The bar was a place shoved deep into the city, far from eyes of the onlookers who might peer down the mountainside and look at the shabby neighborhood below them. Unlike up top, where evergreen wreaths and silver tinsel adorned every inch from the marketplace to the Royal Castle, Hearth’s Warming decorations down below hung wherever there was space and a building owner who cared enough to place them up. The bar was one such place, a smattering of red and green lights glowing around the otherwise dark window frame. A green, wooden sign with paint flakes peeling off the edges announced the establishment: Booze and Some Change.
Not the name of a high-end business, Ratchet thought, pulling at the tightness in his chest. Perfect.
He pushed forward through the foot tall snow, the sole constant between the upper and lower regions of Canterlot. In the light from the streetlamps, he could just make out the OPEN sign beckoning from the blue door. A tiny bell jingled above him when the door pushed inward into a dark emptiness.
It took a moment for Ratchet’s nocturnal vision to kick back into gear, the years of gradual light exposure working back to a time when his days were spent in the Hive and the sun was an occasional treat experienced through gaps in hard stone. A vision of dusty tables and chairs stuffed in a narrow room filled his eyes, as if the whole place existed as a forgotten attic to stow away family photos too painful to remember. Along the far side stood a long mahogany bar and a dozen different bottles sitting along the mirror.
“Hello!” a female voice called from the bar. “Sorry about the darkness. Nopony’s been coming all day and electricity’s expensive, yes?”
“Yes,” Ratchet said, walking forward. “In fact, I’d prefer if you left them off. Light would hurt my eyes now.”
“I got you,” the high-pitched voice said. “Changeling eyes, right?”
Ratchet chuckled, stepping atop the copper foot rail running under the bar. “Get a lot of Changelings here, I presume?”
A figure rose up from behind the wood, its turquoise skin shining in the few light beams snaking through the window. See-through wings fluttered against her body and provided a soft rrrrrrr to the otherwise silent dispensary. The clear eyes blinked back at Ratchet’s own, his in surprise and hers in playful admonition.
“You could say that,” she said, sticking her tongue out almost imperceptibly.
A small smile crossed Ratchet’s face. “Didn’t think I’d find someone from the Hive all the way up here.”
“Didn’t think I’d get a customer on Hearth’s Warming.” She held out her hoof, which shone in the limited light. “Name’s June Bug. June’s easier. Sound’s prettier too, if certain customers are to be believed.”
Ratchet grasped the hoof with his own. “Ratchet. Not pretty no matter how you say it.”
June giggled, louder than Ratchet thought was possible. A vague embarrassment then went through him when their hooves withdrew, for the day’s accumulation of brown dirt and city grime now caked her immaculate limb.
“Sorry,” he said.
“No problem,” June said, levitating a nearby towel to her hooves. “Dirt’s part and parcel this neck of the woods.” She balled the towel up and launched it towards the bar’s far end. Floomp, it went upon the floor.
June slapped her hooves down upon the bar. “So what’s your poison? Got everything from Ponyville Cider to Whinness.”
“I’ll take peach schnapps.”
Her eyebrows raised. “Strange drink for Hearth’s Warming Eve.”
“Somepony told me it keeps you warm.”
“Drink enough of any booze and you’ll think you’re warmer.” She turned and reached for a bottle upon the display. The fat-bottomed container led up to a thin neck, an ornate peach painted along the side. June unscrewed the cap and poured the orange-brown concoction into a shot glass. The liquid sloshed with a thwip-thwip when she pushed the drink towards Ratchet.
“Enjoy,” she said.
Ratchet grasped the drink and threw his head back. The usual stinging occurred in his mouth and continued down his throat when he gulped. A rush went up to his brain, killing all the sensations except for a blank nothingness.
“Ah,” he sighed. “Another form of magic.”
“You’ll find that a lot around here,” June said, already tipping another round into the empty cup. “Princess Twilight lives here now. Seems to be writing a new spell every day. Last week, they were talking about a cure for tinnitus she made.”
“Only the big things with these ponies.” He took another swig and felt the nothingness expand even further throughout his body.
“So what brought you to Canterlot?” June said, pouring another glass. “Most Changelings just go back to the Hive for the gift passing and what not.”
“You want the honest or dishonest version?”
June gave a coy smile and leaned on the bar. “Oh, what intrigue. How about both?”
“Dishonest version: The pony I battled one-on-one during the Siege of Canterlot contacted me and wanted to meet. He was going through a rough patch, something about dead parents and a separation from his wife. Wanted to see somepony who he knew how to feel about. A vanquished foe turned ally sounded good enough. Sort of warrior’s honor, you know? So I caught the train from the Hive up to here, with nothing but a vague description about a tan pony with a long moustache standing on the platform when I arrived.”
