Chapter 1

Twilight Sparkle was jolted awake by the unwelcome sting of bright illumination, her dreams burned away by harsh chemical light. The shock of being plucked from dreams so unkindly turned her thoughts into molasses. She felt… wrong. Her mind was cloudy, her limbs ached as if she had slept wrong all night, and even her horn felt heavy. Twilight groaned. She wanted to go back to sleep, but the incessant light burrowed through her eyelids relentlessly.

Her sheets had betrayed her, immobilizing her in a tight cocoon so she couldn’t even roll onto her side to shield her face. Relief was impossible. Twilight surrendered to the inevitable and cracked open one eye – and immediately recoiled, blinking away the sudden rush of tears.

“Spiiiiike,” she croaked as she lifted her head stiffly. Twilight tried to rub her eyes clear but couldn’t move more than a fraction of an inch. She must have tossed and turned in her sleep last night and gotten tangled up in her sheets, as the tight embrace of the blankets had pinned her legs to her side. She was too tired and annoyed to feel foolish at the prospect of being trapped by her own bedding. She would be embarrassed about it later. “Spike, I’m in no mood for your games. Shut the blinds already.”

Silence mocked her. Twilight vowed to have a talk with Spike about spending too much time with Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash. There was a time and a place for pranks. Grumbling about childish dragons, she peered out through narrowed lids like a nearsighted old mare trying to find their glasses. Everything was just a constantly shifting blur, shielded from observation by her tears and the painful light assaulting her eyes.

Something tickled the back of Twilight’s mind as she tried to create meaning out of the indistinct blur her home had become. There was something off, something wrong, this morning. She snorted derisively. Of course something’s wrong – I’m up far too early on my first day off in weeks!

“If this is somepony’s idea of a prank, I’m not going to be very happy!” she promised. More silence. Fighting the urge to grind her teeth Twilight continued to try and focus on her surroundings. Like stepping out into the noon sun after an all-nighter spent studying, something she had more experience with than she cared to admit,Twilight was stuck waiting for her eyes to adjust to the brightness. Reluctantly the library began to swim into view, rising out of the indistinct waters to form clear shapes and colors.

Twilight blinked again, this time in surprise. Despite the pain, her eyes opened even wider.

Where am I?

Her home had disappeared. The rounded open spaces of the library’s inviting oaken interior had been replaced by a small concrete box. Four walls painted in an institutional two-tone coat of green and white that loomed over her maliciously. It was cold, tiny, and clinical, as if the builder had crossed a hospital examination room with a broom closet. The only break in the room’s bare walls was a smooth metal door in matching livery opposite to where she was, the slender window in its center revealing nothing but more soulless walls outside. Ice water trickled down her spine as her eyes lingered on the thick metal bars bolted over the glass.

It wasn’t a closet. It was a prison.

The only furniture in the room was her bed, and it definitely wasn’t the one she had fallen asleep in last night. In place of her blankets and hoof-made quilts, there was only a single white sheet, as clean and sterile as everything else in the room. She tried to push it off of her but something bit into her fetlock, immobilizing her limbs by her sides. Each attempt to sit upright failed as she was pushed back against the bed by a firm pressure across her chest. The unseen restraints had her pinned on her back, stuck reclining in an unnaturally straight and stiff sleeping position.

Macabre images of insects trapped in the webs of spiders danced through her mind. A fly screamed in Twilight’s voice as a shadow of a spider drew closer, its only feature baleful eyes of burning fire. It wasn’t helping.

Thankfully the straps across her torso were just loose enough to allow her to draw in her increasingly rapid breaths.

Twilight glanced around the room again in the hopes that she had missed something, desperate for some – any – sort of explanation. Her tongue was sandpaper in her mouth, her pupils’ small pinpricks of fright. Her heart rate quickened as the walls started to close in around her. She needed to wake up. She needed to wake up now.

The fog that had settled over her mind since she had been forced awake clung to her mind with an upsetting tenacity, leaving her thoughts slow and jumbled. It was so hard to focus through the nebulous mire. The scared filly inside her wanted to scream and cry and beg and pray. Why wouldn’t this nightmare end?

But the part of her that had drawn Celestia’s attention, the part of her that had defeated Discord and protected the Crystal Empire and saved Ponyville a dozen times – that part of her was not going to surrender. A dozen faces flashed through her thoughts: friends and family, each bearing a smile of encouragement. Strength suffused her body as the memories of her beloved friends ran through her mind.

“I am not some helpless foal,” Twilight said aloud with more confidence than she could muster. Fighting unease with sheer willpower, she steadied herself and calmed her nerves. She naturally fell into the familiar routines necessary to call upon the magical forces that saturated Equestria, drawing the strands of arcane energy into herself as easily as another pony might breathe.

Most of her life had been spent mastering the magical arts; there was no hubris in the declaration that she was one of the most naturally gifted unicorns of a generation. Celestia had told her so many times, but each time she had followed with a warning that such a gift was matched by an equally powerful responsibility. Twilight had seen it as her duty as much as her passion to be the best apprentice she could be, and she had learned well. Giving in to her fears would shame Celestia. She wouldn’t fail the princess. Not now, not ever.

Familiar and reassuring warmth filled her core, the thoughts of her beloved teacher as invigorating as the arcane powers she wielded. Biting her lip Twilight began to weave the energy into a complex geometric shape with her mind. Telekinesis was one of the most basic of powers. Unicorn foals mastered it when they were learning how to read and write. It was something so innate and well-utilized that the spell itself was almost a subconscious act.

She had floated an Ursa Minor all the way out of Ponyville. Once the sheet was gone the locks and restraints concealed beneath it would be undone in mere moments. Freedom was within her grasp.

Nothing happened.

A frown crossed Twilight’s face as the façade of strength and confidence she had crafted slipped. Her horn was cold and heavy, and unresponsive. Her frustration matched her incomprehension. Like a sieve her horn was leaking out the arcane energies as quickly as she pulled them into herself. Gritting her teeth she tried harder, opening her mind to draw upon exponentially more energy. She strained beneath the weight of it all, an electric fire racing through her mind. She wouldn’t give up so easily.

Beads of sweat stung her eyes as they rolled down her face. Desperately she gorged herself on arcane power. Her limbs twitched erratically in the restraints, jerking as if being electrocuted. She had gone beyond her limits: her nerve impulses were being scrambled by the energy she was trying to bend to her will. It was a beast of fire and lightning doing its best to break free and turn on her.

She pushed away her pain and fear, fighting against it with even greater exertion. She didn’t care how dangerous and foolish it was. She was so close. This had to work. The pain in her eyes lessened as the sweat was diluted by fresh tears. Please let it work.

A scream of agonized frustration tore its way from her dry throat as she finally lost control, the invisible pattern of arcane power disintegrating like a cobweb caught in a powerful breeze. Twilight collapsed back against her pillow like a puppet with its strings cut. Mind and body ached in the aftermath of her frantic attempts, leaving her feeling drained and hollow. She gulped down air like a drowning pony breaking the surface, soft groans escaping in between each breath.

The sheet hadn’t moved. Small patches of sweat and spilled tears marred its pristine surface. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t even move a thin square of fabric. Her chest rose and fell with her ragged breaths, manipulating the sheet with greater effect than all of her magical talents had accomplished. It was taunting her.

Twilight wearily lifted her eyes upwards, able to just make out the tip of her horn. Or more accurately, the tip of some sort of cloth wrapped tightly around her horn. In the eddies and currents of arcane energy it sat like a black hole, only visible once one began looking for nothing rather than something. It was a magical void, a bottomless hole in the web of invisible energy that bound the world. The horrible device was attached to her like a lamprey, leeching away all of her arcane power with an insatiable appetite.

The revelation was devastating, a powerful tremor that shook the fabric of Twilight's mind. A dam burst apart inside her, the fear and terror she had been holding back breaking free. She had been silenced. Her captors had cut her off from the one thing that had defined her as a pony all her life.

A shuddering moan escaped her lips, and Twilight bawled like a frightened filly. Her sweat and tears mingled together as her loud cries filled her small prison, the echoes creating a terrified chorus as she surrendered to her despair. She was alone and scared and confused and tired and all she wanted was someone to wake her up from her nightmare and tell her it was going to be all right.

No one did.

Twilight stared upwards through unseeing eyes. Her lavender coat was matted with snot and sweat and tears. Her eyes, puffy and red from an eternity of crying, itched badly. She tried her best to ignore it. She couldn’t do anything else. She was trapped, impotent and helpless. She couldn’t even lift a hoof to rub the reminders of her shame away. What a useless pony she was, unable to even escape from a terrible dream. What had Celestia ever seen in her?

She could feel bruises beneath the restraints keeping her stationary. They had developed slowly once she had stopped thrashing against them. The gradual increase in pain as they formed was the only clue she had that time was moving forward. The featureless room was eternal, unchanging. How long had she been trapped in the cream and moss colored hell? Minutes felt like years.

She sniffled. Even sleep eluded her. The tumultuous storm of thoughts racing through her mind sabotaged any attempt to create a moment’s peace. As soon as her panic had begun to recede she had been assaulted by a contradictory cloud of theories and possibilities, each as likely as the last. Nightmare or curse? Unseen captors or a creation of her own mind?

Like a dog chasing its tail, her thoughts circled endlessly without resolution, the same arguments and the same claims coming up time and again. Twilight didn’t care – it was a distraction. The more detached and logical her thoughts were, the less likely they were to be swallowed up again by the storm of emotions raging just beneath the surface of her mind. Ever since she had opened her eyes, her emotions had been erratic and hard to control. There was a haze over her thoughts, a cold mist that drained the impetus from her mind as though moving underwater.

A loud click echoed in the small room, the sudden retort enough to break through Twilight’s morose shell. Stiffly, she lifted her head to peer around her cell. Nothing had changed. Had she imagined the sound?

There was movement outside the door. There was a rush of emotion when she finally managed to bring the window into focus. It was another pony! Relief and apprehension flooded Twilight’s system. It could be her captor, or it could be her savior, but at least it was someone else – someone real. She tensed as the door shifted slightly. The muffled jingle of metal was swallowed by a final loud clack as the door was unlocked. With a soft sigh the iron portal swung open to reveal a large stallion, a set of keys clutched in his teeth.

Twilight gulped. He was big; his white jacket a tight fit over his strong build. The dark fur of his coat did nothing to conceal his imposing musculature. He met her expression of fear with one of mild boredom before returning his keys to his belt.

She wasn’t going to be rescued.

“Good morning, Twilight Sparkle!” a unicorn mare in a lab coat declared cheerfully as she slipped past the bigger pony, a broad smile plastered on her face. She adjusted the nurse’s hat placed atop her pink mane as she strode up to Twilight, the silent stallion dutifully following in her wake. “I know, we’re getting you up a bit earlier than usual, but the doctor wanted to have another little chat today to see how the new treatment is working. He’s pretty optimistic after the last few days, and that’s some really good news.”

The nurse gasped softly once she drew close enough to notice Twilight’s disheveled appearance. “Oh, Twilight, you look like you’ve been crying! Are you okay? Did somepony have a bad nightmare?” she asked softly. Her horn flashed with a sudden aura, producing a washcloth from one of her pockets. With maternal care she set about gently wiping away the crust from Twilight’s face, a hoof gently caressing Twilight’s mane.

The display of warmth and familiarity was an unexpected contradiction to everything Twilight had suffered through that morning. She tried to work some moisture into her mouth as the nurse cleaned around her eyes. “Who… are you?” Twilight managed to whisper, her voice like dry leaves rubbing together.

The white mare’s face slipped a little further. “You don’t remember me?” she asked curiously, resuming her cleaning.

Twilight’s tongue was sandpaper, her voice a dessicated whisper. She shook her head instead.

“Hmmm… the doctor said there might be difficulty recalling things temporarily,” the mare eventually said as she put the cloth back and removed the stethoscope from around her neck. “Don’t you worry about it though, Twilight. You’ll remember soon enough, I’m sure of it. The doctor didn’t want me answering too many questions though, so just hold still while I check you out. Once I’m done, we’ll get you fed and out of bed.” She smiled at her own rhyme as she pulled the sheets back, revealing the padded restraints and the green patient’s gown Twilight hadn’t known she was wearing. The nurse set to work with practiced ease, the levitating stethoscope ice even through the green cloth of her gown.

“So I’m… in a hospital?” Twilight’s voice cracked as she asked the question.

The nurse glanced up from taking Twilight’s blood pressure. “You really don’t remember anything at all?” Twilight shook her head again.

“Well then, I guess I really should tell you our names at least. The doctor won't mind. I'm Nurse Ratchet, and this is Silas, one of the orderlies here.” She cut off Twilight’s next question with a raised hoof. “Now, now, I know you have plenty of other questions hun, but you’ll just have to ask the doctor anything else. He said there might be some side effects, and he thought it best that he be there to answer everything himself. Now be a good girl for me and stay still while we get you out of those restraints.”

“Please,” Twilight said, relief coloring her hoarse whisper. Without a command the other two ponies set to work as one. Freedom brought sensation back to her formerly bound limbs, making each bruise twice as painful. Twilight smiled anyway, unable to think of anything as pleasant as being released from her bindings. It was the first relief from her fears all morning.

Nurse Ratchet helped Twilight up into a seated position as Silas stepped out of the room for a moment. Twilight swung her legs over the edge of the cot, taking a moment to stretch out her legs. They were stiff, like a machine that had gone without oil for too long. The orderly returned as Twilight massaged her forearms, holding a plastic tray in his mouth. Resting atop it were a bowl of porridge and what was colloquially referred to as a ‘sippy cup.' Twilight stared at the cup. It was the kind meant for foals and messy children, a tight cap preventing any unexpected spills. She should have been insulted – but it was filled with water.

Snatching it off the tray, Twilight wrapped cracked lips around the nozzle and started sucking down the refreshing liquid, the water a healing balm for her painfully dry mouth. Rarity would have given her an earful for making such rude and unladylike noises – not to mention doing so while drinking from something meant for foals. Twilight continued to gulp down mouthfuls without a thought for etiquette, as if afraid it might be taken away from her. It tasted divine.

Silas slid the tray into her lap as Twilight finished off the rest of her water. With regret Twilight pulled the empty cup from her lips. “Um, thanks,” she said apologetically as she placed it back on the tray. “I was… really thirsty.”

“Feeling a little better now, Twilight?”

“Yeah – I mean, yes ma’am. I do feel a bit better. But I’m still so… confused, I guess. I mean, I don’t know where I am, how I got here, or – or anything, really.”

Nurse Ratchet nodded sagely. “The doctor said something like this could happen. It’s perfectly normal. You’ve just started out on a new treatment and the first few days are always the roughest. Don’t worry though; we’re going to go see Doctor Rose right after breakfast so he can do his examination and answer your questions. Just be sure to eat all of your oats. Your medication can be a bit hard on an empty stomach, and you wouldn’t want an upset tummy, now would you?”

Twilight glanced down at her breakfast – a small bowl of greyish porridge and a single plastic spoon. Twilight watched the spoon dumbly as nothing happened. Something tickled the back of her mind as she tried again to lift the spoon. She blinked – and then gasped, her forelegs leaping to her horn.

There was heavy canvas strapped around her horn like a sheath, small buckles keeping it firmly attached to the bony protrusion. Her fears that it had been hiding a damaged or crippled horn – which were entirely justified, considering the shock of having awoken in a strange hospital – were banished after a quick examination. Despite the relief that her inability to use magic wasn’t permanent, Twilight still frowned when she was unable to discern just how to remove it.

“What is this around my horn, and how do I take it off?” she asked, shifting her gaze from the tip of her horn to the medical ponies. They were staring back at her intently, and Nurse Ratchet wasn’t smiling anymore. Silas had imposed himself between the two mares and was watching Twilight intently, the previous apathy in his eyes replaced with the promise of violence. The stallion’s entire body was tensed like a runner waiting for the starting pistol.

The room grew even smaller.

“Twilight, be a dear and stop touching that.” It wasn’t a request. The nurse was trying to keep some of her earlier pleasantness in her voice, but there was nothing of the concerned caretaker in her tone. Her eyes were ice. She shifted her posture noticeably, a coiled spring prepared to act.

Twilight swallowed and jerked her hooves away. “I’m sorry!” she apologized profusely, her mouth suddenly dry again. “I just, I – I didn’t know.” The two other ponies visibly relaxed once her hooves had returned to her lap, the tension slowly draining from the room. Silas took a step back but continued to watch her carefully. It was an improvement – at least she didn’t feel like she was staring at a bull about to charge.

Twilight left the fresh sweat on her brow, not willing to risk wiping it away. Regaining the use of magic would have to wait.

Nurse Ratchet favored Twilight with a thin but genuine smile. “I understand, Twilight. You’re confused and you don’t know what’s going on. You just didn’t know any better is all. No one is angry at you, Twilight. So just finish your breakfast and we can go see the doctor. He’ll be able to tell you everything you need to know. Alright, sugar?” The older mare spoke like she had caught a foal reaching for a hot stove.

Twilight just meekly smiled back, her heart still racing. The change in their demeanor had been as unexpected as it had been sudden, and their reactions dumbfounded her. She felt like she was struggling to solve a puzzle with most of the pieces missing. Nothing fit. She needed more answers to try and make sense of it all, but it was obvious Ratchet wasn’t willing to answer any questions, so Twilight ignored the patronizing tone and kept quiet.

Besides, she was pretty hungry.

Twilight cautiously spooned a mouthful of the porridge into her mouth. It tasted exactly like it looked: bland, lumpy, and lukewarm. Like the simple two-tone paint on the walls the drab food was a clear sign of a government institution where the bottom line was the most important factor in any budget. It brought to mind memories of humorless school meals prepared in huge batches by equally humorless lunch-mares, all unconcerned with customary culinary values like flavor and texture when they had a few hundred ungrateful little foals to feed. It wouldn’t be showing up on Sugarcube Corner’s menu anytime soon, but it was edible. And before long Twilight found herself staring down into an empty bowl.

“That’s a good girl,” Nurse Ratchet said as Silas took the tray up with his mouth. “Now how about we stand you up? Don’t worry darling, I’ll support you. There we go, nice and easy.”

Following her directions Twilight eased herself off the edge of the bed and planted each hoof with deliberate care, leaning heavily against the other mare. Her sore legs wobbled slightly as her weight shifted from the nurse to her own legs, but she avoided an awkward fall. The tiles didn’t look very soft.

Twilight smiled weakly. “So, now what?”

“Just stay close to me, dearie.” Obediently Twilight followed Nurse Ratchet, feeling a weight lift from her mind as she passed through the open metal door. She wasn’t caged any more. Just beyond the door another orderly stood beside a polished metal cart. Silas handed him the empty tray before taking up position behind the two mares.

Twilight swung her head from side to side as the two ponies escorted her through the winding corridors. The hallway was painted in the now familiar two-tone paint scheme – creamy white above a soft moss green. Other doors like the one she had just escaped past were evenly spaced along the walls. Were there other ponies trapped inside them as well? Nurse Ratchet drew further ahead as Twilight glanced through the windows as she passed them, but the dark rooms revealed nothing.

The three traveled without speaking, the only noise the clip-clop of their hooves on the white tiles. Ahead of them was another orderly – a tangerine mare – stationed at the hallway’s only exit. After a cursory glance at Ratchet’s identification she pressed a button on the wall, and the double doors unlocking with a soft click. Not just an orderly then, but a guard. Twilight eyed the mare’s truncheon nervously as she followed the nurse through the doors.

The halls beyond were nothing like the prison she had escaped. Although painted in the same boring colors, there were no heavy iron doors or spartan cells in sight. It was a proper hospital. Although no pony would ever call a hospital warm and inviting, the rooms Twilight managed to peek into were fit for a princess compared to where she had woken up.

After a short distance the doors gave way to naked windows. Twilight’s heart skipped a beat, and she held back a sudden urge to cry out in relief.

She could see outside.

The view was expansive: rolling hills and gentle grasslands that went on for miles, all bathed in the gentle light of an early morning sunrise. A collection of unnaturally straight shadows on the horizon marked a distant town. Being able to focus on objects was a welcome treat after tight corridors and claustrophobic cells. It was beautiful and glorious and… and tragic. Her relief ebbed. I want to be out of here, she thought with longing. I just want to go home.

Someone coughed behind her. Twilight turned her head to find Silas standing uncomfortably close, one eyebrow raised expectantly. She stared back blankly. “Keep moving,” he finally said, the softness of his voice catching her off guard. With a start, Twilight realized that her face was close enough to fog the glass with her breath.

“Oh, sorry,” she apologized before she turned and hurried after Nurse Ratchet, the stallion following behind closely. To Twilight’s disappointment, the route to Doctor Rose’s office necessitated turning away from the windows, but she couldn’t keep a momentary grin off her face. It felt good to smile.

The rest of the trip paled in comparison: a monotonous series of indistinguishable corridors and closed doors. Nurse Ratchet confidently led them onward, the silence broken only by the clip-clop of hoof on tile and the rare greeting to a passing pony. Twilight was surprised at how empty the halls seemed. Weren’t hospitals supposed to be pretty busy, even early in the morning?

The signs at each intersection were annoyingly generic – Examination Rooms 301-309, Twilight read as she passed one by – and soon she was lost, trusting her guide to lead her out of the linoleum labyrinth. The hospital seemed endless, the many identical hallways melting together into a single long green-white blur. It was hard to stay focused as she followed behind the nurse like a faithful hound. Planting one hoof in front of the other with robotic precision, she just let her thoughts wander as time dragged on.

“Ah, here we are.” Snapped out of her distracted reverie, Twilight came to an awkward and sudden halt, catching herself before she stumbled blindly into Nurse Ratchet’s backside. Preoccupied by her thoughts she hadn’t noticed when the older mare had stopped. She tried to cover her embarrassment at being so distracted by quickly glancing around, but swiftly realized no one was looking at her. Besides, she didn’t care what they thought.

The only things to differentiate this hallway from any other were the pair of aged oak doors the nurse stood beside. Hanging next to the door was a brass plate with the words Dr. Valentino Rose, MD etched into it. Nurse Ratchet knocked politely.

“Come in, come in,” a voice answered. Opening the door, Nurse Ratchet gently ushered Twilight into a library.

Hundreds of books rested on the wooden bookshelves that covered walls on either side of the room. There was nothing in the room to suggest that minutes before she had been trapped wandering an endless batch of drab hospital corridors. Many of the books were expensively bound with the titles picked out in gold leaf. Everything was precisely arranged, not a single scroll nor paper out of place. It was incredible. A flash of jealousy at such organization instantly became a deep longing for home. Twilight’s stomach knotted, hoping Spike was okay. Did her friends even know where she was?

“Ah, Twilight Sparkle, it’s good to see you this morning,” a tan unicorn said, standing up from behind a broad mahogany desk that dominated the far end of the room. His smile matched the room; big, warm, and inviting. The light blue eyes behind his gold-rimmed spectacles and the flecks of grey in his otherwise dark brown hair suggested a distinguished scholar. His office fit him like a glove. Rounding the desk, he gestured at a couch and chairs along one wall. “Please take a seat Twilight, and I’ll be with you momentarily.”

Twilight nodded and shuffled forward, taking one of the well-padded chairs. Doctor Rose – a point made painfully obvious by his scarlet-rose-on-a-blue-medical-cross cutie mark – excused himself and joined Nurse Ratchet in the hallway, pulling the door shut behind him. Whatever they said was muffled into incomprehensibility by the oak doors.

Twilight was left alone with Silas, who stood patiently by the entrance.

“So, uh, Silas, how long have you worked here?” she asked politely.

She was about to repeat her question when he finally answered. “Seven years.”

“Well, that’s quite a long time. I bet you’ve seen a lot during your time here, right?”

There was another painfully long pause.

“Yes.”

“Any, you know, funny stories?”

“Yes.”

Twilight waited expectantly for him to continue, but the orderly remained mute.

She narrowed her eyes irritably. “And are there any of them you’d like to share?”

Pause.

“No.”

“I figured as much,” Twilight muttered as she rubbed a hoof between her eyes. She felt like a dentist, having to extract every syllable against his will.

Turning away from Silas, she let her eyes wander over the rest of her surroundings. The windows behind the doctor’s desk offered another welcome glimpse of the outside, but even the sight of open spaces wasn’t enough of a temptation to keep her attention from turning to the many different tomes lining the walls. The titles were uniformly medical in nature; The Canterlot Journal of Public Health, Pastern’s Anatomy of a Troubled Mind, and the Trottingham Textbook of Cognitive Psychotherapy all shared space on the tightly packed shelves. It was very specialized literature past Twilight’s own knowledge levels, but curiosity bubbled up inside her regardless. They might even contain some hint about how she had ended up there.

Twilight reached out to remove one of them but a soft cough staid her hoof. She looked over at Silas quizzically, but he simply shook his head. Look but don’t touch, then. She pulled her foreleg back with a reluctant sigh, but continued to read the covers. She had never been in the office before, but a library was a library, and Twilight found her innate hunger for knowledge growing more powerful with every moment spent in such familiar settings. The close proximity to so many new books was intoxicating, and she savored the untapped potential laid out before her.

The muffled voices outside eventually ceased, and Twilight pulled her voracious gaze away from the bookshelves as Doctor Rose reentered the room alone. “Nurse Ratchet was updating me on your condition, Twilight. Some temporary amnesia is a known side-effect of your treatments, as I’m sure you have been told. But it seems that you are having trouble remembering this hospital and its staff. Is this true?” he asked as he settled into the chair across from her, levitating a notebook and pencil before him.

“Yes doctor, that’s true,” she said. “I woke up this morning strapped to a bed with no memory of how I got there – or why I am even here in the first place. I felt like I was stuck in some twisted nightmare. And to make matters worse my horn was dampened, so I couldn’t even use magic!” She glared enviously at the floating notebook. “I’ve been scared and confused all morning, and no one is giving me any answers. It’s hard to make sense of what’s going on when you’re not told anything in the first place, and it’s just needlessly cruel!”

Like a water balloon filled far past its limits Twilight felt fit to burst. How she had held it all in so long without exploding she would never know. She knew she was letting her anger take hold, but being locked up and magically-silenced against ones will wasn’t a recipe for remaining calm.

The doctor just looked at her with interest and jotted down notes, making no attempt to interrupt her.

Emboldened by his silence Twilight continued. “I don’t know how you might do things around here, but I’ve never seen such disregard for the well-being of a patient before. Don’t you understand how terrified I was? It’s inexcusable! Until today, I would never have believed that in today’s Equestria a pony could be imprisoned in a hospital and then denied information. Nopony has told me anything. Anything! The only thing I did learn was that I had to ask you all my questions. So, Doctor Rose, let’s start with the basics. Why in the name of Celestia am I here?”

She spat the question with enough venom to make Silas take a step towards them, but she didn’t notice – and if she had, she wouldn’t have cared. It was time to get some answers, and she wasn’t going to sit around demurely while they continued to keep her in the dark. Her eyes burned with impatience as she glared at the doctor, her mind seething as he continued writing in silence.

“Well Twilight, that isn’t an easy question to answer,” he eventually said, looking up from the notebook to meet her angry gaze. “The short answer is that you are here at Broadhoof Memorial because you’re sick, Twilight, and we’ve been taking care of you.”

“What do you mean ‘sick’? What have I been sick with?” she asked doubtfully, loathing his imperturbable manners.

“Twilight, you’re… not well. We’ve been trying to make you better, but illnesses like yours are not easy to treat. You can fix a cut with a bandage and a little magic, but some things aren’t so simple. You need lots of time and special care to get better.”

“Stop talking to me like I’m a damn filly! I’m not a little child!” Twilight snapped, leaping from her seat and jabbing one of her hooves accusingly at the doctor. Normally vulgar language was the sign of an inferior vocabulary, but Twilight couldn’t hold herself back. She didn’t want to hold back. She spotted Silas advancing on her from the corner of her eye with a nightstick in his teeth. She sounded like a mad pony. She probably looked like a mad pony too. Flecks of spittle flew from her lips as she yelled at the doctor through bared teeth. “Just give me a straight answer! I deserve that much! How am I sick?”

Doctor Rose halted Silas with a gesture, meeting Twilight’s angry glare with professional calm. It would have been impressive, if she hadn’t been ready to break his jaw. He removed his glasses and rubbed his eyes, collecting his thoughts. Finally he took a deep breath. “Twilight, you suffer from severe schizophrenia and grandiose delusions compounded by an obsessive-compulsive personality disorder.”

She blinked.

“What?”

“Twilight, most of your life you’ve been suffering from a number of severe delusions created by acute mental and personality disorders.”

Twilight continued to stare at the doctor as the words hung between them while her mind processed what he had just said. She breathed in deeply through her nose, taking a carefully measured breath.

Then she laughed. She laughed hard. Twilight’s mane jostled as she shook with a deep, full-bodied belly laugh. She plopped back down into her chair as her legs turned to rubber. She couldn’t breathe. She was cramping up. But she couldn’t stop laughing. She didn’t know what she had expected to hear, but she hadn’t been prepared for… that. Although she had to admit, the fact that he had said it with a perfectly straight face really did impress her. He had sounded so sincere.

“Are you trying to tell me that I’m craaaazy?” she wheezed and wiped a tear from her eyes, waiting for the punch line.

“We don’t like to use that term around here, Twilight,” he said uncomfortably. “We don’t want our patients thinking any less of themselves just because of their illnesses. In fact, with the proper therapy and medication, most of our patients can live relatively normal lives.”

Twilight snorted. “Please doctor, just stop. If you had tried to tell me that I had been in a coma for a few days suffering from something like Saddle Arabian horn-rot, or Appaloosa fever, or something even remotely possible, then I might have believed you. But while I’m no doctor, I am well read. Even I know that you can’t develop schizophrenia overnight.”

Clearing her throat, she rose to her hooves. “Now, I’ve already received enough terror and maltreatment for one day, so please forgive me if I don’t want to spend any more of my time here. Why don’t you just tell me what this is all really about so I can go home?”

“Silas, can you fetch that folder sitting on top of my desk?” he asked the orderly. Silas hesitated, uncomfortable leaving the doctor’s side. He eyed Twilight suspiciously before he turned and trotted off.

“Doctor, this is getting a bit embarrassing. Whatever falsified documents you have in that folder are not going to convince me that I’m crazy.”

Silas returned and placed a thick manila folder bursting with papers into the doctor’s hooves before retreating a few paces away. He continued to study Twilight as he took up a position nearby, prepared to intervene at a moment’s notice. It was a believable performance, acting like she was some kind of a threat. She wished she was that talented an actor.

A blue aura suffused Doctor Rose’s horn as he quickly paged through the file’s contents with tendrils of magic. Pulling one stapled document free he floated it over and deposited it in her lap. “Here, Twilight. This was signed by your parents when we took you into our care. As you can see, your schizophrenia did not just appear overnight. You have been here in our care for years.”

Twilight huffed with annoyance as she snatched up the paper, BMPH Patient Registration Form printed in block letters across the top of the page. Her eyes rapidly scanned from side to side as she checked and re-checked every single line. Nopony spoke. A cold worm of doubt began to wriggle inside her as she scrutinized her parent’s signatures. They were perfect matches.

She glanced up at the doctor. “These are impressive forgeries,” she allowed, “but the dates are all wrong. This paper says I’ve been here since just after I took my entrance exams. And that’s just impossible. For argument’s sake I’m going to ignore the fact that, until very recently, I lived disorder-free far away from here. Now, you are saying that I have been here for most of my life but don’t remember any of it because I’m suffering from some retrograde amnesia as a side effect of a treatment. Correct?”

“Correct.”

She didn’t have the patience for this. “Horsefeathers!” she snapped. “Amnesia doesn’t work that way! If I lost more than a decade of my life due to amnesia, then there would be nothing but huge gaps in my memories. But there are no gaps. None! And there are no missing links, no forgotten events, nothing! The only unanswered question, the only gap in my past, is the one between last night and this morning. And unless the next words out of your mouth are either an explanation or an apology, I’m leaving.” She made as if to stand up.

Doctor Rose held her gaze, deep in thought. Just as Twilight was about to make good on her threat he started looking through the bulky folder again. “Twilight, do you remember the birthday after you took your entrance exams?”

Once again, the doctor’s words caught her by surprise. “Of course I do,” she said. “We had a picnic, just outside Canterlot. What does that have to do with anything?”

“Do you remember getting your picture taken while there?”

“How do you know about that?” she hissed, her eyes narrowing.

“Twilight, do you remember?”

“Yes, I remember! But how in Equestria would you know about that? You had better start…” Twilight trailed off as Doctor Rose lifted something out of the bloated file and placed it over the registration form.

It was a photograph.

Twilight’s blood froze in her veins. Fear and doubt began to tear at her heart as she stared down at it. How was this possible? She wanted to denounce it as another forgery and just a feeble fake, but her accusations died on her tongue.

It was a photograph of five ponies having a picnic together.

It had been taken at her birthday party, right after she had been accepted at Princess Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns. A little filly Twilight sat between her parents and beamed up at the camera, looking ridiculous in a conical party hat far too big for her. She’d switched with her dad to get it, and even though it had kept falling in front of her eyes she had been too taken by the thought that it resembled something a wizard would wear to even consider changing back. Her big brother Shining Armor and her foal-sitter Cadance – complete with silly hats, although in more practical sizes – were there as well, smiling over at her. In Twilight’s hooves there was a copy of Star Swirl the Bearded: A Concise History, her father’s gift still partially covered with scraps of the wrapping paper. She still had that book, the well-worn pages and damaged spine a testament to an eager young filly’s love for learning. In the middle of the blanket the half-finished remains of her birthday cake sat, ignored by all in favor of presents.

It was one of the best memories of her early years, and Twilight remembered that day perfectly. She shouldn’t be looking at this picture right now. It couldn’t be there, in her hooves.

She could never forget that photograph, having seen it hanging on the wall of her parent’s home for years. Like the events themselves, it was burned into her memory. The photograph had to be the same one; along a corner there was the same small crease where her brother had accidentally bent it while storing it in their father’s saddlebags. It even faintly smelled of her parent’s home. But the picture couldn’t be real. It was wrong.

There were details that didn’t match up with her memories. In the background, the lake where they had swum before eating had been replaced by a white multistory building. She pulled the picture closer. And there were bags beneath her parents’ eyes she did not remember. Shining Armor was still smiling happily but Cadance looked… distracted. Nervous, even. Everyone but Twilight was wearing a lanyard with a card on it. The writing was minuscule, and only her mother’s wasn’t obscured.

Lifting the photograph upwards for better light Twilight held it inches from her face and squinted, mouthing the letters out silently as she tried to read what they said. The photograph began to shake softly.

“No,” she whispered. It was a lie. It had to be.

“Please Twilight, I know it hurts, but you have to try and remain calm,” somepony said soothingly, but Twilight didn’t hear them. The photograph slipped from her senseless hooves as she remained frozen, staring upwards at nothing through unfocused eyes. Her whole body was shaking now. She couldn’t remember when she started crying.

She felt like screaming. She felt like shouting. She felt like tossing the chair over and throwing herself at the doctor. He was lying! The voice said something about calming down to keep from hyperventilating. It wasn’t true! It couldn’t be true!

The voice grew panicked when Twilight suddenly vomited and toppled limply out of her chair, crashing to the floor with a sickening crunch. She didn’t feel a thing. She was too cold, too empty, too numb to feel anything anymore. Please, don’t let it be true. The others rolled her onto her side to keep her from choking while someone shouted for assistance, but Twilight was too far gone to register any of it. She was trapped inside her own mind.

The picture was not edited, was not altered, and was not changed. It was fact as much as it was fiction, and Twilight struggled to separate the two concepts. The picture was a paradox. It was wrong, it was a lie, it was false, but it was real – an impossibility given form.

And what it said hurt. Oh, it hurt so much. She tried to push the words out of her head, but she couldn’t ignore them. It was a savage cut against her own psyche, an existential wound on her soul. Someone screamed; it might have been her. The words were so innocuous, but they pulsated like neon tumors in her mind.

Visitor Identification.

Broadhoof Memorial Psychiatric Hospital.

Chapter 2

View Online

Asylum

Chapter 2

Twilight Sparkle slowly clawed her way back up from the void, struggling to pull her leaden mind up the slopes of darkness. A blizzard of pure black snow swirled around her like a heavy shroud. It was agony. Her naked body was disfigured by a cobweb of shallow cuts. Shards of frozen shadows flew viciously through the air to scour her flesh, the attacks defying the dead air’s unnatural stillness.

All she could do was shield her eyes as they sliced across her unprotected flesh, the cruel but bloodless wounds closing almost as soon as they were formed. It was as if a week’s natural healing was passing in just minutes. Instead of pain, each laceration left behind a numbness that seeped into her muscles. Her legs were lead, her lungs unresponsive.

The daggers of nothingness continued to dance through the air with savage glee as she pushed onwards. The silence was deafening. It was a snowstorm created from nothingness, with neither snow nor storm to its name, and it devoured any noises as easily as it was devouring her strength. The blizzard closed in around the solitary unicorn, a hungry pack of wolves circling a wounded animal.

The hunt was coming to an end.

Twilight continued to climb. The ground beneath her hooves rose up at a painfully steep angle. She risked unmasking her eyes so she could glance ahead and reassure herself she was still on target. It was still there. Warm relief halted the encroaching numbness for a few blessed moments, but it soon resumed its advance.

Above her was a bright point of light, strong enough to pierce the darkness attacking her. Nothing else could reach through the cloud of serrated shadows. The ground beneath her hooves – featureless stone devoid of any life – seemed as much a part of the storm as the icy tendrils sapping her energy. Nothing seemed to change, even as the void around her swirled and shifted. The darkness was as eternal as the ancient ruins of Saddle Arabia, and just as dead.

She grit her teeth and continued to put one hoof before another. The light was close; closer than it had been before. That simple fact gave her confidence, even as honeyed whispers promised an end to her suffering if she would just surrender. The void spoke without a voice, taunting her with her own doubts. She could taste how badly it wanted her to fail in its every sharp caress.

She struggled onward. She had to reach the light – that was all that mattered. It was all she could be sure of in the darkness.

Twilight gasped and nearly halted when the light surged toward her without warning, soaring upwards and filling her field of vision like a mountain of burning gold. The light embraced her. For a single moment she resisted its touch. After an eternity spent drowning in shadows, the sensation of daylight was alien to her, but the moment Twilight felt the calming touch of it upon her flesh she knew it was nothing to be feared. She had found salvation.

Claws of ice stubbornly dug into her flesh, the void-born storm unwilling to release its grip, even as its form melted away. Shadowy limbs disintegrated beneath the warm touch of daylight. The storm began to flicker and dissipate as she was drawn closer to the sun, its insubstantial form unraveling like a ball of yarn in the paws of an energetic kitten.

She should be blind. Staring openly at the naked sun, part of Twilight marveled at the complete lack of pain. But she didn’t doubt the impossibility of the feat. The sun could never hurt her. She was its favored student, and it was her beloved mentor.

The void raged noiselessly as its prey escaped, desperately lashing out at her with tendrils of ink like an enraged cephalopod. Powerless before the overwhelming glory of the newborn sun they evaporated long before they reached Twilight. She failed to notice when the attacks finally ceased, the shards of nothingness unable to maintain themselves so close to the loving touch of light.

She was in no danger – not anymore. How could she be? The sun was watching over her, a guardian and mother all at once. The light gently scooped her up and held her to its breast as if comforting a foal. Twilight melted in its soft grip.

Twilight’s eyes grew damp as she snuggled up against its maternal embrace. Her memories were a jumbled mess of terrifying images and confused emotions: dark cells of concrete and iron; an insect caught by a hungry spider; an endless maze; claustrophobia; a photograph. The last hurt the most, but she couldn’t remember why. She needed to unburden herself and tell the light about her nightmares, but words failed her. The sun didn’t have the same problem.

After an age spent trapped in silence even the smallest of sounds was a full orchestra of noise. Her ears swiveled slightly as she nuzzled the sphere of burning gas. It was a voice. The light was talking to her, it had to be! Like a kettle gently boiling atop a stove the hiss of spoken words gradually grew in volume, and Twilight strained to hear what the star had to say.

“… quickly, roll ... onto her side…”

Twilight frowned, the stallion’s voice not at all what she had expected from the nurturing star.

“… turn her head so – I said hold her legs! Grab them and hold them still!”

The unknown voice carried with it a sense of familiarity she couldn’t place. Despite being cradled in the burning limbs of a sun goddess’ avatar, she shivered.

“… not breathing. Doctor, there’s something…”

The mare’s voice caught Twilight by surprise. There was more than one pony talking. Where were they? Pressed up against the star Twilight’s vision was nothing but a solid wall of yellow-white light. She tried to call out to them but found herself as mute as before. Instead Twilight listened impotently, making out the brief flashes of conversation as best she could.

“… clear her mouth and get a breathing tube in…”

“… stop the bleeding. Silas, keep her head still while I scan…”

“… cleared the obstruction. Roy, is her pulse steady? Good, then give her twenty units…”

“… no fractures.”

“… just two more stitches and…”

“… an allergic reaction of some kind? Maybe…”

“… her onto the gurney. It’s almost over now, I reckon.”

“… back to her room. And stay with her until it wears off! We can’t risk another episode like…”

“… just two hours or so…”

“… call…”

No, come back! Twilight was desperate to hear more, but the voices didn’t heed her wishes and had soon faded away. Sheathed in silence once again, Twilight pondered whatever she had just overheard. The snippets she had managed to pick out were a jumbled mess. But the voices – they had sounded very urgent. They had mentioned stitches and… and bleeding. Twilight’s brow narrowed. Somepony might have been hurt.

Her concern drained away as fatigue wormed its way into her limbs. Twilight yawned. It had sounded important, but whatever it had been was over now.

Unable to hold open her eyes any longer she surrendered to the inevitable. Her legs grew heavy once again as a numbness swiftly spread across her torso, bringing back memories of the ebon shards of ice. It didn’t feel the same, though she couldn’t explain why. She curled up against the warm sun, letting the matter slip from her hooves. Thinking about that stuff was too hard.

She’d worry about it later. There wasn’t any rush.

Just a short nap…

Waking up took a lot longer the second time. There weren’t any searing lights to startle her out of her dreams this time, just the slow escape from a dreamless state.

It also hurt a lot more the second time around. Or more accurately, Twilight was hurting more when she finally managed to open her eyes. Her limbs were stiff and her muscles ached, feeling as though she had run a marathon in her sleep. A bandage marked the spot on her nose that throbbed with dull pain. Even her throat felt sore, a discomfort compounded by the acidic aftertaste of vomit. Her entire body was reluctant to obey her commands, feeling glacial and foreign – an ill-fitting dress crafted for a different pony.

It took a moment for the drab ceiling to register in through the thick fog around her thoughts. Hospital – I’m still at the hospital. Twilight let out a ragged sigh and closed her eyes again. Why can’t I just wake up from this nightmare?

“Oh, you’re awake!” a pony exclaimed, their surprise matching her own. A silver stallion poked his head into view above her. Regaining his composure he gave her a reassuring smile. “It’s good that you’re coming around. You’ve been asleep for a while now.” He lifted one of her legs as he spoke. “Just give me a minute and let me check your vitals, okay, Twilight?” With his mouth he pulled back the sleeve on his free leg, revealing a watch beneath the light green scrubs. Holding a hoof just beneath her own he monitored the small clock intently, taking her pulse.

Twilight croaked something indecipherable. She frowned as she tried to work some moisture into her mouth. Difficulty speaking was becoming a frequent and annoying part of her life, she considered. “What… happened?” she finally managed to ask, each word sandpaper against her throat.

“You had an episode in Doctor Rose’s office, Twilight. You had a seizure and took a little tumble when you passed out,” his eyes flickered to the bandage on her nose. “Thankfully it was nothing major. A few bruises, two or three stitches; that’s all." He released her leg. “And your vitals are doing just fine, so there shouldn’t be any problems there.”

Twilight tried sitting upright. Despite her exhaustion she managed to lift herself up a few inches, and regretted it instantly. Her stomach flip-flopped ominously as the walls began to spin and dance around her like drunken ballerinas. She fell back against the bed gratefully and closed her eyes against the rush of dizziness.

“Whoa now, you don’t want to start moving so soon,” he chided her gently. “The anesthetic is still wearing off. Just give it a minute. We don’t need you getting sick again, now do we?”

“They… knocked me… out?” she asked through gritted teeth, riding the waves of nausea like a small boat in a storm. The poor choice in metaphors didn’t help, she considered, just managing to keep her stomach’s contents in their rightful place.

“They had too, unfortunately. Your panic attack triggered some sort of reaction to your new treatments. We don’t like to use anesthetic when we don’t need it, but sometimes a patient is in danger of harming themselves, or preventing medical care.”

The spinning slowly ground to a halt, giving Twilight a chance to get off the vomit-inducing carousel. She had more questions for the stallion – where was she now? How long had she been out? Did everypony still think she was crazy? – but she had something more important on her mind.

“Water.”

“Oh! Sure thing, Twilight. Just stay still and keep breathing nice and deep, and I’ll be right back,” he said with another smile before disappearing.

Twilight did as instructed. Keeping her eyes closed, she let her other concerns recede while she focused on breathing. Her chest rose and fell with each deliberate breath. It was surprisingly effective, and by the time the stallion returned she didn’t feel as though her stomach was primed to explode any longer. The world had stopped its bilious dancing, and to her eternal relief it remained still while the doctor helped her up into a seated position.

She felt a sense of déjà vu as he brought the cup to her lips, her own hooves too weak and unsteady to do the job. The water was a godsend, washing away the taste of her own stale sick and relieving the ache of her dry throat. Watching him carefully feed her the water made Twilight realize just how much she missed not being able to use magic herself. It felt shameful being cared for like this – again.

At least it wasn’t a sippy cup this time.

“Feeling better now?” he asked once she had finished the rest of the water.

Twilight nodded. “Yes. Much better,” she said. Her voice, like the rest of her, was weaker than she would have liked, but she could already feel the life returning to her limbs. “Thank you, doctor…”

“Dreamer,” he finished, pushing some of the red hair out of his eyes. “I’m the head of anesthesiology here at Broadhoof. Doctor Rose wanted me here in person so I could keep an eye on you. After what happened in his office, there were some worries about how well you might handle the sedatives. From what he told me you had some pretty severe side-effects to your treatment, so there were concerns over potential reactions.” He patted her shoulder as he put a few pillows behind her back, helping to prop her up. “Thankfully everything looks normal now, so you don’t need to worry about that any longer.”

Twilight tried to lift one of her hooves. She barely managed to bring it halfway up her chest before it grew too heavy. It fell limply beside her. “I don’t feel very normal,” she said quietly.

“Don’t worry; you just have to give your body time. It takes some time for the sedative to wear off. But you are going to feel pretty tender for a while, though. Seizures are never easy.”

Even as he spoke she could feel the sedative loosening its grip on her gradually, warmth and sensation returning to her body at a glacial pace. So he wasn’t lying about that, at least. Still, there was an icy pit forming in her stomach at the doctor’s words. She tried to ignore her memories of what had happened in that office, unprepared to deal with the pain so soon. “Could I get another glass of water?”

“Actually, if you wanted to wait a minute or two, I could get you something to eat, as well as some juice. Most of your breakfast, uh, ended up on Doctor Rose’s floor. So really, once the rest of your nausea wears off I bet you will get pretty hungry, pretty fast.”

Her stomach growled in agreement. “I, uh, would quite appreciate some lunch, thank you,” she said, failing to keep a faint blush from her cheeks. Despite what she had suffered through, she couldn’t help being mildly embarrassed. Some of her lessons on Canterlot etiquette were second-nature, no matter the circumstances. Her old cotillion teacher Miss Waltz would have died of shame, she was sure. Of course, Miss Waltz had been about as big a drama queen as Rarity – she would have died of shame if Twilight were seen eating the main course with a salad fork.

He told her he would be back soon as he set off in search of food. The door swung slowly shut behind him.

It wasn’t locked.

She was awake, unbound, and unobserved. This was it – this was her chance.

Twilight huffed and grunted as she tried to lift herself out of bed, but her body wasn’t responding. Her limbs were stone. She was sweating, gasping for air, and afraid the walls were going to start spinning at any moment – and had nothing to show for any of it but more exhaustion and the threat of further nausea. She surrendered to the inevitable and collapsed backwards, pounding her hooves against the bed in frustration.

“Even if you could get out of bed, what’s next? You’re not even strong enough to drink water unassisted, let alone manage an escape. You’re a librarian, not Daring Do,” she berated herself under her breath. Her eyes narrowed dangerously as she considered taking out all her anger and irritation on the pillows. They were soft, defenceless, and within reach. She wanted to tear them apart and throw the remains across the room. It was pointless and unnecessary and violent and wasteful – but dammit, destroying something would make her feel better!

Twilight’s eyes widened in astonishment. What is going on with me? She had been grinding her teeth together so hard it had hurt, and it had still taken her a few seconds to register the pain. Her rage throbbed inside her like a second heartbeat, and she was amazed at how furious she had let herself become.

Closing her eyes she repeated her earlier breathing exercise, forcing her lungs completely full before exhaling. It was slow, but it worked. Reluctantly, her anger sank to the back of her mind. She could still feel it there, swimming beneath the surface of her thoughts like a prowling shark waiting for the chance to strike. She wouldn’t give it the opportunity. She was in control; no one else.

She let herself relax once she was confident another outburst wasn’t lurking around the corner. Twilight adjusted a pillow behind her, unable to explain her recent behavior. Her emotions had been out of control all day. Even though she had been thrown headlong into a frightening situation, it was no excuse for irrational behavior. She had to approach the problem with logic and reason. Trying to reach that door had been impulsive and stupid – she had known she wasn’t strong enough to manage it. Her frustrated outburst once she had failed the impossible had only made her more tired, more distracted, and more likely to screw up in the future.

She was acting like a reed in the wind, bending whichever direction her emotions were blowing. It ends now, she vowed silently.

She was Twilight Sparkle, the personal apprentice to Princess Celestia! She wasn’t a braggart or a show off, but she knew she was an intelligent mare. After all, while Applejack is stronger and Rainbow Dash is faster, she had beaten them both in a marathon by using her brain. She needed to think, to gather information, and to try and plan how she would get away.

There was a flicker of hesitation as she glanced at the unlocked door again, but Twilight pushed it aside. There would be another opportunity to escape, she was certain. She might be weak for the moment, but she still had the use of her mind. It was her only hope of making sense of this nightmare world.

Alone and immobile, Twilight settled for examining her surroundings carefully.

When she had dragged herself from the void of unconsciousness, she had assumed she was back in a cell like before. She had been mistaken. Although it shared the same cream and green paint scheme as the rest of the hospital, it was a distant cry from the frightening cage she had been imprisoned in. For a start, the room wasn’t so small that she could touch all four walls at once. Also important was the complete lack of restraints on the bed.

Twilight smiled humorlessly. She had never imagined herself judging a room by that sort of criteria.

It was difficult to picture the room as being part of the same hospital as those sterile cells. It had warmth and personality. Along the wall opposite her bed sat a desk and a sizeable bookcase, both of which were almost buried beneath a mountain of scrolls and books and assorted scraps of parchment. She panned her eyes around the room as it dawned on her that it wasn’t the only bookshelf, either. Not by a long shot.

What few bits of wall could be seen in the gaps between the vast assortment of bookshelves were themselves obscured beneath ledges, the wooden shelves attached directly to the bare wall. It was haphazard at best. None of the furniture matched, the shelves were all of different lengths, the wood was chipped and worn, and many of the cabinets bore the tape-and-glue scars of untrained carpentry. The only thing in the room that didn’t look like it was held together by spit and duct tape was the bulky hospital bed she was resting in.

Twilight felt like she was stuck in Equestria’s smallest and most depressing used-furniture store. And it was going out of business.

The only unifying element Twilight could see – beyond all the furniture being fit for the garbage dump – were the books themselves. Every single inch available was occupied by some book or scroll; no space was wasted. Books were stacked precariously like houses of cards. One shelf had so many rolls perched atop it she feared it might topple over if she exhaled loudly. The wooden shelves all positively groaned beneath the burden of the small library.

The books were like the furniture: worn and well-used. But her experienced librarian’s eye could recognize the care and logic behind their arrangement. The books were organized as best they could be, given that the shelves weren’t level and the furniture barely hung together. Finding space for them all had evidently been the top priority, but whoever had organized their books had done so with a scholarly dedication Twilight found most agreeable. Perhaps they had been trying to emulate Doctor Rose’s impressive office?

She smiled at the idea, finding the room was unexpectedly cozy. The small size didn’t bother her. It was much bigger than her cell had been. It was even a little bigger than her dorm back at school – and would have been bigger still if not for the bookshelves taking up a good portion of the available floor space. It was small but certainly not claustrophobic, and brought to mind the best memories she had of her home back in Ponyville. Its inviting warmth was both familiar and relaxing, like an old blanket brought down from the attic on a cold winter night.

No, she had been wrong – this room wasn’t depressing at all. Even the worn and mismatched collection of furniture had a scrappy make-do attitude to it. The room’s regular occupant had been determined to make the best of their situation.

Twilight sat up a little straighter and pursed her lips together firmly in an expression of determined resolve. If a real patient at the hospital could stay positive and continue to struggle against whatever was afflicting them, then she could do the same. She savored the firm confidence like a mug of fresh cider. It was a welcome change from the morning’s unrelenting bouts of fear and confusion.

By the time Doctor Dreamer returned, Twilight couldn't deny that she was feeling much better. The comfortable surroundings had been a balm for her frazzled nerves, and the anesthetic had faded away – although, like he had said, even after regaining most of her strength she still felt quite fatigued. And quite hungry, she realized, as the scent of food elicited another growl from her stomach.

She tore into the simple daisy sandwich with relish, halting in between mouthfuls only long enough to gulp down the orange juice. The bread was dry and the juice wasn’t fresh, but she was starving. The stallion chuckled as she devoured the sandwich. “A healthy appetite is a good sign. It means the sedative is almost entirely worn off. So, are you feeling better? Any headaches or continued dizziness?”

Twilight shook her head as she cleaned some of the crumbs off of her muzzle. “No sir, nothing like that. I have been… no, I’m feeling fine. Much better, thanks.” She wasn’t going to tell the doctor about her mood-swings – they didn’t need to start thinking there actually was something wrong with her. Biting into her sandwich she gestured at the room with one hoof. “Why am I here instead of the room I woke up in? Aren’t I supposed to be crazy?”

There was a disapproving look at her deliberate word choice, but he didn’t rise to the bait. Instead he paused in thought. “Oh, that’s right. You were starting a new treatment recently, so they must have put you in one of the secure rooms for the night. They’re used to restrain any pony that might physically act out.”

“What, like attacking the staff?”

“That can happen,” he said with a serious expression. “But more often they are reactions like your own: spasms, sudden seizures, or panic attacks, which are compounded by current illnesses. We restrain our patients if they are at risk, so if there is a problem, we can provide care quickly. It’s a safety precaution, for the patients as much as the staff.”

He examined one of the bookshelves beside him. “Our long-term patients get private quarters like yours. They’re much more comfortable, don’t you think? It’s better for patients to have a small space of their own, somewhere that they can relax and have a modicum of privacy. And, considering how upset you were earlier, we thought it best if you had a chance to wake up in your own room instead.”

Twilight paused mid-bite. “My own room?” she asked, her voice muffled by the sandwich in her mouth.

Evidently the doctor didn’t hear her. Dreamer chuckled as he continued to walk along the crowded wall. “I’m always surprised at how many books you managed to fit in here. I swear, you’ve got your own personal library. And some of these books are pretty advanced.” He plucked one from a shelf – careful to keep from causing a structural collapse in the book pile it was in – and glanced at the cover.

The faded lettering was barely visible, but Twilight didn’t need to read the title to identify which book he was examining. A Treatise on Pre-Equestrian Arcane Manipulation (2nd Edition), by Night Cap the Elder. It was worn and battered, but its identity was clear to her.

“Twilight, you’re quite a smart filly. I doubt I’d understand half the words in there,” he said with a smile, returning the book to its slot on the wall. She suppressed the twinge of annoyance his false smile extracted from her. It was the same smile every doctor and nurse seemed to wear when dealing with her. It was likely a part of their bedside manner, something to put patients at ease, but the insincerity grated on her nerves.

“I’m not a filly,” she grumbled sourly. The room had betrayed her. The warmth and sense of determination she had detected was just another carefully constructed illusion to further their lies. The whole hospital mirrored his smile: falsehoods engineered to provoke a desired emotional response.

“Oh, course you’re not, Twilight,” he said with mock humbleness.

If she hadn’t been keeping a tight grip on her emotions she would had hurled her cup at him. Condescending bastard. They all were. Instead she paused to swallow some more juice, not trusting herself to speak until she knew she was back in full control. She sated her anger by giving the doctor a glare meant to melt steel.

“So, what is this ‘treatment’ I keep hearing about?” she asked, changing the subject before she did something she might regret. “The doctors and nurses here keep talking about me supposedly starting some sort of new program, but no one has said a lot about what it really is.”

“Honestly, I wouldn’t know much,” he said, looking faintly uncomfortable. “That is Doctor Rose’s area of expertise. All our treatments are a mix of therapy, medication, and magic, if that helps. I don’t know the specifics of your treatment history well enough to give you the details on it.” His expression brightened. “Speaking of Doctor Rose, guess who I ran into while getting you lunch?”

Twilight stared back at him as the silence lengthened. He doesn’t really expect me to answer him, does he?

He continued to look at her expectantly. He does.

“Who?” Twilight exhaled through her teeth, trying to unclench her jaw. She eyed her cup again, measuring how effective it would be as a projectile.

“Doctor Rose! He was very happy to know you were starting to come too, by the way. He was pretty worried, after how upset you got back in his office. Since you are still struggling to remember everything–”

“I remember everything just fine,” she interjected darkly.

“–he suggested,” he continued over her, “that one of the best ways to help you get some of your memories back was to let you spend some time with a more familiar face. So we made arrangements for one of your friends to come by after you had finished your lunch. That sounds nice, doesn’t it?” he smiled at her.

Twilight coughed as orange juice went down the wrong pipe. Friend? Could her friends have figured out where she was? Despite everything Twilight had suffered through that morning, the word lit a candle of hope within her breast. But Twilight clamped down on her hope firmly, unwilling to lose control of her emotions. It was becoming a chore, guarding her emotions so, but she didn’t have any other choice. She wasn’t going to let her emotions rule her.

“My friend?” she asked doubtfully, holding her optimism back with an iron hoof of skepticism. False hope wasn’t going to hurt her again. “Who is it, one of the patients I am supposed to have known? Maybe some other pony you think is sick too?”

“No, she’s a doctor, actually. Doctor Rose thinks that because of your condition, you’ll just have to wait to see your other friends,” he explained as he walked over to the door. “Now I know you don’t remember much, Twilight, but we think that if you just sit and talk with her for a while, it might help bring back some of your memories. After all, you have spent a lot of time with her over the past two years.”

Not one of my friends, then. Like an old candle, the sliver of hope she had allowed herself to hold onto flickered out and died. She snorted. They expected her to believe that she was friends with one of her captors?

Dreamer pushed his head out into the hallway. “Okay, you can come on in now.”

“We don’t have to do this if she isn’t ready for it,” the unseen mare said with quiet apprehension. “I don’t want to provoke another attack. The one in Valentino’s office was pretty darn frightening. Wouldn’t it be better to just let her rest a little longer? I couldn’t stand the thought of hurting her.”

A snake of frigid apprehension slithered up Twilight’s spine and jammed its fangs into her heart, a venom of cool dread seeping into her veins. She knew that voice. The accent wasn’t as strong as she remembered, but it was unmistakable. It couldn’t be anypony else. She knew that voice!

“Don’t be absurd. Until Twilight comes to terms with what’s going on, she’s in risk of relapsing. I was there when it happened the last time, A.J., and it wasn’t pretty,” Dreamer said in an urgent whisper, failing to keep his words from reaching Twilight’s ears. “It’s better if she meets you in the comfort of her own room. And Valentino was pretty insistent in reminding us that the longer she goes without remembering, the worse it will be.”

Please don’t be her, please don’t be her, please don’t be her. Twilight repeated the words in her head like a protective mantra meant to ward off evil. A cold tightness gripped her chest, and she struggled to breath. Sweat prickled her brow. It was as if she were being presented with that terrible photograph all over again. It was waiting for her, just out of sight.

“Yeah, I guess it would just be putting off the inevitable,” the mare sighed reluctantly.

“Well then, come on in and say hello!” Dreamer said, unnecessarily raising his voice for Twilight’s benefit. Holding the door open for the other doctor, he stepped back to make room. The empty doorframe yawned wider in Twilight’s mind, the maw of some hungry beast eager to devour what was left of her emotional stability. Knowing what awaited her on the other side made the fear even worse. There was no room for self-delusion. She couldn’t convince herself that she might be mistaken, or that it could be a different mare.

Twilight knew who it was, and she knew exactly what was going to happen, yet still she couldn’t look away. Her eyes were locked on the doorway like a wingless pegasus watching the ground rushing up to meet her. She was forced to sit and watch and wait, her muscles frozen in place by the cold venom in her blood. She couldn’t even remember blinking.

She just stared, her heart a lump of ice, as an orange mare in a lab coat strode into the room.

“Well hey there, sugarcube!” Applejack said to Twilight cheerfully.

Chapter 3

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Asylum

Chapter 3

Twilight stared back at her friend through eyes so white they could be mistaken for saucers. She hadn’t wanted to believe what her ears had been telling her. The fog from before had returned with a vengeance, the thick strands of discordant thought gumming up the works of her brain until it felt as though it had stalled.

It couldn’t be true... but it was, regardless. She narrowed her eyes to mere slits. She was struggling with another painful paradox, once again feeling as though she were slowly being compressed into a single point of disbelief. She was staring at a living impossibility, an existential threat to her memories given life.

It wasn’t a pleasant experience.

The mare looked exactly like Applejack. The coat, the mane, the freckles, the cutie mark – everything was as Twilight remembered. Those familiar green eyes met her worried glances with a look of concern. Instead of a dusty stetson the cowgirl went hatless, her blond ponytail resting on a lab coat identical to Doctor Rose’s. Applejack kept her smile plastered on her face as Twilight mutely scrutinized the orange mare, failing to mask the disquiet at the odd examination. The heavy silence continued to grow more ferocious until it threatened to consume all three ponies.

“So, um, I know you probably don’t remember me, Twilight,” Applejack said with a cough. She took a few cautious steps towards her, as if Twilight were a farm animal she didn’t want to risk spooking. Except for the worried slant to her eyebrows and the slight tremor at the corner of her lips, everything in her body language presented a calm and reassuring image. “My name is Doctor Applejack. But you don’t have to worry none about the title. Applejack is fine. Or even A.J., if you want.”

Applejack’s voice had pierced the silence. And into the void rose a thousand voices speaking at once. Twilight’s mind became an opera hall beset by a bellicose chorus, every singer attempting to drown out the others with their own song. It was a cacophony of different theories and disorganized guesswork, the pure noise enough to squash everything else.

Changelings: I’m sure of it! It was the only answer that made sense. Every aspect of Applejacks behavior – the way she walked, the way she held herself – was too perfect to be anything else. The only element that didn’t fit was the accent; it was there, just muted. It was a near flawless imitation otherwise. But it still wasn’t good enough. Now if only I could remove whatever is on my horn, I could expose these insects for what they really were. I could fight back, and then-

Twilight continued to sit mutely, the only movement that of her head as she tracked Applejack’s progress across the room. Applejack glanced at Dreamer, arching an eyebrow in confusion. The stallion shrugged. “She was talking just before you came in,” he pointed out. “Let’s just give her a minute.”

Brainwashed: I’m sure of it! They could have gotten to Applejack first. If they were going to all this effort to deceive me, they could easily have done the same thing with my friend. They could have brainwashed Applejack, tricked her into believing their lies. Once they got her to believe it, they could then use her to convince the rest of us as well, slowly brainwashing us all one at a time. I just need to break through to her, convince her that-

“Twilight? Darlin’? Are you feeling okay?” she asked.

Discord: I’m sure of it! This whole experience just screams of his chaotic magic. He has returned, but this time he decided to get rid of the elements first, before we had a chance to act. And instead of just cursing us, he is trying to break our will to resist. If we give in to the delusions and accept them, then we will never escape! I just need to try and find a hole in his deception-

“Twilight?” Dreamer echoed Applejack, joining his fellow doctor to watch Twilight carefully. “Come on Twilight, say something.”

Magical curse: I’m just sure of it! This is too real to be a simple deception. Right now I’m probably sitting in a real hospital suffering from some sort of arcane affliction. This world is just a twisted nightmare created from my own memories. But then, if I am really sick, how can I escape? Or am I just trapped here until the real doctors manage to cure me? No, if it’s a magical illness, it can still be affected by the mind, so I can-

“Twilight!”

Twilight jerked up and glanced blindly around her, as if just awoken from a nap she hadn’t realized she was taking. The crowd of voices dropped away to a low buzz, a persistent mosquito content to simply circle at the back of her mind. She found both ponies standing before her with matching expressions of worry.

“Twilight, are you feeling okay?” Applejack repeated in a normal tone, her eyes roaming over Twilight’s face.

It took Twilight a moment to find her voice. “Y-Yes, yes. I’m… fine, Applejack, I’m fine. Really, I’m perfectly fine.”

“Oh, so you remember her?” Dreamer asked, a hint of relief sliding across both doctors’ faces.

“Yes, I… I remember you, Applejack,” said Twilight, nodding at her friend. Technically it was half true.

Applejack’s face split into a broad grin. It was the first honest smile Twilight had seen in awhile. “Oh, well that’s a blessing!”

“But not everything is the same,” she added slowly. “Some things are… different.”

“Oh? Well, that’s not unexpected, really. Amnesia is going to leave some gaps in your memory, after all,” the (former) farm-pony said. “How about we start off nice and easy then, sugarcube. You just ask me any questions you might have, and I’ll do my best to answer them.”

Twilight paused. Which question first? She needed to test this “Doctor” Applejack and see what she knew. Any plans for escape required information before they could be formed. Seeking inspiration in her lifelong passion, the unicorn tried to recall how the hardboiled detectives in her novels would have started an interrogation. Dozens of books flashed through her mind, each as useless as the last – playing “bad cop” and slamming Applejack’s head into a desk was not a viable option, for many reasons.

Applejack continued watching her as the silence dragged on, threatening to become another awkwardly long moment. Twilight felt an irrational moment of panic. This was her opportunity to get information, and she was stuck as mute as a filly on her first day of school. She needed a question – now!

“Where’s your hat?” Twilight nearly shouted.

Quiet followed the question. The two mares stared blankly at one another, their expressions identical.

Seriously? That’s what I'm starting off with? Twilight felt like burying her head in her hooves as her cheeks flushed red. Improvisation was not one of her strong suites.

Applejack’s eyes twinkled in amusement, and even Dreamer was grinning. “I don’t wear it when on duty, sugarcube. It’s not really suitable for sterile hospital work, if you know what I mean.”

“That makes sense,” said Twilight, doing her best to ignore the heat in her face. “So... a doctor, huh? When did that happen?”

“I graduated from Manehattan School of Medicine two years ago. Since then, I’ve been taking my residency here at Broadhoof.” Twilight blinked. It was rude and unfair to her friend, she knew, but the idea of Applejack attending such a prestigious university – a medical school, no less! – was difficult for her to swallow. She couldn’t picture the cowgirl doing research in a library. The thought of Applejack’s golden mane almost hidden behind a large medical textbook was too foreign a concept to take seriously, and she nearly laughed.

But Applejack was entirely serious. Whatever humor Twilight had felt melted away, replaced by a sense of creeping dread. Applejack was such a terrible liar, Twilight was certain that something of that deception would have presented itself. There was no doubt and no deceit on that face.

“So I guess that Big Mac is running Sweet Apple Acres, then?”

“Hey, you remembered!” Applejack declared, happily turning back to Dreamer. “It sounds like she’s getting’ better already, don’t you think?”

Dreamer glanced up from his watch and nodded in agreement. “It sure does!”

Both ponies beamed at her with the same patronizing smiles all the doctors seemed to wear, their grins as fake as the hospital they worked in. They were obviously part of the official bedside manner, something meant to express a soothing air of calm friendliness. Instead it made them seem like they were talking down to Twilight, treating her like a sick filly that needed to be dealt with carefully. The condescension inherent in those voices wasn’t far from being deliberate mockery.

Twilight’s frustration fizzled away. It was annoying, but there wasn’t much she could do about it short of screaming – which, she was fairly sure, wouldn’t help her argument that she wasn’t crazy. She shifted her thoughts elsewhere. Although it wasn’t much, Twilight found some comfort in the idea that there still was a pony called Big Mac working on a farm. However twisted and confused this nightmare might be, at least some things were still the same.

“The farm is doing pretty well now, too,” Applejack continued. “With my paycheck we’re paying off the debt pretty fast.”

“Debt? What debt?” Twilight looked at Applejack disbelievingly. “You’ve got more customers than you can handle. Since when did the Apples have money problems?”

Applejack couldn’t keep from rolling her eyes. “From the loans, of course. Remember, we were just talkin’ about the bank loans a week ago and…” she blinked “… you would have no way of rememberin’ that right now.”

It was the third stretch of awkward silence in as many minutes, although this time it was Applejack’s turn to blush. “Right. I’m sorry, sugarcube. I guess I keep forgetting that you don’t remember everything.” Applejack coughed into her hoof, the painfully transparent attempt to mask her embarrassment just highlighting the pink flush of her cheeks instead. She really was a terrible liar. “Well, we have debts from my education. Universities aren’t cheap, after all.”

“So if you went to medical school, then why is Big Mac stuck back on the farm? Why didn’t he get to go to college?”

“He is not stuck on the farm!” Applejack snapped, her nostrils flaring.

Twilight jerked back as if slapped, surprised by the venom in her friend’s voice. She glanced at Dreamer in confusion, but he was already staring at his coworker with a reproachful frown.

Applejack gasped. The angry fire in her eyes was snuffed out in a second, replaced by a look of shameful remorse. “Oh Twilight, I’m so sorry! I just, I’m so so sorry! I didn’t mean to snap at you like that! You didn’t mean anything by that and… and… shoot, even if you had known, it wouldn’t make it right. I should never have talked to you like that.” Her voice echoed her shame as she apologized profusely, sounding as surprised by her outburst as Twilight had been.

“It’s okay, Applejack,” Twilight said, unable to keep confusion from seeping into her words. The apology was excessive. Sure, Applejack had been short with her, but she was acting as though she had… Twilight’s eyes narrowed, her jaw clenching tight. She’s acting like she had yelled at a little filly.

Screaming and throwing a fit didn’t seem as objectionable as before.

“No, it’s not okay. I know you’re upset, and you have every right to be,” Applejack sighed, failing to grasp the source of Twilight’s sullen glare. She glanced down at her hooves sheepishly. “Big Mac is a… touchy subject, but I should never have reacted that way. You did nothin’ wrong, Twilight. It was rude and unprofessional, and I’m plum ashamed of myself.”

“It’s nothing, Applejack. Honestly. This wasn’t that big of a deal, so no worries.”

Dreamer coughed softly, getting their attention. “Well A.J., like you said, Twilight just didn’t know. So why don’t you tell her all about it? It might help her to remember something of her own past, if you were to talk about yours.” He checked his watch again. “Besides, you’ve got the time. Dinner isn’t for another few hours.”

“That’s… not a bad idea, actually.” Applejack turned back to the unicorn, a hint of sadness peeking out from behind her smile, like a shy foal hiding behind its mother’s legs. “You don’t remember it now, but we used to spend a lot of time talking. How about it, Twilight? Are you okay if I spend some time talking with you?”

“I would appreciate that,” Twilight answered with a modicum of sincerity. She needed information if she were to escape, and the two doctors seemed poised to offer her what she needed on a gilded platter. As the great general Neapolitan once said, ‘never interrupt your enemy when he is making a mistake’. Hopefully, whatever this other Applejack had to say about her past might shed some light on what had brought Twilight into this… reality? Dreamscape? Nightmare?

World, Twilight decided. It seemed the most fitting. After all, this isn’t reality, and you wake up from nightmares eventually. With the terminology sorted out, Twilight readjusted her mental checklist accordingly. After years of doing things methodically and with fastidious attention to detail, the use of lists to organize her personal life had become a near compulsion.

Habit! It’s not a compulsion, but a habit! She didn’t care what Doctor Rose said; she did not have obsessive-compulsive personality disorder! Diligence and foresight are virtues, she thought, hammering the point home with a finality born of righteous desperation.

When Spike had teased her about her com- habits, it had been a joke between good friends. But Doctor Rose’s words, just like that terrible photograph, were personal attacks that called into question her very sanity. His groundless condemnation of Twilight was slander of the worst kind.

“Well then, just let me get comfortable first, and then I’ll tell you all the stuff you might not remember,” Applejack said as she cheerfully slid the chair out from beneath the desk. It was as worn and pitted as the rest of the room’s furniture, and there was a moment’s doubt that the spindly wooden legs could support the mare’s weight when she planted it beside Twilight’s bed. It whimpered as she settled onto it, but after a few trembling protests it held steady.

And then Applejack began to talk.

So, I guess I should start at the beginin’, huh? You probably don’t remember any of it now, but we used to spend loads of time talkin’. When I arrived at Broadhoof, I was assigned to escorting the patients during their time out in the yard. You know, give the new pony somethin’ easy and time-consumin’ to see how she does. As it turned out I was assigned to escort you on my first day, and so we talked about all sorts of things.

Well, that's not entirely true. When I first met you, you didn’t talk much. At all, really. You were as silent as a snake without a hiss. Being a new doctor, I was pretty dang nervous, so I just chattered away like a squirrel regardless. I’d talk about life back on the farm, my time in Manehattan, and even my years in school. You never said anythin’ back, so I just kept talkin’ and talkin’ to fill the silence, until the two hours had passed and it was time for supper.

I reckon I nearly talked your ears off that first day. Afterwards I wondered if you had even heard a word I said. After all, you had just been quietly following beside me as we walked along the fence. After a few days...

You know, I can tell you don’t remember any of that. I think I have a better idea, actually. Why don’t I just tell you about myself, so you can hear those stories again? Maybe something I say will help, you know, jog your memories some.

So let’s see… Well, I was born on the Sweet Apple Acres farm, just outside Ponyville. My parents were good, honest pony folk, simple farmers whose hard work on the family farm had really helped build it up. I guess you do remember my older brother Big Macintosh, but I also have a baby sister, Apple Bloom. Oh, you remember her name too? Super! I guess telling you about my past again is the right thing to do.

Anyway, life was pretty good, I reckon. Sure, growing up on a farm means lots of work, even when you’re just a foal, but I never had much room to complain. And farm work was always secondary to school work. It always was our parents’ dream that we might all get a good education, probably because neither of them ever finished school. ‘Bein’ an earth pony don’t mean you gots to be a dummy,’ Pa used to tell us. Our parents were very adamant about us doin’ well in school, and they’d give us extra chores if our grades weren’t up to snuff. So, yeah, they took our education real serious like.

We did pretty well for farm foals, too. Shoot, Big Mac was planning on becoming an engineer, back before my parents passed away. He always did have a good head for figures and such. Not much of a conversationalist, but I don’t doubt that he would have made a great architect or somethin’ just as prestigious. I’ll tell you, they were so proud of him when he got accepted to Canterlot Polytechnic, even Pa was crying. Big Mac was the first Apple since we’d settled near Ponyville to get accepted into a university.

College wasn’t cheap, though, and we made do as best we could. Cutting back here, working harder there, that sort of thing. But after Pa got sick, well, Macintosh had to spend more and more time on the farm, lendin’ a hoof. Pa tried his best to keep working, but soon enough the cancer had him bedridden. Apple Bloom was still in diapers back then, and I wasn’t much older than she is now, so Big Mac, Granny, and Ma had to do all the harvesting together.

Ma tried her best to keep Big Mac in school though, never lettin’ him know just how much she was doing around the farm. She forbid him from dropping any classes, so he only came down on the weekends to help out. And she’d get up long before sunrise so she could do some of his chores as well. She didn’t want him bein’ so tired that when he went back to school, it could hurt his grades. Like I said, they really thought our educations were important.

Big Mac kept offering to quit school so he could do more to help the family. He said he could just take a semester or two off, but she wouldn’t hear of it. It would have been for the best if she had, in retrospect. But then, as my optometrist friends always said, hindsight is twenty-twenty.

I think she had convinced herself that Pa was going to get better. She wanted to keep everything as normal as possible, so when he got well it would be like nothin’ had changed at all. And so every day, week after week, she worked her hooves to the bone doing the chores of three ponies. It left her so tired that she’d pass out after supper.

So when Pa finally passed away, she was just too worn out t’ handle it. The doctors said it was severe exhaustion, along with some other things I was too young to understand or remember. I think it was the guilt that hurt her the most. She had been so busy trying to work the farm that she never had time to see him. And being unable to say goodbye is what I reckon’ broke her heart, because after the funeral she was just a shell of a pony. She was physically there, but empty.

That’s when Big Mac finally did drop out of school, just a year or so before he would have graduated. He gave up his dreams and his future, so he could take care of the family. And he… he never complained about it either, Celestia bless him. Not for one gosh darn minute. I tell you Twilight, Big Mac is the best stallion in Equestria. A lot of ponies underestimate him, thinkin’ he’s just a bit slow because he is so quiet all the time, but they’re dead wrong. He knew exactly what he was giving up, and he did it without a second’s hesitation. That takes real heart. That’s love.

It was right before I started high school that Ma finally passed away. After Pa had died she had just shut down, and we had taken her to Broadhoof for care. She barely spoke, and mostly just lay in bed, starin’ out the window. Whenever I visited, it was hard to think of her as being the same mare I remembered from back when I was barely a filly. The strength and vitality was gone. She was like those husks of once-fruitful apple trees that had slowly withered away, still clinging to life by the narrowest of margins.

Life was really tough during those years. I was finally old enough to really start pulling my weight around the farm, but Big Mac wouldn’t allow me to sacrifice my schoolin’ for the farm as well. I used to throw the biggest fits, I did, complainin’ about how unfair it was that I couldn’t skip school to help out like he did. But he was as adamant about me gettin’ an education as Ma and Pa had been. And Granny backed him up completely. Both of them weren’t going to allow me and Apple Bloom to miss out on the futures our parents had dreamed of.

I used to resent Big Mac’s decision. It wasn’t until I had matured that I realized how much he had surrendered to keep me and Apple Bloom in school. Big Mac had sacrificed his future for the family, and he wouldn’t allow me to do the same. I saw it as my duty, to him and the memory of my parents, to get a good education.

Having lost both my parents to illness is what convinced me to go into medicine. After I graduated high school I set about applying to medical schools all over Equestria, and my grades were good enough to earn me a small scholarship to boot. However it was still true that university isn’t cheap. Even with my scholarship, nearly every school was far too expensive for us to afford, both in terms of tuition and in housing. The reason I chose Manehattan was almost entirely because my Aunt and Uncle Orange offered free room and board in the city. Without their help I’d never had been able to become a doctor.

Now I’d spent some time with the Oranges, back when I was a filly. Uncle Orange had always been a bit unfriendly towards my Pa, blamin’ him for taking his sister away to live out in the sticks, but they were good folk. Sure, they were what you might call ‘high society’ types, but they were still family, and they were determined to help me out as best they could.

We Apples don’t accept charity though, not when we can do something about it, so I accepted on the condition that I be allowed to help pull my weight around the apartment. It was charity in all but name, considerin’ how I was doing some light cleanin’ up and such while they were housing and feeding a full grown mare, but it helped make me feel less like I was taking advantage of their hospitality.

University life… wasn’t easy. I had been quite naïve when I arrived, and the first real shock was how biased the system was against non-unicorn doctors. It wasn’t like being a mail-mare or a guard or a factory worker, where any pony can succeed and do well. Magical ability is an unspoken prerequisite for some fields. Surgeons, for example, are almost exclusively unicorns.

I chose to go into psychiatry, mostly because of havin’ had to watch Ma deteriorate over the years. There was one visit, the last time I heard her speak, when I had brought Apple Bloom with me so she could see Ma again. She was weak and sickly, but she was happy to see us. Apple Bloom ran up to her and they smiled and hugged. And then she looked Apple Bloom right in the eyes and said, with a broad smile on her face, “Oh Applejack, you’re gettin’ so big! Be sure t’ take care of your little sister, you un’nerstand?” Trapped within her memories, she couldn’t even recognize her family any more.

Thankfully Apple Bloom was too young to remember it, but I cried all night once we left. It was that moment, if anything, that made me realize my future. If there was anything I could do to help others from feeling the same sort of pain, I wanted to do what I could. That's how I ended up specializing in the treatment of hallucinations and delusions. Big Mac once joked that I did it because I was too darn honest for my own good, and I wanted to help the patients see ‘the truth’. There might be a sliver of truth to that, as I can have a bit of a black-and-white view on the world.

So I found my calling in psychiatry. Because psychiatry has plenty of non-unicorns in it, I avoided the worst of the prejudice. But even in Manehattan, which is as metropolitan and multi-cultural a city as there is in Equestria, I still got dirty looks from unicorns who scoffed at the idea of an earth pony becomin’ a doctor.

Of course, that just made me work even harder! Us Apples are stubborn folk, and the thought of them looking down their noses at me just because I didn’t have a horn really got me going. I wasn’t the smartest pony in school, but I was angry and I worked as hard as I ever had at the farm. I was determined to show them up.

And boy, did I! I wasn't the top of my class, but I was darned close. Twilight, the satisfaction I felt when I was standin’ up on that stage as they read out my accomplishments… it was something real magical. And after graduation I applied for residency here at Broadhoof. After all, it was close to home, and because Ma had been here during the last couple years of her life I felt a bit of a connection with the place.

Now I know that I’ve said it a few times, but I’m gonna say it again: going to a university is mighty expensive. And while I was away at school, Big Mac had to run the farm on his own. Apple Bloom was old enough to do some of the chores, but she couldn’t do too much, not while still havin’ to go to school and such. And Granny? Well, she’s too old to be doing a lot of physical work on the farm these days, even though she’s still healthy for a mare of her years.

A couple of fast-talking city ponies came to the farm offerin’ some fancy machine of theirs that was supposed to speed up the whole process and take care of some of the work, but Big Mac and Granny wouldn’t consider it. Apple family cider is made by hoof with love and care, and making it faster wasn’t worth losing that special somethin’ that really makes it so darn delicious.

Instead we ended up taking out loans to help pay for my tuition and books and such. Some of the fields went fallow just because we couldn’t work them. Already in debt because of the tuition, there weren’t any bits available for hired hooves. Money was real tight. It still is, really. And even though it was my responsibility to try and make the best of myself, I still felt guilty for going off to college while Big Mac and Apple Bloom stayed on the farm. We owed the bank a lot of money, and if there had been a bad harvest or two, we might have lost it all while I was away in the Big City. But again, Big Mac never once blamed me for anything, no matter how bad things got.

Thankfully, now that I’m outa school I’m earning a paycheck as well. In fact, with my salary, we’ve actually been able to afford some hired help for this year’s harvest. Sure, Big Mac will grumble a bit about them not being as handy around the farm as an Apple would be, but that's just part of his character. He might have a heart of gold, but he’s a proud and stubborn Apple, through and through. I’m back livin’ on the farm too, which means I can help out during my days off. We’ve reopened the fields we had left fallow now that we have the horsepower to work them all, so this year’s crop should help repay some of our debts.

So, what else? Oh, right. Almost forgot I was telling you about back when we first met, Twilight. Well, like I said, you didn’t say much initially. But since I was the new mare, it was part of my job to help escort our patients around the yard for their daily exercise. And so, I would spend the time talking, you’d spend it listening, and we’d stroll around the yard enjoying the sun.

I didn’t know if you enjoyed our time together, or if you were even listening, but it helped me to think I had a kind ear and somepony to talk to. And boy, did I need it. School teaches you a lot of things Twilight, but a diploma and years of training doesn’t prepare you for the reality of working within a psychiatric hospital. It can break you down, if you don’t have an outlet for it. I’d thought that, since I’d had a rough childhood and I’d watched my Ma succumb to dementia, that I was well prepared. But I sure learned pretty quickly that no, no I wasn’t.

A month after I had arrived, I was feeling pretty good about myself. I knew the routines, I was getting familiar with patients like you, and nothing major had happened yet. Doctor Rose was impressed enough with my progress that I was assigned a small bi-weekly therapy group to run. It was nothing major, just a chance to get some of our stable but introverted patients to spend some time with other ponies. One patient was this quiet pegasus mare. She was so terribly anxious that she would sit as far away from the rest of the group as she could, and she’d freeze up and go almost catatonic whenever anypony tried to talk to her. She’d only talk to me during those sessions, and then it was just one-word answers.

What? Yeah, Dreamer, she’s the one that they let keep all the birds. Don’t call her that! She has a name, you know. No, I can’t say it aloud, not with Twilight here. But regardless, it certainly isn’t something as rude as “birdgirl.” I swear, you’ve been readin’ too many of them articles in the papers. One doctor tells a reporter with a flair for the dramatic about a patient with some birds, and all of a sudden she’s raising hundreds of eagles in the attic! What’s worse is how many ponies believed it. I even had somepony ask me when I was shopping if the “Birdgirl of Broadhoof” was actually a distant relative of the Princesses locked away in a tower because she was mad!

Yeah, I know you didn’t mean it like that, Dreamer. And I’m sorry for snappin’ at you and all, but we need to treat her with respect. Most of you doctors who work outside the psych-ward have some pretty strong misconceptions about our patients, always believing whatever story you hear.

So, where was I? Okay, yeah, the group was fine, despite the extreme shyness all around. We were just startin’, and the idea was to keep things nice and calm so we could expose them to constructive social interaction. We had little show-and-tell events where they could present a drawing or picture they had done. This pegasus couldn’t bring herself to speak, so I would hold up her item to show the others. Which, obviously, defeated the point of the exercise. On a recommendation from Doctor Rose I suggested she bring one of her birds to show and tell. The mare always did seem more comfortable with animals, and she accepted.

So one day she produces a small cage with this lovely yellow canary inside. She opens the cage and it hops out onto her foreleg. Then she starts tellin’ the others in a voice barely above a whisper about her bird. It was only a few sentences, and even then nopony could hear anything anyway, but it was more than she had said in every other meeting combined. I was feeling pretty dang happy at the progress, and considered havin’ her introduce a different bird every meeting. Anything to get her talkin’, you know?

But then one of the patients, another pegasus, takes to the air and zooms in closer, hovering a yard away to get a better look at the bird. This startles the bird and it shoots off in the other direction – flying right at another patient’s face. Before anyone can so much as blink the pony screams in fear and takes a wild swing at the bird, knocking it to the ground. The mare panics and rushes to the bird’s side while I have to get the orderlies to help restore order. So we send the patients back to their rooms, including the mare whose by now just crying and clutching her injured bird. One of the doctors with some veterinarian practice goes to see what he can do, and we get on with the day.

The next morning I get stopped by Doctor Rose before I can even change into my scrubs. He brings me into the office and tells me that we need to talk. I was expectin’ him to chew me out for what had happened the day before. Instead, it turns out that the bird had died from its injuries. The mare was inconsolable after that, weepin’ and moanin’ and tuggin’ at her mane. It took them hours to get her calmed down, but eventually they managed to get her into bed.

However, when the orderlies go in to wake her up for breakfast, they find her covered in blood and barely breathin’. She’d broken the small mirror that had been in the bird’s cage and had tried to kill herself with the shards of glass. Because she had been so stable for so long, no one ever imagined that those tiny little mirrors could be a risk, or even that she might attempt suicide.

Thankfully the cuts hadn’t been too deep and she survived, but I remember feeling so insignificant at that moment. He tried to tell me it wasn’t my fault, and that I had been doing my best for the patients when events had conspired against me. It didn’t help the sense of guilt I felt. I might not have been at fault, but I was responsible for my patients. A patient I had been helping tried to commit suicide. There is no class you can take that will prepare you for feeling that ashamed of yourself. That was my first real wake-up call about what my new career entailed.

I needed a pony I could talk too. Now, because I’d been off in Manehattan for so long, I hardly knew any pony in town. The month since I moved back in didn’t offer much of a chance to meet new ponies, considering how busy I was between my job and the farm. All my school friends were off doing their own internships far from Ponyville, and the staff here aren’t exactly the most friendly bunch to new doctors. No offense, Dreamer.

Sure, I always had my family, but I couldn’t talk to them about that. Apple Bloom’s too young to hear such stories. And Big Mac? We talk about the farm and how things are going, but I can’t talk to him about how I’m feeling or the problems I’m facing. How do any of my problems stack up to his?

So really Twilight, you were my outlet. I could talk to you about anything, from my lack of friends to the stresses of the job, and you were there to listen. Again, at first I didn’t know if you listened or even cared what I said, but it was a relief to just be able to talk at someone freely.

I didn’t realize you actually enjoyed it until a week after we had started our walks, when I had a few days off. Doctor Rose told me you had asked about me when I didn’t show up, and seemed a bit upset at my absence. Then he handed me something you had created in your arts and crafts session.

It was only when Applejack paused that Twilight realized she was leaning forward in her bed, hanging onto every word. Reaching into one of her pockets, Applejack produced a folded piece of purple construction paper. She offered it Twilight, who glanced up quizzically before taking the object from her.

Applejack nodded and gestured with a hoof. “Go ahead and open it up.” Twilight had barely moved her hooves when Applejack inhaled sharply, freezing her in place. “Carefully!” she added as she watched Twilight’s hooves.

Twilight sniffed before proceeding with exaggerated care. It turned out to be a very prudent choice. She had expected something simple that fit their view of her: dried pasta glued to paper, or a crayon drawing perhaps.

What she held was beautiful. Fragile, yes, but still magnificent. It unfurled like a purple and orange flower blooming in her hooves, forming a six-pointed star reminiscent of the one on her flank. Each strip of paper was cut and glued together with an exacting attention to detail. It might have been made from school supplies, but it was an impressive feat.

In the middle of the artificial flower there was a message inscribed upon a small circle of white paper. ‘Hope everything gets easier for you soon! Your friend, Twilight Sparkle’. The thin lines of intricate calligraphy demonstrated more of the careful work that went into its construction. The simplicity in the message made the effort put into the writing more profound.

“That’s something else,” added Dreamer after peeking over to see the item.

Twilight ignored him as she reread the message a few times. She silently handed it back to Applejack. It was her hoofwriting.

“Yeah, it really is,” she smiled as she folded it back up and carefully returned it to one of her pockets. “So after that, Doctor Rose made it part of your therapy to walk with me every day, Twilight. Soon enough you were as talkative as I was. Of course, you wanted to talk about stuff like history or arcane theory – things that were far above my level on the best of days. You’re one smart pony, Twilight, and although I didn’t understand a lot of it, the least I could do was return the favor. I know that you’re still the same mare that listened to all my problems when I didn’t have anywhere else to turn. And although you might not remember any of it right now, I like to think that you’re still my friend.”

Twilight stared at Applejack in the quiet pause that followed the end of the story. She struggled to find her thoughts. How was she supposed to handle this? The story had been filled with errors. There had been some believable elements, but they couldn’t account for all the incongruities that dominated her narrative. Applejack had been so honest, so real, that Twilight couldn’t ignore how invested she had become as she had listened to the mare’s story. There wasn’t any deceit in her words, despite most of them being fabrications. And the flower – her supposed ‘gift’ to this Applejack? It bore all the hallmarks of something Twilight would have made, but she knew she hadn’t made it. What was she supposed to believe?

Without speaking Twilight leaned over towards Applejack. Seated beside her bed, Applejack was close enough that Twilight could bring her nose just inches from her face. She paused there, staring through Applejack’s green eyes as if they were windows into the soul. Their proximity was enough to garner an anxious murmur out of Dreamer. She ignored him fully, her watery eyes locked onto Applejack’s own, searching for something hidden there.

Those few heartbeats dragged on for an eternity. But Twilight’s confusion faded. Eventually she nodded, a barely perceptible movement in the head that was as resolute as a shouted declaration. She had seen enough. She had made up her mind.

Twilight wrapped her foreleg around Applejack and hugged her tightly.

“I’m still your friend, Applejack. I will always be your friend. Whatever happened can’t change that,” she promised Applejack, her voice firm iron even as her tears dampened her Applejack’s coat. “You don’t remember my life, and I don’t remember yours, but I know that it is you in there. I can... I can see it, sense it, feel it. And together we will make things right.”

They embraced like sisters who had been separated for far too long. Whatever the cause that had brought her to this word, Twilight was certain of one thing: Applejack was here with her. She might never be certain about why this had all happened, but she could be confident of one thing: even in a world where her past was considered the delusion of a sick mind, she still had her friends. She had to believe that.

Closing her eyes, Twilight cried silently into Applejack’s shoulder as she held firmly onto her friend. The fear and loneliness that had plagued her since awakening was banished for a few blessed minutes, seeping out through her tears as if she was purging herself of a poison. It didn’t matter if she was still imprisoned, if everyone in her life thought she was crazy, or if her past had been forgotten by all. She could still feel the bonds of friendship there, a comforting fire in the depths of winter. As long as she had that, she could find a way home.

There was nothing fake in Applejack’s smile as she hugged her friend back.

Chapter 4

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Asylum

Chapter 4

“Over here are the arts and crafts rooms. There are two of them, due to the different needs of our patients. After all, every pony is different. The room across the way is for the patients that need more assistance. It’s mostly hoof painting, drawing with crayons, Play-Doe – that sort of thing. This one here is for the patients like you that we can trust with more responsibility. You know, havin’ access to clay, oil paints, and scissors.” Applejack glanced back over her shoulder as they walked past the two doors. She gave Twilight Sparkle a knowing smile. “I bet you think it sounds a bit childish, calling it ‘arts and crafts’ like this was an elementary school and all, but expressing oneself creatively can be very therapeutic.”

Twilight nodded at the words and spared a glance through one of the windows. She didn’t return the smile.

“Now, down this way are the life-skills classrooms...” continued Applejack as she resumed her tour of the hospital. Twilight followed Applejack like a dutiful shadow. She didn’t say anything, only nodding whenever prompted by a pause in the noise or a look from Applejack. She had more pressing concerns.

What about her other friends?

The question had plagued her ever since they had left her room. She had been so thrilled when she had first found something of her Applejack in the mare she was following. She might have a different accent and she might have become a doctor, but beyond the altered history, it was still the same pony deep down. Feeling hopeful was a rare occurrence, and Twilight had savored it for as long as she could.

Their tearful embrace had been interrupted by Dreamer with an embarrassed cough, who had told them that dinner was going to be ready soon. After one more examination to make sure Twilight had recovered from the anesthetic he had bid his farewell, leaving the two mares to go on to the dining facilities together. With Applejack’s help she had managed to stand upright and walk out into the hallway. Although her limbs had been stiff, the sense of liberation had put a spring in her step. There were no orderlies with truncheons, no nurses with fake smiles, and no doctors watching her – none save the one she called friend.

The sense of optimism she had started to embrace had not lasted long, however.

Just as Twilight had allowed herself to take solace in the familiarity in this world’s Applejack, the doctor had turned to give her a happy grin. “Now how about we go down to the cafeteria, sugarcube? I’ll give you a little tour on the way; it won’t take long. Plus, there should be a few of your friends there when we arrive. Isn’t that excitin’?”

Twilight had froze. Although Applejack’s expression had been warm and sincere, the words had plunged a cold spike through Twilight’s heart. “My... friends?” she had finally asked, the icy touch of dread returning with unwelcome familiarity.

“Oh, I know you might not remember any of them right now,” Applejack had said as she squeezed Twilight’s shoulder, attempting to reassure her. It hadn’t worked. “No need to be self-conscious about it neither. I’ll be there with you, so don’t you worry none. Hopefully, once you meet them, it should free up some of your memories. So come on, sugarcube. Lets go get some grub and say hello.”

Twilight had dumbly followed her while she struggled to reign in her thoughts. Friends. Her friends. The simple phrase was laden with terrible consequences. Somehow she had kept herself ignorant of what Applejack’s presence had truly meant. But her words had pulled the blindfold from Twilight's mind, and she could finally grasp the horrible potential the innocuous phrase represented.

If Applejack was here... then what about the rest of her friends?

Twilight had been struck mute by the terrible possibilities inherent in Applejack’s words. So she had continued to follow Applejack while she had pointed out the sights and locations along the way, not saying a word. She still didn’t trust herself to speak. What could she say?

Ahead of her, Applejack rambled on about one of the nearby rooms, but Twilight didn't hear any of it. The dreaded phrase drowned out Applejack’s words. It had been joined by five names, each one ominously circling her thoughts like buzzard’s around a carcass.

Rainbow Dash. Rarity. Pinkie Pie. Fluttershy. Spike. Each name was accompanied by a burst of images and sense memory: a rainbow streak in the sky, a new dress sparkling in the sunlight, the scent of flour and sugar, the soft melody of bird song, the loving grin of a younger brother.

If Applejack was here, it made sense that the others could be as well. It was a logical assumption, after all. But were they as different as Applejack was? Could all of her friends be familiar strangers, faces she recognized but knew nothing about? What if Applejack was the one closest to her memories? Could the others be as foreign to her as the hospital was? She wanted to ask about her friends, yet she dread what answers she might receive. Her tongue continued to lay dormant in her mouth.

Twilight tried pushing back against her fears. She wasn’t even sure what friends Applejack meant. It was just as likely that in this world she didn’t know most of her real friends. A more reasonable conclusion was to assume that Applejack meant friends from the hospital – other patients they said were her friends on the basis of artificial memories. It was foolish to fear what was highly unlikely. Twilight truly had nothing to worry about.

The voice of logical doubt didn’t work. Twilight wouldn’t believe the false assurances, despite how much she wished that she could. Her insides twisted in on themselves as she continued to replay what she knew in her mind. It was depressingly little: she had nothing to go on, not a hint about Rainbow Dash, Rarity, or Pinkie Pie. Even Spike, her brother-slash-assistant, seemed to have vanished completely from her life.

Fluttershy, however...

The tragic story about the pegasus mare resurfaced time and again, unable to be ignored. It wasn’t proof of anything, just a tale from this Applejack’s past. Yet, her attempts to convince herself that it had to be just a coincidence couldn’t stop the assault of nightmarish pictures, each one dragged up from the depths of her mind to torment her. A pony crying in a dark room... a blood-stained chunk of jagged glass... the panicked shouts of doctors as they attempted to keep a half-dead mare alive...

It was Fluttershy the orderlies had found. Twilight couldn’t know that, of course, but a terrible certainty that it was fact destroyed any attempt at logical skepticism. She could see it as if she were there; her friend sobbing in the darkness while ruby tears leaked from the gashes in her wrists. The fear and nausea from the sight were real, even if the images were not.

It was surely just a fabrication of a distraught mind, another example of her imagination tormenting her. Yet, Twilight couldn’t keep from believing the story was about Fluttershy, no matter how much it hurt her. She was a terrible friend for so quickly assuming that she could be the suicidal pony of the story. Even the guilt wasn’t enough to keep her mind from continuing to torture her with the grisly fantasies.

Applejack stopped without warning, and Twilight just managed to pull herself short of an embarrassing collision. It was the second time that day she had almost planted her horn into another pony’s backside. Twilight glanced up to find an expectant look on Applejack’s face, oblivious to the narrowly averted accident. Twilight nodded numbly, too distracted to even blush. Satisfied, Applejack continued her tour, gesturing silently at the door beside her.

Behind her, the unicorn plodded onward.

Twilight tried to convince herself that this world wasn’t hers. Whoever the friends were, they weren’t the same ponies she had learned to love. The Fluttershy that haunted her mind wasn’t her Fluttershy. These ponies were just reflections in a dirty mirror, dark facsimiles of reality. Her real friends were in her memories. In fact, her friends were probably back home in her world, trying their best to save her themselves.

Twilight repeated the lie over and over as if to make it true through force of repetition alone, desperate to make herself believe. It wasn’t working. Every time she tried to force her logical side to accept it, she remembered what she had seen in Applejack’s eyes.

Applejack had been so different. Her accent was muted, her body language was wrong, and even her scent was off – the earthen tones of dirt and soil had been replaced with the sterile odor of antiseptics and soap. The past she described was far removed from what Twilight knew to be real.

Yet, those eyes had been exactly as she remembered, full of determination, compassion, and honesty. Beneath the mutated past it was the same Applejack. Deep down, the bonds of friendship that had given them the strength to defeat Nightmare Moon were still there.

Eventually Twilight found herself unable to repeat the lies any more. She wasn’t going to believe that the Applejack she was following was not, in some way, related to her Applejack. Futility and madness lay down that path. Trying to force herself to believe a lie was anathema to everything she stood for!

She needed more information, she needed to find out about what had happened. Twilight tried to dredge up some more confidence as she struggled back against the morose thoughts that had plagued her since leaving her room. Whatever the “truth” of this strange world was, she was not going to hide behind lies any more. This twisted reality would not break her.

Fluttershy’s soft cries taunted her resolve, the terrible moans rising up from the shadows of her mind. Twilight swallowed. She would have the strength. Whatever anguish she might suffer, she had to stand up to it. There was no other option. Giving in to lies to spare herself the pain of this world’s altered past was just another form of self delusion. This world was not hers, but she would meet its challenges and succeed.

She had to pass through this trial without losing herself to despair. If she surrendered, if she gave in, she would never escape. Raising her head a little higher, Twilight forced herself to close the gap between her and her friend Applejack. She would not give in like the sobbing mare of her nightmares.

Twilight would fight back, and she would find a way home.

The walk to the cafeteria was taking longer than Twilight had anticipated. The cause of the delay was fairly obvious, she considered, glancing over at Applejack. Her guide had decided to give her the scenic route, after all. She wouldn’t be surprised if she had been shown nearly every room in the hospital.

She wasn’t too upset, though. How could she be? Focusing on what Applejack was saying kept her mind off of what she might find when she finally met her “friends”. It wasn’t much consolation, but it was enough to banish the nightmarish images from her mind. Even the ghostly moans of the not-Fluttershy had gone silent, thank Celestia.

Having to follow Applejack around as she pointed out every bathroom and janitorial closet in the hospital was a small price to pay for taking away her nightmares.

“This here is our musical room. We have all sorts of musical instruments in here,” Applejack declared proudly, propping open the door to the room so Twilight could peek inside. “We’ve got a piano, cellos, violins, flutes, and the like. They’re all donations, of course, so you’ll have to excuse the second-hoof nature of them all, but they work just fine.”

Twilight took a glance around the inside of the small room. Instrument cases lined the walls, circling a collection of chairs and music stands. A white mare with a light-bulb cutie mark sat tuning a violin. The dark blue stallion she was talking to glanced up from his cello, noticing the onlookers. He said something to her before they both turned and waved. “Hey Doctor A.J.!” said the mare cheerfully. “Hey Twilight!”

Applejack waved back with that artificial smile. “Heya Bright, heya Finder. Don’t take too long with your practicin’, supper is gonna be ready real soon.”

“We won’t,” they said simultaneously. They glanced at each other. “Jinx!” they shouted in unison, launching them into a giggling fit.

Twilight stopped waving at the unknown ponies when Applejack did. “It’s bigger than I expected,” Twilight said, pulling back her head to let Applejack close the door. She tried to ignore the familiarity the two ponies had used when they had called out to her; it brought back dark thoughts concerning her friends she was still trying to suppress. “You have enough chairs in there for twenty more ponies at least. Do you really have enough patients to use them all?”

“Sure do, sugarcube. We actually hold little concerts every once in awhile. You know, on holidays and such.”

“You have enough ponies you trust with musical instruments to play concerts? I knew you had a lot of patients, but I guess I was still underestimating just how many there actually are."

Applejack nodded as she continued on down the hallway. “We sure do. It’s a big hospital, and plenty of our patients are responsible enough to handle musical instruments just fine. Even most of our long-term guests can be trusted with certain activities. Take the mare back there, Bright Mind. She’s smart, really kind and considerate, and most of the time she’s just like any other pony – so much so that it might not seem like she needs to even be here. However, she suffers from crippling Nyctophobia.”

“She’s afraid of the dark?”

“Not just afraid, Twilight – she’s terrified of it. If the lights go out, or even just get dim, she has these terrible panic attacks. They’re so bad that she can injure herself and others attemptin’ to find light. Her parents had to commit her when she was still a young filly, after she put her father and sister in the hospital.”

Twilight inhaled sharply. “She attacked her family?”

“No, no, no. Not like that,” said Applejack as she waved a hoof. “See, the power went out at their home when they were going upstairs to put her to bed. They’ve had power outages before, of course, so they usually put her to bed early enough that they could light some candles for her, in case it went out during the night. Well, this time it happened while her father and older sister were helping her up the stairs, when they didn’t have any lights up. Bright panicked, and knocked them all down. Her sister broke a leg and her father broke two vertebrae, along with the other cuts and contusions. He was nearly paralyzed.”

“Oh... oh my...”

“Yep. Normally they might have been able to handle it as a family, with therapy and medication, but Bright Mind won’t talk about her problem at all. She’s in denial about her fear, so there wasn’t much her parents could really do. So she's been here at Broadhoof for about a year or so. Her family does come to visit regularly, and she gets lessons to make up for the school she is missing. Really, outside of her phobia, she is a regular little filly.”

There was a heavy silence between the two mares as they walked together. Twilight mulled the story over in her mind. “So she got committed by her parents,” she finally said. “I mean, to be stuck in a place like this... it sounds more like a prison sentence than anything.” She noticed a shadow cross Applejack’s face, but it vanished as quickly as it had appeared.

“They’re not all committed here by others,” said Applejack carefully. “In fact, the vast majority of ponies we deal with have voluntarily checked themselves in.”

“Voluntarily? Ponies actually want to come here?”

“Sure do. Lots of ponies come here for treatment. We are the biggest psychiatric hospital in Equestria,” said Applejack proudly. “While we have a pretty sizeable long-term population, most ponies are just here temporarily. Some come back regularly for check-ups and further therapy, but most are here for less than a week.”

“Short-term patients don’t sound like they would be much interested in playing music for the hospital,” she pointed out as they turned down another hallway.

“Well, sure. Most of the hospital is just like any other hospital, really. If you’re only here for a day or two, you don’t rightly need to have access to arts and crafts, now do you? This part of the facility is our high-security wing. Our guests here need to have recreational activities they can enjoy. And music, like paintin’, is a great source of therapy for many ponies.”

“High-security wing?” Twilight repeated, her eyes narrowing.

Applejack flinched. “I, uh, I... I meant to say that this is our intensive-care ward,” she stammered, unable to meet Twilight’s gaze. She really was a terrible liar.

Twilight’s eyes drilled into the doctor. “But you didn’t say that. You said ‘high-security’.” She continued to push Applejack, keeping her voice measured and quiet as she advanced on her. “High-security carries certain connotations about it. Things like guards... and cells... and dangerous criminals...”

Applejack gulped as her back pressed against the wall. “Well, Twilight... um, you see...” she said, looking everywhere but the unicorn’s face. She’d let something slip and had revealed something she hadn’t meant to, and Twilight wanted to know what it was.

“Especially odd mistake to make, considering that face you made when I called this place a prison,” Twilight continued, moving in closer until she was just inches from Applejack. She had her cornered against the wall like a hungry timberwolf. “So come on, Applejack – we’re friends. Why did you call this the high-security wing?” She had to keep pressing Applejack, keep her on the back hoof, before she could find an excuse.

Twilight couldn’t have predicted that the excuse might find her.

“Hey, Doctor A.J.! Heya T... Twilight? Ohmigosh! Twilight!”

Whatever imminent victory Twilight had hoped for was obliterated by the loud shout. They jerked their heads around as one, both of their eyes opening in shock as a pink missile rushed down the hallway at them. No, not at them – at her. Whatever it was, the blur was on a collision course with Twilight.

The sprockets within Twilight’s mind caught and then jammed in the sudden gear-shift, the machinery freezing up as it struggled to adjust to the approaching threat. Her legs were trapped in molasses as she floundered beneath the flight or fight reflex. It was too late. At the last moment she lifted a protective hoof before her face and closed her eyes.

The object slammed into Twilight with enough force to launch them both through the air. Gravity was a jealous lover, however, and greedily reached out to pull them back into its embrace.

Thankfully, the hard tiles were there to break her fall, and Twilight hit the ground with a sharp smack. A moment later the breath was knocked from her lungs when the missile landed atop her, Twilight’s soft purple flesh selflessly shielding her attacker from the impact. The two of them slid a yard along the tiles in an entangled mess.

“Twilight! Oh I’ve missed you sooooooo much!” Pinkie Pie shouted as she nuzzled the unicorn’s chest, ignorant of Twilight’s pained gasps for air as Pinkie squeezed her in a tight hug. “You were gone forever!”

A small part of Twilight was comforted by the fact that Pinkie Pie was acting so... normal. Well, normal for Pinkie, at any rate. The exuberance, the happiness, the over-the-top displays of friendship – it was the Pinkie Pie she remembered.

The rest of Twilight was obsessing over her imminent suffocation.

“Pinkie Pie!” Applejack barked loudly as the edges of Twilight’s vision began to turn grey. “Let go of Twilight this instant!”

The stern disapproval in the command snapped Pinkie Pie out of her lethal greeting. “Oh no! I’m sorry Twilight! Oh Celestia, I didn’t mean to hurt you!” She released Twilight and leapt to her hooves, her voice quivering. “I didn’t mean... I was just so super excited to see you! I was really worried about you since you had been gone for so long!”

Twilight gasped loudly as she filled her starving lungs. Oxygen had never tasted so sweet. It was a highly underrated gas. “It’s... okay... Pinkie...” she managed to wheeze in between bouts of pained coughing. Instead of exploding with anger as she had half feared might happen, Twilight found herself relatively calm. She chalked it up to meeting another one of her friends. That, and oxygen starvation.

“Pinkamena Diane Pie! What have we told you about actin’ like that?” Applejack asked, scolding her like a disobedient filly. Applejack trotted over and offered Twilight a hoof, still glaring at Pinkie Pie. Twilight took it gratefully and pulled herself upright again. Her chest still hurt and she was still wheezing, but she no longer felt like an anaconda was trying to make her its next meal. That was something, at least.

“Well?” Applejack demanded.

“But doctor... I didn’t... I wasn’t...” Pinkie looked at the other two ponies aghast, her voice a shame-filled whisper.

“I said, what did we tell you about actin’ like that?” repeated Applejack, her voice and expression dripping with maternal disapproval.

