Tugging the scarf around her mouth and nose tighter, Rarity squinted as she looked behind her, the bright morning sun bouncing off the new snow. Though slowly, Spike was still moving. She was relieved that the makeshift bandages and supports they’d crudely fashioned together seemed to be working. Even better, he seemed somewhat less injured than either of them expected. She wondered, amusement making her smile, if the night before’s activities hadn’t helped him along some.

In a rush, her face warmed, pushing back the slight but cold breeze that was moving through the forest. There was no regret, not over anything at all, but still it surprised her. She would never have dreamed, back when they had first made their way up here, that they would do something like that. A part of her worried they were moving too fast. Had, perhaps, reached a pinnacle too soon. But she stubbornly crushed that thought—after all, they could be dead tomorrow, could they not?

Sometimes, as her mother had told her again and again, love had to wait. It had to be patient and grow, from seed to sprout to sapling. But other times, her father had explained, it came in a rush, like inspiration. You felt it and you just knew, and if you didn’t grab a hold of it you’d regret it all your life. In a way, Rarity pondered, Spike and she had been a little bit of both. That thought filled her with confidence, and her heart soared from the memories of the night before.

As Spike approached, she took out the single emergency canteen that had been in the bag and sipped. Handing it to him, she said, “Fascinating how much a sweat one can work up, despite the cold.” Then, more gently, she asked, “How are you feeling, Spike?”

Spike took a pull from the canteen and wiped at his mouth, tilting his head down to his leg. “I’m moving it at least. I think I’m gonna need a doctor when we’re done with this, though. I’m scared it could get infected.”

“Unfortunately, I can’t say I’m not worried about that myself,” she replied. Looking ahead, she let out a long sigh. “Some vacation. I’ve about had it with the great outdoors for one trip. Any idea how much farther we might need to go?”

Spike paused for a moment, favoring his good leg and staring up. He seemed to do some math in his head and gave a swallow. “Five, six miles at the worst. I remember one of the ski routes went about as far as the church, so...”

“Another three hours at best, with your injury. More like four. If we’re lucky. Wonderful,” she grumbled.

“Sorry I’m slowing us down.”

Pushing lightly on his shoulder, she chided, “Not what I meant, dear.” Throwing up her hands, she added, “I’m just being difficult. I know it can’t be helped, and I won’t complain. Uh, anymore.” She giggled. “As long as we’re safe, together.”

“I’m sure we’ll be alright,” Spike said. “I mean, since we packed up after…” He paused, blushing. “A-after we woke up, it’s been smooth sailing.”

Rarity made a thoughtful noise, but said nothing except, “I suppose we should move on. Do you want me to help you for a bit?”

“I’m sorry… yeah, if you don’t mind.” He wiped at his brow, sweating again. “It’s just been pretty rough moving my leg.”

“Understood, it’s not a problem,” she said, gently taking one of his arms and wrapping it over her shoulder so she could carry him. “You shouldn’t push on it too much, anyways. Ready?”

He nodded and they were off, slowly walking through the snow once more. Despite the urgency of their situation, Spike marveled a bit at how beautiful the country was. The sun shining on the snow seemed to make everything glow with an almost unnatural light, improving things he saw from the corner of his eyes. Rabbits peeked out of their burrows, sniffing the air. Branches on the trees moved, drawing attention to the squirrels running briskly up and down their well-grooved trunks. And Rarity? She shimmered like a goddess despite straining under Spike’s load.

“You ok?” he asked, finally gathering the nerve to break the comfortable silence the morning had imposed.

“Mmm? Why, yes, I’m just fine, all things considered. Why do you ask?”

“It’s just… If I’m too heavy, go on ahead and scout. I’ll catch up eventually, Gems.”

She let out a snort, saying, “What on earth would I scout, Spike?” Gesturing with one hand, she said, “It’s the same snowy forest on and on, though it seems to be thinning. Besides, it’s no problem. Despite what Jack might say, I am not so soft that a little hard work will do me in.”

