The Fixer

by Flynt Coal

8 - The Last Secrets

The headlights of the Toyota Highlander illuminated the dark road ahead of them as overhead, the sky turned dark and cloudy as the first drops of rain started hitting the windshield. Sable couldn’t help but think of the similarly rainy night he and the triplets had first picked up Troubleshoes and Tirespin at the Windmill Diner. Something about that symmetry gave Sable a bad feeling as he drove back towards San Palomino, where he’d drop off his passenger before heading back to his own home.

“Hmm…” Sunset Shimmer grunted in the passenger seat next to him.

Sable glanced at her, still keeping his eyes on the dark road. “Something wrong?”

“Don’t know,” she replied, staring out at the darkness herself. “I just got a bad feeling all of a sudden.”

Guess I’m not the only one, Sable thought, before saying with a grin, “I take it your Spider-sense is tingling?”

Sunset looked at him blandly before realization set in. “Oh, that’s a comic reference, right?”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding when you said you need to catch up on a few things. Yeah, it’s a comic reference. Seriously, though, it’s probably just the weather.”

Sunset grunted and nodded, and Sable figured that was that before she spoke up again. “No, I don’t think it’s the weather. This is something else.”

They stopped at a red light, and Sable looked right at her. “Think this is a wing and horn kinda thing?”

“I don’t know…” Sunset said again, sounding more and more troubled by the moment. “I had the same feeling when I sent the triplets to negotiate with Los Perros.”

Sable couldn’t quite resist the temptation to take another playful jab at her. “Is it a feeling that you’re skipping a step in the chain of command?”

“Ha ha,” Sunset deadpanned, before growing quiet and troubled again. “No, it’s more like something about the situation feels wrong. Like there’s something about it that we’re missing.”

Sable thought about it until the light turned green. “What do you think we could be missing?”

“I dunno, there’s just something odd about… how suddenly all of Troubleshoes’s problems went away.”

Now that she mentioned it, it seemed almost too convenient that one of the men who had assaulted Tirespin just happened to come forward at the right time. But what did it mean?

“Do you want to turn the car around?” Sable asked. “Just to check that everything’s okay?”

Sunset was quiet for a long time before answering, “No, it’s… it’s probably nothing. We should let Troubleshoes have this evening with his family.”

Sable shrugged, said, “Okay,” and kept on driving, turning at the next light.

Problem was, Sunset didn’t sound terribly convinced it was nothing. And now, neither was Sable.

The slow jazz song was forgotten, as was the sound of rain starting to fall on the windows, and the sound of Troubleshoes’s mother baking nervously in the kitchen. All Troubleshoes could hear was his own heartbeat in his ears as he looked at the smirking man on his mother’s couch, eating his mother’s cookie and bouncing his infant granddaughter on his knee.

“Wow… four generations of Clyde, all under one roof!” Withers exclaimed. “Lucky me!”

“Withers, you goddamn bastard—!” Troubleshoes said, taking a step towards him. A sharp cry from Cinnamon stopped him in his tracks as Withers stood, clumsily shifting her to cradle her tiny body in one arm.

“Hey, ease off the throttle there, Big T,” Withers said, grinning the way a spider might grin at the fly in its web. “You wouldn’t want to startle me now, would ya?” He then turned his fly eating grin towards Cinnamon. “I might accidentally drop this little cutie right on her fragile little head!”

Withers gently rocked Cinnamon in place, softly shushing her as she cried. Troubleshoes wanted nothing more than to knock the creepy, fly eating grin off his face but knew that he couldn’t while he was holding his granddaughter. Down Luck was in the room now, much to Troubleshoes’s horror, and he looked over at Tirespin, who was watching the whole scene wide-eyed and trembling. As bad as this was for Troubleshoes, it must have been her worst nightmare.

Troubleshoes put a comforting hand on her shoulder as he asked, “The hell do you want, Withers?”

“Why, you of course!” Withers exclaimed, biting his lip. “We have unfinished business, my friend! I went to a lot of trouble making you feel safe enough to come out of that shell you had turtled up in. Even got that idiot gangbanger to go to the cops and drop the charges against you!”

“I thought that Los Perros was finished with me,” Troubleshoes said. At least, that had been his impression when the triplets told him about their negotiations with Biff.

At that, Withers laughed—no, cackled—and Troubleshoes could almost hear the insanity pouring out of him. “You still think this is about your debt to the Bloodhound? Oh, that is precious. Sure, I’ll probably take you to the Bloodhound when I’m done, but right now, this is just between you and me!”

Troubleshoes truly had no idea what else Withers could possibly want from him. No, that wasn’t entirely true, was it? Yes, there was something… a small inkling of an idea somewhere in the back of Troubleshoes’s mind too twisted and terrible to truly grasp, like the true form of some cosmic horror.

“What the hell kind of business do you and I still have with each other?” he asked, ignoring that black horror forming in the recesses of his brain.

“I’m something of an artist, Big T. Sure, you’ll never see my works in the likes of the Louvre, but my work is still important to me! I suppose it’s the only thing I’ve ever truly loved!” Withers exclaimed, his voice building with excitement. “I’ve turned so many people like you into masterpieces over the years, but you, Big T? I think you’ll be my magnum opus!”

The dark form of Withers’s intentions was taking more shape in Troubleshoes’s mind, and just like a Lovecraftian horror, the more of it Troubleshoes understood, the closer to insanity he felt he was drawing.

“Christ, you are one fucked up bastard, Withers,” Troubleshoes said, almost absentmindedly.

“Sticks and stones will break my bones,” Withers said, wagging a condescending finger. “Now, here’s what’s going to happen: I’m going to break you—physically, mentally, spiritually—then rebuild you. Then I’m going to use you. Completely and thoroughly. And when I’m done, you’ll come with me, and your family will be left alone, unharmed.”

