//------------------------------// // Chapter VII: Caught // Story: Decade // by Hap //------------------------------// Chapter VII: Caught “That’s a horrible idea.” Flash was certain that the look on Shining Armor’s face must run in his family. It really must be difficult, being so much smarter than everypony else, to such a degree that the most confusing thing in one’s life is the inability to understand how everypony else could fail to understand such obvious things. As Shining stepped onto a crystal balcony overlooking the city, Flash Sentry hovered in front of his boss, blocking his view of the sunrise. The prince leaned from side to side, trying to catch the sun’s orange light scattering through the azure mountains of ancient compacted snow. Flash crossed his forelimbs across his chest and said, “I spent a whole week coming up with the perfect first date. What’s wrong with it?” He was definitely not pouting. Shining stopped trying to get a peek at the horizon and relaxed, shifting his attention to the floating pegasus. He levitated his coffee cup to his mouth, but did not take a sip. Lowering the cup again, he asked, “Flash, what was your first assignment after you enlisted? Did you go on a special forces mission behind enemy lines?” Flash smirked like he’d just gotten the easy question on a pop quiz. “We don’t have any standing enemies. There hasn’t even been a war in almost a hundred years.” “It’s a metaphor. You’re trying to go too big, too grand. Are you catching what I’m throwing out there? Start with something simple.” Shining slurped his coffee with a great deal more noise than was necessary. Another family trait. Flash dropped to the ground. “I think maybe I should be insulted. I’ve been on dates before. I think I can handle a” —Flash crossed his eyes and made air quotes with his wings— “‘special forces mission’ of a date.” Another one of those family looks. Shining was about to explain just exactly what it was that was so obvious. “I know you’ve been on dates before… but Twily hasn’t.” Flash opened his mouth for a reply, one hoof in the air. His eyebrows slowly came together, and so did his lips, until both were clenched. It was obvious. “Wait. So I am the special forces mission… which means that Twilight just isn’t ready to handle this much stallion!” Shining narrowed his eyes and glared at the pegasus guard through the vapor rising from his coffee. “Oh, you’re about to be ‘speshul forces’ alright.” A growing grin on his face only served to make his glowing eyes seem more evil behind the curtain of steam. “I’ll have you licking windows clean on the kindergarten wagon if you keep talking like that.” Instantly lightening up, Shining punched Flash in the shoulder, then turned around and threw one last glance toward the sunrise he’d missed as he said, “Seriously though, the complicated fancy date you planned is too much for somepony as inexperienced as Twilight. If you try to take her on a date like that, she’ll freak. You know how she is under pressure.” “Uhhhh, actually, no. I don’t know. I’ve only seen Twilight like three or four times. Once, she didn’t even notice me.” Flash ambled alongside Shining as they made their way down a glittering and translucent hallway. As they walked, Flash stared into the ghostly images looking up at him from the sparkling crystal floor. “I don’t really know anything about her except the stories you’ve told me. That and the way she smiles and blushes when—” “Hey hey hey, write it down, loverboy.” Shining waved a hoof between them in an attempt to ward off the romantic notions that were drifting aimlessly without their intended target to home in on. “I don’t need to hear that mushy stuff. You can write her a letter, later. You know how much she loves to read.” He froze mid-step, and turned his head to squint at Flash with one eyebrow raised. “You do know she loves to read… right?” Flash laughed, shaking his head. “I think everypony knows that, even if they’re dense enough to miss the fact that she’s a princess. Our one and only conversation was about books. Which reminds me, I need to buy a couple of books that I may have claimed to have in my library that I don’t quite technically have, just yet.” Twilight’s big brother slid a frown over to the side of his face, regarded Flash for a tense moment, then turned forward again and resumed his walk, stating, “I’m going to pretend I didn’t hear that.” He shot one more sidelong glance to reinforce his displeasure at the deception, then asked, “Where were we?” “Ummm… how she handles pressure, like, say, the pressure of a big date? Hasn’t she saved the world...” Flash counted