“That... I’m not supposed to rough-house in the hospital,” Pinkie finally said, her sky-blue eyes trembling as she stared down at the floor. The poofy hair Twilight remembered so well was gone, the currently straight locks as despondent and limp as the rest of her.

“Exactly. Now, you apologize to Twilight this instant, missy.”

Pinkie Pie spun around to face the unicorn, the corners of her eyes already glistening with tears. “I’m so so so sorry Twilight! I really really really am! I didn’t mean to run into you like that, but I was just so excited, and I hadn’t seen you in so long, and... and... pleasedon’thateme!” The last of Pinkie’s apology came out in a rush – a single long word of guilt and fear – before she clapped her hooves to her eyes and began sobbing.

Twilight stared down at the crying Pinkie Pie in wide-eyed silence. She glanced over at Applejack with an expression of perfect confusion. The other mare gestured with her head at Pinkie Pie, urging Twilight to respond. “Um... apology accepted?”

“Oh thank you Twilight! Thank you thank you thank you!” she said ecstatically, her body sagging in relief. Pinkie made as if to give Twilight another hug but caught herself, blushing deeply. She sniffled and tried to dry her eyes with a hoof instead. “I’m super serious Twilight, I feel awful for treating you like that. I was so excited to see you again that I... I just wasn’t thinking.”

Applejack stepped over to Pinkie Pie. “Hey now, sugarcube, she accepted your apology already, so there’s no need to keep beatin’ yourself up over it,” Applejack said, rubbing the back of her neck. The disapproval had been replaced with a tone of gentle reassurance. Pinkie Pie sniffled loudly, her tear-streaked face breaking into a hesitant smile.

“Yeah, Pinkie, I’m just fine now,” she said with a reassuring grin, ignoring the throbbing bruises up and down her sides. Pinkie Pie seemed to brighten up immediately, her own smile growing wider. Although Pinkie had nearly assassinated her with irrational exuberance, she couldn’t deny that the happy energy in that smile certainly was a welcome taste of home. “Just, you know, don’t do it again.”

“I promise I won’t!” she said. Her body went rigid and her eyes shot wide open. “No, that is not enough! A promise just won’t cut it this time.”

Twilight blinked. Talking with Pinkie Pie could leave one feeling like they were always one step behind. “Actually, that's just f–”

“I must Pinkie Promise!” Pinkie Pie interrupted loudly. Before Twilight could respond Pinkie dropped into a deep bow before her, kneeling on her forelegs and touching her head to the white tiles of the floor. She looked like a knight swearing an oath, although Twilight couldn’t remember many illustrations of knights wearing hospital gowns. Twilight glanced over at Applejack, but she just shrugged helplessly.

“I, Lady Pinkie of the Order of the Pie, do declare that I shall never ever ever ever harm my bestest friend, Lady Sparkle of Broadhoof, no matter how excited I be,” she said firmly. Twilight assumed Pinkie was attempting to deliver her speech with the gravitas of a knight swearing an oath, but the entire effect was subverted by the childish phrases. That, and the fact that her voice was muffled by her awkward stance, making it sound as if she were talking through a towel. “Wherefore, henceforth, heretofore, for yonder more, I do make this a Pinkie Promise; may it never be broken! Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!” At which point Pinkie Pie lifted her head just enough to prod her left eyeball.

Words completely failed Twilight. Silence reigned.

Eventually Applejack let out an exasperated sigh. “Pinkamena, please get up off the floor. It ain’t sanitary.”

“Okie-dokie!” a beaming Pinkie Pie said as she leapt to her hooves. “There! Now you know I’ll never ever do that again! I take my Pinkie Promises veeeeery seriously.”

“I’m quite aware of that,” Twilight replied as her brain finally caught up to the rest of her. It was hard to process it all: Pinkie Pie was acting erratically and energetically and exuberantly and...

… and just like the real Pinkie Pie. A genuine smile spread over Twilight’s face. “You know, Pinkie, it is really good to see you,” she said. Pinkie hardly seemed different at all. Some of her earlier fears were banished by the warm relief she felt spreading through her. Maybe, just maybe, if Pinkie was so similar to her real self, then the others could be as well. Twilight might even have been mistaken about Fluttershy! It was a reassuring thought.

“I’m glad to see that you haven’t changed one bit,” Twilight continued, drawing strength from the familiar presence. “Well, except for your hair, I guess.”

“My hair?” she asked, lifting her eyes upwards. “What’s different about my hair?”

“It’s... flat.”

“So?”

“It’s supposed to be all, you know, poofy.”

Pinkie tilted her head like a confused puppy. “Poofy?” she repeated. “My hair isn’t poofy.”

A hint of her earlier dread returned. “Really?”

“I think I’d remember if my hair was ever all awesome and poofy,” Pinkie Pie said with a firm nod. “I mean, poofy hair sounds super cool. If I knew how to get my hair all poofy, I’d totally do it!”

“Oh. Right. I was just confused,” Twilight lied through a nervous smile. “That kinda thing happens after you hit your head.”

“I’m still super sorry about that,” Pinkie Pie apologized again.

“Oh, its okay Pinkie. Don’t worry yourself about it,” Twilight waved a hoof, covering for her own gaffe. She let some of her own concerns go as well, pushing thoughts about her friend’s lifeless hair from her mind. It wasn’t important – a different hairstyle meant nothing. It was just a small, cosmetic change. Nothing she needed to get worried about. Pinkie Pie was still just as she remembered.

“Now Pinkie Pie, don’t be bothered if Twilight here asks you any odd questions,” Applejack said, giving her a gentle touch on the shoulder. “The reason you haven’t seen her recently is she’s been undergoing a new treatment. Now–”

“Really?” Pinkie Pie interrupted, glancing between the other ponies. “But what does–”

Applejack ignored Pinkie and kept smoothly talking over her – it looked like a well-practiced skill. “Now one of the side-effects of the treatment is that Twilight here is havin’ a little trouble with her memories. So, if she has any strange questions about stuff, just go ahead and answer her as best you’re able. Twilight ain’t tryin’ to be rude or nothin’, she’s just tryin’ to fill in the blanks. Okay?”

“Absolutely!” Pinkie said, before her eyes bulged out of her face and she gasped – again. Spinning around she pushed her face against Twilight’s, her eyes locked on the unicorn’s. “But you still remember me, right Twilight?” she asked with frantic urgency.

“O-Of course,” Twilight said. Two years of being friends with Pinkie Pie didn’t prepare one for the frequent and disquieting breaches of personal space.

“Whew! That's a huge relief!” Pinkie Pie said, wiping non-existent sweat from her brow with exaggerated care. As Pinkie pantomimed being ‘hugely relieved’, Twilight glanced around the hallway; they were the only ponies there. Twilight frowned.

“Uh, Pinkie” she asked slowly. “Why were you out here alone? I mean, you’re a patient, so shouldn’t you have an escort or something?”

“Oh, but the doctors and nurses trust me!” Pinkie Pie chirped.

“What she means to say,” Applejack explained, “is that Pinkie here is one of our patient assistants. She a good girl, helpin’ us out around the hospital with small tasks. Carryin’ notes, cleanin’ up after others, and that sort of thing. She’s proven herself responsible enough to not need an escort all the time.” Pinkie Pie smiled proudly at the compliment.

Applejack turned her head back towards Pinkie. “Of course, that doesn’t give her the right to just wander the halls on her lonesome,” she pointed out, some of the iron returning to her voice.

“But I have a good reason! Honest!”

“Which is what, exactly?”

Pinkie Pie took a deep breath, her chest expanding like a party balloon, before she exhaled her answer as one long sentence. “I was outside helping Doctor Roy put away the equipment after we finished playing our games and he told me it was time to go to dinner so I was all like yay and was really happy because I was super hungry even though I was kinda sad because we had been having lots of fun and then I was going towards the cafeteria but then I started to feel a tingling in my left hip and a left-right twitching in my tail and so I took a right instead of a left and then another right and then I took a left and that's when I found you and Twilight!”

“Pinkie sense?” Twilight asked as Pinkie Pie gasped for air, the question leaving her mouth before she was even aware she was speaking.

“Exactly! I felt something, and it lead me right to you two!”

“Oh, don’t you encourage her,” she told Twilight before turning back to the other mare. “Pinkie Pie, I know you believe you have this sixth sense of yours, but that's no excuse for wandering off on your own. It just ain’t safe.”

“But–”

“No buts!” Applejack stomped her hoof for emphasis. Her face softened. “Look, Pinkie... we can’t let you go off on your own because we’re responsible for you. If we don’t know where you are, then how can we help you if something bad happens? It just ain’t fair for you to put us in that sorta position. Do you understand?”

“Yeah, I know...” Pinkie Pie said softly, lowering her head slightly. “I just... this one was really strong.”

“I’m sure it was, sugarcube. Just remember, though,” Applejack said in that Official Condescending Doctor Tone that Twilight loathed so much, “that while this time you found us, what if somepony else finds you next time? You might lose your privileges if they find you just wanderin’ the halls. Or worse, what if Nurse Ratchet were to find you?”

Pinkie Pie’s eyes widened in alarm. “Oh gosh, I didn’t even think about that!” she said, twirling her head around as if the nurse was sneaking up on her.

Applejack rolled her eyes. “Pinkie, she’s not here right now. It was just a hypothetical question.” Pinkie exhaled in relief. “Now, since we found you – well, I guess technically you found us – why don’t we all head off to supper together? That way you can catch up with Twilight here. Does that sound like fun to you?”

“Okie-dokie-lokie!” Pinkie Pie said, her voice as happy and cheerful as before. “It will be so much more exciting now that I get to talk to my bestest buddy Twilight! Not that I don’t like spending time with my other bestest buddy, Dr. A.J., but now it will be with my two bestest buddies! That's like,” she counted on her hooves, “four times the excitement!”

Twilight couldn’t help herself. “Four times? I think you mean two, Pinkie.”

“Nope. Four!” Pinkie Pie declared with absolute certainty. “Because there would be two of you, but you’re both my bestest friends, so that is worth at least four regular friendships. But then, because there are two of you, I’d have to split my time between you both since I only have one head, so two plus one equals three. Then I–”

“I’ll just take your word on it, Pinkie,” Twilight chuckled as the three of them turned to continue back the way Pinkie Pie had come from. Closing her eyes, Twilight could almost forget that they were in a hospital. They were just three good friends, walking to a picnic. It was so perfect, so real, it couldn’t be just a fabrication. She knew these ponies from a different life, a different world.

The pink mare was whistling some dangerously catchy tune, and Twilight was fairly certain that if it got stuck in her head, it might never get out. Despite the hair, it’s definitely the same old Pinkie, she thought as she glanced over her friend, taking comfort in the sense of sameness. Yep, same quirky sensibilities, same bubblegum-pink coat, and the same balloon cutie m-

“Sweet Celestia! Pinkie, what happened to your leg!” Twilight shouted as she jabbed a hoof at her friend’s side, her good humor evaporating in shock. Pinkie Pie’s left hind-leg was covered in scars that rose up to the top of her thigh, obscuring the cutie mark completely. They looked like old burns, the wrinkled patches of skin naked between a few thin clumps of ragged fur.

“What?” Pinkie Pie nearly tripped at the outburst, instinctively shifting her tail to cover her wounded flank.

“Twilight! Now that is a rude question!” Applejack said simultaneously, giving Twilight a disapproving stare.

Twilight continued to point her hoof at the scars while she shifted her gaze repeatedly between the two mares. Pinkie Pie sniffled, pulling her tail in closer to cover her scars like a foal clutching a security blanket. “I... I thought you said you remembered me?” she asked in hurt whisper.

“I don’t remember that!” Twilight snapped in an accusatory tone. Her anger flexed and opened its eyes, a dragon stirring within its cave. She had been betrayed. Once again she had let herself take comfort in something familiar, only to have her world sundered by another terrible revelation. Every time she let her guard down there was another shock to her system, another mocking reminder that she was far from her home and trapped in some terrible reflection of real life.

She finally noticed Pinkie Pie wrapping her tail protectively over her scars, trying to mask her disfigurement from Twilight’s judging hoof. Twilight’s anger was extinguished by a cold shower of guilt, icy shame freezing her heart. Her leg fell limply to her side, unable to hold it aloft beneath the weight of sudden self-loathing. She had been shouting and pointing at her friend’s scars! How could she be so callous, so cruel, so uncaring? What kind of a friend was she?

No matter how unprepared she was for it, they weren’t to blame. It wasn’t fair to be so short with her friends – they had done nothing wrong. The world she had been pulled into was at fault. Her anger snapped irritably as it was pushed back into the recesses of her mind.

“I’m sorry, Pinkie,” Twilight apologized like the loathsome little speck of guilt she was. “I remember you just fine. I just, I don’t remember those... scars. And... and I wasn’t prepared... I was just surprised. I didn’t want to think about a friend of mine being hurt so badly,” Fluttershy flashed through her mind, “but still, I was completely out of line, and I’m very sorry.”

The other two ponies shared a look at her words. Applejack nodded, and the embarrassment on Pinkie Pie’s face slowly melted away. “It’s okay, Twilight,” Pinkie said with a smile, her tail uncurling from around her flank. “I mean, Dr. A.J. said you might not remember everything, after all. Besides, you didn’t mean it, and you said you’re sorry, so there’s nothing to be upset about. We’re still bestest buddies, right?”

It was off-putting, having Pinkie Pie trying to reassure her after what she had just done. “Well, thanks, Pinkie,” Twilight replied, managing a weak smile in return. “And yeah, we’re still bestest buddies. Nothing’s going to change that.” Her shame was still there, a rain cloud hanging over her thoughts, but the complete lack of ill will on her Pinkie’s face made it a bearable affliction. Still, she had to do something more than just apologize – she owed her friend that much, at least.

Twilight’s smile broadened before she dropped down into a deep bow, mirroring Pinkie Pie’s own ridiculous stance earlier. “I, Twilight Sparkle, do declare that I shall never be such a rude jerk to my friends. Cross my heart, hope to fly... uh, stick a cupcake... in my eye?” The oath ended with a yelp as both Applejack and Pinkie Pie burst out into loud guffaws. Twilight joined the laughter as she stood back up, rubbing her sore eye.

“Super dooper! Now there’s absoposilutely no reason for any of us to be sad any more!” Pinkie Pie declared cheerfully, bouncing on her hoof tips eagerly and looking as imperturbable as ever. Good ol’ Pinkie Pie, Twilight thought happily.

“That was a very nice and mature thing to do, Twilight,” Applejack told her with warm approval. “But I think its about time we get to movin’ on. I don’t think we need to stand around apologizin’ to each other no more. Besides, supper is going to begin soon. I don’t know about you two, but I’m as hungry as a pegasus who just flew to the moon and back. But I still have a few more rooms to show Twilight before we can eat, so lets get a move on so the soup’s still warm when we get there.”

The tour was much more lively as a trio. While Applejack had been very thorough in her descriptions, Pinkie was a pent up ball of barely related anecdotes and tangential stories. For every room Applejack pointed out, Pinkie Pie had a story about the time when something had happened to her/a friend/a doctor/a friend of a friend/someone she’d never known. And then she had another story related to that.

As often as not they were contradictory and nonsensical, but Twilight found the non-sequiturs refreshing. It helped remind her that, deep down, this Pinkie Pie shared something concrete with the Pinkie Pie she remembered. The scars and mane were just bits of smudged frosting; the rest of the light hearted strawberry cake was still there and intact – and just as she remembered.

Twilight blinked. Baking metaphors? She’s affecting me more than I thought. Shaking her head Twilight focused on catching the last of Pinkie’s stories.

“... so when he went off to go get some towels so he could clean up the waxing compound, I was left with the whole hallway to myself. So I did the only thing I could – I took a running start and slid allllll the way down the hallway!” Pinkie said, stopping just long enough to rear back and lift her forelegs skyward to better illustrate her position. “It was so much fun! Even the part where I hit the wall was okay, because it didn’t hurt that bad. I was going to do it again too, but then Mr. Janitor showed up and told me to go away. But still, I traveled from waaaay over there all the way to this wall here! Isn’t that awesome?”

“Pinkie, that was very irresponsible of you. You might have been hurt,” Applejack said, suppressing her own amusement with an extra dose of her ‘responsible doctor’ voice.

“But I wasn’t hurt, so it makes it all okay!” Pinkie Pie reasoned cheerfully. Applejack opened her mouth to argue the point further, but Pinkie Pie had already continued into another story about the time a family of toads had made a home in the air vents.

Twilight just shook her head with wry bemusement when Applejack glanced over at her in helpless defeat. Pinkie Pie’s optimism and sunny disposition was as infectious as it was incorrigible.

Twilight turned her eyes back to her energetic friend, doing her best to ignore the burns on Pinkie’s flank or the faint limp in her gait – two painful reminders that, for all their similarities, this Pinkie Pie had a different past from the one she knew.

On the other hoof, she considered, Applejack isn’t exactly the same either. Maybe once she had a better grasp on all the facts, she might be able to put together some sort of plan for escape. Her internal checklist still had “escape” as the primary goal, followed closely by “get back home”.

Escape was becoming more and more important. Despite the presence of two of her friends, Twilight didn’t trust the hospital one bit. It was more than just their lies about her mental state. It wasn’t even the fact that they had her locked up and magically silenced – both of which were very large impediments to her safe return. Twilight glanced around the green and white hallway. No, it was deeper than that. She distrusted the place on a primal level. It was an instinctive mistrust, a gut feeling that told her not to take its word on anything.

She pushed her doubts aside. They were inconsequential for the moment. She wasn’t going to escape until she had more information to go on. Ruminating on her fears wasn’t going to bring about freedom any sooner. She had to absorb all the small details like a sponge, hoping she didn’t miss-

High-security! Twilight winced as the word exploded like a firecracker in her mind. In the confusion of the post-Pinkie collision, she had completely forgotten about Applejack’s comment. How had it slipped her mind for so long?

Twilight coughed, trying to get Applejack’s attention. The doctor didn’t hear her, too engrossed in a heated discussion with Pinkie Pie on the pros and cons of using frosting as a condiment for sandwiches.

She groaned softly. It didn’t matter – the opportunity for answers had been lost with Pinkie’s powerful – and painful – arrival. Applejack had been caught off-guard when Twilight had pounced. Forced on the back-hoof when Twilight took the initiative, Applejack had been so close to letting something slip. But now?

She watched Applejack groan in defeat as Pinkie declared water to be “a hundred-hundred times better with whipped cream”. No, too much time had elapsed. Applejack wouldn’t be stumbling around for an answer if she asked again. Twilight didn’t have her pinned against the wall like some frightened prey – now it would be just one friend trying to get a secret from an unwilling companion.

After another turn a set of double doors came into view, ‘cafeteria’ printed across them in large block letters. The sounds of muffled conversation and the smell of food grew more noticeable as the group drew closer.

It wouldn’t hurt to ask Applejack over dinner anyway, Twilight supposed. A half-truth was better than nothing at all. It would be nice to get even partial answers to the questions knocking about within her head. As was her style, Twilight had prepared a list to make sure she didn’t miss any again. What had happened to Pinkie’s leg? Why had Applejack called this a high-security wing? Where were her other friends?

The doors were thrown open ahead of the group, the loud bang bringing all three ponies to a jerking halt.

“Let go of me you bastards! I said let go!” a pale green mare screeched as a quartet of burly orderlies frog marched her into the hallway. She squirmed and bucked wildly, spit flying from her lips as she tried to break free. Two of the stallions were doing their best to tighten the straps on her straightjacket, the straps pulling the mare’s forelegs tight across her stomach. She wasn’t making it easy for them – the black eyes and hoof-shaped bruises attesting to her stubborn resistance. “I know you’re in on it, all of you! Why won’t you just accept the truth? Stop believing the lies, you dumb, blind fools! Let! Me! Go!”

The group of ponies disappeared around a corner, the echoes of their struggle clearly audible long afterwards. Confusion reigned in their wake. The three mares stared back at each other uneasily. Twilight added another question to her list, once she managed to close her jaw.

What was Lyra doing in a straightjacket?

Chapter 5

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Asylum

Chapter 5

How many ponies from my world are here?

The question haunted her. The sound of Lyra’s struggle against the hospital’s orderlies had faded away, but it left behind dangerous thoughts, the seeds of some tenacious weed taking root in the fertile soil of her mind. The answers offered little comfort; Twilight couldn’t decide if having everyone she knew stuck in an insane asylum with her was reassuring, or terrifying.

Twilight had known Lyra back in Ponyville. Well, she had known her as much as she had known most ponies there. It took Twilight a moment to remember her last name: Heartstrings. Lyra Heartstrings. No, she wouldn't consider them friends. They had talked a few times and met at a few parties, but they were just neighbors. Friendly neighbors, certainly, but still just neighbors. It was enough for Twilight to identify her, though. The mare who had been screaming obscenities and trying her best to break out of the orderlies’ grasp had been the same pony from her memories.

At least on the surface she had been. Unlike with Applejack and Pinkie Pie, she hadn’t been close enough to really examine her. Getting run over by a band of burly stallions was not an effective means of obtaining information.

Regardless, Twilight had already begun crafting hypotheses about the world she had awoken in. It was hard to imagine that, if this world’s versions of Applejack and Pinkie Pie shared a connection to their real-world counterparts, the same rules wouldn’t apply to others as well. Could this just be a topsy-turvy recreation of reality, with each pony from her memories reflected as if through a funhouse mirror?

She glanced over at her two friends. Both of them were as quiet as she was, lost to a moment of introspection once the shock of watching a pony get dragged off in a straightjacket had worn off. Even Applejack looked taken aback by the violence, her green-eyes still showing traces of her earlier alarm.

I guess that even for a “doctor” like Applejack, it must not be a common occurrence, Twilight considered, still struggling to connect the Applejack she knew with the concept of a physician. It was so alien to everything she understood about her friend. Applejack hadn’t been happy unless she was working with her hooves, getting sweaty doing an honest day’s work. The image of Applejack writing out prescriptions and examining medical reports was laughable.

Twilight frowned. Was that jealousy speaking? Was she envious that this Applejack had obtained a degree in higher education, while she was supposed to be a basket case? Or was it simple arrogance? Was she finding it so hard to accept Applejack as a doctor because, deep down, she had always seen her friend as simple and uneducated?

No, she thought firmly – she had never thought of her friend that way. Twilight had always had the most book-smarts within her circle of friends, but she had never thought of her friends as any less capable than herself. They were certainly not dumb!

The unicorn pushed such thoughts away, letting them melt back into the recesses of her mind. Twilight knew she was prone to bursts of doubt and self-flagellation – her near neurotic breakdown over missing one of Celestia’s letters an embarrassing reminder of that fact – and had been working hard to cope with it ever since. She needed to calm herself and find the real cause of her sudden guilt.

Slowly Twilight tried to center her thoughts, pushing past the last fragmented tendrils of the fog that had plagued her mind since morning. It took only a few moments of introspection to find the answers, the truth glittering like a gold bit half-buried beneath the sands of self-doubt. It wasn’t hard to believe that Applejack could be a doctor due to prejudices against her friend. No, it was simpler than that: it was Twilight’s desperation that made it so difficult.

More than anything else, Twilight feared giving in to this false world. The more unlikely it was for Applejack to be what she claimed, the easier she found it to reject the lies and hold onto her memories of what was real.

Her frown deepened into a scowl. Discovering the truth was not as comforting as Twilight had hoped it would be. Instead of washing away the guilt over Twilight’s lingering suspicions about herself, it just returned her attention to how difficult it was becoming to separate this world from her own.

That Applejack is not my Applejack, thought Twilight, doing her best to hammer the point home. And that Pinkie Pie is not my Pinkie Pie. They are the products of this world, with its altered histories, or cursed magics, or... or some other unknown phenomena. Only I seem to remember them as they were – as they should be. They are similar in so many ways, but they’re not the same. Never forget that. If I give in to this nightmare, then I lose my real friends. I can’t let that happen.

Although, if you’re right, and these aren’t your real friends, then wouldn’t escaping this world kill these ponies instead? a voice maliciously whispered back. After all, if this is all just some curse, or alternate dimension, or the product of a strained mind, then if you left, do they not all perish as well? When one wakes up from a dream, what is the fate of those that you have created while asleep? Are you not but a careless god, wiping away the lives you have crafted every time you awaken?

Twilight ground her teeth together in irritation, too annoyed by the thought to even roll her eyes. The evidence was piling up: her subconscious hated her. It had failed to make her guilty over a supposed bias against Applejack, so now it was resorting to nonsensical theories to try and gain a measure of revenge.

A loud gasp broke the silence that had lingered in Lyra’s passing, distracting Twilight before she could be plagued by more pointless and pretentious philosophical ponderings. “Wow! That was... wow!” Pinkie exclaimed. She turned to Applejack, her shocked expression becoming a worried frown. “Dr. A.J., is Lyra in trouble again?”

Applejack nodded. “I’d reckon so, sugarcube.”

Pinkie prodded the floor with a hoof. “Well, that's not good. That's not good at all. I like Lyra. She’s always been really nice to me. She has some really funny stories, although she doesn’t like it when I laugh at them. I mean, she does seem angry a lot, but she can be fun when she wants to.”

“It’s just part of who she is, Pinkie. Hopefully, with enough love and care, she can realize that she is just makin’ things harder on herself.” Applejack gave Pinkie a reassuring smile. “Besides, you shouldn’t be worryin’ yourself none about her. She’s only been here a month. Some ponies just take more time to get accustomed to livin’ here.”

Her words seemed to have the opposite effect on Pinkie. “Some don’t ever really get used to it,” she said quietly.

Applejack shuffled uncomfortably in place. “Well, yes, that’s true too. But still, you don’t need to worry none about that, sugarcube. You and I can’t change that, no matter how much we might wish we could. Some ponies never do change, but other ponies just need time. All you have to worry about is just being there with a smile when they need it – when they’re ready. After all, you can take a pony to a party, but you can’t make ‘em enjoy themselves.”

Pinkie Pie perked up at the word ‘party’, a familiar smile spreading over her face. Maybe it was just the idea of a party, or maybe it was the inherent challenge in the idea that you couldn’t force someone to enjoy themselves at a party, but the morose cloud that had descended upon her vanished instantly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Oh! I know! We should totally have a party for Lyra! Like... a ‘No More Punishment’ party! Oh, can I, Dr. A.J., can I? Pretty pretty super pretty please?”

“We’ll talk about it later, sugarcube, I promise,” laughed Applejack, although Twilight was fairly sure she was inwardly cringing at the thought of being greeted with a ‘No More Punishment!’ surprise party as well. “I’m not in charge of that sort of thing. And besides, before we start plannin’ parties, we should probably get some supper first. Don’t you agree, Twilight?”

“Wha- Oh! Uh, absolutely,” she answered, before she turned back to watch Pinkie bounce on the tips of her hooves. The energy was infectious. Her lips slowly curled upwards into a smile.

Despite all her earlier fears about giving in to this world’s lies, she couldn’t help but draw comfort from the familiar excesses of her friend’s cheerful doppelganger. Instead of fearing the similarities, she found strength in them. They were not replacements but links back to the real world. As long as she had these versions of her friends with her, she had something tangible she could hold onto.

The cafeteria was not as big as Twilight had expected. Her schools in Canterlot had possessed facilities twice its size, at least. However, after so long spent in the same narrow hallways, it felt like a concert hall. The wall to her left held large windows protected by a thin wire mesh, filling the room with the heady warmth of the mid-afternoon sun. Natural light was a delight, and Twilight could envy the cats that got to nap in its golden embrace.

The rest was much more disappointing. Despite the smaller size the cafeteria showed all the familiar hallmarks of an institutional eatery: white rectangular tables laid out in rows with painful precision, long benches at just the right height to be comfortable for no one, a floor of large and easily cleanable tiles, and the still painfully drab green-and-white colors on the walls.

Opposite the windows was the other key component of the traditional cafeteria, the food queue. All polished metal and sparkling glass, the area beyond the chrome counters was filled with the usual large machinery of a productive kitchen. It was cooking on an industrial scale. A famous pony had once said that quantity had a quality all of its own. The kitchen was a polished metal monument to that ideal.

About the only thing not gleaming were the lunch-mares. Each sported a look somewhere between apathy and annoyance, as if they had stepped in something that morning and were still mildly cross about it. It was the expression of a worker who had been performing the same repetitive task all day, and could look forward to an encore performance tomorrow, and the day after, on and on. It was a wonder that more lunch-mares didn’t end up in psychiatric hospitals.

“Alrighty you two, come on and follow me,” Applejack said as she led the other ponies around the edge of the cafeteria.

Pinkie Pie continued to bounce excitedly as she followed the doctor around. “I hope it’s cupcakes! I really love cuppy-cakes! It’s been, like, forever since I had them, too!”

“Like I said before, it's soup. It’s just soup,” Applejack repeated. Pinkie ignored her as she began debating aloud which flavor would be best for dinner. Applejack sighed in defeat as the trio took their place in line.

Twilight wasn’t concerned over what she was going to be fed. Food was food, and she would be happy to fill her belly with something warm. Besides, she had enough experience to know that whatever she got would be depressingly functional. There was no reason to add disappointment into the mix. She let her eyes roam over the cafeteria as she trailed behind the other two, trying to locate familiar faces amongst the crowd.

The cafeteria wasn’t packed by any definition of the word, which she chalked up to dinner having only recently begun. Still, the seventy or so ponies were a diverse lot. Twilight felt like she was at a reunion and trying to put old names to new faces. The presence of a few familiar ponies in amongst the crowd filled her with the same storm of emotional confusion she had been dealing with ever since Applejack had first appeared. Was she supposed to be relieved or horrified to spot Berry Punch at a table? Was Carrot Top’s presence in the hospital a reminder that her memories were not fabrications, or just another example of a pony she knew suffering?

Her nightmares were difficult enough when Twilight was being tormented – a nightmare about the pain of others was something else entirely. Despite the rays of the afternoon sun, Twilight felt cold.

Thankfully – or not; Twilight still struggled to decide – most of the ponies were not familiar to her. Many showed obvious signs of mental illness, from slow and jilted movements to odd behavioral tics. Some of the ponies needed assistance feeding themselves, with a few nurses spoon feeding the most incapable patients. Twilight watched as one nurse cleaned a patient’s chin of some dribbled soup, cooing to him gently. The stallion’s empty eyes were locked on something on the horizon only he could see.

The chill of unease deepened. Whatever terrors and tribulations she might be suffering through, she was thankful for what she still had. Things could have been worse. So very much worse.

Twilight moved her gaze elsewhere with relief. She didn’t let her eyes linger on any one pony for very long, doing her best to avoid being rude. The diners were a mix of so many different sorts of ponies. An old mare sat hunched over her bowl protectively. At the next table over, a pair of teenage colts giggling over some shared joke. In the corner was a mummy.

Twilight’s mind came to a screeching halt. She blinked. A mummy?

Her first impression hadn’t been too far off the mark, she realized, once she returned her attention to the unicorn. The pony was seated as far away from the windows as possible, and was wrapped from head to tail in bandages. She assumed the pony was a mare, although she couldn’t be certain at a distance – the wrappings obscured any details. Every part of the mare was hidden away. The only part of the pony not covered was the bright blue mane peeking out of the top. Even her eyes were shielded behind a set of tinted goggles.

The uncanny resemblance to the monster from a Daring Do novel was accurate, despite being a highly inconsiderate and childish comparison. Still, despite her earlier promise not to, she continued to gawp at the linen-clad pony with macabre fascination like she was a museum display. A gray nurse sat beside the mare, helping to feed her through a slit over the mouth. Twilight couldn’t imagine what terrible things could have condemned a pony to a life shrouded in bandages.

Twilight’s heart froze when the nurse glanced up, the two ponies making eye contact. With a squeak Twilight averted her gaze, trying her best to pretend like she had been examining the fire extinguisher over the mare’s shoulder. Her face burned with embarrassment at being caught acting so inconsiderate.

“Aww, it's just soup!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed in disappointment, and Twilight used the excuse to turn around. She could feel the nurse’s purple eyes boring into the back of her head. Part of her pointed out it was just her embarrassment fueling her imagination, but the rest of her was too scared to prove the point. She’d already been rude enough for one day.

Applejack rubbed the bridge of her nose and muttered something beneath her breath as Pinkie moaned about the lack of pastries as an entrée. As the line shuffled forward Twilight picked up a plastic tray, plastic bowl, and plastic utensils – each item the same joyless shade of white. The clear plastic of her cup was downright flamboyant in comparison.

“So Applejack, are you eating the same meal as us?” Twilight asked when Applejack grabbed a tray of her own.

“Sure am, sugarcube. A lot of the staff get their meals here. It’s simple fare. Not bad now, just simple. And it don’t cost nothin’, either.”

“I wouldn’t think that doctors would want to eat the same food as patients, though. Why aren’t you bringing something from home? It has to be better than this,” she said as she gestured at the bubbling vats of soup.

“Well, yeah, I could bring my own lunches if I wanted,” Applejack said, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. “Or I could eat here. You know, for free.”

Twilight blinked as she connected the dots. “Oh! Right. I understand,” she said in an apologetic tone.

“I like the food here,” Pinkie interjected before Twilight’s blush grew even worse. “Of course, soup isn’t my favorite, but it’s alright. You know, for being all boring and unexciting and all.” The lunch-mare glared at Pinkie as she ladled soup into her bowl. “The worst part is that they don’t let me have anything to add to it!”

“Pinkie, the last thing you need is more sugar in your diet,” Applejack said. Twilight nodded with her silently.

“Aw, phooey,” Pinkie replied. “Sugar makes everything taste better.”

“Sweeter, sugarcube. Sweeter, not better.”

“Sweeter is better!” Pinkie Pie scoffed and glanced at Twilight. “I bet Twilight thinks sugar makes everything taste better. Right, Twilight?”

“Actually, I have to agree with Applejack on this one,” she said.

“Aw, double phooey! You’re just agreeing with her because you wish you were a doctor too. You always take Dr. A.J.’s side, just ‘cause she went to a university like you,” Pinkie Pie pouted. “But I bet if you gave it a chance, you’d love sugar and soup! Soupnsugar... sougar... sugoup? Whatever – it’s tasty!”

Twilight started to disagree before she realized just what Pinkie had said. “Wait – Pinkie, you believe that I went to a university?”

“Of course I do,” she said with an eager bob of her head. “After all, you’re really smart, and you have all those books. And you told me you did, too!”

“Pinkie,” Applejack said. “We’ve talked about this before. You shouldn’t believe everythin’ everypony tells you.”

“But–”

“No, no buts,” Applejack tutted. “I just want you to think about what ponies tell you before you believe it as the truth.” She glanced at Twilight out of the corner of her eye. “We’ll talk more about this later, okay Pinkie?”

Part of Twilight wanted to leap for joy. Someone believed her! Someone didn’t think she was crazy! Another part of her, fed by the volatile temper she had been wrestling with all day, wanted to smack Applejack with her tray for trying to convince Pinkie not to believe her.

Stay calm, Twilight, she told herself, doing her best to look nonchalant for Applejack’s benefit. You know Pinkie believes you, at least. Remember, you want the rest of the staff to think you’re not crazy, and hitting your friend won’t help. Just wait until you have a chance, then talk to Pinkie alone. Figure out what she knows. You don’t start an experiment without gathering as much information as you can first.

By the time Twilight had finished reining in her emotions and forming her plan, she had passed through to the other end of the dinner line. Beet soup simmered in her bowl. Its aroma was enough to convince her that Applejack hadn’t been been lying about the food. It was as if they had set out to make something so bland, it had no positive or negative qualities. It was food.

“Now, be careful. We don’t want to spill any of our suppers, now do we?” Applejack reminded the pair. Twilight narrowed her eyes in irritation. Despite being more than capable of carrying her own tray, Applejack was paying both her and Pinkie Pie an inordinate amount of attention ensuring they didn’t drop anything. It was bad enough that she doubted her sanity and told others not to believe her, but now? Now she was doubting her hoof-eye coordination.

Twilight wasn’t just annoyed anymore. No, the continued attempts to treat her like a foal were downright infuriating. She was old enough to have graduated, dammit! She could manage the simple task of not spilling her food, even without the use of magic. She’d faced down monsters and wrestled with the spirit of disharmony – she could manage a single bowl of soup!

Twilight was still glaring furiously at Applejack when she walked straight into the side of the table. It felt like the furniture had bucked her in the chest. The tray flew from her mouth as she tumbled backwards with a undignified squawk.

“Twilight! Are you okay?” Applejack set her own tray down and rushed to Twilight’s side. Twilight stared up at the ceiling, considering whether she was more angry or embarrassed. Pinkie’s laughter made her decide on both. Irony wasn’t as funny from the receiving end.

“I’m fine,” she said through her clenched teeth, ignoring Applejack’s hoof to get up on her own. Applejack hurried off while Twilight steadied herself, using the table for support. She had been lucky – when she had dropped her tray it had landed on the table, so she had only spilt about half her soup.

Yes, I certainly was ‘lucky’ that I didn’t spill so much of my soup. Maybe next time I’ll be lucky enough to not end up running into any furniture like a moron, she thought, doing her best to ignore the pain in her chest.

“Twilight, you need to watch where you’re going, sugarcube,” Applejack said when she returned, dropping a bundle of napkins on the table to start soaking up what had escaped Twilight’s tray. “You might have hurt yourself.”

How she managed to keep from exploding, Twilight would never know. Her embarrassment and bitterness were already at boiling points, and now her friend was talking down to her like she was a careless foal – again! It didn’t help her that Pinkie Pie had been joined by a few other ponies who took the chance to snicker at her misfortune.

With her cheeks burning red – again – Twilight planted herself into her seat and hunched over as best she could, trying to push the laughter and amused stares from her mind. She felt like she were reliving one of her youthful nightmares, where she was laughed at by all the other students in school after doing something particularly embarrassing, like forgetting her homework, or getting a B on a test. She shivered despite the warmth on her face. Some of those nightmares had lasted long after graduation.

“That was hilarious, Twilight!” Pinkie Pie said, giving her another broad smile. Her scowl deepened, imagining that she was beginning to understand what the bandaged mare felt like when ponies like Twilight stared at her.

“Thanks.”

“Really, that made me laugh super hard! You’re really funny when you want to be, you know that?” Evidently sarcasm was as ineffective on this Pinkie Pie as the one from home. The realization of another connection between the two Pinkies offered little comfort, under the circumstances.

“Aw, don’t be upset, Twilight,” Applejack said, misreading Twilight's expression entirely. She dropped the used napkins in the trash and swapped Twilight’s bowl with her own full one. “Here, take mine.”

“But Dr. A.J., aren’t you hungry?” Pinkie asked.

Applejack shrugged, giving Twilight a friendly grin. “Aw, it ain’t no problem. I just don't want Twilight goin' hungry. Besides, I can always just go and get more later.”

She mumbled her thanks as she picked up her spoon. Twilight might have been angry, embarrassed, and upset, but she was still hungry. Twilight swallowed a mouthful of the red liquid. She paused and glanced down at her bowl, taking a moment before getting another spoonful. It was warm and filling, but those were the limits of its virtues.

Twilight pondered her options as she did her best to sate her hunger with the boring meal. Now that she was seated with her friends there were hundreds of questions she needed answered. Instead she remained quiet and continued to look around the room. Her cheeks weren’t as red as the soup anymore, but she still didn’t trust herself to speak. Neither of her friends would be in a helpful mood if she let out all the embarrassment and anger she was trying to keep bottled up.

While Pinkie described her day to Applejack, Twilight took the time to examine the room’s other occupants: the staff. A few nurses sat amongst the patients, helping those who needed the extra supervision, while another pair slowly circled the room to offer assistance to those that might request it. A few orderlies were in the room as well, although the ones she saw stationed by the doors seemed more like guards than medical assistants. Her eyes lingered on the ominous black clubs that hung from their belts.

The doors swung open behind the two orderlies. Twilight watched as Nurse Ratchet and her assistant Silas led a group of twenty or so patients into the cafeteria. Over the commotion she couldn’t hear them, but she could see the pink-haired nurse gesture to Silas and two other orderlies as they herded the group of patients into the dinner queue.

The sight of the cheery nurse and her silent companion brought back memories of tight restraints and terrifying photographs. Had she really been awake for less than a day? It felt like an eternity since her life had been stolen from her.

She turned her attention away from the new arrivals. The only faces there she recognized were the two ponies that had woken her up that morning, and the less she saw of them, the better. There was a lull in her friends’ conversation, marked by a resigned sigh from Applejack in the aftermath of another of Pinkie's pointless stories. It brought Twilight back to the matter at hoof: getting information from her friends.

And, she thought as she watched Applejack concede to Pinkie’s amorphous logic, I think I have a way of getting some of those answers. The idea was so simple, she couldn’t believe she hadn’t thought of it before. It was devious. Truly inspired. Applejack could ignore and obfuscate if Twilight asked her directly... but what about Pinkie Pie?

“Applejack,” Twilight spoke casually, easing herself into the conversation. “Why is it that the patients here stand in line for their food? I mean, I thought most hospitals brought the food to the patients.”

“It depends, sugarcube. Most of what we do is about therapy and rehabilitation,” she said. “It helps if they learn to be self-reliant, if they can manage to do small tasks like this on their own. Helps their self-esteem, too. I mean, it might not seem like much, but some of these ponies live most of their lives with doctors and nurses telling them where to go and what to do. Showin’ them that we trust them for little things helps a bunch.”

There was relief in her voice at being asked a reasonable and logical question with a reasonable and logical answer. The frustration gained from her previous conversations with Pinkie was still a terrible annoyance. She didn’t want to deal with more random leaps of absurdity.

Perfect.

“How much rehabilitation,” Twilight said with deliberate care, doing her best to keep a devious grin from her face as she raised her voice a little louder for Pinkie’s benefit, “can you do for the patients in your high-security wing?”

Applejack’s eyes opened in alarm. “Twilight...” she said, her voice a cross between a hiss and an attempted hush. It didn’t work.

“Woah! High-security? What, like a bank vault?” Pinkie gasped as excitement lit up her face. “Is there a hidden vault around here?”

“Wha- no! Not like that at all,” Applejack exclaimed, planting a restraining hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder as if afraid the mare was about to leap up and start acting like a jewel thief. Which wasn’t that far fetched by Pinkie Pie standards.

Pinkie frowned. “But why call a high-security place a high-security place if there isn’t any gold or treasure or negotiable bearer bonds to protect?” Applejack spared another accusatory glance at Twilight. The question had sparked a burning curiosity in Pinkie Pie, and they both knew that she wasn’t going to stop asking about it – or acting out some potentially disastrous cat burglar fantasy – until she had some answers.

Twilight felt quite proud of herself. After all, manipulating other ponies was difficult for someone with her social skills. Memories of a ‘Want it, need it’ spell flashed through her mind. She pushed them away before they soured her mood. There was a part of her that felt bad about doing it to her friends, but the necessity of getting as much information as she needed was justification enough. She had to get back to her world and her friends. She couldn’t do that until some of the blanks were filled in.

“Well, Pinkie, you see... sometimes there are ponies that do bad things,” Applejack began, trying to pick her words carefully.

“Like burglars! Burglars and thieves trying to steal all the gold in the vault!” Pinkie Pie said, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “Should I be on the lookout for burglars? You can trust me to catch the thieves, Doctor A.J.! I’m reallllly observant!”

The doctor rubbed her forehead with a hoof and muttered something suspiciously like “Celestia help me” under her breath. “No, Pinkie. What I mean is that sometimes there are ponies that do bad things to other ponies. And we have to put them someplace special.”

“So, like a prison,” Twilight offered in a helpful tone, ignoring another glare from Applejack.

“Wait – are you saying there is a jail around here too?” gasped Pinkie, hooves flying to her mouth. “There must be a mountain of treasure in this vault if you have so many thieves attempting to steal it that you need a prison for them all!”

“There ain’t any thieves an’ there ain’t any flippin’ treasure vault!” Applejack’s exasperated voice was loud enough to attract a few cursory glances from the surrounding tables. Catching herself before she got any louder, the orange mare took a few deep breaths. “Look, Pinkie, there is no vault. There is no treasure, and there is no nothin’ involving burglars. Do you understand so far?”

Pinkie nodded and leaned forward in rapt attention.

“Good,” Applejack said, keeping her eyes on Pinkie and ignoring Twilight and her barely suppressed grin of victory. Twilight couldn’t help it – maybe now she might start to get some answers, no matter how minor. “Now, sometimes there are ponies that do bad things, but it’s not really their fault. They might be sick, or they might have had bad things happen to them. These ponies need to go someplace safe, where they won’t hurt anypony else, and where they can get the treatment they need.”

“Wait... but that sounds like Broadhoof...” said Pinkie Pie slowly, realization dawning on her. “But, that’s not right. I mean, we don’t have bad ponies around here. Do we?” Her pupils shrank to minuscule dots. “Oh no. What if I’m in prison? What if I’m a bad pony? Oh no no no, I’m not a bad pony. I’m not a bad pony! I’m not I’m not I’m not–”

The transition was sudden enough that Twilight was struck speechless when Pinkie began to hyperventilate, her repeated assertions that she wasn’t a bad pony carrying a haunting undertone that tore at Twilight’s heart. A knife of ice twisted in Twilight’s gut, her sense of victory shattering into jagged shards of guilt as she watched tears leak from the corner of her friend’s eyes.

“Pinkamena Diane Pie,” Applejack said Pinkie’s full name firmly enough to get her full attention back, both her forelegs resting on the mare’s shoulders as she stared her directly in the eyes. “You are not a bad pony.” Her declaration carried with it all the certainty of a prophet laying out sacred law, the confidence in her tone enough to help break through the panic that gripped Pinkie Pie.

“B-B-But–” Pinkie blubbered as she teetered on the precipice.

Applejack squeezed her shoulders. “You are not a bad pony. Do you understand me, Pinkie? You are not a bad pony. You are not a bad pony. Now say it with me.”

“I’b nob a b-bad p-p-pony...” she stammered and hiccuped, her nose glistening with snot as she tried to hold back her tears.

“You are not a bad pony!”

“I’m not a b-bad pony...”

“You are not a bad pony!”

“I’m not a bad pony...”

Pinkie sniffled as Applejack wiped away some of her tears. The doctor gave the despondent mare a warm smile. “And don’t you forget it, sugarcube.”

Twilight felt like crying herself. She felt like throwing up, or begging for forgiveness, or doing all those things, in no particular order. Pinkie Pie was looking up at Applejack with a pathetic yearning, like a beaten dog desperate for its master’s affection. The despair in Pinkie’s voice when she had expressed her fears about being a ‘bad pony’ were a soul-rendingly heavy burden. She had assumed that her friend was the same eternally cheerful mare that she had known. Twilight couldn’t excuse herself.

Once again she had managed to hurt Pinkie Pie. She was a terrible friend and a horrible pony.

Applejack continued to do her best to console Pinkie Pie. “You are not a bad pony, okay Pinkie?”

“B-But I thought you said there were b-bad ponies here?” she asked quietly. “Doesn’t that m-make me a...” Pinkie trailed off, not willing to finish the sentence.

“Darlin’, ponies come here for many different reasons. I promise that you are not a bad pony. Okay?”

“P-Pinkie Promise?” she looked up through puffy eyes.

“I Pinkie Promise, sugarcube. Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye.”

Twilight felt like she was shrinking away into nothingness as she watched the two embrace in a tender hug, Pinkie Pie nuzzling Applejack’s neck like a foal would its mother. Twilight dropped her spoon to the tray and cradled her head in her hooves. She wasn’t hungry anymore. Inside, her mind struggled against the rising tide of emotions, doing its best to hold onto the control she had managed for the past hour or so.

Losing control now would just prove how worthless and broken she really was. She needed to get away from her friends, before she started bawling as well.

“I... I need to go to the restroom,” Twilight choked out as she jumped to her hooves, the excuse the first thing to come to her mind. Applejack turned to give her a look of reproach and disappointment as she cradled Pinkie Pie in her arms.

“Just ask one of the orderlies, and they’ll take you to the bathroom.” Her voice was stiff and formal as she gestured toward the doors with her eyes.

Twilight wilted beneath her gaze and rushed from the table, eager to escape the judgment in her friend’s face.

She reached the doors and mumbled her excuse to one of the orderlies standing watch, her eyes turned to the floor to hide the tears that threatened to escape. “Follow me,” he said as he opened the door and walked out into the hallway.

Twilight obeyed, following meekly behind the turquoise stallion. They travelled in silence. For once, Twilight appreciated the taciturn nature of the orderlies. She didn’t feel like talking either. Instead she focused on her breathing, trying to steady her nerves before she began crying again.

Why did I do that? Why do I keep hurting my friends? The accusations cut deep, even when she was levelling them against herself. She had been so impatient to get more information from her altered companions that she hadn’t even tried pacing herself. She had leapt at the chance to get what she wanted without sparing a second’s thought for the consequences.

“You’ve got five minutes.” Twilight lifted her head to find the stallion looking back at her, letting her thoughts retreat for a moment. At his side stood a white door, a sign with the outline of a mare bolted in its center. The word Fillies was printed beneath it in slightly faded black letters.

Twilight glanced back at him. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you have five minutes to relieve yourself,” he replied, sounding too bored to be annoyed. “In five minutes, if you’re not done, one of the female orderlies will be sent in to check on you.” He didn’t ask for confirmation on whether she understood him, and Twilight didn’t offer any. Moving past him Twilight strode into the bathroom, letting the door swing shut behind her with a soft clack. She was alone.

There’s an understatement, she thought as she moved towards the room’s solitary sink, a simple mirror mounted behind it. Like most public facilities the sink was operated by floor pedals for sanitary reasons. Twilight caught some of the water in her hooves and splashed her face. She welcomed the cold sting, letting it wash away the few errant tears that had leaked out. Twilight stared at her reflection as the water dripped off her muzzle.

You’re not just alone because you’re trapped here in this twisted world, she accused her mirror image. You’re alone because you keep pushing ponies away with your selfishness. Applejack mentions something, and you pounce on her. Then, instead of trying to talk about it with your friends, you manipulate Pinkie Pie into asking the question for you. And now she’s crying like a frightened child! You’re so self-centered that you didn’t even consider what might happen.

The reflection met her look evenly. That’s not true. How were we supposed to know that Pinkie would react the way she did? There was no way we could have predicted that! If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s Applejack’s. She was the one that used such generic language. She’s a doctor, and she should have known better. And then, even she seemed surprised by Pinkie’s reaction. If a doctor couldn’t see it, how could we?

Twilight narrowed her eyes. Don’t you dare put the blame on Applejack, you coward! The reason you didn’t know that she would react that way is because you didn’t bother asking first. You just used Pinkie like a tool! Why didn’t you wait? Why didn’t you take the time to discover more about your friends and their warped histories? She spat in the sink. No. You didn’t even attempt to be cautious. You just took an impulsive leap at the first opportunity. Just like earlier, when you tried to escape your room the second the doctor left, only to end up dizzy and tired.

Her reflection rolled its eyes. Are you forgetting that we’re supposed to be escaping this world? We’re not here to make friends and act kind. We’re here to go back to our home and our friends. And that means learning more about our prison. You can’t blame me for attempting to further that goal.

Twilight felt herself growing angrier with herself. You shouldn’t have been so rushed. You’re a scientist! A scholar! You don’t start an experiment without planning it out and doing your best to account for all the variables.

That’s all well and good, little Miss Theoretical, but sometimes you have to act when an opportunity presents itself. Sitting around playing nice with this world’s versions of our friends isn’t going to help us escape.

Are you stupid? she snapped. How do you expect to get back home without assistance? You’re surrounded by ponies who think we’re crazy. If there is any hint of truth to what Doctor Rose said, this whole world thinks that our real life is a myth, a delusional fantasy! The only ponies we can count on are the friends we have here.

Her twin watched her as she started pacing in front of the mirror, her hooves sounding like a metronome on the firm tile. You saw it too. In both of them – you saw a spark of something familiar. There is something there, inside them, that connects them to our world.They aren’t the same... but they are there. At least, part of them is.

And how does that help us? We can’t even cast magic. Or have you forgotten that they muzzled us like a rabid dog? The other Twilight sneered at her, eyes lingering on the fabric wrapped around Twilight’s horn.

She halted in place and lifted a hoof to her horn. No, I haven’t forgotten, she snapped. But we have to keep planning. Right now, whatever this is, it’s not coming off anytime soon. Twilight played her hoof over the magical silencer, tugging at the locked buckles there for emphasis. Although she couldn’t pull any magical energy into herself, Twilight could still feel the aura of magic around her. The metal buckles buzzed like bees of brass; they were enchanted.

She didn’t need just the right key, but the right spell as well.

Except for the buckles, the rest of the object was simple. A thick sturdy fabric encased a cone of metal. Lead, Twilight assumed, considering how it was dampening her magical abilities. To confirm that nothing had changed she tried to depress one of the pedals with her mind, but just like it had that morning, every bit of power she called upon slipped away just as quickly. She sighed irritably, her hoof falling back to the floor.

Her reflection gestured at the sheath. See what they did to us? They all think we’re sick, and our ‘friends’ in this world are either part of the same group keeping us imprisoned, or are patients themselves.

You don’t know that for certain! she growled and resumed her pacing, not meeting her twin’s eyes. We don’t know about Rainbow Dash, or Rarity, or-

Or Fluttershy? the Twilight in the mirror offered, mocking her with the saccharine sweetness in its tone. Oh, deep down, you know it was Fluttershy she was talking about. Who else could you imagine as the ‘Birdgirl of Broadhoof?’ Don’t try to deny it. Stop deluding yourself that the strangers in this world are just like the friends you knew. Pinkie Pie was crying – crying! – because somehow she thought Applejack was maybe-sorta-possibly calling her a bad pony. Does that sound like the Pinkie Pie we know? She might have her moments of weakness, but she doesn’t break down that easily. Or at least, she doesn’t break down that easily when she isn't a nut-job stuck in an insane asylum.

She stared at the mirror with disgust. She is not nuts! How dare you say that about our friend!

Her reflection snorted. Please, you saw her back there. She isn't our Pinkie. She isn't our friend. This Pinkie Pie is damaged. Defective. She broke down like a foal because-

"Enough!" Twilight shouted as she spun to face the mirror. Her twin recoiled as Twilight slowly advanced on it, the unicorn's visage a seething mask of impossible rage. Her shame and doubt fueled the cataclysmic fire behind her eyes. Rearing up on her hind legs, Twilight planted her forehooves on either side of the mirror and leaned in closer, her reflection staring back dumbly, frozen in shock. "Don't. You. Call. Her. Defective." Each word was spat with venom, her hot breath steaming the glass. “She is not defective! She is not damaged!

Eventually her twin closed its mouth as it met Twilight’s searing stare. Slowly it leaned in closer, its fear fading away as a smile spread across its face. Emulating Twilight’s stance it reared up and pressed its face against the mirror with a chuckle. Oh, are you angry because I told the uncomfortable truth about our friend? It hurts, giving voice to what you already know but don’t want to believe. It tilted its head as it regarded Twilight with amusement. Or is it something different? Something more... personal?

“Shut up!” she hissed through a clenched jaw. Her reflection’s smile continued to grow wider, the corners of her mouth tearing apart bloodlessly as it grew too large for Twilight’s face. Her reflection’s features ran like wax, the heat of her hate melting her reflection like a candle in an oven.

That’s it, isn’t it? it said through a grotesque smile, showing far too many teeth for any normal pony’s mouth. The sadistic glee in its mismatched eyes only grew more pronounced when she didn’t answer. Please, you can’t hide from yourself. We can taste it at the back of your mind. You’re afraid.

“I am not afraid of you.”

Oh no, of course not, it said as a skeletal smile stretched from ear to ear, splitting its face in half. You’ve defeated Nightmare Moon, the spirit of disharmony, and King Sombra. You’ve faced dragons and monsters and changeling invasions. You’re a bonafide hero! But everypony has fears and weaknesses. Even the element of magic isn’t immune to doubt and insecurity. I know what you are afraid of. You’re afraid that when you look at Pinkie Pie blubbering like a pathetic filly, you’re looking at reality.

Her reflection grabbed Twilight by the scruff of her neck and yanked her closer, her head hitting the mirror with a loud smack, followed by the tinkle of shattered glass. Her tormenter was divided into a hundred smaller reflections by the web of fractures, each one leering at her with a dead grin. Twilight’s vision blurred against the sudden burst of pain, but she could still see her many twisted reflections laughing at her. She could hear the voice in her head, its words reaching her through the pain and rage.

Deep down... you’re afraid that they’re right about you.

Her broken reflection began laughing louder as its words stole everything from her. Twilight’s anger vanished in an instant, taking with it all of her strength and self-control. The fog that she had thought vanquished returned as she was gripped by a wave of dizziness. The bathroom spun around her as her legs turned to jelly. With a pathetic mewl of distress Twilight toppled over as her back limbs gave out, her forelegs thrashing in the empty air as she tried to arrest her fall.

Beneath the laughter she could hear a pounding on the door and shouts of concern, but the crack of her head hitting the tiles silenced it all.

Chapter 6

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Asylum

Chapter 6

“C’mon, wake up. Dammit, get up!” a voice called out from a great distance, the words reverberating within her mind like the percussive beating of an oversized drum. A pinprick of light burst into existence on the horizon. The light began to grow larger, bearing down on her like a train within a darkened tunnel. Twilight couldn’t look anywhere else, her head held immobile by some impossible force. She wanted to scream as a rushing sound filled her ears. The light grew exponentially as it bore down upon her.

Twilight gasped and shot up right before the impact, her sudden movement causing the orderly that had been hovering over her to jerk back to avoid an accidental headbutting. “Gah!” he yelped as she glanced fearfully around the room. White tiles, harsh lighting, and the smell of disinfectant assaulted Twilight’s senses as she realized she was still in the bathroom.

Her head throbbed in pain, her skull feeling like it was trapped in a vice and slowly being squeezed tighter. It was a headache as delivered by a hammer blow. Two hammer blows, she corrected, feeling the sharper stings that marked the contact points where her head had fought something solid and lost.

Twilight tried to sit up further but was arrested by a firm hoof planted against her chest. “Dammit, stay still!” the orderly barked, his voice dragging her eyes back to him and the irritable scowl on his face. “Jeeze, this isn’t good, this isn’t good at all...” She felt a momentary thrill of fear at his words. Nopony wants to hear a hospital employee talking like that. Especially when they’re flat on their back with their head ringing like a bell that had been struck too hard.

“What happened?” he finally asked as he leaned in closer to examine her forehead.

“I...” Twilight began, blinking her eyes as she tried to remember herself.

I pretended I needed to go to the restroom so I could try and get a hold of my emotions. Once inside I got into a guilt-fueled rant with my reflection. Then it mutated before my eyes and slammed my face into the mirror, causing me to fall over and hit my head on the tiles. Which knocked me unconscious. Again. And I’m absolutely not crazy.

“I, uh... slipped.”

The orderly’s eyelids lowered. “You slipped.”

Twilight nodded, and immediately regretted it when the clamps on her head tightened a few degrees more. Her headache was going to be one for the history books. “Y-Yeah,” she said as she struggled to keep a grimace of pain off her face.

“And all that shouting right before you ‘slipped’?”

“I... thought I... I thought I saw a spider on my hoof. And I guess I kinda freaked out,” she lied, giving him her best attempt at a nervous grin. It was surprisingly difficult, considering how nervous she actually was. She couldn’t let him know what had really happened. She couldn’t let anyone know.

“I’m sure.” Disbelief and annoyance fought for dominance on his face. “Can you stand up?”

Twilight nodded again, careful to bob her head slowly. Thankfully, the headache didn’t get any worse. The secret seemed to be not moving too quickly. Simple. “I think so. I’ll need some help, though.”

Sliding his forelegs beneath her the orderly slowly lifted her onto her front. “Something like this had to happen today,” he muttered to himself as he helped Twilight onto her hooves, his expression a deep scowl. “Ratchet is going to have my flank for this.”

Although her legs felt weak, Twilight didn’t fear a sudden collapse. Her body seemed to be growing more accustomed to coming out of unconsciousness. How many did this make? Two? Three? She caught a glimpse of the mirror from the corner of her eye. A memory of a ghoulish smile vanished as quickly as it appeared, and Twilight shivered. At least this time it wasn’t my fault.

“Are you alright? You look pale. You’re not gonna ‘slip’ again, are you?”

“No... I think I’m good,” she said.

“Stay there. I need to clean that blood off your face,” he told her, staring at her until she finally looked back to let him know that she understood. She wasn’t in much of a hurry to move. Standing still for a minute or two is just what she wanted. She watched the orderly as he turned to the sink, and it slowly dawned on her just how lucky she was. The pain in her head tried to offer a counter argument, but she persisted. She had avoided hitting her head on the sink when she went down. The tiled floor wasn’t a pillow, but at least she had managed to brace herself before the impact. If she had hit the sink, she would have been ‘lucky’ to only lose a few teeth.

A small cut and a bad headache were blessings in comparison.

Producing a cloth from one of his pockets – it seemed every employee had one of those – he held it in his mouth as he pushed down on one of the sink’s pedals, bathing it in cold water. Once he was finished he turned off the water and glanced up. The cloth fell from his slack jaw. “What happened to the mirror?”

She felt a flicker of disbelief at how long it had taken him to notice the damage. It wasn’t subtle, after all. A spiderweb of fractured glass radiated out from the impact point, breaking up the reflection into a fragmented tableau showing dozens of miniature stallions between the cracks, each one as stunned as the last.

Her ears flattened against her head as he turned back to glare at her. “I slipped!” she said defensively.

“You slipped into the mirror? What, did you hurl yourself at the wall when you fell?” He groaned, rubbing his face with a hoof. “Oh jeeze, she is going to kill me! Seriously, why today? Why did you do this to me today?” He glared at Twilight as if accusing her of doing it on purpose before he fetched the cloth from the sink. Leaning forward he began to roughly clean the small traces of blood from her forehead. He continued to grumble indistinctly, his voice muted by the fabric in his mouth.

“What do you mean?” she finally asked him after he was finished. “This... none of this was your fault.”

“Oh, yeah, right,” he said sarcastically as he dropped the cloth into the sink and began scrubbing it firmly. “Ratchet is already on my flank for–” he paused for a moment. Without looking up he returned to his task. “What am I saying, I don’t need to tell you this. Besides, you’re right; I’m not at fault here. You say you slipped, and that's good enough for me. I’m gonna take you back to the doctors, and you can explain to them how you managed to break the mirror. I didn’t do a damn thing wrong this time.”

After finishing his cleaning the orderly escorted Twilight from the bathroom. She spared a last glance into the broken glass, catching the sight of hundreds of miniature Twilights looking back at her with the same mask of neutrality she wore. The orderly flipped off the lights as he marched her out, and they all vanished into the darkness.

“Just had to happen today,” the orderly grumbled as he led her down the hallway, his earlier apathy towards her abandoned in favor of smouldering animosity. Like before he didn’t offer any conversation, although his silence had been replaced with frequent asides to himself about how much trouble he was in, the unfairness of the universe, and how badly he was going to get it when Nurse Ratchet found out.

Nurse Ratchet was a recurring topic in his personal woes. Despite speaking to nopony in particular, he did nothing to keep Twilight from hearing his long list of grievances against the head nurse. “That heartless witch, punishing hard-working ponies just because of an accident. She’s going to tear me a new one, I just know it. Why today? She’s going to have me on punishment detail for months – if I even keep my job. She doesn’t even know the meaning of the word compassion.” He puffed out his chest as he reached for the cafeteria door. “I swear, if she tries to pull that crap with me again, I’m going to tell her off for once. She deserves to be put in her place, the stupid b–”

The doors to the cafeteria pulled away from his hoof to reveal Nurse Ratchet. He let out a strangled yelp as he jerked back, coughing as he desperately swallowed his unfinished insult. Twilight felt like she were watching a scene from a play, the timing so perfect as to make mere coincidence seem ludicrously improbable. There was a touch of the supernatural about her sudden appearance, as if the stallion had drawn the wrath of the gods of irony and comedic timing.

The stallion scrambled backwards, giving ground as Nurse Ratchet strode out into the hallway, her assistant Silas a respectful step behind her. “N-Nurse Ratchet!” the orderly finally choked out, trying to hide his unease beneath a terribly fake smile. It made him look as guilty as a cat covered in feathers. “H-How are you d-doing this afternoon?”

She stared at him for a long moment, her eyes regarding him like she would a patch of mud on her coat. “Blaze,” she said flatly, making no effort to return his greeting. Her gaze passed over the cringing stallion and found Twilight, her expression brightening into the familiar smile all the doctors and nurses seemed to wear. “Twilight! My, it’s good to see you up and about. I was quite worried about you, after your little fit in Doctor Rose’s office. Are you feeling better, sugar?”

“Yes ma’am, I’m feeling much better,” she said with a weak smile, the reminder of the morning’s events killing what amusement she had taken from Blaze’s situation.

“She just–” Blaze began but froze when Ratchet spun her head to face him, the false congeniality vanishing instantly. Her expression was cold granite, the lines of her frown chiseled into her face. He trembled despite being a head taller than the white and pink unicorn.

“She just what?” she said, her professional tone not matching the contempt in her eyes.

His mouth flapped open a few times. “Just... just... she just had a little accident in the bathroom.”

Ratchet’s eyes narrowed. “What sort of an ‘accident’?”

“She said she saw a spider and, uh, slipped in the bathroom. So she, ah, hit her head,” he gestured at the small cut on Twilight’s forehead, “on the mirror and b-broke it, and it knocked her out.”

“And this ‘little accident’ happened when she was in your care?”

Blaze gulped. “Y-Yes ma’am.”

“I see.” Those two words were delivered so cooly that they could have meant anything at all. “Go tell the janitors that they have a mess to clean up.” The orderly gushed with acknowledgements as he backed away from her. He turned around with relief and hurried off, maintaining just enough self-control to keep from sprinting. Ratchet sniffed disdainfully as she watched him retreat to safety.

She turned back to Twilight and her expression softened. Beneath it, though, Twilight could still sense some of that steely demeanor that had frightened a stallion almost twice her size. It was the same firm resolve she had seen that morning when she had touched the silencer on her horn. “Is what he said true, darling?”

“Y-Yes,” Twilight answered. Despite the gentle look on the nurse’s face, she couldn’t keep from stammering slightly as she met her golden eyes.

“Well then, stand still while I take a little look, alright sugar? I just want to make sure it’s nothing serious,” she said. She lifted up Twilight’s bangs, exposing the small cut on her forehead. “Well, this doesn’t look too bad, sweetie. Just stay still a little longer while I take care of this.”

Twilight obeyed, her eyes crossing as she tried to watch the nurse apply some disinfectant, the liquid bringing with it a momentary sting as it sterilized the cut. The small bottle hovered within a pinkish aura. She glanced enviously at Ratchet’s horn as she returned the bottle to her pocket.

“Ah, this should do it,” she said happily as she levitated a colored band-aid out of another pocket. Twilight ignored it, her eyes falling on the nurse’s pockets as she wondered just how much the other unicorn stored in there. There was a moment’s pressure on Twilight’s forehead. “Much better!” she said, giving Twilight a smile before turning to Silas. “It looks cute, don’t you think?”

Cute? Twilight looked over at Silas as well. The dark stallion regarded her with the usual inscrutable expression, but she swore she saw the slightest hint of amusement in his eyes as he glanced at her forehead. “Yes’m,” he replied. “Cute.”

I need to find a mirror.

Twilight winced as soon as she registered the thought. A skeletal smile taunted her from the recesses of her mind, bringing with it a swarm of vicious questions. What had I seen in the mirror? Had it been real? An illusion? What caused me to argue with myself?

Dwarfing them all was the one question that Twilight dread above all others. Am I really starting to lose it? Just giving voice to the thought was enough to make her sweat. She could remember her grotesque reflection tormenting her with her own fears, laughing through its oversized smile as it told her what she had been fighting so hard to deny.

No. I’m not crazy. It was a simple declaration of fact; an absolute certainty in an uncertain world.

But, something whispered back, what if you are wrong?

Twilight buried it all even deeper, doing her best to keep the terrible memories and painful questions suppressed. She couldn’t deal with them now. Sure, it was just putting off the inevitable, but she didn’t have any alternatives. It wasn’t a logical or rational decision, but it was the only one Twilight could make. She just needed time to settle herself. She was hurt, had a pounding headache, and was still painfully hungry. They were pitiful excuses, but they were enough.

What did Ratchet put on my cut? Is my bandage embarrassing? wondered Twilight, the shift in focus a painfully obvious attempt to distract herself from the darker thoughts that were clawing at her mind. She ignored them. The strain of maintaining her denial only made the throbbing in her head worse, but she welcomed it. The stilted thoughts and dull aches were all preferable to considering other matters.

Nurse Ratchet thankfully resumed speaking, creating another welcome distraction from memories best forgotten. “Now Twilight, head injuries are never to be taken lightly. What I want you to do is go back inside and finish your dinner. You’re probably going to have a headache for a while, which is to be expected. But if it gets any worse, or if you start to get nauseous, or dizzy, or start feeling strange, please tell one of us right away, alright?”

“Okay.”

“Now, do you happen to remember what happened just before you slipped? Blaze said something about a spider, but I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

Twilight nodded. “Uh, yeah. I thought I saw a spider on my leg and I... I got scared, and must have stepped in some of the water.” The nurse watched her as she repeated the lie. Small dots of sweat formed on her forehead as she tried to keep calm. It was difficult; it felt like the Nurse was seeing right through her deception. It couldn’t be helped – it was better that she suspected Twilight of hiding something than to know the truth.

The truth? How could I tell her the truth? Part of Twilight wanted to return to what she had seen, but she desperately kept pushing it away. Every minute she gained without considering what had happened was a blessing. Twilight lowered her head, trying to mask her doubts with an apologetic tone. “I’m sorry about the mirror.”

Nurse Ratchet smiled. “Oh, don’t worry about it, Twilight. You’re a good girl, and it was just an accident. Now, what I’ll do is have someone come by your room later today before you go to bed, just to check in on you and make sure everything is fine. I think you’ll be okay, but it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

Twilight nodded again, even as she tried to figure out if the nurse believed her story or not. Nothing in Ratchet’s expression offered an answer either way. And Silas? It was easier to guess the thoughts of a mountain.

“Now, you were eating with Doctor Applejack, right?” asked Ratchet as she ushered Twilight back into the cafeteria, her smile shrinking a hair.

“Yes ma’am, that's right.”

“Well, I think I saw where she was sitting. Just follow me, darling, and I’ll walk you to your seat.”

Twilight thanked her as Ratchet opened the door, but she paused at the threshold. She had only been gone a few minutes at the most, but the cafeteria was already packed. There had to be upwards of two hundred ponies inside. The nurses and orderlies were out in force, herding the patients from the kitchen to the tables, and trying their best to keep the patients seated during their meal.

Despite the mass of bodies, there was a strange organization to be found, a suggestion of a plan in their movements. Groups filtered into the cafeteria one at a time like clockwork, a conductors schedule to get the most ponies fed in the least amount of time. Her analytical mind could see how the nurses and orderlies guided their charges along according to some well practiced timetable. Like ants hard at work, what might seem haphazard on the surface was actually organized chaos.

But organized chaos was still chaos, a point made abundantly clear by the wall of sound that met her. Twilight considered the mob of ponies that filled the room. Being able to tell what they’re trying to do isn’t going to make getting to my seat any easier.

Silas gave her a gentle nudge from behind, and Twilight hurried after Nurse Ratchet. Despite the morass of constantly shifting individuals, Twilight found herself able to move without running the risk of colliding with another pony. Ratchet was cutting through the crowd like an ice-breaker, and she followed gratefully in her wake.

Her guide eventually stopped at a familiar table. Pinkie Pie was still huddled up against Applejack, but she was eating again, and seemed to be in no danger of crying. It was something, at least.

“Hello, Doctor Applejack,” Nurse Ratchet said, her tone painfully stiff.

“Nurse Ratchet,” Applejack nodded her greeting, matching the nurse’s tone almost perfectly. Her eyes, however, flashed with irritation. Applejack was doing her best to conceal it, but Twilight knew her friend too well to miss the annoyance she felt at the nurse’s presence.

Plus, she was a terrible liar.

Twilight glanced between the two coworkers, curious as to what might have created the animosity between the two ponies. Unfortunately, the time was far from ideal. And, if Twilight were honest with herself, she didn’t feel ready to start trying to get such personal information so soon. She lowered her gaze to Pinkie Pie, a spike of guilt jabbing into her heart. No, she would wait before she tried prying into the lives of her friends. Instead, she added it to the list of minor questions for the future.

Ratchet shifted her gaze to the fifth pony, giving Pinkie Pie the same smile she had used on Twilight just seconds before. “And hello to you too, Pinkamena. Staying out of trouble, I hope?”

Although she managed a weak grin in return, Twilight could see the slight apprehension in Pinkie’s eyes when she looked up at the head nurse. “Of course, Nurse Ratchet.” Pinkie Pie forced her smile a little wider.

“Excellent,” said Ratchet happily. Her expression turned to stone once she turned back to the doctor. “Doctor Applejack, there was an incident in the bathroom, and Twilight here,” she gestured to her side, “slipped and hit her head. I’ve already bandaged her up, and I’ll assign someone to look in on her later.”

Applejack nodded, about to speak when Nurse Ratchet cut her off. “She ended up breaking a mirror in her fall,” she added, an almost imperceptible emphasis landing on the word ‘mirror’.

The doctor’s eyes flickered to Twilight for a moment. “Is that so,” she said evenly. It wasn’t a question. “Well, thanks for keepin’ me informed. I’ll make sure to keep an eye on her, in case she hit her head harder than you think. Head injuries are never somethin’ to be taken lightly.”

“My thoughts exactly.” She gave Twilight another fake smile. “Now, you be a good girl for Applejack. If you need something else, don’t be afraid to let us know. We want to make sure you stay nice and healthy, alright darling?” she said before turning away, not waiting for a response. Twilight’s eyes followed Ratchet and Silas as they left. Ponies parted before them despite the crowded conditions, giving the pair room to move unimpeded. None of the patients looked either of them in the face. Within a few heartbeats they had disappeared from sight.

Twilight turned back to the table to find Applejack staring at her. “Uh, hey Applejack, hey Pinkie Pie,” she said meekly, averting her eyes. Pinkie continued to stare down at her soup and said nothing.

“So, you slipped and hit your head,” Applejack stated, her jaw working as if she were physically chewing on the idea. She glanced up at the bandage just beneath Twilight’s horn. Twilight swore she saw a momentary flash of amusement in her eyes.

“Yeah.”

There was another pause. “Well then, go ahead and sit down, Twilight. You’ll want to rest a little to make sure nothin’ serious happened.”

Twilight did as commanded, sliding into a spot on the bench. Her bowl of beet soup – now cold – sat where she had left it. “Yeah, Nurse Ratchet told me to talk to you if my headache gets worse, or of anything out of the ordinary happens.”

“And has it?”

“My headache hasn’t gotten worse,” she said, idly twirling her spoon around the entirely unappealing remains of her dinner. “As for anything strange happening? Well, this whole day has been strange and out of the ordinary, so I think I’ll just ignore that.”

Applejack continued to look at Twilight. Instead of the reproach and anger she had expected, her friend wore a stern look compounded by faint worry. She said nothing as she continued to mull over her thoughts, the silence becoming a large wall between them.

Eventually she rose from the table. “Twilight, stay here. I’m going to get you some fresh soup,” she said, pressing her lips together into a thin smile.

“That... thanks,” she replied. Applejack’s grin rose a fraction of an inch as she picked up Twilight’s tray and walked off towards the kitchen. Twilight watched her go, focusing on the orange mare so she could prepare herself. She didn’t know if she was ready to look at her other friend.

“Does your head hurt?” Pinkie Pie asked quietly, forcing the issue without looking up from her own bowl. Like Applejack, Pinkie’s face was free of resentment or blame. She just looked sad. Twilight felt that spike of guilt twist a little more at the sight of her friend looking so miserable.

“Yeah, a little,” Twilight replied.

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

Twilight took a deep breath, letting it out through her nose. “No, Pinkie. I’m the one that is sorry,” she said, reaching out to take one of Pinkie Pie’s hooves in her own. She didn’t pull away from her touch, but her limb was limp in her grasp. “I brought up something I shouldn’t have. I was being so selfish and impatient that I... I should have known better. I’m sorry, Pinkie. I really am.”

“It’s okay Twilight,” Pinkie said, a faint smile playing on her face as she continued to stare down at the table. She squeezed the unicorn’s hoof softly. “I... I sometimes let things bother me that shouldn’t. I have... there are things I don’t like to think about. Like, in my past. And... sometimes I hear things and I just, I dunno, I can’t help but think about what happened. You didn’t do anything wrong, Twilight. I try and do my best, but... I still have lots and lots of work to do.”

“Oh Pinkie,” Twilight whispered. The sincerity in Pinkie Pie’s voice was enough to melt the last of her shame away, but in its place grew pity and sadness. A pony so filled with laughter and happiness should never be so distraught. “I’ve been so confused lately. So many things just don’t make sense. My whole life has been turned upside down, and it’s hard to hold onto what I know is real. But I’m always there for you, Pinkie. I told you, I wouldn’t be a rude jerk to my friends ever again. It was a Pinkie Promise, and... and I broke it. So I’ll just have to work twice as hard to make it up to you, okay?”

Pinkie sniffled, lifting her head slightly. “Well... I guess,” she said as her slight grin swelled with life. “Although breaking a Pinkie Promise is a really really terrible thing to do. I mean, I don’t know if I can just forgive you so easily. That’s like, super important. You’re gonna have to make sure to do something reaaaaly extra special spectacular to make up for it.”

“I’ll try and get you cupcakes.”

“Deal!” Pinkie shouted as she lunged over the table and caught Twilight in a furious hug before she could escape. Twilight returned the embrace, the burst of movement drawing attention from a number of patients and staff. She blushed, doing her best to ignore the bemused stares. Evidently, they were used to Pinkie’s exuberance as well.

“Uh, Pinkie, I think that’s enough hugging,” she said, gently trying to free herself from the earth pony’s firm grip.

“There is no such thing!”

“C’mon Pinkie, they’re starting to stare at us.”

She nuzzled Twilight’s chest a little more firmly. “I don’t care.”

“Pinkie, please... I love you too, but this is embarrassing.”

“Oh, fine,” she allowed, releasing her grip around Twilight’s neck and returning to her seat across from the unicorn. Her bright blue eyes glittered with relief and happiness. “If it makes you feel better.” Her face took on a faux-serious expression. “But you still owe me. Next time we have playtime, I get all the hugs I want. And cupcakes! Understand?”

Twilight chuckled. “Okay Pinkie. It’s a deal,” she said, straightening her mane with a hoof as she did her best to ignore the last few lingering stares. Her hoof passed over the bandage just beneath her horn. “Just, lets try to avoid making such a scene in the future. It’s embarrassing.”

Pinkie Pie finally looked up. Her eyes bulged out of their sockets and she burst into a fit of raucous laughter.

“What?” Twilight asked with bewilderment. She glanced behind herself, but there was nothing humorous there she could see. “Pinkie, what’s so funny?”

Pinkie bit her lip, her forelegs wrapped around her chest as she tried to hold in her laughter. “I b-bet it wasn’t the hug they were looking at!” she snorted. Her eyes lifted up to Twilight’s forehead and she erupted with more loud guffaws, dangerously close to falling out of her seat.

“What? Seriously, what’s so funny?” Twilight demanded, her cheeks warming again as other ponies began staring at the two of them again. The irritation of being left out of the joke began to seep into her tone. “Do I have something on my face?”

“Yes! And it’s soooo cuuuuute!” Pinkie Pie shouted, pounding her hoof against the table. She looked to be on the verge of tears.

“Wait – do you mean the bandage?” asked Twilight, crossing her eyes as she instinctively glanced upwards. “What’s so funny about it?”

“Nothing!” Pinkie giggled, stuffing a hoof in her mouth to stifle her laughter as she pointedly avoided looking at Twilight’s forehead. “Nothing at all!”

Twilight’s stern look was ruined by her flushed cheeks and the hoof she placed protectively over the bandage. “Pinkie...”

“Oh, it’s not thaaat funny,” she finally admitted as she wiped a tear away. She coughed to mask another laugh.

“Still, what is it?”

“Oh, I don’t wanna ruin the surprise!” There was a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Twilight sighed. “This is part of my punishment for breaking a Pinkie Promise, isn’t it?”

“Mayyyyybe...”

“Thought so,” she grumbled, turning her attention to the rest of the cafeteria’s inhabitants. She rubbed the sore-spot on her forehead. I need a mirror. An image of her reflection leering back at her with a dead smile flashed through her mind, threatening to drown her in the ocean of doubts and questions she was doing her best to ignore.

Twilight clamped down on the thought before it could escape, bottling everything up and sealing it away. She wasn’t going to think about it. She wasn’t ready to deal with what had happened.

You’re afraid...

The whisper was so faint as to be almost inaudible beneath the loud cacophony of the filled cafeteria. She had misheard a snippet of conversation, obviously. It was nothing but a figment of her imagination. Twilight shivered.

Fighting to suppress her thoughts about what had occurred in the bathroom, Twilight stared purposefully out into the crowd as she focused her mind onto the many dozens of other ponies in the room. A few ponies from before remained: Carrot Top, Berry Punch, the mummy. Even Applejack could be glimpsed through the mass of bodies, standing by the kitchen queue chatting with another pony in a white lab coat.

Most of the ponies were complete strangers, though. Twilight turned her head around, hoping and dreading the sight of more familiar faces in equal measure. It was hard to pick out individuals. The presence of so many ponies moving about made identification a true challenge. The nurses and orderlies were doing their best to keep patients seated once they got their food, but dinner was still just beginning. The long lines of patients being herded to the tables meant ponies flickered in and out of sight, a snapshot of a mane or face that disappeared in a heartbeat.

Rainbow Dash.

Twilight blinked, and she was gone. She startled her neighbors as she leapt to her hooves, standing on her seat as she furiously scanned the far side of the cafeteria. Twilight was only vaguely aware of Pinkie asking her something. She hadn’t imagined it. She had seen her friend. Hadn’t she?

There! Her doubts vanished instantly as she glimpsed the prismatic mane through the swirl of bodies. It had to be her. It couldn’t be anypony else. It was another of her friends! Twilight couldn’t help but cheer, bouncing on her hooves like Pinkie had, causing the bench to shake and groan. Pinkie called out to her as the other ponies at the table shouted in annoyance, but Twilight didn’t listen to them either. This world’s versions of her friends had something connecting them back to the life she knew. My friends must be the key to defeating whatever caused all this. They are still connected to the ponies of my reality.

“Get down!” The harsh command snapped Twilight out of her excited daze. She glanced down to find a pair of orderlies staring at her. “I said, get down,” the one on the left – a pegasus – repeated the order.

They were trying to stop her from reaching her friend. The thought brought with it a surge of anger at their interference. Didn’t they know how important this was? She opened her mouth to tell them off for sticking their noses in another pony's business.

“Twilight, please, get down,” Pinkie pleaded softly, casting a worried eye at the two orderlies. Twilight turned to look at her friend, ready to let her know she could handle the rude stallions. She froze. Dozens of pairs of eyes were fixated on her. Every pony in the surrounding area was staring directly at her.

The unicorn played over the last few seconds in her mind, her anger melting away as she finally processed what she had been doing. Like an energetic foal who wasn’t going to go to bed quietly, she had been jumping up and down on her seat. Twilight blushed – again – and meekly dropped into her seat. “S-Sorry!” she stammered the apology, feeling mortified at her own behavior.

“Just don’t let me catch you doing it again,” the orderly said stiffly, giving her one last glare before turning away. The rest of the onlookers followed their example, returning to their meals. A few ponies continued to stare, but after a few seconds without any more childish antics they gave up as well.

Way to go, Twilight. What’s next, a good temper tantrum? Despite a strong desire to hide her blushing face behind her hooves, Twilight quickly returned to staring out into the crowd. Her embarrassment faded as her despair returned. She had acted like a foal and lost sight of where Dash had been headed.

“Wow, Twilight. That was... strange.” Pinkie Pie stared at her, her tone light but her expression showing some of her earlier good cheer. “I mean, it was super funny too, but normally I’m the one that gets told off for being really happy and excited. And I have enough sense to not keep jumping on things when the orderlies tell me to stop.” Pinkie prodded her hard seat. “Besides, these benches aren’t good trampolines. They don’t have enough bounce in them.”

“Pinkie... I saw Rainbow Dash,” Twilight whispered urgently as she kept her eyes on the crowd. “I saw her!”

Her friend blinked. “Rai- Oh! Rainbow Dash!” she declared as recognition dawned on her face. Ignoring Twilight’s attempts to hush her she continued. “Oh, that's nifty! But, uh, what does that have to do with you jumping on the table?”

“I didn’t mean to!” Twilight snapped. “I just... got excited, is all.”

Pinkie waved a hoof at her. “Aww, that's fine! I get super excited alllll the time. That’s why I was telling you to get down, silly-billy. I know for a fact that the orderlies get really grumpy if you climb on the tables. And they get double grumpy if you jump on them!” Pinkie followed the general direction of Twilight’s gaze. “So, why are you so excited to see Rainbow Dash?”

“I’m just excited to see another one of my friends, is all,” she answered, methodically scanning the room for another glimpse of Dash’s distinctive mane.

“I didn’t know you two were that close, really.”

Twilight slowly turned back to Pinkie. “What?”

She shrugged. “I mean, I’m like good friends with almost every pony here, and you’re my super-duper bestest buddy of them all, but I didn’t know you two really knew each other that well. You never, like hang out. She’s always hanging out with that other pegasus.” Pinkie frowned. “Plus, Rainbow Dash can be kinda mean sometimes.”

“Well, she does have an ego the size of Equestria, but I wouldn’t call her mean,” Twilight said. “A bit of a jerk, maybe. And she can be kinda careless. And lazy...” Twilight caught herself before she went further off topic. “But, what do you mean by saying Dash and I are not that close? Are you saying that in this world, we’re not friends?”

Pinkie shrugged again. “I dunno, I just never really see you two hanging out like we do. Of course, that’s not too surprising, considering that we are like absolute bestest best friends. She’s just, you know, not that friendly.”

“It doesn’t matter,” Twilight declared as she turned back to the crowd. “She’s the element of loyalty, and back in my world, she is my friend. She might be a bit different here, but she’s still the same Rainbow Dash deep down.”

“Your world?” Pinkie’s pupils shrank away until they were tiny specks of color floating in seas of white. “Twilight... are you... an alien?”

Twilight covered her face with a hoof and exhaled slowly. “No. I am not an alien,” she said dryly.

Pinkie sighed in relief. “Whew! I was really worried there for a second. So Rainbow Dash is the only alien then.”

“What? No. She isn’t an alien either.”

“So, who is the alien then? If you’re from a different world did you, like, hitchhike to Equestria? Ooo! How did you manage that? Did you bring a towel? What’s your planet like?”

“Pinkie! There are no aliens!” Twilight hissed, feeling her patience fading quickly.

“But you said she was different back on your world, which means you’re not from this world.” Pinkie gasped. “Oh! If she is different on your world, then this Rainbow Dash must be like a pod pony imposter alien! And that means you,” she gestured at Twilight, “must be some sort of intergalactic police mare bounty hunter from space, trying to bring her to justice!”

Twilight just stared at Pinkie for a few heartbeats, doing her best to ignore the throbbing in her head. Pinkie stared back expectantly. “No, I’m not.”

Pinkie deflated like a punctured party balloon. She nibbled on her lip. “Ah!” she declared, but Twilight reached out and physically closed her friend’s mouth before she could voice another ludicrous theory.

“No, I’m not that either,” she said, emphasizing her seriousness as best she could. She couldn’t handle more Pinkie Pie-brand crazy right then. “I’ll tell you what I meant later. Right now, I just need to find out where all my friends are, and Rainbow Dash is one of them. Understand?”

Pinkie tried to answer normally despite Twilight’s hoof still keeping a tight grip on her muzzle, her words coming out as muted nonsense. Twilight felt the corner of her eye twitch with a nervous tic. “Just...” she hissed through her teeth, doing her best to keep from shouting. “Just nod your head if you understand me.”

Pinkie bobbed her head up and down. Twilight kept her hoof wrapped around her mouth. “And if I let go, are you going to stop talking about aliens and help me find Rainbow Dash?” More unintelligible mumbling. “Pinkie, I can’t understand you if you...” she tried to explain, but the pink mare continued to speak emphatically, gesturing along with her garbled speech.

“Just nod yes!” she snapped, louder than she had intended. Pinkie stopped talking and complied. “There. Now, what was so important?” Twilight asked irritably as she released her grip on Pinkie’s mouth.

Pinkie opened and closed her jaw a few times, stretching it out as she gave Twilight a mildly cross look. “Well, what I was trying to tell you, before you got all bossy-wossy, is that Rainbow Dash is right over there. But that kinda hurt, you big meanie, and I don’t know if I want to tell you that any more,” she pouted.

“I’m sorry Pinkie, but–” Twilight halted as she finally processed Pinkie’s words. She jerked her head around, her apology forgotten.

There she was: Rainbow Dash. It was impossible to miss her friend, the pegasus a unique burst of color that stood out wherever she went. It was quite fortunate that she took great pleasure in being able to draw the eye so easily. Twilight watched as her friend exited the food queue with a plastic tray clutched in her mouth.

“Rainbow Dash!” she shouted, waving a hoof wildly as she leapt out of her seat – remembering to keep from standing on the bench to avoid any more confrontations with the orderlies. She repeated her call as she tried to push through the ponies filing into their own seats, doing her best to not lose sight of the pegasus.

Dash didn’t even glance to the side, showing no sign of having noticed Twilight as she continued along her path. Squeezing between two patients being helped into their seats by nurses, Twilight closed the distance between them. Again she shouted Dash’s name, but it gained her nothing but a few angry glares from nearby ponies. I need to get closer.

Twilight had to look away from her friend as she tried to navigate quickly through the press of bodies. “Excuse me, pardon me, coming through,” she apologized as she hurried along, dirty looks and muttered curses following in her wake. Despite her haste she tried her best to avoid any collisions, limiting herself to rudely bumping into and pushing past the other ponies. She couldn’t afford any delays.

Eventually the crowd thinned as she rounded the end of the table, her head swinging around as she tried to reacquire her friend’s location. There she is, she thought victoriously when she finally spotted the prismatic mane. To her relief she was only a few dozen body lengths behind Dash, her friend following back along the line of ponies waiting to be served.

The kitchen was in full swing, the loud bang and whirl of the sustenance-creating machinery making any attempt to be heard from any distance a futile one. For a moment she wondered why Dash was heading back towards the head of the line, but she pushed that question away as she sped after her. It was irrelevant. Dash was only a few seconds away.

Twilight weaved carefully in between the other ponies, slowing herself down a fraction to avoid knocking over anyone carrying a tray of hot soup. The slight loss in speed didn’t matter; she was still closing the gap. She couldn’t afford to cause any accidental spills. She had to get to Dash, to confront her, to look into her eyes and see if she too possessed that sense of familiarity like she had seen in the faces of Pinkie Pie and-

-and Applejack. Twilight frowned when she spotted the doctor standing in line. Rainbow Dash was making a beeline for the orange mare, her eyes just predatory slits. The hairs stood up on the back of Twilight’s neck, unease replacing excitement.

Applejack had her back to Dash and Twilight as she conversed with another doctor, Dash’s approach entirely unnoticed. For a moment she entertained the idea that Dash was like Pinkie Pie and on very friendly terms with the former-cowgirl. She could just be going to say hello to a good friend. No, she couldn’t accept that. Something didn’t fit. Something felt wrong.

It’s her eyes, Twilight realized, trying to comprehend the disquieting expression on Dash’s face. Nopony looks at a good friend like that. She is angry, and aggressive. I’ve seen that expression before. It’s the same look she wore when we fought Discord, and the changelings, and... Twilight’s heart skipped a beat, her thoughts trailing off. Dread began seeping into her bones as she broke into a full sprint, but it was too late.

She was too far away from the two mares to hear their voices, but she could watch impotently as Rainbow Dash strode up behind Applejack and halted. She must have said something, as Applejack turned around, her eyes flashing with surprise as she recognized the pegasus behind her.

Which is when Rainbow Dash flung her soup into Applejack’s face.

Applejack’s scream pierced through the background noise, interrupting conversations and drawing the attention of nearly every pony in the room. They all looked over in time to watch Rainbow Dash toss her tray aside and leap upon the blinded doctor with a incoherent shout of rage.

The cafeteria erupted into pandemonium. By the time Twilight recovered from the shock, she was surrounded by a crush of other ponies rushing about mindlessly. Some of the patients hurried towards the fight, hoping for a better view, while others tried to flee the violence. Many lost their dinners as they collided in the confusion. Above it all were the shouts of orderlies, nurses, and doctors doing their best to restore order.

“Please, move aside! Excuse me! Sorry!” Twilight shouted, fighting against the currents to try and get closer. She had lost sight of her two friends once the other patients had reacted to Applejack’s scream, but she wasn’t going to be deterred. She jabbed and shoved her way through them, knocking over a few bowls of soup herself. She had to see what was happening. She had to understand. She had to know why.

It was already over by the time she made it through the crowd. Silas and five other orderlies hefted Rainbow Dash into the air, forcing her limbs into the sleeves of a straightjacket with no pretense at gentleness. Like Lyra earlier, she was determined to make it difficult for them, trying her best to buck free while squirming and twisting in their grasp. Her shouts were still incomprehensible beneath the sound of a hundred different simultaneous conversations, but Twilight could make out her pained shrieks whenever the orderlies twisted her legs or wings to squeeze them into the tight garment.

Rainbow’s voice was finally cut off when an orderly roughly shoved a muzzle over her mouth, ending her inarticulate screams. Despite her spirited resistance she had been bound and silenced in just seconds. Unable to move her limbs Dash resorted to tossing her head from side to side, her eyes pits of bestial rage that glared at everything and saw nothing.

She looks like a rabid dog.

She hated herself as soon as she thought it, but Twilight couldn’t deny the connection. Rainbow Dash had always been a headstrong and emotional pony. But this? This was something frightfully foreign. As short-sighted and impetuous as she could be, she had never lost control over herself. But she found it hard to picture the pegasus before her possessing any emotional discipline.

This isn’t my Rainbow Dash, she tried to reassure herself, but the words rang empty and hollow. Pinkie Pie and Applejack had shared a bond with their real selves; was it not likely that this Dash did as well? Twilight had seen in their eyes that this world’s versions of her friends were still the same, deep down. Behind the warped pasts and twisted histories, they were her friends.

But Rainbow Dash? How could she believe the pony that had just attacked Applejack was her friend?

Nurse Ratchet stood before Rainbow Dash like an unyielding glacier. Ratchet’s expression was the polar opposite of Dash, her face steady and her body calm, yet her frigid stare was no less intense. The head nurse was absolutely furious, but where Dash’s volcanic temper erupted in a pyrotechnic display of raw emotion, Ratchet’s fury was a snowstorm in a bottle, a firmly controlled blizzard that only grew colder and more deadly the angrier she got. Twilight shivered, a memory of a black storm and daggers of ice percolating at the back of her mind.

“Take her to solitary confinement,” Nurse Ratchet said. Her tone was soft but did little to mask the steely resolve in her voice, her words like an armored hoof in a velvet sock. The orderlies obeyed without question. Tossing the bound pegasus up onto Silas’ back the group of them marched out of the cafeteria, the circle of ponies parting before them for fear of being trampled.

Twilight turned to look at her other friend, watching as Applejack was helped to her hooves by a pair of nurses. The beet soup had stained her face red but couldn’t hide the bruises and small cuts. “I’m okay, I’m okay,” she repeated as she wiped some of the liquid from her eyes, wincing at the soft touch. The idea of using soup as a weapon was almost comical, until Twilight remembered that her meal had still been steaming hot when she had gotten it. Applejack was lucky she had escaped with just puffy eyes and a few bruises.

Nurse Ratchet strode over to injured doctor. “Mercy, Willow, escort Doctor Applejack to the infirmary,” she said as she took control of the situation. Applejack looked like she was going to protest the order, but Ratchet had already turned away. She faced the orderlies that hadn’t left with Rainbow Dash and gestured at the crowd around them. “You four, stop standing around and do your jobs. Get these patients back to their seats. Now,” snapped Ratchet, her tone as frosty as before. “We have to maintain order, so get to it.”

The orderlies began herding the assembled ponies away from the scene of the fight, driving the crowd back gradually. “Alright, come on, lets move back now, it’s all over,” the orderly closest to Twilight said, using his forelegs to guide stubborn onlookers back towards their forgotten meals.

Twilight reluctantly returned to her own seat. The entire event looped in her mind as she stared down into her cold soup. Pinkie Pie opened her mouth to say something, but changed her mind when she saw the faraway look in Twilight’s eyes. Leaving her friend to her introspection, she idly toyed with her tray as she started humming.

How could Rainbow Dash attack Applejack like that? Why? Was I wrong? Do these copies of my friends share nothing in common? The questions swirled around inside her head, all the more vexing by the lack of any answers. She rubbed a hoof against her temple. Her headache had returned.

It was futile to focus on questions that couldn’t be answered, but Twilight couldn’t stop herself. Pinkie continued to hum the same soft tune as Twilight sat like a statue, paying no attention to anything but the problems she knew she must answer if she were to get back home. By the time dinner ended she hadn’t made any progress. There were too many gaps in her knowledge, to many unknown variables. She had such little hard data to go on that nothing seemed certain.

She couldn’t ignore the itch at the back of her mind, the instinctive belief that her friends were the key to returning to her real life. Yet her gut-feeling about it being a certainty conflicted with her rational mind. It didn’t make any logical sense. Twilight imagined Rainbow Dash’s angry glare again and again, her despondency deepening. How can my friends help me, when they aren’t even friends themselves?

Twilight remained still for the remainder of dinner, wading through the questions in her mind, seeking answers she wasn’t sure even existed.

Chapter 7

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Asylum

Chapter 7

Dinner did not end well. The time spent absorbed with dark thoughts about what she had seen – and what she was desperate to avoid thinking about – made the rest of Twilight’s meal a painful blur. Her morose introspection was interrupted for a moment when one of the nurses announced that dinner was over, but it was a momentary reprieve. Soon after she was finished speaking the staff began dismissing the ponies by table, the orderlies guiding patients towards different lines forming near the doors.

When they reached their table, Twilight quietly stood up and followed Pinkie Pie to one of the groups being led from the cafeteria. “The sun outside is showing, but fires always glowing...” Pinkie Pie sung quietly to herself, putting words to the tune she had been humming earlier. Twilight ignored the vaguely familiar tune. She had more important things on her mind. Lost in her thoughts, Twilight was content to follow her friend’s lead.

It was a terrible mistake. Twilight barely had time to register the medical staff converging on her position before she was physically yanked out of Pinkie’s group and forcefully shoved into another line, the orderlies shouting at her for disobeying the rules. From the stern glares the nurses and orderlies gave her, the mistake had been nothing short of a deliberate attempt at escape. They ignored her attempts to explain that she hadn’t known better, silencing her while they continued to stress all the potential punishments she might receive for disobeying direct commands.

It was only when Nurse Ratchet was summoned to deal with a ‘troublemaker’ that Twilight’s special situation was finally explained. It was a new experience for Twilight, being glad to have the head nurse nearby. While the other groups quickly filed out of the cafeteria, Nurse Ratchet and her shadow, Silas, escorted Twilight along a separate path.

Following along between the other two ponies, Twilight tried her best to forget about the series of disasters that had constituted her dinner experience. Oh Celestia, please don’t let today be a sign of what tomorrow will bring.

Nurse Ratchet glanced back over at her. “I’m sorry about that, Twilight,” Nurse Ratchet offered in apology. Twilight shrugged. The sympathetic frown carried little to suggest it was the genuine article. “Those nurses weren’t aware of your... special condition, and so they thought you were trying to sneak out with the general population. Which, as you saw, is something we have to take very seriously when it does happen. Rules are rules, after all. If it weren’t for rules, we’d just have chaos. And nopony wants that.”

“General population?” Twilight risked the question.

“Yes, the general population. We have classifications for our patients according to their needs. Not all our patients are the same, after all. You’re all very, very special.” Her smile and tone matched the banal and generic statement perfectly. Twilight resisted rolling her eyes as Ratchet continued. “Some patients just require more assistance than others. Normally, you would go with the group the nurses tried to put you with. However, due to your recent treatments and your rough day, it was decided that you were going to be given a personal escort.”

“Applejack.”

“Doctor Applejack,” Ratchet said, stressing the title despite looking like she had bitten into something sour, “was supposed to be your escort for the evening. Doctor Rose thought it best to ease you back into life here, so we wouldn’t end up punishing you for breaking rules you didn’t even know existed. She was supposed to be the one to start filling you in on how things are done here at Broadhoof, and what is expected of a young adult such as yourself. Unfortunately, due to what had happened earlier, she wasn’t able to be there with you, so–”

“How is Applejack?” interrupted Twilight, stopping to look at the nurse with desperate urgency in her eyes. “Is she okay?”

“She is fine,” Nurse Ratchet said carefully, a hint of her irritation slipping past her mask of eternal cheerfulness. “The soup wasn’t too hot, so she wasn’t burned. My staff stopped Rainbow Dash before she could do more than give Doctor Applejack a few bruises. An Earth pony like her will be just fine by tomorrow.”

Twilight glanced away, her other friend’s name accompanied by a confusing jumble of emotions. “And... Rainbow Dash? What is going to happen to her?”

“Solitary confinement,” Nurse Ratchet stated icily. The jarring transition in tone was enough to make the hairs on the back of Twilight’s neck stand on end. The false smiles were gone. In their place was the expression of cold fury she had seen earlier when Ratchet had pronounced judgement upon the struggling pegasus.

Even though Ratchet’s cold anger was directed at her friend, Twilight still swallowed nervously. “W-What does that mean, exactly?” Her concern and curiosity over her friend’s fate were enough to override her reluctance to engage the smoldering mare.

Ratchet turned to look at her, the granite expression disappearing behind her artificially pleasant persona. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that, Twilight. That’s just something for bad ponies who break the rules. Good fillies like you don’t need to bother yourself with matters of discipline.” Despite the bubbly tone and broad grin, Ratchet’s eyes still burned with harsh displeasure. That balefire was the real Nurse Ratchet, Twilight realized. The sanguine mask she donned when dealing with the patients was just that: a piece of a costume worn by an actor while playing a role.

The grins and mock familiarity took on a much more sinister edge; the bared teeth of a timberwolf right before it lunged. Twilight averted her gaze. “So, um, you’re saying I need more... ‘assistance’ than other ponies, then?” she asked, trying to direct the conversation elsewhere.

Ratchet favored Twilight with that terrible smile. “Only a little, dear. You’re a bright mare, and you’ve been very well behaved over the years. However, because of your treatment, you just need a little more help than usual. After all, we want to try and get you better. Plus, Doctor Rose wants us to keep an extra eye on you for a while, due to the side-effects you’ve encountered. We don’t want you having any more episodes like in his office.” Although she didn’t say anything, Twilight could almost hear her mentally add ‘or like in the bathroom.'

She continued to talk as she led Twilight up another flight of stairs. “Doctor Rose really is doing so much for the patients here. He is very excited about his new regimen. It could revolutionize the handling of mental disorders.” For the first time since she met her, Twilight recognized honest excitement creeping into Ratchet’s voice. “Imagine it, Twilight. Delusions, hallucinations... all a thing of the past. If Doctor Rose is right, then we are on the cusp of a new age in medical discovery. We could help so many ponies!”

Despite the glowing optimism in Ratchet’s words, Twilight still felt the chill of doubt settle over her. “We? Wait. Are you saying that my treatment is untested?”

“Oh! No no no, of course not, Twilight!” She smiled even wider. “No patient receives untested medical treatment. You don’t have to worry about that!” Beads of sweat formed at her temple as she glanced around nervously. “Now, how about I go over tomorrow’s schedule with you?”

“But you said–”

“Twilight,” Ratchet interrupted, all of her humor and nervousness vanishing as she turned to face Twilight directly. “You must understand that we cannot, legally or morally, use untested methods on patients. It would be criminal negligence, as well as a horrendous abuse of our authority and a breach of trust with our patients.” Twilight opened her mouth, but Ratchet lifted a hoof to halt her. “No, let me finish. I have known you for years, Twilight. You, like many schizophrenic patients, can be prone to paranoid delusions. You are misinterpreting what I said.”

Twilight snorted. No, I’m not. You’ve let something slip that explains so much. You’ve been experimenting with patients! Beneath her thoughts she felt her anger stirring again, her rancor growing with every second. She felt violated. “No! I’m not misinterpreting anything, I’m just trying to clarify what you told me. You claimed that ‘we’ are going to help so many ponies, right after talking about my treatment and Rose’s new treatment! You’re hiding–”

“Twilight!” Ratchet snapped, her eyes flashing with cold intensity. Twilight’s mouth slammed shut as she pulled back in fear of what might happen next. After a moment the nurse exhaled slowly, letting some of the harshness seep out of her voice. “Your treatment is best discussed between you and Doctor Rose. You will meet with him tomorrow. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have mentioned his new treatment. I should have known it would cause some confusion. Twilight, you’re a smart filly, but you are sick. Time and time again you, like many patients, have created persecution myths from innocuous statements. Right now you’re already creating theories about how you’re the victim of some horrible medical experiments. I can see it in your eyes. But if you put that big brain of yours to work and think logically about what I’ve said, you’ll realize I’m telling you the truth.”

The nurse turned her back on Twilight and resumed her climb up the stairs. “I’m not going to talk to you any more about your treatment or the doctor’s research. Tomorrow, if it’s still bothering you, then you should bring it up in group therapy, or when you meet with Doctor Rose himself.”

Twilight hesitated a heartbeat before she followed her. “Well, if I was prone to paranoid delusions, then shouldn’t you be trying harder to dissuade me of such thoughts?” she asked gruffly, her anger simmering gently. She wanted to be furious. She had the right to. The nurse had almost admitted having conducted experiments upon her. No wonder Doctor Rose was so eager to protect Twilight. She was his test case, his unwilling guinea pig. Her hooves twitched, eager to lash out at her captors.

“No, it would just be a waste of my time,” Ratchet answered as she pushed open the door to the next floor, guiding Twilight into another green-white hallway.

The frank answer caught Twilight off guard, her anger faltering against the unexpected response. “A... a waste of time? How is that a waste of time?”

“Because I can’t prove it one way or the other. I could spend an hour trying to convince you, but you are going to believe what you want to believe.” She stopped, turning back to the younger mare. “I’ve known you for years, Twilight, and I’ve learned how you think. Some nurses and doctors forget that personal experience is what makes good healers. Especially new ones,” she frowned, momentarily glancing away before she recovered. “Not every pony’s problems can be solved by following the textbook. Those books say I shouldn’t just ignore your delusions, but I’ve seen you go through these periods many, many times before. If I argued with you for the rest of the evening I’d only convince you that I’m hiding something.”

She nodded at Twilight. “You’re smart, Twilight, and what you need is time to think things over on your own. By tomorrow, you’ll have realized that you were just creating mountains out of molehills.”

Twilight found herself unable to respond. Everything Nurse Ratchet said was wrong because it assumed she was sick. She wasn’t sick. Yet the nurse’s words made sense. Even knowing that she was not schizophrenic, Twilight couldn’t deny that Ratchet’s behavior wasn’t that of a pony that had just let loose some terrible secret. She just seemed tired. Resigned, even. Doubt began to eat away at the foundations of Twilight’s anger like introspective termites.

“Now come along. We’re almost at your room. Tomorrow you should feel better. Hopefully you’ll be well enough to spend some time with some of the other patients too. Won’t that be fun?” As quickly as it had arrived, Ratchet’s frank and honest tone was subsumed back into her condescending cheerfulness.

Could I really just have misheard her? Twilight replayed the last few minutes through her mind again as she followed Ratchet. It was easy to understand why she had come to her conclusions, but did that really prove anything? Was the nurse just trying to confuse her? Or was she telling a partial truth?

I do have a habit of creating problems when there aren’t ones, she admitted grudgingly. Memories of a certain doll and a ‘Want It, Need It’ spell brought color to her cheeks. I had thought that being sent back to magic kindergarten was a real possibility then. Might I be doing the same here? Could it all be in my head? She glanced over at Nurse Ratchet. The older mare’s body language didn’t hint at any nervousness. She looked calm, collected, and in control.

There also was no sign of any sweat on Ratchet’s brow.

Twilight blinked and checked again, just to be sure. She had been sweating. I remember her sweating! It was when she was acting guilty and trying to redirect my attention elsewhere. She didn’t wipe it away; I would have noticed that. Twilight took another breath, holding it for a few seconds before slowly released it.

Okay, it’s possible I didn’t see her sweating. It could have been a trick of the light. But she was acting suspicious. Sorta. I mean, maybe I just assumed she was acting that way. I could have misheard her, I guess.

Her headache was coming back.

Twilight sighed, unable to come to a clear decision. I just don’t have enough information to go on. Maybe I wasn’t making it up and maybe she was accidentally letting out a secret. But then, maybe I’m just creating problems out of nothing. She could be half-right. The only thing I’m sure of is that I’m not really crazy.

After all, today has been one of the most stressful days of my entire life. If I am mishearing things, there’s a perfectly reasonable explanation. I’d expect any pony transported to some twisted world and subjected to warped friends and multiple bouts of unconsciousness to not be operating at their peak.

I probably do just need some sleep. Twilight sighed deeply, letting the last of her anger drain away. Of course, that doesn’t mean I’m going to trust anything they say. There’s only one pony I can trust here, and that’s me. If I’m going to figure out how to return to my life – my real life – I need to make sure I’m not making bad decisions.

The faces of her friends flashed through her mind. A sense of purpose stiffened her spine with steel. Not just for me, but for my friends as well. They don’t deserve this fate. None of us do. I will find my way home.

"Here we are: home sweet home," Nurse Ratchet declared as she unlocked the door to Twilight's room. It swung open with a soft yawn as she returned her keyring to her pocket. The nurse gave Twilight a smile as she gestured inside, her cheery disposition back in full force.

"Thanks," said Twilight dryly as she strode past her escorts.

Her quarters were just as she remembered, looking as if a giant had taken a library and crushed it down between his hooves until it was just big enough for a pony to move around within. Despite the doubts and fears that seemed to taint everything else she had experienced that day, Twilight couldn’t deny that the room did appeal to her on an instinctual level. Like her friends, her residence was a shadowy reflection of reality; her library had been replaced with a bibliophiles’ closet. It was hauntingly familiar and terrifyingly foreign all at once.

