Pinkie Pie rubbed the glass she was holding with her dishcloth a little harder.

It wasn’t that the glass needed to be cleaned, or that it was dirty at all, it just added to the impression that she was a bartender. It was what ponies expected a bartender to do, even if it didn’t need to be done, so she’d been “cleaning” the same glass off and on for the past three hours now.

She was getting kind of sick of it.

Putting the glass down for a while to give her forehooves a rest, she looked over the bar at the various patrons of the Apple Bucket. She wasn’t particularly sold on the name, but Applejack had insisted, and since she was the one providing the money, the cider, and the building materials. So the name stuck.

Nopony seemed to need her attention for the moment, so she resumed scrubbing furiously at the glass, forlornly remembering the good old days when she and her friends were younger. Back when they were all still getting used to each other, learning the ins and outs of friendship whether it was through mundane activities like delivering a tree to Applejack’s cousin, or more exotic like battling a hydra or a swarm of parasprites. Yeah, nothing quite like those first few years the six of them had been together.

Of course, things weren’t like that anymore. Ever since Rainbow Dash’s death, things just weren’t the same with the group.

Applejack especially had surprised Pinkie with the amount she’d changed by offering a cooperative venture between “just us Apples.” Apparently she had decided that Ponyville needed a bar, and she was just the pony to do it, what with being the premier supplier of ordinary cider. She figured it wouldn’t take too much work to convert it to the harder stuff.

Pinkie was originally confused as to what her role would be, having no experience with bartending at all, but Applejack just told her that being a bartender was about keeping people’s spirits up. And who could possibly be more suited to that than the element of laughter?

It was tough at first. Pinkie was so used to being, well, Pinkie Pie, that she couldn’t figure out the correct mindset for tending the bar. Customers tended to react violently when she sprung up out of nowhere, asked “Can I take your order?” and handed them a party balloon, much to her confusion. After the third day of no sales, Applejack had to shake some sense into her. Telling her that ponies didn’t come to bars for random hijinks and silly antics, but for stability, a welcoming smile, and a friendly ear to listen to their troubles.

It took some getting used to, but eventually Pinkie managed to find the right balance of warmth and friendliness without being too overbearing about it, at least while she was on the clock. From dawn to dusk, she was Pinkie Pie, resident goofball and element of laughter. But from dusk to roughly 2 in the morning? She was Madam Pie, giving you what you needed most be it something to drown your sorrows, or friendly advice to solve just about anything that ailed you.

Of course, Applejack and Pinkie weren’t the only ones to have changed since the incident. Rarity’s fashions were getting less and less colourful, and more and more black. Twilight had locked herself away in her castle, leaving only when called by Princess Celestia. Fluttershy had left down entirely, occasionally sending letters to the others through Pinkie about what she was up to, or the various animals she had seen. No one was certain whether or not she was telling the truth in those letters of hers.

She rubbed the glass slightly more furiously at the unpleasant memories. No, better not to think of such things and just focus on tending the bar.

The bar’s clock began to sound, signaling the turn of the hour. Two ‘o clock. Pinkie glanced at it quickly to make sure she’d heard right, then put the glass down again. “Alright guys, it’s closing time,” she announced. “Get on home to your loved ones.” Moments later, the room was filled with the sound of stools scraping against the floor and the occasional mumble as the majority of the ponies left the bar, leaving only three behind.

Patrons sticking around after closing was normal. Some ponies just didn’t want to go home. Others wanted to talk to Madam Pie but either couldn’t or didn’t want to speak to her in a bar full of other people. Either way, Pinkie just saw it has part of her job to help the last few ponies with whatever it was that ailed them. Like looking like they were cleaning dirty glasses, it was just something bartenders did.

Pinkie grabbed a fresh bottle of cider, a couple clean glasses, and made her way across the room to the secluded corner where the first of the three sat, a young orange pegasus who was barely old enough to drink. It wasn’t too difficult to guess what business this particular filly had with the bottom of a glass every night. Despite maturing to adulthood she still lacked a cutie mark; the only one of the infamous Cutie Mark Crusaders not to get one.

Scootaloo had started coming in regularly ever her birthday a couple months ago, avoiding the place only on nights that Apple Bloom was working. Pinkie wasn’t even sure Apple Bloom knew about her childhood friend’s tendency to drink the night away. But if she did, it certainly wasn’t because Pinkie had told her. Bartenders had a strict code of confidentiality.

