Applied Mathemagics

I stare out the window, watching the savanna roll by. My ears twitch at the steady clack-clack of the train against the tracks, but my mind is elsewhere.

They’re going to freak.

It’s not my fault. I didn’t choose to get launched into the Badlands, didn’t choose to crawl through Tartarus, didn’t choose to almost die repeatedly just to make it back here. But none of that is going to matter.

The second I step off this train, I’m going to have to deal with them.

And by them, I mean Twilight.

She’s always been obvious about her feelings, but I’ve been pretending not to notice. She’s a good pony. I’m a liar, a charlatan, and, if I’m being honest, a coward.

I don’t do relationships. I don’t even do friendships all that well.

But Twilight?

She’s always been pursuing me. Inviting me places. Asking questions she thinks are subtle. Even went on that date with her without realizing it was a date.

And now?

She thought I was dead.

Until she got my letter.

And Twilight… Twilight does not handle stress well. She gets panicky. She spirals. I’ve seen her get overwhelmed just because she didn't get a friendship lesson done on time.

What’s she going to do when she sees me alive after months of thinking I was dead?

I drum my hoof against the armrest, heart thudding. I can picture it too clearly—Twilight seeing me, the way her face will twist between shock and fury, the way she’ll start hyperventilating, the way she’ll yell.

She’ll be mad. She’ll be relieved. Then she’ll panic because that’s just what she does. And I’ll be stuck in the middle of it, trying to explain what happened without actually explaining anything.

I rub my temples, trying to push the thought away, but it just keeps spinning.

She’s going to grab me. Shake me. Probably cry. I don’t know how to deal with crying. I never know what to say when ponies cry.

Rachel, silent as ever, reaches out and pets me.

Her stone fingers slide gently over my mane, slow and rhythmic. My first instinct is to pull away—then I realize I’m shaking.

Damn it.

I close my eyes, exhaling through my nose as I let her continue. She must have picked up on my stress. I should be annoyed that she’s treating me like a distressed animal, but… it’s helping.

I lean into it, just for a moment.

When I finally open my eyes, I notice some ponies on the train are staring. Whispering. Their eyes flick between me and Rachel, murmuring just low enough that I can’t make out the words.

I shrug it off. It’s probably my appearance again. A unicorn with three legs, one capped with stone? Yeah, that’s going to turn heads.

I’ve gotten used to it.

The train slows, the wheels screeching against the tracks as it pulls into Ponyville Station. I don’t move at first, just watching as the town comes into view. The same buildings. The same streets. Like I never left.

The doors slide open with a heavy clank.

I stand up, sling my bag over my shoulder, and step off the train.

And everything stops.

Ponies on the platform freeze. Their eyes lock onto me.

Some of them take a step back. Some gasp. A few drop whatever they were holding.

Like they’ve seen a ghost.

I furrow my brows, glancing at Rachel. She tilts her head slightly, waiting for my move.

Okay. Okay.

I should have expected this. They thought I was dead. But I didn’t expect the whole damn station to react like this.

I take another step forward. More murmuring. More wide eyes. Somepony drops an apple.

I let out a slow breath.

Alright. Let’s get this over with.

I keep my head down and start walking, slipping past the murmuring ponies. My first instinct is to bolt, but that would just make things worse. No sudden movements. No eye contact. Just… get home.

I avoid the main street. If I take the side paths, maybe—maybe—I can make it to my house without getting tackled, screamed at, or otherwise emotionally obliterated.

One block.
Two blocks.

I can feel ponies watching me. I keep moving. Rachel follows, silent and unbothered. If she notices my nerves, she doesn’t say anything.

Almost there. Just a few more turns, and—

Something pink enters my vision.

Oh no.

Flat mane. Puffy eyes. Bawling.

Oh no.

I barely get out a, “Pi—” before she lunges.

Pinkie slams into me like a freight train, her sobs loud enough to echo through the street. Her front hooves wrap around my neck, and my brain barely registers what’s happening before I topple.

Right.
Three legs.

I hit the ground hard, barely managing to not smash my head into the dirt. Pinkie clings to me like I’ll disappear if she lets go, her entire body shaking.

“You were gone—hic—you were gone!” she sobs, burying her face in my chest. “And—and I—” Another hiccup. “I thought—I thought I’d never get to throw you another party ever again—!”

I groan, shifting under her weight. “Pinkie—”

She tightens her grip.

“Pinkie, I can’t breathe.”

“Don’t care!”

Rachel tilts her head, watching the scene unfold like an uninterested observer.

I sigh, letting my head rest against the ground. Pinkie isn’t moving. She’s still clamped around me like a koala made of cotton candy and grief, sobbing into my chest like I just returned from the afterlife.

I make a few weak attempts to push her off, but my one remaining front leg is not enough to budge her. She’s deceptively strong for a baker.

“Pinkie,” I try again, softer this time. “I get it. I really do. But I really can’t breathe.”

She hiccups. Sniffles. Then loosens her grip just a fraction—but only enough to let me suck in air.

“When I got my twitch that you were back—I ran right over!” she cries. “I didn’t even wait—I knew it was you! I KNEW IT! My Pinkie Sense never lies! My whole body was like, ‘Kinetic’s back! Kinetic’s back!’ And I thought, ‘That’s impossible, he’s dead!’ But my Pinkie Sense was NEVER wrong before, so I dropped everything and—hic—I sprinted all the way here!”

I stare at her. “That’s… horrifyingly specific.”

“I KNOW!” she wails, clutching me again. “And I was like, ‘NO WAY,’ but it was right! You’re here! You’re real!”

