Evening Star thought she had seen it all. When you've been in CPS as long as her, you eventually reach a point where nothing surprises you anymore. She had dealt with cases of horrific abuse that left veteran officers scrambling for the nearest toilet, held tense sessions with anti-government kooks who spent most of the year hiding from lizard people in the brush of the Inland Empire, and more than once found herself in terse conversations with members of a prominent UFO cult. Put bluntly, you would need to get up pretty early in the morning to shock Evening Star.

Apparently, someone got up extremely early that morning.

Child psychiatric cases were not unheard of. Like everyone, children possess complex mental landscapes that could be unbalanced by trauma or distressing events, almost like a building with structural damage. If you don't address the issues at the source, the structure continues to rot and sag until it collapses into a mess of ruined hopes and dreams. You obviously didn't want that to happen to a living, breathing person - no more than you would a house - and so it was important to get someone the proper help as soon as possible.

However, cases like this didn't typically involve children so young. Most children didn't develop diagnosable mental disorders until early adolescence, but Sunset could be no older than seven. And yet, she was suffering from vivid delusions about some magical land named 'Equestria' that was populated by 'ponies' capable of performing magic. Some may chalk this up to the simple imagination of a child, so prone to fantasies about faraway lands and strange creatures, but Sunset was so consistent and detailed with her descriptions that it was clear something deeper was at play. Children created fantasy worlds, but they rarely stuck so strongly to them.

"Thinking about her?" Nurse Redheart was leaning on the doorframe of the borrowed office, fixing Evening Star with the knowing look of a medical professional who read people as easily as a first-grade chapter book. Star sighed and closed the manila folder she was idly reading from, reaching up to massage her tired eyes.

"It's just... strange." It was incredible how much could be conveyed by so little, but both women worked in professions where staff were often pressed for time and needed to pass along information efficiently. Redheart nodded.

"She's not the first kid to come in thinking she's a superhero or a fairy princess, but she's definitely the first to try and lecture me on the theory of thaumaturgy." Redheart's brow furrowed. "At least, I think that's what she said."

"She tried to explain that to me as well. She might have a future as a writer," Evening Star joked, though there was little mirth in it. With a sigh, she turned back to the dull glow of the ancient desktop. "Anyway, I've already put in the order for an assessment with Daylily. Hopefully, she'll be able to shed more light on this situation."

"Hopefully," Redheart echoed, absent-mindedly picking tiny balls of lint from her scrubs. It seemed like she wanted to ask something else, and right as Evening Star was about to inquire what she needed, Readheart found her voice. "What do you think is going to happen to her?"

The weight of the question made Evening Star lean back in her chair, sending her rolling back a few inches. Staring up at the ceiling tiles, subconsciously counting all the little divots in the board, Star tried to formulate an answer despite the fact that she had no idea. "Whatever happens, it will be what's best for her."

Redheart took the answer for what it was and gave a non-committal hum before uttering a quick farewell and returning to her duties, leaving Evening Star to sit and ponder the plight of a girl who, according to the report she had ordered, did not show up on any national database.

Interesting.

The sharp smell of antiseptic burned her nostrils as Celestia stepped through the sliding doors of Canterlot Memorial Hospital. A tension snaked through her muscles as she took in the sterile white walls, the blue scrubs of the harried nurses, and the sounds of coughing, groaning, and other signs of illness. Never in her life did she want to come back here, but naturally that meant that she was always destined to return.

With a sense of haste only accomplished by someone distinctly uncomfortable, Celestia stepped her way over to the reception area, finding herself in front of a young woman who looked like she wanted to be anywhere else. "Can I help you, ma'am?"

"Yes," Celestia said perhaps a bit too quickly, "I received a call this morning from Ms. Evening Star regarding a patient named Sunset Shimmer?"

"Let me page her." The receptionist spoke into a PA system that was as unintelligible as the ones on trains or buses, her voice coming out as little more than an electric crackle. Satisfied with her attempts at summoning, the receptionist motioned Celestia off to the side, assuring her that Evening Star would be right down.

Left alone with her thoughts - well, as much as one could be in a busy hospital - Celestia found herself turning back to a question that had been on her mind since she received Evening Star's phone call: why? Why was Sunset - a child she almost certainly never encountered - so fixated on her? First, she called her a princess, and now she was mentioning Celestia so often that the hospital staff took notice. Why? Did she remind Sunset of someone in her life, someone who made the girl feel safe and secure? Was she filling some sort of hole in Sunset's heart? There were so many questions and seemingly no answers.

"Ms. Celestia." A woman around her age stepped out of a side door and made her way over to Celestia, holding out her hand. Celestia gave it a firm shake, her expression halfway between polite and confused. "Thanks for coming in today. I apologize for contacting you so last minute."

"No problem at all, Ms. Star. I'm happy to help in any way that I can." It was left unsaid that she had no idea how she was supposed to help.

"I'm glad to hear that. If you could follow me to my office." She led Celestia through a maze of hallways that were so winding and esoteric that even the minotaur would get lost in this labyrinth. It was a mess of identical passageways, doctors and nurses rushing around, carts of medical supplies in seemingly random locations, and rolling islands of hospital dining that were nauseating to even look at. If Celestia didn't have her own Ariadne leading her through this mess, she was sure that she would have ended up in a supply closet somewhere.

Evening Star ushered Celestia into a small office off one of the many nurse's stations. It was clear from the generic furnishings that this was a temporary workspace for the social worker, a caravanserai among dozens of other assignments and locations.

"Now, Miss Celestia," Even Star said as they settled into their respective chairs on opposite ends of the desk, "I'm sure you're curious as to the state of Sunset Shimmer."

Somehow saying that she spent the entire night thinking about the girl didn't sound like the best course of action. "Yes. As I'm sure you can imagine, it was quite a distressing situation."

"I'm sure," Evening Star said in that faux-sympathetic tone perfected by those who have to work with the public. "While I unfortunately can't get into the specifics at this time, I can assure you that Sunset is physically healthy. Many of her wounds were determined to be superficial scrapes and bruises."

It did not escape Celestia's notice that Evening Star said at this time. She sat up straighter in her seat and asked the question that had been on the tip of her tongue since this morning. "Miss Star, why am I here?"

Evening Star's face split in a wry smile. "Have you ever thought about fostering?"

Author's Note

Hmmmm.....