Convalescence

The next four days passed by like a fever dream. It didn't help that I caught a fever from spending too much time freezing my wings off in the cold. I made a mental note to visit a doctor, chiropractor, spa, and a cider store. Hard cider. The hardest.

That first night I wandered back to Grape Vine's house was... the hardest. All my shivering couldn't shake off Rafflesia's desperate, nervous energy out of consciousness, so I may have lost my way around the city and stumbled upon a cider establishment. Mercifully for my aching wallet, I’m about as light as a feather when it comes to alcohol.

By the time I reached the right neighborhood, I was hardly a pony. The entirety of my being felt composed of mucus, sprinkles, and yawns. Not my proudest moment, but not my worst. It was too dark and snowy too see anyone else on the streets, so I took solace in the imagined privacy. My cheeks felt rosy, like the dove's eyes on my cutie mark. I laughed at my own inane observation until I tripped and fell on my chin, biting the tip of my tongue so hard it might have come off.

"Oww..." I looked behind to see what I tripped on: an oversized plant limb lying in the middle of the sidewalk. Too green to be a tree root, too large to be ignored. My eyes followed the trail to its source, squiggling little figure-eights in their sockets.

To the unfamiliar, Grape Vine's house would seem thoroughly abandoned. Countless tangles of vines and ivy crept along every surface, framing around a stark few circular windows. I couldn't remember what the building was actually made out of, or what color it was painted. All I knew was that I should look out for the enclave of jungle carved out of the otherwise opulent aesthetic of Canterlot. There was probably something reminiscent of a pint-sized castle underneath somewhere. You'd just need a machete or a map to get in any way besides the designated footpath leading to the front door.

Kicking way too much snow and ice off of my horseshoes, I got a closer look at the welcome mat, which encouragingly read: "Open Up!"

I yawned, releasing what I imagined to be about half of my body heat.

"That's all she's getting out of me," I muttered to myself. My hoof was centimeters from knocking on the door when it swung hard, letting out a resounding metallic clang against my shoe as I recoiled back, teeth chattering from more things than one. Grape Vine stood inside, frozen mid-action, and dressed up as if I'd just interrupted the start of her odyssey into the unexplored regions of the Frozen North.

She managed to speak. "Lily? Sorry about that! I was just so worried that you had gotten lost, I was about to go out there looking for you." She didn't need to tell me twice; she had herself wrapped up in so many scarves and coats that I couldn't help but chuckle.

"Well, you found me," I said as I entered the blessedly heated realm of indoors. The wave of heat melted away all the tension in my aching muscles at once, like a stream of water washing away dirt. Heat was good.

It had been several months, maybe a year since I had last set hoof in here. It was above average sized for a place in Canterlot, but the narrow halls were clearly not designed for the comfort of pegasi. Thankfully, the ceilings were high enough in the rooms to accommodate a bit of vertical movement. Not that I had any plans on using my wings at that moment. I couldn't come up with plans for anything at all in that state of mind.

Sniffling, I set down my saddlebags and dug around for something to wipe my leaking nose with. The tropical fruit perfume was seething from every surface, every piece of furniture. Or maybe the fruit-themed wallpaper plastered everywhere was playing mind tricks on my nose.

"Mind telling me what took you so long?" Grape Vine asked, shedding layers of gear. "Besides your little trip to Donut Joe's, that is." Her eyes glittered like two crystal balls.

Had she followed me? Had she seen me talking to Rafflesia? Grape Vine is perceptive enough to know that something unsavory was going on. She'd want to know all about it. Maybe she already cast that spell on me. I had to think of something, anything. I had to know.

"How did you know-" I began.

"The napkin," she said, pointing to what I was wiping my nose with. Surely enough, the soggy scrap of paper had the inky logo of a bitten doughnut printed on it.

I masked my sigh of relief by blowing my nose into the napkin again. Of course she wouldn't have done all that. I haven't done anything wrong, as far as she knows. Besides, her rehabilitation contract had a strict clause against the use of that spell.

I wrote the contract myself.

It's here that I should mention that Grape Vine was a convicted arcano-felon for the creation of the forbidden spell "Thorns of Truth." The spell she devised to coax information from ponies was considered a cruel and unusual usage of psychic and botanical magics.

The way the spell works is like this: when first cast, the target won't even notice they've been enchanted. If they decide to say something that they consider untruthful, a series of vines will start to grow in places where only hair ought to grow. Very rapidly, they will seek to wrap and tangle themselves around every limb and joint in reach. This will immobilize a pony before they can move a dozen meters, supposedly. From that point, any further lies are punished by spines that grow from the vines. They're tiny pinpricks at first, but the extent to which they can grow... I can understand why "Thorns" has been banned from usage.