“You’re strong,” Spike said. “Muscles aren’t everything when it comes to, to being strong.” He smiled. “You can do anything.”

Smiling, Rarity said, “So can you, Spike. Now, stop telling me to do something I would never do, yes?” She gave him a wink, lightly pushing her head against his.

“By the time we make it through all this, I’m not sure if I ever want to hear another pep-talk again.” He quietly laughed, returning the push against her head. “We could give that Somani self-help guru that talked to Chylene a run for his money at this point.”

Rarity laughed. It felt good, so good, to just joke about. And to talk about the future. “Maybe you should join in next year’s Iron Man challenge!”

“Might be a little more fun than just commenting on it with Pinkie. Maybe Jack and Isabelle can actually place higher than dead-last.” He gave a self-deprecating grin at that. “I’d have that position in the bag if I competed.”

“I look forward to it, Spike…” she said, somewhat quietly, some of the joy leaking as they talked of happier days. “Just… everything. Normalcy. Peace. It’s so hard to wait.”

“You’ll see it soon, Rarity. We’ll see it. Together.” He gave a coaxing run of his gloved finger down her cheek. “I promise.”

The pair stood for a moment, staring into each other’s eyes, frozen in the winter landscape. Without words, their hearts conveyed the meaning of the past few days and how it would impact them for the rest of their lives. It seemed it would last forever.

A small, faint flicker in the distance between two trees made Spike break the spell. He squinted westward, squeezing on Rarity’s shoulder and pointing. He saw it once more, a metallic, grey color on an otherwise white outline. As the shape finally cleared the trees and stepped into a clearing, Spike quickly identified it as a man in full white camo and armed with a rifle.

“Get down, get down,” he urgently whispered, going to a squat and quickly moving to a fallen-over trunk. Pulling Rarity down with him, he glanced over the trunk and swore internally as the man continued to slowly walk, scanning the area with a slow, robotic turn of his head.

“He must have heard us,” Spike spat out, his voice nearly inaudible as he leaned towards Rarity to speak.

“Well we were being foolish and not exactly trying to hide it!” she hissed. “We should’ve known they wouldn’t give up so easily.” Carefully, she moved a hand to the pistol at her belt, undoing the holster strap. “We’re lucky you spotted him. In that get-up, they could sneak on us too easily.”

“I don’t think I can trust us getting by him quietly,” Spike said, once more looking at the man. “We have tree cover, sure, but if he sees us for even a moment and calls it in or gets a shot off, everyone in a three mile radius is gonna swoop in on us. Same goes for the pistol. We’re going to have to dispatch him another way.”

Swallowing heavily, Rarity whispered, “Y-you mean like strangling him, or stabbing him, right? I don’t know, Spike…”

The boy rose to a crouch, despite the discomfort to his leg. “I’ll get situated nearby. If… if you lure him to me, I’ll do it, Rarity. I don’t want you to… have to work close.”

“No,” she said, then again, “No. You’re hurt. I’m the one that needs to do this… Just tell me what I should do.”

“Rarity…” Spike rested a hand on her knee. “Let me do this, at least this for you. Please.” He glanced once more to the patrol. “Besides, if it goes to hell, we’re gonna need a good shot. I trust you with a gun more than me.”

Gritting her teeth, Rarity said nothing. He was right, she couldn’t argue against him. Checking the weapon quickly, she nodded, then looked at their options. Coming to a decision, she crouched as well. “I’ll move over there”—she gestured at a tree directly in line with them and the guard—”and cover you. When you’re ready, put your thumb up, ok?”

“Ok, Gems. Go,” he replied, moving at a quiet crouch towards a nearby tree. He gave it a quick check, peeking around its thick trunk before nodding, leaning toward Rarity and cocking his thumb up.