I rub my face. “I am real, Pinkie. I promise.”

That only makes her sob harder.

Ponies are staring. The murmurs from before have turned into outright whispers.

I need to get out of here.

I look at Rachel, who has not moved.

“Rachel,” I mutter, “help.”

She does not.

She just sits there, watching like this is the most unimportant event in existence.

I groan. “Pinkie, listen—”

“No!” She sniffs hard. “You—you don’t understand! I—I thought you were gone forever! I—I couldn’t even throw a memorial party! Twilight was—was—hic—losing her mind! And—and—everypony was so sad!”

Twilight.

My stomach twists.

Oh.

Oh no.

If Pinkie is this bad…

Twilight is going to be worse.

I try again. “Pinkie. I promise, I’ll let you hold onto me later. But I really, really need to get up.”

She shakes her head.

“Nope! Nope! No!” Pinkie tightens her grip again, squeezing me like I’m some kind of trauma plushie.

I let out the longest, most exhausted sigh of my life. “Pinkie.”

“Nope!”

I stare up at the sky, contemplating my life choices. I could pry her off, but with one front leg, that’s not happening. I could beg Rachel to help, but she’s just watching this unfold like she’s studying bug behavior.

Which means I have to use the one thing I have left.

My brain.

“Pinkie,” I say slowly, voice full of calculated concern. “If you’re stuck to me like this…” I pause for effect. “Then how are you going to throw my Welcome Back From The Dead Party?”

Her whole body stiffens.

I keep going, pressing the attack. “I mean, you can’t bake. You can’t set up decorations. You can’t invite everypony.” I let out a fake sigh. “Guess I’ll just have to walk home alone and—”

She gasps.

Her grip loosens instantly.

“OH SWEET FROSTED CUPCAKES, YOU’RE RIGHT!” She leaps off me so fast I barely process the movement. One moment I’m pinned, the next I’m free, gasping for air.

“I—I—I have to hurry!” she babbles, her hooves tapping against the ground like she’s about to explode. “I need streamers—no, balloons first! And cupcakes! And confetti! OHHH, what kind of cake do you want?! Chocolate?! No, wait, vanilla! NO, CHOCOLATE VANILLA SWIRL—OH, WAIT, DO YOU EVEN WANT CAKE?! WAIT, DON’T ANSWER, OF COURSE YOU DO, EVERYONE WANTS CAKE—”

“Pinkie.” I sit up, dusting myself off. “You have so much to do.”

Her eyes widen.

“You’re right!” She salutes me. “Okay! I’m gonna go get everything ready! But don’t go anywhere!” She suddenly gasps again. “OH WAIT, I NEED TO TELL EVERYPONY—”

She sprints off at a speed that should not be possible.

I watch her disappear in a cloud of pink dust.

Rachel finally moves. She reaches out and pats me twice on the head.

“Don’t,” I mutter, brushing off my coat.

She pats me again.

I push myself upright, ignoring Rachel, and take a moment to steady myself on three legs. Pinkie’s gone—thank Celestia for that small mercy—and I can still hear her distant shrieking about balloons and banners. Any second now, the rest of Ponyville’s likely to descend on me, too.

“Let’s go,” I mutter, adjusting my saddlebags. Without waiting for a response, I hobble off in the direction of my H.A.R.D.I.S.

Thankfully, it’s only a few streets away. I keep to side paths, ducking behind crates and tool sheds whenever I spot a pony that might recognize me. A few times, I catch myself glancing over my shoulder, expecting Twilight to come barreling around the corner. But no one does.

By the time I reach my property, my heart’s thudding from more than just the walk. There’s my H.A.R.D.I.S., the run-down shed. The angles are wrong, the roof sags, and it almost feels like it’s pouting at me. I can’t say I blame it; it’s been sitting here, half-abandoned, while everypony thought I was six feet under.

“Hey there,” I mumble, feeling just a bit silly talking to a building. “I’m home.”

It looks… droopy. Sad. The paint’s peeled more since I left, and one hinge on the door is rusted. It’s like the place got word from the others that I was dead. I fish out the key from the bottom of my saddlebags and insert it into the lock. It clicks with an almost relieved sound, like the mechanism itself is exhaling.

The door swings inward, revealing the main room. The air that greets me is a wall of stale, rancid funk.

I grimace and press a hoof over my nose. “Ugh. Forgot I left the pantry stocked.”

Rachel steps in behind me, calm as ever, and just stands there while I cough. The small orbs of light float with a listless wobble, illuminating the interior of my impossibly large home. They’re usually brighter, more lively—like they’re reacting to my presence. Now, they’re dim and flickery, as if they’re reflecting the H.A.R.D.I.S.’s overall mood.

I gulp a breath of (mostly) fresh air from outside and then trudge deeper in. The smell is awful.

“Rachel,” I murmur, “close the door, would you?”

She silently pushes it shut. The latch clicks, and we’re enclosed in the familiar hush of the H.A.R.D.I.S. For all its infinite corridors and weird anomalies, it’s still home—just mustier and sadder than I remember.

I linger in the entryway, letting the tension seep out of me. Outside, Pinkie’s probably gathering half the town for a “welcome back from the dead” party. Which means I only have a short window to collect myself before the inevitable onslaught.

Right now, though? The stink, the gloom, the not-quite-right vibe of this place—none of it can kill the relief I feel to be alone again.

“I missed you, you weird old house,” I say under my breath. Then, louder, “Come on, Rachel. Let’s see how bad the pantry is.”

Without another word, I start forward. One crisis at a time.

I hobble toward the pantry door, trying not to breathe too deeply. The stench could knock a manticore out cold. Just as I’m bracing myself to open it, a thunderous knock reverberates through the walls.

