January 14, Modern Era Year 4

1013 Hours

Royal Canterlot Hospital

Canterlot, Equestria

Fleethoof peered out the window of the waiting room, the large wall of glass providing a picturesque view of the capital city. The usually vibrant colors of the world appeared dull and flat in the dreary weather. An overcast sky prevented Celestia’s sun from reaching the ground. A light drizzle pattered against the glass, filling the quiet room with a steady stream of comforting white noise while a receptionist typed with loud hooves at a computer at the front desk. Other than him, only one other pony occupied the waiting room: his ever-ready companion and personal nurse.

He glanced over at Midnight Dasher. She was sitting beside him, kicking her hooves back and forth on the floor in a perpetual state of boredom. In the passing weeks, she had been at his side constantly, prowling the halls of Canterlot Castle to make sure he was okay, at his side throughout the drawn out days to help him until his leg was healed. As begrudging as he had been in the start, her dedication was a flawless trait he had to admire in her.

He stretched and flexed his hoof, reveling in the feeling of freedom being out of the sling brought with it. In his idle state, Fleethoof reached forward to pluck a wrinkled newspaper from a nearby coffee table. As he had come to expect, the front page was littered with articles and photographs about the ongoing search for Cadance. The grainy pictures of Royal Guards combing through a winter forest were followed by a photo of the missing princess, her purple eyes peering straight up into his. Fleethoof could swear he felt Cadance staring through his soul from the thin page, calling out to him to save her.

“Fleethoof!”

A hoof lifted to grasp at the pendant around his neck. The trinket felt a million times heavier all of a sudden. His pulse quickened in his veins and pounded against his eardrums in time with his throbbing heart.

“Fleethoof!”

Cadance cried out from the newspaper. She was calling to him from across time itself. His hoof grasped the paper so tight that it crinkled in his hold.

“Fleethoof?”

The voice brought the pony’s head up, turning with a start to the mare standing in an open doorway. She was smiling at him and beckoning him inside with a wave of her hoof.

“Right on time! Come on in.”

Fleethoof went to stand when he felt a gentle pressure on his shoulder. He turned, following the gray hoof to Midnight. She stared at him with deep gold eyes filled with concern. He offered her a small smile and slipped away, rising to his hooves and stepping into the adjacent room. It was a small corner office, the two outer walls made out of large panes of glass providing a panoramic view across Canterlot. Fleethoof gazed out at every rooftop and spire he could see, counting the buildings until he heard the door shut behind him.

“Have a seat, Fleethoof,” the mare spoke in a tender voice while motioning to a red suede psychiatrist’s couch.

He obeyed with a moment of hesitation. Sitting down into the plush cushions felt wrong. The sickly mint green wallpaper felt wrong. Everything about being in this room just put him off and made every alarm in his head go off. He made no effort to hide his hatred of doctors.

“My name is Psyche. It’s a pleasure to get to know you.” She offered him her hoof, which he shook out of formality alone. Her horn ignited, and the rolling chair behind her desk made its way across the floor on its own along with a notepad and pen. “I see you got your leg out of the sling. That’s good!”

Fleethoof gave a curt nod and mumbled, “Thank you.”

“How’s it feeling?”

“It’s nice to be able to walk normally again, that’s for sure.”

“I’ll bet. I can’t imagine how much it must’ve hurt. That was one doozy of a wreck, huh?”

Fleethoof locked gazes with Psyche, watching the psychiatrist with wary eyes. He knew what she was getting at. He’d played this game before with Cadance.

“I’m sitting here, so that means you’ve read my file,” Fleethoof surmised. He sat tall and taut, almost to the point of discomfort. “You know how bad it was.”

Psyche relented with a nod. “Yes, I’ve read your file. I went through the whole three-hour briefing that comes with it, too. I have to say, I’ve seen soldiers before, but none quite so… secretive as you.”

“Secrecy is part of the job.”