Not wasting any time, Rarity took a quick look to make sure the guard was facing away then shot up and sprinted behind a large tree, about ten feet from Spike’s position. She took a handful of seconds to breathe. Then, her heart beating, she banged the pistol hard on the trunk, twice, hoping it would be enough.

The man snapped to attention, his gun at the ready. He took a few slow, careful steps across the snow, a faint crunch all that gave away his position. As he slinked his way through the woods, he finally crossed Spike’s threshold.

Spike lept forward, jumping on the man’s back. He let out a surprised yelp and swung his gun towards the young man. As hoped, thanks to its length, he couldn’t do much against the attack. Spike quickly shifted his arms, wrapping one tightly around the guard’s neck and the other around his mouth, muffling his cries. The guard wasn’t ready to give up yet, though; he reached towards a knife at his belt.

Seeing this, Spike snapped a foot forward in desperation and knocked the blade away from his grasp. Swinging about wildly, the guard flung his body backwards, slamming Spike against a tree. The air knocked from him, Spike’s world exploded into pain from the terrible strength of the blow, but he kept his grip secure against the other’s neck. Desperately, his victim slammed again and again, but still Spike held.

Taking the man’s jaw in one hand and his shoulder in the other, Spike quickly twisted his arms apart with all his might, being rewarded with a hard popping noise from the guard’s neck. The man instantly went limp, dropping to his knees and then slumping lifelessly to the side. Spike pulled himself free from the man and stood, taking a few shaky breaths as he stared down at the corpse. He ran a hand through his hair, calming down.

“I, uh, got him,” Spike stated the obvious.

Walking over, Rarity gave him a small, slightly forced smile. “Good work, Spike. But we should get moving, don’t you think? Where there’s one…”

Without a word, they swiped what they could off the man and moved on. His gun, two clips, and a strap for the rifle, which Spike quickly attached to the gun and slung over his back.

Walking along, this time with a far more subdued, tense atmosphere between them, they spent over an hour traveling through the trees, and then, once the woods cleared more, they took the low ground, doing their best to keep small profiles for any would-be assailants. After another hour, the cold beginning to pick up, they finally saw the monastery on the horizon, standing proudly above them as it rested on a jutting cliff. Spike paused for a moment, frowning as he took in the sight.

“So,” he started, a bit of gallows humor lacing his words, “ever been mountain climbing?”

With only a small roll of her eyes, Rarity said, “I have not, nor, admittedly, have I ever wanted to.” She gestured with a hand. “Would you care to go first, or should I?”

Spike gave it another thought. “No matter who goes first, my leg’s gonna be a problem. But I’m lighter…” The man shrugged. “I wish we had some rope. I’d feel better with a safety net.”

Thoughtfully, Rarity looked at the obstacle. After a moment, she had an idea. “How long do you think it will take us to climb it, Spike?”

“At least an hour. Maybe more, if we have to find an alternate route.”

Making a small noise of frustration, she offered, “Well… We could use what little we have to make a rope, of sorts. The blanket, our clothes… It’s likely too risky in this weather, but I see little other option.”

Spike shook his head. “We start shivering from the cold, it’ll make it harder to climb. We’re just going to have to risk it, Rarity. We just need to take it slow and take it careful. Falling now, after all we’ve done, well… it’d be a bit anticlimactic.”

“One step at a time, right.” She nodded. “I’ll go first—if the path can hold me, it should hold you. Plus I can find the easiest path up.”

“Alright.” He let an uncharacteristic smirk gloss over his face. “Hey, Rarity?”

“Yes, dear?”

He quickly stood on his toes and pecked her on the lips. “For luck.”

Laughing, Rarity pulled the young man closer. “If that’s the case, then…” She leaned down and kissed him deeply, adding in just a bit of heat from the night before. After uncounted moments, she broke the kiss and, without another word, approached the rocks, preparing for the ascent. Doubtfully, she looked at the task before her. “I desperately wish I had let Jack convince me out of the Boutique more often.”

“I know what you mean. That youth football program I passed over as a kid seems real tempting now,” Spike agreed.

