Blackacre

by Princess Woona

Truth and Reconciliation

13 July, Y.C. 970
Ponyville

“Right this way, Mayor, Miss… Smith.”

There was nothing but deference and grace in Doctor Turner’s outstretched hoof, but Jackie knew that twinkle in his eye. He knew her. How could he not, with a case like hers?

Fortunately for her, she knew he would never act on that knowledge: her file was sealed, courtesy of a memo with the word Celestia at the bottom. More importantly, in seven months there had been countless ponies through the hospital. No one else would remember her. Especially not now that she was the mayor’s aide, which gave her a chance to reintroduce herself and her cobbled-together back story to every pony she met.

“…into a triage ward for the injured recovered from Blackacre,” the doctor was saying. “Most of the ponies were treated well, or at least as well as everyone else in the bunkers. They’re all malnourished and most have a few scrapes, even the Blackacre defectors that came over.”

“Our warehouses are open to you,” said Margaret with a nod at Jackie to take a note on the little pad of paper she had started carrying when tagging along with the mayor. “Take whatever you need. We can afford the supplies; this year looks to be a full harvest. I guess wrapping things up by hoof paid off.”

“I’m glad it worked,” said the doctor with a hint of discontent; half of his staff had been impressed into service for the wrap-up, over his rather vocal protests. “In any case,” he said, changing tack, “here we are.”

They drew to a stop in front of a wide set of double doors that partitioned off the last end of this hospital wing. Unlike most of the other hallway doors, though, the little windows on these were blocked off from the inside.

“Are you sure you want to do this?” asked the doctor, his hoof on the door. “Some of them have been through a lot.”

“Through hell and back,” said Margaret with a grave nod. “Yes, I do. As long as they’re in my town, they’re my responsibility. I owe it to the ponies in there to meet them myself.”

“As you wish,” he said, pushing a door open and waving them in.

The ward was normal enough on the inside. Between the beds, the curtains, and that unmistakable hospital look to everything, it could have been mistaken for any one of a dozen other such wards in the building. Even the ponies here had regular enough injuries: some limbs were broken, a few were missing entirely, and most of them had burns of some sort or other, either from magic or from the wildfire that still smoldered on in some parts of the land.

The difference was that while the other ponies had received their wounds in combat, most of these had received theirs while strapped to an interrogation slab.

Margaret and the doctor broke off, working the main beds in the room from one side to the other. Jackie knew the routine well enough; the mayor would stop by a bed, say a few inspiring words, and move on to the next. She had become remarkably adept at glad-hoofing, something she reasoned simply came with the territory of being a mayor.

For her own part, Jackie would just be a distraction to Margaret’s interactions. There were two important ponies in this room and she was neither of them; none of the ward’s residents paid her much heed, and she wouldn’t really know what to say anyway.

All this meant she hung back from Margaret’s interaction with the patients, and she could take a closer look around. Her eye came to rest on a pony in a bed towards the back of the room. Most of her body was covered with wide swaths of gauze, and Jackie recognized an immobilization brace. She felt a surge of pity; though the medical care here was top notch, being confined to a bed always felt like being cut off from the world. She slipped away to take a closer look at the poor soul in the bed.

Drawing nearer to the bed, she saw that not only was most of the pony covered in an assortment of bandages or casts, but the stack of medical records pinned to the wall next to the bed was easily two or three inches thick. Jackie wondered how this pony was still alive — and a moment later realized that someone had probably wondered the same thing about her.

“Hi,” she said quietly.

The pony glanced up at her but just as quickly looked away.

“I just thought you might appreciate a bit of company,” said Jackie, careful to keep her voice low so it didn’t carry across the thin curtains. Margaret might be here to make an impression on the room, but that wasn’t why Jackie was here.

The pony said nothing.

“I was here too,” she continued after a moment, running a hoof lightly over the bed’s railing. “In one of those braces, even.”

The pony glanced at the framework set up around her upper back, but still said nothing.

“And yes, they did eventually let me out.” She smiled absently to herself. “Doctor Turner’s crew is overworked, but they’re still some of the best. You’re in good hooves.”

The pony gave the slightest of nods, still not meeting her gaze. Fair enough. She would have killed for some company on those long days in the brace between the nurse’s rounds, but this poor pony probably just wanted some peace and quiet. Celestia knew they hadn’t had enough of that in this part of the country for a long time.

“All right,” she said gently. “I’ll leave you be. Good luck.”

As Jackie turned away, though, she heard the faintest of voices behind her.

“…stay.”

She looked back; the pony wasn’t looking at her, but her tan muzzle was quivering slightly.

“I can do that, too,” she said, trying to be light about it. Jackie cast around for a chair and pulled it up next to the bed, not facing it but rather parallel to it, so she wouldn’t be staring right at the pony.

“What’s your name?” she asked.

The pony murmured something.

“Didn’t catch that,” said Jackie. “But that’s okay,” she added quickly, seeing the pony’s discomfort.