up on his feathers, mumbling, “carry the one… I dunno, a BUNCH of times?” “Yes, but that’s her element.” Shining stumbled into a full stop, screwing his lips into a half-grin and crossing his eyes. “Hey, I guess I mean that literally, too. Heh.” Shaking his head to clear the linguistic confusion, he resumed walking. “The point is, my sister’s never been nervous about the big stuff. Well, except when she was saving the entire Crystal Empire, but she was only nervous because she thought it was one of Princess Celestia’s tests. She’d do anything for Celestia.” Almost getting a sip of coffee in before completing his thought, Shining said, “Well, except risk an entire empire falling into slavery. She was willing to fail Celestia to protect others, and I think that says a lot about who she is.” Flash nodded, but looked unsure. “It says… that she thinks something is a test, even when it’s not, and it makes her unnecessarily nervous?” Shining paused, pretended to make a deeply thoughtful face, then punched Flash in the shoulder. “You’re a jerk.” He then proceeded into his morning briefing, leaving the sore pegasus in the hallway. As Flash sat outside the doorway absentmindedly rubbing his not-really injury, Shining poked his head around the corner sideways and said, “Also, you’re totally right.” He disappeared again, leaving Flash feeling somewhat vindicated. Before he could feel too smug, however, Flash was surprised to see Shining pop around the corner again, speaking in a low voice, “But don’t ever tell her that.” As he returned to the barracks to prepare for his shift, Flash wondered what kind of date would be low-pressure. Something that wouldn’t intimidate a perfectly capable adult who was nonetheless terrified of failure. Lunch? Or was lunch not date-y enough? The mostly-ornamental armor was heavy as Flash lifted it above himself, and he had to twist his neck to fit his head through the hole between the shoulder plates. With his head turned, Flash noticed his forgotten cup of coffee — with just a dash of milk — that had been left behind when he’d started walking with Shining Armor. The coffee’s surface was cold and still, a smooth brown mirror. It had to have been carved magically, which was the only reasonable way to make a tunnel through solid stone anyway. Flash found it remarkable that after almost a thousand years, not a single crack had formed in the rock, anywhere. There was no sign of the of the water that should be seeping through the, well, whatever kind of rock this was. Flash reminded himself that he would have to ask Pinkie Pie what type of stone the mountain was made of, and whether it was permeable to water. He had a whole list of things that he was going to do if never. He had been lying on his back for hours, staring upward at the featureless rectangle. Back in officer school, candidates had been subjected to various interrogation and torture methods, including sensory deprivation. With no significant input to the senses, the brain tried to interpret the miniscule variations in brightness and color, loudness and pitch; the meaningless white noise of sound and light which grows louder the longer one is deprived of anything meaningful. Flash’s hallucinations usually took the form of memories, played out on the chocolate screen like a motion picture. A skilled captor could manipulate the mental state of a subject to draw out the information they needed. Sleep deprivation was a standard part of interrogations, because it made the hallucinations more intense. He hadn’t slept since arriving in his cell. Not really, not a restful sleep. As soon as he drifted off, he would begin dreaming, only not dreaming. It was nothing but nightmares, and there was never a night in them. Never a cloud. Only the full daylight, but never the sun. The sky was always a sparkling pastel rainbow, her mane, waving at him and laughing. She wouldn’t let him see the sun, not even in his dreams. Whether that was malignance on Celestia’s part or simply psychological trauma on his own part, Flash didn’t know. When the darkness came, he closed his eyes anyway. No sense letting them dry out. Darkness had come and gone seventy-something times, maybe seventy-three? It was hard to tell, as some of the nightmares seemed to last for days, and the featureless days seemed to last for weeks. The setting sun no longer shone directly down his hallway, and the days had only been getting darker as autumn faded into winter. At first, he had tried to keep some sort of routine: jogging in place for cardio, and doing some isometric exercises to keep a little muscle tone. All the things a good