What’s happening to me?

Ryan stared with bloodshot eyes into his own reflection, hands gripping the ledge of the sink tightly. He wasn’t supposed to be like this. This wasn’t how he pictured his ‘ideal’ self in the slightest.

Weak. Soft. Pathetic.

The light emanating from the lamps in the library bathroom were almost blinding him.

Should have been stronger. Should have been faster.

Or maybe, he was looking at it from the wrong angle. Perhaps, instead of focusing on being the biggest and baddest mother on the block, he should have focused his efforts elsewhere.

Maybe there was a lot more to being strong than he thought.

And maybe – just maybe – his ideal self wasn’t quite as ideal as he thought it was.

Four hours.

It took four long, grueling hours for Twilight to finally get through to Ryan.

For several long minutes after returning, Ryan simply sat shakily in the seat, clinging tightly to his cup of coffee and staring blankly into space. Quite frankly, it was a little disturbing. Not even Lyra could get him to snap out of it.

“Ryan? Come on, open up.”

“Not right now, kid,” Ryan answered grimly through the wooden bathroom door, wincing as he attempted to doctor the wound. The knife cut on his leg had gone pretty deep, but it wasn’t worse than anything else he’d suffered. The bleeding had been mostly stemmed, in part thanks to Pinkie Pie’s superb (compared to his) stitching. He briefly wondered how, or even where Pinkie learned field medicine.

“Oh, for the love of – I’m coming in, okay?” he heard from the other side, and he pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. There was a reason he locked the door, after all.

Of course, that didn’t stop the lock from quietly lifting with a little chunk as it rose in a dim purple glow.

Ryan was both terribly annoyed and simultaneously impressed. Now, that could be a handy lock picking skill.

The unicorn slipped inside quietly, noting that Ryan had significantly dimmed the lamp lights.

Also, she wasn’t too happy about the fate of her towels.

“… Wow, you weren’t kidding.” Twilight said, a little disbelievingly. “That’s, uh… you’re making a mess.”

“And?” Ryan deadpanned sardonically, swabbing at the injury on his leg with the alcohol-dabbed cotton ball. He was beginning to feel a bit vulnerable, sitting on the tub ledge in his boxers. True, several of the towels were caked with unpleasant looking things, some of which wasn’t even Ryan’s. Hence, the cleaning of the wounds with alcohol. He hissed quietly as the cotton caught in one of the stitches, pulling at it angrily while the throbbing in his head escalated.

Just a few simple words. That’s all it would take.

Twilight started to inch closer, but froze when she saw him shaking his head violently. Hesitantly, she began magically increasing the light output of the lamp and took up several of the cotton swabs in a low violet glow.

“You’re only going to keep hurting yourself if you keep doing it like that,” Twilight sighed, looking pointedly at his leg. “How did you even-?”

“Don’t wanna know.” He replied firmly through gritted teeth, snatching one of the cotton balls out of the air. Curiously, it resisted his grip momentarily, before slipping out of her telekinetic clutch. It was an odd feeling; like grasping warm butter.

“… Ryan, is this – I… did Pinkie cause this?” she asked uncertainly, biting her lower lip as she glanced back and forth between his sour looking face and the mostly-closed cut.

“Sort of.” Ryan replied simply, dabbing lightly at some of his other numerous, albeit much less painful-looking injuries. Only a few bruises here and there, a couple of light cuts; nothing that would leave lasting scars, he hoped.

“Shitballs!” he swore loudly as the cotton swab caught itself yet again on one of the stitches, pinching his flesh painfully.

Twilight jumped at the noise, eyebrows furrowing.

“Stop doing that!” she insisted, slapping his one good right hand away from the cotton swabs, and he started creeping away when the warm purple glow steadily encompassed his leg.

“Wait, wait, wait, wait, wait!” he panicked, eyes widening. “Don’t do it!”

“… Don’t do what?” Twilight asked, genuinely confused.

“Just leave ‘em in!” Ryan pleaded, hand flying over his leg protectively.

“… Uh, what?”

“Leave the stitches alone!” he demanded, glaring at the unicorn.

“… Ryan, I’m not going to – why would I even… I’m trying to help, here!” she replied angrily, stamping her hoof against the floor.

“Come on, kid.” Ryan tried scooting away further, hopefully to reach his remaining articles of clothing. They were still wet from being repeatedly wrung out, but at this point, that didn’t matter much. “Just leave th’ stitches alone. That’s all I’m askin’.”

Twilight stood still for a moment, contemplating.

“… Do you even trust me at all?” she asked quietly, staring at him with wide eyes.

“Fuck no.” He replied automatically, immediately regretting it as her face became downcast.

“Sorry, kid,” Ryan said eventually, seeing that she still wasn’t looking up from the floor. “You jus’ ain’t real easy to trust, is all.”

“I – yeah.” Twilight hung her head, looking even more depressed than she was before.

… Ohhhh shit here comes the guilt again.

