Envoy stood outside the hospital where Fluttershy was marching to the entrance with bravery just to lower her head and sulk away in tearful failure again and again. Envoy wasn't willing to put kilometers on her hooves following the yellow pegasus from the breezeway to the dirt path repeatedly. She had been consoling Fluttershy and offering words of encouragement to such an extent that her voice had become hoarse.

Fluttershy seated herself in the dirt, dropped her head into her hooves, and hid behind her long pink mane. She was crying again which compelled Envoy to comfort her; however, Envoy was done with words. There was simply nothing more to say. She patted Fluttershy on the shoulder and mutely conveyed her condolences.

Fluttershy wiped her nose and peered at Envoy from behind her mane, "You've seen her already?"

Envoy nodded.

"Did it look bad? I mean, does it look like it hurt a lot? You know... for a long time?" The pegasus' face was soaked with tears.

Envoy's gaze shifted to the ground as she nodded.

They had been on the front step of the hospital for over an hour, and Fluttershy was beginning to wear on Envoy's patience. Envoy was trying the best she could to be supportive and used much effort to hide her frustration.

"Is she...?" Fluttershy paused to brush the cascade of moisture from her cheeks. "Is she, um... disfigured?"

Envoy shook her head, "She isn't 'disfigured' per se, but she won't look the same."

Fluttershy closed her eyes, "Why? Why do I have to see her?"

"Chiefly, because the items found in the autopsy are kept with her body." Envoy said.

"Items?" Fluttershy brushed her hair away from her face.

"Yes. Rocks." Envoy gestured dispassionately, "They found them in her throat, and we're hoping they can be identified because we don't know why they're significant."

Fluttershy nodded with a look of determination which Envoy had now seen at least a hundred times. She watched Fluttershy stomp her way to the door, and was surprised when the yellow pegasus actually went inside. Envoy galloped into the hospital and fell into step with Fluttershy.

They met with Nurse Redheart who offered to lead them to the morgue at the end of the center passageway which was marked as the Intensive Care Unit, but Fluttershy reneged once again, “I think I’m going to see Spike first.”

Envoy agreed in understanding of Fluttershy’s apprehension and they were let into Spike’s room that was near the entrance of the ICU hallway. Spike snapped a glance at the entering ponies as if nopony had entered the room before.

Intravenous tubes were tucked under his scales and securely taped on his forearms. The pumps whirred and clicked while sounding quiet alarms to indicate whatever action they were performing. The drapery and pair of seats in the north east corner of the room matched the dark red ICU color scheme. Across from the bed on the west wall, a rosewood cabinet hosted a small bouquet of roses and a vast collection of Get-Well-Soon cards. Pinkie Pie’s contribution to the sentiments was an enormous assortment of foil balloons and various confections.

“Hey, Fluttershy.” The purple dragon greeted weakly, and he winced as he adjusted in the bed.

“Spike, you’re awake! I mean, you’ve been awake, but you’re talking!” She strode to his bedside with a wide smile. “I was beginning to think you’d never talk again!”

He smirked meekly with pain lurking behind his joyful eyes, “They told me that I’m going to be alright.”

“I would hug you, but you have a lot of tubes around.” She said while giving him a virtual air embrace.

His scales were in full color and his eyes were once again bright with the youthful readiness to take in the beauty of the world. Fluttershy almost couldn't tell that he was still recovering except for the anguished expression tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Spike studied Envoy with uncertain familiarity, “Hello. I’m Spike. Who are you?”

Envoy stepped forward, “I’m Majesty Envoy. I’m an investigator.”

Confusion furrowed his brow while he pursed his lips in thought, “Am I in trouble?”

Envoy smiled and shook her head.

"Where's everypony else?" He asked Fluttershy.

"They're helping Envoy right now. They will be so glad to hear from you when they're done. It will be so nice for everypony to have some good news after these last few days." Fluttershy smiled through her empathy of the ailment which hindered his movements and speech.

"What happened?" Spike became concerned.

Fluttershy was quickly overwhelmed by dread, and she hurriedly struggled to avoid being the pony that had to break the news to him.

"We were all here. Did you not hear us talking?" Fluttershy's voice quivered while the anxiety of being the bearer of bad news overcame her delight of Spike’s consciousness.

