A field of red roses spread out before me. I’d always loved this garden. The Memory Garden, if I recalled correctly. Elysium was by far the prettiest place I’d ever seen in the wasteland. I felt guilt over leaving mom behind in Junction City, but… eh, she was well off there. Being good friends with the mayor made you that way, I supposed.

I think what I liked best about Elysium was its contrast with the rest of the gardens surrounding it. This garden was a monochrome red. The others were beautiful blends of all the many flowers the ponies of the Society had managed to save within their seed vaults. But this one… something that made the crimson roses fit.

The bloody history that birthed the New Lunar Commonwealth certainly could be described with the roses. But, in spite of it all, this garden was always peaceful, calm, and relatively untrodden by the ponies of Elysium. Interesting that they called it the ‘Memory Garden.’ What were they remembering or rather, by leaving it unvisited, what were they trying to forget?

The Commonwealth had refused to join the New Canterlot Republic, and as a consequence, relations between the NLC and the NCR had soured. I’d been dispatched along with other Heartmenders to help the Followers ease the friction. The goals of NCR aimed toward reformation the entire country of old Equestria. Meanwhile, the Commonwealth sought to improve itself first, and then serve as an example and support for the wasteland at large. It was no small wonder that they were butting heads over every stupid little thing.

As I wandered through the garden, blessedly alone, something struck my eye. A bit of colour that shouldn’t be there. Furrowing my brow, I trotted over to investigate the little mystery.

A lone white rose grew in the middle of a sea of red.

Mom ran a library back home, which meant that I got my hooves on a lot of books as a filly. What I could remember about flowers was that if you had flowers of another colour next to each other, they tended to blend. Red roses and white roses got you pink. Not a simple plain white bloom like this little flower. I reached out to gently touch it. The flower was bigger than my hoof. Which, admittedly, wasn’t saying much…

“Miss Threnody?” a soft voice called. It was a nice voice, drifting smoothly like a breeze across the flower field.

I looked up for the source of the melodic voice. Balancing myself with a flutter of my wings, I stood on my hind legs to see over the roses. I noted the kerchief of one of Elysium’s maids, spread my wings, and flew over to her row.

“You needed me, miss…?”

The earth pony maid started, surprise evident on her sky blue face. “Oh my. I’m sorry, Heartmender. I keep forgetting you’re a pegasus. Your wings just blend right in with your duster.” She shook herself. “Princess Grace requests your presence. She has an urgent matter that requires your attention.”

“Huh? Did she say what they matter was?” I asked as the mare led me out of the garden, my light hoofsteps barely making sounds on the gravel path. It seemed that even the ground was reticent to disturb the quietude of the Memory Garden.

“I’m afraid not, Heartmender. I would have guessed that it was something to do with the Lady Charm, but normally she’d tell me so,” the maid explained. “Though I do feel Charm is doing much better now that she’s been seeing you, if I may be so bold.”

I was still getting used to the overly formal speech patterns of the ponies in Elysium. I felt like I was tumbling into an old Equestrian romance novel. One about knights and ladies and true love. “Oh, well, thank you very much.” I paused as she stopped to open the gate that separated the memory garden from the rest of the grounds. “What did you say your name was, miss?”

“Feather Fern, Heartmender. Thank you for asking.”

Feather Fern seemed like a rather nice mare. This was the first time I’d been able to speak with her at length. I knew a little bit about her, of course, from talking to other maids in Elysium, and from passing exchanges made in the halls of Elysium over the past few months. Yet I’d never been able to pin her down for a long conversation. I looked forward to learning a little more about her as we made our way back to the country club.

“Miss Feather Fern, it’s perfectly alright to call me Threnody…” I said with a much put-upon sigh. The staff were very lovely at Elysium, but they had picked up this irritating habit of calling me by my profession as opposed to by my name!

Yes, being a heartmender was important. Or, so I thought. Being one of a select few ponies - twelve, to be exact - that possessed the natural knack for helping others mend wounds of the heart and mind. It wasn’t the most practical of talents in my eyes, however. We’d been around for ages even prior to the Great War when the Ministry of Peace identified our particular talent. Heartmenders operated at a more instinctive, subliminal level than what medically trained unicorns created in an attempt to replicate what we could do naturally. It required an endless amount of manuals, and several crude analytic tools that may or may not actually work.

Sometimes though, I supposed, ‘therapy’ had its upsides. Heartmenders are very, very sensitive to their neighbours’ emotions. Give us too strong of an emotion, and our inner magic twists up the emotional magic and feedbacks into our bodies in rather painful ways. The same doctors who claimed to find new ways of making talk therapy more effective also claimed empathic backlash resulted from the silly heartmenders over-taxing their inner magic. Somewhat akin to magical feedback when a unicorn over-taxed their horn.

Thank goodness Velvet Remedy and the Followers had been more open to using us in their drive to heal the wasteland. If the pointy headed mayor of Junction City had her way, she’d have every traumatized pegasus and guilt ridden wastelander on a couch, looking at ink blots, and talking about their mothers. Because clearly it was your unresolved sexual desires for your father that made the Enclave attack.

I think Velvet was instrumental in reforming the Heartmenders as a roving group of healers. When she approached Heartshine seven years ago, she'd been the first to realize that the Followers could not just heal the bodies of the wasteland inhabitants. Not all wounds were physical.

Wounds of the heart and soul were beyond the Followers at the time. So Velvet worked hard to integrate the Heartmenders. The wasteland needed a more holistic medicine. With the Heartmenders, she thought that it was her chance to do something better, above and beyond what anypony else had tried before. She wanted everypony healed.

Like Fluttershy wanted.

Most heartmenders tended to be pegasi, earth ponies, or bat ponies, as opposed to unicorns. Our magic-using cousins were a bit puzzled that they were underrepresented in our ranks. Pre-war unicorns studied us as best they could, trying to solve the mystery, but nopony was able to give a proper explanation. As it stood, of the twelve Heartmenders we had, only two were unicorns.

Feather Fern and I chatted about the gossip in Elysium as she led me back through the palace toward Princess Grace’s wing. The gorgeous marble floors had been restored, cleaned of the blood from the brave defenders who died protecting Elysium during the final battle of the Hoof. Those floors, reflected in the tall, polished silver mirrors that dotted the walls gave the impression the entrance to the country club was larger and grander than it actually was.