Almost hidden beneath the pervasive odor of antiseptic that unified the rest of the hospital was the familiar scent of paper and parchment. Memories of the Golden Oaks Library scrolled through her mind, the piles of books and customary smells bringing to mind just how far from home she really was.

Home. A bittersweet pang of homesickness dug into Twilight’s chest as she finished her slow turn, bringing her back around to face Nurse Ratchet and the ever present orderly.

Ratchet let her eyes pass over the groaning bookshelves, trying to look like she appreciated the impressive collection perched atop their surfaces. “It must feel nice to be back in your own little space. You’ve got a lovely little room here.”

Twilight’s cynicism quickly struck down any fondness she felt for the room. This isn’t a room; it’s a cell, she thought bitterly. It’s a gilded cage crafted to placate me with books and literature. It doesn’t matter how comforting you try and make it, nothing hides the fact that the door locks from the outside.

“Yes, it is,” Twilight lied, her tone flat and emotionless. Part of her wanted to tell the two others off, but she couldn’t see the point. “So, what happens now? Do you two just say goodbye and lock me in?”

The nurse’s smile shrank a little. “No, nothing like that. We still have two hours until lights out, after all. However, since I’m still here with you, I’d like to give you that examination I talked about earlier, to make sure your head is fine.”

Twilight smirked. “If I’m supposed to be a schizophrenic, doesn’t that mean my head isn’t fine by definition?” She took satisfaction in the way the nurse’s eyes narrowed.

“Now, there’s no need to be smart with me,” she said stiffly. “I know its been a long day, and your... questions in the stairwell didn’t help anything, but we still have a job to do. We want to make sure you stay healthy.”

“Fine. Let’s just get this over with.” Sitting down where she was, Twilight watched as Nurse Ratchet trotted over, her horn already glowing with arcane energy. There was a tingle over Twilight’s body as she felt the ghostly touch of the nurse’s magical examination. She’d been to the doctors enough times to recognize a simple medical scan. It wasn’t a substitute for a real examination, but it would give the nurse a good idea of her blood pressure.

I wouldn’t be surprised if it were a little elevated, she thought sardonically.

Nurse Ratchet gently turned Twilight’s head from side to side. “So, do you still have a headache?”

“Yes.”

“Is it as bad as it was during dinner?”

“No, not really.”

“And how about your forehead? Does it still hurt where you hit your head?”

“Not unless I think about it. So thanks for that.”

Disappointingly, the older mare didn’t rise to her bait. “Have you noticed anything else out of the ordinary? Nausea, blurry vision, a sensitivity to light...”

Twilight exhaled irritably. “No. Nothing like that. The only thing I’ve got is a bit of a headache, and, incidentally, all of this isn’t really helping.”

Nurse Ratchet eventually released her magical grip on Twilight’s head. “Well then, it looks like you’re going to be just fine,” she declared happily. “I’ll go tell the nurses they don’t need to do another examination.” Turning back to the door, she started to walk away.

“So, I’m just going to stay here then?” Twilight asked, trying to maintain her dispassionate tone as she eyed the large iron door Silas was holding open. She didn’t like the two ponies by any stretch of the imagination, but she found herself suddenly apprehensive about being left alone again.

The white unicorn turned back to look at Twilight. “Well, yes. I’m going to go to the nurses’ station and make sure they don’t think they need to give you another examination. I’ll have them put a painkiller in with your normal medication, to take care of your headache. In a few minutes they’re going to be coming by to give you your meds. Then they’ll escort you to the bathroom, so you can brush your teeth and tinkle. After that, you’ll have about an hour or so of free time before lights out.”

Twilight mumbled her acknowledgement, her apprehension worsening as the two ponies strode out of the room. The soft clack of the bolt sealing the door almost made her wince. She watched through the door’s narrow window as the pair vanished down the hallway.

She glanced around the room again. Despite the fact that it was filled with books, she couldn’t deny the sudden sense of claustrophobia that wrapped itself around her shoulders like a damp towel. Twilight did a quick mental check of her current situation. I’m alone in a small room, trapped behind a locked door, and unable to use magic. Most of my life is said to be a lie, everyone believes I’m insane, and I’m even starting to doubt my own mental acuity. My friends are just broken shadows of who they were: Applejack works for the ponies who have me locked up, Pinkie Pie is emotionally unstable, I think Fluttershy tried to kill herself, and Rainbow Dash did do her best to kill Applejack! In a few minutes another pony I don’t know is going to come by to feed me pills that do Celestia knows what to me before escorting me to the bathroom like I’m some cross between a criminal and a foal. I’ve passed out twice, broken a mirror with my face, almost broken my nose, hit my head on a tile floor, and accumulated a broad range of other small bruises and aches.

And this is only my first day. Tomorrow, I get to do it all over again!

She took a deep breath and let it out unsteadily, her eyes clenched almost painfully tight as her tears threatened to escape. Twilight couldn’t let herself cry no matter how much she wished she could. She was afraid that if she began, she might never stop.

The jingle of keys and the sound of an unlocking bolt pulled Twilight out of the mire of self-pity and despair she had been wallowing in. Twilight lifted her head from where she had been laying for the past few minutes, her mind rushing to catch up with the present. Her visitor turned out to be another one of the world’s familiar-yet-foreign ponies. It took Twilight a few moments to match a name with the face.

“Bon Bon, right?” she asked hesitantly, wiping her eyes to make sure there were no errant tears.

“That’s me!” the nurse answered, taking a page out of Ratchet’s book on forced cheerfulness. Twilight had faint memories of her being a confectioner back in Ponyville, so she groaned when the other mare added, “And I’m here with a little candy for you.”

My memories have become fuel for the cruel gods of fate to craft bad puns and pathetic ironies. She accepted the cup. The fact that the half-dozen multi-colored capsules inside superficially resembled candy only furthered her growing disappointment with the universe. “So, what do these pills do, exactly.”

The Bon Bon impersonator quickly rattled off the names of each pill and their purpose, from antipsychotics to a mild painkiller for her headache. Twilight carefully memorized each name before asking her second question. “And, hypothetically, what happens if I decide I don’t really feel like taking these?”

“Well in that case, I’d go get the orderlies waiting in the hallway to come in and force you to take your medicine,” she answered sweetly. “Hypothetically, of course.” Twilight gave in to the inevitable and swallowed the pills, washing them down with another small cup of water.

Discretion is the better part of valor, she attempted to console herself. The broad grin on the nurse’s face didn’t help.

After a quick check to make sure Twilight had indeed swallowed the pills, Bon Bon gathered up Twilight’s grooming kit and escorted her to the bathing facilities at the end of the hall. Doors identical to her own stood silently along the walls like an honor guard, each one offering a momentary glimpse into another patient’s room. While each one reflected something of the occupant’s personality, from musical posters to stuffed animals, none of the rooms were filled like her own. A few of the ponies inside met Twilight’s gaze, their unreadable expressions making the hallway seem a little colder than before. Twilight turned her eyes elsewhere.

Her time in the bathroom was as routine as it could be, knowing that there was someone keeping tabs on her. Despite the escort waiting for her just around the corner, Twilight found herself enjoying the shower. Even as brief as it was, the sensation of warm water pouring over her body and washing the grime from her coat made her feel alive and relaxed. As she toweled herself off, she allowed herself a slim smile. She almost felt normal.

It didn’t hurt that the painkiller was evidently a fast acting one. She had grown so used to the dull throb of her headache that only in its absence did she recognize just how much it had actually been hurting.

Of course, her cosmic tormentors were still doing their best to puncture her sense of well being. It was irritating enough having to brush her teeth by hoof, something she hadn’t done since she was a foal. It was only after she set to work before the bathroom’s large mirror when she spotted the bandage Nurse Ratchet had stuck on her earlier that day, her eyes inescapably drawn to a garish smear of color across her forehead.

“I’m a super patient!” a cartoonish foal with a foreleg in a sling and a bandage over one eye declared as she soared through the air. A cape fluttered in the air behind her, marked with a large red medical cross.

Twilight quickly tore it off and tossed it into a wastebasket, ignoring the burst of pain created by its sudden removal. She scowled at her reflection, fighting the urge to grind her teeth as she returned to her brushing.

The walk back to her room was as uneventful as before. Twilight deposited her small grooming bag back into its spot. She mumbled a response when Bon Bon wished her a good night before leaving.

The soft click of the bolt sliding back into place was Twilight’s signal to start her search. “C’mon... c’mon... There has to be something here...” she whispered as she ran her eyes along each row of books, picking out the titles written across their exposed spines. The names of each pill were still there in her mind, and Twilight was eager to get a second opinion as to just what the staff were drugging her with. She smirked, a sense of purpose infusing her body as she methodically worked her way through each shelf looking for some sort of medical reference.

After five minutes, her smirk vanished.

After ten minutes, she was scowling again.

After thirty minutes, she wanted to scream.

“This is a hospital! How can there not be a single medical reference anywhere in this pint-sized library?” shouted Twilight. She glared accusingly at the bookshelves around her. They mocked her with silence. Twilight threw her arms up in defeat. “Gah! This is pointless!”

Twilight closed her eyes and inhaled deeply, letting her breath out through her clenched teeth. She focused on her breathing exercise, defying the desire to continue shouting. Twilight rubbed her forehead irritably. Despite the painkiller, it felt like another headache was brewing. Frustration pretty much summed up the last half-hour of her life.

It makes sense. They don’t want to have their patients arguing with them about treatments or to give the patients fuel that might feed their distrust of the staff, the logical part of her mind stated.

Just because it’s reasonable and logical doesn’t mean it’s any less irritating! she snapped back at herself, her anger coiling around her thoughts like a hungry python.

Twilight continued to breathe deeply. Some of her desire to physically lash out at her surroundings drained away every time she exhaled. Eventually her anger had subsided, leaving her mildly peeved instead of frothing with rage. It was getting easier for her to control her emotions, something she deliberately attributed to the day’s experiences and not at all having to do with the unknown medication she had consumed.

“They are not unknown,” she countered in a petulant voice. “It’s just that I have to take their word on what they actually do.” The idea of taking anything the hospital said at face value was unacceptable. She couldn’t trust any of them. Even if they weren’t deliberately misleading her, they were still aspects of a world where her entire life had been transformed into a psychosis-induced fantasy.

Twilight closed her eyes again, drawing in a few more calming breaths. It was easier to keep a grip on her temper, but that still didn't make the idea of rampant destruction any less attractive. She imagined herself bucking all the books from their shelves as payback for not providing the information she wanted. “No, I’m better than that. A librarian would never deliberately harm a book.”

Slowly she opened her eyes. There. Much better, she decided, wrapping her calm around her like a warm blanket. “This is no time to lose control,” she continued aloud as she slowly walked over to the small desk. Situated opposite her bed, the simple desk was almost buried beneath an assortment of books.

“These are mostly history related,” she mused, tracing her hoof over a few of the books there. The ones she recognized were very well known, if a bit outdated. Sir Stone Hill’s A History of the Equestrian-Speaking Ponies sat atop the pile, open to a page on the feudal structure of the pre-unification pony tribes. The Rise and Fall of the Pferd Reich by W. Shire sat beside it, the maps of the Great War covered by a few sheets of used parchment. There was even a translated copy of the Akhal-Teke Saga teetering on the edge of the desk.

Picking up the Saga before it could topple to the floor, Twilight flipped through a few pages idly. It was a used copy, of course. Every tome she had seen bore the scratches, bent spines, and dog-eared pages of second-hoof – or even third- or fourth-hoof – books. Finishing her examination, she closed the Saga and set it down atop a small stack of books. Her eyes lingered on it as she frowned. “How could there already be a used copy? It was just published recently. The library only received its copy a week ago.”

Something tickled the back of her mind, a soft itch that couldn’t be ignored. The library... In her haste to try and find some sort of reference guide for her medication, Twilight hadn’t paid much attention to the titles she had been scanning. Turning to the nearest shelf, Twilight carefully read the spines of each book. Slowly, realization began to dawn for her. She switched to another shelf at random as the itch grew stronger.

The books were crammed into the available space like a large puzzle, each overfilled shelf reaching up to the ceiling. Despite the chaotic look to having so many books crammed into an assortment of non-matching shelves, they were all clearly organized. Twilight had enough experience with Dewy Decimal’s cataloging system to recognize a crude implementation of it.

Discovering that the books were organized like a library made the itching worse, and every book she identified only deepened her apprehension. She repeated the process a few more times, changing to a different shelf again and again, but each time it only convinced her of what she had dread. She shivered.

Every single book was one she remembered from the Ponyville library.

“That doesn’t prove anything,” she declared, a little louder than she had intended. “Most of these books would be found in any respectable library. Just because my library held them as well doesn’t prove anything.” She took solace in her rational argument, the chill passing quickly. Double checking one of the shelves, she let a smug grin split her face. “Aha! See? They’re even missing some books from the library. Where’s A History of Modern Equestria? Where’s Canterlot’s Last Century in Review?” she asked, pointing her hoof at where the books in question should be resting.

Twilight nodded, feeling much more sure of herself. “I’m letting myself get jumpy. There is nothing insidious about this book collection being very much like the one in the library. In fact, considering how much this world seems like a dark reflection of reality, I really shouldn’t be surprised at all by the twisted similarities.”

The idea that she had somehow been sent to some strange alternate universe appealed to the rational Twilight. It explained so much. “In this universe there’s a crazy Twilight. Okay, I can accept that. But since I’m not crazy, I should be able to find my way back to my world. At the very least, I should be able to prove that I’m not actually insane.”

Without realizing it Twilight had begun pacing across her room, her head lowered slightly as she lost herself in her planning. “Once I’m free, I can go to Canterlot and get an audience with Princess Celestia. Even if this is a mixed-up universe where I wasn’t her student, she’s still the smartest pony I know. I’m sure I can convince her to help me back to my own world.”

“But then, what if this isn’t just a different world?” Twilight couldn’t ignore the argument. If there were flaws in her theories, she needed to know now before she committed herself to a plan of action. “What if this is the same Equestria, and something changed the past? Maybe the key isn’t in going back to my world, but trying to fix whatever curse or spell has warped this one?”

She halted her pacing in front of one of the bookshelves, a sudden suspicion seeping into her thoughts. “Changed the past...” she repeated to herself, her voice just a whisper. Moving closer, she examined the history section of the shelves. It only took a few minutes to confirm her misgivings. “There’s nothing here about modern history,” she said slowly as she resumed her pacing, mulling the words over as she tried to find the deeper meaning in the discovery. Instinct told her it was significant, but nothing else.

“Okay Twilight, think. The how and why of waking up here is utter speculation at this point. You need more data to proceed with your theorizing. There are so many things you don’t know, so you need to focus on just the facts.” She glanced over at the desk, her eyes drawn to a quill and parchment resting next to a few of the books.

In the blink of an eye Twilight had cleared out enough space on the desk for a sheet of fresh parchment and was settling in before it. Pulling the quill free with her hoof she set out carefully writing ‘Known Facts’ across the top of the page. Despite being out of practice, her hoofwriting was still perfectly legible. A grin spread over her face as she set to work, finding her spirits lifted with every stroke of her quill. She found solace in the simple, scholarly act of putting ink to parchment. “Besides, if it’s worth doing, it’s worth doing write!” She giggled at her own joke. Spike would have groaned, but I still think it’s funny.

Twilight’s grin blossomed into a full smile as she employed her preferred method of thought organization: a checklist.

“Number one: I am not crazy,” she intoned in time with her quill strokes, a slight pause coming between each word. Back in Ponyville she had tried to cut back on how much she had talked to herself. Now she took comfort in the act, the sound of her own voice making her cage seem less oppressive and frightening. It wasn’t much, but given the circumstances, she would take all the help she could get.

“Number two: everypony here thinks I am crazy.” Twilight hesitated after finishing that line. The photograph Doctor Rose had shown her that morning crawled into focus. Droplets of ice water ran down her spine as she pictured the expressions on her family’s faces, the thought of her family believing the world’s lies chilling her to her core.

Twilight narrowed her eyes as she tossed the image away, forcing the morose thoughts from her mind. “No. I’m not going to let myself get distracted again. I need to stop being so fragile; I need to be strong. This isn’t my world. This isn’t reality!” Twilight deliberately underlined ‘everypony’ a few times to emphasize her words, forcing herself to stare at it for a few long moments.

It was painful, imagining her parents thinking she really was a schizophrenic, but she forced herself to endure it. The world would try its best to convince her that everyone she knew and loved thought she was a nutcase, but she couldn’t surrender to depression and despondency. They were all just victims like she was, trapped in a world where reality had been exchanged for fiction.

Twilight knew the truth. She might be the only pony that still did. It was her duty to stay strong. It didn’t matter how long it took or how much it hurt, she would make everything right again. Twilight’s smile had faded away, replaced with a look of fierce determination. Returning her eyes to the parchment, Twilight continued her writing.

“Number three...”

Lost to the familiar pleasures of paperwork and organization, it didn’t take long for her to finish her work. Twilight paused to look over her list, taking strength from the sheets of parchment. Here is something that isn’t a product of a broken world, she thought as she held the list in her hooves. The symbolic act of inscribing the few facts she knew onto paper had been a liberating one. As possibly the last pony in Equestria who still remembered how reality was supposed to be, it was reassuring to be able to leave some sort of marker behind.

“Now, time to double check my work,” said Twilight as she straightened out the loose pieces of paper. Beginning from the top she carefully scanned through each line of information, ensuring what she had written down matched her internal checklist. Satisfied that she had everything correct, she shifted her gaze to a separate list on the last sheet of parchment.

Status of Friends
Applejack Doctor (psychiatrist). Still lives at Sweet Apple Acres, still has siblings Big
Mac and Apple Bloom. Possible issues with Ratchet. Definite issues/was
attacked by Rainbow Dash.
Pinkie Pie Patient. Has burn scars along left flank. Slight limp. Straight hair. Is
emotionally fragile.
Fluttershy Possible Patient. Likely the “birdgirl” who attempted suicide.
Rainbow Dash Patient. Attacked Applejack in cafeteria, was sent to solitary confinement.
Rarity
Spike

Twilight let her vision linger on the last two blank spots. Knowing what she did about her friends – even when they were mostly assumptions, as with Fluttershy – was terrible enough. Knowing nothing was even worse. Her imagination seemed to take pleasure in creating dark suggestions of their fates.

“Don’t be absurd. You just haven’t heard anything about them yet, is all,” said Twilight, crushing her morbid thoughts beneath a mental hoof. “It’s just as likely that both of them are perfectly fine and healthy. I shouldn’t dwell on the unknown.” The argument was rational and logical, but she wasn’t surprised when it failed to convince her otherwise. She continued to stare at the two yawning holes in her list.

“Light’s out in five minutes,” a pony said from behind her. The papers went flying as Twilight leapt to her hooves. She was alone. Her eyes darted around the room fearfully as she backed up against the desk.

Movement outside the door’s rectangular window drew her wide eyes. There was an orderly outside peering in at her. He arched an eyebrow as she panted heavily, trying to slow her racing heartbeat. “But... how...?”

Despite being on the other side of a thick steel door he obviously picked up on her meaning. He gestured at the ceiling. Twilight lifted her head, spotting a small circular grille in the center of the ceiling. “It’s an intercom,” he stated flatly. Twilight couldn’t tell if it was irritation or amusement in his voice as it dripped out of the speaker above her.

“Oh. Right,” she said, blushing faintly.

“Lights out in five minutes,” he repeated, his voice tinny and sounding as if he were speaking through a length of pipe. “That means you need to be in bed in five minutes. Understood?” Twilight nodded sheepishly as she bent down to collect her spilled papers. The orderly turned away from her window and walked off to remind other inmates of the deadline.

Her embarrassment at being so frightened by an innocuous intercom had vanished by the time she had carefully hidden her notes within one of the books on her desk. As a temporary solution, it was the best she could do for the moment. I’ll find something better tomorrow, she promised herself as she climbed into her cot. She wasn’t too concerned. With as many books and scrolls as her room held, she was confident she could find a better place to keep her writings secure.

Sliding beneath the clean white sheets, Twilight tried to make herself comfortable. The mattress was lumpy and she only had two thin pillows. She quickly settled for the best she could manage and laid on her back, staring up at the paneled ceiling. Time dragged on. Just as she was about to go check the door there was another flash of movement outside. “Lights out. Goodnight, Twilight,” the dispassionate voice declared before she was plunged into darkness.

Well, near darkness, at any rate. Twilight sat up to stare at the far door, watching as the orderly once again moved out of sight. The lights in the hallway continued to burn with electric life, casting a rectangle of white light into her room. Twilight let her head fall back against the pillow, closing her eyelids firmly. “Please, please have them turn off the lights in the hallway,” she begged the darkness.

The lights outside her room dimmed slightly, still bright enough to make any attempt at sleep difficult.

Twilight sighed. “Figures.”

Rolling over onto her side to face the wall, she did her best to ignore the light through her clenched eyes. Despite her doubts, sleep was not hard to find. Exhaustion hit her like a stampeding buffalo as the day’s events finally caught up with her. Within minutes Twilight was fast asleep.

A beam of warm light crossed Twilight’s eyelids, the bright glare dragging her from her slumber. “I’m starting to really despise electricity,” she complained to the world as she shifted in her cot, trying and failing to find a position where there wasn’t a bright light in her face. Stubbornly clinging to her interrupted sleep, she spent another minute tossing in bed before finally giving up. The brightness was relentless. It was a fight she couldn't win. She reluctantly cracked open her eyes, groaning to emphasize that she was moving against her will. Her assigned room slowly swam into focus. The familiar sight of walls filled with books surrounded her, each tome resting on a wooden shelf built right into the living tree trunk.

Twilight jerked upright in bed, her quilts and blankets falling away as she stared around the large open spaces of the library. The friendly light of an early morning sun embraced her through the window behind her. Outside she could see the colorful buildings of Ponyville as the town began the day, the sight accompanied by the cheerful birdsong of the avians that roosted in the branches of the library.

Twilight continued to gaze around the room through wide and unblinking eyes. Even though she had awoken to the sight a thousand times, she couldn’t keep from staring at every mundane detail as if it were her first time.

She was home.

Chapter 8

View Online

Asylum

Chapter 8

Everything was just as Twilight remembered it. The dark oaken walls had been sculpted by powerful magics, creating a living structure perfectly suited for work as a library and a house. Her eyes ran over the bright covers of her beloved books that decorated the walls, each one in immaculate shape. The air was rich with the heady scents of paper and books, ink and parchment, learning and life. Beneath them all were the more subtle accents, the reminder of last-nights dinner and the familiar odor of a well cared for home.

Everything was perfect. Absolutely perfect. The sights, the smells; everything was as she remembered. Even the same patches of dust Spike never quite managed to deal with lay undisturbed atop the highest shelves. It was her home, just as it was in her memories.

“I’m home. I’m home. I’m home. I’m home,” Twilight repeated rapidly under her breath. She clutched her sheet tightly to her chest, her breathing growing ragged as she tried to keep from hyperventilating. The warm and gentle caress of the morning sunlight did nothing to fight off the tendrils of ice sliding up her neck. Her frightened eyes danced erratically around the room. She shivered.

I’m home. I'm not at the hospital anymore. Why am I home? This can’t be real. Am I free? What happened? Her thoughts raced around her head like a carousel spinning out of control. She struggled to make sense of them all, trying to bring order to chaos, but the questions soon blurred together into a single impenetrable mess of mental confusion. Beneath them all, a single word throbbed with a heartbeat of its own.

How?

Twilight had always considered herself a scientist. Reason and logic were ideals that she could draw comfort from. They offered reasonable explanations for how the world operated, creating meaning from what would otherwise be anarchy. While others saw the unknown as an impassable wall, she saw the unanswered questions as gateways to further understanding. Every time she dove into a new magical tome, she was helping to pave the way for further discoveries.

Most ponies misunderstood Twilight’s scholarly ambitions and assumed she was just a student of magic. It was a common misconception. Magic was the arcane lifeblood of the natural world, but it was only one small aspect of the wider universe. To claim Twilight just studied magic was to claim a painter just studied brushes, or a baker just studied flour. She examined it all, for to properly understand the arcane she needed to master what it is woven into. Uniting the two brought clarity, revealing the rules and laws that bound everything together.

Which is why Twilight Sparkle, chosen student of Princess Celestia, bearer of the element of magic, was frightened by her own home. The rules had been broken. She shouldn’t be back in Ponyville. She couldn’t be back in Ponyville.

Natural law could never be broken. They were inalienable, inviolable, and unchanging. Even Discord had never actually broken the rules; he had subverted them with powerful magics. The ideals of logic and reason that she cherished so much dictated that her presence in Ponyville should be impossible.

Twilight found herself floundering as she sought an explanation. Her thoughts were slow and hazy. She turned her head to examine her surroundings as she had a dozen times before, searching for some clue that she must have missed. There has to be something here. Everything has a logical answer. Just because I don't have one now doesn't prove there isn't one to be found.

She ignored the fog that had settled over her mind as she began running through possible explanations, considering any illness or curse she could think of and applying it to her situation. When those failed, the theories she had crafted while back in the hospital were dragged back up to be examined once again, all in the name of due diligence. Even the foes she had defeated over the years were judged, each unlikely candidate discarded as being incompatible with what she knew.

Her frustration surpassed fear as a logical solution continued to elude her. Desperate to find reason somewhere, the theories grew more complex, rapidly spiraling into the absurd. It was only when she realized that she was seriously pondering the likelihood of changelings utilizing the stolen elements of harmony to bring about the return of Nightmare Moon did Twilight accept the futility of her activities. She groaned in defeat.

“I can’t... there isn’t an explanation for any of this! Why is this happening to me?” Twilight demanded, daring the world to answer her. Silence mocked her. She buried her face in her hooves, her voice dropping to a hoarse whisper. “Nothing makes any sense anymore. It’s like I’m stuck in a nightmare that just won’t end.”

She froze. “A nightmare...” she repeated, lifting her head as realization dawned on her. Twilight’s fears began to drain away, taking with them the host of ludicrously overengineered theories she had been trying to justify. “Of course: Hockam’s Razor! In lieu of any evidence to the contrary, the simplest answer with the fewest assumptions should be accepted! This is all a dream!"

Her face split into a lazy grin. “Wait. Oh yes, yes, yes! The hospital has to have been the dream. What’s a simpler answer: that I had one nightmare, or that all my memories are just fantasies? This has to be real. It’s the only answer that makes any sense. Which means I’m home!” Twilight leapt from her bed with an undignified cry of relief, which was quickly followed by an even more undignified – and equally uncoordinated – dance of joy. “I’m home! Oh sweet Celestia, I’m really home!”

“Twilight? Are you back already?”

Twilight stumbled. Unbalanced by her awkward movements, she barely had time to shout before slamming into the nearest bookshelf and collapsing. Dislodged by the impact, books began raining down upon her, each thump eliciting a soft "oof!" from the stunned unicorn.

“Twilight!” the voice called again as the soft click of claws upon wooden floors drew closer. Shrugging off her encyclopedia sarcophagus, Twilight lifted herself up on unsteady hooves. Her body hurt, her head was ringing, and everything swayed like a ship in a storm, but Twilight's smile stretched from ear to ear.

The moment a purple and green blur entered her fluctuating field of vision she lunged forward with all the grace and coordination of a drunkard slipping on a patch of ice. Beating the odds, she managed to connect with her intended target. "Spike!" she shouted as she tackled the surprised dragon. The awkward landing was certainly going to leave a bruise, but she didn't care.

"Twilight!" Spike gasped, his warm scales grinding into her fur as she caught him in a massive hug. "What's gotten into you?"

She ignored his attempts to free himself, squeezing him even tighter. "Oh Spike, you don’t know how much I’ve missed you!"

Spike blushed as his adopted big sister nuzzled him, increasing his squirming. "C-Come on, that's enough. This is getting embarrassing," he protested weakly. She responded by crushing him into her coat.

"I was so worried, and I didn't know what had happened, and I was so afraid that I'd never see you all again, and–"

"You're squeezing a little tight, Twilight."

"-I was so scared! Everything was wrong, and I didn't know what was real! They just–"

"Twilight... trouble... breathing..."

"-kept telling me my whole life was supposed to be a lie! They were saying I made it all up, and–"

"Twilight!" Spike shouted hard enough to send a tuft of dragon-fire shooting into the air, narrowly missing Twilight's mane. Her grip slackened as she jerked back from the bright flash of green heat, allowing Spike to finally free himself with an audible pop. He tried to give her a stern look as he gasped for air, although it was clearly evident he was playing up his discomfort. "I love you too, Twilight. But seriously, can we avoid the big death-hugs in the future?"

"I'm sorry, but I was so relieved to see you, I just couldn’t help myself," she apologized happily, beaming down at him. "I was, I mean, I had this absolutely terrifying nightmare. You don't know how relieved I am to see you. It's... it's good to be home."

Spike brushed some purple hairs from his scales as he looked over at her, concern replacing annoyance once he realized the sheer sincerity in Twilight’s voice. "Wow. It must have been a pretty bad nightmare."

"The absolute worst!"

He tapped a claw against his chin thoughtfully. "Was it the one where you forgot to send a letter to the princess?"

"What? No, of course not."

"Fail a test?"

"No!"

"Show up late to a class? Forget an overdue library book? Break a Pinkie Promise?"

"No! None of those."

"So, it was..." Spike's eyes widened. "Oh Twilight, I'm so sorry." He placed a hand on her shoulder. "You haven't had the Magic Kindergarten nightmare for months. I didn’t know.”

“It wasn’t anything I’d ever had before,” she declared, unable to decide if she was more disturbed by the long list of nightmares she had endured over the years, or the ease in which Spike had been able to run through them all off the top of his head. “It was new. I was, well, I was in this hospital, and...” her voice trailed off again as Spike watched her expectantly. “You know what? It’s not important. It’s over now.”

He shrugged. “Okay, whatever you say. I’m a little surprised that you had time to fall asleep again. I swear I thought you left an hour ago. Oh well, maybe you weren’t the only one dreaming stuff up. Breakfast is ready, by the way.” He glanced over at the small mound of fallen books. “So, I guess I should get to work putting those back while you eat?”

Twilight shook her head. “Nope. I want my number one assistant to spend some more time with me right now,” she told him as she affectionately nuzzled his cheek, causing the small dragon to blush again. “The mess can wait. But before we eat, I have a letter to Princess Celestia I need you to send.”

“Really? Is it about the nightmare?”

“Yes, it is,” she said as she trotted down the stairs, making a beeline towards her writing desk. “And it’s urgent, too.”

He jogged after her. “Doesn’t that seem kinda odd, sending the princess a letter about a nightmare? I mean, it was just a dream.”

Twilight hesitated. “It was just a dream. But...” she frowned, “well, I can’t explain it. The dream was so vivid, so real, it was unlike anything I’ve ever experienced before.”

“What about that door? You know, the one back in the Crystal Empire?” asked Spike, shivering slightly at the recollection. “That was pretty real.”

“Sombra’s spell was different. It used dark magic to draw out your worst fears and created mental illusions to sap your willpower and happiness. However, its power was dependent upon the victim believing in its deceptions. Once you helped free me, I could sense the energy behind the spell. I’m certain I could defeat its illusions if it happened again,” she explained with firm resolve. Twilight gave him a warm smile. “Plus, it doesn’t work so well if you have good friends around who care for you. I doubt the world’s greatest assistant would leave me stuck in some dark spell for too long.”

“Well, I am pretty awesome,” he said as he puffed out his chest. “So, if this was just a nightmare, then why bother Princess Celestia about it?”

She sighed. “It might be foolish, and I’m probably still just rattled after waking up so suddenly, but I need to send her a message. Just in case.”

“Just in case of what?”

Just in case it wasn’t a dream, she thought to herself. “Just in case there is something else I haven’t thought of. Better safe than sorry, after all.”

Standing before her desk Twilight levitated over a blank scroll and lay it out before her, savoring the sensation of using magic once again. It felt odd, after being cut off from her natural unicorn abilities for so long. Of course, Rainbow Dash always says the same thing about flying whenever she’s grounded. You don’t miss it until it’s not there. Dipping a quill in some ink, Twilight began addressing her letter with her usual precision. And she’s right: it does come back quickly. It’s just something you never forget.

Spike watched her as she set about writing the letter to Princess Celestia. Twilight worked fast, keeping her letter short and succinct. She was eager to send the message as soon as possible. She didn’t want to admit it, to Spike or herself, but she was still afraid. Everything suggested she was back home. The logical explanation of a nightmare fit with all the facts. There was nothing to suggest she should still be concerned.

The doubt remained; a stubborn stain on her mind that couldn’t be scrubbed away.

“Finished,” she declared as she dropped the quill into its container. Rolling up the scroll she floated it to Spike, who carefully plucked it out of the air. The letter vanished in a flash of green fire, taking with it the heavy concerns that had weighed upon her mind. “There we go. Now we just have to wait until we get a response.”

Although she knew her fears were irrational, she certainly felt reassured knowing she had sent the letter. If I’m right, then later today I’ll just end up dealing with a slightly confused Princess Celestia. If I’m wrong... Twilight shook her head, halting the thought. No. Don’t think about that. You’re not wrong.

“If you’re all done, then I guess that means it’s time for breakfast,” Spike said. He caught Twilight’s stare. “What? I’m hungry. Besides, it’s not like we need to stand around waiting right here. We can wait in the kitchen. With the food.”

Twilight grinned. “You make a valid argument,” she said. She ignored the sliver of doubt embedded in the back of her thoughts as the pair of them walked towards the kitchen. She wasn’t going to let her fears ruin her good mood. “You know, I’ve been saving up a few gems for a special occasion. I think you deserve a little treat.” With a cry of excitement Spike raced ahead, licking his lips eagerly.

She laughed. It’s good to be home.

The library door swung open behind her. “Spiiiiike, I’m hoooome,” a familiar voice called out.

Everything stopped; the world was a still-life painted with confusion and disbelief. That voice... No, it’s impossible, thought Twilight as she stared blankly ahead through eyes wide with shock. Unable to blink, unable to move, she could only watch as Spike slowly turned around, his face wracked with confusion. He glanced behind Twilight and jerked back, his eyes shooting open as wide as her own.

“Oh, it’s seems we have a guest.” The soft clip-clop of hooves on wood drew closer. The voice’s owner was right behind her, but Twilight remained locked rigidly in place. “Spike, my friends are coming over later. Can you get some tea started? Oh, and bring us two mugs when you can. I need to have a chat with our visitor.”

Spike glanced between Twilight and the other pony. Silently she begged him not to leave. She didn’t want to be left alone with the unseen mare.

“Uh, s-sure...” he finally replied, his eyes continuing to dart between the two mares. Slowly he tiptoed backwards, reaching out behind him as he kept them both in his sights. “I’ll be right... back.” Spike disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Twilight to face the mare and her terrible voice.

The other pony exhaled softly. “Well now, this is a quandary. You see, you’re not supposed to be here. This place isn’t for you. And you know it, too. At the back of your mind, you’ve been bothered by something you can’t quite place your hoof on. Just your mere presence here is a problem.”

“W-What do you mean?” Twilight croaked. Her mouth was a dessicated wasteland, the lack of moisture making each syllable sting as it was extracted from her dry lips.

“You know what I mean,” the voice said as she circled around Twilight. “Ponyville is a lovely town. It’s filled with caring ponies who live happy and productive lives. Families raise their children here. Young lovers stroll together in the park. There are fairs and festivals and contests for every season. It is certainly not the sort of community that can tolerate the dangerously insane deciding to muck it up.”

“I’m not insane,” said Twilight defensively, cold reminders from her nightmare coming back to chill her bones. “And I’m certainly not dangerous.” She continued to stare ahead, her body still ignoring any command to move.

The voice laughed. “Oh really? There is a problem with your assertion, although you don’t want to face it. You are insane, you’re just denying it.”

Twilight mustered what was left of her courage, fighting to keep from drowning in the rising waters of apprehension and fear. “P-Prove it.”

“Are you sure you want me to do that?” the invisible female offered. “You could just close your eyes and leave right now. Wouldn’t you feel better if you just didn’t have to deal with the pain of being proven wrong?”

“Prove it,” she repeated firmly.

“Honestly, you don’t have to do this. It’s not going to be pleasant. It’s going to hurt the more you fight it.”

“I said prove it!”

The other mare sighed. “Well, if you insist.”

Despite her best attempts to deny it, Twilight had known what was coming. The familiar voice, Spike’s reaction, the nagging doubts that had lingered at the back of her mind since she had woken up; she had put the pieces together. Everything had added up to a terrible answer she hadn't wanted to face, but as the other mare trotted into view and halted directly ahead of her, she couldn’t avoid it any longer.

Twilight was looking at herself.

She trembled, her locked joints unable to keep her body from shivering in fear. It was a reflection without a mirror. Her copy stood before her, an insincere look of sympathy etched upon her violet face. “I told you this would be painful,” the Other Twilight said in her stolen voice.

Twilight stared back, unable to voice a response. Inside her frigid chest her heart beat erratically, unable decide if it wanted to go into a fit of hyperactivity or just freeze up like the rest of her. The shadows within the library deepened despite the morning sunlight blazing through the windows, adding a sinister edge to the familiar world.

“I know you don’t want to face the truth, but you can’t keep deluding yourself like this. It’s just not healthy. You’re hurting yourself by holding onto your delusions.” The Other Twilight affected a concerned appearance. “This is my life, not yours. I’m Princess Celestia’s prized pupil. I bear the Element of Magic. It was my friends and I who defeated Nightmare Moon, stopped Discord, halted the changeling invasion, and saved the Crystal Empire. You’re not supposed to be here. This world isn’t for you.”

Twilight tried to speak, to deny her reflection’s ludicrous charges, but her tongue was as frozen as the rest of her.

“I am Twilight Sparkle,” her duplicate declared firmly. She edged closer, lowering her voice. “And you? What have you done? You’ve tried to steal my life, copy my accomplishments, and take credit for that which you didn’t do.”

“No,” whispered Twilight in a pale echo of her twin’s confident tone.

The impostor's eyes narrowed as some of the false sympathy leaked from her face. “No?”

“No,” she repeated a little louder.

The Other Twilight leaned back again, dark amusement twinkling in her violet eyes. “You’re right, actually. You have done something else, something that I haven’t done. You’ve hurt ponies. That is your accomplishment. It’s too bad you’re in denial about that as well.”

“Liar.”

The reflection smirked. “See? Denial. But then, if I was you, I wouldn’t want to remember how much I hurt other ponies either.” Slowly she began to circle Twilight like a shark around a wounded fish, slipping out of sight from the still frozen mare. “You see, that's why you want to be me. I’m a hero. I’m a good friend. I’m always doing my best to help others. You?”

“You just cause pain,” she whispered directly into Twilight’s ear; the unicorn would have jumped if she wasn’t still rooted to the spot. The other mare chuckled as she resumed her slow trot. “It’s an easy theory to prove. After all, just look at how much you are hurting yourself by trying to believe in your protective delusions. But then, I can understand why you would do such a thing. You hurt yourself with your delusions, so you can avoid the real pain of remembering.”

“I can’t blame you for that,” she continued as she casually finished her circuit, halting herself in front of Twilight once again. “I’d make the same choice, if I were in your hooves. It hurts less, giving yourself over to the fantasies of living another pony’s life. The pain of loss is so much more tolerable than the agony of guilt and shame.” Her expression hardened. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you don’t belong here. This place isn’t for a pony that brings suffering wherever she goes. Which is what you do. It’s about all you do, really.”

“You’re a liar,” Twilight repeated, feeling her anger rising to the fore. Memories? Pain? Whose memories? Who is hurt? Her thoughts were caught in a whirlpool, the impostor’s words creating a storm of turmoil that threatened to drown her mind beneath waves of conflicting emotions. Twilight grit her teeth as she continued, taking deliberate care with every word. “I don’t hurt other ponies. I don’t cause suffering.”

“Who's the liar now?” her duplicate said with a cruel laugh. “I’m struggling to think of anyone in your life you’ve ever actually helped. This world is one created for ponies who love and cherish one another. You’re just a selfish and deluded little monster.”

Twilight’s retort was interrupted by Spike’s return, a steaming mug clutched in each hand. The pungent scent of herbal tea wafted through the air. It was her favorite blend, bringing back memories of long hours spent working at Princess Celestia’s side. The thought of her mentor’s kind face brought a calming touch to her troubled mind, and she bit back her rage. Don’t lose control. You’re better than that. She is just trying to get you upset.

The dragon almost stumbled when he glanced up to find the two mares staring at him with intense expressions. He blinked. “Uh... tea?” he managed to offer with a weak smile.

“Excellent. Good job, Spike,” the Other Twilight said kindly. “What would I do without my number one assistant?”

Spike gave her a nervous smile as he offered her one of the mugs, looking at Twilight from the corner of his eyes. “Oh, it was nothing...” he said, trying to mask his uncertainty in the presence of the identical unicorns.

Twilight flashed her impostor an angry glare as she accepted a cup from Spike. How dare you talk to Spike like you know him. I raised him! He is my assistant!

Spike turned to make his way towards Twilight, but he was halted when the mug in his hand was levitated out of his grip and floated over to her by her double. “Don’t worry, Spike. I’ll take care of that. Now you run along and make sure there’s enough for the others when they arrive.”

For a moment Twilight thought he was going to protest, his mouth flapping open and shut a few times. “Are you sure you don’t need me?” asked Spike as he stared at Twilight, something unreadable hidden behind his emerald eyes.

“No, we’ll be fine. Don’t worry about us, we just have some things we need to discuss.”

“We have some hay-fries in the icebox I could reheat,” he offered, edging a little closer to Twilight.

“Spike.” The Other Twilight stated his name forcefully, pulling his attention back to her. “We are fine. All we need now is a little privacy. Understood?” Spike nodded meekly and hurried back to the kitchen.

Twilight’s loathing of her impostor reached new depths. She pawed at the floor in a subconscious display of aggression, the white-hot hate burning in her chest melting the doubt that had frozen her muscles. She knew the princess would disapprove of her losing control of herself and resorting to violence, but that didn’t make the idea of bucking her twin in the face any less delicious.

“That’s better,” the Other Twilight stated as she watched Spike’s purple tail disappear around a corner. She turned back to Twilight, floating the mug closer to the scowling unicorn’s head. “Go on, have some tea. I know you’ll like it.” She took a sip from her own mug as encouragement. “See? It’s good. It will help calm you down.”

Bristling at the implication that she needed to be calmed down, Twilight telekinetically yanked the mug free from her double’s mental grasp, splashing tea onto the floor. She stared daggers at her alternate as she fought to reign in her temper. “How dare you speak to Spike like that.”

“Please, don’t start,” she said scornfully.

Twilight ignored her. “How dare you speak to Spike like you know him, like you have any right to tell him what to do.” Her voice was low and dangerous, like a viper coiled in the grass.

Her impostor rolled her eyes. “Just drink your tea,” she snapped, taking a sip from her own mug. “We have a lot to discuss, you and I, and it’s for the best if we’re all in control of our emotions.” She lifted an eyebrow as she gave Twilight a cocky grin. “We don’t want anypony to do something crazy, now do we?”

Silence descended upon the two mares. Twilight’s muscles continued to clench and release as she held herself back from lunging at the impostor. Stay in control. Violence won’t solve anything. She is just trying to get a rise out of you so she can make a point. Prove her wrong. Lifting her mug to her lips – and resisting the urge to hurl the steaming contents into the other mare’s smug face – she took a reluctant sip. The familiar taste washed over her tongue, bringing with it some of the fondest memories of her life. As much as she wanted to, she couldn’t deny that the tea was soothing.

But I still hate her, she added firmly, her steely gaze burrowing into her opposite’s eyes. She continued to sip her drink, content to let the awkward quiet continue indefinitely.

Twilight considered it a minor victory when her impostor was the first to break the silence.

Clearing her throat, the Other Twilight began speaking. “Yes. So, I know you’re probably very confused right now, and probably pretty angry, but you need to understand something. This life,” she gestured at the library, “is mine. I’m Twilight Sparkle. I have friends I adore, and they love me back. We would do anything for each other. And that means dealing with threats. And you are most certainly a threat.”

Twilight scowled. “They are my friends, not yours. You’re just somepony – something – that has taken what is mine and twisted it around, claiming that I’m the thief. I’ve seen through your illusions, and with my help, my friends will see through them too,” said Twilight with a strong grin.

“It’s good to hear you sounding so confident,” the Other Twilight mused. “My friends will be here shortly, so you’ll have an opportunity to show us all.”

“I’ll prove to them,” Twilight said before taking another sip, trying to match her reflection’s unconcerned attitude.“After all, they’re my friends.”

The impostor snorted into her tea. “If that were the case, then why do you seem so determined to hurt them? A real friend wouldn't just selfishly use the other pony, leaving them in pain and tears.”

“I don’t do that!” she snapped, the bonds holding back her temper growing frayed and worn. “I don’t go around hurting other ponies, either. I care about my friends. I would never hurt them. Never!”

The other mare laughed, arrogance and savage amusement transforming Twilight’s voice into something completely alien. “Please, you can’t honestly believe that. Don’t you remember what you did to Pinkie Pie?”

Twilight flinched at her friend’s name, eliciting another round of cruel laughter. She glared at her tormentor, hiding her doubt and shame behind a mask of bitter anger. She had hurt Pinkie Pie, but that didn’t make her some uncaring beast. She narrowed her eyes. “That life isn’t real. It’s an illusion; a fantasy. This is my real life,” her voice dropped to a whisper, “and I want it back. I won’t let you steal what is mine and get away with it.”

“You’re the one trying to steal the lives of others,” said the Other Twilight. “You would rather take on a life you didn’t live than face the shame and guilt of what you have done in your own. You’re like a tornado, leaving nothing but loss and devastation in your wake. Your friends, your family, and even total strangers who just happen to get in the way. Nopony is safe around you.”

“Stop lying!” Twilight shouted as she took a threatening step towards her. “That’s all you do! Lie! Lie, and try to mess with my head! Everything you’re saying now, it’s just meant to confuse and distract me. I’m not going to fall for it again!” She jabbed an accusatory hoof at her twin. “I’ve dealt with you before. It was you, in the bathroom mirror. You were there to destroy my willpower, to try and convince me that I was insane, so I would just give up and accept the prison you created for me. Well, it didn’t work! I’m still here, and I’m going to defeat you!”

The Other Twilight sighed. “I’m frankly disappointed with you. I hoped that you would possess the mental acuity to realize when you were being irrational and senseless. I thought if we talked you might accept the inevitable and give up on your delusions, but it seems you are too stubborn to see the truth.”

“There is nothing irrational about this!” she growled. “The evidence is there, in my mind, and in my senses. I’m not being stubborn; I’m standing up for the truth! I’m standing up against you!” Twilight stumbled slightly but corrected herself, forcing herself to take another aggressive step forwards. “You are not going to win. Once my friends arrive, once the elements of harmony are here, we will show you just how powerful true friendship is.”

The lack of any worry on her impostor’s face only heightened Twilight’s anger. “You’re just setting yourself up for more disappointment,” she told Twilight, a whisper of amusement sparkling in her eyes. “But then, it is for the best. Your delusions are not healthy, for anypony. You need to accept that this life isn’t yours. It won’t be pleasant, but you need a voice you trust to tell you that you’re sick.” She gestured past Twilight. “So, why don’t we ask my friends what they believe?”

Twilight glanced back over her shoulder. As if on cue the door to the library swung open, revealing five familiar mares. She sighed with relief as they strode into the library, their mere appearance enough to bolster her confidence. These were the friends she remembered. “Now you’re in for it,” she told her doppelganger, giving the other unicorn a bold smirk before turning back to her friends.

Words of greeting died on her tongue as her best friends drew up in a loose semicircle around her. There was recognition in their gaze, but the warm compassion she had been expecting was painfully absent. Instead of friendship there was anger, embarrassment, and disgust. Five sets of cold eyes judged Twilight, sapping her courage and leaving her speechless.

“Is this here impostor still givin’ you trouble, sugarplum?” asked Applejack.

“Yes,” both Twilight’s answered as one.

“I wasn’t talkin’ to you,” she snapped at Twilight.

“Didn’t you learn better than to hang around Ponyville?” interjected Rainbow Dash as she hovered just off the ground, staring at Twilight like she was something the pegasus needed to scrap off of her hoof. “Seriously, what is your problem? We told you, you’re not welcome around here. What, do you need us to make you leave? Huh?” She flew a little closer to Twilight, her forelegs raised in an aggressive display.

“But... but it’s me, Twilight. Twilight Sparkle!” she said as ice formed in the pit of her stomach. She gestured desperately at the other mare. “She’s the impostor! I’m your friend!”

“Nopony likes a fibber!” said Pinkie Pie with a reproachful look.

“Don’t be absurd, you little monster. How dare you impugn the character of our good friend by claiming to be her?” Rarity lifted her snout dismissively. “It’s disgraceful, having some mad mare spreading such slander in public.”

Applejack nodded. “It’s just straight up dishonesty, that’s what that is.”

“We don’t want you here.”

“This isn’t your home.”

“You’ve worn out your welcome.”

Twilight slowly backed away from the approaching ponies, wincing with every cutting declaration. The empty tea cup tumbled to the floor as she struggled to speak. “P-please, you can’t... but... why don’t you believe me?” she stammered, her frightened eyes darting from one face to another, seeking a hint of affection in her friends’ eyes.

There was nothing.

“Fluttershy!” Twilight nearly shouted, focusing her watery gaze on the one mare that hadn’t said anything yet. Unlike the anger on the faces of the others, the shy pegasus just looked nervous and uncomfortable. Desperate hope flared up within Twilight’s chest. “Please, Fluttershy, say that you know it’s me! Please say you recognize me!”

Fluttershy averted her eyes, doing her best to hide her face behind her pink mane. “I... uh... I think...” she whispered softly, nibbling on her lower lip. “I think you should... s-stop trying to pretend you’re, you know, somepony you’re not. It’s not very nice...”

No. Not you, too. Please, Fluttershy. Not you.

“You’re just ill and, um, need some help... to get better.”

No no no no!

Twilight shook her head, her cheeks glistening with her tears. The loud and angry denouncements from her other friends had been hard blows against her confidence, each one landing with a nearly physical impact that left her reeling. Fluttershy’s soft rebuttal was a jagged knife plunged straight into her breast. Her hope was snuffed out like a candle, leaving nothing to hold back the darkness within that threatened to consume her. She felt like she was being crushed down against the wooden floor as the other ponies continued to force her backwards, her world shrinking down around her.

She spun to face her impostor, her tear-streaked face gnarled and twisted with rage. “You! This is all your f-fault! You’re... you’re t-twisting their minds! You’re controlling them, somehow! Like,” her wet eyes widened in realization, “like when... when Cadance had been replaced with a changeling!”

The Other Twilight groaned. “Alright, I’ll admit that it was funny at first, listening to you try and rationalize your delusions, but now it’s just pathetic. Stop embarrassing me in front of my friends.”

“They’re my friends!” Twilight howled, her horn bursting into life. "I've had enough of your lies! This ends now!" She ignored the fear on her friends’ faces as they shied away from the purple aura, her attention focused on her twin sitting yards away. The arcane power washed away the chill of doubt like a warm bath as she set about forming the complex spell. A lesser mage would find it challenging; for Twilight, it was almost second nature. She had practiced it furiously after her brother’s wedding, knowing that one day she might need to utilize it.

She narrowed her eyes dangerously. “I know what you are... changeling!”

A beam of lavender fire lanced from the tip of her horn and engulfed her tormentor. A second sun was born in the middle of the library, the blinding flash of its fleeting existence accompanied by a thunderclap strong enough to shake the foundations of the library. Twilight struggled to remain standing in the aftermath as the tremors sent books sailing through the air.

She grinned as she furiously blinked away the spots dancing in her vision, eager to see her handiwork. Okay, that was a little more powerful than I had intended, she admitted, letting out a giddy laugh. But it’s fine. Fine! Now my friends will know the truth. Still sporting a broad smile she turned her attention to the other mares, impatient to see the look of realization on their faces once they understood that she had once again saved them from a changeling infiltrator.

Her smile slipped when she caught sight of them all, each one in a state of disarray and confusion.

“My stars!” hollered Applejack as she rubbed at her eyes. “I can’t hardly see!” The farm pony blindly groped about around her, attempting to locate the hat that had been blown off her head.

Fluttershy helped Rainbow Dash up from the floor, fussing over a large bump on her head. The prismatic mare reassured her that she was fine, giving Twilight a venomous glare. Reluctantly, Fluttershy left Dash’s side and turned her attention to the whimpering Pinkie Pie, who lay where she had fallen, her hooves protectively wrapped over her eyes.

Twilight gulped, her dread returning with a wave of dizziness. Guilt began gnawing at her heart, but she pushed her doubts aside. I'll apologize afterwards. They’ll understand. It had to be done. Ignoring their dirty looks, she gestured at where her impostor had been standing. “See? I told you she wasn’t...”

She stiffened, her voice trailing away as she stared at where she was pointing.

“You were saying?” asked the Other Twilight with a smirk.

Twilight’s eyes were locked onto her twin. The spell she had cast could defeat any illusions. She had expected to find a changeling drone before her, perhaps even a fully fledged queen. Instead, she was still staring at a perfect copy of herself.

Her reflection's smile faded. “Now, I think you owe everypony an apology,” she said, the humor disappearing from her face as she took a few steps forward. “It’s not nice to go around hurting other ponies. Just like it’s not very nice to lie about somepony in front of her friends, either.”

“No! This is impossible!” Twilight shouted. “You’re... you’re a changeling! You have to be! It explains why all of my friends don’t realize who I am, why they believe that–”

Her desperate rant was cut short when a pair of white legs gripped her head and painfully yanked it around, leaving her staring into Rarity’s furious eyes. “What were you thinking, pulling a horrible stunt like that? You could have seriously hurt somepony!” she shouted into Twilight’s face, the normally demure pony transformed into a burning avatar of righteous indignation. “Didn’t you consider what could have happened?”

“I... I...” stammered Twilight weakly as she tried to pull back. She was desperate to escape her friend’s angry gaze, but the other unicorn’s hooves held her head like a vice as she continued to scream at her.

“Do you even care about anypony else? Or are you just so selfish that you just don’t care who you end up hurting? You... you monster!"

The look in Rarity’s eyes frightened her. It wasn’t the look of a drama queen trying to play up her emotions – it was pure, honest rage on her friend’s face, something she had never seen before. Twilight’s mouth flapped uselessly, trying and failing to find something she could say to her. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Something went wrong. Why didn’t the spell work?

“Rarity, that’s enough,” the Other Twilight said, resting a restraining hoof on her shoulder.

She glanced back at her, biting back her anger. “But she–”

The impostor shook her head. “It’s fine. Go check on Pinkie Pie.” She turned her attention to Twilight. “I’ll make sure that she behaves herself.”

Rarity held her grip for a few more seconds before reluctantly releasing Twilight, letting the disheveled unicorn slump to her knees. “Fine. But if she hurts anypony else, then next time I won’t be so polite!” Lifting her nose into the air she stormed away, leaving the two Twilights alone together.

Twilight watched Rarity move to the still downed Pinkie Pie, her cheeks still aching from her painful grip. It was obvious how they felt, but she didn’t want to believe. She wanted to claim it was just her mind toying with her again. The denials didn’t work. She could see it in the way their lips tightened and their eyes narrowed whenever they glanced in her direction.

My friends hate me.

She averted her gaze as she lifted herself up into a seated position, unable to look at them any longer. “Why are you doing this to me?” Twilight whispered, her voice cracking. “Why... why are you s-stealing my life?”

“I’m not doing anything." The impostor gestured around her. “You did this all yourself. I told you that they weren't your friends, but you wouldn't accept it. I told you that you just hurt other ponies, but you didn’t want to listen.”

“B-But I don’t...”

“What do you call that?” she interrupted, pointing at where Fluttershy was bandaging the cut on Rainbow Dash’s head. The normally quiet and conciliatory pegasus was watching Twilight, carefully eyeing her from beneath her pinkish mane like she was an animal that could attack without warning.

“Or that?” She gestured again, motioning towards Rarity as she bent down to help Pinkie Pie to her hooves, her purple hair bristling with contained fury.

Twilight’s head swam, her thoughts growing foggy and indistinct. Opening her mouth to speak, she found her words lost as she choked back another round of sobs. She lowered her eyes in shame. A growing puddle of tears glistened between her hooves.

Her temper gnashed its teeth in frustration, raging against her growing sense of hopelessness. It didn't want to give up. The source of her suffering was right beside her, within easy striking distance. It demanded she attack. It demanded she act. It demanded she do something to end her suffering.

What’s the point? she fired back, a cold despondency settling over her thoughts. Her senses felt muffled. Colors were washed out and faded. Sounds reached her as if crossing some great distance. It was as if there was a dreary rainstorm inside her, scouring away her strength and leaving her gutted.

“What’s the point in continuing to fight against the inevitable?” the Other Twilight said, mirroring her own thoughts. A half-filled mug of lukewarm tea levitated before her face. “Go ahead and drink up. It will help calm you down,” she cooed, her rich voice reaching deep into her head.

Twilight nodded dumbly as she reached out take the cup from the air, her arm trembling. For some reason she couldn’t call upon her magic to hold the cup, but this didn’t bother her. She sniffled. “I don't... I never wanted to hurt anyone...”

“Of course you didn’t,” the sibilant voice hissed sympathetically. “You can’t help it. It's not your fault. It's just who you are. But this world isn’t meant for you. Now drink your tea like a good girl.”

There was something tickling the back of Twilight's mind, a voice quiet enough to be lost beneath a breeze. She ignored it as she stared into her tea. It's surface rippled like a pond in a rainstorm, her tears dripping from her chin. "I j-just want this to end."

"So do they."

Twilight lifted her eyes and recoiled, alarmed to find her friends arrayed around her. Each one wore an expression that drove claws of self-loathing deeper into her spine. They were all different – five unique displays of how worthless and despicable she really was.

Rainbow Dash’s face was etched with a furious scowl that matched her outspoken temperament. Applejack glared distrustfully from beneath the brim of her dusty hat, looking like she had caught Twilight trying to steal apples. Having regained her composure, Rarity’s slight frown expressed a mild displeasure that only masked the burning anger in her eyes. Unlike the others, Pinkie Pie looked more disappointed than angry, her normally bubbly personality punctured by a sense of betrayal.

Growing more desperate with each terrible rejection, she shifted her gaze to the last mare. Twilight blanched when she met Fluttershy’s gaze. The unicorn’s knees trembled, nearly sending her crashing back to the floor.

Pity. There wasn’t a hint of the others’ naked hatred or raw distrust in Fluttershy’s soft blue-green eyes. She was staring at Twilight like she would a bird with a lame wing. She isn’t angry. She thinks you’re a cripple. She looks at you and sees a hurt animal.

She feels sorry for you.

Twilight shriveled beneath that soft gaze, gasping loudly as she struggled to breathe. She wished Fluttershy would just hate her like the others. It was easier to take. How could she claim that she wasn't ill, that this really was her life, when her friend looked at her with nothing but pity and sadness?

“They don’t want you here. Nopony does,” her twin stated, thankfully drawing Twilight’s unsteady gaze away from her friend's judging eyes. “You’re not Twilight. You’re not their friend. This isn’t your life. They don’t need somepony like you around. You just hurt other ponies. You don’t belong here.”

“You’re not our friend,” repeated Applejack scornfully.

“We don’t need you around,” Rarity added

“You’re not wanted here.”

“You just hurt other ponies.”

“You don’t belong here.”

Each friend repeated one of her twin's lines, their words landing like hammer blows against her sanity. Her doubts and insecurities rose to the forefront of her mind as the other ponies continued to chant their lines, the cruel barbs digging deeper into her psyche. Fed by her shame, her thoughts began to echo their words, her mind tearing at itself like a wolf gnawing at a trapped limb.

Her mouth worked uselessly. She wanted to shout. She wanted to beg. She wanted to plead, to cry, to try and explain. She wanted to say something, to deny everything, but only managed an incoherent mess of immature sobbing. The world was closing in around her, rooting her to her spot on the library floor. She couldn’t breathe.

Her friends’ faces were so familiar, yet so alien. They were just as she remembered, only twisted with looks of hatred that seemed far out of place. She would have given anything to have them regard her with the affection and love from her memories.

Unable to meet their harsh gaze any longer she turned away, focusing her blurred vision upon her twin. Her reflection stared back, the corners of her mouth lifted in a cruel grin. “Drink your tea. Give up. Let me take the pain away,” she said, her quiet words reaching past the harsh voices of the other mares. A purple aura sprang to life at the end of her horn, promising relief.

“P-Puh-Please...” she moaned pathetically, her eyes locked onto the unicorn’s glowing horn. She just wanted it to end. She didn’t care how. She just needed it to stop. “P-Please... I c-can’t...”

There was a soft pressure within Twilight’s skull, noticeable even beneath the dizziness and fog and emotional torment that had transformed her thoughts into a jumbled mess. It was the subtle probe of another consciousness trying to pry open her mind.

“I can make it stop hurting. All you need to do is let me in,” the impostor hissed as the pressure increased. It was uncomfortable, feeling the touch of another’s mind upon her own, but Twilight felt compelled to agree. She needed relief, and the Other Twilight’s words offered the only way to end her pain. “Drink your tea and relax, and I’ll make it all go away.”

Twilight nodded weakly, her muscles struggling to keep her seated body upright. Everything felt soft, like the world was crafted from clay. The shadows in the library deepened like a black ooze was seeping out from the walls. Yes. Please, make it stop, she thought, trying to ignore the persistent itch at the back of her mind that clamored for attention. Slowly she lowered her mental defenses, letting the velvet touch of her double’s magic slip into her thoughts. Just make it end. Please, take the hurt away.

The Other Twilight’s grin grew wider as her eyes flashed with purple energy. “I promise I’ll make it all better. You won’t feel anything, soon.”

Twilight returned the smile weakly, taking hope in the promise of a reprieve. She didn’t want anything but peace. Her friends continued their litany of her failings and personal flaws, but it had lost its sting. Assured she wouldn’t suffer anymore, she found the willpower to ignore them. They’ve abandoned me, anyway. I just want them to go away. Her head lolled about as arcane tendrils wormed through her brain. Everything went blurry. The violation of her mind was painful, but it was a blessed relief when compared to the hatred and disappointment in her friend’s faces.

Her eyes drifted away from the Other Twilight and her sharp smile. Everything’s so black, she considered idly, watching as the darkness flowed like liquid from the nooks and crannies of the library. It was a voracious shadow, swallowing up everything she could see as it slowly drew closer.

“Drink your tea.” Twilight couldn’t tell if the she had heard the command or if she had thought it, but she obeyed regardless, doing her best to try and force her foreleg to respond. Her body felt cold, her muscles slow to act.

A flicker of movement past her leering reflection drew Twilight’s uncoordinated gaze as she tried to lift her cup to her slack lips. She turned her head as her vision swam in and out of focus. It was hard to make it out, the object lost in the distant shadows. It seemed unimportant, whatever it was, but that nagging sensation demanded she look closer.

Twilight blinked a few times as she cleared some of the tears away, her vacant grin replaced by a frown as she finally made out the purple and green object half-hidden in the darkness. The cup of tea froze against her lips.

Spike?

The young dragon was peering out from the kitchen doorway, looking at the group with a look of concern on his face. No, not at the group, she thought, the itching at the back of her mind growing more pronounced. He’s looking at me. He’s worried about me. He’s worried for me.

“Drink your tea.” The command repeated more forcefully.

She can take the pain away. She can make it all stop, she reminded herself, her friends’ voices growing louder in her ears, their hatred and loathing dripping from every syllable.

“You don’t belong here.”

“You’re not our friend.”

“You just hurt other ponies.”

The cup sank a fraction of an inch. Spike... he doesn’t hate me, she considered as she met his gaze. Her mind flashed back to Pinkie Pie’s sadness and Fluttershy’s pity, but it wasn’t the same. This time, she could see something there, a sense of familiar recognition in his eyes. He’s worried. Not about what I might do, but what might happen to me. He cares. He cares about me. He cares about me!

“Drink your tea!”

The world around her rippled like liquid as Twilight slammed her mind shut, severing the cold tendrils that had been digging around inside her skull. The shadows pulled back like a wild animal from a burning torch.

Spike cares about me! Spike loves me! Spike is still my friend! Each thought brought with it a burst of honest relief, hope blooming once again within her nearly broken mind. The world seemed to wake up from a despondent sleep, the colors growing sharper and the sounds becoming crisp to her ears. She had slipped out from beneath her melancholy prison, and she could finally see the world as it was once again.

Her unleashed anger joined her newfound hope in washing away her despair, scouring away the taint of self-loathing that had seeped into her soul. A renewed fire burned in her chest as she leapt to her hooves and tossed the mug to the floor. Drawing strength in her resistance, Twilight lifted her chin to meet her opposite’s gaze. There was a moment’s alarm when she finally managed to make out the impostor’s face, but the shock was banished by a powerful surge of righteous fury. Her eyes narrowed into dangerous slits. “You!”

The other unicorn’s eyes twinkled with amusement as she smiled at Twilight. It was the same smile from the bathroom mirror.

The corners of the mare’s mouth were pulled back around the sides of her face, her grin stretching from ear to ear and bisecting her head almost completely. It was an unnatural wound that cut almost completely through her skull. There were far too many teeth on display in her twisted maw, each one shining like an ivory dagger in the morning light.

It was a noxious smile, an impossible smile, and it seemed to grow larger the longer Twilight stared at it.

“You’re going to regret this mistake,” the thing declared, its body a grotesque mockery of Twilight’s form. Its smile twisted into a cruel sneer. “Things would have been so much easier for you if you had just surrendered to the inevitable.”

“I will not surrender to you!” she shouted back, letting her anger grow out of control, using it to help power her resistance. “You failed. I didn’t break, and I still know that my friends love me.”

“Oh, is that so?” The question came from six mouths at once. Twilight spun her head around to face the other mares before recoiling in shock, each one wearing identical expressions and examining her with equally vacant eyes. She stumbled backwards as her friends advanced on her, their empty expressions not matching the aggressive body language. Her hindquarters bumped against a bookshelf, cutting her off from escape. They drew closer, pinning her against the wall. At some unspoken signal they halted as one, her friends watching her through unseeing eyes.

“We don’t love you. Nopony loves you,” they announced together. “You’re just a mad dog that should have been put down a long time ago.”

“Let them go!” she shouted, her limbs trembling again as she gave the Other Twilight her strongest glare. She couldn’t back down. She had to be strong – for her friends. She took a step closer, trying to make herself as intimidating as possible. “If you don’t let them go right this instant–”

“You’ll do what?” it spat, cutting her off with a chorus of stolen voices. “You can’t do anything. You’re not Twilight Sparkle, no matter how much you pretend to be. You’re nothing but a deluded fraud!”

Twilight rose to her full height, fighting to keep her voice steady. “I’m warning you...”

Wet, gurgling laughter filled the library. “Oh, this is rich! You’re a pathetic failure trying to sound competent!” The humor vanished instantly, replaced by a cold seriousness. “You can’t intimidate me. I know the truth. You’re not the element of magic. You never trained at Celestia’s side. Your past is a fabrication – a lie! It’s all a fantasy, crafted by an unstable little filly who couldn’t deal with her own life. You’re just the product of a young unicorn who would rather escape into a world of foalish dreams and storybook endings than face the pain of her memories.”

The thing with the monstrous mouth sniffed slightly, affecting an offended air. “I was offering you a way out, you know. A way to end the pain without all this drama. But you rejected me.” It smirked. “So now, now you get to suffer.”

Twilight’s horn burst into life, illuminating the walls around her with a pale purple glow. “You’re a liar!” she growled. Her headache pounded like a drum within her skull, too powerful to be masked by the cloying fog that had settled over her mind. She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. “Nothing you say is true. Can you honestly expect me to believe anything you say after spending so long pretending to be me? You’re insane if you think I’m going to listen to you while you are controlling my friends.”

“I’m not controlling your friends at all. These,” it gestured at the other mares, each one echoing its words, “are not your friends. This world is not your world. You don’t belong here. This is a world for a talented unicorn that has dutifully studied beneath Princess Celestia, one who does all she can for her friends and tries her best to help others.” Her friends starting to laugh as the thing that had been wearing her face continued to speak. “It is not for some delusional nut case who poses a danger to herself and those around her. It’s not for a selfish mare who uses those around her to suit her own needs.”

“I have studied with the princess! I do help others!”

“This is a world for the bearer of the element of magic.”

“I am the element of magic!” Twilight shrieked, her nostrils flaring as she slammed a hoof into the floor. The magical aura swelled in power as she drew in extra energy, ready to cast a spell at a moment’s notice. Sweat glistened on her brow as her headache grew as well, her skull caught in a vice.

The laughter halted instantly. Six pairs of eyes judged Twilight in sudden silence. “Prove it,” they demanded flatly.

Twilight blinked, caught off guard by the sudden shift in tone. “What?” she finally managed to ask, sounding as confused as she was suspicious.

“I said prove it. Go on,” it said as it gestured at her. “I’m standing right here, completely defenseless. You believe you were taught a few spells for self-defense, which is certainly not something they would have taught you if you were actually crazy. So if you can properly use one of those spells you thought you learned at the princesses’ side, I’ll go away forever.”

“Ponyfeathers,” she scoffed, keeping her horn lit in case it tried to pull anything. “You’re a liar. You’d never do anything you said you would, even if I were inclined to trust you in the first place.”

It only smirked. “You don’t need to trust me. Here I am.” It lifted its head and tossed its mane back, striking a noble pose – an effect ruined by the ragged gash it called a mouth. “This is your chance. I have no defenses up. I have no spells ready to cast. You can defeat me and vindicate yourself, right here, right now.” It smirked at her. “This is your opportunity to become the hero you always pretended to be. This is your chance to be the real Twilight Sparkle.”

She stared back at it, trying to hold back the mental fog and keep herself alert. “It’s a trick,” Twilight said eventually.

It frowned. “A trick?”

“Of course it’s a trick. I’m not stupid. What, did you think that I would just blindly do your bidding?” Twilight glanced at her friends, each one wearing the same frown as her reflection. “Besides, how can I be sure my friends would be safe?”

“You can’t.” Its smirk returned. “But you really don’t have any choice in the matter. I’ve already indulged your delusions longer than necessary. This life, this world, isn’t for you. So either you defeat me right now... or I send you back to your real life, so you can suffer with your guilt and shame.”

Twilight hesitated again, her eyes running over the faces of her puppeted friends. She knew it was lying to her and couldn’t be trusted. It was a ruse: some sort of trap that she hadn’t discerned just yet.

Do I have a choice? she asked herself, a sense of resignation settling over her. She continued to draw and release energy, keeping her horn primed for emergencies. It’s right: I have to defeat it if I want to stand any chance of saving my friends. They are depending on me. They need me. I’m their only chance.

Twilight felt a warmth settle into her breast as she stared down her nightmarish reflection. But, she thought, opening her her mouth as if to speak, that doesn’t mean I have to play by its rules. Twilight’s aura flared with power as she began weaving the arcane threads together into the elaborate shape of an imprisonment spell, her mind calling back to the many years spent studying with her beloved Princess.

Such spells were as advanced as they were carefully regulated. A spell meant to harmlessly imprison another pony for an indefinite period of time was not something one could learn out of a school spellbook. Princess Celestia had stressed the importance of restraint and responsibility when she had taught it to Twilight, the pair of them working together in one of the castle’s great halls. If there ever was a time, it was now!

It would only take moments to cast, but she worked quickly, hoping to finish the spell before the Other Twilight could respond. Invisible to the naked eye, lines of eldritch force were bent to her will, forming the complex geometric shape necessary for a successful spell. The air buzzed with electricity as she drew upon the power of the world around her.

Something is wrong.

Twilight’s eyes shot open as her spell begin to unravel at the seams. It was fighting her control, the individual threads twisting away from her mental grip. The connections were not lasting, the lines of power pushing apart like magnets of the same charge.

Exactly what happens when a spell is being cast incorrectly.

No! The spell is right! In a panic she drew more power into herself, trying to force the spell to comply. She could picture it perfectly in her head: the precise shapes and runes the princess had taught her in person. Twilight grit her teeth as her horn hummed with the pressure of containing so much energy. The more she pushed, the greater the resistance. She didn’t care. The spell was right; she could manage the strain. She knew it would work, if she could just-

The spell burst apart like an over-inflated party balloon, unable to sustain the power she was throwing at it. Like an invisible bolt of lightning drawn to an iron rod, the uncontrolled energy shot down her horn and burrowed into her forehead like a spear of burning agony. Her mind flashed white as she toppled soundlessly to the floor, her muscles jerking and twitching erratically as her nervous system was overloaded.

Twilight came to a few heartbeats later, staring up at the ceiling of the library. Her entire body ached from the involuntary workout. Her hair was frazzled and stood on end. Her back teeth tingled. She was lucky she hadn’t really hurt herself.

She groaned, not feeling particularly lucky. What happened? Why didn’t that spell work? Twilight tried to sit up, managing to lift her head before her strength gave out and her body went limp. She fell back against the oaken floor with a louder groan. She had to move. She had to get up. She-

A shadow passed over Twilight’s eyes as six faces leaned in over her, filling her field of vision with their mocking grins. Her friends continued to smile as her grotesque impostor tutted disdainfully. “Well well well. That didn’t go as expected, now did it?”

“W-What did you do?” Twilight gasped as she strained out the words.

“Me? I did nothing. I just let you prove my point for me,” it said, prodding her chest with a single hoof. “This world isn’t meant for you. Your life is nothing but delusions and fantasy, held in place by shameful desperation.”

“No! You did something!” Twilight shouted, confidence wavering as she struggled to right herself. “I know it! You... you had to do, do something. I cast it just like I remembered. I cast that spell perfectly!”

Her reflection planted its hoof into her chest, pinning her in place as it lowered its head close to her own. “Now you see why you are so dangerous,” it hissed, spittle dripping from its hideous wound of a mouth. Twilight twisted her head to the side, fighting back her nausea as the warm liquid splattered on her face. “You think you have skills and talents you just don’t have. It’s a cruel cycle, really. Your delusions are what lead you to hurt ponies in the first place. And then you ended up creating more delusions so you could hide from your guilt. But that just left you even less capable of acting responsibly, meaning you’re more liable to hurt ponies in the future.” It chuckled. “Your life reads like a playwright’s tragedy.”

Twilight glanced around wildly as she began sliding into a panic. She was surrounded. She was trapped. She was in danger, and she was defenseless. A sense of powerful claustrophobia gripped her heart, sending her heartbeat racing upwards. Her body was weak and unresponsive, unable to even remove the hoof compressing her chest. Her magical abilities had failed her. Any attempt to pull power into her abused horn elicited another stabbing pain directly into her brain.

Why didn’t it work? Why couldn’t I cast the spell? The thoughts echoed like the tolling of some great bell, the reverberations shaking her to her core. It didn’t make any sense. She had trained hard to master that spell. Hours had been spent practicing, on her own and under the princesses’ direct guidance. She could remember Princess Celestia’s proud grin when she had finally managed to bind the limbs of the helpless guard assisting them.

The doubt that had been rising and receding all morning like the ocean’s tides crashed back down upon her, drowning her mind in uncertainty. She could remember so many moments with her beloved mentor, the memories of time spent studying beneath Princess Celestia’s gentle guidance crisp and clear. Yet she found herself turning a critical eye upon them, judging them with a reluctant skepticism. Was any of it real? Is it all a big fantasy?

Is my whole life one giant lie?

She whimpered as she fought back against the insidious thoughts, driving them away with what little strength she could muster. “I won’t... give in...” she grunted, the hoof on her chest keeping her from drawing in a full breath. “I won’t surrender...”

“It doesn’t matter what you think,” the grotesque mare spat, her nightmarish visage hovering inches above the trapped unicorn. Twilight gagged as she was assaulted by the sickly aroma of putrefaction, but it ignored her discomfort. “You’re not supposed to be here. This is a life meant for a Twilight Sparkle that has compassion and looks beyond her own selfish needs. You are not that mare. You are not Twilight Sparkle. Your memories are lies. You’ve proven that yourself. Everything you think the princess taught you are just worthless fantasies forged by an unstable mind.”

Unable to meet that horrible smile she twisted her head to the side, her mind racing to find something she could use. It was a desperate and futile search, she knew, but focusing on the most remote of chances helped to hold back the painful words working their way through her skull. There was almost nothing nearby, nothing she could use. Books? No. A cup? No. Sheets of parchment? No.

She paused, dragging her eyes back to the discarded mug. The tea. The tea!

Twilight's head jerked back around as she glared up into her former twin’s mismatched eyes. “You poisoned me! There was something in the tea, something you made me drink. That's why I couldn’t cast my spells!” she shouted and thrashed against the restraining hoof. “My memories are right! That's- that's why my thoughts are so hazy, and, and why I’m dizzy! My memories are real! They have to be real. I... I know they’re real! You’re what's fake! You’re nothing but a living lie!”

The impostor just stared back down at the struggling Twilight, a look of false pity souring its features. “You’re only hurting yourself by holding onto those delusions. These are not your friends,” it gestured at the other mares. “They are mine. This world is my world. This world is my life. It is not meant for somepony like you. This world rejects you.”

The shadows began to deepen once again, an oily smudge spreading across the walls and ceiling of the library. Everything beyond the immediate vicinity was hidden behind an unnatural dusk. The impostor leaned in even closer, the powerful odor of rotting vegetation searing Twilight’s nostrils. “You see, but don’t understand. This isn’t your life. You are an invader here,” it said, lifting its eyes to watch the tendrils of shadow slither down the walls and across the floors. “This life rejects you because it knows what you are.”

It paused, as if savoring the sight of the spreading darkness. Eventually it returned its gaze to Twilight. “You’re nothing but a virus. This reality is treating you like the infection you are and rejecting you before you can taint it further.”

The dark sludge of liquid shadow spread across the floor like an animated ink spill. Twilight watched its approach with wide eyes. It was like looking into an expanding pool of nothingness. The black goop was insubstantial in every possible way. Like a shadow, it existed in the absence of something. Yet she saw clearly as the ooze smeared itself over the windows, devouring the sunlight and replacing it with darkness.

She feared the shadows. Her bones turned to ice as it drew closer, her blood freezing in her veins. It was more than just a primal dislike of darkness and the uncertainty of what predators might lurk within. It was a threat that grew more terrible, more sinister, the closer it drew. She feared its nothingness, the impossibility of its existence, and the way it consumed everything around her. It was more horrifying than the bloodless gash of her doppelganger’s smile, or the empty expressions on her friends faces.

And it was alive.

There was a dark malevolence hidden within the spreading shadows. It was like a heartbeat that couldn’t be heard, a faint rhythmic pulse at the back of her mind, at the corners of her vision, and hidden beneath the other sounds. She could sense it watching her from the darkest pools with single-minded focus. At the farthest reaches of the library she could just make out the indistinct outline of a pony wrapped in heavy garments. Where a head might be there was a sharp protrusion, a porcelain blade shaped into the beak of some bird of prey.

Twilight blinked and it vanished again, her teary eyes drawn to the darkness that pooled at her friends’ hooves. She glanced up at them, the last of her resistance crumbling as the disturbing living shadows inched closer. “Please, please! Let me go! I- I don’t want to be here anymore!” she begged, trying to break through their unseeing gaze, desperate to reach the friends she knew were trapped behind their vacant expressions. “Don’t let it t-touch me!”

“I offered you a chance to escape,” the Other Twilight chuckled. Her friends’ faces echoed her impostor, breaking into sinister smiles. The corners of their mouths began to stretch wider, tearing apart to reveal more and more teeth. Their flesh ran like wax under a hot flame, shifting with little rhyme or reason. The faces of her friends were lost as their bodies began to warm and boil, not slowing until every leering face bore the same sickening smile as her warped twin.

Twilight was crying again. She gasped for air and quivered in abject terror as the darkness began to slide up her friends’ legs. The bright colors of their coats were consumed as they were absorbed by the spreading shadows. It wiped away their cutie marks as it spread, obscuring everything beneath a layer of liquid night. None of them flinched as the insubstantial ooze rolled over their faces, filling their broken mouths and distended nostrils with the nothingness.

Her friends were gone. Left in their place were five pony shaped shadows. Silence reigned, the darkness devouring everything, even noise. The only sounds were the moans of Twilight as she trembled in fear, trapped on a small island in a sea of disturbing nothingness.

Twilight clenched her eyes tight, her face matted with sweat and snot and spittle and tears. “P-Please... I want to g-go h-home...” Twilight stammered, her voice echoing like thunder in the shadow shrouded library. “I want t-to go home! Please!”

Her impostor leaned down once again, its grin clearly visible even as it too was consumed by shadow. “This world isn’t yours. This world isn’t yours. This world isn’t yours,” it said, its chant taken up by the other figures around her. “This world isn’t yours. This world isn’t yours.”

The shadows slithered towards her.

“P-Please! Make it stop! Make it stop!” she howled, her last vestiges of self-control snapping like dry twigs. Her anger and dedication and hope and convictions were abandoned in the face of her all-consuming fear. Her mind became a cauldron of mindless confusion. She blubbered pathetically as the shadows swarmed her, talons of darkness clutching at her body. She was helpless. She was useless.

Daggers of ice sliced at her flesh as they spread over her body, leaving behind a deep numbing sensation that masked everything but the pain. She cried out for salvation again and again, desperate for some kind of an escape. It was more than just physical torture: it hurt her in every way she could possible perceive. It was pain at every level. It was attacking her thoughts, her memories, and her character. It was not just ravaging her flesh, but her very sense of self.

It was consuming everything that made up Twilight Sparkle.

She opened her mouth to scream, and the shadows surged down her throat.

Twilight jerked up as the scream tore free from her lips, her voice echoing back at her mockingly in the enveloping darkness. Confused and disoriented, she was operating on pure instinct. Her life was in danger. She had to do something. She had to fight. She had to escape. Overwhelmed by the surge of adrenaline pumping through her veins, she blindly leapt to her hooves, determined to free herself from the hungry shadows. Her forelegs missed the edge of the bed in the darkness, sending the unicorn tumbling forward.

Her scream ended with crack and a sharp “oof!” when she slammed into the tiled floor, the impact knocking the wind out of her. Twilight gasped for air as she tried to lift herself up on trembling legs, the instinct still driving her actions. Her raw eyes darted around the lightless void. They were slow to pierce the inky veil, but she could tell that she was surrounded. Large shapes loomed over her in the darkness, figures wrapped in shadows.

Shadows! Images of a spreading darkness brought out a swell of desperate hysteria. I have to get away from the shadows! Twilight’s hooves slipped and skid on the tiles as she pushed herself away from them, her back slamming up against the point of the wall that intersected her bed.

Trapped. She was trapped again. The hungry nothingness was everywhere. Her fear was physical, leaving her flesh cold and oily. She wanted to scream out for help, but her lips flapped uselessly. She wanted to clench her eyes shut so she didn’t have to watch her gruesome fate, but they were frozen in panic, forcing her to stare helplessly at the darkness around her.

The shadows remained where they were. Nothing moved to attack her.

Slowly the shapes around her began to resolve themselves, her eyes making out the bookshelves she had imagined as the remains of her consumed friends. The panic drained away as her mind slowly clawed its way up to full consciousness, bringing with it coherent thought. She glanced down at herself, sobbing in relief when she saw the proper shade of purple instead of the nothingness of the black void.

I'm safe. I’m okay. I’m safe. I’m okay, she repeated to herself, putting as much force as she could behind the thoughts to drown out her body’s instinctive call for action. The powerful urge to fight and escape throbbed in time with her heartbeat, her body wound tight like an overdrawn bowstring.

A small pool of light rested in the center of the floor, cast through the door’s solitary window. She stared at it desperately as she focused on bringing her erratic breathing under control. The tension leaked out of her with every measured exhale, her fear passing from her mind as she took comfort from the small square of illumination. It wasn’t real. It was just a dream.

She slumped against the floor as her panic-fueled strength abandoned her. Without the adrenaline pumping through her bloodstream, her limbs were left feeling as though they were made of molasses and lead. Her muscles ached. It still stung where she had hit the floor. She was physically and mentally exhausted.

Twilight shivered. She was also freezing. Her coat was matted with sweat, turning the cool recycled air into a sub-arctic gale as it passed over her damp body. Reaching out with an unsteady arm she grabbed her discarded sheet and pulled it up to her chin. It was as wet as she was, but a cold blanket was better than none at all.

“I’m safe,” she said aloud, her soft voice breaking the oppressive silence that hung over her. “It wasn’t real. It was just...” Twilight’s voice trailed off as the memories from her nightmare slowly seeped their way back into her mind, bringing with them an onslaught of images and thoughts she would much rather forget. “It was just a dream,” she finished in a whisper, closing her eyes softly.

Even my dreams aren’t safe from this world. Twilight’s lip quivered as she cleaned her nose on her sheet. It wasn’t just sweat that soiled her face; her eyes were raw from unconscious crying. Even my dreams hurt.

“All you do is hurt ponies...” a cruel voice echoed from her memories, the words delivered by friends whose faces were twisted with hatred and scorn.

I don’t help ponies. I don’t heal ponies. I just cause pain. The self-loathing returned unbidden, dragging blades of shame down her spine.

Twilight stifled another sob, cradling her head in her hooves. Oh Celestia, please help me... please, I need you... She didn’t trust herself to speak aloud, fearing what could happen if she were to verbalize her despair. She pictured the loving gaze of her mentor’s warm face, clutching at it desperately to keep from drowning in the black waters of her own fear. Princess Celestia... I need you. I need help. Please...

The small unicorn hunched up into a small ball, wrapping her limbs around herself protectively. Warm tears trailed down her cheeks. She cried softly, the faint hiccups and whimpers barely echoing around the room.

Silently she continued to plead for a salvation that she feared might never come.

Chapter 9

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Asylum

Chapter 9

Twilight’s eyes fluttered at the soft squeak of unoiled metal hinges grinding together. Slowly, she raised her head off the floor, her vision unfocused and blurry. She blinked as the door to her room swung open, her thoughts as cold and indistinct as a morning mist. She lifted a hoof and rubbed away some of the grime left from the previous night’s tears. She couldn’t remember falling back asleep.

When she managed to return her attention to the source of the noise she discovered two ponies framed in the doorway. Someone said something. Twilight shook her head, trying to clear away the cobwebs. They repeated themselves, the noise garbled and distant.

“I don’t understand,” Twilight croaked.

One of the ponies – a pale yellow mare – took a step closer. “Are you okay, Twilight?” she asked, her voice pushing through the fog that shrouded her thoughts. Recognition teased the edges of Twilight’s mind. A nurse’s cap rested atop her pale blue mane, and her familiar face was covered in far too much makeup – an attempt to mask the crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes. Twilight had seen her before, but a name eluded her. Did I see her around the hospital, or was it back in Ponyville? Which life is she from? Twilight shivered when she was unable to answer herself.

Pushing the questions aside for later she looked down at herself. She lay where she had passed out the night before, the awkward position and hard tile floor explaining the dull ache in her limbs. Her coat was matted in places with a salty mixture of sweat and tears. Her eyes and throat felt raw. She was cold, fatigued, and a long way from home. She glanced back up. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m okay.”

The nurse hurried over as Twilight attempted to stand. “Careful, honey,” she cautioned, helping Twilight to her hooves. “Now, what happened? Why were you on the floor?”

Twilight averted her gaze. “I... I had a bad dream,” she whispered, sounding raspy and weak. “I fell out of bed and I just, I couldn’t...” Her voice trailed away.

“Oh, you poor thing,” the nurse said as she picked up the damp sheets and deposited them on the bed. She sounded sincere enough to Twilight’s ears, although it could be hard to tell when every one of them forced it so often. “Well, we’ve got your morning medication coming. It should help you feel better. Once we’ve taken care of inspections, you’ll get a chance to go to the bathroom and freshen up.”

Part of Twilight tried to rekindle her earlier passion. It wanted her to get angry and ask questions. What were in those drugs? Why did she need to be medicated regularly? What were they doing to her? The flame flickered and dimmed, threatening to go out completely. Her whole body ached from her unnatural sleeping position on the hard tiles. Her head throbbed in time with her heartbeat. Her body ached for something to take the pain away, something that could give her even momentary relief. Keeping her mouth shut, Twilight nodded in understanding. She wouldn’t give in and ask for painkillers. She wasn’t going to trust anything they could give her.

The nurse’s expression softened. “We were told about your situation this morning. And it’s pretty obvious that you had more than a bad dream.” Twilight flinched slightly when she reached out, but the nurse ignored it, giving her shoulder a gentle, reassuring squeeze. “My advice is to talk to somepony about it.”

Twilight glanced away. “I don’t really–”

“I know you don’t feel like it right now,” she interrupted, “but you need to talk to somepony. If you keep everything bottled up inside, you only end up hurting yourself.”

The nurse’s words were painfully familiar, drawing out memories she would rather remain buried. The impostor's vicious smile and cruel words echoed in her mind. “You’re hurting yourself by holding onto your delusions.”

Twilight shivered. “I... I’ll think about it,” she offered, giving the nurse a weak smile.

“Please do,” the other mare said with a nod, dropping her hoof back to the floor. She eyed Twilight’s disheveled bed. “And don’t worry about making your bed this morning. Just leave the sheets on the mattress, and we’ll have the custodians come by and change them for you. You just worry about getting ready for your morning checks.”

“What do you mean?”

The nurse frowned for a moment before her mouth opened in recognition. “Oh, I’m sorry, Twilight. I forgot that you’re dealing with some memory issues.” She smiled apologetically. “Like I said, we were only told about your special condition this morning. Originally, Doctor Applejack was supposed to be here when you got up, to help you get acclimated to the schedule again. But after yesterday, well, she wasn’t going to be able to make it in so early.”

“Is she okay?” asked Twilight, honest concern coloring her otherwise flat tone.

“She’s gonna be fine,” the nurse said. “She had to get her eyes inspected again, just to be sure she was going to be able to work today. I was told she’ll meet up with you at breakfast. Until then, I’ll be helping you along and getting you back into the routine of things.”

Her words were like a beam of warm light cutting through the shadows, bringing Twilight a measure of welcome relief. “That’s good,” she replied. Turning her head she finally noticed the orderly standing just outside, watching the two mares as he held the door open. Some of her good cheer evaporated. “So... what do I need to do, then?”

“I printed off a copy of your schedule for you.” The nurse pulled a folded sheet of paper from a pocket. As she drew closer, Twilight glanced at the nurse’s name tag. Coldheart.

Memories of an identical nurse in an identical outfit working at Ponyville’s hospital sprang up in Twilight’s mind, forming mirror images of one another. Which one is the real one? she asked forlornly as she stared at the nurses. A chill passed up her spine as her friends appeared in stereo, each one standing beside her twin. They were a warped dichotomy, the warm smiles of the friends she knew juxtaposed against the jagged sneers of the friends from her dream. The question reverberated through her mind again. Which one is real?

Twilight’s eyes narrowed as she focused her anger inward, crushing the images into oblivion. No. No more doubts. I know which one is real, she told herself, the last of the ice melting away as the fires of firm conviction blossomed within her chest.

Nurse Coldheart failed to notice the slight shift in Twilight’s expression. “As you can see, It lists all your activities for the day.” She favored her with another smile as Twilight took the offered schedule. “We all know how much you like to have everything neat and organized, after all.”

Twilight ignored the familiar patronizing tone and unfolded the paper. It was a simple series of blocks in faded black ink: a copy of a copy, with hoofwritten corrections done in pencil. It was unorganized and almost illegible; so much so that Twilight felt a sudden desire to rewrite the thing herself. She suppressed the urge, forcing herself to pay attention as the the older pony gestured at the top of the paper. “We’re doing morning checks right now. You need to bring along your grooming bag and a change of clothes.”

“Clothes?” Twilight glanced down at herself, having forgotten she was even wearing anything. The patient’s gown was a drab, short-sleeved affair with BMPH spelled out in humorless block letters on the back, the shape bringing to mind the vests everypony wore during Winter Wrap Up. The normally loose fabric clung to her body, the shirt as damp as her sheets. They had probably started their life the same green color as the walls, but years of indiscriminate bleaching and heavy-duty washing had left them faded and worn out. An apt metaphor for some of the ponies around here, Twilight thought, lifting her head and sparing a look at the wrinkles the nurse tried to hide with makeup. “Oh. So, where do I get a change of clothes?”

The nurse gestured to a patch of bare wall near the door, guiding Twilight’s eyes to a small lever she had somehow missed the night before. “In here,” said Coldheart as she opened the closet door, revealing two small shelves. The top shelf held a small stack of green fabric; the bottom shelf held an empty container. “Clean shirts go on top, dirty ones go in the basket,” she said, handing Twilight a replacement shirt before closing the door. “Pretty self-explanatory.”

Twilight nodded, already creating a mental version of the daily routine. Part of her wanted to know the schedule forwards and backwards because it made her more comfortable having her day planned out into neat little boxes. As a filly, her family had given her no small amount of teasing for her insistence on crafting her own crayon schedules for their days out together.

But there was another, very different part of her that valued memorizing her schedule as well. It was the part that refused to accept anything to dull her pain, that narrowed its eyes every time she was talked down too, that reminded her how she was trapped in a lie and couldn’t trust anyone. It saw the schedule as something useful, one small tool amongst thousands, a tiny scrap of information she needed if she were to free herself – and there was always more to learn. “Anything else I need to know?”

“Just don’t dawdle once the staff wakes you up. You’ve been good about it in the past, but, well, due to your condition, it’s worth telling you again. We’re on a schedule, after all, and there are a lot of patients on this ward. That means lots of ponies that we have to get up, get showered, and get medicated.” Her expression turned to iron. “We cannot – and will not – tolerate any delays,” the nurse emphasized. She stared at Twilight for a moment before continuing, some levity working its way back into her voice. “Now, because of your condition, I’m going to walk you through everything as if you were a new patient. At least, up until we meet up with Doctor Applejack, that is. That way I can help you out and make sure you don’t get in any trouble.”

“That’s probably for the best,” said Twilight, remembering how angry the nurses had gotten when she had stepped into the wrong line after dinner. Their disapproving faces shifted into those of her friends. She flinched. Calling up her convictions, she pushed the doubt aside, forcing her attention back onto the mare in front of her. “I... don’t want to cause any fuss.”

“That’s what I’m here for: to make sure things go as smoothly as possible. The doctors said your memories should come back with time, but until then it’s best to keep treating this like it’s your first day all over again. So, once the patients have made their beds and picked up their things, they all line up outside for the morning checks,” she spoke over her shoulder, gesturing for Twilight to follow as she walked past the orderly holding open the door. “It lets us know exactly when everyone is ready. So, come along, and we'll get that all taken care of.”

Twilight hesitated at the entrance, fearing what terrors and tribulations another day would bring. The thought of confronting more ponies from her past drove a sliver of cold dread into her breast. Part of her longed for nothing more than to stay locked in her room, safe from the emotional turmoil of finding her friends trapped within the same broken world.

You’re ready for this, she told herself, fighting against the icey apprehension. It was just a nightmare. You can’t let a bad dream turn you into a frightened little foal. Those weren’t your friends. You are stronger than this. Each thought was delivered like a hammer against an anvil, bursting with fire and confidence. They left no room for doubt.

Twilight didn’t know if she believed a single word.

Lifting a trembling hoof, she stepped over the threshold.

Twilight couldn’t tell if she were nervous or relieved to be standing in line with a bunch of strangers. Ever since she had come face to face with Applejack, she had wondered if the absence of familiar faces would have been a blessing. Having her friends close could be comforting, but the knowledge that they were trapped with her made it a double-edged sword. A definitive answer continued to elude her.

“Hello, Twilight.”

No. Don’t engage her.

She surreptitiously turned her head and glanced down the row of patients. She felt like she had gone to a party and ended up at the wrong address. The rest of the patients were unknowns, ponies she hadn’t noticed around Broadhoof and couldn’t remember from Ponyville. And like slowly realizing she was at the wrong party, she felt herself growing more anxious the longer she went without locating a friendly face. She didn’t know anypony there.

That’s not exactly true, she admitted. A few yards away were two ponies she did know: Coldheart and Bon Bon. The nurses were talking quietly amongst themselves while a pair of orderlies ensured each room was empty. The rest of the staff were as foreign as the patients, which offered little reassurance.

“Twilight?”

Ignore her and she’ll stop talking.

After escorting her out of her room, Coldheart had guided Twilight to a spot along the wall, leaving her there with orders to stay put until she got back. The rest of the ward’s patients had begun emerging from their rooms as soon as Coldheart had trotted away, each one carrying a small grooming kit and a change of clothing. Quietly they had taken up positions abreast of Twilight, forming a close line along the wall behind her.

A very close line.

She examined the two ponies on either side of her, avoiding eye contact and doing her best to keep from drawing attention to herself. Although they had been standing next to her for a few minutes without doing anything threatening, apprehension still tingled beneath her hooves. She had no problem admitting that they made her nervous. It was entirely justifiable; they were mental patients, after all.

“Twilight, darling?”

She’ll take the hint eventually and leave you alone.

The pegasus to her left coughed. He certainly was eye catching, his brilliant orange coat and white mane almost impossible to ignore. Once, he had probably appreciated the attention. His high cheekbones and long limbs should have given him a noble air, but whatever had sent him to Broadhoof had taken his good looks as well as his sanity. A gaunt and unkempt figure, there were deep bags beneath his bloodshot eyes, just visible beneath his rat’s nest of a mane. Standing motionless and staring at the floor, he could have been mistaken for a statue if it weren’t for his assortment of nervous tics and involuntary spasms. Mumbling something beneath his breath he continued look down, his eyes never wavering from the spot between his hooves.

“Twilight!”

Her patience snapped. “What?” Twilight hissed as she jerked her head to the right, glaring at the mare beside her. “What is it?”

The other unicorn’s face split into a broad grin. “Oh, it’s nothing, my dear. I was just saying hello, and you weren’t responding,” she replied cheerfully. Despite being no older than Twilight, she spoke with the smooth sophistication of an educated Canterlot socialite. However, her twitching tail and inability to sit still betrayed any attempt at poise and grace. “So I thought it best if I ensured that you had indeed heard me. And I’m so pleased that you did, I really am.”

Twilight groaned. Can’t I be allowed to suffer in quiet dignity? she thought, eyeing her neighbor. The white unicorn was perched close enough that her perfume was nearly overwhelming, making Twilight feel like an entire flower garden had invaded her nostrils. She stood in stark contrast to the disheveled Twilight, her clothing spotless and her silvery mane crafted into the sort of elegant bun Rarity would have admired.

She seemed to notice the discrepancy between their appearances at the same moment. “My word! Twilight, you look a fright. Are you alright?” For once her eyes had stopped roaming around the room. Instead, she stared at Twilight with a look of worried revulsion, like one might give a crying foal with a leaking diaper. She took a step back. “I mean, look at what has happened to you. You look positively horrendous!”

Twilight sighed, any attempts at keeping to herself looking more futile by the minute. “I had a rough night,” she stated irritably before looking away.

“Well then, it’s a blessing that we are about to head to the spa. I would just die with shame if I were to appear in public looking like some sort of... of... indigent!” She spat the last word with distaste.

Twilight glanced back, her curiosity getting the better of her. “Spa?”

“Spa, bathing house, whatever they wish to call the facilities here.” She sniffed dismissively, seemingly unaware that she was tapping her hoof against the floor. “Of course, the facilities at this sanitarium are really quite lacking. I’ve already written my parents about it. More than once, in fact. They are obviously getting overcharged, whatever they are paying.”

Twilight lifted an eyebrow. “Sanitarium? Do you mean like a health resort?”

“Well, of course, darling,” the other mare said, rolling her eyes. “What else? But I can understand your confusion. After all, this is hardly any sort of resort. The service is terrible, the other guests are often members of the lower classes or crude degenerates,” she glanced at the silent stallion on the other side of Twilight with another contemptuous sniff, “and the attendants are quite bossy and uncouth, the lot of them. It is a disgrace.”

“I see,” Twilight replied as the pieces began to fall into place. “So, why did you come to this, ah, resort?”

“It’s for my health. I have a very delicate constitution, you see. My parents sent me away to rest and recuperate after some dreadful events back in Canterlot.” She waved a hoof dismissively. “It was all just slander and rumor, but you know how jealous and petty other ponies can be, I’m sure.” She brought her wandering eyes back to Twilight. “I’m a student at Saint Tulip’s School for Mares,” she added, lifting her head proudly. “I’m certain you’ve heard of it.”

Twilight mumbled something noncommittal, but the other mare continued over her.

“Well, my parents thought it would be for the best if I took a sabbatical from boarding school and left the capital for a while, so we could let the press die down. It is absolutely appalling what the newspapers will print these days. Being the heiress of the Silver family does make one the target for gossip and tabloid rumors from time to time, but those scoundrels had the gall to publish such terrible lies about me. But then, they were just repeating what those horrid beasts who ran the school said. They told everypony I was a corrupting influence upon the other mares, and accused me of taking advantage of my fellow students. Me! Can you believe anything so absurd?” She covered her mouth with a carefully maintained hoof as she laughed, the polite gesture of noble grace betrayed by the manic glint in her eyes.

“Not at all...” Twilight replied hesitantly. She took a shuffling step backwards, desperate to put a little more distance between herself and the mare’s wide and unblinking stare.

“I mean, I am not some disgusting fillyfooler! I come from a good family. It’s just lies and- and libelous assumptions based upon misunderstandings!” She trembled slightly as a smile spread across her face. “But that is all in the past. Daddy is going to send for me as soon as it is prudent for me to return to Canterlot. Scandals like that, even when they are absolute fabrications, take time to fade away. I just know that he has been working his hooves to the bone clearing my good name. It shan't be long before I’m able to return home to my family. It will be so very nice to see mother and father again.” The mare closed her mouth, grinning happily as she stared at Twilight.

Shifting her weight from side to side, Twilight averted her eyes, looking anywhere but at the other mare. Twilight’s relief at her silence quickly soured, the quiet only deepening the awkwardness between them until it became an almost physical force pressing down upon her. “So, how long until you get to leave, do you think?” she eventually asked, the unwanted conversation preferable to the oppressive quiet.

“Oh, it won’t be long now, I can assure you.” Her hoof resumed tapping the tile floor erratically, as if keeping the beat to a tuneless song only she could hear. “It has been a few years already, but I’ve been writing to daddy almost every week. As soon as he responds to one of my letters, then I will know for sure. These sorts of things just take time, really.” She glanced around the hallway. “I will be glad to be away from here. It is just not a place a true Lady should spend much time in.”

Twilight simply nodded in agreement, thankful that the mare was content to stare elsewhere. That was an ordeal, she thought, exhaling slowly. It felt like someone had taken Rarity’s sophistication and Pinkie Pie’s boundless energy and blended them together, with an extra cup of crazy thrown into the mix.

A chill passed down her spine at the thought of her friends. Memories of the insults they had hurled at her brought back some of the morning’s anxieties. Her head throbbed with a powerful ache, but she endured it. It was only a nightmare. Your friends still love you, she repeated to herself, focusing her thoughts away from the doubt that threatened to seep back into her mind. It was only a nightmare. Your friends still love you.

Was it only a nightmare? her subconscious treacherously fired back.

She maintained the chant until she spotted Bon Bon and Coldheart making their way along the row of ponies, handing each patient two small paper cups and watching them consume the contents carefully. Pills and water, Twilight assumed, eyeing the cups with a sense of apprehension. Once the nurses were satisfied they moved on down the line while an orderly escorted the patient to the bathroom.

Twilight frowned. The apprehension she understood, but there was something else. She was staring at the cups with a growing desire, a revelation she found disquieting. Still, she was unable to glance away, only more aware of the ache in her skull as they nurses drew closer. Her thoughts passed back to the last time she had been given medication – and the painkillers they had included. You don’t have to feel pain, a voice whispered insidiously, a low hiss that seemed to come from everywhere at once and nowhere at all. They can help it stop hurting. You don’t need much to make you forget that bump on your head. A little painkiller isn’t going to affect anything. It’s nothing at all. It was a persuasive argument. If she were back home, she would have reached for the painkillers long ago. What problem was there in asking them to give her what she would have given herself?

Twilight shook her head from side to side as if to physically clear away the treacherous haze gripping her thoughts. Stop thinking like that! she snarled at herself. I’m not so cowardly and desperate that I’m going to ask them to drug me. I’m responsible for more than myself. My friends need me to stay strong. They don’t deserve to live this life anymore than I do. This is about them as much as it is about me. Twilight drew up straighter, watching the approaching nurses with a renewed sense of wary disdain. She took strength from her distrust, using it to feed her convictions. This is about Applejack’s family, and Pinkie Pie’s scars, and Rainbow Dash’s anger, and everything else wrong with this world. I might be the only pony that remembers how things are supposed to be. I can’t surrender, because there isn’t anypony else they can count on. I need to keep focused for the sake of my friends.

A disgusting grin spread wide in her memories. Before it could speak Twilight brought a mental hoof down onto the image, smashing it into a million glittering shards. The fractured smile melted away like snowflakes under a hot sun.

I am not going to let some nightmare break my will. Whatever is happening, whatever caused this, I will not give in to self-doubt. I’ll prove to myself – to everyone – that I do not just hurt other ponies. Friendship is magic, and I am friends with the elements of harmony. We can return this world to the way it should be. The anger at her imprisonment, her nightmares, the fates of her friends, at the whole topsy-turvy world she was trapped in burned away more of her insecurity, filling her with the warmth of her firm determination. For the first time since she had awoken that day, Twilight felt fully in control of her thoughts. She basked in her triumph, enjoying her small victory.

She didn’t get to enjoy it for long. “So Twilight, did you hear anything about that terrible fracas during dinner yesterday?”

The question pulled Twilight out of her introspective reverie. Warily glancing over at the other mare, Twilight relaxed ever so slightly once she noticed the unicorn had returned to something approaching her initially calm demeanour. “Hmm? Oh, yes, I... heard some things about it.”

“I should hope so. It ruined what was already a pitiful excuse for a meal. It isn’t enough that we have to sit shoulder to shoulder with the ill and destitute. No, now we have to deal with uncultured ponies fighting each other.”

Twilight glanced past the mare as Bon Bon and Coldheart finally reached the two unicorns. A tired looking orderly walked along with them, a large tray holding dozens of identical paper cups balanced carefully in his mouth. Noticing the shift in attention, the unicorn followed Twilight’s gaze. The corners of her mouth dropped the instant her eyes fell upon the nurses. “It is a disgrace how poorly run this establishment is,” she said, raising her voice as she pretended she was still talking just to Twilight. She lifted her chin in a display of haughty disapproval that matched Twilight’s memories of the worst sort of Canterlot’s elite. “I will have some scathing things to say about this place, Twilight, let me tell you!”

The two earth ponies ignored her remarks, maintaining their forced cheerfulness. “Hello Silver Glow, how are you doing this morning?” Bon Bon asked, finally naming Twilight’s talkative neighbor.

“That is Miss Glow to you,” she stated brusquely. Bon Bon’s smile didn’t even waver, but the lines on Coldheart’s face deepened. Still, Twilight watched as they adjusted their stances slightly, an almost imperceptible shift towards a more aggressive posture. Silver Glow continued to admonish the two nurses, either failing to notice their responses or – more likely, in Twilight’s opinion – not caring what they thought. “And I am once again appalled and dismayed by the conditions here at Broadhoof,” she declared, lightly stamping one hoof for emphasis. “When we aren’t forced to follow your inane schedules, we have to endure the company of the sort of riff-raff that should never have been admitted here. I have half a mind to make another complaint to the administrators about the quality of care I am receiving.”

“Well, if you feel strongly about it, you can always bring it up in group therapy, or when you see your doctor,” said Coldheart, the dry and exasperated tone making it clear she had repeated the same message more than once. Her eyes narrowed slightly. “But regardless of your decision, you still have to take your medicine and let us complete our inspections.”

Silver Glow eyed both nurses contemptuously. “Fine,” she said with a sniff, making sure they understood that she was doing them a favor. Reluctantly she took the cup from Bon Bon’s hoof and swallowed her medication, washing the pills down with a mouthful of water.

“Open up,” Bon Bon said. With an exaggerated roll of her eyes Silver opened her mouth wide, allowing the nurse to peer inside and ensure she wasn’t squirreling the pills away in her cheeks. Twilight had a strong suspicion that Bon Bon took longer inspecting the unicorn’s mouth than was strictly necessary. Silver’s jaw began to tremble slightly as time dragged on. “All clear,” the nurse eventually declared, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “Oh well, better luck next time.”

Silver’s mouth snapped shut with a soft click. Her glare lingered on Bon Bon as she massaged her jaw. Bon Bon ignored the anger directed her way, making no attempt to hide her amused smirk as she trotted over to Twilight. She met Twilight’s gaze and winked playfully. Twilight grinned back.

“Okay Silver Glow, time for the horn inspection,” said Coldheart, stressing the name as she took up the departing nurse’s position in front of the glowering mare.

“Just be quick about it, will you?” said Silver as she lifted her snout up into the air. “I already feel soiled enough as it is. I don’t appreciate having some earth pony’s dirty hooves all over my face. And that heavy thing you force me to wear on my horn never seems to get clean.”

Distracted watching Bon Bon pluck her medication from the orderly’s tray, it took a heartbeat before Silver’s words registered in Twilight’s mind. Something on her horn? She snapped her head around as Coldheart reached up towards Silver’s horn – a horn she finally realized was sheathed with a familiar piece of bulky white fabric. How did I miss that? she thought as she stared at the magical suppressor.

Twilight grew more conscious of the weight upon her own horn as Coldheart carefully examined Silver’s. She glanced to her left, quickly spotting another unicorn a few patients down, a suppressor strangling his horn as well. She checked the rest of the unicorns, unnerved but unsurprised to note that each horn was hidden behind a fabric scabbard. Do they do that to all the unicorns they have here? No, I swear I saw patients during dinner who didn’t have them covered. Right? Unable to answer her question, Twilight returned her gaze to Bon Bon.

The nurse turned away from the orderly, one hoof holding a pair of paper cups. “Here you go, Twilight. This should help you feel a little better,” said Bon Bon with a smile, gesturing at the one filled with the multicolored medication.