"Well, I could hear that you were talking, but I couldn't hear you, if that makes any sense." He explained while observing Fluttershy's worried expression. He glanced between the two ponies and settled deeper into unease, "Did something bad happen? Is that why you're here?"

Envoy began, “Over the last few days, we found out that somepony injected you with a poison…”

Fluttershy held a hoof up to Envoy, “Stop, please. Let me…”

Spike tried to sit up in surprise, "Poison...?" He was quickly restrained with the discomfort of movement.

“Are you okay?” Fluttershy asked while holding a hoof over his claw softly.

Spike sighed in exasperation, “They can’t give me any more pain medications.” He laid his head back and breathed slowly in an attempt to alleviate the anguish in his joints, “They said they think it’ll drop my blood pressure.”

Fluttershy's glassy eyes slowly tracked across the room to Envoy, "Can you give us a minute?"

The unicorn nodded and left without a word.

The two of them simply stared at one another for a few moments as Fluttershy’s tears collected along her jaw and fell onto the blanket. Spike took a breath in anticipation of the pain from movement before sitting up and cupping a comforting claw on Fluttershy’s cheek. He let out a soft groan through the sharp stabbing in his muscles while he wiped his thumb under her eye to clear the way for more tears to make their way down her chin.

"What's going on, Fluttershy?" He asked softly and managed a crooked smile.

She wrapped her forelegs around his back and laid him down slowly before involuntarily burying her face in his chest and uncontrollably sobbing into his warm scales. He worked a claw under her long mane and stroked the back of her neck while patting her back with his other.

"Talk to me. What's happened?" He said gently.

Fluttershy brought her head up with her eyes clenched, "Twilight..." Her emotion gripped her vocal chords shut.

Spike’s eyes were wet with sympathy, "Of all the ponies," He smiled, "I thought she'd be the first pony I'd see, but you're nice too."

Fluttershy chuckled through her tears with emotions flooding in a confusing disarray of the utmost happiness for the dragon and pure excruciation to the situation.

"Spike." She shook her head, "She's..."

The purple dragon felt like he was going to fall off the bed while awaiting an explanation for Fluttershy's sadness when suddenly an awful thought crept into his mind.

"Where is she?" He felt his fluids drain into the far recesses of his body causing his face to tingle and his blood to run cold.

"She's here." Fluttershy cried softly. "At the end of the hall."

"What room is she in?" He said while pulling the blanket off of himself and sitting up.

"Spike, you don't understand. The end of the hall is the morgue." Her voice came out shrill and muscled to form each shaky word.

"The m..." He collapsed onto the bed and stared into the ceiling. "She's dead?"

Fluttershy cried harder with her chest tightening in powerfully painful sobs. She was unyielding to her belief that each heave was bringing her ribs closer to being crushed under the contractions of her own muscles.

Spike's eyes leaked down the sides of his face and the moisture was sucked into the fabric of the pillow, "How?" He squeaked to Fluttershy.

She took several sharp breaths trying to control her weeping long enough to say anything. "She was murdered!" She sobbed.

"By who?!" Spike barked.

"Nopony knows." She was panting in emotional exhaustion.

Panic and disbelief darted in his eyes while a machine beeped incessantly to alert the medical staff of his elevated heart rate. His face was pinched in a tight knot as pressure built in his head like the unbearable sorrow was going to explode his skull. He shook his head vehemently and attempted to hold in the onslaught of anger, pain, and loss, but he suddenly burst into a violent wail and fell deeper into the bedding.

Fluttershy became motionless while watching him writhe in agony and hearing his chillingly woeful cries. Spike’s expressive sadness set within her a firm obligation to bring Twilight justice. She leaned onto him and gave him the warmest hug that she could, and he clutched onto her as if he was going to fall to his death.

“We’re going to catch them, Spike.” Fluttershy whispered delicately.

She pulled away and left him sobbing into his palms. She made her way out of the room and saw Envoy staring into space with empathetic tears in her eyes from having heard their exchange. Fluttershy tapped Envoy and said, “I need to see my friend.”

* * *

Rarity paid little attention to the tear drops dotting the dirt path below her hooves as she intently made her way to Scroot's cabin to enter the knife into evidence. She was so affixed on clouding the image of the deadly luggage in her saddle bag that she didn't hear Applejack galloping to her from behind.