“Do you enjoy your job?”

“With every fiber of my being,” Fleethoof said with absolute resolution in his voice. “It’s part of who I am.”

“Even with it being so dangerous?”

He shrugged. “Occupational hazard. As long as I have my team, I know I’ll be fine.”

“Your team is important to you.” It wasn’t a question. “Would you say they’re your friends?”

“No, they’re more than that. I’d say they’re my family, and I love them like they were.”

Psyche nodded and subtly scribbled on her notepad. “I see.”

Fleethoof let himself recline back into the couch, feeling his body sink into the cushions a little further while he watched Psyche levitate a folder from her desk onto her lap. She began flipping through the pages within at an agonizingly slow pace. He squirmed on the seat and kept stealing glances out the window while he waited for the doctor to speak again.

“You were involved in the Second Griffon-Pony War, right?”

“Infantry rifle pony, 3rd Company.”

“And you were only twenty! You must’ve seen some terrible things over there.”

Fleethoof sighed and lowered his eyes to stare at the threading of the beige carpet under his hooves. “There was a lot of killing. A lot of destruction… Hell, it was a war.”

Psyche made a couple more notes and pursed her lips as she stared at the pony on her couch. She tapped her pen against her chin in pensive thought. “You’re a very succinct pony, Fleethoof.”

Fleethoof gave a sharp laugh. “I don’t mince words. Maybe I just don’t have a lot to say on the subject.”

“Or that you’re just feeding me what you think I want to hear.”

He shrugged. “Is there a difference?”

Psyche sighed and pushed her glasses back up the bridge of her nose. Fleethoof could see her doing her best to be patient with him. “There is if you’re preventing me from doing my job properly.”

“How ironic. You’re keeping me from doing mine.”

“Don’t look at it that way,” she spoke softly and leaned in towards him. “Whether you believe it or not, I’m here for your benefit.”

“You’re right—I have a hard time believing that.” Fleethoof grit his teeth and rolled his aching wing joint until it popped.

“Is your wing bothering you?”

“It’s nothing. An old injury… I’ve gotten used to it.”

“Very well then.” Psyche took a deep breath and reviewed the folder in her lap. “If you want to cut right to the chase, why don’t you tell me about the ambush then?”

Fleethoof felt the forced smile drop from his lips. The ice and snow flooded his veins again and sent shivers trembling down his back. His eyes darkened while he fought those memories back.

“What happened, Fleethoof?”

His eyes turned away, back to the outside world. “You read the file.”

“I would like to hear it from you, if you don’t mind. Paper never does as good a job as a first-hoof witness.” There was a pause. His hooves clenched into fists on his lap. “What happened?”

“…I failed…” he muttered. “I failed. I let those maniacs take Cadance.”

“Would you say Princess Cadance is somepony dear to you?” she asked.

Fleethoof could hear the pen scratching against the paper. His shoulders tensed up. Whatever he said now would be on the record forever. But if he had any hope of making things right, he had to do this. It all rested squarely on his transparency.

“…Yes.”

“Do you want to tell me about that?”

“Sure. I met Cadance when I rescued her from the Griffon Kingdom during the war. She became a friend over the years and helped bring me back to reality when the war ended.” He sucked in a deep breath and opened his eyes again. “She was always somepony I could count on, and when she counted on me, I let her down.”

Psyche made a thoughtful hmm as she mulled over her notes. “You feel a lot of guilt over what happened.”

Fleethoof managed a hard laugh again and rolled his eyes. “Understatement of the year…”

“And how close of a friend would you consider the princess?”

It took Fleethoof longer than he would have liked to respond. “A very close friend…”

“Would you say there are romantic feelings between you two?” Fleethoof shot a look up at her. Psyche made a motion of a shrug. “It would explain why you feel such self-reproach for her abduction.”

Fleethoof’s eyes wandered to the notepad levitating in the air and lingered on the pen pressed to its surface. He gave Psyche a cautious stare. He could feel his face go warm as passionate memories danced in his head. “That is none of your business.”

