“Sure, sure,” Strawberry said from behind the closed door. “Tomorrow’s Monday. I’ll make some calls today and get the team together tomorrow.”

“Great. Oh, and darling, I hope you don’t mind, but we all need to talk to the mayor when you get your ponies,” Rarity said.

“To make sure I know what I’m doing?”

“Yes.”

“Will you be able to go out?” Rainbow asked.

Strawberry was long in answering. “I think so. Just let me set a few things in order first. Go ahead and do whatever you have to do. Talk to me tomorrow. After work.”

“When’s that?” Pinkie asked.

“Six.”

They walked down and out of the apartment, and stood on the sidewalk. It was the first time in a while they had gone outside without a specific goal.

“So, I did a little thinking last night,” Twilight said. “Just because we’re waiting for Strawberry doesn’t mean we can’t cast a couple spells elsewhere. You know, not near the towers.”

“Do you think it’s safe?” Fluttershy asked.

“Well, there aren’t any huge buildings on this side of town. Right?” She looked at Octavia.

Octavia looked at her with tired impatience. “Have you seen any?”

“Um, no,” Twilight said, a little admonished.

“Were you thinking of doing that now?” Rarity asked.

“I don’t see why not.”

“Where are we gonna cast?” Rainbow asked.

Twilight looked around. “We can just do it on the roof.”

“Um…” Fluttershy started. “Do you think we should, um, tell somepony? You know, give a warning?”

“If we want to cast the spell now, we can only warn one or two ponies,” Octavia said.

They looked at each other, all of their expressions questioning.

Octavia continued. “How have you done it in the past?”

“We… kind of didn’t,” Twilight said.

Octavia made a noise between a sigh and a scoff. “You mean you would simply cast your spell and let the ponies deal with the consequences, without telling them first?”

“We only did it three times,” Rarity said.

“We kinda warned ‘em in Ponyville,” Rainbow said.

Octavia shook her head. “I am going to warn Strawberry and the Oranges, at least. Do not wait for me.” She reentered the building before any of them could respond.

“What’s wrong with her?” Rarity asked.

“She’s still upset ‘bout last night,” Applejack said. “Ah dunno why. Somethin’ got to her.”

Twilight shook her head. “Never mind her. Let’s get up to the roof.”

They went back inside and followed Rarity to the stairwell. Even in the early morning, it was dark, and Twilight had to activate a little light spell to keep them from tripping on the stairs.

“What are we gonna do ‘bout other ponies?” Applejack asked.

“We can’t just let them figure it out on their own,” Rarity said. “Not in the city, anyway.”

Pinkie laughed, and they looked at her, surprised. She hadn’t had a lot to say lately. “Not to worry, Rarity!” Her voice was loud in the empty stairwell. “I’ve got it all covered!”

“Is that right?”

“I know what I’m doing!”

Applejack laughed out loud, and Pinkie grinned back at her.

“You’ll forgive me if I’m skeptical,” Rainbow said.

“Sure, Dashie!” Pinkie cried.

“What Ah think she means is that you’ve said that before,” Applejack said. She lowered her voice. “That’s kinda how we wound up in this whole situation.”

Pinkie stopped on the stairs, and they turned to her.

“Uh, sorry,” Applejack said.

Pinkie looked down at her hooves, for just a moment. Then she looked up and smiled. “S’okay! No problem!” She giggled and rejoined them, and they went up to the roof, passing through the broken gate Octavia had used nights before.

While Twilight and Pinkie got into position, Octavia slunk up behind and sat down to observe.

“So how did my aunt an’ uncle take the news, anyway?” Applejack asked.

“They understood,” Octavia said.

“That’s it? ‘They understood’?”

“What more do you want me to say?”

“Well, were they surprised, or scared, or have any questions? You know, any of that?”

“No.”

Applejack frowned, taken aback a little. She squinted at Octavia, as if trying to see something hidden on her. “Yer still not sleepin’ right, are ya?”

Fluttershy turned to Octavia with a small gasp and a look of alarm, and Rainbow rolled her eyes. Rarity turned away tactfully to examine the building’s edge behind them.

“It is not your concern,” Octavia said.

“Beggin’ yer pardon, but Ah think it kinda is. If yer causin’ yerself trouble, intentionally or not, it is our concern. We’re all friends here, an’ we can’t have you—”

“I said it is not your concern. That is all,” Octavia snapped. She sighed, frustration obvious in her voice and her stance, and looked out over the streets below.

Applejack shook her head. “Ah’m not lettin’ ya get off that easy, missy.” She put a hoof on Octavia’s wither to turn her around, and Octavia fixed her blank, purple eyes on Applejack’s.

“Have I not performed my duties adequately? Was I not in the house behind Glass Ribbon last night, helping catch our arsonist? Was I not our guide in this city?”

“Well, sure, but—”

“Clearly, my sleeping habits render no effect on my performance as an assistant.” She paused, as if considering pursuing the topic further. “Why, then,” she said, edging closer to Applejack, “do you feel that you must constantly ask about me, and wonder about me, and advise me when I have no intention to listen to you?”

“Ah’m askin’ ‘bout you so much ‘cause Ah’m worried ‘bout you.” She took a step as well, and they looked into each other’s eyes. “We all are.”

“There is nothing about which to worry.”

“You always say that, but Ah never see you happy. Yer always frownin’, or contemplatin’, or goin’ off by yerself. Ah never see you sleep, you barely eat, you barely speak—”

“These are superficial things only,” Octavia said, poison creeping into her voice.

“There’s bein’ a little strange, an’ there’s bein’ unhealthy. An’ Octavia, Ah’m afraid yer in the second category.”

“I am not unhealthy,” Octavia said heatedly.

“What is it, then? What am Ah missin’?”

“Everything, Applejack. Everything. There is nothing wrong with me, and that is all there is to it.” Her tone was strong, final. “I would thank you to stay out of my business.”

“Well, Ah’m sorry, but Ah ain’t backin’ off ‘til Ah got a straight answer from you,” Applejack said firmly.

Rainbow and Rarity were watching, rapt, studying Octavia’s and Applejack’s expressions; both were dark.