"Rarity!" Applejack called.

Rarity stopped and looked back while wiping moisture from her cheeks. She sniffed the congestive mucus in her nose and swallowed without a moment's thought of how unladylike that was. She spotted Scroot limping far behind them.

Applejack slowed her gait and concern showed on her face, "Are you okay?"

Rarity nodded in Scroot’s direction, "Is he okay?" She deflected to avoid having to talk about the weapon.

"Oh, yeah, he just got himself a good whoopin' from Buck McGhiloucutty and Kicks McGhee." Applejack chuckled and lifted each of her rear hooves to explicate their names.

"You beat up the investigator?" Rarity raised a brow.

Applejack smiled and polished a fore-hoof on her chest, "It turned out to be a misunderstanding, but at least he knows now what ponies he's tusslin' with."

"Did you find anything out in the Everfree Forest?" Rarity queried.

"I believe,” Applejack started as Scroot caught up with them, "that the killer is a unicorn."

The two mares matched Scroot’s canter on his way back to the cabin.

"How do you know?" Rarity asked Applejack.

"She doesn't." Scroot interjected.

Rarity smiled at the investigator, "Are you sore in more ways than one, Scroot?"

"Look, honey. I can take an ass kicking in stride. You win some; you lose some." Scroot stated flatly. "I'm saying that what she found was circumstantial; not conclusive."

"So, it doesn't sting that a girl beat you up?" Rarity continued with a smile.

Scroot groaned with a complete lack of entertainment, "Girls can really fuck shit up, Rarity. In my line of work, I have seen many fellow officers under estimate a female suspect and get their asses handed right to them on a silver platter."

"Have you ever had your flank kicked by a girl before?" Rarity prodded further while her lighthearted smile broke into a playful grin.

Scroot quietly trotted next to them and tried to reduce his irritation. He knew it was just a friendly ribbing, and he also wanted to stay true to the apology that he gave Applejack.

He finally answered, “No, Rarity. That was a first.”

They cantered silently, save for Applejack’s discreet sniggering, when suddenly Rarity realized that she was smiling and her feelings were bright. Despite the circumstances, she had managed to have a light moment in the shrouding darkness, but this realization brought guilt with it which then wrestled the smile from her face. She felt wrong for being happy in the wake of her friend’s death.

"Did you find anything in the house?" Scroot asked.

"Yes." She said simply.

Applejack and Scroot jogged silently while awaiting elaboration, but Rarity remained mute.

"What did you find?" Applejack finally asked.

"I don't want to talk about it." Rarity stared intently forward in a hopeless effort for them to change the subject.

"Rarity, we're a team now." Scroot explained, "We need to know what you've found however unpleasant it may be."

"I found… it." She said while beginning to sink into dismay again, "It was in the floor underneath the bed."

Scroot bounced up the steps to the cabin, pushed open the front door, and held it for the mares. Rarity hurried around the front desk, took off her bag, and tossed it carelessly onto the table.

"The thought of it makes me ill. Just look for yourself." She swallowed hard to keep down her emotion as well as her lunch.

"Rarity," Scroot began as he unclasped the fastener with his teeth, "Communication is the key in a team effort."

"I found it." She coughed as she lifted the knife from her saddlebag with her magic and averted her eyes.

Scroot looked over the knife that was floating in Rarity’s incandescent magic grip and he nodded in approval. "This is good, Rarity." He said slowly. "This is very good."

Applejack stared at the blade like she was watching an oncoming train and preparing to be pulverized into a red mist. The blood had dried in chunks where bubbles were unable to escape the viscid material and bits of flesh had been interwoven into the matted fur on the blood soaked handle. Applejack’s lip quivered as she finally took a breath and broke sight of the tool which delivered Twilight's demise.

Scroot squinted at the wood handle and noticed tiny dimples arranged in rectangular shapes near the top and bottom, "Wait a second, this could be big. Turn it over." He said.

Rarity looked up to the ceiling as she slowly spun the knife in the air with her magic.

A crescent shape, which stretched from the top of the handle to the blade, thinned from the molars to the incisors and widened again. It was a perfect imprint of the user's mandible.