“And did you find him? Hypothetically speaking, of course.”
Ratchet shook his head. “There were a dozen stallions with tan coats and long moustaches. Maybe it’s all the rage up here, I don’t know. After an hour of asking each one and waiting for new figures to appear, I got up and walked into the city. Just walking, hoping to find someplace I could rest for a little while until I found a way to catch my former opponent and bring peaceful closure to his life.”
June gave an aggressive nod. “Pretty complex story for an outright lie.”
“Lies, in a certain sense, are my profession. I’m a playwright back at the Hive. Ever heard of the play Left Wing, Right Antennae?”
June shook her head.
“It’s big back home.” He lifted back another glass, another bout of nothingness overtaking him. The pounding in his chest began to dim.
“And what about the truth?” June said. “Any old war buddies there?”
“Nope,” Ratchet said. “Like most of life, it’s exceptionally boring. Embarrassing even, by some Changeling standards.”
“Well, in that case, here’s more booze.”
“Thanks,” he said, knocking back another round. Thunk! The glass hit the wood with more force than he’d intended. June showed no surprise from the noise.
“Now cough it up, or no more schnapps.”
A small burp escaped his lips. “The Truth: My therapist told me to come here.”
“Therapist? You agoraphobic or something?”
“No, nothing like that. I got Burned. Back when they threw ol’ Queenie from the Hive.”
June’s eyes widened and the schnapps bottle shook in her hand. The peach scent wafted through the air like a pie was baking the next room over.
“Sweet Celestia,” she said. “I didn’t know anypony like that was still alive.”
Ratchet shrugged. “Nor do I. Last guy in our support group kicked the bucket last summer.”
“Oh no. Are…are you alright? Being around all these ponies?”
“We’re still being honest?”
“Yes. Of course.”
“Then, no. I’m not okay. In fact, it’s why I came all the way down here, to your bar.”
“I understand.” Her hoof rubbed the back of her hair. “Mare alive, if I’d known you were…”
Ratchet shrugged and downed another glass. The bottle labels across from him turned into long, colored splotches he couldn’t decipher.
“What kind of therapist sends a Burn victim here? During Hearth’s Warming of all times? Sounds like a quack to me.”
“He’s alright. More uppity than I would’ve liked, but working in a medical wing where most of your patients die might make anypony a little off.”
June shook her head. “Not right. Worst thing in the world to do.”
“He said it was a ‘run before you walk’ scenario. Said a large exposure to varying emotions would help me be able to control whatever it is that makes me unable to handle them. Like a vaccination, but for feelings.”
“No,” June said. “No, no. That’s not how it works.”
“How do you know?”
She stopped. “A friend of mine was Burned. Back when we got that first taste of love from Thorax and Chrysalis got kicked out.”
A sharp laugh escaped Ratchet. “Thorax. Our salvation and damnation.” He stared into the empty glass, then slammed it on the table. “I need to send him a letter. Thank him for killing me.”
“He didn’t know. None of us did. How could we? That much love given so quickly and so fast. Who would’ve thought it would leave some of us unable to be around emotions?”
Ratchet shrugged. “You’re right. I still hate him though.”
June paced behind the bar, little clop-clops filling the room. “I can get you a midnight train. Not many ponies would be on it, so your exposure wouldn’t be too bad. I swear, I’ll go right to your doctor and deck him.”
Ratchet gave a dismissive wave. “Don’t do that, don’t do that. He’s just doing what he thinks is best.”
“By exposing a Burn victim to all the passions of Hearth’s Warming? Right in the middle of the Equestrian capital? Color me a critic, but last I heard doctors weren’t supposed to kill their patients.”
“It’s not like that. Not at all.”
“Then what is it like?”
Ratchet swished the glass from side to side. “I’m lying. About the therapist.”
Her face dropped. “What?”
“Ever since I heard about Hearth’s Warming Eve from the doc, I wanted to see it. Really see it, not whatever goofy things the others in the Hive do to replicate it. See the lights wrapping around the buildings, see the ornaments on the trees, taste the snow smacking against my face and the chill on my legs.
“So I brought it up to my therapist. Asked if I could maybe spend just a night or two in the big pony city we tried to take a few years back. Nothing fancy, no ritzy hotel with a twenty course feast. Just walking around and watching everything, like those nature documentarians. He went whiter than you are now. Said I would be a goner before I even stepped off the train.” He toasted his glass towards the mirror, squinting at a reflection he knew should’ve been his but didn’t feel like it. “Guess I proved him wrong, huh?”
June stared at him, a horrified expression across her face.