This was the first time Scootaloo had stayed behind after hours, a break from her normal routine. Normally the pegasus simply ordered a cider or two, found a lonely corner of the bar, and nursed her drinks for the remainder of the night. A regular miserable sight, and one Pinkie tried not to focus too much attention on during the bar’s normal hours. But she was here now, and it was Pinkie’s job to do what she could.

Scootaloo was an especially pitiful looking creature tonight, face buried in her forelegs as she rested on the table. Pinkie almost considered leaving her alone for a bit longer, but that wouldn’t accomplish anything for either of them and she knew it. Placing the bottle and glasses gently down on the table, she asked “Mind if I sit down?” intentionally avoiding looking at Scootaloo’s noticeably pure orange flank as she did. Scootaloo grunted in response, and Pinkie took that as an invitation to take the chair across from her.

“Rough day?” Pinkie asked, pouring a glass of Apple Bucket’s finest.

“Go away,” Scootaloo moaned, not looking up from the comfort the table apparently provided her. Pinkie finished pouring and pushed the glass gently across the table. Scootaloo seemed not to notice.

Pinkie put on her best smile. “Come on, kid, cheer up.”

“I am not a kid!” Scootaloo snapped, head raising to glare at Pinkie, a small but intense fire behind each eye. Pinkie had apparently struck a sore spot. A mistake. She didn’t make many of those lately. Bartenders couldn’t afford to make many.

“Of course not,” perhaps this was salvageable. “You’re a young lady with a bright destiny ahead of her.”

“What would you know of destiny?” The fire in the young pegasus’s eyes were gone, replaced with a far off look. She averted her eyes, unwilling or unable to face the older mare. “Destiny’s a sham,” she finished, flopping back down to the table. Noticing the freshly poured cider for the first time, she allowed herself a good, long drink. It didn’t seem to do much for her mood.

“Maybe, maybe not.” Pinkie’s non committal answer was greeted with a snort from the younger mare. “But I do know that you can do anything you put your mind to. I’ve seen it first hoof when you were a- when you were younger.” She’d almost slipped up again.

“Those days are dead.” Scootaloo finished her cider and resumed looking far to the left. “Sweetie Belle’s touring who knows where, and Apple Bloom’s too busy to spare me enough time to say ‘Hey, Scootaloo.’ Diamond’s the only one who seems to make time for me nowadays, but she’s only taking pity on me cause of how she treated me back in school.” She snorted again “No one cares about me.”

“I care.”

“It’s your job to care.”

“I suppose it is, but that doesn’t make the emotion less real.” She put a hoof on Scootaloo’s shoulder, only to have it shrugged off. She didn’t seem to be making any progress.

The two sat in silence for awhile as Pinkie considered her next move. To her surprise, it was Scootaloo who broke the silence, lifting her head from the table to look right into Pinkie’s eyes, her own begging for affirmation. “Do you think Rainbow Dash would have been proud of me?”

It was Pinkie’s turn to look away. “If you’d asked me a year ago? I’d have said yes, of course she would. You kept trying your hardest at everything you did, even long after your friends got their marks. But now?” She turned back to face the pegasus and gave her a sorrowful stare. “You’ve given up, Scoots. That’s the last thing Rainbow would be proud of.”

Tears welled up in the pegasus’s eyes, but she refused to let herself cry. “But... I don’t know what to do anymore,” she wailed. “Rainbow’s gone, and my friends have left me, and, and…” she trailed off as she fought back the tears that so desperately wanted to burst from her eyes.

Pinkie rose from her seat and gave the younger mare a hug, sensing she needed one more than anything. Tears stained her mane as Scootaloo finally allowed herself to cry, but she didn’t mind. “It’s okay,” she breathed in reassurance. “Everything’s going to be okay.”

They remained like that for a bit before Scootaloo pushed herself away. She rubbed the last remnants of water away from her eyes. “What do I do now?”

“You could talk to Apple Bloom and-”

“No,” the pegasus shook her head. “I… don’t think that’s a good idea. Not yet.”

“Diamond Tiara, then?” Pinkie suggested, remembering her brief mention earlier in their conversation.

“Maybe…” Good. She at least seemed to be entertaining the thought, which was progress. “She has been offering me a job lately...”

“Why haven’t you taken it before?”

“I dunno…” Scootaloo stared off into the distance. “I just… wasn’t ready I guess.”

“Are you ready now?”