His heart still beating in his ears, Troubleshoes desperately tried to come up with a plan. The first order of business was to ensure his family’s safety. After that, he’d figure something out. “Fine, I’ll do whatever you want. But only after you let the rest of my family go!”

With a sigh, Withers shook his head. “No can do, Big T.” He then looked directly at Tirespin. “Tell me, cutie, what’s the first thing you’d do as soon as you, the kid, and granny are outta here?”

“I-I…” Tirespin stuttered. She was so terrified; it was like her voice was trying to hide in her lungs. “I don’t….”

“You’d call the cops while I was busy with your dad, right?” Withers asked, and when Tirespin didn’t immediately answer him, he repeated, “Right?” and Tirespin nodded desperately.

“Right. So, you and Granny are gonna stay right where I can see ya while I work. Of course, I’ll also be holding onto the kid so nobody gets any cute ideas—which will make working difficult, but not impossible.” Then with his slimiest grin yet, Withers said to Tirespin, “You don’t have to watch us if you don’t want to, but I gotta say, I’ve never had an audience while I work before.” Withers licked his lips. “Could be fun!”

Finally, Withers looked right at Troubleshoes. “So, what’s it gonna be, Big T? You gonna cooperate?” He then booped the crying Cinnamon. “Or am I gonna have to do something we’ll all regret?”

Troubleshoes fists were clenching so tightly he could feel his nails breaking skin. Plan after plan to overpower the bastard ran through his head, but as long as he was holding his granddaughter hostage, Withers was untouchable. Despair set in as he realized there was nothing he could do. Protecting his family was the one thing he was supposed to be able to do, and as a Navy SEAL, it should have been easy. But he had failed.

Not yet. Some voice in his heart told him. Maybe it was his own voice, or maybe it was Chief Tumblehome’s. Maybe it was even Sable’s, or any one of his new friends. Either way, the voice reminded him of the one thing that his years of training and service had taught him: that he would do whatever it takes to protect what he loved, whether that was his country, or his family.

Even if that meant sacrificing himself.

So, he turned to Tirespin, touched her tear-stained cheek and said, “I love you. Don’t look.”

His daughter’s teary eyes looked back at his, and she whispered, “Please don’t…” even though it was clear she knew just as well as he did that there was no other way. Troubleshoes put a hand on his mother’s shoulder, gave it a squeeze, and then turned to face Withers, standing tall and proud, looking every bit the SEAL he was.

“Okay. I’m ready,” Troubleshoes said, and the funny thing is, he really was. He didn’t feel any of the expected dread at whatever torture and indignity Withers had planned for him. He just felt… at peace. “Do whatever you’re gonna do.”

For the first time that evening, the smile on Withers’s face cracked, and he actually took a step backward. It was a brief moment, and Withers recovered from it quickly enough to order Troubleshoes to his knees. He complied easily enough, and still looking at him through that cracked smile, Withers reached over beside the couch and dragged over a duffel bag with the arm not holding Cinnamon.

“Can you do me a solid and reach in there and pass me one of the scalpels?” Withers asked with almost mocking politeness.

Troubleshoes opened the bag, and the sight of its contents was almost enough to wash away the calm that had come over him. Troubleshoes wasn’t exactly an expert on the subject, but the duffel bag was full of what appeared to be a large, diverse assortment of BDSM gear. What allowed some of the fear to return was the traces of dried blood on some of it. Mixed in with the leather and chains were other tools; scalpels, knives, and other bladed implements that would look more at home in an operating room.

Closing his eyes, Troubleshoes forced himself to return to that peaceful place he had been moments ago. It was easier than expected; he had been trained to resist torture, after all. He just had to remind himself what he was fighting for. Regardless of what would become of him now, there was nothing nobler than that.

He passed Withers a scalpel with the same easy calm as before, and he could swear he saw a hint of fear in the other man’s eyes as he took it uneasily. Licking his lips nervously, Withers traced the flat of the scalpel along Troubleshoes’s face, putting on an over-the-top show of an artist deciding where to put his first brushstroke. Then his eyes met Troubleshoes’s, and again he almost seemed to recoil.

“Why aren’t you afraid?” Withers asked, sounding almost as if he were on the verge of panic. “All the others are by this point, even the ones that are good at hiding it!”

Troubleshoes didn’t answer him, merely holding his gaze calmly. The scalpel was shaking in Withers’s hands now as he pressed it to Troubleshoes’s cheek, drawing a trickle of blood. “Why aren’t you afraid?!”

The two held each other’s gaze a moment longer, then another, as a silent battle of wills raged. Finally, a cold smile spread across Withers’s face as a bit of fear finally started to creep onto Troubleshoes’s again.

But that fear was not of Withers. Troubleshoes was afraid because out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement out in the hallway where the back door was. A familiar dark figure crept out of the shadows behind Withers and quickly descended on him. Troubleshoes was afraid because as well-intentioned as the figure may have been, he was unintentionally going to destroy what Troubleshoes was sacrificing himself to protect.

“No, DON’T!” Troubleshoes cried out, but it was already too late.

With a grunt of surprise, Withers was disarmed, the scalpel dropping to the floor as the hand that held it was twisted around behind his back. Another arm wrapped around Withers’s neck, and the face of Sable Loam glared at him over his shoulder.

“It’s over, Withers,” Sable intoned, kicking the scalpel across the floor out of reach as he held the man in a vice grip, but whatever he was going to say next was cut off as Cinnamon started crying anew. Troubleshoes saw the terrible look of realization on Sable’s face when he looked down and saw what was in Withers’s other arm.

“Hmm, maybe you’re right, Snooper,” Withers said, shifting in Sable’s grip. “But not for me. Think fast!”

