Chapter2

“To err is pony…”

    “I’m sorry.”

    The khaki mare looked up at the statue looming over her. She kept coming back here, drawn like a moth to a flame. She remembered to dress in a warm scarf this time, but she barely noticed anything beyond the statue before her. Not the whistling wind as it swept through the open eaves of the window-like ceiling, not the occasional snippet of sound from the city beyond the arched marble walls, and certainly not the biting cold that nipped at her coat.

    The hall at once felt eerily empty and incredibly full. Most ponies won’t bother to come there until warmer weather, and yet the statues of fallen agents haunted the hall like silent ghosts, standing their eternal vigil with nary a complaint. In the center of the wide and spacious hall stood a slab of onyx easily two ponies tall, the infamous “Obelisk”. Into this imposing monument were chiseled the names of every agent who had died in the various battles against the Imp invasion. Names completely covered one side and over half of the other of the lifeless slab. Surrounding the Obelisk, beyond a circle of benches, the battalion of statues of various sizes stood at the ready in carved repose. Some were only pony tall, while others towered three times over a pony, all representations of the ponies that had gone above and beyond the call of duty and died honorably. They were the agents who had served honorably and been posthumously awarded for their valor.

    One of them was her brother.

    “I’m sorry, Widget,” Clockwork Key told the towering statue again, scrubbing a foreleg futilely at the tears that clouded her eyes. It stood tall amongst the other statues, a pony in a powerful suit of armour, bulbous and heavy. It molded to the pony who wore it, enhancing his already impressive physique, and the statue reflecting the mechanical nature of this suit with surprising detail. The plate below on the pedestal labeled him as Widget, Code Named Warpony, and briefly covered his self-sacrifice in the face of an overwhelming force, preventing the Imps from stealing the memories of the late Lady Sparkle.

    “I don’t know what I’m doing,” the mare told the statue. “I’m angry. I’m frustrated. I’m so on edge I’m not sleeping right. What am I doing wrong?!? I keep thinking it’s too quiet. I keep waiting for the next attack, the next problem, the next call to action… and when nothing comes I get more flustered. I can’t walk through the city without flinching at shadows. And then Galaxi... she didn’t realize it, and I thank Celestia she didn’t, but I THREW that screwdriver at her. I thought she was an Imp, a spy coming to kill me while I worked. She thought she just startled me but…”

    “I’m scared big brother. I know you can’t answer me, but I’m scared. What is happening to me? I’m the smart one. I’m the one with the gifted intelligence. So why can’t I solve this? I can’t hear the solution; I can’t even see the problem properly. It’s not math or science, the parameters keep changing, and I just keep going around in circles in my head. I know there’s something wrong. I know they want to help but… the more they try the angrier I get.” Clockwork Key sniffled softly, struggling to keep her riotous emotions under control.

    “I’m lost, Widget,” she managed after several minutes. “I know we won against the Nightmare but… but I feel like I lost. It’s as if that dream she trapped me in never ended. Like I’m still trapped inside it, only dreaming we won. I remember how the dream would waver and shudder with every sob I heard from Galaxi. Some days the entire world looks like that, and other times it just feels like it’s me. Sometimes I think if I step too hard, or sneeze at the wrong moment, everything will fall over like so many dominoes. And other days it feels like I’m barely tethered to reality and everypony can see right through me… like a stiff breeze could just carry me away.

    “I feel like a stranger, even in my own skin. Like I got up and walked away, and I didn’t notice.” Clockwork sighed, “I’m not making sense, not even to myself. I’m sorry big brother… I wish you were still here. Even Skillet isn’t any help with this; all he does is try to cheer me up. I don’t dare… I cannot tell him how badly I want to put my hoof right through that grin of his. But I’m fighting a losing battle against myself, Widget, and I don’t know how to fix it. Give me a screwdriver, and I can fix any machine. But this?

    “This is beyond me, Widget,” she sighed again, and turned her back on the silent statue.

    “I’m sorry…”

    Clockwork blinked as she heard the voice, deep and masculine. For a brief, fleeting, moment, she let herself hope that her brother had responded to her! But logic persisted, and the thought was crushed under the harsh hoof of her own knowledge, leaving her struggling to wipe the tears away from her muzzle again. Somepony else must be here…

    Curiosity got the better of her, and she slowly made her way about the perimeter of the Monument Hall, ducking under the occasional stray hoof or stylized bit of a statue that reached out from the gallery of fallen heroes.

    “I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you. I should have been home. I should have been there… I should have done something!” the voice growled in frustration. Clockwork spotted the other pony as she rounded the Obelisk, a stallion with a deep plum coat and a mint green mane. He was wearing a heavy looking jacket against the cold, and had a quartet of oddly heavy rubber boots that reminded Clockwork of galoshes or snow boots.

    There was a pause, the stallion momentarily rendered speechless from overpowering emotions, before he straightened up and looked into the Obelisk. For a brief moment, purely by chance, she could see his reddened eyes in the reflection of the monument, interrupted only by the lines of some unfortunate agent. Slowly he turned to face her.

    “I’m sorry,” he said and wiped his face on the sleeve of his jacket, “are you lost young lady?”

    Clockwork bit her lip. “No. I was visiting my brother.”

    He nodded and looked sadly to the wall. “I was doing much the same.”

    “Relatives?”

    “Wife…” he answered softly, then drew in a steadying breath, “…and my daughter.”

    “How…?” she started.

    “The Princess allowed them on the wall. All the ponies that died in the third invasion of Canterlot were placed on the wall. All those innocents who died in the final battle…” he said softly.

    “I’m sorry…” she said, turning away, unable to meet his eyes, “I’m sorry we weren’t fast enough.”

    He looked at her confused for a moment, then his eyes narrowed as he looked, really looked, at her. Only then did a look of recognition cross his expression.

    “You’re… Wait, I know… you!”

    She nodded once, still unable to meet his gaze.

    “You’re one of the heroes of that saved Canterlot.”

    Clockwork blinked and looked up at him. Rather than the accusatory glare she had anticipated, his expression was kindly, almost reverent. Inwardly she relaxed; she had half expected him to assault her. She wasn’t sure that she wouldn’t have deserved it, or that she would have raised a hoof to stop him.

    “I’m… surprised to hear you say that,” she said softly, “given what you were saying about your family… to your family...”

    “To hold you responsible for every life lost when you struggled to save so many others would be silly,” he answered. “It would make me no better than those we fought.”