soldier was supposed to do to keep mind and body strong, occupy time, and be ready for escape. Flash had already given up on all that, not so much out of despair as simple fatigue. On the third day of his sentence, he’d heard a wet plop just outside of his door. He had dropped to the ground in front of the door in time to see the day’s only meal spreading out into a shallow puddle in the hallway. Even though he hadn’t missed a meal since that day, dutifully sliding his dish under the door each morning, the hunger remained. There were enough calories to keep him alive, but not enough to allow him to exert himself or attempt any kind of escape. As omnipresent as his appetite was, Flash knew that he would eventually adapt to the restricted caloric intake. More disconcerting was the feeling that tickled the edges of his consciousness, like a whisper that moved the hairs in his ear but registered no noise. There wasn’t much atmosphere around Flash, at most a few feet of air on each side of him, but to his diminished magical senses it seemed to be even less. Standing in the middle of the room, he felt as if his wingtips were constantly brushing against the walls, leaving him no room to turn around. One time, he had fainted after a bout of hyperventilation brought on by, he reasoned, a combination of hunger, exhaustion, and his newfound claustrophobia. Unfortunately, the dreams haunted him even in what he had hoped would have been a blissfully unaware dreamlessness. Since then, he had been trying to avoid exerting himself, to minimize his need for sleep and chances of fainting. From down on the floor, his room looked bigger. The uncushioned wooden shelf he called a bed did little besides make the ceiling three feet closer, so he spent most of the day with his back to the cold stone floor, looking up at the blank canvas in front of him and drinking in the silence. The ringing nothingness surged with his heartbeat, a train’s song rhythmically surging with the seams where the track had been joined together. He glanced down at the saddlebag on the unoccupied seat to his right and sighed at the flimsy fabric and limited space it afforded. The sturdy canvas ruck he preferred was sitting back in the barracks. An undercover recon operation needed to be subtle. No flashy armor, no blue-and-gold Crystal Empire insignia. Plausible deniability on every level, should he be discovered. It was a simple mission: ingress, make contact with the informant, scout the target location, and egress without detection. And in the meantime, Flash got to enjoy a long and boring train ride with only three sleeping ponies for company. In the absence of a big sporting event or one of the festivals that drew crowds from around the world, the overnight trains to and from the Crystal Empire were nearly empty. Even though the mission was so simple, Flash was too nervous to sleep in the gently rocking car, with its soft cushions and dim lights that had already lulled everypony else into a peaceful slumber. Simple didn’t mean easy, or unimportant. He had to meet Fluttershy at the train station and find a suitable location for a potential lunch date with Twilight, which would then occur after days of careful planning. Terrifying. Twilight wasn’t just any normal mare. She was a princess. But more than that, she was a brilliant bibliophile, and a dozen other fancy words that Flash had memorized in case he had occasion to compliment her. Even though he didn’t know her very well yet, his crush seemed like more than a crush. But didn’t a crush always seem like more? Wasn’t that how crushes worked? Maybe it had to do with the fact that both Twilight’s big brother and her old foalsitter thought that she and Flash would make a good couple. What was the use of having friends if their opinions weren’t important in your life? As Flash philosophized about the nature and origins of his growing affection for the Librarian Princess, the stars slowly snuck out of existence, one by one. The encroaching dawnlight began to reveal a landscape very different from the ghostly white plains he had left under the moonlight of the Empire. The train would arrive in Ponyville in about half an hour, so it was time for him to eat his breakfast. Fluttershy would probably try to feed him, and he didn’t want his growling stomach betraying him as he was declining a meal of bird seed or rabbit food. He’d heard stories. So reaching into his bag, Flash searched for his pouch of toasted almond bread and his bottle of milk. The dried biscuits had been a staple of armies for millennia; the lack of moisture kept any mold from growing, and the nuts