Octavia broke the connection to look away into the distance.

“Yer gonna answer me, one way or the other,” Applejack said.

Octavia whirled and brought herself to her full height, nearly pressing her face to Applejack’s; she stood her ground. “Applejack, back off. This is nopony’s business but my own.”

“An’ yer friends’,” Applejack growled.

“You are not my friends. Not one of you.” She glared at them all, and they looked away as she did so.

“How can you say that?”

“How can you possibly claim to be friends of mine? You know nothing about me.”

“And whose fault is that?” Rainbow demanded, wings flared aggressively.

“Yours,” Octavia said, looking her directly in the eyes. “I have made it clear that I am uncomfortable with your questions and concerns. Yet you persist.” She looked at Rarity, who dropped her eyes nervously, and back at Applejack, who looked back angrily. “I like my privacy, and you continuously infringe upon it.”

“Sounds like yer afraid of lettin’ us get too close,” Applejack said.

“That’s what it is,” Rarity said suddenly, her tone surprised. “Something’s bothering you, isn’t it? You said you have nightmares all the time.”

“No!” Octavia shouted. Before, she had been angry, primarily with herself, and defensive to the others. But at Rarity’s words, her heart seemed to squeeze up, and she could not completely keep the hurt out of her voice as she said her next words. “I knew I should not have said that.”

“Well, hang on,” Applejack said, more softly. “If it’s a problem, we should all talk about it.”

“There is nothing to talk about.”

“Quit stonewalling us!” Rainbow shouted. “We’re trying to freakin’ help you!”

“I do not need help.”

“Ah don’t believe that fer a second,” Applejack said.

Octavia stepped back to regard them all. Her voice had lost its edge. “Please. I am a very private mare. This is the last time I will ask this. Please, stop trying to interrogate me.”

“Not a chance, sugarcube. You need us, Ah can see now.”

Octavia hung her head. On her face, two warring emotions could be seen, cut into the profound frown that colored her gray features. “Fine. Goodbye.” She looked up and rapidly pushed through the small crowd, walking back down into the stairwell.

Applejack blinked stupidly for a second. “Wha—wait!”

“Octavia, come on, don’t bail on us like this!” Rainbow called. The sigil was half-complete.

She was gone.

When the sigil and spell were finished, and their side of town was pressed back together with its heavy, apocalyptic grumble, they went back down to the Oranges’ apartment. They went into their room, sat down in a semicircle, and looked at each other for a moment before speaking.

“So she just left?” Twilight asked.

“Yup. Just left. She said… she said we were hurtin’ her mighty bad, an’ that was why she felt she needed to leave. Or somethin’,” Applejack said.

“But why would she do that? She didn’t even take her cello.”

“We’re at just as much of a loss as you,” Rarity said.

“But we’re gonna go get her back, right?” Pinkie asked.

“Should we?” Fluttershy asked.

No one answered at first. “Ah think so,” Applejack said slowly.

“Applejack, think of what you’re saying,” Rarity said.

“Rarity’s right, AJ. Octavia may have helped us, but she’s awful. Everything with her is awkward,” Rainbow said.

“Or quiet,” Fluttershy put in.

“She always acts like we’re accusing her of something,” Rarity said.

“Maybe that’s ‘cause you are always accusing her of something,” Pinkie said. There was no humor in her voice.

“I’m afraid I have to disagree with you there, darling. We have done nothing but try to be friends.”

“Octavia’s different from you girls; I’m her sister, so I should know. She doesn’t warm up to ponies as quick as me.”

“Yeah, but she’s been with us for weeks,” Rainbow said. “She should have at least started getting friendlier by then.”

“Maybe she was and we didn’t notice it,” Twilight said.

“Twilight, you can’t be serious,” Rarity said.

“Well, Pinkie has a point. She’s different from us, but that doesn’t make her bad. I think there’s something to her that we don’t know.”

“Twilight’s right,” Applejack said. “Our job is to help ponies, so why aren’t we helpin’ her?”

“Some ponies can’t be helped, Applejack,” Rarity said. She cleared her throat nervously. “I mean, it’s not your fault, dear. It’s none of ours. And…” She paused, not certain how to continue. “I don’t want to sound like this is why we shouldn’t help her, but I think there are certain… issues there, that we simply can’t handle.”

“She can be pretty unpredictable,” Rainbow affirmed. “Mood swings, and all that.”

“But everypony has those!” Pinkie said. “Look at me! I’m not all laughy-daffy right now, but you’re not getting all creeped out!”

“Hers go farther than that,” Rarity said drily.

“Maybe she’s crazy,” Rainbow said, shrugging.

“Don’t say that, Rainbow,” Applejack said. “She ain’t crazy.”

“But she has a point,” Rarity said. “Octavia has been nothing but negativity since we first found her, and while she has been a tremendous help with a few difficult situations, she is far too unstable.”

“And going on how mad she got up on the roof, she might be dangerous,” Rainbow said.

“Shouldn’t we be tryin’ to help her, then?” Applejack asked. “Instead of just drivin’ her away?”

“You heard her, though. She hates it when you ask her about personal stuff.”

“She’s hurtin’, Rainbow Dash. Ah’m certain of it now.”

“What are we supposed to do about it, though? She said it herself. We’re not her friends.”

“But we’re all she has,” Twilight said.

“We don’t know that,” Rarity said.

“Ah got a strong feelin’ ‘bout it,” Applejack said.

“Applejack’s right!” Pinkie cut in. “She needs our help! She’s not mean; she’s just really mixed up right now. Like a super-complex cake batter!”

“Like a super-crazy cake batter,” Rainbow said.

“She ain’t crazy, Rainbow!” Applejack said.

“Girls, please,” Twilight said.

Applejack muttered to herself, and Rainbow flapped indignantly.

“I’m really afraid of her sleeping habits,” Fluttershy said.

“Oh, not this again,” Rainbow groaned.

“She only sleeps every one or two days,” Applejack said.

“She’s slowly killing herself that way,” Rarity said.

“I don’t think it’s her fault,” Twilight said. “I was thinking the same thing you girls are, so I did a little research on sleep disorders. According to everything I read, I think she has chronic insomnia. But the only causes are acute stress or some sort of mental disorder, and I don’t see a good case for either of those in her.”

