Author's Notes:

Hello! Sorry this took so long, preparation for college has been pretty hectic. I also figured I should warn that if you're reading Men and Monsters for the fight scenes, there won't be a lot for this arc. Not to say there won't be any, just not as much as you'd like probably. As you might have guessed from the end of the chapter, the next one will be a therapy session chapter, for those of you that like those.

Thanks for taking the time to read this, please tell me if you spot any grammar or story issues, feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments, and enjoy!

“Showers aren’t for crying silly, what are you doing?”

Pinkamena was sure that if it weren’t for the fact that The Whispers spoke directly into her head and weren’t actually there, she wouldn’t have heard them. She felt Alice’s hand rest on her shoulder, the way someone would do to try to comfort someone, but she quickly felt that wasn’t the only purpose. She felt a deep cold that started at her shoulder and spread to the rest of her body, encompassing her heart like a shell made of ice, her emotions dulled and numbed out until it was like they weren’t even there.

Her intense feeling of panic and fear burned into her by Blake were gone, her heartbeat no longer beating like a drum and her body’s shaking was negligible. She slowly began to stand up, letting her arms drape to her side as bits of steam came from her mouth, the wounds on the inside of her mouth healing.

Pinkamena turned to look back at Alice, she could already feel her back starting to prune up from the constant exposure to the water. Alice was standing directly behind her, completely unaffected by the water, even her dress looked completely dry. She pulled her hand back and then twirled in a circle, her arms stretched to the side as she beamed an innocent smile.

“Thank you, I...thanks, but you have to stop doing that. It’s helped me out a lot before, but it isn’t a long term solution and Starlight’s right, it’s an incredibly unhealthy one. I’ve spent enough of my life repressing and ignoring, I need to stop.”

She looked up at the shower head and washed off whatever was left, she’d wasted enough time in there. She turned the shower off and pulled the curtain aside, stepping out as water dripped off her body. She grabbed one of the towels and began to dry herself off, the warm feeling of the fabric let her know it recently came out of a dryer.

“We’ve already done this song and dance before though; You told us to stop and to let you deal with them, because you thought it would help you and that you could handle it. Then once you got the full brunt of it, you cried like a big ole baby and begged us to help you. No offense to you, but that didn’t exactly inspire confidence.”

She hated to admit it, but what Alice was saying was true. She had been trying to avoid thinking about it, but those few moments of being completely overwrought with all of the emotions of The Whispers was...powerful, for lack of a better word. She thought she could handle it, but the truth was, there were a lot of things she couldn’t handle.

“That’s because you just completely cut me off, I thought that was the best way to do it, I was wrong. Instead, it needs to be a process, something I can get used to. Don’t do it unless I need it, but when you do, don’t just completely torpefy it, let a little seep through. Each time it happens to numb it a little less, if I get exposed to it bit by bit I can get used to it, call it tough love.”

She saw Alice appear beside her out of the corner of her eyes, she had just appeared there and didn’t actually move. She was still giving her a wide grin, her hands floofing out parts of her dress to try to dry it, even though the dress wasn’t actually wet.

She wasn’t sure why The Whispers even bothered to show up like the way they did when they could easily stay in her head and talk to her, but even if she asked, she wasn’t sure she’d get a direct answer.

“Tough love, huh? Yeah, we can do that. Ok, we’ll try it! We should probably tell you though, eventually, we’re going to lose the ability to do that since we melded with you.”

Pinkamena walked over to the door while still wearing the towel, opening it and seeing that there was a clean, identical set of clothes to what she was wearing before, sitting outside in a neatly folded pile waiting for her. She grabbed it with her right hand while keeping the towel up with her left, shutting the door and turning to face Alice, not bothering to lock it back.

“Lose the ability? What do you mean?” Pinkamena asked curiously as her towel dropped, putting the clothes on starting with the underwear: A pink set of panties and a bra similar to the ones she was wearing before, she decided not to question how they knew her sizes.

“Usually, we wouldn’t. We’d be able to do stuff like that as long as we stayed with you, however, you are a special case since we decided to only give you just their knowledge, not their memories. The knowledge will stay with you as long as we do, but we can feel it even now, they’re fading. Soon, they will be gone, along with the emotions they harbor, not even we can stop it. Since this hasn’t happened before, we can not say when they will totally vanish. It could be a month, it could be a year. We’d still be able to numb your emotions, of course. But you don’t want that, and we don’t either. Other than losing the ability to numb your emotions, nothing else should change, as far as we can tell.”

Alice placed her pointer finger on Pinkamena’s stomach, tracing a circle around her belly button. She tried to ignore her as she connected the clasp of her bra, but it sort of tickled and she’d always been a bit ticklish.

“How convenient, that as soon as I tell you I don’t want you to keep doing something, you say you’ll soon lose the ability to do it.”

Pinkamena flinched as Alice pinched her, which hurt a lot more than it should have. “Don’t get sassy with me now, missy. You should be glad things went the way it did, if we hadn’t done what we did, you probably would have died or gotten even worse physical abnormalities. You should be thanking us!”

She let go of Pinkamena, crossing her arms and puffing up her cheeks as she pouted. Her copper hair flowed like it was being hit by a strong wind, though there wasn’t the slightest breeze in the room.

*I’m not sure what’s scarier, how well she’s playing the role of the spoiled little girl, or the fact that it’s all an act. If she introduced herself like that, I never would have known. Which reminds me…*

“So, there’s something I’ve been wondering about for a while. From what I understand, you have two goals; Protect The Syndicate, and protect your host. But that doesn’t make sense, if that was true, why did you let them kill themselves? While I’m at it, why did you let me post that bounty when it would have put my life in danger? I don’t get it, what’s your goal?”

Pinkamena made sure to keep a level tone as she asked, she’d learned that they really didn’t like it when she demanded answers from them. She began to slip on the white-tshirt, appreciating the warmth that came from it that showed it was recently dried.