Then, Troubleshoes’s worst fear was realized: with an underhand toss, Withers threw a screaming Cinnamon. Time seemed to slow as Troubleshoes’s granddaughter flew through the air. A bloodcurdling scream of pain and horror joined the infant’s cries that Troubleshoes recognized as Tirespin as he scrambled to his feet. A terrible realization came to him even as he gave it his all to catch her: I’m not going to make it.

Except Troubleshoes was getting closer, and Cinnamon hadn’t hit the ground yet. It occurred to him suddenly that time hadn’t really slowed down: only Cinnamon had.

Troubleshoes, Tirespin, Down Luck, Sable, and even Withers all looked on in amazement as little baby Cinnamon floated through the air, descending slowly and gently into Troubleshoes’s outstretched arms. Perhaps it was just a trick of the light, but Troubleshoes could swear she was wreathed in a soft cyan glow. Stupefied, Troubleshoes turned to Tirespin, Cinnamon crying in his arms, unharmed. Wobbling unsteadily on her feet, Tirespin passed out.

She was caught before hitting the floor by Sunset Shimmer, who appeared at her side quite literally from thin air, and Troubleshoes could have sworn he saw another flash of cyan light accompany her.

“Well, Sunset? When you’re right, you’re right,” Sable said.

“Yeah, kinda wish I’d be wrong more often, to be honest,” Sunset admitted, before pointing at Withers. “Want me to deal with him?”

“No, you just get Troubleshoes’s family to safety and call the police,” Sable said, tightening his grip on the psychopathic mercenary as he locked eyes with Troubleshoes. “We have this shit locked down.”

Sunset nodded and lifted Tirespin’s unconscious form over her shoulder, fireman-carrying her out. Troubleshoes gently passed Cinnamon over to his mother, who for her part looked at him with disbelieving eyes before following. When they were gone, Troubleshoes turned to face Sable and Withers, who for his part still didn’t seem to have processed everything that just happened.

“Wha… what the fuck was that magic bullshit?!” Withers sputtered.

In truth, Troubleshoes had the exact same question running through his mind but decided that now wasn’t the time for it.

“Something that no one will believe if you tell them,” Sable answered. “But feel free to bring it up if you’re hoping to plead insanity at your trial.”

Sable suddenly grunted in pain as Withers plunged a knife into his leg with the hand that had until recently been holding Cinnamon. Sneaky bastard must have been stalling for time with his question as he pulled it out of whatever secret holster he kept it in. Withers immediately used the moment of weakness from his surprise attack to wrench free of Sable’s grip and elbow him in the face hard, sending Sable to the floor and breaking Down’s new coffee table with the back of his head. A lot of blood was already pouring out of Sable’s probably broken nose, and he lay still in the middle of the table debris—it was likely he was going to have a concussion.

Troubleshoes didn’t have time to ruminate on that though, and immediately rushed Withers like an out of control freight train. For his part, Withers hadn’t stopped his own offensive and immediately followed his takedown of Sable by throwing the knife he’d just stuck into his leg. The attack came too quickly for Troubleshoes to avoid entirely, but he managed to angle himself so it caught him in the shoulder rather than the chest. Ignoring the pain, Troubleshoes kept his forward momentum and briefly caught the look of sudden worry on Withers’s face before he plowed into him, body checking him into the wall and knocking loose the pictures and Catholic iconography.

Troubleshoes immediately laid into Withers with a hit to the gut and another to the face, bloodying him and knocking the shades from his face. He then continued to pile upon Withers the sum of all the rage and pain he and Los Perros had caused him and his family over the past few weeks. In that moment all his years of training and experience were forgotten, and all Troubleshoes could do was furiously strike his adversary again and again.

Another surge of pain went through Troubleshoes’s shoulder as Withers grabbed the knife still lodged there and twisted. In an almost feral panic, Troubleshoes fully lifted the smaller man off his feet and tossed him end over end over the couch. Withers managed to take the knife from his shoulder with him, but Troubleshoes wasn’t about to let him recover enough to use it.

So Troubleshoes vaulted the couch with the clarity of mind to disable his opponent once and for all… but he realized far too late that he miscalculated. Withers managed to recover way faster than Troubleshoes was expecting, but it looked like it wouldn’t be fast enough, and Withers’s eyes momentarily widened. Then the breath left Troubleshoes’s body as he felt another sharp jolt of pain, this time right in his gut below his ribs. Troubleshoes crashed down onto Withers with his full weight, but already he felt his strength slip away as breathing became a battle all of its own.

With one final grunt of exertion, Withers pushed Troubleshoes’s heft off of him until the two lay on the floor on their backs, side by side and covered in each other’s blood, breathing heavily like two lovers in afterglow. Troubleshoes wanted to get up; wanted to just finish off the psychopath beside him once and for all, but he could barely find the strength to keep breathing. I wonder if he got a lung.

Withers, however, was able to recover, and with considerable effort, slowly pulled himself into a sitting position. Bruised and bloody, Withers spat out a wad of something black (maybe a piece of his heart, Troubleshoes thought) as he continued struggling to stand.

“Fuck… you really do hit like a goddamn horse.” Withers took another breath and a moment to collect himself. “I have to say… I really enjoyed that! It was almost worth not getting to make my masterpiece with you.” Withers then bent down and picked up the knife that had fallen out of Troubleshoes’s gut, coughing again before flashing a much bloodier version of his usual fly-eating grin. “But I have to say, I’m not that upset about it. I think I already found my next canvas!

“Sunset, right? I am so excited to find out what makes her tick! Who knows? She may one day be a greater masterpiece than even you could have been, Big T!” Leaning over him, Withers held up his knife, searching for the place to put his final brushstroke. “Shame you won’t be around to see it!”

Before Troubleshoes could even process the fact that he was going to die right there and then, Withers was abruptly shoved back first against the wall. Troubleshoes saw his eyes go wide and almost fearful as he looked into the furious face of Sable, all the blood from his broken nose framing his mouth like a red goatee.

