“Yo, Tiny Tim.”

“Superman!"

Tiny Tim threw his little hands up in the air ecstatically, giving Ryan the biggest hug his thin arms could manage.

“Watcha been up to, Tim-bo?” Ryan asked with a grin, slowly pulling out of Tim’s grasp and giving him a fist bump.

“How many times do I have to tell you,-” the redheaded nurse cut in, sticking her head in through the door. “-his name is ‘Timothy’. You speak English; try to learn a little of it.”

Ryan’s grinned widened, giving a little wave to Tiffany as he took a seat in the plastic chair next to Tiny Tim’s bed. The sandy haired little blond kid was slowly getting better, he was glad to see. When Ryan first carried him in here, he’d been covered head to toe in burns, and both of his legs were broken. Hell, he was lucky to even be alive, let alone to have healed so well after the skin grafts.

“Madam, you grow more beautiful with each passing day. Like, uh… those little flowers that aren’t really flowers, but are actually chocolate.” Ryan claimed in his fanciest voice.

“That was a terrible analogy,” Tiffany said with a huff, crossing her arms across her rather… bountiful chest.

“…”

“My eyes are up here, numb-nuts.” She said, slapping him in the forehead. Tim giggled a little.

“Zuh! What?” he said, tilting back slightly.

“You’re drooling again, Superman,” Tim said bluntly. His chirrupy, frail voice cut through the air and helped to drag Ryan back to reality.

“I was not droolin’!”Ryan exclaimed, defending himself. It was difficult holding back the guilty smile, though. Of course, that only made Tim laugh harder. It was good, hearing him laugh; for the longest time, Ryan could barely even get him to speak.

“Yes, well, Superman here has to go save kittens from a tree somewhere else, because visiting hours are over.” Tiffany said the ‘Superman’ part with as much sarcasm as she could muster, drawing it out. If Ryan noticed, he didn’t show it.

“Aw, come on! He just got here!”

“Yes,” Tiffany agreed. “late. Again.”

“Just five more minutes?” he pleaded.

“Yeah, just five more minutes?” Ryan dropped to his knees, and the pair gave the redheaded nurse the best sad puppy dog eyes they could muster.

Tiffany gave an enormous sigh, running a hand through her hair in exasperation. After a couple of moments, she finally lifted her head, and even gave a small, rare smile of her own.

“I swear, you two are impossible.”

“Close enough to a ‘yes’ for me!” Tim chirped happily, pulling out a couple of small, sealed cups of pudding and handing one to Ryan.

Those five minutes felt like they were gone so quickly; but Tiffany came back, right on time. She was always punctual. As she and Ryan walked silently down the pristine white corridors toward the exit, he could see that something was bothering her. Her mouth was opening and closing several times, though she said nothing.

“… Somethin’ up?” he asked in what he hoped was a carefree voice.

“… You’re visiting less often, ‘Superman’.” She said softly, never taking her eyes off the desk at the end of the hallway.

“Yeah, well…” Ryan said, shrugging as he ran a hand through his greasy black hair. It was getting longer than he was used to, but he no longer shaved it like he did when he was still with the Sharks. “I’ve been… busy.”

“Working?”

“Running.”

He hadn’t meant for it to slip out of his mouth, and his jaw clamped shut, but too late; he’d already failed.

She gave him an odd look after that one. She never, ever asked the questions he expected, though. Never. Even though he knew she wanted to, she never asked.

“… Where will you go?” she asked softly, her flat bottomed shoes making a slight squeaking noise as they traveled. By the time they reached the desk, the entire front lobby was devoid of life.

Never ‘when’, never ‘why’.

Maybe she didn’t want to know.

Maybe she already knew.

“I’ve got a couple of cousins I gotta take care of, a few hundred miles away,” he said, scratching his head. “They’re good kids, really. I’m really just gonna check up on ‘em, and then I’ll be back before-“

“Liar.”

Ryan’s heart froze. It wasn’t often she questioned any of his excuses, let alone call him out. When he didn’t answer, she continued.