"Those are teeth marks." Scroot said aloud.

Rarity looked at Scroot with surprise, "Does this exonerate Rainbow?"

"It may put the nail in the coffin," Scroot shook his head. "Not matching Dash is circumstantial, but if it does match, she's in trouble."

Applejack stomped a hoof, "That makes no sense! How can something be bad for Rainbow if it is true, but not good if it isn't?"

Scroot took a deep breath and felt like he was explaining basic facts to a foal, "Because if you can prove she was in contact with the murder weapon, it's bad for her. If you can't, then it doesn't mean anything. She could have used it, and not left these teeth marks."

Applejack rolled her eyes, "What does circumstantial mean to you?"

"Look, I'm not trying to be the bad guy here." Scroot said, "I'm just telling you that the vines are explainable because she could have dropped Owlicious in from the air, and the teeth marks are explainable because not everypony that uses a knife bites the shit out of it."

Rarity's magic vanished and the knife clattered against the table, "What do we need to do to make this not 'circumstantial'?"

Scroot rubbed his face with a hoof in exhaustion. The ache in his stomach from Applejack’s assault hadn't quite faded away and all of the questioning wasn't aiding his personal goal of being nicer to them. "Find a suspect and match them to the knife."

"Tell us how?" Applejack demanded.

"You're a detective, Applejack!" Scroot growled while poising his hoof towards her. He clenched his teeth and reeled back his irritation before adding calmly, "You must detect."

Rarity gestured sensitively, "Scroot, we simply don't know where to start.”

Scroot let out a long slow breath, "There isn't a set of rules, Rarity. You don't have a formula for this kind of thing. You chase leads until you can't find anything else, and then you build a case on what you have."

The mares exchanged a quizzical look and hoped to derive inspiration from one another, but both found nothing. Scroot grabbed the bind of a newspaper from the adjacent desk and started toward his 'other office'.

"I need to think." He said.

"Just give us somethin' to do, Scroot. We're tryin' to help." Applejack stated just as Scroot was closing the door.

"You have helped. You will continue to help. For right now, I need you both to leave me alone for at least 20 minutes so, in the midst of this chaos, I can grab me a shit, please!" Scroot pleaded in an almost desperate voice.

Rarity shifted on her hooves, "By all means, Scroot." She glanced briefly at Applejack, "We're not going to hinder you from pooping in peace." She said as eloquently as possible.

He dipped his head and said, "Thank you." And then he closed the door.

* * *

The sled was pretty much a dead end. There was nothing that Pinkie could see that wasn't already noted in the report and she felt like she had been at it for hours. She felt like she was given an unproductive assignment.

There was a copper identifier that had been scratched nearly unreadable except four letters, 'Tedd' and a few numbers, '012' on the outsides of the destructive etching. Pinkie surmised that whatever pony defaced the plate was hoping it couldn't be identified.

She wrote down the text and carried her note into the cabin to find a directory. Rarity and Applejack were standing on either side of the table where the meanie had scolded them for being detectives. Although the flank chewing wasn't fun, Pinkie Pie had never felt haughtier than in that moment. I got you in trouble. I got you in trouble! She thought.

"Hey, fillies." Pinkie greeted as she closed the door behind her.

"Howdy, Pinkie." Applejack nodded, "You got any leads for us?"

"Maybe." The pink earth pony said plainly as she began her hunt for the directory. Luckily, the forty-fourth drawer she opened had a current one. Rarity followed behind with her magic and closed the file cabinets.

"What do you have?" Rarity asked.

“I don’t know.” Pinkie chirped while placing the book on the table. She flipped through cart rental and retail and found a promising advertisement for Teddy’s Transportation in Northern Apple Loosa. The logo on the page had striking resemblance to defaced plate on the sled. Pinkie Pie nodded mutely and cited an 'A-ha!' to her friends.

"What do you got, Pinkie?" Applejack leaned in as if closing the distance between them would aid Pinkie’s conveyance.

Pinkie looked up slowly and raised a brow while perched on the precipice of her find, "I don't know." She said profoundly.

Rarity dropped her shoulders and felt less than exhilarated by Pinkie's detective genius.

Applejack rolled her eyes while meeting Rarity's gaze, "So, what do we do, Rarity? Go to Colgate's Office and start pulling dental records?"