Thankfully, the spell was never proven to have been actually used on a pony, and Grape Vine simply received a five-year sentencing instead of a twenty-to-life. The developmental scroll work was destroyed and D.E.F.E.R. issued a notification ring on her horn that would notify the department if the forbidden spell were ever to be cast. I entered into her life around the second year mark, and she was out before the season changed. We've been good friends ever since.

She was never allowed back on the police force after that incident, or anything regarding law enforcement. Freelance journalism work proved to be a much more successful field for her, knowing her talents. Usually they would be exposé pieces, or some juicy tape that would rile up the masses. There was no telling how much dirt she had on anyone with any dirt to discover.

It's important to add that Grape Vine has always been a righteous and benevolent soul, as long as I've known her. She might be harsh and nosy, but I firmly believe she is a good pony at heart. You just have to hack your way through a knot of other less-than-savory things before reaching said heart.

All of this being said, the next thing out of my mouth was only a tiny notch below "bold-faced lie." If I had any guilt to feel, it would have to wait in line behind a hundred other feelings. Impending doom was taking up the first dozen or so spots in that line.

"I ran into a fellow gardening enthusiast, and we had a good talk. Plus, I got kind of lost." I said. The back of my ear was suddenly incredibly itchy.

Grape Vine smiled at me in the most disconcerting way, as if she knew something I didn't and was just about to rub it in my face. I half-expected my hair to grow into restraints, but instead I felt an arm wrapped around my shoulders.

"You silly filly! I'll go start a bath for you, so you just get yourself settled in," she said, trotting off.

Ahh, yes.

It's a miracle what a tub of hot water and soap can do to restore one's sense of self, as well as one's senses of dignity, direction, smell, and maybe even common. Chamomile, lavender, and a little lemon zest never hurt anypony. Well, maybe the lemon, if it got in your eyes. Or a wound.

As I started to nod off in that bubbly pool of bliss, I jolted awake, slapping my face repeatedly, tugging at my drooping eyelids. This scenario was far too familiar. The last thing I wanted to close out the night was another unwelcome visit by Leap Year, in the bathtub no less. Thankfully, no time-obsessed unicorns appeared out of thin air as I lathered up my wings with some Dove-brand feather conditioner.

Choosing that quiet moment of solitude, I opted to set my future schedule in alignment, planning and visualizing out the next week or so. The bulk of each day would be attending the training programs, followed by some take-home work. Every day I'd report to my shy and surprisingly speedy minder. Every night I'd report to my prying and eerily cheery host.

At some point, I'd also have to squeeze in a couple personal trips that promised nothing but paranoia and catastrophe, but I jotted them down in the mental calendar anyways, slumping down further into the water.

Everything was in place. All that was left was the matter of actually pulling it off.

I'd tell you about my dreams that night, but they weren't particularly interesting. They were as normal for me as normal can be. Even Leap Year must get tired of pestering me all the time.

I used to think my dreams were scattered memories, but I wouldn't be so sure. Even if they were, there wasn't anything but a few frayed strings to work off of. At times I'm frolicking through tall grass, flying high above the cloud layer, or laughing over a dinner table.

Happy times. Simple times.

Waking up is weary work, isn't it?

It would prove to be bone-bendingly arduous, but I resolved to sit through every D.E.F.E.R. seminar, lecture, and workshop on time, even if they started at the crack of Celestia's dawn and ended at the fall of Luna's dusk. There wasn't anything else to do, after all.

I may have found the D.E.F.E.R. lectures to be educational if I hadn't already sat through them several years ago and practiced the material in the field for the years that followed. I could probably teach those classes better than a lot of the instructors appointed by the department, but my place was with the disillusioned and distant, not with starry-eyed recruits. Plus, speaking in front of large audiences gives me the willies. Double plus, the failure on my record of that magnitude would definitely disqualify me from gaining a position in teaching for the foreseeable future.

I may have also fallen asleep on my own notebook on a few occasions. Professor Ambient Lighting has a voice that could soothe a raging ursa minor.

It wasn't until the fourth day that anything interesting happened. I wish it hadn't.

"H-have a good day, Spathiphyllum."

"You too, Sun Downer," I said, trotting up the gleaming marble steps of the D.E.F.E.R. institute at Canterlot. All snow and ice had been dutifully cleared, allowing ponies to trot up unhindered. I suppose I could have flown up the hundred-or-so steps, but a little morning leg exercise never hurt anyone.

Especially if you're expecting to be sitting down for ten hours.

"H-have a good evening, Spathiphyllum."

"You too, Sun Downer," I said, trotting down the twilit marble steps.

