"

Another long silence followed, during which whatever cautious optimism Twilight had felt started to ebb. But presently, she heard hoofbeats from within the shop, drawing closer and growing louder, then the click of a deadbolt unfastening. The door opened a crack, and the top of Rarity's head peeked out at her. "Are you alone?" she asked in a ragged whisper.

Twilight stepped aside, and Rarity's eyes darted here and there, searching for any unannounced escorts. Satisfied, albeit with a seeming reluctance, she slowly opened the door wide enough for Twilight to enter.

There was no trace of Carousel Boutique's normally buoyant and sophisticated atmosphere. None of the lamps were lit, and the curtains were drawn shut and pinned together. Yet even in the dark, Twilight could see that the boutique looked no less well-kept than usual. The only thing about it that looked out of order was Rarity herself. She'd bathed, washed away the grime of the night before, but she looked even more out of sorts than Applejack, with baggy eyes and lids which drooped, and a lank and unstyled mane. When she moved, it was in a slow, listless trot, her hooves dragging along the carpet. All in all, she looked more broken than Applejack.

"I hope you don't mind if I work while we talk." Rarity's tone was atypically lifeless, as dull and dreary as she way she carried herself. "Terribly rude of me, I know, but the world stops turning for nopony."

Rarity had an electric sewing machine on a table that was set up across the boutique's showroom. The table was flanked by ponyquins, one on either side. Over the back of one, a dress was draped, neatly folded into a symmetrical square. The dress lacked the style and flair that characterized Rarity's designs – no intricate embroidery that Twilight could see, nor any gemstones or decorations. It was simple, and of a single, solid color – black or brown. Twilight couldn't tell which, owing to the poor lighting.

As Rarity returned to her sewing machine, the motor whining in protest when she switched it on, Twilight inspected the dress more closely. "Did you just make this?" she asked. She thought about pulling it from the ponyquin and unfolding it, but Rarity's relative instability quashed that idea quickly.

Rarity glanced at the dress from the corner of her eye for an instant before returning to her work. "Hmm, whipped it up overnight. A little something for Snake, as an apology for how I spoke to him before."

"For Snake?" Twilight's face crinkled as she suppressed a laugh at the thought of Snake done up in an elegant designer gown. "I don't think dresses are Snake's style, Rarity."

Rarity stopped the machine and glared askance at Twilight. "It's a coat," she said flatly. Her magic shimmered around the clothing in question, and pulled it off the ponyquin, unfurling it to its full length. Despite lacking the obvious signs of a Rarity original, the coat looked well-made and comfortable – functional, if not stylish. Snake'd like it.

Twilight smiled sheepishly at her mistake. "You made it all in one night?" she asked. "And without even taking his measurements?"

"Mm, well." Rarity turned back to her sewing, draping the coat back over the ponyquin. "All guesswork. But it should fit him. Mostly."

Twilight stepped around the ponyquin and peeked over Rarity's shoulder, at the outfit she was currently sewing. "And what are you working on now?"

Rarity quickly moved to block Twilight's view. "It's nothing special," she said hastily. "Just an order for a client."

"C'mon, it must be—" Twilight moved to look over Rarity's other shoulder, but she was quickly blocked on that side too. "It must be pretty special to—" She faked going over Rarity's head, and ducked underneath her foreleg, squeezing between Rarity and the machine "To spend all night working on it."

"But it's not finished," Rarity protested, her tone high and trembling with anxiety. It was the most emotional she'd sounded since Twilight arrived. "It's nowhere near – darling, please let me get back to— "

"Rarity..." Twilight's voice was lowered to an awed whisper. "This is..."

It was a tiny jacket, foal-sized, though not meant for a pony to wear. In shape, it more closely resembled Snake's coat. Unlike the coat, though, this jacket looked distinctly like a Rarity product, lined with gold piping sewn into intricate patterns. The whole thing looked distinctly naval; even the fabric looked to be navy blue. Either the color's a pun on the design, or the design's a pun on the color, Twilight thought, laughing appreciatively.

"Is this for who I think it is?" she asked, turning back to Rarity with a small smile.

Rarity looked flustered, embarrassed. She dug at the carpet with a hoof, nervous. "It is a get-well-soon gift for a dear, dear friend," she said stiffly. "Nothing more. I don't know what you're insinuating; I'd do the same for anypony I knew who was in a persistent vegetative state. " She glared at Twilight. "And I do not appreciate you nosing your way into my creative process, or my business."

Her sudden scorn took Twilight aback. A sense of guilt came over her, and she lay the jacket over the ponyquin on the other side of the table. "I'm sorry," she said. "I'm just – we were just concerned for you. You've shut yourself up in the boutique; you won't answer the door; you've worked through the night... Rarity, have you rested at all since we got back?"

"So what if I haven't?" Rarity replied, growing defensive. "Work happens to be very relaxing for many ponies, myself included. It keeps body and mind occupied, and holds troublesome thoughts and feelings at bay!"

"Thoughts? Feelings?" Twilight moved closer to Rarity. "About what?"

"Oh, what aren't they about?" Rarity cried, throwing her hooves into the air. "Spike! Rainbow Dash! Snake, the humans, this impending invasion, and all of us, and our hideously low chances of survival – oh, look what you've done; now I can't stop thinking again!" She rushed back to her sewing, revving up the motor again. "I have to work; I need to concentrate, because otherwise—"

With a quick flash of violet light, the groan of the motor tapered off, and the motion of the needle slowed to a gradual halt. For a few seconds, Rarity continued to paw ineffectually at the outfit, until she realized what had happened.

She whirled on Twilight, murder alight in her eyes. "Why would you do that?!"

"You need to work," said Twilight gently, "because otherwise, you can't stop thinking about everything that's happening. Am I right?" She took a step toward Rarity, who bristled and fell into a defensive posture. "But, Rarity... look at the toll it's taking on you. You're destroying yourself." Another step forward; Rarity flared her nostrils and snorted like a feral beast. "You need sleep, Rarity."

"Don't you think I tried?!" Rarity snapped. "I don't have a switch that I can throw to make all these thoughts go away!" She frantically shuffled her hooves, almost dancing in place. "I thought getting clean would help. I spent so long in the tub, scrubbing it all away – the castle, and Trenton, the timberwolves, that dead soldier in the Everfree Forest, Zecora and Apple Bloom and watching Trenton drop us all and make off with that poor little filly. All of it! Down the drain!" She swung her hoof dramatically, simulating a tidal wave, but brought it too close to the sewing machine and accidentally whacked the metal casing hard enough to dent it. The sudden clanging noise made Twilight jump.

