Shame burned like hot coals beneath Applejack's skin. She had frozen up. When the time came, and her friends needed her help, she had cowered like a little girl and forced her friends to rescue her instead. She hadn't even managed to stand herself up by the time the battle was done: It had been Rarity who had helped with that, then guided her outside.

Applejack probably would have felt better if she had at least been able to walk back to the Citadel under her own power, but even that had been beyond her as her legs had buckled before they even got back to the car tunnel. The sugar from the apple and the stimpak had barely helped at all. The rest of the way back had been spent in a half-conscious daze cradled in one of Liberty Prime's hands. Applejack's memories after that were entirely blank until she woke up in the morning, wrapped up warmly in her bed.

Unfortunately, even a good night's sleep didn't provide any relief from her own miserable memories.

"It's not your fault," Elder Lyons said gently. "A traumatic experience like what you went through was bound to leave a mark. I should have thought to get you checked over sooner."

Applejack didn't reply. She was currently sitting on the edge of her bed, with Rarity next to her, and Elder Lyons and Paladin Stark there to discuss her future with the Brotherhood. A medic had already been and gone, talking about what had happened and making notes until he had finally made his horrifying diagnosis.

Post-Traumatic Stress.

The very thought of it made Applejack's gut writhe with humiliation. It was too early to say if this was simply the beginnings of PTSD rearing its ugly head, but the medic said that it was likely. Applejack hated it. Hated herself. She was supposed to be strong, stubborn, a mighty tree that could ride out any storm. Instead she was struggling to keep herself from shaking, or simply curling up into a ball and weeping; a pathetic little weakling.

"He's right, darling," Rarity told her. "There's nothing you could have done about this, it's something beyond your control."

"Ah shouldn't be this weak," Applejack mumbled under her breath.

"It's not about being weak or strong," Paladin Stark insisted. "You're looking at this like it's just fear you're losing to, but that's where your mistake is." When Applejack didn't reply, he sighed and continued, "Look, anyone can fight fear, that's easy, but PTSD isn't fear. Imagine fear as a pebble. Terror, what you feel when you face something huge and powerful like a Behemoth or something, that's a boulder. PTSD? That's a meteorite the size of the Mojave coming along to mess up your day. You can't fight a meteorite, even with all of your magic, no-one can. Trust me on this one."

Elder Lyons nodded. "It would be wise to listen to him on this one. Paladin Stark has more experience with this sort of thing than most, that's why I brought him to speak with you."

Applejack looked up at the Paladin in surprise, but he just grunted and averted his gaze. "There's a reason I don't run many combat missions these days," he admitted uncomfortably.

Coughing delicately, Rarity asked, "So, er, where do we go from here?"

"There are medications that can help," Elder Lyons replied quietly. "For the short term, I'd recommend that we keep you out of combat operations against the Enclave."

"Why?" Paladin Stark raised an eyebrow. "Applejack didn't get triggered until she got up close and personal with them, so why not just give her a bigger gun than that crappy little laser pointer and let her blast those Enclave bastards from long range?"

"Ah'm up for that," Applejack said quickly. Anything that would give her a chance to feel useful, and preferably let her bury a few of the assholes who had made her feel this bad.

Elder Lyons scratched his beard as he thought. "That could work. We do have a few big guns spare."

"I'm not so sure that's a good idea," Rarity ventured.

"Ah'll do it," Applejack said firmly. "What kind of guns do you have?"

"That depends. How long can you keep your super strength up for?" Stark asked.

"Not too long," Applejack replied. "If any of us girls use our magic constantly for too long it supercharges the others."

Seeing the gleam in Elder Lyons' eyes, Rarity shook her head. "I wouldn't get your hopes up, supercharging our magic makes it very volatile. The last time it happened Sunset constantly heard the thoughts of everyone near her whether she was touching them or not, Twilight levitated everything in her vicinity, and you don't want to imagine what happened when Pinkie went anywhere near anything sugary."