There was another silence, but the expression on the pony’s face softened somewhat. She still wasn’t meeting Jackie’s eyes, but something told her she wasn’t about to any time soon.

“I’m Jackie,” she introduced herself. She turned to get a better look at the medical records on the wall. “And it says here that your name is… Gun-Shy?”

The pony gave the slightest of nods.

“I hope it’s okay that I’m doing the talking for the both of us,” she said. “Gun-Shy… hm. That sounds like a call sign, and so you probably got a nickname. And I’m betting they didn’t go around calling you Shy,” she added, “because that’d be kind of silly. So… is it okay if I call you Gun?”

Another nod.

“Well, that’s good. I don’t know what I would have done if you said no. Probably not called you that, but names aren’t the kind of thing you generally get to pick in the first place!” She shrugged. “It’s okay, though. I’d give you a pass, let you pick your name just this once.”
Gun laughed, or at least made a sound with a passable similarity to laughter. That was a good sign.

“I’d say something about the weather, but the view’s not too good from here.” In fact, the closest window was a good forty feet away. “So I guess that means we’re on to another topic of conversation. I’m here with the Mayor,” she said, jerking a hoof over her shoulder at the figures on the other end of the room. “Actually, she’s here with me, but she just doesn’t know it yet.”

Gun laughed again. Jackie was happy to hear it; nothing like a bit of light conversation to brighten your day. Especially when most of it consisted of sitting in bed.

“What brings you in here today?” she asked, reaching for the records on the wall. “Can’t answer that one for you, so I guess I’ll just have to —”

She nearly dropped the papers.

This time, Gun was the one to meet her gaze, and Jackie was the one to break it.

“I’m so sorry,” she said after a moment, putting the records back up with a wavering hoof.

“I’m so sorry.”

For several minutes, neither of them said anything, the room filled with the soft murmur of nurses and doctors, of the mayor and patients.

Jackie had always wondered what it would be like to fly, to be up in the sky on your own power alone, totally in control of your destiny and free from everything on the ground so far below. She had never wondered what it would be like to know that freedom and then never have it again — but she could imagine it all too well.

“I know how you must feel,” she said, her voice quiet.

Gun glanced at her again.

“Thank you,” she said, but the pained expression in her eyes was unmistakable. Of course you don’t, they said. How could you?

“I spent four weeks in a bed like that,” said Jackie. “Four weeks of recovery from… an accident.” She brought a hoof to her face and pushed aside a red curl. “I know what it’s like.”

At once Gun’s expression changed, bitter to sorrowful in the blink of an eye. She raised a hoof and laid it on Jackie’s hand. She said nothing, but she didn’t need to; they were both Earth ponies now.

After a few minutes more, Jackie saw that Margaret had a visitor of her own, a young-looking pony in uniform, maybe an aide of some sort. She couldn’t hear what they were saying over there, but she knew their time here was coming to a close.

“I have to go,” she said. “But I’ll be back.”

“Thank you,” said Gun, sincerity in her eyes.

“If there’s anything I can do, just say the word,” said Jackie, clasping Gun’s hoof. “I have some pull with the Mayor —”

“I don’t want to go home,” said Gun, quiet but uncharacteristically urgent.

“I’m sorry?”

“When I’m discharged, they’ll send me home,” she said. “I — I don’t know if —”

“I understand,” said Jackie quickly. Her situation had been different, but what if it hadn’t? If she was checked out of the hospital and had to go back to the closest family she had left? She had some distant relatives out in the Unicorn Range, and though she hadn’t seen them for years she had no doubt they would be loving and supportive, but it just wouldn’t be the same. Would never be the same.

And if she had to go home to pegasi with missing wings?

“Tell you what,” she said, taking out her notepad and scribbling a reminder. “I know a place where you can rest and recover for a bit once you’re out of here, a family farm outside of town. It’s quiet, they won’t ask any questions, and the ponies are nice.” She smiled. “Though I might be a bit biased.”

Gun hesitated for a moment, then nodded. “That sounds lovely.”

“I’ll have to check, but you should be able to stay as long as you want.”

Off on the other end of the room, Margaret had left the ward and Doctor Turner was waving her down. Jackie acknowledged him with a slight nod and turned back to the bed.

“I’ll come back; we can talk more then.” She patted Gun’s hoof. “Or, not talk. Whatever you’d like.”

“I’d like that,” said Gun quietly. “Thank you.”

Jackie gave the hoof one last squeeze before dashing off to the door to the ward, passing through it and into a conversation between Margaret and a distinguished-looking stallion in the blue and yellow of an Army uniform. Margaret called her over.

“Here’s the pony you want,” she said. “General, this is Jackie Smith, my aide; Jackie, this is General Eisenhorner.”

“A pleasure,” she said, blinking twice and offering a hoof.

“The pleasure is mine,” said the general, shaking it firmly, “I assure you.”

Jackie couldn’t help but smile to herself; she had met him on at least four prior occasions. Of course, she had been wearing the trappings of the diplomatic corps at the time, and been with Dag.