Rarity didn't react, either to the noise or the impact. She planted her front hooves upon the table, facing away from Twilight again. "But no matter how clean I made myself," she continued breathlessly, "the memories and feelings lingered. I couldn't wash them away! I crawled into bed and shut my eyes, and all I could see was..." Her lips trembled. She slumped forward against the table. Her ferocious expression started to fall apart. "All I could see was..."

Twilight closed the remaining distance between the two of them, and placed her hooves on Rarity's shoulders. The other unicorn turned her head around, took one look at her friend, and collapsed against her chest. The whole night's worth of helplessness, frustration and fear poured from Rarity, down her face and into Twilight's fur. Twilight smiled gently and rubbed Rarity's back. "It's alright," she said. "Let it out, Rarity."

"S-spike," Rarity blubbered, clinging tightly to Twilight. "L-lying in that pile of rubble, looking so b-b-broken... And Rainbow Dash..." Another fit of sobs shuddered through Rarity. "Who will be next? Who's the next f-friend we're going to lose?!" She buried her face into Twilight's chest and screamed.

"Nopony," said Twilight, willing herself to believe her words, even as she spoke them. "We haven't lost anypony. We're not going to."

"H-h-how can you s-s-say that?!" Rarity wailed. "With Spike on his deathbed and Rainbow Dash just... just gone?! "

"Because Spike isn't going to die," said Twilight, maintaining an even, soothing tone. "And Rainbow Dash—"

"Don't s-start," snapped Rarity, sniffing. "You can't possibly be in the s-s-same denial as Pinkie."

"I'm not," said Twilight. "I was skeptical too, but..." She hugged Rarity a little closer. "There's a chance she might really have survived."

Rarity's breathing hitched. Sniffling, she wiped her nose and pulled away to look Twilight in the eye. "What do you mean?"

Twilight glanced away. "Something came to the library last night – a package. A feather, the same color as one of Rainbow's. Along with a... ransom note, I guess."

Confusion played over Rarity's messy, tear-streaked features. "Ransom note?" she asked. Her breathing was still unsteady, causing her to stammer out some of her words. But the news had calmed her somewhat; if nothing else, she'd stopped crying.

"Maybe more like a summons," Twilight corrected. "'Dodge Junction, by train.'"

"Dodge Junction..." Rarity pressed her lips together, glancing downward. She hiccuped. "It sounds like a trap."

Twilight was quiet, reluctant to answer. "Snake thinks so, too," she said at last. "I'd be a fool not to consider the probability."

Rarity sighed. She separated herself from Twilight's embrace and looked over her shoulder at the empty table, at the outfits on the ponyquins, on the dented sewing machine. For a moment, Twilight feared that Rarity would lapse back into the state she'd found her in. But Rarity instead slid to the floor and curled her legs underneath her body, and rested her head on the soft boutique carpet. "Fool's hope," she mumbled. "The best we can do." She sniffed. "A mess. This whole situation is one big mess."

"Yeah." Twilight sat beside Rarity, staring across the darkened, empty boutique. "But at a time like this, what else can we do but hope? I mean..." She wrapped her magic around the coat Rarity had made, and dragged it in front of them, unfurling it again. "Besides indulge in sartorial spontaneity."

Rarity looked up at the coat and cracked a smile. "Oh, that." She levitated a handkerchief from the table and dabbed her nose with it, blowing softly. "Well, I felt awful about exploding at Snake the way I did, back in the forest. He was only being realistic. I was the one who...."

Twilight looked searchingly at Rarity. "Who what?"

Rarity folded the hanky and set it in front of her. "I'm a hypocrite, Twilight. I didn't believe Pinkie any more than he did."

The coat was considerably larger than the both of them. Twilight lay it lengthwise over their bodies. The interior was soft, silky, and surprisingly warm. "So you made the coat to apologize," said Twilight. "And also... as penance?"

"Penance," mused Rarity. "That's not a bad word for it. Penance for my hypocrisy."

"What about the one for Spike?" She tugged her side of the coat a little tighter over her body. "This is really comfortable, by the way."

"Thank you for that." Rarity folded her forelegs in front of her and rested her chin on them. "I finished the coat in six hours – no breaks, you know; six hours of uninterrupted work – and I started... thinking again." She shuddered. "Spike looked so cold in his bed." She looked at Twilight, puzzled. "Are dragons cold-blooded?"

Twilight blinked. "Well, I think they count as reptiles, but... I don't know; dragons may be different." She shrugged.

Rarity waved her hoof. "Doesn't matter, I suppose. Anyway, to occupy myself I started working on something for Spike. Something stylish, and warm, the perfect blend of form and functionality. The more time I put into it, the more of... myself... I put into it." She bit her lip; her eyes started to water again.

"You just wanted to do something nice for him," Twilight surmised.

"Maybe. But the longer I worked, the more it became about exorcising my own demons," said Rarity. "You see, as I worked, there was this little voice in the back of my head saying 'he won't ever wake up, he won't ever see it, he won't ever wear it.' And it got louder and louder, the longer I worked, until it was practically screaming."

"Is that why you worked the machine so hard?" asked Twilight. "I could hear the motor from outside, you know."

"A vain attempt at drowning out the cacophony in my mind, yes." She screwed her face up into a sour frown. "Although, I think the only thing I succeeded in doing is ruining my motor." She laughed emptily, followed it with a sigh. "Oh, Spike. My brave little dragon. Why did he insist on coming with us? So bloody chivalrous." She pressed her hooves together. "And I let that monster Trenton lay hands on him..."

An icy dagger of guilt stabbed into Twilight's heart. After all, Rarity's blame was misplaced. "I was the one who let him come with us, Rarity. Against my better judgment, even." She stroked her back. "If anypony should feel guilty, it's me. But you? He'd never want you to abuse yourself on on his account. Because..." Twilight hesitated, recalling something about being sworn to secrecy under penalty of cupcake to the eye, and thus being unsure of whether or not she should finish.

"Because he's in love with me."

The words, spoken so matter-of-factly, as if the fact were common knowledge, surprised Twilight. She'd always figured Rarity as oblivious. Rarity saw Twilight's expression of shock, and smiled sadly. "He's not exactly subtle about it, darling."

The phantom sensation of cake frosting in her eye faded, and Twilight smiled with relief.