Despite her misgivings she quietly accepted the the cup. Some of the fire she had nurtured was snuffed out in a shower of cold resignation. What could she do? Taking the medication was bad, but the punishment for refusing was worse – Bon Bon had made that point absolutely clear the previous night. Despite her submission being inevitable there was still a moment’s hesitation. She sighed. This isn’t surrender, she told herself as she popped the pills into her mouth, following them up a second later with a lukewarm water chaser. It’s just doing what is prudent and necessary.

“Now go ahead and open your mouth for me, Twilight. I just need to make sure you swallowed your medicine, okay?” Bon Bon asked, her broad smile leaving Twilight unsure as to how much of her cheerful personality was sincere, and how much was more artificial bonhomie.

Obediently she opened her mouth wide. Having another pony suspiciously examining the inside of her mouth was not a pleasant experience, but she did her best to endure it. Like the medicine, it couldn’t be helped. These indignities don’t matter. I need to focus on my goals, she reminded herself, holding back her temper. Play along for now and focus on learning what you can. After just a few seconds Bon Bon gave her the all clear, confirming Twilight’s suspicions about her neighbors lengthy examination.

As Bon Bon stepped away Twilight glanced to her right, half expecting to see Silver Glow giving her a petulant glare. Instead, the mare was already trotting away, her head held stiffly in the air, her tail swishing irritably from side to side. Nurse Coldheart remained close by but had her back to Twilight, talking to a younger nurse that must have arrived when Twilight was distracted. Coldheart gestured for her to go with Bon Bon before finally turning around again. “Okay Twilight, it’s your turn,” she said as she shuffled closer. “I’ll need to check to make sure the magical suppressor is still intact. It’s something we do every morning, but doesn’t take long. And once I’m done, I’ll escort you to the bathroom myself.”

Twilight glanced at the dozen ponies still lined up with her. “Don’t you have other patients to examine?”

“I’m going to let the new girl finish up with Bon Bon.” She tilted her head toward the other nurse. “She could use some more practical experience, and these examinations are a good way to ease ponies into things.” Her painted face brightened. “Besides, I want to stick with you until we meet Doctor AJ. That way I can help you out and answer your questions, so we can make sure everything goes smoothly. Doesn’t that sound good?”

“Well, I am curious about one thing,” said Twilight, taking the opportunity to voice the question that had been percolating at the back of her mind. “Do all the unicorns have to wear these magical silencers?”

“Well, no. Not all unicorns have to wear them,” said Coldheart, picking her words with obvious care as she played her hoof over the suppressor. She lightly tugged at the fabric and inspected the buckles, making sure nothing was torn or loose. “Unicorns only have to wear them when their magical abilities threaten their health and safety.”

“So what you’re saying is that you do it to the dangerous ponies, the ones you’re worried might use their magic to escape or attack somepony,” she said, unable to keep some of her bitterness from seeping into her tone. “I understand; it makes perfect sense. After all, an insane unicorn could do a lot of damage. You need to protect yourself and the other patients from the really crazy ones.”

Coldheart frowned. “Twilight, we don’t appreciate terms like ‘crazy’ or ‘insane’ around here,” she chided, mild displeasure written on her powdered face. “And you're wrong. It’s not just for safety, but for the wellbeing of our patients. Many unicorns need to have their magical connection interrupted because of their illnesses, and not over fears about what they might do if they could cast spells. There are many diseases and disorders that can react negatively to magical usage.”

Twilight blinked, honestly surprised by the nurse’s words. Small snippets from her studies floated to the surface of her mind, half-remembered footnotes and passing references to the role of magic in certain ailments. It had never been an area she had closely studied, but she had picked up enough working in other fields to find herself believing Coldheart’s words. “So there are diseases where just being able to use magic can cause problems?” She leaned forward hungrily, scholarly curiosity shoving aside bitter cynicism. “I mean, I’ve studied plenty of arcane theory, but I haven’t read much on how magic relates to mental illnesses. Do the illnesses only respond differently with unicorns, or does any magical influence have a negative impact? Does casting a spell have the same effect as being targeted by one? What about being in the vicinity of an active spell caster? Do magically reactive poultices and potions react different if the–”

She halted her flurry of questions when she noticed the laughter in the nurse’s eyes and her barely suppressed grin. Like a colt that had been playing with his mother’s makeup, Twilight didn’t feel any embarrassment until she finally recognized the amused stare of another. She snapped her mouth shut as she turned a brilliant shade of scarlet. There is no shame in actually enjoying learning new things, she thought defensively, her declaration doing nothing for the warmth in her blushing face.

Coldheart’s amusement quickly faded. “Alright Twilight,” she said with a professional air, “I’ll try to answer your questions, but we don’t have that much time. We have a schedule to keep, and you can’t be late for your morning meetings. I’ll explain while we head to the bathroom, alright?”

Twilight nodded and grabbed her things. She wanted answers, and she wasn’t going to let a little embarrassment get in the way. Besides, it’s not like you haven’t been in a situation like this before, she pointed out. Surprisingly, it didn’t help her feel any better thinking back on the many times her eagerness had ended up embarrassing her. “So, why is it so different for us than other ponies?”

“Well, in the simplest of terms, it all has to do with how unicorns interact with magic. Unlike pegasi or earth ponies, you unicorns shape arcane energy with your mind,” explained Coldheart. “For non-unicorns, magic is something intuitive and subconscious. Pegasi have to learn how to fly, but they don’t have to learn how to walk on clouds – they just do. It’s innate, like digesting food.”

“I know that. I took health and biology classes in school,” she stated flatly, trying to keep her impatience in check, and ignoring the nurse’s odd look. “I just need to know why it’s so different that I need a suppressor on my horn.”

“It’s because unicorns control magic with their minds,” Coldheart repeated patiently. “If the mind itself isn’t functioning properly, then the magic it is using becomes unstable. And because some diseases alter perceptions of reality, even casual use of magic becomes a true health hazard. In many ways, it’s like a foal’s magical surges. The foal uses magic erratically because their mind isn’t fully developed.”

The last piece fell into place, leaving Twilight feeling particularly slow. Her blush returned with a vengeance. Why didn’t I think of that? "Oh, of course." Twilight kept her voice steady as she continued her questions. “But except for some of the innate abilities of earth ponies and pegasi, magic by itself doesn’t directly affect a pony unless it is guided by a spell. So how does just passive exposure to magical energy affect the disease?”

“Passive exposure doesn’t affect anything. After all, our staff use spells on patients all the time,” she pointed out. “It’s the ability to utilize magic that can lead to problems.”

“So a disease can be directly affected by a unicorn’s ability to cast a spell?”

“I don’t believe it affects the disease directly,” the nurse replied, sounding less sure of herself than before, “although you’ll have to ask one of the doctors to be sure. In my experiences the symptoms are the problem. Because of the mental link, they can become unpredictable and... dangerous.” Coldheart glanced away. "Hallucinations are the worst. A pony’s illness deceives them utterly, altering how they think and what they feel, until magic itself becomes a liability. It’s not even the very real danger of them casting the wrong spell unwillingly. They might draw in too much power and cause brain damage. If their senses betray them, they can easily end up burning away their minds without ever realizing it.”

Twilight was struck by the deep weariness in the nurse’s eyes, feeling like she was getting an unguarded glimpse into the older mare’s soul. Coldheart wanted to hide her scars, hoping to mask the premature wrinkles with bright makeup, but her eyes couldn’t lie. Twilight turned away. What could she say after that?

Lost in her thoughts, Nurse Coldheart seemed content to let the silence linger. Twilight couldn’t help but dwell upon her words, shivering at the thought of a unicorn causing themselves brain damage. An arcane burnout was the dark side to unicorn magic, something every unicorn was warned about growing up. It had always seemed such a terribly unlikely occurrence to Twilight, the idea of somepony drawing in so much magical energy that it created a feedback loop and they ended up frying their own minds. If they didn’t pass out from exhaustion first, the searing pain would make any pony give up long before they could cause themselves lasting harm.

Any sane pony, she corrected herself, letting her eyes roam over the locked metal doors that ran the length of the hallway. The faces of Silver Glow and the twitchy orange stallion sprang to mind. A chill passed down her spine, making the hairs on her neck stand on end. Not every pony here is.

Chapter 10

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Asylum

Chapter 10

“Are you sure your eyes are okay? Like, really sure?”

“Yes, Pinkie, my eyes are just fine,” Applejack replied wearily, giving her another reassuring smile. It was the sixth or seventh time Pinkie Pie had asked the question, and each time Applejack’s grin grew a little more strained. “There wasn’t any damage done. Don’t get yourself worked up about it, I’ll be right as rain in a day or two.”

“That’s really good news,” said Twilight from across the cafeteria table, hoping to cut Pinkie off before she forced Applejack to repeat herself for an eighth time. “I mean it. I was worried something serious had happened.”

After the unpleasantness of her morning shower – and with memories of what had happened the previous night still fresh in her mind – Twilight had jumped for joy when she had finally spotted Applejack waiting for her at one of the nurse’s stations. She had barely managed to say goodbye to Nurse Coldheart before bombarding Applejack with questions: How are your eyes? What happened to Rainbow Dash? Are you feeling well? Applejack had weathered them well, answering as best she could while the two had made their way to the cafeteria. The morning had only improved once they had met up with Pinkie Pie. The presence of two of her good friends, both wearing honest smiles, had been a soothing balm to her nerves. Lost in the conversation with Applejack, she hadn’t even looked at what they had been served for breakfast. She had run on autopilot, following along as they took their seats, fully absorbed in finding out everything that had happened since yesterday.

That had been ten minutes ago. Her tray rested on the table, untouched. As she looked at them both, she could almost convince herself that everything was normal, that everything was as she remembered. Her eyes lingered on Applejack’s bandages.

Almost.

“I can appreciate how hard it was for you two, but I’m fine now. Honest,” said Applejack, injecting her voice with as much confidence as she could muster – which only made her accent come through even stronger. “It’s just a few scratches. Heck, I’ve gotten worse pickin’ weeds back on the farm. There ain’t any reason for the two of you to worry, alright?” Twilight nodded when Applejack looked her in the eye. She turned her head to glance at Pinkie Pie, giving her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “Alright?”

Pinkie bobbed her head eagerly. “Alrighty, Doctor AJ!”

“Excellent! Now that that’s settled, why don’t we focus on havin’ breakfast before it gets cold? You two have been keepin’ my gums flappin’ all mornin’. I’d like to actually eat sometime today.” Applejack gave them both a teasing smile as she rubbed her hooves together. Pulling her tray closer Applejack eagerly picked up her spoon and glanced down at her meal. She hesitated, staring at the contents of her bowl as her energy was drained away, before her shoulders finally slumped in defeat.

Twilight’s expression mirrored her friend’s as she looked down in disbelief, her stomach twisting in on itself at the sight of what sat on her tray. It was the previous day’s leftover porridge with a few bags of gravel and chaff thrown in, and sour milk as a thickener. It was chunky and runny; viscous and clear. It was a scale model of a fetid and stagnant bog attempting to be passed off as a meal.

“It looks like snot,” Pinkie Pie said, scrunching up her face and sticking out her tongue, but sounding more amused than disgusted.

“This isn’t food. This is a crime against cooking,” added Twilight, channeling a bit of Rarity in her look of pure abhorrence.

“At least it’s warm,” Applejack offered after she and Twilight glanced up at one another, the doctor doing her best to put things in a positive light. It was part of her job not to be negative around the patients, but Twilight could tell that under her forced smile she was wishing she had brought something from home. “And it’s all we’ve got this morning. So, tuck in?”

The unicorn made no move to pick up her spoon.

Applejack’s weak smile faltered and gave way beneath Twilight’s unconvinced stare. Reluctantly, she returned her attention to the quivering mass that lay in her bowl. She pushed her spoon into the depressing concoction slowly, as if fearing it might attack. Upset by the violation it resisted her efforts to pull free, unwilling to release its grip on her spoon so easily. She tried harder. There was a wet pop as it finally came free. It was a dauntingly large mouthful, excess gunk dripping over the sides like chunky molasses. All three mares stared with morbid fascination as she lifted her spoon higher, their eyes tracking each lump that dripped over the sides and fell back into the bowl to land with a horrid plop.

“It even sounds like snot,” said Pinkie. Twilight nodded dumbly.

“It’s perfectly fine, you two. It just... looks odd, is all.”

Twilight couldn’t tear her eyes away from the dripping mound of goop clutching Applejack’s spoon. “Are you sure about that? I mean, you are still recovering from your wounds.”

She had the feeling her words had managed to upset the doctor inside Applejack. She gave both of them a stern frown. “Yes, I’m sure! It’s perfectly fine, and both y’all need to eat your breakfast. Look, I’ll show y’all that there ain’t nothin’ to be afraid of.” Mustering her courage, Applejack shoved the spoonful into her mouth before she had a chance to stop herself. Nopony moved for the longest time. Twilight didn’t know whether to be disgusted or amazed when Applejack finally pulled the spoon free, the white plastic perfectly clean. Eventually Applejack forced her jaw to start moving, her left eye twitching slightly. Her chewing was robotic, the quick but steadied pace of someone trying to get through something without having to think too hard about it. After she was done chewing Applejack tried to swallow, but it was soon clear that she was struggling – Twilight couldn’t tell if it was because of the taste or if the food was fighting back. With a grimace and a pained expression, she finally managed to finish her first bite of the meal.

“How did–” Twilight’s question was interrupted by a raised hoof as Applejack made a grab for the styrofoam cup resting on her tray. Throwing her head back Applejack downed the instant coffee in one smooth motion before gasping like a swimmer coming up for air. Twilight waited for her to catch her breath. “So... how did it taste?”

The doctor did her best to compose herself. “It wasn’t that bad,” she declared hoarsely. Twilight gave her a disbelieving look. “What? Okay, fine. It ain’t great, but it is edible.” She paused. “Just, ah, start small, alright?”

Her friend’s words did little to assuage her concerns about what she was supposed to willingly put in her mouth. Twilight shifted her eyes between Applejack and the lumpy mess before digging in with her spoon. I need the energy if I want to keep going today, she told herself as she pushed the spoon past her lips. She regretted it instantly.

She never would have imagined that it could top yesterday’s dinner, but Broadhoof’s cafeteria workers had managed to really outdo themselves. What was placed upon her tongue was both tasteless and disgusting: the grey-brown sludge had the consistency of book paste and left a slimy residue behind that she feared would never leave. Desperation overtook her as she swallowed as quickly as she could, hoping to get the mouthful down before she could rethink which direction she wanted it to go.

Applejack failed to hide her amusement as Twilight made a mad grab for her own cup. “Oh sweet Celestia, that is vile!” she declared once she had finished gargling her coffee, the searing and bitter liquid scouring her mouth clean. She fought down the urge to scrape her tongue along her teeth. She turned her narrowed eyes on Applejack. “You! You said it wasn’t that bad!”

Applejack tried to look apologetic. “Well, you really do need to eat somethin’, what with all your medication and all. It’s my job to look after your health, Twi. And would you have eaten anything if I told you how bad it was?”

She glared at her friend, but her anger quickly fizzled away. “Well, I can’t be that upset with you, not after making you try it first,” she admitted with a smile that Applejack happily returned. “Still, this is probably the worst thing I’ve ever eaten in my entire life.”

“Oh, it ain’t nothin’. When I was a little filly, Big Mac once got me to eat a slice of dirt pie.”

Twilight nearly choked. “Wait, what? How did he get you to do that?”

“We was playin’ truth or dare, and he said I would be a chicken if I didn’t. So I ate the whole thing, worms and all, just to prove the big galoot wrong.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever met a more stubborn group of ponies in my life than your family,” declared Twilight with a grin.

There was an odd look on Applejack’s face, but it vanished when she chuckled. “Yeah, well, it was all worth it when I got him back later. And this,” she gestured at their bowls, “is not that bad. It’s just a little overcooked. Or undercooked. Or both, I dunno. But it’s not that terrible, once you get over the shock of that first bite.”

“You can’t be serious. This is probably the worst thing to ever come out of a kitchen that didn’t end up killing somepony.”

“Okay, I admit, it ain’t exactly restaurant quality grub, but it ain’t going to make you sick. It’s just barley oats... I think. And you really do need to eat.”

“I have serious doubts that this is better for my health than going hungry.”

“Twilight,” Applejack said her name slowly, her tone becoming more serious. “All kiddin’ aside, your medication will give you an upset stomach if you don’t get some food in you.”

The unicorn exhaled. “Fine.” She quickly swallowed another small spoonful, giving Applejack an exaggerated grimace. “There, see? I’m eating. I’m just... taking my time. Giving my body a chance to acclimate itself to this sludge.”

“And you call me stubborn,” said Applejack, her eye roll as equally exaggerated as she forced herself to swallow some of her own breakfast in turn. She coughed. “You know, I’m startin’ to look back on that dirt pie a little more fondly.” Twilight laughed.

“All it needs is some sugar,” Pinkie stated assuredly as she filled her mouth with another heaping spoonful, swallowing it without hesitation. “Oh, and some cinnamon would be nice. And some milk. Maybe a little butter too. And maybe some maple syrup. But besides that, it’s still pretty good.” Twilight and Applejack watched in silence as Pinkie Pie tilted her bowl back to pour the last of her porridge into her open mouth before swiftly licking it clean. The two shared a mutual look of disbelief.

Applejack eventually managed to close her mouth. “That’s... just...”

“Impossible,” Twilight finished as she shook her head. Still, she couldn’t disagree with Pinkie on all the particulars. It’s hard to think of anything that wouldn’t make it taste better, she thought, eyeing her meal distrustfully. Twilight reluctantly spooned more of the goopy mess into her mouth. Oh, what I wouldn’t give for some fruit right now.

The trio descended into partial silence. While Twilight and Applejack forced themselves to eat with the resignation of the condemned, Pinkie Pie held a one-sided conversation in between mouthfuls of porridge from her second bowl.

Twilight sighed softly into her bowl as she half-listened to Pinkie’s meandering story, letting her mind wander in turn. Inevitably, her thoughts coalesced around the same issue that had been hovering over her all morning: her dream. Was it a dream? On any other day I wouldn’t have to think twice. It was too crazy to be anything but a dream. She looked up from her plastic dishware and glanced around the cafeteria. But now? she thought, the question hanging in the air as she watched two orderlies wrestle a screaming mare back down into her seat. The patient sitting beside her kept his head down as he slowly wrote something out over the table with his porridge. Past him she could see another set of patients being fed by a bored looking nurse.

Now, everything is crazy.

Returning her attention to her friends, Twilight took a steadying breath, their presence giving her the strength to push away what little fog still clung to her mind. As much as she thought of herself as a reasonable and logical mare, she knew better than anyone how she could let her doubts and anxieties get out of hoof.

But not today, she promised herself. The confidence was a welcome change of pace. Warmth saturated her body, the fire of her conviction visible in the set of her jaw and the confident gleam in her eyes. Today is going to be different. Today, I’m going to use my strengths. Today, I’m going to keep organized. Today, I’m going to fight back against whatever sent me here to this broken place. I am Twilight Sparkle, protege of Princess Celestia and bearer of the element of magic. I can handle this challenge, just like I have overcome all my previous tests. I am here with my friends, and there is nothing that can stand in my way. I can defeat this world’s lies with the three greatest weapons known to ponykind: research, studying, and deductive reasoning!

“What was that Twilight?”

Applejack’s question yanked Twilight back to her senses. She blinked at her friends, meeting the gaze of the curious doctor and the equally curious patient. “Huh?”

Applejack shrugged. “I just thought I heard you say somethin’, is all.”

“Me too,” Pinkie Pie added. “It sounded like something about ‘researching studded duck seasonings’.” Her face brightened. “Or maybe ‘read arch-’”

“It was nothing!” said a blushing Twilight loudly. She lowered her voice to normal levels. “Really, it was nothing. I was just... thinking aloud about, um, my schedule for the day.” She pulled her schedule free from one of the shallow pockets on her green vest and slapped it down onto the table a little harder than intended. She forced herself to give them a broad grin.

Applejack’s eyes watched Twilight’s for a few seconds before she shrugged again. “Alright. Well, if you have any questions about anything, just let me know. After your meeting with Doctor Rose, I can go over the schedule again with you, if you like.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Twilight replied, her fake smile vanishing as soon as Applejack turned away to reluctantly answer Pinkie Pie’s question about ‘studded duck seasonings’. The embarrassment at being caught speaking aloud became scorn. That was a stupid mistake, she chided herself as she returned the schedule to her pocket. What if I had said something else? This Applejack might be my friend, and she might have some connection back to the mare I know, but she is still part of the staff here. I can’t let anyone know what I’m thinking until I have a better idea of what I’m dealing with – especially the doctors. Nopony can be trusted.

She continued to eat her breakfast, reluctantly spooning more of the meal into her mouth as she updated her mental checklist, careful to underline her reminder to watch what she said. She couldn’t afford any mistakes. Still, she wasn’t as worried as she once would have thought. If there was one area in which she knew she excelled, it was in doing things carefully.

Twilight’s thoughts soon returned to the previous night’s dream. Hours had already passed, but fortunately – or unfortunately, she considered – the nightmare had been so vivid that the details were still seared into her mind. But was it just a dream? she asked herself again, repeating the question a little more forcefully. I fell asleep, experienced whatever it was, and awoke afterwards. It fits the definition for a simple nightmare. But then, considering what this world is like even when awake, it isn’t irrational to entertain the possibility that it could be more than a dream. Her eyes flickered around the cafeteria. This whole experience pretty much argues in favor of the impossible being possible, but does that really prove anything?

She replayed her memories of the dream through her head. At first it had been so real, she couldn’t help but feel homesick as she remembered the sight of Ponyville resting just outside her bedroom’s window. Everything had been just as it was supposed to be, down to the scents of ink and parchment that dominated the library. Even after the insanity had begun, it had retained a truly visceral feel that she couldn’t remember experiencing in a mere dream before. But everything else? My friends’ behavior, my impostor’s temperament, the physical transformations... everything else had been so strange, so impossible, that the only logical assumption is to label it all a fantasy.

The longer she debated the idea with herself, the more certain she became that her dream had been just that: a dream. It had been a frightening and particularly vivid dream, certainly, but in the end it was still just a dream. Even Sombra’s magic had relied upon the creation of a realistic illusion, she thought in a professional, scholarly tone. Memories of school debates and oral examinations passed through the back of her mind as she continued her inner dialectic. That’s what made it so effective – you could subconsciously believe the illusion because it played off of your fears while giving you no room to doubt it. Your own doubts made the scenarios seem realistic.

But dreams are not limited to keeping themselves within the realm of believability, even though you might think they are real at the moment. When I dreamt that I was an alicorn, not for a moment did I ever question why I suddenly had wings and was able to fly. It was only after I woke up that I could recognize how absurd such a sudden transformation was. Like then, my nightmare’s illogical and impossible nature is readily apparent when I reflect back on it. While my appearance within this world defies logic, the hospital doesn’t have hungry shadows or ponies with melting faces. This world is as real as anything – even though it’s some strange alternate dimension, or magically altered reality, or some other scenario I haven’t yet come up with. But last night’s affair was just a dream, and that’s that, Twilight thought with a final nod, considering the matter settled.

Picking up her spoon she returned to her meal, focusing on something other than the lingering questions at the back of her mind. Despite attempting to make her logical examination of the question definitive, she couldn’t banish all of her doubts. She sighed. Big change there. Ever since I woke up yesterday, I’ve been doubting everything. I’m a stranger in a strange land – and the strange dreams aren’t exactly helping me stay focused.

The last few words echoed within Twilight’s head as she paused, the warm touch of realization passing over her mind like the dawn sun cresting over a sloping hill. And ever since I woke up, they’ve been giving me pills and unknown medication. They... they’ve been drugging me! Dozens of suspicions and theories came together in an instant, and Twilight didn’t know whether to revel in her success, or hit herself for taking so long to make the obvious connection.

The only thing she knew with certainty was the surge of righteous anger that welled up within her breast as she glared at the oblivious Applejack. The dreams, the argument with the bathroom mirror, my mood swings: they’ve been drugging me to make me believe I’m crazy! That’s why they wouldn’t give me a medical reference, so I wouldn’t know what they were poisoning me with. They want me to believe I’m crazy and give in, because...

Twilight’s thoughts trailed away. Wait, why would they need me to believe I’m crazy? They already have me locked up, and everypony already thinks I’m insane. Isn’t what I believe irrelevant to them at this point? She sagged down into her seat like she had sprung a leak. She quickly erased a couple of lines from her internal list. Alright, so it doesn’t explain everything, but it’s the most rational theory yet. It just... has some flaws that need to be ironed out.

Despite her tendency towards focusing on the negative side of things, Twilight was pleased at how much confidence she still felt. Of course, confidence is no excuse for not doing everything step-by-step. Finishing off the last of her lukewarm breakfast, she began running through her checklist once again. It irked her that she didn’t have quill and parchment handy so she could create a physical version, but she refused to pay it any mind. The last thing she needed was to leave clues behind for others to figure out what she was planning.

A soft chiming sound filled the air, dragging Twilight’s attention up from her empty tray and away from the imaginary scroll that had been floating in front of her eyes.

“Okay girls, breakfast is over,” announced Applejack as she stood up, answering Twilight’s unspoken question. After stacking their trays for cleaning they followed Applejack towards one of the exits, passing other ponies milling around in loose lines. Just before they reached the door the doctor turned back to look at Pinkie Pie. “Pinkie, go ahead and line up with your group. Me and Twilight have to go see Doctor Rose.”

“Aww, I wanted to spend some more time with you,” she pouted. “I was hoping Twilight could be in my therapy group today.” Pinkie glanced at the unicorn as her frown reversed itself into a large grin. “Today is show and tell day, and that’s always fun for a laugh! And you look like you could use a laugh, Miss Super-Serious-Face.” Twilight pulled her head back just in time to avoid having her cheeks pinched, her look of irritation only making Pinkie’s smile grow larger.

“I don’t–” Twilight started to protest, but Pinkie simply cut her off.

“Oh nope nope nope! You definitely need a good laugh. I’m the expert on that sort of thing. I know when a pony is feeling down in the dumps. It’s my special talent!” she declared as she turned herself to reveal the familiar three-balloon cutie mark.

The cutie mark not covered in scars. Twilight glanced away, trying to keep her dark thoughts from showing on her face. “But–”

“I can always tell when a pony needs some cheering up. And the best way to make someone happy is with a party,” Pinkie continued over Twilight. “Just, you know, they don’t let me throw parties... but if I could I’d totally throw a ‘Cheer Up Twilight’ party. Oh, and I could combine it with my ‘Doctor AJ Isn’t Hurt’ party, too!” she added, glancing over at the doctor.

Twilight opened her mouth. “Well–”

“You two will have plenty of time to spend together later,” Applejack interrupted, earning an irritated glare from the unicorn as well. “You can tell Twilight all about what happened when you see her in school this afternoon. But you need to scoot, sugarplum.” She tapped her watch. “If you’re late lining up with your group, you won’t be able to spend time with us. So go on, and just tell us all about it next time you see us.”

Pinkie Pie nodded with eager obedience, her disappointment vanishing the moment Applejack promised they would all meet up later. “Oh, yeah! I forgot all about that! I’ll be able to give you both all the fun details later,” she said loudly, waving over one shoulder at the other two mares as she trotted away. “See you later, Doctor AJ! See you in class, Twilight!” They both waved back as she was swallowed up by the crowd.

“Well then, let’s get going,” Applejack said with relief as she ushered Twilight towards the door. She set off at a quick pace, forcing Twilight to canter along beside her. “Rose wanted us to get there a little early, so we need to hustle. He wanted to give you plenty of time so there wouldn’t be a repeat of yesterday's, uh, events.” She glanced over at Twilight, her expression softening with concern. “You need to trust him, Twi. The best thing you can do is be open and honest with him. He’ll answer all your questions and try to explain things.”

Explanations were something Twilight desperately needed, there was no way she could ignore that point. Getting herself and her friends home was a puzzle with all the pieces hidden away beneath unanswered questions. Her thoughts were filled with theories and conspiracies and suspicions about the world she was trapped in, each one a possibility but with disturbingly little to back it up. She was playing chess blindfolded, unable to see the board, the setup, or even her opponent. Until she discovered more, any move could be the wrong move. She had to be patient and focus on getting as much data as she could.

However, there was precious little of that focus in Twilight’s mind as they hurried down the halls of the hospital. Instead, her thoughts were dominated by a single burning question – one she didn’t need Doctor Rose to answer.

“What did you mean by ‘school’?”

“What’s that?” Applejack asked, slowing down to glance back at Twilight.

She looked Applejack firmly in the eye. “What did you and Pinkie mean by ‘school’?”

“Well Twilight, every filly has to go to school until they’re an adult and graduate. Just because you’re at Broadhoof doesn’t mean we’re going to let your education suffer.”

“I did grad–” Twilight caught herself, knowing it was useless to protest anything about her real past. She frowned. “Okay, how am I not already a full-grown mare? You’re supposedly old enough to have completed med-school and begun working at a hospital! How am I still supposed to be taking classes?”

The question brought Applejack to a full stop. She stared back at Twilight, giving her another odd look. There was a long, uncomfortable pause. “Twi, how old am I?” she asked carefully.

“Twenty,” Twilight replied automatically. Having friends had been such a new experience for the unicorn that she had gone to great lengths to memorize their birthdays. Her books had stressed that remembering birthdays was a vital part of maintaining friendships, and Twilight was nothing if not studious. The thought of embarrassing herself and her new friends in a social situation had been a powerful motivator indeed; she was absolutely confident in her knowledge of her friends ages.

Another length of silence passed between them as Applejack continued to stare at her. “Twilight... I’m twenty-six.”

Twilight blinked. “No you’re not.”

“Yes I am, sugarcube. If I were twenty, I would still be in college.”

“No. That’s... that’s not right,” Twilight declared louder, shaking her head as if trying to force Applejack’s words out of her mind physically. “You’re not that much older than me. You can’t be twenty-six!” She scowled and turned away, glaring out one of the nearby windows. “I... no. No!”

The long hallway began to close in around them, slowly crushed beneath the oppressive quiet that hung in the air. She ignored Applejack, keeping her eyes locked on a tree outside. She knew it wasn’t that important; it was a small detail from a broken world. What did it really matter if this Applejack was a little older than her, a little older than the real Applejack? It had so many other things wrong with it that her friend’s age was inconsequential in comparison. Twilight knew and believed that fact with absolute certainty, but still felt her heart racing. She continued to gaze outside, running the revelation over again within her head, trying to figure out why the thought of Applejack being older had her so upset. She didn’t glance over when she heard Applejack move closer, the doctor’s stride careful and measured.

“Twilight... how old are you?”

The question froze Twilight in place. Her ears flattened against her skull; the hairs on her neck stood on end. Slowly, her body fighting her every step of the way, she turned her head to stare back at Applejack. She ran her tongue along the inside of her dry gums. “N-Nineteen,” she whispered.

Applejack's expression shifted from concern to pity in a heartbeat, but her soft eyes did nothing to soften the thunderous blow against Twilight’s resolve. The unicorn struggled to keep her knees from shaking. When Applejack said nothing, Twilight spoke instead. “Applejack, how old am I supposed to be?”

Despite her prompting, Applejack still hesitated. She glanced away. “I don’t–”

“How old am I, Applejack?” repeated Twilight forcefully. She had to know.

The doctor sighed. “Seventeen. You’re only seventeen.”

Twilight blinked. She had been expecting the revelation to crush her flat, to bowl her over and send her mind scrambling to recover. It wasn’t enough for this world to take her past, her friendships, and her accomplishments – it also had to take whole years of her life. It should have sent her reeling. Instead she felt... well, not much, really. She frowned. I should be more bothered by this. Why am I not upset?

Her silence was enough to get Applejack to look up from the tiles on the floor. “Twi, are you alright?” she asked softly, her voice dripping with concern.

“Y-Yeah, I am.” Twilight shook her head slightly and looked into Applejack’s green eyes. “I mean, I’m fine. I’m perfectly fine. You would think that being told you’re the wrong age would be a bit more... shocking, but it’s not.”

The two mares stared at each other with matching expressions of mild bewilderment. “Really?”

Twilight nodded. “Yeah.” She played the information over in her head. She wasn’t in shock, and she wasn’t in denial. Why then, was she so okay with this? She was supposed to be some insane patient with amnesia and-

Everything clicked. Her sudden grin caused a flash of concern to cross Applejack’s face, but she ignored it. “Aha! Don’t you see? That is just more proof that I’m right! It’s more evidence that I’m not crazy after all!” laughed Twilight, all of her previous worry flowing out of her in a burst of excitement. Despite herself she did an excited – and graceless – dance in the hallway.

“Twilight...” Applejack began, but Twilight cut her off.

“No, Applejack. Please, hear me out,” she said as she excitedly hopped over to Applejack, pushing her head in close to the doctor’s and giving her a beaming, confident grin. “Doctor Rose told you that I might be suffering from some retrograde amnesia due to my new treatment, correct?” Applejack’s stared back. “Correct?”

“Yes, that’s correct, but I don’t see–”

“Well, there’s your evidence that something isn’t right!” Twilight declared, pulling back and doing a little spin in celebration. “Don’t you see?”

“See what?” Applejack said flatly, a hint of annoyance creeping into her voice.

Twilight planted her hooves and struck a confident pose. “That means he is either lying, or this world really isn’t mine!” She felt like she were back in front of the class delivering some perfectly researched and endlessly practiced report on magical theory. It wasn’t just that she was right – now she had some firm, solid, and undeniable proof to back herself up. She ignored Applejack’s disbelieving look and continued. “Retrograde amnesia doesn’t work that way, not when I still have all of my memories. Sure, anterograde amnesia can lead to confusion over one's age, because it prevents the sufferer from developing new memories, preventing them from realizing the passage of time. But that’s not what they say I have. They claim I have retrograde amnesia. As in, my memories of the past are missing. But that’s not true!”

Pacing back and forth with her head held high, Twilight ignored Applejack’s attempts to interrupt her diatribe, determined to get her point across. “I have all my memories of my real life. The doctors claim they are delusions, but that doesn’t fit the facts. Here I am, with perfectly clear memories going back to foalhood, but somehow they don’t match up to what this world claims is true. More importantly, somehow my delusions include two full extra years of a life which I supposedly didn’t live. That is not how amnesia, much less schizophrenia, works! Neither of those illnesses would result in me crafting a full fantasy past for myself that is longer than my real life. Amnesia takes memories away, leaving nothing but gaps. Schizophrenia can create false memories through delusions, but it couldn’t cover up all of those gaps and add on two extra years to my life! Especially not while simultaneously leaving me with absolutely no memories of the real world!”

Turning to face her friend, Twilight leaned forward until her face was just inches away from Applejack’s. “Come on doctor, really think about it! How is it that my memories are perfectly fine going back as far as I can remember, and yet I’ve somehow lost every single detail about my ‘real’ life? How can I remember everything from my school years, from a life in Canterlot that supposedly never happened, and not have a single memory about Broadhoof? How is it that I have two extra years worth of memories from something that you all claim didn’t happen, but not anything about this entire hospital before yesterday morning?” She jabbed a hoof at Applejack. “Does that make any sense? Does that match any of the medical knowledge you’ve been taught over the years?”

“I, uh, well...” Applejack stammered, her indecision only fueling Twilight’s sense of triumph.

“No, it doesn’t! And you know this doesn’t fit what you have been told either. I can see it in your eyes, Applejack: you’re starting to doubt the official story. Which is good! I knew I could count on my friends! Whatever has sent me here, whatever caused all this, it just doesn’t match up with the medical explanation.” Twilight’s look of relieved victory switched to a desperate appeal. “Applejack, I need your help if I’m ever going to get back to my own home, but you need to know the truth: I am not supposed to be here, locked up like this. I don’t know if this is some alternate dimension and I’ve replaced a truly insane Twilight Sparkle, or if something has twisted reality around so everyone thinks that I’m supposed to be locked up, but it’s just not true. In my world, the real world, I really am Princess Celestia’s pupil. We were close friends in Ponyville, Applejack. I’ve met your family, helped out on the farm, and we’ve gone on adventures together! I’m the element of magic while you, Applejack, you’re the element of honesty. I know you can see that I’m speaking the truth here. We need to get out of here so I can set things right. I know this is a lot to process, but please, you need to get this magical limiter off of my horn so we can–”

“That’s enough, Twilight!” Applejack shouted, taking a step forward. “I am not going to sit here and let you continue to delay our meeting with the doctor so you can try to convince me to take off your dampener! That isn’t going to happen!”

Twilight’s eyes widened in alarm. “But–”

“No! No buts! We are not gonna have this discussion now, and you are not gonna convince me to let you harm yourself by taking off your limiter. It’s for your own health, and for the health of those around you, that you’re silenced. And I don’t want to hear any more about this, you understand?”

Cold claws drove themselves into her lungs, causing her breath to catch in her throat as her chance for freedom began slipping out of her hooves. “But the–”

“Do you understand?” Applejack hissed, taking another step forward.

Twilight nodded weakly. “Y-Yes...” she answered, her voice barely audible even in the silent hallway.

“Good. Now follow me. We’re already late enough as it is.” Her words were delivered with a finality that brooked no disobedience. Without another glance Applejack turned back around and headed off down the corridor at a quick trot, the clip-clop of her hooves a staccato soundtrack to Twilight’s disbelief.

Why? Why won’t she believe me? The thoughts pounded in Twilight’s head as she obediently followed in Applejack’s wake. She ran through her words again and again, trying to figure out where she had erred. It didn’t make sense. Surely Applejack could see the truth? She was a medically trained professional in this world, but even an amateur like Twilight could tell that not everything was as it should be. Sniffing and rubbing her eyes, Twilight hurried to move parallel with her friend.

Turning her head, she watched Applejack walk with determined strides, pointedly refusing to meet Twilight’s stare. Her narrowed eyes were locked on their destination ahead, her jaw pulled tight. Why is she angry? Twilight asked herself, pushing back her own doubts. She had promised herself she was going to stay strong, after all. And for once, she had something firm to hold onto, something solid she could base her confidence around. The age difference made no sense and didn’t match up with what she had been told about her condition. Why couldn’t Applejack see it too? Why was she angry at Twilight for pointing out the truth?

She glanced over at her friend again. The earth pony’s jaw was still locked tight, giving her the firmly stubborn look that Twilight was familiar with. But her green eyes... there wasn’t just anger there. Twilight’s heart skipped a beat. It was doubt. There was doubt there, hidden beneath the tough exterior Applejack was trying to maintain. It took all of Twilight’s self control to keep from giving a whoop of joy and tackling her friend in a hug. She had done it! Something she had said had gotten through to her friend!

Even if she doesn’t believe me yet, she’s at least asking questions. That’s the first step. Twilight felt a hundred pounds lighter as she turned away. Her friend didn’t believe her – not yet – but at least something she had said had struck a chord within Applejack. It was just a starting point, but for Twilight it felt like she had already won. After so long spent suffering through self-doubt and fear, she was finally making progress. The more she learned, the more knowledge she obtained, the greater her chances of making her way home.

They didn’t speak for the rest of the journey, each mare lost in her own thoughts. Thankfully, it didn’t take long. The thick oak doors announced their arrival as clearly as the gold plaque mounted on the wall. “Alright, here we are.” Applejack stopped and looked back at her. She opened her mouth to say something else but hesitated. Her jaw snapped shut as she silently turned back to the door and knocked politely. A muffled “come in” managed to penetrate the thick slabs of wood. Pushing the doors open Applejack turned to usher Twilight inside, not meeting the unicorn’s stare.

Twilight didn’t mind. She would let Applejack take her time. Besides, she had questions that needed answers. Lifting her head high, Twilight strolled into Doctor Rose’s office.

Chapter 11

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Asylum

Chapter 11

“Ah, Applejack, Twilight, it’s good to see you both this morning,” said Doctor Rose. His voice held an automatic cheerfulness as he repeated the same greeting he had used the last time they met. He favored Twilight with a smile as he hurried out from behind his desk. “And how are you feeling today?”

Twilight gazed around the expansive room, the memories of their previous meeting passing through her mind. “Just fine,” she answered flatly, her voice steady. She couldn’t show any weakness, not now. She had a job to do.

Applejack coughed politely and took a step forward. “The nurses told me she had a bit of a nightmare last night. They found her on the floor next to her bed this mornin’, but she didn’t want to talk to them about it. She didn’t hurt herself, though.” Twilight glared at her in betrayal, but Applejack didn’t notice. There was a moment’s pause. “And other than that, there’s nothing out of the ordinary to report.”

Doctor Rose shifted his attention back to Twilight, who turned away from Applejack, hiding her expression of surprise. “Is that true, Twilight? Did you have a bad dream last night?” With his grey-flecked mane, kind eyes, and slight frown, he was the embodiment of paternal concern. A feeling of calming reassurance radiated out from him like heat from a fireplace. Instead of a doctor, Twilight felt like she were addressing a family friend or beloved neighbor – someone she could confide in. Someone she could trust.

It was just an act; nothing more than feigned interest and artificial sympathy. Like the rest of the staff, she could tell that his concern for her well-being was insincere – a part of the job, nothing more. Still, as she stared into the deep blue eyes that rested behind his gold-rimmed spectacles, she could almost convince herself of his honesty.

Their world was constructed upon lies; they can never be trusted. Her eyes flickered to Applejack. Well, maybe some of them can. But then, why did she tell him about my dreams, but not about what I said in the hallway? What is she playing at?

Briefly, Twilight considered denying that she even had any nightmares, but just as quickly rejected the idea. A blatant lie would only convince them that she was hiding something, and the last thing she needed was more attention. Inside, she laughed. I can’t trust them, and they can’t trust me. Her amusement vanished when she realized that both doctors were still looking at her. “Yes. Yes, I had a... bad dream.”

Doctor Rose nodded before gesturing towards the high-backed chairs from before. “Alright. I’d like to talk to you about that Twilight, if you don’t mind. But first, why don’t we all take a seat and get comfortable.” Twilight caught Applejack’s eye, but her expression was unreadable. If Applejack wasn’t going to talk about what she had said in the hallway, then she wasn’t either.

Applejack turned away from Twilight. “Uh, does that mean me too, Doctor Rose?”

He nodded again, making his way over to the padded chairs. “Of course. Since you’ll be handling Twilight’s case personally from now on, I think it’s best if you are present for these little sessions.”

Twilight fought down any lingering apprehension she felt as she settled into the chair. “Applejack’s going to be my doctor?” she asked, her spirits lifting at the prospect – before her good cheer was squashed beneath a healthy dose of doubt and suspicion. A personal doctor? Why would they be giving her a personal doctor? What did that mean, exactly?

“You’ve already been under Applejack’s care for a while. But considering your current condition, and the nature of your treatment, I thought it would be for the best if she took a more involved role in your therapy.”

“What about my other patients?” asked Applejack, keeping her expression steady but unable to keep displeasure from leaking into her voice. “We’re already understaffed as it is. I can’t just push all of my other patients off onto someone else when–”

Doctor Rose cut her off with a raised hoof, the kindly father figure transforming instantly into a stern patrician. “Applejack, I know exactly what you are going to say, and I won’t be relocating all of your other patients. However, your schedule will be modified so you’ll have fewer duties and will have more of your time allocated to Twilight here. Her treatment requires observation, to make sure everything is proceeding smoothly.” Applejack opened her mouth to protest further but Rose hardened his gaze. “The decision is final, Applejack. I won’t hear any disagreements over this.”

Applejack nodded stiffly, keeping her mouth clamped tight. The anger on her face was evident to Twilight, the stubborn farmer-turned-doctor trying but failing to hide her disappointment at Rose’s decision. Applejack was as surprised as I was. Is she not involved in whatever is really going on here? They could be trying to trick me... but Applejack isn’t that good an actor. And she didn’t tell the doctor everything. The edges of Twilight’s mouth lifted slightly. I did get through to her – she’s starting to doubt this world, I’m sure of it.

There was a short stretch of silence as the three ponies made themselves comfortable, but Doctor Rose was quick to dispel it. Levitating a notebook and pen before him he levelled a warm but serious look at the other unicorn. “You said you are feeling okay, but what about physically? Yesterday you had a few rough patches. Does your head hurt? Is anything aching or sore?”

“No, not really,” Twilight answered honestly. “My nose is still a little tender, but that’s it. Otherwise, I’m feeling just fine.”

The sound of pen scratching across paper echoed her words. “And how about your stomach? Have you been eating well?”

She chuckled dryly. “I ate as best I could, considering what they were serving in the cafeteria today. But I haven’t had any stomach problems as such, no.”

Even before she had finished the doctor’s pen was moving again, the sound of his quick note taking the only disturbance in the quiet gaps between her answer and the next question. When he finished he lifted his eyes from the paper. “Can you tell me about the dream you had?”

Adjusting how her legs were positioned as cover, Twilight tried to work out just how much she had to say to avoid suspicion, without giving away anything he could use against her. “It was... I mean, I woke up back home. In Canterlot. I, uh, don’t remember everything, but I remember there being lots of shadows that... attacked me. And then I woke up.” She coughed softly when she noticed Rose was still staring at her. “I guess I just got scared of the dark and, um, being alone..”

“Twilight, please don’t lie to me,” Doctor Rose said quietly. Although his expression continued to radiate warm concern, there was a look of gentle reproach in his eyes. Twilight blushed despite herself. “Lying about anything is not going to help you get better. If there is something you don’t want to talk about, then just tell me so. Honesty is the best policy when it comes to your health.”

It didn’t matter how he knew she was lying – if she continued to deny it, it would just make them doubt her more. Doing her best to make her embarrassment at being caught seem like remorse for her actions, she hung her head in shame. “I’m sorry. I just... it was scary. My friends were there too, but they were... wrong. Broken. And they attacked me too, and... and I just don’t want to talk about it now.”

During school plays Twilight had always been a nervous wreck whenever on stage, despite having ever line memorized perfectly. She was no actor, never able to get into the mindset of becoming the character. Still, she was quite proud of the slight tremble she put into her voice; the subsequent sniffle was that of a distraught mare holding back her tears.

If they had seen her face, it would have been obvious how wooden her performance was – she wouldn’t be going to Las Pegasus anytime soon. But it was enough to convince Doctor Rose. “There there, it’s okay,” he said soothingly. “It’s just a dream, and you don’t need to talk about it now. We can discuss it later, when you’re ready.” Nodding as if thankful for the small mercy, Twilight pretended to wipe her eye before glancing back up. Rose gave her a reassuring smile while Applejack-

Applejack stared at her, the tightness in her jaw making it clear she hadn’t been convinced. Twilight glanced away, feeling the burn of Applejack’s eyes on her muzzle. Half-expecting Applejack to give her up to the doctor, to Twilight’s relief the earth pony remained silent once again. She dared to let herself hope it was a sign that she really had reached her friend.

“I’d like to talk about something else now, if I may,” Rose said, bringing her attention back around to the doctor.

Feeling a bit more sure of herself Twilight nodded, giving him a deliberately weak smile. She’d let him ask a few questions, and then it would be her turn.

“Since yesterday morning, have you seen or heard anything... strange? Anything that shouldn’t be there, anything that didn’t seem real?”

Her thoughts flashed back to her argument with herself in the mirror, but she masked the thought with a forced laugh. “I’m wrongfully trapped in a hospital for the insane – everything I see or hear is strange and unreal.”

“I mean, have you seen or heard anything that you wouldn’t expect in a hospital?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yeah, I saw a mummy yesterday at lunch being fed by a nurse,” she snapped without thinking.

To her surprise the sarcasm went straight over his head. “A mummy, you say?” he asked as he began scratching away at his notes. “And it was in the cafeteria? What-

Applejack’s cough interrupted Rose’s next question. “Doctor Rose, I believe that she’s talking about Miss Scratch, the photophobic patient of Doctor Roy’s.” She flashed Twilight a reproachful look. “She’s the mare with the facial burns.”

She was quickly joined by Rose in giving Twilight a look of stern disapproval, making her feel like a foal that had been misbehaving. Normally she would have been annoyed, but Applejack’s words rang in her ears. She lowered her eyes to the floor, her ears flattening against her skull. “I’m sorry,” she apologized, not needing to fake any sincerity. “I shouldn’t have said that. I didn’t mean to, and... and it won’t happen again.” When she finally glanced back up, both doctors’ faces had softened.

“It’s alright, sugarplum. I know you didn’t mean it. And you said you're sorry. Just, try not to speak before thinkin’, is all. You wouldn’t want to hurt anypony’s feelings.”

Rose nodded with her. “Yes. As long as you learned your lesson, then there’s no reason to stay upset.” He quickly rechecked his notes, scratching out one line before continuing. “Let’s see, where was I... oh, right. How are your memories, Twilight? Do you still remember nothing of Broadhoof before yesterday?”

“Yes, sir,” she replied, still shaking off her disgust at having used a crippled pony as a joke. “Nothing new there. I have memories of everything leading up to two nights ago, and then I woke up here. Nothing is blurry, nothing is missing, and there are no gaps. It’s just a clean transition from one world to another.”

The sound of writing halted. Twilight winced, realizing what she had let slip. She braced herself for the follow up question, but it never came. The writing resumed. Inside, Twilight berated herself. Don’t tell them anything about what you suspect, you oaf! Keep talking about other worlds, and even Applejack will be happy to keep you locked up. She glanced at her friend, remembering how she had responded in the hallway. She knows something is wrong, but she’s not ready to accept the truth just yet. I have to be patient.

The trio sat silently while Rose took what felt like an excessive amount of notes. “I want you to think back to your memories of your life before you woke up here. Think back a few years and think about the major events in your life. Now, do you notice anything missing? Any gaps, or hazy patches?”

“No, nothing. I remember everything before the hospital perfectly.”

Rose lifted an eyebrow. “Really?”

“Yes,” she replied, a hint of challenge in her tone.

“So, you remember all the details of your life? Birthdays? Vacations? Graduation? Your...” He checked his notes. “Your brother's wedding? You remember all the details of those events perfectly?”

Twilight frowned at the stress he put on the last word. “Yes. Well, within reason. I mean, I’m not some kind of savant. I can’t tell you how many panes of glass there are in Canterlot Castle’s main hall from memory,” she said with a laugh. Rose didn’t smile. Twilight cleared her throat. “But, um, yeah. I remember them pretty well. Who was there, what happened, how long it was, what we ate... you know, the usual stuff.”

“Why don’t you tell me about your brother’s tenth birthday party?”

Inside, Twilight tried to discern just what Rose was up to, showing such a fascination with her personal history. Maybe he already has a version of it I told him before, and now he just wants to compare the two? She glanced down at the notebook floating between them. Of course! He’s trying to see if my story checks out. He wants to see if I’m lying so he can use it against me. She inhaled sharply. But then, what version of the story does he have? The real version, or the crazy version?

“You do remember your brother’s tenth birthday party, don’t you?”

“Of course I do,” she snapped irritably. She took another breath. The logical choice was to tell them the real memory. The odds of making up a convincing memory that matched up with a hypothetical false account were astronomical. Taking some comfort from her rational decision, Twilight straightened up in her seat and adopted a pose of relaxed confidence. Her memories were real; it didn’t bother her if the doctor’s notes didn’t match up with reality.

It took a lot longer than she had anticipated to retell the day’s events from memory, almost entirely due to Doctor Rose’s constant interruptions. Every few seconds he would ask her to focus on certain inconsequential details: how many guests there were, the number of presents, when the party started, and the flavor of cake were all brought up by Rose. Twice, he asked Twilight the same question at different times – trying to trip her up by seeing if her ‘story’ changed. It was a police interrogation in comfy chairs. And by the end of it, she was exhausted. Exhausted, but unbowed. She didn’t need to worry about his transparent tactics because the details had remained the same. After all, she was just recalling it from memory.

Once she was finished, Doctor Rose took another minute to read back over his notes. “Well, Twilight,” he eventually said, “this memory of yours must be quite vivid. Very detailed, very consistent.” He glanced at her over the rim of his glasses. “And you don’t notice anything hazy about the celebration?”

Twilight grinned. “Nope. Well, I don’t remember everything, of course, but I remember all the essentials just perfectly.” Rose’s lowered his gaze back to his notes, but Twilight’s smile vanished. There had been something in his eyes, hidden beneath his mask of professional detachment. Amusement? Satisfaction? Pride? Why would he feel any of that?

“How can you possibly remember all of that?” Applejack blurted out – her first words in almost half an hour. The sheepish expression on her face as she turned to look at Rose made it clear she was worried about overstepping her bounds, but the older doctor just stared back neutrally. Taking his silence as permission to continue, she returned her attention to Twilight. “What I mean to say Twilight, is that memory is supposed to be from almost a decade ago. You were a little foal at the time too. So, how can you remember just how many presents your brother got, and the flavor of the cake, and what time the party ended?”

Twilight frowned. “I just do. Why is that important?”

“Do you remember the day before the party that well?” Applejack pressed.

“Well, no. I remember getting my mane cut and picking out a new dress with mom, and...” Twilight gulped, struggling to remember more so she didn’t lose any ground with her friend. “And... and we had lunch downtown... but I...” Her voice trailed away as she glanced over at Applejack. “That's... that's all I remember,” she admitted.

To her confusion, Applejack looked pleased at her revelation. “Well, no pony has a perfect memory.”

Not understanding, Twilight looked from one doctor to another, looking for clarification, but her questioning glances only made both physicians' knowing expressions grow. She was overlooking something obvious, and it was annoying her to no end. She glared at Applejack, feeling like the butt of some private joke between the two. “What do you mean, exactly?”

It was Doctor Rose who answered. “What Applejack was questioning was the lucid and highly detailed nature of your memories, Twilight. After all, no pony has a perfect memory.”

Twilight blinked. “Oh. Of course.”

“It’s good that you don’t recall it all perfectly, because real memories aren’t perfect. Being able to recall everything in your past would be a sign of delusions or a deliberate attempt to lie,” he continued. Twilight barely noticed Applejack’s deep frown at his words, her annoyance fading away as she realized where he was going with his explanation. “Life, like memories, are imperfect. Being able to recall so much is a testament to your own quite prodigious mind, Twilight.”

She blushed at the compliment. “Thanks. Princ- I mean, my teachers have always complimented me on my memory. I’m just naturally really great at remembering things.” It took Twilight a moment to process how conceited her words sounded. Her blush deepened. “T-That’s not to say I’m special, or, or better than anypony else,” she stammered. “I’m not bragging! I still have to study hard to remember all of my studies. It’s just that I have a better mem- Ah! I mean, I can remember stuff fairly well, but in a way that suggests I am totally not superior to anypony else!”

It was only when she paused to inhale that she realized both doctors were looking back at her in amusement. Twilight’s cheeks could have ignited paper as she inspected a particularly interesting spot on the carpet. Well, at least I know they haven’t cured my phobia of making others think I’m an egotistical braggart, she thought as her embarrassment slowly drained away.

Their amusement faded with her nervousness, and soon Doctor Rose had returned to his questions, each one as innocuous and pointless as the last: What is your earliest memory? Can you tell me about the first time you met Princess Celestia? What were you doing a week ago? Each attempt to ask her own questions was politely rebuffed by Rose. Unlike her, he grew more excited with every boring question. Oh, he hid it well, but she could see it in his eyes – and it confused her. To him, everything she was saying was nothing but the products of delusion and insanity. Why did he care?

However, over time she found it hard to sustain her interest in answering that question. At first she had considered the nefarious plots that might require knowledge of her past, but the more she thought about it, the less sense any of them made. They already knew what her history was supposed to be in their world – Rose’s use of the picture the previous day had demonstrated that well enough. Her stories of her past were no more real to them than a Daring Do novel. Not knowing why they were so interested was almost justification enough to simply stonewall them and not say anything, but she dismissed the thought as a fruitless act of protest. She had more to gain by playing along and showing herself to be logical, sane, and collected. The less she seemed like the mental patient they believed her to be, the easier it would become to prove herself and earn their trust.

The only thing keeping her mind on topic was the knowledge that she had one powerful trump card in her repertoire. It would only work once, and then only when she had an honest onlooker like Applejack to witness it. She had to save it for a desperate moment, as a tool of last resort. If she could get answers by just being patient, then she wouldn't have to tip her hoof.

No matter how banal and annoying the questions become, she thought, grinding her teeth together as Rose asked her about how regular she has been with her trips to the bathroom. With no other rational option available, Twilight continued to answer each question as simply as she could, hoping to get through them all with enough time left to get some answers of her own. Biting back on her impatience, Twilight let Rose continue speaking. Slowly, her morning meeting with the doctor dragged on.

“Have you noticed any connections between your memories and what you’ve noticed around the hospital? Familiar faces, perhaps?”

It was the first question in a while not related to her having to tell a story or describe embarrassing biological functions, which was more than enough to rouse her mind out of its distracted state. She bit back her instinct to automatically deny it. They already knew she did have connections – her conversations with Applejack and Pinkie Pie had demonstrated she was familiar enough with them at some level. The more they suspect you, the harder it will be to escape. Twilight sighed. “Yes, I have. There are ponies in the hospital that I know, although their lives are not the same as I remember.”

“Like Applejack?”

“Yeah. Like Applejack,” she said, glancing at the suddenly uncomfortable looking mare. She turned back to Rose, eying the doctor. “Why do you need to ask me that? It’s already in your file on me.”

“And Pinkie Pie as well?” he asked as he stared at her intently, not even acknowledging her own question.

“Yes, her too,” she groaned as more of her optimism was worn away by the unrelenting series of pointless questions. He wasn’t going to let her ask any herself. It was obvious he was content to have her waste her time telling stories about childhood birthday parties and trips to the museum.

He licked his lips and leaned forward. “Since you woke up yesterday, have you seen Spike?”

She froze, her back straightening bolt upright. Her mouth went dry. “What?”

“Have you seen the dragon Spike since yesterday?” he repeated himself, the sharper edge to his question betraying a desire his tone of professional calm couldn’t hide.

“H-How do you know about Spike?” she whispered.

“You used to talk about Spike. You said he was your pet dragon, given to you by Princess Celestia. He was hatched from an egg and was,” he flipped back a dozen pages through his notes, “purple and green, walked on two legs, and was about the size of a young foal.” He glanced up. “So, have you seen him since yesterday?”

“No, I haven’t seen him!” Twilight shouted as she leapt out of her seat. “What happened to him? Where is he? What have you done to him?” The young mare’s face was contorted with concerned fury; a mother bear whose cub was missing. A thousand terrible possibilities passed through her mind, her fear and anger mixing together into a volatile cocktail that was primed to explode.

She barely noticed Applejack leap to her hooves, the earth pony taking a few steps forward so she could impose herself between Twilight and the stallion she was staring daggers at, but he simply gestured for both of them to stay still. “Twilight, sit down,” he commanded, his voice firm but scholarly – a truncheon wrapped in a tweed jacket. He continued to hold Applejack back with an upraised foreleg as he met Twilight’s stare evenly. “Twilight, sit down.”

Narrowing her eyes, Twilight slowly complied. “Where is he?” she asked, her low voice as dangerous and as threatening as she could make it. It didn’t matter that she was outnumbered, outsized, and out of her league. If they hurt a single scale on his head I’ll... I’ll...

“We didn’t do anything to Spike, because Spike isn’t real.”

The words brought Twilight’s furious thoughts to a screeching halt. Her eyelids continued to tighten as she glared defiantly at them. “What do you mean ‘he isn’t real’? How would you know about Spike if he didn’t exist? I swear, if you did anything to him–”

“Spike is a delusion of yours,” Doctor Rose said, keeping his voice smooth and patient. “I know about Spike because you’ve talked about him in the past.”

“That’s not true,” she growled, breathing rapidly.

“Twilight, I’ve had a number of conversations with you over the years where you assured me that Spike was in the room with us. You’ve described him at great length to myself and others. In fact, many times you were dictating your own notes and letters to him.”

“Stop this,” she hissed, her eyes darting around the room as she pulled back further into her chair. “Stop... hurting me like this.” Spike is real, she reminded herself, repeating the phrase constantly. A maelstrom of emotions surged around within her breast; anger and loss and fear and doubt swirling together. Twilight sniffled as she fought back her tears, unwilling to give in. She wasn’t going to surrender to her emotions like she had yesterday. Instead, she focused on her convictions. She focused on the truth. She focused on her mantra. Spike is real. Spike is real. Spike is real.

“We’re not trying to hurt you, Twilight. But I need to confirm what you said, that you haven’t seen Spike since you woke up. Is that true?” Again, she caught a glimpse of the hunger within his voice, a subtle undercurrent to the normal tones of paternal calm. He was excited at the prospect of Spike being absent. It was a mystery as to why, but at that moment she wanted nothing more than to tell him he was wrong and that she had seen Spike, just to spite him.

She glanced at Applejack, who was trying to look as nonthreatening as possible while still poised to leap to Rose’s defense. That they could even seriously think that Twilight was any kind of threat to a stallion almost twice her mass was absurd – it would have been comical, if she weren’t struggling to keep herself calm. Focus on her. Focus on Applejack. Her mind spoke calmly, but her thoughts were still loud enough to drown out the emotional cacophony clamoring for her attention. You need to convince Applejack you’re not crazy. You can’t risk reinforcing her beliefs in your supposed schizophrenia just because it’s not what he wants to hear. That’s not logical. You’re better than that. Focus on Applejack. Focus on your friend.

Despite the necessity, it was still difficult to actually admit that she hadn’t seen him. It was the truth, but speaking it aloud would serve to reinforce the point that her Spike – the Spike she had raised from a hatchling, the Spike that slept by her side every night, the Spike that looked up to her as something between a big sister and a surrogate mother – wasn’t there with her. She did her best to mollify herself, pointing out that at least he wasn’t suffering like she was. It didn’t help.

“Yes, I haven’t seen Spike since I woke up,” Twilight said grudgingly, the words tasting sour as she spat them out. Her mood only darkened when Rose gave her a broad smile of victory, unable to hide his excitement any longer. Oh, how she wished she didn’t have her horn sheathed right then. Just one spell, that’s all she needed.

“That is excellent news! Truly, truly excellent!” he declared with the exuberance of a stallion half his age. The mask of professional calm had been discarded, his honest emotions were bared: a broad, exulting grin full of youthful excitement. He turned his smile on Applejack. “What did I tell you – the treatment is working perfectly! We’ve eliminated a major visual and auditory hallucination!”

Applejack’s response was much more subdued. “Well it seems so, but it’s only been one day, Doctor Rose,” she said. She softened the dose of reality with a gentle smile. “Isn’t it a little early to be celebrating?”

“Yes, yes, you are absolutely right, Applejack,” he admitted, his placid doctor persona quickly returning to the fore as he let his elation fade. Still, he couldn’t keep from giving Applejack a cheeky smirk. “But it is pretty exciting. If her condition doesn’t regress, then what we’ve done so far is poised to revolutionize the whole field. And without surgery!"

Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “I’m sorry, but what are you two talking about?” she snapped, leveling her best ‘angry schoolteacher’ glare at them.

Applejack looked momentarily startled, but to Twilight’s disappointment Rose recovered smoothly, giving her a reassuring grin as he slipped back into his ‘wise doctor’ role. “We’re talking about your treatment, Twilight, and how pleased we are with the results.” With his calm tone and guiltless smile, he was an avatar of benign warmth. It was so easy to believe that he had her best interests at heart. She ran through a half dozen spells off the top of her head that would fix his smirk.

“So why don’t you tell me about my treatment instead of acting like I’m not even here?” Rose was as stoic as ever, completely impervious to her bitter accusations. Still, she could take some satisfaction in the hurt look on Applejack’s face – she could feel guilty about it later. “This is the start of my second day. I deserve some straightforward answers.”

“That sounds pretty reasonable to–” Doctor Rose silenced Applejack’s apologetic voice with a stern glance.

He turned away from the confused mare to address Twilight directly. “You’re right – you do deserve to know more about your treatment,” he said, picking his words with care. “However, I can tell that you’re upset right now, and no matter how angry you are, you need to understand that I can’t tell you everything.”

“Why not? I deserve to know what you are doing to my body. That’s a basic right for all Equestrians, and has been since the Revised Health and Safety Act was passed two hundred and fifteen years ago.” His perplexed expression was a proud monument to her victory, but it was only the first battle. Rose was on the back hoof and reeling, caught off guard by her opening salvo and struggling to respond. It was time to use her most powerful weapon – her extensive knowledge of Equestrian law and landmark legal cases! “It states that any physician has to fully explain a treatment or operation to a patient to their satisfaction if requested. It also states that no patient can be forced to undergo a treatment or operation against their explicit consent.” Her lips twisted into a predatory smirk as she closed in for the kill. “And right now, with Applejack as my witness, I am telling you that I am exercising my right as an Equestrian citizen to refuse any further treatment until you explain everything to my complete and utter satisfaction.”

Both Applejack and Rose stared back at Twilight, their discomfort only fueling her confidence. She had him right where she wanted him. This time, she wasn’t alone with a nurse threatening to force-feed her pills if she refused to take them. This time, she had a witness. Applejack might not have been the same mare from her world, but she had seen her doubt out in the hallway. If Rose refused to answer her, if Rose blatantly denied her rights, then Applejack would see it for herself. She wouldn’t be able to deny that things didn’t add up any longer, not after a display like that.

That left him with one practical, logical, and realistic option: tell her everything. I can’t lose, she thought as she gave the stallion her most cocksure grin. After answering so many of his inane questions, she was eager to get some answers of her own. After two days of being told where to go and what to do, she was making things happen how she wanted them to go. She was being proactive, and she was going to savor every moment of it she could. I think I earned the right to gloat just a little bit.

Removing his glasses, Doctor Rose set about cleaning them by hoof, wiping away nonexistent grime with the corner of his lab coat. It was a transparent delaying tactic, but Twilight contented herself with an exaggerated eye-roll instead of interrupting him. After all, the sooner he was ready to speak, the sooner she would get her answers. Once he was satisfied that the imaginary dirt was gone, he finally met Twilight’s gaze. “Well, I can see you’ve been putting your personal library to good use,” Doctor Rose said with a uncomfortable chuckle. “Although I wish you hadn’t brought this up, Twilight, because you’re forgetting two important details.”

She lifted an eyebrow. “Oh? What am I forgetting, then?”

“You’re not an adult, Twilight. You’re a filly.” The false humor was gone. In it’s place the stallion's voice was flat and austere. “An intelligent and precocious filly, certainly, but you’re still not a full-grown mare. And a child’s treatment is determined by their parents or legal guardians.” Rose levitated over the thick manilla folder she knew contained all of her paperwork and, after a quick search, produced a few sheets of paper.

She shivered reflexively as he floated them over to her, but he wasn’t tormenting her with any more photographs. Instead, it was a standard black and white medical form. The dry legal text said very little, only explaining that the signatories were giving their consent for their child to be treated ‘as discussed during previous consultations’. She reread it three times just to make sure, ignoring the wrenching sensation in her gut at the sight of her parents’ familiar signatures at the bottom. “Well, then why don’t you go and get my parents here so we can discuss this again? I am willing to bet you won’t have their consent after I get through telling them about this place. But until I speak to my parents, I’m not going to let any of you lay a hoof on me!” Twilight promised as she thrust the papers back over to the doctor. “And this still doesn’t explain anything about what my treatment actually is!”

Doctor Rose frowned, a hint of his growing irritation breaking through his stoic demeanour. He opened his mouth, but it was Applejack who spoke first, her tone gentle and conciliatory. “Now sugarcube, that’s just not gonna work, and you know it. You still have medical needs, and we can’t halt your medication for a week while we wait for your parents to show up just so they can confirm that, yes, they still want you to be treated. It just doesn’t work that way. It’s unfair to them, to us, and to yourself.”

Twilight eyed Applejack distrustfully. “So, you’re going to keep me locked up, deny me access to my family, and force me to undergo some unexplained treatment against my will?”

“Not at all, Twi. If we have the time, we’ll explain it to you. If not, then I’ll explain it all later tonight. Afterwards, if you still want to, we can even write those letters to your parents,” she offered. “Or, if you don’t want to wait for tonight, you can have your caseworker help you write the letters as soon as we're done here.”

Twilight blinked. “Caseworker? You mean, somepony from a government agency? Somepony who doesn’t work for the hospital?”

“Exactly. She’s here for just these sorts of situations. After all, your parents can’t be here all the time to keep an eye on you, and you’re too young to make informed medical decisions on your lonesome.” Applejack smiled sheepishly as Twilight gave her an annoyed glare. “Uh, what I mean is, you can’t make them legally, pumpkin. I know you’re one smart cookie, but still: the law’s the law.”

“So everything I say to her is confidential? She doesn’t answer to any of you?”

“No, they are completely independent,” Rose answered with the same false smile every doctor seemed to wear when explaining things to her. She imagined it was supposed to be reassuring, but she couldn’t see it as anything other than the same smile a teacher gave the eager-but-slow kid in class whenever they asked a question that had just been answered. “Like Applejack said, they’re here to act as a third-party on behalf of your parents. As a foal, you need an adult looking out for you, and they’re the intermediary between your parents and the hospital.” His smile fell away like a house of cards under a stiff breeze, replaced with a look of mild reproach. “Now, that doesn’t mean you get to simply ignore what your doctors say because you want to wait for your parents to tell you, in person, that they agree with your treatment program. If it will make you feel better, you can certainly talk to your caseworker about your concerns and write a letter for her to mail for you, but you cannot refuse the very treatment your parent’s agreed upon. Do you understand, Twilight?”

She wanted to tell the older pony off, her instinct to rebel against her oppressors burning strongly within her very core. Her logical mind wouldn’t allow it. Instead of throwing a fit, she simply nodded. “Yes, I understand perfectly,” she replied as she settled back into her seat, her confidence floating atop a new wave of optimism. This caseworker is perfect! I can get her to carry a letter to my parents, letting them know about my situation. Even if they think I’m supposed to be crazy too, it should be much easier to convince my parents that I don’t belong here, or the hospital is mistreating me, or something just isn’t right. All I need to do is make them doubt what they are being told, even for a second, and presto – I’m free. And once I’m free, I’ll be able to work on getting home and fixing this whole thing.

“If that is all settled, then can we return to the questions?” Rose made a show of glancing at his watch before reaching for his notepad. “The longer we take, the less time you will have with your caseworker.”

“Not yet,” Twilight stated, trying to keep as much strength in her voice as she could. “I’ve been answering all of your questions. But before we go on, I want to know something about my treatment. After two days, I still haven’t had anyone explain to me anything about how it works, or what it actually entails. It is still my right as a patient to know what you are doing to me. So, please, can you tell me what my ‘treatment’ actually is?”

“Well, it’s all very technical–”

“I’m a smart mare, Rose. Just try me.”

Doctor Rose adjusted his glasses. “It’s a new – although not untested – method of care composed of medication and magical healing that is focused upon fixing the underlying, core problems inherent within mental disorders. With a targeted medication regimen to control symptoms, we can use both magical and physical methods to try and correct larger issues with the goal of giving our patients a more regular and balanced life without having to resort to invasive surgery. Our goal at Broadhoof has always been to focus upon giving our patients the means to thrive beyond our walls and live a normal a life as possible, and hopefully, my new system will allow previously unreleasable patients to enjoy a life within wider Equestrian society.”

There was a long pause after Rose finished while the two mares just stared at him. Twilight was the first to speak. “That... sounded like a sales pitch.” He frowned, but she continued. “You said a lot, but didn’t tell me anything. I wanted details, not something you tell investors.”

“Twilight, I’m not going to spend the next few hours giving you a medical dissertation that is far above your head, just because you don’t trust what your parents and the medical experts are telling you” he stated curtly. “I’ve told you everything you need to know. Now, if we can, let’s return to the questions so we can make sure you meet your caseworker on time. Okay?”

“Fine,” she sighed in defeat, gesturing for him to continue. He returned to his notepad while she examined her hoof. Twilight tried not to sulk, keeping a tight grip on her disappointment at being stonewalled so effectively by the older stallion. He can just keep telling me nothing, and pretend like he is answering my questions. I bet he’s just hoping I’ll forget everything anyway. She blinked as the word ‘forget’ echoed in her mind, lifting her head to stare at Doctor Rose. “Wait, what’s the second thing I’m forgetting?”

“What?” he asked distractedly, not looking up from his notes as he jotted down a few things. After a few seconds of silence he finally looked over at her.

“I said, what’s the second thing that I am forgetting?” she repeated. “You mentioned two things. One is my age. What’s the other?”

“Oh. It’s nothing,” he said dismissively. “No need to bring it up, now that everyone is back to the matter at hoof.”

“But I would like to know what it was, regardless.”

“It’s not important,” said Rose, putting a little more emphasis behind his words.

“Doctor, please, just tell me,” she pleaded. “Everypony here has kept telling me how it would be for the best if I were to trust you. But how can I trust you if you’re going to hide what you were just going to say?” She knew she was laying it on a bit thick, but she was vindicated when Rose let out a sigh of defeat.

His reluctance was evident in the slight downturn of his lips and his clear hesitation before he began. “What I was going to say was that, in your particular case, you couldn’t reject treatment even if you were an adult.”

Something in his tone sent a shiver down Twilight’s spine. “What do you mean? Of course I could. You couldn’t keep me in the hospital against my will. That would be illegal,” she argued.

“Twilight, not all of our patients are here... voluntarily,” he said with care as he glanced at Applejack. Her eyes widened in unspoken understanding before she turned to watch Twilight with a look somewhere between regret and pity. Twilight felt on edge as she glanced back at Rose. “Some ponies aren’t allowed to leave just because they want to. It’s not illegal; far from it. They’re here for a reason. In fact, it would be illegal to let them leave, because they’re a danger to themselves and others.”

“Well, sure. I mean, you’re not going to let some violent criminal psychopath leave just because he wanted to! Can you imagine an arsonist being let out just because he asked nicely?” She laughed at the mental image. “But I don’t see how that applies to...” Twilight faltered when she realized she was the only one laughing. Both doctors were giving her odd looks; their eyes were filled with reluctant expectation, like they were waiting for something they didn’t want to happen. “...my situation,” she finished lamely as she glanced from one doctor to another. The last few seconds replayed themselves in her mind. Twilight blinked. “No.”

Applejack took a step forward, her eyes flitting around her face as if searching for something. “Now Twilight...”

“No,” Twilight repeated, shaking her head. “No. No, no, no!”

“Twilight–”

“I said no!” she snapped, glaring at them both. “You are not going to tell me that now I’m supposed to be a violent criminal as well as being crazy! So, no. Just, no. I don’t care what you’re going to say, my only response is no.”

“Twilight, you were only a foal at the time–” Rose began, but she cut him off.

“And evidently I’m still just a foal! And the idea that I, as a foal, somehow did anything bad enough to warrant not being able to legally leave this place is ludicrous.” Twilight took a deep breath as if to continue, ready to give voice to the jumble of protests in her head, all shouting about how insane the very notion was. Instead, she let the air back out in a long, irritated hiss. She slumped down in her seat. “Sweet Celestia, it’s not enough that everypony thinks I’m insane. Oh, no. Now, I’m insane and dangerous,” she muttered, rubbing her temple with a hoof. She felt a headache coming on.

Applejack looked to Rose for permission before moving over to Twilight’s side. “Twilight, I know this is a bit of a shock, what with your memory loss an’ all. If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”

“No, I do want to talk about it,” she said as she straightened back up. “But not now. We,” she gestured between herself and Applejack, “are going to talk about this later. But all I want to do right now is finish up with the questions, so I can go talk to this caseworker and send a letter to my family. The sooner that happens, the better.” Crossing her arms, she stared at Rose. “Alright, Doctor, lets get this over with. Ask away.”

The two physicians shared another look, but Twilight didn’t care. It was petulant, and she surely wasn’t doing herself any favors acting like a stubborn foal, but ignoring that she was now some kind of dangerously insane pony was the only logical choice. The alternative was to just let out her frustrations and scream, and that was hardly the best way to prove her case to Applejack. It doesn’t matter, I’ll get her to tell me whatever nonsense they’re going to claim about me later, she told herself. My new priority is to send that letter. With my parents on my side, I can demand all the answers I need, and I’ll have witnesses in case they attempt to lie to me some more. Rose is already doing his best to avoid telling me anything about his supposed treatment, and the longer they are allowed to medicate me against my will, the less a chance I’ll have of breaking free from this place.

She turned her attention to Applejack as Doctor Rose rearranged his notes, trying to pick up from where he had left off. The former farm pony seemed a bit taken aback by the whole episode, although unlike Rose she seemed more confused and uncertain. I need to remain focused on convincing Applejack that what they are saying about me is nonsense. If she believes that I’m a schizophrenic psychopath, then the more I show her that I’m a regular pony, the more she’ll question what she is being told. Twilight knew that getting Applejack to believe that she wasn’t from this world, or that reality itself had been changed, would be a challenge. But convincing her that I don’t have any of the mental illnesses they claim? That is doable. That is a reasonable, logical, and practical goal. And that is the start of my liberation from this green and white prison.

“Alright then, Twilight. I just have a few more questions about Spike. Is it okay if we talk about him?” Rose asked, his voice calm and conciliatory.

“Yes, of course,” she replied, doing her best to hold back her own emotions as well. She would show Applejack that she was a rational and intelligent pony, and not the nutcase the paperwork said she was. The more she showed herself to be reasonable, calm, and coherent, the more traction she would gain fighting the uphill battle against the twisted reality she was trapped within. She could do this. She was in control.

She didn’t even blink when Rose resumed his questions. “So, do you remember the last time you did happen to see Spike?”

“How are you holdin’ up, sugarcube?”

Twilight turned her head, unsurprised to see Applejack giving her a concerned look. “I’m... fine,” she replied, biting back on her desire to snap at her friend. “That was an ordeal, but at least it’s over now.”

“I hope nothin' that we talked about in there upset you much,” said Applejack as she guided Twilight away from Doctor Rose’s office. “I mean, Spike normally is a bit of a sore-spot with you, but–”

“I was just caught off guard by the question,” she countered. “If the treatment is supposed to have left me without any memories of my life in this hospital, being surprised by a question about a close friend and being told they aren’t real is certainly going to get anypony riled up.” She gave her friend a grim smile. “Just put yourself in my shoes. What if you woke up tomorrow and were told that you had never left the farm, never become a doctor, and you had been bucking apples all your life?”

Applejack gave Twilight a weak grin. “Sometimes, I think I’d be a happier mare if I were still working on the farm.” She halted and lifted a placating hoof at Twilight’s glare. “Oh, I know what you mean, darlin’. You’re dealing with a situation I wouldn’t wish upon anypony.” Reaching out, she patted Twilight’s shoulder. “And, for what it's worth, I think you’re holdin’ up real well. I know you have your concerns about your treatment and all, but I can tell you that you’ve made some real progress already. If you’ll just give it time, I know you will be pleased with the results.”

The two resumed walking in silence as Twilight mulled over how to respond. They passed down another hallway before she finally spoke. “Applejack, about what I told you, before we met Doctor Rose...”

“Twilight...” Applejack growled in warning. It was Twilight’s turn to hold up a warding hoof.

“I’m not going to ask you to take off the magical silencer, so please, just hear me out.” She waited for Applejack to nod before continuing. “Look, I know you think I’m supposed to be some crazy- I mean, some sick pony, and we both know that I don’t believe a word of it. And I’m not going to sit here and delay things, trying to convince you that I’m right and that all of this isn’t how it’s supposed to be. But you and I both know that something just doesn’t add up here.”

“Twilight, I really don’t–” Applejack began, but Twilight continued, speaking quickly but keeping her tone even.

“I know you don’t want me bringing it up again, and I’m not going to ask you to do anything you don’t want to. I just want you to promise me one thing. Just one thing, and I won’t ask you to take off the dampener ever again, okay?” She met Applejack’s stare. “Please, just think about what you know about me from your memories, and how I should act based upon what my file says. And then ask yourself if my behavior fits. Am I acting like a schizophrenic and obsessive pony? If you will promise me that you’ll honestly think about it, I’ll never ask you about taking off my silencer again. Deal?”

Twilight could see the conflict swirling about behind Applejack’s eyes as she evaluated her choices. It was an innocuous request with the promise of never asking her to break regulations, but it also meant she was acknowledging, even for a moment, that a patient’s delusions might have some merit. Twilight kept her face calm even as her insides twisted about. Please, Applejack. You’re the element of honesty. You’re one of my closest friends in all of Equestria. If anypony could tell that something isn’t right, it’s you.

Her heart plummeted as she saw the corners of Applejack’s mouth tighten up, a surge of disappointment coursing through her veins. She’s going to say no! She’s going to turn me down and keep thinking I’m a crazy pony! “Alright, Twilight. I’ll think about it.” If I can’t even get Applejack to consider-

Twilight coughed, her eyes widening in surprise. “You what?”

Applejack eyed her with a look of faint concern. “I said I’d think about it,” she repeated, but the end of her sentence was lost in a gasp as Twilight pulled her into a desperately tight hug.

“Oh thank you thank you thank you!” she cried out, nuzzling her friend’s cheek and ignoring her cry of indignation. Relief bubbled up within her, making her feel like she was floating on air.

“Okay, that’s enough,” Applejack declared as she pried Twilight’s forelegs from around her neck with a gentle but firm pressure, the mare blushing faintly. “Look, I ain’t promising nothing’ but that I’ll think about it, you understand?” Twilight bobbed her head eagerly. Before she could say anything Applejack continued. “However, you’re gonna promise me something in return.”

Twilight’s smile fractured. “What?”

“You’re gonna promise me that if I do this for you, you’re not going to try and pull anything like you said back in Doctor Rose’s office. You’re not going to try to stop taking your medication or anything foolish like that. You’re going to go to therapy, engage with the staff, and not be any kind of trouble maker, you hear?” she stated, her voice filled with a maternal strength that made Twilight sympathize with Apple Bloom. She gave Twilight a level stare. “If you can act like a grown mare and do that for me, then you have my word. Deal?”

Twilight stared at Applejack’s proffered hoof. Just say yes, she told herself. It doesn’t matter if you really are going to do it. You’re goal is to get back home, and if you have to lie to do it, then so be it. It was a practical and realistic point, she had to concede. But when she looked into her friend's honest face, she couldn't help but hold herself back. She wasn’t a liar. Could she betray her friend like that, even in so small a way, for the greater good? Was honesty a necessary sacrifice?

“Okay, Applejack. I promise,” Twilight said, taking Applejack’s hoof in her own and shaking it vigorously, hoping to hide her deception behind a mask of earnest agreement. There was a moment’s hesitation in her friend’s eyes, betraying something of her suspicions, but the mare said nothing. “So, where is this caseworker I’m supposed to meet with?” she asked after releasing her grip, hoping to divert the conversation to a different topic.

“Just ahead.” Applejack turned back and trotted off. Twilight hesitated for a heartbeat before following. “She should be waiting for you. She handles more than one pony, of course, but we wanted to make sure that you got in right away to meet with her. The government has taken a particular interest in your situation, what with your treatment and all. It’s still relatively new, and like with anything, they want to make sure your rights and needs are being taken care off.”

“They’re interested in my situation? Why?”

“Well, it partly has to do with your, uh, history,” Applejack explained, deliberately not looking at Twilight.

Oh, so it has to do with me being dangerous too, she realized, frowning. “And the other part?”

“Well, it’s the political side of things. Right now there are plenty of ponies that want to ban some of the more invasive treatments,” Applejack explained, sounding unsure of herself. No, not unsure: conflicted. “Doctor Rose’s system offers a real chance at revolutionizing how we treat certain conditions, without having to resort to surgery. But, it’s still relatively new, so plenty of doctors aren’t convinced yet.”

“But I thought this wasn’t untested? Isn’t that what Doctor Rose said?” Twilight stated, a hint of worry worming its way into her voice. “Please don’t tell me I’m some sort of guinea pig.”

“Oh, no, not at all, sugarplum!” The doctor gave Twilight her best reassuring grin. “It’s not untested, but it’s still new. And there are plenty of doctors out there who aren’t going to change their ways just because of some clinical tests. They’re stuck in the mud, used to doing things the way they were taught.” It was Applejack’s turn to frown. “I had plenty of professors like them, back in school. There are too many who are afraid of anything that ain’t just like they learned in their own university days.”

“So, this isn’t an untested treatment then,” said Twilight with a small measure of relief. “It’s just new, is all. But why does that make anyone interested in my case specifically?”

“You’ll have to ask someone else for all the details there, hun. After all, you’re not the only pony being treated, so I don’t know why Rose is givin’ you special treatment.” Applejack finally glanced back over at Twilight, giving her a playful smirk. “Maybe it’s just because you’re the cutest little filly in the hospital?” she teased. “Shoot, maybe you remind him of one of his granddaughters.”

Twilight rolled her eyes, but laughed despite herself. She was about to respond when Applejack came to a halt in front of one of the doors marked ‘Visiting/Consultation Room’. She lifted her hoof to the handle but stopped to give Twilight another measured glance. “Now, I want you to be on your best behavior, you understand? She ain’t gonna take off your silencer or any of that nonsense.” Applejack’s gaze was firm, emphasizing her point. A reminder of Twilight’s earlier promise was there but unspoken. “But other than that, she is here to listen to any problems you might have. Feel free to talk to her about anything else. And don’t be put off by her mannerisms. Her heart's in the right place, even if she does seem a bit haughty at times.” She grinned at some personal joke. “Now, I’ll introduce you two, since you probably won’t remember her any, but I’ll be back in half an hour to pick you up, alright?”

“Wait, you know my caseworker?” Twilight asked, confused at the sudden display of familiarity.

“Sure thing, sugarcube. We grew up in Ponyville together.” Before Twilight could ask anymore questions she pushed open the door, guiding Twilight inside. A white unicorn with an elegant purple mane stood up from her seat, the table before her holding a few folders and stacks of papers. “Twilight, why don’t you say hello to Rarity. She’s one of the nicest mare’s I know, so you’ll be in good hooves.”

“Hello, Twilight darling!” Rarity said with a broad grin. “I know you might not remember me, but I just want you to know that I'm here to help you out to the very best of my abilities, and I sincerely hope you and I can become good friends again.”

Eventually Twilight managed to close her mouth, nodding dumbly as the door closed behind her.

Chapter 12

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Asylum

Chapter 12

Twilight stared at Rarity, the uncomfortably long stretch of silence making the air feel heavy within the small cream-colored room. Rarity’s smile slipped. Unable to meet Twilight’s unblinking gaze, she turned to Applejack in relief. “Applejack, darling, how have you been?” she asked, her polite question deafening in the awkward stillness.

“Just peachy. Things have been a little more hectic than usual, but then, that’s to be expected, considering everything that is going on.”

Rarity frowned. “I meant, how are you doing? I heard that one of the patients attacked you yesterday.”

“Oh! That wasn’t anything to get worked up about, sug- Rarity. I just got splashed with some warm soup, is all,” she said, waving a dismissive hoof. “It stung a little, sure, but that was all.”

“Well, what a relief!” she exclaimed. “After all, I heard rumors that it was Rainbow Dash who attacked you. I was worried she might have been a little more violent with you, considering... well, you know.”

“Honestly Rarity, it wasn’t anything to be worried about. I ended up with a wet mane and a few small bruises. I got worse whenever I rode Manehattan’s subway in a rainstorm,” she said, her laughter fading away as she gave Rarity an inquiring look. “Although, I’m surprised you haven’t heard anything definite yet. Didn’t you get any notices about her?”

“Not a thing. I expect it’s just Princess Ratchet on another one of her power trips,” Rarity said, rolling her eyes. She took a step closer, dropping her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “She just doesn’t like me, and I’m pretty sure it’s because my father isn’t a unicorn.”

“Come on, she’s not like that,” protested Applejack. “Sure, she’s a stubborn mare, but she’s no racist.”

Rarity lifted an eyebrow. “Darling, stop protecting her just because she’s a coworker. I’ve seen how she treats you. If I saw her treat a patient like she treated you, I’d have her under a Royal Inquiry like that!” she declared, stomping for emphasis. “About the only positive thing I can say about the witch is that she’s intelligent enough to treat her non-unicorn patients fine while I’m around her!”

It was Applejack’s turn to sound offended. “Now Rarity, Nurse Ratchet is never like that with the patients. Never. Understand?”

“I’ll take your word on it. Still, you can’t deny that she is a backwards looking pony. She has had a grudge against me ever since I stated my sensible and moral opposition to the barbaric practices of the past.”

“You called her a heartless butcher in public because she supported using lobotomies and keratotomies in certain cases!”

“Well, she is!” Rarity growled, eyes narrowing.

Applejack growled right back. “Then Missy, you are callin’ me an’ the rest of the medical community butchers too, because we all agree with her!”

“And what if I am?”

Twilight watched in shock as the two mares stared one another down, the transition from old camaraderie to furious antagonism leaving her speechless. It was an old argument, and the wounds were opening like fissures around an active volcano.

Before they could erupt into another round of furious recriminations, Applejack’s face softened and she exhaled slowly. In an instant the tension was broken. Rarity rocked back on her hooves, the anger bleeding away as both mares wore expressions of discomfort and regret. “Look, sugarcube, I know why it’s a touchy subject,” Applejack began, sadness and conciliation in every word. “I can’t even begin to comprehend what you have gone through. But you need to understand that we’re not the enemy, alright? You might not like Ratchet, but whatever you might think about her personally, she is still one of Doctor Rose’s strongest supporters. Do you get what I’m sayin’?”

Neither mare seemed to notice nor care that Applejack had fallen back into her backwoods accent. Rarity just nodded and turned away, dabbing at the corners of her eyes with a embroidered handkerchief. “I... I know, Applejack, I know. And I’m truly sorry for what I said. Sometimes I just get a little too worked up about these things, is all.”

Applejack waved away her apology. “You have nothing to apologize for, you hear?” She gave Rarity a soft smile. “Besides, we’ve been fightin’ each other since kindergarten. If I’m tough enough to handle hot soup in the eyes, I think I can handle a little name calling.”

Rarity sniffled, returning the smile. “T-Thanks, darling.”

“Oh, don’t mention it. What are friends for?”

“Still, I just don’t understand why you put up with how she treats you,” Rarity added as she inspected her mane in a small mirror, tucking back any stray strands of hair with a hoof and a slight burst of magic. She glanced up at Applejack as she returned the compact to the saddlebags resting by the table. “And she’s not the only one, either.”

“I’m used to it,” Applejack sighed. When Rarity continued to silently stare she shrugged as well. “What? Do you expect me to throw away my career trying to headbutt every pony that doesn’t think earth ponies should be doctors? I’m still payin’ off my debts. I’m not going to risk my job or the farm by fightin’ that battle. They’re all free to think what they want. I plan on showin’ them the error of their ways through hard work and a positive attitude.”

Rarity giggled, causing Applejack’s determined grin to slip. “Oh Applejack, sometimes you’re just so... so...”

Applejack’s eyelids lowered. “Naive and foolish?”

“Heavens, no!” declared Rarity, looking embarrassed. “I was trying to compliment you. You’re just so honest, darling. You’re the most honest and decent mare I know.” She pointed her manicured hoof at Applejack. “And if we had more doctors like you around, the world would be a much better place.”

It was Applejack’s turn to blush. “Oh. Um, thanks,” she said, pawing at the floor sheepishly. “Sorry about snappin’ at you like that. I can get a bit ornery at times.”

“Water under the bridge, darling,” Rarity replied with a gleaming smile. “Water under the bridge.”

“So, you two know each other then?” The two older mares both jumped at the sound of Twilight’s voice, each wearing matching expressions of surprise.

Applejack recovered first. “Gosh, I’m sorry, Twi!” she gushed. “I can’t believe I let myself get distracted like that. Rarity, Twilight has a lot of things she wants to talk to you about, so I’m going to get going and let you two get to work.” She glanced at her watch after handing Rarity a few papers she pulled from her pocket. “So... I’ll be back around noon to take you to lunch, alright?”

“You can’t stay?” Twilight asked, suddenly dreading the doctor’s departure. The camaraderie between the two had been a gust of cool wind on a muggy summer day, reminding her of better times. It was true friendship, something all of them had once shared, and she didn’t want to see it go away.

Most importantly, it had been a wealth of information about their private lives and the hospital she was trapped in. Their friendship was a productive source of answers. Twilight forced herself to frown. “Do you really have to go? I don’t mind if you stay here.”

“Afraid I have to, sugarplum. Them’s the rules, after all,” she said with a wink, laying on the accent extra thick. “But don’t worry yourself none. Rarity here will take care of you. She’ll be able to answer a lot of your questions, listen to any problems you might have, and help you draft those letters.”

“There’s no need to worry, Twilight. Doctor Applejack won’t be gone long. We have a lot of catching up to do, while she has her own chores to take care of. So go ahead and say goodbye to Doctor Applejack, and we can get started on those letters you wanted to write,” Rarity said cheerfully. Her smile grew wider. “And, I have two special treats for my favorite little filly! Doesn’t that sound divine?”

Twilight bit back on the urge to groan. Having the doctors treat her like a glass foal was bad enough, but there was the consolation that it was just part of their bedside manner. At least they had been faking it, she thought, dismayed by the eager and upbeat expression on Rarity’s face. But trying to placate me with treats? She honestly thinks I’m a child. This is how she must treat Sweetie Belle whenever she gets sick.

Reigning in her sense of righteous indignation before she said something she was going to regret, Twilight gave Rarity a thin smile before turning to address Applejack. “Okay, then. I guess I will see you later, Applejack.”

“Sure will!” she replied as she opened the door behind her. “And if you two need anything, there’ll be a orderly outside. I’ll be back in a jiffy, don’t you worry.” There was a soft click, and the two unicorns were alone.

There were a thousand questions in Twilight’s mind, each one eager to be asked, but Rarity was already talking before she could even open her mouth. “Oh, it’s lovely catching up with old friends.” She sighed. “Well Twilight, how about you take a seat,” she gestured at a green plastic chair, “while I get you those treats I promised. Would you like that?”

“Sure,” she said flatly as she dropped herself into the chosen seat, holding back on her temper. She examined Rarity while she was distracted with her saddlebags. Something was tickling the back of her mind as she looked at her friend. There was something wrong. Although she had picked up enough from their conversation to assume that Rarity was around the same age as Applejack, she looked just like she did in Twilight’s memories. Her hair was elegant, her coat pristine, and her hooves manicured. The small room even carried the flowery undertones of the mare’s perfume. Were her wrinkles a bit more pronounced? Was her makeup hiding the signs of age, or just a fashion decision? She still possessed her sense of style, that was clear. Her business suit, although drab and conservative by Rarity's standards, was still pressed and perfectly fitted. The only stark visual difference between her Rarity and the one across the table was the lanyard draped around her neck, its functional design and institutional colors clashing with the outfit’s subtle tones.

When Twilight finally realized what was bothering her, she couldn’t help but blurt it out. “Rarity, did you make that suit?”

Her friend lifted her head. “Hmm? Oh, this old thing?” she chuckled, gesturing at the suit. “No, I didn’t make it. But I did help design it.” She smiled at Twilight. “Why? Do you like it?”

“Oh, yes. It’s very lovely.”

Rarity beamed at Twilight’s words. “Well thank you, darling. Sable Stitches, the tailor, is an old friend of mine, and she is always telling me I have a natural eye for fashion.”

“So you’re a clothing designer too?”

Rarity giggled, returning her attention to the saddlebags. “Me? I’m flattered, darling, but no, I’m no designer. But I like to think I know how to put together a stunning outfit, if I do say so myself.” She struck a pose.

The same creeping dread Twilight had felt when Doctor Applejack had walked into her room for the first time wormed its way up her legs. “So you don’t work with fashion at all?”

Rarity paused, turning her head to give Twilight a sly glance. “Well, to be honest, I do dabble every now and again. I’m not a true fashionista like Madam Stitches, but I do enjoy working on accoutrements like hats and scarves. It’s my hobby. I feel so... relaxed, when I am seated in front of a sewing machine. I can truly unwind.” She sighed wistfully. “But of course, being an amateur tailor doesn’t pay the bills. Not a lot of bits to be made in selling one of a kind hats, no matter how fabulous they are.”

“I don’t follow the leap from fashion boutique to hospital,” Twilight said. “You couldn’t make a living designing clothes, so you decided to become... a caseworker?”

Rarity’s smile tightened. “I had my reasons, dear,” she answered politely through her gritted teeth. She turned back to her saddlebags and resumed her search.

Twilight paused, unable to bring herself to ask anything more. I offended her, she thought. I hurt her, somehow. I could see it in her eyes. Whatever drove her to abandon fashion has not healed. Something happened in the past to really- Twilight blinked as her thoughts came to a jerking halt. She began to smile. The past – of course! Applejack feels guilty about going to school while Big Mac had to work on the farm; Pinkie Pie is frightened of being a ‘bad’ pony; Rarity is upset about something in her past that kept her out of fashion. So that means...

Twilight’s face fell. Well, what does that mean, Twilight? It seems like everypony in this reality has a broken past – myself included, evidently. That doesn’t help me at all. Twilight felt like a balloon that had sprung a leak as she sagged down into her chair. So my friends have painful pasts. This reality has them all employed by or committed to an insane asylum. Of course they’re going to have bad pasts. Still... her thoughts trailed away. Despite having nothing to go on, Twilight couldn’t shake the tingling at the back of her neck that it was important.

Somehow.

“Ah-ha! Found it at last,” Rarity announced as she pulled a small cloth-wrapped bundle from her bags, her expression once again friendly and ingratiating. It floated across the table in a light-blue aura before being deposited it in front of Twilight. “Here’s the first treat I promised! Go on, unwrap it.”

Twilight obeyed, ignoring the reflexive hint of annoyance she felt at having to do it by hoof. When she finally undid the needlessly complex knot, the cloth fell away lifelessly, revealing the treasure within. Twilight’s eyes opened wide. “Are these–”

“Raisin cookies!” said Rarity with a burst of buoyant pride. “I baked them myself.”

Twilight stomach growled loud enough to almost mask her hurried thanks before she shoved one of the half-dozen cookies into her mouth. “Bweakfust was howwible this mohning,” she explained through a shower of crumbs. “You dohn know how huwngee I am.”

Rarity kept her grin plastered on her face as she brushed the ejected cookie detritus off of the table and into a wastebasket. “I think I have an idea.”

Twilight’s cheeks flushed red again as she halted with another cookie shoved halfway into her crumb-filled mouth. “Sohwy,” she chuckled nervously as she pulled the cookie back and finished chewing her mouthful. As she swallowed, thoughts of her etiquette teacher Miss Waltz’s disapproving glare flashed through her mind.

“Oh it’s perfectly alright, dear. I know how terrible the food they serve around here is,” she remarked as Twilight took a polite nibble of her cookie. “But that’s not the only treat I have for you. You gave me an old friend of yours to take care of while you were being treated, and after spending a little time under my hooves, I think she is looking better than ever.”

“Friend? What friend?” she asked as Rarity levitated a second cloth item across the table. Twilight’s expression shifted from confusion to recognition to surprise, and then back to confusion. It couldn’t be. It was. “Smarty Pants? You had my old doll?”

“Yes I did. You gave her to me to take care of while you were recovering. You didn’t want to lose her, after all, and the staff... well, they aren’t always too appreciative of letting patients keep certain items. You were afraid they might get rid of her when you weren’t looking.”

“But she looks so clean,” Twilight said flatly, holding the familiar doll in her hooves like it might break. “She looks brand new.”

Rarity nodded. “Well, I did decide to give her a little bit of a makeover. At first I thought she just needed a good scrubbing, but then I noticed how her eyes were about to fall off and the loose stitching around the patches, which all meant she wouldn’t survive a proper cleaning. So, I spent a little time with a needle and thread, and voila! Smarty Pants is reborn! She is très magnifique, if I do say so myself.”

Twilight nodded, impressed with the work that had been done to her old foalhood doll. She really did look like a new doll. In fact, she looked better than new; she hadn’t looked so clean and intact since the day Twilight’s parents had given Smarty Parts to her. Memories of childhood games, tea parties, and study sessions with the doll percolated within her head, but instead of nostalgia she felt conflicted and uncomfortable. Twilight lifted her eyes from the sparkling toy. “Rarity, I appreciate the work you put into this. It’s better than new, and very generous.” The caseworker positively shone at the compliment, but Twilight continued. “But I have a question for you, and even though it’s going to sound pretty weird and strange, I’m being serious here. Did I ever act like Smarty Pants was, you know... real?”

If the question surprised Rarity, she hid it well. Pursing her lips together she stared back at Twilight. She took her time before answering. “You always seemed to carry her around with you to all of our meetings, and you’ve always referred to Smarty Pants as a ‘she’ and not an ‘it’,” Rarity began, causing Twilight’s hooves to tingle in anxious dread. “Sometimes you and some of your marefriends would play with her too, and you would have her be a part of your tea parties or... study groups.” She paused. “But no, I don’t remember you ever behaving like Smarty Pants was anything more than a doll.”

A weight was lifted from Twilight’s mind. “Oh thank Celestia,” she sighed. “That’s a relief.”

“And how is Spike doing?”

Twilight’s eyes popped open. “What?”

“You know, your little dragon friend?” Rarity repeated. “You always said he liked me, and since you were bringing up, ah, ‘invisible’ friends, I thought–”

“Spike isn’t here,” snapped Twilight, hard enough to make Rarity flinch.

“Oh. I see.”

Twilight sighed again, the bitter taste of guilt dripping down the back of her throat. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like that. It’s just... a complicated issue. And I don’t mean that Spike isn’t here, in the sense that he’s in the other room. But he doesn’t seem to exist in this w–” Twilight coughed. “I, uh, mean he doesn’t exist at all. Because he’s a delusion.”

This time, Rarity couldn’t hide her surprise. “Spike isn’t real? Well, that's wonderful to hear!” It was Twilight’s turn to flinch, the excitement in Rarity’s voice when saying those words only digging deeper into the wound that was Spike’s non-existence. “It looks like Doctor Rose’s treatment is working splendidly.” Producing a pen from her bags, she set about filling in some notes on the assortment of paperwork laid out before her, her reading glasses perched at the tip of her muzzle.

“Yeah. Splendidly,” Twilight replied, but Rarity made no sign that she heard her as she busied herself with the paperwork.

Eventually Rarity finished. “Then why don’t the two of us–”

“Actually,” Twilight interrupted, “before we start going through all the official stuff, can you help me write that letter to my parents? I really, really want to make sure that I take care of that first.”

“Of course, darling. Here, let me just get some fresh paper and a pen out.” Pulling out a small stack of blank paper from her bags she glanced at Twilight. “Would you like me to write the letters for you, or do you want to write them yourself?”

“I’ll write them, if you don’t mind,” Twilight said earnestly, accepting the stationary with a smile. “But I don’t need this much paper. I’m only sending the letter to my parents. Unless I can send letters to my brother and Princess Celestia too?”

“You can send one to your brother certainly,” Rarity said with an uncomfortable look. “But I can’t allow you to send one to any non-family members.”

“What about if I let you write the one to the princess for me?”

Rarity shook her head. “I’m sorry, dear, but those are the rules. You’re still a minor.”

Twilight grudgingly nodded. She hadn’t expected them to really allow her to contact the princess so easily, but it was worth a shot. Hopefully she could convince Rarity or Applejack to mail a letter to the princess with time. “Fine. But I can still write to my brother?”

“Of course you can. And I bet he would love to hear from you as well.”

Rarity’s words brought a smile to Twilight’s face. “I’m sure he would. We’ve always been close,” she said, a sense of optimism fueling her as she thought of Shining Armor. She could count on him – he would never let her down. “So, I’ll write two letters: a letter for him, and a letter for my parents.”

Her friend-turned-caseworker nodded. “Alright, darling. And which parent are you writing too?”

“Both of them,” Twilight repeated as she fiddled with the pen. “You wouldn’t happen to have a quill and ink, would you? These things are so difficult to use.”

Rarity chuckled. “Sorry dear. I think you’re the only pony I know of that still likes to use a quill to write. Although it does add a touch of grace and class to a letter.” She gestured at the two sheets of paper Twilight had laid out in perfect alignment. “But if you’re going to write to your parents and your brother, you’re going to need a third sheet.”

Twilight lifted her head slowly, the pen pushing firmly into the paper as she froze mid stroke. “Why?” she asked, her voice as soft as the cold breeze working its way up her spine. “They still live in Canterlot, don’t they?”

“Well, your father does,” Rarity said as she looked at Twilight closely, her amusement replaced with gentle concern. “But your mother lives in Manehattan with her husband.”

There was a loud crack as Twilight’s pen snapped. “Her husband?” she shouted, her expression a riot of angry disbelief directed at Rarity. “What do you mean ‘her husband’? She isn’t even married to my father? How could you say such things? My parents love one another!”

Rarity’s reading glasses fell off her nose as she pulled back in surprise, her mouth trying to form a coherent response in the face of Twilight’s blistering accusations. “But... but I...” she stammered.

“It’s not enough to destroy my life and toss everything I’ve ever accomplished into the dumpster, but now they’re going to insult my parents?” Ink splattered out over the table as Twilight slammed her hooves down again. She could feel that furious beast begin to rise up from the depths of her mind. Was this entire world built around tearing apart everything that was good and comforting from her real life? She leveled her glare at Rarity. “My parents love each other, just as much as they love me.”

“Of course they do, darling!” said Rarity calmly, quickly recovering from Twilight’s outburst. As she spoke she stood up from her seat and slowly made her way around the table. “They love you more than anything, and you should never doubt that.” She halted at Twilight’s side, giving her a motherly smile. “Now, hold out your hooves.”

Twilight blinked. “What?” she half-asked, half-growled, caught off guard by the request.

“You cut yourself, and you’ve got ink all over your coat,” explained Rarity, taking the seat beside Twilight and levitating over a box of tissues. Twilight glanced down at her forelegs. The hair was matted beneath a layer of dark ink, with a noticeable burst of crimson amidst the sea of black liquid and lavender fur. A few slivers of plastic were embedded in her flesh, the fragments of pen deep enough to draw blood. She winced as the pain finally penetrated the haze of furious denial shrouding her mind.

“Oh,” was all Twilight could say, turning to face Rarity and lifting her forearms for her. Her anger was pushed back down into its cave, gnashing its teeth all the while, as she forced herself to take control of her emotions.

“Now, just stay still for a minute dear, so I can take care of this little mess,” Rarity said in a soothing tone, supporting Twilight’s forelegs with her own. She ignored the ink staining her sleeves as she cleaned the area around the cut, her gentle expression and soft demeanor so different from what Twilight had expected. Instead of a drama queen, Rarity was behaving like a mother with a foal. There was no anger at Twilight’s outburst, no accusatory look in her eyes. She didn’t even care that she was probably ruining her outfit. She was simply focused upon dealing with Twilight’s wound.

It only made Twilight feel worse. “I’m sorry for behaving like that,” she offered, her voice almost cracking as she hung her head guiltily. “It’s not your fault. You didn’t deserve to be yelled at.”

“No, it was my fault,” Rarity replied, lifting Twilight’s chin with her clean hoof so she could look her in the eyes. “I knew you were suffering from some memory problems, but I didn’t consider that you might not remember everything about your family. I was excited about your progress and forgot to consider the other factors.” The gentleness in Rarity’s face stood in stark contrast to Twilight’s deepening shame, making her feel even more insignificant. “So I should apologize to you,” she continued as she glanced back down at Twilight’s stained fur. “I shouldn’t have mentioned your parents’... situation so callously. It was tactless and uncaring, and I’m sorry.”

Twilight inhaled sharply as she looked away. “You don’t need to apologize,” she said weakly, blinking back her tears. She wished she had seen some blame in Rarity’s eyes. Her friend was selflessly helping to clean her up after she had made a huge mess. Twilight was being treated like a little foal again, but for the first time, it didn’t offend or enrage her. She felt sad – sad that her friend would accept her childish display as being justifiable. If she were back in the real world, Twilight’s behavior would have been inexcusable. But this Rarity thinks I’m a crazy, unbalanced pony, she told herself. She is cleaning me and apologizing for getting me upset after I threw a childish fit. She cares about me, but in the same way Fluttershy cares about sick animals.

“Now this is going to sting a little, but I need to pull out all the little bits of pen in your skin, alright?” Rarity asked with a serious look.

Twilight nodded. Can I blame her for treating me like a foal? After- Her thoughts were interrupted by a sharp but fleeting burst of pain as Rarity removed the first of the half-dozen plastic needles. She paused and looked up to check on her, but Twilight grit her teeth and nodded again, urging her to continue. Twilight kept quiet for the rest of them. After behaving like that, how did I expect her to react? This world isn’t real. I can’t keep exploding whenever I run into one of its lies. My parents do love each other. They’re happily married. And as soon as I fix this and get home, they’ll be just like they were – just like they should be.

“Okay, that’s all of them,” Rarity announced as she deposited the pen’s remains into a nearby wastebasket before turning back to Twilight to resume cleaning away as much ink as she could. “That wasn’t so bad, now was it?”

“Y-Yeah. It was nothing,” said Twilight as she stared at the distant wall, ignoring the dampness beneath her eyes. Another period of silence followed as Rarity went through half the box soaking up what she could, the cuffs of her suit stained black with ink.

Twilight turned to stare at Rarity in confusion when the other mare suddenly burst out laughing. “I’ve been with you only fifteen minutes today, Twilight, and I’ve already had two angry episodes end with bouts of humble apologies and awkward silence. I hope that’s my quota for the month.”

“Yeah, I hope so, too,” Twilight replied with a half-smile. She wasn’t ready to laugh herself just yet – especially when it wasn’t funny – but it felt like the room had suddenly been aired out, allowing her to breathe easy again. Twilight wiped the moisture away from beneath her eyes with her cleanest hoof as she glanced back at Rarity. Thinking about her parents being separated was still difficult, even with the full knowledge that it was all fake, but she had no other choice. Twilight was tired of letting her emotional outbursts interfere with her goals. She needed answers. “So, if my father is in Canterlot, and my mom is in Manehattan, then where does Shining live?”

“Ponyville.”

Twilight gasped. “Really? Isn’t that just a few miles away?” When Rarity confirmed it was, Twilight nearly leapt from her chair. “Yes! Yes yes yes! He’ll come as soon as he gets the letter. My B.B.B.F.F. won’t let me down – he’d never let me rot here all alone!”

Rarity smiled politely as she finished cleaning up the ink as best she could. “He does like to visit often. I think he was going to visit you next week, actually. If you send him a letter, I bet he will move that up,” she continued as she pulled a few bandages from her clean but worn saddlebags. “He works so hard to keep Ponyville safe, but then, it’s not that difficult a job. There’s hardly any crime in town.”

“What does Shining do?” Twilight asked as Rarity affixed the bandages to her leg.

