The inside of the Hub was mostly dark and still, quiet save for the whine of the computer banks against the side wall, as it was most days. The only light was the faint glow of the screens, which brightened and darkened as the various images from news reports, security and surveillance cameras, and plain screensavers changed constantly. Stale and warm, the air was uncomfortable. It all had a very claustrophobic effect, which only worsened the tensions in the room. The silence didn’t last long.

Twila pinched her nose, letting out a frustrated sigh as she said yet again what she’d been saying for the past two hours.

“Spike, you’re not coming with us and that’s final!” she said hotly.

“But Twilaaaa! I understand why I wasn’t allowed to come last time, but a big, fancy party is hardly dangerous,” argued the young man. Twila could remember only months ago that he would have done nearly anything she asked of him without question.

Oh how they do grow up... Celestia, you said I could handle this, but I begin to wonder, she thought, trying to formulate a counter-argument.

“We don’t know that for sure--that’s the entire reason we make backup plans. Besides, we need you running Homebase again,” she tapped him lovingly on the shoulder, “Drake.”

Despite himself, Spike grinned as he grumbled, “Fine, but next time? I want to really help. Not just sit on the sidelines while you guys risk your lives.”

She smiled warmly and gave him a slow nod. “Fair enough,” she said. To herself, she thought, Hopefully, there won’t be a next time. Sorry to disappoint you, Spike.

Nodding back, he said, “OK, now that we’ve got that out of the way, should I get the girls down here for the mission briefing?”

“No time like the present. The party is the day after tomorrow, after all.”

“Roger!” Spike double-timed it past Twila and up the stairs to the farm above, leaving Twila to her own thoughts. And doubts.

I hope you’re right, Spike. Last time was too close, too scary. She began to chew her bottom lip as she paced across the room, a nervous habit from her youngest days. What I wouldn’t give to have you here, Big Brother. Or to at least know you’re safe, alive.

“I’m not sure...” She stopped, choking back an unexpected sob. After the robbery, she had spent countless nights awake, crying and hurting, the visions of what they’d done flashing through her head--hadn’t she shed enough tears? “I’m n-not sure if I can do this on my own.”

Outside, the sun was shining brightly, though it held little warmth so early in the morning. Jack sat at the foot of her bed, staring out of her window. She had woken up later than normal--it seemed like anymore, she just wanted to rest.

Rubbing at her temples, Jack tried to force away the lingering effects from last night’s drink. Not that the whiskey had helped her much to begin with. The freckled woman put her hands over her brow and exhaled deeply. From behind, she heard movement, then two warm arms wrapped around her neck.

“Morning, hayseed,” Dash purred, her voice gravelly and scratchy with sleep. “What’s up?”

“Nothin’,” Jack deflected. She uncoiled herself from Isabelle’s embrace and stood, trying her best to ignore the lithe woman’s irritated frown. Without another word, she walked to a vanity mirror, sat, and took to combing her long blonde hair.

Dash rolled her eyes and put a hand to her cheek. It was going to be one of those days, wasn’t it? “‘Nothin’’ doesn’t see you come to bed drunk three days in a row,” Isabelle countered, rising to join the other.

“I’m fine.” The tall woman scowled, continuing to comb her hair. “Ain’t like you’ve never pulled one off before--”

“Cut the crap,” Isabelle retorted dangerously, pointing a stern finger at the blonde. “Yeah, I’ve had my share of benders. But I know you. You’re never completely smashed outta your gourd unless something’s up,” Dash said, looking intently at Jack through the mirror’s reflection. “I know this has still gotta be eating you up, dude.”

She rose with an intense scowl that quickly melted under Isabelle’s gaze. The statuesque woman put a slow, considering hand to her mouth. “I was fine, ‘til I realized we were goin’ back on the job, ya know?” she finally admitted with a slump of her powerful shoulders. “I hadn’t thought it’d eat at me like this--it’s been months now, but...you an’ Diane almost died ‘cause of how I messed up, ya know?” She gazed wearily to the ceiling. “Not ta mention that jus’ thinkin’ bout what I did--what we all did--hurts so bad I can feel it clawin’ out my gut. It ain’t jus’ us that had ta run though that shit. I-I know we can handle it, but I can’t even think what Pinkie or Chylene’s goin’ through right now, on top of havin’ ta maybe go through this exact same shit again...” After she said her piece she sniffed, brutishly wiping her eyes with the palm of her hand. “God, Izzy... I’m a mess.”