I'm still not sure if Sun Downer had to sit and wait outside the institute every day until dusk to ensure I was attending my program, but then I've never read the minder's handbook in much detail. With my spotless record, I'd never had to interact with them at all. The one rule that all rehabilitators were told in regards to minders was this: if they even think you are shirking your duties, they will find you. Even my feverishly disorganized mind knew not to trifle with minder code.

From there, it was straight back to Grape Vine's house. Only, as I was walking, I couldn't help but feel like I was being watched. From above.

Unfortunately, there wasn't anything in sight. The skies were clear that evening, but that didn't help to qualm my suspicions one bit. Considering what happened recently, I wasn't about to take any chances.

Taking a sharp turn, I started to head for the crowded market districts. Ducking into the first shop I could find, I found it thankfully populated by both ponies and delicious treats alike. Sounds of merry conversation filled my ears, beating away the ominous silence that preceded it.

Rows upon rows of sacred, heavenly muffins were displayed on racks, and I scurried to a register to buy a bagful. Immediately I dug in the bag to pick one to eat right there in the store, but I couldn't decide. Cherry, walnut, cinnamon, chocolate, or...

"Hey there, Lily," said someone behind me in line.

"Pumpkin!" I dropped the muffin I was holding, only for the out-of-uniform sergeant to catch it with her hoof.

"Whoa, nelly! It's me, all right," dropping the... pumpkin-flavored pastry back into my paper bag. She was dressed in a neat checkered vest and a rich brown cowpony hat. It was a little strange seeing her out of the police uniform. It's not as though I had never seen her in civilian clothes, but it was still odd. Kind of like how it's weird to see someone without their glasses on, if they always wear them. It was a good, casual look, but I had the feeling this meeting was far from a casual occurrence.

"Wha- what are you doing here in Canterlot? Not that it isn't good to see you." I said.

"It weren't my idea. The warden had me come here to deliver some files and such to the D.E.F.E.R. HQ here, in light of some recent events." She jabbed at me, with playful scorn.

"Pardon my language, but that sounds like a load of junk to me," I said, not able to muster up any actual foul language. "They could just mail it, or send a regular old courier, not a sergeant."

"They sure could! But I think the warden had some other reasons too. Normally delivering some files doesn't warrant a week-long trip, but orders are orders." Pumpkin said.

"So, you're telling me that the warden sent you here for some covert reason, and then I happen to run into you here?"

Pumpkin, the good cop, bad cop, and honest soul she is, nodded eagerly. "Yep, that's right. I ain't one for much tact or being covert, but I also think this is what's best for you. Straightforward and in the flesh. Taking a page from your lil' book, if you can believe me."

"I'm glad to hear that," I tapped my hooves together, nervously. "It's good to see you, Pumpkin, even if you were sent here to basically stalk me. Maybe we can meet up for dinner sometime this weekend." I said.

"That sounds swell." She said, sweetly.

"Well, I'll be going now." I was halfway out the door when Pumpkin put a hoof on my shoulder, stopping me in my tracks.

"I'll walk you home!"

The blood rushed from my face. How troublesome. A well-dressed unicorn couple stood impatiently next to me as I realized I was blocking the traffic in and out of the store.

"I wasn't heading home yet, actually." I said, stepping to the side to allow the pair to enter. They lifted their noses at me in a snobbish manner, but that kind of thing doesn't bother me as much as Pumpkin says it should.

"Oh? Got some more plans?" Pumpkin said, clearly annoyed but still maintaining the casual demeanor she was forcing.

"Yeah. Dinner with a friend."

"Well, I got nothing else to do this evening. Mind if I come along? You could introduce me," Pumpkin said, leering into me with those aqua-blue eyes.

Yes, I would mind. I would mind very much.

"Not at all," I said, gritting my teeth into a grin. She mirrored it with her own, perfect set of teeth.

After a quick stop at the cider store, I led Pumpkin Smash to Grape Vine's neighborhood. Neither of us had a drop to drink yet, but we must have looked quite inebriated, the way we were stumbling over the overgrown chaos that is Grape Vine's front lawn. It didn't help my focus that Pumpkin kept staring at me, unabashedly.

I nearly reached into my pocket for my set of keys, when Pumpkin Smash spoke up.

"Land sakes! Looks like somepony is in dire need of a landscaper." She poked at a vine with her hoof, and I swear it quivered as if alive. Well, as alive as most plants are already, but "alive and kicking" would be a better way to describe the state of that particular vegetation. Don't be surprised if it kicks back.

"My friend has a peculiar sense of home decor." I said, knocking on the door several times. When it opened, I spoke up quickly before anyone else had a chance to speak.