    “What happened?” she found herself asking before she even thought about it. “What kept you out of the city?”

    “My team was two days out of Canterlot when they invasion happened,” he said, his eyes growing unfocused. “We were infiltrating some abandoned Diamond Dog warrens that were suspected to be harboring a hidden base for the Imps.”

    “Was there?”

    “Yes, there was a portal of some sort, but it collapsed during the battle for reasons we were uncertain of. If I had to guess, it probably coincided with the defeat of the Nightmare,” he answered. “We cleaned up the remaining Imps easily enough, but on extraction we ran into another squadron, who had support from a Destroyer. Have you ever seen one of those monsters?”

    “Yes,” Clockwork whispered as painful memories flitted past her mind’s eye, “I’ve seen a teammate nearly killed by one, I’ve been crushed by another one, and I barely escaped a third.”

    The stallion’s eyebrows rose. “And you’re still alive? You must be pretty powerful, or lucky.”

    “No,” she answered in a pained voice, “not nearly as powerful as everpony believes.”

    There was an awkward pause in the conversation before the stallion stepped forward. “I apologize, I’m being rude. My name is Bottle Rocket, code named Impact.”

    “Clockwork Key, code named Dragonfly.”

    “I thought so,” he said softly. “You were the one with the armour, yes?”

    She nodded. “I was… I am. It’s my greatest invention, to date anyway.”

    “Then it is you I have to thank for the peace we are gifted with now.”

    “I’m not sure I’m worth much thanks,” she answered, looking to the wall and the names engraved on it. Why did they mean more now that she had story to connect to them, even if just a few?

    “I disagree. I would shake your hoof but… my power has become unstable since the war,” he admitted.

    “What do you do?”

    “I explode.”

    Clockwork boggled. “What?!?”

    He laughed at the reaction. “I explode.”

    “Unless you can explode twice, I imagine that would be of limited effectiveness.”

    He smiled and seemed to relax as he explained, “It’s a bit more nuanced than that. Any surface I hit with my hoof, body, whatever, causes a chemical reaction with my coat, which in turn causes an explosion. The harder I buck, the more powerful the explosion.”

    “Thus the name code name Impact,” Clockwork guessed.

    “Precisely,” he answered with a nod, “but it is a double edged sword. I had to wear braces on my legs because of it. The explosions caused backlash, and I was hit by the same explosive force my target was. I was immune to the fire and such of the explosion, but the recoil still hurt like heck. Fortunately I used to be able to choose when I exploded and when I didn’t…”

    “That’s changed?”

    “Yes. Now… if I take a good trip I stand the chance of blowing up. That’s why the heavy rubber boots. If I put my hoof down too hard while walking, I stand a good chance of causing an explosion that could shatter every bone in my leg,” he sighed.

    “Wait,” Clockwork gasped, her mind starting to whirl, “that would mean your explosive potential is increasing exponentially instead of linearly. Previously it took X force to receive Y force back, and now it’s increasing multiplicatively, requiring X force to receive Y to the square of Z, where Z is variable determined by X?”

    “Ma’am, what you just said went well over this old buck’s head,” he answered, “How about you lay off the fancy mathematics and simplify it for me?”

    Clockwork blushed. “Sorry. Basically the power of your explosions is increasing, while the force required to generate them is decreasing. Did I understand you correctly?”

    He nodded. “That’s the long and the short of it, yes.”

    “Any idea what is causing this loss of control?” she asked carefully.

    He shrugged before answering, “I’d guess stress. The doctors say it’s all in my head but…”

    “But?” she prompted gently.

    “But this old agent just can’t seem to adjust properly to life. I keep jumping at shadows and getting irritable and… and I miss them. I find it hard to think about anything else at times,” he answered softly. “Lately, and I don’t know why I’m telling you this, but lately I’ve been considering just giving up and letting go.”

    “Letting go?”

    “Eyup. Stop struggling, stop trying… just let go of the railing and just let myself drop. The explosion would take care of any clean-up,” he sighed.

    Clockwork’s blood ran cold. “Y-you’re talking suicide…”

    “That I am,” he agreed, “maybe then I can be with my wife and kids again, if they let an old goat like me into the Summerlands.”

    “C-certainly your old squad could help…” she tried, but the expression on his face told her that was a dead end.

    He lifted a hoof and pointed to a group of names on the Obelisk. “You mean them?”

    “T-they all…?”

    “The destroyer Imp ended their run,” he said softly. “Sergeant Buttons, code named Bullhorn. Minuet. Drop Shot, code named Lucky. Bull’s-eye, code named Longbow. Lord Ascot the Third, code named Tantrum.”

    “Y-you’re the only one who survived?” Clockwork squeaked, already knowing the answer.

    “Bullhorn was dying, but he covered me to the bitter end,” he answered, his gaze never leaving the group of names. “We’d been losing the battle the entire way. Minuet was taken down right off, her agile combat style useless against such a massive enemy, and all it took was one lucky hit. Lucky wasn’t as lucky as he hoped, and got crushed. Longbow couldn’t keep enough distance, and Tantrum wasn’t strong enough to tackle the blasted thing alone. In the end I had to explode. I lured it into hitting me, and the thing walloped me as hard as it could. I woke up in the hospital two weeks later after they finally healed my ribcage and all four of my legs. They said I was damned lucky that it didn’t shatter my spine as well, and I spent the next six months recovering. I found out later that the force of my explosion decimated not only the Imp, but my teammates as well. The Agency wouldn’t have even known what happened if I hadn’t told them; there wasn’t even enough left to bury ‘em.”

    “Your power has been going haywire ever since?” she asked carefully.

    “Eyup, that’s about the size of it,” he sighed softly. “I suppose it was inevitable. Everypony who would have been able to help me, who would have cared, died, and now my power is threatening to consume me. It might as well make a complete run on my squad, and I figure it would keep me from hurting anypony else.”

    “Please tell me it didn’t--”

    “It did,” the old agent interrupted. “It was a friendly gesture, and the foal meant no harm by it. If anything she was trying to cheer me up, but it blew the poor filly right off her hooves. Lost one of her legs from the concussive force, and I had bruises all along my side for a week. It was one hell of a scandal for a few weeks, every paper and news outlet claiming how I maliciously attacked this girl. Ever since then, I’ve been careful when I go into public to wear as much padding as possible. I don’t know how effective it is, but I can’t just sit around growing old and crazy. Well… crazier.”