“Try it and you’re a dead man,” Sable intoned, staring at—nay, through—Withers with wild eyes, that together with the blood goatee made him look like a feral beast. “You can’t even fathom the scale of the forces you’ve crossed today.”

For once, Withers had no retort save for to plunge his knife into Sable’s neck with incredible speed and precision. Sable was faster though, and actually caught the knife in his hand by the blade. Despite the blood seeping through his fingers, Sable’s face betrayed no pain; only the same calm, almost canine fury. His face remained unchanged even as he wrested the knife from Withers’s hand and tossed it across the room.

All of the fight went out of Withers then, and he could only stare at Sable in disbelief. “What the hell even are you people?”

“To you, Sunset Shimmer may as well be a god,” Sable snarled as Troubleshoes heard the sound of police sirens getting closer and closer. “And me? I’m the motherfucking Wolf of Kabul.”

Troubleshoes knew he’d heard that name before, but right now all he could focus on was keeping his eyes open. The police sirens were very close now, and soon Troubleshoes saw more shapes enter the room, shouting with voices that were distant. Everything that followed was a haze of fog.

Looking ahead, Sunset Shimmer just tried to focus on the road, rather than reflect on her most recent failures. Sure, she finally had her driver’s license now, but it was so new that she didn’t feel fully comfortable behind the wheel yet. She had been surprised to learn just how many “rules of the road” there were, and now Sunset focused on remembering each of those rather than the fact that she’d once again acted hastily trying to do what she thought was right, and it had once again gotten people she cared about in danger.

Glancing in the rear-view mirror, Sunset saw that Tirespin was still out cold in the back seat, while Down sat quietly beside her with Cinnamon in her arms. Sunset didn’t even know where she was taking them. Back to her house? Maybe Troubleshoes’s local business? All she could think about was driving away. That, and she needed to think of how the hell she was going to explain the magic she had used to Down and Tirespin (when the latter woke up at least).

“I know what you are,” Down Luck’s weathered old voice rose from the back seat.

“Yeah?” Sunset asked. Now that would be interesting if it were true. Since Sunset had no idea where she was going anyway, she pulled the car over and looked over at Down Luck in the rear-view mirror.

Down clutched the rosary around her neck as she said, “You’re an angel, aren’t you? Sent by God to protect us.”

Sunset supposed it was true, in a roundabout way. Charged with protecting the people of Earth by the closest thing there was to a deity, by local standards. Wasn’t that what the Alicorn of Earth really was, once broken down to its essence? Well, if it is true, I’m a pretty poor excuse for an angel.

She should have known that the gangbanger turning himself in had been a trap. Should have known that her illusions would only stoke the fires of conflict with Los Perros. Should have known that she was putting her family in danger by sending the triplets on an ambassadorial mission without consulting her admiral, and putting the triplets themselves in danger by not properly planning it. How the hell am I supposed to protect the world if I can barely even protect those closest to me?

Letting out a breath, Sunset rested her forehead against the steering wheel as Sable’s Toyota idled. It was all so overwhelming. “I’m no angel.”

“Sure you are,” Down insisted. “You took in my boy and his daughter and kept them safe even though you didn’t know them. Then you showed up just in time to save all of us.” Cinnamon gurgled and fussed in her arms and Down rocked her in place. “See? Even the little one is comforted by your presence.” Then with a warm smile, Down met Sunset’s eyes in the rear-view. “Seems to me that you’re an angel whether you know it or not.”

Despite her misgivings about herself, Sunset couldn’t help but smile back. It was then that Tirespin awoke with a gasp, looking around frantically.

“Where—! What happened?”

Cinnamon started softly crying, and all of the terror left Tirespin’s face when she looked beside her and saw her daughter in her grandmother’s arms, safe and sound.

“You passed out when Withers tossed Cinnamon,” Sunset said. “Fortunately, your dad managed to catch her.”

Tirespin barely heard her, utterly lost in her own world; or at least, the child that comprised it. Down gently passed Cinnamon to Tirespin, who smiled at her through tear-filled eyes.

“Hi Cinnamon,” Tirespin cooed, holding her closer to her chest. “Mama missed you… Mama missed you so much….”

As Tirespin kissed her baby’s head again and again, flashing lights and loud sirens filled the interior of the car as several emergency vehicles sped past, heading the way Sunset and the others came from. Sunset knew immediately that they were the police she had called. Maybe she wasn’t an angel, but she didn’t have to be to keep doing good. The evidence was in the back seat, as a young mother and daughter had their tearful reunion.

Tirespin looked at Cinnamon adoringly. “I had a dream you were flying.”

The past couple of hours (at least, Troubleshoes was pretty sure it had been hours, might have been days for all he knew) were a whirlwind of disorientation for Troubleshoes. He vaguely remembered being lifted onto a stretcher and loaded into the back of an ambulance. Then he was being pushed down a hallway with a lot of bright lights. The rest was just a bunch of disassociated images. Pale teal curtains, doctors wearing surgical masks, Tirespin with something connected to her arm….

Eventually, Troubleshoes came to his senses and found himself lying in a bed in a sterile room with only a ficus in the corner. He was wearing one of those ugly faded blue hospital gowns that Troubleshoes was sure were the medical industry’s longest-running prank. Let’s fill this patient with drugs, give him a shoddy robe and see what happens! He had bandages over his shoulder and around his stomach—which accounted for both his major injuries—and a drip in his arm feeding him blood from a bag hanging beside his bed. Right, guess I lost quite a lot of that.

The only other occupant of the room was Tirespin, who was sitting in one of the cushioned chairs off to the side. She looked up from whatever magazine she’d been disinterestedly reading when she heard him stir, and then shot to her feet when she saw that he was awake.

“Dad!” she exclaimed, making to rush to his side before hesitating, looking nervously down at her hands. “Um… how do you feel?”