“Hell.” Ryan ran a hand down his face, thinking heavily. “Kid. It ain’t your fault, or anything,” he began slowly, trying to improve the situation. Then again, he had a particularly nasty habit of making things worse whenever he spoke, so he chose his words carefully.

“That’s not what I meant.” He said, continuing. “I oughtta trust you, plenty. It’s just kind of… weird. Fuck, kid. You’re a talkin’ horse for god’s sake.”

“Pony.”

“Whatever.”

Twilight’s head snapped up shortly afterwards, a fire behind her eyes.

“… Wait, come again?”

“Whatever.” Ryan reiterated slowly, sounding it out. “Christ almighty, can’t-“

“No, no, no!” she shook her head ecstatically, a grin tugging at her lips. “Is that all? Is that really all it was?” Twilight asked excitedly, trying to keep herself in check.

“What? What was what?” Ryan asked, his turn to be confused. He still wasn’t any closer to reaching his pants, and the way she was staring at him was making him even more uncomfortable. Her face was simply far too close to his own.

“You xenophobe!” Twilight giggled, and she poked him in the head with her hoof with a little clop. “I should have figured that out, right from the start!” she scolded herself with a smile, her mood definitely improved.

“… Uh…”

“And here I thought that you had some kind of personal vendetta against me, or something silly like that. I know; stupid, right?”

“Yeah. Stupid.” Ryan nodded, more than a little put off by her sudden attitude change. She was beginning to remind him of a certain someone else that had grown disturbingly attached. And Ryan did not like what happened to Clara in the slightest. Nobody deserved that.

“Oh, I feel like such a dork.” Twilight chortled, sighing happily as she levitated a couple of the dirtied towels away. “I can’t believe that’s all it was. I swear, you should have a Cutie Mark for making ponies worry.”

Ryan sat in silence as Twilight steadily used her magic to snip and remove the stitching, and as he watched, he felt a peculiar warmth flowing into his leg. It spread from a single location, one patch of focused magic after another that Twilight steadily wove into his injury as the pain was dulled, bit by bit.

“… Looks like you got ‘round to figurin’ out that healin’ stuff, after all.” Ryan said absentmindedly, trying to remain still. The slow relief of the pain fading away had helped his hands to stop shaking a bit. He felt a twinge of jealously that even Twilight had figured out how healing magic worked, and he still couldn’t even pull that weird looking sabre out of the air.

Unless it worked something like the Green Lantern’s powers, in which case, he’d gladly forgo the sword in favor of a crowbar. Blunt, yet effective.

“Well, technically-“ Twilight said distractedly, luminescent aura weaving the strands of healing magic into his leg, ever so slowly bringing the torn flesh together. “-I guess you could say it’s only a crash course.”

“… Wait, what?” Ryan jolted, and Twilight did her best not to accidentally shift one of his bones through his leg. Healing magic was tricky like that.

“I… may not have exactly... practiced much…” she said guiltily. “Or, at all, actually. But I’ve researched the subject extensively!” she added quickly, noting Ryan’s look of anxiety at the unpracticed unicorn.

“That is not the same-“ he started angrily.

“Oh, stay still, would you?” Twilight stamped her hoof again, shifting uncomfortably. It took nearly another forty minutes for her to finish with the one wound, and by the time it was done, both of them were sweating profusely. Ryan, for both pain and fear of magical mishap – Twilight, because it was horribly draining.

After a while, she expectantly held out a hoof, waiting for him to try moving his leg. He cringed when he moved, expecting the pain to come shooting back into it; however, he could move it back and forth without problems, which alleviated some of his stress.

“There. Now was that really so bad?” Twilight asked, eying some of his other minor cuts.

“Yes.” He said rudely. “Now give me my pants.”

Twilight grumbled something very unladylike, levitating the torn pants to him. At least the pants wouldn’t complain while being patched.

“Hold still.” She said suddenly, honing in on a cut on his back.

“Fuckin’ – quit touchin’ me.” Ryan muttered darkly, but stayed still long enough for her to examine the cut along his shoulder. It ran almost parallel to the previous one he’d gotten in the ‘Mt. Clusterfuck’ incident, although much smaller and more shallow. He flinched when her hooves ran lightly beside it, and she paused.

“… You know, I don’t think you ever did tell me about your Cutie Mark.” Twilight said absentmindedly as she began focusing her magic into the cut, carefully pulling the skin back together.

“It’s not a Cutie Mark.” Ryan groaned. “It’s a tattoo.” He could have sworn that Rarity said something along the same lines. He really would have expected her to blab about it incessantly, like she did everything else.

Ryan didn’t like Rarity very much.

Still better than Skittles… he thought menacingly.

“I-I see.” Twilight said absentmindedly, refocusing her efforts. He couldn’t tell whether she was actually trying to pry information from him again, or if she was just distracting herself from her task. “So, is it like some form of tribal marking where you’re from? Brew Clan?”

“Brooklyn. It’s basic initiation for the Sharks.” Ryan said quietly, suddenly becoming very still.

“… Basic initiation,” Twilight repeated slowly.