Scootaloo looked at her and thought carefully about her answer. “Yeah. I think so,” she gave a weak smile, got up and walked over to the door. “Thanks, Madam Pie,” she called out as she pushed the door open.

“Scootaloo?” The pegasus stopped mid stride to look at her. “Right this moment? I’m sure Rainbow’d be proud of you.”

The pegasus smiled, genuinely this time, and then walked through the door into the awaiting night, the world full of possibilities once more. Pinkie hoped it was a long time before she saw the young pegasus frequenting the bar again.

She gave the bar a quick glance, then pulled herself out of her seat. One down, two to go.

Leaving the bottle of cider where it was, she walked across the room back to the front of the bar where an old friend sat, emphasis on the old. The stubborn coot was twice as old as he was bald, and he was really, really bald.

“Heya, kid,” Cranky greeted her as she drew near, waving a bottle in his left hoof. “Come to give an old timer like me a bit of your time, eh?” He chuckled, as if the idea of anyone spending time with him nowadays was just a cruel joke at his expense.

Pinkie smiled at the false modesty. She and Cranky had become close friends over the past few years. Ever since Matilda died, Cranky found himself too alone to be comfortable and he needed someone to talk to. And Pinkie was quite literally the only other friend he had in town.

It took a lot to surprise Pinkie, but Cranky had managed to do it, putting away his normal off putting demeanor just to have a chat with her every now and then. Cranky had travelled the world in his heyday, looking for his lost love. Through their talks, Pinkie had quickly learned that with all that travelling came a lot of knowledge. And she guessed he wanted to pass on a lot of that knowledge before he died. She was more than willing to be the one who received it.

Ever since the bar had opened and he’d found out Pinkie was the bartender, Cranky had started dropping by daily, staying late every time. Not to talk to Madam Pie like most who stayed after hours, but to talk to Pinkie Pie, the girl who’d surprised him by becoming his friend all those years ago.

“Take a seat, kid,” Cranky instructed, gesturing the the chair across from him. Pinkie obliged him. “I heard your conversation with the pegasus girl. Knew her before, did ya?”

“She’s best friends with the sisters of a couple my best friends.”

“Ah, that’d explain it,” Cranky mused before taking a long swig from the bottle. “You did good, kid. She’s gonna be alright.”

Pinkie reached across the table and took the bottle from him. “You really shouldn’t drink that much at your age.”

“At my age, I’m gonna die any day now anyway,” he grumbled, looking away from her. “It doesn’t matter how much I drink anymore.” Despite the protests, he made no effort to take the bottle back.

“So what’s eating ya, kid?” he asked, still looking at some distant spot across the bar.

Pinkie rose an eyebrow quizzically. “What makes you think something’s wrong with me?”

“Don’t give me that,” Cranky shook his head before returning his has gaze on her. “You always worry about my health when somethin’s bugging ya. Besides,” he gave a quick tilt of his head at where he was looking before. “Normally I’m the last one you talk to every night, and that one’s still there, waiting for you.”

“Yeah…” Pinkie sighed. “Not looking forward to that.” She turned to look at the bar’s last remaining individual: a vaguely pony shaped figure wrapped in a cloak that masked her entire appearance. Pinkie couldn’t even tell what colour she was through the cloak.

“Oh?” Cranky asked, his curiosity piqued. “What’s the story there?”

“She walked in here an hour ago, ordered our most expensive cider, and then found the most private place she could to sit down. Since then, she hasn’t even touched the drink.” She sighed again. “She didn’t come here to drink, she came here to talk to me. And I’m pretty sure I know who she is.”

“Friend of yours?”

“You could say that.”

“Sounds big.”

“It is.”

“Well,” Cranky stood up and stretched. “I’ll leave ya to it, kid. You can tell me how it went tomorrow.”

“If you’re not dead by then, old timer.”

“Kids these days,” he muttered as he walked off, shaking his head. “no respect for their elders anymore,” he grumbled just loud enough for Pinkie. Pinkie couldn’t help but smile at the act.

But the smile faded quickly as she remembered she was a bartender. And as a bartender, she still had a job to do. Slowly she got up and walked across the room one last time. She didn’t even wait for permission to sit down this time. “Hey, Twilight.”

Twilight pulled off her hood. “How’d you know it was me?” she asked, more mournful than curious.

“Eh, you know me.” Pinkie shrugged. “The harder you’re trying to fool me, the less likely I’m going to be fooled.”