“You might be going to visit what’s left of your family, but you don’t have any intention of coming back.”

It was true, really. He never wanted to see this place again. Especially not this dingy hospital that Tim had been confined to. Another painful twinge of guilt wracked him, and he did his best to shove it away has he put on a mask of indifference.

“Maybe I don’t,” Ryan said, waving her off. “and it’s really none of your damned business.”

“He cries at night, you know.”

Ryan really didn’t know how to respond to that one. What he was certain of, however, was that he needed to leave soon.

“I work here so much, with so much overtime, that I spend a lot more time around him than you do. Maybe if you actually kept your promises for once, you’d really know what he’s going through.”

Okay, THAT one had stung.

“Look,” Ryan said, face beginning to turn red. He wasn’t angry; although he wished he were. It might help draw his attention away from many other unpleasant, distracting emotions. “I-… I just want to know what I can do to help the kid.”

“It’s really none of your damned business.” Tiffany said coldly, throwing the words back in his face. After a couple of silent, uncomfortable minutes, she rubbed her bare arms, leaning against the desk. “… I’m sorry. I didn’t mean-“

“Yeah. Yeah, you did.” Ryan said lowly, trying desperately to get rid of the golf ball that seemed to have lodged itself in his throat.

“… I just hate seeing him so unhappy. And you give him a little bit of happiness, every time he sees you. You’re like a hero to him, you know that.” It seemed like she had something to get off her chest, something she’d been burdened with for a while. “I just want to know – all I ever wanted to know – is why it’s so important to you that you’re by his side.”

“What am I supposed to say?” Ryan began huskily. The golf ball in his throat felt like it was growing, and his eyes stung painfully. “What the fuck am I supposed to say to him? That the whole image of his ‘hero’ is a lie? That everything he’s suffered is because of me?!” he hadn’t realized how much he was raising his voice, but he didn’t care anymore.

“I only wanted you to tell-“

“Bullshit! What am I supposed to tell him?” tears were streaming down Ryan’s face by this point, and he looked to be on the verge of a complete breakdown. His voice twisted into a mocking smile as he said, “Gee, kid! Sure am sorry your legs are busted up! Golly, kid! Sure am sorry you might never walk right again! Gee, kid! Sure am fucking sorry your house is gone, sorry you’ve got burn scars that’ll never heal!”

“Ryan, that’s not-!”

“Gee, kid! Sure am sorry your parents are dead, but that’s my fault, too, isn’t it?!”

He breathed heavily, tears falling freely. There was a heavy silence between the two for a moment, and Ryan dropped to his knees as the realization struck him.

It is, isn’t it…

“… It’s my fault. I wanna tell him. Christ, Tiff. I wanna tell him more than anything, and seein’ him like that hurts. It hurts, so goddamned much.”

He hated himself for what he’d caused, for everything he’d sacrificed, and still never gained anything. She remained silent, however. In some ways, that was worse than anything else. He wished she’d yell back at him; he wished she’d shout, or throw him out, or even hit him.

Anything. Anything but that horrible, disappointed silence.

My, my, you certainly seem to have an awful lot of these buried down in there, a soft voice called out to him.

“Zuh-what? Dafuq?” Ryan said, looking around sharply.

Seriously? Again with the chaos?

“Damn, dude. This shit’s gettin’ old.” Ryan complained, gazing about at the whirlwind of chaos that enveloped him, lights and colors flying too quickly for him to catch a glimpse of.

Oh, tish posh. You humans just have terrible taste.

“… You mind tellin’ me just what you were doin’, snoopin’ around in my head, Discord?” Ryan asked haughtily.

Why, I never! Discord answered, and he sounded offended. As if I would ever dig around in another’s mind!

“Yeah, like you ain’t been doin’ that since the beginning.”

Oh, come now, dear boy. He explained. The mind is the final sanctuary, the last, true safeguard against madness; I would never dare breach that. Even ‘I’ have standards.