Dash stepped forward and put her hands to Jack’s waist. “A beautiful mess,” she said, smirking warmly. Before the other could reply, Isabelle stood on her toes and kissed the blonde’s mouth. She broke away and took her affections to Jack’s chin. “One that’s always took care of me during the rough days...” She trailed down to the side of Jack’s bronzed neck. “And one that’s too damn proud to ask for help sometimes.” Isabelle stopped her downward trip to focus her gaze just below Jack’s collarbone--where a memento from their heist stood prominent on the otherwise smooth, freckled skin.

It couldn’t be missed, the scarred indention, pink and tight, forming a near perfect circle the width of Dash’s ring finger. Around it were a few red marks, where her kevlar had ruptured and stuck to her skin after the bullet had penetrated her defenses. Isabelle couldn’t help but run her finger delicately around the scar. The tall woman winced briefly as Dash focused her attention on the wound. While Jack was far from Rarity regarding personal appearances, the scar made her feel garish, self-conscious.

The athlete thought it made Jack look absolutely sublime. It wasn’t every day you found a woman willing to walk through death’s door just to make sure things got set right for people. With that in mind, Isabelle leaned forward, giving the old injury a surprisingly tender kiss. When she broke away, she gave thought to her next words.

“We’ve known eachother since we were kids, hayseed. I don’t think I’ve ever asked all that much of you, so...just...if it gets too hard, fuckin’ tell me. You’re a strong girl, but this is a two-way street, yeah? How many times have you had to listen to me talk about everything that happened that day?” She weakly smiled, giving a tap to Jack’s chest. “Hell, I’m surprised you never told me to shut up and stop whining.”

Jack finally managed a small, tiny smile of her own. “Dash...” she addressed, looking into her partner’s rose-colored eyes.

“Mmm?”

Jack’s words seemed to briefly dry up for her. She had wanted to say everything swimming in her mind, but instead decided to focus on the core problem. “I’ll try ta be better,” the freckled woman swore.

“I know you will, sug-ah,” Isabelle said, doing her best to mimic Jack’s heavy accent and failing. She glanced at the door. “So...I think we might have a bit before Mac tries to get you up...how about we...” She flicked her eyes over to the bed and smirked.

“That all ya think about, girl?” Jack replied, finally starting to feel a bit more like herself. The athlete had that effect on her. Among other, more primal, feelings... Jack looked over to the clock and put a hand on her hip. “Well, alright. Good thing yer pretty damn quick at everythin’ you do...”

“Hey,” the short woman warned with a frown, moving towards the bed. She laid down on it, resting her head in her hand and smiling playfully as she watched Jack.

She followed Isabelle’s lead, reaching behind her back to unclasp her bra. On freeing herself from the object, she tossed it to the side, took a slow, enticing step forward and--

“JACK ‘N’ DASH! COME DOWN FER BREAKFAST!” came the loud yell of Alice.

Before either of them could share their incredibly heated resentment, a cough from the room’s door was heard, followed by, “Oh, well, there’s that and...uh...Twila wants to meet in the Hub for a briefing.” It was Spike. “And I didn’t hear anything.” Another cough. “At all.”

Jack held onto what little dignity she had left and didn’t turn to face the door she knew he was behind. Instead, she focused her gaze at a spot on the wall, while wishing she could shrivel up and die. “O-OK, Spike. I’m glad ya didn’t hear nothin’. ‘Cause there wasn’t nothin’ ta hear. No sir. Not--”

“You’re so bad at that--quit while we’re ahead, Jackie,” Dash ordered in a whisper. She put on a large, false smile and looked towards the doorway. “Alright, Spike. We’ll be down in just a minute.”

“R-right! See ya...in a minute then.” He seemed unsure. “I’ve gotta go find Rarity and Pinkie, anyway.” There was another pause before they heard his loud steps leading away from the door.