Alice glared at her in silence before closing her eyes, taking a deep breath and blowing out the air in her cheeks. Opening her eyes slightly with a more serious look than before, her lips curving downward into an almost unnoticeable frown.

“You seem to have a misunderstanding about our purpose, we can clarify with an example: If someone were to burst into the room right now and stab you in the heart, killing you near instantly, would that be our fault for not taking control of your body in that split second, reacting faster than you can and saving your life?”

There was a distinct snarkiness in her voice, like a professor who’d studied a subject for decades and knew the answer to that question in vivid detail. Pinkamena stopped in the middle of slipping on her jeans, glowering her eyes as she heard the question. Alice knew how much she hated the idea of losing control of her body, even for a moment. She had already lost almost everything else in her life, she’d rather die than lose the last bit of freedom she had left, even if it was to save her own life.

She knew Alice knew that, so why was she even asking that? There had to be some specific answer she was looking for, but there was no way she’d be able to guess it.

“No, but I do-”

“It’d be your fault.” Alice said with strong empathize, poking her finger directly against her chest where her heart would be. “Your fault for not always being on guard, and your fault for not having better reflexes. You have the potential to be amazing, but you’ll never grow if you can’t be independent.”

Her finger suddenly shot upward, flicking the tip of Pinkamena’s nose. She was temporarily dazed by the sudden act, shaking her head and deciding to focus on putting her clothes on, she could feel a lecture coming on.

“We recognized that the previous hosts were trying to kill themselves through self-destructive behavior, we tried to stabilize their mental state and help them, but almost all of them had an incredible distrust of us. There was one who didn’t, but they were....inconsolable. You seem to have a similar paranoia of us, but you have someone who’s very good with those sorts of things and they care about you, so you have a better chance than almost any before you.”

Alice suddenly disappeared, reappearing in front of the sink. She put her hands on the edge of the sink and stood on the tip of her toes, allowing her to see her reflection.She got closer to the mirror and grabbed a strain of her hair, lifting it up like she was examining it. She seemed genuinely surprised and curious about it, like the very concept of her hair growing amazed her.

*I’m...not sure whether she’s putting on a show, or if she was actually startled by her hair getting longer.*

“Anyway, what I’m saying is, we can’t intervene every time you’re in danger. You have to be able to keep improving and getting better, if not, than it’d be better for The Syndicate if someone more capable took over. You can’t become dependent on us, we’re here to assist you, not as a crutch. It’s like a kid on a bike, you’ll never learn if the training wheels are kept on.”

Alice jumped down from the sink, more or less satisfied with her examination. She turned to face Pinkamena, but her eyes were still looking upward, her tongue poking out the corner of her mouth like she was concentrating on something. Her hands were messing around with hair, somehow changing it to different hairstyles even though she had no hair bands or anything of the like. First she changed it to pigtails, making a slight humming noise as she internally debated whether she liked it or not.

“While we feel there were much better options to gaining the trust of The Syndicate by posting that bounty, we do recognize it as what it was: An idea you came up with to get them to trust you. It wasn’t the best, but there have been worse.”

She made a dissatisfied scowl as she decided she didn’t like the pigtails, moving her hair around and changing its shape with little effort. Soon her hair was in a ponytail, her bangs pulling back slightly showing more of her face.

“We also figured Discord wouldn’t let a stunt like that go by, with the state The Syndicate was in and so many things going on, the death of another leader wouldn’t have been something he could risk. It’s part of the reason we consider taking over an absolute last resort, the melding process was seen as a hurdle. If you could survive that, then we can trust you are good enough.”

Alice walked up to Pinkamena, her hair still in a ponytail and her hands on the sides of her head like she was worried it would fall apart. She had a very conflicted look on her face, unable to tell whether she liked it or not.

“What do you think?”

Pinkamena finished buttoning up her pants and glanced at Alice, noticing that her hair had changed. She stared at it for a few seconds, before bringing her hand to Alice’s head, giving her hair a light tussle, causing the ponytail to fall apart and her hair to go back to how it was normally.

“Keep it like you usually do. No one’s going to be able to see you but me, and it’s already annoying enough that you keep switching dresses and fairy tales, so just keep it like this.”

Pinkamena turned back to the rest of her clothes, seeing the satisfied smirk on Alice’s face as she turned away. She reached down and picked up the leather jacket, swiftly slipping it on with ease. It was strange, she had never worn a leather jacket before all this, but now it fit her like a glove. She felt a strange urge to wear one ever since she woke up and has ever since, though she wasn’t exactly sure whether she looked good in it or not.

She leaned down to grab the black hoodie, the only piece of clothing left, but hesitated. She remembered the conversation she had with Starlight, specifically the part where she theorized that she wore so many clothes because the more naked she felt, the more vulnerable she was.

She wasn’t sure if there was truth to that, sadly, there was only one person, or thing in this case, she could ask to confirm it.

“I’m...not sure if I should be asking you this, but is there any truth to Starlight’s theory? The one about me wearing so many clothes because I feel vulnerable with less clothing?”

Alice made a questioning grunting noise, having either not heard the question, or didn’t entirely understand it. She stared at Pinkamena for a few seconds, following her line of sight to the folded black hoodie on the ground. Her mouthing forming into a form circle, making a slight ‘oh’ noise as she understood.

“There is. Starlight is very experienced and smart when it comes to psychological stuff, it’s the main reason we allowed you to tell her about us. You should trust her theories, most of the time, there is a lot she’s right about.”

“So...I should start wearing less clothing, so I can start moving past Blake?”

There was a tone of desperation in her question, something that Alice discerned immediately. Alice scowled for a moment, then she relaxed her face and closed her eyes, only a slight frown on her face giving away what she was thinking.

“It would be a start, yes. But something you should note is that this is a first for us as well, we’ve been a part of people who have been tortured like you have, none of have had quite the...effect like Blake. If allowed to fester, it would...be very bad. After you talk to Michael and the others, you will go talk to Starlight, even if we have to make you.”