“But we can do this.” He tilted back a hair, staring at the cliff’s peak. “I hope,” he added under his breath.

“The sooner we start, the sooner we reach the top, I suppose,” Rarity said, still unsure. But without any other options, she looked until she found what appeared to be a good starting point. Putting her foot on a solid, jutting piece of rock, she pushed up and found a small ledge to grab and lift herself until she was standing on it, flat against the cliffside. “Easy enough!” she said, looking for the next way up. She was thankful the cliff wasn’t more or less flat—the constant winds had broken it down, creating an uneven face with small paths she could stand on. However, the downside was that some of the rock was loose, crumbling and merely waiting for a careless grip to pull free and fall to the ground below. She let out a small shriek when she first came upon one, her hand falling free as the rock tumbled below.

“Oh shit,” Spike said, pushing his body flush against the cliff as the stone shot past him. “Rarity!” he called, panicking. “Are you alright?! Hang on!”

“I-I’ve… I’m alright, just, just shocked me is all.” Rarity’s heart felt like it would beat out of her chest. They hadn’t made it too far up, and it was likely she’d live from a fall. But she wasn’t entirely sure if they weren’t high enough that she might not want to. “Try and step where I do, as exact as you can, Spike.” Taking in a deep breath, then letting it out slowly, she continued.

The climb was long, arduous, and slow. Though there we no more close calls, it still took a lot out of both of them. So it was a relief when Rarity finally dug her hands into the top of the cliff and lifted herself, then Spike to the edge. They both lay on their backs for a brief moment catching their breath, neither minding the cold.

“N-never want to go outside again,” Spike stated.

“Hear hear!” Rarity replied, breathless. She lay back in the snow, panting heavily, her hands feeling sore and possibly swollen, though thankfully unscathed due to her gloves. Even still, her sides burned and her arms ached. She was not out of shape by any means, but the climb had seemed neverending, pushing her to her limits. “But we made it, Spike. We made it.”

“There were a few too many close calls, but yeah.” He shook his head. “I guess you could say that about nearly everything we’ve been doing as of late, though.” Spike then rose, wincing a bit as he put weight on his bad leg and frowning when he saw that it was bleeding through his pants. Regardless, he offered his hand to Rarity. “Let’s give the good Father a visit.”

“Frankly, at this point all I want is a hot drink and a soft bed,” she said as Spike helped her up. Noticing his wince, she looked and saw his leg. Softly, she added, “And a proper first aid kit for you.”

“If I could just let it sit for a bit, I think it’d look better than it does right now,” he said. “But I wouldn’t argue against some fresh gauze and something to take the edge off.”

As they made their way around the building, Spike glanced over at the heavy stones and cleared his throat. “Constructed in the early days of Torani’s founding, before the war against the Kvaat, or the unification of Somini islands to her side, Fort Ambrosia stood, a lonely resupply line for travelers from the frozen north,” he lectured, blowing on his hands to warm them for a moment before continuing. “Its imposing appearance notwithstanding, Fort Ambrosia was renowned less for its defensive location, a strong deterrent to bandit raids in the surrounding provinces, but rather for its welcoming community, considered by many to be one of the best places in the frozen north for a weary traveler to lay his head.”

“You’ve certainly done your homework,” Rarity replied, impressed. “Who knew something like this could be out here? Funny, what history does.”

“It’s true. A fort to an inn, then, once an influx of Elondrie missionaries came here, a cathedral. Time can change things.” He glanced at Rarity, a smile on his face. “It can really change things,” he quietly repeated.

“All very interesting. But what I want to know most of all: Where’s the damned entrance? I swear, it’s getting colder by the second.”

“Just around here,” Spike said, rounding the building’s corner, where an unused clothesline stood, the twin brown rods standing straight up a stark contrast to the grey and white that flooded their visions. A heavy set of wooden doors greeted the two. Spike reached forward for a knocker and lifted it, bringing it down on the wood with a heavy, dull thud.