“I thought as much,” Psyche said with a small smile, making the note and turning back to him. “Did you not worry your feelings would compromise your duty though?”

“Oh, of course I did! But I also knew that if I could be the one watching over her, then I could protect her. I know what I’m capable of, and I knew that if her safety was my responsibility, I’d never screw up,” said Fleethoof. His inspired speech drifted off when cold factuality hit him hard. “…But I did… I was overconfident. I let myself get distracted and fucked up bad. Now she’s been taken to… Goddess knows where and I’m benched. I got one hell of a reality check, huh?”

“Sometimes reality checks are a good thing,” Psyche stated passively, all while seeming to be writing a novel on her notepad. Fleethoof wondered just how much paper she was going to use on him. “They remind us that we have limits and that we are only pony. They keep us safe from ourselves.”

Another heavy breath left him while he rubbed his hooves together on his lap. “I was too cocky, I think… I was so sure I couldn’t fail… Now I know even I can be beaten if I’m not on my A-game…”

“Well, now that I know why you were removed from duty,” Psyche started, turning to peer at Fleethoof from beneath her lashes, notepad at the ready, “why don’t you tell me why you think you’re ready to return?”

Fleethoof got caught on his own tongue. He opened his mouth, but no words came out. He had not been prepared for that question. He had expected the typical ‘How does this make you feel?’ line of questions, followed by a hoofshake and a permission slip to get back to work. He could easily lie and weasel his way around those sorts of questions. But this… this was all on him. He had to choose his words with care. He opted for the truth.

“Because I need to help bring Cadance home.”

Psyche did nothing. She fixed him with a stony expression that made his stomach churn. He didn’t know whether to feel confident in the lack of response or outright terrified. “There’s plenty of soldiers doing that right now,” she said after a moment had passed. “Why do you need to return?”

Fleethoof was taken aback by the rebuttal. Since when did psychiatrists become debaters? “Because there’s no reason to keep me off duty. I’m medically cleared and ready for action.”

“You’re healthy, granted, but ready? Do you want to try that again?”

Now she was starting to piss him off. He grit his teeth together. Damn shrink… Why did he have to persuade her he needed to be back in the field? Why couldn’t she just see he was ready and let it be? What was so hard to understand that he could help?

“Because I need to help my friends. They’re dying out there and I won’t stand for sitting around on the sidelines like a crippled player when I know I could make a difference.”

“Now that seemed more genuine,” Psyche said, but shook her head all the same. “But I’m still not convinced that’s your true reason.”

“What do you wanna hear?” he snapped and shot upright again. “What the fuck do I have to say to convince you to let me do my damn job?”

Psyche looked him dead in the eye. She was unfazed by his outburst. “The truth.”

“The truth? How about the truth that ponies are dying because I was arrogant?! How about every second I waste sitting around, Cadance could be getting further away from being found?!” Fleethoof seethed. He leapt to his hooves so fast he almost toppled the couch. “I need to come back because I screwed this up and I need to make it right! This is my mistake, not theirs! Shining Armor shouldn’t have to pay for my fault! Nopony should have to pay besides me! Now, how long before you get it through your thick skull that if somepony has to die for this, it should be me?”

Fleethoof felt the weeks of pent-up frustration shake his legs. He realized he was breathing hard, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath until his lungs ached. Psyche still seemed utterly indifferent, but despite her neutral expression, he could swear he saw the ghost of a smile at the corners of her mouth. Holding his gaze, she wrote something down on the notepad.

“Would you like to sit down now?”

It took him a full minute before he had calmed down enough to slow his breathing and settle back into his spot on the couch. He didn’t want to sit down. He wanted to run. He wanted to fight. He wanted to do anything but sit down. Fleethoof still felt residual tremors run through him every now and then from the anger fueling the fire in his heart. He kicked himself in his mind. There went his chance. So much for playing it cool… he thought with a snort.