Pinkamena noticed the threatening tone in her voice, but she knew they were right. She couldn’t have a panic attack every time she took a shower, and she couldn’t almost kill someone every time she got touched the wrong way like that old man in the apartment complex. She needed to start getting better, if not for herself, than for the others.

She reached into the hoodie’s pockets and pulled out the stuff that was left in there, glad they had checked her clothes and put her stuff in there like she figured they would. She pulled her phone out, turning it on and seeing they had charged it for her, and then slipping it into her jean pocket. She pulled out the lighter that was left in there that she bought from the gas station, putting that in her pocket too and realizing she was already collecting more lighters than she needed.

Her fingers scraped across the plastic material of Blake’s mask, causing her to suddenly sharply inhale as shivers were sent down her spine. She pulled back her hand almost like a reflex, bringing it to her chest to feel her heartbeat, which had suddenly skyrocketed. Alice was cautiously watching her from the side, prepared to intervene if necessary.

*That mask bothers me just to look at, so why am I wearing it? Is it because it reminds me of Blake? Or is it something else?*

She had been wearing that mask for a while now, and yet she wasn’t any closer to understanding why she wanted to. Even if it was just because she wanted to wear a mask, Starlight was right, there were plenty of other options. It didn’t make sense why she chose the mask of the person who tortured her, at least, not to her.

Just another thing she’d have to talk to Starlight about, she did mention that she had a few guesses as to why.

She pulled the mask from the hoodie, ignoring the feeling of disgust and fear as she pushed it as far down her back pocket as she could. It bulged out a bit, but it was mostly unnoticable. She picked up the hoodie and walked out of the bathroom, setting it down on the ground beside the door. Alice was outside waiting for her, standing against the wall with her eyes closed.

Pinkamena felt a bit...exposed, filled with an urge to put her hoodie on like when she had her first session with Starlight. She ignored it, she could deal with this, she’s dealt with worse.

“I still need to talk to Michael, Zecora, and Fancy Pants. Hopefully, Zecora and Fancy are still in the same place. Who do you think I should talk to first?”

Alice opened one eye, only looking at her for a moment before closing it again. “Fancy and Zecora, if you wait too long they might separate, and Michael isn’t going anywhere.”

She had a slight feeling they were suggesting that partly because they have some sort of disdain against Michael, she still remembered what happened when she tried to ask them for advice with him. But she decided to not ask that again, starting to walk down the left hallway where the shooting range was, appreciating that The Whispers had given her a mental layout of the place.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

“And I’m telling you that if you were to start implementing some of these ideas, you could make hundreds, no, millions! You are an absolute genius when it comes to guns, if you started making and selling custom guns, I’d know half a dozen people willing to pay for them in mass. Hell, I’d fund you if you needed it!”

“Greed is one of the cardinal sins, and it is making you rash,
Even if it were to make me rich, I will not exploit my gift for cash.”

Pinkamena walked into the workshop area in the back of the shooting range, the same place she met Zecora for the first time previously. She heard them arguing as soon as she walked in, though Fancy was pseudo-shouting, he still had that calm, slightly snooty voice. While Zecora was still rhyming, there was still a distinct upset tone in her voice.

They were sitting at the middle workbench, apparently the only people in the entire place. They were both sitting on dark brown leather stools, Zecora’s was facing the workbench, a disassembled H&K G11 laid on the table in front of her as she swiftly cleaned each part. Fancy Pants was sitting on an identical stool facing Zecora, moving around a bit uncomfortably, it seemed he wasn’t used to sitting on things like stools.

“You’re more stubborn than I thought you’d be Fancy, is The Syndicate low on money or something?”

Fancy glanced at Pinkamena when he heard her voice, giving her a welcoming smile as he turned to face her. His eyes went up to her hair for a moment and then her red eye when he noticed it was a different color, but it only lasted a moment and he didn’t seem like he was going to ask about it. “Oh, Pinkamena, what a pleasant surprise! I wasn’t expecting you here. Come on over here, and I’ll explain.”

Fancy pulled another stool from another workbench, placing it between him and Zecora. While the striped gun expert didn’t even acknowledge her existence, she was incredibly concentrated on cleaning the individual gun parts she was working on. Considering how easily she did that with the previous gun, this one must have been fairly complex.

Pinkamena walked forward until she was standing a few inches away from them, waving her hand dismissively as she decided not to sit down. “I’m not going to be here very long, so I think I’ll just stand. I got some things to talk to you guys about and then I gotta go, but I have time to listen to...whatever this is about.”

“Hmmm, how do I put it?” He had a disgruntled look on his face as he closed his eyes, crossing his arms and thinking like he was trying to remember how a certain phrase went. “I have a...let’s call it a ‘hunch’ that within the coming months, there’s going to be a lot of hectic events. Right now, we have a steady income from multiple sources, and we currently have an abundance of money. But…”

He opened his eyes and scowled, it looked almost wrong to see that look on Fancy’s face when he usually seemed so calm. “Something is telling me we’re going to need a lot. Besides, it doesn’t really hurt to have extra for an organization this big, right?”

His face relaxed and his calm demeanor returned as he looked up at Pinkamena, giving her a smirk that she was pretty sure was meant to be reassuring. She glanced over at Zecora, who even though she looked like she was only focusing on what she was doing, Pinkamena could tell she was listening intently.

“Well, I can’t say extra funds would be a bad thing if you’re right. But basing it all on a hunch? That’s a little iffy, I have to admit.”

“Hey now, you really shouldn’t underestimate my hunches!” He said with a hearty chuckle, smiling at her like he was boasting about some unique skill he had. “It’s a little more than just hunches, you could call it intuition. I get them from my father, which is how he was so good with managing all the money. Part of being able to do that is being able to tell what investments are worth it, and when things are going to get bumpy. Right now, my intuition is telling me things are going to get downright chaotic soon, and I’d like to have the reserves to deal with whatever it is.”

*That’s as good of a reason as any, I suppose. Having extra money would be a good thing, but it also makes me worried about whatever he’s preparing for.*

“And you really think if Zecora starts making custom guns and gun parts, that’ll give us the money you think we’ll need?”