“Not stress?” Rarity interjected. “No offense, Twilight, but you couldn’t be further from the truth on that. The signs are all there. She never smiles, she doesn’t eat much, she doesn’t talk… what else?”

“Her eyes,” Applejack said.

“Oh, yes, her eyes. Have you ever looked at them? They’re… I don’t really know. Dead.”

“Blank,” Fluttershy said.

“Hm. Maybe I should have read more about the root causes,” Twilight said to herself. She looked over at the bags, a stack of books sitting in one.

“There’s one thing I noticed,” Rainbow said. “Have any of us seen her jump? Like, out of surprise?”

They all thought about it, and shook their heads. “Now you mention it, Ah’ve never once seen her act surprised,” Applejack said.

“But what does it mean?” Rarity asked.

“Atrophied startle response?” Twilight offered. “I really don’t know. I’d have to do some reading.”

“Let’s get back to the topic,” Applejack said, tapping her hoof on the floor. “Ah say we find her as soon as we can, an’ try to bring her back.”

“I think she should be left to fend for herself,” Rarity said, and Rainbow nodded.

Applejack scoffed, her face momentarily disdained. “Some Elements of Generosity an’ Loyalty you are. We’ve got a pony out there who’s sufferin’ because of what we did to her, an’ y’all just wanna turn your flanks on her? Ah’m ashamed of you.”

“Hey, she brought this on herself,” Rainbow said.

“She’s just tryin’ to get by.”

“She’s unstable.”

“She needs help,” Applejack insisted.

“Girls, come on,” Twilight said. “We shouldn’t be arguing like this.”

“Well, what do you think we should do, dear?” Rarity asked.

“I think we should try to help her.”

“I’m not a hundred percent sure, but I thiiiink we’re her only friends,” Pinkie said. Her ears drooped. “And I can’t be happy if I know there’s a pony out there who doesn’t have any friends.”

“Do you think our friendship will help her?” Fluttershy asked.

“It can’t hurt,” Twilight said.

“It sure seemed to,” Rainbow said.

“That was you not respecting her privacy, though,” Pinkie said. “True friends would let her be as secretive as she wants.”

“A true friend would force her to confront whatever stupid thing is causing all this trouble,” Rainbow groused.

“Maybe we should make her see a professional,” Rarity mused.

“I don’t think that would work,” Pinkie said. She didn’t explain.

“Well… I say we just try,” Twilight said. “We know how she feels now, so we won’t make the same mistake twice. And I’m sure she’ll be happy to keep going with us, if we all apologize.”

“I don’t like it,” Rainbow said.

“We’d go after you if you were in her situation,” Pinkie said. “Why should it be any different?”

“She’s… that’s not fair, Pinkie. She’s different from us.”

“Not in any ways that matter.”

“All right, all right, how ‘bout this?” Applejack said, standing. “You can stay here if y’all want, but Ah’m goin’ to get her. It’s the least Ah can do.”

“You’re the one who started this, though,” Rainbow said.

“Yeah, so? Ah’m capable of changin’ my mind. An’ seein’ when Ah was wrong.” She grabbed her Stetson and dusted it off, her face contemplative. “An’ Ah aim to ‘pologize fer what Ah’ve done to her.”

“Applejack, you know we’ll have to go with you if you leave,” Rainbow said.

“Yeah, Ah do,” Applejack said with a smirk. “Let’s go, before she does somethin’ she’ll really regret.”

“Where is she, though?” Twilight asked.

“The park,” Pinkie said.

They looked at her.

“She always liked to be outside when she was upset. Somewhere where she can see the clouds.” She shrugged and went to the door, and when she turned back, she was wearing her usual, daft smile. “Sisters!” She ran out the door.

Octavia lay underneath a tree, staring past the foliage and into the clouds. She had left the apartment angry, but when she reached the park, she felt only guilt and sadness. Thirteen days ago, she had left her apartment to travel with a group of strangers, and half an hour ago, she left those same strangers in a fit of defensive, injured pride. She watched the sky drift with a heavy heart and drying eyes.

When she saw the others approaching, she didn’t look at them. Her heart fibrillated with relief and happiness, but she kept her face impassive; pride again.

Applejack stepped forward, hat off, and Octavia regarded them all as evenly as she could. “Um, Octavia?”

She nodded.

“Ah’m really sorry ‘bout earlier. Ah didn’t know you felt so strongly ‘bout… the things Ah was sayin’. Ah promise Ah won’t bring it up again, if you don’t want me to.”

She continued to look at Applejack, without speaking. Indignation was trickling back.

“Um, we’d really like it if you’d come back to us. Like Ah said, we’re all friends, an’ we want you to be part of that.”

Octavia looked at the others; their faces were less contrite, and Rarity and Rainbow looked completely opposed to the apology.

“I appreciate your apology, Applejack, truly. I am reluctant, however, to rejoin you.”

“Why?” Twilight asked. There was no accusation in her voice.

“Our altercation earlier today revealed much. For me, it showed that I am not as composed as I like to believe. I can snap very quickly, and I am certain that, under the right circumstances, that would be very… bad.”

“Bad how?” Applejack asked.

“It also showed me how many of you truly feel about my presence.” Here, she looked at Rainbow and Rarity, who both looked away. Anger pulsed in her brain, and her lips curled into a sneer. “I do not want to spend time with ponies who think so little of me that they cannot meet my eyes when I address them.”

“Okay, you know what,” Rainbow began, still not looking up.

“Rainbow!” Applejack barked. She looked back at Octavia. “Ah understand. But they don’t mean nothin’ by it. They’re just as worried ‘bout ya as we all are.”

“As I have said, there is nothing about which to worry,” Octavia said.

“Ah…” Applejack appeared to debate herself for several seconds. “If you say that, Ah’ll agree with ya. But you gotta understand, we’re not used to ponies like you. Bein’ all serious all the time is weird fer us. So we think somethin’s wrong. Am Ah makin’ sense here?”

“Yes.”