As we passed a mirror, I couldn’t help but compare myself to Feather Fern. Sure, we were two different ponies, so comparisons between us were basically mutfruit to tatos. But I was a particularly lumpy tato.

Feather was the picture of maternal grace: a middle-aged earth pony mare and mother of two. She had the flanks of a mare who’d born foals, but the constant work and trotting she did here in Elysium meant that they were still quite shapely. Whispers of jealousy from the other maids suggested that her late husband had always admired those flanks as well. She also kept her sky blue coat well brushed and clean, much to my envy.

In stark contrast, the mirror threw back the more ghastly phantasmagoria of my own reflection. Awkward, gangly, juvenile, I barely came up to her shoulder. My dark brown duster hid my cutie mark, and also made my feathered wings blend in and, as Feather had noticed earlier, seem like I was an earth pony. The dark brown coat I had was only broken up by my blonde mane. Well, my mane and the diamond shaped white mark in the middle of my forehead. I sighed as we passed by the mirror. Yep. Lumpy tato.

I expected to meet with her in her sitting room, so when Feather lead me into the Princess’ chambers themselves, I felt my wings twitching. Why did she want to meet here?

Feather Fern stopped me in the middle of the Princess’ chambers. “One moment.”

I felt myself suddenly feeling very small and out of place in the Princess’ room. Here and there were silvers and golds and silk linens and a bed that looked recently stuffed. I looked down at the bland brown duster I wore that my wings clung to for a sense of security, and felt extremely out of place. But… maybe that was a good thing.

I looked around the room again, eyeing the various highly expensive wares on the shelves. The ponies in Elysium were a lot like this room. Expensive looking. But like that fourth century before Nightmare Moon era pottery on Grace’s shelf, they were very fragile. It was tragic, really, how these pampered ponies had done themselves so much harm, psychologically speaking, by disconnecting themselves from the wasteland. Their crime was not spreading generosity. In penance, they gained neuroses. Somehow, I wondered if the ministry mare Rarity might not find that fitting.

My eyes stopped on a small plushie that sat on a lower shelf. “You’re out of place,” I said, forgetting where I was to go look at the small stuffed pony.

I swallowed as I sat down and picked the toy up in my hooves. Purple mane. Orange coat.

“Hey Scootaloo,” I said quietly, giving the plushie a soft squeeze before setting her gently back on the shelf.

“Sometimes I forget how young you are, Threnody,” a soft soprano voice chided gently behind me.

The speaker was the sort of unicorn that you just curtsied too. Her serene blue eyes scrutinized me with that disturbing mix of serene patience and firm authority. She sat in a wheelchair, her gown concealing the straps that held her in place. In spite of her infirmity, she was one of the most powerful mares in the Commonwealth, and host to the Follower’s efforts to use the resources of the Society to improve Equestria as a whole.

Having Princess Grace as our benefactor was probably the smartest thing Velvet Remedy had done so far for the Followers of the Apocalypse. The Followers were still trying to rebuild and get back on their hooves in the aftermath of the Battle of the Hoof. But with their integration within the culture that was developing in the New Lunar Commonwealth, having a rich benefactor who could help bring caps, food, and medicines to a group of ponies dedicated to rebuilding the wasteland proved to be invaluable to the Followers.

Over the last three years, heartmenders had been active all over the wasteland, working with the Followers to keep the fragile peace together long enough to make a new start. Some of us worked as advisors to important ponies like Grace. Others tried to find more ponies with heartmending talents. And other... younger... less skilled... less popular... less important heartmenders like me... well... we just went and did as we were told. Did I mention that I was the youngest by about five years? I was assigned to the ‘easy’ position of main Heartmender in Elysium, helping random ponies from all over the Hoof. Most just needed a sympathetic ear, though a few had stories that made my feathers crawl.

I scrambled to my hooves at the sound of Grace’s elegant voice. “I! I’m sorry… I just…” I really didn’t have an explanation. I’d just wanted to give the plushie a hug...

Princess Grace smiled at me, and folded her forehooves on her lap. She nodded to Feather Fern, who stood attentively behind the princess’ wheelchair. “You may leave us, Feather. I’m certain the Heartmender won’t be a danger.”

Feather Fern curtsied politely and saw herself out.

“It’s good to see somepony interested in her,” Grace said, lifting the plushie in her magic and setting it on her lap. “Bouillotte never found her to be that interesting. Took to playing rather rough and tumble games with her brother,” she said with a sad smile, looking over the plushie. “Seeing you look her over makes me happy, as I’ve not seen somepony pick her up in some time.”

She looked up, then gave me another of those studious looks that passed over all of me. “Remind me again, Threnody, how old you are.”

To my chagrin, a hot blush crossed my face. “I’m fourteen. But I’ve been using my talent since I was eight,” I replied quietly.

Grace gave me a small smile; the kind that said that I’d made a small faux pas, but wasn’t quite wise enough to know what it was. I did my best to not let my irritation show.

The princess relaxed slightly, but the feeling of regret radiated from the mare, and I tensed. “Is… something the matter, Princess?”

The mare chuckled, looking me in the eyes. “You know, the most damnable thing about you heartmenders is your ability to see through a royal’s stoic image. Perhaps that’s why Princess Celestia saw to it that you all were protected. We occasionally need somepony to call us on our self-deception.”

“Everypony could use that,” I deadpanned.

Grace laughed brightly. “Oh, they could. That they could. Even heartmenders?”

“Even heartmenders, ma’am. I have… had such discussions before with Heartshine, in fact,” I said, swallowing. Don’t sound like a kid, don’t sound like a kid…

Grace’s face fell again, and she allowed herself to show the regret that she’d been hiding behind the porcelain veneer of her makeup. “I have an assignment change for you. One that I know you are going to likely push back against me with.”

I felt my wings press against my back defensively. “Well, seeing as I don’t answer to you, I answer to the Followers, you’ll understand if I take what you say with a grain of salt.”