Pinkamena looked over Zecora’s shoulder, her movements were incredibly precise and gentle, it reminded her of a surgeon. More than half the gun had already been cleaned and reassembled, pretty soon she’d be done with it. She had a feeling that one of the main reasons Zecora did this so often wasn’t just because she was good at it, but also it helped her think. The question was, what was she thinking about that often?

“Indeed. I could get the funds other ways, it would just take significantly more time. But if Zecora’s custom guns are as magnificent as the blueprints suggest, then this would be comparable to military grade weapons. Not only that, but if we were to provide these weapons to our men, I could guarantee casualties would go down, and there would be virtually no threats we couldn’t handle. Not like there are any now other than The Apple family, but it doesn’t hurt to be overly cautious.”

She couldn’t help but wonder how Fancy had heard about it in the first place, or how he had even convinced her to show him the blueprints. It didn’t really matter though, it was done and it was just something she was going to have to deal with now.

“Did Zecora tell you the reason she was making this custom gun in the first place was because of a promise she made to Igneous?”

Fancy’s eyes widened in surprise, his smile faltering for a second. “No...she hadn’t.” He turned to look at Zecora, seeming curious as to why she didn’t tell him that.

“Zecora, you don’t want to start making a lot of these because you don’t like abusing your skill, and because you don’t like to do things that are profit focused, right?”

She stopped cleaning the parts, turning her head a bit to the left towards her. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something, but closed it and instead just gave a nod. The sound of her cleaning parts and assembling the gun came back, though now they seemed a bit faster than before.

*I guess not even Zecora can rhyme everything, especially to yes and no questions.*

Pinkamena heavily sighed, she didn’t like playing the mediator. “I understand that, but I don’t agree with it. I can’t ignore the benefits either, so how about this: I get wanting to keep a promise, but Igneous is very dead, whatever he wanted with it doesn’t matter anymore. You have to make at least two, counting the one you’re making for me. So, how about you make the first one useful and give it to the guy outside? He’s really good with guns, and if he had enough time, he seems like he could recreate it. This way, everyone gets what they want, and you don’t have to make any more than you already do.”

Fancy’s eyebrows furrowed as he brought his hand to his chin, appearing genuinely confused for a moment and trying to think about something. Then his face relaxed and his eyes widened as he realized something. “Are you talking about Randolph? My, I had almost forgotten about him. I suppose you’re right, while his skills haven’t exactly aged well, he is certainly capable of such a feat. I feel embarrassed for forgetting about him, him and my father used to be such good drinking buddies too.”

There was a loud clicking noise as the last piece was cleaned and assembled, the finished gun laid on the temple, so clean it looked like it was brand new. As soon as Zecora put in the last piece, she turned around in the stool to face Pinkamena, the teeth on the brown necklace clacking slightly as she did. She laid both her arms horizontally on her legs, her eyes staring at nowhere in particular as she was thinking about something, a stern look on her face that failed to show whatever emotion she was feeling.

“What you are saying is the truth, the first gun I will be creating shall have no use,
These conditions I can agree to, as long as my skills do not come under abuse.”

*That one sounded a bit forced, but ok.*

Fancy was rather pleased, smiling wider than he usually did. “Well done, perhaps you’re better with people than we originally thought. Anyway, what did you come here to talk to us about? Did you find out what it was Igneous withdrawing that money for?”

Zecora stood up and off from the stool, gently grabbing the gun and walking over to the right side of the room with it. This didn’t make sense to her at first, the right side of the room was where weapon parts were. Then she saw that Zecora was walking towards a large box in the wall, something Pinkamena had somehow missed the last time she was here. It looked to be built into the wall, it was brown and had a large slot in it, big enough to fit almost any gun she could think of.

Zecora put the gun she just cleaned and assembled into the slot, and it sucked it in like a ticket machine, it was strange to see. That was probably how guns that were just made, fixed, or cleaned were put back with the rest, it was certainly a better option than manually taking them back.

“I did, but it might just give you more questions than answers.” She said as she turned back to Fancy Pants, hearing Zecora walking back towards them. “He needed help with something and asked Discord for a favor, that money was a f-”

“Oh, if it’s Discord related, then I don’t need to hear it.” He said as he waved his hand dismissively, a slight tone of what Pinkamena thought she recognized as fear. “Don’t get me wrong, I’m well aware that he contributes to The Syndicate more than any other individual. But frankly, he weirds me out at times, and terrifies me at others. He’s fun to drink with, but I think I’d much rather sleep in the middle of the woods covered in meat than get involved in any of his personal business.”

Fancy jumped off the stool, dusting off the legs of his pants and then grabbed both the stool he was sitting on and the stool she was supposed to sit on. He moved them to two other workbenches, placing them in front and leaving them there. Before turning back to face her again, he adjusted his monocle and bowtie, like he was about to go on a date.

“I believe I’ve spent enough time here. I'm going to apologize to Randolph for forgetting about him for so long, I feel absolutely dreadful for not speaking to such a close friend of my father. I’ll bid you ladies adieu, I have new plans to make thanks to today’s endeavors.”

He didn’t say anything else, opening the door and walking out, the last thing Pinkamena saw was him waving at the old man in the booth, who she now knew as Randolph. She turned around to see Zecora standing directly in front of her, a blank expression on her face and her body was deathly still. Her eyes were on Pinkamena’s hair, like Fancy she seemed curious about it, but not enough to ask, she didn’t even pay attention to her red eye. If it wasn’t for the fact that Pinkamena had spent years living with Maud, and that she could still hear her heartbeat even if she weren’t looking at her, that would have startled her.

“I fought The Silent Killer again, and learned something I’d figure you’d wanna know. When I got close to them, the gun sort of...morphed, I guess is the word? Parts of it moved around despite being metallic, some of it even shrank and compressed until it was basically a different gun. I’m not sure if you knew this, but I…”

She stopped talking when she noticed Zecora’s eyes widening, her usual calm demeanor falling for a moment.