Rarity shrugged, "If the pony that used this knife even went to Colgate's office, there are hundreds, if not thousands, of records to go through. We'd be comparing teeth for days with the relatively good chance of ultimately coming up with nothing."

"I got it!" Pinkie exclaimed and shifted her glare to the directory. "Teddy's Transportation is where the sled came from. They'll know who the last pony to rent the cart was!"

"How do you know?" Rarity asked pointedly.

"There's a plate on the back of the sled. It looks just like this logo!" Pinkie declared while tapping on the book.

"Well, there you go." Applejack nodded. "We got ourselves a lead, Rarity."

"Excellent!" Rarity stamped. She went to Scroot's ‘other office’ and knocked, "Scroot! We have a lead!"

Scroot's muffled voice emerged from behind the door, "That's great. Go away!"

Pinkie bounced, "We go to Apple Loosa, and we'll know exactly who-dun-did-doed it!”

Pinkie grabbed the top of the page and tore it from the book, "Come on! We're going to Apple Loosa!" She said as she dashed out of the cabin.

Applejack followed quickly, but stopped at the and doorway looked back at Rarity whom hadn't moved. "You coming, sugar cube?"

"I think I'm going to stay," Rarity gestured for Applejack to continue onward without her. "Scroot will need my help with something, I'm sure."

"Alright, then." Applejack nodded and closed the door behind her.

Rarity knocked again on the bathroom door, "Scroot. You okay? I wasn't trying to make you mad."

"I'm fucking fine, Rarity. Jeez!" Scroot shouted over the flushing toilet. He swung open the door, “I’m really trying not to be an asshole anymore, but when my asshole needs relief, I just want to be left alone.”

"I'm sorry, Scroot. Should I just go with them?" She suggested in an attempt to remedy his rage. She backed away a few steps to distance herself from the flatulent smell emitting from the room.

"No." He shook his head and pulled the door shut, "I'm sorry, Rarity. You're going through a rough time, and you don't need me being an ass to you."

"It's okay." She nodded. "What can I do to help?"

Scroot gave a small shrug, "Nothing, honey. When you get to be my age, you can't force it. You just have to let gravity pull it out."

She recoiled, "No, pertaining to the case."

"Oh!" He laughed. "I'm sorry. We could go back to the house, and you can show me where you found the knife."

She shuddered, "Ooh. I don't think I could ever stomach going back in that house ever again. I'm going to have to burn that saddlebag knowing what's been in it."

Scroot sighed exasperatedly and shook his head, "Let me look things over, and I'll find something for us to do."

Rarity looked at her saddlebag and then back to Scroot whom was rooting through a file cabinet to piece something together. She knew he wasn't going to come up with anything that they hadn't already by simply skimming some notes, but she appreciated his effort.

Maybe, she thought, that ass kicking was exactly what he needed. He appeared more patient and more humble. Even in his recent outburst, he didn't try to justify himself, he just apologized and even explained sincerely why he was sorry. He was right, though. She did feel like she was on the brink of bursting into tears at any moment, and his yelling and cursing wasn't helpful.

"Scroot," She started and nearly fell short on what words to choose, "Have you ever lost somepony?"

He glanced over to her and tried to see the subtext of her question. He watched her blink the moisture from her eyes as he replied, "Yes."

"Who?" She asked incredulously.

Scroot blew air and shrugged, "My parents, I'm a widower, and many friends. I'm fairly old, Rarity. I've seen many ponies pass in my time even with the exception of the murders and accidents I worked when I was a cop."

"How did you get through it? All of the death?" She stepped closer to him as he closed the file cabinet and took a seat at the table.

"I don't know. Time just kind of did its thing. My wife's death was pretty traumatizing, but I got over it eventually." He said while gesturing into the air to exemplify his the-world-keeps-spinning mindset.

"How did she die, if you don't mind me asking?" Rarity politely queried.

"A taxi driver lost control of his cart down a hill and hit her while she was crossing the street in Manehattan." He gestured with a hoof to the adjacent chair, "Now, if you don't mind me asking, what is this really about?" He made his voice soft and his sudden genuine concern was heartwarming to her.