“Shining Armor is a close friend of yours as well?”

“He’s my best friend… I think… We haven’t talked lately. He’s sort of pissed at me for this whole screw up…” Fleethoof muttered while staring down at the floor. She nodded and set her notepad down.

“It’s difficult to accept when you inadvertently harm those you care about, Fleethoof. But the answer isn’t to let anger guide you,” said Psyche. “Owning up to your mistakes is only part of the solution. How you resolve them makes all the difference.”

Fleethoof snorted again and turned his head away. He folded his hooves across his chest and attempted to save what little dignity he still had left. He was sure he looked more like a pouting foal than a healthy soldier right now.

“I understand your passion and drive to set things right, especially given the circumstances of who it involves, but if I were you, I would consider how I would conduct myself if I was given the chance to make reparations. Anger and frustration will only lead you to your own fall. When you let rage blind you, you lose sight of what really matters. It is my job to evaluate you to make sure you’re not going to get anypony killed—including yourself.”

He grunted under his breath. “Yes, ma’am…”

“You need to let go of this anger and stress. Let it out in whatever way works best for you. Meditation, physical activity, something creative… Find a friend or somepony close and let them help you release this tension. Keeping it brewing inside yourself is like putting a bomb in an oven: sooner or later, it will explode.” There was a tense quiet for longer than Fleethoof cared to keep track of. Psyche chewed on her lip in thought and lifted the notepad again, then motioned with her pen to the door. “That mare who came in with you today… the Thestral, who is she?”

That got Fleethoof to lift his head again. His eyes turned to the door as if he could see through the walls to the room on the other side. “Oh, that’s Midnight Dasher. She’s part of my team,” he said.

“And she escorted you here today because…?”

“She’s been looking after me since the accident.”

“She’s been taking care of you while you were injured?” When Fleethoof nodded, a knowing smile teased her lips. “Is she a ‘close friend’ of yours, too?”

Fleethoof fixed Psyche with a blank stare. “If you’re asking if I’m sleeping with her, the answer is no. She’s a good friend—hell, she’s like my partner. I look after her and make sure she doesn’t get into trouble, and she has my back when I need her. When one of us is down, we help them back up.”

“It seems you weren’t exaggerating the closeness of your team.”

“We all look out for one another. That sort of commitment and loyalty is why I need to get back and find Cadance.” Fleethoof sat up and leaned forward toward Psyche. “Please, Doctor, you have to understand. I can fix this. I know I can. This is about what I helped start. I need to see it through, but my team can’t do anything until we’re cleared, and Equestria needs us if Cadance is to be saved. I need to be cleared. Please.”

Psyche pursed her lips into a tight line and rapped the pen against her chin again. She seemed to be pondering his dilemma hard, her eyes reading every facial tick and clue. Fleethoof’s heart hammered in his chest. This heartfelt plea was his last hope. If he couldn’t convince her now, he had no hope of finding Cadance.

“I’ll see what I can do…” Psyche said, making a few final jots down on her notes before setting them back down on her desk. She glanced up at the clock on the wall. “And unfortunately, that’s all the time we have. I know you probably won’t, but I would recommend you get some counseling, Fleethoof, even if it’s not with me. You might not think you need it, but a lot of times just talking to somepony who listens can help.”

“Yeah, I know. Believe me, I know.” Fleethoof gave her a weak smile and stood up. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“Take care, Fleethoof.”

Fleethoof made for the door, each step seeming to go in slow motion. His insides were all knotted up and his head felt light. It was as if he’d just flunked a test in high school all over again. But what she said had hit a nerve. His anger was guiding him, and it was that same anger that drove him back in the war when he’d fought Alaric. He scowled when he remembered how that battle had fared for him. As if on cue, a twinge tightened up his wing joint again. If he wanted things to change, if he wanted to make a difference, he had to be in control of himself. The alternative was a pine box and a folded flag.