and sugar provided enough energy to keep a pony marching. It could also be broken up and boiled with local vegetables and greens to make a satisfyingly thick stew. Flash preferred to dip the little slices into milk, even though the other stallions in the Guard said it made him look like a kindergarten colt enjoying a snack. Grinning, Flash wondered what they’d think if they knew that’s why he did that in the first place. Instead of finding bland marching rations, Flash was surprised to lift a carefully-wrapped paper package up to meet his gaze. It was obviously a sandwich, in white waxed paper, the pointed tips folded together on the front and taped closed with a note. Good luck Flash! We believe in you! — Shining & ‘Dance Flash rolled his eyes. The bubbly, swooping letters made it obvious that Cadance had written the note. As he unwrapped the sandwich, he wondered how they had known he was going on his little secret mission — the one they had told him not to take. They had told him to just wait for the date itself. A simple ‘plan’ was best, they had insisted. Not much of a plan, just kinda show up like it’s normal to ride a train for eight hours and then casually ask if she would like to have lunch. ‘Just keep it low-pressure,’ they had said. ‘That way, it’s no big deal if she’s already got lunch plans. Or if you can’t find a place to eat lunch. Or if the place is too expensive and you didn’t bring enough bits, or...’ Right as he was about to take a bite, Flash froze, his pupils shrinking away from his ever-widening eyes. His mouth open wide and the sandwich mere inches away, his body was forgotten as his brain flew in paths as twisting as a pegasus flag race. “They… they manipulated me!” Flash felt offended as he looked down at his favorite sandwich ever. Butter-toasted sourdough bread, fresh creamy daisies, and crispy fried onions with a spicy horseradish spread, complete with a big, thick chunk of sharp yellow cheese. Cadance had even included a pickle on the side. Leaving the sandwich so close to his mouth was making him drool, so he took a big, angry bite. After Shining had convinced Flash to abandon his spectacular first date in favor of something low-key that wouldn’t scare Twilight, Cadance had helped him come up with something feasible. In fact, Cadance had told him to just show up and ask her to lunch. Which was what he had been planning to do anyway. Then she had proceeded to tell him not to worry about a bunch of stuff that he never would have worried about, or even thought about, if she hadn’t mentioned in the first place. She and Shining had both told him not to go on this scouting trip. And then he mysteriously got a Thursday off this week’s duty rotation. He never would have bothered to create a plan for something this simple, but the matchmaking duo had tricked him into overplanning, just like Twilight was reputed to do. This was some sort of conspiracy he’d become wrapped up in. He usually fell asleep if he tried to watch a movie with more intrigue than action, and he never did figure out the twists and betrayals in some of those headache-inducing plots. His head really hurt. And his mouth was dry. When he tried to reach for the milk in his saddlebag, he blinked, then focused on the silver hoof pedal on the left end of the horizontal pipe that dominated his vision. Flash turned his head to face the ceiling again, then wiped the drool off of the left side of his face, and realized why his mouth was dry. He rolled onto his side and pushed his body up to a standing position, and finally took a drink from his own personal water fountain. That did bring up a big question. How had Cadance known what his favorite sandwich was? And why would a princess be making a sandwich for one of her guards, even if she knew what kind of sandwich he liked? Upon further thought, Flash realized that he had once made sandwiches for the stallions’ weekly card game night. They talked about food a lot. And mares. While he was still standing on the hoof pedal and letting the water go down the drain, Flash came to the realization that Shining Armor had been gathering information about potential romances within the Crystal Guard, and certainly relaying that information to his matchmaking wife. That must have been why Shining had set up the weekly gatherings, and why he always brought the cider. Cadance really took her special talent seriously. As he flopped back down to the floor, Flash thought it was odd that Cadance would make a sandwich. She wasn’t exactly the homemaker type. She could manage macaroni-and-cheese easily enough, but freshly-grated horseradish? Sourdough