Grace sighed softly before continuing. “You are being assigned to a new client. This client is to remain secret to everyone. There are exactly a dozen ponies in the Followers who know about her, and ten of them are Heartmenders. You are being moved to Chapel, where you will work with this client indefinitely. Your duties here in the Hoof will be taken over by Cinnamon Twist,” Grace continued, pointedly looking away from me.

I stared at the princess in shock. Wait. Reassignment? Why? On whose authority!? Surely it wasn’t Grace’s. She may be my host and assisting the Followers, but I didn’t work for her! We weren’t servants or anything like that! And no warning? It was Junction City all over again! I was being snatched up and told that I had to move because… because…

“You can’t! I’ve spent months working here. I can’t just... just drop it all for some ‘special client’!” I said, putting as much scorn as I could into those two words.

This happened all the time to heartmenders! Probably wanted me to treat some friend of a friend as a favor. I was nopony’s favor! I’d been making more progress here than any other heartmender had! I was putting ponies back together, getting them back to some semblance of normalcy, and improving the relationships between the aristocracy and the former serfs! I was getting more work done here that Heartshine and Cinnamon had gotten done in the two years before the Followers found me!

The Princess laughed, the sound sharp and bitter: a dry lightning that foretold a coming storm. “Velvet said you might say something like that,” she said, using her magic to levitate an ornately sealed scroll. “So she gave me this. The alicorn Thimblestep is waiting on the lanai to take you to your new home.”

I took the scroll in my hooves and cracked the seal. “May I?” I asked, my voice wavering slightly. Grace nodded as I looked over the scroll.

Threnody,

Hopefully you weren’t too rude to Grace. She didn’t have a choice in the matter and I’m very sorry that I’m unable to tell you in person why I’m moving you. Suffice it to say that I have a client who needs help. I’ve sent the others ahead to try to help.

They failed.

Heartshine and Cinnamon Twist refused to work with this client due to the fact that they fought together in the Battle of the Hoof, and feel they can’t give this pony therapy without some bias on their parts. From what Sandlewood has been telling me, she and Blank Slate are not doing any better than the previous ponies who worked with her. You are the last one I have left. You’re the last one available that’s not given up, and you’re the only one in the area that I can move. We’ve heard rumours of another heartmender out in the Portlandia area, but she’s unable to make the journey, and my alicorns can’t make the jump out there.

This pony is in trouble, and has been for some time. But you are sworn to utter secrecy as to their identity. Nopony can know who they are, where they are, and why they are the way they are. I know you know the limits of confidentiality, but in this case, those limits are suspended. If you suspect anything is going wrong, you are to tell Sandalwood, and nopony else. Not even Slate.

I’m sorry that this is on such short notice, but I recently had to pull Willow Glen out to the Collegiate. The pony you’ll be working with burned her out.

I’m sorry Threnody, this pony is very dangerous, but also very hurt. I’ve enclosed Cinnamon’s assessment with this letter. Grace will likely see you out now,

-Velvet Remedy

I tried not to cry as I stared down at the paper. This must be what it’s like to lose your job, or be handed your own execution papers. I didn’t want to move. I’d just gotten settled in Elysium! I’d finally gotten to the point where ponies weren’t muttering behind my back for being from Junction City...

“Bloody… argh!” I shoved the scroll into my duster pocket and stared at the floor. I could feel the waves of concern washing over me from Grace, but I didn’t care. This… okay, the Wasteland wasn’t fair but this was awful. This sucked. This wasn’t what I wanted at all! I hated it!

A warm hoof rested on my shoulder. I jerked and looked up, noting that the Princess had crept closer in her wheelchair to comfort me. It made me feel very small and out of place.

“I did not want to be the one to tell you,” she said quietly, removing her hoof from my shoulder after I’d flinched. “I argued with Velvet about it for a good hour on my broadcaster.”

I sniffed and frowned. “It’s… it’s fine. I know that the Heartmenders are needed all over the wasteland, and that I could be moved at any time. I just… it feels like I did all this work and my reward is getting reassigned! Like I did my everything, but it wasn’t good enough.”

“That wasn’t the case, Threnody,” Grace said, her hoof tilting my chin to face her. “You have done wonderful work here. My subjects and I are extremely grateful, as are those who made the journey from all over the Commonwealth to see you. This is you taking over for a heartmender who got tired. Do you know how long Willow Glen has been working with that mare?” she asked.

I shook my head. “No. No one’s told me about what every other heartmender is doing. I assumed…” I trailed off, not wanting to admit that I was afraid it was because I was too young.

“You assumed you were too young, and that Heartshine didn’t feel you needed to know what was going on?”

Gee, thanks Grace. “I…” I looked down at my small hooves. “Yeah. Pretty much.” I tilted my head to look at her. “Grace? Do you know if Willow is okay? Burnout is… bad for Heartmenders.”

Grace pursed her lips. “I believe that she’s getting the best care she can from the ponies at the Collegiate. Her injuries were… severe, but she’ll recover.”

“We always do,” I replied quietly. I liked Willow Glen. She was the heartmender who found and recruited me from Junction City. I had nothing but good thoughts and feelings toward her. Hearing that the smiling, pretty earth pony who I knew rather well had hit burnout was… unnerving to say the least. Being emotionally overwhelmed cause physical harm to heartmenders.

Normally, we are just trained to let things go, as to prevent injuries caused by empathic feedback. Literally the weight of emotions and feelings that heartmenders are able to take on sometimes manifests itself as physical injuries if we don’t take care of ourselves very well. And those injuries tend to scar like wounds from a magical energy weapon. The best explanation medical ponies could come up with was that the inner magic which fuels the empathy side of my talent lashes out when it is over utilised.

Just another reason why the duster rarely left my back.

So if this mare was that much of a mess that she burned out one of the strongest mares I knew, how was I going to be able to help her? Just who was this new client of mine?

Sighing, I got to my hooves. Might as well try to make a graceful exit. Even if everything within me was a dizzying whirl of screaming displeasure and taciturn sadness.

Grace offered me a small smile, and extended her hoof to uplift my chin. “You and I aren’t all that different, Threnody. Just know that sometimes, it is justifiable to cry when the world seems the most threatening.”