He managed to catch Ryan’s curiosity with that. “So, how are you in my head? You don’t find that a little hypocritical?”

Details, shmetails, the unseen Discord yawned. Any memory with enough strength will always stay at the top of the pile, regardless of how large or small the pile is. I’m not ‘digging through’ anything, per se; I’m just taking a little peek at the top while you nap, is all.

If anything, this only served to make Ryan even more confused than he was before.

“… Okay, the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

It means you aren’t nearly as clever as I’d hoped you were, and aren’t half as clever as you need to be.

“Fuck you, old man.”

Discord chuckled, and it was completely devoid of malice. It sounded a little bored, really; almost like the lime green cutie-markless pony in the 8-Bits. After what seemed like a couple of minutes of silence, Ryan spoke again.

“… Sure am here a lot longer than usual.” He said. If he could feel his feet, he’d have been tapping them impatiently.

Oh, that’s not my fault. Discord claimed. That’s all up to you, my boy.

“Huh.” And with that, the vortex began to fade. Which was surprising enough, in itself. Before it all vanished completely, Ryan had to ask.

“Hey! Am I dead yet?”

Discord laughed heartily, and this time, it actually felt warmer than the last one. Dead? What are you, kidding? He cackled, and if he could see him, Ryan would have guessed that Discord was clutching his stomach in glee. Do you think I spent all that energy and effort in keeping you alive that I’d let you die now?

“Wait, what?”

It was warm.

It was so comfortable, compared to that modified straw bed that Twilight had given him. Hell, it was even better than his old, worn out mattress that he’d come to love. He’d grown a little sweaty from the warmth, but he didn’t mind.

A smile slowly flittered across his face, and the evening sun gently warmed his cheeks. He knew he should stretch, but this happy moment… he just wanted it to last. It felt good to relax, for once. Nice to relax after all the work. Especially after all that excitement, and the nonstop climbing, and the dragon, and –

“The kids!” Ryan gasped in worry, lurching upright. A blazing pain shot through his back, and he screamed in pain. The edges of his vision blurred for a moment, and a light blue hoof gently pushed him back down onto the sofa. His ears were still ringing, though he could make out what the pony was saying eventually.

“Easy, there. You’re going to be okay, you hear me? Easy, easy. You’re all right. You’re gonna be okay, just lie down now. Everything’s going to be fine.” It took him a couple of moments to realize that the tone she was speaking to him in was the exact tone a person would use to calm a spooked horse.

Ironic, in a way.

Ryan slowed his breathing the best he could, and began taking in his new surroundings. Starting with himself.

Firstly, he’d evidently been bandaged up once again. This time, however, the wounds were much more professionally covered, with glean egg-white gauze instead of linens. He tried to reach up to feel his face, only to discover that one of his hands had been handcuffed to the leg of the pea green sofa.

He fingered it for a moment, giving the unicorn a vicious glare. She merely chuckled nervously, taking his hands in her hooves. “I hope you’re not too angry about the hoofcuffs,” she said. As she drew closer, he saw that her cutie mark displayed some kind of harp. “but it was for your own good. You were thrashing about an awful lot while you were unconscious, and we couldn’t afford to have you moving around too much without you bleeding all over the place.”

As a matter of fact, looking around the small living room, Ryan immediately noticed a rather blatant lack of shattered glass or blood.

And, better yet, a blatant lack of splattered Ryan.

It was like the little pony had read his mind. “Oh, we had to move you from Berry Punch’s house. Wow, that’s never coming out of her carpet. But we got a doctor here as fast as we could, and, um… well, you seem to know the rest.” She fidgeted awkwardly. Her bright yellow eyes displayed some discomfort, but she didn’t say anything.

It took Ryan the longest to figure out what he normally would have realized first and foremost. Perhaps it was spending too much time with the ponies. Perhaps he’d just suffered brain damage. Really, either one wouldn’t have surprised him much.

He noticed that the unicorn, like most of the other ponies, was completely naked.

So was he.