toasted on a cast iron skillet? She wouldn’t use royal chefs for one of her special projects. More than that, this sandwich had been made with attention to detail and a certain personal flair. It was a flair that Flash recognized. A stallion who was just as comfortable and deft with a blade whether he was on the battlefield or in the kitchen. Shining Armor had made his sandwich. That revelation made him vaguely uncomfortable, yet appreciative, but it did not stop him from enjoying the sandwich as he chewed the last bite. The empty paper wrapper crinkled in his hooves. Flash looked down at the wrapper, and realized that he hadn’t really tasted the sandwich, as lost in retrospection as he had been. Still, it was the thought that counted, and Shining must have thought, ‘I’ll make my bro a sandwich. Bros love sandwiches.’ Flash grinned as he imagined Shining saying that line while standing in front of a stove, levitating a spatula and wearing a pink frilly apron emblazoned with hearts. Eating a pickle for breakfast would be strange, so Flash re-packed the pickle in the sandwich wrapper, smiled at the note, and looked up in time to see the train station sliding up to his window. Effortlessly flipping his saddle bag onto his back with one wing, he trotted off of the train, looking for the pegasus who was supposed to give him a tour of the town. Shining had said that Fluttershy was, as her name implied, shy. Flash wondered whether she had chosen to change her name at her Cutecenara, or if her parents were prescient enough to choose an apt name in the first place. The origin of his own name was enough to make Flash blush. He recalled finally seeing the cheesy film whose titular hero was a hoofball star who had been abducted by a mad scientist. They had flown to space in an attempt to save the universe from a merciless galactic dictator. He’d have to make sure Twilight never found out who his mother had named him after. A few minutes later, the crowd on the station platform had dispersed enough that Flash could see the pastel yellow coat and surprisingly elegant pink mane, half-hiding behind a map of train routes. Although he’d met her before, about the same time he had bumped into Twilight, he didn’t remember Fluttershy very well. There had been something else on his mind at the time, something purple and cute and blushing and deceptively clever. So when Flash had been told he was looking for Twilight’s animal caretaker friend, he had imagined somepony covered in twigs and leaves, with mice building nests in her filthy and unkempt mane. Somepony like the brown wizard from that giant fantasy trilogy. He’d have to work that into conversation with Twilight, she’d appreciate the reference. “Hello, Fluttershy?” “Hi, Flash Sentry. It’s nice to see you again.” Her smile was polite, but genuine. “I know we’ve met before, but I’m afraid I didn’t really get to know you.” Flash smiled politely, though his was somewhat less genuine, covering just a bit of nervousness. “Did Silver Lining tell you why I’m visiting Ponyville?” “No, he just asked if I could show a friend of his around town.” Fluttershy turned around and began sashaying toward the center of town, leading Flash on a lazy tour of nowhere in particular. “So, what is it that brings you so far from the Crystal Empire?” He ambled next to her in the quiet morning air, remaining silent long enough for Fluttershy to give him a curious glance. After a deep breath, he replied, “Can you keep a secret?” Her eyebrows collided and her mouth pinched into a little frown. “Oh no, I don’t like secrets. They’re never good for anypony. It’s best to just be honest and open in the first place.” Flash hadn’t expected such a meek pony to be so forceful about a simple question. He tried to explain, stammering, “No no, it’s not the bad kind of secret. It’s the good kind, like planning a surprise party, it’s good news that you only keep secret until everything’s ready.” Early morning silence overtook them as Fluttershy stopped in the middle of the empty street, then looked down and halfheartedly kicked at a pebble. “Sometimes, even those kinds of secrets can hurt somepony. We planned a surprise party for Pinkie Pie one time, and, um, it didn’t go very well.” Her lecture had dissolved into a shameful confession, and she looked like she might cry. He hated to see a mare upset. He wanted to fix everything, be the pony in shining armor to rescue the damsel in distress. It was a stallion thing, the subject of a great many books and films, not to mention psychological studies. Appropriately enough, Shining Armor happened to have some magic words for