“Gotta have th’ tats. Tattoos, and a first blood. That’s how Vicky ran things, ‘fore Carlos took over.” Ryan continued, never raising his voice. A single finger trailed along the dark marking of a shark’s maw, stretching from his waist up to his shoulder blades. He accidentally bumped Twilight’s hoof, and quickly withdrew.

She stopped healing the cut about halfway through to ask another question.

“… First blood?”

Ryan winced internally, berating himself. Of course, that was something he’d have liked to forget.

Twilight continued the healing as if nothing had happened, and said “You’ve mentioned Carlos before. With that device that held his voice for you.”

“Yeah. Phone.” Ryan said simply, feeling as if his mind had gone numb. “Just one o’ the other reasons I gotta get back home. If Carlos gets to my cousins… well, it ain’t gonna be pretty. They’ll just wind up like Clara.”

Twilight paused in thought again, before returning to the slow healing process. “I’ve heard that name before too, but not as often.”

“Crazy bitch,” Ryan chuckled. “Nice rack. Almost killed me a couple times. That was before I met Tiff. Man, Carlos… Carlos thought he was doin’ me a favor, or somethin’. Sick fuck. He really put her through the grinder.”

“I’m sure that he must have certainly given her a stern talking to, but-“

“No, kid.” Ryan interrupted. “I mean, he really put her through the grinder.”

“And he sounds absolutely vicious.” She deadpanned, finishing up the healing. “That doesn’t-“

“No, kid,” Ryan frowned. “I mean, he put her through a meat grinder.”

A long, very awkward silence followed.

“… Oh, sweet Celestia.”

“I was out like a light; wasn’t ‘til afterwards when I heard ‘bout it.” Ryan said in a near whisper. “He thought it was just so damned funny. He was th’ talk of the town, in the Sharks.”

“That’s… I think I’m going to be ill.” Twilight said swiftly, backing away.

“I told you, kid. Carlos is a sick, sick fuck. I gotta get to my cousins. I got to.” They sat in silence for several long minutes.

“Is that how you got into the… Sharks?” Twilight asked with trepidation. “A first k-kill? With-with a…” she couldn’t seem to bring herself to finish it, so Ryan did.

“A meat grinder?” he said quickly. “Oh, no. No, no, fuck no. I ain’t near as fucked up as Carlos – naw, he does that shit for fun.”

Twilight suddenly began turning a pale shade of green.

Ryan, sensing that he was probably just making things worse again, tried defusing the situation.

“Kid, no. No, no, no. I didn’t kill nobody with a meat grinder. I jus’ bumped off my old man.”

And, true to his nature, Ryan once again made things much worse.

Twilight looked absolutely horrified.

They seem to be giving me that look a lot lately, Ryan thought distractedly.

“W-why? How c- how could you even…?” Her mouth opened and closed several times, but she seemed to have lost her nerve. The look of revulsion on her face was evident; in contrast, Ryan had become a mask of steel.

“… I had to.”

“For social acceptance?!” she shrieked, dropping one of the cotton swabs. “Ryan, that – that’s monstrous! I can’t believe – how can you live with yourself?”

“I had to.” Ryan said delicately, staring down at his hands. A single finger traced over some of his older scars, running up one arm. Onto his shoulders, across his back – so many scars.

“Nopony has to take another life!” she insisted, eyes narrowing.

“Carlos.” Ryan pointed to a spot on his chest at one of his ribs, remembering the heavy steel-toed boot. “Fractured rib.”

Twilight remained silent, watching as he pointed to each and every scar, finger lingering over each one.

“Pissed off Bruno. Only time I made that mistake,” he said quietly, touching a slim scar on his left elbow. “Here? Bullet wound. Drive by.” His fingers danced across a small round scar on his side, going all the way through to the other side on his back. “Here, Dad from this cut. Here? Some kid in the Sharks. Here? Dad, busted beer bottle. Here? Drive by again-“ he pointed to his right shoulder, with a much larger scar. “-and right on top of Dad, with a nine iron. Here? Here?”

Ever scar he pointed to seemed to have a different story, although more and more of them were starting to sound similar.

“Dad. Dad. Dad. Daddy-o. Dad with a butter knife. Seriously, do you have any idea how hard it is to fuckin’ stab somebody that hard with a butter knife?” he asked absentmindedly, running a finger along his thigh and onto his back. “Dad again. Branding. I didn’t want it. Big surprise. Dad with a pocket knife. Dad with a lighter. Another busted bottle. Broken arm. Dad again.”

“… You have a lot of scars.” Twilight muttered, sitting down hard, thinking.

“I had to. Even if I wasn’t in the Sharks, I had to.” Ryan said, more to himself than anything; a reassuring that he was in the right, that his actions weren’t for the wrong reason. “I had to. I had to, kid. I had to.”

For some reason, that sounded vaguely familiar.

“Couldn’t you have… run away?” Twilight asked softly, and Ryan turned his shirt over in his hands.

“Not like I didn’t try. God, did I try. That’s when he got the Box.”

“Still… you didn’t have to kill-“ she started.