    “Why suicide?” she asked softly. “It’s hardly the answer to anything.”

    The stallion shrugged. “It’s not like anypony would miss me.”

    “I would.”

    The stallion gave a short bitter laugh. “No offense ma’am, but we just met. You barely know my name. You wouldn’t miss me in the least…”

    “I would,” she answered firmly. “You’re the first pony I’ve come across who gets it.”

    “I’m afraid you’ll need to clarify…”

    “I don’t understand what’s happened to me since this war ended,” she blurted out. “Everypony I know is adjusting, going on with life, putting everything behind them. But somehow I just keep waiting for the next attack! I know the Imps aren’t coming, they’re finished. Most of them dispersed, and those that are still hostile can be handled by the Guard. Meanwhile I’m flinching at shadows, ready to jump and fight. I’m on edge, snapping at everpony I know, driving my friends away, and pissing them off at the same time.”

    “The war is still in here,” the stallion said and tapped his chest, his heart. “No matter how much our head tells it that the fighting is over, the heart refuses to believe it and is waiting for the next battle.”

    Clockwork Key nodded slowly and stared at her hooves like a filly. “I’ve talked to counselors, Princesses, experts, idiots, friends… anypony I could think of who could help. I never get any answers, and everypony tells me I just need to just relax, but I can’t seem to do that!”

    “Not sure how much help I’d be,” the stallion said softly. “You have friends and teammates trying to help. I’ve got nothing.”

    “That’s where you’re wrong,” Clockwork sniffled, “you found somepony. I know it’s not as bad for me as it is for you, but it’s still the same thing. I can hear the pain in your voice, the edginess… the war still rages for us both. The difference is you lost more than I did. I can understand at least some of what you went through, what you’re going through, because I’m in the same chariot.”

    The stallion arched an eyebrow. “Exactly what are you recommending?”

    “I’m saying that fate put us in each other’s paths,” she answered with a tentative smile. “We each need help, and we ‘accidentally’ found each other. We could just turn our backs and leave but… I’d never be able to live with myself, especially knowing you were contemplating suicide. I’d like to think maybe that’s why you told me about it, hoping for that last second reprieve. I know it’s not much hope to cling to, but I have to at least try.”

    “You’re hopin’ that by helping me you might help yourself as well?”

    Clockwork nodded. “One can hope.”

    Bottle Rocket chuckled ruefully and shook his head. “You need to work on your sales pitch,” he teased. He turned to look at the Obelisk again and rested his booted hoof on a pair of names before giving a soft sigh. “I won’t make any promises, but I can at least make an attempt. Who knows, maybe you’re right and I’ll be able to find a reason to keep on going.

    “She would never forgive me if I didn’t at least try.”

    “There you are, Clockwork Key.”

    Clockwork blinked and looked up from where she was sitting, her legs curled under her on the bench where she sat with Bottle Rocket. The rustling of the trees about her was to soothing, and the long conversation with her new comrade helped as well. Once he started talking, it reminded her so much of her father she found it easy to relax and open up.

    “Friend ‘o yers?” he asked and warily eyed the cyan unicorn as she approached.

    “Tome,” Clockwork asked as she climbed to her hooves, “is something wrong?”

    “Tome does hope she is not intruding?” she asked with a hint of a smile. Inwardly Clockwork groaned; she recognized that gleam in Tome’s eyes.

    “Bottle Rocket, this is Trixie, code named Tome,” she said, side-stepping the issue by introducing them. “Tome, this is Bottle Rocket, code named Impact. He’s a former agency member too.”

    “Ma’am,” the stallion said, his eyes piercing the unicorn as he inclined his head.

    “Tome is always pleased to meet a friend of my friend,” the unicorn responded cordially, seemingly oblivious to his stare. “I do so hate to interrupt, however, Princess Celestia herself is asking for little Clockwork here.”

    The stallion looked mildly surprised, and Clockwork blushed. “With the war over,” she explained, “the Princesses put us to work as liaisons to some of the disparate groups around Equestria. She’s trying to mend bridges and fortify alliances in the wake of the invasion.”

    “I see,” he answered simply.

    “I’ll catch up with you tomorrow, alright?” Clockwork tried to confirm. “I don’t want to keep the Princess waiting.”

    “Let me know how it goes then,” he answered, but his gaze was far beyond them both, “it’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

    Clockwork started to reach for him, to comfort him somehow, but stopped herself and let her hoof fall short. “No fireworks?”

    He barked a laugh. “No fireworks, I promise.”

    Clockwork nodded, satisfied, and followed Tome as the pair left the little park in favor of the bustle of Canterlot’s streets. Clockwork knew it was coming, she could almost see it in the sparkle in Tome’s eyes and the spring in her step. The unicorn had tried many times, unsuccessfully, to fix Clockwork up with eligible stallions. Most of them Clockwork found to be insufferable, but she ended up chasing away even the nicest of them.

    Tome managed to wait three blocks, right as they were passing into the residential area of the “Royal” district, where the mansions of the Lords and Ladies of the court resided. It was a broad district crisscrossed by cobblestone roads that wove between looming mansions locked in a perpetual state of one-upponyship. The central lane they travelled would terminate at the royal palace of the Sister Princesses.

    “Tome didn’t know you were into older stallions,” the unicorn teased.

    “I’d roll my eyes, but that seems like too much effort,” Clockwork shot back.

    “Don’t worry, Tome won’t tell the others about your liaison…” Tome offered, “…if you promise to share all the juicy details.”

    Clockwork groaned audibly. “What juicy details? Seriously, all we did was talk.”

    “All day? Tome finds that hard to believe.”

    “Huh?” Clockwork asked, surprised.

    “Clockwork, you left before light this morning,” Tome pointed out, “and it is nearly dinnertime now. You have literally been gone all day.”

    “Wow…” Clockwork gasped. “I really lost track of time.”

    “You CANNOT tell Tome that you were talking that entire time,” the unicorn said, nudging her hip conspiratorially.

    “Knock it off Trixie,” Clockwork growled, “he’s twice my age for Celestia’s sake.”

    “Trixie is easily three times your age,” Tome reminded her, “and she sees little to object to. Given the problems you gave all those stallions I tried to match you with, she had started to think maybe you preferred mares--”

    “Dammit Trixie,” she finally snapped, “I stumbled over him mourning for his dead wife and daughter!! Do you really think the Agency Memorial is an appropriate place to pick up stallions?!? For Celestia’s sake, how desperate do you think I am? What kind of pony would even suggest such a thing?!”

