Spike rubbed his nose and stared down at his unappetizing plate of vegetables. He forced another bland mouthful down just to satisfy his rumbling stomach. It had been aching ever since the end of the trial. It made the most noise of anypony at the table.
All but Twilight Sparkle and Pinkie Pie had stopped for lunch at one of the undamaged cafes in Canterlot. The girls nervously picked at their food. Spike looked at each of their weary faces, then at the battered buildings that surrounded them. Life in Canterlot had just switched back to normal, minus the aforementioned building cosmetics. Townsponies swept rubble from the street and reopened shops. Lights were being tested in windows. Parents were walking fillies to school. Folks were chatting. Spike heard pleasantries, harsh words about the trial, stories about the storm - about who was overcome, who made it through, who did what.
After a silence, Rainbow Dash snorted. She looked at her food then rolled her eyes. "Are we not going to talk about this?"
"Talk about what?" Rarity said.
"About Harbinger!" Rainbow Dash said, "About Harbinger living here like nothing happened."
Spike and Fluttershy eyed each other nervously. They both sank in their seats.
"It's not like nothing happened," Rarity said, "He's going to repair Ponyville and Canterlot. That's fair, is it not? His storm wrecked the two and now he fixes it."
"It's not fair at all," Rainbow Dash said, "Do you not remember?"
"Remember what?"
Rainbow Dash looked at her in dumbfounded horror. Her face was stricken with it. "Don't you remember their faces? Don't you remember Fluttershy's face when we brought her into the library? Don't you remember Spike's? Or Applejack's? Or your sister's? What Harbinger did can't be measured in bits and structural damage…"
"…What Harbinger did can't be measured at all," Fluttershy murmured. Spike heard her. She was staring down at the floor. Neither Rainbow Dash nor Rarity seemed to hear her.
"Of course I remember," Rarity said defensively, "I when through the exact same ordeal as you. I remember seeing this place - this pavilion - empty and dark, like it was dead." Rarity sniffled and wiped her nose. She was an odd mix of anger and sadness. "But… but, I don't know..."
Rainbow Dash shook her head. "To be frank, I don't think he deserves his second chance."
"Everypony deserves a second chance…" Fluttershy murmured. Spike was mesmerized by her stern stare at the floor."
"He doesn't deserve that kind of a sentence. It's not right, not after what he did. He attacked us. He chose to. He made a choice, and when you make a choice, you deal with the consequences."
"Did you see his face?" Fluttershy whispered, "I think being hated is punishment enough for him."
"What do you want?" Rarity said, "Do you want him thrown in prison? Exiled? Shipped away to Tartarus? Do you want him to throw himself at your feet and beg forgiveness? I don't know what he deserves. I don't. I don't know how I would handle it, but putting him to work - getting some use out of him - I… I don't know. I think that's enough."
Rainbow Dash shook her head. "Rarity, he hurt you. He hurt all of you. I… I can't forgive that. I can't forget it." She stared at Rarity with intense eyes and almost started sniffling herself. "I… I don't want to see any of you hurt, I don't. And I… I can't just… just let the fact that he hurt you all go. I can't."
They all went quiet. Spike just stared at the ground. His stomach grumbled. Rarity bit her lip and Fluttershy brought her head up and rested it on the table. Rainbow Dash sniffed and wiped her nose. She blinked a few times then started to fluster.
"Somepony say something," she said. She looked over to Spike and Fluttershy, "What do you guys think? We… we can't just let him live here. We can't."
Spike frowned. He didn't know. He didn't know what to do, or even much about what he thought of Harbinger.
Fluttershy looked up at Rainbow Dash. Her eyes were more solemn than angry now. "He… just looked so lost," she said, "He looked so terribly, terribly lost…"
Applejack cleared her throat. "…Harbinger doesn't matter."
Rainbow Dash sneered vilely at her. "What?"
Applejack shook her head. "Either he's useful and he stays or he isn't and he leaves. He doesn't matter. Not in the short run. That storm came at the worst possible time - three weeks before harvest. Crops died at the worst time. It's only a few weeks until winter hits. I'll say it plain as day; we don't have enough food in storage for winter. Punishing Harbinger or… or putting him to work… It won't change that."