“My dad liked kids.”

For a minute, Twilight was confused once again.

“How could anypony that-?”

“My dad really, really liked kids.”

“… Oh, Ryan.”

And then came that look again; the same look his Aunt Sarah would give him from time to time. How he hated that pained, pitying look. Ryan felt the rage boiling in him for the millionth time, only for it to melt away as he slipped the shirt on.

“… Don’t look at me like that,” Ryan glowered at her distastefully. “I fucking hate that look.” She opened her mouth to speak, but he cut her off. “I already know what you’re gonna say. Don’t. I ain’t no victim – I’m a mother fuckin’ survivor. Ain’t nothin’ that can get me down. I’m fuckin’ Superman.”

“Easy does it.”

“I heard th’ first time. Quit touchin’ me.”

“Just one more step. It’s not that difficult.”

“No shit, genius. How d’you think I got up here?” Ryan groused, limping up the stairs.

“Okay, again.” Twilight nodded. “We need to make sure that your leg healed properly, and then maybe we can begin working on the other one.”

Ryan seethed, dragging himself up the staircase. “I can walk on my own, for fuck’s sake.”

“Not very well, evidently.” Twilight deadpanned, grabbing his arm with one hoof before he slipped backwards down the stairs. Again.

Ryan grunted in what was mostly frustration as he reached the top of the stairs, nearly being dragged along by the preoccupied unicorn.

“T-there.” She breathed heavily. “Now, was that really-?”

“Yes. A hundred fuckin’ times, yes.” Ryan glowered at her as she dragged out an old, large wooden box. Trying to look like he wasn’t curious, he eyed the crate as Twilight unclasped a latch on the side, revealing a velvet interior. From within, she carefully withdrew the contents and placed it ever-so-gently upon her writing desk, taking a couple of steps back to admire it.

“… Izzat a record player?” Ryan asked aloud, caught off guard.

“Gramophone. Remarkable invention, really,” Twilight said contentedly as she rifled through a couple of records within the box, selecting one and trotting over to the music box. It was an complicatedly and well-designed machine, with several small carvings running along the sides. The gilded spiraling tube widened into whorls and spread out, which she dusted with a small smile while setting up the record.

“You know, that ‘phone’ thing you showed me reminded me of this – can you imagine the practical applications of a miniature portable gramophone?” she rambled, putting the needle onto the record and warily listening to a couple of scratches. “After the Grand Galloping Gala, I’ve really got to take another look at that thing; maybe reconfigure my own gramophone, I don’t-“

“Where did you get that?” Ryan asked suddenly over the music. He recognized the song, all right. It was a little off; almost as if it were sung in a different time period, and realistically recorded on a gramophone. However, the only other place he’d heard this song hadn’t necessarily been pleasant, or even remotely explainable experiences.

“I got it a couple of weeks ago, from a traveling Zebrican merchant. Didn’t I tell you that already?” she inquired, tilting her head.

Actually, there was a pretty good chance that she probably had told him about it already; he’d developed a nasty habit of tuning Twilight out whenever she started talking.

Weird. Guilty feeling’s back again.

“Well?” Twilight stood straighter, flattening her mane a little. “What are you waiting for?”

“… What?” he asked, genuinely confused.

“For the love of – start dancing, already!”

“... Oh, hell no.” Ryan scowled, the lines etching deeply into his face. He glowered down at her, but the unicorn’s resolve was adamant.

“Absolutely. It’s a wonderful exercise, besides; I want to make sure that leg of yours doesn’t have any irregularly rehabilitated tendons. I don’t want to accidentally mangle your other leg when we start on it, so… start dancing.”

No matter how tall or mean he tried to look, even when he leaned forward a little bit and frowned so hard it felt like part of his face would fall off, the pony didn’t move.

“I. Do. Not. Dance.”

Twilight pinched the bridge of her nose between her hooves, rubbing her eyes in agitation. “It’s easy,” she groaned. “Anypony can dance.”

“Fuck that.” Ryan fumed. “I didn’t say I can’t dance, I said I don’t dance.”

“… Please?” she asked in exasperation, tapping one hoof against the ground in tune to the music. “Look, if it makes you feel any better, I won’t just stand here making sure you dance. Watch.”

And with that, Twilight began what was quite possibly the most ludicrously exaggerated version of the Hokey Pokey that he had ever seen. She kicked her legs back and forth slightly off-beat, and worse, she even seemed to be putting in a large amount of concentration to her dancing.

Ryan had difficulty stifling the laughter.

“… What’s so funny?” Twilight stopped suddenly, trying to make herself heard over Ryan’s cackling.

“’The fuck are you doing?” Ryan snickered, trying his best to keep a big, goofy grin from plastering itself on his face. He wasn’t doing a very good job.

“Um… dancing?” she replied uncertainly, fiddling with her mane in discomfort. “Come on. Anypony can do it.”

“Except for you, obviously.” Ryan said dryly.

“For the love of – will you just stretch that appendage already?!” she snapped, yanking his arm and forcing him to stand instead of leaning against the table holding the gramophone. He yelped in surprise, glaring hatefully at her.