"Vinny! So good to see you again! I brought some cider, muffins, and my friend, Pumpkin Smash. Thanks for inviting me over this evening," I said, passing her several bags of bottles and muffins.

"Howdy," said Pumpkin, tipping her cowpony hat.

"Oh, um, howdy-doo," replied Grape Vine, her eyes flicking towards me expectantly. I just prayed she would play along.

"Sorry for showing up all sudden-like, but I just wanted to spend some time with my pal Lily here before she gets too busy with her rehabilitator work," said Pumpkin. "But only if y'all don't mind having me."

"Not at all! I mean, the more the merrier, right?" Grape Vine said. In most circumstances, I think she would have meant it, but that time, there was a strain in her voice that said otherwise. "You just make yourself at home in the dining room, and Lily and I will bring out the refreshments lickety-split," she said as she motioned at me with her eyes.

"Alrighty then! Thanks for your hospitality," Pumpkin said, waltzing off. Sweet Celestia, Pumpkin acting this way was sending my weirdness meter into the stratosphere. She has a strange way of showing that she cares, in that she doesn't even try to hide it. There's a sweetness to it, but a cup of sugar is easier to swallow when it's baked in a cake.

Grape Vine all but dragged me into the kitchen, murmuring into my ear as she took some porcelain plates out of a cupboard.

"What's all this about then? You just brought a police sergeant to my house, for Luna's sake! They're not exactly friendly with me."

"I know, I know. Look, just play along. You're not in trouble or anything, she's just a friend." I said. "And how in the hay do you know she's with the police, let alone a sergeant?"

"You kidding me, right?" Grape Vine hissed. She seemed genuinely offended.

"Y'all okay in there?" We both cringed as Pumpkin's voice carried over from the adjacent dining hall to the tiny kitchen space.

"Yup, all good here!" I said, setting some muffins on a tray.

"Her cutie mark, of course. That hammer smashing the pumpkin? Gavel." Grape Vine said.

"Oh."

"That, and I also recall you mentioning her by name a couple years back. That case with the Cheesy Doodle fellow."

"Curdle." I gathered up two armfuls of cider bottles, balancing one on my outstretched wing. "I'm impressed that you remember that, though. I don't even remember having that conversation with you."

"Please. Knowing ponies is my specialty, you know. That's why you're weirding me out right now." She said.

"I'm sure she's got plenty of juicy stories about things in Baltimare that you can squeeze out of her. Tomorrow, I'll let you squeeze some stories out of me. Promise." I said, immediately regretting my choice of words.

She seemed to ponder for a moment before shrugging.

"I do enjoy a good squeezing."

It didn't take much effort at all to get Pumpkin talking. She's really got a thing for cider, and a thing against the Baltimare PD's upper management.

"...and it turned out, the pitchfork was- 'hic' -hidden at the bottom of the cistern the whole time! If it weren't for the great molasses shortage in Dodge Junction, we- 'hic' -never would've found enough evidence to put away that scumbag Pokey Pine, I reckon." Pumpkin drawled, swaying an empty bottle in the air, her sixth one. "I swear those blockheads in the office don't got none of their priorities straight."

"I guess miracles really do happen," Grape Vine said, herself having had four bottles, but I suspected she was magicking away some of the physical and mental affects. Sneaky unicorns.

"Miracle shmiracle, the molasses shortage was a downright disaster. Just like- 'hic' -a certain flowery incident recently."

"Great stories, Pumpkin!" I leapt out of my chair and swept her up on her hooves. "I especially liked the one with the hidden camera and the birdseed dispenser, and I'd love to hear more, but it's getting awful late. We should get going now." I said. The past two hours I spent nursing as many bottles, which was more than enough for me. Wouldn't want to make any mistakes now.

"All right, all right. Lemme jus' find- 'hic' -my hat. Where is that darned thing?"

"On your head."

Pumpkin made a sour expression. "I knew that."

"Come on Pumpkin, how about you tell me where you're staying and I'll walk you-" I started, when a knock at the door made my mane stand on end. Those were knocks with purpose.

"They're really coming at this hour?" Grape Vine said, gliding over to the door. I followed after, with a heavy farmpony-turned-cop slung over my back. I made a mental note not to get on Pumpkin's bad side, especially if she was looking for something to sit on. It would be like dropping a boulder on an origami swan.

The knocks were violent and rapid, sending more worry up and down my overburdened spine. I almost told Grape Vine not to open it, but couldn't formulate an excuse before she yanked it open.

"I'm not interested in buying any of your flimflam-"

A firm, authoritative voice interrupted hers, like a bus hitting a stalk of corn.

"Out of the way! I am here to speak to rehabilitator Spathiphyllum and police sergeant Pumpkin Smash!"