Author's Notes:

Hello!
So, this is a sequel to my first story, Guardian Angels. You probably will need to read it to understand this story. I'm sorry it took so long to publish this, but I wanted to make sure I knew where I was going with this story, as there were several people, for whom I am writing this, that truly loved the first one. I will probably be posting every week or so, as I want plenty of time to try and make every chapter perfect. I hope you enjoy.

It was a grey day. A pale day, with no sun and no warmth. Few days out of the year, if any, were normally this dreary in Ponyville; the local weather team, composed of resident pegasi, normally did a fine job of keeping the skies in a limpid state year-round, save for a few necessary rain checks. Spirits were usually as clear as the weather, and the town, likewise, tended to stay lively and good-natured to match the air above.

But, today was a grey day, and Rainbow Dash felt the gloom of the heavy air and blank sky both outside and in.

She glided through the thick skies, the dew of the low-hanging clouds clinging to the feathers of her wings like tears, and wetting the fur on her chest and face. Her wings pumped rhythmically, but rather than straining against air and time, pushing the possibilities of speed and endurance as she normally did, she methodically ambled her way through the mist, using the ground as a compass to bring her to her destination, somewhere out in the fog.

She clutched a trio of objects in her forelimbs, partly gifts, partly keepsakes; a black beret, an old library book and a withering, dead flower, barely clinging to the final drops of yellow hue in its pedals. She held on to them dearly with both forelimbs as her wings worked alone against the dense air, and her eyes wandered the mist, searching for the turnoff from the road.

Slowly but surely, and with no sun to guide her way, she made her way uphill, never straying more than a few dozen feet from the ground, her only link to direction in the formless world around her. Her scenery, however bleak and obscured it was, began to change as she traded the lowlands for the alpine terrain of the foothills of the Saddleback Mountains. Long blades of yellow grass shifted to hardy lichens and mosses, with a few patches of tough grass thrown in here and there. Oaks and willows were traded for pine and aspen, until finally, the buildings of the distant town were exchanged for a solitary two-story cabin amidst the trees.

It was large and tan, the color of heartwood, and looked exactly as she'd remembered it, except for the glum mist that hung over its roof. It would have looked cheery and warm were there a sky behind it, but instead, it resembled a haunted house, definite ghosts wandering within its confines harmlessly.

It was a grey day.

It'd been nearly two weeks since she'd set foot within the home's doors, but still, a neat stack of firewood remained adjacent to the front porch, and a lonely ponderosa swayed gently in the damp atmosphere along the home's northern wall.

Rainbow Dash set down a few dozen feet from the home's entrance, and walked the rest of the way to the front door. Unlocked, she gently pushed her way through its threshold, and looked around.

Cobwebs and dust now permeated the once spotless interior of the home, corrupting it, and bearing no resemblance to the home's legacy. Fogged, obscure planes of glass covered the myriad photographs that hung on the walls and over the mantle. A bowl of slowly decaying green apples occupied the center of the living room's coffee table, and the fireplace was cold.

She made her way to the middle of the living room, and gently placed the items she'd brought with her on the coffee table, laying them out neatly and carefully, and began to look around again as the flower drifted to a rest over the cover of the book.

At the back of the room was a large glass case, clouded by dust and misty condensation, but its contents still visible. Armor; metallic grey with engraved designs and markings embroidering its shell, among them, a captain's rank, as well as the 11th Air Cavalry's, insignia. The warped, damaged set of Equestrian battle armor hung on a wire rack, as if it were a museum display case, and every scar, every dent, told a story of the hardships of battle, a battle nowhere near as hard nor as fierce as the one that had claimed its wearer.

Along the wall near the case was a large cabinet, made of hickory or something of the such; Dash knew it to be nearly empty. She ambled towards its loosely swinging doors, and peered inside once again for the first time in a long time. An old, tattered and moth eaten military uniform swung limply on a hanger within the wardrobe, and an empty slot where the home's previous owner's armor had fit neatly, the set that was destroyed along with his body, sat unused on the door's interior. A folded crimson flag rested on the top shelf, undisturbed save for a few miniscule holes, courtesy of decomposers, the home's only residents as of late.