“She’s right, dear,” Rarity said. “We really aren’t trying to hurt you. But you leave us with so little options, it seems like we can only ever make any progress if we’re aggressive.”

“Yeah, you’ll just shut us down otherwise,” Rainbow said.

“I do what I do for a reason,” Octavia said delicately. “And that reason is my own.”

“So you just want us to leave you alone,” Rarity said.

“Exactly.”

“But…” Applejack started.

“That’s just really depressing,” Rainbow said.

“I am not saying that you may not talk to me, or ask me questions,” Octavia said. “All I want is for you to back off when I ask it of you. Is that so much?”

“Not at all,” Applejack said quickly. “Ah promise it, Octavia. Ah’ll mind my own business with you.”

“Rainbow? Rarity?”

“I still don’t like it,” Rainbow said.

Octavia looked away. “What would you have me do?”

“Uh, let’s see,” she started, sarcastic. “Maybe begin with a little explanation about yourself. We still don’t even know what’s going on between you and Pinkie, for Celestia’s sake.”

“Why is it so difficult for you to accept me as I am?”

“Well, ‘cause… uh.”

“I want you to be honest with me, Rainbow Dash.”

“Uh.” She looked at the others quickly. “‘Cause you’re creepy and weird,” she finally said, her wings dropping a little in shame. “You talk in this really heavy monotone, and you never smile or laugh, and it’s like you’re always just watching, you know? Like, at first, it was kinda neat, when you ran into that dust cloud in Canterlot and helped those ponies, but then you broke your leg and didn’t even tell us, and… I just don’t like that.”

“I understand.”

“I mean, I don’t not like you,” she continued quickly. “You’re obviously a stand-up pony, and you really help us out. Just… smile once in a while, or something.” She offered a smile of her own, and Octavia matched it with her dead gaze.

“I have always been a very serious pony. For me, a smile feels uncomfortable. It is like me asking you to spend a day without using your wings.”

“It can’t be that bad,” Rarity said.

“I have no ill-feelings for any of you. We do not always get along, but I have no hatred toward you.”

“Well, that’s good,” Applejack said.

“For what it is worth, Rainbow Dash, I am sorry that I come across as you say I do. It is not my intention.”

Rainbow sighed. “So you can’t just be happy like the rest of us?”

“For me, it is not that easy.”

Twilight cleared her throat. “Um… if I can interject something here.”

“Yes.”

“Uh… I did some reading earlier. Octavia, do you… well, do you need help?”

Octavia closed her eyes, and her voice was strong and clear. “I do not need help, Twilight. I am completely fine.”

“I think you have a sleep disorder.”

“With all due respect, Twilight, I do not think you can say that. You have known me for less than a month.”

“Oh,” Twilight said, backing away.

“Let me reiterate. There is nothing wrong with me. I am very sorry that I am difficult to get along with, but that is who I am. I am not trying to hurt any of you. I do not want that.”

“Do you wanna be friends, though?” Rainbow asked.

Octavia paused, not expecting the question from her. “I am not certain,” she said quietly.

“I think you do,” Pinkie said, smiling. “Why else would you apologize?”

“Perhaps you are right.”

“Well, Octavia,” Rainbow said. “I don’t know what’s going on. But I’m sorry too. I got heated back there, and I didn’t know what I was doing.”

“Me too,” Rarity said. “We don’t know you very well, so it’s terribly easy to jump to conclusions.” She stepped forward and offered her hoof. “However, I am willing to call it even if you are.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Octavia shook Rarity’s hoof, then Rainbow’s, and Applejack’s last. There were a few seconds of uneasy silence, which Pinkie broke by running over to Octavia and squeezing her in a tight hug, which she accepted patiently. When she was released, she stood up and stretched, then looked at them neutrally.

They went back to the apartment for lunch, and when they were done, a large bank of clouds had rolled in, dimming the city. Thunder rumbled loudly overhead, and there wasn’t much to do for the day. The spell was cast; for the time, they had only to wait for Strawberry.

They stayed inside and played cards, but by the fourth game of Hearts, everyone was bored, and tired of Octavia winning.

“There has to be something else to do,” Rainbow complained. “Can we go move in with Lacey yet?”

“Not yet, Rainbow,” Twilight said.

Lacey Kisses was in the closet of her flat, which was, in actuality, a pair of flats joined by a small alley of dead grass and dirty stonework. She owned both, and the size gave the place a sense of luxury in direct contrast to the underwhelming décor and sketchy location. She was just putting away her camcorder and a bundle of blank tapes.

As she had said to Rarity when they were shopping in Rose Tower, Lacey was an actress; however, she had neglected to mention her specific brand of acting. She worked in pornography, generally starring in more straightforward, solo videos, but occasionally straying into fetish territory. She was moderately successful, and enjoyed the work.

It was a few days before they were supposed to room with her, so she was putting away her work materials before they could arrive. She didn’t want to spook them, knowing that, from Ponyville, they had likely never even heard of pornography. Being a small town, it was still untouched by the corruption of development, and so was also a treasure for anyone looking to expand their business.

It was this topic that she wrestled with in her mind as she flipped a sheet over a small collection of lubricants. Ponyville was innocent still, an untapped market, a gold mine for the adult video industry. In addition to the bits they could accrue from new customers, there was also a wealth of other resources: potential actors and actresses, new and interesting locales, proximity to the Elements of Harmony. She didn’t like the latter idea so much, but had to acknowledge it; films with the Elements were popular.

And she had access to them all.

She walked out into the living room, her mind stirring, and rifled through her collection of music. Music always helped to clear her head. She selected one of her longer records and put it in the gramophone, and the flat was filled with an empty, minimal, reverberating glitch-noise that soothed her ears and put a smile on her face. None of her friends shared her taste in music.

Humming to herself, she grabbed a rag and dampened it in the kitchen sink. While the majority of Manehattan was struggling with its water supplies, she was not. One of her friends, a pegasus on the weather team, always kept a raincloud over her area. It wasn’t legal, but the city was too big for one overworked weather manager to notice a tiny section of northeastern Manehattan getting a little wetter than it should have.