“Dance.” She commanded, awaiting his reaction.

He shoved his hands in his pockets, glowering as he did so. Very, very slowly, Ryan began shuffling his feet back and forth.

“… What are you doing?”

“Fuckin’ dancing.” Ryan deadpanned, giving his right leg a pathetic wriggle to convince her.

“I… probably should have taken into account that you only dance with two legs,” Twilight said deliberately, scratching her chin with the bottom of her hoof. “Regardless. That’s not really the regulated physical motion required.”

“… What?”

“You’re doing it wrong.” She replied simply, pinching the bridge of her muzzle.

“Hey, fuck you.” Ryan stopped his ‘dancing’ long enough to flip her the bird. “Like you was doin’ any better.”

“Excuse me?” The sad thing is, she looked genuinely surprised.

“Floppin’ around like a dyin’ squid, an’ shit.” Ryan drawled over the music, which seemed to be replaying. Perhaps the record only held one song. “That ain’t dancin’, neither.”

“What do you consider dancing, then?” she retorted, stamping her hoof in frustration.

He opened his mouth to reply, but closed it quickly. The thought of Twilight anywhere near the vicinity of a night club terrified him.

“Usually, some more dollar bills.” Ryan’s voice had grown so dry that she expected him to start spitting sand.

Letting out a long, heavy sigh, Twilight extended a single hoof.

“… Aw, hell no.” he scowled, leering down at her.

“Come on,” she widened her eyes. “Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Please?”

“Fine.”

“Ple- yes!” Twilight yanked his arm, inducing another yelp. Ryan, however, was significantly reluctant to drop to all fours to dance. Therefore, the unicorn thought swiftly and balanced on her back legs, clinging to his hands with her forehooves.

“There,” she said with some difficulty. “It’s – whoa! – easy. See?” Twilight carefully shifted to the left and right, straining to keep from falling over.

“You’re gonna fall over.” Ryan groused, limping back and forth and bending so that she had less difficulty gripping his hands. He still had no idea how she managed to do that; although, now that he had a chance to inspect them more closely, Ryan found that her hooves were actually fairly pliable.

“Oh, please,” she scoffed, almost tripping over her own hooves. “at least I have a decent center of balance.”

No sooner had she said it that she nearly toppled over, shrieking as she flung both hooves onto Ryan’s arm. Flushing, she straightened herself and resumed moving along to the music as if she hadn’t slipped at all.

“Smooth.”

“Oh, bite me,” Twilight grumbled, struggling to keep her hooves flat on the ground and keep a grip on Ryan simultaneously. It was much harder than she thought it would have been. After a few minutes of awkwardly shuffling, Ryan stood still.

“Now what?”

“Hold still.” Ryan muttered, scratching the top of his head.

“For wh- hey!”

Pulling her temporarily into the air just long enough for her to stand atop his abundantly almost boat-shaped sneakers, he gradually continued moving back and forth to the music.

“Whoa – easy, easy!” Twilight screeched, adhering tightly to his hands.

“Says the horse,” Ryan grinned at the irony.

“Pony.”

The music slowed to nearly a crawl, thrumming out a slow beat.

“Whatever you say, kid.” Ryan shifted back and forth, gradually working his way into the rhythm and sashaying back and forth in a slow fashion.

“I am a capable young adult, thank you very much.” Twilight shot him a glare, careful not to slip again.

“If you say so, kid.”

“Twilight.”

“Whatever.”

“I still don’t know if your leg is any better,” Twilight pronounced quietly.

“Yeah. Me neither,” Ryan grinned slowly, which she mirrored.

“Who wou~ldn't want to be ki~ng?.”

Three in the morning.

Spike ground his tiny scaled fists against his tired eyes, rolling over in his bed.

That accursed music was still playing.

He briefly considered telling them off for dancing the night away, considering the fact that Twilight had specifically stated her plans of rising early for the day, for some reason or other. Instead, he uttered a word not meant for young ears and rolled back over, pulling his pillow over his head. Plenty of time to tell them off in the morning.

Toast again.

It still wasn’t meat, but at least it was made with actual wheat instead of hay. Ryan didn’t think he could stomach anything else that contained hay. Or any more kinds of vegetables, for that matter.

The ponies had plenty of fruits, of course; from oranges to tangerines, imported Zebrican bananas (which Twilight cringed at, for some reason) and even the odd celery stick.

He needed meat.

Ryan yawned, crunching heavily on the toast at the hospital table, glad to be back in pants once again. Fluttershy sat across from him silently, sipping at a small Styrofoam cup of coffee that the hospital supplied. He’d already downed four of the cups, himself; then again, compared to Ryan, the cups were fairly small.

Twilight spoke consolingly with the blind changeling, who seemed to have company with him. From what Ryan could tell, it was the nurse Proppy had mentioned before. Trying to remain apathetic, he continued to crunch on his toast and quietly noted that Fluttershy hadn’t brought Angel with her.