Elder Lyons grimaced. "I see your point. Very well, we shall see if we can strip down a minigun so it'll be light enough for you to use."

Applejack snorted. "Don't bother strippin' down anything. Ah can handle any gun you give me easy enough."

"No, you can't." Paladin Stark rejected her suggestion immediately. "A minigun is heavy, especially with all of it's ammunition. Carrying it is one thing, but lugging it to a battlefield, aiming, firing, and reloading, firing some more, then dragging it back home afterwards? That's something that takes a lot of training and practice to get used to. You're only going to have a couple of days at most, unless you're willing to bite the bullet and sit out the assault on the Enclave's final stronghold."

That gave Applejack pause. The thought of missing the battle while her friends went felt cowardly, demeaning, and depressingly tempting. "Strip down a minigun," she forced out.

"This isn't a good idea," Rarity warned.

"Don't worry," Elder Lyons said gently. "We'll spend the next few days giving Applejack a crash course in the use of a minigun, on the sole condition that she stays at the rear of a formation, away from close engagement, and provides fire support. Nothing more," he added firmly with a glance at her.

Applejack wanted to retort, but just the thought of getting too close to a power armored soldier again was enough to send an icy shiver down her spine. "Ah'll do it, Ah'll do fire support," she said, her voice a little higher than usual.

"Good." Elder Lyons nodded. "An instructor will come and fetch you as soon as the gun is prepared. Until then, and whenever you aren't being shown how to use the gun, I want you to rest. I'll permit an hour a day of physical training, but any more than that and I'll make sure you aren't included in the final battle against the Enclave. Is that clear?"

"Yeah, Ah got it," Applejack grumbled.

Elder Lyons eyed her suspiciously for a moment, then relented and turned to Rarity. "The same goes for you. Rest as much as you possibly can for the next few days. The Scribes are fixing your armor as we speak, so you should get that back soon. If you need any more painkillers, just see one of the medics. For now, though, we shall leave you to it. Rest well."

"Painkillers?" Applejack frowned at Rarity as the two men left the room. "What did he mean by that? What happened?"

Rarity waited until the door was closed, then stood up with a grim expression. "This."

Applejack's breath hitched as Rarity suddenly pulled her top off, but her shock immediately turned to concern as she saw the awful discoloration peeking out from beneath the fashionista's bra.

"I apologize for the lack of dignity, but this brassiere is making things more than a little painful." Rarity hissed as she unhooked her bra, then let out a quiet sigh of relief as it dropped to the floor.

Any feelings at seeing Rarity half-naked were immediately quashed by the sight of the horrific bruise blooming on her breastbone; a black blotch that stood out like a vile stain against her otherwise pristine skin.

"What happened?" Applejack whispered.

"A sniper with a magic bullet," Rarity explained. "My armor took most of the hit, but it still left more than enough damage to be going on with." She winced as she sat back on the bed next to Applejack. "I must say, I almost miss the battle. With all the adrenaline in my system it didn't hurt anywhere near as much yesterday."

"Ah can imagine." Applejack chuckled bitterly. "Well, your body's hurt, and my brain is a mess, so between us Ah guess that makes us one whole unbroken person, right?"

Rarity scoffed and nudged her with a shoulder, then hissed as her bruise twinged. "Remind me not to do that again until this is healed."

"Want me to kiss it better?" Applejack blushed furiously as she realized what she had just said. "Ah meant, uh, do you want an ice pack or somethin'?"

Rarity shook her head, her cheeks ever so slightly flushed. "No, the air is chilly enough on its own. Actually, I really should put another top on, just in case someone comes knocking."

"Right." Applejack tried to swallow the strange lump that had formed in her throat. "Well, uh, Ah'm gonna try and get some sleep until the instructor comes."

"Good idea," Rarity replied, fanning her cheeks with one hand while she picked up her top with the other.