Isabelle couldn’t help it--she turned red and burst into a hearty guffaw, clutching at her sides. Tears of mirth streaked down her face as she rolled around on the bed in an attempt to get herself under control. “Never a d-dull moment with you, man. Never a dull moment.”

Spike could feel the heat in his face as he headed down the stairs of the Apple homestead--it wasn’t his fault Jack and Dash decided to do...that...so early in the morning. He was just doing his job.

“Speaking of...now where on earth could Pinkie be?” he asked himself. Chylene had been found in the kitchen, helping Alice with breakfast. The quiet woman had always been an early riser and was fond of cooking.

Heading outside, he decided to go for broke. “Oh Piiiinkiiiiiie!” he called.

In the distance, he could see a dust trail forming behind someone on a bicycle. Heading straight for him at an incredible speed. He quickly leapt to the side to avoid a possible collision, hearing the sound of screeching brakes. Looking up, behind him he saw Pinkie on a pink bicycle, wearing a pink helmet to match. It was good to know that at that speed, she was at least being safe.

“You called, Spike?” she asked cheerfully.

He let out a nervous breath. “Geez, Pinkie...um... Yeah, breakfast is ready and Twila wants everyone to meet in the Hub for the next mission briefing.” He took another look at the bicycle. “What are you doing, Pinkie? Biking so early...?”

“There isn’t a law against it, is there? Plus, biking is soooo great! I don’t have my driver’s license yet, so this is how I get around. It’s easier than using Sarah’s scooter, for sure. When I use that, only one of my legs gets tired, but on a bike, the tiredness is shared!” Pinkie rambled excitedly. “Anyway, I’m starved!”

Pinkie put her bike and helmet against the building and rushed inside to eat before Spike could even formulate a reply.

“Uh... Guess Rarity’s next. Gonna have to hoof it to get to the grotto in time.”

It hadn’t taken long for Spike to memorize Rarity’s daily schedule down to the minute. Any morning after she stayed overnight at the farm--which had become increasingly often as of late--she’d take her morning bath at a nearby spring. The cool, pure water, or so she claimed, was best for her very sensitive skin.

Spike had learned the routine easily enough. First, run the quarter mile or so to the edge of the spring, then close eyes. Then walk along the stream until...there, a large boulder that his foot would hit. Then announce.

“Rarity! It’s me, Spike. I’ve got an important message for you.”

Five seconds, then reply. “Oh, Spike! Good morning, sweety. What’s this about a message?”

The young man could feel his blush as he quickly pushed down the thought that one of the most beautiful women he’d ever known was talking to him from her bath. He’d met Rarity when he was only twelve, crushing on her quickly. Twila had found it cute and said it would fade, but it never did--it only grew deeper. But no less one-sided.

“Spike? Are you still there?”

Snapping from his wandering thoughts, he said, “Uh, y-yeah. Sorry. The message. Right. Twila says she wants everyone to meet in the Hub to talk about next plan. And breakfast is ready.”

“Already? I wasn’t even close to finished.” She let out a sigh. “Alright, thank you, Spike. I’ll be along shortly!”

“Not a problem, Rarity. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

He began the about face to head back to the farmhouse when she called out, “Oh, actually, Spike, be a dear and hand me my towel--I’ve forgotten it on the rocks, and that wind is a bit too cold for me to get it myself.”

“Right away, Rarity!” he enthused. “Um... How am I supposed to do that when I can’t see?”

He heard a slightly frustrated noise. “Now, Spike, I know you’re a gentleman, so go ahead. I trust you, of course.”

Spike couldn’t believe his ears--he could open his eyes? His mind raced with possibilities, but he shut them all down as soon as they sprouted. She was right. He was a gentleman and above such appalling--though appealing--behaviors.

Bringing up his mental map of the place to avoid looking towards the direction the spring pool was, he opened his eyes and scanned for the large stone Rarity used as a makeshift table. As he figured, there sat her large, fluffy towel next to...

“Clothes!” he squeaked.

“What was that, Spikey? You OK, dear?”