fixing mare problems: “You’re right.” Flash didn’t mention that these magic words were Shining’s secret. Fluttershy looked back up with a smile. Flash returned the smile, puffed out his chest, and boldly declared, “No secrets then. I want to take Twilight on a date, but I’d like to explore a couple of places before I decide where to take her for lunch.” The look on her face was syrupy and soft, something like Flash imagined she would wear when she saw cute bunnies doing, well, whatever it was bunnies did that was so cute. He’d heard stories. He was sure the third-hoof stories about bunnies and ducklings and anything fluffy had been exaggerated; relayed to him by Shining, based on stories told to him by Twilight. Fluttershy did, however, expound at length upon the adorableness of the matchup. Flash had to raise his voice just slightly in order to butt in. “I was just hoping to get to ask her myself, before word got around to her. So, can we take a look around town? Maybe see some places to eat?” While still hovering in the air, Fluttershy clutched her hooves to her chest, squeezed her eyes closed tightly and suppressed a squee. She opened her eyes wide and said through a big grin, “I know just the place. They serve breakfast too, so why don’t we get a bite to eat?” He nodded eagerly, his stomach rumbling in agreement. Shining’s gourmet sandwich had been good, but Flash was still hungry. In fact, he felt half-starved. The two pegasi floated slowly, inches above the road, as Fluttershy played the simultaneous roles of interrogator and educator. Lost in the conversation, Flash had forgotten to pay attention to the location of the cafe they were now sitting in front of. Fortunately, the mushroom-shaped tables would be easy enough to spot from above, so he resolved to dart up into the air and make a mental map of the town after breakfast. The waiter seemed overdressed for the morning in his spats and bow tie, especially in such a rustic town. He was more polite than any similarly-dressed Canterlot waiter would have been, and did not look down on the ponies who hadn’t bothered to dress up for breakfast — or even just to brush their manes after rolling out of bed. He wiggled his thin mustache with a smile, as he slid two dishes onto the table between Flash and Fluttershy, before bowing and retreating with a reserved, “Enjoy.” With a wet plop, Flash hungrily dunked his muzzle directly into his food, and began noisily slurping his breakfast. With a frown, Fluttershy sternly waved her fork at the rude stallion. “Somepony needs to work on his table manners.” Flash lifted his head from the shallow bowl, gray slime dripping off of his chin. The echoes of his smacking lips filled the tiny room as he looked up from where he was lying on the floor. “It’s not like they gave me a spoon, you know.” WIth a sigh of resignation, Fluttershy pointed to the bench hanging from the wall. “You could at least eat sitting up like a civilized pony.” He narrowed his eyes and ignored the gruel that was sliding down his neck, growling, “I’m not civilized. Or hadn’t you heard by now?” Flash stood up and lowered his head menacingly, then slowly advanced on Fluttershy, backing her into a corner of the tiny cell. “I’m dangerous. Can’t be trusted. Celestia was wiiiiiise enough to let you rehabilitate the tyrant of chaos, but me? No. I am irredeemable.” Fluttershy didn’t flinch away from the snarling pegasus; she didn’t even wipe off the saliva that Flash had spit out with his words. She smiled like she was humoring a foal with a silly idea, or agreeing that a mouse is ferocious. “I know things look bad right now, but you have to have faith in the ponies who love you.” Flash blinked, pulling his head back in mock surprise. “Ponies who love me? What pony would love me now? Don’t you know my crime?” He pushed his muzzle deep into her personal space, forcing her to pull her head back until her downturned ears touched the painted stone walls. “Aren’t you afraid that I’ll hurt you too?” “Ummm…” Fluttershy slid down the wall, eyes shifting left and right. “Aren’t you afraid that I’ll fall in love with you?” Her eyes grew wide as she began to whimper, “Th-that’s not how we express—” “Aren’t you afraid,” Flash whispered, his lips threatening to touch the hairs on her ear, “that I’ll sacrifice myself to protect you, so that you can be with the pony you really love?” “Is, um…” Fluttershy looked down, then hesitantly made eye contact with the trembling stallion before continuing more confidently. “Is that what really happened? Because Celestia said that—” “Of COURSE she said that,” Flash said, rolling his eyes