THUD

I freeze. Another knock—heavy, like somepony’s trying to punch right through the wood. My heart jumps into my throat.

That’s… not good.

“...Helloooo,” a voice calls from outside. “Kine~tic…”

It’s Twilight. But her tone—it’s low, lilting, something akin to a dangerous purr. I’ve heard her excited, angry, even meltdown-level anxious… but never like this. My pulse speeds up, and my three legs feel like jelly. Rachel cocks her head, observing me in silence.

I swallow.

The next knock is more like a pounding. “Kinetic! Open the door!” She laughs, a sharp, humorless sound. “Oh, you’re so silly, making me chase you around town—after all we’ve been through!”

My ears pin back. “We… haven’t really been through that much…” I mutter under my breath, grateful she can't hear me. This is definitely not normal.

"You’ve been gone for two months! Gone! Do you have any idea how long that is? How much time we lost? Our compatibility index is suffering from all this separation, and based on my calculations, we have to make up for it now if we want to ensure optimal conditions for our relationship!"

I start inching back toward the front entrance—mostly because I can’t risk letting her destroy my entire home in some magical rampage. The door is already shuddering ominously. She might not be able to tear the H.A.R.D.I.S. apart—apparently the door is insanely robust—but if she keeps this up, I’m going to have a unicorn–shaped dent in my front door.

“Come on, Kinetic.” Her voice lilts again, like she’s trying to coax a small animal out of hiding. “We have so much to talk about. So much to plan! I’ve already started calculating our romantic compatibility—did you know we’re a 97.43% match for one another?” A bizarre giggle. “I checked the formula myself. sixteen times.”

I stop near the door, pressing an ear to it.

“I even triple-checked the math on each one!” She sounds thrilled, like she’s discovered a new element or solved an ancient puzzle. “And I thought, ‘Well, that’s basically 100%, right? Just a teensy margin for error!’”

There’s a scraping noise against the door. A corona of purple light seeps through the frame, it's like she’s trying to rip it off the hinges. The H.A.R.D.I.S. holds firm, but the whole entrance groans in protest.

“Let me in, Kinetic. We have so much of our future to discuss.” Her tone dips again, lower, more manic. “Like the wedding, the honeymoon, the twelve foals we’re going to have—maybe more if you’re feeling adventurous!”

I feel my stomach twist. “Twelve?” I whisper.

Rachel regards me with a blank stare, as if waiting to see how I’ll handle this. I press my forehead against the door, trying to think of something—anything—that’ll calm Twilight down.

She rattles the handle again. “Come on… Let me in. I can sense you, you know. You’re my special somepony, I know you’re in there. Don’t make me do something… drastic.”

I brace myself, one hoof on the door, heart hammering in my chest. The scraping sound outside intensifies, along with the hum of powerful telekinesis

But then it all halts with a shaky gasp.

“Drastic…” Twilight’s voice quivers, and there’s a long pause like she’s trying to swallow a sob. “I–I don’t want to hurt you or anything, I swear. I just… I thought—” Her tone cracks. “I thought you were dead, Kinetic. Do you know what that’s like? To be told—shown—that somepony you care about is just… gone?”

The doorknob rattles once more, but weaker this time, as if her magic’s faltering. I press closer, mind racing.

“It was so quiet without you,” she continues, so softly I almost can’t hear her. “I’d read all day and night, but nothing helped. I’d see a book to reccomend you and think, ‘Hey, I can talk to him about…’ and then I’d remember…” A ragged breath. “That I couldn’t talk to you. That you were gone.”

My gut clenches. Twilight’s voice is raw now, no longer tinted with that deranged edge. It hits me in a way I wasn’t prepared for, prying at something I’ve worked hard to bury.

She sniffles, and the next words come out in a trembling whisper: “I—I tried to move on. Really, I did. Everypony kept saying, ‘Time heals all wounds,’ but it just… it just made me realize how alone I was. And then—then Pinkie came rushing in, screaming that you’re back, and I… I didn’t know how to handle it. I don’t know how to handle it.”

There’s a heavy thump, like she’s resting her head against the other side of the door. I swallow, my throat painfully tight.

Twilight’s voice hitches. “The library… it was the only place that felt safe anymore. I tried to keep it neat, to keep some sense of control. You remember how you used to mess with me by putting books back in strange places, right? And… that day, I— I found the last one you placed there, hidden on the shelf. I—I saw it was upside down. And I just… I couldn’t fix it. I couldn’t even touch it, because if I did… it felt like erasing the last thing I had left of you.”

I press myself against the door, barely breathing as Twilight’s sniffles grow softer. Each shaky exhale digs into my chest like a knife, twisting the guilt I’ve been trying to ignore.

She speaks again, voice trembling, “Every day, I’d go over my notes—magic theory, runic analysis, anything that reminded me of you. And even then, I couldn’t make sense of it all. Because how do I… how do I study losing somepony I—” Her words hitch, and I know she’s crying again.

My stomach churns. I’m not ready for this. I never wanted to be her everything. But she’s here, pouring out her grief against a locked door, and I’m the reason she’s in so much pain.

“Twilight…” I whisper, heart pounding.

She takes a shaky breath. “But you’re not dead. You’re right here, and I—I just want to see you. I don’t… I don’t care about anything else.” Another sob. “I’d give up the books—the reading, the library—for you to just be okay. To know you’re safe.”

I don’t know how much more of this I can take. The raw ache in Twilight’s voice, the guilt lodging itself like a thorn in my heart… It burns.

