Phase VII (Last Goodbyes)
Spike sat in the waiting room of the castle medical wing.
It was the strangest thing he'd ever experienced, walking into canterlot and finding a rather sizable melee going right outside the castle gates. He didn't know what it was about or who the ponies were, but the splash he'd thought king Sombra would make was overshadowed by the display.
Though his attention was needed else where.
According to princess Luna, Big Macintosh was some how involved in the matter and had been sent to the hospital. He was injured, not life or limb threatening, but it wasn't something that could just be walked off either. Applejack was with him now, Spike elected to stay outside with Luna for an explination as to what all had transpired during his absence.
After a rather callous reunion between Luna and Sombra, the lunar Alicorn, looking tired beyond reason, escorted the drake to the hospital wing. The long and short of it was almost too conviluted for him to follow, but the short version made it simple enough. Trotski ponies were protesting against the princess for her mishandling of the changeling invasion, and using the communists to increase their influence and preassure. He wasn't too sure what a Trotski was, and even less what a communist was, but all he needed to know was that Macintosh had been trying to disband the two factions and make them leave Canterlot.
Obviously, Spike asked where Sin was in all of this, since that was more or less his thing. To that, Luna gave him a grave look and did not answer. That troubled the drake greatly so he pushed again, only to be met with the same result. The third time he asked, Luna directed him to ask Macintosh while she excused herself.
So now, here he sat, having no clue what was going on and desperately wanting answers.
"Spike?" He heard Applejack call. "Mac wants ta talk to ya." Her expression was grim, just like Luna's was.
'I've got a bad feeling about this.'
The drake began walking with the mare, trying to ask how Mac was doing but meeting nothing but a stone wall of silence. The heavy feeling in his gut pulled a little harder with each step he took.
Finally, they reached Mac's room and she ushered the dragon inside.
Spike stood in shock at what he saw. Big Machintosh lay in the hospital bed, that much he expected, but the pony was covered in bandages, his head and left shoulder and side being the primary points where the gauze was discolored. The pony's left foreleg was done up in a soft cast and suspended by wires slightly.
"Hey Spike." He said weakly, smiling.
Spike stepped forward, unsure of how to reply. Seeing Sin, Shade or himself in this condition was one thing, but Macintosh? The gentle giant? The rock of their little group of friends? This just made him want to cry. He wouldn't cry, though. The apple pony didn't need that right now, he needed Spike to be strong.
"What happened?"
Mac chuckled mirthlessly, his smile all but disappearing. "Got caught up in a scuffle Ah shouldn'ta been in."
A small scuffle? The guy looked like he'd walked through Tartarus and out again! The bandages that covered his face did nothing to conceal the obvious swelling of his right eye and fore head. Still though, Spike could appreciate some reassurance and accepted the token with grace. He pulled up a chair and sat down, still warm from AJ he assumed, and asked Mac to recount what had happened.
The stallion told him everything from the very begining. Starting with how he'd wanted to get away from the farm for a day and left Ponyville with Sin and Uppity to go to Canterlot for something. The protesters he'd learned about were at the train station and the castle gates, demanding Celestia and Luna step down. He told him about Sin's arrest and what the Federalist had said to the two of them about dividing and conquering.
That's when things got complicated. Mac conspired with Luna, grabbed almost a hundred ponies to get himself credibility or something, he was attacked by one of the Trotski, Uppity came and helped him when he thought he was going to fail, and the protesters turned on each other when Spike and the girls got back.
It took a good forty five minutes for the pony to recount the events, leaving Spike both enlightened and drained.
Though, the look on Mac's face told him there was still more to the story, and Spike thought he knew what it was. "Aww, cheer up, Mac. Sin's been through worse. Celestia will probably just throw the book at him and extend his parlor."
The pony cringed and looked at his friend, his eyes full of defeat and disappointment. Spike waited with baited breath, wanting the pony to say what he was going to say. Was he wrong? Was Celestia really going to send him to actual prison?
"Sin ain't in jail, Spike. He-" The stallion paused.
The drake went wide eyed. If Sin wasn't in jail, then where was he?
"Sin's dead, Spike."
The world went silent, no noise came but the sound of his own increasingly labored breathing. Spike wasn't sure what Macintosh meant by that, surely he didn't mean dead as in... dead. Right? He meant like he was in a lot of trouble and was metaphorically dead, like dead meat... right?
His hopes slowly began to dwindle under the crushing reality of the red stallions dead serious gaze. It wasn't a metaphor.
"Dead?" He repeated. The word sent his inner mind into a denial driven panic. "W- what do you mean he- he's-"
"He was kill in th' dungeons." Mac finished, seeing the drake unable to finish his sentence. "Killed by the Trotski." The last word was spoken through a sob, Mac lifted his hoof and brought it to his eye, covering himself in his shame. "If... If Ah'd a acted sooner, Ah might've... Ah tried!" He sniffled, fighting back the urge to cry. "Ah tried ta- Ah didn't- Ah didn' know they were gonna... gonna" he trailed off, his words lost to gentle sobs.
Spike felt his own chest hick up with emotion. No, it couldn't be true! Sin? Sinbad? The pony who'd shown him how to handle a crossbow? The pony who'd taught him how to survive in the wild? Who'd given him a job and a place to stay when he needed both? How was he gone?
He felt sick, he felt like he wanted to throw up, like the world wasn't real in that moment and everything was just a vivid hallusination. Though, as the seconds past in wait for something to happen, nothing did. The hopes of the stallion's words being part of some kind of mind altering delusion dimmed with each passing second.