“Oh, he’s a police officer in town.” The revelation was... not as much a shock as Twilight had anticipated it would be. It was still a little painful to imagine her brother stuck in a life where he never was the guardspony he dreamed of becoming, but Twilight felt more prepared against the world’s deliberate attempts to cause her distress. “We’ve met a few times, during some family meetings. He’s a good stallion, your brother, and he doesn’t blame you for anything. He just wants to see his little sister get better.”

The younger unicorn’s eye twitched slightly. “Blame?” she asked shakily, trying to shore up her defenses against whatever Rarity might say. “Why w-would he blame me for anything?” She knew it might hurt, but she couldn’t just ignore it. She needed answers, especially where her family was concerned.

Rarity glanced up at Twilight’s expression and shook her head. “Oh, no, not now, darling,” she announced firmly. “I know you have been having problems with your memories, and I don’t want to be the source of your anxiety. I’ve already done enough for today.” She cut off Twilight’s protest. “And no, I’m not going to change my mind.” Her expression softened. “If you really need to know, you can ask Doctor Applejack. Or if you still have questions next time we meet, I’ll answer them then. But I don’t need to place more stress in your life by talking about family matters. You’re still recovering, after all.”

For a moment Twilight considered fighting the issue, but one look at Rarity’s steely gaze and she abandoned the idea. She sighed. “Okay, fine. But you’re still going to help me write the letter to him, right?”

“Of course, Twilight!” declared Rarity as she stepped back. She glanced at the table, frowning at the puddle of splattered ink and the stained pages Twilight had been given. “Since you hurt your hooves, would you like me to write the–”

This time, Twilight did object. “No!” she yelped, before giving the surprised Rarity an apologetic grin. “I mean, you don’t have to do that. I want to write the letters myself, if you don’t mind.”

“Of course, that will be just fine. You might just prefer to sit over here instead,” she offered Twilight, gesturing to her seat. Twilight thanked her as she moved around the table, noting in passing the large saddlebags resting beside Rarity’s seat. They were fairly stylish – at least to Twilight’s untrained eye – but even she could tell they were not created with fashion in mind. They were... practical. Even worn out. As Twilight sat down she watched Rarity as she fetched a new pen and fresh paper for her. Besides the newly ink-stained cuffs, Twilight could see that the suit was a lot like the saddlebags: in good condition but lacking some of the flair that Twilight expected from her friend. A store-bought outfit, even one that was designed with her help, was hardly the sort of thing Rarity would ever wear.

Rarity’s clothing lacked the flair, the zest, from Twilight’s memories. It was a disconcerting idea. Well, maybe she just fell on hard-times recently, Twilight thought as she picked up the pen before her. She still acts like Rarity. Maybe she’s not as flamboyant, but she's still as generous and considerate as I remember. Imagining Rarity being desperate enough to wear another pony’s outfits made Twilight feel doubly guilty over the dark stains on Rarity’s sleeves.

“Now, you can write whatever you want to your family. And if you want, I can even look over the letters for you,” Rarity explained, unaware of Twilight’s rueful glance at her clothing. “Everything you say to me is confidential. Nothing is shared with the hospital staff. You can trust me.” She smiled. “But I’ll understand if you want to keep these private.”

“I’d appreciate that,” Twilight said with a thankful grin of her own. She watched Rarity move to the far side of the table, humming to herself as she set about cleaning up as much of the spilt ink as she could. Sorry, Rarity. I can’t trust anyone just yet, she silently apologized as she adjusted the sheets of paper, making sure each one was perfectly aligned with its neighbor.

Turning her gaze down to the blank sheet before her, Twilight tapped the pen against the page. Dear Mom: I’m not crazy. Love, Twilight. It was almost funny enough to make her cry. She had to let them know she needed their help, that she was scared and alone, but she couldn’t tell them the truth. Not yet. Once she was free, then she could work on getting back home. Until then, she had to work on influencing their emotions, getting them to pity her and take her with them – or at the least get them to halt whatever her treatment is.

She stared at the pen, imagining how much easier it would be to write to them if Spike were there. Twilight had always enjoyed dictating her writing aloud, either to herself or her young assistant. Ideas came easier when she had to speak them. She glanced at Rarity. It wasn’t just the absence of her draconic friend that troubled her, but the very fact that she couldn’t talk to herself because her good friend was in the room with her. This world has made me unable to even trust my best friends. But I can still trust my family, no matter what.

Steeling herself, Twilight pushed down on the pen, moving her hooves slowly as she began the first stage of her escape plan.

Dear Mom...

“And this one goes to Shining Armor, correct?” Rarity asked for the third time, eliciting a nervous chuckle from Twilight. The joke wasn’t funny the first time, but she still laughed politely.

“Yes, that’s the one,” she confirmed, holding back on the desire to roll her eyes. After finishing the letters she had sealed them up in envelopes before letting Rarity write down their addresses. Still, Twilight had made sure to watch what she wrote and memorize them herself – knowing where to mail any future letters to on her own could be vital.

The rest of their time together had been much more relaxed than it had been in the beginning. Twilight still felt embarrassed at her earlier reaction, the splotches of ink in her fur a visible reminder of her outburst.

Despite the initial awkwardness, they had managed a comfortable conversation. It had been a bit one sided, though. While Rarity had asked Twilight questions about how she was feeling, how the doctors were treating her, and what problems she had been having, most of her time had been spent listening to Twilight. Part of Twilight had wanted to just unload on her friend, drop everything in the other unicorn’s lap and see what she would say. Instead, she had kept her cool. Her answers had been simple, logical, and above all, sane. She needed ponies who doubted the official story and not her.

Still, Twilight wasn’t completely satisfied at how it had gone. As she watched Rarity return the letters to a pocket of her saddlebags, Twilight considered how little success she had with attempting to get useable information out of Rarity. She had given Rarity the names of her medication and told her how ignorant she was about what they really did, and Rarity had promised she would look up the information for their next visit. It was a start, but when she had tried to explain her knowledge of magical theory to Rarity, hoping to demonstrate a proficiency far above what some hospitalized version of herself could manage, it had gone right over her friend’s horn. It had been a frustrating experience: she wanted to convince Rarity she knew things she couldn’t have if the staff were telling the truth, but she couldn’t simply tell Rarity she wasn’t from that world without making herself look crazy. In the end, Twilight had almost torn Smarty Pants in half.

Twilight glanced down at the doll resting on the table. There were a few flecks of black spoiling her recently cleaned form, but even with those blemishes, Smarty Pants was still the cleanest she had been in years. Although she had long since abandoned playing with dolls, she couldn’t help but feel a sense of relief at her presence. At least Smarty Pants was something from her real life she could hold in her hooves.

Of course, even Smarty Pants hasn’t escaped being changed by this place, she thought, surprising herself with just how bitter she sounded.

“Well, Doctor Applejack should be coming back soon,” Rarity said as she glanced over at her, watching Twilight look up from the doll. Her smile broadened. “So, do you like your gift? I hope you’re not upset with how I cleaned up Smarty Pants for you.”

“It’s fine, really! I’m really... surprised, is all. I mean, I feel a bit old to be playing with dolls,” she said with a forced laugh.

“It’s perfectly fine as long as it makes you feel better, Twilight.” Rarity picked up Smarty Pants and looked her over. “You shouldn’t be afraid of what other people think. Being in this hospital is hard enough on you.”

“I know, but still, I haven’t played with dolls in a long time,” she replied, trying hard to forget about the last time she had brought out Smarty Pants, and all the trouble that had caused. “I really, really appreciate the gift, and it brought back some pleasant memories, but I think it would be for the best if I were to give Smarty Pants away. It would make me feel better knowing there’s another foal out there who can give her a good home.” She gestured at the almost pristine looking doll. “I mean, why not give her to Sweetie Belle? I bet she would love playing with Smarty Pants’ mane, or helping her keep notes, or just having another friend. Heh, unless you happen to have any kids of your own I don’t know about?”

Smarty Pants fell to the ground as the magic holding her aloft cut out. Twilight looked up to find Rarity staring at her with her blue eyes frozen wide, the corners of her mouth pulled taught in an expression of mortified horror. Twilight’s ears flattened against her head instantly, the wounded look in Rarity’s eyes enough to make her heart skip a beat. “Oh my gosh! Rarity, I- whatever I said, I didn’t mean it!”

Her friend’s mouth tried to form a response as she stared back at Twilight, her eyes growing misty. “I... I...”

A soft knock on the door pulled Twilight’s eyes away from Rarity’s tearful expression. Applejack made her way into the room giving Twilight a big grin. “Hey Twi, how are y–” She nearly choked on her greeting when she saw the expression on Rarity’s face. “Rarity, what’s wrong? What’s the matter?” she asked as she hurried to her side.

“I have to go!” Rarity declared, her voice barely wavering as she shoved past Applejack and ran out into the hallway, the sound of her furious hoofbeats fading away until they were cut off by the door sliding shut.

The two mares just stared at the door before turning to look at each other. “What in the hay was that about?” Applejack asked, her eyes going from the stained table, to the stained doll, to Twilight’s stained and bandaged legs. “What in the hay happened to you? What happened here, Twilight?”

“I don’t know!” she replied, her confusion matching Applejacks. “Rarity had given me my old doll Smarty Pants. I told her that I was a little old for dolls and suggested that she give her to her sister, and then I joked about how she could give it to any foals she might have that I don’t know about. And then... that happened!”

Applejack’s confusion vanished. “Oh,” she said with a grim look, her voice a soft wind through the trees.

“Oh? Oh? Oh what?”

“It’s... well, it’s not my place to say,” Applejack explained, which only made Twilight’s scowl deepen.

“You have to tell me!” she demanded desperately. “Something I said just made her run away in tears! Was it about Sweetie Belle? Did something happen to her? Or, was it the joke about her foals?” She began to move around in an anxious circle, like a nervous dog chasing its tail. “Does Rarity even have foals? Oh jeez, oh jeez! Are her foals sick? Is Sweetie Belle sick? This isn’t good! How many foals does she have? D–”

“Twilight! Enough.” Applejack gave Twilight a stern glare, bringing Twilight’s monologue to a halt. Despite the firm tone, her eyes held nothing but sadness and regret. “Look, it ain’t my place to say, and I mean that. Rarity and I go way back. We’re both Ponyville girls, and I’m not going to explain what ain’t none of my business.” Picking up the doll she handed it to Twilight. “All you need to know is that you didn’t do anything wrong.”

Twilight clutched Smarty Pants against her breast instinctively and nodded. “I guess... I just wish I knew what it was that has her so upset.” You're not going to get your friends to help you if you’re going to make them cry every time you meet with them, she added.

“She’ll tell you when she’s ready,” said Applejack as she glanced around the room again, her eyes settling on Twilight’s legs. “And besides, we need to get you cleaned up. Rarity got you cleaned up, didn’t she?” Twilight nodded. “Yeah, she did a pretty good job, it looks like. Still, lets head to the bathroom before we do anythin’ else. I don’t think you’re gonna get the rest of it out without a shower, but we can try to do somethin’, at least.”

“Okay, but... what should I do about the doll?”

Applejack blinked. “Smarty Pants?”

“How did you...” Twilight shook her head. “Yeah, Smarty Pants. What should I do with her?”

“Just bring her along for now. We’re going to lunch right after we get some soap on those legs of yours.”

Grabbing Smarty Pants in her teeth, Twilight tossed her up onto her back, the doll landing in an undignified flop. She stared at the toy a moment, a sense of faint embarrassment tingling in her cheeks. Now, I really do look like a foal, she thought with an annoyed snort. Still, as mildly embarrassing being seen carting around an old doll was, Twilight couldn’t bring herself to abandon Smarty Pants. She was something from her past, and as childish as it was, it was comforting to have her old study buddy with her again. Her eyes lingered on the faint ink stains, considering how to get them out from the fabric, before looking away. “Okay, that sounds good to me. Lead on.”

The trip to the bathroom passed quickly as Applejack questioned what exactly had happened in the room. Twilight had done her best to minimize the extent of her outburst, but she couldn’t hide the fact that she had injured herself. Injuries? Twilight scoffed. I’ve gotten worse injuries trimming the plants outside the library. Still, she wasn’t surprised when Applejack told her that they would have to mark it down on her file, or that they might give her some antibiotics later to prevent an infection.

“Yay. More pills,” had been Twilight’s deadpan response.

The bathroom was empty when they arrived. The doctor escorted Twilight inside and led her towards the row of sinks. It was like the last bathroom she had been in, the white tiles that went halfway up the walls reeking of bleach and cleaning products. The slightly damp floor made it clear it had seen a janitor recently.

Careful to avoid slipping, Twilight followed right behind Applejack. At Applejack’s direction, she reared up to place her forelegs in the porcelain sink after safely depositing Smarty Pants on a piece of dry counter.

“Now, just hold still while I see what I can do about this mess,” Applejack said as she turned on the faucet, the initial blast of ice-water causing Twilight to flinch. She grinned. “It ain’t gonna hurt you, sweetness. It’s just the old plumbing in this place. Takes a moment for things to warm up.” As she spoke the water made the magical transformation from freezing to uncomfortably cold, and stayed there.

Twilight ignored the discomfort, letting Applejack work the soap into her black and violet coat. “So, how old is Broadhoof?” she asked, contenting herself with a simple question, rather than attempting to pry into Rarity’s history again. Those answers will come in time. I can’t force them.

“Nearly as old as Ponyville itself,” Applejack said, keeping her eyes on her task. “Well, the early settlers were here first, but the railroad made it a proper town. And the hospital followed soon enough. It was a good location for it, since Ponyville’s on the line from Canterlot to Los Pegasus. Plus, right down the tracks a ways is the big junction leads south to the frontier. Plenty of traffic coming through town.”

Twilight glanced over at her. “Yes. And it’s also a nice and relatively isolated spot to build a place to stick the insane ponies that they don’t want to keep in the big cities.” Applejack’s expression darkened, but she didn’t respond. After a few heartbeats Twilight exhaled. “Okay, that wasn’t called for, I admit. Sorry for being so... combative with you. It’s just, you know... what I talked about before...”

“Hun, I told you, I don’t want to hear any more talk about you taking off your suppressor, alright?” she warned, but Twilight shook a wet hoof to ward her off, soapy droplets flying everywhere.

“I remember, I remember. I promised I wouldn’t ask about that, and I’ve been holding up my end of our agreement. What I meant was the... other thing. You know, about how my behavior and lack of symptoms don’t match up with my supposed medical condition?”

Applejack paused in her cleaning, lifting her head to meet Twilight’s eager gaze. The only sound was the gentle rush of water running down the drain as Applejack looked at Twilight, her expression inscrutable. “Twilight, I have thought about it. A lot. And I think you are forgetting one very important factor in all of this.”

Twilight’s face drooped slightly. “And that is...?”

“That your treatment is designed to suppress, control, or even cure, most of your symptoms.”

“But- !”

“Twilight, you’re not a medical student, so you might not know this, but a doctor doesn’t claim a long-term patient is cured after just two days on a new treatment. I admit that the results have been... amazing. Better than even I had hoped for – ever dreamed of. And if this continues, you have a good chance of living a life outside Broadhoof, Twilight,” she said, taking the other mare’s wet hooves in her own and giving her a smile. “But you’re still in the beginnin’ of your treatment, sugarcube. I know you’re eager to get out there and leave this place behind, but healing takes time. It’s like growing apple trees; you can nurture them and give them everything they need to grow, but you can’t rush them. Just because your symptoms are in remission and the treatment is showing early progress now, doesn’t mean that you are no longer in need of care. If you just trust us to help you, if you stay honest with us and let us do our jobs, then I am optimistic you’ll be able to go home someday.”

There was such honesty and compassion in those green eyes that Twilight found her objections sticking in her throat. The burning convictions she had been feeding all day faltered at Applejack’s unknowingly crushing declaration, the heat unable to hold back the cold tendrils of doubt that were once again worming their way up her legs and digging into her bones. What if she is right? she considered, nibbling on her lower lip. What if you really are insane? Maybe the treatment is working, and for the first time in your life you’re living without the symptoms, so you can’t tell what is real and what is fantasy? What is more logical, that you’re a sick pony, or you were brought from one reality to another?

No! she struck back, savaging her doubts with wild swings from her furious mind. A searing blast of absolute certainty flared up within her breast, her knowledge a star of flame and conviction. No! I am not crazy! This world does not add up. My memories are real! Their treatment doesn’t make sense. How do I lose years of my life and have everything I know altered in an instant, without remembering a single detail of the supposed real world? How does that explain everything I know about magic? Twilight’s eyes narrowed. They’re wrong. And if I give into the doubts, give into their lies, then I loose everything. I’m not fighting for myself, I’m fighting for my friends. None of them deserve to live this life. I need to show them the truth so they can help me make everything right again.

“Do you understand what I’m tellin’ you, Twilight?”

She nodded. “I understand,” she answered, holding back her frustration and anger. It wasn’t Applejack’s fault she couldn’t see the truth yet. But she would. “Please, though, as much as you think that explains everything, please keep an open mind. It would... it would help me to deal with everything I’m going through if I knew I had somepony who was at least willing to consider my side of the equation.” It wasn’t a lie, but it wasn’t the full truth, either.

But it was enough to convince Applejack. She gave Twilight another smile as she squeezed her arm reassuringly. “Okay, sugarplum. I can promise you that I’ll at least keep considering it, as long as you keep up your end of the bargain.” Twilight nodded, fearing if she spoke again she might give something away.

The cleaning resumed, but in the aftermath of the emotional exchange, neither mare attempted to speak. After a few minutes they were finished, with Applejack holding up Twilight’s darkened forelegs to inspect them. “Well, it’s definitely better than it was,” she announced. Her coat was still darker and mottled from the stubborn ink stains, but at least Twilight didn’t look like she had been playing in mud.

“It does,” she admitted as she finished drying herself off with some paper towels. She glanced at Applejack. “Uh, before we go to lunch, can I... uh...” she tilted her head towards the bathroom stalls, “use the toilet?”

“Of course,” Applejack said, not reacting in the slightest to Twilight’s slight embarrassment. “I’ll be right outside. Just don’t take too long.”

As soon as the door swung shut behind the departing mare, Twilight let out a sigh. “Oh, why me?” she mumbled. She could still feel the doubt there, gnawing at her convictions like termites, but she still felt like she was in control. Applejack’s words had been a setback, but it hadn’t been major. At least she was still willing to consider Twilight’s side of the argument – and with Applejack’s sense of honesty and fairness, she would be as good as her word. It was all about keeping her sympathetic and remembering to avoid repeating the truth to her. Until Applejack realized the treatment wasn’t what it was supposed to be, it was better she think of Twilight as a cured crazy-pony and not a sane-pony from a different life.

Twilight didn’t glance at the mirrors as she strode past them, making her way toward one of the bathroom stalls. The day hadn’t been as fruitful as she had hoped, but Twilight could still smile triumphantly. She had written the letters to her family, and her brother lived only a short distance away. It would be easier to convince them she wasn’t insane. And once they were on her side?

“Twil...t...”

The mare came to a jerking halt halfway into one of the stalls. What was that?

“Tw..lig... c... ou... hea... e...”

It was a voice, so soft and faint that it was almost lost beneath the mechanical hum of the air conditioner. Spinning around Twilight glanced around the bathroom. “Who’s there?” she whispered. The room was empty. She dropped down low as she checked beneath the stalls. She was alone.

“Twiligh... ca... you hea... me...”

The hairs on the back of Twilight’s neck bristled as she flattened her ears back. Slowly, reluctantly, she turned around to stare at the mirror behind her. Her reflection stared back, a worried expression on its face. Twilight blinked; it blinked with her. She waved a hoof, and it mirrored her action. When she pulled back her lips, her twin displayed the same number of teeth. Shaking her head, Twilight turned away.

“Twilight... can you hear me...” the voice called again, the words distant and indistinct, as if the speaker was on the opposite end of a long cavern.

“Who... who is it?” Twilight whispered as she spared a glance at the door, fearful that Applejack was going to come inside and find her talking to nopony. “Who's there?”

The voice spoke again, understandable despite the unpredictable warping and fluctuations. Twilight stumbled, bracing herself against the tiled wall. Her shaking knees gave out, and she collapsed to the floor like a foal just learning to walk. Her head was a riot of emotions, but the voice was steady, confident, and strong.

“Twilight, can you hear me?” it repeated. Twilight nodded dumbly as she stared up at the ceiling. She knew that voice. She would know it anywhere.

“Yes, P-Princess Celestia... I can hear you.”

Chapter 13

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Asylum

Chapter 13

Twilight stared upwards as she lay curled up on the cool bathroom tiles, her tail clutched tightly against her chest like a foal with a blanket. She ran her tongue over her dry lips before speaking. "P-Princess Celestia? Are you there?"

Her whisper was lost beneath the mechanical hum of the air conditioner. Ears held erect, she waited quietly. There wasn’t any response. Did I just imagine it? Is the stress getting to me? Dread began to spread through her as she tried to keep her thoughts rational and focused. After working some moisture into her dessicated mouth, she repeated the question louder, ignoring the desperation in her voice.

There was a faint pop from the air vent. “Twilight, my most faithful student...”

The rest of Princess Celestia's words were lost beneath a muffled howl of joy, Twilight’s hooves clasped to her lips as she squealed with relief. The princess! It’s her! It’s really her! Even knowing that Applejack was right outside didn’t keep the unicorn from laughing giddily, her face split into a broad grin. “Princess! I’m here!” Twilight hissed loudly, wiping away the tears from her eyes. “I can hear you! Can you hear me?”

“Yes, Twilight... I can hear you...” Twilight’s heart leapt at the sound of Celestia’s voice. She sounded distant and metallic, as if speaking through a drainpipe, but it was clearly her. Even the odd pauses and fluctuations couldn’t mask the strength and compassion within every syllable. “It is good... hear your voice again.”

“Oh Princess, I’ve been so scared! You have to help me! I’ve been trapped in this hospital where everyone thinks I’m insane! All my friends are here too, but they’re different and wrong, and nothing makes sense, and... wait, where are you?” She glanced around the bathroom. “I can hear your voice, but I can’t see–”

“Twilight, please!” Princess Celestia’s tone was firm, halting Twilight mid-sentence. “I don’t have much time, and I have much to tell you.”

She nodded obediently, the hair on her neck standing on end at the princess’s tone. “What? What is it? What do you need to tell me?”

“Twilight... Equestria is in danger, and...” The princess’s voice warped and faded before going quiet with a faint pop. For a soul-rending moment, Twilight feared she was alone once again. There were another few snaps before Celestia’s voice cut back in, like a damaged radio trying to find a signal. “... lost. I don’t know how long we have, so... must listen carefully.”

“I’m listening, Princess Celestia! What is it? What do I need to do?” It sounded like the princess was speaking from somewhere just above her head, but as Twilight looked around she saw nothing. She opened her mouth to ask the question, but quickly snapped it shut again, her curiosity held in check by her sense of duty.

Celestia’s response was an indecipherable mixture of whispers with unknown noises layered over them, only the odd syllable coming through clearly. “Princess, I can barely hear you. Can you repeat that? What’s going on?”

Another series of small pops sounded before the princess's voice cut back in. “... energy to keep this spell running, no matter what!” She was addressing someone else that Twilight couldn’t hear. Whatever their response was, it was lost beneath more distortions. “There! Hold that! Twilight, can you still hear me? Is this better?”

“Yes, Princess. It’s much clearer now.”

“Excellent.” The princess’s relief was palpable, despite the unidentifiable interference that continued to warp her voice. “I cannot speak for long. The spell is difficult to manage, and we may lose our connection at any moment. What you need to know is that Equestria is in great danger.”

“Danger?” Twilight’s repeated, her voice grim and serious. “What kind of danger?”

“A grave and terrible one. Yesterday, something happened in Ponyville. The how and why have eluded us thus far. What we do know is that something foul has been released, something made of darkness and shadow.”

Her words hit Twilight like a bucket of ice water. “W-What did you say?” she whispered, her legs trembling like a newborn’s. She glanced at the nearest mirror, swallowing her fear. “Darkness and... s-shadow?”

“Yes, Twilight. We don’t know what it is or where it comes from. There is no record of anything like it. It moves as if alive, yet is insubstantial and formless. It is a shadow that can defy the noon sunlight. It is consuming everything in its path, covering all it touches with a darkness that resists any attempt to banish it. Ponies that are taken by the shadow become... changed. Twisted reflections of themselves.”

“Princess...” Twilight began, trying and failing to keep her voice steady as thoughts of dangerous smiles and warped faces passed through her mind. “I... this shadow... what happened to Ponyville? What about my friends?”

Princess Celestia sighed, the sadness in her voice squeezing Twilight’s chest tight with fear. “I’m sorry, Twilight. Everypony in Ponyville has been taken... yourself included.”

Twilight gasped. “Wait, what? What do you mean, taken? I’m right here!” She didn’t know why she suddenly felt angry, but Twilight found herself glaring upwards at the ceiling. “I’m not taken! I’m right here! You’re using some sort of spell to talk to me! How can I be taken?”

“Twilight! Control yourself!” The unicorn flinched, her ears flattening against her skull as she imagined the look of disapproval on her mentor’s face.

“I’m s-sorry, Princess. I... I didn’t mean to snap at you like that.”

Celestia’s tone softened with Twilight’s apology, but the stress she was carrying didn’t vanish. “I am not mad, Twilight, but this is no time to lose control of your emotions. We don’t have long, and I do not know when I will have another chance. My sister and I have managed to hold the shadows at bay around Canterlot, but we are losing. Every day the shadow moves a few inches closer. And once it has taken root, it does not relinquish its grasp.”

“If I have been taken,” Twilight spat, the word leaving an oily residue on her tongue, “then how can I help you? How can we even be talking now?”

“The shadow does not kill ponies. It... controls them. Or it controls their bodies, as far as we can tell.”

Twilight’s tail tucked in against her flank nervously at the uncertainty in Celestia’s voice. “So does that mean that right now my body is being controlled by some sort of... shadow creature?”

“No, Twilight.” Her head dipped in relief as Celestia continued. “The shadow has you, but you are not its puppet. Your mind still resists, which makes you a threat. In its hubris, it returned you to your body in an attempt to break you with fear and confusion. It was a mistake. I received a letter from Spike alerting me to the danger.”

Twilight didn’t know when she had started pacing, but his name brought her to a halt. “Spike? Is he okay?”

“I... am unsure, Twilight. It is almost impossible to locate a single mind within the darkness. I was only able to locate yours because you hold onto your independence. As long as you fight back, it doesn’t control the Elements of Harmony.”

“If it is so powerful, why does it need to control the Elements?”

There was a loud pop. “–ause they are the only thing that can challenge it. My sister and I can delay the shadow, but that is all. Each day it moves a few inches closer to the city. It might take months, but without the Elements, we will lose.”

“But my friends have already been taken. I need them to use the Elements! How can I help you without them?” she asked, her voice growing louder with desperation.

“You must... them break free. Their minds are beset by disharmony and inner anguish. You must help give them peace.” Celestia’s voice began to fade again, growing muffled and distorted at random. “I can faintly sense them through you, trapped within the shadow world. As long as they... given into the darkness’ lies, they are... puppets. Bring them... harmony, and you can break the lies...”

“But how?” Twilight shouted.

A soft series of pops and warbling notes filled the air before fading into silence. Twilight’s mouth flapped open a few times, a chill filling her veins as her mentor’s voice dwindled away. “P-Princess?”

“The spell... fading. You must be strong... the sake of your friends and Equestria...”

“Princess, please... please don’t leave me,” she whispered, glancing around desperately.

“Remember,” Princess Celestia said, her voice as soft as the rustling of leaves in a summer breeze. “Friendship... is... magic...” There was a final pop, and then silence.

Twilight sat down heavily. Alone. I’m all alone again. Her lip trembled as she took a few deep, ragged breaths. She wiped her eyes, her hoof coming away damp. I’m trapped, alone, in some waking nightmare and even the princesses can’t stop it. My friends are being controlled, I can’t use magic, and all I want to do right now is have someone tell me everything is going to be alright.

“Twilight?”

Applejack’s voice was like a peal of thunder in the stillness of the night, the sudden noise driving the unicorn to leap to her hooves and stare in momentary horror at the doctor. “Ah! Applejack! You, uh, s-surprised me,” she stammered, her heart beating out a rapid tattoo. She attempted to smile as she wiped her eyes clear again. “I was just finishing up.”

Standing in the open doorway, Applejack wore a look of concern as she watched Twilight make her way towards the sinks. “Twilight... were you talking to someone?”

Twilight flinched. “W-Why would you think that?” she asked, keeping her eyes focused upon her hooves as she lathered them up with too much soap.

“I’m not stupid, Twilight. I could hear you talking from the other side of the door.”

Twilight continued to wash her hooves. “I... I was talking to myself.”

She could feel Applejack’s eyes on the back of her head. “Just talking to yourself?” Twilight nodded. “Talking about what?”

“I... I...” Her voice trailed off as she leaned forward and rested her hooves in the porcelain sink. She didn’t want to lie to Applejack again. She couldn’t do it, but she couldn’t tell the truth either. Twilight ignored the lukewarm water cascading down her arms as she closed her eyes, choking back her tears. All she wanted was someone she could talk to, someone she could share her problems with. She missed Spike. She missed Princess Celestia. She missed her family. She missed her friends. She missed her life.

“Twilight, you can talk to me,” Applejack said as she moved to Twilight’s side, resting a hoof on the unicorn’s trembling back. “Nopony is going to be upset, and you’re not going to get in trouble. I’m your doctor, but I’m also your friend. And you need to trust your friends.”

Friendship is magic.

Twilight lifted her head to stare at herself in the mirror. She sniffled, her eyes slightly puffy and red. Slowly she turned to look at Applejack, the doctor’s – her friend’s – soft green eyes filled with the honesty and concern she remembered. Twilight felt like she was about to burst, keeping it all inside. She had to lie to her friend again, when all she wanted was to tell the truth. “Applejack... I...”

Applejack gasped as Twilight spun around, throwing her forelegs around her and burying her muzzle against her shoulder. “I’m s-so s-scared! I’m alone and scared and nopony trusts me and they all think I’m crazy and I keep hurting my friends and I just want to go h-home!” Twilight cried, her body shaking with each sobbing moan.

She didn’t care that she was crying like a foal. She didn’t care that she was acting like the emotionally unbalanced patient they believed her to be. She didn’t care that she wasn’t supposed to tell anypony the truth. When she felt Applejack wrap her arms around her, all she cared about was her friend’s embrace.

“Hush now, Twilight,” Applejack cooed softly, rubbing her hoof up and down Twilight’s back as she soaked her shoulder in tears. “It’s okay. You’re not alone. It’s going to be all right.”

Time lost all meaning for Twilight. Fear, anger, guilt, loneliness; everything escaped at once in a torrent of raw emotion. She couldn’t think. She couldn’t speak. Holding onto Applejack like a life-preserver, she gave in and cried.

When Twilight finally lifted her head from Applejack’s shoulder, she felt like she had been wrung out by some cruel god. “Feelin’ better, sugarcube?” Applejack asked her with a soft smile.

Twilight took a step back, sniffling as she tried to steady her breathing. Her nose was runny. Her eyes burned. Her throat was raw. Her mind a vortex of confusion and anxiety. “Y-Yes...” Twilight admitted hoarsely, giving Applejack a weak grin in return. “I just... I’m sorry for...”

“You don’t have anything to apologize for,” Applejack said as she produced a handkerchief and set about gently cleaning Twilight’s face. “You shouldn’t ever feel guilty or upset about what you’re feeling. There are times when you just need to let it all out, but you don’t need to hide in the bathroom. If you feel like you need some privacy or you’re about to cry, just ask me or one of the orderlies. You don’t have to pretend to need the toilet. Honesty is the best policy.”

Blinking as Applejack cleaned around her eyes, Twilight eventually nodded. “Oh, right. I was just, um, too embarrassed to tell you how upset I was,” Twilight lied, the roughness of her throat helping to mask her momentary confusion. As much as it pained her, she couldn’t let anypony know the truth. Better for them to think of me as proud and emotional rather than hearing the princess in my head, she added to herself, her thoughts calming down.

Once Applejack was done fussing over her like a mother, Twilight picked up a few paper towels from the dispenser and repaid the favor, doing her best to dry the large damp spot on Applejack’s shoulder.

By the time the two of them were cleaned up and presentable, Twilight felt like she was walking on clouds. That’s enough feeling sad and vulnerable. Now, it’s time to stay strong, she told herself firmly, a proud smile on her face as she embraced the warm sense of purpose suffusing her limbs. Princess Celestia – no, everypony – is counting on me. I’m their only hope. Her grin slipped. Everypony is counting on me. Everypony is counting on me!

Before she could start hyperventilating, Applejack gently squeezed Twilight’s shoulder again. “Are you feeling ready to head off to class now?” she asked, her touch and soft words soothing Twilight’s anxieties.

Twilight looked over in the mirror one last time. She really did look like a patient. With her ink-stained forelegs, wrinkled vest, and a canvas-wrapped suppressor weighing upon her horn, she even felt like a patient. She examined her reflection, her distress clearly etched into her face. Twilight sighed as she glanced away. She retrieved Smarty Pants from the counter. Placing the doll up onto her back, Twilight turned to face Applejack. “Yes. I’m ready,” she stated, making sure her voice was strong and steady. The others were counting on her, and she wouldn’t let them down.

Lunch had been a blessing for Twilight. After meeting up with Pinkie Pie again, the trio had taken their customary seat in the cafeteria to enjoy a fantastically adequate salad. The lack of food-related drama had helped her to focus on processing everything she had gone through that morning. Busy organizing and updating her mental checklists, Twilight had nodded absently while Pinkie Pie had recounted her day to the group.

After her tearful outburst with Applejack, Twilight had found her thoughts moving much more smoothly, the faint haze that normally gummed up her mind having receded into the shadows. The emotional storm had passed, leaving the sea of her mind calm. In its wake she was left with only her ever-growing sense of agitated excitement.

Thankfully, Applejack had sensed the need to give Twilight some time to herself. She had helped to divert some of Pinkie’s questions and comments away from the introspective mare. It had given Twilight the opportunity to indulge in what Spike called “library time” – stretches of extreme focus, where the outside world faded away while she concentrated on a specific problem.

Her mind had been dominated by two lines of thought. The first had been pure, unadulterated happiness. Princess Celestia had contacted her! The princess knew where she was, and she wasn’t alone anymore. Someone she loved still knew of her real past and her real life. It was almost enough to make Twilight dance gleefully in celebration.

Almost.

The joy had been tempered by other, more serious concerns. The truth about her imprisonment had not brought as much relief as she had hoped. The shadows from her nightmare were real, and her own twisted reflection was an avatar of the darkness hoping to drive her to madness and despair. It was powerful enough to threaten all of Equestria; even the royal sisters were struggling to protect only Canterlot. Everypony needed the Elements of Harmony to win the fight. Twilight was their only – their last – hope.

For Twilight, the responsibility inherent in that concept nearly drove her to despair. She was caught in a tug-of-war between the two emotions, alternating between joy and worry, happiness and concern, which only fed her anxieties. By the time lunch was over, she was left feeling strung out and nursing a headache. What can I do? If the shadow... thing has brought disharmony to my friends, what can I do to help them? She returned her tray to the cleaning racks and turned to look at Applejack and Pinkie Pie as they conversed. Beyond what she knew about their false memories, there was little to suggest her friends were different than they should be.

“...so then Doctor Roy had to fly up into the tree to get the kite and the foal down!” Pinkie finished with a loud laugh, earning a reluctant chuckle from Applejack before she reminded Pinkie that it could have turned out much worse for the little filly.

The princess says I have to bring them harmony, but this is nothing like dealing with Discord. If I can’t tell what the problem is, how can I fix it? It was an infuriating thought, made all the worse by the knowledge that the princess and all of Equestria needed her help. She was taking a timed test she hadn’t been able to study for, and the consequences were dire. Think, Twilight. Think!

Applejack gestured for Twilight to join them as they made their way towards the far doors. Her honest, helpful, and good natured mannerisms made it hard to think of her as needing help. She looked like she was dressed like a doctor for Nightmare Night. Where was the disharmony? Where was the inner anguish?

Pinkie Pie grinned at Twilight as she walked past her. Twilight returned it with a faint smile of her own before trotting after them. Like Applejack, there was little to suggest Pinkie Pie was suffering at all. Despite her limp hair and the burns on her left thigh, Pinkie was still a mare of cheerful optimism. There had been the episode the previous day, when she had–

Twilight stumbled as if struck, memories of Pinkie Pie’s pitiful shift from happy-go-lucky mare to sobbing wreck rushing through her mind. Why didn’t I see it earlier? she thought as she regained her balance, ignoring the few chuckles at her expense. My friends aren’t suffering under some curse or spell, like with Discord. No, it’s so much more subtle than that; ingenious, even. It traps them in a dream. Nopony doubts a dream while asleep. They simply accept the past it creates for them. It gives them the memories of a false life, so they act and think just like they would if this place were real. Applejack has the knowledge of a doctor, but she also is troubled with guilt over what she thinks happened to Big Mac and her parents.

And Pinkie Pie... The unicorn’s thoughts trailed away as she watched the pink mare from behind, her gaze falling to the old burns on Pinkie’s flank. She narrowed her eyes. Instead of her usual pity and confusion, she felt her rage rear up in the back of her mind. That... that thing is going to pay for what it has done. This might just be some false world, but to make my friend suffer beneath the memories of whatever it has devised is inexcusable! Celestia help me, I’m going to destroy it!

Twilight had never felt such hate before, the heat of it searing away the rest of her anxieties. The shadow monster had violated the most fundamental aspects of her friends’ sense of self. Their bodies and minds had been warped and defiled; it was torture of the soul. Worse still, her friends couldn’t even see the true cause of their pain. Believing their condition to be normal was the most tragic irony of all.

What sort of intelligent being could be so cruel? Discord had been a creature of disharmony, certainly, but he was never truly malevolent. The changeling queen had certainly been willing to abuse ponies to feed her ambitions, but she could never accomplish what Princess Celestia described. King Sombra could have created something like this, but he was destroyed. And even then, his dark touch was detectable if one knew where to look. Twilight glanced around the white and green halls. This place feels too real to be a simple spell. It’s magic, but the sort that even the princesses haven’t experienced before.

Although Applejack and Pinkie Pie attempted to pull Twilight into a conversation, she kept to herself, busy fighting to tamp down her anger. Hating the shadow creature was pointless at best; she couldn’t afford any more distractions. She needed emotional control. Refocusing her mind back to her friends and their altered pasts, she unrolled her mental checklists and began going over every detail she could remember, plodding after them with the unfocused obedience of a clockwork pet.

“Twilight!”

The unicorn halted as she heard her name, Applejack’s face swimming into focus just inches from her own. Twilight blinked and took an involuntary step backwards. “Yes?”

“Are you feelin’ alright, sugarplum?” Applejack asked, giving Twilight a probing look. “You were really distracted there. Are you worried about class?”

“Class?” Twilight blinked again. She glanced up to read a clock on the wall as she called up the schedule she had memorized. She scowled. “Oh, right. Class. Because I’m just a foal who still needs to go to school.”

Applejack frowned. “Now, there’s no need to have an attitude about this. Schoolin’ is important for any pony – even when they’re as smart as you.”

“Plus, you’ll really like our teacher!” Pinkie Pie added. “She’s lots of fun, is really nice, and knows a whole, whole bunch!”

Twilight bit back her retort. Emotional control, she reminded herself, swallowing her sarcasm. “I’m sure I will, Pinkie.”

Applejack continued to look at her. “So, are you sure you’re feelin’ alright? You zoned out there pretty good.”

“I’m fine,” she said, waving away the doctor’s concern. “I was just thinking about... Rarity.” Which wasn’t a lie, strictly speaking; she had been thinking about all her friends. Each of them was out of sync with their true selves. Something in their pasts made them upset and vulnerable, and she needed to know what. Twilight glanced up at Applejack, adopting an expression of remorse. “I just wish I knew why I got her so upset.”

“Don’t you worry about that,” Applejack reassured her. “Like I said earlier, you didn’t do anything wrong. Rarity doesn’t blame you.”

Twilight pressed on. “But I don’t want to have the same thing happen the next time we meet. It’s obvious something happened to her. What–”

“I told you before that it’s not my place to be talking about it, and I meant it,” Applejack cut her off. “You can ask her yourself the next time you meet. In fact, it’s best if you do, since that way she’ll know just how much you care about her. I know you’re upset about the whole thing, and I can tell you don’t like not knowing all the details, but things will work out, I promise.”

“Yeah! Things always get better if you give them a chance,” Pinkie Pie added with a knowing nod.

Realizing she wasn’t going to get any answers from either of them, Twilight sighed again. Patience, she told herself. I have to give it time.

“Oh, don’t be sad. I know just what will cheer you up!” said Pinkie Pie with a flourish, gesturing down the hall. “School! You love learning and reading so much, you’ll have a great time. I know I do, and all of that goes double for you.”

Following where Pinkie was gesturing, Twilight noticed the group of fillies and colts filing past a lavender colored mare, her back to the approaching trio. She wasn’t dressed like any of the staff, her outfit a cheerful shade of yellow. Recognition tugged at Twilight’s mind; something about the mare was annoyingly familiar. A name eluded her. It wasn’t until they drew close enough that she could hear their hoofsteps that she turned to glance at the trio, revealing her face and her smiling flower cutie mark.

“Hello Doctor Applejack, Pinkie Pie,” Cheerilee greeted them with a warm smile, the identification hanging from her neck labelling her as ‘Hospital Educator’. After returning Pinkie Pie’s enthusiastic greeting, her gaze switched to the dumbfounded unicorn. “And you must be Twilight, right?” Twilight nodded. “Pinkie Pie has told me a lot about you.”

“Oh,” responded Twilight flatly, finding it hard to respond. Considering the shadow world’s habit of putting ponies into positions that correlated loosely to something from their real lives, having Cheerilee as a teacher wasn’t that large of a leap. Still, going to one of Cheerilee’s classes was uncomfortably close to being sent back to magical kindergarten. “It’s nice to meet you,” she finished lamely, fighting down a shiver.

“So, are you just escorting students to class now?” Cheerilee asked as she turned back to Applejack, leaving the two patients to wait obediently nearby.

With as much casualness as she could manage, Twilight leaned over closer to Pinkie Pie. “Please tell me that Cheerilee isn’t our teacher,” she whispered beneath her breath, watching a few foals make their way through the open doorway.

“Miss Cheerilee?” Pinkie asked before letting out an awkward ‘snrkt,’ stifling her laughter with a hoof. Twilight narrowed her eyes as Pinkie Pie struggled to keep from laughing back in her face. “N-No, no, she isn’t our teacher,” she explained. “She just teaches the foals. Oh, and art class. And music, sometimes.”

Twilight nodded with relief. The last thing she needed was to be stuck in a class with foals, constantly reminded of old nightmares, her lost life, and the indignities of her reduced age. Applejack and Cheerilee continued to converse in friendly tones as Twilight examined the hallway. The sounds of laughter and disorganized conversation flowed out of the open doorway nearby. She caught a glimpse of the foals inside as they talked, their desks laid out in neat rows. A few nurses walked down the aisles, guiding errant students back to their seats and helping them to prepare for class.

Twilight turned to watch an older group of ponies make their way towards another door across the hall. Like Cheerilee’s classroom, there was a bulletin board outside that offered a welcome contrast to the familiar green-white walls. However, instead of paper flowers and crayon drawings, it was decorated in purple bunting and held maps and more educational fare. Twilight pointed a hoof at the other door. “So, is that our class?”

“Yep,” Pinkie Pie said, not taking her eyes off of the crude drawings mounted on the nearby wall. Eventually she glanced back at Twilight, looking a little crestfallen. “I only got to spend one year with Miss Cheerilee before I had to switch to the class with the older foals. I like Miss Lulamoon and learning about geography and history and multiplication and all, but I kinda miss being able to paint in class.”

“Miss Lulamoon?” Twilight asked, the name itching at the back of her mind. Once again, recognition teased her from just out of reach. “Is that our teacher?”

“Yep,” Pinkie Pie repeated. “She’s really smart. Plus, she’s a unicorn like you, so you can ask her all those questions about magic and, uh, Starbeard the... Swirled?”

“But I don’t want to hear about you getting into any trouble with her again,” Applejack added after Cheerilee excused herself, just managing to catch the end of their conversation.

“Trouble?” Twilight asked. “Why would I get into any trouble?”

“Well...” Applejack began, trying to find the right words.

“Because you sometimes call her a stuck up fraud and say that you’re smarter than her and that she doesn’t know what she’s talking about,” Pinkie Pie explained happily.

Twilight stared back at her, her mouth agape. “I do what?”

“And then there was that time you broke all your pencils and threw them at her, and knocked over your desk, and–”

“I think that’s enough, Pinkie,” Applejack interjected with an embarrassed chuckle. “Since you don’t remember her, think of this as a chance to turn over a new leaf for both of you, alright?”

“Of course,” she said defensively. They might be implanted memories, but she still couldn’t help feeling mildly offended at their implications. “I promise, I’ll be on my best behavior.”

“I’m glad to hear that, sugarplum,” Applejack replied as she led them across the hall. Peeking into the doorway she gestured at some unseen pony before turning back to them. “Pinkie Pie, you go on in and take your seat, alright? We need a moment of privacy.”

Pinkie bounced happily into the classroom while the other two stood by quietly and waited. Glancing up at the bulletin board Twilight noticed the words Miss Lulamoon’s Star Pupils at the top in purple construction paper, surrounded by stars and crescent moons. It was aggravating, not being able to answer the question of where she had heard the name before. Her eyes settled upon a star that looked to be crossed with a magic wand, and it clicked.

“Greetings, Doctor Applejack.” Trixie spoke with an actor’s grace as she stepped out of the classroom, magically shutting the door behind her. Glancing past the earth pony, Trixie’s eyes fell upon Twilight. “And good afternoon, Twilight. How are you feeling today?”

“G-Good,” she forced out, still staring in shock at the blue mare in front of her. Instead of a cloak she wore a relatively modest outfit, although the large gem clasped at her neck was certainly flashy. Trixie is a teacher? How can someone that selfish be a teacher?

“That’s why I wanted to talk to you, Miss Lulamoon,” Applejack said, causing Trixie to turn her wary gaze off of Twilight. “I know you got a little memo about Twilight, but I wanted to talk to you in person first to fill you in on the rest of the details.”

“Of course, Doctor. But please, call me Trixie. There’s no need to be so formal,” Trixie said with an overly humble smile, for all the world looking and sounding as if she were on stage.

Twilight balked. Is this what I have to look forward to? Everypony I know being altered and changed and then thrown back in my face? she thought as Applejack quickly educated Trixie about her supposed condition. She eyed the other unicorn suspiciously. Princess Celestia said the shadow has taken all the ponies outside of Canterlot, so it probably took Trixie too. Does that mean she is suffering like my friends are? But how could she be suffering right now?

The idea that Trixie might be suffering gave Twilight pause, but before she could explore the idea further her new teacher turned to address her. “Well Twilight, I’m sorry to hear that you have some memory problems.” Trixie’s voice was sincere enough, if a bit distant. “You’re probably the smartest student I’ve ever had, but if you need any extra help, please feel free to ask me or one of the assistants. Hopefully we can become good friends.”

“Friends?” repeated Twilight. She stared back at Trixie, waiting for the other shoe to drop. When she realized it was a serious request, Twilight plastered a big grin on her face to mask her hesitation. “Oh, of course! I would like that, very much.”

“Excellent!” Trixie announced with a theatrical flourish, gesturing at the door. “Then why don’t you say goodbye to Doctor Applejack, so I can take you to your seat and we can begin class.”

Suddenly apprehensive about spending time with Trixie in a position of official power over her, Twilight turned to give Applejack a worried look. She just gave her a reassuring grin and squeezed her shoulder. “Go on. You’ll be fine without me, I promise. I’ll see you for our group session later, so don’t worry yourself.”

Twilight opened her mouth to correct Applejack, annoyed that she would think she was afraid of being left alone, but she caught herself. She was nervous. Ever since Princess Celestia had spoken to her, she had been filled with a strong sense of determination and purpose. She had a goal to achieve, an obstacle to overcome. The sense of confident resolve had given her strength, but it had only suppressed her anxieties. I’m the victim of something nopony has ever faced before. My body has been taken from me, and my mind is imprisoned within some dark and broken dreamscape. She met Applejack’s gaze. But my friends, they’re a link to the real world. Princess Celestia confirmed my suspicions. They’re the secret to defeating this dark evil.

Although she tried to keep her thoughts optimistic and confident, she couldn’t suppress her dread at letting Applejack out of her sight. She was adrift on an unknown sea, and she didn’t want to let any of her lifelines out of her grasp. Swallowing her unease, Twilight nodded at Applejack. “Okay, I’ll see you later.”

After another quick round of farewells, Applejack turned and trotted back down the way they had come, leaving Twilight alone with Trixie. Twilight’s eyes lingered on her retreating friend before she turned to the azure mare. Trixie was staring back at her with an unreadable expression. “Twilight, we need to talk,” she said, her stern tone catching Twilight off guard. “I don’t know how much you remember of our previous relationship, but it wasn’t a terribly beneficial one – for you or the class. Now, I’m not placing blame. We had our share of problems, and they could disrupt the class. And when I look in your eyes, I can see recognition there.”

Twilight remained silent, listening attentively.

Trixie sighed. “I don’t know how much you remember of me, but I know it’s more than Applejack thinks. Still, while losing your memories is never a good thing, I feel this is a chance for us to start fresh.” Reaching out she squeezed Twilight’s shoulder like Applejack had, as if emulating their friendship. “I want to have a good year together, Twilight. So whatever you may remember of our... relationship, I want you to know that this time it can be different.”

Silence hung in the air between them for a long moment. “Alright,” Twilight agreed with forced cheer, giving Trixie a tight grin. “Let’s call this a fresh start, for the both of us.”

Trixie’s smile was the first fully honest expression she’d seen the other mare make. “Excellent!” she exclaimed, opening up the door behind her with a surge of magic. “Then let me escort you to your seat so we can start class.”

Sparing a jealous glance at the aura surrounding Trixie’s horn, Twilight moved ahead of her new teacher, fighting to keep her face neutral. Even if Trixie is suffering as well, I can’t get distracted by everypony I remember and their own personal situations, she told herself grimly. Striding into the room she noticed Pinkie Pie seated against the far wall, an empty desk beside her. I have to focus on my friends. They’re the key to defeating this shadow thing. If I can help them, then I can help everypony at once. Striding past the front of the class, she was sure to not look at the other patients and their attending nurses. My friends are what matter now. Learn what I can, keep from drawing suspicion, and find a way to save them from their nightmare. Everything else is secondary.

Taking her seat, Twilight gave Pinkie Pie a thin smile. Once again, she felt the warmth of her determination filling her heart. She could endure this. She could handle being presented with altered versions of ponies she knew. She could stay strong, stay focused, and stay positive. Even the idea of a mare like Trixie being her teacher wouldn’t phase her. Twilight smirked as she let her eyes roam around the classroom, noting the maps and posters and other school paraphernalia. She had bested the mare twice; getting information out of Trixie would be easy.

As Trixie took up her position at the head of the class, Twilight was already crafting a list of questions she wanted answered. History, politics, medicine; she was eager to get as much information as she could from the now friendly teacher. Considering it was supposed to be a secondary school level class, Trixie would have to know something relevant to Twilight’s mission. Even if the curriculum were slightly ‘dumbed down’ for a mixed classroom, she could still find some way to make it benefit her.

“Good afternoon, class,” Trixie said as she took an unnecessary bow. The rest of the students loudly returned the greeting. Levitating a piece of chalk, she turned to the blackboard. “Today, we are going to be starting something new called long division.”

Twilight groaned as her head slammed into her desk.

Chapter 14

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Asylum

Chapter 14

“Pinkie?”

“Yeah, Twilight?”

“I have a question for you.”

“Oh? What is it?”

“Does Trixie always use those magician’s tricks when teaching?”

“Yeah! Isn’t it great?”

Twilight glanced away. “Yes, the classroom is so much better when you combine mathematics and a stage show. It’s not like it’s hard to sleep through a thrilling lecture on something you learned years ago when she’s setting off magical fireworks in class.”

“I knew you’d like Miss Lulamoon!” Pinkie said with a broad grin, the sarcasm sailing right over her head. “See? Isn’t school great!”

Twilight grunted in reply, fighting to keep her scowl from getting any deeper. At least they weren’t real fireworks, she told herself, as if that were some kind of consolation. It hadn’t made much of a difference to her – a loud burst of magic sparkles was still real enough to keep her from sleeping her way through class.

For a moment, Twilight felt a surge of guilt at the very idea of falling asleep in class. She never would have contemplated it back when she was a filly. It was pure contempt for the teacher, the classroom, and the subject matter. Even though it was a subject she had learned years earlier, being taught by a mare she had little respect for, she couldn't wash away her shame completely.

Still, it’s not like I didn’t try to make things work out, she reminded herself. At first she had been cautiously optimistic, hoping to get some answers she might use to get a better grasp on the world around her. However, Trixie had been unresponsive to Twilight’s inquiries, reminding her each time that the lesson for the day was math and that questions about social studies or science would have to wait until the appropriately scheduled day. Trapped at her desk, she felt her patience erode away as the class transformed into an hour of monotony and frustration. Her attempts to use the time productively had been sabotaged by Trixie’s use of simple magical cantrips to make brightly colored numbers float in the air, the equations bursting apart in intangible sparks in celebration of a correct answer. The students had loved it, but Twilight found the pops and whistles an infuriating distraction. It was hard for her to even think straight when a miniature fireworks display was set off every time a patient managed to correctly divide two sums.

Still, Twilight felt a sense of accomplishment at having kept her cool. She only had to be told twice to keep from answering other students’ questions, and she felt like she had displayed real self-control throughout the whole episode. She’d been stuck listening to an egotistical show-off teach elementary math to a room of hospital patients, but she’d at least managed to act like a normal pony. No tantrums thrown, no desks flipped, and nopony ended up crying. As far as things went around Broadhoof, that was something to be celebrated.

Thankfully, the period after the class was free time in an outdoor yard of the hospital. The sensation of warm sunlight and fresh air had been a balm for Twilight’s frayed nerves, pulling the tension out of her body like a skilled masseuse. She didn’t realize how much she had been missing nature until she felt the grass beneath her hooves and could hear the birds singing in the trees.

I needed this, she thought as her eyes roamed around the field. It was a simple rectangle of open land, with its boundaries marked on two sides by a fence, and two sides by the hospital itself. There were a few trees scattered about the area, along with patients engaged in an assortment of activities. It was a serene, peaceful, and relaxing place – if she ignored the imposing hospital and razor-wire topped fences.

Twilight shifted her eyes to Broadhoof itself. It was her first good look at its exterior, and the building displayed an uncharacteristic amount of style and flair. The central portion of the hospital was a large stone structure with fantasies of being a fortress, complete with spires and decorative crenellations along the roofline. It was a romantic reinterpretation of a Medieval Equestrian castle, but lacked the sleek lines and noble arches of Canterlot. The vines growing up the walls and the weather-worn stones gave the structure a sense of age and permanence that the historian in Twilight found appealing.

The contrast with the rest of Broadhoof couldn’t have been more pronounced. Extensions radiated out from the central building like skeletal fingers, everything straight lines and sharp angles. A heavy coat of white paint covered the simple brickwork, the patches of grime beneath the windows and along the ledges making it clear it had been too long since it had felt the touch of a wet brush.

Stern and imposing, it didn’t resemble any building Twilight could remember. The cottages of Ponyville were bursting with individuality, no two buildings exactly alike. Even in large cities like Manehattan and Canterlot, there was a sense of artistic appreciation in their design. Whatever sense of beauty Broadhoof once possessed had been cut out a long time ago, leaving nothing behind but drab architecture and cheap paint.

Even the buildings here don’t look right. Twilight sighed, turning away from the hospital to look over at Pinkie Pie. Her friend was humming some tune as they walked abreast of one another, her eyes tracking the clouds crossing the sky. She’s probably looking for ones that resemble animals. Twilight grinned, remembering how they used to do the same thing after picnics. Her gaze drifted, drawn inexorably to the scars on Pinkie’s flank. Her smile vanished.

It doesn’t matter how cheerful she looks. She’s suffering. You have a job to do, Twilight. The Princess is counting on you.

Straightening up a bit, Twilight cleared her throat, awkwardly catching Pinkie Pie’s attention. “So Pinkie, I was, uh, thinking that maybe you could tell me a little about yourself? You know, since, ah, I don’t really remember everything correctly?”

“Oh! I almost totally forgot about that. It’s kinda easy to, since you’re not really acting very different or anything,” said Pinkie Pie. “So, what do you want me to tell you about?”

“I remember some things. Or at least, I think I do.” Twilight paused. “You... grew up on a rock farm, right?” She inhaled sharply the moment she finished speaking, preparing herself for whatever tearful fallout asking about her friend’s past might cause. Oh Celestia, please don’t cry, please don’t cry!

“Yeah, I grew–” Pinkie Pie blinked. “Did you say rock farm?”

Twilight nodded hesitantly. “Yes?”

Pinkie Pie’s laughter exploded without warning, her guffaws bursting out with a nearly physical force. “Rock farm? Ha! A rock farm! What do they plant? Pebbles?” Falling over onto her back, Pinkie wrapped her forelegs around herself, her body shaking in mirth.

Twilight stared down at her blankly. “Uh...”

“Or maybe it’s gravel instead of seed!” Pinkie howled, rolling from side to side.

“It’s not that funny,” Twilight replied with a frown, her cheeks going slightly pink.

Pinkie leapt to her hooves and gestured at the open ground around them. “‘Well now, we’ve got a good crop of boulders this year’,” Pinkie said as she chewed on a blade of grass, imitating the low voice of a stallion. “‘I just hope we don’t get an early frost, or it might hurt the granite!’” She finished with another long peal of laughter.

Twilight rolled her eyes as Pinkie Pie’s giggles gradually faded away. “Okay, ‘haha’, rock farming is silly. I told you I might not remember everything exactly like you do.”

Pinkie flinched, her smile crumbling like sandstone under a firm hoof. “Oh gosh, Twilight, I’m so sorry!” she gushed. “I didn’t mean to laugh at you like that! I mean, I wasn’t laughing at you at all. It’s just that rock farms sound really funny, and I, uh...”

The look of fierce concern in her friend’s blue eyes sent a ripple of guilt racing down Twilight’s spine. “Oh, don’t worry about it,” she declared, forcing a reassuring grin onto her face. “It was kinda silly.”

Pinkie leaned forward until her muzzle was uncomfortably close, the look of terrible seriousness on her face strong enough to make Twilight start to sweat. “Do you mean it? You’re not upset?”

“Y-Yeah, absolutely,” she replied as she pulled back a little, forcing herself to smile wider. “See? I’m not upset at all.”

“Whew!” Pinkie wiped her brow, her shoulders sagging in exaggerated relief. “I was really worried there! I wouldn’t want my bestest friend to think I was making fun of her or anything.”

“Oh, not at all! I know you well enough to know you’d never do that to a friend,” Twilight said, keeping her grin plastered on her face in case she said anything else that risked sending Pinkie into a fit of self-conscious depression. “It’s just me and my, you know, ‘messed up’ memories that make some of the details... fuzzy.”

Pinkie Pie nodded. “That makes sense. After all, Doctor AJ did say that you had some trouble with side effects making your memories all wonky. Do you wanna talk about it? I promise I won’t laugh.” She frowned, tapping her chin with her hoof. “Well, unless you made a joke, of course. Then I’d laugh a whole bunch – just like this!”

“That’s alright!” Twilight said as Pinkie took a deep breath, interrupting her demonstration before it could begin. “You don’t need to show me how you’d laugh. I remember that pretty well. I’m just eager to learn about you some more and make sure everything in my head matches up with... this.” She gestured around her before resuming her slow trot around the field, considering her words carefully.

They walked in peace for a few minutes, their path taking them along the inside of the steel fence. As they passed beneath the branches of one of the field’s lonely trees she halted, turning back to face Pinkie. “I’m sorry if I seemed short with you, Pinkie. I’m just... there’s a lot going on right now, lots of stuff I just don’t understand.” As she spoke, Twilight did her best to look sad. It wasn’t difficult – the confusion and loneliness were real. Still, she didn’t see any point in holding back. Her friends were good ponies, and gaining their sympathy would make them more willing to help her. And the sooner they’re willing to help me, the sooner I can help them. Giving a melodramatic sigh, Twilight glanced away. “Even my memories don’t fit. In my head, I can clearly remember you telling me about growing up on a rock farm. I can picture you talking about your family, your parents, and your sisters. But how can I be a good friend to you when I don’t even know your past?”

To Pinkie’s credit, she didn’t even bat an eye when Twilight mentioned rock farms again. Instead she lowered herself down onto the cool grass and gestured for Twilight to do the same. She didn’t speak as she settled in, content to look at Twilight, waiting for her to continue.

“Hypothetically,” Twilight said as she looked down at her hooves, “imagine that you needed to do something very important, but you couldn’t because all your information is suddenly wrong. And whenever you tried to get the information you needed, you kept hurting the ponies you were trying to help. Worse, you can’t even tell if the question will hurt them, or if it’s even the right question to ask in the first place! And then–”

“You’re wondering about my scars, aren’t you?” Pinkie Pie’s question was painfully soft, her gentle tone freezing Twilight mid-sentence. She flinched when Twilight lifted her head to stare at her, but she held her gaze. “That’s what you’re talking about, right? You want to know how I got them.”

Twilight licked her lips, unable to look away. “Well... I was...”

“It’s okay if you want to ask me. You’ve wanted since yesterday,” Pinkie said softly, her sad eyes roaming over Twilight’s surprised face. “I know I’m not the smartest pony, but I’m not a dummy. You’re uncomfortable around me. Everytime you look at me it’s obvious you’re trying to avoid staring at my flank. You want to know about the scars, but you’re worried you’ll end up hurting me.”

“I don’t...” Twilight began, shifting from side to side.

“Yes, you do,” Pinkie interrupted gently. “It’s my special talent to know when my bestest friends are upset, and it’s not hard to see that the memory problems Doctor AJ told me about are causing it. Your memories are there, in your noggin, but are different. You knew who I was, but thought my hair was supposed to be poofy and didn’t know about my... scars. You remember me, but not me me. Like, you remember I grew up on a farm, but you think it’s a rock farm. You’re trying to fit the two together and you don’t know what’s going on and you want to just make sense of the world and it’s just leaving you totally... um... totally discombobulated.”

“Discombobulated?”

Pinkie Pie nodded. “You got me a dictionary for my last birthday, and I’ve almost finished the D’s.”

Before she could catch herself, Twilight had fallen over onto her side, laughing hard enough to make breathing painful. She knew it wasn’t that funny, but she wasn’t laughing at any joke; she was laughing in relief. By the time Twilight managed to calm herself, she felt like a huge weight had been lifted from her back, the once oppressive air between the two cleared away instantly.

Still, Twilight couldn’t help by give Pinkie Pie a guilty look. Before she could apologize for treating so somber a discussion with such disrespect, Pinkie Pie smiled back at her. “Twilight, you’re my bestest buddy, and I don’t want you getting all serious and sad whenever we hang out. So just ask me what you want to know, so we can get back to laughing and smiling and having fun. Because that’s so much better than being all mopey and, um...” Pinkie glanced upwards, furrowing her brow in concentration.

“Lugubrious?” Twilight offered.

“Hey, no fair!” Pinkie Pie pouted. “I haven’t gotten to the L’s yet!” In an instant both friends were hooting loudly, their mutual laughter enough to startle the last of the birds from the branches above.

Twilight took her time catching her breath, staring up at the sky and tracking the birds as they faded into the distance. She knew she was delaying the inevitable, but she was determined to hold onto the fleeting peace as long as she could. After a few long minutes she turned her head to look at Pinkie, her friend resting on her belly and watching Twilight with a look of hesitant expectation. The question clung to the back of her tongue. Twilight didn’t feel ready. Pinkie didn’t look ready. “Are you sure you want to tell me about... uh, you know...” Pinkie Pie closed her eyes and took a deep breath. She nodded. “So... how did you get those scars?”

Pinkie’s involuntary flinch was a cold icicle to the heart, but Twilight forced herself to remain silent. “I h-had an... accident... on the farm. Back before I had my cutie mark.” Pinkie said as she grabbed her tail as pulled it up beneath her, stroking it slowly like a foal with a blanket. “We were just farmers, and we never had much time for fun or anything like p-parties. It was always so boring and dull, with just lots and lots of wheat. But then one day I saw this... this...”

“Big rainbow?” said Twilight quietly.

“Yeah!” Pinkie replied, giving her a trembling smile. “It was wonderful! I’d seen rainbows before, but that one... boy, was it was something special! It made me feel so happy that I just wanted to smile forever, and I wanted everyone I knew to smile too. And I thought that, since rainbows don’t come along that often, I could do something to bring some color and joy into my family’s life. S-So I stayed up all night, decorating the barn with anything I could find. But to make it really special I wanted to make sure they had some treats, so I...” Her ears flattened out against her head as her voice tailed away. “I... wanted to bake them a cake, like m-mommy made for our birthdays. But...”

Twilight felt the icicle dig deeper as Pinkie Pie clenched her eyes shut, her upper lip quivering as she took a few ragged breaths. She barely noticed as Twilight reached out to squeeze her fetlock. “B-But...” Tears glistened at the corners of her eyes as she tried to continue. “I wasn’t supposed to use the oven. I just... I wanted them to b-be happy and...” Pinkie sputtered as she tried to inhale, her cheeks dripping wet. “But there was a fff... a fff... fff-fire!” Pinkie wailed as she curled up into a mewling ball, burying her head into her hooves.

Twilight didn’t have time to register that she was even moving before she had wrapped her forelegs around her friend and pulling her into a tight embrace. Pinkie squeezed her back, holding onto Twilight like she was the only thing in her world. “It was a f-fire and I d-didn’t mean to and I tried to fight it b-but it wouldn’t go out and then it spread to the curtains and then the walls and I couldn’t put it out and the door wouldn’t open and... and... and I’m a b-bad pony!”

Finding herself on the other end of the tears, Twilight felt woefully out of her league. She rubbed her friend’s back and mumbled gentle reassurances, their feebleness making her feel terribly inadequate. Desperate for any sort of answer she began to race through books on friendship she had read. No... no... no! Didn’t I read something on how to comfort a friend in emotional distress? Wait, what did Applejack say to me in the bathroom? Think! Pinkie needs your help!

It took Twilight a moment to realize that Pinkie Pie’s sobbing had grown quiet while she had been searching for some sort of action to take, her friend’s limp body pressed tightly against her own. Pinkie let out the occasional sniffle as Twilight continued to gently caress her back. “I don’t wan’be a bad pony...” whispered Pinkie Pie, her face hidden beneath her mane of straight hair.

“Shh... it’s okay,” Twilight cooed, doing her best imitation of her mother comforting a younger Twilight when she had been upset. She cradled Pinkie Pie’s head as she thought back to what Applejack had said at dinner. “You’re not a bad pony. It’s okay. You’re not a bad pony.” Pinkie Pie pressed her muzzle a little tighter against Twilight’s damp shoulder and whimpered. “Shh now. It’s all okay.”

Twilight lost track of time as they embraced, her hooves gently brushing up and down Pinkie’s sides as she noiselessly cried into Twilight’s fur. The quiet was deafening. She continued to repeat the same bland reassurances over and over as she wracked her mind for something more meaningful to say. Should I ask her to go on? Should I just stop talking and stay quiet? Should I get a nurse? she asked herself, shifting her position slightly. Oh Celestia, why didn’t I read something about helping ponies in emotional distress? I read books about throwing sleepovers, for crying out loud! Twilight frowned as she shifted again, a lump pushing into her side. She reached back to adjust where she thought Pinkie was squeezing her when her hoof pressed against something soft and pillowy crammed into one of her pockets. The lightbulb went off in Twilight’s head as she pulled the bundle free. “Pinkie?” she asked gently, hiding the object behind her back.

Her friend’s response was muffled noise.

“I have something for you.”

Pinkie Pie sniffled. “W-What is it?”

“It’s a, uh, friend for you.”

Slowly, Pinkie lifted her head. “A friend?” she asked as she rubbed her puffy eyes. “What do you mean?”

“It’s my good pal Smarty Pants,” Twilight said as she revealed the old doll, giving Pinkie a large smile. Her grin slipped a little when Pinkie just stared back at the toy. “Here, why don’t you hold onto her,” she added as she placed the doll in Pinkie’s hooves.

Pinkie glanced between Twilight and Smarty Pants a few times, her red eyes glistening with moisture. Twilight mentally kicked herself, having somehow managed to make things worse again. “Smarty Pants!” Pinkie Pie exclaimed as she hugged the doll tightly. Making a noise somewhere between a giggle and a snort Pinkie nuzzled the old toy, her broad grin banishing Twilight’s doubt.

“Oh, so you know her?”

“Of course I do!” Pinkie Pie chirped, her cheerfulness marred by her constant sniffling. “You and me and Gummy and Smarty Pants used to have tea parties like all the time. Sure, they didn’t let us have real tea, but it was still lots of fun.” Pinkie’s eyes suddenly narrowed. “Twilight! How could you try to give away Smarty Pants? That’s so rude! She’s like your oldest friend. I can’t believe you’d just give her away to someone else. Besides how are you going to have your group study sessions in your room if you don’t have Smarty Pants? Huh?”

Twilight blushed despite herself. “I didn’t know you, uh, knew Smarty Pants.”

“That’s no excuse! You need to apologize to her this instant,” Pinkie declared, thrusting Smarty Pants out towards Twilight.

The unicorn glanced down at the doll. “I’m... sorry?”

Like a judge recognizing a just verdict, Pinkie gave a single sharp nod of her head. “That’s better,” she added as she pulled Smarty Pants in close against herself once again. Wiping her nose clean she gave Twilight a more even look. “But why would you want to give Smarty Pants to me, even if I didn’t know her?” Her expression saddened. “Don’t you still like her?”

“Of course I do!” Twilight protested loudly, not wanting Pinkie to backslide into depression and tears. “I promise. It’s just that I’m a little old for dolls, and–”

“But she’s your friend!” interrupted Pinkie Pie, her eyes threatening to start leaking again. “Do you just give up your friends like that when you get too old for them?”

Her words dug into Twilight’s heart, the cold bringing with it illumination. “Pinkie, nothing in the world could make me give you up,” she stated, injecting as much warmth and conviction into the words as she could. “I only gave Smarty Pants to you because you are my best friend, and I couldn’t stand seeing you crying again. Especially not when...,” Twilight lowered her gaze, “when it’s my fault in the first place.”

Twilight almost jumped when Pinkie Pie suddenly wrapped her forelegs around her shoulders and hugged her. “Don’t be upset,” Pinkie said. Pulling back, she gave Twilight an awkward and fleeting smile. “I told you to ask me about... that stuff. Just because I’m sad doesn’t mean I don’t want to tell you. My talent is making ponies happy, and you’re not happy because you have too much stuff missing from your memories. I want to help you, and the only way I can is by telling you the truth. It might hurt, but I wouldn’t want to keep a secret from my bestest friend. After all, you can’t solve every problem with a party.” Pinkie Pie cracked another soft grin. “I mean, a party never hurts, either.”

Pinkie dried her cheeks with her forelegs, looking a little more confident than before. “Besides, Doctor Roy says that talking about the things that make me cry at night is actually really good because it helps me to deal with the sadness. I still have my sad periods, but I’m happier oftener.”

Twilight patted Pinkie Pie on the shoulders. “Well, that’s great!” Pinkie hesitated before slowly nodding in agreement. “That is good news, right?”

“Yeah, I guess...”

“Pinkie, you can’t possibly want to stay here.”

Pinkie shook her head. “No, I just... I’m scared about what will happen if I go back home. Before I came here I couldn’t make anypony happy because I wasn’t happy. Now I have good friends and I’m surrounded by ponies who are nice to me and I don’t have to worry about accidentally hurting somepony.” She nuzzled the back of Smarty Pants’ head as she looked over at Twilight. “Plus, I’m scared what will happen when I see the farm again. My family says they don’t blame me, but I know it was all my fault. I don’t think I could face them again.”

Twilight paused. “Your... family? I thought your family...”

Pinkie tilted her head to the side as she stared back at Twilight.

“Didn’t your family... um...” Twilight’s voice trailed off as she searched for the gentlest way to phrase the question.

Don’t assume anything. The thought popped into her head without warning, and Twilight mentally slapped herself. Since she had been taken by the shadow, she had been assuming things about her friends and the world around her. No scientist assumed anything when dealing with the unknown. Collecting herself, she rested one hoof on Pinkie’s shoulders. “I know it might be painful to talk about, but what happened to your family?”

“What happened to my family?” Pinkie asked, her melancholy replaced with confusion.

“What happened to them in... the fire.”

“Oh,” whispered Pinkie Pie. “They were... they were upstairs sleeping when the fire started. I shouted at them but by then there was too much smoke, and the whole downstairs was already burning up.” Pinkie spoke softly and paused often, but to Twilight’s relief there weren’t any more tears. “The noise of it was so terrifying I couldn’t hear anything. I ran outside to use the well to get some water and do something. It seemed like it took forever to get the bucket filled up, but by the time I got back the whole house was on fire. Daddy always told me what to do if there was a fire, but I disobeyed him and ran inside with the bucket. I had to do something! I couldn’t just sit there and watch it burn down. Not when it was m-my fault in the first place.”

Pinkie closed her eyes and winced, her tail wrapping back around her scars. “That’s when the roof collapsed.”

Twilight stared at her, her mouth working uselessly.

“I don’t really remember much,” Pinkie continued. “The doctors told me afterwards that I’d passed out from smoke inhalation. My dad told me that he found me unconscious and pinned beneath a piece of the roof that was on fire.”

“So your dad... he made it out of the house?”

“Oh yes! Daddy was a real hero,” Pinkie gushed. “The smoke woke him up right away. So, grabbing my mom, he rushed to the room I shared with my sisters and got them all out through a window onto the roof. He hurt his ankle when he jumped down, but he still helped them all down too. Then he told them to run for town to try and get help while he went to try and find me.”

“How did he know where you were?” Twilight asked. Despite knowing the story was nothing but an implanted memory, she was hanging onto Pinkie’s every word.

“He says that he heard somepony shouting from downstairs, and when he saw that I wasn’t in my bed he assumed it was me,” Pinkie said, her voice growing as animated as her body as the story went on, gesturing for emphasis as more of her sadness drained away. “So he circled the house and bucked kitchen door straight off the hinges and, without any kind of protection or anything, ran inside. Well, he says he actually had to crawl inside because there was so much smoke, but he still found me and managed to drag me outside. He’d been a soldier back in the war, so he knew a little first aid. The doctors said that if he hadn’t know CPR, I would have died.” Pinkie’s eyes shimmered as she smiled off into the distance. “My daddy is my bestest hero ever,” she added softly.

A stretch of silence followed the story, with Pinkie caught up in her memories and Twilight unwilling to interrupt her. Eventually Pinkie turned back to look at Twilight, as if finally remembering that she was there. Her smile vanished. “So, that’s what happened. I was a bad pony, I didn’t follow the rules and got distracted, and I nearly... I nearly k-killed my family.”

Pinkie’s transition from excitement to self-loathing grated against Twilight’s heart like sandpaper. “You were just a little filly,” Twilight argued as she hugged her friend again. “You were trying to bring joy into your family’s life, and something went wrong. Accidents happen.”

“Don’t you understand? I almost killed my family,” Pinkie snapped, making a sound somewhere between a growl and a whimper as she glared at Twilight. “I was supposed to make them feel better, and we ended up losing everything! Everything! And it was all my fault!” In an instant the fire in her eyes vanished and she fell limply into Twilight’s embrace. “It was all my fault,” she repeated softly. “I cried for days, and I couldn’t even look at my family without getting sad. I knew it was only making them feel worse whenever I cried, but I couldn’t stop. I just wanted to die.”

The statement stunned Twilight, leaving her speechless as more of Pinkie’s doubts poured out of her. “What if... what if that happened again? What if I wanted to help someone and make them happy, but I didn’t know I was doing something bad and then I ended up really really hurting them? I can’t be on my own.”

“That’s not going to happen, Pinkie. I know you, and you’re not a bad pony,” Twilight said, injecting some of her own conviction and strength into her firm reassurances. She could feel it at the back of her mind: this was what Princess Celestia had warned her about. Her friends were out of sync with their true selves. I’m not going to leave Pinkie thinking she is some accident-prone mare who can’t take care of herself, she promised as she stroked Pinkie Pie’s mane. If I can get them back to how they should be, if I can help heal the wounds this shadow has carved into their minds, then they should be able to throw off its delusions. They’re counting on me. I’m the only one that can save them. And once I’ve saved my friends, then I’ll be one step closer to defeating this shadow and saving all of Equestria! Feeling suitably buoyed by her optimism, Twilight nuzzled Pinkie. “I believe in you, Pinkie Pie.”

Pinkie Pie blushed. “B-But what if I make a mistake? At least here I know the doctors and nurses and orderlies and lunch-mares and janitors can help me be sure I’m not going to hurt anypony.”

“Come on, you must want to leave here eventually, right?” Twilight pulled back a little to look Pinkie square in the eye. “At least outside you can be free to throw real parties and make lots of other ponies happy. Don’t you want to do that?”

“Well... yeah, that does sound kinda nice,” she admitted.

“And you’re not feeling as sad and depressed as you used to feel, right?”

“Yeah. I mean, I still get sad about it, but having so many friends around does keep me happy most of the time. And because I’m happy, I can make other ponies happy. But whenever I think about going back to the farm, I just... I can’t think of anything except how I might mess everything up. They say they don’t blame me, but whenever I look in their eyes I think they’re... I think they just see me as the sick little filly who burned the house down,” Pinkie sighed.

“Well, do you have to go back to the farm?” asked Twilight. “Why not go into town? I bet you could start a new life for yourself pretty easily. I bet you would do well if you went to Ponyville.” She grinned. “You should look up a place called Sugarcube Corner. I bet you would make a great baker.”

Pinkie gave Twilight a frightened stare. “Oh no, I couldn’t do that! Only bad ponies try to cook without supervision! I might get distracted and then something could go wrong and I wouldn’t be there to stop it and–”

“I didn’t mean like that,” Twilight said, cutting Pinkie off before she could work herself up into another fit. “I meant you should go to them and ask if they needed help in exchange for teaching you how to bake responsibly. After all, you do love baked goods, right?”

“Yeah, but–”

“And other ponies like them too, right?”

“Yeah...”

Twilight smiled. “Well then, if you learned how to do things responsibly, then you’d be able to make lots of ponies happy. Isn’t that what you want?”

Pinkie prodded the dirt, holding Smarty Pants in her other foreleg. “Yeah... b-but I don’t think I should bake anything.”

“You can’t hide in the hospital forever. There are many ponies out there that are counting on you. They need you. If you stay around here, there isn’t going to be any sunshine in their lives, just shadows and sadness. They need a pony that can spread happiness.” Twilight gave her a smile. “And if there is anyone that could fill them with laughter, it’s you.”

A sense of vindication filled Twilight body when Pinkie returned the smile, her grin slowly growing wider as Twilight’s words sunk in. “Yeah, that does sound pretty cool,” she said. “I would love to have lots of friends and be able to really make them happy. Because of the rules here I can’t really throw parties, even with supervision.” She looked at Twilight hopefully. “Would they really teach me? I’ve read those cookbooks you lent me, but I don’t really know how to bake. But since I’m a really hard worker, and I would totally concentrate super seriously on learning everything I could, maybe I could convince them to give me a chance.”

“I know they would.” Twilight nodded, fanning Pinkie Pie’s optimism. “You just need to stop dwelling on the past and keep thinking positive. If you can do that, then I bet you could do anything you wanted.”

“Yeah!” Pinkie shouted, leaping to her hooves. “I could be a great baker! More than that, I could be a great party pony! I could bake the cakes and cupcakes and pies, then I could plan stuff and get gifts and remember birthdays! I’ll be able to throw parties all the time!”

Twilight laughed as Pinkie held Smarty Pants and spun around happily, telling Twilight and the doll about the many things she would do to make sure she could help throw the best parties. Well, that wasn’t too challenging, she thought as Pinkie skipped around describing how to do streamers properly. It was a little unnerving to have Pinkie Pie basing all of her party knowledge around what she had read in books and magazines, but Twilight couldn’t deny that she felt good. While Pinkie was distracted, Twilight unrolled her mental checklist. Okay, so now I know how Pinkie is suffering, and how to fix it. Her internal harmony has been broken because the shadow has convinced her that in her past, the party that gave her a cutie mark–

She halted, turning to watch Pinkie Pie spin Smarty Pants around. “Uh, Pinkie?”

Pinkie stopped spinning and sat down in one single movement, not looking dizzy in the least. “Yeah?”

“How did you get your cutie mark?” she asked as casually as she could.

Pinkie blushed. “Oh. Well, it’s not that impressive. I mean, you got yours with Princess Celestia in the room with you.”

“Still, I’d love to hear about it,” pressed Twilight.

“Okay, but it’s nothing really big,” she said, her cheeks a soft scarlet. “I was in the hospital for a long time after the fire. I slept a lot, and when I was awake it was pretty boring. My parents came to visit me a lot but they were still busy rebuilding the house. Plus I couldn’t be with them very long before I’d get sad and stuff, so most of the time when I was awake I was alone with the nurses and the occasional doctor. Then one day they brought another filly in for the room’s other bed. Her name was Clover, and she was a year younger than me and had... had been caught in a fire too.”

Pinkie glanced down at Smarty Pants, holding the doll between her hooves. “I was lucky. Clover had really bad burns up and down her sides, and she couldn’t move very much. Still, she could talk, and we became quick friends. It really helped to pass the time, having somepony to talk to. We talked about everything, really. She’d help me when I got sad, and I’d try to keep her distracted whenever her burns really hurt. We talked about our families – her father worked in the city as a gardener and her mother was some writer – and our friends, and we played lots word games.”

“After a few weeks I was pretty much fixed up and the doctors were getting ready to release me. I was upset because I didn’t want to go back to the farm, but Clover was doing her best to keep me from crying all the time. She was always there for me, always trying to make me smile, even when she came back from surgery. I think because I was so sad all the time I didn’t notice it, but... she never had any visitors. We’d been in the same room for over a month together and I’d never seen her mommy or daddy. When I asked the nurses why, they kept giving me these really sad looks and saying that they didn’t know. After badgering one all day I was able to convince her to tell me, and she said that Clover’s parents had died in the house fire.” Pinkie clenched her eyes shut. “That was the first night I didn’t cry for myself.”

Twilight shifted uncomfortably, but Pinkie continued to just stare at the doll. “The next day, I convinced the nurse to help me do something to make her feel better. After they wheeled Clover away to physical therapy, we went around to all the nurses and doctors asking them for anything they had for parties. Once we explained what we were doing we got a lot of support. Nurses brought out bags of candies they’d been using as snacks or holding onto for holidays, and many people went to the cafeteria to round up some more food. It seemed everyone was really excited. I didn’t notice it at the time because I was so focused on getting everything ready, but I didn’t cry at all that day. I wanted everything to be perfect.”

“Eventually, after an hour or two, Clover was pushed back into the room and was greeted with a big shout of ‘surprise!’ by everypony there. Oh, she was so happy. We’d filled her bed up with flowers and cards and candy and cake and balloons. Dozens of balloons! It was like a real party, and it was all for Clover. We played games and had some music and even helped her to have a chocolate cupcake – she’d told me it was her favorite flavor. Nurses came and spent their lunch breaks with us, and we always had doctors and visitors coming in to see what was happening, so there was always a big crowd. I don’t think I remember Clover ever being so happy. For the first time since the fire, I felt happy too. I felt alive every time she laughed and smiled.”

Lifting her head, Pinkie gave Twilight another grin, her blush returning with a vengeance. “I, uh, don’t know exactly when I got my cutie mark, actually. It happened sometime during the party, but I was too distracted coming up with games we could play with Clover while she was stuck in bed. Near the end, one of the nurses asked me about it, and thats when I realized what had happened,” she said, glancing down at her unblemished flank. “That’s when I realized that I still wanted to make ponies happy. It made me feel good to see other ponies laugh and grin and have a good time. And that night, I didn’t cry once.”

“Wow,” Twilight exhaled with her own warm grin. Even in a fake world created by some shadowy evil, Pinkie Pie is still dedicated to her friends and those in need. She wiped the moisture that had gathered at the corners of her eyes. “Wow,” she repeated. “That was quite a story.”

“Oh, it’s not that great,” Pinkie replied humbly. “I just felt like she deserved something to cheer her up.”

“Still, I think it says a lot about you as a pony,” Twilight continued as she rose to her hooves, eager to push her point home. “You did all of that to give a single day of happiness to a pony in pain. You were willing to talk about something incredibly painful, just to fill in a few gaps in my memory. Even the fear that's keeping you in the hospital is based around the concerns that you might accidentally hurt another pony.”

“Twilight...” Pinkie began, holding Smarty Pants up in front of her embarrassed face as if to ward the praise away.

“I mean it; every word. You’re something special. You’re my best friend, and I know you’ll always be willing to help others in need. You’re not a bad pony. You’re an amazing pony.” Twilight pretended she didn’t notice a few tears roll down Pinkie’s cheeks as they hugged. Dropping Smarty Pants beneath her Pinkie hugged her back, the two embracing beneath the afternoon sun.

“Excuse me, but you’ll have to stop that.”

Both ponies pulled back in alarm to find an orderly standing over them with a look of mild annoyance on his face. Twilight glanced between the orderly and her friend. “Stop doing what?”

“The hugging,” he explained. “There are rules on physical contact between patients.”

“But she was crying!” protested Twilight.

He looked at Pinkie Pie. “She’s not crying now.”

Twilight opened her mouth to unload on him when she felt Pinkie place a restraining hoof on her arm. “It’s okay. We won’t do it anymore,” said Pinkie with a smile. “I was really sad, but I’m feeling all better now.”

He continued to stare down at them. “Fine. Just don’t let me catch you two doing it again,” he said gruffly.

Twilight waited until the orderly was out of earshot before she turned back to Pinkie. “No physical contact? We were just hugging!” she growled, her eyes drilling into the retreating stallion’s back.

“I’m sorry, that was my fault,” said Pinkie.

“It’s not your fault at all. You were upset because of my questions, and I was doing what any friend would do,” Twilight replied stiffly, trying to reassure Pinke even as her mind screamed in frustration. I was doing so well! I was really connecting with her, really earning her trust. With a little more time – and no flipping interruptions – I can show her that she really is a good pony who cares about others. I can save her by convincing her to be like the Pinkie I know.

The two friends stood up and resumed their trek around the fence, mindful of standing too close to one another for fear of invoking the orderly’s wrath. Twilight wanted to continue their conversation, hoping that a few more subtle references to Pinkie Pie’s real life might help pull her out of the dark fantasy she was trapped in. However, each time Twilight raised another question about her past, Pinkie redirected the conversation elsewhere. The moment had passed.

As Pinkie described how she had gotten in trouble for holding hooves with a particularly cute colt at lunch, Twilight found her eyes wandering back to the imposing walls of Broadhoof. Am I really doing the right thing? she asked herself as she tracked the distant figures moving past the windows. Princess Celestia didn’t tell me much. Did I hear her right? Did I even really hear her? Twilight shivered, the chill of doubt brushing over her. No. No, I’m certain I heard her. And I’ve done this all before, in a way. It’s just like Discord; I have to remind my friends of who they are. If I can gain their trust like I have with Pinkie, then I’ll be one step closer to victory.

Pinkie turned to face Twilight as they strolled past a pair of patients playing some indecipherable ball game with rules only they could understand, the earth pony showing no sign of having been bawling her eyes out minutes before. “So what are you gonna do for arts and crafts? I’m thinking about a big painting with all my friends on it! Then I can hang it up on my wall so I’ll always have you girls close by. What about you?”

“Well,” Twilight began, but her response was cut off by a flicker of lights in the distant windows, catching her attention just in time for her to watch a section of hallway swallowed up by shadow. She squinted as a figure casually stepped out of the darkness, his large frame marking him as a stallion. Is he an electrician? she wondered, noting the thick clothing. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end as he moved further down the hallway. One by one, the lights failed as he passed beneath them, making it look like he were leaving shadows in his wake. His body was indistinct and faint. Only his white muzzle stood out, catching the eye like a candle in the night, but there was something wrong with it. Like a beak it was pointed and narrow. It looked like a mask. Twilight shivered. She hoped it was a mask.

The flickering lights made the shadows dance around him in a terrible mockery of life, bringing with them memories of a nightmare she wanted to forget. She tracked his progress, the hallway behind him bathed in inky darkness

“Twilight?”

Twilight squawked as she leapt into the air. Landing on quivering legs, she stared wide-eyed at Pinkie Pie, panting heavily. “W-What?” Twilight asked in a hoarse whisper, trying to keep her heart from bursting out of her chest.

“Woah!” gasped Pinkie Pie as she took a few steps backwards. “I was just asking if you were feeling okay! You were just looking at the hospital without saying anything for like five minutes.“

Twilight blinked a few times before she registered her friend’s words. “Did you see that?” she asked, nearly barking the question.

“See what?”

Twilight gestured at the building. “That!”

Pinkie squinted. “The chapel?”

“No, the stallion in the window!” she exclaimed with growing frustration, turned back to the hospital to point him out to Pinkie.

He was looking right at her.

Ice water ran down Twilight’s spine, cold dread locking her joints together. Don’t be ridiculous, he’s not looking at you. He’s just looking out the window, she tried telling herself. It didn’t work. She couldn’t tear her eyes away from the gash of white surrounded by darkness. She felt like it was sucking her in, her field of vision filling with that bird-like mask.

Twilight gasped for air when Pinkie squeezed her shoulder, unaware she’d been holding her breath. “Twilight, are you sure you’re okay?” Pinkie Pie asked again, her face contorted into a deeply worried expression.

The spell broken, Twilight nodded slowly, trying to work some sensation back into her limbs. She glanced back at the building, but the window was empty. “I... I don’t...” she stammered as her eyes roamed up and down the hallway. The lights were working again, but there was no sign of the oddly dressed figure. Shaking the icicles off of her thoughts she faced Pinkie. “Yeah, I’m fine. I just... I thought I saw something.”

“Yeah. You said you saw some kind of stallion, then you shivered and and gasped and... oh.” Pinkie Pie’s face slowly twisted into a knowing grin. She winked. “Oh! Twilight’s got a crush on some cute colt!” she declared loudly as she bounced around Twilight.

Twilight stumbled back a step. “What?”

“Twilight and the stallion, sitting in a tree, K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“I do not have some crush!” protested Twilight, blushing despite herself. “I saw some strange looking stallion and–”

“Strange looking?” Pinkie stuck out her tongue. “Ewww! What, did he have a hunchback?” She arched her back upwards in demonstration. “Two heads? Three eyes? Oh, maybe he was made of slime!”

“Forget it!” Twilight growled as she pushed past Pinkie. Sparing a glance over at the hospital to make sure he still wasn’t there she resumed her walk around the inside of the fence. Pinkie Pie caught up to her after a few moments. She didn’t say anything, but Twilight’s scowl only deepened whenever she caught Pinkie giggling, feeling her friend’s eyes on the back of her head. Just ignore her. Besides, it serves you right for getting jumpy and nervous over an electrician. He had to have been one. It was the logical assumption: a heavy-duty work outfit and a protective mask were essentials when dealing with electricity. You’re just letting the stress get to you.

Ignoring Pinkie’s playful winks, Twilight tried to redirect the conversation away from her hypothetical crush and onto more productive areas. Her nerves might be frayed, but she wasn’t going to let that stop her. She had a mission, and nothing was going to stand in her way.

Chapter 15

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Asylum

Chapter 15

Twilight sighed as she reached across the table to grab a fresh sheet of paper, making sure it didn’t get marred by any stray paint droplets from Pinkie’s eager efforts. Around them swam the sounds of ponies working on their own creations, the hum of quiet conversation broken by the odd giggle or the wet ping of another tin of paint being knocked over. It was an art class straight out of middle-school, complete with safety scissors and non-toxic paint. Picking up the cleanest brush she could find, Twilight dipped the worn bristles into a pot of black paint, letting her mind wander as she began her work.

The shadows... how are they controlling everyone? If I’m such a threat, why do they let me wander around? Shouldn’t they just have killed me? Or why not just have me locked away in solitary confinement on a permanent basis? If it was going to make up a history about me, why not claim I’m a psychopathic murderer and be done with it? Well, there are limits to its power, so maybe it can’t hurt me here directly. That would explain why it had to take me back to Equestria to try and break me emotionally. Does that mean... Twilight sighed, not finishing the question. She felt a headache coming on.

There are just too many questions and not enough answers. Until I know more, I’ve got to avoid getting distracted by shadows and phantoms and things that can’t affect me. If I can keep my head down and keep acting sane, then it will make my job so much easier.

“Now Twilight, don’t you think that’s a little grim for arts and crafts?”

Twilight lifted her head up from her work to find the art teacher, Toola Roola, standing beside her, a frown etched into the older mare’s face. Pinkie Pie busied herself with her own work as Toola Roola leaned over Twilight’s shoulder.

Twilight plucked the brush from her mouth. “What do you mean?” she asked as she glanced back down at the table. It took her a moment to realize what she had been painting, her eyes widening in alarm. A pool of black ink marred the pristine white of her paper, forming a vague stallion shape. Shrouded in heavy black fabric, his face was hidden beneath a porcelain mask formed into long and dangerous looking beak. The eyes of the mask were empty pits of nothingness, like open windows on a starless night.

Toola Roola’s frown deepened as she turned to Twilight, although her eyes lingered on her painting. “Well, the idea for today was to paint something happy you saw while outside,” she explained carefully. “Is that very cheerful to you?”

“No, not really,” Twilight allowed, gulping.

“And did you see it outside?”

“No!” Twilight declared. “No no no, I definitely did not see that outside. Or anywhere! I’ve never seen it anywhere! I was just painting my... um, my idea for a Nightmare Night costume.”

“Well then, it seems to me like you’re not really following the directions very well, Twilight. You can finish that drawing later.” Toola Roola crumpled the painting up and slipped it into one of her pockets before plucking a fresh sheet of paper from the stack at the center of the table. “For now, you need to do your best and paint something you saw outside. Something happy, and cheerful.” She placed the blank paper in front of Twilight. “Understand?”

Twilight nodded obediently. “I sure do, Miss Roola!” she chirped, pasting an insipid grin on her face.

The older mare smiled, rubbing Twilight’s mane. “That’s a good girl.”

Twilight managed to wait until Toola Roola turned away before scowling. She centered the paper on the table before organizing her paints and brushes again, making sure the paint tins were in alphabetical order – and then double-checking them, in case Pinkie had decided it would be funny to switch the green and red again.

A not-so-subtle cough in Twilight’s ear made her jump, with only a last minute scramble keeping a paint can from flying out of her hooves. Dropping it back onto the table, Twilight glared at her friend.

Pinkie smiled back at her. “So what are you gonna paint, then? Another creepy bird-stallion?”

Twilight frowned, shifting in her seat. “No, that was just something I made up. Just... forget about it, alright?” She examined the untouched paper. “Honestly, I don’t know. Something ‘happy and cheerful’, I guess.” Twilight turned to glance outside, the grassy fields bathed in the afternoon sunlight. A flash of red launching itself into the air from a nearby tree. “Maybe a robin? Birds are pretty cheerful. Anyway, what did you paint?”

“I painted my bestest buddies!” Pinkie declared proudly as she picked up her paper delicately in her teeth, holding it so Twilight couldn’t see it. With a grin and a flourish she spun around, revealing her painting with a showmare’s flair. “Ta-da!”

Twilight stared at the paper, her smile disappearing.

“See? It’s you, me, and, uh, Doctor AJ,” Pinkie said through her teeth, her grin eroding away beneath Twilight’s slack-jawed expression. “Uh, Twilight? Do you like it? Is, um, something wrong?”

“Pinkie... when did you learn cubism?”

Pinkie blinked. “What’s cubism?”

Twilight tossed her head back in irritation as she trotted alongside Pinkie Pie. “Look, you don’t understand. It was an hour spent sitting around with a bunch of other unicorns who also had their magic dampened, being made to talk about the problems we face without magic, and how we overcome that! How can that be labeled therapy?”

“Well, Doctor Roy says that the groups are for us to talk about our problems so we feel better afterwards,” Pinkie offered as they moved down the hallway, part of a loose line of patients trailing out of the cafeteria.

“But the only problem is that the hospital is forcing us to wear these things in the first place!” Twilight cried, smacking the limiter wrapped around her horn for emphasis. “That's like a group of thieves forcing their victims to get together and discuss the hardships of being robbed. If you don’t want ponies to be bothered by what you do, then stop doing it!”

“At least it’s all over now, right?” Pinkie pointed out with a grin. Twilight gave a reluctant nod, biting down on her frustrations as she marched silently along.

The orderlies led them to a large rectangular room with the same mesh-covered windows she was so familiar with. There were two rows of pillars running down the middle of the room, supporting a high ceiling painted in a blue and white facsimile of a clear summer day. Although no larger than the cafeteria, it felt less confining. The regimented lines of tables had been replaced with a more organic – if slightly anarchic – assortment of couches and chairs and playing mats, each group of furniture arranged in their own little clusters.

It had all the trappings of a day care center, Twilight mused, a thought that did little to improve her mood. The patients around her made beelines towards their favorite locations, competing for the softest chairs and warmest blankets. The orderlies and nurses kept a trained eye on the most exuberant of the patients, prepared to step in and prevent any conflicts from developing. Many of the toys were dented or scratched, while the boxes for the board games were held together with naught but tape. They were scars gained in the line of service, the marks of a hard life spent in servitude to the harshest of masters: the foal.

Despite the kindergarten atmosphere, Twilight was pleased to note that it didn’t cater to the younger patients alone. The far side of the room was dominated by low bookshelves, their contents as battered as the rest of the entertainment available. Even from a distance she could tell they were not simply pop-up books and children’s stories, but had more substantial fare on offer as well. Her eyes lingered on the shelves as she turned away from them.

About the only thing in the room not scratched and worn was the radio tucked up against one of the pillars. The fact that one of the orderlies never strayed more than a few yards from it explained just how it had escaped so unscathed. Despite his stern gaze, Twilight felt herself gravitating towards it, drawn in by the sound of jazz. The smooth melody was intoxicating after a day spent around mental patients and their habit of screaming without warning. Twilight halted a safe distance away from the guard and his precious machine, letting the mellow sounds wash over her. She felt like she were in a bubble of maturity, the closest table bearing an obviously underused chess board while the music masked the sound of foals at play. Even the orderly’s suspicious gaze couldn’t keep her from savoring the moment of relative tranquility.

“Twilight?”

Twilight stopped tapping her hoof and opened her eyes to find Pinkie Pie looking at her. “Sorry, Pinkie, I guess I zoned out there for a minute. What’s up?”

“Well, I was wondering if you wanted to do something,” she said, shifting her weight from hoof to hoof as she glanced around the room anxiously. “I mean, if we don’t go grab one of the good games soon, then we’ll be stuck with one of the ones that’s missing some of the pieces, and I don’t want you to play–” Pinkie froze mid-step. “Ohmygosh!” she shouted, jumping in front of her friend. She leaned forward, pressing her face in close to Twilight’s own. “Since you’ve forgotten about all the games we’ve played, everything is going to be totally new for you! That’s awesome!”

Twilight pulled her head back, but Pinkie just leaned forward to compensate. “That’s... great.”

“I know!” Pinkie squealed. “It’s like being able to enjoy the same game for the first time, but twice!”

“I get it, I get it,” Twilight said, gently pushing Pinkie back a few inches to give herself a little more space. Just the thought of playing board games while Equestria was consumed filled her with a sense of preemptive guilt that she struggled against. “So, uh, what game do you suggest?”

“Zap Apple Zingers!” Pinkie declared as she lead Twilight away from the radio, guiding her towards a set of shelves carrying an assortment of oft-repaired boxes.

“Isn’t that a game to help foals learn basic arithmetic?”

“Yup!”

Twilight groaned. “Couldn’t we try chess instead?” Twilight glanced back over at the radio. “I mean, wouldn’t that–”

Her words evaporated as she stared at the far side of the room. Just over the orderly’s shoulder she could see a yellow pegasus seated with her back to everyone else, her face turned to gaze outside at the setting sun. Even though her features were hidden behind her pink mane, Twilight knew who it was.

It was Fluttershy.

“Wouldn’t that what?”

Her eyes locked on her friend, Twilight only muttered something in response when Pinkie repeated the question.

Pinkie walked forward a few paces to halt beside the nearby table, blocking Fluttershy from view. “Is this what you were so interested in?”

Twilight finally turned her attention to Pinkie, but her friend was instead peering at the chess board resting atop the table. “What?”

“Well, I knew you kinda liked chess and stuff, but I didn’t know you were that interested in it. I mean, you seemed really out of it.” Grinning, Pinkie moved to the opposite side of the board from Twilight. “But that’s okay, cause I like chess too! So, what color do you wanna be?”

“Oh. Uh, yeah, I was... really enthralled at the opportunity to play chess, and I just couldn’t help myself,” Twilight said. “But, um, before we play, do you know anything about that mare over there?”

Pinkie followed Twilight’s outstretched hoof, squinting a bit. “You mean Fluttershy?”

Twilight’s heart skipped a beat. “Yes, Fluttershy! Do you know much about her?”

Leaning back in her seat, Pinkie tapped her chin. “Well, she really likes birds. I think thats why they sometimes call her the birdgirl. They let her keep a bunch of them up in her room. And she’s really, really shy. But I don’t know why she’s at Broadhoof.” Her expression darkened. “Although I heard she tried to, you know... kill herself.”

Even knowing they were coming, the words were still ice along Twilight’s spine. “So you don’t know anything about what’s wrong with her?” Twilight asked. Pinkie shook her head. “Well, before I lost my memories, were the two of us friends at least?”

“Oh no, Fluttershy doesn’t have any friends. She doesn’t like to be around other ponies. I tried to talk with her lots of times, because if there is anypony that needs a friend, it’s her. But she just kinda... gets all scared and stuff.” Pinkie frowned. “Well, actually, I guess she is kinda-sorta-maybe friends with that other pegasus, Rainbow... Rainbow Dash.”

“Really? They’re friends?” she asked in a hopeful tone. If they were friends, it would make her job much easier.

Pinkie shrugged, averting her gaze. “I guess. I mean, Rainbow can be nice sometimes, but she can also be kinda mean too. Plus, she is super-duper protective of Fluttershy. Like, this one time this colt threw this ball that hit Fluttershy, and Rainbow bucked him right in the chest. It left a bruise and everything!”

“They must like each other if they spend a lot of time together, though.”

“Sure. I think Rainbow Dash is probably Fluttershy’s only friend, besides all her birds.” Pinkie fiddled with one of the pieces. “Actually, I think Fluttershy might be Rainbow’s only friend too. She’s always getting angry and in trouble and stuff, so she doesn’t seem to have lots of time for friends.”

Twilight sighed. Rebuilding her friendships with the other Elements was sounding more difficult by the minute. “So, what happened yesterday is pretty normal for her?”

“Not normal, but not really surprising either,” Pinkie explained. “I mean, Rainbow’s gotten into a lot of fights before, but that’s the first time she’s attacked a doctor. I don’t even know how long she’s gonna be gone now for that.”

Twilight nodded as she adjusted the pieces on her side of the board so they were centered in their own squares. Okay, revised plan: focus on strengthening ties with Applejack and Pinkie Pie, and on starting up a relationship with this Fluttershy. Since Rainbow Dash is being punished for attacking Applejack, I need to use Fluttershy as a means of reaching Rainbow Dash and breaking the ice. Hopefully I can use their feelings for one another to help me succeed.

“Hey, is it alright if we don’t talk about them for a bit?” Pinkie asked, dragging Twilight’s focus away from her mental list. “I kinda feel bad for Fluttershy. I don’t wanna talk about her behind her back or anything. Lots of ponies already spread these mean rumors about her. Plus, I feel guilty about the last few times I tried to make friends with her. She got so scared when I tried to talk to her, I thought she was gonna have a heart attack or something.” She gestured at the board. “Instead of talking about her, maybe we could just play the game instead?”

Twilight glanced between Pinkie and the distant Fluttershy. “How about you get the game set up for us,” she said as she stood up from the table, “while I go talk to Fluttershy and say hello.”

“Twilight, you shouldn’t! She’s like really, really shy! You’re just gonna get her upset.”

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to bother her,” said Twilight as she made her way from the table. “I just want to introduce myself. I’ll be right back.”

Pinkie harrumphed. “Fine. But you’d better not tease her or anything!”

“Cross my heart, Pinkie,” Twilight said with a reassuring grin. “Trust me, I’m just gonna be a minute.” As she turned away from Pinkie her smile vanished.

Twilight took a circular route to reach Fluttershy, examining her from a safe distance. With the exception of the worn vest, Fluttershy slotted straight into Twilight’s memories. Even her seat by the windows, far away from the rest of the activity, wasn’t too far of a stretch. Fluttershy had always been uncomfortable in crowds and more interested in nature. I just need to approach her calmly and slowly, to keep her from getting startled.

“Tag! You’re it!”

Two colts ran past Twilight, a filly with a serious expression in hot pursuit. The colts weaved in and around the tables and shelves, turning back to taunt the filly chasing them and ignoring the warnings of the nurse hurrying after them. Hooting and hollering, they slowed down before taking off again once she closed the gap. So focused were they on teasing her that the younger of the pair wasn’t watching where he was going. He clipped his head on the corner of one of the shelves, collapsing to the ground a few yards from Fluttershy with a startled yelp. He stared back at the shelf through wide eyes as if processing what had just happened. Then his face scrunched up, and he began to wail.

Twilight glanced over at Fluttershy, waiting for her to respond to the foal’s cries of pain. Fluttershy didn’t even turn to look at him, her eyes locked firmly on a tree haloed by the setting sun. She held herself like a coiled spring, compressed in tightly like she might dart away at any moment, yet remaining perfectly still. The only move she made was a flinch when the nurse whose warnings the colts had ignored rushed past her. Only after the nurse had helped the child to his hooves and escorted him away – admonishing all three foals the entire way – did Fluttershy exhale and visibly relax, the spring uncoiling within her. Like a sleuth in a novel she turned her head just far enough to watch them from the corner of her eye as they strode past Twilight.

Her gaze flicked over to Twilight, and their eyes met. Twilight gave her kindest smile, but Fluttershy’s eyes only widened in alarm. With a squeak she spun back to the window and resumed staring out into the fading light, her body once again tense and agitated.

Twilight’s face fell. Okay, so Pinkie wasn’t joking about the shyness. That could complicate things. Steeling herself, Twilight made her way over to the window, making sure she made enough noise to avoid sneaking up on Fluttershy. She seemed to shrink away as Twilight drew closer, pulling in on herself like she was trying to disappear.

Halting a yard away from her friend, Twilight opened and closed her mouth a few times before finding her voice. “Um... hello, Fluttershy,” she said with as much cheer as she could manage, pointedly ignoring the bandages wrapped around Fluttershy’s forelegs.

Fluttershy said nothing.

“Uh, I know you might not know me, but my name is Twilight Sparkle.”

Again, she said nothing, simply staring straight ahead.

“I was told you like birds. I like birds too. What... what are your favorite birds?”

Fluttershy made no sign that she had even heard what Twilight was saying, her gaze rigidly fixed on a point outside the window. A bead of sweat on her forehead as she breathed in rapidly.

“I would like to be your friend, if you want,” continued Twilight, taking a single step forward. Fluttershy flinched as if struck, her eyes clenched shut. Twilight hastily pulled her hoof back. “I-I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you! I’ll just... I’ll just stay here and not come any closer, okay?”

Fluttershy continued to say nothing, the only noise her increasingly rapid breathing. Desperate to find some way to break the ice, Twilight reached into her pocket and pulled out Smarty Pants. “Hey, Fluttershy, would you like to play with my doll?” Twilight shook the doll lightly as if trying to entice a stubborn foal, but Fluttershy’s eyes remained closed. “Her name is Smarty Pants, and... and she’d love to make a new friend...”

The sense of awkwardness was soon replaced with growing worry about Fluttershy’s condition. Her body was shaking like she had just been pulled from an icy lake, while her breathing had reached the point that Twilight began to worry about her friend hyperventilating. “Fluttershy, it’s okay, I’m a friend,” she pleaded. Fluttershy’s shivering grew even more pronounced.

I need to do something before she passes out, Twilight thought, glancing around desperately as she shoved Smarty Pants back into her pocket. Something crinkled against her hoof. Without a moment’s hesitation Twilight tugged the folded up sheet of paper free. “I, uh, painted this bird for you. It’s a robin,” she declared with as much honesty as she could muster, dropping the arts and crafts project on the ground and kicking it over to Fluttershy. “I know you like birds, and I like birds too, and... and I’d really like to be your friend so we can talk about birds and maybe other animals and I can see that you’re busyokaybye!”

Turning around Twilight practically fled from Fluttershy, putting as much distance as she could between them before anything terrible happened to her friend. She felt cold inside, the short exposure to Fluttershy’s extreme anxiety having fed her own concerns. How can she be that nervous? How am I supposed to remind her of our friendship, if just getting close puts her in danger of passing out? Only after she’d made her way back to Pinkie Pie did she risk looking back at Fluttershy. To her relief the shaking had diminished, although she still hadn’t moved an inch.

“Hey Twilight,” Pinkie said as Twilight lowered herself down into the seat opposite her. The chessboard was laid out before them, although it was clear Pinkie had been busy finding replacements for the missing pieces. Both of Twilight’s bishops were from a checkers set, and one of her rooks looked like the leg from an action figure. “How did it go?”

“I didn’t think it would be that bad,” said Twilight as she wiped away the sweat from her brow, her heartbeat slowing to a reasonable level. “I didn’t know she would be like... well, like that.”

“Did she do the whole, you know...” Pinkie acted out shivering with an empty, wide-eyed stare for a few seconds. “Did she do that?”

“Yeah, she did. I just went over to say hello and she just... panicked.” She glanced over at Fluttershy again. “Is that what she normally does around other ponies?”

“Well, it depends. I mean, with the doctors she’s known for a while she still gets really super nervous and jumpy and stuff, but she can tolerate having them around her. But you? You’re a stranger, and she isn’t so good with new ponies.”

Twilight hung her head in defeat and sighed. “I need to make her my friend, but how am I supposed to connect with her if she acts like she’s seen a ghost whenever I try to get close?”

