His mouth opened, Tim was well aware of that; he knew words were supposed to spill forth, but for some quite likely asinine reason, he could not will himself to speak. He felt a weird, passing wave in his gut. His blue eyes stayed on the pink maned, buttery mare in front of him for what felt like minutes. Her eyes never once faltered from his, despite the evident heat that seemingly boomed across her cheeks as the stare maintained. A cough startled Tim from his stupor and she opened her mouth instead, "S-sir? It's for–it's for a good cause," something glinted in her wide pools of blue, her head lowered; mane drooped over half of her face, "if-if you don't mind, I-I mean..." he only stared.

Tim opted for silence, only a moment of it. He shook his head and felt foolish as he stared at her for so long. Why did he think so much on the subject of destiny before this whole conversation? No matter, "sure," he gave a single vertical shake of his head and stepped aside, "would... you like to come in?" He started slowly, not wanting the Filly Scout leader to be frightened off with his tone. "You'll have to sit on the sofa, if you don't mind. My piggy-bank is full, so it'll just be a moment."

He backed up into his home, allowing her small form to nervously cross the threshold into the bland sanctuary. He left the door opened as she stepped by him, her wings brushed his forearm. The mare's eyes—Fluttershy's, he mentally logged—lingered on him, and he didn't quite understand as to why. Nor did he care. but Tim didn't notice her look change as he made his way by her, away from the small living room.

When he vanished from sight, Fluttershy then did release a breath she didn't even know she'd held. She glanced meekly around the enclosed space, her head tilted at photos neatly hung over the mantle before her. Photos of the resident human—she'd knew she had seen him around before, but saving the world does wonders for ruining introductions—and some other mare. The Scout Leader gasped, tearing her eyes away from the scratched out faces as she heard the footfalls of the human as he returned. The rest of her form did the fastest about-face she'd ever done.

Stood before his room door, Tim chuckled madly, yet so softly to himself as the mare's eyes followed the up and down motion of the tossed piggy-bank in hand. The weighty-ceramic-Spongebob barely jingle-jangled–proof alone it was filled with coins-a-plenty. He threw the blasted yellow thing with such a force into the ground, it was a surprise it didn't explode not too unlike a fragmentation grenade.

Fluttershy, Filly Scout Leader though she may have been, screamed upon the square-pants wearing creature seemingly obliterated before her very eyes. Her scream died down by the time she saw the golden bits that were inside.

Fluttershy felt silly for having screamed in the first place. But why didn't he just uncork the... 'Piggy'-bank? She had almost asked, too. By the time her look was upon the man again, Tim was already before her with a handful of bits, a forced mirthful grin plastered on his face. "How many boxes would I be able to buy with this?" With his sudden appearance and his sudden question, it was totally logical for Fluttershy to scream again.

It was totally logical for her to have passed out, too.

The buttery mare buckled on her knees in front of him, and Tim stared blankly. Only for a couple seconds, but a couple seconds too late. He reached to grab her before she fell onto the shattered remains of his little Spongebank. Her surprisingly-extra weight dragged him onto his knees as he kept her propped away from the makeshift-shrapnel. His firm caps stung suddenly as several pieces of ceramic dug their way into his legs.

"Fucking... Spongebob," He growled out as he did his best to lift her and himself without further self-harm. The mare, now in his arms–how he'd imagined carrying Roseluck down the aisle, was actually light as a feather! He bit at the inside of his cheek at the thought as he placed her down on his grey loveseat. "Fucking moron, you're getting old. Your back probably gave on ya," he concluded as he plopped himself next to Fluttershy's unconscious form. The couch shifted under her slightly, but she didn't stir.

Tim sighed. His eyes lowered to his knees, the cloth pants he wore, ruined–stained with more of his spilled blood. Small yellow, ceramic shards jutted from his legs. He slowly repeated the process of picking what felt like glass from his body.

While it hadn't stung nearly as bad as the mirror incident, it had still wounded his pride. Memories resurfaced, his prone-to-anger reactions are what had caused this in the first place. The damned bank was laughing at him! What else would he do but destroy it?

No, it wasn't the piggy bank laughing, it was her image taped to the bottom of it that filled his mind with gutteral, nasally laughter. He had to destroy the damned thing. Her image wouldn't leave otherwise.

Tim inhaled and exhaled, he wasn't going to get angry again. He didn't even mean to blow up originally!

Looked to be like Tim wasn't getting his destiny-cookies afterall.

He glanced towards his poorly bandaged hand. He should get it checked soon, no need for the risk of infection. His knees as well, maybe. More bad news. That'd just make things worse.

As he thought back to what could have been a sweet treat from potentially a sweet mare, he looked over the–albeit now slightly snoring Fluttershy.

She'd wake up soon, no doubt. He didn't question her health, she seemed skittish beyond all belief however. The only thing that rubbed him the wrong way about her was the simple fact of cookies alone.

Firstly, where were they? Second, if she was a Filly Scout Leader, where were the Filly Scouts? Tim blinked. He hadn't noticed that before. He looked at the brown linen-esque material beneath her pink tuft. He reached forward and parted her mane some—he took careful note of the texture, how soft it was—revealing a...

Belt? A sash? He didn't know, but it could be a solid alibi. Woven into the material was FSL, alongside multiple varying badges, so he assumed all that's true. But why would any Scout Leader have abandoned their kids? Especially if on active duty, no less?

Did she leave them somewhere, like a stall? More questions than answers, he supposed. As he glanced back to Fluttershy's face, he nearly blanched. Two reasons, really.

One, she was staring right at him, unmoved.

Two, his hand was still in her mane.

While certainly a turn of events, things could've been worse if he was honest with himself. Two light blues continued to match the darker pair, but no words left her mouth. Tim opted to speak first: "So, how about those Filly Scout cookies?"

It was at the mention of the words 'filly' and 'scout' that Fluttershy's eyes widened almost as large as saucers–not literally, as that would be off-putting.

Without nary a word, her wings spread with an almost noiseless 'pomf' and she streaked out of his still open door. In her spot was a singular, orange box of Filly Scout cookies.

The unsaid words she did part with brought a surprised smile out of Tim.

Free of charge and a thank you? Nothing put a smile on his face more than free cookies. Appreciation is always fine, too.

Better yet, Doe-si-does!

Author's Note

The road to recovery is long, filled with turmoil.

There will be pain.
There will be suffering.
Heartbreak.

But it's the road we walk that changes us for better.

Or for worse.