    Tome’s eyes widened and she recoiled back from the short khaki mare as if she’d been physically struck. A number of other ponies, startled by the outburst, stared on in confusion. Clockwork seethed, her breath hissing through clenched teeth and her body trembling from the sudden wave of fury that washed over her. Then, without a word, she turned on a hoof and stormed off towards the castle alone, leaving Tome to stare after her friend, an attempted apology dying on her lips.

    “You may rise.”

    Clockwork lifted herself from her kneel to look up at the gleaming form of Princess Celestia. The Princess was a radiant white from the tip of her horn to the ends of her hooves. In contrast to the single color of her coat, her mane rippled with multiple colors as it floated on solar winds only she felt. She was traditionally adorned with a golden crown, a gold crest across her chest, and golden horseshoes that almost reached her knees.

    The room she’d chosen to receive Clockwork in was one of the more formal ones. It was a meeting room for official dignitaries, done in a soothing eggshell white with frosted windows that reduced the glare of the sun without diminishing its brightness, even this late in the day. A round table dominated the center of the room, a large heavy oak that was bolted to the floor and bearing innumerable gouges and scars marking where it vexed overemotional delegates that had tried to tear it from its mounting. The fact it remained unseated was a testament to the resiliency and craftponyship of the table.

    Clockwork frowned slightly, momentarily studying the Princess. Celestia was usually one for easy smiles and gentle words; however the Princess’ current expression was one of dire seriousness.

    “You requested my presence, Princess?” Clockwork finally asked.

    “One moment,” she stated directly, “there is another coming.”

    Clockwork considered asking who, but the Princess’ expression was dour and brokered no discussion. It was rare she had seen Celestia this serious, and she couldn’t help but think she was one of the few ponies to see this side of her without having to risk the fury of the Reagent of the Sun. The last time she could recall witnessing this side of the Princess, the ruler was standing hoof to claw with the Nightmare in a desperate struggle to preserve the safety of all ponies.

    The large wooden door behind Clockwork creaked, causing the mare to jump and whirl about to face it. When she saw the tip of a beak entering the room, panic flooded her, adrenaline pounding in her ears. It was an Imp coming to attack the Princess!

    The surge of panic left her as suddenly as it overtook her, leaving her feeling oddly exhausted and foalish, as the owner of the beak pressed into the room. Silently she chided her own silliness as she could easily see the shape was far too short for an imp, instead properly suited for the gryphoness owner.

    “You asked to see me, Princess?” Filigree asked as she prostrated herself. A guard behind her closed the door, though Clockwork could have sworn he was eyeing the gryphon’s flank as he did so.

    “You may rise, Filigree,” the Princess stated, then regarded both with an unreadable expression. “I have bad news for you both.”

    “Princess?” Clockwork asked.

    “It seems the end of the winter snows have uncovered some unfortunate things in the lands beyond those under my rule,” she stated simply. “Clockwork, I have a letter in my hooves delivered from the Northern Reaches. It seems that, three days ago, one of the Crusaders fell seriously ill.”

    “W-which one, Princess?” Clockwork asked in a small voice, the horrible suspicion that the gentle Echo had preceded her friends and teammates from the mortal coil.

    “Scootaloo, known also as Firefly,” Celestia answered, surprising the mare. “It seems she suffered some sort of stroke in her home, and is currently in a coma at their community medical center. Her rather large family has arrived from nearby settlements to see and support her, but the letter from Apple Bloom requests you come as soon as possible. I know you made plans to travel out via standard connections, Clockwork, but I would appreciate it if you would gather your resources and make this journey as soon as possible.”

    “Give me one day, Princess, and I will be ready to go,” Clockwork said softly.

    “That will do,” Celestia answered. “Filigree, I have received an odd request from Arch-Duke Silverwing. He is asking you come to the Aerie of your old clan as soon as possible. There are hints in this letter of some sort of difficulty regarding your family, an accident of some sort.”

    “My family is here, Princess,” Filigree said, her voice dangerously soft.

    “Be that as it may, Filigree, I am arranging for you to leave first thing in the morning. You will be using my royal chariot, as well as two pegasus guards whom I would trust with my life.”

    “You suspect something, Princess?” Filigree more stated than asked. Usually she flew on her own, accompanied by a pair of the Royal Guard.

    “I would be a fool not to. The Arch-Duke’s tone has become steadily more strident since you rose to such prominence among my ponies here. Becoming the bearer of the Element of Honesty was the final straw for him. I know you were due to leave for your home clan next week, but with as poorly as Gryphon/Pony relations have been in the wake of the war, I feel this is too important to ignore.”

    “As you wish,” Filigree answered simply.

    “Return to the palace here as close to dawn as you can,” Celestia instructed, “once I have finished my duty of raising the sun, I will personally escort you to the chariot for any last minute instructions. If you can think of any contingencies, we will discuss them for the morning. Clockwork, I presume you plan to travel to the north in your armour?”

    Clockwork squeaked, caught off-guard by the sudden change of topics, and stammered, “Y-yes Princess, as well as my team chariot invention, since it is better suited to travel the longer distance more quickly.”

    “It has back-up supplies if you need them?”

    “Yes Princess.” Clockwork frowned. “You suspect something is amiss in the reaches as well?”

    “I have lived far too long not to have more suspicions than could ever exist,” she answered with a ghost of a smile before she turned away, “it is a wonder I have not gone insane from paranoia.”

    Filigree and Clockwork exchanged a silent glance.

    “You are both dismissed,” Celestia ordered, “make preparations for your departures on the morrow.”

    “Yes Princess,” the pair answered simultaneously.

    “Dear Princess Celestia,”

    “Today I learned…” the voice stalled, before the sound of tearing paper could be heard. “I learned I can be a real flank-hole without even trying.”

    The white mare raised an eyebrow, sightless eyes watching the door before her. It was large, made of solid oak, and thick enough to prevent all but the loudest of sounds to carry through it. But the white mare didn’t need to listen with her ears to hear the pained words from the individual beyond that door. She heard the words in her mind, psychically plucking them from the ether, accompanied by the emotional turmoil that fueled them.

    With a hesitant hoof, the blind mare knocked on the door.

    “Dear Princess Celestia,” the voice started again, “somepony is knocking at my door...  wait, why did Tome write that? Oh! The door!”