This cabinet's contents, the uniform, the absent armor set, the flag, were once a symbol of Equestrian pride and strength, of honor and courage, of the kingdom's best and brightest. No longer. Now, they served as a grim reminder of mortality, and how close Equestria had come to its demise. Were it not for the Guardians' sacrifice in Canterlot against the changeling hordes, the kingdom wouldn't be under the jurisdiction of the alicorn sisters. Chrysalis and her drones would be sucking the land dry were it not for First Lieutenant Brutus Ajax, Petty Officer 1st Class Sebastian Swift, Captain Dawn Clairvoyance and...

Dash turned away from the cabinet, bowing her head slightly, causing a few strands of colored hair to fall into her face. She tried to tell herself she was fine.

Pale, weak light drifted through the windows in rays, highlighting the floating dust dancing in and out of the beams.

It was a grey day.

She ambled through the rest of the house, plodding through the dining room, the kitchen and the bedrooms upstairs, stopping where she'd started, in the living room, when she found nothing more than she'd expected elsewhere in the house. The pegasus stood just inside the doorway, not doing but feeling, not living but remembering, until those memories and feelings drew her to the obscured pictures on the wall.

She reached up to what would have been eye-level for the home's absent owner, and dusted off the photograph. Nostalgic remorse came flowing into her heart as she looked upon the faces immortalized in the photo. Eight souls, seven of them equine and an eighth belonging to Spike, smiled back at her from a picnic spread in the park. They were faces she'd grown familiar with.

Twilight, the characteristic pink streak through her mane so prominent, and her cheek muscles drawn up as she grinned at the camera. Fluttershy, smiling warmly as she, ever so slightly, peered out from behind her lush pink mane. Applejack, slyly grinning from beneath the brim of her ever-present Stetson. Pinkie Pie, jumping up from behind the others to be completely visible in all her glee and cheer, her hooves thrown up over her head, which adorned an open mouthed, joyous expression. Rarity, an unfeigned smile, but not anything less than proper on her face as she turned her head slightly to the side. Her own image smiled at her as well, one eyebrow raised and the corner of her mouth drawn up in a confident expression. Spike, his eyes closed in a blink, comically captured by the camera's flawless timing, beamed at the camera from the shoulders of a tall, obsidian colored stallion.

The stallion. She felt herself grow a bit weaker as she saw the fire in Clyde's smiling eyes, long since extinguished. Those eyes, the ones that had been able to restore confidence and feeling to friends, as well as intimidate enemies. She missed them; their emerald radiance, the spirit that danced in their sparkle, the way their gaze held onto love and pride and honor. She missed everything about him; the tender embrace of his wide-reaching wings, his toothless smile, his honeyed voice and wise words, the nobility in his actions and thoughts, and the respect he commanded, as well as exhibited. She missed these things, as well as much more, all taken away from her before their time by the greed of the changeling hordes of the south. She missed her Guardian, Clydesdale Sterling, and even now, as she tried with everything inside of her to remember only the happy times she spent with him, she could only recall the last few seconds that his soul resided within him, and what he'd said to her.

"Will you remember me?"

The words haunted her, because she had to abide by them. She recognized that they were for the better, that indeed, Clyde had to do what he did, but still, regret filled the tears that now fell from her magenta eyes. She would not forget; how could she? That was why she had returned to this cabin again, why she'd needed to see the pictures one more time, to try and remember her friend as how he'd lived, not by how he'd died. But, it was useless. What good was it to try and trick herself into thinking that his all-seeing gaze was still on her, when she knew those eyes had long since faded into time.

She bowed her head and cried shamelessly, trying to forget what she kept remembering, and trying to remember what she kept forgetting. Minutes turned to hours, and when the time came for her to go, she quietly turned away from the pictures of times she'd spent with her Guardian, gathered his keepsakes, and began the dreary flight back home.

It was a grey day in Ponyville.