She walked to the kitchen and looked through the fridge, running from a backup generator in one of her bathrooms. She had run to the store the day after the disaster, recognizing that there would be a rush to stock up on supplies. She was one of the first to do so.

She grabbed a slice of watermelon and went back to the anteroom, and the doorbell rang. Perplexed, she went to answer it; ponies didn’t call on her very often, and the Elements were supposed to be still waiting. She opened the door and smiled slightly at the pair of friendly pegasi outside.

“Got a moment?” one asked. She was creamy yellow, with a cinnamon mane done up in a bun and over a long neck, narrow back, and tapered wings. Her voice was blunt and crass, and though she was no simpleton, it was a misconception ponies made about her all the time. Her name was Wings, and she had been in Manehattan for thirteen years, for only one of which she had known Lacey. Her counterpart, Jet, was a dark-furred pony with shocking maroon eyes that stood out like flames in her dark, thin face, surrounded with greasy strands of marbled, periwinkle mane. They were both light technicians at the porn studio, and very close friends. Lacey had only seen them apart a couple times since meeting them.

She let them in. “I wasn’t expecting company tonight. What do you need?”

“We better keep it quick, Wings,” Jet said. “Kissy’s got her music going.”

“Wouldn’t want to disturb,” Wings said, smiling mischievously.

“Certainly not. What is that? Your gramophone malfunctioning?”

“Must be relaxing.”

“Get on with it,” Lacey said. She liked them, but they talked a lot. Sometimes, she didn’t have the energy to listen to their banter.

“Money,” Jet said, her dark face straightening.

“I suspected as much.” Since the disaster, and the litany of other, smaller problems—Spring-hoof Jack, the mysterious floating ship, and a recent arson scare—the studio had been losing business. Finding a way to increase revenue was officially the job of Lacey’s bosses, but she had been trying to think of a way to help. Wings and Jet, the closest things she had to work friends, had offered to help.

“We were thinking, and you know what we realized?” Wings started. “The most popular porn out there: amateur.”

Jet spread her wings and held a hoof up in a sweeping gesture. “Picture it. We get a couple scouts, a couple cameraponies, and send ‘em out through the city.”

“Ponies need easy money.”

“And what’s easier than a little peep show behind the apartment?”

“Or in the parking lot.”

“Or the tunnel by the park.”

“I can see it now: real, hot, amateur pony action. We can find some beefcake and load him down with toys to give the young ponies.”

“And of course they would be young,” Jet said.

“Except the oldies.”

“More mature ponies too, but mostly the college crowd.”

“Tuition can be a real pain in the ass.”

“And who are you thinking of to do the scouting?” Lacey asked, cutting Wings off before she could continue. “We only have one pony.”

“We can hire a couple interns,” Wings said with a tiny shrug.

“No, no! I’ve got it!” Jet cried. “Why not cut out the middlepony, and just use the interns as they come?”

“Jet, that’s messed up,” Wings said.

“Hey, we need money.”

“But dirty intern porn? Gross.”

“We do need money,” Lacey said, closing her eyes and sighing. To cut costs, ponies were being laid off, and those that remained had to live with reduced salaries. It started low, with the technicians and cleanup ponies, but the effects were creeping up to the actors and actresses. To avoid losing her own money, Lacey had been doing more videos, often at the expense of her personal comfort.

“Well, we don’t have any other ideas,” Wings said.

“And neither does anyone else,” Jet said.

“We heard it isn’t just here, either.”

“The whole thing is looking bad.”

“Already shut down one of the smaller Applewood studios.”

Lacey frowned. “I heard that. Do you know if they’re looking at doing the same to us?”

“No,” Jet said.

“Meaning we don’t know,” Wings said.

“But I wouldn’t be surprised.”

Lacey rubbed her head. The prospect of losing her money troubled her greatly; the prospect of losing her job was inconceivable.

And then she remembered the Elements.

“So, anything?” Jet asked. Her vibrant magenta eyes bored into Lacey, and she thought back, years ago.

She had always been a smart mare, and very resourceful, but it was the trials of growing up in the poor section of Manehattan that taught her her own cruelty. She deceived and manipulated wherever she could, and grew up successful, but unhappy. She had only one friend, a traveling unicorn with whom she exchanged letters, and who, at almost thirty years her senior, acted as a kind of spiritual guide—whose advice, in her selfish youth, she often ignored. At twenty, she had learned one of life’s hardest lessons: with no friends, material wealth was meaningless.

And so she changed. She forced herself to smile more, and act friendlier to everyone. For a while, she felt like an outsider in her own relationships, but slowly, she learned to trust ponies. She lost her mean streak, but never her drive.

Standing in the living room, a slice of watermelon dripping on the end table, and ambient music coloring the air, she pieced together a plan in her head. It was simple, obvious, and it disgusted her.

“I… do have something.”

“I dunno, Twilight. Are you sure you’re not overreacting?” Rainbow said. They had returned to the park to enjoy some sunshine, which was fast diminishing behind a growing collection of clouds in the distance.

“I’ve checked the books, and the symptoms are all there. Memories, nightmares, increased distress when I think about it… I’m just glad I’m still healthy enough to help you girls.”

“I… maybe? Look, Twilight, I don’t know a whole lot about this psychology stuff. But if you really think you have post—what was it again?”

“Post-traumatic stress disorder,” Twilight said patiently.

“Right. If you really think you have that, then maybe we should look for someone in this city to help you.”

“I’ve thought about it, but I don’t know. I don’t think I’m comfortable holding up our efforts to stop Discord with my own issues.”

“But if these issues of yours get out of hoof, then what’ll happen? We’ll be in even more trouble.”

“That’s true, but who say’s they’ll get out of control? I’m hoping that just by telling you about it, by talking it out, I can start to feel better. Or at least not feel worse.”

“I dunno, Twilight,” Rainbow said, shaking her head.

“Well, what’s wrong?”

“I’m just worried. What if talking isn’t enough?”

“In my book, it said one of the ways to deal with post-traumatic stress disorder is to expose yourself to the upsetting thoughts slowly and gradually, so you can get used to them again. I’ll balance out my fear that way, I think.”

“And have you been doing that?”