    After what sounded like a miniature stampede the door vanished, replaced by the silhouette of a cyan unicorn with a silvery mane. The two ponies looked at each other for a long moment, before Tome stepped aside to allow the other entrance. The white mare slipped into the brightly lit room like a ghost, drifting past the threshold and allowing Tome to shut the door behind her.

    “Tome hopes she wasn’t so loud that she woke you,” she said, sitting on a cushion by the desk she’d been working at. It was a sturdy wooden thing with an old lantern resting at the edge, an anachronism considering the electrical overhead lights that blazed away. Tome’s bed next to it was turned down, but looked as if any attempt to sleep in it failed miserably, which resulted in the covers and sheets ending up scattered in all directions. Littered amongst the sheets and across the floor were the remnants of paper that had been ripped apart, then crumpled and thrown in seemingly random directions. A large window against the far wall was partially open to allow a cool breeze to stir the musky odor of the bedroom.

    Rather than answer, the white mare’s eyes glowed as she lifted one of the crumbled sheets of paper. Her telekinesis carefully unfolded and spread it out so she could read the very words she had been hearing in her head for the past hour.

    “Tome has been having… difficulty composing her letter to the Princess,” the azure unicorn said softly.

    The mare let the paper drop and moved over to the unicorn, sitting face to face with her for a long moment before she leaned close to hug her. “I know,” she finally said, “I could hear your thoughts. What happened?”

    “What do you mean?” Tome asked. Her eyes widened as she tried to bluff the blind mare, but the sightless gaze quickly broke down her resistance. “Am I that transparent, Galaxi?”

    “I’m psychic, I could feel the pain in your thoughts,” Galaxi answered softly. “I try not to intrude on you and the Princess, but… there was more to this than just a friendship report, yes?”

    “Tome has been out of sorts today, that is all,” she insisted.

    “Trixie…”

    “Tome just… I just…” the azure unicorn stammered before lowering her head, “e-ever since Clockwork…”

    “What happened?” Galaxi asked gently, and steered the unicorn towards her bed.

    Trixie settled on the edge and sighed, “The Princess asked me to run and get Clockwork late this afternoon. Some sort of urgent message had arrived, so I headed off. She wasn’t at the manor so I used a tracking spell…”

    “Thank you for your help learning that spell, by the way.”

    “Think nothing of it,” she answered before continuing. “Anyway, I tracked Clockwork down to that park at the north side of the business district. You know, the one nestled by that lovely overhang from the royal district? Pretty little place, if a bit boxed in for my tastes. Still, Clockwork was there with an older stallion chatting away like they were old friends. He was an older gentlepony, a bit haggard looking, but not unattractive.”

    “Clockwork made a friend?” Galaxi asked, steadfastly ignoring a pang of jealousy.

    “With as solitary as she has been lately, I was just thrilled for her, and felt guilty having to break up such a meeting,” Trixie said. “She introduced him as a former agent himself, and while he seemed polite, he struck me as a bit distant. A bit like Clockwork herself has been lately, come to think of it. Regardless, I fetched Clockwork, and… and…”

    “And?” Galaxi urged gently.

    “And I promptly stuck all four hooves in my mouth,” the unicorn sighed. “I couldn’t resist teasing her about her little meeting. I thought it was innocent, teasing her about her new buckfriend. I mean… I know I miss some things and go a little too far sometimes, and I knew there was nothing between them, she couldn’t even bring herself to touch his shoulder, but I couldn’t resist teasing her about it.”

    “It didn’t end well?”

    “No,” the mare replied and lowered her head dejectedly, “she denied it normally, as any mare would, but after a few more times she suddenly snapped at me. Asked me what kind of pony I was to even suggest they were off clopping somewhere when she met him grieving at the memorial over his deceased wife and child.” Galaxi winced and leaned closer to the other mare as she continued. “She didn’t even let me apologize. Just trotted away before I could voice it… she absolutely stunned me with the accusation, left me standing there trying to find my tongue while a small crowd looked at me with… with eyes I hadn’t seen since my old ‘Great and Powerful’ days. Accusing, disdainful…”

    Galaxi hugged the unicorn again as she shivered. “It’s not your fault. You couldn’t have known where she found the stallion… or known she’d snap that bad.”

    “Then why does it feel like my fault?” she sniffled.

    “Because… because you feel guilty for your role in the misunderstanding.”

    “But she was like her old self, even for just a minute!” Trixie fumed, but the anger had no staying power and collapsed. “And I messed it up my treating her like she was back to her old self.”

    Galaxi hugged the unicorn a little more tightly, the pair resting in silence for several minutes.

    “Tome misses her.”

    “I do too,” Galaxi answered softly. “She hasn’t been herself for months, not since she returned from the Northern Reaches.”

    “Tome keeps wondering what happened up there, what did they do to her?!?” the unicorn demanded.

    “Tome…” Galaxi started to answer, but uncertainty gripped her. She couldn’t say they didn’t do anything to Clockwork, since she didn’t know. “I doubt they did anything there,” she finally answered, trying to shelve her own concerns for the moment, “and Princess Luna seems to think it’s something else entirely. Something about not adjusting properly…”

    “Tome finds that difficult to believe,” the unicorn said archly, reclaiming some of her composure, “Clockwork was always the most mentally agile amongst us. She was also one of the most supportive, quickly coming to aid you as well as myself whenever we found it necessary. I still remember the shy thing you were before meeting her…”

    Galaxi blushed. “I probably would have retreated back into my shell had it not been for her, you, and Princess Luna encouraging me.”

    “Tome notices you’re managing just fine without your bodysuit anymore.”

    “Yes well…” Galaxi coughed and quickly changed the subject. “Helping you with the nightmares means I listen for your emotions in the evenings, when I can. That’s how I knew something was wrong…”

    “I… Tome still finds it difficult to sleep alone at times,” she replied with a frown.

    Galaxi hugged the unicorn a little closer. “Princess Celestia hasn’t had a problem with you staying in her chambers with her when I’m busy?”

    Tome sighed softly, “No, she hasn’t. The Princess tries not to show it, but Tome thinks she enjoys the company. She gets… motherly when I’m there.”

    “That doesn’t surprise me,” Galaxi giggled softly, ignoring the glare from her friend.

    Tome’s expression softened as she looked at her desk. “What did Luna say about Clockwork?”

    Galaxi sighed, “She said that Clockwork was having trouble adjusting to peace. I… I don’t understand it, honestly. If I could just read her thoughts I might be able to… but Clockwork’s mind has been unreadable since she returned.”