“So that’s it, then? You’re going to burn yourself out on one final trip? Absorb every little feeling that passes by you until you drop dead in the snow?”
Ratchet let out an ear-piercing laugh. “Well, when you word it like that, it sounds borderline suicidal.”
“What else can you call it, Ratchet? Sweet Celestia, save yourself while you still can. Get on the midnight train and get back in your living hole. Fly back if you have to. Just don’t kill yourself to see some lights.”
His hoof twirled around the half-filled glass. “Eh,” he grunted. “Come too far now. Besides, the booze will help me handle everything that comes next.” He reached forward towards the bottle, sitting stagnant upon the bar.
SMACK!
Ratchet could barely keep his balance upon the stool, the foot rail his lifesaver from the floor peppered with alcoholic drops and scattered peanut shells. He brought his hoof to his face and cringed. The swelling had already began, both on his cheek and Junie’s eyes staring at him.
“You can live longer,” June said, her teeth pressed together. “You could go back to the Hive, sit alone and write all your plays. Make the others laugh or cry or whatever your plays make them d-“
“Aw, knock it off, Junie. I figured you of all creatures would understand.”
She blinked away the building tears. “Understand what?”
“Everything about being Burned. You had a friend, right? You should know what it’s like. Even if you didn’t, why’d you open this bar other than to feel the life from the comers and goers? Perfect way to get emotional fill and bring a little sunshine to this slum.”
A thin blush came across June’s face.
“But me? I’m crippled. Condemned to a tiny living hole except for special occasions. Did you know I’ve only been to two premieres of my plays? Only two! And after five years of recuperation! A few dozen Changelings in the audience, pouring out their love to me for a comedy about some rabbits, and it left me sobbing on the floor and wishing my chest would just explode. Anything so that this pain would just go away and I could fade into nothingness.”
He took another sip. Half the glass splotched down his cheek. “Changelings are social creatures, for better or worse. Taking them away from every other creature is a recipe for disaster. Like taking a fish out of water.
“Ride over here was the most contact I’ve had with anypony in seven years. I threw up three times because the kid in the seat behind me went from crying, to laughing, to crying again. But it was with somepony.” He stared down at the bar. Schnapps drops covered the bar and his own light green body. “And somepony is anypony with the time I’ve got.”
The wind outside picked up, jostling the sign from its chains and letting loose a loud squeak. Shadows passed along the walls from pedestrians wandering in the street, and their laughter penetrated the walls. All the while the two changelings stared past one another into fathomless depths only they could perceive.
Ratchet reached into his pocket and threw bits upon the bar. “Thanks for the drinks and the ear. Sorry it wasn’t the happiest story.” He stood up and walked toward the door.
“Wait,” June said.
Ratchet turned around to find her floating over towards him, wings buzzing in the darkness.
“Are you going up there?” She pointed towards the mountainside, still glowing bright in the late night sleet.
“Yeah. Only thing I wanted to see’s up here. Fewer ponies out and about now, so I’ll be less sick. The booze is helping too.”
She looked at the ground and kicked a wadded up napkin on the floor. “I’m coming with you,” she said.
The drink inside him wanted to launch a counter, some crack about how he wasn’t in that bad of shape. Yet the few specks of rationality within Ratchet saw the statement as just that: a statement. Not an offer, not a query, just a cold, hard fact of life. She would be coming with him, whether he liked it or not.
“Alright,” he said. “Okay.”
He put his hoof on the door. “Thank you, June.”
When he heard no answer, he pushed the door out into the cold already starting to chill his bones. He gave a deep breath and watched the condensation billow up from his mouth. The lights above still danced around in the wind, waving down at them like an old friend.
“You can come back here,” June said in a soft voice. “You know, once you’re done looking at things. I’ve got a bed.”
“Hah!” Ratchet laughed.
“What’s so funny?” she said, flipping the sign on the door to CLOSED.
“You said ‘bed’. Not ‘extra bed’. The implications are obscene.”
A deep redness filled June’s face. “I’ve shared beds before. And not for reasons like that.”
“Sure you have. Look, Junie, lust can be very filling, but like the act it inspires, it’s over before it ever really begins. So please don’t kill me with a nighttime romp if I survive this little expedition, okay?”
June shook her head. “You really are drunk.”
“I know. Help me stay that way until this is over?”
She clutched his hoof, weaving her leg within his. “I’ll be here. For whatever happens next.”
Ratchet gave the faintest hint of a smile. Then, with both their wings buzzing in the wind and their hooves clasping each other’s bodies, they ascended upward to the brilliant rock above. Up and up they went, until the heat and the life from the bright mountainside became unbearable in its terrible beauty.