They waited for a brief moment, then Spike shrugged, shoving the door open with a grunt.

Heat flooded from the cathedral, feeling so nice against Spike’s chilled body that he nearly lost his breath. Dozens of small torches lined the stone pillars of a great foyer, where wooden benches pointed towards a pulpit. There a symbol of Elondrie had been engraved in a massive stone slab. Though somewhat weathered from time, the three rings, set in the unifying triangle upon a horizon, stood clear, emanating peace and equality throughout the room.

Spike looked up towards the high ceiling, where a chandelier floated above. A part of him was reminded of swashbuckling stories. He had an almost obsessive urge to cut the rope securing it in place, but put it to the side. Looking over at Rarity, he rubbed his chin with a hand. “I figured we would have seen someone by now.”

She gave him a little nod, bringing out her pistol and undoing the safety, keeping it close. Putting herself slightly in front of Spike, she scanned quickly but tried to appear casual. A healthy dose of paranoia kept her wary, but after everything they had been through she still hoped that things could go according to plan at this point.

“How many people would possibly live out here, Spike?”

“Ten,” he quickly stated. “When he contacted me, I took a look at the amount of priests in training under his tutelage. Unless they have partners living with them, that should be all we’ll see.”

Up ahead, past the pulpit, they saw another wooden door, and each heard a heavy, pronounced creak from deeper within the monastery.

“Sounded like a door,” Spike announced, his voice below normal conversation, but above an urgent whisper.

Uncertain, Rarity asked, “Should we speak up, you think?”

Spike took in the room again. Nothing seemed misplaced or broken. There were no signs of a struggle. Giving her a nod, he cupped his hand to his mouth. “Hello?” he called out.

Silence answered. Looking at Spike, Rarity shrugged, then herself called, “Is anybody here? We’re sorry to come in unannounced, but we were, uh, stranded in the cold.”

Finally, they heard the sound of footsteps coming closer to the door, and it slowly opened, revealing a frail man with a grey beard and dozens of wrinkles. He absentmindedly chewed on a pipe, clearly in thought. Almost comically he recoiled in surprise when he finally noticed the pair.

“My word!” he exclaimed. He put a hand to his breast, taking in a breath. “You startled me, my children.”

Startled…? Rarity thought. We could hardly have made much more of a racket beyond the door alone. She said, “We’re very sorry, er, Father…?” She only added the question vaguely, not wanting to be rude. Admittedly, she had little experience with holymen of Elondrie. “We were simply so cold, and no one answered the door.”

“Father indeed,” he agreed. “This hallowed ground welcomes travelers with open arms. I am—”

“Father Geoffrey McCollins,” Spike cut in, gently. The old man spared a glance the young man’s way. He cocked a furry eyebrow.

“Do I know you, my son?”

He shrugged. “In a way, Father.” Spike stood, looking professional despite his wet clothing and injured leg. Stripping off a glove, he offered his hand. “Spike.”

“Spike…” Geoffrey rolled the name around for a moment, before he realized. “Spike Shields, from—”

“Arresting Dmitri Dorcas.” He nodded. “You contacted me over an issue. Or, rather, a man named Drake.”

“Indeed I did!” He clutched the young man’s hand and briskly shook it, then turned to Rarity. “And the lovely lady?” Geoffrey put a hand to his chin. “Wait… Rarity… Rarity Dell?”

Laughing at his slip, she replied, “Belle. Rarity Belle. It’s a delight to meet you.” She gave him a small curtsy. “Your monastery is fascinating—Spike was just telling me some of the history.”

“The building’s about as old as I am,” he joked. Then his smile dipped a bit on noticing Spike’s injury. “Gracious, what happened?”

“It’s a long story, Geoffrey,” Spike said, rubbing his forehead.

“Tell it to me as we get you fixed up,” he replied, turning and gesturing for the others to follow. “I’ll inform Daniel that you need medical attention.”