“Well, friendships don’t just happen. You have to really work at them.” Pinkie smiled. “I mean, we weren’t friends right away. You used to always tell me you were too busy dealing with stuff for the princess to just play, but eventually I got you to have some fun, and then we became bestest buddies!”

“Stuff for the princess?” Twilight asked, lifting her head. “What stuff?”

“I dunno, stuff about learning magic and history and being a good student and all that,” Pinkie said with a shrug. “I mean, you always had your head in a book as far back as I could remember. You used to tell me it was because the princess wanted to make sure you were studying hard and learning your lessons.”

Twilight rubbed her forehead and sighed. “So, I used to run around telling everypony ‘stories’ about how I was the princess’s most faithful student? And I bet I also went on about how I was some kind of monster-fighting hero too, didn’t I?” She barely blinked at Pinkie’s confirmation. Twilight glanced away. “I figured as much.”

Pinkie nibbled on her lip. “So... you did all those things though, right?”

Twilight glanced back at Pinkie, the other mare shifting anxiously from side to side in her seat. “Yeah, I did all those things. You may not have heard the entire story, though,” Twilight said, picking her words with care. “You see, I did do all of that stuff, but I didn’t do it alone. I had a few very good friends who were there with me every time. It was only with their help that I was able to do so much. The power of friendship is a very real thing, although it took me a long time to realize it.”

“Wow,” Pinkie exhaled as she stared at Twilight in awe. “So, where are your friends now?”

Twilight gave her a soft smile, masking how much the question stung. “Well, I’m trying to find them again. I need their help. Equestria is in danger, and only with their assistance can I help the princess.”

“So, Fluttershy is one of your special friends, right?”

“What?” gasped Twilight. “How did you... I mean, what makes you think that?”

“I told ya Twilight, I’m not stupid,” she said with a wink. “It’s kinda obvious, considering how you responded when you first saw her. Besides, you’ve looked over at her like a hundred times already, like any minute you expect her to either run away or come over and say hi.”

“Okay, yes, she’s one of my friends,” Twilight admitted.

“If she was one of your friends,” Pinkie frowned, “then how did you do all those amazing things? I mean, she’s been here as long as I can remember.”

“It’s... complicated,” said Twilight, beckoning Pinkie closer with a conspiratorial glance around the room. “What I have to tell you, you can’t tell anypony else. Understand?” Pinkie nodded, but Twilight met her gaze. “I mean it, Pinkie. No doctors, no patients, nopony. Promise?”

“Of course! Cross my heart, hope to fly, stick a cupcake in my eye!” she whispered back, raising a hoof to her face.

Twilight put on a show of surreptitiously checking the area around them. "The truth is that my friends have all had their memories replaced with lies. They don't remember our adventures or relationships, and they've been made to think that they belong in this hospital." Twilight gaze fell downward as she paused briefly. "What's worse is that something important has been changed within them, the things that make them special and happy. Whoever is doing this has messed up parts of my friends' minds so they aren't truly themselves anymore."

"You see, my friends and I are the only chance Equestria has right now. I need to get them back to how they were so we can use our friendship to defeat the... ponies responsible for all this, whoever they might be." Twilight paused. "Have I told you about the Elements of Harmony?"

Pinkie furrowed her brow. “Um... I think so. Aren’t those the really cool pieces of jewelry you showed me in that old book you have? The big shiny necklaces?”

The scholar in Twilight felt a twinge of irritation at having the most powerful artifacts in Equestria dismissed as mere ‘necklaces’, but she pushed that aside and simply nodded. “Yes, those are the ones. You see, we’re the bearers of the Elements, ponies who represent the power of friendship. With them, we can protect Equestria from any threat. But the Elements of Harmony cannot work without true friendship.”

“But I’ve been working on a plan, Pinkie.” Twilight grinned as she gestured at one of the pieces on the board. “You see, the black queen represents me. And I’m trapped here in the hospital.” Plucking five pieces at random, she set them out in a loose circle around the queen. “These are my five friends. Thankfully, they’re all in this hospital with me, which means I still have access to them. If I can just spend some time with them and remind them of their real lives, of what we shared together, then I can restore them to their true selves. However,” she grabbed a few white pawns and placed them between the pieces, “the nurses and staff also believe the false memories too. They don’t want me to help free my friends because they only see us as sick ponies. Even my friends themselves believe their illnesses are real. I have to remind them that this life isn't real. If I can do that, then we can break out of this spell and save Equestria.”

Pinkie continued to stare at the chessboard after Twilight finished her speech, the silence stretching on uncomfortably long. “Okay,” she said softly, catching Twilight off-guard.

“What?”

“Okay. This is... super-duper-serious,” Pinkie intoned. “If there is somepony out there messing with ponies heads, with their memories, making friends forget one another... then I have to help. There is just no way I could let this go on.” She squeezed Twilight’s hoof. “You can count on me to do everything I can to help out.”

Twilight returned the squeeze. “Pinkie, you’re... something special. I can’t thank you enough. It really means alot to me to have you by my side.”

“What sort of friend would I be if I weren’t there when you needed me the most?” She smiled. “Plus, making friends is sorta my thing, you know? That way you’re not gonna have to rely on some old, dusty, fuddy-duddy book telling you how to talk to ponies. I’m your walking talking reference guide to friendship!” She glanced over at Fluttershy. “But first, you have to know your prey.”

“Prey?”

“Target, mark, objective, whatever. You’ve got to know the ponies you want to make friends with. After all, not everypony wants to be friends right away. It takes lots of work and lots of smiles to win somepony over,” Pinkie said with a knowing nod as she turned back to Twilight. “So why don’t we start with your friends. Who are they? Besides Fluttershy, I mean.”

Okay, she’s bought the story about some mysterious pony being responsible, so you don’t have to try and explain the shadow thing, but you can’t let her know that she’s one of the Elements yet. She’s gonna have trouble buying that she is one of the friends you’ve been talking about. Twilight bit down softly on her lower lip. “Um... actually, I think it’s best if I don’t tell you all of them right away.”

A hurt look flashed over Pinkie’s face. “What? Why?”

“It’s... for security purposes. The ponies who did this have, um, agents working in the hospital staff. So the less I tell you, the less information you might be able to give away if they catch you. It’s standard spy stuff, really.”

“Oh, that makes sense,” Pinkie said, nodding along with Twilight’s words. “You don’t want to jeopardize your mission.”

“Yeah, exactly,” she said with relief. “Besides, I think it’s best if we focus on just one friend at a time. That way, they can help me to save my other friends as well.”

“It sounds like a plan! I’ll start working on trying to find out what I can on Fluttershy. Since I’m a patient-assistant, I get lots of freedom and stuff, so I’ll see what I can dig up for you.”

“Alright, but Pinkie?” She laid a hoof over Pinkie’s arm. “Please, please, please don’t do anything that will get you in trouble. If the doctors find out you’re breaking the rules for me, they’ll lock me up and we won’t be able to talk anymore. I’d appreciate any help you can give, but please, don’t get in trouble on my behalf.”

“Trust me, Twilight, I know how to avoid detection,” she said with a confident grin. It wasn’t reassuring. “This Saturday, I’ll come by your room so we can talk about Fluttershhh...” Her voice trailed off as she glanced over towards the windows, her smile fading. “Hey, where did she go?”

Twilight turned to follow Pinkie’s gaze. Fluttershy was gone. Rising to her hooves, Twilight began scanning the room. A flash of pink and yellow caught her eye. “There she is,” she declared, pointing to the doors they had entered from. Fluttershy’s light frame was almost masked by the two nurses on either side of her as the group made their way out into the hall. An orderly took up a blocking position in front of the doors as soon as they were through, his bulk helping to convince a few curious patients they had better things to do than try to follow in their wake.

“Ah, horsefeathers!” Twilight grumbled, kicking an imaginary pebble. “I was hoping I could try talking to her one more time tonight. Just to, I dunno, pass her a message or something.” She turned to Pinkie. “Maybe she’d find it much easier to communicate indirectly?”

“Like pen pals,” Pinkie offered.

“Exactly.” Twilight trotted over to the window Fluttershy had resting at. “Does she normally sit in this spot, or does she move around to other windows?”

“Oh, she’s always here,” Pinkie said. “I think it’s because it’s far back from most of the other patients, and it gives her a really good view of that tree out there.”

“That’s good, that’s very good. That means that I could leave a note here and she’d be liable to find it. I just need someplace to hide it,” said Twilight as she began searching the area. “I don’t want another patient picking it up by mistake.”

Pinkie nodded. “Or a janitor.”

“Yeah, or a jan–” Twilight froze mid-step.

“Or one of the nurses,” continued Pinkie. “Or a doctor... the orderlies...”

Twilight groaned. “What am I thinking? Of course I couldn’t hide a note here for that long. Any hiding place good enough to fool the staff is gonna fool Fluttershy too.”

“Maybe you could make your letter into a paper dart and toss it too her?” Pinkie offered.

“I can’t imagine throwing something at her would make her feel any better. She’d probably just scream and fall over. I mean, when I tried to slide my painting over to her, she nearly died.”

Pinkie cocked her head to the side. “What painting?”

“The one with the bird I did in arts and crafts. I tried to give that to her, and she almost broke down.” Twilight shrugged. “I don’t think passing notes in person is gonna work if that’s her normal response.”

“Where is it?” Pinkie asked, looking around. “I mean, if you passed her your painting, shouldn’t it still be here?”

Frowning, Twilight lowered her eyes and scanned around her. “It’s... it’s not here.” She glanced back up at Pinkie, her frown lifting up into a full grin. “Pinkie, do you know what that means? She took the painting!”

Pinkie laughed and smiled back. “So?” she asked cheerfully.

Twilight glared at Pinkie. “That means I did make contact with her,” she explained patiently. “She has my painting. As long as I don’t stand around for very long, I should be able to pass messages to her. The fact that the painting is gone proves it.”

“Unless one of the nurses picked it up instead,” Pinkie pointed out.

“What?” asked Twilight flatly.

“Well, what if one of the nurses came by to collect Fluttershy, and saw a piece of paper on the floor next to her. She might have thought it fell out of her pocket and taken it for her.” Pinkie’s frowned. “Or, maybe the nurse just picked it up and threw it away because she thought it was trash.”

Although she could feel a headache coming on, Twilight couldn’t deny Pinkie’s words. She let out a long sigh, some of her enthusiasm evaporating in the face of blatant logic. “Yeah, you’re right. Odds are Fluttershy didn’t notice or care about the painting some scary stranger tried to force on her.”

Pinkie stepped over and rubbed Twilight’s shoulder. “Hey, don’t be upset. I mean, we don’t know what happened, do we? Maybe she really did take the painting. Plus, you can always just try again tomorrow.”

“I know,” Twilight sighed again as the two mares made their way back to the chessboard, her hooves as heavy as lead. “Sometimes, I just can’t help but get all eager and fired up with the hope that something has gone right for once, even though I know it’s never gonna work out like that. It’s hard to be optimistic when nothing goes my way.”

“That’s not totally true,” said Pinkie Pie. “After all, at least you have me on your side. And that’s gotta count for something!”

Twilight gazed over at Pinkie. The corner of her mouth lifted up slightly. “Yeah, you’ve got me there.”

“You just need something to take your mind off of all that serious business,” Pinkie declared with certainty. Taking her seat on the opposite side of the board she gave Twilight another smile. “So for the rest of our free time, you’re gonna try and teach me chess again!”

Twilight paused in the middle of setting up her pieces. She blinked. “Again?”

“Yup!” Pinkie’s head bounced up and down. “The last few times you got really frustrated and we ended up playing checkers instead, but this time I’m just sure you’ll be able to teach me. I can sense it!”

Twilight held Pinkie’s gaze for a few heartbeats, as if trying to judge how serious she was being. “Okay, so let’s start with the basics,” Twilight began, plucking one of the short pieces from the board. “What is this called?”

“A prawn!” Pinkie declared, her giggles unable to mask Twilight’s loud groan.

Chapter 16

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Asylum

Chapter 16

“Twilight, it’s time to get up.”

Twilight struggled to raise her eyelids against the chemical sting of her room’s single light, a groan escaping her lips. The voice repeated itself a little more firmly, drawing Twilight’s gaze away from the plain ceiling tiles. She blinked a few times as Nurse Coldheart swam into view, the older mare appearing like a fish rising up from the depths of a murky lake.

“Come on now, you need to get up and ready,” Nurse Coldheart added as she glanced over Twilight. She smiled. “At least you didn’t spend the night on the floor again.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Yay,” she grunted as she kicked the sheets off. The bite of the hospital’s cold air pulled a hiss of displeasure from Twilight’s teeth, instantly banishing her morning grogginess and leaving her awake, alert, and annoyed. Sparing a single longing glance at her rumpled sheets, Twilight rolled out of bed and onto her hooves. “Gah! Cold, cold, cold!” Twilight gasped as she danced from hoof to hoof, trying to keep as little of her body in contact with the floor as she could. She leveled an accusatory glare at the nurse. “It’s like a freezer in here!”

“I’m sorry dear, but the air conditioning broke last night,” Nurse Coldheart explained as she fetched a fresh patient’s vest from the room’s small closet. “We’ve been having electrical problems all week. Thankfully, it’s only on this floor. Just consider it extra incentive to get ready even quicker.” She smiled as she handed the bundle over.

Twilight’s gaze shifted from the fuzzy pink sweater Nurse Coldheart was wearing to the ratty vest in her outstretched hoof. She sighed and slipped it on without complaint. Even with numbed hooves, it only took Twilight a few seconds to make her bed. “There. I’m dressed. The bed is made. Can we go now?” she asked, trying to keep her teeth from chattering.

Twilight shifted her weight from one hoof to another as Coldheart did another quick examination of the room, the seconds dragging on endlessly in the frigid air. “Alright, everything looks fine. Go ahead and line up outside for your medicine.” She gave Twilight another smile as she escorted the younger mare from the room. “The good news is that the water heaters are still working, so you can warm yourself up with a fresh shower.”

The thought of a hot shower almost brought a grin to Twilight’s face. “Well, that’s something, at least,” she grunted. The hallway outside her room was a few degrees warmer, enough to make it less painful to stand on the tiles. Still, she wasn’t surprised to see the other patients looking as miserable as she felt.

The silver lining to the temperature problem was that nopony felt like talking, something Twilight recognized as a true blessing when Silver Glow took her position in line next to Twilight, her arrival preceded by a wave of fragrant perfume. The white unicorn mumbled something about the disgraceful conditions in between loud sniffles, but seemed content to avoid trying to drag Twilight into a conversation as they waited for their medication.

Twilight's shower was equally uneventful, and she found herself feeling faintly optimistic by the time Applejack came by to collect her. The previous night had been spent hard at work crafting a list of essential questions she needed answered, which she had then cross-referenced against the list of questions she might actually get answers to. It was a depressingly short document, but Twilight took that fact in stride.

After all, I have to start small, she thought as she followed Applejack through the sterile halls. The temperature grew more tolerable with every floor they descended. Focus on the little victories and keep working on your friends. Until then, just play your role as a good little filly. Twilight had told herself the same words a dozen times, but the need to repeat it was almost physical. She wouldn’t let herself get distracted. She had to save her friends to save Equestria. Nothing else mattered.

Twilight glanced over at Applejack. Not even my pride.

Driven by her determination and focus, the day went quickly for Twilight. Breakfast, group therapy, and even another class with Miss Trixie had all passed in a seeming blur.

Twilight looked up from her painting, mulling the thought over. No, she corrected herself, it didn’t go quickly at all. It dragged on like racing snails. There was just nothing to break the monotony. She sighed, turning her attention back to the mostly blank sheet of paper before her. It was another period of arts and crafts, and the teacher, Miss Toola Roola, had told them all that their goal for the day was to paint a landscape. Playing the role of the obedient, healthy filly, Twilight had slapped some green paint down to form a trio of pretty unconvincing hills.

Twilight rolled the brush around in her mouth. Still, there’s no reason to hurry. I’ve got a full hour to waste on this drek. She turned to the empty seat beside her, a twinge of annoyance teasing the back of her mind. The mental schedule she had created had set aside arts and crafts for Pinkie Pie. After spending most of her breakfast and lunch trying subtly to find out what she could from Applejack, Twilight had determined to spend a bit more time working on her pink friend, building up her confidence and breaking her out of her shell of self-doubt.

It was a plan that was sabotaged as soon as the two of them had arrived. Toola Roola had asked Pinkie to take a stack of papers down to administration, a request Pinkie had been only too eager to oblige. After putting a lanyard around her neck carrying a card marking her as a ‘Patient Assistant’ she had set off, the papers perched precariously on her back as she whistled a jaunty tune.

Twilight glanced away. It was only a temporary setback. Pinkie would return eventually. Besides, we still have dinner together. And considering how Fluttershy reacted during our last free time period, I’ll likely be better served spending more time trying to teach Pinkie chess again. Twilight smiled as she dipped her brush into the tin of green paint. Besides, if I don’t get to work, I’ll just draw attention to myself. The last thing I need is to attract–

“Twilight?” a familiar voice asked from directly behind her.

Twilight jerked her head around fast enough that she had to bite down hard on the end of her brush to keep it from flying out of her mouth – which did nothing to keep the globules of green paint from being flung straight at the speaker. Twilight lifted her wide-eyes up from the other pony’s paint-stained clothes to meet Toola Roola’s disapproving stare. With deliberate care, Twilight removed the brush from her mouth. “Y-Yes, Miss Roola?”

Toola Roola spared a momentary glance back down at the fresh stains on her smock before she turned her gaze back on the blushing Twilight. “You need to be more aware of your surroundings, Twilight. Otherwise, you’ll end up spending your class time with a mop and bucket instead of paint and brushes.”

Twilight felt a momentary rush of relief that her green missiles had struck Toola Roola’s already soiled smock, the heavy fabric bearing the scars of a lifetime spent in the possession of a determined artist. “Of course, Miss Roola.”

The art teacher rooted around in one of her smocks many pockets, pushing aside the protruding assortment of brushes and pencils and rulers and beads and string and feathers and misshapen lumps of clay. Twilight wouldn’t have been surprised if a family of mice were living within its grimy folds. Eventually Toola Roola found what she was looking for and tugged out a folded piece of paper from one of the cleaner pockets. She gave Twilight a thin smile as she held out her hoof. “This is for you.”

Reluctantly, Twilight picked up the paper. After making sure it wasn’t bearing any sort of disgusting stains or fungal infections – a reasonable concern considering the state of Toola Roola’s clothing – she unfolded the edges carefully. Twilight’s eyes widened again, this time in awe. It was a drawing of a pair of robins rendered in charcoal, but the detail was exquisite. Twilight almost expected them to leap off the paper and soar around the room, such was the impression of vitality they possessed.

“This… this is amazing, Ms. Roola,” said Twilight as she lifted her gaze back to her teacher. “I’m flattered, but I don’t feel like I can accept this.”

Toola Roola blinked. “Why not?”

“This is a really great drawing, but I don’t think you should give this to me. Wouldn’t you rather put this up on the wall with your other work?” Twilight gestured at the many paintings and sketches that hung from the walls. “Honestly, this is the best thing you’ve ever done. Everything else is so bland and pedestrian compared to this drawing. It’s the sort of piece that should be hanging from a gallery in Canterlot, not stuck on the wall of a patient’s cell.” Twilight gave Toola Roola a warm grin and held the drawing back out to her. “It’s a demonstration of your true talent, and I could never take that away from you.”

Toola Roola narrowed her eyes. “I didn’t draw that.”

The paper slipped out of Twilight’s hooves. “W-What?”

“I didn’t draw that,” she repeated. “One of my students, Fluttershy, left a note saying she wanted me to give this to you the next time you were here.”

“Oh.” A crimson warmth burned Twilight’s cheeks. She tapped her hooves together nervously. “I, uh, I d-didn’t mean that–”

“If you’ll excuse me, I have other students to attend to,” interrupted Toola Roola. She lifted her head as she glared down at Twilight. “Hopefully, they won’t end up being as bland and pedestrian as I am.”

Twilight’s mouth flapped uselessly as Toola Roola spun on her hooves and strode away with her nose in the air. “Sorry!” Twilight squeaked after her to no avail. Twilight turned back to the table and buried her blushing face in her hooves. “I’m such an idiot,” she groaned. “How could I be that dense? Why did I assume that Fluttershy’s drawing was… was…” Twilight lifted her head from her crossed forearms. “Fluttershy’s… drawing?”

The two fillies at Twilight’s table yelped as Twilight knocked her stool aside and dropped to the floor. “Where is it?” she gasped as she dove beneath the table, pushing aside dust covered boxes of art supplies. “Where is it? Where did it go?” A flash of white caught her eye, and Twilight pulled the drawing free from the spot it had landed with a cry of victory. It was followed immediately by a cry of pain when she jumped to her hooves and banged her head on the underside of the table, causing the two fillies to yelp again.

“Are you okay, Twilight?” the pegasus on the left asked when Twilight reappeared.

“I’m… fine…” Twilight managed through her clenched teeth, tears leaking from the corners of her eyes. She clutched the base of her horn while groping blindly for her stool with her free hoof, sitting down heavily once she managed to pull it upright. “I just… I need a minute,” she added as she cradled her throbbing head. She wiped away her tears. I am going to buck the teeth out of whoever decided to make horns so sensitive.

Eventually the spike of agony that had been drilling its way through her skull faded away to something comparable to the sting from a ten-pound bumble bee. Focus, she told herself sternly, forcing her mind away from the pain in her forehead and onto the paper that lay on the table before her. The knowledge that it had been a gift by Fluttershy was a greater balm to her aches than any medication. I can’t believe it. I really did make contact with her, she thought with a smile. She must have liked my drawing enough that she felt like she needed to give me one back. Birds must be the key! If I can just keep focused on birds and animals and all the other adorable things Fluttershy cares about, I’ll be able to make progress with her and help to remind her of… of…

Twilight’s smile slipped. What, remind her of the real world? Nopony is going to believe me if I tell them the truth too soon. How am I going to cure Fluttershy in time if I’m stuck communicating through the medium of arts and crafts?

She tapped her hoof against the table as she let some of her frustration bleed away. Okay, I need to stay positive. Focus on what I can do. She glanced from Fluttershy’s inspired drawing to her own green-smeared sheet of paper. She reached out to pull a tin of paint closer, narrowing her brow in determination. Sometimes, you just have to be patient and work with what you’ve got. Twilight grinned around the brush held in her teeth. And if she likes birds, then I’m going to give her birds!

“Twilight! Wait up!” Pinkie Pie called out as she galloped after her friend, her scarred leg giving her an unbalanced gait.

“I can’t!” Twilight answered over her shoulder as she pounded down the hallway, ignoring the looks of surprise on the faces of other patients as she passed them. “We’re late!”

“Late for what?” gasped Pinkie, huffing heavily as she closed the distance. “I mean, I know how awesome free time is, but you should really slow down. What if Nurse Rat–”

“Twilight Sparkle, stop running this instant!”

The new voice reverberated along the walls, the resolve and command in the words locking up Twilight’s legs, bringing her to a sudden and ungainly halt. A glaring Nurse Ratchet stomped her way over to Twilight, her assistant Silas dutifully following two steps behind. He was a head taller than the mare and built like a draft horse, but Nurse Ratchet seemed to dwarf everyone else in the hallway’s tight confines, a mountain of granite with a nurse’s cap.

Twilight gulped. “H-Hello Nurse Ratchet,” she said with a weak grin.

“What are you doing running in the halls?” Nurse Ratchet asked as she strode up to Twilight, cold fury burning in her eyes. She didn’t yell. Her voice was like an avalanche in the distance; cold and dangerous and impossible to ignore. Twilight shrank away as Nurse Ratchet pushed her muzzle uncomfortably close to her own. “You know the rules. No running allowed!”

“And you!” she hissed as she spun to face a cringing Pinkie Pie. “I’m ashamed of you, Pinkie Pie! You know better than to allow other patients to run in the halls. A pony could end up hurting themselves. You wouldn’t want to be responsible for hurting somepony, would you?” Pinkie whimpered and shook her head. “Would you?”

“No!” choked out Pinkie, her voice breaking like dry twigs under a heavy hoof.

“You’re a patient assistant. Start acting like it.” Nurse Ratchet glanced between the two cringing patients, her heavy gaze weighing down upon their shoulders. “If I ever catch either of you running around like that again, you’re both going to be punished. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, Nurse Ratchet,” Twilight answered. Pinkie Pie’s response was a muffled echo of her own. “I promise it won’t happen again.”

“Good. Now both of you walk – walk – like all the other good patients.” Nurse Ratchet watched carefully as Twilight took a few timid steps away from her. After putting a few body lengths between them Twilight turned and hurriedly walked away from the nurse.

“There is something seriously frightening about that mare,” said Twilight to Pinkie once she was sure they were a safe distance away. “She’s just the head nurse here, but whenever she gets that really cold look in her eyes…” Twilight shivered. “It seems irrational, though. What sort of punishment can she honestly give to a hospital patient?” She forced herself to laugh. “Right, Pinkie?”

Silence.

Twilight frowned and turned to look at her friend. “Pinkie? Are you alright?”

“... ‘m n-not a bad pony...” Pinkie Pie mumbled to herself, her unblinking eyes staring through the walls at some distant point on the horizon. Tears trickled down her cheeks unchecked, her hooves rooted to the floor. “I'm not a bad pony… I'm not a b-bad pony...”

“Pinkie? Pinkie, look at me,” Twilight said, grabbing her friend’s chin and turning her head so she could look Pinkie in the eye. “You’re not a bad pony, Pinkie. Okay? You’re a great, wonderful, amazing pony. Just listen to my voice. You’re not a bad pony.”

Pinkie Pie flinched when she finally met Twilight’s stare, her vacant gaze dissipating like a morning mist in a stiff breeze. “We shouldn’t have done that…” Pinkie whispered, nibbling on her lower lip. “I don’t want to be punished. I don’t want to be a b… don’t wanna get in trouble.”

The corners of Twilight’s lips pulled down. “What sort of punishment can she honestly give you for running in the halls once?”

Pinkie shook her head as she brushed her tail with unsteady hooves. “Nurse Ratchet can be really mean if you break the rules. Normally she’s not that bad, even if her smiles are fakey-fakes and she doesn’t ever laugh.” Pinkie turned to glance up and down the hall to make sure nopony else was in earshot, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “But if you break a rule, though, she gets really upset. She just…” A shiver worked its way up Pinkie’s spine. “She just doesn’t like it when ponies break the rules.”

“Oh, come on, it can’t be that bad,” Twilight scoffed, putting as much confidence as she could into her words and ignoring how the hairs on the back of her neck were all standing on end. “After all, we’re just names on a checklist to them.”

“Honestly Twilight, you don’t wanna find out!” repeated Pinkie, the color draining from her face. “Especially after all that super secret stuff you told me about the, you know… Elements-ey of Armony-hay. So just take my word on it. Please?”

“Alright, alright. I’ll try to avoid ending up on her bad side,” Twilight promised as the two mares resumed their walk.

The travelled in silence. With her tail still tucked in tight beneath her body and her ears held tightly to her skull, Pinkie looked like nothing more than a dog well used to the kicks of its master.

Twilight couldn’t stand the pathetic sight any longer. “Hey, Pinkie, I didn’t want to show it to you at dinner, but I’ve got something amazing for you to look at.” Carefully, Twilight removed the charcoal drawing from her vest pocket with her teeth and held it out for Pinkie. “Take a look at this.”

Pinkie Pie’s eyes popped open. “Wow!” she gasped. “That’s… that’s amazing! Did you do this?”

“No, I didn’t draw it. Fluttershy did, and she gave it to me.”

“That’s fantastic! So, are you like friends now? Did you meet with her in arts and crafts class? Come on, tell me everything!” Pinkie asked excitedly, her face split with a sunny grin that melted the last of her despair.

“No, no, I don’t think you can call us ‘friends’ just yet. I haven’t seen her in person all day either, and I’ve been looking,” said Twilight as she returned the drawing to her pocket. “That’s why I barely had time to talk to you at dinner. I spent the entire period looking around for her. Applejack started to ask if I was feeling okay because of all the bathroom breaks I asked for. I’m certain I double checked every table, yet somehow I still missed her. How is that possible?”

Pinkie shrugged. “That’s because she eats her meals in her room.”

“Ah. That would make it hard to find h–” Twilight nearly choked. “Wait, she what?”

“Yeah, Fluttershy doesn’t eat in the cafeteria. One of the nurses brings her meals up to her room. Every few months they try to get her to eat with the rest of the patients, but… Well, she just sits there and gets really skinny and they end up putting her back in her room each time.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this earlier?” groaned Twilight.

Pinkie Pie smiled. “Because you didn’t ask, silly!”

She gave Pinkie a flat stare. “It was a rhetorical… You know what, never mind. I learned my lesson. If I want to know something about somepony, I’m going to make sure to ask you first, okay?”

“Okie-dokie!”

Despite having been forced to walk the most of the distance, the two mares still managed to arrive at their destination with plenty of time to spare. As expected, Pinkie Pie was eager to help once Twilight finished explaining her plan. Taking up their previous position by the chessboard, Twilight removed the two sheets of paper from her pockets and laid them atop the checkered wood. The first was Fluttershy’s gift. The second was her own painting; a non-toxic weapon in her war against Fluttershy’s social anxieties.

As Twilight carefully smoothed out the wrinkles with her hoof she caught Pinkie giving the painting a concerned look. “What? What is it?”

“You don’t think that maybe, I dunno, she might be a little upset if you give her that? I mean, her drawing is really amazing, and that’s just a picture of a moose.”

“Moose!” sputtered Twilight. “It’s not a moose! It’s...” Closing her eyes, she took a deep breath. “Look, Miss Art Critic, she liked the last painting I did just fine. Now, keep a look-out for me while I try to straighten this out.” First impressions were everything, after all, and keeping the paper folded up in one of her vest pockets didn’t do much for the visual quality of her painting. With deliberate care she ran her hoof along the creases as if ironing the wrinkles from a dress.

By the time Pinkie Pie nudged her to get her attention, Twilight was confident her painting was as good as it was going to get. “There she is,” Pinkie whispered. Turning her head to follow Pinkie’s gaze, Twilight watched Fluttershy slink around the walls of the room, keeping as much distance as she could between herself and any nearby ponies, her mane acting like a pink shield to protect her from any unwanted attention.

Twilight waited until Fluttershy took her customary place by the window before turning back to her friend. “Okay Pinkie, here’s the plan. I’m going to do what I did yesterday, come up to her, offer her the painting, say a few words, and hopefully draw her into some kind of a conversation centered around birds. Thoughts?”

“Well, I don’t think it’s gonna work.”

“What do you mean? She created this wonderful picture and left it for me,” Twilight countered, tapping her hoof against the charcoal drawing. “I think I’m making excellent progress with her.”

Pinkie shrugged. “Well, if you think so. I just don’t think you’re gonna get her to start talking with you after just one day. I mean, doesn’t it seem like you’re going a bit fast?”

“I have to move fast! The princesses are counting on me!” Twilight snapped, nostrils flaring. She took a few deep breathes as she reigned in her anger, Pinkie’s words sinking into her mind. “Alright, I see your point. I won’t push her too hard. I’ll still try to start a conversation, but if she doesn’t respond, I’ll back off. Okay?”

After Pinkie nodded her assent, Twilight gathered up her painting and ambled away from their table, the paper resting flat on her back. She took a deliberately circuitous path around the intervening obstacles, looping back around so she could approach Fluttershy in clear view of her friend. Twilight’s mind went back to one of the books she had read the previous night about body-language. Move slowly to display a calm demeanour, but not so slow as to suggest ulterior motives. When approaching someone, be aware of where you are looking. Staring forcefully at your target is a challenging display that can create conflict, while avoiding looking at them entirely is both false and insulting. Stay relaxed but determined.

Fluttershy’s eyes flicked over to Twilight as she drew closer. With a soft squeak Fluttershy turned back to the window, her wings flickering with faint distress. As she drew closer Twilight repeated the lessons in her head again, giving Fluttershy a friendly smile that was not clownishly big or sarcastically small. She could tell Fluttershy was still carefully watching her from the corner of her eyes, shivering faintly as she shrank away from the approaching unicorn. Pinkie Pie’s doubts seemed much more astute the closer Twilight got, and Twilight made sure to halt a little further away from Fluttershy than she had originally intended, just in case.

“Hello, Fluttershy,” Twilight said, reading from the top of the mental script she had composed earlier. “I’m Twilight Sparkle, and we met yesterday. I’m the one that gave you the painting of the bird. Miss Toola Roola gave me that drawing you did, and I was really impressed. That was one of the best drawings of two Erithacus rubecula I’ve ever seen.”

Although she continued to stare ahead like an anxious gargoyle, Fluttershy’s ears twitched in Twilight’s direction as she spoke. Twilight took it as a sign to continue. “It was a really great present, and I wanted to give you something in return.” Grabbing the corner of her painting in her teeth Twilight advanced on Fluttershy slowly, ignoring the increasing tremors working their way up Fluttershy’s body. She halted only once she was a few steps closer to Fluttershy than she had managed the previous day. Laying the paper out carefully on the floor Twilight retreated back a few steps. “I thought that since we both really like birds, and I’d like to be your friend, maybe we could discuss them sometime? If that’s alright with you, I mean.”

Twilight kept a firm hoof on her sense of unease and annoyance at Fluttershy’s continued silence. Again, Pinkie Pie’s words of caution flashed through her mind, and Twilight had to admit that even though Fluttershy wasn’t shaking as much as she had yesterday, it wasn’t much cause for celebration. Still, Twilight smiled again. “Well, I know you’re busy, so I’ll leave you alone for now. But I want you to have this painting of a Tyto alba I did for you. I hope that you like it, even though you’re a much better artist than I am. And, uh, I’d love to talk with you sometime. Or if you don’t like that, you can just give a note to Toola Roola or Doctor Applejack, and they’ll make sure they get to me. So… goodbye, then!”

After hesitating for a moment in vain hope her friend would respond verbally Twilight turned around and casually walked away, fighting the urge to look back and see if Fluttershy had taken the bait. She had to let Fluttershy respond on her own, and obsessively watching her was not the way to break through her shell.

Twilight ignored the look the orderly gave her as she passed by his precious radio, the soothing sounds of a small jazz band helping to wash some of her own anxieties away. There was a faint pop from one of the speakers as the music fizzled for a moment.

“... Tw… ight?”

She almost tripped over her own hooves. Twilight spun around to stare back at the radio as the music warbled and fluctuated, a few discordant notes making it through the hissing static, as if the wooden box was filled with a nest of agitated vipers.

“Stupid thing,” the orderly grunted, banging a hoof against the metal grill on top. There was a second pop and the static vanished, replaced by the same soothing notes as before. He caught Twilight’s eye and gave her a faintly apologetic smile. “Heh, sorry about that, kid. Sometimes you just need to give these things a little hoof-power to get them working again.”

“I, uh, I understand,” Twilight said, barely even looking at him. She lingered by the radio until the next song began, the music as clean as before. Turning away, she made her way towards Pinkie Pie, her friend’s face split in a wide grin.

“So, how did it go?” Pinkie asked, leaning across the chessboard.

Twilight blinked. “Oh. It went well.” Pushing what she thought she had heard from her mind, she gave Pinkie a firm nod. “You were right, she wasn’t prepared to have a full conversation with me, but I think I definitely am making progress. She didn’t seem to shake as much or look like she was about to have a heart attack, and she looked like she was listening to me.” She signed. “But if yesterday is anything to go by, then I won’t be able to gauge my success until tomorrow. It could still all be a waste of time.”

“Hey, I don’t want to see you making a grumpy face,” Pinkie declared. “You’ve done a lot! I mean, except for Rainbow Dash or a few of the doctors, you’ve come the closest to getting Fluttershy to talk. That’s something to be proud of! And to celebrate, I think we should play a game.”

Twilight flinched. “Uh, Pinkie, I’d rather not play chess again. Can’t we–”

Her words were cut off when Pinkie slammed a worn box against the board. “Not chess, silly billy! You got to pick the game yesterday, so now it’s my turn. And today we’re gonna play one of my favorite games.”

Twilight’s face fell as she read the faded letters aloud. “Candy World. A magical adventure for foals aged four to eight.”

“Yeah, it’s absolutely funnerific!” Pinkie said as she whipped the top off the box. “It’s got this really cool setting, and there are lots of really really awesome places you get to visit.”

“Pinkie, this game is for little foals. I mean, there’s no counting, no reading, and no strategy. You win based around what cards are drawn at the very start. That’s it.”

She smiled. “I know! That means no matter how good or bad somepony is at games, they can still end up a winner.”

Twilight opened her mouth to protest, but all that escaped was another sigh. “Alright, I’ll play,” she said, her surrender causing Pinkie to squeal with delight.

“Goody! Now, you just sit there for a second while I get the game set up, okay?”

Twilight rolled her eyes but agreed, letting Pinkie get to work. She glanced over at Fluttershy, unsurprised to see her in the same place as before. The corners of Twilight’s mouth turned upwards when she noticed the folded up piece of paper poking its head out of one of Fluttershy’s pockets. She allowed herself a wry smile. Well, at least I have something to look forward to tomorrow.

It was a refreshing sensation.

For all the futility in the act, she couldn’t help herself. Twilight had to be sure. Once again she carefully went down the rows of worn and battered books, pulling each one from the shelf and flipping through it before returning it to its home. Even with the air conditioning system working again she still felt like she wanted to wrap a blanket around herself, a cool sense of apprehension crystallizing in her gut.

The lack of medical books was logical, if infuriating. The staff didn’t want their patients feeding their delusions or paranoia – or double checking if what the doctors said was true. But as Twilight scanned around the hundreds of books that covered her walls, it seemed impossible that there wouldn’t be a single record of modern Equestrian history.

After hoofing through the yellowed pages of some frightfully out-of-date encyclopedia on the flora and fauna of the Everfree Forest she slammed the book shut and shoved it back into its slot. Two nights, she’d spent at her task.Two nights of searching through every book in her room, hoping one of them had a misleading title or held another text within an empty cover. It was two nights wasted.

“Wasted,” she repeated aloud as she sat down in front of her desk. She’d cleared some space for herself, but the loose stacks of books that had been on the table when she had first arrived were still there. They were mocking her, their stories of ancient history making the lack of a modern reference all the more glaring. She picked one up at random and began leafing through it, resting her head on her other hoof. It was an old textbook on medieval Equestria that seemed content to gloss over huge swathes of history with a foal-friendly font size. At the end of each chapter were a section of suggested study questions that were illegible beneath the heavy layers of pencil and eraser marks. The book was something she might have read back in grade school, its content far too simplistic to satisfy her intellect.

She sighed and turned the page. Anything was better than wasting what was left of her time engaged in another fruitless night’s search. It was maddening, not being able to find the answers when she knew there was a problem. They were keeping something from her, it was obvious. Hundreds of second-hoof books and discarded textbooks, and not a one covered the last five or ten years? Twilight snorted. Not very likely.

“Uh, Twilight?”

Twilight looked up from a painting of some great knight that one of book’s previous owners had set about improving with a pencil goatee and a half-finished word bubble. A blonde-maned pegasus mare stood in the doorway, her wings helping to support the burlap sack she carried on her back. Her orderly’s uniform looked one size too large on her slight frame, giving her a slightly disheveled appearance.

“Yes ma’am, that’s me,” Twilight said as she met the orderly’s gaze – a task made difficult by the mare’s lazy eye, which seemed to roll around aimlessly in her socket. Blushing, Twilight forced herself to not gawp like some country rube at a circus freak show as she made her way to the door.

The mare set the bag down beside her, either failing to notice or politely ignoring Twilight’s struggle. “I’ve got a letter for you, Twilight,” she said before she dropped her face down into the mailbag and began rummaging around. She smiled victoriously as she pulled a single white letter free. “See?”

Twilight’s heart jumped. She’d written to three ponies, and a response from any of them was enough to make her hooves tingle with anticipation. Resisting the impulse to yank it away and tear it open, Twilight let the mare drop it into her hooves. “Thanks.”

“All in a night’s work for third shift. I’d love to stay and chat, but I gotta get going,” she announced, gripping the burlap bag and tossing it up onto her back with practiced ease. “Tell Pinkie Pie I said hi, will you?”

“You know Pinkie?”

“Sure do. She’s a real hoot, isn’t she? She’s got a joke or story to tell every time I deliver her mail. She told me you were her ‘bestest best mare pal buddy buddy’ the last time we played checkers.” The orderly chuckled as she turned away. “Anyway, I hope it’s good news, Twilight.”

“Thanks,” replied Twilight as she flipped the envelope over in her hooves. Again, she resisted the urge to simply shred the envelope. Instead she held the plain piece of paper up in front of her. Her name, and the address to Broadhoof hospital, was scrawled out in pen on the front, but the return address was a simple stamp. Curiously, it was for a local address in Ponyville.

Twilight wondered which of her family members might have moved to Ponyville as she turned the envelope over again. She frowned. The top of the envelope was a thin open wound that had been resealed with a single piece of tape.

They were reading her mail.

It was a terrible violation of her privacy, but Twilight could barely muster an annoyed grunt. She’d predicted they would, after all. I was right to only trust Rarity with my letters, she thought as she checked the envelope for any other bits of data. Confident the letter didn’t offer her anything else, she finally opened the envelope and removed the folded sheet of paper within.

Dear Twily,
Wow, is it good to hear from you! It’s been awhile since your last letter. I was starting to get a little worried. Hopefully your treatment is going well and the doctors there are taking good care of you. You said that you sent a letter to mom and dad too, but don’t worry if you don’t hear back from dad for awhile. Dad’s on some business trip and won’t get your letter until he gets back in a few weeks.
I know you’re concerned about what is happening at the hospital and you might feel a bit scared and alone, but you shouldn’t be afraid. They’re working hard to help you get better. They are all good ponies there.
I’ve talked to my captain, and he’s decided to let me have next Monday off, so I’m going to come up to visit you a little early this month, okay? I’ll even bring a few new books for you to add to your collection.
I wish I could visit more often, but guarding Equestria is a real full-time job. But don’t worry, I’m perfectly safe. Your big brother is a tough stallion. Hopefully, if I earn that promotion I’ll be able to take off twice a month to see you. Promise!
Love from your BBBFF,
Shining Armor

Twilight read and reread the letter in silence, her face unable to decide upon just one emotion. Her brother hadn’t addressed any of her concerns about the hospital directly, he didn’t say anything about researching into Broadhoof’s public records, and failed to mention if he had passed on anything she had written to the princesses. It felt like he had simply ignored everything she had asked of him.

“Shining is coming to visit!” Twilight shouted, tossing the paper into the air and breaking into a grin. Her concerns and unanswered questions faded away as she danced with merry glee. When the intercom blared into life reminding her that it was lights out in five minutes, Twilight only laughed excitedly as she crawled up into her bed. Monday was still three days away, but Twilight continued to grin as the lights went out. Even the darkness couldn’t dampen her spirits.

It had been a long time since she felt so excited to face a new day.

Chapter 17

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Asylum

Chapter 17

Twilight felt like she was starting to get accustomed to life at Broadhoof. Each morning’s wake up call seemed a little less jarring than before. It was a regimented system that fit nicely with her own prefered method for organizing her daily life. Get up, make bed, take medicine, use shower, march to breakfast. It brought to mind the memories she had of Shining’s days at the military academy, which only served to cover the whole enterprise in a facade of normalcy. The shock and disquiet had faded. There is no need to worry, it whispered, this is all routine.

It made Twilight nervous.

I’m getting used to this, she thought as she swallowed her small cup of pills. Even the oral examination afterwards carried the taste of a routine annoyance like taking out the garbage, rather than the gross violation of her personal space that it was. A heavy but welcome weight settled over her shoulders as she forced herself to focus on that fact. It was better to be irritated and alert than optimistic and blind.

Still, Twilight had no difficulty giving Applejack a full smile when the doctor arrived to escort her downstairs. Having to play the role of obedient patient didn’t make Applejack’s freckled face any less welcome.

“You look bright-eyed and bushy-tailed this morning, Twilight,” Applejack chuckled. “Get a good night’s sleep?”

Twilight nodded. “Yes, all things considered.”

“Well, that’s excellent. Doctor Rose wanted to see you again this morning, and these examinations always go faster when you’re feelin’ better.” She gestured for Twilight to move ahead, taking up position abreast of her. “I heard you got a letter yesterday.”

“I did,” Twilight said as she watched Applejack from the corner of her eye, keeping her tone even and neutral.

“I hope it was some good news.”

“I think you already know that, considering somepony else read it first.”

To her credit, Applejack still blushed at the accusation. “Now Twilight, that’s just a lil’ security precaution,” she explained, her accent more pronounced as she tugged at the collar of her lab coat. “We have to make sure some patients aren’t gettin’ any contraband or nothin’ like that.”

Twilight halted and turned to look at Applejack. “That’s all, hmm?” she asked, the cold disbelief hanging heavy in the air between them. “You don’t read any of the letters while looking for contraband as well?” She had to keep the smirk from her face when Applejack averted her gaze.

“Okay, we do read the letters from some patients, but it’s still just a security matter. We have to make sure what they read isn’t going to upset them.” Applejack lifted her head, finally looking Twilight in the eye. “And for your information, no, I don’t know what was in your mail. Doctor Rose has the report, and I haven’t seen it.”

“Yet,” Twilight added as she tossed her mane back.

Applejack winced. “Twilight, it ain’t like that. You need to understand, we’re trying to help you, sugarcube. You might not like it, but it’s for your own good. We don’t want you hurtin’ yourself – especially now.”

Twilight snorted, her anger writhing around in the recesses of her mind, eager to be unleashed. As enticing as it was, Twilight only pushed back harder against her emotions, keeping them tightly caged. The honesty in Applejack’s voice was enough to sooth her temper. Whatever else might be going on, Twilight could be sure that Applejack believed in what she was saying.

Besides, Twilight was a scientist, and a scientist never let themselves grow upset over an experiment.

“If you say so,” Twilight allowed, although she softened her words by turning to give her friend a thin smile. The look of relief on Applejack’s face was palpable, and like her other reactions, was quickly added to Twilight’s mental notes. With every subtle test and every innocuous probe, Broadhoof’s versions of her friends revealed more of themselves to her. The fact that Applejack matched her real-world personality and temperament was a hopeful sign, but Twilight knew better than to jump to any conclusions. The hypothesis is sound, but I still need more data.

They traveled in silence, but as they passed down another unfamiliar hallway it became apparent that they weren’t headed to the cafeteria. “Uh, Applejack? Aren’t we going to get breakfast?”

“Sorry sugarcube, not till later. I told you, Doctor Rose wanted to give you a proper physical examination this morning, and that means no food until we’re done.”

I’m starting to regret having spent dinner searching for Fluttershy instead of eating, she considered with a huff. Her stomach grumbled in agreement.

Doing her best to not think about whatever the other patients were stuffing their faces with, Twilight focused upon mapping their journey out in her head, adding the hallways and intersections to her growing map of Broadhoof. The traffic was surprisingly light, a pair of nurses trying to get a screaming colt up off the floor the only distraction along during journey. The lack of activity might have been suspicious, but the fact that most of the hospital’s population was eating went a long way towards explaining the empty halls. Twilight groaned. Stop thinking about food.

Solid wedges of gleaming metal and polished steel rose up before them in the hallway. Bold red letters were painted across them declaring 'Restricted Access'. With their heft and bulk, the double-doors seemed more suitable for a bank vault than a hospital. Every step towards them brought a shiver racing down Twilight’s spine, images of what they might be protecting growing more horrible the closer they came. They were indomitable, inscrutable, oppressive, and overpowering.

They were everything their protector was not. Stationed just outside the doors, the lone guard in his wrinkled uniform snorted and jerked awake at the clip-clop of their approach, raising his head up from behind his small wooden desk. He blinked wearily and barely glanced at Applejack’s identification before bringing his hoof down on the button in front of him. The harsh clack of bolts disengaging was unable to mask his yawn, and he was already laying his head back down to the desk before they had passed through the opening. Looking back over her shoulder to watch the doors lazily swing shut, Twilight couldn't decide if she was relieved or disappointed.

The next door Applejack led her to was the burly cousin of the one imprisoning her in her room each night, the hinges reinforced and the window covered in thick bars. For a moment she felt transported into one of her Daring Doo novels, being escorted deep into the bowels of some mad scientist’s inner sanctum.

Twilight’s eyes lingered on the large dead-bolt on the outside of the door. She edged closer to Applejack as memories of her first moments in Broadhoof dribbled down the back of her mind.

“Doctor Rose?” Applejack rapped her hoof against the painted iron, a small placard on the wall marking it as Examination/Treatment Room 04. There was a soft click as the door unhinged its jaw and swung open. Framed in the doorway, the orderly Silas was even more imposing than before. With his broad frame and blank expression, he did a good job impersonating the door he was holding open.

“Oh! Uh, thank you, Silas,” said Applejack as the dark stallion stepped aside, allowing the two mares to squeeze past him.

The examination room was a simple space that fit her predictions closely: tiled floors, cabinets along the walls, and a gaggle of staff in clean uniforms. Doctor Rose, Nurse Ratchet, and two other nurses she didn’t know glanced up as Twilight entered, regarding her like something between a lunatic and a child. Twilight did her best to ignore them as her eyes were drawn to the large piece of furniture that squatted in the middle of the room. Planted between two rectangular towers of chrome was a hybrid of table and bed that looked incapable of doing the job of either. The padded examination table was bolted to a silver pillar and barely reached up to Twilight’s elbows – though the pedals around the base made it clear it was meant to change height as needed. Straps dangled down from the edges like the legs of some grotesque spider. She winced. The arachnid metaphors aren’t helping.

“Ah! Twilight, Applejack, so good to see you,” Doctor Rose said as he looked up from his clipboard. Two orderlies Twilight didn’t recognize circled around him and adjusted the table. Nurse Ratchet pushed a cart over to his side, the tray’s contents covered with a square of white fabric. Rose thanked Nurse Ratchet before stepping in Twilight’s direction. “Are you feeling well?”

Twilight watched Silas move over to stand beside the table, giving Twilight the same bored stare he always wore. “Yeah, I’m alright,” she said. “A little hungry, I guess. And a bit confused,” she added, eyeing the equipment.

Doctor Rose put on his most sympathetic smile. “I can understand that. Sorry for making you skip breakfast, but you can’t have anything in your stomach during an examination. It can affect the medication.”

“Medication? What is the examination, exactly?” asked Twilight, making no move to get any closer to the table. “And why would I need to be drugged before receiving it?”

“It’s nothing serious. I’ll be using magic and the electroencephalography machines here to get a reading on your brain’s activity, to compare to our pre-treatment baseline,” he said. “The medicine is to help you relax and keep you from getting anxious. We need you calm but awake so you can answer our questions.”

The color drained from Twilight’s face as she took a step backwards, the thoughts of being an obedient patient evaporating into subconscious mist. “You’re going to be looking around inside my head?” she asked.

“Oh sugarcube, don’t sound so worried. It’s nothing you haven’t gone through before,” Applejack stated, placing a hoof on Twilight’s back. “It’s no different than when a doctor scans your broken leg, or sprained ankle. Right, Doctor Rose?”

“Exactly,” he said, giving the other doctor a thankful nod. “I can’t use magic to, say, read your thoughts or anything like that. It’s just a simple procedure to look at how the electrical activity in your brain responds to stimulation while these machines record the data.” He tapped a hoof against one of the chrome monoliths that flanked the bed. Upon closer inspection, Twilight could make out the rolls of paper on their sides, resembling the sort of machines she herself had kept in the basement of the Ponyville library for her more involved scientific studies.

“I’m not comfortable with this,” Twilight said, shifting her gaze between the two doctors. “I don’t like the idea of anypony digging around inside my skull without knowing exactly what they are doing, and I don’t want to go through with this. Please.”

Applejack coughed. “But Twi, he just said–”

“I don’t mean just this! I mean the whole treatment!” growled Twilight, jabbing an accusatory hoof in Doctor Rose’s direction as she looked into Applejack's eyes. “No pony has explained anything about what he did to me in the first place. And I’m not letting him dig around inside my head until I know the details.” Twilight held her ground as Silas and one of the nurses took a few steps towards her, keeping her firm gaze upon her friend.

Applejack blinked helplessly a few times before turning to Rose. “Doctor, why don’t we just explain it all to her now, so we don’t have to keep going through this every time?”

He sniffed, adjusting his glasses. “I really don’t think now is the time for this sort of thing. You remember how she can get once she thinks she knows more than her doctors. I don’t want to end up feeding her paranoia.”

“If you explain the treatment to me right now, I’ll let you do the examination with no fuss,” Twilight interjected before Applejack could reply, a little louder than she had intended. “I swear it. I’m just… feeling so confused right now. If you can just let me know what this secret treatment is, it will help me relax more than any anxiety medication could.” It was a bold faced lie, but she didn’t have any other option. The straps on the examination table were there for a reason, and the severe look in Silas’ eyes made it clear he wouldn’t have any qualms about using them. If the examination was a certainty, the least she could do was try to get something out of the mix.

Doctor Rose fixed Twilight with a long, measuring stare before nodding in reluctant acquiescence. “Alright. Since you’ve shown remarkable improvement in your symptoms lately, hopefully your tendency towards paranoia has been reduced as well.” His face hardened. “But remember, you gave your word to Doctor Applejack and I, and we’re going to hold you to it. Understand?”

“Yes, I understand.”

“Good,” he muttered as he dropped his clipboard down onto the bed, his irritation vanishing behind his mask of vaguely benevolent detachment. He continued to stare at Twilight, like an artist examining a blank canvas, even after he began speaking. “The short explanation is that your treatment combines regular doses of medication designed to suppress the symptoms of your schizophrenia, like chlorpromazine, with a regimen of non-surgical treatments meant to help your mind process magical energy to stabilize your condition. Although we hope that it could cure you entirely, the primary goal is to manage the symptoms and reduce the dependency upon intensive care without having to resort to more… drastic and permanent measures.”

“Like what?” interrupted Twilight, glancing between Rose and Applejack. The two doctors shared an uncomfortable look.

“A keratotomy,” Nurse Ratchet answered flatly, sending a chill through the room.

Twilight blinked. “A what?” she whispered, hoping she had misheard the senior nurse.

“A keratotomy,” she repeated with the cold detachment of personal experience. “A dehorning. Surgical removal of a unicorn’s horn, along with the portion of the brain attached at the base, to control symptoms and make the afflicted easier to manage.”

“That’s barbaric!” burst Twilight, disbelief and horror dripping from her face. She turned to Applejack, a desperate glint in her eyes. “When you and Rarity were arguing about this, I thought you meant only in extreme cases! You can’t honestly think that cutting off a horn and lobotomizing unicorns is valid medicine!”

To her dismay, Applejack simply nodded. “It is terrible, but it’s also an accepted practice to most of the medical community. For some patients, it’s the only procedure that offers the… results doctors want.” A momentary burst of anger flashed across her face before she could collect herself. “You need to understand, Twilight, this is why the treatment is so important. We’re hoping that the patients under Doctor Rose’s care will show enough improvement that we can help end keratotomies. There is already a public movement to get it banned, but its hard to convince the average pony on the street when most doctors think it’s the best treatment available.”

Twilight shook her head in disbelief, unable to find her voice. She felt ill, as if they had admitted to using the death penalty or eating meat. This isn’t Equestria. There is the proof. Princess Celestia would never allow this sort of horror to go on in her kingdom.

“And sadly, they’re right,” Doctor Rose added as he began to clean his spectacles with exaggerated care. “With a pegasus or an earth pony, there is a predictable response to medication and therapy. A consistent dose of a medication will generally create a consistent effect within a patient. Unicorns are not so easy. Magic creates new factors, new risks, that make proper and consistent treatment difficult to achieve.” He lifted his head, giving Twilight’s horn a pointed stare. “It’s also why unicorns like yourself have to wear limiters: to reduce the amount of arcane energy reaching your brain so we can keep things stable.”

“I thought that was because you were afraid that if I didn’t have it on, I would attack somepony and teleport my way out of here,” she snapped with a bitter sneer, her anger slipping loose as she struggled to recover her composure. “Or because I’d just fry my mind if I even tried to use magic, since I’ve obviously never been trained how to cast spells.”

“That is only part of it. You don’t put a cast on a broken leg just to keep a pony from bending it whenever they want. It’s to make sure it stays perfectly straight at all times so it can heal properly. If we took off your limiter, your symptoms would get worse, even if you never even tried to cast a spell. The mere access to magical energy has a deleterious effect upon any treatment.” Doctor Rose sighed as he rubbed the bridge of his nose. When he returned his glasses to their perch, his deep blue eyes regarded her with soft concern. “Which is also why dehorning has been an accepted practice for so long. It’s a simple solution to a complex problem: if access to the arcane causes problems, then remove the access.”

There was a long, uncomfortable silence after Rose finished speaking, the room’s atmosphere oppressive and heavy. But as the shock faded from Twilight, it was replaced by a growing desire to hear more. The study of magic in all its forms was her true passion in life, and hearing theories about the arcane as they related to mental illnesses was undeniably fascinating. Even knowing they were probably as wrong as the world she was trapped in didn’t make a part of her eager to hear more.

In contrast to Twilight’s eagerness, Applejack’s expression was grim and somber, her eyes regarding Twilight in the same manner one would a friend who had just learned their grandmother had passed away.

Twilight cleared her throat, the noise breaking the silence like a thunderclap on a cloudless day. “So, how does your treatment actually overcome the danger posed by magic?” she asked Rose with even poise.

Instead of answering, he turned to Applejack. “How much time do we have?”

She glanced at her watch. “We’ve got plenty of time. You don’t see Wispwillow till after lunch, and the Canterlot Medical Board aren’t going to be here till three or four at the earliest. We can afford to answer a few questions.” Applejack gave Twilight a friendly grin. “Especially if it helps her trust us.”

He affixed Twilight with a hard stare. “Alright, but I’m going to make this quick, since we don’t have all day.” Only after Twilight told him she understood did he continue. “Now, the treatment has two distinct parts. The first is a combination of standard neuroleptics meant to fight the symptoms of schizophrenia. The goal is to put the brain into a normal state, or a near-normal state, where the symptoms manifest more rarely or in a less pronounced manner. My research has shown that the brain needs to be ‘tricked’ into processing information correctly if any serious treatment is to last.”

As he spoke a hint of pride slipped into his voice, coloring his professional tone with an undercurrent of self-satisfaction. It was obvious he enjoyed hearing himself talk, and as he gestured with his hooves, Twilight could see that he was warming to his audience.

“The second part is the use of magically assisted electroshock therapy to, in the layman’s terms, ‘reset the brain’. Which is a gross simplification and terribly misleading, but the basic principle is there. Using my machines,” he patted one of the shining metal towers affectionately, “to help us analyze the data, it is easy to see how the brain operates differently when under heavy medication versus normally.”

Twilight’s curiosity shrank beneath another surge of fear and horror. “You’re… you’re going to run an electric shock through my brain?” she gasped, giving the table a look of dread.

Doctor Rose’s brow furrowed in momentary confusion. “No, no, that’s the treatment. This is a follow up examination, to make sure it worked. You see, my research has helped to explore why unicorns are so difficult to treat. Electroshock therapy had been used before, and had demonstrated some promising results, but as with most methods unicorns generally saw little to no long-term benefit.”

He began to pace back and forth like a politician delivering a speech, growing more confident, more driven, more focused as he spoke, naturally drawing the eyes of every pony in the room. “Medicine has known for decades that the problem was tied into a unicorn's horn and their access to conscious magic. They couldn’t find a reason for why unicorns were so difficult, but they knew they had a solution, and were content to keep the status quo.”

He halted, the corners of his lips curling upwards into a victor’s smile. “I, however, found the key. It’s how the magic flows through the mind that is the problem. The medication we gave patients would alter how the brain operated, but it couldn’t do anything about magical energy. While pills could help a patient bring order to their thoughts, the magic was still as disorganized as before and operated in the same way, whether the patient was on medication or not. The passive magic moving through the horn was reinforcing the abnormal brain activity and helping to reset any treatment, and because magic is controlled on a innate, fundamental level, it is a self-perpetuating cycle.”

Despite his reassurances and her reinvigorated curiosity, Twilight couldn’t help but give the examination bed a few worried glances. “So, how does your therapy help fix what even medical science doesn’t fully understand?” she managed to ask, keeping her voice steady. “It doesn’t sound like you’ve discovered the key. We’ve known that unicorns all draw in magic differently for centuries. It’s part of why some unicorns are more magically capable than others. Wasn’t it already common knowledge that any adverse affects to the brain, either at birth or acquired later, could have negative repercussions on how a unicorn handled magic?”

Doctor Rose deflated a little. “Well, yes, it was understood that the manner in which a unicorn used magic reflected their wider mental state, but that’s not the point.”

“It’s like how a pony with memory issues will have trouble completing full spells,” offered Applejack as if reciting from a text book. “Or a pony with anger management issues often uses magic in a very blunt, aggressive manner. Or–”

“Yes, yes, exactly,” Rose interrupted, his smile slipping even further. “Because of the fact that we control our magic with our mind consciously, our brains greatly affect how we manifest that control. Intelligence, personality, mental illness: they all play a part. And yes,” he added when Twilight opened her mouth, “all of this was already known. But that’s not what I was referring too. What I discovered was that even with medication altering how the brain operates or how a pony thinks, the magic still behaves the same within the pony. A pony with anger management issues might learn to control their anger and cast spells as calmly as any other unicorn would, but how they draw the magic through their horn would still be exactly the same as before they underwent therapy. How arcane energy moves through the nervous system doesn’t change. It’s a hardwired pattern.

“And that has been the problem for years,” he continued, stroking his chin. “The flow of arcane energy into the mind continues as if the mind were still schizophrenic, no matter the medication or therapy. It is disorganized, erratic, and reinforces the pattern of brain activity associated with the schizophrenia. If you were to somehow alter how a normal unicorn drew upon magic to match how a schizophrenic does, over time they would begin displaying symptoms of schizophrenia. As long as a unicorn is exposed to magic, even passively, traditional treatment cannot work because traditional treatment cannot alter how magic moves through a unicorn.”

He gestured wildly with a hoof, his teeth gleaming as he smiled at Twilight. “But I’ve found a cure, because I’ve discovered a means of altering how a unicorn takes in magic at the subconscious level. I can use medication, magic, and electroshock therapy to make a unicorn draw magic in like they would if they were not schizophrenic, then they will be as treatable as any other pony.” He took a few measured steps towards Twilight, holding his head up proudly. “If I can keep magic from making a patient’s disease worse, then we will have a true alternative to keratotomy. If my new therapy translates into real results, then we will have revolutionized the treatment of unicorns.”

Twilight glanced around the room as Rose’s last declaration rang in her ears, surprised to see Applejack bobbing her head in agreement. Even Nurse Ratchet had a faint smile on her face as she looked up at Doctor Rose with an expression like a disciple before a prophet. “Uh, that’s… a pretty noble goal,” Twilight admitted, feeding Rose’s confidence. Something teased the back of her mind like the first few notes of a song she couldn’t remember, but she kept her expression open and calm. “So, if that’s all behind me, then what’s this examination about?”

“I told you, this is all to simply to test how your treatment is holding up,” he said as he turned back to the table. “We’re going to give you diazepan to help you relax, and then run a small current through your horn to see how the energy travels through your mind, replicating how it would flow if you had your limiter removed.”

She raised a protective hoof to her horn. “I thought you said you weren’t going to shock me.”

“We’re not,” he replied. “We’re going to apply a very low level of electricity to your horn to see if it moves through your brain differently than it did before your treatment. The last test showed very promising results, but again, the problem with treating unicorns has been the inability to find a permanent or long-lasting treatment. We need to document your progress to prove that my program is working as planned, and to make sure you are still healthy.” Although he gave her his best attempt at a reassuring smile, Twilight could sense a hunger beneath his words, ambition burning in his eyes. “Now, I think I’ve explained everything adequately,” he said, patting the bed, “so it’s time for your examination.”

There were too many questions racing through Twilight’s mind. She’d finally gotten a full explanation for what he claimed her treatment was, but for every question answered another took its place. Before she could voice any of them, however, she felt Applejack give her shoulder a soft squeeze. “Don’t worry, sugarcube, I’ll be here with you the entire time. I wouldn’t let anything hurt you. We have to get this done, though, so just save any more questions for the next time, okay?”

She wanted to resist, to ask more questions and demand more answers, but it was obvious from the expressions on both doctors’ faces that they weren’t going to give in. “Okay,” Twilight sighed, surrendering to the inevitable. Still, she couldn’t help but feel a bit satisfied. After all, they could have just strapped me down and drugged me without explaining anything, she consoled herself as she approached the table and its arachnid straps.

After downing another small cup of pills provided by Nurse Ratchet, Twilight gingerly climbed up onto the padded table and rolled onto her back. She did her best to keep her discomfort from her face as they strapped her down, trying hard not to think about how she had awoken the first morning at Broadhoof. There was a pneumatic hiss as one of the staff worked the hoof-pedals, causing Twilight’s table to rise into the air in short, jerking bursts. She tried to turn to watch the sudden flurry of activity around her, but a pair of hooves on either side of her head kept her muzzle pointed skyward.

“You have to keep still now, darling. We’re attaching the electrodes,” Nurse Ratchet explained as she pulled Twilight’s mane back, leaving the sides of her head bare. Twilight blinked as she looked up at the inverted nurse, the gentleness in her voice a sharp contrast to the cold, brusque demeanor she normally portrayed.

There was a soft warmth on the side of her skull as Doctor Rose’s muzzle appeared above her, the gel on the electrodes he was applying just above room temperature. Even with her head held in place, Twilight could still see the twin sentinels that stood to either side of her. She could see reflections of herself in the polished steel panels, the other two Twilight’s looking decidedly uncomfortable strapped to their beds.

It took her a moment to work some moisture into her mouth. “You’re sure this isn’t another bit of electroshock therapy, right?” she asked, trying to make it sound like a joke. No one smiled.

“That’s correct,” Applejack said from somewhere off to Twilight’s right. “We’re gonna be passing a very tiny current through your horn, but it’s not going to be painful or nothin’. It’s just to let Doctor Rose and the machines here get a picture of how the energy is moving through your brain.”

“So, if you’re not gonna shock me, why the straps?”

“It’s for a few reasons,” Doctor Rose explained as he moved to her other side and began attaching the second set of electrodes. “We need to you remain still and relaxed. The diazepam will help with any anxiety, but it can have side effects. Some patients get the odd muscle spasm or suddenly want to move around, and we need to keep them in place.”

“Is dry mouth a side-effect?” she asked, running her tongue around her gums.

“Yes. That’s perfectly normal. Now just stay calm and let the medicine kick in.”

Once he was done with attaching the electrodes, Nurse Ratchet released her hold on Twilight’s head. It was a fleeting moment of freedom, however, as another strap was pulled taut over her forehead, once again rendering her entire body immobile. She wiggled regardless, imagining herself to be a mummy from ancient history.

Doctor Rose leaned over her, close enough that she could smell the stallion’s cologne. Twilight giggled, then wondered why that had been funny. Her thoughts felt soft, like melted butter. She could feel his hooves on her horn as he fiddled with the magical suppressor. When he finally pulled away, there was a new weight on the end of her horn. Something heavy gripped the tip like a metal parasite, a pair of wires running to some third machine somewhere behind her.

Unable to glimpse anything else, her thoughts began to meander as time dragged on. I wonder if they do dentistry here. I mean, they have to give the patients access to a dentist, right? But is it all done in the hospital, or do they have to send the patients to a dentist in town? No, that would be silly. They’ve got a lot of patients here, and some of them are more like prisoners. I mean, I can’t see them sending me out beyond these walls. They think I did something bad too. Was this place originally a prison? It seems to be as big as one. But prisons have their own dentists. Maybe Broadhoof is too old to have a dentist's office, if it was once a prison too. I brush my teeth regularly, though, so its not like I really need a dentist urgently. When was the last time I saw a dentist? When I get back, I’ll have to ask Spike to check my schedule to see when my last check-up was. I don’t want to get any cavities. Wait, when was Spike’s last trip to the dentist? I think Doctor Colgate forgave him for melting her tools that one time Princess Celestia’s letter arrived early. How often does Pinkie Pie go to the dentist? She has to go a lot, considering all the sugar she eats. It’s been a while since I had something yummy from Sugarcube Corner. When I...

Doctor Rose was standing above her again, a curious expression on his inverted and mustachioed visage. Twilight blinked her heavy eyelids. “Huh?”

“I asked how are you feeling, Twilight,” he said in a rich, creamy voice. An image of Pinkie Pie making something rich and creamy and really messy flashed through her mind. Twilight wanted to giggle again, but she felt tired, so all she managed was an open mouthed grin.

“I’m feeling alright, I guess,” she slurred. “You know, you have a really nice voice, doctor.”

“Thank you,” he replied absently as he fiddled with a couple of dials on the shiny boxes on either side of her head. “In a moment, Doctor Applejack is going start sending a faint current through your horn.”

Twilight blinked, her face slowly contorting into a look of worry. “Is it gonna hurt?” she asked, licking her lips.

“No, it won’t hurt. You’re just going to feel a faint tingling sensation at the base of your horn.”

“Oh.” Twilight tried to nod, but the strap on her head kept her firmly in place. “That’s fine, then.”

“While she is doing that, I’ll be using my magic to examine how the electricity moves as well,” he said as he stepped back out of sight. “If you feel a slight pressure inside your head, that’s to be expected. We’re gonna ask you a few questions during our exam, so just answer us the best you can, okay?”

“Okay,” Twilight replied after a slight pause. It was worrying, the idea of having another pony looking inside her head, even if it was just to see how the magic moves down through her horn. Still, like a storm on the horizon, she couldn’t bring herself to really get upset about it.

There was a faint electric hum from just behind her head. “Now Twi, you’re gonna feel a tingling sensation, but it’s perfectly normal,” Applejack said from the same direction as the hum. “So just relax and we’ll get this over with as soon as we can.”

The hum grew louder. It sounded angry but muffled, like an agitated beehive on the other side of a wall. “Alright Twi. On the count of three. One… two… three.”

Twilight didn’t feel any tingling; it felt like cold lightning was drilling down into her forehead, a sensation that almost demanded to be painful, but somehow wasn’t. Twilight winced anyway. “Mmnn… that doesn’t feel very good,” she mumbled, her vision growing blurry.

“Don’t worry, sugarplum, you’ll feel better in a moment,” Applejack stated, her warm voice sliding over Twilight’s discomfort like a soothing blanket.

“Okay,” Twilight said again, her voice soft and tainted by her nervous disquiet. “I trust you, Applejack.”

If Applejack replied to her, Twilight didn’t hear it. The angry buzzing had been joined by the click-clack of the towering machines to either side of Twilight as they began to print out long streams of stuttering paper like overactive seismographs. Jagged mountains of black ink covered the spools of paper, documenting something indecipherable about Twilight’s mind.

Doctor Rose’s face appeared in Twilight’s field of vision as if by magic, his horn aglow with his own spellcasting efforts. As he had warned, she could feel a slight pressure inside her mind, as if someone were gently prodding her brain with an invisible hoof, but that didn’t seem truly accurate. It was alien and hard to define; less a physical sensation than a mental one, more akin to the thought of a hoof pressing against her brain than anything.

She felt the pressure shift a little as he glanced down at her. Floating in front of him were a clipboard and pen, although they were turned so she couldn’t see what he was writing. It felt really unfair, and Twilight frowned.

“Now, can you tell me your name?”

It took her a few seconds to process the question. “Twilight Sparkle, of course,” she answered, furrowing her brow.

He scribbled on the paper without looking at her, his pen held in his magical grip. She felt the pressure inside her mind vanish before reappearing elsewhere, like he were moving a stethoscope from one spot to the next. “Where were you born?”

“Canterlot.”

Again, he jotted something down on the unseen paper before shifting his mental probe. “And how old are you?”

“Nineteen.”

His pen froze in mid air as he glanced down at Twilight, his expression suddenly inscrutable. “How old are you?”

“Nineteen,” Twilight repeated as forcefully as she could manage, barely slurring at all.

He continued to watch her through his gold spectacles. The pressure inside her head increased. “Are you sure?” he asked

“Yes, I’m sure!” she declared with a grimace, her anger snapping its jaws as it slipped out of its bonds. The click-clack of the printers increased in volume as she met his gaze, their thin mechanical arms flailing wildly. “I know how old I am!”

Doctor Rose sniffed slightly, and the pressure relaxed before switching to a new location. He turned to look off to his side. “Let’s move up to stage two testing,” he said in the direction she assumed Applejack was positioned. Her suspicion was confirmed when the power running down her horn increased. It felt like little burning ants were crawling around inside her head, yet the unnerving lack of pain continued.

The questions resumed, and soon the sensation passed to irrelevance. It was hard for Twilight to keep track of them all, the multitude of distractions and sensations leaving her disorganized and barely able to focus on each question. Sometimes the questions would come rapidly, sometimes Doctor Rose would take what felt like hours in between them. Most were mundane questions about her past, with the odd question about her current health thrown in.

He’s looking for something, she thought, remembering her last meeting with Rose. Once again she could hear the hunger in his tone. Even as muted and stoic as he tried to keep himself, she could catch glimpses of his inner turmoil behind his glasses whenever he asked her about her past. There was a hint of confusion there, a seed of worry that seemed to grow with every question.

Yet she couldn’t find the pattern in his responses. When she answered in the negative about whether or not she had seen Spike or received any letters from the princess, the muscles in his face relaxed in a sign of powerful relief. His blue eyes burned with confident validation. When she confirmed that she was indeed in a hospital, had been there for days, and hadn’t been hearing invisible voices talking about her, he seemed to be on the verge of cracking a smile.

The questions only halted when one of the machines let out a whine like an injured animal before seizing up. “Printer’s jammed again,” one of the nameless nurses declared over the grinding of gears and the gnashing of stalled motors. “I think we had another electrical short. It must have done something to the toner cartridge.”

Dropping his clipboard on a nearby tray with an annoyed huff, Doctor Rose moved over to examine the machine himself. He played with the opening to the device, trying to pry it open. The nurse’s diagnosis was confirmed when the printer hissed and spat a stream of dark ink out over his hooves. Doctor Rose swore. Wiping his hoof on his labcoat, he barked a call for a technician while a nurse removed the electrodes from the side of Twilight’s head. The sundered tower was pushed out of her view, the nurses moving with it. She could hear the others gather around the broken equipment, their suggestions and observations blending together into the general hum of background noise.

Forgotten, Twilight had precious little to entertain herself with. She moved her bored gaze around the room from her stationary position, the walls holding nothing but a few emotionless cabinets and a single grated air-vent. Her thoughts were hazy and indistinct, leaving it hard for her to focus her mind. Even when the technicians arrived, it was only a fleeting distraction. Her ears twitched and swiveled as she tried to paint an image of what was going on by sound alone, but the incoherent mess of muffled conversation and dismantled machinery left her none the wiser.

Instead, she focused on the gaps in the ceiling tiles, amusing herself by finding patterns in them as if they were clouds. Memories began to filter through her mind, bringing up images of sunny picnics and lazy afternoons spent with her friends staring up at the sky. Pinkie Pie was the most imaginative. She’d see those and find something insane that somehow made sense too. Applejack was always practical, Rarity just saw more inspiration for her dresses, and Fluttershy always saw little animals. And Rainbow Dash just saw more work, she thought with a chuckle. We have to have another picnic when I get back. That would be great.

She glanced away from memories, turning her head as far as the straps would allow to examine the working device she was still hooked up to. The sides of the machine were like silver mirrors, and she could make out her smiling reflection in the polished metal. It had a faint fun-house mirror effect, which only made her chuckle again as she scrunched up her face into the silliest expression she could think of, sticking out her tongue and waggling it through her teeth.

Her reflection continued to smile back.

A cold chill passed up her spine as they stared at one another, her reflection’s grin growing wider as horror spread over Twilight’s face.

“Twilight…”

She was trapped, defenseless, frozen still by that dreadful smile. Her reflection’s mouth spread apart into a grotesque measure of mocking contempt while Twilight whimpered in desperate impotency, beads of cold sweat dripping onto her pillow.

“Twilight?”

Doctor Rose’s voice broke the spell and she turned her gaze upwards to find him looking down at her, his inverted face wearing a look of concern. “Twilight, are you okay?” he asked.

Twilight licked her lips as she glanced at the machine again. Her reflection was there, strapped to the table and looking back at her with nervous eyes. “Uh, yeah. I’m okay,” she said, her voice as dry as her mouth.

He glanced over at the machine and frowned, his expression agitated. When he finally turned back to her he wore a strained attempt at a reassuring smile. “Don’t worry. We got most of the data we needed. This way, we can compare your progress.”

Watching her reflection carefully, it took Twilight a few heartbeats before she registered what he was talking about. “Oh! Uh, that’s… good.” She pulled her eyes away from the mirrored surface. “So, are we done then?”

“Yes, we’re done for today,” he replied as he removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose. “It’s going to take a few hours to fix the other electroencephalograph. They’re wonderful machines, but… quite temperamental. New technology and all that. It doesn’t help that we’ve been having electrical issues all week thanks to the construction going on.” He returned his glasses to their usual spot. “Still, I’m quite pleased with today’s progress,” Rose added as he began detaching the electrodes. “We had to end early, but only by about fifteen minutes, which is not bad. You did well today.”

Twilight blinked. “You're… welcome?” She replied, her thoughts still muddled and foggy. Closing her eyes, she let her head rest against her pillow, leaving the doctor to his work. Even with the assistance of the nurses it took them some time to undo the rest of the straps, which she spent furiously not thinking about her twisted reflection.

It was Applejack who helped her up onto her hooves, supporting Twilight as if she were a drunk that had fallen off the wagon. Twilight might have been offended if she didn’t fear her legs giving out beneath her. Fighting back the wave of dizziness as she was partially dragged across the tiled floor, she managed to find Applejack’s eyes and smiled. “Thanks, Applejack.”

“Think nothing of it, sugarcube,” replied Applejack as she braced Twilight’s uncoordinated body, helping her to sit down in a nearby chair. “You did well today.”

Twilight waved a hoof in front of her own face a few times, giggling at the way it moved. She then switched to the other hoof for a few moments before looking back at Applejack. “I feel funny,” she stated with a child’s seriousness.

“That’s the medication wearin’ off. You’ll feel right as rain in a minute. Now, I want you to just sit here until I come to get you.”

“Okay.”

Twilight watched Applejack trot over to Doctor Rose and Nurse Ratchet before returning her attention to her forelegs. She giggled as she waved one, then the other. It’s like my arms are in molasses! She knew it was silly and foalish of her to be so enthralled, but it really did feel like her whole body was stuck in an invisible layer of molasses, the sense of movement not syncing up with her other senses.

Over time even that wondrous sensation grew stale, and Twilight soon found herself glancing around the room as boredom once again settled over her.

There were a group of new ponies at the far side of the room, their tool belts and stained work clothes a sharp contrast to the clinical staff’s crisp uniforms. They stood around the carcass of a slain metalic beast, the circuits and wires of the broken device pouring out from the removed panels like electronic viscera. She watched them work with a morbid curiosity, but this too became less compelling with time.

It didn’t help that she felt a pressure behind her horn like an impending migraine that just couldn’t get started. “Applejack, could I get something for my headache?” she whined as she rubbed her forehead even harder, the sensation exceedingly uncomfortable without passing the threshold into outright pain.

“What do you mean it’s no cause for alarm?”

Twilight glanced up at her friend’s sharp voice. Although she had her back to Twilight, it was clear from Applejack’s stance and the quick flicks of her tail that she was far from pleased.

“If memory issues and continuing delusions aren’t cause for alarm, then please tell me what is,” Applejack said, a slight tremble in her voice marking her efforts to keep her tone as polite as possible.

The target of her displeasure, Doctor Rose, looked taken aback. “I’m just saying that you shouldn’t be so quick to look for flaws this early in her treatment,” he said defensively. “The readouts show that her mind is processing energy in a much more coherent manner. She’s become more social, more capable of proper emotional response, and – most importantly – she’s stopped hallucinating. Honestly, how can you be anything but thrilled at our progress?”

“But what about her memories?” Applejack snapped.

He sighed. “As I’ve said, those should come back–”

“Yeah, they should come back,” she interrupted, “but they show no signs of comin’ back at all so far. Her delusions are all she remembers!”

“We both know that there were likely to be some issues with memories. Temporary amnesia and confusion about what was real is very common with these procedures. We’ve seen it in nearly every patient so far. But it is temporary,” he said as he lifted his head a little higher. “We have to give Twilight time, that’s all.”

“I’m just worried about her. Her and the other patients. This whole business with the delusions and amnesia, it’s just nothin’ like was predicted.” Applejack ran a hoof through her mane as she let out a long, anxious sigh. “But you’re right, it’s still too soon to tell. So, what did your scans show?”

“I’ll get you a copy of my report by tomorrow, after I go over all the data.” He glanced over at the streamers of paper he had salvaged from the machine the technicians had eviscerated. Nurse Ratchet was helping another nurse to roll them up into tight scrolls before loading them into a set of drab saddlebags. “Initial impressions are good, though. I think the treatment has worked better than we ever could have hoped for.”

Applejack waited expectantly. One of her ears twitched. “That’s it? That’s all you can tell me?”

“Describing to an earth pony what I read and feel with my magic is quite difficult to do” he said, a hint of steel entering his gaze. “It’s a very complex subject, and takes time to put it into words that non-unicorns can comprehend.”

“Horse apples!” she growled, stamping a hoof down with a soft crack. “I’m not askin’ for the sales pitch, Rose. I just want to give my patient the best care possible, and I can’t do that if you’re gonna just treat me like one of the orderlies. I’m well versed in the mechanics of arcane control in unicorns, and you know it. Just cause I grew up on a farm and don’t have no horn doesn’t mean I’m a moron!”

“Doctor Applejack, you forget yourself!” he hissed. He pressed his muzzle in close to Applejack’s, matching her scowl with one of his own. “Don’t forget that I offered you a chance to work here with me, when there wasn’t a hospital in Equestria that wanted another earth pony on its staff. I saw promise in you and went out on a limb, putting my reputation on the line by hiring you. Don’t make me regret that decision.”

Applejack’s ears flattened against her scalp. “I’m… I’m sorry, doctor,” she said as she glanced away, rubbing her foreleg awkwardly. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you. That was uncalled for.”

He pulled back, lifting his snout into the air. “Yes, it was.” His expression softened. “Look, Applejack, I know it can be hard for you. You’re dealing with issues I have never had to deal with. But don’t mistake my methods for disrespect. There’s a reason I wanted you to work with me on this treatment, why I wanted you as part of my staff. You’re the hardest working doctor I know, and as dedicated to your patients as anypony I’ve ever met. This is a chance for both of us to leave a mark on the medical field. When my treatment is demonstrated to have the results we’ve seen so far, it’s going to be with an earth pony doctor playing an indispensable role in its success. That is something you have to remember.”

Applejack nodded and offered another apology. Twilight watched him place a hoof on Applejack’s shoulder as he spoke, his face radiating sincerity and concern. He spoke to her of duty, of opportunity, of a means to fight the bias in the system by proving generations of intolerance wrong.

He’s lying.

The thought came from nowhere, formed whole and intact from the void of nothingness like it were a creation myth of old. Like any divine revelation, there was a sense of power and gravitas behind it that banished the fog shrouding her mind, rendering her instantly sober and alert.

Twilight blinked, staring at Doctor Rose as he spoon-fed Applejack more generic reassurances, his words draining the shame from Applejack’s body language. His normal mask of paternal care and wisdom was firmly in place, and Applejack wasn’t questioning it. It was an expression she was all too familiar with.

He’s talking down to her, treating her like she’s a patient. Twilight glanced between the two doctors, watching as they said their goodbyes. Applejack turned back to Twilight, leaving Doctor Rose and Nurse Ratchet to gather up the rest of the data. Twilight’s eyes wandered over Applejack’s face. He’s misleading her, distracting her, and manipulating her. How can she not see it?

“Feeling any better now, Twilight?” asked Applejack as she drew closer, nothing of her earlier altercation showing on her face. “We can head on down to the cafeteria as soon as you’re feeling up to the walk. I bet you’re just dyin’ to get some grub. I know I am.”

Twilight rotated her head to watch Rose stride out of the room. Just behind him were Nurse Ratchet and Silas, the latter wearing saddlebags filled with rolls of printouts. Applejack followed Twilight’s gaze, catching sight of the three ponies as they passed through the bulky door.

“He’s not telling you everything, Applejack.”

“What?” asked Applejack, taken aback by the sudden comment. “Who is?”

“Doctor Rose. He’s hiding something,” Twilight said, nodding in the direction of the departed ponies. “I could hear it in his voice when he was talking to you. I could see it in his face.”

Applejack blushed. “Ah. You, uh, heard that, did you? Well, it’s nothin’ for you to be concerned about,” she said. “The good news is that your treatment looks like it’s doing great.”

“Why do you believe him?” pressed Twilight as she turned to her friend. “He’s hiding something, it’s obvious. And he talks down to you! The Applejack I know wouldn’t let somepony treat her like an inferior.”

“Hey now, I don’t wanna to hear you bad-mouthin’ Doctor Rose!” Applejack interjected. “We have our disagreements from time to time, but I respect the stallion immensely. He’s forward thinkin’, progressive, and just wants what’s best for you and other ponies like you.”

“But he’s not telling you the whole truth!” Twilight said. She jabbed a hoof at the door Rose had passed through moments prior. “He’s keeping something from you! It’s not that hard to describe magic to a non-unicorn, and he didn’t even let you look at the data before he and his cronies scooped it up and carted it off. They’re probably doctoring the evidence now! Changing data and, and changing stuff!”

Applejack chuckled. “That right there is the medication talkin’.”

Twilight groaned in frustration. “That has nothing to do–”

She halted Twilight’s protest with a raised hoof. “Look, do you trust me, Twilight?”

“Yes, but–”

“If you trust me,” she continued, “then you’ll trust my word on a stallion I’ve worked with for years. He ain’t perfect, but he’s a good pony and a good doctor.”

Twilight pawed at the floor in frustration. “But he’s lying about something,” she whined. “Why can’t you see that?”

“Look, why don’t we go to the cafeteria and get some food, Twi? I’m certain a little exercise and a full tummy will make you feel better.” Applejack’s grin mirrored Rose’s, landing somewhere between sincere and condescending.

A loud growl from Twilight’s stomach interrupted her carefully planned retort, coloring Twilight’s cheeks red as Applejack bit back her laughter. Twilight satisfied herself with a sharp harumph of dissatisfaction. “Fine. But you and I both know that he’s not telling you everything.” Sliding out of her chair, Twilight steadied herself against Applejack. Once she was certain she wasn’t about to faceplant into the tiles she returned her attention to her friend. “Deep down, you know I’m right.”

Before Applejack could offer a counter, Twilight carefully set off towards the door on her own. She was groggy, annoyed, and a little bit dizzy, but she was determined not to look weak. She wanted Applejack to see the confidence in her trot, the resolve in her spine. It would take time, but she would convince Applejack that there was something else going on at Broadhoof, something she couldn’t keep herself blind to forever.

Still, despite her frustration with her friend’s stubborn ignorance, there was one thing Applejack had said that Twilight agreed with to the core of her being, and the certainty of that fact helped drive her onward even when her legs threatened to give way.

Lunch sounded really, really good.

“So your brother wrote you and said he’s gonna come by next week?”

Twilight nodded with the absentminded ease of someone basking in the warm embrace of a full stomach. Even an bland institutional salad was a banquet when hungry enough. “Yeah. Next Monday.”

“Well, that sure will be nice,” said Applejack as they moved together at a languid pace, the afternoon sunlight filtering through the mesh-covered windows along the wall, illuminating the specs of dust that drifted along in the hospital’s artificial breeze.

“I’m looking forward to it,” Twilight said with another nod. The soft ache at the base of her horn was reluctantly melting away now that she had something in her stomach besides water and medicine, and it was a blessed relief. When Applejack had offered her some painkillers, Twilight had been sorely tempted. After the anxiety medication had worn off, Twilight had felt every inch of the aches, pains, and gnawing hunger that her morning ordeal had left her with.

Just obtaining a meal had been its own ordeal. Those lunch-mares really hate doing anything early, she thought with a lazy smirk. It had taken Applejack leading one of the sullen mares aside and having a quiet conversation with her before they had so much as given either of them an apple to munch on.

Scarfing down their meals in the empty cafeteria and ignoring the glares the lunch-mares launched in their direction, Twilight and Applejack had finished in record time. Twilight had wanted to continue her earlier point, to try and make Applejack see that Doctor Rose was not being forthright with her, but the need to get something into her stomach before she either collapsed or vomited had dominated her focus throughout their short stay in the cafeteria. After cleaning their plates and dropping their trays off in the return slot, the pair had exited without a backwards glance. And promptly had no place to go.

Broadhoof was a kingdom where the timetable was monarch and the clock reigned supreme. Every patient’s activities were planned out in advance, their day drawn and quartered into neat blocks meant to provide stability and order. It was a benevolent dictatorship, an iron hoof in a velvet sock, forcing ponies to do what it determined was in their best interests. It was a regimented world unto itself, where all were subject to the whims of the all-mighty schedule.

Finding oneself outside the schedule was like being in limbo. Lunch itself didn’t start for another half-hour, and Twilight couldn’t take her place in her normal group therapy session without causing undue fuss and confusion that would only muddy the clear commands of the inviolate planner. The lunch-mares had demonstrated how the staff reacted to unplanned changes in their clockwork lives.

They were locked out of the schedule until the lunch period was over, with nowhere to go and nothing to do. Giddy with relief at having escaped the irritated glare of the lunch-mares and enjoying their un-planned meal, they had chosen the only activity they could engage in until the schedule said they could return: walking.

“Yeah, I’m really looking forward to it,” Twilight repeated as she shuffled along. The warmth of her mentor’s sun was pure joy after spending so long in the incandescent bowels of the hospital. Even the thought of a nap, something she normally saw as lost productivity, was not disagreeable to her. “I could really do with a friendly face.”

“You don’t think I have a friendly face? Are you callin’ me ugly?” asked Applejack with mock indignation, striking a pose that would have satisfied an opera diva’s need for the needlessly dramatic.

Twilight tapped a hoof against her chin as she judged Applejack’s muzzle carefully. “Well, now that you mention it…” considered Twilight, earning herself a playful jab in the side. She laughed. “But seriously, it will be good to see Shining. Even as… strange as things are, it will be good to have him around for a while.”

Applejack’s grin shifted as something warm and honest filled her eyes. “Family is important, Twilight. No matter how far you travel or whatever happens in your life, your family is gonna be there for you. Shining is a fine stallion, and I know he’ll be plum thrilled to spend some time with you.”

As they rounded a the corner at the end of the hall, Twilight turned to look at Applejack in surprise, then amusement. “You think my brother is a ‘fine stallion’?”

Fire blossomed on Applejack’s cheeks as she glanced away. “What I meant was…” Applejack’s words died on her tongue as she locked up.

“Oh, cat got your tongue?” Twilight teased, giggling like a school mare. “What, are you going to tell me you have a crush on my brother? Hmm?”

“Twi. Stop.”

The quiet and somber command was a mortal blow to their cheerful banter, leaving Twilight startled by the sudden shift in tone. Applejack’s smile had vanished, replaced by an expression of cold marble. Twilight followed the direction of her gaze down the hallway, her eyes settling on a familiar unicorn pushing a wheelchair. “Is that Rarity?”

Applejack nodded.

With her back to them, it was clear Rarity hadn’t noticed the newcomers. Pushing the wheelchair along at a sedate pace, the gentle coo of Rarity’s conversation with whichever one of her patients she was pushing echoed softly down the hallway. A confused grin spread over Twilight’s face. “Well, why don’t we go say–”

She was halted by a firm hoof on her chest before she could take a step. Applejack just shook her head.

“What? Why can’t we go talk to her and her patient?” Twilight asked, her confusion underscored by a hint of irritation. It was a perfect opportunity to work on her friend outside of their formal pre-planned meetings, and she didn’t want to waste it.

Applejack shook her head again. “No.” She pointed to another intersection between them and Rarity. “We’ll just take a detour and leave them be.”

The grave look in Applejack’s eyes deflated Twilight’s protests before she could even voice them. “Fine,” she sighed in defeat. Without a word, Applejack moved forward, Twilight following reluctantly in her wake.

The rows of windows allowed in a steady stream of golden sunshine that washed everything in an inviting yellow hue. With the patients in their scheduled locations and no other ponies around, it felt like they were in a pocket of serene calm, the only noise Rarity’s soft voice. Her words gained clarity as they drew closer. Straining her ears, Twilight deliberately slowed her gait to a mere crawl.

“... say something to those blockheads in Canterlot about our budget for this year, so hopefully we’ll be able to hire some new staff for the office. It is atrocious just how backed up we are! I swear, those bureaucrats and penny-pinchers just don’t understand how much effort is required in this job,” said Rarity as she pushed the wheelchair along, her tone as light and airy as if she were sharing gossip at the local teahouse.

Dragging her heels, Twilight ignored Applejack’s silent gestures to hurry up from the side hall.

“But really,” Rarity continued as she glanced out the windows, “that’s not important right now. I shouldn’t be telling you about my problems, not on a day this beautiful.” She turned the wheelchair towards the outside world, bathing the occupant in the warm rays of light.

An earth pony filly with a clean white coat and a shaved mane reclined in the padded seat. A stuffed bear sat in her lap, resting atop limp hooves, as she stared at the windows with an unfocused gaze.

Twilight narrowed her eyes, ignoring a soft hiss from Applejack to hurry up. She’d seen that foal before. She knew it. It was a certainty, a fact, stronger than anything she felt when she thought she recognized passing faces from Ponyville. Like a stubborn pet the filly’s name was sitting there, just out of reach but refusing to come any closer.

The filly continued to stare ahead blankly, a thin strand of drool collecting at the corner of her lip while Rarity rubbed her shaven scalp. “Doesn’t it look absolutely gorgeous outside? I wish I could just sit here forever,” Rarity declared before looking down at the filly. She chuckled, levitating a silk handkerchief from one of her pockets. “Oopsie. Look’s like you’ve made a little mess again. Here, let me get that, darling,” Rarity said lightly as she bent down and dabbed at the corner’s of the young patient’s mouth.

The filly shifted in her seat and gurgled something as Rarity wiped up the escaped drool. She lifted a weak hoof in protest before it fell back to her side, knocking the teddy bear askew.

“Now, now, there’s no need to be difficult. You’re just a little messy,” Rarity tutted as she finished cleaning the filly’s muzzle. Only after Rarity pulled the handkerchief away did the foal stopped fidgeting and resume her impassive vigil. “There. All better!”

The soft echo of her declaration was the only response. The filly continued to stare right through Rarity as if she weren’t there. Rarity’s expression hardened as a trembling hoof caressed the filly’s bare head, passing over the faded pink ridges of old scar tissue along her forehead.

Rarity forced a smile onto her face. “You’re still so beautiful,” she said in close approximation of happiness. “Such a beautiful mare you’re becoming. And as soon as your mane grows back, I’ll style it for you, just like we used to do back home.”

Twilight stopped dead, her breath freezing in her lungs, as the last piece dropped into place. Oh no…

The sunlight glinted in Rarity’s eyes as she brushed her hoof along the filly’s cheek. “Would you like that, Sweetie?”

Chapter 18

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Asylum

Chapter 18

Twilight’s hooves beat a rapid staccato on the tiles as she fled past Applejack, nearly trampling the surprised doctor in her haste to escape. She ignored Applejack’s call for her to stop, the voice of her friend only driving her harder. Unable to see much through her tears, she darted down hallways at random.

The heavier beat of Applejack’s pursuit grew louder in her ears. “Twilight! Stop running!”

Applejack was gaining on her. Twilight didn’t have to look to see – she knew the earth pony would catch her eventually. Years of watching Applejack and Rainbow Dash compete in every sporting event they could made it clear that she was not going to defeat one of them in a race. Escape was impossible.

She sped down the hall to her left, narrowly missing a wheelchair that had been parked next to another anonymous door. The logical part of Twilight’s mind, the part that knew everything she was doing was futile, noted just how empty this wing of the hospital was. Utility closets and unpainted rooms passed by in a teary haze. The strict schedule at Broadhoof meant everyone had a place to be and an activity to follow, leaving the halls vacant.

There was a crash and a shouted curse from behind Twilight, her pursuer unable to avoid the wheelchair. It would delay Applejack, giving Twilight more time to attempt her futile escape. Twilight changed direction, galloping down a unfinished hallway lined with ceiling tiles and paint buckets, ducking under strips of plastic and around orange cones.

Why am I running?

The question was inescapable, a throbbing tumor in the middle of her mind.

What am I running from? None of this is real. This whole hospital is nothing but a grimey reflection in a funhouse mirror. Applejack isn’t really a doctor. Pinkie Pie isn’t really a patient. And Sweetie Belle…

Twilight clenched her eyes shut as she slowed to a quick trot, tears dripping off her muzzle. She couldn’t finish the thought. The sight of Rarity’s little sister sitting like a lifeless husk had torn out ever fiber of her determination. There had been nothing of Sweetie in those dull and unfocused eyes, nothing of the cheerful little filly Twilight remembered. Twilight choked back a sob. They had cut out Sweetie’s very soul when they had taken her horn, leaving behind an empty shell of a pony.

It’s not real! Twilight shouted at herself, stamping a hoof against the unfinished floor. This is nothing but some twisted mockery of reality! Sweetie Belle hasn’t really been mutilated, just like you’re not really insane! It is a nightmare and nothing more. You just need to wake your friends up.

Twilight blinked away the tears as she strode past the construction equipment, the signs planted on the walls warning of dangerous power tools and exposed wiring. She gingerly stepped over a stack of plywood, avoiding the few upturned nails, as she worked to slow her breathing. The odor of primer and sawdust sat heavy on her tongue. Dust motes danced lazily in the light from the flood lamps mounted on tripods and hung from the walls, their hot glow illuminating gutted rooms and skeletal walls. Sheets of paper had been taped over the windows to protect them during the work, the only natural light leaking through the thin tears around their edges.

Doing her best to silence her sniffling, Twilight made her way through the detritus of the construction workers. It was obvious the laborers were not free from Broadhoof’s stern schedules. Wherever they had relocated to for lunch was far enough away that Twilight was left to wander in silence.

She tried to focus on the construction work, but her mind wouldn’t obey. Sweetie Belle’s empty expression lurked on every unpainted wall and in every flickering light. Like a rudderless boat, Twilight moved without direction and ended up in what she assumed was going to be an office of some kind, the mostly finished floor containing an unpacked desk and a few half-wrapped mirrors resting against the wall.

Exhausted, Twilight planted her flank on a relatively clean pile of wood. “Why would it do this?” she croaked, burying her head in her hooves. “Why do that to Sweetie Belle?”

Before the question had even left her lips, she already knew the answer. Because it wants to break you, she thought, remembering Princess Celestia’s warning. It wants to control the Elements.

It wants to make this all real.

A bolt of anger stiffened Twilight’s spine, cleaving through the sorrow clouding her mind. Lifting her head, she gazed around the room. “You’re not going to win,” she whispered with a sniffle. Twilight swung her head from side to side, glaring at every patch of shadow she could see, before she settled on her murky reflection in one of the mirrors leaning against the far wall. “I’m not going to let you beat me. I’m not going to let you make this nightmare a reality. I cannot – I will not – let you conquer Equestria with your evil.”

Twilight slowly rose to her hooves and advanced on the mirror, the determination and fire in her voice rising with her. “I’m not going to let you torture Sweetie Belle, or Rarity, or Pinkie Pie, or… or anypony! I don’t care what you try, I’m not going to give up! I’m the Princesses’ last hope, and I won’t let her down. I’m going to beat you. Do you hear me? You’re not going to win!”

Her question echoed around the room and out into the empty hallways. Twilight turned away and moved toward the doorway with her head held high, a statue of brazen defiance. "I'm not going to break," she whispered. "I won't let it win."

Just as she reached the doorway a small voice, quiet and calm but as cold as a winter night, answered her back.

"Is that what you think?"

Twilight froze in place, sweat clinging to the back of her neck. She turned slowly, her heart rate rising. Behind her, in the mirror, she could see her reflection, her face split in a broad grin.

Twilight wasn't smiling.

"You..." she began as she narrowed her eyes. "Yes. It’s not what I think, it’s what I know."

“Ha! So, the pony that uses her friends to get what she wants and hurts those around her is going to stand up to her spooky reflection, hmm? What are you going to do, break my mirror? Shout at the shadows some more? I’m sure there’s a cobweb around here you could tear apart,” her reflection said as it turned to examine one of its hooves with a nonchalant air.

Twilight took a deliberate step towards the mirror. “I’m not afraid of you,” she whispered.

“And I never said you were,” it hissed back, revealing two rows of malformed teeth. “It’s funny that you would bring up fear, though. We both know what you’re really afraid of. Like any fraud, you’re afraid of being revealed for the liar you are.”

“I am not a fraud! You’re impersonating me, you twisted freak! Everything you’ve created here, it’s all one big lie!”

“I’ve done nothing of the sort, Twilight. You’re the one that’s lying. You won't accept the truth, even as you mislead your so-called friends and use them to your own ends. You hold onto your fantasies of a life in Ponyville that isn’t yours, believing yourself to be Twilight the hero when you’re just Twilight the sick little filly.”

“I’m not sick!” Twilight shouted, stomping her hoof for emphasis.

The other Twilight leaned forward, its face filling more of the uncovered mirror. “Says the little filly arguing with her own reflection.”

“You’re not my reflection,” said Twilight with deliberate care, reining in her anger and resisting the urge to just buck the mirror apart. “You’re part of the dark shadow trying to break me. You failed to do it back in Ponyville, so now you’re targeting the ponies I know, hoping to find a weakness and make me give in. I’m here to tell you that you’re not going to succeed. Every time you show me another one of my friends who is hurt and suffering, you’re only making my resolve stronger. If I give in, then they will continue to suffer for the rest of their lives.” Twilight took another step forward. “Which means I will never surrender.”

She felt the thrill of a minor victory when her reflection leaned back a bit, the mocking humor vanishing from its face. Tapping a hoof against its chin, it examined Twilight with a critical eye. “What do you think this ‘shadow’ really is?”

Twilight blinked. “I… what? Is this some kind of trick question?”

Her broken twin’s expression remained still as she continued to study Twilight silently.

“You’re some sort of powerful monster, obviously. The level of magical power is extraordinary. You’ve already taken most of my friends, and you’re trying to use the Elements of Harmony to conquer all of Equestria.” Twilight’s eyes narrowed. “And you’re evil.”

“Evil?” her reflection repeated with indignity, holding a hoof to its breast. “Twilight, you injure me. I told you before, all I’m trying to do is help you.”

“All you’ve done is show me a world where my friends are suffering and everything I know is a lie! How is that helping me?”

“All I want to do is take your pain away, Twilight,” her reflection said. Its words were soft and gentle – a harsh contrast to the grotesque smile that was only growing wider, splitting her face in a meaty sneer. “You hold onto your delusions because you’re afraid of facing the truth. I just want to heal you.”

It was Twilight’s turn to laugh. “Heal me? Heal me? Ha! You talk about helping and healing when you’re just trying to break me so you can have the Elements to yourself.”

“I’m not trying to break you, Twilight,” it whispered back. “I wouldn’t need to, even if I wanted to. You can’t break what’s already broken.”

Twilight froze. “What?”

“You’re broken, Twilight. That is why you are suffering: your mind is not whole. I am here to fix you, to convince you that you’re a fraud, that you hurt other ponies, and to help you see that your friends suffer. That is the truth, Twilight. Your delusions are nothing but broken fantasies grafted onto a tortured mind by uncaring physicians.” The reflection narrowed its gaze. “Your doctors want to make you into something different, something false. They want you to believe another lie. I won’t allow that. I won’t let you live in a lie any more!”

A hint of curiosity floated up from the beneath Twilight’s anger like a bubble rising to the surface of a murky pond, but before she could say anything her reflection had moved on, its voice growing louder, reverberating around the room like a thunderclap. “I’m here to end your suffering no matter what. It might hurt, having the truth returned to you, but sometimes healing is painful. You won’t live in delusion and fantasy any longer. You’re going to see the truth!”

The disturbed dust floated between the two mares as they stared at one another, their brows furrowed in equal determination.

“You don’t seem to want to take my word for it,” the reflection said.

“Why would I trust anything you say? You’ve lied to me, mocked me, and tried to confuse me since the beginning. Do you think you can convince me I’m crazy when you’ve done nothing but spew blatant lies? Do you think I’m that stupid?”

Twilight’s reflection ignored the question as it pulled away, sinking further into the depths of the mirror. “You don’t trust the doctors here, either. Perhaps you just need a second opinion?” A cruel smile split its muzzle into two wedges of rotten flesh. “There is somepony else who can help give you the medicine you need.”

“Who? Another one of your illusions?” Twilight asked, taking another step forward. “Maybe you’re just going to try and show me more ponies I love suffering in your cruel false reality. My mother as a sociopath? My father as a quadriplegic? What new lie do you have up your sleeve?”

Mocking laughter was her only answer. Grinning at Twilight, her reflection winked. With a sharp pop, the bulbs on the flood lamps all burst at once.

Twilight stumbled backwards, drowning in an ocean of darkness. One of her hooves caught on the edge of the wood pile she had been sitting on earlier, causing her to spin blindly as she tried to find her footing. She let out an ‘oof’ as her shoulder slammed into one of the walls, her wild flailing keeping her upright and off of any nails through sheer chance.

Carefully planting her hooves beneath her, Twilight lifted herself upright. Her tail pressed up against the wall as she glanced around herself, her chest heaving as she tried to calm her panicked heart. Amber sunlight leaked through from the paper-covered windows, but the interior of the unfinished wing was a nearly impenetrable wall of gloom.

Twilight braced herself against the wall like an invalid, trying to steady her racing heart. “Oh Celestia…” she murmured, her rapid breathing the only sound. She gave one of the mirror a glare with as much of her annoyance as she could muster, but it couldn’t be located in the deep shadows. “Is that it?” she called out.

There was no answer to her challenge, only the echo of her angry voice reaching her ears.

Twilight snorted as she regained her poise. “Really? Your big trick was to cause the lights to short circuit? Wow. That certainly was impressive. You truly got the best of me! I guess I’ll just walk out of here and let you take over all of Equestria. Because nothing is more frightening than the lights going out.”

The sound of her own voice fading into the distance only made the darkness seem without end, but Twilight shook off the disquieting notion. There is no reason to be scared. It’s just a natural biological response formed by millennia of evolution, she said, taking comfort in the cold science.

Twilight’s smile faded when she glanced down at the floor. What faint light there was available was barely enough for her to make out the floor beneath her, much less any forgotten nails that were poised to take advantage of a defenseless hoof. The golden rays that pierced the holes and gaps in the paper were few and far between. “Maybe the shadow is trying to defeat me with tetanus,” said Twilight, filling the silence with a forced laugh as she cautiously moved forward, prepared to jerk her hoof back if she felt the sharp touch of cold metal in the half-light.

Twilight froze when the soft clip-clop of approaching hooves reached her ears. For a moment she felt both hope and fear that Applejack had finally found her, drawn to her by the sound of her voice. Her ears twitched as she tried to track the other pony’s approach. A frown spread over her face as she turned to stare at the distant corner of the room, her eyes searching the darkness as the hoofsteps grew louder.

Twilight kept her expression firm, fighting down the unease as her reflection’s words echoed in the back of her mind. She shook her head. Her ears had to be playing tricks on her, creating phantoms in between the unpainted walls and stacks of lumber.

As her pupils attempted to wrest sight from the grip of the shadows, the long, sharp beak of some monstrously oversized raptor emerged from the darkness, the rest of its equine form oozing out from behind it. Pulling free from the grasp of the shadows, it was clear the beak was naught but a porcelain mask shaped into a long and savage point, the gleaming ivory a striking burst of color in the dim light. Bulky fabric was draped over its torso while its lower legs were wrapped in tightly bound bandages. Not an inch of the pony’s body was left uncovered.

It – or rather, he, as Twilight assumed from his stature and size – strode towards her with a casual poise that seemed as alien and out of place as his appearance. A low hat was planted atop his head, its brim pierced by a pair of porcelain ears. Upon his back could be glimpsed a pair of bulging saddlebags, the heavy thread and crude needlework bearing the mark of frequent repairs.

I’ve seen him before, she realized with a start. It had been from a distance, but his heavy garb and strange mask made it clear it was the same pony she had seen when she had been outside with Pinkie Pie. Just like before, she felt a heavy sense of unease settle over her body, a cold, nervous tingle in her extremities that made her feel out of place the longer she examined him.

The stallion was a study in monochrome, the off-white of his mask and bandaged legs contrasting with the blacks and browns of his wrappings. Nothing was clean; the bandages were stained with mud and a fine layer of dust coated his entire body.

He halted a few yards from Twilight, his beak slicing through a few beams of dirty light that painted his mask a golden-brown. His calm posture and travel-worn clothing were a lackluster antithesis to the shock of his sudden arrival. Even his unsettling mask wouldn’t be out of place at a Nightmare Night costume party. It was uneasy confusion and disbelief, not true fear, that coursed through Twilight’s veins. He tilted his head to the side as they regarded each other in silence.

And then she looked through the holes in the mask where his eyes should be, and screamed.

Twilight sprinted for the open doorway and took off back the way she had come, heedless of the ankle-high equipment and the discarded nails. Crates of tiles and trestles stacked with wood loomed up out of the darkness, the pale light drifting through the covered windows giving little warning before she was forced to dodge to avoid a collision. She ran without direction once again, aiming to put as much distance between herself and that thing as possible.

Twilight could feel the empty pits in its mask just behind her, the stallion gaining on her despite how hard she ran. There was no escape. It was going to get her, and she was going to fall into those bottomless holes in its face and never escape.

Twilight tried to draw magic into her horn with heedless abandon, instinct demanding she try to protect herself even as it dissipated uselessly in the air, sucking out her energy and leaving her head pounding. The silencer on her horn left her as defenseless as a newborn even as she screamed at herself to do something, anything, to protect herself.

Ahead of her was was a hallway that was still lit, but it was nothing but false hope: the metaphorical light at the end of the tunnel, only the tunnel was collapsing around her. She was just tiring herself out before the inevitable. She was so close, but that thing was even closer.

Blinded by fear and panic and pushing her legs harder than she’d ever run before, Twilight ran headlong into Applejack.