He pushed the door open and slunk back out into the waiting room. Midnight was standing against the window, exhaling her hot breath against the glass to form small patches of precipitation and drawing little faces in each. Her head snapped up when the door opened, and she was at his side in a flash, peering up at him with curious eyes. Fleethoof gave her a crooked smile and said nothing.

At his request, both ponies made their way out of the office. Midnight was more than eager, running over to the door and holding it open. He nickered and rolled his eyes. As he stepped through the doorway, he paused to cast a final glance at Psyche’s office door. His fate was hers to decide. There was nothing more he could do. It was out of his hooves now. I hope I have a guardian angel or something looking out for me… he thought. Otherwise, I’m screwed.

The House of Congress

Canterlot, Equestria

Several hours later

Psyche set the manila folder down on the desk in front of her. Her eyes glanced around the spacious office, inspecting the detail in the dark wood paneling and tall arched windows letting murky light spill inside. The rain continued to fall with a rhythmic pitter-patter against the panes. On the opposite side of the desk, Just Cause dropped his hooves from the desk and pulled the folder closer. He flipped the cover open with a casual flick of his magic and began reading through the report. Psyche watched as he gave a reaction every now and then. Nothing major, just a subtle lift of a brow, a turn in the corner of his mouth, or a muttered hmm beneath his breath.

She shifted in the cushioned seat, trying to get comfortable while the minister read her report. Now she knew how Fleethoof and felt earlier in the day. He flipped between the pages with speed, skimming each segment for key notes and important information. Psyche hated when ponies did that. It made her feel like they had no time or no care for the content within.

After several minutes had crawled by, Just Cause glanced up at her from across the desk and raised a curious brow. “These are your findings then?”

“Yes, Minister Cause,” she said with an affirmative nod. “As you requested, I scrutinized the captain for every detail of the incident and any traces there was lasting mental damage done.”

“And…?”

“Well… you have my report there. I don’t know what more you’re looking for.”

“Let me hear it straight from the horse’s mouth, so to speak,” Just Cause nickered.

Psyche took a deep breath and prepared herself. “Captain Fleethoof is a very diligent and dedicated officer. He shows great valor and a strong sense of duty. He is self-sacrificing almost to a fault. In short, he’s the perfect poster child for the Royal Guard.”

Just Cause chuckled under his breath. “Buuut…?”

“He’s reckless. He lets his emotions guide his actions more often than logic, and I fear that they will lead him down a path of self-destruction. He appears to have a case of PTSD from the ambush. I worry that he will put his life and the lives of anypony under him in jeopardy if he’s restored to active duty,” she continued to explain. “I am also skeptical about his relationship with one of his teammates. He claims there isn’t one, but he became very defensive of the subject when I asked him about her. It borders on the inappropriate. I fear he’s getting much too involved there to be professional about it. All in all, sir, while Fleethoof is an exemplary officer, bringing him back on board the search for Princess Cadance would probably be the worst possible thing we could do.”

Just Cause made a soft noise of understanding in his throat while he flipped through the analysis again.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t recommend him for active duty.”

He set the folder down and tapped the files on his desk until they were in perfect alignment, then set the neat stack back in its home and closed the cover. Just Cause folded his hooves over each other on the desk and leaned forward, staring at the grain in the wood while he pondered the situation he was handed. Finally, he nodded his head a couple of times.

“I understand what you’re saying, Doctor. You are the professional here. That’s why I tasked you with this job, and I thank you for your continued service. You know what red flags to look for ahead of time so we don’t have any unwanted circumstances springing up on us in the future.”

Psyche sighed, more than thankful he was taking it so well. She had never reviewed an officer before. It was usually the wounded or traumatized enlisted ponies that came through her office, privates that had just seen live combat or sergeants after taking a nearly-fatal round, easy cases that were open-and-shut textbook examples of PTSD. Fleethoof had been the first captain, and she secretly feared rejecting him would upset the Canterlot bureaucracy.