Applejack watched her head back over to her own bed, then shook herself and set to getting herself changed, wondering what the strange sense of disappointment she felt was about. Preoccupied as she was, she didn't notice that she wasn't the only one with a disappointed look on her face.

---

Sunset moaned softly as she stepped under the hot shower. She had washed the worst of the muck away the night before, but she had been way too tired to appreciate it as she gave herself a quick once over before passing out in bed. Now, she planned to thoroughly enjoy the ten minutes of shower time she was permitted.

After scrubbing away the last of the blood and gunk, Sunset raised her face to the showerhead and allowed the hot water to wash away her stress and soothe her aching muscles. Truth be told, Sunset was surprised by how well she felt.

The assault on the satellite uplink station had been a waking nightmare; Sunset had fought, and killed, yet somehow she was still… functional. Every death that she could remember weighed on her conscience, but the guilt was more bearable this time around. She had honestly been planning on forcing herself to remember every single life she took, no matter how unhealthy that was, but when it came down to it, after the first couple of kills it had become much easier, as if her emotions had detached themselves from what her body was doing.

It helped that, in the chaos of battle, it was effectively impossible for Sunset to keep track of every single person that she had personally killed. Of those that she definitely had, the fact that she was doing it to help save more lives down the line, not to mention getting her friends home safely, provided cold comfort.

Sunset looked around as someone else stepped into the room. The woman, Sunset recognized her as a Scribe, nodded respectfully when she saw who was already there. "Knight-Sergeant Shimmer, Paladin Metzger wants to talk to you when you get five minutes spare, if that's alright?"

"Sure thing, as soon as I'm done here I'll go and find her," Sunset replied. “Do you mind helping check if I've got all of the muck out of my hair?"

Once she was positive that she was clean, Sunset thanked the Scribe, dried and dressed as quickly as she could, and set off to see what Metzger wanted. The debrief of the battle had already been done, so she suspected that there was another mission already lined up.

Asking around, Sunset was directed to a briefing room near the labs. Metzger was waiting inside, along with Pinkie, Adam, and Fluttershy.

Metzger greeted Sunset with a nod. "Knight-Sergeant. I'm glad you're back on your feet. Sorry about the short notice, but Elder Lyons has a mission for you if you're up for it."

"What's the mission?" Sunset asked.

Metzger gestured to a map spread out on a nearby table. "The Scribes are putting together new weaponry capable of destroying the Enclave's Vertibirds, so we don't have to rely entirely on Liberty Prime. But there's some crucial tech they need before they can start production. Unfortunately, with every other member of the Brotherhood busy preparing for the final assault or recovering from injuries, the only people we have available for a recovery mission are you four."

Pinkie cocked her head curiously. "What about Rainbow Dash?"

"She's already been sent to Project Exodus with a report for Doctor Shoichet," Metzger replied. "Fawkes is being trained in squad tactics, or, well, if we're honest, some of the squads are being trained to get used to having a Super Mutant working with them. Me and the Wonderbolts are getting sent out to reinforce Project Purity in an hour or so as well, so that just leaves you."

"I'm up for it," Adam said with a shrug. "Where are we headed?"

"The Olney Powerworks." Metzger pointed to it on the map. It was located in the far northern reaches of the Capital Wasteland. "Hopefully you'll be able to find an experimental Tesla Coil, built before the war. That's the piece we need."

Pinkie bit her lip, clearly hesitating, then asked tentatively, "Who are we going to have to take the coil from?"

Metzger laughed drily. "No-one. No wasteland group has ever been able to set up shop in Old Olney. Anyone crazy enough to try hasn't managed to survive very long."

That didn't sound promising to Sunset. "Why do I get the feeling there's some sort of mutated wasteland monstrosity living in the powerworks?"

"More like a bunch of them. Old Olney is crawling with Deathclaws." Metzger glanced at Fluttershy. "That's why Elder Lyons asked you to tag along instead of training with the medics some more. Your magic might prove invaluable out there."

