All Things Go

At the hotel a few blocks away, a dark blue Earth pony scanned the city. If his night vision had been better, he might have noticed the light purple speck slowly approaching, eight floors below. Instead, his eyes followed the lights of carriages as they sped through the still busy city streets. He sipped from a warm mug of tea. The tea was crisp and had a bite to it, not unlike the snow that had long since melted, leaving the town a scattered collection of large and unusually deep mud puddles.

The 233 was lit up for the night, and its ethereal blue glow coated the entire west side of the hotel, which included Ears, his balcony, and his tea. From the third floor lounge, which opened up onto its very own balcony, he could hear the faint sounds of the jazz trio the hotel had been promoting. Tonight he had planned to actually attend, as it was their last Shearcago gig, but something about the colors of the night had him eschewing the smoky lounge for the surprisingly pleasing city air.

Ears sighed. The sabbatical was helping, though it had certainly taken its time. For the first week, he had barely left the room. His room service bill during those days was a startling testament to his resolve to cut himself off from the world.

It didn’t last. Before long, cabin fever set in, and Ears had felt it necessary to expand his realm to the rest of the hotel. He spent a few days just exploring the different amenities: the spa, the restaurant, the bar. When he stepped out into the streets for the first time since he got off the train, Ears felt a momentary panic that washed away almost as quickly as it came on.

The loneliness had been easy enough to dispel. He had struck up a quick friendship with a unicorn who turned out to be the boyfriend of the leader of the jazz trio, and they had shot the breeze for a while. Mostly, they talked about Canterlot. Ears had been thinking he might have “cured” himself, but news of the coronation brought back those old feelings. The loneliness was gone, but the longing remained.

Through both his reverie and the empty hotel room, Ears heard the knock on the door.

He hadn’t ordered room service since the morning, when he’d just had toast with jam. Still, most of the staff knew him at this point, and as the manager always appreciated a paying customer, occasionally room service would show up with extra perks. Perhaps this was one of those times? Ears didn’t even think to use the peephole. Had he looked first, he might not have opened the door.

“Twilight Sparkle?”

“Hello, Counselor Ears,” said the Princess with a nod.

He swallowed. “You can just call me Ears. It’s been a long time since you’ve been in my office.”

“It really has,” Twilight said wistfully. “Things have changed a bit since then.” She spread and flexed her wings for him to see.

“It’s very impressive. Congratulations, Twilight.”

“Can I come in, Ears?” He was ready to refuse, albeit politely, when she added, “Please?” There was a crack in her voice, a certain sadness that he couldn’t ignore.

“Yes, of course,” he said, and opened the door wide for her entrance.

Moments later, he had placed another kettle on the stove. Twilight had initially turned down the offer of a cup of tea, but had relented. She could tell her presence made Ears nervous, and perhaps allowing him to play host would help put him at ease. As it was, the tension was thick, and the two of them sat across from each other in the hotel room, completely silent. This lull lasted for an uncomfortable period of time before Twilight finally spoke.

“You know I have to return to Canterlot.”

“Tonight?” asked Ears, a little louder than he had intended.

“Well, yes,” she nodded. “But I meant more for my instruction in the duties of a Princess.”

“Ah,” said Ears, thoughtfully. “I remember helping out your friend Cadence with her instruction.”

“I was surprised to find out that you weren’t available to instruct me, Ears.”

Ears shrugged. “Well, you know how it is. You work hard for a long time, and forget that you can take a vacation.”

“It’s a little long for a vacation, though, don’t you think?”

“Vacation, sabbatical. Just different words for needing to get away.”

“Get away from what?”

His ears perked up. “What do you mean?”

“What are you trying to get away from?”

For the first time since his stay in Shearcago, Ears felt angry. Who gave her the right to cross-examine him? “With all due respect, Princess,” he said, gritting his teeth with her new honorific, “that is personal business, and none of your affair.”

“But that’s why I came to talk to you,” said Twilight, her eyes softening.

“Why? To drag me back to that school?”

“I didn’t have any intention of dragging you, Ears. I just hoped you would participate in my instruction.”

Ears tried to force a laugh, and it came out sounding just as inorganic as it was. “Did you even consider that maybe I’m not interested in playing therapist for you again?” He found it difficult to look her in the eyes.

“I don’t believe you. Princess Celestia said that she thought something was going on with you, and I think her hunch was right.”

“You don’t know me, Twilight,” said Ears, who got up to check on tea kettle. When he discovered it was still a minute or so off from boiling, he began to pace the kitchen area.

Twilight’s eyes softened. “I know that. Shining Armor told me so.”

“He did, did he?”

She nodded. “He sees something in you that I haven’t seen before. Something that I don’t think you want to show me.”

Ears didn’t respond. He couldn’t respond. The tea kettle began hissing, started its high-pitched whistle. Twilight blinked. If Ears could hear the shriek, he made no sign of it. He just stared past her, his gaze hollow. From across the room, she took the boiling kettle off of the burner. The clink of the kettle on the burner caught Ears’ attention long enough for his thoughts to return to the hotel. He turned off the heat on the oven.

“Do you need something, Ears?”

He swallowed. “Nothing that I can actually have.”

Twilight gave him a wan smile. “Sometimes you just have to reach out and take what you want.”

“That’s a good way to end up in the dungeon,” he mumbled.

“What?” She hadn’t heard him. It was for the best.

“It’s not that simple.”

“Maybe I can help? I am a Princess now,” she said, pointing out her wings again.

He squinted, as if trying to fend off a headache. “You definitely can’t help me with this, Twilight Sparkle.”

“Well, do you need to go somewhere?”

“I probably do.”

“What about time?”

“What about it,” asked Ears, growing ever impatient with the salt being poured into his wound.

“Do you just need more time? I can speak to Celestia, make sure that you have the time to solve whatever’s bothering you.”

Time wouldn’t help. This wasn’t going to heal, just leaving a tiny scar. This was a wound that would never be able to heal. He could cover it up for the most part, but there would always be something picking at it, reopening it, exposing it to the cold air.

“I think that’s a great idea,” said Ears. Twilight smiled.

Before she left on the early morning train, she gave Ears a hug goodbye. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about the things he shouldn’t: the smell of her mane, the firm embrace around his neck, or the faint warmth of her cheek against his. He was able to keep his voice from breaking when he said “I’m always glad to see you, Twilight.” It wasn’t a lie.

“And I’m glad to see you too, Ears.” She pulled back from the embrace and smiled again. “This is a really lovely city. It’s different, but still lovely. I’ll have to come back sometime to visit.”

“Did you get a chance to see the stars tonight?”

She shook her head. “When I got off the train, the signs were too bright. I couldn’t see anything.” She must have seen the disappointment in Ears, because she quickly added. “But I got a very good look at them when I was in Canterlot. Tonight was beautiful.”

“I’m sure it was.”

“Please take care of yourself, Ears.”

“You do the same, my Princess.”

Twilight couldn’t help but blush at this first use of her title with such reverence. Despite her attempt to hide it, Ears noticed the reddening, and felt some of the warmth himself. That warmth helped keep his eyes free from tears as he accompanied her to the platform, saw that she got on the train, and watched the train slowly pull away. When his heart could take it no longer, the tears broke through, blurring the image of the Express train to Canterlot as it disappeared into the distance.