Troubleshoes groaned as the room spun a little. “Like a million bucks.” The effort hurt his throat a little, and he realized that he was parched. “I’d like some water, though.”

Tirespin passed him a glass that had been sitting on the table beside the bed, perhaps left by a nurse who knew he’d need it when he woke up. Either that, or Tirespin had known and had requested it. Troubleshoes downed the whole glass and set it down, wiping his chin.

“Better?” Tirespin asked.

Marginally. “Much,” he answered instead. “Still feel pretty out of it though.”

“Yeah, apparently the paramedics gave you just a little too much morphine,” Tirespin explained. “But the docs fixed you up pretty good. You should be able to go home in a couple of days.”

He looked around, his head still spinning a little. “Cinnamon… where…?”

“She’s okay, she’s at home with Gram-Gram,” Tirespin said, frowning in a mature way that didn’t suit her at all. “It’s way past her bedtime.”

Grinning, Troubleshoes said, “I would have thought that after so much time apart, you would have wanted to spend tonight with her.”

“Oh, I do,” Tirespin said. Then, intentionally or otherwise, she echoed his own words to her during the mercenary attack the week before, “But I decided that I was more needed right here.”

Troubleshoes then saw the large band aid on her arm and looked again at the bag of blood hanging beside his bed.

Following his gaze, Tirespin said, “I couldn’t just let Cinnamon’s granddaddy tap out before she got a chance to know him. Especially seeing that he saved her life.”

“Thanks,” Troubleshoes said, his grin becoming a more genuine smile. “Does… this mean we’re not fighting now?”

Tirespin closed her eyes and sighed. “I dunno. What you did tonight still doesn’t erase all the years you spent being a shitty dad. But honestly? I’m just so, so tired of being mad at you.”

Troubleshoes frowned. “But you still are?”

It took a few moments for Tirespin to answer. “No. I don’t think I’ve really been mad at you since the day I was attacked when all this started. I’ve… mostly just been scared, I guess.”

Troubleshoes remained silent as Tirespin continued to figure out how to articulate herself. “Scared for me, scared for my baby. But I think most of all… scared to trust you again.”

With a grunt and a nod, Troubleshoes said, “That’s fair.”

“It’s hard. I see how much you’ve changed, and I want so badly to have you in my life again, but… I dunno. I can’t just forget about when you used to drink, and how you cheated on Mom, and….”

Furrowing his brow, Troubleshoes tilted his head and looked at her. “Wait, how I what?”

His confusion at the statement elicited a similar response from Tirespin. “The affair? The one I heard you and mom arguing about the night she left?”

It took a few moments for Troubleshoes to remember the argument in question, but when he did, he gave a sigh and a sad laugh. “Tirespin, you got some very crucial details about that situation wrong.”

Tirespin didn’t look convinced. “Such as…?”

“I didn’t cheat on your mother… your mother cheated on me.” Then with a frown, Troubleshoes added, “With how little I was there for both of you, I can’t say I entirely blame her.”

Tirespin didn’t know how to respond to that. It took her almost a minute to even process it. For all these years, she had always thought that her dad had cheated on her mom, and then had somehow stolen Tirespin from her when she decided to leave him. But now she was hearing the exact opposite was true. Desperately trying to find a hole in this new information, Tirespin attempted to reconcile it with the snippets of conversation she’d heard between her parents that night.

“It doesn’t matter, I still love you!” Troubleshoes had said to her mother, as if that made what he did any better. Except he didn’t do it, Tirespin realized. He wasn’t excusing his own actions; he was forgiving her mother’s.

Sometime later, her mother had said, “No, my baby needs me! You can’t….” It had sounded like Troubleshoes was going to do something to take Tirespin away from her.

But what if her mother hadn’t been talking about her?

Back in the present, Tirespin said, “If you really want me to start trusting you again, I think it’s time you told me the truth. All of it.”

With a pained look, Troubleshoes said, “Okay. That night, your mother told me about the affair because… because she’d just found out she was pregnant,” Troubleshoes said. “I was angry—of course I was—but I still wanted to keep our family together. She didn’t.”

The more he thought about it, the clearer that night’s argument became in his mind. Troubleshoes had all but begged her to stay, but she had told him, “No, my baby needs me! You can’t….” Then in a much quieter voice, said, “You can’t be a part of our life. Either of you.”

Returning his focus to the present even as he dove deeper into the past, Troubleshoes continued, “This other guy—Printing Press, I think his name was.”

“I think I remember seeing him around for a while before you got out, but didn’t think anything of him,” Tirespin said. Of course, she would have probably been too young to really know what was happening between him and her mother.

Troubleshoes continued, “She had fallen in love with Press in a way she never had with me. They’re married now. Living in Bradenton, Florida with their kid.”

Troubleshoes felt his heart shatter to pieces as Tirespin’s whole world did the same. He watched the veritable parade of painful emotions play out across her face: confusion, heartache, anger, and back to heartache again.

“Wait…. So, she just… left us and started a whole new life?!” Tirespin said, her voice breaking along with her world.

Troubleshoes looked deep into her eyes and nodded. “I tried reaching out to her a couple of times since getting sober, but she made it clear she didn’t want to hear from me.”

Tirespin started pacing in front of his bed, sniffling with increasing frequency. “All this time, I hated you because I thought you’d done something—threatened her, maybe—to keep her from getting custody of me. But all this time, she just….” It took some effort for Tirespin to say the words out loud, and when she finally did, she sounded completely broken. “She just didn’t want me?”

Wiping at his own eyes, Troubleshoes said, “That’s why I never told you about what happened between me and her. I knew it would only cause you hurt.”

That had been what truly angered Troubleshoes that night when Placeholder left him. That still angered him even now. It was one thing to leave him, but to leave their daughter too? Had he really blown things with her so much that she wanted to cut out every last piece of their life together?