Spike glanced at Rarity, then looked down at the gun she held obscured in her hand and gave a small nod to her. Carefully, she put the safety back on and tucked it away, letting out a slow sigh of relief.

“Thank you, Father. I did what I could with what we had, but I was so worried… He really needs some proper medical care.” A low grumble emanated from her stomach, making her cheeks flush. “And, um, if it’s not too presumptuous, a hot meal might be welcome?”

He nodded, walking them through a small study and opening a door on the other side. “Of course, my child. Anything for one of the few willing to fight against the growing darkness this country is bringing forth.”

That reminded Rarity of a curiosity she had been thinking on for some time. “We appreciate the sentiment, but isn’t it a bit...unusual for someone such as yourself to be involved with things such as this?”

He stopped. Glancing at the two, he leaned against the wall and stared out one of the windows that lined the hallway they were in. “I suppose it’s not,” he agreed. Geoffrey pressed a hand against the glass and pulled back, watching the spot his hand touched stand out, then frost over, yielding to the chill.

“I had a son,” he explained, meeting Rarity’s eyes. “He was part of this country’s military. One of their best—rumor had it he was within Lewin Shield’s skill with a rifle, and put his entire division to shame in physical training. He wrote to me often, about girls, where he was stationed, the people he met…” A small sparkle and smile crossed his face at the memory, that quickly vanished, like a cloud passing under the sun. “I noticed one day his letters changed in tone. They spoke about battles and rumors of battles and how one of Torini’s most trusted woman had seemingly changed overnight. How she had a sort of… darkness about her.”

Both Spike and Rarity nodded, knowing all too well. That first night, when Twila returned from her Canterlot visit, was still too clear. The first day, the day when it all turned on its head. But the Father continued.

“I didn’t heed his words. I dismissed them, of course, Celestia had ruled with the grace of Elondrie herself for years. He must of surely been mistaken in some form.” Geoffrey bitterly smiled. “Naivety is one of the worst crimes of the mind, I now believe.” He turned to a portrait along the wall of a woman wearing traditional robes and a hood, reading over a paper on a desk. “He sent me two more letters like the previous, before vanishing.”

“Did you, did you ever find out what happened?” Rarity asked quietly, wondering just how many others would tell similar stories before the end.

“He had a few friends in the guard. It took a lot of persuasion, a lot of begging, but they talked to me. They talked of high-ranking officials knocking on the barrack doors at four in the morning and all but dragging him away.” He narrowed his brow. “The next day, their commanding officer erased almost everything relating to my son from the record, and gave explicit instructions not to mention him in any official standing or documentation.” Geoffrey crossed his arms. “It should be obvious what happened to him.” He glanced over at Spike. “Tracking you down wasn’t a walk in the park either.” Putting a thumb to his chin, he corrected himself. “Or, rather, your employer.”

“Drake likes to keep a bit of mystique around himself,” Spike replied, giving a sly smile Rarity’s way. “You can shoot a person, but you’ll find it much harder to stamp out an idea.”

“True enough,” he agreed. After a moment to collect himself, the three began walking again. “So,” he started, rubbing at his neck, “How did you two come into contact with Drake?”

“I’m simply a mutual friend,” Rarity replied, playing along as she and Spike had discussed earlier. “It’s not safe to travel alone, so I volunteered to accompany Spike here.”

“You’ve done a good deed, child. God knows the little one needs protection.”

Spike rolled his eyes at that, but continued the conversation Geoffrey had started. “Drake contacted me after the fiasco at that party in Camelot.”

“Where those group of masked criminals came and disrupted the event?”

“The same,” Spike nodded. “While their methods are less… savory than we like, they are employed by Drake as well. He has a lot of fingers in a lot of pies, all of them interested in removing a power-hungry tyrant from the throne by any means necessary.”

Geoffrey took a heavy breath. “I don’t agree with what they have done, but, Elondrie forgive me for saying it, I understand its necessity. By blood or ballot, a revolution takes money.”