“Of course, I should have thought of that.” Zecora muttered under her breath, turning her head to the left as she said it.

*Did she...just talk normally?*

When she talked in rhymes, it was with a normal tone of voice. However, when she briefly spoke normally, she had a bit of an accent. It was a bit African but there was also something else about it she didn’t quite recognize, it wasn’t an accent she’d ever heard before.

“Wait, you do your rhyming...on purpose? Why?”

Zecora’s entire body flinched and tensed up as soon as the question left her mouth, letting Pinkamena know she wasn’t meant to hear that. She likely only heard it thanks to her enhanced hearing, she still needed to figure out exactly what she was capable of with that. Zecora stuttered a bit as she attempted to formulate a response, deciding it was better to not acknowledge the question and turn around. She pulled out a folded piece of paper from her jeans, unfolding it and placing it on the workbench as she sat on the stool, the same stern look coming back onto her face as she began intently concentrating on it.

*Alright, we’re pretending that didn’t happen, ok.*

Pinkamena was about to leave, before stopping herself, remembering there was something else she had wanted to ask. She’d feel a bit awkward asking that now after that little exchange they just had, but it was still something she wanted to know.

“I’m about to leave to talk to Michael, but there’s something I want to ask you. I want to know whose idea it was to have Juno start watching me, but I really don’t feel like trying to make sense of a rhyme. So how about I just say names, and you...nod?”

A few seconds passed which made Pinkamena feel like she hadn’t heard her, but then she saw her give the slightest of nods, not even stopping whatever she was doing on that piece of paper for a moment.

*Good, so, who would make the most sense? Couldn’t have been Discord, he didn’t even seem to know about it until I told him. Fancy Pants told me he was against it from the start, wouldn’t make any sense for him to have suggested it. Starlight supported the idea, but I feel like she would have told me if she were the one who brought it up. Which only leaves two options.*

“Was it you?”

She rather quickly shook her head, as if prepared to make that response. Even as she did, her hands didn’t slow down, she was making motions similar to an artist's painting. She was sure she was either adjusting the blueprint she had before, or making a new one from scratch thanks to the new information she had.

*Then, that means…*

“If not you, then it had to be Michael?”

For a brief moment, her writing stopped, losing her train of thought. Then, she nodded.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She wasn’t really aware of it until recently, but Pinkamena really hated the smell of hospitals.

She had only been to one once or twice due to childhood injuries, she got all her checkups and such from doctor’s that came to her home, what she now knew was because of the paranoia of The Syndicate. Even so, she would never forget the few times she had been to one.

The smell was the worst, the stench of medicine in the air and just how clean it was always bothered her for some reason, she didn’t really know why. It made her irritated and was a bit hard to concentrate, only made worse by her enhanced sense of smell.

It didn’t help that she associated hospitals with death, and she couldn’t help but associate death with the sisters she couldn’t save.

She was usually preoccupied the previous times, but the infirmary had almost the exact same potent smell. Now that there was nothing she needed to do immediately, she couldn’t ignore it. She really felt like hitting something, and wasn’t exactly in the best mood to have a calm conversation, but she had better self control then to let that get to her.

Instead of Michael being in the infirmary inside of The Syndicate’s own medical bay like he had been when she visited him before, they had apparently decided to move him to a private one. She learned this when she went to the infirmary and couldn’t find him there, Melvin, who was in there frantically reading some book like a college student cramming the night before a test, told her where it was.

It was a bit smaller than a hospital room, and had all the same stuff one did. Pastel white walls and floor, without a single carpet or anything in sight. A bed in the center of the room with one light blue pillow, sheets, and a white blanket. A large IV stand to the left with a heart monitor, and a small tray attached to the bed for food. There was also a small TV built into the wall across from it, which was currently turned off and she couldn’t see where the remote was. There were a few chairs beside the bed, but other than that there was no furniture.

The room didn’t have anything else in it that she could see, other than a door in the back of the room that she presumed was the bathroom. She sort of expected a window, but then she remembered they were underground, and felt a bit stupid for assuming that.

Michael himself was laying completely passed out on the bed, his crutches propped against the bed and his heartbeat was so slow it was almost impossible to detect. He was wearing actual clothes now, but she was sure his body was still wrapped in bandages underneath. He was wearing a large black shirt that was a bit tight against him, the words ‘Tough Guy’ in bright white letters were on the front, whoever gave him his clothes clearly had a sense of humor. He was wearing a soft looking pair of jeans, a large cast on his right leg where she stabbed through his knee, she still distinctly remembered the feeling of shoving her claws through him.

He was, like she expected, still wearing his mask, little puffs of white smoke coming out each time he exhaled. His face actually looked relaxed, peaceful even, not something she associated with Michael. Everything was telling her he was asleep, but she had a distinct gut feeling he was still awake.

She silently walked up to his bed, standing on the left side of the bed where the tray was. She saw he had already eaten, a silver platter on the tray which was empty, an empty cup beside it. The exception was a small bowl, which still had steam coming out of it, so it was made recently. She was a bit curious why he didn’t eat it, so she leaned over to look into the bowl.

“What the fuck?”

It was a bowl of ravioli, it looked professionally made and she could feel her stomach growl at the sight of it. What was startling was that there was a rat in it, a toy rat to be specific. She reached in and pulled it out by the tail, it was covered in pasta sauce and squeaked when she touched it, otherwise the food seemed untouched.

She heard a muffled wheezing sound coming from Michael as he slowly turned his head to face her, his eye opening and then narrowing like he was struggling to make out who he was looking at.

“Did one of the nurses do this as a prank or something?” She asked as she dropped the toy, it made a slight squeaking noise as it sank into the ravioli.

“Yes and no...I got that after I was done eating.... it was supposedly dessert.” His voice sounded a bit less strained than the last time he spoke, he still had to take deep breaths in between speaking. It also sounded like he was in less pain, but it was hard to tell if that was him acting tough or not. “All the nurses left except one...they seemed a bit off...but I didn’t question it too much. They said that someone made something for me...and they gave me that bowl...I was a bit upset when I saw that in there.”