Again, I swallowed, feeling the tears that were threatening to start running down my cheeks. “I… I’ll be alright. It’s… I just… I don’t like it,” I admitted.

The princess nodded, then pushed herself up in her wheelchair. “I do not envy you, but maybe there’s something I can offer,” she looked thoughtful a moment. “Two somethings, in fact. If you are in need of shelter or a break, please feel free to come back to Elysium. We’ll keep a spare room open for you.”

She looked down to the floor, and her magic lifted up the small plush toy. “Take Scootaloo with you.”

“Princess, I-”

Grace raised a hoof. “I already feel like I’m sending you into battle alone and unarmed. At least let me give you Scootaloo with you. She’s someone to hug when the world feels cold, scary, and uncertain.”

I took the toy under my wing, and squeezed the little stuffed mare tight. “Thank you,” I sniffed, feeling my lower lip trembling slightly.

The princess nodded. “Go get your things, Heartmender. And thank you for your service here.”

With a nod, I turned and left the room. As I made my way through Elysium’s halls, I found myself marvelling just how good a job the ponies had done making it look like a battle had never been fought in the country club. Mostly because I’d not spent that much time staring at the floor.

I was so preoccupied that I ran into Charm on my way to my room.

“Oof!”

“I am so, so sorry, Charm!” I said, picking myself and Scootaloo back up.

The pale mare got back to her hooves. The resemblance between her and her sister Grace was uncanny, but the younger sister’s skull was marred by a ring of ugly scars around her temples.

“It’s okay. I didn’t see you either. I was kinda thinking,” she said, nodding to herself, her eyes a bit dim and unfocused.

After the trauma she’d experienced, it was a wonder she wasn’t a vegetable in a bed somewhere.

“Well, um, that’s good. I… did Grace tell you I’m leaving?” I asked.

Charm had become one of my favourite clients, and now… now it felt like I was abandoning her.

Charm’s face fell. “No. She didn’t. Why are you leaving?” she asked, looking hurt and confused. Which, again, I could feel as well.

“The Followers are having me reassigned to somewhere else. I don’t know why they did, but I’m really sorry to leave you, Charm. You’re doing really well,” I said, trying to offer what I hoped was a smile. I didn’t exactly trust my face to behave and show what I wanted to show.

“Can… I give you a hug?” Charm asked, scuffing a hoof on the floor. Her hesitance betrayed her worries about getting into trouble.

“If you’d like,” I replied. Please do! I mentally pleaded.

Charm wrapped her forelegs around my barrel, and I returned the hug, yet again cursing Velvet, the world, and Grace for putting me in this spot. Moving itself was going to be traumatic enough. This… saying goodbye to a client I’d had for a year? This was just torture. I suppressed the urge to sob, and released the hug, but held Charm at foreleg’s length away from me.

“Just keep up what we started, Charm. You’re doing wonderfully, and I know that Cinnamon Twist will take good care of you,” I said, again offering what I hoped was a smile.

Charm simply nodded. “I don’t like Cinnamon, but I’ll try,” she admitted. “Goodbye, Threnody. Come back soon, okay?”

I sprinted the rest of the way back to my room so nopony else could see my tears.

I met Thimblestep out on the lanai. The massive purple alicorn towered over me but offered a reassuring smile.

“Hi! Honestly, I was expecting a batpony when Velvet sent me out here to meet you. At least, with your really nifty and interesting name, I did. I’m Thimblestep, and I’ll… well, more or less be your taxi today,” she said with a grin.

“Thank you, Thimblestep. You know, you don’t have to teleport me if it’s a bother. Just tell me where I’m needed,” I said, stuffing Scootaloo into my saddlebags.

The alicorn shook her head. “Boss says you need to be ported in. I think it’s because they’ve got four of my green sisters guarding the house. Are you all ready to go?”

“Just where are we going?” I asked, taking a step closer to the alicorn as my heart began to race.. “I wasn’t told much, other than I was needed.”

“Well, that just makes this an adventure!” Thimblestep said, grabbing me about the waist as her horn flared.

My stomach lurched as I had a brief moment of feeling like I was in two places at once. Teleporting was weird, unnatural, and I never, ever wanted to do it again! I stumbled away from the alicorn.

“That was… let’s never do that again…” I stammered, waiting for my inner ear to decide what direction was up before I tried to get my bearings. Oh look. Dirt! Well, that was a start.

I very quickly realised we were at the edge of a settlement, though one I didn’t recognise. It appeared to be rather close to the Core, as remnants of the twisted steel spires could be seen at a distance. A river bubbled close by, making its way toward the massive lake that had formed after the disaster that nearly destroyed the world.

I looked around, looking for something familiar, but found nothing. I hadn’t been here before. All that was in front of me was a rather large home that, impressively, was still intact. I couldn’t help but feel like this building was judging me. It was an imposing two-story structure, with some gothic elements to the façade.

“If this were a bad horror novel, I’d say the monster lived in there,” I quipped, mostly to myself.

Thimblestep chuckled. “Come on, little one. I’ll introduce you to Sandalwood.”

The alicorn led me around to the South side of the building. The view of the river now included a bridge, and it looked like a makeshift wing had been hastily added to the building. Whatever it was, it utterly ruined the aesthetics. However, it did strike me that the new addition appeared to be the only thing keeping the house from collapsing into the river. Thimblestep knocked on the door with a hoof. Moments later, the door creaked open.

I started as a strawberry roan unicorn poked her head outside. “Oh! Thimblestep! Welcome back! Do you have Threnody with you?” she asked, looking around for me.

I cleared my throat. “Down here,” I offered, trying not to frown as I realised that my boss-to-be was looking for a slightly taller pony.

“Oh! I’m sorry about that, dear, I thought you were-”

“Older. I know. I… get that a lot,” I said, my irritation at the situation seeping through my emotional blocks.

The other heartmender frowned. “I see. Well, come in! We have a lot to talk about,” she said, stepping out of the doorway. “Oh, and you can come in too, Thimblestep.”

The alicorn shook her head. “Thank you, but I’ll pass, ma’am. On my way back to the Collegiate now.” She saluted with a hoof, and in a blink, was gone again.

I looked back at Sandalwood. The mare wasn’t doing the best job hiding her feelings of concern. Then again, I wasn’t really hiding my upset at being pulled from Elysium either.