"You know..." Rarity gathered herself up, sat on her haunches, stretched her legs with a slight groan. She shrugged out of the coat, and let her end of it drop around Twilight. "I always knew I'd have to talk to him about that, one day. But I kept putting it off. Truth is, I always hoped that he'd just... get over it on his own, so that I wouldn't have to break his heart. The thought of hurting him..." She chuckled darkly. "You think you have all the time in the world for things like this. Then the world kicks sand in your eyes, just to remind you who's boss."

"You still do have time." A little reluctantly – it was just so warm in there! – Twilight slid the coat off of herself and folded it with her magic. "He'll make it. You'll give him the gift that you made for him, and you'll... you'll have that talk."

"Hmm." Rarity's response was pensive and non-committal.

"Just... make sure you let him down gently, okay?" Rarity wasn't the only one who'd considered that inevitable, difficult conversation with Spike. Heartbreak wasn't something Twilight had ever needed to deal with, either for herself, or for her friends. She'd be there for her little dragon; how could she not be? But she'd always wondered what it would mean for their friendship, if Spike and Rarity would be forever alienated, the former too hurt to associate with her. And the strain that would put on her friendship, with both of them, in turn, and the strain that would put on their collective friendship...

Tug one thread, and the whole thing unravels, Twilight thought gloomily.

"Hmm." The same response. Twilight was deathly curious as to what Rarity was thinking about, and was about to ask, when Rarity shook her head, blinked sleepily, and yawned. "Oh, how I ramble. Forgive me, dear; I haven't slept, you know."

"Maybe you should get on that?" Twilight said lightly, nudging Rarity.

Rarity giggled, and the sound actually lifted Twilight's dour spirits. "Who am I to argue?" Rarity lifted her hindquarters off the carpet, turned to the stairs, stopped, looked Twilight in the eye. She smiled. "I actually do feel a little better, you know. Maybe I can..." She yawned again. "Get at least a Zs in before the next crisis rolls along."

"Get yourself more than a few," Twilight teased.

Rarity lingered on the stairs a moment longer; the pensive look came over her face again. "Listen, Twilight, about Spike..."

Twilight perked an ear, waited expectantly... but Rarity shook her head, cleared the look from her face. "Never mind," she said, yawning. "Sleep now. Angst later." Rarity nodded at Twilight one last time, and trotted up the stairs, with a sleepy sort of sprightliness in her step. When she heard the bedroom door close, Twilight let herself out of the boutique.

The mid-morning sun was refreshing, after so much time spent in the dark. Twilight shut the door to the boutique, ensured that it was still locked, and mentally crossed visiting Rarity off of her to-do list. She had mixed feelings on the visit – relieved in some ways, more concerned in others. Rarity seemed stable now; the talk with Twilight had been fairly therapeutic for her. Even if it did leave me with some unanswered questions, thought Twilight. She found some new worry to attribute to Rarity – surely, her friend would have more tact than to break Spike's heart the moment he woke up. Unless... her heart skipped a beat.

Unless she doesn't plan to let him down at all.

She shook her head, trying to drive the thoughts away, mimicking Rarity. That was a silly thought that she didn't want to waste neurons upon. Besides which, she had more pressing concerns. Rarity's condition may have improved, but she was still out of play for the time being. And if they were to take this trip to Dodge after all, Twilight needed all of them at peak performance.

Twilight ran through the list in her head. Pinkie Pie seemed fine the night before. She'd taken the fewest hits out of any of them, save the unscathed Fluttershy, who had seemed emotionally stable. She must've talked to Pinkie about Dash and believed her. Otherwise, I don't think she'd be able to hold herself together.

That left Applejack. The farmer was the strongest and hardiest among them, and certainly the best pure martial fighter after Rainbow Dash. But Applejack was a shell, whatever face she put on for the world to see. It took more than a good night's rest to undo the damage she'd absorbed, and she had no business in a combat situation until she recovered.

Applejack's out. The conclusion offered her a measure of relief. That leaves myself, Pinkie, Fluttershy, and... Her heart fell like an anvil at the realization that the one among them most suited for dealing with something like this was the one least likely to cooperate. What to do? Fluttershy and Pinkie would follow her, if she asked. Hay, they would insist upon going. Suppose, though, that a platoon of PW soldiers were waiting for them – or worse, another IRVING? She loved Fluttershy, but combat was never her strong suit, and Pinkie, for all her talent with the bizarre, wasn't much more of a fighter than Fluttershy. Dragging them, alone, into a combat situation would be tantamount to murder, as far as Twilight was concerned.

The only one I can count on is Snake, thought Twilight. And I don't know if I can count on him at all. Sure, he'd blown his cover to help them in the castle, but Twilight had no reason to believe that his reasons were purely altruistic. He had even less reason to help now. They worked together out of mutual need, and once his shoulder was healed, Snake wouldn't need them anymore. If he didn't care for the plan, there was nothing stopping him from simply walking away and finishing his mission on his own. Twilight couldn't have that. Even if he didn't need them anymore, they still needed him.

Of course, it was unlikely that he'd follow her willingly. He wouldn't budge from the idea that going to Dodge Junction was a trap. Probably because he's right, Twilight thought bleakly. What, then? Do I just let it go? Focus our efforts here, in Ponyville? It was a viable course of action... but it would mean giving up on Rainbow Dash altogether. And that...

"Don't look back, egghead. Keep runnin', and don't look back."

...was not something she was willing to do.

But going alone wasn't an option. Bringing her friends wasn't a good option. That left her one choice. And he wasn't going to like it.

He doesn't have to like it, she thought. He just needs to do it. The idea was so unlike anything she'd learned that simply thinking of it made her queasy. She could compromise, though. If it meant saving Rainbow Dash, she could live with being a hypocrite.

Ignoring the weight in the pit of her stomach, Twilight set off toward the Ponyville town hall.


Pinkie came to before much time had passed. I had mixed feelings on that. I was relieved that she was alright, on the one hand; I didn't care for her, but that doesn't translate necessarily into wishing permanent brain damage on her.

On the other, I was dismayed that now I'd have to listen to her.

"Whoooooaaaaa," she moaned, rubbing her head where I'd hit her. "What the expletive deleted just happened?"

"You popped out of a plant to surprise me," I said. "And I punched you across the room out of reflex."

Pinkie stopped rubbing. She tilted her head at me.

"Sorry," I mumbled sheepishly.

Pinkie dismissed my apology with a wave of her hoof. "Oh, pshaw. I was trying to startle you, after all. I give me an A for effort!" She reached into one of her pockets, produced a giant felt "A", and stuck it on her lapel.

"Cute." Who carries something like that in their pocket?