    “The ‘music’, as you called it?”

    “Sort of.” Galaxi bit her lip, trying to sort out how to explain it. “When Key’s mind works, when her inspiration and imagination start ticking away, I ‘hear’ it from her as music. But ever since she returned, all I hear from her thoughts is a sort of soured version. It’s like one of those Nightmare Night songs they play, when they take a filly-hood song and make it weird and unsettling. I don’t know how else to explain it, just that the music has soured, and it’s constant. It never stops, unless she’s sleeping, which she hasn’t been doing very regularly. The more aggravated or angry she gets, the louder I hear it…”

    “That has not stopped her from inventing, I noticed,” Tome pointed out.

    “Not entirely… But exactly what inventions have we seen since she returned?”

    Tome opened her mouth to answer, but then slowly shut it. “Only one I can think of.”

    “Two, if you count the toy she was making for a foal up north.”

    “That’s it?!” Galaxi nodded in response. The unicorn frowned deeply as she spoke, “That’s wrong. Clockwork is one of those ponies who must constantly create! How many times did you both stay with Tome, only to wake up in the middle of the night with her hunched over Tome’s desk, pencil flying across the paper as she jotted down an idea that struck her while she was sleeping?”

    “Too many times,” Galaxi answered with a nostalgic smile, “she was always there for you though. She was so frequent around here a few guards thought this was her room.”

    “Tome remembers that,” she answered haughtily, “and Tome was quick to disabuse those foalish guards of that notion.” The unicorn’s expression softened as she continued, “She would show up before I did, would have your favorite tea already ordered, a platter of those little sandwiches I love, and be lost in some magazine or toy when we finally did get here. I still have a stain in the corner from when she dragged that one piece of equipment in here to work on while waiting for us, simply because she didn’t want to be late.”

    “Then she went up north, and it all stopped,” Galaxi said softly, staring at the indicated corner. The stain was barely noticeable, it had been scrubbed so many times it was just a discolored spot of yellowed carpet now.

    “Yes,” Tome sighed, “she didn’t even try to resume when she came back. She… just got so distant.”

    “She was always so supportive before…” Galaxi mused, when a thought struck her, “what if that was the problem?”

    “Clockwork being supportive was a problem?”

    “No, not that she was supportive but,” Galaxi said haltingly, unsure how to phrase it. “What if we weren’t supportive when she needed it?

    Tome raised an eyebrow. “But we are being supportive! Well… we’re trying to be, anyway.”

    “What if it’s too late now?”

    “There wasn’t much we could do when… oh!” Tome’s eyes widened as the proverbial light-bulb went off in her mind. “She was sent away to the Northern Reaches! If that was when she needed the support, it would explain why she came back in such a state. She needed support then… and the Princess sent her up north to handle the Unregistered, and away from anypony who could help her!”

    “That… you just verbalized it better than I was thinking it,” Galaxi admitted. “I just thought that maybe, unknowingly, she was supporting us in part because she knew she’d need our support.”

    Trixie considered the blind mare thoughtfully. “A support network, as I have personally discovered, is important to get past certain difficulties.”

    “Princess Luna did say her problem was… similar to yours.”

    “My ‘problem’…” Tome said with a thoughtful frown, “it took both you and Clockwork being around constantly for months to finally get a handle on the worst of the nightmares. Even now I still get them from time to time but… but without your support, and the support of the Princesses, I never would have found my way through. Do you really think that has happened to our Clockwork?”

    “I... I don’t know,” Galaxi answered softly, “but it’s possible.”

    “But how can we help if she continually pushes us away?!”

    “I don’t know,” Galaxi answered again, closing her eyes. “But, you can ask somepony.”

    “Who would Tome ask?” the unicorn asked softly, only to be confronted with a strip of paper held aloft by the purple glow of telekinesis. Her eyes widened, and she looked around the paper to Galaxi.

    “It’s just a thought,” the mare said sheepishly, “we may not know how to help, but she might.”

    “Tome thinks you are brilliant, Galaxi!” the unicorn cried, hugging the other mare tightly, forcing a small squeak from her. “But Tome will only write her on one condition: You must assist her.”

    “Me?!” Galaxi choked, “Is that even allowed?”

    “The Princess told Tome that Lady Sparkle once had a problem with her reports,” Tome answered, smiling broadly, “and from that difficulty, the Princess extended her command for ‘friendship reports’ to include what her friends learned as well. I can think of no more perfect a solution than to have you help Tome craft this letter.”

    “Um… okay?” Galaxi more asked than said. “But, how do we start?”

    “That is the easy part,” Tome answered with a grin, and with her magic levitated a parchment onto the desk. A quill pen swirled into the air and dipped itself into the nearby inkwell, coming to rest in the air over the parchment, poised to begin writing.

    “Dear Princess Celestia…”

    “Punctual as always, Filigree.”

    The gryphoness swooped in for a landing, set down the small travel bag she had brought, and then bowed down before the Princess. Celestia didn’t take her eyes off the horizon so many miles away, her horn glowing softly, but waved a wing to dismiss the bow. The silvery white alicorn then closed her eyes to let slip the awesome power that was part of her trusted position, and reached out for the mass of the sun. Carefully, as she had done for more millennia than she could count, she nudged the glowing sphere upwards into the sky. It hardly took any effort these days, but she still took pride in her work. Her eyes opened to watch the sky as it was painted in the reds and oranges of the dawn.

    A warm smile crept across her lips as she heard the awed gasps from the guards that accompanied her this morning. They’d seen the dawn before, but the wonder it held for them never seemed to fade. A sliver of naiveté she hoped her ponies would never loose. With a slow breath, Celestia released her hold on the sun, certain the celestial wheel was turning once again, and she faced the gryphon.

    Filigree’s gaze was, like her guards, focused on the rising sun. She hadn’t gasped, and nor would Celestia have expected such. Filigree was nothing if not master of herself, something Princess feared would be challenged in the near future. Still, to see that even a jaded gryphon like her could stare in wonderment at her dawn filled her with hope.

    “Seeing the sun actually risen gives it a new significance, Princess,” Filigree stated, her gaze still upon the orb. Celestia smiled and looked upon it herself, watching the rays pierce the smattering of clouds that formed over the night. She’d seen the light wash over these lands for so long that she no longer gained enjoyment from the spectacle itself…

    Instead, she took her joy from the reactions it garnered.

    “I am glad you enjoyed it, Filigree,” she said, and arched a wing. “Come, walk with me.”