“They don’t get enjoyment from it. But it is something that’s gotta be taken care of.” Spike stole another small glance Rarity’s way, frowning in thought.

“I’m sure if there were any other way…” Rarity said, a small choking noise coming from her throat. “Maybe what they did wasn’t the best way, but if it gets people talking, if it gets the wheel moving--isn’t that worth something? Not to mention, their own lives are at stake… That sort of sacrifice… is never easy.”

“I suppose so,” Geoffery half-agreed. “Though bloodletting should be a last resort, if a resort at all.” He opened another door, the group was blasted with a chilled wind from a courtyard. They quickly made their way through, under a stone roof. Spike glanced at the open area in the center of the courtyard, where another small garden lay in slumber under the cold.

“Yet, I can’t say that in full earnest. It would be hypocritical of me, especially with what we have, and… and what I know it will be used for.” Geoffrey rubbed his hands vigorously together to fight the chill, walking briskly to a door on the other end of the court. He opened it and let the two inside, pausing only a moment to shut the door behind them.

“What exactly do you have here, Father?” Rarity asked. “Sp—Drake was vague to that effect. Or as to how you have such a thing!”

“My eldest student, Daniel, shares my disdain for the crown and as such, has been more than willing to…” He rolled his hand, thinking of the right word. “Offer assistance regarding information trafficking. He was, or technically still is, special forces. As such, he’s been able to catch sight of classified documents most wouldn’t be privy to. Normally he just takes photographs for me, but this item was deadly enough that he didn’t want to risk any member of Celestia’s entourage to have it. He stole the physical copy and encrypted a virus in Celestia’s R&D department that wiped any schematics off the grid.” Tapping a finger to his temple, Geoffrey continued. “While the brains of the operation are still around, it still set them back for months. If Drake is half as resourceful and intelligent as the Internet claims he is, he’ll find a use for them.”

“It sounds like you’re taking just as many risks as the suits, if I may say so.”

“We’re all taking risks. Some more than others. I can’t imagine it’s been easy living with being marked as a traitor, Ms. Belle.”

“True,” she said, nodding.

The hallway split into a turn right and a path ahead. He turned right and they quickly followed until they came to a plain door. “Right inside,” Geoffrey said, turning and leaving the two to their own devices. “I’ll gather Daniel.”

Spike stumbled into the surprisingly sterile and white room. In the center was a doctor’s table, slanted up and coated in a plastic tarp, the boy limped his way onto it and hoisted himself up, leaning against the head of the table. He lay his hands across his chest and stared up at the ceiling.

“I normally hate a doctor’s office, but after all that…” He laughed once, sharply. “After all that…”

Lightly playing with a strand of loose hair, Rarity gave him a smile. “Safety trumps quite a bit, yes. I’m just glad you’ll get the attention you need.”

“It’ll be nice not dragging behind so much,” he agreed. After a pause, Spike spoke up again. “You think the girls are going to mind, uh, us?” He tilted his head up to look at her. “I mean, I don’t care if they don’t, but still.”

Rarity thought about it for a moment, then shrugged. “They’re our friends. I’m sure they’ll be happy for us, regardless.” She gave a small frown. “Though it might be a little weird with Twila for a bit. But nothing we can’t work out, I’m sure.”

“I hope you’re right.” He shook his head. “No. I know you’re right. I-I guess last night just kinda really let me know how serious things were. Got me thinking. Not that we weren't serious before, it’s just…” Rolling his eyes, he shook his head. “M-maybe some day I can actually talk like a normal human being about this kinda, uh, stuff.”

She laughed. “It’s ok, Spike. Everyone is nervous their first time—or even every time! Just focus on the fact that we’re together, and nothing’s going to change that.” Leaning over, she gave his cheek a kiss before taking one of his hands.