She beamed. "You think so?"

"No. What, exactly, are you doing here?"

"I figured I'd keep you company!" Pinkie bounced on the tips of her hooves to my bedside, reared up on her hind legs, and leaned her elbow on the side of the exam table. "I don't know what hospitals are like where you come from, but the ones around here – hoo! It takes more than a fern or two to lift a down-and-out pony's spirits, you know what I'm saying? You know what I'm saying."

"Somehow," I said, "I don't think entertainment is the hospital's priority." I had to give this one credit, though – instead of sterility and tile polish, Ponyville General smelled strongly of cinnamon buns.

"And that's the problem with the system, consarnit!" Pinkie tried to thump her hoof on the bed, but struck my thigh by mistake. She noticed and blushed. "Sorry."

"Not the worst I've had," I muttered, rubbing the spot where she'd struck me. That'd leave a bruise... 'til the nanos got it, anyway.

"Glad to hear it! So, anyway." Pinkie cleared her throat. "Haven't you ever heard the saying 'laughter is the best medicine'? I don't know about you, but when I'm feeling sick, nothing puts a bounce back in my step quite like a good belly laugh."

"Where I come from, medicine is the best medicine."

Pinkie snorted and burst into loud guffaws. "Ah, I knew you had a little comedian in you. Everypony does!"

"I'm not a pony."

"Are you suuuure?" sang Pinkie, pushing her face uncomfortably close to mine. "'Cuz I'm sensin' you've got a little pony in you! Maybe I oughta poke around and find out!" She poked me in the chest with her hoof. "Huh? Feel up to a little exploratory surgery?" Poke. "Gotta make sure you didn't fracture your funny bone!" Poke. Poke. "'Funny bone', geddit?"

"Knock it off." I shoved her off of me. Her head jutted right back up to my height, her neck stretching like rubber to make it happen.

"Not a punny guy, huh?" Pinkie reached into her pocket again, produced a long, red balloon, blew into it, and tied its end to keep the air in. "That's okay; I got lots to work with. How do you feel about balloon animals?" She turned her back to me; her forelegs became a whirling, pink blur; I heard the squeak of rubber against rubber, and when she turned back around, the balloon had been twisted into the shape of a pair of hexagons, linked together end-on-end.

Far from being funny, that was just deeply confusing. "How in the..."

Pinkie frowned at her creation. "'How in the' indeed. I was trying to make a puppy. Hmm." She turned back around and twisted the shape again; when she faced me next, the balloon was in the shape of a praying mantis. "That time, I was trying to make a double hexagon!" She tossed the balloon mantis into the air and bounced it over her shoulder with one hoof. "Well, whatever. It didn't seem to work on you, anyway."

"That's because I'm not an infant."

I thought I saw Pinkie's smile waver the tiniest bit before she launched back into her routine. "You don't have to be a baby to enjoy a good laugh. Anyone can – pony or no!" She beamed hopefully at me. "C'mon, Snake, what's your pleasure? Knock-knock jokes? Physical comedy? Stand-up? You name it, baby, and I'll make it happen! Like this!" She somehow made a snapping sound with her hoof.

Similarly, I heard a snapping sound in my head as the last thread of my patience broke. "Pinkie Pie."

"That's muh name!" Pinkie stared expectantly at me.

"We seem to have had a communication problem. Frankly, I blame myself; apparently, I haven't been direct enough. Let me clarify, once and for all, how I feel about your attempts at humor." I leaned forward, watching her recoil and her expression wilt with every word I spoke. "You're not funny. You will never be funny. I will never laugh at a joke that you make, because none of your jokes are at all funny. All you are is annoying." I lay back on my bed and turned onto my side. "So just cut your losses, walk out that door, and leave me alone."

I heard a tiny popping noise, and my temper flared again. I rose and turned to face her. "And, dammit, would you cut it out with the balloon— " What I saw killed the rest of that thought before I could give voice to it. Pinkie Pie's neck hung low, her ears drooping against her head. Her mane, which had resembled cotton candy inflated with helium moments before, now sagged inward, looking like it was about to implode. She wasn't crying, or anything – thank heavens for small miracles; I'd had about as much crying from ponies as I could take – but from the expression on her face, she looked like she could start at any second.

I felt remorse, and instantly grew annoyed with myself. How was it that Pinkie could barge in on me and push me to the limits of my patience with her clowning, and then make me feel like the bad guy for telling her off? "Look, I didn't mean—"

"Yeah, you did," she said quietly.

I blinked. "Alright, yeah, I did. But that's... that's no reason to... uh..." I struggled to think of something uplifting to say. "I really like your, uh..." What, mane? Coat? Ass tattoo? "Well, sneaking into the hospital and hiding in the plant; that had to take some skill. Pretty impressive."

She stared at me morosely. "But you don't think I'm funny."

No-win scenario. "No. But I was harsh; I'm sorry for that."

"It's okay. Really." She looked at me, and I didn't see any trace of deception in her expression. Just this sad sort of resignation. It was a disturbing face for her to wear. Anything that wasn't gushing effusiveness looked alien on Pinkie. "It isn't your fault. It's mine. I thought I could make you smile, the way I'd make anypony else smile, but all this time, I've been ignoring that you're just not a pony. Or anything like a pony. And for all I know, they don't even have smiles where you come from." She sniffed, and wiped her face with her foreleg. "I've been trying too hard, and I haven't been a good friend to you at all."

Not the first time a pony had called me that. "We're friends?"

"Well, yeah," she said. "Or, I thought that we were. But I can't make you smile. And I make all my friends smile. So if I can't do that with you... She stuck her face in one of the exam bed's cushions, speaking into it. "Maybe you and me just aren't supposed to be friends."

I had no idea what I could say or do to make this situation better, so I stuck with a neutral tone and hoped that things would resolve themselves. "I didn't realize it was so important to you."

Pinkie lifted her head and sighed. "Maybe things work different where you come from. But everypony in Equestria has a special talent that they're destined to spend their lives doing. You find that, and you get your cutie mark. Me?" She lifted her rump in the air, drawing my attention to the image of balloons stamped on her flank.

"My talent is making ponies laugh and smile." Pinkie lowered her haunches and folded her forelegs on the exam bed; I moved to the side to give her room. "Rarity's a wizard when it comes to dressmaking. Applejack's a wizard with apples. And Twilight, she's an actual wizard." That made her giggle; her hair poofed up a bit. "I'm not any kind of wizard. I throw a party like it's nopony's business, and I bake a mean cake. Besides that, there's not much more I can do." She looked at me again. "So, yeah. It's pretty important to me."

