In the CPD, I had a reputation built on successes. No case was too difficult; no mission was too suicidal. If the eternal standoff in the underworld of Cloudsdale ever broke into a blast out, I was there on the frontlines to collect evidence atop a mound of dead bodies. All the paperwork afterwards dealt with the others I added to that pile. When one failure could earn me a permanent reassignment to the morgue, I made it my policy to never fail––not that I feared for my life, but I have a daughter to raise.
Had.
Losing her was my biggest failure. Forgetting her was salt in the wound. A mare could pass every trial and avoid death at every turn, only for one slip–up to bring to naught all she had done. Outside of police work, within a world that progressed perfectly without me, I could only be known by my failures.
“That makes absolutely no sense.” Twilight Sparkle glared. “Rainbow Dash, the likelihood of all these ‘coincidences’ and ‘disappearances’ amounting to a government conspiracy involving mind manipulation on a national scale, which only you, Fleetfoot, and the child editor of a school newspaper could notice, is not high.”
“But it’s true! Don’t you see the connection?” Rainbow kicked away her elaborate conspiracy board––complete with sticky notes and red string trails in between––with a restless groan. “Pinkie Pie’s been gone for a fortnight and none of us have even questioned it! I mean, jeez, Fleetfoot even forgot her own daughter! Twice!” I clenched my teeth and felt my trigger hoof shake, but my resolve dissipated to ashes in the next breath.
“It’s the only way it could’ve happened. The CAD’s in our heads!”
Twilight sighed atop her stool. Lying a few meters from her, I let myself sink into the therapeutic sofa. The fabric shifted to create a soft cocoon around me. I wanted it to swallow me whole, but the world was not ready to let me go unpunished.
“That’s enough, Rainbow Dash. This battle you’re fighting with the Canterlot Auxiliary Defense Battalion has got to stop.” Twilight turned her back on her friend, so she could cast judgment upon me. Her eyes were familiar to me; they were eyes I had always seen in reflections, those of a stern parent, ready to lecture a disobedient child. “And you, Fleetfoot… you’ve only made things worse for the both of us.
“How do you think your fellow Wonderbolts are going to react, having sent you here for a week of therapy, knowing that you attacked a child in that time! I have the authority to pardon you of any offense, but that doesn’t wipe away the crime! If anything, my interference might just give this incident even more attention. Should word spread of your actions, the publicity will ruin the reputation of the Wonderbolts and leave a permanent blot on both our records.”
I took the blame––all of it––without a word. Every misery that befell these ponies was my doing. I was cracking a case, in which the end result had me incriminating myself, the killer grinning in the mirror. I had to give myself up or live with the blood on my hooves… at least metaphorically. I thanked the Goddesses no one had died because of me, yet.
Twilight Sparkle rubbed her forehead, tail swishing to and fro behind the stool’s legs. Rainbow had settled on the floor by her conspiracy board, her face hidden from me.
From my position on the couch, I had a clear line of sight out the biggest window in the library. Due east, tendrils of darkening clouds were spreading across the sky, shaped by the weather ponies for a scheduled rainstorm. The evening was bound to be gloomy.
“The colonel was kind enough to talk to the school. The latest issue will be rescinded; hopefully, what gets out of Ponyville will appear as nothing more than a rumor.” Twilight levitated a mug to her lips and gulped down all the contents inside. “You’re getting one last chance, Fleetfoot. Please don’t let it go to waste.”
“She won’t,” Rainbow Dash said, trotting to Twilight’s side with a frown large enough to bisect both cheeks. “Fleetfoot attacked Featherweight, because she lost her cool. She’s got the temper of a dragon and the impulse of Pinkie Pie… She desperately needs your help, Twilight.”
Twilight’s eyebrow rose almost by instinct. She became the skeptic in regard to Rainbow’s schemes, an acquired trait of having a rebel for a friend. But this rebel had a point––going after Featherweight had been a reckless move, motivated more by rage than by calculated risk. The same could be said of my raid on the smuggler base back in Caeci. They were not the first instances, during which my emotions dictated actions; they were certainly not the first instances, after which I came to regret letting feelings hold sway.
“You’re her therapist,” Rainbow continued. “You’re not about to give up on her already, are you?”