    The gryphoness nodded her head quickly, and fell immediately in step with the Princess as she guided them into the palace garden. The garden was laid out in multiple sections, some of which were set aside specifically for unique animals and flowers. However Celestia chose to walk along the outside of the hedge maze she had constructed so many years ago, and the statues that rested along the perimeter. Filigree was a silent, if agreeable, partner for the walk, simply letting the warmth of the newly risen sun chase away some of the chill from the air.

    “What are your thoughts on the task ahead of you, Filigree?” Celestia asked, rounding a statue that was long familiar to her. The Draconequus stood in a panicked pose, a chimaerical creature that seemed to be composed of a serpentine body, a pony-like head, and mismatched legs, arms, wings, and even horns. While not positioned in the most attractive pose, Celestia found it comforting for him to be there; Discord had been one of the greatest threats to Equestria as she knew it.

    Filigree cocked an eye at the statue, but otherwise paid it no heed, “It’s assuredly a trap of some sort.” Filigree clicked her beak, an annoying habit she picked up from somewhere, before continuing, “If I have to guess, they are going to attempt to use my family to ensure my cooperation with something.”

    “Do you have any plans if that occurs?”

    “That would depend on the situation, Princess,” the gryphon answered smoothly, “I cannot say until the trap has been sprung. They would not be successful in attempting to take me individually; I am far stronger than any of their warriors. If they attempt to overwhelm me with numbers, then I will delay them as long as possible for one of your guard to escape and report back so a rescue can be planned. Since the clans enslave their specials, they will be completely unprepared for a coordinated team of them.”

    Celestia nodded and continued past the statue, on towards a mare with a banner. She smiled sadly as she regarded the mare. She had been turned to stone in order to save her life, and the lives of countless others. She volunteered herself for this, to prevent what had infected her from spreading any further. Fortunately the disease had long since been cured, but only if treated in the first month. The filly had it for three, and was still incurable, but Celestia kept a small but dedicated medical team to continue the search for a cure.

    “And what do you make of the threat to your family?” Celestia asked as the passed the statue.

    “I would hardly consider them family,” she answered curtly. “Disowning them would be the most potent move available to me. That would prevent them from being used against me, and assure their place in the clans without my name dragging them down.”

    “That assumes you would be allowed to perform such a move.”

    “Regardless, Princess, I would hardly consider them family.”

    Celestia nodded and continued to walk. She passed another statue, another of a mare, with strange eyes. She was a unicorn mage of some repute, but who delved too much into the black arts and pierced a veil that would have plunged the world into a pit of despair. Under that stone layer the witch was very much dead, but her body had been sealed by her younger sister as an example to all who would follow the dark arts. Princess Luna took great personal offense to those who would practice the demonological arts.

    “Did you have any other concerns, Filigree?”

    “Only that the timing seems… wrong to me.”

    “Please elaborate?” Celestia asked and looked to the gryphoness.

    “They knew I was coming in under a week anyway, so why the rush? That makes no sense to me. They want me there now for some reason. What is so special about this point in time that it could not wait four days? Something must be occurring within this week, but I cannot put my claw upon it. There are no holidays, no special celebrations, the gladiatorial combat season will not begin for several months yet. The only event I know of would be the start of the birthing season, but that makes little sense…” Filigree outlined.

    “Birthing season?”

    “Most gryphon mating happens in the fall,” she answered. “Given a six month gestation period means most cubs are born in the spring.”

    Celestia digested that for a long moment, and a worry began to niggle at the back of her mind. “Filigree, when is your Birthday?”

    The gryphoness blinked. “Princess? I don’t see-“

    “Answer the question, please.”

    The gryphoness looked at her for a long moment, and then turned away. “Tomorrow.”

    “Why did you not tell us?” the Princess asked, “we could have had a lovely party--”

    “Because my birthday is nothing to celebrate,” she interrupted sharply, “it’s just another day, and one I would rather forget.”

    Celestia paused for a moment, letting the gryphon’s anger cool, before continuing. “Please think for a moment before answering this next question, Filigree. Are there any age related milestones you would reach this year?”

    Filigree frowned and rubbed a claw along her beak. “I can only think of one Princess, and it would not apply to me.”

    “What is it?”

    “This year I would be the proper age to be assigned or choose a mate with which to raise cubs with, ‘promised’ to use the gryphon term,” she answered, “but ‘servants’ are immune to that. We are… they are just chattel. More-so since the gryphons do not want special abilities to propagate through the clans.”

    “Your ‘curse’, if I correctly remember their thoughts on it,” Celestia noted softly.

    “Correct, Princess.”

    Celestia was silent for several long moments. She was unable to meet Filigree’s eyes when she spoke, “This is almost certainly a trap.”

    “Yes, Princess,” the gryphon agreed.

    “Yet I am asking you to go anyway,” Celestia continued in a soft voice, “I won’t force you to do this, despite my words yesterday. But I need to know what game the gryphon clans are playing, I need them to tip their hand. Closing this trap willfully will expose this, but only at great personal risk to you.”

    Filigree nodded briefly before looking momentarily towards the rising sun. “No other pony could do this, and the chances for their return would be even less. I will do this, Princess, and you will have your answer one way or another.”

    A sad smile crept across the features of the Princess, and she nodded.

    The alicorn led the gryphon out of the garden and towards the place where her chariot was waiting. It was technically one of four, but they were often chosen by purpose and need. She had a formal one for visits, a casual chariot for travel, a “fancy” chariot for visits with foreign dignitaries or parades… and then this chariot.

    The sleek lines of the golden chariot were readily apparent at a glance. The entire chariot curved from a point at its fore and swept gracefully back to cradle the currently empty place for the rider. Golden filigree chased along the surface, cutting additional channels for the wind to sweep along the surface with the least amount of drag possible. It was almost certainly magicked as well, which only seemed to enhance the sense that this chariot was speeding along even as it stood completely still.

    “This is my fastest chariot,” Celestia said softly, and led Filigree to the front of it. A pair of pegasus guards in gold armour stood at the ready, already in the puller harnesses, and saluted with their wings as Celestia moved before them. “This is Commander Lighthoof, and that is Lieutenant Commander Swan Dive. They are among the fastest of my guards, short of the Wonderbolts themselves, and both have volunteered for this duty. Commanders, this is Filigree, code named Steelwing.”

    “Ma’am,” the stallion Lightfoot stated primly.