So Pinkie Pie acted the way she did because she had nothing else to offer the world. Underneath the laughter, the gags, the lame puns, lay a foundation of inadequacy. It was annoying as all get out, but knowing that, it was hard not to look at her with some measure of sympathy.

Which, apparently, I was doing, because she rolled her eyes at me. "Hey, don't look at me like that. I'm not throwing myself a pity-party because I can't put a mustache on Spike with a wave of my horn." She shook her head. "I love laughter. I love making ponies laugh. I got no regrets on that score. It's my destiny, after all."

Oh. Okay. "So, in not laughing at your jokes, am I keeping you from fulfilling your destiny?" It sounded asinine, but the concept would have fit with a place like Equestria.

Pinkie turned that over for a moment. "Eh. Maybe. But then again, maybe not so much." She shrugged. "I know what my destiny is. I'm mostly sure I know how to fulfill it. But in this tipsy-topsy-turvy world, there's not much you can be certain of, is there?"

"There's a lot you seem pretty certain of," I said. "Insistent upon, even."

Pinkie's ears perked. She raised her forelegs so that her elbows rested on the bed, and propped her face up between her hooves. "You're talking about my Pinkie Sense?"

"Pinkie Sense?" I arched an eyebrow, confused.

"Y'know. That thing you don't think I really have." She shrugged. "I know you don't believe me about Rainbow Dash."

She has a name for that? Of course she has a name for that. I watched her carefully, not wanting her to deflate again. That was a disturbing manifestation of a bad mood that I didn't care to see again. "You want her to be alive. I get that. But I saw her get buried in that rubble. Between that, the bombs going off, and IRVING, I don't see how she could have escaped alive."

"Oh, I don't either," said Pinkie, completely nonchalant.

I stared blankly at her.

"Pinkie sense! Like I said!" She grinned. "Weird stuff happens to my body sometimes – shudders, or shivers, or twitches, stuff like that. Specific signs for when something specific is about to happen." She wagged her tail. "Twitchy tail means that something's gonna fall, for instance. Or achy shoulder; that means there's an alligator in the bathtub."

"Alligator in the...?"

"It's more common than you think."

I wasn't sure that I believed her. Still, it wouldn't be the strangest thing I'd seen in Equestria. "Uh-huh. So what would your body do to tell you that Rainbow Dash was dead?"

She rubbed her chest with the back of her hoof. "Achey-breaky heart." Pinkie thumped herself twice. "When somepony I love is about to die, I get the worst pains in my chest. Like when I lost Granny Pie. I got this feeling, like my heart was ripping in two, right down the middle. That's when I knew that something bad happened. I ran home right away, hoping I was wrong, but..." She looked away for a moment and wiped her eye with a hoof before facing me again. "Pinkie Sense is never wrong."

So it was a particularly useless and impractical form of precognition. "You don't feel that now?"

She clucked her tongue. "I haven't felt it at all. That's why I was so confused when you said that she was dead. I thought 'either my Pinkie Sense is on the fritz, or Dashie's still alive.' And my Pinkie Sense never goes on the fritz. So Dashie must be alive!" She smiled brightly. "It's only logical."

We defined logic in two different ways, she and I. "That doesn't exactly convince me, Pinkie."

"I didn't think it would," said Pinkie. "But Applejack, and Fluttershy, and everypony else – they believe me. They believe in me. And I believe in me too. It's what keeps me going, Snake. Especially right now. With everything that's happened, and still happening..." She blinked rapidly. "I know in my heart that Rainbow Dash is alive. And so I'm going to keep smiling. 'Cuz if I stop believing, for even a minute, maybe they'll stop believing too. And then, Dashie's as good as dead."

Superstitious idiocy. Pinkie's "Pinkie Sense" was still nothing more to me than blind faith and optimism; nothing she'd said could convince me otherwise.

And yet... I couldn't look at it with the same kind of scorn I'd mustered before. Not because I thought there was anything to it, but because, for Pinkie, it represented something significant. Her destiny was to smile, to make others smile. It was something small, something many would dismiss offhand, but to her, it was everything. Something worth believing in, even passing on to others. This insistence, this stubborn belief that Rainbow Dash had somehow survived, it was just the medium for passing that smile on to others. And who am I to condemn such a thing?

"I think I understand where you're coming from," I said, after a long, thoughtful silence.

Pinkie's ears lifted. "You mean that?"

I silently nodded, once, slowly.

For a moment, Pinkie looked gobsmacked, like the idea that we'd reach common ground shocked her into silence. It was all too fleeting, though. The grin returned. "Hey, you know what? I think we just bonded."

"What?" I turned my head away. "No. No we didn't."

"Ah-ah-ah! No take-backsies!" She bounced toward my bed, the springing sound back in her hooves, and pressed her cheek against mine, nuzzling my stubbly face. "I knew that we'd find something to bond over; I just knew it. Oh, Snake, we really are the best of bestest friends now!"

"Hooray."


Royal privilege meant that Luna could, at will and with no explanation, close parts of the palace which were normally accessible to the public. It could be done on a whim, though she preferred to have a good reason for doing it. As she watched a guard usher out the last of the garden's visitors – a young couple that she'd found tangled together in a hedge they'd thought was secluded – she wondered (and not for the first time) if she had a good reason now.

Shining Armor watched the guard hustle the couple out of the garden, then turned and saluted Luna. "All accounted for," he said. "Will you be needing anything else, Princess?"

"Thank you, no, Captain," said Luna. "You are dismissed."

Shining Armor replied with a crisp nod, and turned to exit the garden himself. Luna watched him leave with a knot in her stomach. She liked the stallion, liked him well enough to entertain fantasies of what might have been, had he not married Celestia's niece, and that made it all the harder to conceal her sister's secret from him. Not to mention her own intentions.

She decided to alleviate her guilt some. "Captain!"

Twilight's elder sibling turned swiftly and stood at attention once more. "Yes, your majesty?"

"You have performed your duties admirably of late, Captain."

"Her majesty is kind to say so."

"'Her majesty' means it." She smiled. "Take the rest of the day off, Captain. I believe you have earned some respite."

He looked confused. "But Princess, I have a lot of work to do before the day is over. I still have to finalize the duty rosters for the next three months, make the final approval on the latest academy graduates, meet with the mages at Princess Celestia's school to discuss joint defense measures..."