“I try, but it’s hard. Whenever I think of… it, I…” She closed her eyes for a moment, and Rainbow watched in confusion as her breathing sped up, her eyes tightened, and her face strained.

“Whoa, whoa.” She had no idea what to do. “Uh, Twilight, calm down. Just breathe, and think of something else.” She edged closer and tried to make her voice more soothing.

Twilight’s breathing grew more rapid.

“Just breathe normally, Twilight.” She tried to figure out how Twilight was feeling, but it was difficult; her face was changing quickly, and Rainbow had little skill in reading expressions. “Relax, Twilight. Relax, relax,” she said, trying to sound gentle.

Eventually, Twilight calmed again, and let out a long, stuttering sigh. “Sorry about that. As you can see, I get… anxious when I think about it.”

“Well, don’t think about it then.” Rainbow laughed nervously. “It’s just that easy.”

“But it isn’t. It’s always in my mind, somewhere.”

Rainbow frowned. “What do you mean?”

Twilight took a deep breath and closed her eyes for a moment. “I’ve been dreaming about it lately.”

“Uh… dreaming?”

“It’s like I’m back there.” Her voice quivered with emotion, and Rainbow stretched out a wing, in case she would try to go for a hug. “B-back on, you know… back in Canterlot.”

“Oooooh.”

“It’s so real,” she whispered. “Sometimes I wake up with my horn glowing, like I’m trying to defend myself.” She leaned in, and Rainbow embraced her.

She didn’t like it when ponies cried; she never knew what to do with herself. Her body felt awkward with another pony crying into it. “I’ve, uh, been having dreams too.” She didn’t know what to say.

Twilight nodded in her down.

“Kinda like yours. Well, not as bad. But, yeah… similar, I guess. Kinda… flashback-y.”

Twilight kept crying, and Rainbow searched for something more to say. Some way to comfort her friend.

“I heard Fluttershy and AJ talking a while ago. They were having bad dreams too.”

Twilight brought her head up and wiped her tears. “Really?”

“Yeah, every night, by what Fluttershy said.”

“That’s four of us,” Twilight said. “At the same time?”

“It’s this freaky city.” She reached out and hugged Twilight. “You’re under a lot of stress, Twi. It’s okay.”

“No, no,” Twilight said, pushing herself away. “This isn’t right. We shouldn’t all be having nightmares at the same time. Every night? All of us? There’s no way.”

“It’s just a coincidence.”

Twilight looked down at her hooves and sighed shakily. “Maybe you’re right.” She looked at Rainbow’s eyes and blinked back more tears.

“Twilight, are you sure you don’t want to see a professional about this? We don’t mind waiting, you know.”

“I know, Rainbow, but I think I’ll be okay. As long as I keep control, and follow the advice in the book, I should be fine.” She looked into her eyes. “Thanks for listening, though.”

“Hey, any time. Whenever you wanna talk, just let me know, okay?”

Twilight smiled and nuzzled Rainbow, who returned the gesture. Neither of them saw the pale pony racing toward them from behind.

Pinkie and Octavia were at the fountain, speaking sparsely about the night before. Pinkie listened to her explanation with her full attention, but Octavia did not share her interest; remembering it brought back the anger she had with herself after Flash’s incapacitation. She should have been able to help more, she thought. As she spoke, she let her eyes wander; it was for this reason that she was able to spot the pony as he crested a nearby hill in one great leap.

Spring-hoof Jack, she knew instantly. The sun caught his coat like a flash of stone as he cleared the hill and skidded down its slope. Octavia watched with fascinated concern as he tumbled; his body seemed looser than when she had seen him in The Shot Apple. His legs bent and turned quickly, and at odd angles, like a grain thresher, but when he reached the bottom of the hill, he managed another unbelievable jump, directly at Twilight and Rainbow. Octavia made to shout a warning, but before she could, the pony had already jumped, and Rainbow was suddenly crying out in alarm, the slightly larger pony pinning her to the ground.

Everyone else was by a tree, and turned to see at the same time as Pinkie, shock and alarm on their faces. Twilight’s horn shimmered in the distance, but Spring-hoof Jack was already back up, his legs and mane whipping around like anemic switches. Blue flashed near his face, and he jumped awkwardly, his body still gyrating like a broken jumble of machine parts as he collided with Twilight. She fell back, and he bounced off her, his body contorting wildly.

In the moment of freedom, Rainbow took to the air, but it was no help. With just the briefest pause, Spring-hoof Jack jumped straight up and grabbed her, and despite her frantic flapping, she was dragged to the ground violently, a captive in his churning clutch.

Still shocked, Octavia only watched as Rainbow hit the ground. Pinkie, standing, darted forward, crossing the distance in a mere couple seconds, and Spring-hoof Jack flew at her, crashing bodily with his legs flailing and a clear contrail of blue fire behind his twisting jaw, raking the air and sizzling away quickly.

Pinkie turned over in the air and hit a picnic table, striking her head on the seat with a dull noise that rang in Octavia’s ears.

Her sister slumped back, and thoughts fired through Octavia’s mind. She stood reflexively, and her eyes locked on her pale enemy. Her legs moved, and she remembered her youth. It came back to her, as it had every night for the past week, in single images: a silhouette of a pony, a starlit road, a note.

Her mind, clouded with adrenaline, processed nothing about the scene before her. She galloped, Pinkie struggled, and a large fountain of dirt and dust appeared under Spring-hoof Jack. He landed clumsily a few yards away, a knot of angles that, to her dull, overburdened mind, resembled a crushed paper figurine.

She raced to catch up to him, and as she did, his legs turned rapidly beneath, folding and creasing like reeds, bringing him back up. Her steps didn’t falter, but as she closed the distance, she looked into his eyes. They were large, empty, red pools, and his face split in a grimace, showing snaggled teeth and jagged, sharp-looking gums. His face flickered as he flashed forward, and she fell back, her chest empty of breath.

She hit something solid and her vision spun, the clouded sky a sparkling pool. She could hear hooves retreating, and looked around with throbbing eyes. Spring-hoof Jack was a cream smudge in the distance, and she stumbled to her hooves.

