Author's Note

It's the last chapter. Wow. I really enjoyed writing this. I hope you guys have enjoyed the ride as much as I have.

Enjoy the last chapter. I know I did.

Epilogue

After the sentencing, Thunderlane resumed his life. He went to work, he cooked, he cleaned. He did everything he had done before anything had happened to him. And for a while, he felt normal. But after a while, he realized that he wasn’t normal anymore. Everything was different now. He felt like something was missing inside of him. He often remembered the way Mesma treated him. The kindness, the attentiveness, the care. He missed that.

That was not to say he missed her. That was inaccurate. He missed that kind of care. Somepony being open with their emotions, showering him with attention, with kindness.

There was a subtle shift in his behavior. He was a bit more reserved now, a bit quieter. That wasn’t to say that he didn’t still laugh or joke, that he didn’t still do his job well. But it was there. The other Wonderbolts were busy with their performances, brushed his behavior off as readjusting to his life without all of that.

However, Spitfire did not think that was the case.

So one day, after practice, she pulled Thunderlane into her office. He sat down, and said, “What’s up, Captain?”

“That’s what I want to know. What’s going on with you?” She asked.

“What do you mean?”

“Something is bothering you, ‘Lane.” She said. “And you’re not talking about it anypony else. So talk to me. I’ll listen.”

Thunderlane shifted a bit in his seat. He wasn’t sure how to begin. Spitfire saw that he needed some prompting.

“Is it about what happened?” She asked.

He found himself nodding. “Sort of. Not… It’s not about her. Not exactly. I mean… I just…” He was flustered.

“Take your time, and calm down.” Spitfire advised.

He nodded. Swallowed. “When she… When she took care of me, it was…” He paused. “I’ve been thinking a lot about my mom. She was always nice to me, treated me well and all that, but I can’t remember her ever being affectionate with me, or with Rumble. She hugged us sometimes, but that was about it. And then she came and did all of this. And even though it was sick, and twisted, and wrong, and pretty much every bad word you could use, She made me feel loved. Cared for. Never got that feeling from anypony before. And to be honest, I miss it.”

Spitfire was quiet, taking in his statement. Then: “Do you miss the other part?”

“NO. No. Well, I mean, I don’t miss the baby stuff. That’s just way too far. But sometimes I miss the playing. Like, just not having to worry about everything, you know? That part was nice.”

She nodded. “We all need to relax somehow. It’s a good coping skill.”

“Coping skill? When did you become a doctor?”

“I didn’t. But I did end up reading some books about psychiatry.”

He blinked. “What? Why?”

She paused for a moment. “I just wanted to get inside of her head. See what made her tick.”

“That’s… a little disturbing.”

“Is it? Trying to understand why a pony did what she did so you can try and make sense of what happened?”

“…I guess not.”

There was a silence between them. It was comfortable though. Not awkward. Thunderlane shifted. Then he spoke. “I think I’d better get-“

“‘Lane.”

“What?”

Spitfire hesitated. Then, she said what was on her mind. “If you need somepony to make you feel like that again, help you relax, but without the baby stuff, talk to me. I can help. I want to help.”

He blinked a few times. “You? Why?”

Spitfire paused. “I’m not sure. It’s not because I feel like I have to, or anything like that. It’s… Maybe it’s more about having seen something terrible happen to someone you care about.”

He nodded. “Are you sure?”

She nodded in turn. “Definitely. It was kinda nice to be a foalsitter instead of a captain.”

He smirked a little. “Thanks.”

“No problem.”

And with that, Thunderlane exited.

It took him a few weeks to get the courage to ask Spitfire to help him out. But when he did, and she said yes, it was a weight off of his shoulders. She came by his house that day and played with him. She wasn’t as open about her emotions as she had been. But she talked to him kindly. She played what he asked. She gave him a few hugs, too. He couldn’t explain why, but he felt so safe.

A few months after that day, the day Spitfire had played with him, he had become who he once was again. He laughed, he joked, and he was loud and boisterous again. Playing with Spitfire had helped him to make sense of his emotions. And he was content with them.

Then, one day he had been down in Ponyville, visiting a friend in a café, and he stopped to get a copy of the Ponyville Express. And on the front page, he saw her. Mesma.

She was smiling, looking down at a foal in her arms. The way she had looked at him. He read the article. Her community service sentence had been served through helping addicted foals stabilize before they went on to new families. He also read that she now had a foal of her own. It didn’t specify the gender. But he liked to think it had been a boy. That she had a son to care for. And despite his anger and upset, he smiled for her. Because she was doing well. She was helping others. And he had chosen to forgive her a long time ago.

He threw the newspaper out when he was done reading, and flew up to the Wonderbolts Grounds. Maybe he could get some time with Spitfire today. That would be nice. He smiled at the thought, and he went away, happy with his lot in life again, and the ones of his friends. As bad as everything had been, he couldn’t help but think that maybe it was meant to be.

Maybe, it was just what he had needed in the end.