“Oof!” both mares grunted as they went down in a tangled mess of hooves and legs.

“Twilight!” Applejack shouted when she managed to rise to her hooves, her face burning with anger. “What in tarnation were you thinking–”

The rest of her furious exclamation was cut off when Twilight leapt up and pulled Applejack into a furious hug, sobbing and squishing her face against her friend’s neck.

Applejack’s angry expression deflated like a punctured balloon as she instinctively wrapped an arm around Twilight’s back. “Shh… It’s okay, Twilight. I’m here. It’s okay.”

“No! Please! You’ve got to get out of here!” Twilight said, pulling her head back to give Applejack a pleading stare as she tugged on Applejack’s arm. “We need to hurry! It’s coming!”

Applejack frowned. “Now hold your horses. We ain’t going anywhere. Do you know how much trouble you’re in?”

“But he’s right behind me!” said Twilight as she turned in place, moving Applejack between herself and the darkness while she pointed back where she had come. “Please! It’s going to get me!”

Applejack turned her gaze to follow Twilight’s frantic gestures, peering into the shadows behind her. There was a long pause. “Twi, there ain’t nothing down there,” she said. She turned back to Twilight, her expression shifting from confusion to neutral professionalism. “Tell me, did you see something when you were running around? Who was going to get you?

Glancing between the darkened hallway and Applejack, Twilight found her tongue leaden in her mouth. Her panic began to melt away as time stretched on without the stallion in the bird-mask making an appearance. “But… he was right behind me,” she whispered as she peered into the shadows, trying to catch a hint of ivory. There was no flash of white, no heavy clothing, no bottomless pits of nothing. Just half-illuminated tiles and stacks of unused masonry.

“He? Was it one of the construction workers?” Applejack’s eyes flashed open, her voice growing hard and insistent as she began to look Twilight over. “Did one of them say anything to you? Did one of them touch you?”

“What? No. I saw a...” Twilight’s voice trailed away as she took a step back, shaking her head, trying to clear away the last of the fear-induced haze that gripped her thoughts. She felt like she were sobering up after a half-remembered party, shock and embarrassment filling her face as she realized what she had just been telling Applejack. It doesn’t matter if it’s real, they won’t believe you. Taking control of her breath, she turned to meet Applejack’s gaze. “I mean, I thought I saw somepony in the shadows. I guess I was just scared when the lights went out,” she lied, blushing deeply and fighting the urge to double-check the shadows again.

A look of relief passed over Applejack’s face. “Tarnation, girl. You had me worried something fierce. You come hollerin’ and screamin’ out of that hallway, bawling your eyes out… I thought you’d hurt yourself! I was ready to tan your hide after the chase you put me through.” She narrowed her eyes. “I still am, now that I think about it. Do you know how much trouble you’re in?”

Twilight lowered her head. “Sorry.”

“You can’t just take off like that,” Applejack continued. “You could have seriously hurt yourself. If you keep that up and we’ll have to put you in fetters to make sure you can’t run. Understand?”

The thought of having her legs bound like a prisoner, forcing her to walk no faster than an awkward trot sent a shiver up Twilight’s spine. “Yes, Applejack. I understand. It’s just, after seeing Sweetie Belle…”

Both mare’s winced at the name. “I didn’t want you to see that,” Applejack said as she brushed a hoof down Twilight’s neck. “And I’m sorry you did. I wish I’d known Rarity was visiting today.”

Twilight spared a glance back down the darkened hallway as she shuffled a bit closer to Applejack. “What happened to Sweetie Belle?” she finally asked.

Applejack didn’t meet Twilight’s eyes. “It ain’t my place to go talking ‘bout other ponies misfortunes, Twilight. But what happened to Sweetie… Well, there’s a reason Rarity is so against keratotomies. Sweetie Belle is why Doctor Rose’s studies are so important. What happened to her is… all too common.” Her expression tightened. “There are some doctors who have no problem with what happened to Sweetie Belle. Even when mistakes are made, and little fillies are turned into…”

Applejack didn’t finish her sentence. The silence between the mare’s dragged on, Twilight struggling to find something to say as Applejack stared ahead through bitter eyes. A bead of sweat ran down Twilight’s temple. “That’s what they’re going to do to me too, isn’t it?” Twilight whispered. “If I don’t show progress, they’re gonna cut off my horn and make me like Sweetie Belle.”

“No.” The firm resolve in Applejack’s voice took Twilight aback. Applejack stepped closer. “Twilight, we’re not gonna let that happen. You’ve already shown leaps and bounds in terms of your progress. The lack of hallucinations, your ability to interact socially, your mental clarity… No. You’re not going to lose your horn, Twilight. You’ve come too far. I won’t let them. You can count on me.”

“I always knew I could trust in you, Applejack,” replied Twilight. “You’re one of my best friends, after all.”

Applejack gave Twilight a faintly embarrassed grin. “Heh, yeah… I guess you could say we’re best friends.”

“You’re the only one I can trust. Rose isn’t telling you everything.”

The smile vanished. “Stop that. I don’t want you talking ill of Doctor Rose, you hear?”

“But he lied to you!”

Twilight’s protests were cut off with a hard stomp to the floor. “Enough! Doctor Rose is one of the most dedicated ponies I know. He’s put his career on the line arguing against dehornings. If there is any one in Equestria you should trust to fight to keep you safe, it’s him. You don’t understand just how much he risks in fighting against the status quo here, Twilight.”

“But…”

Anger flashed over Applejack’s face as she bit her tongue, letting out a long, deliberate breath instead. “I know that Rose can be a bit… well, full of himself sometimes. He thinks he’s the best thing to happen to Equestrian medical science in a generation.” Applejack chuckled wearily. “But that doesn’t mean he’s wrong, either. That stallion is trying his best to keep what happened to Sweetie Belle from ever happening again. He might be ambitious and a bit vain at times, but don’t you ever doubt his motives. He wants what is right for his patients, just like I do. Okay?”

Twilight nodded. “Okay."

“Then let’s head on back,” Applejack said, but before Twilight could take more than a few steps she was halted by an upraised hoof. “And Twi… you can’t tell anyone what happened today, what with you running off and all. I meant what I said about the fetters. I’m gonna give you a break this once because of the… extenuating circumstances, but if you keep breaking the rules like that, we’re gonna have no choice. Remember your promise to me.”

“I do,” said Twilight. “I don’t want it any more than you do.” Applejack chuckled and set off again, Twilight a few steps behind.

When they reached the intersection Twilight paused, glancing back over her shoulder. She could just barely make out a sharp blade of white porcelain in the distant shadows before the lights flickered back on with a snap, banishing the darkness and revealing nothing but an unpainted hallway under construction.

With a shiver, Twilight hurried to catch up with Applejack, ignoring the eyes she could feel watching her every step.

Chapter 19

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Asylum

Chapter 19

The chess table groaned as Pinkie Pie leaned in closer to Twilight, her eyes shifting from side to side to make sure none of the other patients were within earshot. “Are you sure you’re not moving too quickly?”

Twilight gave Pinkie her most confident smile. “I’m positive. I’ve learned a few things recently, things which make it imperative that I keep pushing forward. I can’t be too cautious – not when the ponies I care about are suffering. Fluttershy is one of the keys to victory.” She gestured at the pegasus on the other side of the room. “I’ve made lots of progress with her. All the drawings she’s given me have turned my room into a monochrome aviary, so she’s certainly enjoying our exchanges. I just need to continue pushing.”

Pinkie glanced down at the table as she brushed back her mane. “I know you need to get your friends to help you beat that shadow monster. I just… have a weird feeling about this. I don’t think she’s eager to talk to you today.”

“What? She’s been looking over at us all afternoon,” Twilight said. “I think she’s looking forward to this more than you think. From her point of view, I’m the first pony to really try to reach out to her in a way that she was comfortable with.”

“What about all the doctors and nurses and therapists and stuff?” asked Pinkie.

Twilight waved a dismissive hoof. “They didn’t know Fluttershy like I do. We’re best friends! Once you get past her nervous shell, she opens right up.” Twilight slid the painting into her pocket. “Well, within reason. She’s never gonna be a gregarious raconteur, but she’s certainly not supposed to be too afraid to even say hello.”

There was a glint of optimism in Pinkie’s eye. “And you’re sure this will make Fluttershy happy, being our friend and all?”

“I can guarantee it! Fluttershy was nervous and anxious back when we first met, and certainly didn’t look like she wanted to make any friends. But that was just because she didn’t know what she was missing. Once she got to know us, once she found out what friendship could be, she was a much happier pony with a much richer life.” Twilight paused. “Actually, she’s not the only one.”

Pinkie cocked her head to the side as she looked over at Twilight.

“Um… You see, it took someone I trust and care about pushing me before I realized just what I was missing too,” Twilight said, a sheepish grin on her face. “Until then, I was happy with my books and my studies. Sometimes, the ponies we love have to place us in an uncomfortable situation before we can grow.”

“Wow! I’m really glad they did it, then. Can you imagine what things would be like if we didn’t ever become bestest best friends?” Pinkie said with a visible shiver before she glanced over at Fluttershy again. “Still, I don’t know if Fluttershy is ready for that much of a push.”

“Don’t worry,” Twilight said, slapping Pinkie Pie on the shoulder. “I’ve already taken into account the different variables when planning out today’s course of action. I even double checked it – twice. Worst case scenario? She clams up and moves away, and I just have to try again the next time.”

“Just be super careful,” warned Pinkie Pie, meeting Twilight’s gaze. “I have a twitchy tail and an itchy scalp right now. I don’t know what it means absototally, but I don’t like it.”

“I said don’t worry,” Twilight repeated as she set off towards her target, smiling back at Pinkie over her shoulder. “I’m sure that if I push a little bit now, it won’t be long before Fluttershy is thanking me.”

Despite the confidence she wrapped around herself, Pinkie Pie’s warning echoed in Twilight’s mind. Does Pinkie Sense work here as well? Twilight chuckled nervously when she caught herself checking the air above her for any unbalanced flower pots or implausible rain clouds. There was a nervous edge to the laugh. Okay, she could be right. I’ll sit down an extra yard away, just in case. If Fluttershy responds well to my presence, I can shorten the distance between us until I’ve reached the previously determined mark. It’s a minimal delay with obvious benefits.

Her decision felt justified when she caught Fluttershy stealing glances as Twilight drew nearer. Twilight frowned. Pinkie was right; Fluttershy wasn’t acting like she normally did. Instead of a skittish animal about to bolt at the drop of a hat, she looked like she were helpless in the face of an impending train wreck.

Twilight stiffened. I can’t stop now. To allow Sweetie Belle and all the other ponies here to suffer one more day than necessary is not an option. I have to trust and believe in our of friendship, that our bonds will overcome her anxiety. Like all my friends, she needs me to be strong.

Focusing on her body language and letting the rest of the background distractions fade away, Twilight closed the last of the distance between them, keeping her movements slow and unthreatening. She gently placed the painting on the floor, carefully arranging it so the crude sketch of a rabbit was properly aligned toward the cringing pegasus.

When Twilight lifted her head, she was greeted by the angry glare of a very different pegasus. Twilight jerked back from the scowling face. “Rainbow Dash?” she asked, her brain struggling to catch up with what her eyes were telling her. When it finally did, her face split into a broad grin. “Rainbow! I can’t believe–”

“Go away,” Rainbow Dash hissed, leaning forward so her muzzle was dangerously close to Twilight’s, “or else.”

Twilight’s smile cracked and fell away. “W-what?”

“Are you dnn… dnneaf?” Rainbow said, wincing as she forced out the last word. “I said go away, or else I’ll break your face. Understand?”

“I’m just giving Fluttershy a drawing, and… and are you stuttering?”

Rainbow Dash narrowed her eyes. “What about it?”

Twilight blanched. “Nothing!”

“So you like making fun of other ponies? Is that it?” spat Rainbow as she took a step closer. “Well, we don’t nnn… nnh… nnneed you being a bully. Get out of here! Or are you looking for a fight? Huh?”

Twilight turned to Fluttershy for support as Rainbow advanced on her, but Fluttershy kept her eyes locked firmly on the ground. “I’m not bothering her!” protested Twilight, gesturing to the other pegasus, but Rainbow Dash just snorted.

“I dnn… dnon’t believe you. I don’t like bullies that make fun of ponies just because they’re different. So get out of here!”

“Look, I’m just trying to give my friend a drawing I made,” Twilight said as she pointed to the scrap of paper on the floor, but Rainbow only growled louder.

"Oh, so you're friends with Fluttershy, huh? So why didn't she mention that to me? And how do I know you didn't make that drawing to mock her? You think I'm just gonna believe you when you say you're not here to mess with her? Let me tell you something, buster: I’m Rainnhnbow Dash, and everypony knows that if they mess with Fluttershy, they mess with me! I’m not gonna let some… some egghead like you make fun of her!”

“Egghead? What? Look Rainbow, I w-wasn’t making fun of anypony! We’re all friends here,” Twilight replied as she moved to step around Rainbow Dash. “If you just let me show you the painting I did–”

The rest of her words were stolen away when Rainbow Dash shoved Twilight hard enough to send her stumbling backwards, landing on her rump with a loud ‘oof’.

“What was that for?” said Twilight as she leapt to her hooves, glaring at Rainbow as she ground her teeth together. Her anger howled, eager to be loosed from its bindings even as her logical side struggled to retain control, shouting that she was only going to make things worse.

“I told you to back off!” Rainbow Dash hissed as she shuffled forward, her head lowered and her clipped wings flared wide. “We are not friends! You’re just another bully!"

You’re not going to convince anyone to help you if you end up fighting them, Twilight tried to remind herself as she squared off against Rainbow Dash. “Fluttershy can make up her own mind about who her friends are!”

“Hey! No fighting!” the orderly by the radio barked as he jogged over to the two mares, the loud command cutting through the background noise and hushed conversation. Both Rainbow Dash and Twilight shuffled away uneasily, both watching the other from the corner of their eyes.

“We weren’t fighting, Mr. Pines,” Rainbow said as she adopted a pose of cool nonchalance. “We were just playing.”

“Yeah, right. Look Rainbow, if you act up again, you’re gonna lose your gymnasium privileges if you’re lucky. Ratchet isn’t gonna tolerate you picking any fights, not after the crap you pulled with Doctor Applejack. You should be counting your blessings that you’re even out of solitary to begin with.” He turned to Twilight. “That goes for you, too. If I catch either of you fighting, you’re not gonna like the consequences. Understand?”

“I understand,” Twilight and Rainbow said in unison, although Twilight’s honest regret stood in stark contrast to Rainbow’s indifferent sneer.

“I hope so, for your sake,” he said as he met both their gazes, making sure his words had sunk in. He glanced at the floor. “And pick up your trash,” he added, pointing to Twilight’s drawing from where it lay forgotten on the floor.

“That’s mine,” said Twilight as she scooped up the sheet of paper. “It was a gift for my friend, Fluttershy.” At the sound of her name, Fluttershy glanced up from beneath her mane just long enough to give Twilight a half-smile before turning her gaze back down to the bit of rug she was nervously prodding with her hoof.

Rainbow Dash harumphed, and Pines shot her a warning glare. “Is there a problem with that?” he asked, but Rainbow just shook her head.

“Since I don’t want to cause any more trouble,” Twilight began, putting as much repentant filly into her tone as she could, “so maybe you could give it to Fluttershy for me?” She held the paper out for him, forcing her hoof to shake slightly.

“Fine.” Plucking the painting from her hooves he slid it into one of the pockets of his uniform. “Now scram, both of you.”

Twilight thanked the orderly and politely excused herself, ignoring Rainbow's half muttered remark about being a suck up. It wasn’t until she had turned away from the both of them that she let her face sag. Her sense of frustration was matched only by the disappointment in her own reaction.

Well, Rainbow carries some of the blame for that, she thought with a bitter snort. Talk about a hypocrite, telling me off for bullying when she’s attacking her friends with hot soup. Is that what she is in this world, a violent psychopath?

Shaking off her anger, Twilight sat down next to a concerned looking Pinkie Pie, keeping her eyes forward. “I saw Rainbow shove you! Are you okay?”

“I’m fine. She just caught me by surprise. Rainbow’s always been a bit impulsive, but I’ve never seen her act like that.”

“Yeah, Rainbow can be kinda mean sometimes,” Pinkie said, surreptitiously glancing over Twilight’s shoulder. “But she’s not a bad pony. I think she’s just sad because she’s stuck inside all the time. Fluttershy is, like, her only friend, and Rainbow’s been super protective of her after what happened.”

“You mean the, um, suicide attempt?” Twilight asked as evenly as possible. “Wait, how did you know about that?”

Pinkie smiled. “Making sad ponies happy is kinda my thing, so I like to keep track of which ponies need my help the most. I just wish I could help Fluttershy be happier. It’s so hard to make a pony happy when they don’t even like to be around other ponies. Worse when they have someone like Rainbow Dash protecting them.”

“Yeah… Rainbow Dash…” Twilight sighed. “I can’t believe Rainbow is so… angry. The Rainbow Dash I knew wouldn’t try to start a fight with another pony just for talking. Sure, she had her moments, but she was never like that.”

“Are you sure Fluttershy is one of the Elements?” Pinkie asked, dropping her voice to a bare whisper.

“I know they might not seem ideal in this world,” she said, “but in my world, they’re very different. Fluttershy is still, well, shy, but she’s also one of the kindest ponies you’d ever meet. And Rainbow Dash, well, she might be a brash show-off sometimes, but she’s more loyal than the entire Royal Guard put together.”

Twilight finally turned to look over her shoulder at the two pegasi by the window. “But here…”

Rainbow Dash and Fluttershy sat near where they had been originally, both of them staring out the window at the yard and the distant trees. It was clear they were deep in conversation from the way Rainbow actively moved her hooves to gesture and emphasize her words, although Fluttershy’s statue-like stillness made it clear that it was probably a one-way street.

It was only when Fluttershy gave an almost imperceptible nod towards the chess table, that Twilight could see Fluttershy’s mouth was moving as well. Rainbow grimaced and glanced away – catching Twilight staring directly at them. Her grimace transformed into a bitter scowl as she rose up to place herself between Twilight and Fluttershy before pointedly turning her back on Twilight.

Twilight sighed, laying her head down on the chessboard. “It just seems like they’ve had parts of themselves scooped out. I’m trying to make friends with the same ponies all over again, but they’re just empty shells. Pale reflections of who they truly are.”

“You can’t let yourself get that upset,” Pinkie said, rubbing Twilight’s back. “Fluttershy obviously likes you. I mean, I’ve never seen her do drawings for anyone before. I’m sure that if you just stay positive and keep working at it, you’ll be able to make both of them into more best friends. And besides, if there were any ponies that needed more friends, it’s those two.”

Twilight shrugged off Pinkie’s hoof. “I don’t have the time to mess up and try again! All of Equestria is counting on me to save them from some horrific shadow thing, and I’m stuck playing board games and hoof painting! Gah!” With a sweep of her arm Twilight sent all the chess pieces crashing to the floor before she buried her head beneath her hooves.

A long stretch of quiet followed Twilight’s outburst, the two mares sitting together without speaking. Twilight remained where she sat, her face covered by her forelegs, her eyes clenched tight. Her heart felt heavy, dragged down by the mountainous task that stood before her. A week of work, and she was still stuck in the foothills, the summit lost in the dark clouds above.

Twilight exhaled as Pinkie Pie bent down to start picking up the knocked over pieces, sliding them into their bag. “I feel like for every step forward, I’m taking two back,” said Twilight, her voice muffled by her limbs.

“You can’t give up, Twilight,” Pinkie said from beneath the table, her tail bobbing from side to side as she picked up the discarded chess pieces. “If Rainbow Dash is one of the Elements too, then you can’t let her big-meany attitude get you down in the dumps.”

Twilight lifted her head. “What did you just say?”

“Huh?” Pinkie poked her head up over the edge of the table and blinked. “I said don’t give up.”

“No, after that. I never said that Rainbow was one of the Elements.”

Pinkie giggled. “You didn’t have to. It’s pretty obvious.”

“Obvious? Obvious?”

“I told you, I’m no dummy,” she replied with a wink. “If you want to keep the fact that Doctor AJ and Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash and Miss Rarity are the Elements of Harmony a secret from the spies, that’s fine. But I’m Pinkie Pie, your bestest buddy, and you can’t exactly keep that sorta thing from me.”

It took a few moments before Twilight could force her mouth to close again. “H-how?”

“Those four are the only ponies you talk about. You know, when you’re not talking about the evil shadow thing that you have to defeat. So it’s pretty obvious who it is when you mention there being other Elements.”

Twilight groaned. “Oh by the Princess…”

“Don’t worry,” Pinkie declared as she wrapped an arm around Twilight’s shoulder. “I know how to keep a secret. After all, if I didn’t know how to keep a secret, then how could I throw such amazing surprise parties? Plus, I Pinkie Promised, remember?”

“Uh-huh,” Twilight said as the orderlies began to shout that free-time was ending. The command for the patients to put away their toys and begin cleaning up was met by a loud groan from the assembled fillies and colts. She glanced at Pinkie. “Wait, so you said you identified the other four Elements?”

“Yep! You, plus the four other ponies you keep talking about. Sure, you also talk a lot about Nurse Ratchet and Doctor Rose, but I never thought they were mythical hero material. Too mean. So, those are the five Elements.” Pinkie gave a knowing grin. “See, it’s not that hard to see, if you know where to look. But don’t worry, I’ll keep all of your secret identities a totally super-secret secret. I’m just happy to help!”

Giving Twilight another friendly hug, Pinkie pulled away and bounced to her hooves. “Now, you just need to keep focused on your mission for the princess and stay positive. No more of this moping around and being little Miss Sour Puss. You’re the big hero, and big heroes don’t mope. Plus, tomorrow’s Saturday!”

Twilight stood up as well and began helping Pinkie with the cleaning up, scooping what pieces hadn’t ended up on the floor into the small bag they came in. “And what’s so great about Saturday?”

“Duh! It’s the weekend, silly billy. And that means no school! Sure, I like Miss Trixie’s classes, but I love extra free-time even more. More importantly, though, I promised I’d come to visit you on Saturday. After all your hard work, you need a party!”

One of Twilight’s eyebrows arched upwards. “And how, exactly, are you going to get the staff to okay a party?”

“I have my ways,” Pinkie said as she turned away, her attempt to sound mysterious somewhat ruined by the way she bounced off towards the toy chest with the bag of chess pieces clutched in her teeth.

It felt good to laugh. Twilight grinned as she followed after Pinkie, letting her anxieties and fears get pushed aside for a few minutes. Pinkie dropped the bag in the chest and turned back to Twilight. “But, I’m only gonna throw you a party if you promise not to be a party pooper. You have to try and cheer up and stop being so hard on yourself all the time.”

“Pinkie, you know what’s at stake,” Twilight said as she hurried Pinkie away from the other patients. “I can’t just stop taking that seriously. Not for a minute!”

“I didn’t say you have to stop trying to save the world,” said Pinkie with a knowing grin. “We’re friends, and I want you to defeat that meany ghost thing, but you can’t beat yourself up every time things don’t go your way.”

“I don’t have to beat myself up. I have Rainbow Dash to do that for me,” Twilight snapped.

“Nobody likes a smart alec,” Pinkie retorted, sticking out her tongue.

Twilight giggled despite herself. “So, now I’m curious: just how are you gonna throw a party in a hospital without the doctors knowing?”

“That’s for me to worry about,” she said, again doing her best to sound mysterious. Then, with a cheerful giggle, Pinkie took off towards the exit, bouncing on her hoof tips the entire way.

Twilight’s smile slipped as she followed in her wake. “If only it were all that easy,” she muttered beneath her breath as Pinkie cavorted in front of her.

Straightening her back, Twilight hurried after her friend. Pinkie was right, she couldn’t let herself be crushed by every setback. Twilight was the most talented pony Equestria had ever seen, and she was going to win. Deep down, Rainbow Dash was still the Element of Loyalty and one of her best friends. All it would take is some forethought and careful planning to break her out of the spell the shadow had weaved around her mind.

Twilight smiled. And if there’s one thing I’m good at, it’s planning.

With a confident smile and thoughts of imminent victory in her mind, Twilight almost missed the flash of pink and yellow at the corner of her eye. She paused before the door and turned to find Fluttershy standing a few yards away, half hidden behind one of the bookshelves for the worn toys and games.

Twilight stood like a heavy stone as the other patients streamed past her, ushered out the exit by orderlies focused on keeping the lines moving. The two mares looked at each other in silence, Twilight’s confusion met by Fluttershy’s anxious stare. Nibbling on her lower lip, Fluttershy checked behind her once before turning back to Twilight and flashing a quick smile. Then, she disappeared behind the bookshelf.

“Wait!” Twilight called out, struggling against the current. An orderly stepped into her field of view and, with a gentle push, urged her onwards. Twilight caught a fleeting glimpse of Fluttershy headed towards two nurses before the tidal forces carried Twilight out into the hallway.

“Twilight? Are you okay?” Pinkie asked. She bounded over to the unicorn as the crowd dispersed around them.

Twilight nodded as she collected herself. She turned to Pinkie and let a slow smile spread over her face. “Pinkie… she smiled at me.”

“What?”

“Fluttershy. Right before I left, I saw her, and she… she gave me a smile.”

Pinkie whooped victoriously and pulled Twilight into a firm hug, ignoring the warning stares of the nearest orderlies. “I told you! See, there’s no reason to be a dopey-mopey, not when you’ve got your friends around!”

“Didn’t you say earlier you didn’t think she wanted to talk to me in the first place?”

“Irrelevant!” Pinkie said, waving her hoof. “This calls for a party!”

“Aren’t we already having a party tomorrow?”

“Yes, but now we have a reason to make it twice the party it was going to be! I know some of the lunch-mares, so I bet I can get us twice the cupcakes, with twice the sprinkles, and twice the frosting! It’s going to be twice as amazing!”

Twilight winced when Pinkie squealed happily, although she couldn’t help but chuckle as well. “Yeah, well, if you can deliver on the party, I promise to have a good time,” she said as the pair of friends resumed their walk. Twilight felt as light as Pinkie looked bouncing up and down beside her. “You know… maybe today does deserve a party.”

“That’s the spirit!” Pinkie declared with a broad grin. “We can call it a ‘We Made Fluttershy Smile’ party!”

Twilight laughed. “That is a terrible, terrible name.”

“Yeah, but it made you laugh,” Pinkie pointed out with a wink. “You just leave the party planning up to me. All you need to do is think about how you’re gonna make Fluttershy your friend again, so you can defeat the…” she looked around herself at the patients surrounding them before she scooted in closer. “I mean, so you can vincere umbram.”

“Pinkie… are you using pig latin?”

“Sum.”

“Stop.”

“Tuo imperato oboedio.”

There was a moment’s pause before their shared laughter echoed down the hallways.

Chapter 20

View Online

Asylum

Chapter 20

The worn copy of Inkwell’s Magical Spells and Enchantments fluttered through the air before it hit the wall just beneath one of Fluttershy’s pictures and collapsed atop the growing heap of books that covered Twilight’s bed.

“Useless!” Twilight declared as she grabbed another book from her desk and cracked it open. Silence quickly returned, the only sound the steady flip-flip-flip of her rapid reading. The scowl on Twilight’s face grew deeper with every page. Her narrowed eyes darted from side to side as she hunted through every line.

Eventually her grimace could go no deeper, and with another shout of “Useless!” she tossed the book behind her to join the others. Like an automaton, she was already reaching for another tome before the previous one had finished its violent flight.

Twilight’s hoof passed over the sloppy scissor-work marking where a section of pages had been sliced out of the textbook’s spine. How could they have made sure there wasn’t a single reference to breaking through magical enchantments in any of these books? There are at least thirty or forty books on magical theory in here! Did the staff censor every one before they let me have them?

Twilight glanced up at the wall to wall bookshelves that covered her room and groaned. The awe-inspiring thoroughness of her captors only tightened the vice squeezing at her temples, her heartbeat throbbing in her ears. Twilight ground her teeth together as she forced herself to turn to the next page. If there was something in these antique textbooks, she was going to find it. She wasn’t going to be shown up by some bored orderly with a pair of scissors and zealous hooves – she’d demonstrate what a truly meticulous pony could do!

“Useless!” shouted Twilight a few minutes later before she threw the book across the room to join its peers. Reaching out for another, her hoof only found air. She groped around mechanically before her mind processed what the empty square of space on her desk meant.

Twilight gave her desk an accusing stare before she let out an exaggerated sigh. “Horse apples,” she muttered, massaging her temples. For a moment she entertained the idea of going through them all once again but dismissed the notion just as quickly. It’s pointless. None of them are going to help me get this horrid thing off my horn.

Opening her eyes, Twilight glanced upwards until she could make out the tip of her horn. The arcane dampener was still there, strapped to it like a tumorous growth. Lifting her arm she brushed her hoof over the canvas covered lump of metal. As she touched the lock at its base, she could feel the faint tingle of passive magic, as if she were about to receive a static shock that just wouldn’t come. Without the ability to cast spells of her own, she couldn’t be sure exactly what enchantments there were on the device, but it was no leap of faith to assume they were there to reinforce the locks and act as an alert system if she ever did manage to physically remove the dampener.

The last time Twilight had seen such a device had been in one of Canterlot’s museums, in an exhibit about crime and punishment. She let out another sigh as she looked around her desk. “It’s fitting, considering how they treat me like a prisoner,” she said, eyeing the large pile of books that had been sitting there since her first day. “But at least they gave me something to pass the time.”

Plucking one of the books out at random, Twilight rifled through the pages. She snorted when she saw the illustrations. And another outdated textbook, she thought as she examined a heavily stylized painting of armored ponies arrayed for battle, the warped perspective making each one as large as the castle they were assaulting. Of course it wouldn’t be anything modern – that might turn out to be useful, after all. No, I’m stuck with censored books so beat up they’re barely fit for donations. Twilight flipped to the next page to find the stallion in the bird mask staring back up at her.

“Gah!” Twilight cried out as she toppled out of her seat. Picking herself up off the floor, Twilight peeked over the edge of the desk. The book was still sitting there, open and undisturbed. Hesitantly she reached out to prod it.

In the silence of her room, the revelation that she was behaving like a frightened little filly hit Twilight like a deafening thunderclap, leaving her face flushed a deep shade of red. She coughed as she stood back up, clearing her throat to break the mocking stillness. Okay, in this one instance, I’m glad I didn’t have any of my friends around, she thought as she reclaimed her seat, doing her best to ignore the way her cheeks still burned. Edging forward and ignoring the cold sweat on her brow, Twilight forced herself to re-examine the photograph.

Manuscript, she corrected herself as she looked it over. The full-page illustration was a reproduction from an older piece, that much was obvious. Twilight dredged up what she could remember from her art history courses. The crude lines and limited palette marked it out as something from the medieval period, but the style was certainly not what she had expected. The anonymous artist had painted the stallion looking directly at the viewer in a very modern manner.

Despite its age, it was clear the stallion in the painting was the same one from her experience two days prior. The black and brown garments, the porcelain beak, and the bulging saddlebags were almost perfect renditions of the pony she’d seen in the darkness. She stared down at him. Even though the holes in the mask were just daubs of black paint and revealed nothing of the pony beneath, she could picture those bottomless voids trying to swallow her up. Twilight shivered and averted her gaze, turning to look at the text on the opposite page. Most of it was general history, talking about a series of disasters and plagues from antiquity. She skimmed over the content before halting on the last paragraph.

“With the Great Pestilence running rampant and the threat of infection a daily concern, traveling physicians were forced to don heavy robes to operate safely. These plague doctors were easily identified by their masks, which were shaped into long beaks and stuffed with potpourri and flowers to ward off the ‘evil vapors’ that were feared to be a source of infection. Often enchantments were cast upon their outfits to help seal them from an errant flea or the dreaded ‘miasma’ that surrounded both the infected and the corpses of the recently deceased. Once protected, these plague doctors would travel into the most heavily afflicted areas to tend to the sick at extreme risk to their own health. Many ended up infected themselves, victim to the pestilence they sought to fight.”

Twilight ran her hoof down the yellowed pages before her. It was one of a dozen old textbooks that rested atop her desk, all of them bearing the scars of a life spent in public schools and uncaring hooves. They were all the sort of things her parents might have used when they were just kids, packed full of antiquated data and vaguely racist remarks about zebras.

Still, there was nothing else of note – nothing she didn’t already know, nothing to explain why the image of the plague doctor was such an exacting representation of the stallion she had seen. Despite checking it twice, the rest of the illustrations were without note, the text itself lacking in anything she could use. Closing the book, Twilight leaned back in her chair and eyed the textbook. “This cannot be coincidence,” she pronounced with a firm nod, feeling the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end. “But where is the connection?”

The knock at Twilight’s door sent her flying out of her chair once again. Peeking over the wooden seat, Twilight stared at the far door. The small window into the hallway was empty, showing nothing but the late-afternoon light. There was another knock. Why would a nurse be visiting me at this hour? Instinctively, Twilight looked around for a clock to check the time, wondering just how much time she had spent lost in her research.

There was another knock, a little more insistent than before, as the handle to the door jiggled slightly. Wait, why would a nurse knock? Don’t they have the keys? Twilight’s face paled when she heard a scratching noise at the lock, as if a bronze mouse were trying to dig through from the other side. The image of the plague doctor flashed through her mind as she noticed how dark it was in the hallway.

The hairs on the back of Twilight’s neck stood on end. Okay. So, whoever it is doesn’t have the keys, she told herself as she watched the door handle shake slightly. That means they can’t get in. Logically, that means I’m perfectly safe inside–

With a soft click that froze Twilight’s blood, the bolt retracted and the door popped open a fraction of an inch.

“Twilight?” asked Pinkie Pie as she poked her head into the room just in time to catch Twilight collapse against the chair.

“Sweet Celestia, Pinkie! You scared me half to death!” Twilight gasped as she tried to support herself with unsteady hooves.

Pinkie Pie grimaced. “I’m super sorry, Twi. I didn’t mean to scare you,” she said, her voice low as she slipped into Twilight’s room. Shutting the door behind her with a casual kick from her leg, she carefully placed a small bundle down beside her. “I was hoping you could open the door for me, but I forgot they locked the doors in this wing, and I couldn’t make much noise anyway.”

Twilight rubbed her chin. “Exactly how did you open that door?”

“Oh, that,” Pinkie said with a blush. “Well, um…” She withdrew a pair of hairpins from one of her pockets and gave Twilight a sheepish grin.

“You picked the lock?”

“Yes…”

Twilight rushed up to Pinkie and gripped her shoulders. “Pinkie. Don’t joke around right now. I need you to be absolutely honest with me: can you pick locks?”

Pinkie shrugged. “Well, yeah. But I don’t do it much! I’m a good pony.” Her blush deepened and she glanced away. “I mean, the staff trusts me, and I make sure that if I absolutively need to go somewhere, it’s because I’m doing something good. Liiiiike bringing my bestest buddy her party!” With a flourish, Pinkie uncovered the small cardboard box that had been in her bundle. Pulling back the lid, she revealed three colorful cupcakes, the spot for a fourth marked with a ring of frosting.

Twilight shook her head. “Look, the party isn’t important right now. I need to know if you can unlock the contraption on my horn!” she said, gesturing to the silencer.

“I couldn’t do that, Twilight!” Pinkie said, aghast. “Those things are there for unicorns so they don’t hurt themselves. You get, like, really sick and stuff without them!”

“Pinkie, just tell me if you can or not!” growled Twilight.

“But Twi…”

“Now!”

Pinkie flinched. She set the cupcakes down before reaching up to examine Twilight’s horn, her hoof playing over the base of the arcane dampener and the small lock located there. She frowned. “I’m sorry, but I don’t think I could. I only really know how to do the door locks. This is something different.”

“Oh,” said Twilight as her shoulders slumped.

“Aww, don’t be like that, Twilight. After all, I told you I was going to bring you a party today, and parties are for being happy,” Pinkie said before pointing at Twilight. “And you promised me you wouldn’t be a party pooper!”

Twilight imitated a smile, causing Pinkie to huff and plant her hooves on her hips. “No no no, I meant you really need to be happy. We can’t have a party if the pony of the hour is all mopey and sad-faced.” Picking up the box she shoved it beneath Twilight’s muzzle. “Look! Cupcakes! Now eat one!”

“I’m not that hungry–”

“I said eat one!”

Rolling her eyes, Twilight picked a cupcake out at random and popped it into her mouth. She chewed slowly, a dribble of crumbs escaping down the front of her vest. She blinked. “Thif if good!” she mumbled. “Like, weally good!”

“Thanks!” said Pinkie, beaming back at her as she pulled out a cupcake for herself. “I knew you’d like them!”

Twilight swallowed and licked her lips clean. “Did you make these yourself?” she asked as she gazed down at the remaining cupcakes.

“No. I know some of the lunch-mares, and normally they make a few for me. But since we're having pudding this Sunday, I asked another one of my friends to go into town to the local bakery.”

“You know somepony who can leave the hospital?”

“Of course! I’m like, super good friends with most of the orderlies and nurses. I’m a patient assistant, after all, so they trust me to do things for them,” she said as she cleaned the frosting off in one sweep of her tongue. “Oh yeah, that’s the stuff!” she declared hoarsely. When she noticed Twilight’s expression, Pinkie’s cheeks turned red. “Heh. It’s been so long since I had a really good cupcake. The bakery in town has been closed for what feels like forever! I heard the owners had twins a while ago, but they’re finally back in business. Not a minute too soon, if you ask me!”

One of Twilight’s eyebrows arched into the air. “The staff just buy you cupcakes?”

“No, I pay for them with some of my allowance. My family sends me a few bits a month to spend on things like snacks and games and stuff. Plus, I always give Miss Ditzy a little extra so she can buy one for herself.” She took another bite. “Mmm… I don’t know if I like cupcakes or normal cakes better. They’re both so deliciously yummy!”

Removing the last cupcake from the box, Twilight took a measured bite, letting the smooth flavors slide over her tongue as she stared at Pinkie Pie. Twilight rolled her friend’s words over in her mind as she fought down the urge to jump for joy at the sheer possibilities she had been given. “Have you ever snuck into one of the doctor’s offices?” she asked in a low tone.

“What? No! Never!” Pinkie scoffed. “That would be something a bad pony would do! I only do it when I’m visiting a friend or, um, ‘borrowing’ something from the kitchen.”

“But you could, right?” pressed Twilight.

Pinkie frowned, rubbing her chin as she thoughtfully chewed on the rest of her cupcake. “It’s possible… I don’t think the offices have different locks than the rooms do,” she said before catching Twilight’s eye. “But that doesn’t mean I would!”

“You know what is at stake, Pinkie. I told you about this shadow monster and what it is doing to Equestria. If I’m going to defeat it, I need to get this thing off my horn. Even if you could undo the locks on it, I still need to figure out whatever magical spell is warding them so I don’t get caught. And if there is any place that has that information, it’s Rose’s office.”

Pinkie Pie gasped and recoiled. “You… you want me to sneak into Doctor Rose’s office!” She glanced around the room as if expecting Nurse Ratchet to jump out from behind one of the book shelves. “No! I can’t do that!” she hissed. “That… that…”

“That would let me save my friends,” Twilight whispered. She placed a hoof on Pinkie’s arm, fighting down her own sense of guilt. “You would hardly be doing something wrong by helping your bestest friend defeat the greatest threat Equestria has ever faced.”

“I… I guess…” Pinkie whimpered, rubbing her hooves together like a nervous little filly. “But… I don’t want to be a bad pony…”

“How could you be a bad pony if you’re a hero?” asked Twilight, but Pinkie just pulled back further. Inwardly, Twilight winced. Plastering a smile on her face, she patted Pinkie on the leg. “You know what, why don’t we just forget about that for now, okay?”

“Yes, please,” Pinkie said with a relieved grin.

Twilight winked. “After all, I think you promised a certain grumpy unicorn a party.”

A giggle escaped Pinkie’s lips. “Hehehe… Yeah, I did say I’d bring you something to cheer you up.”

“It’s going to be hard to trump those cupcakes.”

“Oh, but I brought a secret weapon…” said Pinkie as she picked up her bag and began rooting around at the bottom. “This is from my personal collection!” she announced as she held aloft a colorful cardboard box with the words Candyland II: The Next Generation emblazoned above a scene of cartoonish ponies wandering a path between sweeping hills of candy and chocolate.

Twilight whimpered. “Please… not another board game.”

“But board games are fun!” Pinkie declared as she popped off the lid and unfolded the game out between the two mares with practiced ease.

“But all we do is play games!”

Lifting her head, Pinkie stared up at Twilight. “No, we don’t. You just put up with my games because you don’t want to make me feel bad, and you’re stuck doing them because the nurses make you.”

“What?” Twilight asked as she jerked upright. “No, I don’t! I–”

“I’m not saying it’s a bad thing, Twi. I’m just saying that in between your missing memories and the shadow monster and having to save the world, you’re not letting yourself enjoy what you have. You’re always unhappy or stressed out.” She pointed at Twilight. “When was the last time you did something fun, just because you wanted to?”

“When we played chess,” Twilight said as she lifted her chin slightly.

Pinkie shook her head. “You were only doing that ‘cause you had to do something during free-time. I meant, when was the last time you did something fun just for its own sake?”

“I don’t have time for fun!”

“You always have time for fun,” Pinkie replied with a sage nod. “After all, how are you supposed to beat the scary shadow thing if you’re upset and grumpy all the time?”

Opening her mouth to correct Pinkie, Twilight paused, her hoof held up in the air like a judge about to deliver a verdict. Slowly, she lowered her hoof. “Okay, you might have a point,” she conceded. “But I just can’t sit around playing games and singing songs when there is something threatening everyone I know and care about. It’s not some scary face on a tree; you can’t just laugh it away.”

“I’m not asking you to give up and play games all day, silly. I just want you to feel better – to know that even in the worst moments there is something better to look forward to, and you’ll always have friends that will want to be with you,” Pinkie said with a broad smile.

“Alright, alright, I get it,” Twilight said with a chuckle. “You know, you’re not the first friend to try and convince me that sometimes I need to take a break from my duties.” Reaching out, Twilight removed the cards from the box and set the neat little stack out on the board between them. She considered them then readjusted the stack, making sure it was perfectly aligned with the board edges. It took a few readjustments before she was satisfied and she could look back up at Pinkie. “I guess I still need a reminder from time to time that life is more than just hard work.”

“And that’s what this party is about!” Pinkie said, clapping Twilight on the shoulder. “Having fun and remembering that life doesn’t have to be frowny-face serious all the time. Even the sad clown has to laugh!”

“Okay, but if I’m going to spend the night taking a break and playing games, you’re gonna promise me something back,” said Twilight, the gears still ticking behind her eyes.

“What is it?”

“Oh no,” Twilight said, shaking her head. “You have to Pinkie Promise first.”

Pinkie Pie nibbled on her lower lip. “You’re not gonna make me do something… bad, right?”

“You won’t have to do anything bad,” Twilight declared, lifting her right hoof. “I swear.”

A few moments passed before Pinkie finally nodded. “Okay, I trust you. What is it?”

“You have to help get me into Doctor Rose’s office.”

“You promised you wouldn’t make me do anything bad!” shouted Pinkie as the color drained from her face.

“You’re not gonna do anything wrong. I just need a few minutes to look at a few books Rose keeps in his office. That’s all.”

Pinkie glanced around the literature-lined walls of Twilight’s room before she met her gaze. “You want to sneak into his room just to read some books?”

“Yes,” Twilight said with a straight face. “I’m not going to take anything or do anything bad. I just want to have a few minutes of privacy to look at something there that could help me defeat the shadow. You don’t even have to go inside.”

Pinkie turned to look at the door behind her. “B-but what if we get caught?” Pinkie whispered.

“We’re not going to get caught. I’m the smartest pony you know, remember? I’m too well prepared to get caught."

Pinkie nodded slowly but refused to meet Twilight’s eyes.

“Nothing bad will happen,” continued Twilight. “It will be like… like when you go to the kitchen and ‘borrow’ something. I’ll just sneak inside, read a few books, and slip back out again. Nobody gets hurt, you’re still a good pony, and you’ll have helped your good friend get one step closer to saving Equestria.” Twilight paused, swallowing the lump in her throat. Steeling herself, she met met Pinkie’s gaze. “You’ll be a hero, Pinkie – just like your dad was.”

“I… I…” Pinkie’s voice trailed away as she pulled her tail up against her chest like it were a protective blanket. Trembling hooves brushed up and down the strands of pink hair. “O-okay, I’ll do it.”

Pinkie’s sullen expression evaporated when Twilight leaned over the board to pull her into a tight hug. An unsteady and reluctant grin spread over her face as she returned the hug. When Twilight pulled away, both mares were smiling. “I appreciate it, Pinkie. I really do,” Twilight said. “Just remember that we’re doing the right thing, even if it doesn't seem so at the time. We’re the good guys.”

In the silent aftermath of her declaration, Twilight busied herself setting up the game, the simple mechanical movements helping to distract herself from the recriminations and guilt she was determined to ignore.

After a few moments, Pinkie released her grip on her tail and joined Twilight. “W-when do you need me t-to…” Pinkie began before her words failed her.

“Next Saturday, I think. I’m not sure on all the details, but that looks like our best chance. I’ll let you know the details later. We might not even have to go to his office, depending on how my meeting goes.”

“That would be awesome! I mean, I want to help you out and all, but I don’t wanna… Wait, what meeting?”

Twilight smirked as she picked up the dice and rolled them around in her hoof. “My brother said he’s coming to visit, and with any luck, he’ll be able to help me get out of this broken place. I have a long, long list of questions for him to answer, and if there is any pony I can truly count on to support me in any reality, it’s Shining.”

Chapter 21

View Online

Asylum

Chapter 21

Twilight glared at the clock mounted above the door, and her scowl deepened. The arms on the clock shivered, as if considering whether or not to advance any further. There was a reluctant click as the minute hand jerked a notch to the side. With a snort, Twilight resumed her pacing.

“He’ll be here soon enough, Twi,” Applejack said around her pen, not looking up from the manilla folder that lay open on the counter before her.

“It’s not like my brother to be late,” said Twilight. “I remember how much he complained about the punishment for tardiness at the academy. They beat that into them, right after teaching them how to beat other ponies.”

“You ain’t gonna make him arrive any faster by wearing out the linoleum.”

With a huff, Twilight crossed her forelegs and planted herself in one of the chairs. Forcing herself to not stare at the clock, Twilight instead let her eyes roam around the room. There was precious little to see. It was a twin to the room where she had first met Rarity, with the welcome addition of a window to let in the late-morning sun.

Twilight brushed some of the dust off the non-descript table in the middle of the room and turned to regard her friend. “I don’t want to sound ungrateful, but are you going to stay in the room with us the entire time, or will I get some privacy with my brother?”

Applejack finally looked up and gave Twilight a strained smile. “I won’t be in your way, sugar. I’m just keepin’ you company till he gets here.”

You mean you can’t leave me alone and unsupervised, Twilight translated. Returning the smile with one of her own, Twilight made sure to adjust the mental list of questions she had prepared. No point in asking anything too incendiary while Applejack was still around. She fought down the urge to tap her hoof as she double- and triple-checked her list again.

Lulled into an introspective torpor by the ticking of the clock, Twilight only registered the sound of approaching hoofsteps when they came to a sudden halt outside the door. Two heavy knocks were enough to break her trance. Rising up from her seat as Applejack made her way to the door, Twilight moved to follow her, but found her hooves rooted to the floor. With the moment upon her, she found herself cowed by the sudden apprehension about just what the shadow could have done to her brother. Stay calm, Twilight. He might not be the Shining you remember. Be prepared for anything, and remember that this world is only temporary.

Trying to force some moisture into her dry mouth, Twilight could only watch silently as Applejack pulled open the door, hoping and dreading in equal measure.

“Hello, Doctor Applejack,” a warm and wonderfully familiar voice greeted her from just out of view.

“Glad you could make it, sergeant. There’s an excited filly in here that’s been pacing up a storm waitin’ for you to show up,” Applejack said as she stepped back from the door.

Twilight swallowed the rock in her throat, not even registering the embarrassed excuse Applejack received. Instead, her wide-eyed stare was locked on the door, her thoughts a jumbled mess of trepidation and fear.

Shining Armor stepped out from behind the door and turned to give Twilight a sheepish smile. “Hey, Twily. How is my favorite little sister feeling?”

The rest of Shining’s words were lost when Twilight nearly tackled the guardspony off his hooves. Not trusting herself to speak, Twilight just held onto her big brother tightly and closed her eyes. She basked in the memories of their childhood, the revelation that her brother had not been subjected to any of the nightmares she had imaged a greater relief than she wanted to admit. His voice, his scent, and even his warm presence were familiar enough to hold back the worm of doubt she felt whenever she was faced with something that seemed too good to be true. Instead, she felt like she was back home after a trying day at school, and her BBBFF was there with a playful grin and two mugs of hot cocoa–

A soft cough interrupted Twilight’s runaway nostalgia trip. She opened her eyes to find Shining and Applejack staring down at her with the bemused smiles of adults watching a foal do something both childish and endearing at the same time.

The realization that she was acting just like a clingy little filly was enough to send Twilight jumping back as if Shining had become electrified. She cleared her throat as she straightened up, ignoring the look that passed between the other two ponies. “Um, hello, Shining,” she said.

“You don’t need to be that formal with me, Twily.” Shining chuckled as he strode past Twilight, allowing the door to swing shut behind him. Lacking a helmet or armored barding, his dark-blue uniform was hauntingly familiar to what she had seen him wearing at the academy. Although Shining was carrying a few more inches around the waist then she remembered, nothing else seemed too much out of the ordinary. There were no obvious scars or disfiguring injuries. In light of what her friends had been subjected to, gaining a few pounds was a blessing.

Noticing her gaze, Shining chuckled again. “Sorry for the uniform. I didn’t have time to change after my patrol. Captain’s been running us pretty ragged.” His chair groaned beneath his bulk, matching his own sigh of relief. “I can’t wait to get home and kick off my shoes.”

“So, you’re not the captain?” asked Twilight as she moved over to the table and took her seat across from Shining.

“Not yet,” he replied with a confident grin that was as much for Applejack’s sake as her own. He leaned back in his seat. “But I’ve been told in private that I’m the favorite to take over for Donut Dunker once he finally retires. Evidently, the mayor herself was impressed by how I took down that group of changelings, and she’s been talking me up to the commissioner.”

“Well, sergeant, we’re all a little safer knowing we’ve got a bonafide hero walkin’ the streets at night,” said Applejack with a smirk, her clipped tone unable to hide the good-natured amusement in her eyes when she turned to look across the table at Twilight. “I know Twilight is proud to have a brave police officer as a brother.”

And there it is, just like Rarity said, thought Twilight. Not a Captain of the Royal Guard anymore, my brother’s stuck as just another lowly cop. In the shadow of lobotomies and burn scars, a simple demotion was a gift. Twilight forced a faint smile onto her face as she nodded along with Applejack’s words. Still, that can’t be all. The shadow isn’t that merciful.

“From what I hear, the mayor wants to give you an award for your help eradicating that changeling infestation we had a few months ago."

Shining shrugged. “I wouldn’t know much about that. I was just doing my job. After what happened to those patients, well, it’s not like I could just sit around doing nothing.” Reaching across the table, he gave Twilight’s hoof a squeeze. “Plus, I guess I had a bit more of a reason to get involved than others.”

Perking up, Twilight glanced up at the other two. “Changelings? What changelings?”

“You know, changelings. Nasty little bugs that impersonate ponies and feed off emo–”

“I know what they are!” Twilight huffed. “What happened with the changelings? When was this?”

Shining leaned back in his seat and glanced over at Applejack, who just nodded. “As we said, she has some memory issues currently. What she remembers can be a little jumbled up.”

The humor in Shining’s eyes had evaporated by the time he turned back to look at Twilight. “Ah.”

“So? What about the changelings?” Twilight asked again, keeping her voice as even as possible.

A stern, serious expression settled over Shining’s chubby face. “A few months ago, changelings were discovered impersonating patients. There was a fatality involved, which was thankfully the only loss of life. Still, there was a big panic back in town until we were able to locate and exterminate the nest out in the Everfree.”

“Oh, don’t be so modest. I heard that you were the reason they had any chance of finding those changelings, what with your military training and all. I don’t think the police were prepared for changelings in Ponyville,” Applejack said, some of her accent slipping into her words. She patted the blushing Shining on the back as she looked over at Twilight. “Worst folks round these parts ever have to deal with is the odd wild animal or a stallion getting too much to drink. It was your brother that took charge when the rest of the town was too scared to think that their neighbors might be imposters. Without him, goodness only knows what would have happened.”

“I was just doing my job, Applejack,” repeated Shining as he tried to hide his flushed cheeks. “Like I said, I was a bit more motivated than some of the others.”

Twilight grinned at the warmth and love in Shining’s voice, even as her skeptic side tried to remind her that it could all be a trick. As with her friends, she could sense that honest core of familiarity that couldn’t be extinguished no matter how warped the shadow made the world, the true bit of Shining Armor that continued to survive. “Well, I couldn’t ask for a better BBBFF.”

Shining’s embarrassment visibly deepened, causing Twilight and Applejack to burst into shared giggles. “Well then, I’m gonna mosey along,” Applejack said, checking her watch. “I’ll be back in an hour to collect the both of you. There will be a nurse outside if you need anythin’. Have fun!”

There was a chorus of goodbyes as Applejack strode out of the room. Twilight glanced across the table and almost choked when she saw Shining blatantly eyeing the departing mare’s backside, a different sort of warmth in his eyes. Twilight cleared her throat loudly, causing Shining to flinch like he had been caught with his hoof in the cookie jar.

“What?” he protested with as much innocence as he could scrounge up. Twilight only narrowed her eyes, causing his blush to deepen. “Hey, she’s a good looking mare!”

“And what would Cadance think if she saw you checking out other mares?”

Shining blinked. “Cadance? Who is… Wait, your old foalsitter? Gee, Twily, I haven’t seen her in… years. Not since high school.”

Twilight stared at him, letting the words sink in. After everything you’ve gone through, you’re still going to assume Shining is together with Cadance? It was Twilight’s turn to blush. “Ah. So, you’re not married then?”

There was a fleeting look of sadness on Shining’s muzzle before he puffed up his chest and lifted his chin, a pudgy monument to masculine bravado. “Nope! Your brother is still a free-roaming mustang. I don’t have any mare holding me down, which suits me just fine.”

Inwardly, Twilight winced. “Right. Well, as an ex-Royal Guardspony and local hero, I assume you have plenty of interested mares,” she said, the sarcasm flying over his head. “But what happened to Cadance?”

“She’s still in Canterlot, I guess. I don’t really know.” He cocked his head to the side. “Why are you so interested in her, Twily? You keeping track of all the mares I went out with as a colt? I know you like your lists, but that sounds a bit over the top, even for you.”

“I don’t think anyone cares about that but you,” she teased. “I’m just trying to, uh, remember all the real stuff that happened. Like Applejack said, I’ve got a bit of a memory issue, so it’s all hazy.”

Talking about her memories seemed to rob Shining of his playful spark. “How are you really feeling now?” he asked in a low voice.

“I’m doing fine. And don’t worry, I remember you and mom and dad,” she added, answering the unanswered question she could tell Shining was too nervous to ask. “It’s just… been hard adapting to everything.”

He nodded. “You look and sound much better after that new treatment. When Doctor Rose first mentioned it a few years ago I wasn’t sure it was going to work. Heck, none of us were. Then a few months ago he contacted us again to recommend the treatment, and we decided to accept. And boy, you really do seem like you’re improving.” His smile faded. “So, uh, how have you been handling the, um, symptoms?”

The way Shining asked the question made Twilight pause. It was the pain of someone for whom uncomfortable questions and difficult situations were an everyday reality, yet they never stopped hoping that things might change in the future. Of course he’s used to it. For all he knows, I’ve always been his sick and crazy little sister. Despite the need to push on, Twilight wondered how she could have handled growing up if their places were reversed and Shining had been the sick one. “They’ve been… good,” she said, picking her words with care. “I’m sure the doctors have told you as much?”

“Yes. Both Doctor Rose and Doctor Applejack said you were showing a lot of improvement. I was worried when they said you had some trouble remembering things, but just a few minutes together and I can already see the difference. You’re like a completely different filly.”

“I feel like one.”

“Sorry if I’m gushing, Twily. It’s just a real relief to see you looking and sounding so healthy and… and normal.” There was a moment’s silence before Shining blanched. “Not that you’re not normal! You’re just, you know… sick. There’s nothing wrong with being sick, either. Everypony gets sick. We don’t blame you for being sick.”

His furious attempts to keep from offending her about a past that didn’t exist was both endearing and amusing in equal measure, and Twilight found herself struggling to keep from laughing as he dug himself in deeper with every syllable. “It’s okay, Shining. I understand. I’m happy to not be as sick as I was.”

Shining Armor sunk into his seat with a sigh of relief.

“What I really need, though,” Twilight continued, “is your help on filling in some of the gaps in my memories.”

“Of course! I wanna help you get better more than anything in Equestria. Ask me whatever you want! I can tell you about life in Ponyville, or what our friends in Canterlot are doing, or–”

Twilight leaned forward, tightening her grip on his hoof. “Why did I get committed here?”

Shining was instantly engrossed in the woodwork on the table’s surface. “Why do you want to know that?” he asked with a forced casualness.

“I think I deserve to know why I’m locked up, Shining.”

Eventually the silence grew too much for Shining and he lifted his gaze. “Twily, the doctors told me before I came that I had to be careful about what I told you. The treatment wasn’t easy, and your mind is trying to heal itself. They didn’t want me talking about your fantasies or anything that could upset you.”

“I’m not asking for you to tell me I’m not crazy for talking to a dragon you can’t see,” she said, punctuating her retort with a stern glare. “I just want to know what I am supposed to have done that would warrant putting me in a facility that has a high-security wing where patients spend their nights behind iron bars.” Her expression softened. “I’m your sister, Shiny, and you’re my BBBFF. I need to know this.”

The ticking of the clock settled over them as they sat together. After checking the door again Shining sighed, his reluctant breath drowning out the steady clicking of the mechanical timepiece. “Okay, you win.” Her victorious grin vanished when he leveled the steely gaze he wore on the parade grounds when he was busting in the new recruits. “I do think you deserve to know the truth,” he continued as she adopted a more demure expression, “but this… isn’t something that comes easy to me. The doctors say you’ve made lots of progress, and I can see they weren’t lying. But I don’t want to risk upsetting you or your treatment.”

“Even the doctors say I need to recover my real memories if I’m going to get better.”

Shining nodded. “Yeah, they told me that too. I think that’s why they were so pleased to see me, actually. They were hoping I would help you remember the past and stuff. You know, remind you of what was real.”

Or they wanted to see if I’d have a mental breakdown when faced with ‘the truth’, she thought, keeping her face impassive. Even though the doubt on Shining’s face was tangible as it fought with his desire to help his sister, a lifetime spent living together meant she knew he would give in.

As if on cue, Shining let out an even longer sigh. Releasing his grip on Twilight’s hoof, he leaned back in his seat and took a deep breath. “Twily, you’re here because you hurt some ponies in Canterlot – back when you were really sick.” His tone was detached, like a doctor letting a family know their loved one didn’t make it. Silence again stretched out between them. He watched Twilight expectantly.

Despite having assumed as much, she still felt her mouth go dry at his words. “Did… did I kill anypony?” she whispered. He flinched, and Twilight had her answer. “Oh.”

Inside, Twilight felt a storm of emotion bubble up towards the surface of her thoughts. Part of her angrily resented the mere accusation that she could ever kill anypony in any reality, while the insidious sliver of doubt whispered ‘What if…’ into the back of her mind. But beneath the jumble, Twilight just felt empty. After a week of struggling against a medication she was sure was causing her emotions to go haywire, the idea that she had supposedly committed such a heinous life was as shocking as the breakfast menu.

More than anything else, Twilight just felt a pang of annoyance at being handed another challenge to grapple with, another obstacle in her quest. Twilight struggled to plaster some sympathy and regret onto her face. Better get as much information as I can. “Who did– I mean, what happened?”

“There was an incident at that school you always used to talk about, the one by the castle.”

“Princess Celestia’s School for Gifted Unicorns?” Twilight asked, leaning forward despite herself. “Did something happen during my entrance exam?”

Twilight regretted the question almost as soon as she asked it when her brother’s expression shifted to one of pity tainted with condescension. “You were homeschooled, Twily. You never had an entrance exam. Mom said you snuck out the night before. You left a note saying you were the Princess' personal student, and you had to speak with her to show your magical ability. I mean, ever since you saw the princess at the Summer Sun Celebration, you claimed you were meant to study under her, and I guess at the time our parents didn’t take it too seriously.”

As Shining spoke, Twilight struggled to mask her impatience at a story she found herself predicting with unerring accuracy. The whole history the shadow had crafted for her fell neatly into place: an obsessive filly with delusions of grandeur that believed she was the princess’ personal student; an unsound mind grappling with power far beyond her control but unable to recognize it; an accident that caused enough injury and damage to ensure Twilight would be institutionalized until she was no longer deemed a ‘danger to herself or others’.

It is just what I expected to hear, though, she admitted as her flash of irritation faded. The shadow has tweaked and twisted my entire past to fit the role it has tried to cast me into. Friends and acquaintances turned into patients and staff-members, while personal triumphs become nothing more than the delusions of a broken filly. My life in this reality is like the reflection of a broken mirror.

Twilight kept an expression of unease and regret on her face as Shining continued his tale, his somber tone starkly at odds with her own boredom. The information was helpful but never revolutionary. While she felt small moments of concern and guilt when she learned that the incident was one of the final nails in the coffin for her parent’s marriage, the sadness for their suffering was fleeting when taken against the knowledge that it was only temporary. Once she saved her friends, everything that had transpired would be nothing but a bad dream.

You don’t really care about anypony else, do you? a stallion whispered from behind her left ear.

Twilight swivelled around, but there was no one there.

“Twily? You okay?” Her brother’s concerned frown met her when she turned back to look at him.

“S-sorry, I thought I heard something wrong with the airconditioning,” she replied. “Go on, you were just telling me about… uh…” Her face turned to stone as her mind went blank.

“When I joined the Ponyville Police Department,” he said, and Twilight bobbed her head up and down eagerly.

“Yes, that!”

Her jumpy response prompted a well-practiced smile meant to reassure and calm, which only deepened her embarrassment at being caught not paying attention.

The embarrassment was short-lived once Shining resumed his story. As he reminded her no less than four times, the doctors had suggesting telling her about the past in the hopes of jogging her memories. With the obedient focus of a well-trained soldier, Shining proceeded to tell her every detail of the last ten years in excruciating depth. No element of his life was too minor to escape becoming an anecdote. Trapped in place and unable to even check the clock, Twilight pasted a look of mild interest on her face and stared at Shining like an obedient filly.

Twilight flinched when something heavy impacted with the table. Blinking away the glaze of boredom from her eyes, she looked down to find a stack of books resting in front of her. Above the tower of literature was a beaming Shining Armor. “Before I left, I wanted to make sure I gave you another addition to your private library. I did my best to match what you said in your letter,” Shining added as Twilight pulled the books closer, “but I’m sure they’ve already told you about the restrictions. I can’t be handing you books about medicine and all that brainy stuff. Even then I still had to let that cute nurse with the green mane spend ten minutes going through them all, but at least they didn’t reject anything.”

The books had, like the rest in her possession, seen better days. The faded title A Canterlot Colt in King Avalon’s Court greeted her in embossed lettering. A quick glance at the back confirmed it to be an adventure story about a modern colt transplanted in time to the age of knights and chivalry, with a splash of satire thrown in for flavor. Okay, this actually does sound pretty good, she admitted as she set it aside.

The second was a fairly tame fantasy-romance novel called Dragon’s Dance that she remembered seeing in the library as a filly but had passed over for more serious fare. She kept the disappointment from her face as she neatly stacked it upon the first novel, making sure they were correctly aligned before turning to pick up the last book from the table.

The words The Foal’s Fun Guide to Equestrian History were printed above the cover image of a young filly watching spellbound as different generic figures from history floated out of a book that lay open before her. The colors were bright and the book looked relatively unharmed. It looked… modern. Twilight pulled open the cover and checked the publication date. Her face lit up as she double checked the numbers. It’s only two years old! Her excitement grew as she flipped through the book, revealing page after page of uncensored text. Even as picture-heavy as it was, there was enough promise in its large font to leave Twilight mentally salivating.

“You said you wanted a book about more recent history, so I decided to splurge a little and get something a little more expensive,” Shining explained as he caught Twilight’s expression. “Like, something to celebrate your new treatment.”

“Oh Shining, it’s almost perfect!” she said. After making sure the stack of books were all symmetrical along the spine she jumped to her hooves and gave him a firm hug. “Thank you so much!”

He laughed and returned the hug. “Hey, what are big brothers for if not spoiling their little sisters now and then?”

“I just can’t believe they let you give me this. They were working so hard to keep any modern history away from me. Did they just make a mistake?”

Shining tilted his head. “They’re keeping what from you?”

“Modern history. I’ve got nothing in my library covering events of the past fifty years.”

“Oh, that.” Shining glanced away. “Newer books are… kinda expensive. And the stallion at the used-book shop says there isn’t much demand for them. I’ve seen a few before, but this was the first time you’d ever told me in a letter you wanted stuff on recent history. That’s not really the hospital’s fault, though.”

Twilight rolled her eyes. “Come on, it’s obvious they’re keeping something from me.”

“Now Twily, you can’t be going around believing everything is a conspiracy to get you. After all, you’re getting treatment–”

“And what if there was something wrong going on here?” she interrupted. Planting her forehooves on the table, she leaned forward, dropping her voice to a near whisper. “What if the doctors were keeping something from me? From all of us? Does being crazy mean I can’t be right?”

Shining grimaced. “No, but–”

“But nothing! I can see it, plain as day! There is something they’re keeping from all of us. That Doctor Rose is lying right to Applejack’s face, and she’s just too stubborn to see it.” Leaning back into her seat, Twilight took a few calming breaths. “I understand why you’re a bit unsure, Shining. From what I’ve learned about my past, I was a paranoid filly with lots of delusions and fantasies about the world. But you heard how optimistic they are about my treatment and you’ve seen how I’ve been acting, so you can tell that I’m not like that anymore. There is something wrong, and I need your help. Please.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Twilight’s neck as the siblings stared at one another in silence. It was Shining who blinked first. “Look Twily, I know this is a rough life for you, but you need to be here. You talked about wanting to get out in your letter, and now you’re talking about some possible plot with the staff. It might seem unfair, but even if I could take you home and support you myself, I wouldn’t. Not when you’re in the middle of a new treatment and you’re doing so well. I love you too much to sabotage your health like that.”

“I’m not asking for that!” she said, fighting the urge to grind her teeth together. “I know that you’re not gonna take me at my word right now. I can understand why, too. It’s the logical choice. I only want you to have an open mind and at least investigate the hospital for me.” She lifted her hooves to forestall his protests. “No, not in any official capacity as a police officer. I just want you to help convince me there is nothing wrong.”

“I dunno, Twily. I’m not sure if I should…”

“I just need you to come around here more often. Ask some questions and keep your ears open.” She paused. “It will give you more time around Applejack.”

The look of disapproval Shining leveled at her was betrayed when he burst into laughter. “I’m not gonna spy on the staff just to talk to a cute mare, Twily. I don’t want to throw any fuel on the fire when it comes to your treatment right now.”

“All I want is for you to look into your heart and consider that maybe, just maybe, your sister isn’t as crazy as she sounds.”

The stretch of quiet dragged on as Shining rubbed his hooves together. He let out another, more pronounced sigh. “Fine. But you need to understand that I’m not going to be interrogating nurses or getting a warrant. I’m doing this because I want you to feel a little more comfortable.” He allowed a faint smile to cross his features. “And Applejack is pretty cute.”

Twilight gripped his hooves in her own and squeezed them gently as some of the tension leaked out of her muscles. “Thanks, Shining. I knew I could count on you.”

They embraced in another hug. “Well, you did give me quite the guilt trip. There are easier ways to tell me you want your big brother to spend more time with you.”

A set of firm knocks at the door interrupted Twilight’s sarcastic retort. Applejack poked her head into the room as they pulled apart. “Sorry to interrupt the family reunion you two, but it’s time for Twilight to head on out for her therapy session.”

After another exchange of hugs and renewed promises to come visit more often, Shining made his way past Applejack to the nurse waiting in the hallway to escort him away. He gave Twilight a final farewell wave before turning to give the nurse what he assumed was a confident grin. “Well hello there, beautiful. With mares like you around, I’m starting to regret not choosing to be a doctor.”

The nurse’s groan was thankfully muffled when the door closed with a soft click, leaving Twilight alone with a cheerful Applejack. “So, did y’all have fun?”

Twilight nodded. “Yes. I’m really glad he came to visit.”

“And I bet gettin’ a batch of new books doesn’t hurt either,” said Applejack as she moved over to the table. Sliding the books up onto her back, she turned and caught Twilight’s eyes as they lingered on stack of literature. “I’ll be sure to have one of the nurses take these up to your room. But for now, we need to mosey along. We wouldn’t want you to miss any of your therapy, now would we?”

“No, of course not.”

“Now quit your bellyaching. It ain’t healthy to bottle up your feelings. Sometimes the best medicine is a little socializin’,” Applejack said as she ushered Twilight through the door and straight into Rarity, who was levitating a large stack of folders in front of her. There was a scramble of hooves as the two mares maneuvered to avoid a collision, resulting in the two of them side-swiping each other with a loud oof. All eyes turned to the tower, which swayed precariously. Like an indecisive pendulum it swayed from one side to the other before reluctantly coming to a halt. There was a mutual sigh of relief.

Rarity gingerly placed the papers on the tiled floor before turning around to give Twilight a concerned look. “My stars! Are you okay, darling?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Twilight said as she rubbed her flank before gazing up at the impressive stack of folders. “I’m just glad I didn’t make you drop anything.” The moment she met Rarity’s gaze, she froze. The memory of the last time she had seen her friend ripped through her mind like a razor, leaving her heart in her throat. Glancing around for a distraction, her eyes settled on the papers. “So, uh, why are you carrying around so much anyway?” she asked.

“Oh, just another busy day. I’ve got plenty of patients to see, after all.”

Applejack nodded. “Tell me about it.”

“Honestly though, I find it magnificent that Doctor Rose is willing to help so many unicorns with his treatment rather than resort to more… barbaric measures,” Rarity said, her tone growing tight and clipped. “But even with all potential for good we can’t afford to let things get out of hoof. I have plenty of patients to check up on, which means plenty of paperwork for them all – a small price to pay for such wonderful progress.”

Twilight eyed the paperwork. “That’s from all the other patients who have been going through Rose’s treatment?”

“It is. Lots of fillies and colts like you who are having their lives returned to them without the need for a knife.”

“I see.” Turning to Applejack, Twilight gave a sheepish grin. “I don’t want to be rude, but could I have a few minutes alone with my caseworker?”

Applejack’s brow furrowed as she regarded Twilight. “How long do you need?”

“It will only take a minute.”

There was a careful pause. “I don’t see why not,” Applejack allowed. “Just don’t take too long. We have a schedule to keep to.”

“Absolutely.”

Applejack’s stare lingered on Twilight for a moment longer before she turned and shuffled off down the hallway, taking up a post just out of earshot.

Rarity turned to Twilight with a look of polite interest. “So, what do you need to talk to me about, darling?”

“You said all these patients are going through the same treatment as me, correct?” Twilight asked, her voice low but hungry.

“Indeed.”

Twilight took a step closer as she gathered up what she’d gleaned from her time in Broadhoof. “Then please, I need your help. I have some doubts about this treatment and the staff, particularly Doctor Rose. Have you seen anything with the other patients that seems odd to you? Anything that might suggest there is something… wrong?”

“Now Twilight, you know full well I cannot discuss the private medical history of my patients,” Rarity said. “And I’m not going to entertain your paranoia about the staff either. Doctor Rose is working on something magnificent, something revolutionary, and has shown a deep dedication to his patients at every step of his work.”

“I’m not asking for specific information about any patient. I’m just asking for your help, as a friend.” Twilight kept her expression passive and open, keeping her excitement in check. “I just want to know more about how other unicorns have fared under this treatment. Why be so optimistic if my recovery is, like you keep reminding me, so unlikely?”

“Your results have been on the extraordinary side of things, yes,” Rarity said as she wrapped the papers in a blue glow and lifted them off the floor. “Most patients are not as lucky as you have been. However, you’re not alone. There have been other patients who have improved as well. We’re seeing very positive results now, which is more than enough to keep me optimistic about the future.”

“You and your organization help keep tabs on the staff and the treatment, making sure there isn’t anything untoward happening, right?” Twilight paused just long enough for Rarity to nod before she continued. “And this treatment Rose offers, it’s been around for about three years, correct?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

A thrill of excitement passed up Twilight’s spine as she edged closer. “And has the treatment changed in those three years?”

“No, there hasn’t been any alteration in the treatment plan.” Rarity’s disapproving stare remained, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes. “If he were to change it then he would need approval from the government. It is still relatively new, after all, and we don’t allow doctors carte blanche to do what they will with their patients. We’re here to protect you, and I take that responsibility very seriously.”

“But that confuses me,” Twilight said with care. “You’ve called this treatment revolutionary. Wouldn’t a revolutionary treatment have revolutionary results? It sounds like you’re telling me that after three years, my sort of recovery is still very rare. Why would you be so optimistic then?”

“Because,” Rarity declared, “I’ve seen a number of unicorns like yourself take leaps and bounds in their quality of life under Rose’s care.” She lifted the paper up in front of her muzzle. “Most of these patients right here have seen their lives turned around by Doctor Rose. When I look into their eyes and talk to them I see reason to believe in a better future and evidence to make me optimistic,” Rarity said, her expression hardening. “Now, I don’t wish to be rude, but any more questions about the treatment will have to wait for our weekly session.”

Twilight raised a pleading hoof. “Please, just one more question.”

“Fine.”

Please be right, please be right, please be right, Twilight repeated to herself as she took a deep breath. “Then who did Doctor Rose get permission to change his treatment from?”

Rarity sighed. “I told you that he didn’t, Twilight. Please don’t waste my time on–”

“But you just said that the number of patients improving has gone up recently,” Twilight pressed, her words pouring out in a rush. “For three years the treatment had little to show for it, and suddenly you’re using terms like revolutionary to describe the results. Most of the patients you have in that stack are doing as well as I am, yet I’m supposed to be some sort of rare exception. Something had to change in the treatment to get a reversal like that. So if your agency didn’t approve it, who did?”

There was a long stretch of silence as Rarity simply stared back at Twilight with a mixture of annoyance and confusion. “I don’t have time for this, Twilight,” she said, shaking her head. “We can talk about this during our session, but until then I have other patients that need my service. Good day!”

Fighting the urge to call out after Rarity, Twilight forced herself to stay quiet and avoid pressing her any further. Well, that could have gone better, she admitted to herself. Turning away from her friend, Twilight set off toward the waiting Applejack. Still, at least I’ve planted that seed of doubt. With any luck she’ll start looking a little more closely at what Rose tells her, even if there is nothing to find.

“Ready to get a move on?” asked Applejack as Twilight drew closer.

“If we have to,” Twilight said, pushing her worry about Rarity to the side. Whether or not she does anything, it’s out of my hooves now. I’ll know soon enough. “So, what else is on my schedule for the day.”

“Well, we’ve got a double-long therapy session today. Plus you have your classes with Miss Lulamoon.”

“A round-table conversation about how we’re getting along without magic followed by an hour deep in study about the mystical art of subtraction. Color me excited.”

“Nopony likes a neighsayer,” said Applejack lightly.

Twilight sighed. “I promised I’d behave. I never said anything about liking it.”

From the corner of her eye Twilight caught a glimpse of Rarity standing still in the distance, her expression as unreadable as a porcelain mask as she watched Twilight turn down the hallway and vanish from sight.

Chapter 22

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Asylum

Chapter 22

Twilight bit back a groan. Letting out her breath slowly, she turned her head to check the clock mounted on the opposite wall. One hour, thirteen minutes, she told herself. Just one hour and thirteen more minutes.

Located straight across the circle from Applejack, Twilight had to keep her expression passive enough to avoid a stern rebuke from her friend. Every group therapy session made her feel like she was stuck on repeat, trapped on a Mobius strip of incoherent stories and generic questions. The initial swell of concern she had felt for the often heart-wrenching tales from her fellow patients had eroded away over the long hours of idleness until all she had left was bitter resentment.

“I really wish we weren’t forced to sit and listen to these crazies talk about their imaginary problems,” a low voice whispered.

Twilight glanced at the donkey seated beside her. A pair of scarred and much reduced ears framed a face wearing an expression of boredom that matched Twilight’s own. “I’d rather be doing anything else than sitting here listening to the same rambling stories again and again,” the donkey said, keeping her eyes forward.

“Mmmhmmm,” Twilight murmured in cautious agreement. She turned her head to stare back across the circle and avoid Applejack’s attention. “It can get a bit tedious at times.”

A half-smile brightened up the donkey’s face. “That’s putting it lightly.” There was a moment’s pause. “I’m Spinney, by the way. Spinney Whiteacre.”

“Twilight Sparkle.”

“So, what are you here for, Twilight?”

“I have to be here. They think I’m crazy.”

“You’re not alone there. Plenty of ponies are here against their will. Broadhoof is not as clean and wholesome as they like to pretend. This place is full of secrets hidden in the shadows.”

“Shadows?” Twilight asked with care. She turned to look at Spinney. “What kind of secrets?”

“You’re better off not knowing. Once they know you have access to that sort of information, you never get to leave. The doctors will ‘recommend’ that you remain in Broadhoof for further evaluation, just to be safe. Your family will find it harder to visit, and any friends you have here will be shuffled around to different wards. You'll be left to just rot away here forever, if you're lucky.” Spinney hesitated. “There are… worse punishments for unicorns.”

A chill settled into Twilight’s limbs as she reached up to rub her sheathed horn.

Spinney’s expression darkened. “Exactly. It’s not just for the truly disturbed patients. They use it to silence any unicorn they deem a threat.”

“They wouldn’t dare!” Twilight whispered.

“Oh, you think so? They’ve threatened me with it before. I’ve seen it happen, Twilight. Don’t let the boring routine take you off-guard. They aren’t ponies – they’re monsters in labcoats.”

Twilight’s hoof fell away from her horn as she turned her incredulous stare on the donkey beside her. “What do you mean they’ve threatened you?”

“They’ve said they’d take my horn if I didn’t cooperate.” Spinney’s cheeks flushed red when she caught Twilight’s gaze. “Look, I know it’s a bit small for my size, but that doesn’t mean I want it removed,” she said defensively, running a hoof over her bare forehead. “No pony deserves that fate. That’s why I’m sticking my neck out and telling you all this. We unicorns need to stick together.”

Twilight buried her head in her hooves and groaned.

After the therapy session, Twilight found her solace in Pinkie Pie, unloading her frustrations upon her perennially upbeat friend while the pair strolled down the hallway. For her part, Pinkie was content to simply listen, remarking where appropriate but otherwise remaining silent.

Once Twilight had finished her tirade, Pinkie Pie gave her a one-armed hug. “Cheer up, Twilight! It’s over for now, at least.”

“Only until next week,” Twilight muttered back.

Pinkie rolled her eyes. “Come on, sourpuss, you need to be more excited. It’s Friday! We’re only half a day away from a super fun weekend!”

Twilight met Pinkie’s stare with one of her own. After a heartbeat, her expression softened and she visibly relaxed, exhaling slowly. “Okay, okay. I’m sorry if I’m a little… tense right now.” Her voice dropped to a whisper as she moved closer to Pinkie. “I’m pretty sure the medication they’re giving me is affecting my emotions. Ever since I woke up here I’ve been getting these mood swings. At first I thought it was just the shock of finding out everyone thinks I’m crazy, but every day I’m struggling to keep my head clear.”

Pinkie’s smile slipped a bit. “I used to feel the same way. When I first arrived at Broadhoof the medicine left me all slow and sleepy all the time.” Her face brightened. “But I got better! I don’t take the same pills anymore. Have you talked to Doctor AJ about changing your medicine?”

“Of course not. Why would they stop feeding me their poison?”

“I dunno, Twi. I’d at least try. It can’t hurt.”

Twilight grunted. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. It’s not like I have anything to lose just by asking.”

As they passed by one of the many doors along the wall, a faint but deliberate cough drew them both up short. They turned as one to find the door open just wide enough to reveal a sliver of a yellow muzzle and a single blue-green eye peering out at them.

Caught off guard, it took Twilight a moment to identify the pony on the other side of the door. “Fluttershy?”

Twilight stumbled as Pinkie Pie pushed past her with an excited cheer, leaning in close enough that her nose was only inches from the crack in the doorway. “Fluttershy! Wow, I haven’t seen you in, like, ages! How have you been? I hear you and Twilight are almost best buddies now! That makes us almost best buddies too!”

Fluttershy flinched and closed the door tighter, the one visible eye trembling as it darting from Pinkie Pie to Twilight and back again. She gave a small, pleading whimper.

Twilight placed a restraining hoof on Pinkie’s shoulder and pulled her back. “Hey, Pinkie? Could you give me and Fluttershy a moment alone?”

“Awww…” Pinkie whined as she kicked at the floor. “Do I hafta?”

“Just wait at the end of the hall for me, okay? This will only take a second.”

Pinkie exaggerated a sigh and, with her head hung low enough to almost touch the floor, she set off down the hallway at a mournful pace.

After making sure Pinkie Pie was following orders – and there weren’t any other curious ponies within earshot – Twilight turned back to Fluttershy, pointedly keeping herself from making any sudden movements. The doorway opened a hair wider.

“Hello, Fluttershy,” Twilight began, her attempt at a calm voice coming out stilted and awkward. Not in her best-case scenarios had she ever predicted Fluttershy taking the initiative. “How are you today?”

Fluttershy said nothing as she stared at Twilight’s hooves, and Twilight found herself glancing around aimlessly for inspiration. Her eyes settled on the nameplate beside the door, and she leapt at the offering.

“So, I didn’t know you enjoyed spending time in… auxiliary storage room four?” Twilight blinked as she double-checked what she had just read. Lifting her head, she glanced past Fluttershy to find the rest of the room empty, save for bare shelving on the walls and a few cardboard boxes. The layer of dust made it clear the room saw little, if any, regular attention. “What are you doing in there?”

“H-hiding place…”

Even having to strain to make out the words, Twilight still felt a wave of wonderful satisfaction at hearing Fluttershy speak. Still, she forced herself to keep her expression as neutral as possible. “I see,” she said as she examined the door handle. To the passing observer it looked fine, but upon closer examination it was clear it had been broken for ages. “Broken lock, right?”

Fluttershy nodded.

“And I guess you know which rooms are like this because you’ve used them to hide in before.”

Another nod.

“That makes sense,” Twilight said carefully, filing that information away for later. Curiosity satisfied, she turned her attention back to the visible slice of her friend. “So, Fluttershy, how have you been?”

“F-fine.”

“That’s good. I had some drawings I wanted to give you, but since I didn’t see you this week, they’re all up in my room.”

Fluttershy lowered her head, trembling. “Sorry,” she whispered.

“Oh no! You don’t have to be sorry!” Twilight interjected with a nervous laugh. “I was just surprised, is all. You didn’t do anything wrong. I’m just happy you’re okay after our last, ah, interruption.”

Fluttershy flinched at the word. “Sorry.”

“You don’t have to apologize for Rainbow’s behavior,” Twilight said, risking a slight step closer to the door. Twilight mentally stumbled over herself after Fluttershy sunk closer to the floor. "Ah, I mean, nopony is perfect. That’s what being friends is all about, right? Looking past the faults to find the good inside a pony." Twilight tilted her head. "Do you think of me as a friend?"

“Maybe…”

"Because I'd like to be your friend. We could all be friends together: you, me, and Rainbow Dash. Wouldn't you like that?"

“M-maybe…” Fluttershy repeated, quiet enough it was almost inaudible over Twilight’s breathing.

"But if I'm going to be friends with Rainbow Dash, I'm going to need to know things about her. Like why she's so angry all the time." Twilight took another step closer, placing her only inches from the door.

“Well, um… You s-see…” Fluttershy faltered and blushed.

The sound of hoofs impacting the floor made Twilight instinctively turn towards one end of the hallway. A passing orderly crossed into and out of view as he swiftly moved down an adjoining hallway, his eyes cast downward, reading through the contents of a clipboard. When she turned back, Twilight was met with a tightly closed door.

“Fluttershy?” Twilight asked as she knocked on the door. “Fluttershy? Are you still there?” Twilight considered trying the handle, but dismissed the idea as soon as it formed. The last thing she needed was to aggressively burst in on the anxious pony and demand answers.

As Twilight took a reluctant step backwards she noticed a small white protrusion from beneath the door. Placing a hoof on it, Twilight slid it out to revealed another of Fluttershy’s charcoal drawings. A sparrow with a bandaged wing sat in a cage, gazing at the clouds through a nearby window. In the lower corner of the sketch the word 'gymnasium' was hastily written in dark blue ink. Twilight glanced up at the door before rolling the picture up and sliding it into one of her pockets. Reluctantly, she turned away from the door and made her way toward the distant figure of Pinkie Pie.

The entrance to the gymnasium was a matched pair of the same bland double-doors used for any of the hospital’s large internal areas, identical to those that Twilight passed through every day to reach the cafeteria. The only things to mark the doors as unique were the faded black lettering - 'Gym' - and the plastic sign bolted to the wall with a list of warnings and the times of operation.

Twilight and Pinkie Pie stood together, staring at the doors. “So, you never told me this existed because…” Twilight said, not even turning to look at Pinkie.

“You never asked, silly!”

There was a muffled groan as Twilight ran her hoof down her face. “I should have connected the dots sooner. It stands to reason that pegasi would need a space to exercise their wings to prevent atrophy, and there weren’t any pegasi outside during our time in the yard. Simple deduction posits that there had to be a place where they could fly without being able to escape. Hence,” she pointed to the black letters on the wall, “a gymnasium.” Twilight sighed.

“Well, at least you know where it is now,” said Pinkie. “That’s something to be happy about, right?”

“Sure. Besides, it’s not like I have my hopes up too high. Fluttershy was so vague, I don’t even know what I’m supposed to be doing. I expect we’ll just show up, look around, and leave. Best case? Rainbow Dash calls me an egghead again. Still, it’s better than nothing.”

The inside of the gymnasium was exactly as Twilight had predicted: a tableless copy of the cafeteria with a raised ceiling and the smell of undercooked food replaced with stale sweat. The pockmarked wooden floor still gleamed in the sunlight that leaked in through the high windows. Despite the diligent waxing there was no hiding the many divots in the wood itself, each scrape and chip gained by years spent under the abuse of eager young hooves. Faded lines of black paint could be glimpsed in between the scars in what Twilight assumed were meant for some kind of organized sport.

The walls were lined with sections of foam rubber padding, each one stretching from the floor to a little over the height of the average pony, just high enough to soften the impact of a headlong charge. From the way they sagged in their worn canvas casings,Twilight doubted they were much of an improvement over the bare wall. Whatever safety guideline demanded putting them up in the first place clearly didn’t provide rules concerning their upkeep. Nor did it demand they be mounted any higher than a pony might reach while jumping for a poorly-thrown ball; an odd choice considering the gymnasium’s primary occupants. While there was a group of young fillies rolling a ball to each other and giggling to themselves, above their heads more than a dozen pegasi moved through the open air.

Twilight watched the pegasi form a slow counter-clockwise circle like a flock of birds in formation, but only the nurses and orderlies possessed any form of avian grace. The patients moved like fledglings determined to escape the nest but still unclear on the specifics of flight. There was little sign of any excitement or enjoyment in the display. The fact that they were flying for exercise and not for fun was written out on their bored and sweaty faces.

A pair of patients separated from the group to make an unsteady landing, a nurse with a golden mane following them down. They ignored Twilight’s inconsiderate staring as they headed straight for the water fountain near the door. Both of them possessed straight-edged feathers that marked them out as having had their flight feathers clipped: not enough to keep them grounded, but more than enough to restrict their speed and endurance.

Twilight absently rubbed a hoof over the dampener on her horn as she watched the patients struggle to lift back off into the air, leaving the nurse alone as she scribbled something down on the clipboard that hung from the wall.

The click of Twilight’s hooves on the old wood announced her presence, drawing the nurse’s eyes up from her paperwork. “Can I help you?”

“I was wondering if you’ve seen my friend Rainbow Dash,” Twilight said, keeping her tone polite and deferential to mask any lingering doubt.

“Rainbow Dash?” The nurse rubbed her chin with a feather. “Oh, her. Yeah, I’ve seen her.”

“Could I talk to her?”

The nurse chuckled. “Well, you can always try,” she said as she gestured towards the ceiling.

Twilight craned her neck upwards. Far above the circling group of patients were an assortment of other pegasi traveling alone or in pairs, their altitude and languid movements made it clear they were trusted enough to have avoided having their own wings clipped. They could cut through the air with the ease of a fish in calm waters, restricted only by the bulk of the gym’s pitted walls.

Soaring above them all, her multicolored mane brushing the ceiling tiles, was Rainbow Dash. For a moment, Twilight wondered if this was what Fluttershy had wanted her to see. It was a brief illusion, but as she watched Rainbow Dash do laps around the ceiling, she could almost pretend as if nothing had changed at all. Rainbow could have been taking a mid-afternoon flight back in Ponyville if it weren’t for her green patient’s vest and the doctor in white flying abreast of her.

“She won’t want to talk, though,” the nurse said as she lowered her gaze from Rainbow Dash to look over at Twilight. “Rainbow takes her therapy pretty seriously. The only time she misses exercise is when she’s being punished.” She paused as she regarded the two patients in front of her. “What is this about, exactly?”

“It’s really important friendship stuff,” Pinkie said as she pushed past Twilight. “It’s part of Rainbow’s therapy. You know, having her make friends so she’s happier and nicer and smiles more.”

The nurse rolled her eyes as she returned the clipboard to its spot on the wall. “Whatever. There’s nothing against patients socializing during their free period, but I’m getting approval first. You two stay right there.” Spreading her wings wide, the nurse took to the air in a burst of speed that earned a few jealous glances from the patients doing laps. In seconds she had intercepted the pair of pegasi flying around the ceiling and pulled the doctor aside, allowing Rainbow Dash to fly on ahead.

Twilight watched the two ponies hover in midair while chatting with one another. There was something familiar about doctor. Although a name eluded Twilight, the sense of familiarity was enough to convince her that she'd probably seen her in Ponyville once or twice. It was a sensation that brought with it the all too common itch at the back of her mind.

Since they were both far out of earshot, Twilight shifted her attention to Rainbow Dash. Twilight took pride in her friend as Rainbow pumped her wings furiously, maintaining height and speed despite the clipped wings. There was a determined grimace on Rainbow’s face as she pushed herself to go faster. The afternoon sun glinted off the sweat on Rainbow’s face, making it look like she were crying amber crystals.

Twilight’s glanced back at the pair of staff who were trailing just behind Rainbow. The doctor with the light orange coat looked like she was instructing the nurse to take her place before she rolled over into a headlong dive toward the wooden floor below. Only yards from the ground the mare spread her wings wide, lifting up her trajectory to avoid a lethal impact and sending her sailing just inches off the floor like an orange missile – and redirecting her straight at Twilight and Pinkie Pie. Pinkie giggled while Twilight took an instinctive step backwards.

Flapping her wings like a caffeinated hummingbird, the pegasi bled off her speed as fast as she could before landing in front of the two patients. Her confident grin vanished when she slid and stumbled on her hooves, still moving a hair too fast and almost planting her face into the old wood. “Heh, sorry about that,” she said as she straightened herself up. “Sometimes it’s just nice to stretch the wings out.”

With her heart still racing and unsure if she could keep her annoyance at the flashy display from souring her voice, Twilight simply nodded instead. More impressive than the landing was the mare’s obvious youth – if it weren’t for her white outfit, she could have passed for an older filly. Her outfit was a trimmed down and more casual version of what the doctors normally wore, suited for activity and ease of movement. As she looked the mare over, Twilight was struck by how frightfully familiar the doctor was, making the itch grow more pronounced.

“Wow! That was really cool!” Pinkie Pie declared, bouncing up and down on her hooves. “You’re like super fast and I totally thought you were gonna crash! It gets better everytime I see it.”

“Aw, thanks, Pinkie Pie. But honestly, it was nothing,” the doctor said with a wave of her hoof. “Just a little show for the other patients. I like to remind them that they can’t let themselves get discouraged. We can accomplish great things if we keep working at them.” There was an honest enthusiasm behind the corny words, which Twilight could only chalk up to youthful naivety. Her eyes flicked over to Twilight before she returned her attention to Pinkie Pie. “So, what brings my favorite patient assistant all the way to the gym? I thought you didn’t like spending your free period cooped up inside.”

Twilight stepped forward, preempting Pinkie Pie. “My name is Twilight Sparkle, and we’d like to talk to Rainbow Dash. If it’s not too much trouble, Doctor…”

The mare laughed. “I’m not a doctor yet, Twilight. That is still a long ways away. Please, just call me Scootaloo.”

Twilight’s jaw almost unhinged itself. “What?” she gasped. While the cutie mark – a bandaged pegasus wing on a cloud – and the increased age certainly didn’t match up with the filly from her memories, everything else was a perfect match: the coat, the mane, the eyes, and even the youthful energy that made it seem like sitting still was impossible. Twilight continued to gawp. “But you’re so old!”

Scootaloo pulled her head back as she gave Twilight a quizzical stare. “Old? Most ponies keep telling me how they think I'm too young to be a therapist.”

“It’s okay, Scootaloo. You don’t look old. Twilight here just gets a little confused at times,” Pinkie Pie added, earning a stern glare from her friend. “It’s just a side effect from her treatment. I’m helping her to get better!”

Scootaloo’s gentle and understanding nod only caused Twilight’s scowl to deepen. “Ah. That makes sense. I was worried I was starting to look my age for a moment.”

Twilight sighed. “So… Scootaloo… We were hoping to have a chat with Rainbow Dash during our free period. Could you arrange that for us?”

“I need to know what it’s about, first.”

Pinkie took a deep breath. “It’s really important friendship stuff that’s part of Rainbow’s th–”

“Oh, Pinkie! Hehehe!” Twilight stepped forward with a forced laugh, tactically placing herself between the two ponies. “What she meant to say was that we’re Rainbow’s friends, and we were hoping to have a little conversation with her, if that’s okay with you.”

“You’re telling me that you’re both Rainbow Dash’s friends?” Scootaloo asked as she narrowed her eyes. “As in actual friend friends?”

The sheer disbelief in Scootaloo’s voice was enough to draw out a bead of cold sweat on Twilight’s brow. “Well, we’ve only just become acquaintances recently, so we’re not really friends in the traditional sense, but honestly, it’s only a matter of time.” Twilight forced her grin even wider.

“That’s awesome!” Scootaloo shouted, pulling both patients into a full hug which Pinkie Pie readily reciprocated. “I’m so glad Rainbow’s finally reaching out and trying to meet new ponies!” There was a massive smile on Scootaloo’s face when she stepped back. “I didn’t know she was taking my advice to heart, but it’s the best news I’ve heard all day.”

The honest excitement in Scootaloo’s voice was almost as startling as the sudden embrace, leaving Twilight’s mind reeling. “Really?” she managed to ask.

“It sure is!” Scootaloo said. “I’ve been working with Rainbow for years now, and it’s obvious that she needs a broader social life. Don’t get me wrong, Rainbow’s not a bad pony, but it’s still refreshing to know she’s been trying to make friends again.”

“Everypony needs more friends,” Pinkie chirped, which earned a patronizing smile from Scootaloo.

“Exactly. Which is why it’s so nice to know she’s got you two in her life now.”

Twilight glanced up at her distant friend. “Since you’re Rainbow's therapist, surely you can ask her to come down and talk to us, right? It would really help us become friends.”

The smile vanished from Scootaloo’s face. “I’d rather not. Friends or not, I’ve been with her long enough to know how little she likes to get distracted while ‘training’. If there was anything more likely to ruin a future friendship, it would be cutting into her flying time. She’s pretty much in the zone right now, and there’s no pony that takes physical therapy more seriously than Rainbow Dash.”

Twilight sighed as she and Pinkie both watched Rainbow continue her slow circles around the ceiling, the nurse abreast of her. “I figured as much. Well, I guess we can just wait until…” Her voice trailed off into silence. Slowly, she turned to face Scootaloo. “Hold on. Just what does Rainbow Dash need with a physical therapist?”

“So she can maintain her ability to fly, of course,” Scootaloo replied. “All those injuries she sustained as a filly left her almost crippled. Even if she didn’t keep sabotaging her own recovery by acting out and forcing us to clip her wings, she’s not even close to managing a long-distance solo flight. That’s why we always have someone fly with her. At that height, a cramp or spasm could be lethal.” She tilted her head as she looked at them both. “She didn’t tell either of you about this, did she?”

Pinkie continued to stare up at the circling pegasi while Twilight shrugged, hiding her shock behind cool indifference. “No. She never wanted to talk about her injuries. I mean, you know how Rainbow can be: always afraid to admit any weakness.”

“She has trouble opening up to ponies, that’s for sure,” Scootaloo said. “It’s a shame. She’s the most dedicated patient I work with, and nopony works harder. But it's her refusal to accept reality – to acknowledge that her injuries caused permanent nerve damage – that holds her back. No amount of training can just make that sort of thing go away.”

Silence followed her last remark, leaving Twilight at a loss as what to say next.

Scootaloo cleared her throat. “Anyway, I’m sure that if you really care about Rainbow you’ll get her to open up to you eventually. She might act a bit rough at first, but she’s one of the most amazing mares I’ve ever met. I just hope that you’ll be able to help her with her more… unreasonable delusions. I’m sure she’s told you about her plans for the Wonderbolts?”

Twilight bobbed her head up and down. “Oh, of course.”

“What Rainbow has accomplished is fantastic, but she’s too far in denial about what she can actually achieve. When reality doesn’t match up with what she expects, she gets frustrated and lashes out. It’s possible that she might be able to fly well enough to take care of herself outside of the hospital, but she will never fly as well as the average pegasus, much less like a Wonderbolt.”

“Haven’t you told her any of this before?” Twilight asked. “Rainbow might be stubborn, but she normally comes around when there’s a problem standing in her way.”

“Oh, I have,” answered Scootaloo with an irritated flick of her tail. “We all have: the nurses, the doctors, everyone. But even though I’m closer to her than anyone else on the staff, Rainbow doesn’t really trust any of us. After all, doctors were the ones who told her she’d never fly again, and she proved them wrong.”

“That’s why I’ve been pushing her to make friends. It’s not just because she needs more social interaction in her life, but she needs to hear the truth from someone she really respects. Until she accepts what has happened to her, she’s just going to be stuck in this… this endless cycle of blaming everyone else for her problems and hiding from the truth.”

Scootaloo paused, as if recognizing what she had been saying. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to suggest you two need to do anything more than try and be her friends. I want you to understand where she’s coming from, since she’s not likely to tell you herself.”

As easy to read as an open novel, Scootaloo’s emotions were laid bare in her face. She’s so naive and invested in her patient that she’s willing to tell me anything, Twilight thought with growing excitement. Twilight eventually met Scootaloo’s gaze and smiled.

“We will be her bestest friends ever!” Pinkie Pie shouted, bouncing up and down on her hooves like an sugar-infused filly before she reached out and pulled Twilight in tight, shoulder to shoulder. “We super Pinkie Promise, don’t we Twilight?” She didn’t wait for Twilight to answer. “Rainbow is gonna get the whole Pinkie Pie Best Friendship Treatment! I don’t care if she’s been a meany pants before, no pony deserves to be sad when there is something I can do about it! She’s gonna get so much friendship she’s gonna be swimming in it!”

Startled by the outburst, it took Twilight a moment before she join in the laughter. “Okay Pinkie, I think she gets the idea. Just tone it down a bit.”

“That’s great to hear,” Scootaloo said with a look of relief. “Not too many patients would want to try and be Rainbow’s friend.”

Whatever else Scootaloo was going to say was cut off by a shout of warning from above. All three mares lifted their heads as a bundle of feathers hurtled towards the ground. It was Rainbow Dash, one wing flapping wildly in an attempt to arrest her fall as her other wing was clutched up against her body. She howled like a wounded animal as her face contorted in pain. The nurse she had been flying with was frozen in shock as Rainbow tumbled through the air away from her. It was only a moment’s fleeting hesitation before she recovered and dived after the cartwheeling Rainbow, but it was obvious that she wouldn’t reach her in time.

Scootaloo was off like an arrow before Twilight could even register her own panic, shooting straight across the floor towards the falling pegasus. Angling upwards at the last minute, Scootaloo intercepted Rainbow with the soft thump of two bodies colliding. There was a flurry of flapping and hurried shouts before the louder smack of flesh hitting wood echoed around the room, leaving a terrifying silence in its wake.

“Rainbow!” Twilight screamed as she charged across the floor. Before she could get close, the staff descended upon the fallen pair like a swarm of vultures around carrion, Twilight’s cries lost beneath their shouted questions and commands.

Momentarily forgotten, the bravest and most curious patients hovered nearby, hoping to catch a glimpse of what had occurred through the milling orderlies, while others continued to fly their rough circle through the air, heedless of what else was going on. The rest of the patients fled to the corners of the gym like birds startled by a sudden noise. A few simply remained where they stood, covering their ears and shrieking loudly.

Twilight managed to push through the other patients in time to see Scootaloo helping a groaning Rainbow Dash to her hooves, both pegasi looking battered but unharmed. A wave of relief passed through the onlookers, as if the room itself were exhaling when Rainbow Dash managed a few steps on her own. She blushed as she shrugged off the nurses that surrounded her, growling that she was fine even as she held one wing tenderly against her flank.

Held back by the ring of orderlies making sure the nurses had all the space they needed, Twilight felt her knees shake as the tension drained out of her. An unsteady smile spread over her face as she watched Scootaloo inspect a reluctant Rainbow’s wing. Well, at least if she hurts herself in this world it’s not permanent, she thought. A few bruises is nothing. It’s not like she… died… Twilight sat down hard before her legs could give out, the color draining from her face. Rainbow could have died! And if she dies here, then… Oh no. No no no no.

“That was scary, but at least they’re not hurt!” Pinkie said with forced cheerfulness as she sat down next to the horrified Twilight. “For a minute there I was super afraid that something bad might happen. She sure is lucky!”

Twilight licked her dry lips. “Y-yes. Lucky.”

As the staff slowly rounded up the rest of the patients and returned to their previous activities, Twilight stood up and carefully made her way after the departing pair of pegasi. She managed to catch up with them near the water fountains as Scootaloo berated a scowling Rainbow Dash.

“... that's why you don’t get to fly that high for so long. Your wings just can’t take the strain.”

“I’d be able to if you didn't keep clippinnngh my wings!” Dash spat back in Scootaloo’s face.

“They wouldn’t keep clipping your feathers if you didn’t keep getting in trouble! What you did to Doctor Applejack was inexcusable, and you know it.”

Dash flared her wings out aggressively, although when one wing refused to fully extend it gave the pose a pathetic sense of forced bravado. “Hey! What happened to Fluttershy was her fault! I’m nnn… nnot gonna let anyone hurt one of my friends.”

“Doctor Applejack didn’t do anything to Fluttershy. It was a terrible accident. And that still doesn’t make it okay for you to lie to Nurse Golden Rain about how long you’ve been flying or when your wing starts to hurt. We have those limits for your safety. If I hadn’t managed to catch you, you could have been seriously hurt.” Scootaloo let her voice drop to a near whisper. “And if you get hurt, then what would happen to Fluttershy?”

Rainbow Dash sputtered with angry defiance, although the way she flinched made it clear the question had hit home. Unable to find anything to say she huffed and turned away from Scootaloo. Her eyes narrowed as she recognized Twilight and Pinkie Pie. “What do you two want?”

“We wanted to make sure you were okay!” Pinkie Pie said with gusto, although most of her excitement seemed to be focused on Scootaloo. “I was like ‘oh no she’s falling!’ and then saw Scootaloo race over and was like ‘she can’t make it in time because Rainbow is falling so fast’ but then she did! That was soooo scary! Scootaloo is amazingly amazing!”

Rainbow’s expression only darkened, prompting Twilight to step forward. “We are also really impressed at how high you were able to fly, Rainbow Dash. That was also, um, amazingly amazing.”

“Of course it was! I’m Rainbow Daa… Dash!” she said before her suspicion returned. “So, what, were you two spying on me?”

“Actually, Fluttershy sent us.”

Twilight’s words brought out a smile on Scootaloo’s face. “Oh, so you know Rainbow’s other friend? That’s wonderful!”

“Yes. She said we should come by and see Rainbow so we could appreciate how hard she works to fly as well as she does. She also hopes Rainbow won’t fly like that again because she really doesn’t want her to end up dea– seriously injured.”

The flicker of pleasure at Twilight’s compliment vanished beneath a heavy dose of skepticism. “You better not have been trying to bully her or nothing, egghead. I’ll know if you were.”

“She approached us. I think she really just wants us to be friends as well.”

Pinkie Pie nodded as well. “Yeah! Super best friends!”

Twilight rummaged around in her pocket. “See?” she asked as she pulled out the drawing of the injured bird. “She sent us here because she wants us to be friends too.”

“So? Just because she gave you a drawing doesn’t mean you’re that close,” Rainbow said, her protest coming off flat and forced. She nibbled on her lower lip before letting out a loud huff. “Fine. Since Fluttershy thinks you’re cool, I’ll give you a shot.”

“That sounds like a great idea,” Scootaloo said. “I’ll talk to one of the doctors and see if I can arrange some time for you to really get to know each other.” Rainbow looked poised to deliver a cutting retort when Scootaloo placed a calming hoof on Rainbow’s back. “Plus, spending time making friends peacefully would be a good way to show the doctors that you’re making progress and that you might not need to have your feathers clipped,” she added, giving Rainbow a knowing stare.

Rainbow Dash scrunched up her face in irritation before letting out a sharp harrumph. “Fine. As long as it gets me my wings back, I’ll play teaparty or whatever.”

“Great!” a beaming Scootaloo said before turning back to Twilight. “You’re one of Doctor Applejack’s patients, right?”

Twilight nodded as she returned the drawing to her pocket.

“Then I’ll contact her about setting something up. I’m sure we can find the time for some sort of group activity for you three. How does that sound?”

Pinkie Pie bounced on her hooves excitedly. “Oh I can’t wait! I love parties for new friends! I have so many great ideas.” What followed was a rapid list of games, food items, and party themes, each containing high quantities of sugar and frosting, and which was only brought to a close by a nurse loudly announcing that the free period was over and commanding all the patients to form up to be lead to their next destination.

Scootaloo gave Twilight and Pinkie Pie a friendly farewell before leading Rainbow off on her own. Rainbow only grunted, pointedly not looking at the other two patients.

Once they were out of earshot Pinkie turned to Twilight. “Do you think that was too much? Rainbow didn’t really seem all that interested in the party planning.”

“It doesn’t matter. Just having some time with her should be enough.”

“Really? It usually takes me more than one meeting to really make a good friend.”

“It is easier when you have magic.”

Pinkie gave Twilight a confused stare as they made their way towards the shuffling lines of patients. “But you can’t do magic. Not with that thing on your horn.”

“That’s exactly why we’re sneaking into Rose’s office tomorrow.”

Chapter 23

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Asylum

Chapter 23

“I really don’t think we should be doing this,” Pinkie Pie whispered as she crept behind Twilight. “We’re gonna get in so much trouble.” Nervous eyes darted from shadow to shadow, gazing through the ominous half-light cast by the few overhead lights still operating so late at night.

“It’s going to be okay,” Twilight whispered over her shoulder as they slunk around a corner. She pointed at the pair of large oak doors further down the hall. “I just need you to unlock the doors to his office. We’ll slip in and out. No problem.”

“But what if they catch us?”

She turned back, holding a firm stare on Pinkie for several seconds before speaking. “They won’t.”

Pinkie bit her lower lip but quickly withered beneath Twilight’s gaze and nodded. She shuffled forward, compulsively glancing up and down the hallway, before she settled in place in front of the ornate wooden doors. With care she withdrew a hairpin and a second length of metal from inside her flat mane. After one more check to make sure they were alone, she went to work on the lock.

Sitting back to leave Pinkie to her work, Twilight occupied herself by trying to decide how a pony so afraid of doing the wrong thing would ever learn to pick locks. I guess making other ponies happy is more important than always following the rules. It was a surprisingly uplifting thought.

There was a soft click, and the doors to the office swung open on silent hinges. Pinkie returned the makeshift lockpicks to her mane and gave Twilight a worried look. “Okay. It’s done.”

“Good work.” Twilight hurried over, almost tiptoeing to muffle the clip-clop of her hooves on the cold tiles. She slipped into the office and pulled a reluctant Pinkie Pie in behind herself before turning to shut and lock both doors, drowning them both in the darkness. Twilight fumbled along the wall until her hoof found the lightswitch.

The transition from dark to light left stars dancing across her vision, but Twilight was already prowling forward, scanning along the overloaded bookshelves. “Okay Pinkie, we need to try and find anything that might be related to how the hospital operates. Anything about rules and regulations. Something in here is going to describe how to remove an arcane dampener.”

“Okie dokie,” Pinkie said through an uncertain smile. The pair broke off to each side, searching in silence.

It was only after Twilight had gone down her side of the room twice – and had even finished a quick pass along Pinkie’s side, just to be sure – that she finally turned her attention to the desk sitting beneath the large windows. Wider than three ponies standing nose to tail, it was a polished oak monument to Rose’s vanity. Like the stallion, the desk was a well groomed piece of theater: clean, organized, and imposing.

It was also clear that Rose took his privacy seriously, with every drawer locked up tight, so Twilight turned her attention to the small stack of papers resting atop the desk. She picked up the topmost folder. Inside were the medical records for a mare named Pallet Shift. Twilight flipped through the pages. Head injury at work… severe mental damage… vegetative state… need for dedicated medical care.

Twilight grabbed the next one. Patient name: Sunbeam. Pegasi. Severe depression brought about by the loss of a parent… undergoing therapy… responding well to medication.

As Twilight set the two folders aside, a third marked with a small red line beneath the name Wind Song caught her eye.

