“She's right over there, sir.”

He followed the nurse's pointing hoof with his eyes, until they came to rest on the huddled shape in the wheelchair at the far end of the room. He took in a deep breath and let it out slowly. “What happened to her?” he asked.

The nurse balked for a moment. “Normally I wouldn't be allowed to reveal that information, but given your... special status and your clearance....” She cleared her throat. “Her physical diagnosis is extreme thaumatic-system trauma and feedback-induced nonthaumia.” She caught his confused look. “In laypony's terms, it means magical burnout. Whatever type of magic she'd been using did tremendous damage to her body's ability to generate and channel magical energy, and when the restraint ring was applied to her horn in order to stop her from using it, it caused a feedback effect. In ordinary cases a single instance like this would cause only temporary damage, from which the patient could recover within a few weeks utilizing modern medical and magical techniques, but in her case....” The nurse sighed and shrugged. “We're just not sure. It could be permanent.”

He frowned. “There's no way to help her heal?”

“It's possible, but... that leads into the mental diagnosis. She suffers from deep-seated depression, post-traumatic stress, anxiety attacks... as unprofessional as it is for me to say, she's an absolute train wreck.” The mare shook her head slowly. “Her sentence bound her to undergo psychiatric as well as physical therapy, but we've been unable to get her to participate in any of the programs this facility offers. It isn't defiance she's showing... it's despair.”

“I see.” He gave the nurse a smile. “I appreciate the help. Is... it alright if I speak to her?”

She considered for a moment. “Yes. But please, be gentle. She's very fragile.”

“I will.” With that, he walked through the doorway, ignoring the strange looks he got from the other patients as he headed for the back of the room. There she was- wrapped from the neck down in a plain sky-blue comforter, staring blankly at the rain that pattered against the lounge's windows. Her face was gaunt, her eyes sunken, and her mane a barely-kept mess. He winced just a little at the sight, but didn't slow down until he was just outside her range of vision.

“Hello, Trixie,” he said quietly.

He expected a flinch, a jerk of her head, at least some sort of immediate reaction. The slow turn of her head towards him that happened instead was almost unnerving. He could see recognition flash across her face, though, and she was only able to hold his gaze for a moment before she closed her eyes and bowed her head.

“Can I sit?” he asked.

An almost imperceptible nod. He picked the overstuffed love seat that stood alongside where her wheelchair had been placed. “I've been meaning to find out what happened to you after... the last time we saw each other,” he told her. “It just turned out that it took me a little while to be able to come back.” She offered him nothing but silence in reply. “Trixie, look,” he began.

“...'m sorry....”

He almost hadn't heard her over the gentle thrumming of the rain against the glass; only the fact that he was watching her closely had let him see her lips move. “I know you are, Trixie,” he told her. “I know that you were controlled by that magic. I saw what you wrote in your diary.” Still no reaction. “Trixie... I hated you for a while for what you did, for what you almost brought into being. I saw the results of it. A city, an entire world, left in ruins- countless lives snuffed out for no sane reason.” Tears were beginning to streak down the mare's muzzle, but still she gave no other acknowledgment. “But I know that isn't what you wanted, Trixie. Even as far gone as you were, the most you wanted was acknowledgment- Twilight believes that the entropic magic itself clouded your judgment, bringing you to create a weapon when all you really wanted was a way to show yourself to the world. Is she right about that?”

She gave a slight, trembling nod.

“Yeah, I figured she was.” He leaned back in the chair, letting out a sigh as he looked her over. “I don't think anyone could punish you as much as you're punishing yourself right now. I read over the public records of your trial- not only did you plead guilty, you pled for banishment. The Princesses convinced the prosecution to accept a sentence of confinement to a psychiatric facility for rehabilitation. That's quite the second chance you were given.”

“...I don't deserve it.” It was painful to hear her voice- it was strained, rough, as though she hardly used it anymore. He suspected that was the case. “Why not?” he asked.

“I'm... I'm evil. I'm... a horrible pony. I would've k-” her voice caught in her throat. “...would've... killed... everypony. Everyone. Just... just because I didn't think... I was famous enough.” She sobbed. “I just... I just want to fade away. No more Trixie.”

“What would that give us, Trixie? Is that how you'd make amends to everyone?” She looked into his eyes for a moment, but said nothing. “It would be an absolute waste,” he told her, leaning forward again. “What you did was wrong, Trixie; it was horrible. But it wasn't your intention. I think you're better than that. I think you can still make a good difference in the world.”

“N- no I can't. Everypony hates me.”

“That's not the case, Trixie. It was made clear during the trial that you were under the influence of an outside power and not in control of yourself.” He leaned further forward, putting one hand on the foreleg-rest of her wheelchair. “But let me ask you this. Do you think the only way to make up for what you did is to let yourself wither away and die?”

She looked up at him, her eyes brimming with tears and her lip quivering, but said nothing.

“I want to forgive you, Trixie. I want to say 'you've suffered enough and you deserve a chance to rebuild'.” He rested his hand on her forehoof. “But forgiveness requires a lot of things. It requires contrition, remorse... and an effort to set things right, or at least to make good to offset the bad. Sitting here like this, letting yourself die one inch at a time- that isn't contrition, Trixie. It's suicide, and suicide is selfish. You don't want to be selfish anymore, do you, Trixie?”

Her eyes met his again, and after a moment she just barely shook her head.

“Princess Celestia has decided to offer you a deal. If you complete the original terms of your sentence- physical and mental rehabilitation to the point of meeting release conditions- then she'll offer you a position in her Trans-Dimensional Affairs Council. And if you accept that position and make it through the vetting process, she'll give you a full pardon.” He reached up and cupped her muzzle in his hand. “And if that happens... you'll have my forgiveness. Because we need help, Trixie- it's a difficult thing we're trying to accomplish, and we need every good mind we can get working on it. And Twilight and I both agree that when you truly set your mind to something, you can make amazing things happen.” He lowered his hand again, his eyes looking deeply into hers. “Do you accept the offer?”

The unicorn was silent for a long moment, her eyes flicking back over to the windows. He was about to offer her more time to consider when she spoke.

“...yes.”

His smile returned, wider than before. “Good. I'll notify the Princess.” He looked up to see the nurse coming towards them; it seemed that the lounge hours were coming to an end. “I'm looking forward to the chance to work with you, Trixie,” he said, moving to stand- but he paused when her hoof covered his hand, and she looked up at him with tearful eyes.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

He nodded slowly, patting her hoof with his free hand before he stood and walked slowly towards the exit. The rain had quieted down, allowing him to hear the conversation behind him.

“Alright, Miss Lulamoon, let's go ahead and get you back to your room.”

“...nurse?”

“Yes?”

“Isn't... isn't there a therapy session about to start?”

“Why, yes, in just a few minutes.”

“I'd... like to go there instead.”

He stopped in mid-step, looked back the way he came. Trixie slowly turned her head towards him- and after a moment, her lips turned up ever so slightly in the tiniest of smiles.

He smiled back in return, and gave her a nod of his head before walking out the door.