She tried to run again, but her legs were heavy and unresponsive; she fell back into the grass. Her mind was still a flurry of activity, but she could not hold any thought for long.

So instead she buried her face in her hooves and began crying.

“How are you feeling, Octavia?” Fluttershy asked kindly, helping her into the bed.

Octavia only shook her head.

“Oh, dear.”

As soon as Spring-hoof Jack was gone, they had rushed to Octavia and tried to calm her down, but she lay prone in the grass for ten minutes, wailing, before they were able to quiet her. They got in a cab and immediately came back to the apartment.

She turned over to sob quietly into a pillow.

“What do we do?” Rarity asked.

“I… don’t know,” Twilight said. “Pinkie? She’s your sister. Has she ever been like this before?”

“No, never,” Pinkie said.

“Oh, um, I think it might be a good idea to let Pinkie stay here with her while the rest of us leave. Um, if that’s okay with you, Pinkie,” Fluttershy said.

“Yeah, that’s fine.” Pinkie approached the bed and examined her sister while the others left. “Octavia? You okay?”

No response came, and Pinkie hesitantly hoisted herself up into a standing position, something she could never do as well as her sister. Octavia was prone, a dark stain forming on the pillow where she pressed her face, and her head shook.

“Just let me know if you want to talk about it. Everypony else left.”

Again, no response, so Pinkie waited as patiently as she could with worry filling her head. Slowly, Octavia calmed down, and shortly after, she turned over to stare at the ceiling.

“You okay now?” Pinkie asked.

Octavia sighed. “No.”

“Talk to me.”

“I do not care anymore.”

“Care about what?”

“The consequences of my actions.”

“What do you mean?”

“I do not know what came over me, except to say that I am very distressed by it.”

Pinkie waited, clueless. As much as she didn’t know about Octavia, she did know that it was best to let her speak in her own time. That hadn’t changed since their youth.

“As you know, it is quite unlike me to express emotion with such disregard for those around me. What concerns me more than this—no. What frightens me more than this—is that I do not know what precisely I did in those moments. I remember pursuing Spring-hoof Jack, and I remember that there was an explosion. Beyond that, I have no idea.”

She was silent, and Pinkie tried to think of something to say. There was nothing.

Octavia continued, her eyes wet and her face relaxed. “It is no longer of importance to me. I concede. I relent. I give up.”

“Give up what?”

“I do not care what I have done. I do not care how it affects me. I just…” She didn’t finish her statement, and instead sighed. “You might have inferred this already, but I am under a large amount of stress.”

“I know.”

She closed her eyes, and her voice became level once more. “It is causing me to have occasional moments of weakness, like today’s. I apologize.”

Pinkie gasped. “Don’t apologize, silly! You didn’t do anything!”

“My presence is a constant source of negativity among you. For those of you I do not make feel sad, I make feel awkward. For those I do not make feel awkward, I annoy.”

“That’s not true.”

Octavia didn’t respond, and Pinkie looked into her face.

“What are you giving up?”

“Nothing. Please, forget what I said. It was said in a moment of weakness. It has passed.”

“Are you sure?”

Octavia’s eyes glistened, but she nodded. She turned over again and cried into her pillow, and Pinkie could not coax another response out of her.

When Pinkie went out to inform the others that they could return, Octavia was still alternating between sitting and staring, and crying into her pillow. They spent the night in the room, trying awkwardly to act as they normally would, but giving Octavia respectful distance. By the time they went to bed, she was sleeping fitfully, jerking her head back and forth and murmuring incomprehensibly. The night was restless for them all.

The next morning, they rose late. They were reluctant to return to the park, but there was little to do before Strawberry came home from work, so they decided to go out and explore the town; Fluttershy volunteered to stay behind and watch over Octavia, who had only left the bed a couple times to go to the bathroom.

She changed little from her pattern the night before, alternating between staring emptily at the walls and crying into her pillow; eventually, Fluttershy learned to ignore these weeping spells, as much as it pained her. Octavia did not speak to her, despite her numerous advances and entreaties.

The others’ time out in the city was hardly more interesting; without a guide, their adventures were little more than rides in cabs from one end of the city to the other, sometimes punctuated with moments of inspiration that turned to emptiness as soon as they discussed them. They found a fast-food restaurant and got some takeout, which they brought home to Fluttershy and Octavia, who gave her share to Pinkie.

When Strawberry got back home, he had hardly gotten out of his work clothes when they knocked on his door.

“Oh, you all,” he said tiredly. “I don’t mean to be rude, but how long will this be?”

“Not long,” Twilight assured.

“Good.”

“How’d it go today? Did you get our team together?” Applejack asked.

“I’m working on it, but it’s tricky. Rose Tower is absolutely huge; I’ll need to use five of our seven strongest cranes to hold it steady. But I have to get the mayor’s permission first.”

“Not your boss’?” Rarity asked.

“Not for something this ridiculous.”

“We need to speak with him about your plan anyway,” Twilight said. “I’ll schedule the meeting tonight.”

“Do you know exactly what needs to be done?” Rarity asked.

“Yes. I crunched the numbers and had them double-checked. The company can supply all the cables and cranes, as long as the mayor gives it the okay.”

“I’ll see if I can get a meeting tomorrow. When do you work?” Twilight asked.

“Eight to six.”

“Okay.”

He looked at them, then down the hall. “Where are the rest of you?”

“Oh, Octavia and Fluttershy?”

“Those are the others.”

“Octavia’s not… feeling well, and Fluttershy’s taking care of her,” Rarity said.

“How nice.” He slowly closed the door. “Mind you don’t catch what she’s got.”

They slowly walked back down the hall. “What is wrong with her? Do we know yet?” Applejack asked.

“I think she finally snapped,” Rainbow said.

“What does that even mean?” Twilight asked.

“Well, we all thought she was kinda crazy before. Maybe she’s turned even more crazy.”

“I hope she doesn’t do anything dangerous,” Rarity said.

“She’s not gonna do that,” Applejack said tersely.

“But how do you know?”

“Yeah, she went ballistic in the park,” Rainbow said.

“She’s not crazy, Rainbow,” Applejack insisted. “She’s just… Ah dunno.”