He tried to shift around on the bed to get more comfortable, grunting painfully as just moving too much was agonizing for him. She couldn’t help but grimace a bit out of guilt, even if she was fighting for her life, she went too far. She was lucky she didn’t end up doing any permanent damage, other than adding to his already scar riddled body.

“When I asked who sent me that...they leaned in close to my face...taking off the mask and revealing it was Discord in a nurse costume....looked me straight in the eyes with a shit-eating grin...and asked me ‘Are you sure you didn’t ask for ratviolli?’”

Pinkamena let out a loud snort, putting a hand against her mouth to stop herself from laughing. That was the exact type of pranks she used to do on her friends, a lot of them were food related just like that. Hearing somebody do something like that reminded her of those days, sending a tingle through her heart she hadn’t felt in what felt like forever.

“What...happened after that?” She asked as she slowly lowered her hand, managing to stifle a giggle.

“He ran out giggling like a child that just told a dirty joke...leaving that here after I’d lost my appetite. I’m not sure what horrifies me more...the fact that he went so far to make a pun...or how well he pulled it off.”

Despite his words, she could see his cheeks rise a little, which was likely the closest thing to a smile she’d see from him. She walked around his bed, over to where the chairs were.

“Is Discord usually like that? I know he has a penchant for puns, but even I think it’s a little weird for him to go out of his way to make one.”

“Sort of...there isn’t exactly...a ‘normal’ when it comes to him...but in all the years I’ve known him....he usually only does stuff like that....when he’s bored or going through something...most of the time both.”

Pinkamena immediately thought of when Discord saw her blood, she had always had this mental image of him that he was always calm and knew what he was doing, seeing him suddenly stricken with fear and compose himself like it was nothing made her aware of something. He was terrifyingly good at hiding how he felt, he could be on the edge of a breakdown and no one would know it.

No wonder so many people were scared of him, he was a genius among geniuses and he was impossible to read.

She picked up the chair and placed it beside his bed facing him, sitting down in it and relaxing a bit while she was here. Now that she was closer to him, Michael’s eyes went to her hair, more curiously than surprised. He also saw one of her eyes were a different color too, recognizing it as the same color her eyes changed to when he fought her.

“What’s with your hair and eye? Did you...dye it and put in a contact?”

*I’m a little surprised that other than Discord he’s the first one to actually ask, then again, only him and Starlight would know this is the color it changes to as a chimera.*

“If only. Don’t worry about it, it’s not what I’m here for. I fought The Silent Killer yesterday, and I used the Imperium you gave me.”

“You don’t look very happy about that...I take it something went wrong?”

“The Whispers didn’t like it and stopped me, I only managed to inject half of it and then it dropped and...broke.” *I’m not going to tell him TSK took the rest, I don’t think he could handle getting angry like that right now.* “But you knew something like that would happen, didn’t you?”

She had expected The Whispers to give her a brain aneurysm for talking about them to someone they didn’t give her permission to, but they remained quite outside of their usual constant whispering.

That was either a good sign, or a really really bad one.

Michael took a deep breath, his entire body tensing up, which looked like it was painful for him. She was starting to wonder if he was tough, or if his body was so beat up and broken from the years of fighting that he was just used to pain. He turned his head away from her and looked up to the roof, like he was reminiscing on something.

“I thought they’d have a bad reaction...yeah. You sound like you’ve...got it all figured out already...why don’t you tell me what you think?”

He sounded just as cautious as he was curious, she could see his hand shaking, but she wasn’t sure why. This was one of the things she’d been thinking about for a while, learning the effect Imperium had on The Whispers just felt like the last piece of the puzzle she didn’t know she was missing. If she was wrong, she was wrong and it wasn’t a big deal.

But if she was wrong, there were some serious implications from it.

“This is all based on the fact that you knew Igneous had The Whispers for a bit, if you didn’t...then my whole theory falls apart. I think you knew about it, and you knew how hard it was on him, so you wanted to help. You asked Discord to make a drug under the pretense it was a battle drug, but you made sure it had an effect on the brain too, though it was a gamble whether or not it worked. Luckily it did, for a while he didn’t have to deal with them. Eventually though...it stopped working. More specifically, The Whispers, hating losing control for even the shortest period of time, so they stopped letting him take it.”

Michael let out what she was fairly sure was meant to be a growl, but sounded more like someone trying to scream through a whistle, and just resulted in him having a short coughing fit. She stayed silent as she waited for it to be over, feeling her phone vibrate in her pocket. She pulled it out to see it was a text message from Applejack, saying that she knew she was alive because she left her on read, and was asking if she was ok since she didn’t show up to school.

‘I’m fine, just really busy. I fought TSK again, learned some new stuff, I’ll give you an update later.’

She sent AJ that message and turned off her phone, putting it back in her pocket and hearing Michael was mostly done.

“Everything after this is just guessing and assumptions, but I think you still wanted to help him however you could. You injected the Imperium into yourself to see if you could see The Whispers, it worked, as much as they disliked it. So you kept injecting yourself with it and tried to help him however you could, since I’m guessing you could actually see them and the effect they had, so you did the best you could. You told the others you only used it as a battle drug, worried what might happen if they found out you were doing that to yourself, so you let them think it was because you were addicted. You did actually use it in a battle to help you, but it was always intended to help Igneous.

I’m guessing you stopped sometime after The Whispers left him, or at least slowed down. But the damage was already done, your relationship with Starlight was already ruined because she thought you were addicted and wouldn’t tell her why, and your body was already irreparably damaged. Which is why you didn’t throw much of a fuss when Starlight made Discord stop making it, you kept an emergency dose and knew Discord kept one too, but other than that you stopped entirely.

And that’s...all I’ve got.”

She had expected Michael to laugh at how wrong she was, or as close as he could get before stopping due to the pain. Almost everything she said was just conjecture, it could have been an absolute coincidence that the Imperium cut off The Whispers.