Fluttershy blanched as she realized what Metzger was getting at. "B-but I've never used my magic on a Deathclaw before! What if it doesn't work?"

Seeing Metzger's confusion, Sunset and Pinkie explained what had happened when Fluttershy had tried to use her power on Mirelurks. By the time they were finished, Metzger's expression was grim. "That's not ideal, but it's not the end of the world. Your enhanced senses will still provide a huge advantage when it comes to avoiding any Deathclaws. And you'll also have this." Metzger placed what looked like a primitive radio on the table. "This is a prototype scrambler unit Scribe Vallincourt made. It constantly puts out a signal that disrupts the control collars the Enclave uses on their own Deathclaws. If you run into any, the Enclave scientists in control will be in for a nasty surprise."

"You think we're going to run into the Enclave at Old Olney?" Sunset asked.

Metzger shrugged. "They've got to be getting their Deathclaws from somewhere, so either they're breeding them, or they're catching them in the wild and taking them back to their base. This is just a precaution. Be careful with it though, it hasn't exactly been field tested yet."

"In other words, you're hoping that we'll field test it for you." Sunset sighed and rubbed her temples. "Fine, I'm in. What about you two?"

"I'll go," Fluttershy said, quietly but firmly. "My senses will help you out there, and my magic might come in handy in a pinch."

Pinkie shook her head. "I guess I can try and see this as a road trip? Who knows, maybe wild Deathclaws like party games."

"If anyone can find that out, it'll be you," Metzger chuckled. "Okay, mark the location on your Pip-Boys, grab your gear and whatever supplies you'll need for the trip, and meet back up in the courtyard. You'll be leaving as soon as you're ready."

---

The Citadel lab was a hive of activity as dozens of Scribes bustled about preparing weapons, testing equipment and, most importantly of all, repairing Liberty Prime. Much of the damage to the robot had been purely cosmetic, but there was enough of the outer armor that needed fixing for Rothchild to label it as the absolute highest priority.

Twilight sat comfortably in her wheelchair next to the terminal at Prime's feet, looking up at the Scribes clambering over scaffolding as they worked to bend metal plates back into shape and welded fresh pieces over holes and rents. Ostensibly, she was supposed to be monitoring the robot's diagnostic routine, but she had already written a program to do that for her while she performed her own secret task.

Aware of the people constantly moving around her, Twilight tapped out a query on the terminal, taking care to type quickly with her magic when no-one was paying attention. <Does.it.hurt?>

Glancing upwards, Twilight was relieved when Liberty ever so slightly shook its head. <Good..I.have.something.for.you.>

Using her magic, Twilight subtly pulled an old milk bottle from an inside pocket of her lab coat. Inside was a sloshing purple and orange mix of liquids: concentrated essences of Sunset's and her own magic that had been an absolute nightmare to procure without anyone noticing. Checking to make sure no one was looking, Twilight opened the bottle and pulled out the liquid in her magic, floating it quickly across the floor into Prime's shadow, up its legs, around its waist and under the armor plating of its torso.

There was a faint flash as the magic soaked into Prime's fusion generator.

Unfortunately, the flash caught the eye of a Scribe on the scaffolding, who frowned at the spot where the magic had gone curiously.

"That was me," Twilight called up. "I spotted some exposed wiring and figured I'd tuck it away before it hurt someone."

The Scribe nodded and gave her a thumbs up. "Good thinking, Sparkle!"

Twilight smiled and turned her attention back to the terminal, satisfied that her secret plan was safe for just a little while longer. The Enclave, and the whole Capital Wasteland, were in for a very big surprise when it was time for it to be finally unveiled.

The butcher's bill was almost due, and Twilight intended to make sure that it was paid in full.

Next Chapter: Chapter 93 - On The Road Again Estimated time remaining: 24 Hours, 3 Minutes