Mac looked to the nightstand beside him and picked up a sealed envelope, motioning Spike to come closer. The drakes legs carried him on auto piolot and his stomach tightened as he saw his name etched into the front of the letter. He didn't need to ask, he knew who it was from.
Slowly, he tore open the letter and retrieved on of the the three pieces of parchment from inside. The first one reading as such:
Spike
If you're reading this, then I am dead.
Since this will be the last time I'll be able to address you, I'd like to start out by saying that I'm sorry for all the times I've ever brought you pain. I didn't know that going to the royal wedding meant that much to you, if I had, I'd have gladly stayed at the mill. But, it all worked out for the best, so I'll leave it at that.
Also, do not act rashly in the face of my death. I've made peace with it a long time ago, and I know the Trotski responsible will be held to account. Plans have already been put into motion to ensure this, so rest easily in that regard.
I know you've got your demons, Spike. I know you can be afraid and lonely at times. You cover it up well enough with sass and snark, but I've known you long enough to see that you need help from others. You're a dragon, not a pony, but you've always lived the Equestrian pony way. Trying to be nice to everyone, keeping your ego in check and doing what was best for everyone else before yourself.
For what it's worth, I don't think you have anything to fear about your hording growth. You're disciplined enough to know the consequences of your actions, so don't be afraid to try. Alright? You've earned your right to have a few things as your own and become the dragon I know you can be. You may see it as a sign of weakness, but relying on
Ms. SparkleTwilight isn't something to be ashamed of. You're going through something that nobody you know could ever hope to relate to, take comfort in those you trust and love. I have no doubt that they will support you in whatever you eventually decide to do.It is my sincere hope that you will grow up and find both happiness and fulfillment in your life. I know it may hurt to hear this now, but you will outlive most everyone besides Celestia and Luna by thousands of years. I ask that when that time comes, you do not give into dispair and isolation.
It's not my intent for you to dwell on such things and lose yourself to the moments with the ones you love, all I ask is that some where down the road, the words in this letter find you if you're ever lost in doubt and grief. For now, be with the ones you love, and enjoy the life and fun that you deserve.
I'm no role model, I'm nobody to judge on how to live life. There's more to it than just going to work, coming home, eating and sleeping. I don't know what there is exactly, but I know there's more to it. Don't deny yourself these joys and comforts just because I did.
Do well for yourself, kid. I know you'd make me proud.
Good bye, my friend.
Regards,
Sin.
The drake felt a fresh wave of tears slide down his cheek, but there was more. He steeled his resolve and reached back in to the envelope to find another sheet of paper.
Spike And Macintosh.
I kept this letter with Spike's because I didn't want Macitosh's attention divided anymore than it already was.
This is my last will and testament:
I: Sinbad Von Islander, Grandson of Mandylion Islander
of: The Northern Federation, Immigrant to Ponyville, Equestria.
Of sound body and mind, do here by revoke all former wills and testamentary made by me and declare this to be my last will and testament.
I appoint: Uppity, daughter of Silver Tongue and Quick Wit, to be the sole executor of this will and:
Do here by bequeath to one Spike, (surigot) son of Twilight Sparkle: half of the company: Everwood Lumber Mill.And unto one Macintosh Apple, Grandson of Granny Smith Apple, I bequeath the other half of the company: "Everwood Lumber Mill.
In light of the circumstances surrounding my final will and testament, I am unable to provide any character witnesses to verify my state of mind and aptitude. To this end, I acknowledge my sole witness as one more beneficiary.
I do here by bequeath to one Uppity, Daughter of Silver Tongue and Quick Wit, the Everwood Research Facility upon its completion. Under the strict conditions that she appoint none other than one Twilight Sparkle to visit the facility on a bi-monthly basis, at least, to ensure the ethical treatment of all creatures within captivity, as well as observing the progress of the research.
I acknowledge this will as of the twenty fourth of March, (current year)
I Uppity Daughter of Silver Tongue and Quick Wit, do hereby verify as a witness to the last Will and Testament of one Sinbad Von Islander I acknowledge this signature as of the twenty forth of March, (current year)
Sinbad Von Islander
Sin Islander
Son of Gemini Islander, Grandson of Mandylion Islander.
Spike couldn't bring himself to figure out what all the words on the paper meant, all he saw was the phrase "last will and testament". The situation became all to real to him then.
Now on full auto pilot he reached into the envelope and saw it was something to do with Fancy Pants and how he and Mac would become the full beneficiaries of the company.
There was no use denying it, Sin was gone. What came next was anger.
"That bastard..." Spike whispered, his chest huffing with rage. Who did he think he was?! Leaving Macintosh and Spike this kind of responsibility after he died?! A whole company? What was he supposed to do with that? His friend was dead and he leaves him half a woodmill!? What was that supposed to be? Some kind of consultation prize?!
"That bucking BASTARD!" He shouted, his anger going from zero to one hundred in two seconds flat. He wanted to punch something, to kick it, to claw it, anything to get rid of the rage.
He turned away from Mac, took a deep breath and blew a stream of emerald flame the like's of which he'd never before produced. The flames reached all the way to the ceiling, scorching the pristine white marble walls. After what felt like forever, the flames trailed off, leaving the drake exhausted and gasping for air. It would have been an impressive feet to take pride in, but pride had no place in his heart now.
Nothing did, nothing but pain, grief, and emptiness.
So he cried, he cried and let himself be sad. It wasn't fair, it wasn't fair.
He felt a hoof on his shoulder and immediately turned around to embrace Macintosh. There was little comfort to be found between the two, but what little there was they were grateful for. The two wept for a time, saying the last goodbye to a friend they'd both miss dearly.