The sun was brutal and relentless in Canterlot, a hole in the overcast skies allowing exclusive sun to Equestria's capital. Here, the weather would normally be perfect for a day outdoors, but to the one-hundred and twelve stallions and mares standing in formation on the palace training grounds, it was the epitome of misery. The smell of sweat was all-encompassing; they'd been like this for nearly three hours, and hadn't moved since the sun had risen. They all stared front and center, their knees locked out within their stifling armor, waiting on orders.

Only one dared to stray his eyes from the air beyond his snout.

A unicorn stallion, not exceptionally large, but still, not the smallest of the congregation, moved his amber eyes slyly left then right, barely tilting his head so as not to break the position of attention. His beige hide was concealed, save for the spaces of exposed skin around his eyes and mouth, and between his helmet and his chest plate, and the blue horse-hair crest of his helmet failed to allude to his neatly trimmed fire-red mane beneath his helmet's gilded metallic surface.

He couldn't help but wonder if any of the others were as befuddled as he was; by the looks of their stoic, unbroken forward-aimed stares, they weren't. Maybe, they knew something he didn't, like why they'd been pulled from their units before the morning wake up alarm had sounded, assembled here, and told to stand in formation by an unfamiliar officer, upper-brass by the tassels on his uniform. Or maybe they knew why there was no pattern in the individuals assembled on this miniscule plot of grass; there were mares and stallions, big and small, unicorns, pegasi and earth ponies, all from different units. He recognized the uniforms and insignia of numerous units on the ponies around him; Royal Guard, Night Guard, Celestial Infantry, Magic Brigade, Air Cavalry, Special Forces and the Intelligence Unit.

He'd barely moved his head to what he thought, to his own disbelief, was a bat-pony stallion at attention two or three ponies to his left when he heard an icy, authoritative voice make its presence known from the formation's front.

"Soldier!" the voice yelled, feminine and accented, yet strong, "You are supposed to be at attention!"

He snapped his head back to front and center, knowing full well that he'd been caught slipping. He saw a pegasus, turquoise and crystalline, making a bee-line for him, her one-eyed glare somehow colder than her voice. She wore an eye-patch over one eye, but it did not affect the malice on her brow in the least.

She reached him in seconds, and drew to within inches of his snout.

"What is your problem soldier?! You are the only one out of this entire group that somehow bucked up something as simple as standing in place!"

She stole a look at his shoulder.

"What is your given name Corporal Dumbass?"

"Ma'am, Sundown Stryker, Ma'am!"

"Where are you from Corporal Dumbass? You sound as uneducated as you look."

"Ma'am, Dodge Junction Ma'am!" he responded firmly, his thick accent proving his place of origin as he locked his eyes onto the back of the head of the pony in front of him.

"Well, a unicorn from a hick town," the mare responded, "All I need to see now is an end to all war, and I've officially seen everything."

"Care to tell me why you were gawking at your fellow candidates there, Private Dumbass?"

"Ma'am, I was wondering why we were all assembled here Ma'am! I was looking for any indications Ma'am!"

"Curious are we?" she said condescendingly as she receded from him, took a place at the front of the formation, and began to pace back and forth.

"I suppose you're all wondering why you're here!" she yelled, addressing none of them in particular.

"You are here, because you have been selected as candidates for an elite program! Over the course of the next three weeks, you will be evaluated over everything you do, so don't screw anything up! If you can't hack it, feel free to quit at anytime! If your evaluators feel that you are incapable of the job of an elite warrior, you will be asked to leave! But, if you do make it, a life of no glory and no recognition awaits you!"

"You will do the hardest jobs this military has to offer in secrecy, without recognition outside of your uniform, but what you do will be the most important job our military has to offer! I am here to help weed out those that can't do it! I am Major Persephone Skyfarer, and it is my job to personally beat the shit out of you for the next twenty-one days! So, do you think you have what it takes?!"

A thunderous, unanimous, "Hooah!" responded.

"We'll see," whispered the mare.

Then, she raised a hoof and pointed to the track, a few hundred yards behind them.

"Thirty laps! Go!" and one-hundred and twelve equines' legs began pumping.