The alicorn Princess of Friendship, at last, released a restrained breath. Her back arched out with her wings unfolded. The feathers were reaching toward the ceiling, toward the sky. Twilight’s voice lost its severity as she answered, “No, I won’t give up on her. Fleetfoot, you’re just a more complex case than I was prepared to deal with.”
My boss had said that too. At least then, the world was still a jigsaw with conspiring masterminds and homicidal maniacs that held all the pieces. What qualified for sane in that context must appear loony in this revision of Equestria. But the evidence was beginning to point me toward my original hypothesis… I really did need a therapist.
Twilight had descended from her stool, not yet taking the steps to get closer to me. That was alright—I was not lifting myself off this couch. Her tone was changing, acquiescing to her designated role in our relationship: “You couldn’t explain it in a way that didn’t sound like a clichéd noir novel, but your problem seems to have to do with the fact that you’re dealing with some conflicting memories. It’s as though you were just living another life entirely these past two days.”
They were not conflicting memories; they were the only ones I had; they were what remained of my original life. I wanted to tell her that. With absolute certainty. But I held my tongue and allowed Twilight Sparkle to continue her assessment.
“I can’t make heads or tails of your sudden change in personality. Rainbow’s told me plenty about how you were like during the Equestria Games tryouts—”
“She’s still prone to backstabbing her friends and teammates. At least that side of her hasn’t changed.” Rainbow shrugged at the glare she received. I was just trying to recall what tryouts they had been referencing.
Twilight sighed. “Anyway… we have a lot to sort out. Yet Rainbow Dash is right: you need help managing your temper right away.” Her horn lit up, and out from behind the couch, a book took flight in her magenta aura. “Luckily, I have a how-to book on anger management!”
“Doesn’t Ponyville have dedicated psychologists for this treatment?” I directed the question Rainbow’s way. All she had to offer me was a guilty chuckle.
“Yes, it was rash of Rainbow Dash to volunteer me, but I have helped ponies overcome their problems, no matter how rooted they are.” Twilight flipped open the book, only stopping as a thought struck her. Her eyes peered into mine. “Since you’re in my care, I have to set one thing straight––you will not give the CAD battalion reason to arrest you again. I won’t help you if you’re purposely trying to make a problem!”
Out of sight, Rainbow coughed.
“Understood?” I nodded. Twilight eased up instantaneously, dropping her eyes back to the pages. “Excellent. I’m glad we’re past that issue. Now… let’s see here: ‘Cure your bouts of anger and violent outbursts with seven easy steps.’”
Twilight’s eyes were buried within the contents of the book. I still had doubts that my cold killer temper could be reined in by a textbook therapist. In spite of my doubts, I was willing to give Twilight Sparkle a chance and my full attention. The mind was an incomplete map with no markers or roads, yet she threw herself into the task of understanding it with initiative and passion and dedication.
I had to give reformation a chance. I was an emotionally unstable liability, one more title to add among my less–than–flattering traits. But did that mean I was not capable of redemption? We were all flaws, the perfect flaws. Yet the beauty of the soul was its ability to mend itself, to correct for fatal wounds and revive fractured resolves. Failing my child had blown a clean hole through mine. I was as perforated as the targets on a shooting gallery by past mistakes and the loss of loved ones. Not all of them could be healed. That did not stop me from trying.
I knew how to remedy my flaw—make myself a better parent, then find my daughter.
Lightning Bolt. Her name is Lightning Bolt. Please wait for me. I will be with you soon.
Back in the present, the status quo had persevered. Twilight Sparkle was still holding a book to her face. Rainbow Dash had walked to the stairs at some point. Her napping figure took up one of the steps. Perhaps I had been monologuing to myself longer than I realized.
“That’s quite unorthodox… but if the book says so…” Twilight murmured. With a smile, she set the book aside on the stool. I waited within my therapeutic cocoon. She kept up the smile and stared at me. If I had to guess, my first lesson would be about patience, and whether I had enough to tolerate other ponies. Easy answer: I did not.
“What are you testing me for?” I asked.
“Nothing.” Twilight looked toward Rainbow Dash for a split second. “Nothing at all.”
Her horn lit up. The couch shifted ever slightly around me. Before I could assess the danger I was in, she threw the couch into a backward somersault.