Remembrance

by Jamie Wolf

Levels

Spike grabbed the pile of laundry and laid it scattered on his bed. There were torn jackets, ripped pants, a couple shirts with the sleeves torn off, and a single pair of shorts that seemed intact. He grabbed at the collar of the shirt he wore and began unbuttoning it, eager to slip into some more casual clothes. Once he had taken off the formal attire, he dragged on the shorts and fit his head through the small hole in a very dirty but otherwise whole shirt. The grime and dirt from his time in the trenches had become as much a part of the shirt as the fabric; its dark blue tone fading into more of a navy or blackened shirt. Despite that, it smelled clean, looked alright, and fit well. Only Spike would have known its troubled history.

As he moved to settle the rest into his suitcase, the band from earlier again fell out. Small and loose items like it were sure to get lost if not taken care of. He brought it up again and studied the dirty cyan. The small tracing of a gold dragon head was barely visible through the faded fabric. Spike remembered when he was given it. The president of the United Norfandians had presented it to him as a token of authority and gratitude. President Fenris was a strange wolfman, speaking rapidly and only about politics or economics. Pleasantries were a completely foreign concept much like Spike was. The band was to carry the power of the office to the front lines. Everyone who saw it would know that Spike was in charge. It was a heavy burden to place on such a light thing.

The Norfandians had insisted on him keeping it when the war ended. Spike obliged. He wanted something positive to remember when he was back home. Now, all he could remember of Norfandia were the horrible shrieks and crackling air as he watched the terrible fire of war consume a people.

He shuddered.

Looking at it again, Spike decided that maybe he would tie the rag to his bicep again. The familiar feeling of the tight cloth helped ease Spike’s mind from his memories. It brought with it a notable air of strength and courage. He had forgotten all the good that had come because of him. Let’s focus on that he told himself.

Spike figured there would be something to do on this ship while he awkwardly waited for Rarity to finish her time with High Fashion. They were supposed to meet for lunch soon, but after the exchange at the gym he had no doubt Rarity would be too embarrassed to show up. Fine by me. He found himself harboring slight resentment for the mare, but he could not figure why. It was hardly about his crush so long ago, that he had worked to overcome. Did he resent her for not reaching out for years? That was hardly fair, Spike had not done that either. Why was he so tense around her?

He let out a frustrated sigh and decided to get a move on. He tucked the band under the bottom of his t-shirt’s sleeve, so it very casually hung out. Only those looking would have been able to see it. Spike walked across the carpeted floor to grab the door and pull it open. As he stepped into the hall, he was startled to hear some sniffling and soft weeping from down the way. His first instinct was to run and find out what was happening. So he did just that.

Spike jogged down the hall expecting to find a lost child or injured person. What he found instead was a pure-white mare crumpled against the wall and trying to hold in tears. Rarity. Spike’s heart softened and his own eyes began misting over at the sight of his old friend in pain. He did not know from what, but he hated to see her hurt all the same.

“Rarity, what’s going on?” he lowered himself to the floor and scooted over to put an arm around her shaking form.

“Oh, hi Spike.” She feigned a smile for him and ineffectively tried to wipe away the tears. “I was just… Fashion and I… you…” Clearly, she was struggling with whatever happened. Spike offered a reassuring smile and pulled her a little closer. She seemed to sink into his body at the coaxing. Spike did not mind the silky-smooth fur that tickled across his scales or the quieting smell of her mane product.

“It’s okay Rare, I’m here. We don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want.”

She sniffled a little more, her face now hidden from Spike as she clung against his torso.

“It’s just that Fashion said some things. I hadn’t ever really thought about them before, but they still hurt.”

“Fashion? Your friend?” Spike scoffed. “Some friend. Who makes anyone cry like that?” His question was met with silence as Rarity held frozen against him. Eventually, she responded.

“It wasn’t mean. Well, it kind of was, but it was true and for my own good. She told me to take some time to myself this cruise. I doubt we’ll be seeing each other until the end.” Her voice felt empty and dejected. It hurt Spike and caused him to feel an anger kindling against High Fashion. “But you mustn’t hold her responsible. She really is a good friend looking out for me. I swear Spikey.” It was as though she read his mind. He let himself relax a little.

“Okay. But I still think it’s pretty lame how she got you this upset and ditched you.”

Rarity laughed quickly.

“Maybe just a little. But it’s a good thing…” Her neck craned to let her stare up at Spike. He smiled to her again and brushed away a few pieces of her purple mane that covered her cloudy eyes. Spike felt some magnetic force urging him to draw in closer. Behind his own eyes, he was holding back the awkward expression of the moment. Before whatever supernatural force could grip him in its vise, he stood up suddenly and offered a hand to the collapsed mare.

“C’mon. Nothing cheers a pers—pony up like a great hayburger or two, right?” He grinned down. Rarity took his hand and pulled herself to her hooves. She returned his excited smile and wiped away another tear line.

“Sure, Spike. I’d love to take my mind away from all this. I’ve been dying to hear from you.”
---
Rarity was frustrated. Had the chemistry been a lie? There was a moment back there on the carpet when she swore Spike was about to make his move. She had been ready for it. Now they sat at a table in the bar area waiting to be serviced. The dragon across from her picked up a glass of water and took a long drink. The walk there had been mostly quiet, but Rarity was dying to know what Spike had been up to for so long. Her letters never got a response. She had told herself it was because of the business of ambassadors kept him away from a table. The few interactions they had so far did not help her mindset.