Dag —

“…recovery operations here in Ponyville,” Eisenhorner was saying. “Your Mayor informs me that you’re the one to go to for civilian requisitions.”

“I am,” she said with a nod.

“Good,” he said. “I’ll have my staff contact you, but I like to meet ponies in person if I can. This is the first time I’ve been back to Ponyville since — since Mayor Margaret took office, and I reasoned a formal meeting was overdue.”

“As did I,” said Margaret smoothly. “I’m glad we can be of help to the Royal Army; your presence so close to the town has reassured many of my citizens.”

And unnerved others, Jackie added to herself. Others who happened to include both herself and the mayor — but he didn’t need to know that. He would figure the chilly relations out for himself soon enough.

“Don’t let us keep you, though,” added Margaret, waving a hoof in the general direction of the exit. “I’m sure you have important matters to attend to.”

“Several,” agreed Eisenhorner with a nod. “But one of them will keep me here; I’m afraid I’ll need more of Doctor Turner’s time. I have more patients to send his way, and I suspect he would appreciate forewarning to prepare adequate facilities.”

“He likely would,” agreed Margaret. “Though — I thought your forces already extracted all of the captives.”

“General Pommel’s team did a complete recovery,” he said, and Jackie noticed the barest clenching of teeth at the mention of his comrade’s name. “I have, however, received scattered reports of defectors who left Blackacre before they took their prisoners to the hand-off point.”

“Defectors?” asked Margaret.

“Perhaps escapees,” offered Eisenhorner. “In either case, I have teams preparing to search for them now. There are only a few paths out of Castle Blackacre; if anypony ran, we will find them and return them to Ponyville for treatment — which is where the good doctor comes in.”

Jackie and Margaret exchanged looks. Jackie had half a mind to speak up, but held her tongue; she was now only an aide, after all, and it wasn’t her place to question. Margaret, on the other hand, had no such limitations.

“Why would you try to capture them?” she asked in a disarming tone.

The general blinked.

“If they’re escapees,” she pressed on, “then they’ll probably be hiding from any patrols, at least while in Blackacre itself. And their end goal will be to reach the Royal Army anyway, so they’ll be looking for you.

“But if they’re defectors,” she reasoned, “then not only will they still be trying to hide, but the moment you capture them, they become prisoners of war. Which I imagine involves some considerable paperwork, paperwork which won’t even matter — they’ll all be released tomorrow at the signing anyway.”

Eisenhorner nodded warily. “This is true, but I still have my obligations.”

“Your obligations are towards Equestria,” said Margaret gently, “just like mine. The war is over, and Equestria won. It’s going to take years to make amends for what was done here.”

Again the general tensed, but he was still listening.

“The healing process has to start here and now,” she said. “If ponies want to leave Blackacre behind, to try and move back into their lives, then I wouldn’t want to stop them.”

“I have a duty to follow my orders,” he said, “and until tomorrow at noon, I have an obligation to secure Equestria’s border with Blackacre.”

The words were firm but his tone was not; clearly he was having some trouble.

“It’s already secure,” said Margaret with a smile. “Nopony’s fighting now. And starting tomorrow, your orders will be to help the thousands of ponies on both sides of the line try and make a better life for themselves.” She shook her head slightly. “If some of them want to start down that path early, we should be helping them, not holding them prisoner.”

“My duty,” he started lamely.

“Is to help Equestria recover,” finished Margaret firmly. “And the sooner that starts, the better.”

For a long moment, Eisenhorner said nothing.

“I could use those troops in preparing for tomorrow,” he mused. “And they might not even make it back here before the release order. It would just be a waste of time.” He nodded. “I’ll give the order.”

“Thank you, General,” said Margaret. “I’m glad that the Royal Army has commanders at the top who understand the importance of recovery.”

“And I’m pleased to work with a mayor who places such importance on all the ponies of Equestria, not just the select few in her region,” he countered. “If you’ll excuse me, I have orders to issue and preparations to make.”

“Of course. General.”

“Mayor.”

And with that the general was off, trotting through the hospital at a brisk clip, reciting orders at the handful of aides that gathered out of nowhere at his side.

“Thank you,” said Jackie, watching him go. “I’m glad you think like that.”

“I’m glad you showed me how,” said Margaret. “Besides, it’s the right thing to do.”

“It is,” she agreed. “If there are any ponies out there who made it out of Blackacre, then we should let them go. The sooner they can get back to their old lives — the sooner we can put all this behind us — the better.”

For her, life would never be the same. But maybe for somepony else, somewhere else, letting them go would be enough to give them a head start on rebuilding.

“Enough lives have been ruined,” said Margaret sagely. “It’s about time we start putting them back together again.”

“I like the sound of that.” Jackie smiled. “I liked the sound of what you told him, too.”

“I thought that might be what you would have wanted,” said Margaret with a laugh.

Jackie nodded. “Sometimes, you just need to forget.”