I rest my forehead against the door, letting her words wash over me. She’s sobbing softly now, her quiet weeping nearly lost under the thud of my own pulse. Every second that passes feels like a century.

Eventually, I can’t stand it anymore. Without a word, I turn the lock and ease the door open.

Twilight is right there, tears in her eyes. Her breath catches the instant she sees me. At first, her gaze locks on my face, searching, frantic. But then she glances downward.

She sees it: my missing leg, cut off at mid-foreleg, ending in a roughly compressed stone cap.

For a moment, I think she might scream. Her lips part, her expression crumpling in on itself. She stumbles forward, eyes flicking between my stump and my face, tears still tracking down her cheeks.

“No…” Her voice wavers, sounding broken in a way I’ve never heard before. “Kinetic… oh Celestia, your—your leg—”

I can’t find any words. I want to explain it away, to make it less horrible than it is, but there’s nothing I can say. It’s just gone, and there’s no hiding it anymore.

Twilight’s lower lip trembles. Her gaze lingers on the stone cap, then snaps back up to my eyes, pleading. She makes a small, choked sound—somewhere between a gasp and a sob—and then she lunges forward, wrapping her forelegs around my neck.

I stagger, struggling to keep my balance on three legs, but she keeps me upright, her hug surprisingly gentle despite the desperation in it. She presses her face into my mane and just cries, muffling her sobs against me. I stand there, stiff with shock, until I finally force my one remaining front hoof to move, returning her embrace.

My eyes sting. I try to blink away the threatening tears, but it’s impossible not to feel her grief radiating through me. We stay like that—locked together in the doorway of my battered H.A.R.D.I.S., surrounded by the rancid smell of my rotting pantry and the echoes of everything that went wrong.

Twilight’s voice wobbles, barely above a whisper. “It’s going to be okay,” she mumbles over and over. “It’s going to be okay. We’ll— we’ll figure this out. I promise.”

I draw in a shaky breath. Her mane smells like ink and parchment, a familiar comfort that makes my chest tighten. She shouldn’t have to be here, comforting me like this. I’m the fraud, the coward, the one who mouthed off and got myself thrown halfway to Tartarus.

Yet she clings to me as if letting go would break her all over again.

I close my eyes, fighting back every instinct to pull away and hide. Instead, I lean into her mane, feeling the dampness where her tears have soaked my coat.

“I’m sorry,” I manage, the words barely audible.

She just squeezes me tighter, tears coursing down her cheeks. “You’re alive,” she whispers fiercely, like she’s reminding herself. “I don’t care about anything else right now.”

We stand there for what feels like forever, wrapped in the kind of silence that hurts. Twilight’s hooves are still locked around me, holding tight, like she’s afraid I’ll disappear if she lets go.

I take a shuddering breath in Twilight’s embrace as I try to steady my trembling heart. She pulls back just a fraction, her eyes glistening with unshed tears, and asks in a soft voice, “Kinetic… where have you been? What happened to you?”

I exhale slowly, breaking the silence first. “I… don’t really want to talk about it.”

Twilight stiffens slightly, and when she pulls back, her face is raw. She looks at me like I just kicked a puppy. “But… I need to know, Kinetic. Please.”

I sigh, rubbing my good hoof over my face. “It’s annoying to repeat the whole thing again.”

She flinches. It’s a tiny thing, just the slightest dip of her ears and a crack in her already broken expression, but I feel it like a gut punch.

I rub my temples and mutter, “Fine.”

Twilight’s ears perk up slightly, but she stays silent, waiting.

I don’t want to say it. I don’t want to think about it. But the way she’s looking at me, like she’s been waiting so long just to understand—I can’t just walk away from that.

So I start talking.

“Cadence’s blast sent me to the Badlands.” I force the words out, trying to sound casual about it. “I hit the ground hard. Broke all four of my legs.”

Twilight gasps so sharply it’s like I physically hit her. Her hooves fly to her mouth, and she looks absolutely horrified. “A-All four?” she whispers, eyes brimming with fresh tears. “Oh, Kinetic…”

I grit my teeth and keep going. “Yeah. Couldn’t move. Not right away. But, uh, where I landed? It wasn’t stable.” I swallow hard. “It was a sinkhole.”

She freezes.

I nod grimly. “I fell into Tartarus.”

Twilight stumbles back, shaking her head like she misheard me. “No. No, no, no. That’s—” She shakes a little. “You—you fell into Tartarus?! That’s impossible!”

“Tell that to the hole,” I mutter bitterly.

She grabs me again, her hooves shaking. “Kinetic, oh Celestia, that’s—” She cuts herself off, her breathing picking up. Her eyes are too wide, too full of emotions she’s barely holding back. She swallows hard. “I… I screamed at Cadence for hours,” she admits, voice breaking. “When she told me she blasted you, I—I lost it. But we thought—” She bites down on her trembling lip. “We thought you were just gone. We never imagined you—” She shudders. “We never thought to check Tartarus.”

I shift uncomfortably, trying to avoid her eyes. “Yeah, well. Neither would I.”

She sniffles, but I press forward before I lose my nerve.

“I couldn’t walk. So I had to, uh… improvise.” I motion vaguely with my hoof. “Used a floating slab of rock to get around. Kept my legs off the ground. Tried to… survive.”

Twilight’s jaw tightens. “You had to fight. Didn’t you?”

I nod. “A lot.” I remember the creatures, the constant struggle, the pain, the exhaustion—the heat. My body slowly deteriorating with every passing day.

Twilight shudders, rubbing her foreleg. “How long were you down there?”

I blink, thinking back. “Around a month, hard to say.”