“She’s under a lot of stress,” Pinkie said.

“See, Twilight? I told you,” Rarity said.

“Maybe we should find a professional for her,” Twilight said.

“That might be a good idea,” Rainbow said, keeping her look on Twilight for a moment.

They entered the apartment and engaged in a few pleasantries with the Oranges while Twilight scheduled their appointment with the mayor. When they went back to their room, Octavia was staring mindlessly at the far wall. There was no improvement, Fluttershy said, and after some deliberation, they decided to ignore their fears and return to the park. It was near the center of Manehattan, far from both towers; they could cast another spell there without worrying about collapsing buildings. Fluttershy would remain with Octavia.

When they got to the park, the sun was just setting, and there were few ponies around to interfere. Applejack helped Twilight move a picnic table out of the way, and before long, Pinkie was standing in the great, empty space, with Twilight on the outside rim.

“I definitely think we should find a professional for her,” Rainbow said. She didn’t have to say whom she meant.

“She certainly is unhappy,” Rarity said.

“Ah hate to say it, but you might be right,” Applejack said. “We’ll have to see how she is tomorrow.”

“She might be better after she gets some sleep.”

“If she sleeps,” Rainbow said.

“Yeah. If,” Applejack said.

They were quiet for a while, and only watched Twilight draw her sigil. The grass was warm under their hooves, and the sound of the city soothed them, only a little. In the silence and the stillness, they could only reflect. Each of them, looking around. Rainbow: uncomfortable, both with the dreams that had begun to haunt her and her earlier position as Twilight’s counselor. Applejack: concerned, but uncertain, about the way her friends were changing. Rarity: simply, and coldly, dispassionate. She had had another nightmare that night.

“I hope that bouncin’ pony doesn’t come back,” Applejack said. “Spring-hoof Jack.”

Rainbow nodded pensively. “Yeah.”

“How’re you feelin’, by the way?”

“Fine.”

Applejack picked at a tuft of grass. “Hm.”

“Twilight takes really really really long with her sigil,” Pinkie thought. She was still, but her mind, as always, was not. Along with her primary internal monologue, there were many other, smaller thoughts: hypothetical parties, ways to cheer up Octavia, questions about Celestia and Discord, a song she enjoyed. “At least it’ll all be worth it when we’re done here.”

She watched as the lines of black ink flattened the grass they covered, leaving no trace of resistance wherever Twilight’s brush moved; it was fascinating, and she wondered what sort of magic was infused in the ink. Twilight herself was working assiduously as ever, seldom looking up from her work, and the others were over by a tree, silent. Pinkie wished she could be with them. It had been discussed to death, she knew, but she was worried about Octavia.

“I grew up with her, for Celestia’s sake. I thought I knew her better than anypony ever could, but she’s changed. It’s like I don’t even know her anymore.” She frowned and closed her eyes. “Whatever is is, it’s happening to the others too. Well, Twilight and Rarity, mostly. At least I think so. Gee, I hope I’m not imagining it. Wait, no. I do hope I’m imagining it, ‘cause I really don’t want them to be actually changing.”

She tried to focus on something happier. “When we get done with this whole big adventure, we’re gonna have to have the biggest party in Equestria! I’ll invite everypony I see, from everywhere I can, and we’ll party for days! I wonder where I can hold it? Hmmm, Manehattan might be big enough, but it’s full of not-so-nice ponies, like that arson-pony and Spring-hoof Jack. What is he, anyway? Celestia said Discord made him, but what is he actually? What’s Discord up to?”

She rambled on, her eyes still closed, and when she opened them again, it was in just enough time to watch Twilight finish the last section of sigil. Pinkie mentally braced herself for the sensation to come, but, as usual, no amount of preparation was adequate for the jarring, shocking, almost physical blow the spell put to her. The sigil whisked away, and she was left standing, legs locked and rooted to the ground, body as dense as a cannonball, head lighter than smoke.

She dissociated immediately, only vaguely aware of her own body; all thought was relegated to the bottom of her mind. She could feel the world around her, and all the ponies on it. She could feel her friends nearby, and the empty park, and the neighborhoods on each side, and the life of the city. She felt and watched, and everything was slower.

While her body’s heart beat and struggled in her body’s chest, she felt the great, jagged pieces of world all around her, like shells scattered on an ocean floor. Light as air, big as clouds. She reached out and held them in her thoughts, each fragment like a shard of water balanced on a hooftip. As easy as it was to hold the land, she knew that she could do with it whatever she wanted: destroy, or repair, or redesign as she wanted. Did Twilight know how the sigil made her feel? Did Celestia?

Her mind contracted with the force of intention, subtle and powerful. She felt the world draw together, slowly at first, and then quickly, following her command. Her mind was vast, and each piece seemed to fill it, an endless series of forceful thoughts and huge, heavy burdens, controlled with her loose consciousness. It felt as natural as her own breath, and soon, under the jittery feeling of ponies and their lives all around, she felt the tremendous, inexorable crush of dirt and concrete. The bridges across gaps were lifted and moved out of the way. She felt the buildings trembling around her, the ponies panicking. She could hold it all still, if she wanted. She could freeze the moment, recreate the earth, and blink a thousand lives back, if she wanted. She could make every single pony remember only the restored land, expunge every memory of the midnight cataclysm. If she wanted.

She kept them aware. She felt everyone, absolutely; every pony’s movement was as clear to her as the power webbing her parachute mind. She controlled the earth’s movement completely, bringing pieces together only when there was no one nearby to be hurt, only very carefully. She knew what she was doing.

When she was done, her mind slowly seeped back to her, and as it did, the feeling of control slipped away. Her consciousness reentered her body, and she could move once more. She tried, and fell to her knees; she was sapped of energy, though her mind was still a storm of activity.

Her friends were already at her side, helping her up and asking whether she was okay; she recognized Twilight’s voice among them. When she was on her hooves again, she looked around. “I’m fine,” she said pleasantly. “Did it work?”

“Like a charm,” Applejack said.

Pinkie smiled and allowed them to help her to the edge of the park, from where she continued on her own. They returned to the apartment and went to their rooms. There was no change in Octavia.