“Phillip? You’ve been quiet for a while. What’s on your mind?”

Phillip blinked up at the heliotrope ceiling and sighed, selecting a random thought from the streams of consciousness that were all running across the forefront of his mind. “I’m thinking about Irene,” he admitted with a wane smile. “How lucky I am to have her.”

“Irene?” Rain Breeze smiled. “She sounds like such a nice pony; I’d love to meet her one day.”

“She’s a bit of a loner,” Phil replied, turning his head to look sideways at her. “It takes her a while to learn to trust ponies.”

“Well, she’s obviously learned to trust you,” Rain commented, her eyes falling to the engagement ring around his neck. “I think it’s wonderful that you’ve found a special somepony in your life.”

“Thank you, Rain,” Phillip nodded.

“On a related note, I’d like to mention that I’ve seen how much you’ve developed since you first starting coming here,” Rain continued, giving him a glowing look. “I really think that being here in Ponyville and being with your friends has done you a lot of good.” She smiled for a moment longer, then her face fell into more serious lines.

“Which is partly why I’m worried for you,” she added, looking down at her clipboard. “You say that these nightmares are getting worse?”

Phillip turned and looked back up at the ceiling. He didn’t answer for almost half a minute, then slowly nodded. “Nothing I do is helping,” he said. “There are some nights I’m even afraid to go to sleep because of the dreams.”

“What are you doing to deal with them?” Rain asked.

“Trying to forget,” Phillip grunted.

Rain frowned. “Phillip, I thought we’d gone over this. Trying to avoid your problems isn’t going to help you with them.”

Phillip turned and glared at her. “Easy for you to say. You weren’t the one there.”

Rain set her clipboard down and gave him a measured look. “You’re right, I wasn’t there. So help me understand what happened.”

Phillip’s heart dropped into his suddenly icy stomach. He looked away, suddenly wishing for the couch to swallow him whole, to hide him from the world. He folded his arms across his chest.

“Zugzwang captured us,” he stated in a flat tone with a bite of anger around the edges. “While we were being held, he drugged me, tied me to a bed, and raped me until I blacked out.”

The color drained from Rain’s face and she closed her eyes. Her quill shuddered in her magical grip. She had to take a few deep breaths to calm herself down before opening her eyes and continuing. “That’s nothing that I didn’t already know.”

“That’s what happened,” Phillip replied, still refusing to look at her.

“I’m not denying that,” Rain said gently. “But I’m not sure that’s all there is to it.”

Phil closed his eyes for several seconds. “I’ve dealt with more rape victims than I’d like to remember,” he said in a low voice. “They react in all different ways. Some ponies go numb. Some deny it. Some cry. Some get angry.” He opened his eyes and huffed through his nostrils. “I’m dealing with this my way. I’m trying to stick to the facts. Not be emotional.”

“That’s how you dealt with it when other ponies were the victims,” Rain cut in. “But here, you’re the victim.”

“You think I don’t bloody know that?!” he snapped at her, sitting up. Rain’s body stiffened, but she kept her face calm. Phillip sighed and laid back down on the couch, wiping his face off with his hoof. “I’m sorry, Rain.”

“I understand,” Rain replied quietly. She looked up at the clock on the wall. “I’m afraid we’re out of time for now. Phillip, I’d like you to think about what it is that’s really bothering you, and how you can deal with this in an effective way.”

“Thank you, Rain,” Phillip said, getting up off the couch and exiting the room. He closed the door behind him and walked down the tile hallway towards the exit. Exiting her home, he stepped off the patio and onto the familiar dirt road of Ponyville. Looking up, he observed the clear blue sky above him, painted with white streaks of clouds and the shimmering golden circle of the sun. Birds sang over his head and the scent of spring flowers tantalized his nostrils.

Yet the icy nausea remained in his stomach. His head lowered to avoid looking at others, he wandered forward, allowing his hooves to control where he was going while his mind took a break. He attempted, as he had done so many times in the past, to set himself aside and review the streams of thoughts from a neutral standpoint, but they refused to release him, entangling around him like the threads of a spider’s web.

Rationally, he knew he had no reason to hide the truth from Rain Breeze; she was only trying to help him heal. But, as much as he wanted to, as much as he wanted to view the events from a dispassionate, neutral standpoint, he could not separate his emotions. Merely thinking about his torture made his stomach twist; to remember Zugzwang’s voice in his ear, his hot, heavy weight pinning him down made him shiver.

He abruptly realized that he had wandered into Ponyville Park. The gravel path crunching beneath his hooves, and the quiet background chatter was instantly soothing to him. He walked past the stone chess tables, where an elderly couple sat playing checkers.

Vaguely, he recalled his old weekly chess games with Time Turner. The memory summoned a brief twinge of emotion, but the feeling faded almost immediately. He continued past to the old, faded brown bench that sat in front of the duck pond. He paused for a moment, then climbed up onto the bench. The wood creaked in its own, familiar way as his weight settled down onto it.