Or why she was at the hospital at all, for that matter.

For what seemed forever, they sat in silence as the cafeteria steadily began filling with other ponies, and Ryan did his best to ignore them as he stacked more buttered toast onto the plate before him.

“Pinkie Pie told me about what happened.” Fluttershy said eventually.

“Thank fuckin’ god,” Ryan breathed suddenly in relief, running a slightly crumb-coated hand through his already greasy black hair. Dimly brushing the crumbs off himself, he picked up another piece. “I honestly don’t know what the fuck happened. And y’know what? I don’t wanna know. I don’t wanna fuckin’ know, ‘cause that crazy bitch is just as crazy as everybody else. You’re all trying to kill me, I jus’ know it.”

Fluttershy’s eyes narrowed dangerously, and she said “I’d appreciate it if you wouldn’t talk about my friends like that.”

“So, you’re tellin’ me Pinks ain’t bat-shit crazy,” Ryan said disbelievingly through a mouthful of toast.

“Pinkie isn’t crazy, she’s just…” the butter colored pegasus began. “… different. That’s all I mean.”

“And by ‘different’, you mean ‘crazy’.” Ryan restated, finishing off the meager breakfast. “Might even be crazier than Skittles, just not as violent.”

“You know, you gossip even more than Rarity does,” Fluttershy shook her head, sipping at her coffee.

“I knew it!” he crowed victoriously, thrusting a fist into the air.

“Everypony does.” Fluttershy deadpanned. “Now stop shouting, please?” she asked, drawing back behind her mane as a large number of strange looks were cast her way. “You’re drawing attention.”

His first instinct was to moon the lot of them out of sheer spite, but he refrained from doing so. Not really because it would have bothered the pegasus, but because they were all technically naked anyway. It could very well be the same as a handshake to them. He shrugged internally, sinking back onto the bench. Ryan couldn't imagine giving anyone an ass-shake; however, it did invoke some very strange mental images.

“… Hey, y’all are naked.” Ryan said suddenly, rubbing jaw and drawing himself out of thought.

“E-excuse me?” Fluttershy belted sharply, eyes widening.

“No, no – what I’m sayin’ is, Whitey makes clothes n’ shit. What for? Everypony else is all naked.”

She began to reply, before something clicked.

“Oh, that reminds me. I meant to ask earlier if you’d like to lend a helping hoof today, I could really use it.”

“How does that remind you?” Ryan asked incredulously, bitterly wishing that the toast had at least come with some sausages. Or even eggs. He didn’t particularly like beans, but at least they were part of the meat group – of course, there were none to be had. It was difficult to focus while hungry.

“Yes or no?” Fluttershy said quickly, holding up two hooves as if weighing her own question.

“Sure, why not,” he said offhandedly. “That doesn’t tell me what you munchkins got about clothes.”

And, for reasons that he could not ascertain, Fluttershy began turning a light shade of pink.

Ryan crept up the stairs, the stolen picture of his family in his pocket.

Odd, to think that they would keep that particular picture in the frame in the stairwell; then again, it could have simply been knocked around in the peculiar storm.

He slipped quietly to the second story of the Miller household, wary of the brewing ‘storm’ outside.

It was unlike anything he had ever seen.

Then again, that could go for many of the things he’d seen that day.

Answering to the desperate plea from Donald had been one of his more peculiar choices. The odd blue box sticking out of their living room wall stood as a testament to bizarre, and Ryan traveled amongst the dream like a ghost. He remembered the strange people within, the mysterious police box that was larger on the inside. A man with a weird looking gun, a blonde woman with a bountiful chest (that was easy to remember). A couple of Japanese strangers in black robes and strange swords that claimed to be with Danielle.

And, of course, the freakish abomination trapped inside the icicle prison, glued tightly to the floor of the time machine.

The boiling black ooze splattering out of the mouth and ricocheting against the inside of the transparent case, the roiling gunk within the crystalline cocoon that defied reason and sanity.

And that THING was supposed to be Donald.

Up and up and up the stairs, like they would never end. Maybe it was just the dream, but they seemed so much bigger. He knew what awaited him at the end of the dream, of course. The same thing that played out every time, in each recurring nightmare.

Ryan finally reached the last step, remembering the cluttered debris from broken walls. The door jutting open at the end of the hall, the eerie violet light pouring in from the windows. It couldn’t really be called a ‘storm’ after all – no storm ripped through the sky with such violence, or ate through the fabric of reality.

He stood precariously at the entrance, unwilling to push the door open. He could hear their voices, muttering conspiratorially on the other side on how to get rid of Ryan.

No. No, that wasn’t what happened at all.

Danielle had forged her resolve into iron, had prepared to sacrifice herself to save the world. And that man; that horrible, wicked man, the one that called himself ‘Doctor’.

He had talked her into doing it. He was planning to kill them both…!

No. No, that wasn’t what happened.

The dream should have ended with Ryan bursting through the door, interrupted a grief-stricken and suicide-ready Danielle. He would throw himself through the window and into that whirling vortex of madness, it would crush and grind him until he awoke in a cold sweat. Instead, he merely stood, unable to move outside the door; listening to words that he couldn’t quite make out.

