A/N: The only reason I am writing this is because sad music Sad movie = Angstttttyyyyy chapters. Have fun with this.

Warning: Some depictions of violence, mostly blood!! You have been warned.

Disclaimer: I own none of the recognizable characters. They belong to Disney/Pixar.

He knew his friend was dead long before he actually laid eyes on him.

And it was entirely his fault.

Had he been there, had he not crashed through that glass first, had he let Rod go first, maybe he wouldn't be dead in front of him. Maybe he could've saved him. Maybe he could've been the one that was caught. But that's not how it happened, and he can't go back.

He picked his way carefully through the shattered glass, through the darkened hallways and made his way through a dark, musty room. In his little fit of rage, he had killed The Professor, four of his goons and almost a young colt. He left the colt, dying but would be saved when someone found him. Of that, he was sure.

Holley was somewhere outside in the rain, choosing to not go with him but let him mourn on his own. She also was having trouble walking and the rain soothed the pain a little. Ethan was with her. She'd be ok.

Slowly, softly, he nudged open the door he had broken not more than two hours ago. The smell of death was heavy in the air around him, with blood smeared on the walls. He looked around at it, and back to his own body. Blood dripped down his sides, his flanks, shoulders, neck. Yet he felt no physical pain, even though the gashes were deep and it really should have been painful.

Only it wasn't. And that should've worried him. But right at the moment, the mental pain was more than enough.

He continued walking, marching forward through the rooms and toward the room he dreaded most. The one where he'd heard the gun go off, where he'd seen Rod drop before he broke through and kept running.

And he should have turned back.

Maybe it would've been him instead of Rod, then. But he can't reverse the past, even if he wanted to.

He nudged open another door and froze. The body of his friend lay still, in the middle of the floor. Blood, his blood, speckled the walls and drained onto the floor. Some of it pooling underneath him. Even from the doorway, he could see Rod's dull, lifeless eyes.

God, he should've let him go first.

A choked, muffled sob escaped his lips. His head dropped low, muzzle just barely brushing the ground as his eyes squeezed shut in a weary attempt to keep the tears at bay.

Why couldn't he have just let him go first.

After a grief-stricken long moment his head lifted, eyes opening to once again look at the body. Carefully, without thinking, he moved forward and into the room. He came to stand in front of the body, by the dead Mustang's head. He stared at the older stallions flanks, as if he could will it to start rising and falling again.

Tired eyes roamed the expanse of the unmoving body after a moment, taking in every little scratch and cut that Rod could've avoided had he let Rod go first. Before him. Maybe then... maybe then he'd still be alive. Maybe he could've been the one laying on this floor.

That, that would've been better. Rod would still be alive.

But then Holley would be left alone, wouldn't she? Rod would say it was foolish of him to think he should be laying there, say he should always be with Holley. Stay with the ones you love. And Holley was the one he loved, was the one carrying his foal... but at the same time, it meant he wouldn't have to grieve a longtime friend. Had he just let Rod go first...

The scrapes, gashes, that one damned bullet hole that meant the end of Rod's long life littered his body. The body from each wound only adding to the amount of blood on the floor.

He dropped his head low, closing his eyes and flaring his nostrils as he took in Rod's scent one last time. He nickered, softly, quietly, and pushing his nose into the messed up mane of his friend. The bridle and bit and saddle and everything still attached, Rod could go knowing he died trying, knowing he helped save some people and horses.

But that still didn't help the grief that laid inside his heart.

Rod might've laughed at him for acting the way he was, blaming himself. 'What are you doing blaming yourself, lift your head and keep going will you?'

A soft, sad smile spread across his muzzle for a brief second as he lifted his head and opened his eyes. With slow, reluctant movements and turned around, heading back through the door. Once outside of it, he lifted his head and turned it around to take one last glance at Rod.

"I'm sorry, old friend. Please forgive me, and never forget that you were loved."

In that moment it was almost like a weight was lifted off his shoulders. It wasn't much, but it was there, and it was as if he could hear Rod saying 'Farewell, old friend. Until we meet again on clearer roads.'

He turned back around, walking back through the musty rooms with broken glass and blood stained walls. He may be leaving behind a part of himself and a part of everyone else who knew him, but they'd be fine.

Because, in Rod's words, 'We aren't broken, we are fighters.'

And stepping back out into the pouring rain, Finn knew they'd eventually be ok.

A/N: Ok I'm not gonna lie I almost cried writing that ending... hope you guys enjoyeeeddddd and see ya next time!