    “A pleasure, Ma’am,” Swan Dive, a mare, nodded politely.

    “Commanders, I am placing you under the command of Special Liaison Steelwing,” Celestia stated, and both pegasi saluted again. “You have your standing orders; please do your best to return unharmed.”

    “I’ll bring them both back,” Filigree said, “even if I have to carry them myself.”

    The mare blushed at the thought, but the stallion only smirked. “We’re ready to leave when you are, Special Liaison,” he stated.

    “Let me get my bag, and we’ll be off,” the gryphoness stated, and lifted off to reclaim her possessions. Once out of earshot, Celestia turned to the pegasi, her expression severe.

    “You both know what you’re getting into, and I thank you for volunteering,” she said softly. “Make sure you come back. If you must flee, then flee. Do not attempt to engage the gryphons in their homeland if you can help it. Understood, Commander?”

    “Understood, Princess.”

    “I’m sorry.”

    The stallion barked a laugh, “Why are you sorry?”

    “For having to leave so soon after meeting you,” she answered, shifting on the bench. The morning was still cool, but the bright sun was trying hard to stave off some of the chill. The bench they sat was the same from the day before, near the twenty foot or so wall that marked the edge of the Royal District, where it caught the morning sun. A light crosswind made the trees shush softly and the grass ripple underhoof.

    “We both are former Agents,” he said simply, shrugging from his own place on the bench, “I understand all too well the need to follow orders, and how they don’t always correspond with what we want.”

    “I know but--“

    “But nothing,” he cut her off, “you’re one of the top agents around.”

    “I’m one of the only agents around,” Clockwork Key pointed out, “and technically I’m not even an agent anymore. The agency only exists now to train the new specials how to control their powers, and help family and friends come to terms with it. Well, that and a PR division…”

    “Yeah, I met them after my accident,” Bottle Rocket mentioned softly. His head leaned back as he looked up into the sky, eyes tracking a rogue cloud in the otherwise clear sky, and the pair of pegasi trying to chase it down.

    “Not surprised. They’re trying to improve our image with the general public. The third Canterlot invasion did a lot to help, but general opinion is still relatively negative.”

    “Ultrapony vanishing might have helped with that,” the stallion said sourly.

    Clockwork’s stomach dropped. “You’re one of his supporters?”

    The stallion snorted, “Hardly. He was a glory hound. Sure he had all the power, but he also had the ego to match.” Clockwork released the breath she didn’t realize she had held as Bottle Rocket continued, “I couldn’t have been happier to see him go, but he did have one good point: He was good publicity. He knew how to play the crowds, and he was a positive face on the Agency. Considering the Agency was basically a second Royal Guard, made entirely of specials, I suppose I can’t fault folks for havin’ a negative opinion of us.”

    “If he’s our best face, then we need a transplant,” Clockwork added sourly.

    “Given the newspaper reports on your brawl with him, I’m not surprised you feel that way,” he noted with a shrug. “How long were you put up from that fight anyway?”

    “I’m surprised you heard of that,” she chuckled, “I spent a week in a magically assisted coma, and a month in the hospital recovering. My left foreleg will never truly be completely healed.”

    “One of the joints?”

    Clockwork nodded. “My shoulder, specifically the rotator cuff, was hit hard. So many little bone fragments that they did the best they could but…”

    “I thought I saw a slight limp this morning,” the stallion said softly.

    “That happens sometimes,” she mumbled, rubbing at the formerly injured shoulder with her hoof self-consciously, “some days it just aches more than others.”

    “I’d shake your hoof if I could,” he said with a smile. “I met the bastard once, immediately hated him. My entire squad did. Well… that’s not true. Minuet was making googly eyes at him at first. But once he showed off how much of a mare’s stallion he was, she lost interest. Tantrum was the only one who didn’t want to abandon him somewhere, and he said that was only because he had worse blow-hards in his family. He kept muttering about somepony named ‘Uncle Blueblood’ the entire time.”

    “Ultrapony might still be out there somewhere,” Clockwork said softly, “he just up and vanished. Nopony knows where he went or what he is doing. Only that he fell so completely off the radar that he seems to have ceased to exist.”

    “Why would that matter?”

    “Our team leader, Spectrum, is his daughter,” she answered softly, gaining a curious look from the veteran. “She won’t say it, but she worries about him. She always said that she knew how to calm him down and make him see reason. Not sure I believe it, but if anypony can...”

    “If she could reign him in, then I could see how she could lead a team,” he chuckled softly, “Bullhorn always compared leading us to herding cats.”

    “Really?” Clockwork asked with a teasing grin. “Somehow I can’t envision you with kitty ears and whiskers.”

    “Meow,” the stallion deadpanned, and Clockwork devolved into giggles.

    “I need to go,” she said finally after recovering, “I have a long flight ahead of me. Even at Sonic Rainboom speed, it’ll take me all day. I want to try and get there before dark.”

    “I understand.”

    Clockwork pushed up to her hooves and sighed, “You’re not going to promise to hold off on any fireworks this time, are you?

    “Nope,” he answered, “you won’t be here. Much as you seem to think fate placed you there to help me, and maybe yourself, I’m thinkin’ this might be fate pulling you aside.”

    “Screw fate,” Clockwork growled and reached into her small saddlebag, plopping a scroll into the stallion’s lap.

    “What’s this?”

    “This is how you can reach me,” she stated simply. “It includes who to talk to at that address to ensure prompt delivery. It’ll take roughly three days, one way, for a letter to reach me.”

    “You’re expecting me to write?”

    “Damn straight I am,” she growled at him. “I am NOT about to let you blow yourself up!”

    The stallion looked at her, eyes focusing on hers for a brief moment. “No offense, but that’s not your choice to make. If it happens, you can’t blame yourself for it.”

    “That’s an easy thing to say,” she countered, “but that wouldn’t change the reality of how I would feel.”

    “Don’t try to guilt trip me, young lady,” he answered evenly.

    “I’m not. I’m telling you the truth,” she answered softly. “I’ll meet you here when I get back, and you better be here, alright?”

    The stallion gave a noncommittal grunt as Clockwork turned to leave. She was not assured, but didn’t have a choice in the matter. She couldn’t just take him with her, much as she’d like to, and she couldn’t just do something drastic to keep him safe from himself. She just had to trust that one long and one short conversation was enough to convince him that there was more to live for.

    It was a long shot, but she had to take it. His life was in the balance, and she’d never forgive herself if she didn’t at least try.