Busking upon this bench in between cases had been one of his favorite pastimes; aside from the money it brought in, there had been a freedom in the music, to think of nothing but the sax in his hooves and the melody he summoned. And it was also upon this bench that he first met Twilight and his friends…

He shuddered as more memories burst unbidden into the forefront of his mind. For a moment, he was back in the snow-covered streets of Canterlot, his heart pounding in his chest as they ran for their lives, slipping and skidding in the ice…

Calm. Calm. You’re not there anymore. You’re back in Ponyville.

He gripped the wood of the bench as if trying to anchor himself in the present time, sucking in the spring air. Slowly, his heart rate settled and his breathing slowed, and he allowed the sights, sounds, smells, and sensations of the moment to wash over him.

“You planning on just watching me all day, Pinkie?” he called out.

“Aww!” a small bush a few feet behind him groaned in disappointment. A familiar, bushy pink mane popped out. “How’d you know it was me?” Pinkie asked, shaking off her crude disguise in a whirlwind of leaves.

“You’re the only mare I know that smells like flower, chocolate and cotton candy,” Phillip replied without looking at her.

“You are a great detective!” Pinkie giggled, bouncing up onto the bench next to him. “How have you been?”

Phillip shrugged, trying to ignore his churning innards. “Fine.”

“Hey, did you hear?” Pinkie asked. “Twilight’s planning for the seven of us to just have a night out tomorrow!” She grinned and let out a happy squeal. “I’m gonna bake some special treats for it, all of everypony’s favorites!” She tapped her chin in thought. “But do you think Rarity will like the almond oat swirl or the cinnamon sugar delight? She does like both, but I’m not sure which one she likes more. Maybe I should make both, except there might be too much and—”

“Pinkie,” Phillip cut in, still not looking at her. “I’m sorry, I...I’m really not in the mood right now.”

Pinkie’s ears folded back and she wilted slightly. “Oh. Oh, that’s okay,” she said quietly. She shuffled her hooves. “I...I have a lot of baking to do, so...see you later.” She got up off the bench and walked away, her head held low.

Phillip could not bring himself to watch her leave; his heart had sunk even lower, and the nausea had increased. The combined shame and self-anger burned in the back of his throat like stomach bile.

He remained there on the bench, completely unaware of time passing around him. It was only when he noticed the falling temperature and that he could no longer see very far that he realized that night had fallen. Slowly getting up off the bench, he trudged out of the park, through the weaving roads and back up B Boulevard to his home.

Even before he pushed the door open, he was greeted by the odors of potato stew with onions, carrots, and mushrooms. Daring was in the kitchen, stirring a bubbling pot on the stove.

“There you are,” she admonished as he entered. “I was wondering when you’d show up. Where have you been?”

“Out,” he replied.

Daring rolled her eyes. “I noticed. Out where?”

“Out,” he repeated with no change in tone. “How was PT?”

Daring’s expression did not change. “I’m getting better. You’re not.”

“I’m not the one got shot,” Phillip replied curtly.

Daring rolled her eyes again and put out a hoof, blocking him from trying to leave. “I bucking noticed, and you’re not going to keep pulling that out every time I try to talk about you.” She scooped up his chin and scooped his head up so he was forced to look her in the eyes.

“Phil, if this relationship is going to work, you need to be honest with me,” she stated flatly, pointedly poking the ring around his neck. “I can tell you’re not okay, and you have to know you’re not okay either.” She glared at him for a moment longer, then her eyes softened slightly. “Phil, I love you. I hate seeing you like this.”

Phil stared at her for a few moments, then closed his eyes and sighed, pressing his forehead against hers. “You’re right. But...I don’t want to talk about it right now, okay?”

Daring sighed and nuzzled him back. “At least eat something,” she ordered.

Despite his still twisting stomach, Phillip managed to eat a bowlful of stew, which surprisingly lifted his spirits somewhat. While Daring took care of the cleanup, Phil carried himself into the bedroom, not even bothering to turn the lights on as he entered. The bedsheets gladly embraced him as he collapsed into them, closing his eyes.

But even though slumber was already beckoning to him, he resisted its siren call, knowing that nothing good awaited him in the sea of dreams. For a long time, he simply lay beneath the sheets, his eyes closed, hovering on the edge of sleep and wakefulness.

He didn’t notice the quiet hoofsteps approaching. Suddenly, he felt the mattress shift beneath somepony’s weight, and a pair of hooves snaked around his chest.

Then the ropes started biting into his hooves, and the crushing weight pinned him down. On instinct, he gave a terrified yell and shoved his attacker off him. Seizing what felt like a shoulder, he lashed out with a powerful punch and was rewarded with a heavy impact and the distinctive crunching of a breaking nose.

“Ow!” the other pony cried out as they tumbled to the floor, the feminine voice familiar.

Phillip froze and reached out for the bedtable lamp, turning it on. Daring was sprawled across the floor, clutching her face with both hooves. Blood and tears trickled down her face.

Phillip could only stare at her, trembling, his nausea rushing back . “Daring...I...I’m sorry…”

She flinched away from him, unable to even look at him. Slowly and silently, Phillip got up off the bed and slipped out into the living room. He flopped down onto the sofa, knowing that he would not be getting any sleep that night.