He droned on, while Luna inwardly sighed. Count on Twilight Sparkle's brother to argue against taking an early day. "Are you disobeying an order from your Princess, Captain?"

The look of panic that crossed Shining Armor's face turned her inward sigh into a giggle. Adorability must have been a genetic trait in the Sparkle line. "N-no, your majesty! Not at all; I would never think to question—"

"Then pass your assignments on to Sentry, and go home." A lascivious smile crossed her lips. "Spend some time with your lovely young bride. I do believe she misses you."

The way his coat went from pure white to beet red – head to hoof, not an inch spared – turned that giggle into riotous laughter. "Yes, majesty! And th-thank you!"

Luna replied with a squinty smile. "Off you go, then!"

He bounded away with the fervor of a young stallion whose honeymoon ended far too soon for his liking. She couldn't help a pang of sadness – empathy for Cadance, her sister's niece. Young love, thought Luna wistfully. A mistake for any immortal to make.

Memories danced at the edge of her recollection. Tender smiles, caresses, the warmth of another's body against hers...

Luna pushed them back, refused to reopen so old a wound. She will learn, she thought of Cadance. She will curse and hate herself for it, but she will learn.

She didn't allow Shining Armor, or his bride, to remain in her thoughts any longer. Her mind had to be clear, focused on the task at hoof entirely. This was a calculated risk. It was one she'd gladly take, but one that bid her to proceed with caution.

In the middle of the garden courtyard stood the statue of a draconequus, recoiling in fear, expression twisted into a final cry of disbelief. Luna's heart thudded, and her knees shook, threatening to give way. Little traitors, she thought. To the gallows with you, when this is over.

She shut her eyes, inhaled deeply, and focused her magic upon the statue. Her aura – her most powerful and prized of senses – stretched out, groping for the life that she knew resided within the statue... and felt it almost at once. This was too powerful a thing to seal away completely. He remained trapped within that statue, aware, yearning for freedom. She knew how that felt all too well.

"It isn't too late to back out, Luna," she thought out loud.

The image of the human corpse in the old castle flashed in her mind.

It is, actually. Entirely too late. Time to take the plunge.

With one last breath of fresh, free air, she let her mind slip free, into the prison the Elements created for the gravest threat the land had ever known.


The doctor's horn quit shimmering, and he lifted his head away from my shoulder. "There we are," he said, blinking sleepily and suppressing a yawn. "That ought to do it. Go ahead and give her a whirl."

I shrugged my right shoulder tentatively, bracing myself for a jolt of pain which never came. Encouraged, I stretched my arm out to its full length, raised it high, windmilled it. "Doesn't hurt a bit," I said. "Not bad, Doc."

"Oh, not bad, he says," the doctor muttered. "Twelve hours of preparation, three hours of meticulous surgery, and all he has to say is 'good work'. Sterling praise."

I blinked. "Actually, what I said was 'not bad'. You had it right the first time." Must've been the sleep deprivation. It's a damn miracle he was able to fix up my shoulder so well in that state. "And I only meant—"

"Oh no, it's fine; it's just fine. I understand. After all, it's not as though I'm the only doctor for miles around who's qualified to perform this very delicate procedure which just repaired your shoulder to perfect working condition, despite having limited preparation time and even less anatomical knowledge of your species." He scowled at me. "Oh, wait."

I wasn't sure what to say. Hesitantly, I tried a few words of praise. "You're... pretty good?"

"Damned good," he said, drawing himself up. "I am damned good at what I do. And don't you forget it."

"Uh, I won't. Doctor." I pushed off of the exam table and headed for the door.

"Now, mind you," the doctor continued. "That shoulder isn't one hundred percent as good as new. Much like your average Canterlot snob, it'll work just fine and without complaint, so long as you don't tax it too heavily. But, ideally, you'd still be in a sling for at least another twenty-four hours."

"Well, unfortunately, I don't have another day to burn in here." The sooner I was out of the hospital, and away from him, the better. "If you don't mind, I have to be somewhere right now."

"Oh, probably off to ignore my advice and injure your damn shoulder again," the doctor drawled. "Not a worry, Mr. Snake; I'll be here, ready to do one of my adequate repair jobs, should you need it. Be careful out there, boss!"

I decided that I didn't like that doctor.

Twilight was in the waiting room, leafing through some magazine. She smiled – a little too quickly, a little nervously – when she saw me, and set her magazine down, neatly stacking it on top of a pile of identical magazines. Did she organize all of them by type while I was under? "You're looking well," she said. "How's the shoulder?"

"It's not bad!" the doctor called from down the hall. Twilight, surprised, blinked at me and peered past me, into the corridor.

"Don't ask." I lifted my bandana, freed from sling-duty, to my brow, and looped the ends of it around my head. "The shoulder's—"

"Hey, BFF!" Pinkie Pie suddenly appeared at my side, sans coat and props, and began squeezing my leg and nuzzling against my shin. "Welcome back to the land of the living! Don't worry; I'm not upset that the doctor kicked me out of the room for the procedure, so there's no need to buy my forgiveness with cupcakes, or anything." She beamed up at me. "Not that I'd complain if you tried, that is."

"Please get off of my leg," I said.

Pinkie relinquished her grip and giggled. She patted me on the hip. "He totally loves me." Humming, she bounced toward the door, tail wagging from side to side every time she made contact with the floor.

"I take it you two bonded?" asked Twilight, as we followed Pinkie Pie out of the hospital.

"We sure did!" sang Pinkie.

"We didn't," I assured Twilight.

"Sure diddily-did!"

"We really didn't."

Twilight glanced between Pinkie and I, then smiled at me, a touch mischievously. "I don't know; I think I'm with Pinkie on this. You definitely bonded in there."

I grumbled a string of mostly inarticulate syllables that included the words "Pinkie" and "migraine". It seemed to amuse Twilight to no end. Schadenfreude – alive and well in Equestria. So much for the magic of friendship. "So where are we heading, exactly? Please tell me we aren't just following Pinkie."

"We're not," said Twilight. "While you were getting your shoulder done, I secured us an express train to Dodge Junction. It's waiting for us down at the station. The others are meeting us there."

"That so?" I allowed annoyance to creep into my voice. "You make that decision all on your own?"

"Well, yes," said Twilight. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"Don't ask questions you know the answer to." I pulled her to a stop, and lowered my voice to keep Pinkie from hearing. "Freezing me out of the decision, I can understand. I hate it, but I get it. Freezing out your friends, though – that's low."

Ahead, Pinkie stopped bouncing and looked behind herself at us, her legs coiled for another leap. Twilight smiled nervously at her. "Go on ahead," she said. "Let the others know we're coming. Snake and I need to talk privately."