Rarity took the offer for a seat and slumped over the table with her chin resting on her hooves. "I just feel wrong. I apologize for the laugh we had at your expense earlier, not for your sake, but for Twilight's. I feel guilty for continuing life without her." Rarity brushed her long mane from her face and returned the hoof under her chin "Wasn't it hard seeing all of that death? It didn't make you feel terrible knowing all of those ponies were dying around you?"

He smiled in a misplaced attempt to brighten her, "At first, it was hard, but I got used to it. Dead ponies became numbers, and I was a professional at detaching myself from the cases when I came home." The smile faded, "When it was somepony close to me, I was a professional at pushing my emotions deep inside when I went to work."

Scroot stood and continued, "What I found out eventually: Nothing is going to seem to help now. Every time you laugh and every time you do something amazing, you're going to immediately think about how you'd love to share that moment or achievement with your friend. When I made sergeant, I was alone in my house, wishing for a clairvoyant to burst in and tell me how proud my wife was of me."

"That doesn't make me feel better, Scroot." She sighed with a pained smile.

"Honestly, I'm not trying to tell you what you want to hear because that's not going to help you." He explained while projecting a very real desire to lift her spirit. She began to find his gruff voice interestingly soothing.

Rarity mustered a chuckle, "I know. Everypony keeps telling me, “It's going to be alright,” and, “She's in a better place”, but all of that seems to just make me feel worse."

Scroot waved a hoof towards her expressively, "Of course it makes you feel worse. The fact is that you're not alright right now, and the best place for Twilight is right here with us; fuck all of that existential bullshit."

He calmed himself and continued, "I don't want you to be sad, Rarity, but I know you will be. Eventually, over time, you'll see the time you had together as a blessing. Right now, her passing will feel like a perpetual missed opportunity, and you'll just have to ignore the idiots who've never lost somepony close to them. They'll spew those recycled phrases of obligatory pity, but you'll just say, 'thanks' and then forget them."

Scroot nosed in his pocket for a cigarette and made his way to the exit, "I'm going outside for a smoke. I got to clear my head."

"So, I'm just waiting for time to help me?" She attempted to simplify his long winded speech while following him to the entryway.

He shrugged as he sucked the flame into the cigarette from the lighter on the porch, "Grieving is not a concrete process that comes in stages." He blew smoke while leaving his lighter on the ground, "You'll be sad about it for a while, you'll be over it for a while, and then you'll be sad about it again. You never really stop grieving. You just get more used to that particular sadness."

As his profane words and animated vehemence settled deeper in her mind, she began to feel at ease. Somepony else understood what she was feeling, and she found comfort in knowing that the guilt which had tormented her was shared in some capacity. He didn't look so old, but he certainly had the wisdom which was developed with age.

She took a deep breath and shoved more emotion aside as she began to think of something productive to do. She watched a warm smile spread across Scroot's face in reassurance with a small trail of grey smoke drifting away from the cigarette. He dipped his head and let his hat fall on the wood floor next to a small ceramic ash tray that rest on the natural finish porch.

Without the brim of the hat over his features, his eyes looked younger and his dark blue iris appeared sharp and controlled in the cloudy light. His mane was full and the color nearly matched his jet black tie woven into that stylishly convoluted knot. His five ‘o clock shadow underlined his strong jaw, and his powerful stature was exemplified by his rigidly pressed sport coat that was perfectly accented by his crisp, baby blue dress shirt. In the midst of her depression, she found herself suddenly flush with attraction to the older pony. She fixed herself on his smoking habit knowing that if it weren't for that disgusting vice of his, she probably couldn't help herself.

She stated flatly, "I'm going to go see Spike."

He nodded and carefully rested the cigarette on the edge of the ash tray, "I don't know what I'm going to do yet, but I'll figure something out.”

Scroot turned to Rarity and put a hoof around the back of her neck. He warmly looked into her eyes as he drew a deep cleansing breath and a compassionate smile flicked the corners of his mouth. She closed her eyes, pursed her lips, and was caught off guard by the friendly hug from the investigator.

“I know it’s hard, but feel better for me okay?” He said. He released her, immediately bit down on the butt of the cigarette, and took a deep pull without further comment. Rarity nodded mutely, and she started south toward town while praying that Scroot’s eyes had been closed, too.

Author's Note