“Uh, f-f-fine! Just fine. Getting your towel now! Be there in two shakes.” Careful to avoid looking at the (Silky... Lacy... Black?! Oh why black?!) neat stack of clothes, he grabbed the towel and walked quickly over the small rise that led down into the depression holding the pool.

Too quickly he found, when his foot caught another rock, causing him to stumble forward. Combined with gravity, the young man was unable to stop himself from crashing right into the pool and the chilly waters within. The world spun as he fell straight to the bottom, the towel tangling around him not helping. He’d never been a strong swimmer, even though the spring wasn’t very deep, and as the little breath he’d manage to suck in ticked away in his surprise, he began to desperately try and kick his way to the surface.

That’s when he felt a firm grip around the neckline of his hoodie pull him up, hard. Breaking the surface, his breaths came quick and ragged. He would’ve laughed if he could--the only thought on his mind was the wonder if the farm air had always tasted so good.

A moment later, the worried voice of Rarity broke through his fading panic. “Spike! Spike, talk to me--are you alright?”

He coughed out a bit of water before croaking, “Y-yeah, just caught me by surprise is all. Thanks, Rarity--you really...save...”

“What was that? I didn’t quite catch that last part, Spike, dear,” she said, concern still evident on her face. She had pulled him up from the deeper end of the pool to the shallows, holding him up and out of the water.

Spike had finally noticed that Rarity was still quite naked. Above the water. With him in her arms.

“Spike.” There was just enough of a warning to the tone that allowed him to finally find some words for reply.

“Oh uh!” He turned away, pulling up the now completely soaked towel. “Your, uh, towel?”

Turning him around, Rarity grabbed the towel and said, “Thank you, Spike. Run along back to the farmhouse, and tell them I’ll be right there. Hurry now, before you catch cold!”

Still slightly in disbelief, Spike slowly nodded as he trudged back out of the pool and towards the house.

When he was gone, Rarity threw the towel back on shore, frustrated. She’d known about his little crush for a long time--it was sweet, it really was--but she had hoped he would have grown out of it by now.

“Instead, he gets a complete view of moi, au naturale...” She sighed, rubbing her arms and legs to dry herself in the cool air as best she could. So why did she feel so warm? It was terribly uncouth, him seeing her like that... But she had seen it in his eyes--it hadn’t been flat desire or lust. He’d genuinely been appreciating her beauty.

“Spike, you’re such a sweetheart, it’s almost painful,” she whispered, gathering her clothes and getting dressed. “Another problem for another time, I feel.”

Nodding to herself, she picked up the soiled towel--careful not to let it brush her nice, clean clothes--and headed the same way Spike had gone, eager for a warm breakfast and her mind still in wonder over the actions of one innocent young man.

Jack got halfway presentable and tromped her way down the stairs, Isabelle trotting along just behind her. She sniffed the air and nodded. Coffee, ham omelets and a side of sausage. Years of anticipating her grandma’s cooking had crafted Jack’s nose into a scent machine, able to predict just about any meal before she even spotted it.

She took a seat at the head of the table, acknowledging Macintosh with a nod. Dash plopped herself down at the center, while Alice sat next to the colossal man, buttering a piece of toast. Pinkie was already sitting opposite Mac, having formed a jam beard already. Chylene meanwhile, was standing at the kitchen counter, still preparing food.

The burly man glanced over the women sitting at the table and felt very much the minority. Regardless, he cleared his throat and quietly asked, “Anyone wanna say grace?”

Pinkie paused halfway through taking another bite of toast. “Oh!” she muffled before swallowing, “We’re meant to say that before eating?”

“If ya don’t wanna, we don’t have ta. Jus’ what our Granny taught us ta do,” he said, his face a usual mask of casual indifference.

“Well, we’ll play by Apple rules since we’re in the Apple household!” Pinkie exclaimed, putting down her toast.

“Alrighty. Chy? Ya ok with it?”

Chylene turned around, a sweet smile on her face. “Of course I am. Please, go on.”

The brickhouse of a man cleared his throat and kneaded his large fingers together. “Uh...” he trailed off in thought as to what to say. Being a man of few words, it came to him fairly quickly. “Bless this meal ta the nourishment of our bodies, an’ protect us in all our upcomin’ trials. Amen.”