“Who is my new client?” I asked, still standing outside the door. I didn’t want in on this until somepony decided to give me a straight answer!

Sandalwood scratched the back of her neck. “Threnody, did you even read the assessment that Velvet sent you?” She asked, tilting her head.

My face suddenly felt like it was about to burst into flames. “Oh… yeah…” I said, rifling through my duster pocket for the letter. “I…” Dammit dammit dammit dammit dammit!

Sandlewood sighed and shook her head. “Come inside, Threnody. I’ll catch you up.”

Head drooping, I took the mare’s invitation and entered the small home. It was a simple affair: a stove, some tables, a worn out couch, and it looked like three bedrooms that were all somehow tossed together with old boards, metal, and possibly bubblegum. This was not what I wanted at all.

Sandalwood sat down on a chair at the table and raised a hoof. Her dark brown eyes studied me as I sat down and pulled the included assessment out of my duster and set it in all its crumpled glory on the table.

“I knew we had a young heartmender, but I was expecting a batpony with your name,” she said, ignoring the assessment for now.

Oh, this is how we’re playing it. I’ll be assessed before the client is… I sighed. “My mother was fond of old books. Tried to build a library while we lived in Friendship city. That’s why she named me Threnody. I was a sad reminder that she no longer had my dad. But when we moved to Junction City, I discovered my talent for heartmending. I worked sort of off the radar until I met Willow,” I recounted, rambling as I wasn’t sure what Sandalwood was looking for from me.

The mare relaxed, then chuckled. “You’ll have to forgive me. I’ve… been assigned to this post as the head Heartmender for some time, and knowing that you’re the last one we have has been… a little disheartening.” She raised a hoof. “And I am not commenting on your age. It’s just that literally every pony before who’s tried to work with her hasn’t worked out or has gotten burned out. Willow was hoping that she made some progress before… well…”

I nodded. “She’ll be okay, right?”

Sandalwood’s expression softened. “I keep forgetting that you two know each other. Yes, she should be. The last time we spoke she said she was going to take another month off before getting back into it. The scars still weren’t healing as well as Life Bloom would like.”

I shrunk down into the chair. This was not making things any easier. At the very least, it was going a long way toward disturbing my calm. I felt my wings twitching on my back.

“Blank Slate is with her now. We usually try to trade off days when we’re working with her, but… it’ll be good to have some backup,” Sandalwood admitted. I mentally noted that I sensed she wasn’t lying.

“Who is she?” I asked, still not looking at the paper in front of me. I was getting really curious now as to why Sandalwood wasn’t even calling her by name. It bothered me on a level I couldn’t quite explain.

Sandalwood regarded me for a long moment. “What do you know about Security?”

“That she’s dead.”

Sandalwood opened her mouth, then closed it. Her hoof tapped the edge of her chin. “Not… quite. Fortunately or unfortunately.”

I frowned at her. This whole cloak, dagger, and obfuscation bullshit wasn’t really my cup of cocoa. I pulled Cinnamon Twist’s assessment closer to me so I could read it.

Blackjack (born Go Fish) is an 18 year old…

My brain sort of pulled a crash dive and dug a skid into the ground.

Blackjack.

“There was no way. No freaking way. She is dead. She has to be dead! A freaking rock from space fell on her!” I sputtered, my voice cracking into a squeak at the end.

Okay, well, I’d heard stories that she also had a boat fall on her, but there was no way she’d survived a direct impact from something moving that fast, being that heavy, and doing that much damage to the Core!

“Is this a joke?” I asked. “Because it’s not funny if it is.”

Sandalwood shook her head sadly. “I wish it was a joke, Threnody, but no. Blackjack is very much alive and our patient. And, well, not happy about it.”

“She had a space rock fall on her head. No shit she’s not happy about it!” I slammed my hooves on the table. “How did she survive? Hasn’t she died like, eight times already?” Why was this making me angry? I mentally shook myself and focussed on the present moment.

“It was four times, and she got better?” Sandalwood shrugged. “Look, Threnody, all I know is that about four years ago the cloned body that her soul inhabited for a short time while…” she stopped herself, scrunching up her muzzle as she clearly fought to figure out how to explain everything. She waved her hoof. “The important thing is that four years ago, her blank body woke up in her old stable, 99. Since then it’s proven alive, aware, and extremely distraught.”

Okay. Blanks I knew. They were kinda cute, if really dumb. But soul switching? Body jumping? What the hell had that mare gotten into?

“So she’s alive, and very unhappy about it. Cinnamon wrote that assessment four years ago, and… she hasn’t really gotten any better.”

That got my attention. “How so? What’s been happening?” I asked. A variety of maladies raced through my head, the most pertinent, to me, being the one of survivor’s guilt and posttraumatic stress.

“She drinks every bit of alcohol she can get her hooves on. She has constant nightmares and flashbacks. And when she gets too drunk or angry, she’s a clear threat to Chapel,” Sandalwood explained. “The town asked the Followers to step in after she ran away from Stable 99. The Followers then had the Heartmenders step in, and now here we are, four years later and not a lot of progress made.”

“Why?” I asked. What the Sorrell hells was everyone doing wrong?

“She doesn’t want to talk about what happened, what’s bothering her, and allow the healing process to start. She thinks she deserves the pain, and continues to drink like a fish,” Sandalwood explained. “To say nothing of the fact that she’s tried to seduce every heartmender who’s come through here.”

I blushed. “She… well… I definitely need to read Cinnamon’s assessment.” I looked down at the crumpled pages. “Has anyone just, you know, tried listening to her?” I asked.

Sandalwood gave me a flat look, and annoyance surged off of her like a tsunami. Okay. Struck a nerve there with that one. Good going, Threnody. Step right on the beeping social frag mine.

“We’ve tried everything. I even commissioned the Followers to find me psychological textbooks to see if that could help us. Nothing works,” she said, snorting.

I lay my ears back at the mention of textbooks. Of course those didn’t work. Those were books written by ponies that didn’t know how heartmending worked and had to guess! I looked at Sandalwood and decided to hold my tongue. “Well… let’s try something different, then. If everything you’ve tried before has failed, maybe it’s time to try something new!”