Why didn’t the man with the time machine simply take them all back to before the world began ending? Why couldn’t he have saved them, instead of allowing Danielle to believe that the Miller genetic code was responsible for ending a space-time anomaly? He should have done something. It was the Doctor’s fault. After all, Ryan did everything he could.

He didn’t even know if it would help, though… he could have just as easily been wrong.

Or maybe he was wrong after all, and he was dead already. Perhaps he had been wrong, and the world had been devoured and he’d lost what was left of his family.

Or maybe he’d been right, and he was trapped in a strange world with no way to protect them from Carlos, and he’d lost what was left of his family.

Standing in front of the door did not give the dream reason to yield to him, and it did not end.

Whispering; nearly unheard whispers on the other side.

“Well? What are you waiting for?”

Ryan turned on the spot, wide eyes staring at the princess of the night.

“… ‘The fuck?” he swore in confusion, blinking at Luna. She looked precisely the same as he had seen her before, although a little… off.

“Continue your mission, Foul One. Or have even you grown to despise your own wicked machinations?”

Ryan attempted to back away from the flat-toned pony, but found that the door had closed quite firmly.

“Well, Foul One?” Luna stepped forward menacingly, but her face remained blank. The walls around him slowly began turning a transparent shade of black, and he could have sworn he saw stars beyond them as the shadows rushed in from the sides. “Well?”

“Well, my Father? Well? Well, well, well?”

“My Father?”

Ryan jumped, wiping the drool from his face. The arm he’d been resting his head had fallen asleep, and it tingled painfully as his eyes darted around nervously, his heart in his chest.

Just a dream.

“What?” Ryan rubbed his eyes, glancing down at the blind changeling. “Whassup?”

Twilight stood beside him impatiently, giving Fluttershy a queer look.

“Well?” Twilight asked. “I said, we have re-shelving that needs to be done and I need somepony to recount stock on ink for me today.” She tapped her hoof, peering out the window. The morning was practically flying by, and she hadn’t meant to be so distracted by her conversation with Proppy.

“Actually,” Fluttershy interjected quietly. “what you said was ‘you dumb, lazy motherbucker, shove-“

“I’m busy.” Ryan groused, stretching his aching back. The hospital’s cafeteria table really was a bad place to fall asleep.

The unicorn cocked her head to the side, a little put off.

“I – oh. With… what, exactly?”

“Yellow.” Ryan nodded toward Fluttershy, saying “I’m helpin’ her with some shit. You’re welcome, by the way,” he glowered.

“We haven’t started yet.” Fluttershy sighed, standing and stretching her wings.

“I… see.” Twilight nodded, her face going blank. “Very well. I’ll manage without Spike’s help too, I guess..”

Ryan shrugged. “I wouldn’t have helped, anyway.”

“Wha-? Why not?” she asked.

“Ain’t my fault I’m tired. You shouldn’t have made me do all the work last night.”

It took Ryan a moment to figure out precisely why the light pink tinge that had colored Fluttershy’s cheeks had suddenly burned a bright red.

“O-oh, my.”

“That’s not-!” Twilight began, before Ryan cut her off with a cackle.

“By the way, my hips are killing me.”

Twilight tried to speak several times, but instead stamped her hoof against the linoleum with a huff, and stomped off.

Ryan was still chuckling about it long afterwards.

“Did-did you s-see the look on her f-face?” he sniggered wildly, shoulders shaking.

“I do not believe that was a wise course of action, my Father,” Proppy said to him, taking a seat beside Ryan.

“Nyah, she’ll get over it.” Ryan waved him off, clearly in a much better mood.

“Perhaps, my father. But, still. I do not believe it intelligent to run afoul of one who holds the fate of your life in their hooves.”

Ryan started to brush him off, but the last part caught his attention.

“… Hang on, say that again?” he started in confusion, and Proppy looked back up at him. Or at least, tried to.

“Oh, would you look at the time,” Fluttershy said swiftly, forgetting her discomfort. “We really need to get going, she’s expecting us already!” she trotted past a couple more ponies entering the cafeteria double doors, motioning for Ryan to follow.

“… Quite the peculiar thing, isn’t she?” Proppy said quietly as Fluttershy left, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

“Yeah.” Ryan rubbed the back of his greasy head, thinking heavily. “Weird lil’ fuckers.”

“You should probably catch up while you can, my Father.” Proppy said with a small sigh, levitating a small piece of toast for himself. He held it in front of his face sadly for a moment, before dropping it back onto the plate.

“… I’ll come back later.” Ryan promised softly, patting the changeling on the head.

“Perhaps.” Proppy said blandly, staring at the wall.

“Yo!” Ryan called after Fluttershy, worn shoes flapping against the ground in his eagerness to catch up. She’d gained a fair distance in a short while, which he readily blamed her wings for, even though he hadn’t even seen her leave the ground. Then again, for a pegasus, Ryan didn’t think he’d seen her even fly much.