Fully sobbing now, Tirespin blubbered forth, “What about all our happy memories together?! Eating watermelon and watching the cars go by? Was all of that just… fake?!”

“I don’t know,” Troubleshoes said, feeling as helpless as he probably looked right now. “I like to think that your mother loved us for a time. She just… fell out of love.”

Troubleshoes wasn’t even sure that Tirespin heard him at that point, crying as heavily as she was. Reaching out to her, Troubleshoes took his daughter’s hand and slowly, tenderly, pulled her towards him. She let him wrap his big arms around her, and Troubleshoes held her tight as the two of them cried together.

Minutes passed, and when Tirespin’s sobbing became sniffles and hiccups, Troubleshoes said, “Hey, I love you, alright? I’m always gonna want you in my life. And I’m sorry for everything I ever did that made you think otherwise.”

“Well, it’s not like I made it easy for you,” Tirespin said with a sad chuckle. “Getting pregnant and blackmailing the teacher that did it probably didn’t make you want to quit drinking, huh?”

“That’s no excuse for not being the father you needed,” Then with a sad chuckle of his own, Troubleshoes said, “Placeholder and I both turned out to be pretty shitty parents, huh?”

With a tone filled with her familiar vitriol, Tirespin said (her voice partially muffled by Troubleshoes’s chest), “Placeholder… fitting fucking name that turned out to be, huh?”

“Guess so.”

A couple more minutes passed by as the two silently held each other.

“At least you’re still here,” Tirespin finally said.

“Yup. And I’m not going anywhere.”

A few days later, Troubleshoes was well enough to leave the hospital. Sable and Sunset had both kept in touch with him during his recovery and had offered to drive him back to his place above Hard Luck Towing. That was why Sable was waiting in the lobby of the hospital now. After what had happened that evening three days ago, Troubleshoes would likely have many questions, and after much discussion with Sunset and the triplets, they decided the time had come for Troubleshoes to learn the last of their secrets.

Sable stood when Troubleshoes walked out, and met up with him after he settled up with the front desk.

“How’re you doing?” Sable asked.

“Alright. Better now that I’m heading home,” Troubleshoes said, forcing a smile. “Thanks for the drive, by the way. I probably should get my car out of the impound lot.”

“It’s no trouble,” Sable said. “But I wasn’t just asking about your injury.”

Sunset gave him a look that held no shortage of sympathy. “We know what that crazy bastard Withers tried to do to you. And in front of your family….” Sunset shook her head and winced. “Sounds like a goddamn nightmare.”

“Yeah, that describes that evening pretty well,” Troubleshoes said. “Honestly, I’m not sure if I’ve even fully processed it yet. Maybe I’ll give my old counselor a visit.”

“Alright. Just let us know if you need to talk,” Sable insisted.

“Will do. Appreciate it.”

“On the note of that asshole, we have an update on that particular situation,” Sunset said as they started walking out the door to where Sable parked his Highlander. “Apparently, Withers was a person of interest in a large number of rape-murder cases across the country. Some real fucked-up serial killer shit.”

“After what I’ve seen, I believe it.”

“Now that he’s in police custody, they’re upgrading him to suspect number one.”

“That man’s unlikely to see the outside of a prison cell for a very long time,” Sable said.

Troubleshoes was too quiet for Sable to be able to tell if he was comforted by this information. Perhaps he was thinking about the fact that he and his family would likely be called to testify as witnesses at the inevitable trial.

Soon, the three of them were in Sable’s car and they pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road. Once or twice on the drive, Troubleshoes opened his mouth as if to say something but stopped himself. Sable had a sneaking suspicion he knew what he wanted to ask, and also suspected he knew that the answers that he sought were nearing.

Sable parked his car around the back of Hard Luck Towing, and the three of them got out. They passed by a certain bullet-riddled black SUV as they did. Even Sable’s old Jeep was still there, collecting dust. Who would have thought that an innocuous couple of fixers could set off such a crazy chain of events?

Once inside, the three of them went upstairs and wordlessly sat around Troubleshoes’s kitchen table after Troubleshoes offered to prepare them coffee (which only Sable accepted).

“So… I think you guys know what I’m going to ask you about,” Troubleshoes said plainly.

Sable and Sunset exchanged a look, each checking with the other that they were really doing this.

Sable cleared his throat. “Before we explain anything, I need to ask: what does your family think about… what they saw when Sunset intervened that evening?”

Troubleshoes shrugged. “Honestly, they haven’t said much about it. Tirespin thinks it was just a dream she had after fainting, and I’m perfectly fine letting her continue to think that.” Troubleshoes took a sip from his mug. “My mother, though…. She’s always been a very spiritual person. She’s convinced that what she saw was an act of God.”

Setting his mug down and leaning forward, looking at the both of them in turn, Troubleshoes said, “I suppose I believe in God as much as the average person does these days. But I don’t think that what I saw was His doing.”

Sable and Sunset exchanged one more look, silently saying to each other, This is the moment. Sunset stood from her seat.

“It would be better for me to show you rather than tell you what I really am,” she said.

Troubleshoes looked at her, confused. “What you really are?”

Sunset nodded. “I am not, strictly speaking, human,” she said, pausing to let Troubleshoes process this information. It was clear that he had a million more questions on his mind, but locking eyes with Sunset, he knew that they would soon be answered, and remained quiet as she continued. “What you are about to see will defy everything you thought you knew about the universe at large. I only ask that you keep an open mind, and don’t react too… aggressively.” Then with a friendly smile, Sunset said, “Despite what I look like, I’m still the same person. Just… fuzzier.”