Sandalwood gave me a blank look. “Does that work with your clients?” she asked.

“Not really, but it gets them to think at least,” I admitted, my eyes skimming the assessment. “That’s usually my plan, anyway. Get ponies thinking. And I mean thinking, not just ruminating on the same stuff all the time.” She probably feels I’m incredibly naive.

The strawberry coloured mare shook her head and leaned back in her chair. “I just… I’ll be honest with you, Threnody, this isn’t going to be easy. I hope you’re prepared for that.”

I took a moment to study Sandalwood. She had the look of a mare who was nearing her wit’s end while working on a problem. Her coat was unbrushed, her mane just a bit messier than a day or so’s lack of bathing could account for, and it was hard to tell whether she had dark circles under her eyes, or grease smudges. Blackjack, it would appear, was just as rough on her heartmenders as she was on her own body.

“I am,” I replied after a quiet moment. “I’m ready for the challenge, at least. I’m not expecting to walk into that house and fix her on day one. Does she even leave the place?”

“Star house?” Sandalwood asked. She shook her head. “No. We’ve never been able to get her out of her house. It’s only been recently that we’ve gotten her to get out of her room and meet with us in her living room. She always says something about having too many memories there.”

I frowned. “No offense, but have you seen the place? It’s kind of creepy looking.”

Sandalwood blinked at me. “Creepy? I…” She let her chin rest on her hoof. “I guess I didn’t think of it that way.”

I lay my ears back and gave Sandal a flat look. “It looks like something out of a horror novel. If it weren’t for the fact that you’ve more or less implied she looks like a normal pony, I’d expect you to be telling me that we’re trying to ‘save’ the monster.”

Sandalwood frowned. “That’s not a kind thing to say about a pony you’ve never met,” she chided.

I rolled my eyes. “I know she isn’t a monster. But what I’m saying is, look where she ended up. I haven’t even been inside, but I expect that it’s rather dark, dank, and disorganised. Probably has a corner for each type of alcohol bottle,” I grumbled, looking around the kitchen in our quarters.

The kitchen was strangely pristine, especially for the wasteland. Somepony had clearly spent a great deal of time making sure it was tidy. There were no decorations that made it feel like home, however. But somepony had even taken the time to add a dishrack to the sink. A pair of green ceramic plates were drying in the rack itself.

“I’m just saying that sometimes the space around a pony can say quite a bit about them,” I said with a shrug. “Not sure which one of you likes making sure the dishes are done,” I said, pushing my chair back from the table. “Though I’ll appreciate them. I hate doing the dishes.”

Sandlewood appeared to study me for a long minute. Her eyes seemed to fixate on the middle of my forehead, and I wasn’t sure I liked the way she was watching me.

“Are you trying to get a read on me?” I asked. “You could just, you know, ask.”

Sandalwood nodded. “Just trying to figure you out. I suppose we’ll see how things go when you meet with her,” she said, sighing as she pushed herself away from the table too. “Come on, at the very least I can let you set your things down.”

The unicorn led me down a short hallway, past a small bathroom and one very messy bedroom.

“This is your room,” she said, standing out of my way so I could walk in.

It was a simple affair, but clean, like the rest of the wing. The mattress even looked clean, with some simple cloth sheets. I gave Sandalwood a once over. “Where did you get the sheets from?”

The mare blushed, and I found myself a little bit jealous of her strawberry coat’s ability to hide it. “I… requisitioned them. Grace asked if there was anything I needed once we had the wing built.”

“Sheets?”

“I’m from Tenpony Tower, I don’t know how you ponies survived out in the wastes without such things,” she said, looking away.

I shook my head and shrugged my saddlebags onto my bed. “Well, thank you. It’s weird, but I do appreciate the thought, Sandalwood.” A flick of my tail pulled the Scootaloo plushie from my bag, and I tucked her under my wing. “And… I’ll try to not let you down,” I added, giving Scootaloo a squeeze.

Sandalwood’s expression softened as I put the toy on my bed. “Threnody, are you sure you want to meet her today?” she asked, shifting from hoof to hoof in the doorway.

I met her eyes. “Yes, Sandalwood. I’d like to know who I’m dealing with. At the very least, let her know that I’m a real thing and not a figment of her imagination,” I said, shaking my head. “Lead the way, please.” I took one last look at the sheets and the pillow on my bed, and wondered how well the cloth held up to tear stains.

Sandalwood led me out of the Heartmender wing, and up the short steps to the front door of Star House. I pulled my wings close to myself. The place just felt… sad. It was creepy looking, the plants outside were all dead, and if I wasn’t wrong, there were still bullet holes visible on the building’s exterior. The door creaked open ominously as Sandalwood pushed her way inside.

I followed the mare into the dark interior, and immediately crinkled up my nose at the smell. I’d been in some unpleasant places, but this place....

Broken and half empty liquor bottles lay strewn about the floor, seeping their clear and amber, sticky insides onto what once was a beautiful plush carpet. The lone couch in the room sagged in the middle; the arms stained with what looked like many long night’s worth of vomit. To my left stood the tired remnants of a kitchen, piled high with wrinkled boxes, mouldy cans, and a lone cast iron skillet that sat atop the mountain of refuse like a star on a twisted mockery of a Hearth’s Warming Tree.

I tried my best not to gag as the smell assaulted my nostrils. As if the smell of stale liquor and sickness weren’t bad enough, they were merely a portion of the bouquet that was the stench of the house. An odor which included, of all things, the tang of sex.

“Who the hay has been boinkin’ in here?” I wondered aloud, my mental filter unable to keep up with my mouth as I desperately tried to find a way to not throw up.

Sandalwood sighed and shook her head at my remark. “I think that Slate is up with Blackjack in her room. Wait here,” she commanded, then started the careful trot up Star House’s surprisingly sturdy looking stairs, dodging the liquor bottles that cascaded down the stairs as a waterfall of vice.

I didn’t have to wait long for a response from my mysterious client. I didn’t know what to think, really. I’d heard tales of Security, of course. But that made her seem larger than life. Surely some of them had been grossly-

“SANDALWOOD, YOU COCKBLOCKING ASSASSIN OF JOY!” A mare’s enraged screech echoed down the stairs and rattled around in my ears. “I was about to hit it with Slate!”