“I’m glad you understand, Minister Cause. It is my professional recommendation that Fleethoof receive continuing counseling until his issues are better resolved, followed by an extensive period of—”

“I want you to clear him.”

Psyche froze. “…Beg your pardon?”

“I said, I want you to clear him,” Just Cause repeated, his voice calm and composed. His eyes peered at her with a cold hardness that showed he was unwilling to bend on the matter. “Change your report. Keep whatever praise about him you want in it, but say he’s mentally fit to return to duty.”

At first, she didn’t know if he was testing her or just joking. When it became apparent that it was neither, Psyche gave a weak chuckle and shook her head with incredulity. “Minister Cause, I mean no offense, but you can’t be serious.”

“I’m as serious as a chimera attack,” he said with the same monotonous edge in his voice that gave her shivers. “I want him cleared for active duty as soon as possible.”

“Sir, I can’t. It goes against every code in the medical field. It’s completely unethical!”

“I don’t care if it’s outright illegal. Do it.”

“Minister Cause, I—”

“I don’t think you grasp the severity of the situation, Doctor. Princess Cadenza is missing. She is out of our custody. She is in danger. We can’t hold a hope of recovering her without him or his team, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to sit around and wait for somepony to hold his hoof and try to make him cry and spill his guts on their couch.” Just Cause pushed the folder back across his desk towards her with a swift hoof. “Change the report.”

“B-But, Minister, I—”

“Change. The. Report.”

Psyche felt as if she had been sucker punched. Her jaw hung slack, the appropriate words to express the mix of conflicted feelings duking it out in her head failing to come to her tongue. She stared down at the intimidating manila folder on the desk, eyeing it like it would attack her if she dared to look away. She had never been so deathly afraid of paperwork before in her short life.

“If you didn’t want my opinion, why did you ask me to evaluate him…?”

“Because it’s a formality; a requirement. Nothing more,” he explained with as much impassivity as ever. “You were always going to pass him regardless of what you thought. I merely gave you the chance to do it on your own accord. Clear him for duty, Doctor, or I’ll give our government contract to another psychiatrist who will.”

It took Psyche a long while before she broke eye contact with the folder, only to make the mistake of looking up at the stallion behind the desk. His eyes seemed to gleam like a predator waiting for its prey to make a move, or a chess player who knew he had beaten his opponent before she made a move. He hadn’t budged a muscle, much as he hadn’t budged in his resolution. A tremor ran down Psyche’s back. Her moral quandary paled in comparison to what losing the military contract would do to her practice. She needed the continued supply of soldiers and agents. But could she look at herself in the mirror if she let the government bend her judgment and place her patients in harm’s way?

With great reluctance, Psyche took a deep breath and shook her head as resolutely as she could. “I’m sorry, Minister, but I cannot do that.”

Just Case peered up at her with hawking eyes. “Is that your final answer, Doctor?”

Another deep breath. “Yes.”

“Very well, Doctor. You are relieved of your duties with this department. I’ll have my secretary send you your release papers first thing tomorrow morning. Enjoy working in the private sector for the rest of what remains of your career.” Psyche’s mouth dropped open and she began to stutter. “That is all, Doctor.”

“But Minister, I—”

“That is all, Doctor.”

He returned to his work without another word. Psyche watched the pony go about filling out papers and forms like nothing had happened, even though she was still shaken to the core. She opened her mouth, but for what, she didn’t know. Maybe it was to protest, to stand her ground and defend her morals. Maybe it was to accuse him of abusing his power and threaten him. But whatever it was, she instead ended up turning tail and walking back out of the office. Just Cause watched her leave from beneath his lashes, a smirk splitting his lips. Once the door had closed behind her, he levitated out a flask and a folder. He took a long draft from the flask while flipping open the folder’s cover with a smile.

“Now we can get back in this game…”