Instead, the only sound in the room was his heavy breathing. His hand had stopped shaking and he was still staring at the ceiling, like he couldn’t bring himself to look at her.

“Pinkamena, I would like to apologize. My previous impression of you was that you weren’t very smart, due to your age and brashness. The fact that you pieced all that together while knowing little more than hearsay is nothing short of impressive, you are more intelligent than I thought, maybe you really are cut out to be a leader.”

Her heart sank at his words, the realization that her postulations were correct was just as surprising as it was shocking. She previously believed that Michael was just an instinctive brute that didn’t think of anything else but fighting, if he did all that, he had much more forethought than she thought he was capable of. It would also explain why The Whispers had been so cautious of him before.

Not only that, but doing everything he did would have meant a lot of dedication. According to everything she’d learned so far, that would have been about the time Igneous' downfall began. Which meant even as he was falling apart and becoming the monster he did, Michael kept helping him with it and stuck with him in unquestioning loyalty.

It reminded her of Rainbow Dash, she couldn’t help but wonder if Rainbow was still alive and saw who she’d become, if she would still call her a friend.

“I’m not smart, I’m just…” Pinkamena shifted in her chair uncomfortably, she had rarely ever been called smart, she didn’t really know how to take it. “Perceptive, I guess? Anyway, so it was all true? You really...sacrificed that much to see The Whispers to try to help him?”

“Yeah, but there’s a bit more to it than that. All that exposure left a sort of after effect, sadly not one that really benefits me.” He slowly turned his head to face her, but even though his eyes were looking in her direction, it’s like they were staring straight through her, at something beyond her. “I can’t see them anymore, but I can sort of just...tell when someone has them, it’s just something I can see.”

The whispering in the back of her head got a bit more frantic, almost fearful, but they didn’t do anything other than that. “What do you see when you look at me? If you can describe it.”

His eyes moved up a bit, peering at the spot just above her head like there was something above her. “I never believed in any of that aura bullshit, but I can’t think of any other word to describe it. It’s like this black energy that comes off every inch of your body, which is a lot more focused around your head. Though it’s...a bit different now, thicker and darker than before. I’m not sure why, but I’m sure it has something to do with the fact that your eye changed color.”

The Whispers calmed down a bit, at least their chattering quieted. She was a bit nervous and surprised, but not all too bothered by it. There were already a few people who knew about them, at this point it didn’t bother her that much, though she was sure The Whispers didn’t feel that way. This also gave her an opportunity to get an answer to a question she’d had for a while, even if it wasn’t a very substantial one.

“I’m sure I don’t need to tell you then that they like to appear as people, did you see who they appeared as for him?”

“Yeah, the few times I got to before they made sure I wouldn’t anymore. It was usually a little girl, every time I saw her she was wearing something else related to fairy tales. One time though, I…”

He closed his eyes for a moment, in what she guessed was a scowl, but it was hard to tell with most of his face being covered by the mask. “Not too long before he took them in, a really close friend of his died, it...messed him up something awful. I saw them disguise themselves as that once or twice, their way of making sure he couldn’t get over it, I’m sure.”

He relaxed his face a bit and turned away from her again, with a pained grunt, Michael rose from the bed. His body lagged a bit as he forced himself up through the pain, sitting hunched over, his bones moving with a sickening pop like they hadn’t been used in days.

*That’s what I should have expected, I should have known that’s who it was as soon as they showed him to me, probably their way of telling me.”

“I’ve heard, that’s good to know. There’s still something that doesn’t make sense to me: I get not telling her during it, but why didn’t you explain everything to Starlight after The Whispers faded away? You know better than anyone how understanding she is, you might have been able to save your relationship with her, I don’t get it!”

There was more anger in her voice than she intended, she wasn’t even sure why she got so angry all the sudden. Her feelings for Starlight were complicated, but the idea of her getting hurt was...unsettling.

Michael responded with a hollow chuckle, this time not resulting in wheezing or a coughing fit. He raised his right metallic hand, staring at it as he clutched and unclutched it.

“‘It was never addiction, it was commitment’. That’s what I wanted to tell her...to try to sound cool. I can’t tell you how many times.... I thought about what to say and how to say it, the thing stopping me for so long was the guilt. I wanted to help Igneous…. we weren’t exactly friends, little more than rivals. But he’d done me a lot of favors, and I…. hated watching him go through that, so I tried to help however I could.

After I couldn’t help him, I had to watch as he….changed into what he did, which just made the guilt worse. I couldn’t....help him or stop him….and I couldn’t help but feel like I….could have done something to help. If I told her, even if….. she’d never say it, some part of her would blame me, I just know it. By the time I finally built up…. the courage to try to tell her, it was too late. Igneous….was too far gone, Starlight had given up on me….and saying what happened would have only made things worse….I truly hadn’t intended you to find out….I simply wanted to see what you would do. But now that you know, I beg you….don’t tell her….I’ve caused her enough pain.”

She saw something wet in the corner of his left eye, but he blinked and it was gone in an instant. She couldn’t say she sympathized with him, but she understood. There were friends she had that made her feel the same way. So many times she felt she could have helped Sunset, but she never tried, and she just ended up turning into a demon. She also felt she could have done something to prevent what happened to Twilight, maybe even stopped her from being consumed by magic like that.

If she had actually done everything she could to help both of them, and things had turned out for the worse, the guilt would crush her.

“I...understand, I won’t. You should tell her, she deserves the truth, you aren’t getting any younger after all.”

She saw his cheeks rise slightly as he smiled again, that sad expression on his face disappearing. “How old do you think I am? I’m only….thirty five you know? I just look like this….because of the Imperium….I’ve still got life in me.”

“If that’s true, then I think it’s safe to say I won’t be taking anymore. I don’t want to look like I’m about to keel over when I’m in my thirties like you.”

*Awfully bold of me to expect to survive to my twenties.*

Ignoring her own morbid thoughts, she stood up out of the chair, placing her arms in front of her and preparing to put her hands in her hoodie pockets. Then she felt incredibly awkward when she remembered she wasn’t wearing one, but also a little proud that she hadn’t felt as vulnerable as before. She quickly put her hands in her jean pockets, hoping Michael hadn’t noticed.