Her breath catches. “A month.” She whispers it like the word hurts. “All alone.”

“Not alone,” I correct, glancing at Rachel. “She found me.”

Twilight’s gaze flicks to Rachel for the first time, and something shifts in her expression—gratitude, relief, maybe even reverence. “You… you saved him?” she asks, voice thick.

Rachel says nothing, but I know the answer. She did. I would’ve died if she hadn’t found me.

“She must’ve fallen through the same hole,” I continue. “Don’t know how long she was wandering before she found me, but by then, I was…” I pause, choosing my words carefully. “Not doing great.”

Twilight nods slightly, but her eyes keep flicking to my missing leg. She knows what I haven’t said yet.

I don’t want to tell her.

But she’s waiting.

I swallow, throat dry. “The three legs healed. But my right foreleg didn’t.”

Twilight holds completely still. Her breathing slows, like she’s bracing herself.

I press forward before I can hesitate. “It got infected. I couldn’t move. I was burning up with fever. If I didn’t—” My mouth feels like sandpaper. “If I didn’t do something, I was gonna die.”

Twilight barely whispers, “What… what did you do?”

I exhale, sharp and shaky. “I cut it off.”

Silence.

Absolute, crushing silence.

Twilight’s pupils shrink. Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out. A choked noise, maybe a strangled sob, catches in her throat. Her body locks up, trembling so hard I think she might collapse.

I look away. “Rachel fought monsters while I healed. Kept me alive.” I stare at the ground. “After a while, I found a way out.”

Twilight suddenly lets out a small, broken sound. She looks so shaken, so utterly destroyed by what she’s just heard, that I don’t know what to do.

Her hooves press against her chest, her breath coming fast and shallow. “You… you—” She sobs, stepping forward like she wants to touch me but doesn’t know how. “I—I wasn’t there,” she whispers, horrified. “I—we all thought you were gone. We searched, Kinetic, we searched for weeks. We flew so far looking for you, but—” She hiccups. “We didn’t even think you could’ve gone that far. We found dead changelings, but they were closer.” Her voice wavers. “You must’ve been blasted farther than any of us thought.”

I let out a humorless chuckle. “Yeah. Lucky me.”

Twilight lets out a quiet, pained whimper. She reaches forward, hesitates—then throws her forelegs around me again, clutching me tightly. I can feel her shaking. Her entire body is wracked with grief.

“I’m sorry,” she whispers over and over. “I’m so, so sorry.”

I close my eyes, exhaling. “Not your fault.”

She hugs me tighter. “We should have found you.”

I don’t respond. Because I don’t know what to say.

We stand there, the weight of everything pressing down on us both. Twilight doesn’t let go.

Twilight doesn’t let go. She holds onto me like I’m something fragile—like I might slip through her hooves again if she so much as loosens her grip. I don’t know how long we stand there, but I can feel her heartbeat against my chest, uneven and erratic.

Finally, she sniffles, rubbing her muzzle against my shoulder before whispering, “Princess Celestia… she mobilized everything to find you.”

I blink. “…What?”

Twilight pulls back just enough to look me in the eyes. Hers are puffy, red-rimmed, but there’s still this intensity burning behind them. “The entire Royal Guard was sent out to look for you. Not just Canterlot’s forces—Celestia called on every guard division across Equestria. Pegasi squads searched the mountains, unicorns traced residual magic signatures, and earth ponies combed every inch of ground between Canterlot and the Badlands.” She swallows. “And we… we didn’t find a single trace.”

I stare at her, dumbfounded. Celestia sent everypony after me? That’s… more effort than I ever expected. More than I deserved.

Twilight isn’t finished. “And it wasn’t just them.” She sniffles, dragging a hoof across her face. “Celestia herself spent days trying to track you down. She personally scanned every major leyline for magical disturbances, trying to pinpoint where you might’ve landed. Luna even searched the dreamscape, looking for any sign of your consciousness.”

A sick feeling creeps into my stomach. “And they still didn’t find anything.”

She shakes her head, looking miserable. “Nothing. Not even the faintest magical imprint.” She lets out a shaky breath. “We had no idea you flew that far. No way of knowing you even survived. We only found dead changelings. That was it. Just… bodies.”

I rub the back of my neck.

Twilight bites her lip. “And then…” She hesitates, her gaze flicking to Rachel. “Celestia told me that she—” She gestures to Rachel. “—jumped after you.”

I frown. “Wait. What?”

Twilight nods, expression darkening. “After you were hit, Rachel went straight out the window after you. She just jumped. No hesitation. No delay. Right off the mountain.” Twilight’s voice cracks. “She followed you.”

My chest tightens, and I slowly turn to Rachel. She stares back at me, unblinking.

I don’t know why this surprises me. Of course she followed. I carved that command in myself.

Back then, she was just a construct. A machine running on simple directives.

I swallow. “She really just—jumped off the ledge?”

Twilight nods again, more forcefully this time. “Celestia and Cadence saw her go. But by the time anypony realized what she was doing, she was already gone.”

I exhale, pressing a hoof to my forehead. “No wonder you lost track of me.”

Twilight clenches her jaw. “Not following Rachel was a huge part of what I yelled at them for.”

I blink. “Wait. You yelled at Celestia?”

Twilight lets out a wet, humorless laugh. “Oh, Kinetic. You have no idea.”

The look in her eyes is exhausted.

I just stare at her. “You yelled at Celestia?”

She nods sharply. “Yes.”

Twilight Sparkle—the most devoted student in Equestria, the Twilight Sparkle, who practically worships the ground Celestia walks on—yelled at her.

I have to sit down.