The stallion, whom I assumed was Blank Slate, my other co-heartmender, dexterously made his way down the bottle ridden stairs with the grace that only earth ponies can manage... knocking over every single bottle in his path as he made a bee-line for the exit. True to his name, he was a blue-grey slate blur that created an avalanche of debauchery and stale beer.

“Luck,” he muttered, flushed as he darted out the door. I didn’t know if he meant good luck for me or bad luck for him.

Sandalwood teleported next to me with a soft pop. “Well, she’s happy to see me. I’ll just… see myself out,” she stuttered before bolting out the door. Was it just me, or was she blushing bright red?

I ducked as a bottle flew down the stairs and shattered on the still closing door. I looked up at the thrower, and... this was Security?

You heard the stories about the mare that was a cybernetic god killer... I never believed any of it myself. Heck, there were skeptics in the Hoof about the details of her story. I didn’t expect to see just a mare. Her red and black mane hung tussled about her shoulders, and bloodshot red eyes peered down at me from the balcony above. Really, with a horn as small as hers, it was easy to mistake her for an earth pony.

“Well, there goes my plans for the night,” she said as she stared with a look... wait... was she going to shoot me? That look said she was going to shoot me!

And worse, with that toxic morass of emotion sloughing off her in droves, I couldn’t be sure she wasn’t!

“What do you want, kid?” Blackjack asked, her voice slurred with alcohol.

I swallowed. Okay. You’ve seen drunken clients before. Nothing scary about them. She probably wasn’t going to shoot me. I quickly looked Blackjack up and down. No gun. Good start.

“Miss Blackjack?” I squeaked, cursing the decision of my vocal cords to crack at that moment. “I’m Threnody, the new heartmender. I think Slate and Sandalwood were supposed to tell you about me! I wanted to meet you. I’m the mare that’s supposed to help you!”

I tried to sound confident, but the words rang rather hollow in my ears, and I was fairly certain I was not leaving the best first impression. She’s going to shoot me.

Blackjack didn’t answer right away. The emotional waste drilling off her was cooling, turning more cold and sticky.

“Uh-huh...” she said as she walked slowly down the stairs, lifting each bottle that Slate had tipped over and setting them upright on the stairs. “So you’re another one of those heartmenders...” she muttered as she stepped closer and closer. “And if I’m too... whatever... you’ll get hurt? Like Willow?”

She didn’t seem to blink as often as a regular pony should as she closed the distance.

I tried to not let myself swallow or shrink down under her disconcerting gaze. “You’re not too… whatever. Broken, twisted, fill in your negative adjectives here,” I said, trying to bore into those hot red eyes with my cool greens. “And… well, it’s a risk all of us take when trying to help others. Willow made a mistake and got hurt. I… I really hope she’s okay…” I admitted softly, laying my ears back at the mention of my mentor. I forced myself to perk up. “But I won’t make that mistake. And… you’re really hurting. I don’t even need to touch you to feel it.” I tried to offer her a small smile. “Will you let me help you?”

The white mare twisted her lips as she rolled her eyes a moment, then leaned towards me. I could smell the alcohol on her breath. “You didn’t answer my question. Yes or no?”

I shuddered as she breathed those words onto my face. I forced myself to not step back a pace, even though she was far closer to me than I really prefered ponies be. I chewed my lower lip anxiously.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I have been hurt before by helping ponies,” I admitted, hoping that she wouldn’t make me strip off my duster so she could see just how badly I’d been hurt by my own stupid in the past. “But I hope I don’t get hurt. I think you’re hurting, but I don’t think it’s bad enough that it could--”

She silenced me with a hoof to my lips. “Nuff said.” She turned and surveyed the wreckage of the interior, narrowing her eyes. Then her horn glowed and something hissed underneath me. I glanced down just in time to see a glowing belt lifting up and wrap itself around my midsection, tying my wings to my side. As I opened my mouth in alarm... oh please let it be clean... a sock was pushed in my mouth. Then the door behind me opened as she levitated me out to where Sandalwood and Blank Slate stood, as if waiting.

“No more kids,” she snapped at the pair before dumping me at their feet, slamming the door behind her, and locking it.

Sandalwood let out a breath. “Well, that went better than we expected, didn’t it?”

I spat out the rather salty tasting sock. Why was it salty? Okay. Nope. Not thinking about it. Eww oh, goddesses, I was thinking about it…

I gave Sandalwood a glare before sticking out my hoof to the two of them.

“Key,” I demanded.

Sandalwood and Slate exchanged glances. “Missy, I don’t think that’s a good idea…” the stallion said, brushing back his jet black mane. His blue grey eyes showed a hint of… shame?

I continued to hold out my hoof toward the two adults.

“Key,” I repeated, this time more firmly than I had before. “I am not a child, and I refuse to be spoken of like I am one,” I said with a slight huff that didn’t quite help my case. “I’m a heartmender, and I have just as much of a right to see her as you two do.” I felt my green eyes darkening to jade as I stared down Sandalwood. “Key.”

Sandalwood shook her head but levitated out a brass key on a lanyard. “It’s not about your right to see her. It’s just... Blackjack didn’t take the feedback she inflicted on Willow well. She nearly banned us from star house all together. It’s taken us days to let her agree to see us at all.” She rubbed her temple, a sign of imminent burnout and feedback. “I really had hoped to make her more amiable to the idea of a new heartmender, but I’m afraid that she’s going to count your... youthful appearance... against you.”

Slate picked up a hoof and lightly pressed it against Sandalwood’s temple. “You need rest, Sandy,” he said quietly, shaking his head at me. “Look, if you want to try, go for it. I ain’t gonna stop ya. Just know that you two got me out of a rather… tight spot. You go back in there, she’s liable to stick another sock in your maw.,” he said with a slight chuckle.

But I noticed that they weren’t telling me ‘no’. After fiddling with the belt that bound my wings, I slipped the offending leather strap off and leapt up to snatch the key out of Sandalwood’s magic. “Then I’ll tell her that she’s stupid and her face is stupid for thinking that just because I’m young I can’t help. I know she’s hurting, and she’s sad that she hurt Willow Glen. But if she keeps on hurting, nothing will ever get better!” I half shouted.