“OH, FOR FUCK’S SAKE!” he yelled, doing his best to cover himself. The one hoofcuff (handcuff?) wasn’t doing much to help, and any time he moved the burning sensation went through his back again, and his bandages shifted awkwardly.

“Hold on, hold on!” the mint colored unicorn yelped, trying to hold him down by the chest. “I just got those bandages tightened back up, you are not going to start bleeding all over Bon-Bon’s couch again!”

“FUCK YOU, I’M ALREADY BLEEDING!”

After a couple moments of struggle, Ryan realized just how very weak he was. It was difficult to strain his muscles, and even this weak little cyan maned unicorn was stronger than he was.

“If it really means that much to you, you can have the shirt back.” she said gently, trying to calm him down.

“Bitch, forget the shirt, gimme the fuckin’ pants!”

She blinked at him, pulling over the tan pair of silky pants that Rarity had fashioned for him. One minor detail he noticed as he tried to distract himself from the severe awkwardness of the situation was that the pants weren’t nearly as bloody as he expected them to be – ripped in many places, but they looked like they’d been recently cleaned, along with the shirt.

She picked the pants up in her mouth, before leaning over him to help him fit his legs into them.

“Other direction.” He said bluntly.

She nodded, focusing, before struggling to help him get the pants on. After a couple of strained moments, the pants snagged on his hip with another piece of the cloth. She tugged a couple of times, dropping it out of her mouth and using her hooves to pull.

Apparently, this unicorn had forgotten that she was… well, a unicorn.

“Aw, shit. It’s probably the lighter, caught on it.” Ryan tried to reach for it, but because of his injury, he could only reach so far down on one side. The other arm was still cuffed tightly to the sofa.

“Lighter?” she asked curiously.

“Yeah, it’s probably on a snag or somethin’. It’s in my pocket.”

She immediately shoved her hoof in his pocket, straining to get the lighter.

“Fuck, cut that out! That – ha ha! - that tickles! That’s not even the right pocket!” he said.

“Er…” the unicorn began nervously. She still hadn’t taken her hoof out of his pocket.

“… What?”

“… I’m stuck.”

“… What?”

“… I’m stuck,” she said in despair. “I think there’s-“

“A big-ass fuckin’ hole in my pocket,” Ryan finished miserably. “Fuckin’ A.”

“Hang on, maybe if I can maneuver properly, then-“ she struggled, trying not to rip the pants even worse. Instead, her hoof only became entangled more deeply. Unfortunately for Ryan, it had been quite a while since he’d even thought of the last time someone had a hand in his pants, and now was not the time for that particular memory to resurface. Even though it did.

Even worse, it brought friends.

Only imagining the horrid talk that would follow should he accidentally make this worse than it already was, Ryan only became more anxious.

“Cut that out! It tickles like hell, and you’re just makin’ it worse! Let me get it, I can-“

“I got the lighter, I got it!” the unicorn insisted, clambering atop him. She straddled him awkwardly, with one hoof tucked between her other legs as she pulled, desperately trying to free herself. The cyan colored hair dropped into his face, and a streak of white tickled his nose.

Meaning it was the worst possible time for Ryan to inhale, causing him to sneeze and twitch violently.

The poor pony on top of him struggled with a scream, her hoof twisting oddly as she began to flail about, trying to pull her hoof free from the ripped and tangled fabric. Ryan began to tip cumbersomely off the sofa, and the cuff on his wrist pulled mercilessly, as did the injury on his back. Frantic not to cause himself anymore pain than necessary, he clutched the pony’s free hoof with his spare hand in order to keep his balance.

The pair stopped suddenly as they heard the quiet creak of an opening and closing door, shortly followed by a large procession of worried ponies.

A large procession of ponies that had been, until quite recently, been talking quite animatedly.

It was so silent you could have heard a pin drop.

From the top of a building.

In Canterlot.

“… Wow, that lighter’s bigger than I expected.”

And then Fluttershy fainted.

Author's Notes:

Because one can never give Ryan a break.