Twilight keeps talking, voice thick with emotion. “I yelled at her. I yelled at Cadence. I yelled at everypony. I told them they were idiots for not chasing Rachel. I told Cadence she was reckless for blasting you away like that and that she should have thought for half a second before treating you like an enemy.” She wipes furiously at her eyes. “I—I told them that if they really cared, they would have done more.

Twilight’s voice shakes as she continues. “Celestia just—just listened to me. She let me yell at her for hours. And I wanted her to yell back. To get angry. To tell me I was being irrational, but she didn’t. She just stood there and took it.”

Her breath shudders, and she closes her eyes. “I kept expecting her to tell me to calm down, to scold me for screaming at a princess. But she didn’t. She just looked… tired. Tired and sad. And that—” Her voice cracks. “That was worse.”

I don’t say anything. I can’t. My stomach twists. I was dead to them. And Celestia, the most powerful being in Equestria, couldn’t do a thing about it. So she just stood there and let Twilight break herself over it.

Twilight wipes her eyes roughly and sniffles. “Cadence… she thought you were evil.”

I flinch.

“I knew it was a mistake,” she mutters quickly, looking up at me. “I knew. But at the time, I didn’t care. I just wanted to blame somepony.” She grits her teeth. “And I did. I blamed them all.”

I let out a slow breath. More conformation that cadence thinks I'm a monster. I try not to let the bitterness seep into my expression, but Twilight must see it anyway because she winces.

“I… I know she regrets it,” she says quietly. “I know she feels awful.”

I look away. I don’t want to talk about Cadence.

Twilight must sense that, because she doesn’t push it. Instead, she sniffles, wiping her face with the back of her hoof. “I just… I need you to know, Kinetic. We never stopped looking. We never wanted to stop. If we’d known—if we had even guessed—you were in Tartarus, we would have gone.”

I nod, swallowing the lump in my throat. I believe her. But it doesn’t make those weeks alone in the dark any less real.

She exhales sharply, trying to steady herself. “But it’s over now. You’re here.”

Her voice wavers on the last word. She leans into me again, hooves clutching me tightly, and I realize she’s still not letting go.

She’s not going to.

Not for a while.

I shift my weight, and Twilight moves with me, not loosening her grip even as I hobble further into the H.A.R.D.I.S. It’s a slow process—I’m already exhausted, and maneuvering with one front leg while carrying Twilight Sparkle like an emotional barnacle is not helping.

Rachel follows behind in silence, watching.

The stale funk of my rotting pantry hits my nose again, and I grimace.

Twilight doesn’t even react to the smell. She just buries her face against my shoulder, hooves gripping the fabric of my saddle bag like she’s afraid I’ll vanish if she loosens up.

I sigh, stepping fully inside and nudging the door closed behind me. “You’re not going to let go anytime soon, huh?”

Twilight shakes her head.

I groan, but there’s no real heat behind it. “Fine. Just… don’t suffocate me.”

She sniffles but doesn’t respond.

I sigh, rubbing at my face with my good hoof. “Alright, Twilight. If you’re gonna be glued to me, at least move with me. I need to fix the pantry.”

Twilight snorts softly, like she doesn’t believe I’m serious, then finally pulls back just enough to let me shift. But before I can move toward the pantry, she lights up her horn and casually opens every cabinet at once.

A second later, with a single pulse of magic, the stench disappears.

I blink. “...What?”

She wipes at her eyes again, then sniffs. “I just incinerated everything rotten. You’re welcome.”

I stare at the now-clean cabinets, blinking in disbelief. That would have taken me forever to clean.

“You—” I blink. “You just—”

She sniffs again and clings tighter. “Shut up and let me take care of you.”

I open my mouth to argue, but before I can, there’s a knock at the door.

Twilight tenses against me, and I sigh. “Great. That’s probably...”

I turn, and walk over, twilight following closely.
I crack the door open.

And there they are.

Applejack. Rarity. Rainbow Dash. Fluttershy.

For a second, I think they’re about to say something. Maybe yell, maybe cry—maybe just be normal for five seconds.

But they don’t.

They stare.

I don’t understand at first. I don’t know why they’re frozen. Then I follow their eyes.

Oh.

Right.

I forgot.

They’re looking at my right foreleg—at the stump where it used to be. At the smooth, compressed stone cap, a crude, ugly thing sealing what’s left of me.

They just stare.

And then—

Fluttershy makes a soft, strangled sound and starts crying immediately.

Rarity’s hoof flies to her mouth, her pupils shrinking in horror.

Applejack tips her hat down to hide her eyes.

And Rainbow—Rainbow’s whole body is shaking.

I feel heavy all of a sudden. The weight of their stares, the emotions rolling off them in waves, all of it pressing down on me like a stone slab crushing my chest.

I’ve had it like this for so long—missing, gone, amputated—that I don’t even think about it anymore. I don’t wake up expecting it to be there. I don’t try to move it. It’s just gone.

But for them—this is the first time they’ve seen me like this.

I try to speak. To say anything. But before I can, they all start talking at once.

Crying. Apologizing. Shouting over each other in this messy, horrible tangle of voices and emotions.

“Oh, Kinetic—your leg—”

“Darling, how could—”

“We should’ve been there! We should have—”

“Why didn’t we—”

“This ain’t right! It ain’t—”

I can barely keep up. The words crash into me, jumbled, desperate, tripping over each other in a frantic storm of regret and grief. It’s all blending together, all of them trying to say too much at once—

But Rainbow’s voice cuts through.

“I left you.”

The others freeze mid-sentence.

I blink at Rainbow, my heart lurching at the look on her face.