And then Sunset Shimmer changed. A vivid cyan light covered her entire form, which started to shift and bend. In but a moment, the glowing lights faded, and standing where a red and yellow-haired teenage girl had been was a red and yellow-haired… creature. Sable had, of course, been shown Sunset’s pony form before, but he couldn’t deny, she was still an unusual sight. Standing on four legs just shorter than a Great Dane, a horn protruded from her forehead, and a pair of feathery wings from her back.

Troubleshoes stared unblinking at Sunset’s quadrupedal form for one second, then another. Then another. He closed his eyes, rubbed them, shook his head, and opened them again. The little pony remained, looking up at him with impossibly big, expressive cyan eyes. Troubleshoes had picked up his mug to take a sip as the transformation began, and now its contents were spilling on the table in front of him, as his grip on it (and, perhaps, reality itself) became far too loose.

The Sunset-pony thing gave a familiar friendly smile. “Troubleshoes?” it asked with Sunset’s voice, “You still with us?”

Closing his eyes and shaking his head again, Troubleshoes said, “Yeah… yeah. Hmm… yeah….” He was quiet for a moment after that, and Sable thought they’d need to snap him out of it again before he said, “Y’know, if it weren’t for the fact that Tires and I are finally on the mend, this might actually be enough to get me drinking again.”

Sable laughed. “Trust me, I definitely had a few after I first saw this. I think everyone did.”

“Everyone being…?”

“Everyone in my circle that you’ve met knows what I am,” Sunset said.

Troubleshoes blinked owlishly again, clearly struggling to reconcile the sound of Sunset’s familiar voice coming out of… that. “Uh-huh… so… a few more questions now….”

Sunset then spent the next several minutes catching Troubleshoes up on everything, with Sable occasionally chiming in with details that he knew about. Most of it was simply retreading what Sable and the triplets had already told him and adding the full context. When they were finally finished, it felt like months had passed (Sunset had switched back to her human form about halfway through, as the mere presence of her pony form had been just a little too distracting).

Troubleshoes leaned far back in his chair. “Okay, so… let me see if I have this right…. After all that crazy shit with the demon and the original SIRENs went down in the summer, your grandmother altered time.” Troubleshoes let that hang in the air for a bit. “So that you and yours could lead ‘normal’ lives… and she charged Sable and the triplets with protecting what basically amounts to a physical god?”

“That’s pretty much the gist of it,” Sunset said.

“It’s not entirely accurate though. Sunset’s grandmother charged the triplets with protecting her.” Sable grinned impishly. “I volunteered.”

“Right, and you want me to do the same?” Troubleshoes asked. “To just jump on in with you into this crazy world of magic?”

“Sunset’s SIRENs only consist of the triplets and myself right now, but we’re going to start expanding,” Sable said. “I need a senior enlisted advisor who really cares about his work, and you would be perfect for it. Hell, after everything I’ve seen, I’d go so far as to say that fate brought us together for this reason.”

“You’re in this world with us now whether you realize it or not,” Sunset said, adding diplomatically, “But you can still say no to our offer, of course.”

“Can I?” Troubleshoes asked. “Seems to me that I owe you. Several times over, in fact.”

“You don’t owe us anything, Troubleshoes,” Sunset insisted. “Everything I did to help you and your family, I did because it was my duty as the Alicorn of Earth.”

“Would you say that every individual in America who gets to sleep peacefully because of men like us owes us for our service?” Sable asked.

“That’s not the same thing,” Troubleshoes countered.

“It’s more so than you think.”

“I’ve helped many more people on this world than just you and your family, Troubleshoes,” Sunset said. “I don’t expect any of them to pay me back. I’m a protector, not a mob fixer.”

“Trust me, I know it’s a lot to process. That’s why we want to give you some time to mull it over. As much as you need,” Sable added. “But if you do say yes, I don’t want it to be because you feel like you ‘owe us.’ I want you to take this job because of how good it will be for you. You can finally do something that you truly love, and you won’t have to sacrifice your relationship with your family to do it!” Sable stood and went with Sunset to the door. “You’ll think about it, won’t you?”

Troubleshoes nodded. “Okay. I will.”

And Sable knew he was telling the truth. But somehow, Sable got the feeling that Troubleshoes had already made his decision. Even if he himself didn’t know it yet.

Tirespin was surprised at just how… normal it felt to be back to her old routine. After spending so much time in hiding at a mansion, constantly in fear of being found by those mercenaries—and then having that fear come true in the worst way imaginable when they finally went home—Tirespin expected… more. To be honest, she hadn’t really known how exactly she had expected things to be different. On her first day back, all of her teachers and peers for the most part treated her exactly the same. She attributed it to the fact that they all thought she’d been out of town for the past weeks because she and her father were in Dayton, Ohio after her great uncle’s health had taken a turn for the worse.

Not everyone was fooled by that story, of course. A few of the other kids (including that shithead Garble) that she rarely even talked to approached her with questions about the video of her old man putting the hurt on that gangbanger. The rumor mill was a well-oiled machine at the Blanks, and soon everyone had been talking about how Tirespin was mixed up with one or all of the local Sunnytown gangs, with more than a few sniggering behind her back at the kind of “favors” they suspected she was doing for them.

Well, let them snigger all they want, Tirespin thought. If I just keep out of trouble, and get my grades up enough, maybe I can transfer to another school.

The thought filled her with a little bit of sadness. She doubted very much she could get back into Sunnytown High after everything that had happened. Besides, it wasn't like Capri Pants or anyone else in her former circle of friends would magically start talking to her again even if she could go back. She had what she liked to call a social STD, and only Riverbank was willing to risk catching it and keep in touch. Until recently, that is. It would seem that the whiff of whatever she believed Tirespin to be involved with now was too strong even for her to keep reaching out. That and she never really seemed to know how to be around a teen mom anyway.

Poor Tirespin, actually having to face consequences for her actions, the Inner Critic sneered, but Tirespin ignored it.