“Yeah, sorry, but you’re stuck with me for a good, long while,” Spike replied with a gentle smile, taking his free hand and putting it at her elbow. “Who knows? I might end up becoming your favorite accessory.”

Giving him a hard, appraising look, she mused, “Hmm, yes I can see it. A new haircut, perhaps a couple trips to the spa. Lose that awful hoody and find you some designer button-ups…” She slowly nodded her head, while giving her hands a sharp clap. “Oh yes, I can make you the talk of the town and you’ll be all mine!”

Before Spike could reply and state how much he liked his hair as it was, the door opened behind them and a young man about Spike’s age strolled in, gazing at the two, like a beast appraising prey. “Am I interrupting?” he dryly asked, pushing the wireframe glasses he wore up the bridge of his nose.

Crossing her arms under her breasts, Rarity said, huffily, “Not at all. You must be Daniel?”

“Indeed I am,” he agreed, taking a few steps into the room, a medical bag held tightly in his tense hands. He rolled it out on the table and stared for a brief moment at his tools. “Now, I heard your son was injured. A wound on the leg, from what Geoffrey said, correct?”

Rarity’s mouth dropped open, and she lightly recoiled as if from a blow. “E-excuse me? Son?!”

“Son?!” Spike repeated, just as aghast.

“Oh? Was I wrong? I just assumed you had him young,” he said disinterestedly, pulling out a small vial of what they assumed to be medicine and withdrawing some into a syringe. He gave a small flick of a finger to the side, letting a few droplets fly through the air, before putting it to the side and looking over his other tools.

“That’s a very rude presumption,” Rarity nearly growled. “You might learn a little more tact for the future.”

“Maybe my bedside manner needs work,” he admitted, putting a roll of gauze next to the syringe. “Nephew?” Without waiting for an answer, he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. “I suppose the specifics don’t matter. What I’m wondering is: what caused his injury?”

“I fell. Landed on a branch,” Spike said, speaking before Rarity could open her mouth and unleash hell upon the man.

“Must of been one hell of a drop if a branch dug that deep into you.” His hand paused above the selection of tools at his disposal, before slowly pulling out a scalpel and placing it quietly alongside his other equipment. “Certainly not something you see happening on a routine hike around here.”

“Well, that’s why they’re called ‘accidents’,” Rarity snapped. At a look from Spike she let out a small sigh. More softly, she said, “I’m sorry. I’m simply worried about him. We had a kit with us, and I did what I could, but even I can tell he needs better treatment. We… appreciate your taking the time to help us. Truly.”

“Anything to help the cause,” he stated, walking over to the boy with the supplies in his hand and sitting them on a nearby table. “I gotta admit,” he began, looking over Spike’s leg. “At first I thought you were just passerby. Geoffery can be really scatterbrained when it comes to situations like this.”

“How do you mean?” asked Rarity, watching him as prepared to work.

“Well,” he started, undoing Spike’s bandages. “For starters, he didn’t tell me today would be the day we had guests of such high prestige coming our way.” Daniel nodded, humming to himself as he removed the bloody gauze. “I had to rush quite a bit to get things prepared, you see. Though I’m disappointed that last night didn’t go as planned.”

Both Rarity and Spike looked at one another, confusion passing between them. But for no more than a moment as realization sank in. Slowly moving her hand to the pocket containing the gun, Rarity asked, already sure of the answer, “What plan?”

Easily meeting her eyes and smirking, Daniel took hold of the scalpel and rested it against Spike’s neck. Spike’s neck broke out into goosebumps at the touch of the cold steel. To make his point, he gave it the gentlest of pushes, drawing a single ghost line of blood down the boy’s neck. “Manners, please, Rarity. I had a feeling you’d be packing.” She froze, knowing he could slit Spike’s throat faster than she could hope to draw the weapon. “Good, that’s very good—don’t move an inch.”

Rage fighting terror over which would turn her stomach more, Rarity said, “You damn… traitor! Well, fine. You’ve put us on the spot. What now, Daniel?”