“So,” She started trying to break the silence. “What kept you in Norfandia for four years without a moment to come home or chat?” She winced as Spike clearly choked on his water at her question. Too forward? She gave him a smile and raised her hooves to support her chin.

Spike cleared his throat and set the glass down.

“That’s… a long story.”

“It’s a long cruise.” She retorted.

“…fair enough.”

Spike rubbed his forearms and glanced around at the other patrons enjoying their food.

“I’m sorry I never wrote Rarity. I literally couldn’t. There were so many times I wanted to… needed to. But I couldn’t. Your letters were some of the only things keeping me going sometimes.” He offered an apologetic smile. So he had seen through her innocent question. At least the answer was favorable. Rarity stared at him giving a weak smile back to urge him to continue.

“It’s not that I didn’t write.” He paused shifting awkwardly in the small chair. “I wrote you so many letters. Hundreds. But I was never in the cities.” His look had gone from a friendly and warm glow now to a sullen and somber demeanor. It made Rarity uncomfortable.

“But I thought your job as ambassador was in the cities to help them learn?” She played with one of the forks laying in front of her as she whispered out. She did not want to upset her friend anymore than he already seemed.

“It was. Things… don’t always go as planned.” He responded and grabbed a menu. Spike suddenly pretended to be fascinated by the limited choice menu. Rarity reached a hoof across to touch his forearm. She felt a pain hit her as he retracted his arm initially. She felt a little better as he returned it slowly under her touch.

“Spikey, you can tell me what happened. I’m your friend, I won’t judge.” She offered a sympathetic smile. He seemed to miss her statement.

“I wonder if they have some Norfandian sauce here. That stuff really makes burgers into a whole new thing.” Spike’s tone was dismissive at best. Rarity flared her nostrils and brought her hoof back.

“Spike, I thought the reason we came down here was to catch up. I haven’t heard from you in four years, and I think I deserve an explanation. If you can’t give that to me, I think I’d better be heading off.” Rarity stood slowly waiting for Spike to catch her and beg her presence. Instead, he just looked up at her, eyes full of water. It twisted Rarity’s heart.

“If… that’s what you want. Sorry Rare.” His voice came as a squeak. Rarity almost began crying at the sight.

“Oh, dear I didn’t mean that.” She sank back down to her seat and again reached to hold Spike. He did not drag his arm away this time. “I just, I’m just confused why I didn’t hear from the dragon I missed for so long.” She rubbed his arm soothingly. His eyes had remained on it the whole time as though fighting back the maelstrom of emotions she knew were writhing within.

The truth was, Rarity was frustrated, jealous, hurt, angry, and feeling so much more because Spike had not talked with her for so long. The effort on her own end was thoroughly explored as she wrote letter after letter to him. Rarity even planned to visit Norfandia the first year Spike was there, but somethings, in the words of Princess Twilight Sparkle, ‘were too politically precarious’ for visitors. After two years of no response, she just dropped her efforts altogether. Now the man she had sought for years was sitting across from her, and he was unwilling to open up.

Spike sighed as he drew his arms up to rub his shoulders. He turned his head from Rarity and began mumbling. She leaned forward as she realized he was speaking.

“Sorry dear, would you speak up just a little.” She flashed him another smile. Spike glanced at her, a resigned look beneath his emerald-green eyes.

“I couldn’t write because I was fighting.” He spoke the words as softly as he could. It was like her was fearful of upsetting the cool afternoon breezes that floated through the ship. Rarity’s eyes went a little wider, the corners of her mouth pulling slightly upward.

“Fighting darling? As a friendship ambassador?” She could hardly believe it. In fact, she was having trouble not giving a small chuckle. But as her eyes caught Spike’s, she realized he was deadly serious and dropped all demeanor of jest.

“Go on.”

“When I first got to Norfandia, things were pretty simple. Meet the government, establish a schedule and plan. Class times, grouping, teachers, all that fun stuff.” He waved an arm dismissively. “But I soon realized that president Fenris was keeping something from me. My classes were dwindling; people were mocking me with more physical violent acts. There was plenty of resistance when I first showed up, but only verbal.”

“So you had to fight off the civilians?” Rarity asked in hopes of making him feel less alone. Whatever she had said brushed Spike in the wrong way. He frowned and drew back to cross his arms again. His head now swinging to the other side.

“Rarity…” He started as he gazed at the sun making its way slowly down. “Rare, I think I can only have this conversation in private.” He turned back to meet her confused eyes. “We can go to my room if you want. I’m not really comfortable talking about all this out here.” He feigned a smile as he waved to a passing troll who bowed. Rarity caught a glimpse of something on his arm she had not seen before.

“What is that décor upon your arm, Spikey?” She pointed a hoof at the cyan-stained band straining against his biceps. Truth be told, Rarity had been looking at his impressive musculature when spotting it. Spike moved his arm to cover it quickly as it came back close to his body.

“Nothing. Well, not nothing, but something related to what we were talking about.” He pushed off the table and began walking. Rarity hustled to match his pace.

“Spike, if it’s too much to talk about, I don’t want to press the issue.”

She did. But clearly his ‘fighting’ was much more than some squabble or bickering he would be used to. This had shaken him badly and caused what once was the most open-hearted and caring dragon she knew to retreat into a shell of cover against the perceptual hostility of everyone around him.

Maybe not. Maybe I’m overreacting. Rarity scolded herself. How could this man she knew for so long be so recluse as she thought? He was still courteous, flirtatious, well-mannered, caring, and apologetic. He was stopping whenever a Norfandian asked him to so they could talk for a moment. Rarity wanted to get to the room quickly, but Spike was putting others ahead of himself. Just like he always has.