Something that had changed since the last time she was here was how much quieter her Inner Critic had become. Sure, it still chimed in with the occasional reason for Tirespin to hate herself, but she found it much easier to ignore now. Mostly that was because of the other major change from normal since returning to school.

Stepping out of the school’s main doors, Tirespin spotted Troubleshoes standing next to a familiar brown sedan by the curb. Today was the day he got out of the hospital, and the scars from the evening that put him there were covered by a plaid jacket and a warm smile.

“Heya, Dad,” she said, looking at the sedan. “Wow. Must have cost a lot to get this out of the impound lot.”

“It did, but we’ll manage,” Troubleshoes said in a calm, confident way that made Tirespin think perhaps he knew something that she didn’t.

Tirespin tossed her bag in the back and then got into the passenger seat as her dad got behind the wheel.

Her dad. Here he was, sober as a priest on Sunday and picking her up from school. It was still hard for her to process how different New Troubleshoes was from the one she’d known for the latter half of her childhood. A part of her still wanted to keep him at arm’s length—to keep a safe distance so she wouldn’t be hurt in the proverbial blast if he ever started drinking again. Like her Inner Critic, Tirespin just tried to ignore that part. She was happy now, for the first time in a long time. Even if it would be a while yet before she could fully trust her dad again, the one thing she would trust is her own happiness, here and now.

“So, how was school?” Troubleshoes asked as he started the car.

“Not bad. Got some of my assignments back today that I did over our weeks off.”

“Oh yeah? And?”

With an easy grin, Tirespin said, “Mostly Bs, but I got an A in Red Horse’s class.”

“That’s great!”

The car pulled away from the curb, and for a while they rode in silence. Things were good between her and her father now, but it was still gonna be some time before they were both completely comfortable around each other. Tirespin knew she had her own share of the blame on that. They’d both done a lot to hurt each other.

“Hey, so I have something I want to run by you. See what you think,” Troubleshoes said. “I just got a job opportunity, and… it’s big. Real big. Enough to keep you and Cinnamon supported for quite a while big.”

Tirespin frowned then immediately chastised herself for it. She had a sneaking suspicion that she knew what this job was he was talking about. “Sable wants you to work with those triplets full time, doesn’t he?”

Troubleshoes didn’t seem that surprised that she figured it out. “It’s a really good financial opportunity. I’d make enough to get you into a decent college when you graduate. To get Cinnamon into a decent school when she’s old enough. We could even move out of Sunnytown, and somewhere better, like Everfree Glades or Bella Vista. You could change schools—we’ll be able to afford to send you to Holy Cross, if you want.” Troubleshoes hesitated. “Plus….”

“Plus you’d be doing what you really love,” Tirespin said, a little bit sadly.

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, Troubleshoes reached out with his other hand and put it on hers. “Hey, this will be nothing like when I was enlisted, okay? I’ll still be living here, and Sable and Sunset’ll have me working more or less normal hours, like shore duty.” He gave her hand a squeeze. “You’ll always be my first priority, okay? But I really want this, and I think it’ll be good for all of us.”

Tirespin nodded, then asked, “What are we gonna do with Hard Luck Towing?”

It only occurred to her later that Tirespin had said we. Like they really were a family again.

“We could always sell it,” Troubleshoes said, though the thought clearly didn’t make him happy. “Be a shame though. Don’t have much else left of my old man.”

Seeing how down the idea clearly made him (and recently developing an appreciation for the legacy of fathers) Tirespin said, “Or, when I graduate, I could take it over. Maybe use some of the money from your new job to hire someone to run the place until then.”

Troubleshoes nodded and smiled. “Not a bad idea.”

That night, the whole Clyde family had dinner together. Tirespin still didn’t know what the future held for her—whether she’d start running Hard Luck right out of high school, or go to college first—but she decided as she sat around the dinner table with her family that it didn’t really matter. She’d just trust in today’s happiness.

It had been nearly a week since the triplets had gotten a proper workout session, and Adagio was getting restless. Sable had done what he so often did whenever he couldn’t make a day, and designated it an “independent workout night.” It was usually a great opportunity for Adagio to take some initiative as a leader, but after so many independent workout nights in a row, she and her sisters were starting to get lax. She found herself making excuses to skip a night, then the next night.

Tonight, however, things would be different. No more excuses. Adagio and her sisters were going to get in proper military shape as Sunset’s protectors even if they had to do it themselves. It turned out, however, that wouldn’t be necessary. She and her siblings all got a text from Sable that day saying that he had officially hired a trainer for them, and that he was starting tonight.

So not long after the three of them arrived home from school, the doorbell rang. Adagio happened to be the closest to it, so she answered it to find a familiar gentle giant standing there.

“Oh, hey Troubleshoes,” she said. “Didn’t know our dinner with you was tonight.”

“That’s Master Chief Clyde to you,” Troubleshoes sternly corrected.

“Huh?”

“Come now, Capt. Dazzle, is that any way to address the unit senior advisor? As an officer, you should know that you always defer to your master chief.” Troubleshoes barked, a sly smile just barely perceptible under his stern face. “It looks like I’m going to have to give you a refresher course!”

Re-finding her balance, Adagio grinned and stood at attention. “My apologies, Master Chief. That won’t be necessary.”

“Very well, prove it,” Troubleshoes said, stepping into the house and rolling up his sleeves before delivering a swift and professional salute. “Gather your compatriots and meet me in the bunker. Double time!”

Adagio happily returned it, not quite able to hide the smile growing on her face. “Aye, Master Chief!”

Author's Note:

Only the epilogue left now. What a journey writing this has been!

As always, don't forget that the TvTropes page always needs more love!

Comments

[Starcat5]

With a tone filled with her familiar vitriol, Tirespin said (her voice partially muffled by Troubleshoes’s chest), “Placeholder… fitting fucking name that turned out to be, huh?”

...and there we go.