A chorus of amens went around the room and, with Chylene taking a seat next to Macintosh, the meal properly began.

Jack chewed methodically at her omelette, nodding in appreciation at its flavor. “Ya do these, Chylene?”

“Oh yes, but--”

“I helped!” Alice exclaimed, raising a hand and grinning proudly.

“Um, yes, Alice was very helpful,” Chylene finished.

“Good work, sweet pea.” Jack weakly smiled. Her red-haired sibling returned the gesture, but it was a lot stronger.

Pinkie gave Jack a quick glance. “Hey, Jack!” she yelled, getting up, “I wanna show you this really cool bug I found outside!” Giggling, she grabbed the farmer’s arm before she could protest and led her outside.

They stopped around the back of the house, and Pinkie let go of Jack. “Okay, there’s no bug,” Pinkie admitted, her face taking on a worried look, “but something is bugging you.”

“Ain’t nothin’ I can’t handle,” Jack gruffly dismissed, tired of seemingly everyone trying to get into her head today.

“If that was true, you’d be fine by now,” Pinkie retorted, her voice serious, but also sincere.

That hit her hard. The blonde grit her teeth. “How do ya feel fine after what we did, Di? Ya have any idea what it feels like havin’ ta talk ta Alice ‘bout why I got shot up? She’s a smart kid--she’s gotta know that I ain’t tellin’ her the whole story. If she ever finds out all the blood I got on my hands...all the blood I got on yers...” her voice cracked.

“Try telling the same thing to a couple with babies. The Cakes could’ve thrown me out for what I did... If I had told them everything anyway...” Pinkie scuffed a foot across the grass, looking down. “I can’t...” She stopped herself, shaking her head so rapidly Jack thought it’d fly off. “This isn’t about me. It’s all about you, Jackie!” she stated slightly more cheerfully, poking Jack in the chest.

“There ain’t nothin’ more ta say,” Jack protested, crossing her arms.

“Please, Jack,” Pinkie said softly, taking hold of the farmer’s hands. “I don’t like it when you’re down. It...it scares me.”

“It scares ya? Welcome ta every. Damn. Day of my life after that heist. You got any idea how often I think ‘bout that shit!?” She pointed hard at Diane. “A foot or so over an’ that bullet that took a bite outta ya would have killed ya instead. Same goes fer Dash. An’ that’d be yer blood on my hands. Some of us can’t jus’ bounce back from somethin’ like that--somethin’ that could have ended with one of my best friends dead, an’ my--” She sucked in a trembling breath. “An’ Dash, gone.” The blonde subconsciously rubbed at her bullet wound. “It’s one thing fer me ta die doin’ this. I’m willin’ ta accept that risk ta make sure that whore sittin’ on Camelot’s throne gets what’s comin’. It’s a whole ‘nother ballgame knowin’ how y’all were...” she trailed off, shaking her head. “How y’all were so close...”

“Everyone’s hurting, Jack. I can tell. But they’re not focusing on that...” Pinkie gave Jack a small hopeful smile. “You gotta learn how to block out the badness. Especially now in these crazy times. If you don’t, it builds up, and then you get to a point of no return. Just give me a smile Jackie, that’s all I’m asking.”

“I’ll smile when I start feelin’ good again. That’s the best I can promise.”

Pinkie’s lips settled, becoming a neutral line. “Is there nothing I can do...?”

Jack gave it some consideration, trying her best to keep the other’s spirit up now that the anger she had felt in her gut died down. Finally, she put her hand on the pink-haired girl’s shoulder and leaned in close. “You can take care of everyone else. Jus’ knowin’ the girls are doin’ fine’ll help me out more than you’d think--’specially Chylene an’ Twila. Ok?”

“Okay, Jackie, I’ll try.” Pinkie turned to leave but had second thoughts, enveloping Jack in an almost bone-crushing hug that lasted a few seconds, before walking back inside the house.

Jack moved to follow her, but realized she didn’t have much of an appetite after the serious conversation with the enthusiastic woman. With a frown and a somber shake of her head, she headed to her barn and down into the Hub.