Her wings are trembling. Her eyes locked on my missing leg. Her whole body shaking, like she’s barely keeping herself together.

“I left you with Chrysalis,” she chokes out. Her pupils are tiny, and her breath comes in sharp bursts. “We—we ran to get the Elements. We—we thought we could fix it, but—” Her face contorts, a mix of anger and self-loathing. “I left you.”

I blink, trying to follow what she’s saying. “Rainbow, I—”

“I should have stayed,” she snarls. “I should have fought with you. I should have—I should have done something.”

She hiccups sharply, sucking in a breath. “ I thought we’d be fast enough. That we’d come back in time. That you’d be okay.”

Her face crumples, her ears flat against her skull. “But we weren’t. And you weren’t.”

I open my mouth, but she keeps going.

“This—” She gestures wildly at my missing leg, voice breaking. “This all happened because we weren’t fast enough! Because I wasn’t fast enough!” Her breath is coming in short, panicked bursts now.

“You did what you had to,” I say, voice even despite the lump in my throat. “You went for the Elements. It was the right call.”

Rainbow flinches like I struck her.

“No,” she says, shaking her head. “No, it wasn’t. Because if it was, then why—” She gestures wildly at my missing leg, eyes glistening. “Why did this happen to you?!”

I take a breath, forcing myself to stand firm despite the crushing weight of their emotions.

“It is possible to do everything right and still lose,” I say, voice steady but quiet. “That’s not a failure. That’s just life.”

It was supposed to be encouraging, but something in my answer seems to have had the opposite effect.

Rainbow shakes her head violently. Applejack’s jaw tightens. Rarity shivers like I just said something awful. Fluttershy makes a tiny, hurt noise and looks away.

None of them are comforted by my words. They just wilt.

So I do what I always do.

I force a half-smirk, shrugging with my one good foreleg. “Hey, at least I get horseshoes 25% off right?”

Nothing.

Not even a ghost of a smile.

They just look at me.

Like I’ve just kicked them while they were already down.

Like I’ve made it worse.

Applejack steps forward, her movements slow and deliberate. “Y’ always do that, don’tcha?” Her voice is low, quiet. Not angry. Worse than angry.

I blink. “Do what?”

Applejack’s staring right into me. “Hide behind yer jokes.”

My breath catches in my throat.

Applejack doesn’t stop.

“Ya talk like it don’t matter. Like it ain’t a big deal.” She gestures to my leg, eyes dark. “But it is. You lost a part of yourself, Kinetic. And you ain’t even allowin’ yerself to be sad about it.”

I flinch.

Her voice softens, but the words hit harder.

“Y’ ever think maybe yer jokes ain’t fixin’ anything?” she murmurs.

I try to laugh. I try to shake it off, but it doesn’t come.

Applejack steps closer. Too close. I can’t look away.

“Tell me somethin’ honest, Kinetic.” She tilts her head, eyes burning into mine. “Are ya even okay?”

I open my mouth. I don’t know what I was about to say—some lie, some brush-off, some joke about how of course I’m okay, how I’m alive, aren’t I?

But then—

“Because it don’t seem like ya are.”

I force out a weak chuckle, shaking my head. “Come on, it’s just a joke, Applejack. Lighten up.”

She doesn’t smile. She doesn’t move.

I try again, gesturing vaguely with my good hoof. “Seriously, I—I’m fine. It’s just… what else am I supposed to do? Cry about it? That’s not gonna grow my leg back.”

She doesn’t let up.

Her gaze stays locked onto mine, and I feel my stomach tighten.

I hate this.

I hate how they’re all staring at me. I hate how they’re acting like they understand. Like they have any idea what I went through.

Applejack’s voice is quiet, firm. “Ain’t ‘bout cryin’. It’s about tellin’ the truth.”

My ears flick back. Fucking pony lie detector.

She leans in slightly. “So tell the truth, Kinetic. Just this once.”

I try again, “Look, if I didn’t joke—if I didn’t laugh—”

My voice falters for just a second, and I let it slip.

“I’d be furious.”

My voice is quiet at first. But then it grows.

“I’d be furious at Cadence for treating me like I was some villain. For blasting me away like I was nothing.” My breath hitches. “I’d be furious that no one found me, that I had to drag myself through Tartarus, that I had to watch my body fail me!”

The words come faster now, tumbling out in a rush I can’t control.

“I’d be furious that I don’t have some magic destiny protecting me like you do! I don’t just get to walk away from adventures with a few scratches and a moral lesson! I’m not like you!”

I take another breath, but it’s shaky, wild. My chest heaves.

I shake my head, feeling the burn behind my eyes. “You all—you all get to walk away. You get your victories. Your happy endings. You go on these adventures, and no matter how bad things get, you always make it through. You always come back. You always win.”

They all go still.

My breath is ragged, my chest tight.

“And where was my big hero moment, huh?!” I shout, voice cracking. “Where was my miracle save? My perfect timing? Oh, that’s right—I didn’t get one.”

My heart hammers.

“The only reason I survived is because of a golem I built myself. Because I never had anything but myself!”

Twilight flinches against me.

I let out a harsh breath, my whole body trembling.

No one speaks.

No one moves.

I expect them to argue, to tell me I’m wrong, to say I’m being ridiculous.

But as I scowl, angry at the world, Applejack smiles.

Soft. Knowing.

Like I didn’t just throw a fit.

Like she was waiting for this.

I stare at her, my pulse still hammering in my ears. “What are you so fuckin' happy for?!” I demand, voice hoarse.

Applejack exhales, shaking her head, that small smile still lingering. “Because, sugarcube…” She steps closer, her voice warm, but sure.