Sandalwood and Slate exchanged glances, then started laughing at me. “Please be a little more tactful than that, Threnody…” Sandalwood chided. “Blackjack does have feelings, remember.”

I bristled, my wings standing straight up. “Oh, I know,” I said, trotting to the door. “I just… want her to know that too.”

I stood at the door for a long moment, key inserted into the lock. I didn’t know what I was going to say that would convince Blackjack that I could work with her. That I could actually help her in some way. I frowned and turned the key, pressing the door open yet again. I took two steps-

And the door was bucked closed right in my face! A stab of pain went right up my snout as I sat back on my haunches, the door locking again in a futile display of defiance. Sandalwood sighed, rolling her eyes skyward while Slate tried to hide his smile.

OKAY. That didn’t work. So I knocked.

“We don’t want any,” came the mare’s reply from within. “Go away.”

“I’m not a kid,” I called through the door. “And I won’t have you look down on me because I’m young.”

There was no answer for a moment, then the door opened. She stepped out, leaning against the mantle as her red eyes looked down at me. “How many people have you killed?” she asked quietly, her voice low.

“Now, Blackjack,” began Sandalwood, but Blackjack just gave her a look. That was it. One look and Sandalwood’s oily fear solidified into a knot of petrified anxiety. Those eyes switched back to me. It was like staring into two tunnels of blood, with only darkness in the depths.

I swallowed. “That’s an awkward question for--.”

“How many times have you blown your friend’s brains out because it was the only way to help her?” she pressed, those blood red eyes seeming to draw me in deeper.

“None. The only pony whose brains blew out was the stallion I couldn’t help.”

“Lucky,” she said as she leaned slowly down towards me. “How many times have you died?” she asked, her voice nearly a whisper, a yearning for that death rolling over me in a venomous wave of angst.

“Never, but I have had moments where I’d wished I had,” I said, standing up straighter as I pushed back against that wave of angst with my own inner calm and understanding of where she was coming from. “Please stop looming, I know you’re taller than me.”

She didn’t say anything for a moment. Then she leaned in and pressed alcoholic lips to mine in a firm kiss. I flailed away from her, smacking her face with my wings out of pure reflex as I staggered away, landing on my haunches. She then gave a little chuckle. “Come back tomorrow when I’m sober,” and then she withdrew once more, closing the door behind her. A second later, it opened and she added, “Oh, and sorry about the snout.”

The door closed as I just stared at the it in bafflement.

“Well!” Sandalwood announced with a smile. “That went well!”

I continued looking at that door, my hoof reaching up to my lightly bleeding nose. I really, really hoped that neither Blackjack nor Sandalwood noticed how badly I was shaking. Why the hell had she kissed me?

“So. That’s the infamous security mare,” Blank Slate said as he sat beside me, putting a hoof across my shoulder. “You got lucky. She thrashed me the first time we met.”

He removed it rather quickly as I flinched at his surprisingly gentle touch. His apology radiated off of him in cooling waves, which, while it wasn’t what I wanted, was somewhat centring.

“Well, at least you weren’t shot at,” Sandalwood said primly, her horn glowing and administering a healing spell that cut the sting in my snout. “You’ve gathered by now that Blackjack is highly resistant to treatment. What I wouldn’t give for some good thorazine or ketamine.”

I shook myself, then gave Sandalwood a strange look.

“Weren’t those like… super bad early drugs that pretty much made ponies into zombies?” I asked, waggling my forehooves at her.

“A zombie would be easier to treat than a mare who is suffering with the amount of trauma she is, can teleport, and can kill you with a thought,” she retorted. “Star house was the only place we could make her agree to treatment, and even then she’s been... particularly difficult. Even for heartmenders.”

My ears pressed flat against my skull. “Well, she kissed me, so what does that mean? It was weird, but was it a good sign?”

Slate laughed brightly. “I… think she just does that. Though if it’s any consolation, she swore up and down that I was trying to look like ‘him’ when I first came,” he said, running a hoof through his relatively short, messy mane. “I ended up dying my mane black so she didn’t feel so triggered by me. Stopped her from trying to kick my ass up and down the stairs.”

“Blackjack doesn’t have the same... standards of morality as other ponies. Even raiders have a firmer anchor of right and wrong than she does. She is...” Sandalwood flushed and brushed her mane back behind her ear. “Inappropriately affectionate.” She frowned as she looked at me in clear concern. “Nopony would hold it against you if you are uncomfortable with this assignment. Blackjack has clear issues with boundaries.”

I just didn’t want her touching me like that again. I shivered slightly, but shook my head. “Uncomfortable is kinda normal for us, right? Who is actually comfortable when you sit in a room with a pony who is telling you about the worst day of their lives? I’m sure not. I mean… I’ll just set limits with her. No touching the pegasus.”

Sandalwood and Slate shared a look. “I am almost certain that whatever limits you try and set with her... won’t last long. She wants you to leave, after all,” the mare said, chewing her lower lip. “I think she wants to be left alone till she snaps. Till there’s no choice but to kill her before she becomes a mortal danger to others.”

“I’ve set pretty firm limits with ponies before. And if she disregards them, I’ll bite her.” I huffed

“I’ll enjoy the foreplay.” Blackjack’s reply echoed out from the direction of the door.

I froze, mortification petrifying me. Sandalwood sighed in resignation. Slate shook his head. “You got your work cut out for you.”

Author's Notes:

Oh my gosh. This story took me a year to... well actually finish and work up the courage to ask Somber if he was willing to work with me on it. To my delight, he said yes, and has been a rather lovely Blackjack to tag team write with.

As always, a thank you and shout out to Kkat, for creating this beautiful universe for me to write in. And a thank you to Bronode, Solis, and Shimmercoat for telling me that I need to actually get a bit of confidence and write, as opposed to helping other people edit their stories for once.

update 27/5/18 - Now with 90% less grammar, spelling, and other issues that made this first chapter horrendous! q.q Thank you so much to RoMS for helping me out and taking the time to fix literally what feels like everything that was off about chapter 1!