"Okie-dokie!" Pinkie resumed her bouncing, humming a melody I couldn't recognize.

Twilight's face fell the moment Pinkie was out of sight. When she wasn't putting on a brave show for her friends, the girl looked dog-tired. Who could blame her; world on her shoulders, and all that. I looked on her a little more sympathetically, with that in mind. Only a little, though. Not by much.

"Snake." She kept her voice neutral, but I could hear the thinly-disguised fatigue in it. "You're right to worry – you'd be crazy not to. And what you're saying, it makes sense. But I need you on my side for this. If she's out there..." She looked pleadingly at me. "If it was someone you cared for, like I – like we care for Rainbow Dash, what would you do? Even if it were a trap, wouldn't you risk your life to save her?"

"I would. And I have." A sudden, surprisingly icy wind made me shudder. Twilight didn't seem to notice. "But I always had something more reliable to work with than a hunch and a red herring in a box." I leaned away from her and folded my arms across my chest. "I can't follow you on this. Sorry. This fight's too important to risk our lives on some damn fool errand."

Twilight bit her lip, hesitated, as if considering whether or not she ought to say what she was about to say. "I'm not bringing the others. I go with you, or I go alone."

I, quite involuntarily, laughed in her face.

She waited for me to stop before continuing, unfazed by my reaction. "What choice do I have, Snake? Applejack's a walking disaster, and whatever brave faces the others put on, they aren't faring much better. I mean, you don't even want to know how I found Rarity. They're all tired, exhausted, demoralized—"

"And they'll follow you, regardless," I interrupted.

"Of course they would!" snapped Twilight. "It's not a question of whether or not they'd go with me. They just can't! Not..." She breathed slowly, deeply, caging the anger she'd accidentally released. "I already led them into one trap, and it nearly got all of us killed."

"Is that what this is about?" I asked. "Redemption, for what happened in the castle? You think getting yourself killed will balance the scales?"

"I didn't—"

"Because that's what's going to happen," I said, stepping closer to her. "If you walk into whatever trap they've laid, alone, you're going to die. Bad time to develop a death wish."

Twilight fixed me with a resolute expression. "Believe me, I don't have a death wish. And I have no intention of going alone."

I replied with another disdainful laugh. "Because I'm going with you?"

"Exactly."

"And why the hell would I do that?"

"Because otherwise," she said coolly, "I will have to go alone, and if it is a trap, I'll probably get myself killed."

I scoffed and turned away from her, shaking my head. "I gave you credit for having more sense than this, Twilight. Figured you were above manipulative bullshit, too. If you want to run off and get yourself killed, then be my guest. My conscience is clear."

"You're lying."

I glared at her over my shoulder. She cloaked herself in a quiet, tired sort of confidence – as if she knew this discussion would end in her favor, regardless of my protestations. "Applejack was right, back in the forest. You've had several opportunities to ditch us and leave us to our fate. Something always held you back, though. Why? What obligation do you have to me and mine?" She shook her head. "You partnered with us out of convenience; you don't need us anymore. But you fought to save us, all the same. And here we are now."

Sniper in the turret draws a bead on me. Our eyes meet through our scopes. My finger's on the trigger. Applejack begs for the lives of her friends. "Snake, please...!"

"You said so yourself. You have a conscience, Snake. It's kept you around this long, and it's why you won't run out on me now."

I would have left you in that courtyard to die. Conscience or no, I could have lived with her blood on my hands. But that sniper spotted me. I had no choice.

"I can't fend off an ambush alone. And, besides myself, you're the only one of us left who's still in fighting condition."

I'd have let them die in the castle. Would I now?

Rainbow Dash, trapped, crying. "You promise me, Solid Snake!"

After waiting for an answer that never came, Twilight gave up, and turned toward the path leading to the train station. "You have time to think it over."

I hesitated in following her. I nearly didn't. But – with great reluctance, and deep reservations – I fell into step behind her.


We didn't exchange words again until we came to the train platform, where the others awaited us. Behind them, on the track, was an ostentatiously decorated purple engine, trimmed with gold and hitched to a single car whose windows were styled to look like hearts. Rarity was conspicuous in her absence. Whatever state Twilight had found her in, it evidently ruled her out for this little suicide mission.

Twilight joined her friends on the platform, smiling at each of them in turn, though she passed over Applejack quicker than the others. "Thanks, everypony, for coming down here," said Twilight. "I know that the past day has been a rough one, and I'm sorry, because things aren't going to get any easier from here on out. For any of us."

"This mess ain't your fault, sugarcube," said Applejack. "Shoot, we'll gladly take our lumps to fix it, jus' like we always have."

"I know that," said Twilight. "I've always counted on that fact. We've all accepted the responsibility that comes with bearing the Elements of Harmony, and we've all put our lives on the line to defend Equestria before." She paused, biting her lip nervously. "But this time... things are different this time.

"Late last night, Snake and I received a letter, calling us to Dodge Junction. Enclosed with the letter was a blue feather." Pinkie and Applejack hadn't heard the news yet, I realized belatedly. The look of surprise on Applejack's face was palpable – as palpable as the hopeful smile on Pinkie's.

"I don't know for sure who sent the letter, or even why." She nodded in my direction. "Snake has his theories. But between that, and Pinkie's uncanny predilection for..." She coughed. "Sensing things... I have reason to believe that Rainbow Dash might still be alive. Even if she didn't send that letter, going to Dodge Junction may be the key to finding her, maybe saving her.

"However, I'd be remiss if I didn't consider all the possibilities. I want to believe that Rainbow Dash is alive. I do; I truly do." She placed her hoof on Pinkie's shoulder. "But I can't let that blind me to the facts. We're up against an enemy who knows us, who deals in deception and subterfuge. Traveling to Dodge might well be a trap, probably meant to lure us away from Ponyville while Pegasus Wings launches their offensive. It could be dangerous. It most likely is."

"Danger's nothin' new," chirped Pinkie Pie. "What're we waiting for?"

Twilight inhaled slowly, deeply. "'We' aren't waiting for anything. I'm going to Dodge Junction." She hesitated. "You're not coming with me."

Shock rippled through her friends. A sense of anticipation gnawed at me. "Twilight, that ain't funny," said Applejack. "How can you talk like that, goin' after Rainbow Dash all by your lonesome?"