Rainbow Dash smacked her hoof against the table and snarled at the thought. She grumbled at Applejack. The latter did not shutter, and stared right back. Spike looked up at them and bit his lip. His stomach churned harder as he wondered whether or not he should say something. Friends shouldn't fight, not over anything. He scratched his face and looked down. Rainbow Dash and Applejack argued in an increasingly bitter manner. Spike spotted Fluttershy looking over at him. There was no doubt she was in a similar situation. Spike flashed a smile and patted her on the shoulder. His upset stomach wailed.
Still, he breathed out and prepared himself to speak.
"Fancy seeing you lot here," came a deep voice that wasn't his. "…Am I interrupting?"
Spike turned around and saw Knight Commander Protean Joy in his full armor approaching the table. His face twisted softly from genuine pleasantness to awkward surprise at the scowls he found at that table. Rarity rolled her eyes and looked away. Rainbow Dash rubbed her nose with indignity and stared off into space. Applejack was quiet. Fluttershy simply stared at them in disbelief then smiled at the Commander.
"Hello there," she said sweetly, "I don't believe we've been properly introduced…"
"Oh!" Spike said. He coughed and cleared his throat. "Fluttershy, this is Knight Commander Protean Joy. Knight Commander, meet Fluttershy."
He smiled politely and bowed his head. "It's a pleasure to truly meet you, my lady."
"Likewise," Fluttershy said.
No politesse in the universe could've alleviated the awkwardness there in that cafe. Spike coughed and grabbed his stomach. The ache was more powerful now. He winced.
"Are you alright, Lord Spike?" Protean Joy asked.
"…My stomach hurts."
Protean Joy scratched his chin and looked back and forth. "…I live not far from here. If your stomach hurts, I have a remedy in my medicine cabinet. A short walk."
Spike rubbed his nose and looked over at his friends.
"Go on," Rarity said, "Feel better." She gave him a gentle smile. Spike nodded and pushed himself from his seat. He joined the kindly knight, and they walked through the streets. Protean Joy walked swiftly, but slowly enough for Spike to keep up. A few turns around corners later and Spike found himself before a humble brown door in a nice stone complex. "We're here," Protean Joy said.
He pulled a set of old keys from his pack and opened the old door. It was an eclectic place, and small for a Canterlot home. There were four rooms, each in the corner of a great square so that one room always had an entrance to two others. Protean Joy bid Spike take a set at his dining room table before he disappeared into his bedroom. Spike sat but was beset by curiosity. Protean Joy's home was full of antiquities.
There snow globes, wooden toys and ceramic plates tucked away behind sturdy cabinet doors. He had several larger cabinets that loomed from the floor. The dishes in the sink had yet to be washed and the shelves had yet to be dusted. Spike wandered back into the study and ran his fingers along a small bookshelf overburdened with stories, logs, history texts and sheet music. Every piece of furniture there was surely older than little Spike, and they were sturdy and well cared for. No, but something was missing.
Spike caught the gleam of the setting sun in his eye, and he turned to a wide windowsill to his left. Upon it were two old jars of honey, three books browned by years in the sun and a picture. Spike squinted to make sense of it. It was the only picture he'd seen in the house.
He approached the windowsill and picked it up. He blew dust from its mahogany frame and lifted it to the sun's light. The sepia toned picture contained an obvious younger Protean Joy and a pretty mare with pale eyes and cream skin. Her hair was darker than his, maybe brown or a dark red, but her colors were distorted by the age of the print. On her flank she born a cutie mark depicting two bees and an empty jar.
Spike heard glass break in the back of the house and the old commander cursed. He quickly placed the picture face down on the coffee table and hurried to the bedroom. There, he pushed past a queen sized bed too big for just Protean Joy and peek through a crooked doorway into the bathroom. Protean Joy was bent over, glaring at the broken bottle on the ground and grumbling.
"Can I help?" Spike asked.
Protean Joy looked up to him with a surprised look on his face. His face softened and he nodded.