Twilight gave a weak smile. “Guess that’s true.”

The two sat in silence for awhile, neither wanting to start the awkward conversation they both knew lay before them. Pinkie was first to break the silence, “Finally left the castle, huh?”

“Yeah,” the response was distant, and perhaps a little guilty.

“So what did you want to talk to me about?”

“Can’t I just drop by to say ‘hi’ to an old friend?”

Pinkie shook her head. “If that’s all you wanted, you’d have come seen me at Sugarcube Corner, and we’d have hugged, and laughed, and cried, and I’d have called everyone over, and we’d have a great big party to celebrate the good old times. Instead,” she stood, gesturing towards the interior of the Apple Bucket, “you came here. To the bar.” She sat back down. “You didn’t come here to talk to Pinkie Pie, Sugarcube Corner’s bubbly assistant, thrower of a thousand parties, and friend to everypony in town. You came here to see me, Madam Pie, the bartender anyone can share their sorrows with without fear of judgement and with hopes of finding an answer.”

Twilight looked away, ashamed.

“So talk to me, Twilight.” Pinkie reached a hoof across the table to rest comfortably on Twilight’s. “Tell Madam Pie whatever it is you came here to talk to her about.”

The awkward silence that had just visited them returned as they sat there like that. Pinkie wanted to say more, to say something, but she knew she’d said all she could. It was Twilight’s turn to talk. If she was willing.

“I just...” Twilight stopped, unable or unwilling to finish the thought.

“Yes?” Pinkie urged.

Twilight closed her eyes, psyching herself up for the imminent conversation. “I just don’t know how to handle it, Pinkie. I just… don’t know.” Her head drooped.

“Handle what?” Pinkie prodded, hoping for more to go off of.

Twilight threw her hooves into the air. “Everything!” She shouted, blaming the world for her troubles. “Nothing’s the same anymore, Pinkie. All I want is to go back to the way things were before. With you, and Applejack, and Fluttershy, and Rarity and…” she trailed off.

“And Rainbow Dash,” Pinkie finished the thought for her. Twilight sobbed.

“Why’d she have to die, Pinkie?” Twilight turned back to face her friend, tears streaking down her face. “Why? It’s just not fair!”

“It’s not,” Pinkie agreed, trying her best not burst out crying herself.

“How do you handle it?” Twilight repeated her original question, grabbing Pinkie’s shoulders. “How?” she demanded.

“We all handle it differently. Applejack’s coping by burying herself in her work, both at the farm and here at the bar. Rarity’s expressing her grief through her creativity and living vicariously through Sweetie Belle’s singing career. As for Fluttershy…” she trailed off at the thought, uncertain what it was exactly Fluttershy had been doing ever since she left town. “I think Fluttershy just needs to be alone for awhile.”

“But what should I do?” Twilight wailed, shaking her friend.

“I don’t know,” Pinkie admitted. “You have to figure that out for yourself.” Twilight bawled, and Pinkie had to pry herself away from Twilight before continuing. “But what I do know is that what you’re currently doing clearly isn’t working for you. You’ve kept yourself locked up in your castle, unwilling to talk to anyone, especially your friends.” She stood up and walked around the table. “You’re the Princess of Friendship, Twilight,” she said softly, embracing her friend as tightly as she could. “You need friends more than anyone.”

Twilight returned the hug, crying her eyes out into Pinkie’s mane. The two remained there in each other’s forelegs for several minutes until it finally sounded like Twilight had calmed down enough to talk again. “Is Applejack here?” she asked, prying herself away from the hug to look her friend in the eyes.

Pinkie smiled. “Do you want to see her?”

Twilight nodded.

“Okay then, come on.”

Pinkie dropped back down to all fours and led Twilight behind the bar. The two walked in complete silence, neither wanting to disrupt the moment they’d just shared. When they’d finally reached the office where Applejack was no doubt working on their finances, she knocked on the door.

“Yeah? What is it, Pinkie?” The farm pony and bar owner shouted in response. Pinkie just opened the door to let Twilight in.

“Applejack, I missed you so much!” the purple alicorn bawled as she charged into the room.

“What the?” Applejack exclaimed. “Twilight, when did you get he-” she was cut off as Twilight squeezed the air out of her.

Pinkie closed the door, letting her friends catch up on their own. She sighed as she walked back to the bar, stopping only to grab a broom so she could clean up the place.

After all, that’s just another thing bartenders did.