“That’s the first honest thing ya’ve said all night.”

I stagger, staring at her like she just slapped me.

“The first honest thing—” I let out a sharp, bitter laugh. “You think just because I admit it, that suddenly everything’s fine?!”

Applejack doesn’t move. She just watches me, steady and calm, like she’s not standing in the middle of my breakdown. Like she’s just waiting for me to keep going.

And I do.

“Like that’s it? That’s the grand solution?” I throw my hoof up, voice rising. “Oh wow, good job, everypony! I finally snapped, so now we can all pack up and go home!”

Rarity winces, ears flattening. Twilight’s grip on me tightens, but I don’t stop.

“You think this—this is some kind of win?! That just because I’m finally screaming about it, that it somehow makes it better?!”

They start murmuring, their voices soft, trying to calm me.

I don’t want to be calm.

“No! You don’t get to just act all smug about this!” My voice breaks, raw and furious. “You don’t get to just stand there all self-satisfied because you finally dragged this out of me!”

I shake my head, my whole body tense. “I didn’t even want to be there! You all keep dragging me into your bullshit! And then you—” I gesture wildly at them, my one hoof shaking. “You all just get to act like this is some—some tragedy that happened to you?!”

They flinch.

I press forward. “Like I’m just another lesson for you to learn from?! Like my leg—” My voice breaks, and I force it back under control. “Like my leg is some plot twist in your story?!”

Rainbow recoils like I struck her. Rarity’s breath catches in her throat. Fluttershy looks like she might just collapse.

I scoff, shaking my head, feeling the burn in my chest, the ache in my throat.

“Well, sorry if my pain makes for a great character arc,” I snap. “But guess what? I’m not your lesson to learn. I’m not some tragedy to add to your list of friendship problems.”

I take a step back, breathing ragged, the room spinning around me.

“This is my life. And I have to live with it. Not you. Me.”

I glare at Applejack.

“So stop trying to tell me how to cope.”

The room goes silent.

Not a single word.

I can feel Twilight trembling against me, her breath coming in uneven hiccups. Applejack’s face is unreadable. Rarity’s hoof is still pressed to her mouth. Rainbow’s wings twitch, like she wants to do something but doesn’t know what.

I stand there, heaving, my breath coming sharp and uneven. My ears ring in the silence I just tore through the room.

I know what I just did.

I said all of that to drive them away. To make them hurt, to make them uncomfortable, to make them leave.

But they don’t.

No one turns away. No one walks out.

I can feel my heart pounding, like a caged thing trying to escape. My whole body is tense, like I’m waiting for a fight. But they don’t fight me. They just… stand there.

Waiting.

Rainbow, the first to move, finally sucks in a deep breath. “You’re right.”

That throws me off.

I blink at her. “What?”

“You’re right,” she repeats, her voice tight. “We’re not the ones who have to live with this. You are.” Her wings twitch again, but she doesn’t step back. If anything, she moves closer.

I scowl. “Then why are you still here?”

“Because, Kinetic.” Applejack finally speaks, voice low, firm. “We care about you.”

I let out a sharp breath, shaking my head. “That’s not what I—”

Fluttershy, of all ponies, cuts me off.

“You’re angry,” she says. Her voice is soft, but not weak. “And you should be.”

She stares into my eyes and I freeze.

She continues, stepping forward just slightly. “You should be angry. You should feel everything you feel. No one’s saying you shouldn’t.” Her blue eyes shimmer with something deep, steady. “But that doesn’t mean we’re going to stop caring.”

Rarity inhales deeply, regaining her composure just enough to speak. Her voice is softer, but no less firm.

"Darling, of course this isn’t about us." She sniffs, pressing a hoof to her chest. "But don’t you dare act like you’re the only one who’s allowed to be upset."

I flinch.

She steps forward, her violet eyes glistening. "We care about you, Kinetic. That’s not something you can just… turn off." Her breath wavers. "I don’t care how angry you are—I don’t care if you hate me right now—but I will not stand here and pretend like you don’t matter."

She wipes at her eyes, taking a shaky breath.

"And frankly, darling, neither should you."

Before I can form a retort, Rainbow speaks up, her wings still trembling at her sides. “You think we’re treating this like a lesson?” Her voice is hoarse, rough around the edges. “Like you’re some kinda tragic backstory to make us better ponies?”

Her face twists into something almost hurt, and she shakes her head. “That’s not—that’s not what this is.”

I let out a short, bitter scoff, but she doesn’t stop.

“I’m not standing here wishing I could learn something from this.” Her voice is raw. “I just wish you didn’t have to go through it at all.”

I run my tongue over my teeth, my breath still uneven. My heart still pounds.

I don’t know what I expected from them. I wanted them gone. I wanted them to look at me, to see the anger, the ugliness, and just leave me alone.

But they won’t.

Even though they should.

Even though I just screamed in their faces.

Even though they have every reason to walk away.

Twilight shifts against me, still clutching my side like a lifeline. Her voice is barely above a whisper.

“We thought you were gone.”

I stiffen.

She shudders, her grip tightening. “We thought you were gone forever. And now you’re here, and you—you’re still here, Kinetic, and you’re angry and hurt and—”

Her breath shakes.

“And we can’t fix it.”

The words hit like a gut punch.

“We can’t fix it,” she repeats, swallowing hard. “But we can be here.”

I close my eyes.

Damn them.

Damn them for being so persistent.

Damn them for being kind.

Damn them for refusing to leave.

I let out a long, slow breath, dragging a hoof down my face.

Nothing is fixed.

Nothing is resolved.

And I don't think it will be for a while.