and sitting back on his haunches. “She’d do anything to protect—” the words caught in his throat, the anger bitter on the back of his tongue. “I mean… Th-that’s what I asked her to do. To protect Twilight. If anypony found out what she did and what I didn’t do, then she’d be in the dungeon instead of me.” With a kindly smile, Fluttershy asked, “Are you trying to convince me, or yourself?” As his eyes narrowed in confusion, she lifted one hoof gently to his shoulder and began to speak. “You—” Flash jerked at her ice-cold touch, smashing his face into the bare metal sink that was pressing into his shoulder. Wincing, he turned around and looked at the empty corner where he’d been crouching just a moment ago, shouting at an imaginary Element of Kindness. He looked down at his plate, seeing the papery crust that had formed on top of the gelatinous rice, cracking and curling upward along the edges. The brightest rays of sunset struggled to make their way down the tunnel outside his cell. Flash decided he should finish eating before it was too dark to see. ______________________________________________ The wood was slightly warmer than the stone. At the least, it didn’t suck the warmth out of his body like the stone did. The numb coldness helped to relieve the itching in his phantom wings, and right now Flash preferred the itch to the cold comfort. It helped keep him awake. So he stared at the floor where his meal appeared each day, waiting for the sunrise to make its way around the sky, kiss the west, and finally coax light under his door. He still hadn’t decided whether he was able to see the moonlight, or if that was a trick of the senses. In fact, he couldn’t tell whether his eyes were open or closed until he moved his eyelids. The night had passed. He was sure of that by now. Several nights had passed, with no daylight. Luna must have taken the throne and plunged the world into eternal darkness. Good for her. Maybe now Flash could get some sleep. Or he could have, if the ride wasn’t so bumpy. Flash sat up with a groan, rubbing his eyes wearily. The benches were harder than they looked, but Flash supposed that soft cushions would probably wear out too quickly to be useful as a train seat. He resigned himself to staring out the window and at least enjoying the landscape that rushed past. The scenery was the same as it ever was, unchanging and unmoving as it sped by. The sky was the same as it ever was, undulating stripes of pastel sparkling in their own light. The train was the same as it ever was, mostly empty and full of Twilight. There was a time when Flash enjoyed the train and everything that it meant. Eight hours of looking forward to seeing her, all excitement and butterflies. Eight hours of remembering her, feeling the warmth of her on his side and the smell of her mane on his feathers. Closing his eyes and seeing nothing but her amethyst eyes smiling back. With no sun, there was no way to tell North from South. Twilight was at both ends of the track, she was his past and future. He felt her warmth, and wondered who was embracing her before he arrived. He longed to see her face, but feared that she would hide her eyes from his. More than that, he feared what he would do when he saw her. He would hold her, tell her everything would be okay. He would make everything okay. He would forgive her. He would rescue her, make her safe and happy. He would remember what she did. He would remember what she promised to him. He would remember that she didn’t apologize, didn’t try to explain. He would remember that she wouldn’t even look at him. He would remember her silence as he volunteered to be butchered to save her wings, to be vilified to save her reputation. He would regret. “You got no room f’regrets, boy.” Flash turned his head to regard the disheveled unicorn sharing his seat in the otherwise unoccupied car. Though he had ditched the surgical apron, Sanguine looked like he hadn’t bathed since the grounding. The dark circles under his bloodshot eyes made him look even older than did his frizzy gray mane. Drool seeped unnoticed into Sanguine’s unruly beard. Flash narrowed his eyes and said, “I bet I could keep them in all the empty bottles you’ve left in your wake.” Sanguine gritted his teeth and breathed heavily for a few moments before snarling, “YOU done this to me, boy. You ain’t my blood. I thought I was doin’ th’world a favor, turnin’ a punk like you into—” he suppressed a belch and waved his hoof at Flash as if to sum him up “—sumpfin’ useful. NOPE! All I done was teach a monster how ta hide behind politeness and decorum. You’re no better than those changelings