Inside, everything was laid out in staid lines of text, the stodgy medical terminology and opaque acronyms doing little to breath life into Wind Song as a young unicorn. The story of her struggles with early onset dementia was told with the cold, succinct precision of any medical report. Wind Song’s symptoms seemed so far removed from reality when couched in the language of the clinical professional; screaming fits and bouts of self-damaging hysteria were described like momentary speedbumps.

The discussion changed tone as Twilight moved to the second page. It was like trying to decipher a foreign language, but phrases like ‘arcanoshock therapy’ and ‘magically-assisted neural alteration’ stood out amongst the literature. Even to Twilight’s journeyman’s eyes it was clear Wind Song had not responded well to Doctor Rose’s treatment. Each flop was met by a renewed attempt, a mathematical equation to be solved with higher doses and longer treatments. Every success was justification enough to try for more.

All the while something nagged at the back of Twilight’s mind. She frowned and flipped back to the front of the folder, re-reading the form summarizing Wind Song’s scheduled treatment. A cold chill worked up her neck as she double checked the last few pages again. The numbers were off. Medications were altered. The treatments were different. Rose was changing the treatment without approval.

A predatory smile spread over Twilight’s face as she tore the papers free from the folder and carefully slipped them into one of her pockets.

“You can’t do that!” said Pinkie as she bounded over to Twilight, angry and horrified in equal measure. “That’s private stuff!”

Twilight returned the empty folder into the bottom of the pile. She frowned when she noticed that the desk still didn’t look right. It made her anxious. Only after Twilight had equally spaced out the pens and made sure the stacks of folders were perfectly aligned did she remember Pinkie Pie was standing at her side.

“Huh? Oh. Look, this is too important to worry about privacy. I have to show this to Applejack and Rarity. Here is proof that Rose is lying – proof that neither of them can ignore. It’s not going to convince them that I’m sane, but it will help. And once we’re done, we’ll give it back.” Twilight gave the unconvinced Pinkie her most reassuring smile. “I promise.”

There was jingle of keys and the faint scrape of metal on metal before the office door was unlocked with a sharp click.

“I can’t believe I forgot to turn off the lights,” said Rose. “These late nights are getting to me.”

“It’s been a long day,” a mare replied.

Twilight winced as she cowered beneath the desk with Pinkie Pie. The pair of them pressed together in the small space beneath the desk, locked in an uncomfortable embrace like inexperienced lovers. They shared a worried look, both of them recognizing the mare’s voice. Why did it have to be Applejack? thought Twilight. Fear gave her the strength to resist swearing. If she finds me inside Rose’s office, she’ll never trust a thing I say again.

“But I’m scheduled to be here until the morning crew arrives, while you could have gone home hours ago. So what’s your excuse?” Applejack asked, her voice flavored by the harmless teasing of close professionals.

“Even when you’re the boss, you don’t always get to pick your own hours. Especially when a family emergency comes up. It’s a bit last minute, but are you sure you’ll be okay covering Royal Derby’s shift tonight?”

The soft brush of approaching hooves on carpet turned Twilight’s stomach to ice. She could see her terror mirrored in Pinkie Pie’s face, their shared dread freezing them into place like statues. They hardly dared to breathe as the doctors drew closer.

“Oh shucks, it’s nothing. I grew up working late days on the farm. And Roy needs to be there for his dad,” said Applejack. There was the creak of old wood as Applejack took a seat on one of the chairs sitting in front of the desk. “Now, you said you wanted to talk about Twilight?”

The scent of Rose’s cologne ticked Twilight’s nose, the glimpse of his hooves from beneath the desk making it clear he was staring out through the windows. “Yes, yes. While most of the patients are certainly showing progress on our new treatment regime, Twilight Sparkle is ahead by leaps and bounds. I think you’ll agree that it is a significant improvement over where she was six months ago. I’m very pleased with how well she has responded so far. Very pleased indeed.”

There was a pause. “There’s a ‘but’ coming, isn’t there?” asked Applejack.

Rose chuckled as he turned back around to face Applejack. “Quite. But while she is showing fantastic progress, you’ve requested that we not go forward with treating other patients along Twilight’s model. Your report says you have some concerns about how she’s handling the observed side-effects. Hasn’t she started to overcome the temporary amnesia?”

“I reckon I wouldn’t even call it amnesia at this point. She’s missing memories, sure, but it seems more like they’ve just been altered. She makes new memories just fine, but her life before her treatment is one big fantasy weaved into reality. It’s just not something I’ve experienced before.”

“More delusions, then?”

“I don’t think so,” Applejack said. Twilight could almost picture her rubbing her chin as she mulled over her words. “At least, not like she used to have. She’s perfectly lucid all day. On the outside they look like delusions, but there’s none of that inconsistency we’ve seen before. I’d say they’re less delusions and more a memory problem at this point.”

Pinkie Pie shivered as she clutched her tail tightly against herself. Twilight tried to silently reassure her, but Pinkie wouldn’t meet her gaze. When Rose dropped something onto the desk, both of them flinched. Pinkie bit her lower lip hard enough that Twilight feared she’d draw blood.

“This is not… wholly unexpected,” said Rose with care. There was the sound of papers being shifted around on his desk. “We were trying to stabilize her mental state to prevent arcane energy from creating a relapse. There was an allowable chance that she could suffer some temporary memory issues. I’d hardly call it a memory problem. In fact, this could even be to her benefit. Without the memories of her youth, there won’t be the guilt and threat of self-harm. We can just treat her for the symptoms she still has until they return.”

“Well, that’s the other thing. Most of the major symptoms are in remission. While she still shows her OCPD tendencies to a degree, there don’t seem to be any of the hallucinations, social problems, or jumbled thoughts. We should still keep the mirrors out of her room for now, but there have only been two episodes in the past weeks where hallucinations may have played a part. It’s not clear. Even so, it’s all manageable with the proper medication at her current level.”

“Applejack, it sounds like the only thing that hasn’t gone to plan so far is her missing memories. Twilight’s life has improved drastically. It’s still early, of course, but it looks like what was a crippling illness has been transformed into a treatable condition. Everything is far within the acceptable boundaries so far. Do you still think we shouldn’t go forward with the treatment model on other patients?”

“I do.”

“And why is that?”

“It’s her amnesia. Rose, I know you don’t think it’s the biggest concern, and you keep saying that they should return eventually, but it don’t sit right with me. I’m starting to doubt that those memories will ever come back, if I’m perfectly honest.”

“You can’t know that,” Rose interjected.

There was a thump as she jumped to her hooves, her passionate tone causing her country drawl to seep into her words. ““Exactly! We don’t know! What we accomplished with the tests, nearly curin’ those mild cases… that was revolutionary. We saved lives, Rose. But none of them ever showed side-effects like these. Even if we’re not makin’ the expected progress, the chance of permanent memory alteration is a cause for concern. We can’t just go rootin’ around in their minds like a hungry hog. There’s a reason every aspect of this treatment is so darn controlled. If it turns out that I’m just a groundhog frightened of shadows and Twilight does get her memories back, then so be it. Heck, even if she never remembers any of it, then yes, I’ll be the first to admit that it’s a small price to pay. But how can you be sure that it’s the only cost? Our cure might end up being worse than what we have now.”

Rose’s normally collected tones evaporated like a puddle in the desert, indignant fury dripping from every word. “Worse? Worse? How can anything be worse than the barbarity of a keratotomy? We’re trying to keep ponies from being butchered by a bunch of old stallions with their heads stuck up their asses. They turn ponies into empty shells and call it a success because their patients are easier to deal with afterwards. How can you ever compare my treatment to that cruelty?”

“And what happens if we end up doing with magic what they do with a saw?”

There was a long, lingering silence. Under the desk, Twilight sat transfixed, her worry about being discovered having vanished as she held on to every word exchanged.

When Rose finally spoke, the acrimony was gone, replaced by a weary calm. “I understand your views on the matter, but it’s only conjecture at this point. Your observations about her memory don’t match up with the data from the scans, all of which show definite improvement. Yes, that can change, but like you say, even if Twilight ends up never regaining her full memories, the progress she has made will all have been worth it.”

“I can’t rightly comment on what the scans show,” Applejack said stiffly. “After all, I still haven’t seen them.”

“You’ll have them by Monday, I promise. The electrical problems shorted out the photocopier, and I’ve been stuck waiting for the replacement to be delivered.”

“Why not give them to me now?”

“Because that’s not important right now!” Rose barked. After another long pause he let out a sigh. “I’m sorry I shouted at you. I’m not getting enough sleep, and the lack of similar results amongst the rest of the treatment group isn’t making that any easier. But it’s not just Twilight I have to worry about. It’s been a year since we’ve shifted from the clinical trial to treating more serious cases. If we can’t demonstrate real and substantial progress soon, then they’re liable to cut our funding – or just revoke their approval entirely. If we fail now, it could be years before we could get another chance. How many sick unicorns will lose their horns in that time?”

“We both swore the same oath when we graduated, Rose. We promised to do no harm. We don’t get to weigh causin’ suffering in one pony against preventin’ it in a dozen others. That’s just one ol’ big slippery slope that leads to a dark and terrible place.”

Engrossed in making sure to listen to every word Applejack was saying, Twilight didn’t hear Rose moving until he strode into view, his legs so close she swore she could feel their hairs brush. Pinkie Pie looked on the verge of passing out. They couldn’t retreat any further beneath the desk, no matter how hard she wished she could just burrow into the floor and escape. All it would take was for him to turn to look in Applejack’s direction and they would be discovered.

Instead, Rose turned away, his gaze shifting to some distant place beyond the dark horizon. When he finally spoke, his voice was as dry and faded as an old photograph. “When I was in Saddle Arabia, I had to make those sorts of decisions all the time. It was simple arithmetic. Some wounds would have taken too much time, time in which I could save two or three other soldiers. We don’t always have the luxury of following our morals, Applejack.”

“You’re not in Saddle Arabia.” The admonishment in Applejack’s voice was gone, replaced with quiet concern. “Not anymore.”

“I think a part of me is always going to be there,” Rose said, so quiet that Twilight almost mistook it for a sigh.

“Sir?” Applejack asked, but Rose didn’t repeat himself. Instead, he turned from the window and continued his circuit around to the other side of the desk. Twilight wiped the sweat from her brow.

“I was just trying to give you the wider picture. We can’t ignore the reality of our situation. If we don’t show more success, then we risk condemning sick unicorns to a terrible fate at the hooves of a barbarous and obsolete form of medicine.” Applejack let out what sounded like the start of a protest, but Rose continued over it. “But that doesn’t mean you are wrong. I’m going to put further treatments on hold for a week.”

“A week?” Applejack paused, as if waiting for the punchline that would never come. Her voice hardened. “One week ain’t enough time to do a proper study.”

“But it is all we can afford. Even that much time is dangerous. If the board hears that I’m halting things because of concerns about side effects, that will be the final nail in the coffin.” Rose spoke with a growing sense of purpose, strength and confidence filling his voice. “That means you will have to keep things quiet. I’ll report that the lab equipment is being repaired due to another electrical problem, which should give us an excuse in case the board suddenly does an audit – as unlikely as that is. Starting Monday, I want you to spend all day at Twilight’s side. Get her talking: family, friends, life as Celestia’s anointed heir apparent. Anything and everything. See if there are any inconsistencies or confusion that might signal her memories coming back. Understand?”

“If that’s all the time I can get, then I’ll make do.” Applejack’s voice held far less confidence, but there was still a steely resolve beneath her words. “You can count on me.”

“Excellent. I expect a report about Twilight’s mental state by the end of next Friday. If there is no sign of regression, then we can put these concerns behind us and the treatments can resume.”

With little ceremony, Applejack said goodbye and excused herself. Rose continued to stand in silence long after the door closed behind her.

Twilight’s blood turned to ice when he did finally move – right around to the back of the desk again, his hooves only inches away. It was only luck that kept them from being discovered when he bent down to unlock one of the side drawers, his proximity to the both of them ensuring that his eyes were turned outwards, away from the pair of cowering mares. Still, Twilight didn’t dare exhale, fearful he might feel her breath against the hairs of his legs.

The drawer clicked and slid open with a reluctant sigh, allowing Rose to reach inside and produce a bulging manila folder. Despite the bland appearance, its sudden arrival came like a burst of winter air on a hot summer day. Her eyes were transfixed. Twilight would know that folder anywhere. It was the folder Rose had tormented her with on her first day at Broadhoof.

It was her folder.

There was the airy thwap of paper hitting wood as Rose dropped the folder on the desk. He reached back into the open drawer and, with much greater care, removed a bottle filled with a dark mahogany liquid. It looked expensive, but she caught a whiff of paint thinner when he removed the cork.

Rose let out a long groan after downing a few heavy mouthfuls. “This is what I get for hiring an insecure earth pony with a chip on her shoulder,” he said beneath his breath, letting out a humorless laugh. He returned the bottle to the drawer and turned his attention to Twilight’s folder.

There was no doubt in Twilight’s mind that Rose was looking for the scans Applejack had requested. But why? she asked herself. Wouldn’t he want scans showing one of his patients with no sign of a mental disorder? The sense of revelation brought a smile to her face. Of course! If I’m the only patient showing such amazing progress while the rest of the patients languish like Wind Song, it invalidates his entire study! If anyone sees those scans, they’ll start asking questions about the other ponies, and he can’t risk that. If they pull his funding then he’ll never get what he really wants – the immortality of having a treatment bearing his name.

The smug confidence at having picked apart Rose’s plan was matched by her disgust at his tactics. Listening to him lift papers out of her folder, Twilight found herself rubbing the ones in her own pocket, enjoying the sense of righteous pride in knowing she had found a weakness he couldn’t make disappear so easily.

Only if he doesn’t catch you first, a voice whispered from the back of Twilight’s thoughts, sending ice down her spine. The fear and anxiety returned as she stared up at the stallions chest. Her mind began to taunt her like a schoolyard bully with images of what would happen if she were discovered. Cold sweat dripped down her temples. She watched him return the file to the drawer like a terrified gargoyle, frozen in dead anticipation of their eyes meeting. She barely even moved her head, even when he locked the drawer and walked out of sight.

Only after Rose had switched off the lights and locked the door behind him did Twilight let out the breath she hadn’t known she was holding. There was a perverse sense of safety being shrouded in darkness that helped to calm her nerves. “Oh Celestia, that was close,” said Twilight as she and Pinkie Pie untangled themselves, eyes adjusting to what little light creeped in around the door frame. Twilight arched her back, her spine making a soft pop. “I can’t believe he didn’t see us.”

“We. Need. To. Leave,” Pinkie hissed. “Now. Before he comes back.”

“I’m not leaving until I find out how to deactivate the spells on the dampener.” She gave Pinkie’s shoulder a reassuring squeeze. “The odds of Rose coming back to his office again are miniscule. Besides, we’ll only have to come back later if we don’t find it tonight.”

The dim light seeping in from beneath the office door was enough to illuminate Pinkie’s wide-eyed stare. “What? That’s crazy. You’re crazy!”

Twilight scowled. “Crazy? How am I supposed to prove that I’m not crazy if I can’t use magic? The only way I can objectively prove my sanity is by casting magic that no institutionalized filly could ever manage. And they’re never going to give me that chance willingly. If I don’t – if we don’t do this, we risk letting all of Equestria fall. We have to stay, Pinkie. Everypony is counting on us.”

Pinkie shook her head like Twilight’s words were just so many angry insects. “No. Now! We have to go right now. I kept my Pinkie Promise, so I get to go back to my room.”

Twilight tightened her grip on Pinkie’s shoulder. “Look, the only place we haven’t looked is the desk drawers. It’s obviously where he keeps all the important things he doesn’t want anyone else to find. All you need to do is pick those locks, let me look through them, and we can leave.”

Pinkie stiffened. “I said no! I’m not doing it. I am leaving!” she said, pulling free from Twilight’s grip. “You can get in trouble if you want, but I’m not a bad pony and I’m not gonna help you do any more bad pony stuff!” There was anger and fear and a hint of disgust in her expression as she stiffly turned away, marching towards the door.

The burst of anger inside Twilight’s breast was like a volcanic eruption. She rushed at Pinkie. Grabbing her by the shoulders, she spun Pinkie around and shoved her up against the wall. The bookshelves rattled with the impact as Twilight bared her teeth. “No! You are not leaving! Not when I’m so close! Do you understand me? We are doing this, and we are doing it now!”

Twilight felt something wet splatter against her arms. Pinkie’s eyes glistened in the dim light, her face scrunched up as she tried to hold back her tears. In an instant the fire was extinguished. Twilight jerked her arms back like she had touched a hot stove. Unsupported, Pinkie dropped to the floor. She curled her tail around her flank, not daring to look up at Twilight. Her sniffles were like thunder in the darkness.

“Pinkie…” Twilight croaked, her mouth a sudden desert. “Wait, I…”

Pinkie Pie jumped to her hooves and darted for the door. Twilight called out to her, but she didn’t even glance over her shoulder. The door swung shut behind her, leaving Twilight to be swallowed up by the shadows.

It took far longer than Twilight would ever want to admit before she felt like her emotions were back under control. Stress and the byproduct of whatever medication they were poisoning her with was enough to fray her nerves, but in the silence of Rose’s office, her outburst became a damning echo reverberating within her mind.

A wave of shame and guilt settled over her. What am I doing? Twilight asked herself, the question carrying the fierce disapproval of a parent picking up their child from school early. There is no excuse for that, no room for losing control, no matter what sort of poison they’re putting in my system. With a stuttering start, Twilight moved towards the exit. Pinkie was absolutely right, and I should have seen that. Sticking around here is stupid and illogical. If I get caught, then any hope Equestria had is gone. I need a new plan, a smarter plan, if I’m going to get this thing off my horn.

As Twilight slipped out into the hallway and carefully closed the doors behind her, she was both relieved and perturbed to find that Pinkie Pie had already vanished. Mental recriminations washed over her again, but Twilight found solace in what she had achieved. She ran a hoof over her pocket and the papers hidden within. I might not have found what I was looking for, but this is almost as good. I can’t afford any doubts about my path. Even if I make some mistakes, every step forward is a step closer to saving Equestria.

Twilight took comfort in the certainty of that statement. She even smiled. By the time she finally made it back to her room, her shame was a distant memory.

Chapter 24

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Asylum

Chapter 24

“Twilight? Can you hear me?”

“P-Princess? Princess Celestia, is that you? I’ve been so worried! It’s been weeks since we talked. Please, I need to know what’s happening. I need to know that you’re safe!”

“The shadow… more powerful by the day. We don’t know how much longer we can hold it back.”

“I’m trying my hardest, Princess! But my friends aren’t the same in this world, and every time I make any progress something seems to go wrong.”

“... calm, my faithful student. You will find a way, but you must… quickly and remain strong. You must restore the Elements of Harmony soon… else all will be lost.”

“I can’t go any faster, Princess. My friends… I have so few chances to try and fix what is wrong with them.”

“You will succeed. We believe in you, Twilight. I… in you.”

“No! Princess, please don’t go! I need your help!”

“Contact… soon…”

“Princess, please wait. I don’t want to be alone again. Please! I need you! Princess? Princess?”

Twilight sat at the table, staring across the worn surface at the scowling Rainbow Dash, whose arms had yet to uncross. The lines on Rainbow’s face only deepened when she sent a venomous glare in Applejack’s direction. Unspoken tension made the air within the small room thick and humid.

Twilight glanced over at Applejack and Scootaloo as they shared pleasantries and mild gossip. She felt like an awkward child on an arranged playdate between mothers who were closer friends than their children. She resisted the urge to mirror Rainbow’s scowl.

Time to make the best of a bad situation, Twilight told herself, pushing back on her irritation. She ran a hoof over her Smarty Pants doll dangling from her pocket, taking strength from the valuable item. “So, Rainbow Dash. How are you feeling?”

“Fine.”

“Are you still sore after your cra-, um, fall?”

Rainbow narrowed her eyes. “No.”

“That’s good,” Twilight said, flashing a smile as she hurriedly changed the subject. “What have you been up to?”

“Nothing.”

“Have you read any good books recently?”

“No.”

“Then I can definitely recommend some to you. Have you read the Daring Do series yet? I’m positive you’ll fall in love with them if you’ll just give them half a chance. They’re about this really brave pegasus, see, and she likes to–”

“Books are nnnot cool,” Rainbow said flatly.

“Well, I think books are pretty cool.”

“That’s because you’re not cool.”

Twilight’s mouth snapped shut, her cheeks turning crimson. She glanced down at her hooves as she rubbed them together, chastising herself for her indecisiveness. Stop acting like a shy filly on your first day of school. This is Rainbow Dash. You’ve talked to her a million times before. It doesn’t matter if she’s got a head injury or damaged wings. She’s still the same mare deep down. You know her. You know what makes her tick. So use it!

Twilight straightened up in her seat and affected a casual demeanor. “I heard Rapidfire is the favorite to win the Wonderbolts Derby this year.”

The result was electric. “Rapidfire? Rapidfire?” Rainbow Dash banged a hoof down on the table. “Fleetfoot could fly rings around Rapidfire, any day of the wwweek!”

“Well, Rapidfire did win it last year,” said Twilight as she racked her brain for all the facts and bits of trivia she’d picked up from Rainbow over the years, hoping they were still accurate.

“Exactly! He’s complacent. Lazy! He isn’t hungry enough to win a big contest again. He already won his trophies and his medals, so he doesn’t push himself. But Fleetfoot?” Rainbow Dash smirked. “She’s the one to watch. What she lacks in size she makes up for in speed. I’ll bet you a hundred bits – no, a thousand bits – that she wins the Derby.”

“You sound like quite the fan.”

Rainbow Dash struck a pose. “The biggest! I’ve even got her autograph. She’s totally gonna take over for Spitfire some day. Unless I beat her to it, of course.”

“Really? Her autograph? How did you manage that?”

“I’m a member of the Wonderbolts Fan Club and get the magazine every month. When she got accepted they put a tear-out poster inside, and guess what? It has her autograph on it! It’s on my wwwall right now.” Rainbow Dash brushed back her mane. “Coolest thing in the whole hospital. Besides me, of course.”

“Ah,” said Twilight with a weak grin. “That sounds like a great piece of memorabilia.”

“It is. Everyone is super jealous.” Rainbow eyed Twilight, her expression shifting from antagonism to mild curiosity. “I didn’t think an egghead like you’d be into the Wonderbolts.”

“I’m not their biggest fan, obviously,” Twilight said as she gestured across the table. “Really, I’m just excited to have a chance talk with another fan. Especially one like you, since you know so much more about the Wonderbolts than anyone else here. I think you could teach me so very much. If that’s okay with you.”

A slow smile spread across Rainbow’s features. “Teach, huh? Told ya you were an egghead. Fine, I’ll do it. But pay attention, because I ddon’t want to repeat myself.”

The rest of the hour was spent in a one-sided discussion about the Wonderbolts, the Wonderbolts Derby, the Wonderbolts Reserves, and Rainbow Dash’s plans to join or win all of them once she got out of Broadhoof. She darted from topic to topic like a parasprite, and whatever hope Twilight had of more meaningful conversation quickly drowned beneath the unending torrent of obsessively detailed trivia. Twilight’s smile grew strained as the minutes ticked away.

It finally came to an end when Applejack stood up and announced that it was time to leave. There was a flicker of irritation on Rainbow’s face before the mask of suave disinterest reasserted itself.

“I’ll see you around sometime, egghead,” Rainbow said over her shoulder as she was escorted away.

As Twilight waved goodbye, she allowed herself a moment of self-satisfaction at having moved her friendship forward with another element bearer. Princess Celestia would be proud.

Applejack smiled when she caught Twilight’s eye. “Well, did you two have some fun?”

“I did. Rainbow Dash is exuberant and, well, really focused on the Wonderbolts, but she’s fun to be with. I hope we can spend a little more time together again.”

“It’s nice to see you making friends again, but wouldn’t you rather meet some different ponies?” Despite the neutral tone, Applejack’s meaning couldn’t have been more obvious.

“I don’t think Rainbow is going to attack me with soup anytime soon,” said Twilight with a wink. “Besides, I feel a connection with her. She’s got a good heart.”

“So you remember her, then,” Applejack declared, nodding her head. “How far back do your memories of Rainbow Dash go?”

Twilight gave a noncommittal shrug. “A few years.”

“I’d love to hear more about that. Why don’t we take a few minutes and you can just tell me what you remember?”

Twilight glanced around, noting nearby group of orderlies and the nurses roaming the halls. No. Not yet. It’s still too public. She turned back to Applejack. “Don’t we have to get to our therapy session?”

“Well… yes. Of course. I guess we’ll just talk about it later then.”

“Perfect.”

The pair of them walked in tandem through hallways filled with patients and staff. There was a dark irony in how Broadhoof was such a bipolar creature in its own right. Like the fuzzy line separating hospital from prison, Broadhoof couldn't decide between order and anarchy. Halls that had been empty as tombs were turned into traffic jams in the rush to shift so many bodies between destinations according to the schedule. It seemed as if every pony in the hospital was moving past them.

Which didn’t make Pinkie Pie’s sudden appearance any less upsetting. Head lowered, eyes on the tiled floor, she plodded along with all the energy and excitement of a funeral procession. She looked like a withered birthday balloon too tired to resist gravity any longer.

Guilt settled heavily on Twilight’s shoulders, made worse by the realization that Pinkie’s group would pass the two of them in mere moments. Still, an apology was out of the question. With Applejack playing the role of siamese twin, any apology would just create uncomfortable questions. No, it’s better to just ignore her for now, Twilight assured herself. They passed one another in silence, so close they almost touched. Besides, she’s Pinkie Pie. She’ll bounce back.

Pushing Pinkie from her mind, Twilight did her best to keep up with Applejack. Having a doctor as a personal escort had some perks, as it turned out. They stepped around a mewling stallion who was ignoring the demands of his tired caretakers to stand up like a big boy, and detoured down one of the hospital’s less clogged arteries.

Once they were clear of the mob and any curious ears, Twilight halted Applejack with a sharp cough. Finally they had some privacy. It was time to get the ball rolling. “Hey, Applejack? I do have something I want to talk about.”

“Is it about whatever happened between you and Pinkie Pie?”

Her question left Twilight doing her best impression of a fish, slack jaw flapping uselessly as she stared, bug-eyed, at the doctor. When she finally found her voice, it was only a hoarse whisper. “W-Why do you think something happened between us?”

“Just because I wear glasses doesn’t mean I can’t see what’s right in front of me.”

Scenarios of betrayal and discovery raced through Twilight’s mind. “Was it Pinkie Pie? What did she tell you?”

“Nobody said anything. Nobody has to. Before I left the two of you were like peas in a pod. Now you don’t sit together at breakfast and ignore each other in the hallways. I don’t need a fancy degree to diagnose two friends having themselves a disagreement.”

The relief that her theft was still unknown was replaced by the fear of revealing something that might still sabotage her plans. “It’s nothing. And it’s not what I wanted to talk to you about.”

“Nothing my left hoof. Two friends in trouble is certainly something. Tell me what happened.”

“I don’t want to talk about it!” Twilight said, the desperation to change the topic lending her voice a harsh edge.

“Telling me to mind my own business when something’s wrong doesn’t work with Apple Bloom, and it ain’t gonna work with you either. It’s plenty obvious from where I’m standing that the both of you are not happy. Now, if you really don’t want to talk about it, I can talk to Pinkie Pie first.”

“No!” shouted Twilight, her hairs on end at the thought of what an upset Pinkie Pie might reveal on her own. “I mean, that won’t be necessary. We just had an… argument over the weekend.”

“That much is obvious. What was the argument about?”

“A disagreement. About a game we were playing. I wanted to do something, she wanted to do something else, and it… escalated.”

One of Applejack’s eyebrows arched upwards in obvious doubt. “A game?”

Twilight sighed, picking her words with care. “Yes. We were playing make believe. We had a difference in opinion about what we should do, and it ended with some angry and poorly chosen words.”

“From the look on Pinkie’s face, I suspect those angry words were a bit one sided.”

Warm shame colored Twilight’s cheeks. “Sort of. I was upset and I… might have shouted. But I didn’t mean to!”

“We never mean to yell at those we care about. That doesn’t keep it from happening. And it doesn’t keep it from hurting. Have you tried to apologize yet?”

“No. She ran off before I could explain.” Applejack frowned, earning another sigh from Twilight. “You’re right, that’s no excuse. I know what I did was wrong, and I shouldn’t have acted that way. But apologizing isn’t easy – especially when we know that we’re at fault.” She cleared her throat, pulling back on her emotion to focus back on her goal. “But then, I’ve been really distracted lately by this stuff I need to talk to you about.”

“You don’t need to wait until you get into an argument with your friends before trying to get something off your chest,” Applejack said. “You know can trust me with anything, right Twilight? Doctor-patient confidentiality means what you say doesn’t go beyond these walls.”

“I can’t talk about this when it’s just the two of us. It’s too important for that. Too important to me. Is there any way you could arrange a meeting with us and Rarity together?”

Applejack’s face creased in minor confusion as she pulled a small planner from one of her pockets. She opened it up to a dog-eared page. “You’re already scheduled to meet with her Friday.”

“Can we meet tomorrow too? It’s very important.”

“I’ll try. Rarity’s always generous with her time. Well, when she can be.” Applejack checked the schedule again. “We should be able to arrange something for Wednesday or Thursday, though we’ll have to cut into your free period to make it fit.”

“That’s fine! Really. I just want to have you both there. You know, as a group.”

“Yes, I get it,” Applejack said with a laugh, pocketing her planner. “I’ll make sure to get something set up for you. But you need to do something even more important first.”

“What is it?”

“You need to apologize to Pinkie Pie. We can end up hurting our friends even when we don’t mean too, but friendship is too special, too wonderful, to let it get ruined by one argument. I don’t want to see Pinkie lose her only friend to a disagreement about a game. So you need to promise me that you’ll apologize to her.”

Twilight glanced down and rubbed a foreleg softly. “Okay. I promise, I’ll talk to…” Blinking, Twilight lifted her head. “What do you mean ‘only friend’?”

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Applejack said with a blush. “The whole staff love her to death. But I don’t want to see you pushing her away right now. She needs to have a friend her own age too.”

Brow furrowed, Twilight slowly nodded as she answered. “Alright. I’ll… talk to her after dinner.”

“I know you will, Twilight. You’re a good girl.” Applejack’s warm smile was a flash of sunlight on a cloudy day, far removed from the forced, sterile grins the staff seemed trained to wear. For a moment she could have been back on the farm, happy and fulfilled in a life she didn’t remember. The smile faded. “By the way, since you wanna meet Rarity so badly, why don’t you tell me about what you remember about her?”

“Pinkie?”

The other mare flinched but refused to turn around. Instead, she leaned a bit further over the table, not looking up the jumble of frayed and faded jigsaw puzzle pieces strewn across it.

“Pinkie, please, we need to talk,” Twilight continued as she moved to the other side of the table and took a seat.

Pinkie nosed a few pieces around the table, saying nothing. Twilight paused and looked back over her shoulder. Doctor Applejack leaned against the wall across the room, far enough to give them privacy but near enough to intervene if necessary. She nodded encouragingly when she caught Twilight’s eye and gestured for her to go on.

Twilight turned back to Pinkie. “I know we had some… strong words this weekend, and I wanted to say I was sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you like that. I was caught up in the moment and we were so close to finding what we needed and I… lost control. I let my emotions take over. You… you were right, and I was wrong, and I should have been able to see that.”

Slowly, Pinkie Pie lifted her gaze upwards.

“Look, I’m trying to apologize,” said Twilight, shame coloring her cheeks under the silent scrutiny. “I’m sorry for what happened. I’m sorry what I did.”

Pinkie’s whispers were as dry and fragile as fallen leaves. “You’re a bad pony.”

Twilight flinched. “What?”

“You tricked me into doing something I didn’t want to. You stole something from Doctor Rose. And you hit me. You didn’t used to do that. Whatever Doctor Rose did to you made you all different and stuff, and now… now you’re a bad pony.”

“Now Pinkie Pie, you can’t really believe that,” Twilight said as she collected herself. “We’re best friends, remember? We’re fighting to save Equestria. We’re the good guys.”

Pinkie lowered her head to rest it on the edge of the table. She glanced away. “I don’t like fighting this evil shadow. I liked it better when we were knights. That was more fun.”

“When we were knights?”

“When I was Lady Pinkie of the Order of Pie, and you were Princess Sparkle, the Wizard in the Tower, and we fought monsters and saved stallions in distress and had fun,” Pinkie said with a wistful sigh. “You never got angry then. Can’t we go back to doing that?”

Twilight just stared back at her, mouth agape. Slowly she leaned forward to rest her hooves on the table, eyes narrowing as she did so. “Pinkie. Have you believed anything I’ve told you about what’s going on?”

“Of course I believe you! You’re my bestest friend, and bestest friends never lie! It’s just… we used to be knights, and scientists, and librarians. We had fun. But ever since this shadow thing turned up, everything has changed. Now you’re lying to the doctors, and sneaking into offices, and getting all meany-face, and it’s just not the same! I don’t think this shadow pony thing is changing your friends. I think it’s changing you, making you a bad pony. My Twilight wouldn’t yell or lie or steal or hit me!” Tears threatened to burst free when she finally glanced up. “I want my Twilight back.”

Twilight circled the table before taking a seat beside the sullen Pinkie Pie. “You’re right. I’m not the Twilight you knew. She’s a dream that never happened. It’s all part of the same illusion that holds my friends and I here. Everything they’ve accomplished, everything they were, has been wiped away. I need to remind them that they are the Elements of Harmony so we can fix all this.”

“But why should I believe you? My Twilight could be the real Twilight and you could just be a big fakey phony inside her head. You could be making her do all this bad stuff.” Pinkie sighed. “I should just tell Doctor AJ about the whole thing.”

Cold alarm shimmied up Twilight’s neck. Fighting to keep her expression neutral, Twilight reached out to grip Pinkie’s hoof. “You’ll believe me, because deep down you know it’s true. Despite whatever power this shadow has, it can’t suppress the Elements of Harmony entirely. They’re all still there, still trying to be who they know they truly are.”

“You know I’m speaking the truth, Pinkie Pie, because you are the Element of Laughter, and your whole life has been an attempt to cheer other ponies up and plant a spark of joy in their hearts.”

“I’m not one of your Elements,” Pinkie replied stiffly. “That’s just silly. I’m not a hero that’s gonna save all of Equestria. I’m just a normal pony.”

“You are far from just a normal pony. And I can prove it, too,” said Twilight with a kind smile. “I remember a story you told me about a sick filly named Clover. Do you remember?”

“Of course I do. It’s when I got my cutie mark.”

“Exactly. You saw a sad pony that needed cheering up, and you couldn’t hold back. You did what you could to give her one good day, one memorable moment when she had nothing to worry about except having a good time. Even though you were just a child in a hospital bed you still managed to throw a party that everyone talked about for years.”

Twilight leaned forward as she gripped Pinkie’s hooves in her own. “That’s just what the Pinkie I know would do. You want to help other ponies no matter what. You’re a good pony. And you’re not just the Element of Laughter, Pinkie. You’re my best friend.”

Pinkie smiled despite the doubt still flickering in her eyes. "I know. You're my bestest friend too. But the shadow... changed you." She trailed off, nibbling on her lower lip. She looked tired.

Twilight paused, staring into Pinkie's innocent blue eyes, and inwardly grimaced before giving an answer. "You know what, Pinkie? You're right again. This is how the shadow is working against me. For each of us there's a different challenge, but this is mine. That's why I need your light, your laughter. I need you to be my conscience, to make sure I don't forget myself and turn into a bad pony. Please Pinkie. you’re the only friend I have left right now. Please stay with me."

As planned, the words struck an obvious chord with Pinkie Pie. She gave a wavering nod. “I… can do that.”

“I know you can, Pinkie.” Twilight opened her arms wide, motioning for Pinkie to do the same.

The last of Pinkie’s doubt evaporated in a flash. With eyes clenched tight against her tears, Pinkie pushed herself forward and embraced Twilight in a deep hug. “I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean what I said about you!”

“You have nothing to be sorry about. I’m the one that’s sorry. I should never, ever, have treated you like that,” she said, putting on a show of embracing her friend for Applejack’s benefit. Holding the apologetic Pinkie in her arms, Twilight silently exulted in her success.

The two of them pulled away slowly. Pinkie wiped a few errant tears from her cheeks as she smiled back at Twilight. She had the relieved look of someone who had just confessed their transgressions and been forgiven, as if she had been the one at fault the whole time. Twilight made no move to correct her.

Twilight turned towards the table, changing the topic to the puzzle Pinkie had been working on, helping to ease her down from such an emotional high. She began moving pieces about, helping Pinkie sort them into neat stacks organized by shape and color.

Pinkie tried to slip back into her cheerful mask, giving Twilight a tentative glance after every simple joke. She beamed whenever Twilight lent her an indulgent smile, flourishing beneath her friend’s approval. The smile wavered only for a moment when Twilight began to whisper in her ear.

Chapter 25

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Asylum

Chapter 25

Twilight tucked her legs up beneath her and continued to stare, wide eyed, at the door to her room. She’d lost track of the time. The constant glow of the artificial light that usually filtered through the small observation window told her nothing. There was precious little of it to see anyway. There was a pony standing outside her door, a broad hat haloed in the light, leaving all but the end of a white beak shrouded in shadow.

Twilight suppressed a shiver as she felt his empty eyeholes staring at her. There was no mistaking who her new observer was, even at that distance. She pulled the blanket a little tighter around herself; a foal’s protection against monsters in the dark. It made her feel a little better, regardless.

Every so often the light would flicker and dim for a few moments, the only cue that time wasn’t frozen still. Locked in mutual and silent observation, the shock of an early and unwelcome awakening began to take its toll. Erratic questions passed like shooting stars through Twilight’s mind, bright but fleeting. How long has he been there? Why is he here? Where are the nurses? Am I even awake?

The last thought repeated itself a few times in Twilight’s mind. It should have been disconcerting, being unable to tell what may or may not be reality, but the corner of her mouth twitched upwards in manic amusement. She felt like crying.

The frozen nightmare was broken without warning when he turned away from the window, the sudden movement clawing a strangled yelp from Twilight’s throat. Trembling, Twilight tugged her blanket up higher, watching him like a hawk as he rooted around in his saddle bags. When he turned back to face the window, something glinted in his hoof.

It was a key.

The air turned to ice, her blankets doing nothing to keep the chill from digging into her bones. Her muscles clenched tight, freezing her in place and leaving her unable to draw in the breath she needed to scream for help. Petrified, she could only watch impotently as the stallion stooped down low and vanished from sight. Her ears strained to detect the inevitable creak of a retracting bolt.

The silence was broken by the faint tinkle of metal as something small was shoved beneath the door. It danced and twirled across the tiles before coming to rest in the center of the floor, the brass surface reflecting what little light there was.

The stallion reappeared in the small window as he stood back up, returning to his previous position. He made no other motion as he resumed watching her, the only movement from a thin strand of shadow that leaked out of his beak.

It was only after her lungs began to burn before Twilight realized how long she had been holding her breath. Her eyes darted from the door to the key and back again. She licked her lips, her heartbeat deafening in her ears. She did her best to ignore the dread worming its way up her spine as she swung her legs out over the edge of her mattress. Cursing her curiosity, she stood up.

His head turned to track Twilight as she moved at a glacial pace to the center of the room and paused there. She kept one eye on him as she bent down to retrieve the key, half expecting it to dissipate into shadow and mist. It was cool to the touch, and bore the scratches and blemishes of a long life. The slender handle ended in the shape of a flower, showing a flash of craftsmanship on the otherwise featureless form. She lifted her gaze. “W-What is this for?”

The lightbulb outside flickered as small wisps of some dark gas leaked from the nostrils of his break. She wilted beneath the stallion’s silent scrutiny.

Swallowing the lump in her throat, Twilight crept forward until she was only an arms-length from the door. He was just as she remembered him: legs wrapped in dusty bandages, body covered in a heavy cloak, and a pair of crude and well worn saddlebags hanging heavy on his back. He was an anachronism given life, a scene from a manuscript about the Great Pestilence able to move about freely, a Nightmare Night celebrator with a costume pulled from the history books. Truly, there was nothing to fear from something so mundane and comical.

Twilight forced a smile to her lips, careful to avoid meeting that empty gaze. Yes. Comical.

Steadying herself, she held the key out in front of her. “Why did you give me this?” she asked, barely keeping her voice from cracking.

He continued to stare back at her as the unanswered question echoed around the room. Twilight’s expression hardened. “What is this for?” she repeated. “Tell me why you gave me this key.”

A streamer of smoke escaped from the nostrils of his beak, a black stain on the air itself that lingered for too long. Twilight was about to repeat herself again when his head snapped to the right faster than she could blink. More smoke bled from his mask as he stared off down the hallway. Silently, he turned from Twilight and began to march away.

Twilight pressed her nose against the glass, trying to keep him in her sight. “Wait! Stop! What is this key for?” she shouted.

The lights flickered again, and the stallion was gone.

Twilight continued to stare out the tiny window for a few desperate moments before she finally exhaled, fogging up the glass. “What are you up to?” she asked softly, a hint of irritation creeping into her voice. “Just another distraction?” Twilight gave the key a squeeze, feeling the weight in her hoof. She turned away from the door and began the slow trek back to her bed.

She took a few deep breaths, reining in her emotions. She was too tired to be irritated. After sliding the key beneath the Smarty Pants doll resting on the nearby shelf, she climbed up onto her bed and wrapped herself in her sheets. After a quick glance at the door to make sure she was unobserved, Twilight closed her eyes. She would hide the key tomorrow morning. Until then, she needed her sleep. She needed her mind clear if she was going to avoid upsetting Rainbow Dash.

Lunch was as chaotic as always, the nurses and orderlies just small islands in a sea of hungry ponies. Despite the press of bodies, Twilight was quick to locate Rainbow Dash amongst the crowd. She didn’t return Twilight’s cheerful greeting, just sparing a momentary glance before turning her eyes forward again. “What do you want?”

Twilight winced. “Well, I just wanted to say hello and see if you wanted to sit with me.”

“WWWhy would I want to spend my lunch with an egghead like you?”

“I wanted to talk to you about the Wonderbolts some more. You know, pick your brain a little. Plus, I wanted to introduce you to my friend Pinkie Pie. She’s keen to meet you.”

There was a pause. Rainbow shrugged her shoulders. “I guess. Just try to keep her on a short leash. She gets irritating real fast.”

The line shuffled forward two steps. “I will. So, how is Fluttershy doing?”

“Good. Now that I’m back out of solitary, nnnopony is gonna bother her. They know I’ll mess them up if they even try.”

“You really look out for her.”

Rainbow nodded. “Ever since we were foals.”

“What, here at the hospital?”

“No, back in Cloudsdale. We came out of the same home.”

“Don’t tell me you two are related now.”

Rainbow turned to glare at Twilight. “Foster care, doofus.” She laughed as Twilight’s cheeks flushed pink.

“Oh. Right.” Twilight cleared her throat and reached into her pocket. “Well, I have something for her. I think she’ll enjoy it more than one of my, ah, sub-par drawings.”

There was another laugh as Twilight handed the gift over to Rainbow Dash. “I totally knew it was gonna be a book.”

“She’ll like it,” Twilight said defensively. “It’s about tropical birds, and she loves birds.”

Rainbow slipped the book into a pocket and turned away. “Sure. Just don’t ever get me any lame books.”

As the line shuffled forward, Twilight rolled her eyes. “I’ll resist the temptation.” It was a risk, allowing Rainbow to deliver the book to Fluttershy, but it was the best way to pass on the note squeezed between the pages without drawing any attention to herself. And if anything, her bibliophobia means it is a very acceptable risk.

The rest of their slow march to the lunch counter was spent in idle chatter. As long as Twilight kept the conversation amongst a few narrow topics – and resisted the urge to finish Rainbow’s words when she began to stutter – she found herself able to draw Rainbow into longer conversations. By the time they had gathered up what passed for the day’s meal, Rainbow Dash was as animated as ever.

There was the clatter of dropped trays and raised voices from across the room. Twilight and Rainbow slowed their pace, lifting their heads up to try and see over the ocean of seated ponies. Twilight spotted Lyra quickly, remembering the last time she’d seen the mare – screaming her head off as a group of orderlies had stuffed her into a straightjacket. The stallion she was shouting at was just another patient this time, but Twilight could see a pair of orderlies moving through the crowds like sharks on the trail of some wounded animal.

“She’s gonna end up in a lot of trouble if she doesn’t shut her mouth.”

Twilight gave Rainbow Dash a curious look. “What do you mean?”

“That mare. She’s been in solitary a few times. I heard her the last time they locked me up, through the door, screaming about some conspiracy and how they’re all hiding something.” Her expression soured. “The staff are a bunch of bullies here. They don’t really want you to get better. They just want you to lay down and obey.”

Twilight’s response was forgotten when the stallion reared back and struck Lyra, the crack of his hoof hitting her horn loud enough to pierce the hum of a hundred background conversations. Lyra stumbled and collapsed as an orderly tackled the screaming stallion to the floor.

“Yeah! You show them who’s boss, Timber!” Rainbow shouted as the stallion bucked the orderly off and tried to regain his footing. A few other patients began shouting encouragement, but their cheers were cut short when the second orderly slammed his truncheon into the stallion’s side, knocking the wind out of him before the two orderlies piled atop him.

It was over as quickly as it had started. The stallion’s screams grew softer before fading away into unintelligible murmurs. A nurse stood up, an empty syringe levitating in the air.

Rainbow smirked. “He’s gonna be gone for a ww… wwhile. Still, he got in some good hits.” She mimed throwing a few punches.

Twilight ignored her, watching the nurses gather around Lyra. While the orderlies cleared space around the downed mare the nurses reached up to examine Lyra’s forehead. A trickle of blood leaked from a cut at the base of her horn, staining the fabric on her dampener a dark burgundy. They shared a worried glance. Through the wall of onlookers, Twilight watched as one of the nurses removed a ring of keys from a pocket and insert one of the many identical keys into the lock at the base of Lyra’s horn.

She gave a small twist, and the magical dampener slid off Lyra’s horn.

It took Twilight a few heartbeats to realize Rainbow was trying to get her attention. “Yo, egghead! You alright?” she asked, waving a hoof in front of Twilight’s face.

Twilight blinked, her hoof falling away from the vest pocket where it had been unconsciously gripping the hidden Smarty Pants doll. "Huh?”

“You were totally spaced out there.” She gave Twilight a once over. “You’re nnot one of those ponies that gets all weird around blood, right?”

“What? No. I’m fine.” Twilight glanced back at the group of staff, but the circle of curious onlooker were being pushed back by the orderlies, the wall of bodies blocking her view. She looked back at Rainbow. “You’ve been here a while. Have you seen the nurses remove the arcane dampeners from unicorns before?”

“Arco whatsits?”

Twilight gestured to the metal and canvas cone strapped to her horn.

“Oh, those. Yeah, I’ve seen them take them off a few times.”

“And all they have to do is use a key? No deactivation spell?”

“Well, the rumor is that if you try to take it off without a key it will make your horn explode, or catch on fire, or something.” Rainbow grinned. “You thinking about trying it? Because I’ve been hearing that since I was a little filly and I’d love to know if it was true.”

“Of course not. I was just expecting there to be another step. I didn’t think they’d make the key pull double duty for the magical and physical locks.”

Rainbow’s smile sharpened. “Sounds like you’ve put a lot of thought into how you’d get one of those things off.”

“Maybe,” said Twilight, keeping her expression neutral.

“Look Twi, I hate it here. It’s run by bullies who do everything they can to keep me from getting better. And if I can’t get better then I can’t join the Wonderbolts. So if you come up with some brainy scheme out of one of your books that lets me to get a little payback, then I want in.”

Slowly, Twilight nodded. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

Rainbow laughed and clapped a wing on Twilight’s back. “You know, for an egghead you’re nnnot half bad.”

“Thanks. I guess I… just hope I can be as cool as you someday.”

Rainbow puffed out her chest as they made their way to their table. She continued to chatter away as Twilight gave the occasional murmur of agreement, but it was all background noise to Twilight. It took all her self-control to keep her emotions in check. Every time they’d opened or closed her bedroom door they’d been flashing the answer to her problems on their keyrings. She didn’t know whether to laugh or curse. Sitting down with care, Twilight contented herself with a slow, predatory smile. Weeks worth of plans had been distilled down to one single goal: finding the right key.

The smile vanished as that last thought echoed in Twilight’s mind, causing her brain to come to a screeching halt. Her hoof jumped back to the pocket on her vest, grasping the Smarty Pants doll through the fabric. “No,” she whispered. “It can’t be.”

Rainbow paused in mid-sentence. “What did you say?” she asked, spraying stale sandwich crumbs across the table.

“What? Nothing! I just, ah, need to go to the bathroom,” said Twilight as she shot out of her seat. “I’ll be right back!” Twilight took off before Rainbow could respond. She felt the weight of the doll thump against her side as she weaved through the crowds, moving as close to a gallop as she could manage. She needed solitude. She needed answers.

Logically, it was impossible. There was no clear rationale for the masked stallion to give her the means to free herself and escape the shadow’s prison. Still, as she engaged one of the orderlies to escort her to the restrooms, her heartbeat pounded with excitement, her thoughts dominated by a single question: but what if…?

Only once she was safely sequestered away inside the bathroom did Twilight manage to calm herself enough to take stock. After double-checking to ensure she was indeed alone, Twilight rushed to the nearest sink, withdrawing Smarty Pants from her pocket as she moved. Holding it steady, she carefully bit down on the loose thread beneath the doll’s left arm before lifting her muzzle, pulling the stitching apart to reveal Smarty Pants’ cottony innards.

Twilight shoved her hoof inside and began rooting around like an uncaring surgeon. There wasn’t much space inside the old doll, and soon enough she slid her prize free with a triumphant snort. It was the folded up documents she’d stolen from Doctor Rose’s office, and she took care to set them on a dry piece of counter before shoving Smarty Pants back down into her pocket, already forgotten.

She unfolded the papers delicately, not wanting to risk any further damage. There was a glint of brass in the bathroom’s chemical light as she pulled the last pages apart, the key sitting in the center like a pearl in a folded paper shell. “Ah, there you are,” Twilight said as she lifted the key up with borderline reverence. The lock on her horn beckoned.

The key wavered as Twilight glanced up at her reflection. Despite the rapid beating of her heart and the sweat still dripping off her chin, Twilight’s excitement began to cool. She gazed at the key with a clinical eye. Despite the better lighting her examination was no more revealing than the previous night’s, the hollow flower at the end of the handle the only decoration of note. There was nothing to suggest the key’s purpose, no hint that it was meant to free her horn. Doubt settled over her thoughts as her natural caution reasserted itself.

She rolled the key over in her hoof. “An unidentified key from an untrustworthy donor that opens an unfamiliar lock with unknown consequences,” she said aloud. “It seems I’m at an impasse.”

Casually, Twilight lifted her gaze and stared directly into the mirror. She smirked. “I knew you’d show up eventually.”

Her reflection chuckled. “We can’t all be as unpredictable as you,” it said, favoring Twilight with an uneven smile. “Besides, you’re obviously in need of some assistance at the moment. And as much as you want to deny it, I am trying to help you.”

“Of course you are,” said Twilight with a derisive snort.

“If you don’t believe me, then why did you come here? You could have made a decision about that key anytime and anywhere. Instead, the moment you realized it could be something more than a minor distraction, you went and grabbed the biggest mirror you could find. You want my help.”

“No, I just want answers,” Twilight said, putting force behind the words. She held the key out in front of her. “What is this for?”

There was a sparkle of amusement in her twin’s jaundiced eyes. “And why would I know anything about that?”

“Because your friend with the bird mask gave it to me, that’s why. You both are playing the same game for the same master, so answer my question already. Does it unlock my horn?”

The reflection stared back in silence, tapping a hoof against its chin. “I know what you’re thinking, Twilight. You won’t believe anything I say. There’s no room in your delusions for honesty. You lie to your friends, to your family, and to anyone you meet.”

“That isn’t necessarily true,” said Twilight stiffly.

“Stop lying!” the reflection snarled as it leapt forwards and gripped the edges of the mirror, causing it to shake in its frame and sending a surprised Twilight stumbling backwards. Its face was contorted in rage, gnashing its teeth and sending spittle flying from the ear-to-ear wound it called a mouth. “You lie and lie and lie and lie and hurt and hurt and hurt and hurt and I’m sick to death of it!”

The reflection dropped back onto all fours and retreated a few steps, allowing its face to regain some modicum of normalcy. When it spoke its voice was once again light and cheerful. “You can’t deceive me, Twilight. I know what you really think.”

Masking her disquiet, Twilight moved back up to the sink, keeping her eyes on her twin. “If you know what I’m thinking and what I’m going to do, then how come I’m still resisting you? Why haven’t you broken me yet?”

“You can’t break what’s already broken.”

“Stop talking to me like that. It won’t work on me. And if you’re not going to give me anything concrete to use, then you’re just as worthless as your silent friend,” Twilight said with a sniff before she turned to leave.

Her reflection gave a wet sigh. “No. The key doesn’t unlock your horn.”

“Much better. Now, I’ll just do a little experiment to see if you were telling the truth,” she said with a smirk. Gripping the base of her horn, Twilight guided the key up to the brass lock at its base. The soft scrape of metal on metal taunted her as Twilight tried to fit the key in blindly, her false reflection offering no assistance. She ground her teeth together as the key refused to go in, popping out of the hole once, twice…

“Aha!” Twilight declared as it slotted itself into place with a faint click. “I guess my opinion about you was entirely justified.” She gave the key a twist.

There was a hint of amusement on her reflections face, but it remained silent as Twilight struggled to turn the key. Only when she feared snapping it in two did Twilight finally relent. “Just because you weren’t lying that time doesn’t mean I can trust you. Not when you’re dedicated to destroying all that I hold dear,” she said as she wiggled the key free.

“I have never lied to you.”

“Horse apples! You’re still up to something. Why else would your compatriot give me this, if not to distract and confuse me?”

Her reflection ran its tongue along its rancid gums. “You are sick and he is a doctor. Logic dictates that he believes it would help cure you.”

“Logic?” Twilight gave a short, dry laugh. “I’m stuck in a fake world talking to my reflection about a key given to me by a mute ghost pony from antiquity. Logic doesn’t enter into it!”

“Deny it or not, that is the truth of the matter. You are just too caught up in the lie that is Twilight Sparkle to see it.” It paused. “For someone who prides herself on being a scientist, you have a terribly narrow view on the events in your life. Haven’t you considered that this all could just be in your head?”

Twilight narrowed her eyes. Reaching out, she tapped the key against the mirror once, and then again, letting the tak-tak echo around the room. Tilting her head slightly to the side, she paused a moment before violently jamming it into the glass. Her reflection grabbed the sides of its head and screamed as Twilight gouged a deep furrow into the mirror’s surface, lacerations forming wherever the key passed over its body. The other Twilight’s voice mingling with the screech of metal on glass until they were one single discordant note.

When she stepped back to admire her work, Twilight was smiling. “I don’t know. You tell me.”

The reflection hissed back at her, thin runnels of black sludge oozing from its ears and the cuts across its torso. There was malice in those yellowed eyes, but before it could say a word Twilight pointed the key at the mirror like a duelist offering a challenge. “There is something else about this key, something you’re not telling me. Now what is it?”

The other Twilight’s tongue darted out to lick up some of the gunk leaking from its wounds, all the while glaring back at her like a caged animal. “Yes, there is something else,” it admitted, paying no attention to the way its flesh began to knit itself back together. “But you won’t like what I have to say. What I know carries a price, and it will be painful.”

“I will be the judge of that,” said Twilight, not even attempting to hide the scorn in her voice.

The other Twilight continued to regard her carefully, but the hatred bled into something close to pity. It gave a single nod, and the mirror was consumed in the searing light of a newborn sun, causing Twilight to yelp and raise a protective arm to shield her eyes. Spitting out curses, Twilight blinked rapidly to clear away the spots and circles dancing across her vision. Once she could focus her gaze, what she saw in the glass was enough to leave her chosen rebuke unspoken.

Gone was the monster with the axe-wound smile and mismatched eyes. In its place was a figure that could have been mistaken for an off-color Princess Celestia at a cursory glance. It was Twilight Sparkle in the mirror, but… not. She was taller than before, filling up more of the mirror, standing with regal grace on what looked like the battlements of Canterlot castle. A pair of wings were tucked in against her sides that, like the rest of her, were bedecked in an assortment of gold jewelry that caught the light of the sun. It was the Twilight of a little filly’s dreams, a princess that was adored and respected and utterly perfect in every way.

“That key protects the truth, Twilight, and it is locked away for good reason,” the false princess declared with all the stern force of a parent educating a stubborn child. “One lock, two paths, each with a price – one you will not be able to pay yourself. You will have to choose which door to take, when the time comes. Both will save your friends, even as you sacrifice them. Both will destroy the lies, creating truth in their place. Both will give you what you want, not what you need.”

Twilight tried to speak, to question her fantasy self further, but was struck silent as the impostor began to melt like a candle in an oven right in front of her, skin and feathers and jewelry falling away in clumps of liquid flesh. Despite the mutilation there was no pain in her reflection’s unblinking eyes, only a deep and growing sadness. It’s voice echoed long after it had dissolved away into nothingness.

“And both will kill you.”

There was another flash of blinding light which faded just as quickly, replaced with a wide-eyed Twilight Sparkle. She blinked, and the reflection blinked with her. Her expression hardened. Methodically, Twilight gathered up her things, folding up the key into the papers before returning them to their hiding place. The knots in the stitching meant that it only took a single pull of the string to seal them away inside the old doll. She slipped Smarty Pants into her pocket before turning around and, with a face set in granite, marched out of the bathroom without a backwards glance.

Pinkie gasped when Twilight dropped herself down on the bench beside her, interrupting whatever conversation she’d been forcing upon Rainbow Dash. “Woah! What’s the matter, Twilight? You look like you just found out someone threw away one of your books.”

Twilight flinched. “What? Nothing. I’m just fine.” She plastered a grin onto her face. “How about you?”

Rainbow and Pinkie Pie shared a glance. “Uh, I’m good,” said Rainbow, her eyes lingering on Twilight.

“Really, we’re just peachy. We were talking about the Wonderbolts, and how hard school can be, and what our favorite lunches are. It turns out Rainbow’s not as grumpy as she seems, once you get to know her a little bit.” Pinkie ignored the glare from across the table. She gestured at the sandwich sitting ignored on Twilight’s plate. “So, are you gonna finish that?”

Twilight slid the tray over to Pinkie, who attacked the sandwich with a muffled thanks. Looking over at Rainbow Dash, Twilight caught the mare’s uncertain stare. “Rainbow, remember that thing we were talking about earlier?”

“Yeah. What about it?”

“Do you still mean it?”

“Me?” Rainbow checked around herself before giving Twilight a cocky grin. “One hundred and ten percent. I’m no coward. Why? Come up with some brainy scheme while you were in the bathroom?”

“Something like that,” she said. “I was given a crucial piece of the puzzle, and I think I know where to use it. But…” Twilight let her voice trail away into silence as she glanced around the table. Both of her friends were watching her closely, hanging on to her every word. She took a deep breath. She had to know. “How far would you go to save the ponies you care about?”

“As far as I had to,” declared Rainbow Dash. “There isn’t a pony alive that could stop Rainbow Dnn… DDash!”

Pinkie Pie glanced away. “Too far,” she whispered.

Twilight studied them both. “Even if someone threatened you, and you couldn’t be sure whether you could believe them or not?”

“I don’t back down from anypony!” Rainbow said, banging the table for emphasis.

Pinkie Pie bobbed her head in agreement. “Yeah! There isn’t anything more important than being there for your friends, no matter what some grump might say.”

A thin humorless smile spread over Twilight’s face as she regarded the other two mares. She nodded before standing up. “Thank you. That’s what I was hoping to hear.”

“Does this have to do with the, ah, really big meanie you told me about?” Pinkie asked, her furtive glances towards Rainbow Dash making it clear she wasn’t sure how much she could say.

Twilight patted Pinkie on the shoulder before standing up. “Don’t worry. I’ll tell you – both of you – more tonight,” she said. She glanced over at the far wall, picking out Applejack amongst the rest of the staff trying to grab a quick meal. Twilight gave the doll in her pocket another squeeze. “There is someone I have to meet with first.”

Chapter 26

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Asylum

Chapter 26

Twilight’s groan echoed around the cafeteria. “Next Friday?”

“Fraid so,” said Applejack with a sage nod. “That conference will last all week. Rarity doesn’t get back til Wednesday. And once she gets back she still has meetings, papers to file, work to catch up on…”

“I get it!” snapped Twilight. Turning away with a huff, she let her eyes wander over the rest of the staff table. A few nurses and orderlies were hunched over their own trays. At the opposite end sat Nurse Ratchet like a lord holding court, the orderly that was the current target of her displeasure was visibly wilting as she berated him. It was a conversation Twilight was glad not to be privy to.

Nurse Ratchet caught Twilight’s curious gaze from the corner of her vision and paused just long enough to give Twilight one of her broad smiles, the humor in her cheeks never quite reaching her eyes.

Twilight shivered. Her reflection’s jaundiced gaze held more sincerity. She turned back to Applejack, swallowing her frustration. “And you’re absolutely sure she can’t make it back any sooner?”

“Sorry, sugarcube. But if you need, I can always arrange another social worker to speak with you. Would you like me to set up something tomorrow? You can be sure I will be there if you need me.”

Tossing her schedule into a mental trash-bin, Twilight let out a long sigh. “No, no, that’s okay. It’s only another week. I can wait till then. All I really need is the two of you together.”

“I know you trust me and Rarity, but there are other ponies who can help you too. There isn’t a reason to delay if it’s something important,” she added, concern coloring her voice despite the soft smile. “Don’t wait till you see fire to report smoke.”

“Don’t worry, it’s nothing like that. I just need to get something off my chest. It’s sort of personal, and I really only feel comfortable discussing it with you two.” Twilight’s hoof reached up to squeeze the doll in her pocket, feeling the faint weight of the key inside it. Her thoughts darkened as what she’d been told in the bathroom replayed itself. She licked her lips. “Applejack?”

“Yeah?”

“Does… does Big Mac have any regrets?”

Applejack’s smile grew hard and thin. “What do you mean?”

“I remember what you said, how he did the right thing by coming back to help support you and your mom. He gave up a lot for the family. But does he regret leaving school?”

“No,” Applejack replied, a little too quickly. Her expression softened as she glanced around, noting looks from the nurses further down the table. “Come with me,” she said as she stood up, gesturing for Twilight to follow her.

Finding a quiet pocket beyond any curious ears, Applejack turned back to Twilight, her voice a firm whisper. She squeezed Twilight’s shoulder. “What’s really bothering you, sugarcube?”

“When you talked about what he did, you made it sound like he gave up so much. I can’t imagine how he could avoid being bitter about what he was forced to do.”

“He was a little upset that he didn’t get to finish his education or get a job in the big city like our parents wanted, but no, he doesn’t regret coming back to the farm. It was the right thing to do, and that’s all that mattered to him.”

“So he doesn’t doubt that he made the right choice?” Twilight pressed.

“Life ain’t perfect, Twilight. It wasn’t fair, him having to leave school, but there isn’t a force on Equestria that would have kept him from doing what was necessary to keep that farm running. If anything, he’s glad he gave up what he did, because the only other choice was to give up on his family. And that would have eaten him up inside. There are no regrets when we do what’s right for the ones we love. Big Mac knew what he was giving up, but he was doing it for love. How could he regret that?”

Silence followed Applejack’s words. She seemed lost in thought before she remembered Twilight was standing next to her. She gave Twilight a sheepish grin. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to prattle on like that. I don’t know what came over me.”

It was exactly what Twilight had expected her to say, but she still felt the tension seep out of her muscles. “Really, it’s fine,” she said. “It helped to hear you say that.”

“Well, I’m just glad I could answer your questions,” Applejack said, unable to hide the faint confusion there, “but why are you wondering about my brother, anyway?”

“Just curious.” Twilight lied with an easy grace, but her smile was genuine. “Thanks for the talk, Applejack.”

Twilight could feel both Applejack and Nurse Ratchet watching her as she turned away and slipped back into the sea of patients, leaving the doctors to their meal.

Sliding into her seat again, Twilight wasn’t surprised to find Pinkie Pie and Rainbow Dash waiting with matching expressions.

“What was that about?” they asked in stereo.

Twilight waved her hoof. “Just double-checking that everything is going ahead as scheduled. They’re not as punctual as I would have hoped, but it shouldn’t affect my timetable. I just need to double-check after lunch, just to be sure.”

“It must have been good news though, because you look mucho-happioso,” Pinkie said.

“I do feel better.” Mulling it over, Twilight nodded. “Yeah. I guess sometimes it helps to get a different opinion and see things from another perspective, even when you know you’re right. Your friends can be a pillar for you without them even knowing it.”

Pinkie Pie smiled at her words, but Rainbow Dash just looked mildly irritated. “I dddon’t care about the touchy-feely… pillary stuff. What’s the plan, egghead?”

“Pinkie and I, we found something important a few days ago.” Twilight ignored Pinkie’s nervous glances at Rainbow Dash, focused on keeping her voice just above the background din. “Something big.”

Rainbow raised an eyebrow. “How big?”

“Big enough to bring the whole hospital down.”

It was a crude exaggeration, but from the way Rainbow’s face lit up it had the desired effect. “That’s what I’m talking about!” Rainbow declared with a predatory grin. “So come on, show it to me.”

Twilight blinked. “Right now?”

“Duh. If I’m gonna risk my flying privileges, I wanna know it’s worth it.”

“Well, I don’t think I can,” said Twilight as she glanced around at the crowded cafeteria. “Not right at the moment, anyway. Besides it wouldn't do you any good because it's all very technical, concerning magic and medicine and that sort of thing."

Rainbow’s excitement boiled away as her face contorted in anger. “So?” she asked, spitting out the question. “You don’t think I’m smart enough to understand it? Because I am! I might not be an egghead like you or, or like reading and doing math and stuff like that, but I’m nnot stupid. I don’t care what you or the dddn… dddoctors think. I’m not stupid! Understand?”

Pinkie leaned forward, her shoulder gently nudging Twilight away from Rainbow's focus. "We know, Rainbow. You're not stupid. But there are lots of ponies around right now," she said, tilting her head at the nearby tables. "Twilight has to take lots of precautions because this is really super secret stuff. She can't afford to be found out."

Rainbow pointed a hoof at Pinkie Pie. “Has she shown you what it is?”

“Not really,” Pinkie admitted.

“Then why do you trust her? Maybe she’s just another nut job who thinks she’s the Mare in the Moon.” She prodded Pinkie in the chest before giving Twilight a dark glare. “I’ve heard the stories about you. I asked around. You’re not like the rest of us. You don’t get to leave when you get better. They can’t give more time to a lifer. But ponies like me and Pinkie and Fluttershy? They can lock us up, decide we’re dddangerous and stuff. When I fight back, there’s a real risk involved.”

Twilight stared at Rainbow, her brow furrowed in worry. The word echoed through her mind: lifer. Her mouth bent into a slight frown. “Of course. The... those who put me in here want everyone, myself included, to believe that I'll never get out. They want hope to wither and die. That is exactly why I need to do this and face the risks of escape. There are worse things than just being locked up.”

Frowning, Rainbow glanced between the two mares. Pinkie mimed a cutting motion above her forehead.

“Look, just because you’re cooler than some of the nerds here doesn’t mean I’m gonna stick my neck out for you just ‘cause you asked, kay?” Rainbow crossed her arms. “If you want my help you gotta earn it.”

“I’m not gonna show you what I have right this minute,” Twilight said with a little more force, “and that’s final.”

“Chill your hooves, brainiac. I understand. If you want my help you’ll show it to me later. I’m talking about proving that you’re not gonna wimp out on me if we do become a team.”

“We proved that just getting this information.”

“I don’t care what you say you did,” Rainbow said, her voice catching on the last word. “The Wonderbolts have tryouts, so I have tryouts. If you wanna join me, you gotta show me what you’re capable of. I don’t let just anyone hang out with the Dddash.”

Pinkie glanced over at Twilight, who had to fight to keep from rolling her eyes. “Fine. What do you want me to do?”

Smirking, Rainbow turned and pointed across the lunchroom. “See that mare there? The greeny-bluey one with the golden mane?” Twilight and Pinkie Pie nodded in unison. “Her name is Lightning Dust. She was responsible for killing one of Fluttershy’s birds, so I want you to get a little payback for her.”

“Payback?” The color drained from Twilight’s face. “What kind of payback?”

There was a sharp crack as Rainbow smacked her hooves together. “I want you to smash her smug face in.”

“That’s horrible!” said Pinkie, covering her mouth.

“No it isn’t. She deserves it for wwhat she did to Fluttershy.”

“You can’t do this, Twilight,” Pinkie said, looking nauseous. “We’re the good ponies, remember?”

Twilight gave Rainbow a measured look. “If you want revenge, why don’t you do it yourself?”

“I have my reasons!” Rainbow replied, a hint of red coloring her cheeks. “I’m, like, being watched too closely by the dddoctors to get away with it. And besides, this is about you showing you’ve got the mettle to be with me. Spitfire doesn’t take no wimps when recruiting for the Wonderbolts, and that means I don’t either.”

“So isn’t there something else I could do instead?” asked Twilight. “I don’t want to draw too much attention to myself right now either. Couldn’t I do your homework or clean your room?”

“Spitfire said in an interview that the Wonderbolts can’t work without absolute trust. So I need to know you’re a team player. And if you want to be my number two, then you better get used to following orders,” said Rainbow as she puffed out her chest.

Pinkie leaned across the table with a near-manic look on her face. “Please, we’re supposed to help ponies, not hurt them!”

“I’m not a fighter, Rainbow. I can’t beat up another pony.”

“Then what use are you?” she growled.

Twilight steepled her hooves and gave Rainbow an appraising look. “To be clear, you want me to get into a fight with Lightning Dust to prove I’m not a ‘wimp’. You promise that if I do this you will help me?” Pinkie gasped, but Twilight ignored her, watching Rainbow closely.

“Of course! As long as you give her a hard time, you’re in. And like every Wonderbolt I’m a mare of my word.”

“Twilight! You can’t do this!” Pinkie repeated, her voice cracking.

There was a long pause. With deliberate care, Twilight reached her hoof across the table. With a savage grin Rainbow gripped it in her own and pumped it up and down. Twilight turned to the aghast Pinkie Pie as she stood up. “Walk with me.”

The two of them walked down the long rows of lunch-tables, ignored by the mass of hungry ponies. Twilight could feel Rainbow’s gaze on the back of her head.

Pinkie leaned in close. “Why did you agree to that? You can’t just get into a fight and hurt another pony because Rainbow wants you to.”

“I need to earn Rainbow’s trust. She’s one of my friends and the Element of Loyalty.”

“Rainbow is just the Element of being a big meany! You can’t do this.” Pinkie placed a hoof on Twilight’s shoulder, halting her in place. “I won’t let you.”

Twilight exhaled and massaged her temple. “Pinkie…”

“Don’t you ‘Pinkie’ me, Twilight! I had my doubts after what happened in Doctor Rose’s office. I let it go because you’re my bestest friend, but I’m not gonna let you become a big bully just to impress Rainbow Dash. If you won’t stop then I’ll… I’ll… I’ll tell Doctor AJ on you and tell her everything!”

“No you won't,” Twilight said, breathing through her clenched teeth. She could feel her temper struggle to break free, forcing her to clamp down harder. “You have no reason to because I’m not going to hurt her.”

Some of the defiance on Pinkie’s face evaporated. “But I thought you said you were going to do what Rainbow said and beat up Lightning Dust?”

“I am going to do exactly what I promised her.” Twilight reached out to squeeze Pinkie’s arm. “You have to trust me on this. I Pinkie Promise that I’m not going to hurt Lightning Dust.”

Pinkie tilted her head to the side. “I don’t understand.”

“You don’t have to understand just yet. All you need to do is alert the nurses that something is happening at Lightning Dust’s table as soon as I get there, alright?”

Confusion and distrust flashed across Pinkie’s face, but eventually she gave a slow nod. “Okay, Twilight. I trust you.”

Twilight watched Pinkie reluctantly stroll away before she turned back to her target. Lightning Dust was at the end of the next table, sitting amidst a small bunch of patients – all pegasi, Twilight noted – and involved in a passionate discussion where she seemed to be the central topic. She was facing away from Twilight, leaving her back exposed.

Twilight glanced over at Rainbow Dash, who just smiled back and gestured for her to keep going. She took a few deep breaths and, putting one hoof in front of the other, she moved in.

The pegasi only noticed Twilight when she was a few paces away, the whole group glancing up at the intruder as one. Lightning paused mid-sentence and, with an air of supreme disinterest, slowly turned around to face Twilight. She eyed Twilight up and down, a slow smirk revealing her teeth. “You want something, bonehead?” she asked, to a smattering of sycophantic snickers.

Twilight nodded. From the corner of her eye she could see a pair of flustered nurses making a beeline in her direction, Pinkie Pie following in their wake. They were about thirty seconds out, from her estimations, which left her a small window of opportunity to strike.

“Well, what does a ground-pounder like you want with Broadhoof’s best flyer?” Lightning asked, her smirk only growing wider as Twilight squared off in front of her. “Looking for an autograph?”

Twilight spit right in Lightning’s face.

“Owie. Owie. Owie!”

“It’s just a little peroxide. It ain’t gonna kill you.”

“Still hurts,” Twilight said defensively, her voice given a nasal timbre from the bandages shrouding her muzzle. Her ears still rang with the shouts and howls of the panicked melee minutes before, but she wasn’t sure that wasn’t part of some undiagnosed concussion either. Twilight tightened her grip on the ice pack she was holding against her forehead. She’d certainly taken enough hooves to the head to make that a valid worry.

Applejack rolled her eyes as she removed the cotton-swab from Twilight’s nose and passing it to the heavyset nurse standing beside her. “Well, you deserve it after the stunt you pulled,” she said, her voice dripping with disapproval. “What in the wide-wide world of Equestria were you thinking, picking a fight with another pony like that?”

Averting her gaze, Twilight slunk a little lower in her seat. “I’m sorry.”

“You’re just lucky Pinkie Pie saw what was happening so soon,” Applejack continued, giving the downcast Pinkie a friendly smile.

Pinkie returned it with one of her own, looking a little less haggard than she had been a few minutes prior. Twilight wasn’t sure if it had been Pinkie’s endless pleading or her status as a patient assistant which had really persuaded Applejack to let her stay, but it was small comfort in a storm of minor agonies.

“You’re lucky you escaped with just a few scrapes and bruises,” the nurse – Sweetheart? – added as she helped Applejack finish bandaging Twilight’s muzzle. “If we hadn’t gotten there in time there’s no telling what could have happened. Fights are not something to be taken lightly, dontcha know.”

Applejack nodded. “Exactly. There is never any reason to pick a fight. Big fillies settle their differences with words, not hooves.”

There was a moment of incredulity before Twilight let out a loud groan. She could still taste blood in her mouth and the pair of them were already talking down to her. It never ended at Broadhoof.

The rest of the lunchroom had long since emptied of everypony else, leaving a single orderly and a pair of janitors the group’s only observers. An opened first-aid kit sat nearby, amidst a few abandoned trays.

Twilight watched the two janitors finish mopping up the remains of the incident, a dozen frantic hooves having turned all the spilled lunches into a disgusting puree across the tiles. Twilight expected more than a few drops of her blood were mixed in with the discarded food. The fight – if being punched in the muzzle before crumpling to the floor could be considered a fight – had lasted mere seconds, but Lightning and her friends had used every one of them.

The evidence of their handiwork was quite apparent on Twilight’s face. She shifted her ice-pack to the other side of her head, fighting the urge to wince as Applejack double-checked her bandages. Whatever painkillers Nurse Sweetheart had given her had yet to make a difference.

“Honestly Twilight, I thought you were smarter than this,” Applejack continued as she returned the bandages and antiseptic to the first-aid kit, sounding as though she’d caught Apple Bloom with her hoof in the cookie jar.

“I know.”

“If it weren’t for the fact that nopony else was hurt, you’d be in solitary with Lightning Dust right now.”

“I guess getting the snot beaten out of me was punishment enough.”

“Don’t you sass me,” said Applejack with a lean glare.

“Sorry.”

As Nurse Sweetheart closed the latches on the first-aid kit, Applejack moved to Twilight’s side. Her expression softened, just like her tone of voice. “Is this all because of what we talked about earlier? What you wanted Rarity about?”

Twilight tried to shake her head, but the sudden rush just made her headache throb painfully. “No. This was just an accident. I didn’t mean to cause anypony trouble.” Twilight lied with just enough remorse to keep Applejack on her side. Being a bloody, bruised, and battered mess was a painful but effective way to earn sympathy.

Despite the performance, doubt still lingered on Applejack’s face. Handing the first-aid kit to Nurse Sweetheart she silently waved for the orderly by the door to come over before finally facing Twilight. “I have to go file a report about all this. You might not have meant to cause any trouble, but this is still one heck of a mess I gotta deal with. And since a bloody nose isn’t enough to keep you out of class, I’m going to have Golden Delicious here take you to your next period. He’ll keep an eye on you till I get back.” She held Twilight’s gaze for a few heartbeats. “And please, for your sake, try to stay out of trouble until then.”

After a curt farewell both Applejack and Sweetheart trod away, leaving Twilight and Pinkie Pie alone with the orderly. Twilight glanced up at the amber stallion. “Golden Delicious?”

“Yup,” he said with a deep drawl. “And just call me Golden.”

There was a pause as Twilight narrowed her eyes. “I’ve seen you before. Aren’t you related to Applejack?”

“Yup,” he repeated, this time with a hint of a smile on his face. “Cousins, three times removed. She helped get me the job here, actually.” He extended an arm to Twilight, who gratefully pulled herself upright. Lightheaded, she swayed and winced, but he didn’t let her fall. “Take it easy, now. Don’t need you hurting yourself. Again.”

She let out a derisive snort, only to yelp as her abused nostrils screamed in protest. Just breathing through her nose turned the air into sandpaper. Her legs trembled as she swayed in place.

“Don’t worry about that, Mr. Golden, sir!” Pinkie said as she took her place by Twilight’s side, acting as a fuzzy pink buttress for the swaying unicorn. “I’ll make sure she’s a-okay. Well, as a-okay as a pony with a face-full of bandages can get.”

Biting back a retort, Twilight leaned against Pinkie as the pair followed along in Golden’s wake. Inhaling through her mouth to avoid any more agony, Twilight gave Pinkie a nod of thanks.

She smiled back. “Don’t mention it.”

“You look like you’re feeling better,” said Twilight. “At least, compared to a few minutes ago.”

“Well a few minutes ago my best friend was bleeding and crying all over herself.”

Twilight frowned. “I was not crying.”

“Yes you were,” Pinkie replied with a playful wink. Her expression grew serious. “But really, I’m proud of you. You didn’t hurt anypony. Well, I guess you kinda got the crud bucked out of you, but that doesn’t count. I was really worried that you were gonna do just what Rainbow Dash said and be a bully, but you didn’t. That takes guts. And a thick skull.”

Twilight tried to give her an annoyed glare but it fizzled in the face of Pinkie’s laughter, and Twilight couldn’t help but chuckle in turn. Despite the pain, it was finally starting to feel like she’d made the right decision.

“Twilight Sparkle!”

“Y-Yes!” Twilight said automatically, spinning around fast enough to leave everything a confusing swirl. The dizziness passed to reveal Nurse Ratchet and her shadow Silas steaming towards them at full speed. Even Golden Delicious took a step back as Nurse Ratchet drew herself up in front of the group, her golden eyes burning with displeasure.

Golden Delicious bowed in her direction, swallowing loudly. “Ma’am.”

Nurse Ratchet didn’t even look up, her gaze boring into Twilight. “Leave us.”

He swallowed loudly. “But ma’am, Doctor Applejack told me–”

The nurse halted Golden Delicious with a single command. “I said leave us.”

He hurriedly bowed again and backed away, pulling the reluctant Pinkie Pie along with him. She tried to protest but he forced her ahead of him as they vanished around a corner. Slowly, Twilight turned to face Nurse Ratchet alone.

“Twilight Sparkle,” Nurse Ratchet repeated, each syllable delivered with the weighty impact of a judge’s gavel. “That was inexcusable. We do not tolerate fighting in this hospital.”

“But she hit me!” Twilight protested weakly.

“A proper unicorn doesn’t get into petty brawls as a way of acting out. I have no patience for troublemakers. If you have any problems you are to bring them to your… doctor's attention. If Applejack cannot resolve them, then you are to discuss them with me.” She took a step closer, her voice a pale whisper. “And if I ever even suspect you of crossing the line and causing problems in my hospital, you will regret it. Have I made myself clear?”

“Yes, Nurse Ratchet.”

“Good.” Nurse Ratchet’s gaze lingered for an anxiety-inducing length of time on Twilight’s horn before she gestured for Twilight to join her. “Come along, deary. I will walk you to your next class personally.”

Twilight obeyed, moving alongside Nurse Ratchet as they moved through the green and white halls, Silas bringing up the rear.

There was the faintest thaw in Nurse Ratchet’s expression as she watched Twilight from the corner of her eye. “It’s unfortunate that I have to speak to you like that, but I can’t allow you to get out of line just because you think you’re a special case. You have to learn that we don’t tolerate these sorts of things. Discipline is paramount in a place like Broadhoof. Without it we have anarchy.”

Unable to find a suitable response, Twilight simply nodded.

“Really, we’re all just relieved you didn’t end up seriously hurt. Things could have been far worse. It’s a good thing Pinkie Pie saw what was happening. She’s a dear, and I’m glad you’ve been making friends with her. Trustees like Pinkie are a real blessing.” There was nothing authentic in Nurse Ratchet’s smile.

“What happened to the pegasus?” Twilight asked.

“Lightning Dust is going to spend the rest of the week in solitary confinement, and we’ve clipped her wings.” Nurse Ratchet gave a dismissive sniff. “Sometimes grounding them for a few months is the only way to get a pegasus to listen to reason.”

Twilight frowned. “That sounds like a lot for just a bloody nose.”

“You’re lucky she didn’t break it. The last time she was in a fight she ended up fracturing another pony’s leg. That one is a serial troublemaker.”

“It still seems harsh to me.”

“She broke the rules,” Nurse Ratchet stated firmly, her tone making it clear the issue was settled. “I know you’re a good girl so you’re feeling a little guilty, but it’s what she deserves. The tougher we are now, the less likely she is to act out in the future.”

“Could I at least talk to her?”

“That would defeat the whole point of solitary confinement.”

“I just want to apologize to her.”

“You only have to apologize if you are guilty of something.” Nurse Ratchet turned to regard Twilight as they walked along. “So, why exactly did you go over to Lightning Dust in the first place?”

“I didn’t mean to start a fight. It just sorta happened.”

“And it has nothing to do with your new friend Rainbow Dash?”

Twilight stumbled. “W-What do you mean?”

“I know you’ve been spending more time with her. And right after eating lunch with her you go out and get into a fight with Rainbow’s enemy.”

“Enemy?” asked Twilight. “Rainbow Dash has an enemy?”

“Whose leg do you think Lightning Dust broke?”

Some of the color leaked from Twilight’s face, but she managed to keep her voice even this time. “No, it had nothing to do with Rainbow Dash. We’re just friends.”

“If you say so,” Nurse Ratchet said with another fake smile. Twilight shivered.

When they neared the classroom door Nurse Ratchet halted Twilight with a firm hoof to the chest. Some of the ice returned to her voice as she leaned in close. “Now, this time I’m going to give you the benefit of the doubt and accept that this was all a misunderstanding. But if you end up in this sort of mess again, misunderstanding or not, I’m going to have to assume that Rainbow Dash is involved and punish her as well. And you don’t want to hurt your friends, do you?”

A chill passed down Twilight’s legs. She shook her head. “No ma’am.”

“That’s a good girl. Now run along.”

Twilight seized the offer, not even returning Trixie’s greeting as she hustled past the teacher. The other patients looked up at Twilight as she entered, Pinkie Pie amongst them. She let out a loud sigh of relief, putting a thankful hoof on Twilight’s back as she took her seat in front of her.

“Oh wowie, it is so good to see you. I know it’s only been like a minute but I was so worried Nurse Ratchet was going to go all… Nurse Ratchet on you.”

“Me too,” Twilight admitted, the threat still echoing in her mind. Glancing around the classroom, she gave a slight frown. “Hey, Rainbow Dash is about our age, so why isn’t she in this class with us?”

“Oh.”

Twilight turned around in her seat to look at Pinkie. She arched an eyebrow. “Oh?”

Pinkie rubbed the back of her neck, her cheeks becoming a darker shade of pink. “She’s in the special class.”

Twilight’s eyes slowly widened. She gestured at the rest of the students. “I thought this was the special class.”

“What? Why?”

“Because we’re old enough to be graduates and we’re still learning about fractions!”

Pinkie glanced down at her desk. “But those are hard…”

Twilight opened her mouth to respond but thought better of it. Swallowing her words, she turned back around to face the class as the last few patients were ushered in.

A swirl of levitating chalk circled Trixie as she strode up to the blackboard, a stack of papers following in her wake. She set the papers down on her lectern and turned to face the patients seated in the nicked and worn desks. She smiled. “Afternoon, class.”

They answered as one. “Afternoon, Miss Trixie.”

“After grading last week’s quizzes it seems we still have trouble understanding how to multiply and divide fractions correctly. I know it can be tough, but this is something you all need to know. So today, we’ll be going over it all again to make sure nopony is left behind.”

There was a loud groan from the back of the room.

Chapter 27

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Asylum

Chapter 27

“Princess? Are you there?”

“Yes, Twilight. I am here, but I cannot speak long. The connection grows weaker by the day.”

“That’s fine. I’m just happy to hear your voice again. It’s been so long.”

“Indeed. Every moment with you is precious. We… sustaining our defenses. The magic is holding, and the shadow has slowed its advance. For now.”

“Great! I mean, that’s good, right? Does it mean you’re winning?”

“I am sad to say that it is only… momentary reprieve. I can sense it at work, sniffing at the shield’s edges like a hungry rat, searching for a way in. My sister and I can resist it for a while longer, but its power grows by the day. It is up to you to return the Elements of Harmony to us. Without them… is lost.”

“I know, princess. I have a plan and I’m working my hardest. If I can get this stupid thing off my horn then I can use it to heal my friends, and together we can fight this shadow with the greatest power there is: friendship.”

“Twilight…”

“Princess?”

“Even at this distance I can hear the hesitation in your voice. Tell me what troubles you.”

“Yes. Well, no. I mean… Some of the things I have to do… I know how essential it is to defeat this monster and that I can’t hold back, but sometimes I have to do things. Important things. Vital things. And every time I do them, they become a little easier.”

“You regret that some actions, however distasteful, are necessary.”

“Exactly! Every day I have to struggle to keep myself focused because the doctors are poisoning me with their so-called medicine. My head gets fuzzy and I can’t control my emotions and I lash out. I never thought I could accept it, but I’ve willingly hurt my friends to accomplish my goals. My friends! And even though every one of them would support me if they knew what was at stake, there are times when I think I’m just lying to make myself feel better.”

“You must be strong. Doubt is the weapon of… enemy. If you falter, all is lost.”

“I know, I know. But what if I’m doing the wrong thing, even for the right reasons? I don’t have anyone I can confide in. You’re the only pony I can really talk to, and we’re lucky if we get to speak more than two or three times a week. There are ponies all around me and I’m totally alone.”

“I understand… hard for you, but–”

“Stop saying that! How can you understand? You have others ponies with you, ponies you can talk to and be yourself with. Me? The ponies I thought I knew best are almost strangers to me now, and I have to do horrible things to them or else all of Equestria will suffer! So how can you even begin to understand what I’m going through?”

“I banished my own sister for a thousand years.”

“Oh… Oh, p-princess, I’m so sorry! I… I d-didn’t…”

“Do not apologize, Twilight. Just listen to my words. When I lost Luna, I had never felt more alone in all my years. My dearest sister, my closest friend, was no longer… pony I knew. I had to stop her, for the good of all my little ponies. There was only one option I could take, and it was still the most difficult choice of my entire life. And no matter how… times she forgives me, no matter how often she says that it was the right thing to do, what I did to Luna will haunt me forever. But with Equestria threatened, there was only one path I could take.”

“How can doing the right thing hurt s-so much?”

“You heart will always bear the scars of guilt no matter… your mind says. After all, love is stronger than logic – even for you, my faithful student. Now wipe away your tears and remember that you must be strong… do the right thing, no matter how much it hurts.”

“Yes, princess.”

“You are never alone, Twilight. I… be with you.”

“That. Was. Awesome!”

Twilight winced as Rainbow Dash clapped her on the back. “Really, it was nothing.”

“Dude, you totally wiped the floor with her,” Rainbow continued unabated.

Pinkie dropped the afternoon’s chosen board game down onto the table they’d claimed as their own with a thwack, loud enough to cause Fluttershy to peek at them from her spot by the windows. “Yeah, her face really showed Lightning Dust’s hoof who was boss.” Pinkie giggled, although her eyes lingered on Twilight’s bandages before she busied herself unboxing the new game.

“Okay, she's nnnot a fighter. But she’s still brave enough to try!” The light glinted off Rainbow’s smile, bringing back unwelcome memories of shadows and mirrors. “That feather-brain Lightning Dust ended up in solitary and Fluttershy got some payback, so that’s a win-win in my book!”

Fluttershy ruffled her feathers but said nothing.

Twilight forced herself to grin back up at her. “I’m just glad I could help.”

“You’re totally on the team now,” said Rainbow as they moved over to the table, only pausing long enough to escort Fluttershy over as well. Unsurprisingly, Fluttershy took the spot furthest from Twilight and Pinkie Pie. Rainbow didn’t seem to notice as she turned back to Twilight, her smile curling into a mischievous grin. “So what’s the big secret you couldn’t show me at lunnnch?”

Even knowing that the question was coming still wasn’t enough to keep Twilight from inwardly cringing. She gave a quick glance around the room. They were too exposed. Low shelves and a corner location weren’t enough to ward off the ears of prowling orderlies. And Rainbow Dash’s boisterous praise hadn’t done them any favors.

“Can’t you just take my word on it that it exists?” she tried one last time, but Rainbow just shook her head.

“Hey, if I’m sticking out my nnneck, I wanna know it’s for a good reason.”

Pinkie looked up from the half-finished board game. “Me too. You don’t wanna keep something this important from your friends. That’s a quick way to lose them.”

“Okay, okay,” Twilight said, her shoulders sagging. “Just… try to control yourselves. This is too important to let slip to anypony, understand? What I have with me is going to change everything around here.”

Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie edged forward as Twilight glanced around one final time. The coast was clear. Twilight pulled Smarty Pants from her pocket and dropped the patchwork doll onto the board, the cottony impact sending playing pieces dancing across the table. Smarty Pants flopped over and sagged to one side.

“I’m leaving,” said Rainbow as she stood back up.

“It’s not the doll!” Twilight hissed. “It’s what’s inside the doll.”

“Fluffy stuffing?”

Twilight glared at Pinkie Pie before flipping the doll over to reveal a line of loose stitching running up its back. Holding Smarty Pants down with a hoof, Twilight carefully bit down on one end of the string and tugged, opening up a small vertical hole on the doll's back. With the care of a surgeon she slid her hoof into the incision and removed a small wad of well-folded papers.

She unfurled the documents with care, slightly annoyed that they wouldn’t lay perfectly flat despite using her hoof on the creases. With a huff she rotated the papers and pushed them across the table. “Here. These are official medical reports concerning a unicorn called Wind Song. And they are how we’re going to bring Broadhoof down.”

Rainbow lifted up the papers and lifted them up close to her muzzle, slowly mouthing the words as she scanned the first page. Pinkie Pie tried to read over her shoulder but gave up when Rainbow paused to scowl at her. Rainbow resumed reading as Pinkie Pie sat back down with a huff.

The minutes dragged on. Twilight ground her teeth in irritation, tracking Rainbow’s glacial progress by reading her lips. There was a lack of comprehension in Rainbow’s eyes, but she stubbornly persisted. Resisting the urge to snatch the papers away and just read them aloud, Twilight physically turned away and focused on tracking the orderlies in case one of them noticed Rainbow’s obvious display. She felt a headache brewing.

Thankfully, Twilight wasn’t the only irritated pony. A grimace spread over Rainbow’s face as she tried to bludgeon her way through the dense medical lingo. Annoyance overcame stubbornness and, with a groan, Rainbow dropped the papers back onto the table. “I give up! This is like trying to read an ennn… enncyclopedddia.” She looked at Twilight. “Okay, I believe you. It’s real. So go ahead and translate it so a normal pony like me can understand.”

Before Twilight could shove the papers back inside the eviscerated doll, Pinkie Pie pulled them away, a single steely glance at the other ponies announcing she would look over the papers herself first. Even after making amends, there was still doubt in her soul.

Twilight ignored it for now. She looked to Rainbow. “Everything Doctor Rose is doing is a lie. He is modifying the data to make his treatment seem more effective and revolutionary. But it isn’t doing what he promises, and there are ponies that are suffering because of it. What he’s doing is unethical, immoral, and illegal. What we are going to do is stop him.”

That got their attention. Pinkie stopped reading as Rainbow Dash rocked back on her hooves. Even Fluttershy peeked out from beneath her mane to gawp at Twilight.

“But there’s a catch. Nopony is going to believe what we say, and by the time the authorities could do anything about this, he’ll have covered his tracks. One trip to the furnace and it will just be the word of four crazy ponies against the hospital’s. And I don’t think my word matters much here. That means it is up to us to do this, and do it right.”

Rainbow Dash whistled. “Damn, egghead. You don’t play around, do you?”

“Not when it’s this important.” There was a warmth in Twilight’s chest at the righteous certainty in her declaration, and she couldn’t help but sit up a little straighter.

After skimming over the rest of the papers, Pinkie Pie set them back on the table and slid them over to Twilight. She chewed her lower lip. “Okay. I believe you. And… I don’t want to see ponies getting hurt. I’ll help.”

Twilight smiled before turning to Fluttershy, who had retreated beneath her mane and was engrossed with a spot on the floor. Rainbow wrapped a protective hoof around Fluttershy’s shoulders. Twilight blinked when Fluttershy just barely flinched at the contact. “Hey, I want to get some payback, but you don’t have to drag Fluttershy into this.”

There was a fire in her voice, a shadow of the old Rainbow Dash, and Twilight had to resist sending the wrong message by smiling. “We need her help,” said Twilight as she folded up the papers and slid them back into Smarty Pants. “I have a plan, and it’s going to take all of us to see it through.” She turned back to face Fluttershy directly. “I know this might be scary, but I’m sure you can do this. You’re stronger than anypony else knows.”

Rainbow Dash watched Fluttershy as she continued to stare down at the floor, waiting for something. Fluttershy never moved, but eventually Rainbow gave Twilight a nod. “Okay, she’s in. But if anything bad happens to her…”

“Don’t worry, her part is the simplest of them all.”

Pinkie Pie leaned forward. “Wouldn’t it be a teensy-bit easier to not worry if we knew just what the plan was?”

Twilight coughed, her anxiety about giving them too much warring with the need to keep them compliant. “Okay. I can’t tell you everything right now, but the basic plan is pretty straightforward. I’m going to use the documents to convince two ponies on the staff to join us. Once they see what I have, they’ll go and confront Doctor Rose. While he’s distracted, we get back into his office and secure the papers before he has a chance to destroy them. All we need is one or two full folders and it will be enough to put him away for good.” Amongst other benefits, she silently added, her thoughts drifting to the keys she’d seen on the orderlies’ belts.

Pinkie Pie frowned when she mentioned Doctor Rose’s office, but it was Rainbow Dash who spoke first. “Two more ponies? I thought it was just goinnng to be the four of us. You proved you’re cool… for ann egghead… and you’re vouching for Pinkie Pie, but Fluttershy and I don’t trust the staff.”

“It’s really not important right now,” Twilight said with a forced nonchalance. “I don’t even know if they’ll go with us yet, or when we’ll get a chance to meet. And they’re just the distraction, anyway.”

“I told you, we don’t trust them. Tell us, or we walk.”

“Okay, but please, don’t be upset. The two ponies we need are my caseworker Rarity and…” Twilight winced, “Doctor Applejack.”

A few orderlies glanced up at the impact of Rainbow’s hoof on the table, but when she didn’t lunge over it to try and grab Twilight they soon lost interest. Rainbow pulled Fluttershy in even tighter as she glared across the table, but she said nothing.

“Wow, hey! Look at the time, heheheh,” Pinkie Pie said with a forced grin as she gathered up the ignored board game and began walking backwards. “Time to put this bad-boy back in his place. Gotta be tidy. Cleanliness is next to… uh, that bookshelf. Over there.”

Rainbow didn’t even look up at Pinkie Pie’s vanishing act, all her fury condensed into a single burning stare. When she finally spoke, her voice was a dry whisper. “No.”

“Look,” Twilight began, but she was cut off by a growl from Rainbow Dash.

“Nnno! I’m not ddoing anything if that mud pony is involved. She almost cost Fluttershy her life once, I won’t let her do it again. Wwe’re donne.” Rainbow stood up, but she was halted by one word.

“Wait.”

Both Twilight and Rainbow turned to look at Fluttershy, who let out a meep and ducked down low so only her eyes were above the edge of the table.

Mouth agape, Rainbow managed to ask, “Fluttershy?”

Fluttershy gave an almost imperceptible nod. “Don’t… go. We… should help…” she spoke haltingly, as if she were struggling to push out each syllable. Like Rainbow Dash, Twilight just stared back at her. “We… have to do this.”

“But Applejack almost got you killed!” Rainbow protested with wavering conviction, the anger draining from her voice even as she tried to keep up a scowl.

It was clear the strain of talking was getting to Fluttershy. A few beads of sweat rolled down brow as she cast nervous glances around her. Twilight didn’t know whether to cheer Fluttershy’s bravery or rage at just what the shadow had done to her friends. She just watched as Fluttershy swallowed her fear and continued speaking. “We… can’t let innocent ponies… get hurt. We have to… protect them.”

The other two waited, but it became clear that was all Fluttershy could muster as she retreated back beneath her mane, pale and shivering. It took another minute before Rainbow Dash finally turned to look back at Twilight. She bore a sharp grimace as she spoke. “Okay. We’ll do it.” Her eyes narrowed. “But if anything goes wrong, I’m blaminnng you.”

Twilight shook her head up and down in acknowledgement, not trusting herself to speak for fear of changing their minds. After that exchange it was clear the meeting was over. Rainbow Dash, her tail swishing from side to side, escorted Fluttershy to their usual place by the windows. Twilight didn’t even risk thanking Fluttershy, contenting herself with having achieved her goal.

I’ll just give her some time to cool off. Don’t need to push anything just yet. Twilight almost shivered herself as her imagination began to run through all the ways an angry and resentful Rainbow Dash could mess up her plans. Still, she managed to let out a bitter laugh. Though considering the plan isn’t much more than a lot of hopeful speculation, maybe that’s not much of an issue.

“Will Rainbow still do it?” Pinkie Pie asked as she returned to the table, one eye on the other two patients as she deposited a board game – a different one, Twilight noted – on the table between them.

“I think so. I was really hoping I wouldn’t have to tell her about Applejack. It’s irrelevant to their respective roles. I mean, I knew saying who I had in mind was going be an issue, but…”

“But you couldn’t lie to her?” Pinkie offered with a weak smile.

Twilight returned it gladly. “Pretty much. You’re my friends, and I’m not going to lie to you about this, even if I should. It’s too important.”

Pinkie busied herself setting up the game, failing to hide her grin. After a moment, Twilight joined in. Unsurprisingly it was another game for foals, this time centered around the construction of some large plastic contraption meant to catch thieving diamond dogs. Twilight found comfort in the easy mechanical motions. It was like sorting a bookshelf or setting a table, and the symmetry of all the pieces pleased her.

“Since you’re not going to lie, will you tell me why you don’t wanna give us the whole plan?”

Twilight nearly dropped one of the pieces. “What do you mean? I told you, it’s to protect you.”

Pinkie Pie looked up from her work. “Remember what you told me? I’m supposed to help keep you from doing bad pony stuff. And not telling us the whole truth is bad pony stuff. And you have to trust me when I say stuff like that cause I’m the Element of Laughing.”

“Laughter,” Twilight corrected automatically. “And the plan, it… well, it’s complicated.”

Pinkie giggled. “Of course it is! You wouldn’t ever consider doing anything this super scary unless you had a hundred-point plan you’d checked and rechecked like a million times. But since we’re supposed to play a part, that means it can’t be too complicated. So either there’s something in the plan you don’t wanna tell us, like Doctor AJ being involved, or…” Pinkie Pie kicked over one of the pieces with a hoof, sending the incomplete machine spinning into life before pulling itself apart, “you’re afraid we’re going to mess it up and you can’t trust us.”

“No, it’s not that...” Twilight began, but her voice trailed away. On the third try she finally found her voice again. “Okay, look. I am worried that something bad will happen outside my control. That’s… I’ve always been anxious about that, all my life. Even back in the real world. But now I don’t even have my magic to fall back on if things go wrong. What if we get into trouble? What am I supposed to do?” She gestured at herself. “Even for a unicorn I’m not that strong. If the worst happens, then what?”

“Then you’ll just have to rely on your friends, silly.”

“And if my friends can’t do it?” Twilight’s retort held more bite than she’d intended, but she didn’t back down. “This is too important. I love you all like you wouldn’t believe, but this world is so different. And with all of Equestria depending on what I do – what we do – I fear that I haven’t done enough. There are already too many risks and unknowns that I’m worried that everything could go wrong. And I can’t let that happen.”

With a gentle smile, Pinkie Pie reached out a hoof and rubbed Twilight’s own. “Twilight, you can trust us. I mean, you have to trust us. It’s not like you’re going to summon a bunch of police officers to storm Doctor Rose’s offices with you.” She paused. “Right?”

Twilight rolled her eyes but laughed despite herself. “Yes, my brother isn’t going to come riding to the rescue. I mean, maybe if I had more time I could come up with something better, something more certain, but I don’t have that luxury anymore.” The humor faded from her face. “I don’t have the time to come up with anything better. And that makes me nervous. So I’m sorry if my keeping things from you seems dishonest, but with so much chaos in my life it’s my way of keeping something under my control.”

The two of them shared a mutual silence as a distracted Twilight began rebuilding the demolished toy between them. She pursed her lips together in a thin smile. “I guess that’s makes me sound like a bit of a jerk, huh?”

“Nope! It just makes you normal,” Pinkie stated cheerfully.

“Really?”

“Abso-really-utely. We’re not exactly free to do what we want here,” she said, a wide sweep of her arm taking in the white and green tiled walls around them. “Every long-timer here has ways to cope with being told what to do and where to go all day, every day. I try to plan fun things for my friends, Fluttershy is responsible for her birds, and Rainbow Dash…” Pinkie rubbed her chin. “Well, I’d guess she just breaks the rules.”

“The difference being that if your party gets canceled then all of Equestria doesn’t get destroyed.”

Pinkie Pie pouted, though there was a twinkle in her eye. “Parties are important too…”

Rubbing the side of her head against the faint headache she felt brewing there, Twilight let out a long sigh. She’s right. You should tell them the rest of the plan. The risk isn’t that great, and they’ll be more loyal if they know everything. Planting both her hooves on the table, Twilight sat back up with a firm and commanding expression chiseled into her face. “Okay, I’ll tell you everything. But this is entirely Pinkie Swear worthy. Understood? No matter what, you can’t let anypony else know a single thing I’m about to tell you.”

A shadow passed over Pinkie’s face. “Okay, just… no bad pony stuff, right?”

“We will be breaking the rules and doing something very dangerous, but it’s to help ponies who need us most.” Twilight smirked. “That doesn’t sound like something a bad pony would do to me.”

“Me neither,” said Pinkie Pie, almost sighing in relief before she snapped to attention and quickly recited her Pinkie Promise pledge, eye-polk and all. Despite the stress creeping up her spine, Twilight found herself smiling again. Finished, Pinkie Pie stared at Twilight with rapt attention, bringing back memories from Twilight’s foalhood of presentations delivered in front of the class.

“This plan is… well, okay, it’s not simple. There are plenty of variables I can’t control. The first is what day this is supposed to happen. Likely it will be this Friday, but that depends on Rarity and Applejack’s schedule. Second, I don’t know what time the meeting is, so if I can’t tell you girls before the meeting, then the whole thing fails right away. And third, I don’t know what your schedules will be like, so I don’t even know how busy you’ll be at the time, meaning if you can’t be where I need you at the right time, we also fail. Three really big ‘if’s that can mess the whole thing up, and we haven’t even started doing anything yet.” Twilight paused to take a few deep breaths, straightening out the list in her head. The headache wasn’t going away anytime soon.

“Okay. So, step one is to get my papers into the hooves of Applejack and Rarity. I’m certain once they see what it says they’ll try to confront Doctor Rose immediately: Applejack is too headstrong to sit around and Rarity has personal reasons to act against a doctor mistreating patients.” She pointed at Pinkie Pie. “This is where you come in. You’ll use your privileges as a trusted patient to loiter around the conference area until my meeting ends, because what happens to me after that meeting is uncontrolled variable number four. The two most likely outcomes are them summoning an orderly to take me back to my room, or escorting me themselves before they go see Doctor Rose. In either case, I’ll need you to pick the lock and get me out of whichever room I’m in.”

This caused Pinkie Pie to fidget in her seat, her hooves idly playing with her straight mane. “But if this happens during the day, the hospital is going to be pretty busy. What if I get caught?”

“That’s variable…” Twilight did some quick calculations. “Thirty five. With everything else going on, you’ll just have to be careful and not get caught. If you do, we fail.” Pinkie Pie paled, but Twilight continued on. “Now, once I’m out of the room, the two of us will make our way to the administrative wing. Since Fluttershy knows all the hiding places in the hospital, we’ll use her to give us the unused room closest to Doctor Rose’s office. And if anyone asks, you’re just bringing me to see him for a session.”

“I guess I can do that,” Pinkie Pie said, clearly uncomfortable with the deception. She glanced over at the two pegasi by the window. “But I don’t think Fluttershy can do much sneaking around the hospital.”

Twilight shook away the memory of a protesting Fluttershy trying to sneak her way out of Ponyville during Trixie’s second rampage. “She doesn’t have to be there. She’ll just tell us where the room is before the meeting. In fact, it’s probably better for all involved if she just stays where she’s supposed to be. We only need Rainbow Dash there to begin.”

“That’s… also going to be difficult,” Pinkie said. “I mean, she’s a known troublemaker. They’re not gonna let her wander around alone.”

“And that’s why you’ll escort her to the room before you meet with me. You can tell anyone who asks that you’re bringing her to see Doctor Rose for a disciplinary hearing. They’ll buy that. And then all we need is Rainbow Dash to sit tight until you can get me there as well. And once we’re all there, then…” Twilight trailed off.

“Then?” Pinkie Pie leaned forward. “Then what?”

“Then I don’t know. It’s unknown variable number five: is Doctor Rose in his office? If he is, then we can’t make a move without being caught, and we’ll have to wait. If he isn’t, then we can slip inside, you can unlock his safe, and we can grab as many files as we can. Then we just…” Pinkie Pie had raised one of her hooves like she was waiting to be called on. “Uh, yes?”

“I don’t know how to open his safe,” said Pinkie Pie. “I taught myself how to open the doors since they were keeping me out of the kitchen, but that’s the only thing I know how to unlock.”

Twilight gave a wry grin. “Don’t worry, I expected as much. Whether or not you can open the safe is variable number six. When we’re in there you can try, but hopefully he’ll have left a bunch of files on his desk like last time and we can just grab those.”

It wasn’t the answer she was hoping for, but Pinkie Pie seemed satisfied enough. Still, Twilight couldn’t help but sigh again. “So that’s six major unknowns, not including number seven – whether we can get back out without being caught – or number eight – if they’ll believe any of the folders we give them. All of which have to work in our favor or else the whole thing fails. And that doesn’t include the dozens of other, smaller variables that could make it all much more difficult. So you can see why I’ve been a little nervous about talking about the details. It’s not a very encouraging picture.”

“Yeah. I don’t even think I have any jokes that can make things sound better,” Pinkie Pie admitted. “But at least… well, this is all something really good and important, right? We’re trying to be good ponies, and that’s worth taking a risk for.”

“Knowing that the incredibly risky thing you’re doing is also really important doesn’t really make it much easier,” Twilight said. “But we have to do the right thing, no matter how much it hurts. And it’s the best chance we have of getting what we need.”

“But I have a question.”

“What’s that?”

“Why is Rainbow Dash there?”

Twilight froze. “What do you mean?”

“Well, you’re giving Doctor AJ and Rarity the papers, I’m there to escort you to the room and undo the door locks, and Fluttershy knows all the best hiding places in the hospital. But why is Rainbow Dash there?”

Shrugging her shoulders in the most nonchalant way she could, Twilight looked Pinkie Pie in the eyes and said, “She’s the lookout. We don’t want a repeat of last time, and we’ll need somepony on the outside if we’re to keep from being seen.”

Pinkie Pie let out a long ‘oh’ of understanding, and Twilight couldn’t help but take a bitter sense of pride in how smoothly she’d sold the explanation to Pinkie Pie. The last thing she needed was Pinkie Pie sniffing out another half-truth. It doesn’t matter how much it hurts, she reminded herself. It’s all for the greater good.

“Are you going to tell them as well?” Pinkie asked, turning to look back over her shoulder to where Rainbow and Fluttershy were seated. Like usual, Fluttershy seemed content to sit and stare at the outside world while Rainbow Dash discussed the Wonderbolts with her. About the only time she moved at all was whenever a bird swooped past the window, but she always seemed a little sadder afterwards.

“I think I have to, now. Rainbow looks like she’s calmed enough that I don’t have to worry about her breaking my jaw or, you know, throwing hot soup in my face.” That earned a giggle from Pinkie Pie. “How about you set up the game while I go talk to them? We might just get to play once before dinner.”

Pinkie Pie jumped to attention – quite literally – and set to work rebuilding the plastic trap while Twilight strode away from the table. Her playful smile vanished. Say what you need to to keep Rainbow happy, Twilight told herself as she tried to collect her thoughts. She turned to watch an orderly pull a protesting patient behind him. The arcane dampener weighed heavier on her horn as her eyes were drawn inexorably to the jangling ring of keys hanging from his belt. You need her more than the others can know.