"Could you?" he said, "Poke your head in that closet behind you. There should be a broom and dust pan to the left."
Spike nodded, entered the closet and found what he was looking for. He brought the utensils to the bathroom door. Protean Joy grasped the broom and dustpan with his magic and hastily swept up his mess. "Well, so much for modern medicine," he lamented. He lent the broom and dustpan against the door and motioned for the kitchen. "Come on. Luckily for you, my mother was something of a herbalist and taught me a mixture or two when I could be bothered to listen."
Spike followed him into the kitchen and sat at the table when the commander asked him to. Protean Joy rummaged through his pantry and pulled out a tall bottle of clear liquid and some jars with different powders in them.
"The majority of heartburn and stomach pain is caused by a lack of hydrochloric acid," he explained, "When I was younger, I ate a lot of poor quality food that I wasn't supposed to and would suffer for it, so my mother practically made enough of this stuff to start her own business."
He pulled a conglomerate of measuring spoons wired together from a drawer and a bowl from the cupboard above him. "The recipe is quiet simple: 2 teaspoons of dandelion powder; 2 teaspoons of chicory powder and half a tablespoon of vinegar…"
He placed a glass of a light white liquid in front of Spike. It did not smell too appealing.
"…for taste," said Protean Joy. He chuckled. "You're going to want to down that all in one go."
Spike held his nose and did so. The drink was bitter and made him shake slightly. A taste like brittle, sour mustard remain on his pallet. "Ack!" he sputtered.
Protean Joy laughed. "Lovely stuff, isn't it?"
Spike frowned and smacked his tongue a bit. "Well, I do feel a little better…"
Protean Joy nodded. "The serving size is meant for a school-filly, so it's probably a bit small for you, but it should definitely help. Besides, you looked like you would take any excuse to get away from that cafe…"
"Yeah…"
Protean Joy snickered and allowed his eyes to wander to the living room's doorway. He smiled faded away and his form stiffened. Spike looked at him then followed his eyes to see what he was looking at. Spike bit down and swallowed. The commander was looking at the picture he'd left on the coffee table.
"I-I'm sorry. I was curious…" Spike said.
Protean Joy walked into the living room and lifted the picture up with his magic. He tilted his head at it for a while then looked back at Spike.
"Oh, it's alright, you were just looking." He placed the picture nonchalantly back on the windowsill.
Spike looked down and played with his thumbs. "I was just looking around when I saw that. Is that the only picture you have?"
Protean Joy sat down at the table across from him and sighed. "That I know of, at least. I'm sure there are some more tucked away somewhere. I've never been too big a fan of photography. They're frail and difficult to get your hooves on. Back then especially…" His eyes wandered away.
"Who, um - if I may ask, that is - who's the mare?" Spike said.
Protean Joy smiled slightly but looked away. His lips tightened and he fidgeted in his seat. "That's my wife… or, it was. She's, uh, she's gone now…"
Spike exhaled and felt bad. He rubbed his stomach, which was feeling better, all things considered. "I'm so sorry," he said. He paused, then continued. "How did she pass away?"
Protean Joy shook his head. "Oh, she isn't dead, she…she just left one day. She hated my job. We had one fight too many - it was a banal thing really. One day, she said she was leaving and I said I wouldn't miss her. And I meant it when I said it…"
Spike thought, in that moment, that the commander looked very old.
He tilted his head and softly squinted. He felt he could see right through him - or inside him. Protean Joy made eye contact with him and was grim. His cheek bones lifted into a broken smile. Spike felt his mouth fall open slightly, like he wanted to say something. But he hesitated.
Protean Joy was still, like he was just waiting.
"…But?" Spike whispered.
Protean Joy exhaled. Then he looked down and all around, like he was trying to make it seem like he hadn't been waiting for that. Still, he looked relieved. Spike shuttered. He looked old, sad and relieved all at the same time.
"…But I see her face in everything," Protean Joy said flatly.
They both were just quiet for a while. They both just simply looked at one another.
Finally, Protean Joy nodded towards the door.
"Let's get you back."