what ripped up all them boys I stitched back together.” Arguing on the train never helped. It didn’t matter whether Celestia had sent an image of Sanguine to torment Flash, or he was dreaming up the old stallion on his own — though a glance at the sky was all he needed to make up his mind on that point. They both knew the truth, and it would be futile to try to convince an illusory stallion of something his creator already knew. But if they both knew the truth, then why was Celestia doing this to him? Flash wasn’t even guilty, so she only needed to give him enough punishment to protect Twilight’s reputation. The nightmares seemed a bit excessive. Were they perhaps some form of therapy, her misguided attempt at giving him a chance at catharsis? Flash may not have been an expert at therapy, but he was pretty sure that it didn’t generally involve everypony you loved calling you horrible names and hating your guts. And wasn’t Princess Luna supposed to be the one helping ponies in their dreams? An unfriendly shove reminded Flash that Sanguine was still slurring his way through a rant. “If nothing else, you can consider me a bad egshample. Not that you coulda turned out any worse, of course. Heh, maybe if you were a drunk like me, a princess would know better than to associate with you.” Flash couldn’t see a bottle anywhere around. “I’ll keep that in mind the next time I think about falling in love.” “Oh, don’t be too hard on yourself, boy,” Sanguine said. He softened his expression as he put a hoof on Flash’s shoulder. Upon hearing the gentle words, Flash knew the sarcasm was starting, so he clenched his teeth and screwed his eyes shut as hard as he could. He took a deep breath and steeled himself for what was about to come. “Everypony makes mistakes,” Sanguine continued, “but it takes a real buckup like you to ruin this many lives.” Flash pinched his lips together and breathed rapidly through his nose. He tried to blink away the tears and remember what it was that was supposed to make this hurt less. The old surgeon had stopped drinking because of the cutting words he would always unsheathe against those he loved. Flash wondered how many other ponies would now be wounded by Sanguine Blade, now that the thoughtless pegasus had whetted his tongue. Sitting straighter and looking up, Flash said, “I made a mistake, that’s for sure. And I’m sorry.” Sanguine rolled his eyes. “You’re sorry you got caught.” Flash didn’t even look at him. “I’m sorry I ever fell in love. I’m—” “I bet she’s sorry, too,” Sanguine pitched in, giving Flash a hard look. A sidelong glance was the only acknowledgement Flash gave to that comment. “I’m sorry I thought I could be her stallion in shining armor, galloping to her rescue, the stalwart defender of her honor. I imagined myself in the Shanganeigh patrol; out of supplies, out of weapons, bloodied and outnumbered. There I was, standing resolutely and singing Send her victorious, Happy and glorious, Long to reign over us: Princess the sun! “as the Zebra warriors closed in on the unarmed guards, methodically spearing each of us to death.” As he looked over at Sanguine, Flash noticed that he had stood, unsteadily, and saluted for the national anthem. To finish his thought, Flash added, “I’ve never regretted anything more in my life.” With a shake of his head, Sanguine plopped back down onto his seat and said, “There’s that regret word again. You gotta move on.” Flash wasn’t sure whether that comment was intended to be cruel, or if the inebriated unicorn had forgotten that Flash was welded into a forgotten stone cell. “Where am I going to move on to? I’m in prison.” Sanguine looked at Flash like he was stupid, then explained in a suddenly sober voice, “The prison isn’t the walls around you. The prison is in your head.” Flash tensed his eyebrows and chewed thoughtfully on his cheek, pondering the words of his former mentor. Sanguine had once said that, ‘All a pony’s really got is his own mind. That’s why drinkin’ is so bad, it takes away everything you’ve got.’ Twilight had taken away everything Flash ever had, and she was still tormenting him long after she had probably forgotten that he’d ever existed. He needed to let go of her if he wanted to have any peace. Maybe he was stuck in a hole in the mountain, but he had a chance to be free of her in his own thoughts. No more memories playing over and over, no more of this damnable train. Flash remembered Twilight Velvet saying that, ‘Love means opening yourself up to being hurt.’ With a smile, he realized the solution was obvious. If he stopped loving Twilight, then she couldn’t hurt him any more.