“I should be going soon, I have things I need to do. Before I go though, I want to ask, why did you suggest putting Juno on me in the first place?”

“Because,” Michael lowered his hand into the right pocket of his pants, moving it around as he tried to find something in it. “I had a feeling….The Silent Killer was going to be a bit more than you could….handle, at least right now. Also to keep tabs on you….you’re more than a little reckless….so you had us paranoid. But I feel….in the past few days you’ve matured….and I’m more confident you can handle things now.”

“That’s...a bit more rational than I was expecting, but I still don’t like it. After everything with TSK, I expect him to be off my ass. The only one who I haven’t done a favor for yet is Zecora, and I can do that at the same time.”

Pinkamena pulled out her right hand and grabbed the chair with it, carrying it with her as she walked to the door. She placed it beside the other chair, her ears perking up a bit when she heard Michael’s heart rate pick up.

“Wait.”

She turned around to face him, catching sight of his hand steadily pulling something out of his pocket, she wasn’t able to make out what it was.

“You smoke….right?”

Her right eyebrows raised slowly as she processed that question, her eyes narrowing as she looked back at him cautiously. “....Yeah? If this is supposed to be some kind of l-”

With speed she wasn’t expecting, he threw the object at her, she caught it with her right hand in front of her face. It was a small ziplock bag, the kind she used to carry her snacks around in school. Though instead of rice cakes and twinkies, there were small, green, flaky plant-like things, they looked like seeds of some sort. There were a dozen of them or so stacked on top of each other in the bag.

She recognized almost immediately what they were, she’d experimented with it a couple of times at some of her parties.

“Is this...weed?”

Michael nodded as she lowered himself back down on the best, a bit less painfully this time.

“Sure is, another gift….Discord gave me when he was dressed as a nurse. Guess he figured….I’d like to have something to do in here.”

“Wait, you can smoke? How does that work with your mask?” She asked as she lowered her hand, putting the bag of marijuana in her empty back pocket.

“I have….a slot on the front of my mask….It’s how I eat. I haven’t smoked in….five months or so. I don’t want it….right now, instead….I want you to smoke it with Zecora. She’s been….really upset since Igneous died, but she doesn’t like….talking about her problems. She prefers to….bury herself in her work, she’s been going nonstop….on that custom gun she’s been working on for two days. The only way….I know of to get her to relax and talk….is when she’s high out of….her mind. It’s not exactly….a good choice, but it’s all I can think of. Do that before you leave….if you have time.”

She could tell his breathing was starting to get heavier, almost agonizingly so. She didn’t know the state his body was in, but talking as much as was evidently was stressful on him. He probably would love nothing more than to be asleep, only staying awake for her.

“Not what I was expecting to do today, but I won’t say no. I’ll find something to roll it with, there’s someone I need to talk to first. You go ahead and go back to sleep now, I’m the one that put you in that bed, I don’t want to be the one who keeps you in there too.”

She wasn’t expecting him to respond, she could see his eyes close like his eyelids were dumbbells. His heart rate slowed down and all the tension in his body went away as he relaxed, that peaceful expression he had on his face when she came in returning, she was almost jealous.

“When you talk to her…” She barely managed to hear him murmur as she opened the door. “Make sure to be honest, while you still can.”

She nodded as she walked out, there wasn’t much left to say.

__________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

She had been standing in front of Starlight’s for at least five minutes.

She knew she was in there, she could hear her heartbeat. Every heartbeat had its own rhythm that was unique to them, Starlight’s was unlike any other, it was light and gentle like the sounds of a piano. If she concentrated enough, she could even hear her fingers hitting the keyboard, sitting comfortably behind her desk.

There were a lot of things she wanted to talk to Starlight about, good and bad. She needed her help dealing with the aftermath of Blake, but she also needed her to stop pitying her, she hated being treated like a charity case. She’d been trying to think of what to say, but she never came up with anything she liked. Ever since she’d left the shower, there was a knot in her chest she couldn’t quite shake. It got worse as she talked to the others to an almost unbearable extent, she was familiar with the feeling, it was the feeling that she got when she knew there were things she needed to talk about. It would only get worse the longer she pushed it off.

She decided the best way was to just go with it and improvise, the same way she’d been doing most things thus far.

She raised her hand to knock on the door, not noticing when her hand had started shaking. Her entire right arm felt tense as she lightly tapped against it, hearing Starlight’s fingers stop typing and stood up from the desk. Pinkamena put her hands back in her pockets, unable to stop her trembling. How long had it been since she was this nervous about something?

Starlight opened the door, wearing the same clothes she usually did. Pinkamena couldn’t help but smell the shampoo she recently used, it was a bit strong and let her know she had recently taken a shower. She even looked clean, not a single blemish of any kind on her skin or a hair out of place, Rarity would be impressed.

She couldn’t help but feel like she was being creepy by taking note of all these, but she always paid attention to stuff like that, the fact that her senses had been sharpened just made it harder not to.

“Pinkie? What happened? You look...different, did you do something with your hair?” Starlight asked jokingly, her eyes examining her hair for a moment, then slowly moving down the rest of her body, seeing if there were any other distinct changes.

Pinkamena couldn’t help but flinch at being called that, not doing a very good job of hiding it from her. She lowered her head a bit so her hair covered most of her face, the knot in her chest getting tighter with each breath she took.

“Oh no, Pinkie?” Starlight asked frantically, walking forward and trying to place a hand on her as her eyes shot up. Pinkamena responded by jumping back a bit right before, shaking her head back and forth to tell her she didn’t want to be touched.

Her throat felt dry and her heart was about out of her chest, she drew a breath as she tried to speak, but she couldn’t bring the words past her throat. She could feel the start of The Whispers trying to numb her, the cold spreading from the back of her mind. She pushed it back, she didn’t need it.

“Can we...talk?”