"I'm quite serious." Twilight's face betrayed no hint of uncertainty. "This could easily be a trap, one that could kill us all, and I'm not losing anypony else to another stupid mistake." Twilight looked expectantly at me. "But neither do I intend to go alone and risk dying alone."

The others followed suit, staring at me, waiting for me to confirm the thought that Twilight had planted in their minds. The corners of Twilight's mouth twitched, and a slight sheen of sweat glinted on her forehead. What if I did say no? What if I called her bluff, refused to validate her suicidal hunch?

What if she went anyway?

"I'm going with her."

Twilight's sense of relief was immediate. Her expression didn't change, but I could tell she was glad I'd agreed. At least one of us was.

"What about us?" asked Pinkie, bounding forward and pressing her face against Twilight's. "When did we all turn into chopped liver, huh?"

"Gotta say, Twi," said Applejack. "It's mighty low, puttin' us out to pasture, even if you are takin' Snake along."

"I'm not," she insisted. "I'm not putting anypony out to pasture." She nudged Pinkie Pie gently, pushing her away, giving herself some breathing room. "I know it sounds bad; I'd feel hurt too, if it were me. But if this goes the same way that the castle went, and something bad happens to me – to us," she corrected, with an acknowledging glance my way, "somepony still needs to stay behind and coordinate the defense of Ponyville. The mayor won't do anything publicly; she made that quite clear to me. And from what she told me last night..." Twilight looked at Fluttershy, who nodded at her.

"Macbeth apparently has agents in places of strategic importance," said Twilight. "It's why we're not taking the train to Canterlot. It's why we can't get a flier off the ground to get word out to the Princess. There could be agents here, in Ponyville, waiting for an opportunity to strike." She sighed. "The only ponies in town I trust with all my heart are standing right here, on this platform." She paused. "And Rarity, but that goes without saying.

"I know it isn't ideal, but it's the best option I can think of. This way, we can find Rainbow Dash, provided she's still alive, without leaving Ponyville completely vulnerable." She locked eyes with each of her friends, looking searchingly at them. "Girls, please. I need you to support me on this. I can't..." Her resolve faltered for an instant. "I can't do this without you."

Applejack was the first, signaling her agreement with a nod. "I still ain't sure this is the best way to do things, but I understand your reasons, Twi, an' I respect 'em." She forced a smile at me. "An' if Snake's goin' with you, I don't see no reason to worry."

Fluttershy dipped her head. Her bangs fell in front of her face, obscuring her gaze. "You'll bring her back, won't you? If she's alive?"

Twilight nodded firmly.

Pinkie Pie, still the closest one to Twilight, wrapped the unicorn in a tight embrace, looking more subdued than I'd seen her since our talk in the hospital. "Come home safe," she said. Twilight squeezed her back, shutting her eyes and looking like she'd prefer if that hug didn't end.

And then Pinkie Pie turned to me. "Make sure she comes home safe. Dashie too. Pinkie promise me." She pantomimed a series of gestures, ending with sticking her hoof in her eye. She stayed like that, staring expectantly at me.

"He promises," said Twilight. Why not, as long as she was making decisions for me. She magicked open the train car, and beckoned me inside. I looked at the others one last time before... reluctantly... ducking inside the car.

"Somepony tell the engineer that we're ready to get underway," said Twilight. She stepped inside and began to push the door shut, but something seemed to occur to her, and she stopped. "Applejack?"

"Mm?" Applejack poked her head inside the car; Twilight turned her face away.

"Look in on Rarity while we're gone? Please?" Twilight fidgeted nervously, but whether from her proximity to Applejack, or from the thought of Rarity, I couldn't say.

"Sure, Twilight. You be safe now."

Twilight nodded in acknowledgement, and shut the door without another word.


The sides of the train car's aisle were lined with benches, covered in plush cushions that looked much, much more comfortable than the thinly-carpeted floor I rested upon. Unfortunately, they didn't look like they could seat me, and I doubted the car's roof would be more comfortable, so sitting on the floor it was.

The train had been churning forward for at least an hour by then. During that time, Twilight and I neither looked at nor spoke to one another. I sat wedged between two benches, with just enough room to stretch my legs across the aisle, so long as I kept my back straight. Twilight sat on a bench toward the front of the train car. She'd been staring out the window ever since we pulled away from the Ponyville station.

I'd drawn a cigarette from the pack on my belt, and had been idly toying with it between my fingers, when Twilight spoke up for the first time since we boarded. "You must be angry."

My fingers twitched reflexively, crushing the cigarette between them.

"Applejack thinks you've stayed with us for as long as you have because you're some kind of philanthropist." From the corner of my eye, I saw her head turn to face me. "You and I, though... We know better, don't we?"

I met her gaze, brow furrowed behind my bandana. She didn't speak accusingly; she didn't sound angry at all. Very matter-of-fact, very plain. Nonetheless, I took some offense. "I don't see where you get off preaching to me." Maybe I hadn't given Twilight reason enough to trust me but she had no business taking the moral high ground. I wasn't there of my own volition; I was there because she threatened to kill herself. Reason enough to be mad. "You could have asked."

She looked at me impassively. "And if you'd said no?"

She assumed I'd refuse from the get-go. She had reason enough to. I nearly ditched them in the castle; I nearly left them to die against IRVING; I stayed in their company longer than I should have, because I didn't have any other choice, not because I felt a sense of attachment toward them. And I had chosen to play along with her charade, so it wasn't as if I had license to complain. Sure, I could have called her bluff. Maybe she would have gone anyway, but why should I have cared? It wasn't my problem whether she lived or died.

Problem is... I start thinking that way, and I'm one step closer to becoming the man Liquid thought I was. The conscience Twilight spoke of – he didn't have that. And I do. And I'd put myself in harm's way if it meant keeping Twilight alive, because to not would be to prove that he, and not Twilight, was right about me.

Of course, her being right didn't stop me from being angry. "And if I'd said yes?"

Twilight considered that, and shrugged. "It doesn't really matter anymore, does it?" She flopped onto her side, her back to me. "I'm going to get some sleep. You might want to do the same. This train's non-stop to Dodge, but even so, it's going to take a while."

She called me her friend the night before. Now I saw just how much that was good for. I didn't mind a partnership based upon mutual need, but somehow, I'd thought Twilight above that sort of thing – like we could have actually trusted each other, without resorting to manipulation. Maybe it was just the situation she was in. Maybe, in better times, under better circumstances, she'd have called me her friend and meant it. For now, though, we were nothing more to each other than a means to an end.

Still, when I lit the cigarette that dangled from my fingers, for once, she didn't put it out.