The chill that Sundance felt came from within, and was not caused by the cold air. It was difficult to breathe for a moment, for a whole host of reasons. His emotions, the chemical stink that hung heavy in the air, and the constricting tightness around his barrel that felt as though it might crush his ribs. As for his grandmother, she lay on a steel table with her head resting upon an angled wooden block. It was almost as if she were sleeping, and she looked better right now than she did when she was alive. So much so that Sundance could scarcely believe his own eyes.

"She suffered a stroke in her sleep," Sumac said as Sundance drew nearer to the table where his grandmother lay. "I just so happened to be in the office today, so I fixed her up a bit. When she arrived, her face sagged a bit and I must say, she was in rough shape. It's important that you get a chance to say goodbye, so I did what I could. I'm no miracle worker, but I'm good at what I do. Not to boast or brag, or anything like that. Goodness no."

Upon reaching the edge of the table, Sundance stopped and looked down. She looked almost young again, and there was no sign of the stroke that Sumac had mentioned. Her mane, which had been thinning due to the mercury poisoning, now appeared thick and full once more—and this seemed impossible. His grandmother's face wasn't thin and pinched, her cheeks weren't collapsed, and there were no bags beneath her eyes. How had she been restored? Magic? What had Sumac done?

"The stroke finished her off?"

"I am sorry, Sundance… but it did."

"And she was discovered right away?"

"The report says she failed to show up to breakfast with a friend, so they stopped by her apartment. She was found within hours of death."

"That's… that's… oh mercy, that's a relief."

"I imagine it is," Sumac said, almost whispering. Reaching out his right wing, he slipped it around Sundance's neck in a loose embrace.

Some of the fire in her hide had gone out, leaving her more of a yellow than the ochre orange that he remembered, almost the same colour as his own fine pelt. The vibrant red of her mane was now restored, and it stood out in sharp contrast to the golden yellow streaks. Not only was her mane two-toned, but two different textures as well, with the yellow streaks being curly while the hanks of red were straight.

Studying her face, he could not help but notice…

"There's some kind of gummy gunk around her eyes."

"I was hoping you wouldn't notice," Sumac replied. "Had to close her eyes somehow. The stroke was not kind. While my work is very good, if you look too close, you will spoil the illusion."

"No"—he took a step back and Sundance shook his head—"no, it's fine. You did an amazing job. She looks like she did when she was younger. This is my grandmother as I remember her. Thank you… thank you so very much."

"Your flattery is most kind."

"No, really." With a quick turn of his head, Sundance looked Sumac in the eye. "Thank you. This… this makes it easier. She looks so peaceful right now. When I remember her, she'll look like this."

Sumac's response was to bend his slender neck and bow his head.

With the tightness in his barrel ever-increasing, Sundance returned his attention to his grandmother once more. She would be forever young in his memories and he hoped that he would never forget this moment. He'd left home without saying goodbye, not knowing that he wouldn't return. Now, because of his actions, his grandmother was returning to a place once considered home. Just how was he supposed to feel about this?

The return journey was longer than he knew or understood. It was a long, long road that stretched all the way back to Princess Celestia. Sometimes the bloodline was storied, but most of them were just average sorts. A few lords and ladies of significance. But the bloodline had fallen into obscurity, just as the barony had. It was his grandmother's stories that had started him on this journey, and so it seemed fitting that she somehow share in his reward, even if it were her final place of rest.

Who were they?

They were, above all else, royalists. It was in their blood. As far back as the bloodline could be traced, they were loyal royalists. Fierce, proud supporters of Princess Celestia. It was their defining characteristic, a common thread that connected them. A shared trait that echoed through the ages. Near the end, his grandmother and his mother were disconnected from the truth of their bloodline, but they had remained loyal royalists. That trait rang true. Maybe it was in the blood.

Perhaps it was the familial need to flock together.

Whatever the case may be, now was not the time to say goodbye.

"Welcome back home, Grandmother. I've claimed a place for you to rest your head."

Fancy Pants was gone and Sundance could not help but feel a little sad about that. Of course, he felt sad for other reasons, but there was something about the monocle-wearing unicorn's upbeat attitude that he truly needed right now. Sundance shuffled through Sumac's office, squeezed between some chairs, sat down, and for the first time he noticed that there were fish in a tank in the corner behind the door. The aquarium gave off a faint, soothing light that was easy on the eyes, and calming to the mind.

Sumac returned to his desk, pulled his chair out, and with a heaving sigh, he sat down. There was a creak from beneath the chair, the rustle of hair against fabric, and then Sumac sank back with a tired groan. He closed his eyes for a moment, reached up to scratch his chin, lowered his foreleg down to the arm of the chair, and then went still. Sundance watched all of this while he also had a better look at the fish tank.

"Rough time?" asked Sundance.

"There was an incident at the school, and other places, and I've been going non-stop," Sumac replied.

"I heard a little about the incident at school," Sundance said. "Hennessy told me. Flicker's out my way to recover."

"I am always busy because somepony, or someone, is always dying." Sumac's voice was soft, solemn, and subdued. "No students died at the school… but the Underwatch lost several brave soldiers. They have the highest rate of casualties among the various guard regiments. Honestly, I don't know how Flicker holds himself together as well as he does. The losses he sustains…" As his words faded into a weary sigh, Sumac's head turned towards the aquarium in the corner.

"You'd think that the Underwatch would run out of soldiers."

"Yes, one might think that, Sundance… but due mostly to Hennessy's charisma, for every loss, every death, two or three foolhardy souls enlist. Some seek glory and celebrity. Others just want to do what is right. At some point, I had feelings about all of this, but after watching the meat grinder in action for all this time, those feelings have gone away."

Unsure of what to say, Sundance chose silence. It seemed wise somehow. He knew nothing about the circumstances, the situation, and so stating a poorly thought out opinion might make him seem foolish. Yes, silence was for the best. Hearing a rustle of paper, Sundance turned his head in time to see Sumac opening an envelope with an ornate letter-opener. The glittery green glow was dazzling to the eyes and made him squint.

Then, with the envelope open, a folded letter was taken out and held out to Sundance.

"Thank you," he said as he accepted the letter, which he held in his primaries.

"Don't mention it," Sumac replied.

Overwhelmed by his hesitation, Sundance did not unfold the letter right away. It remained folded, held between his primaries, and he spent a moment trying to gather his resolve. A message from his old life. Everything that he'd left behind. All that he was before he left for Canterlot that fateful day. He might still be there now were it not for his project. His grandmother might have died and gone into a plot outside the city in a graveyard far too crowded. He'd left home and life had gone on without him. His departure had caused an endless number of ripples, but the flow of the stream somehow remained unchanged. Life just went on… until it didn't and one got news that one's grandmother had died.

So it goes.

So it went.

The ache in his back turned stabby, as if to remind him that it was there, and Sundance shifted in his chair. In his mind, he could picture Cucumber, his grandmother, and suddenly he was thoughtful about death as a subject. All of his thoughts pained him, and for the first time since getting the news, he wanted to cry—but didn't. It was all held in. The floodgates would remain shut. His ungroomed wings made it difficult to unfold the letter, but he managed. For some reason, properly preened wings were grippy, but he had no time to think about that right now.

Something about Sumac's expression said, "Go on, read it."

Author's Notes:

This chapter comes in two parts.