“My goodness, you’re slow.” Fluttershy said teasingly, exiting the hospital. They traveled in silence for a while, reaching the main road of Ponyville to pass through and arrive at Fluttershy’s cottage. Ryan inquired as to why they couldn’t just go around and avoid all the other ponies, but Fluttershy insisted that going straight through was faster.

Ryan discovered that Fluttershy could be quite determined.

He was nursing a sore kneecap when they reached the outskirts of Ponyville, the familiar limp back in his leg. Thoughts of Proppy’s odd message lingered in him like a bad burrito, and made him feel worse. It occurred to him that he probably should apologize to Twilight, even if it was to avoid her potential ire.
Apologizing. Now you’re fuckin’ apologizin’ and shit.

“Hey, you, uh… mind waitin’ here for a minute?” Ryan asked suddenly, not particularly eager for Fluttershy to know what he had in mind. He eyed the street corner warily, peering about for familiar landmarks. A sliver of gratitude shone through when he spotted the Cake’s bakery, and it’s odd decoration.

Fluttershy pondered for a moment, noting that he was practically leaping from foot to foot.

“I suppose,” she drew it out slyly, glancing back over at Sugarcube Corner. “because…?”

“I just need to, uh… go get my, um. Something. Yeah.” Ryan stuttered, realizing too late how stupid his lie sounded.

“Of course.” Fluttershy nodded, much to his surprise. “Catch up with me and Pinkie when you’re done, and we can stop procrastinating. Okay?”

Ryan budged the door to the library open, blinking slowly as his eyes adjusted. He let out a little sigh of relief to be out of the sun for a little while, and latched the door behind him. There were a few lights on here and there, despite the fact that the sun shone in clearly through the windows.

“Yo – Purple?” Ryan called out, clearing his throat. Hearing no reply, he poked his head around the corner, seeing no one in the kitchen either. Not even Spike seemed to be around; the house was quiet.

Drumming his fingers against the wall, he thought quietly. She’d probably left with the little dragon to go do… something or other. He’d been a step away from the door when he heard the music.

“Help me make the most of freedom – and our pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever-“
Ah ha.

Ryan grinned, creeping up the stairs a step at a time. Oh, the look on her face when he surprised her was going to be priceless.

He promptly faltered, vaguely reminiscing the instance when he’d attempted to ‘surprise’ Applejack, and his poor testes had paid the hefty toll. Ryan cringed, hands lightly brushing the walls as he stealthily crept further upstairs. He’d make sure to keep a decent distance, at least.

“There’s a room where the lights won’t find you-“

The closer Ryan got to the slightly ajar door, the more clearly he could hear the music. Not just that, though; he could also hear Twilight humming contentedly along with it. Looming silently forward, the door swung slowly open at his touch.

“Hey, kid! What’s –“

Ryan was promptly interrupted when Twilight shrieked in abject horror, color flying into her cheeks as she levitated a couple of chairs.

“… What are you wearing?” he asked stupidly, staring at the deep royal purple striped socks that the unicorn sported.

“Out! Get out!”

“But I-“

“OUT!” her voice pierced the air, and one of the chairs telekinetically bounced off the wall beside his head. Quickly ducking out of the room to avoid a free taste of wood, he pelted down the stairs and barreled into the door, forgetting that he’d latched it behind him.

Ryan was thoroughly out of breath by the time he returned to Sugarcube Corner, where he found a gossiping Fluttershy and depressed-looking Pinkie Pie. Pinkie’s mane promptly burst into a large batch of frizzles the moment he entered, however; for some reason, it reminded him of a territorial lizard.

“All done?” Fluttershy asked sweetly, leaving the counter. “That didn’t take very long.”

“Y-yeah.” Ryan breathed heavily, expecting the painful twinge in his leg to return. Instead, it moved and flexed perfectly. A little stiff, but aside from that…

“So, what was it that you forgot?” the pegasus asked curiously as they left, giving a kind wave and smile goodbye to the pink party pony.

“Oh, uh…” Ryan wiped a bead of sweat from his brow, having completely forgotten that he’d lied to her only a few minutes previously. “Just, you know. I, uh… forgot my, my, um. Thing.” He tried to sound nonchalant, or pass it off as unimportant or boring. He wasn’t doing a very good job.

“I didn’t know it came off,” Fluttershy deadpanned, trotting ahead of him.

It took him a full beat to catch it.

He cackled madly, running after her.

For a while, they walked in silence again; Ryan, thinking heavily, and Fluttershy expressionless.

“Okay. I know this spot,” Ryan pointed to a small rose bush by the roadside as they walked, eyebrows furrowing.

“And?”

“This is the way to Whitey’s.” he frowned, unwilling to venture back to Carousel Boutique. For one, he just didn’t like the shape of the building.

“Yes,” Fluttershy nodded. “that’s because Spike and I volunteered to assist Rarity in preparing for the Grand Galloping Gala.”

“Fuck.” Ryan groaned, pinching his ears in frustration. Another thought popped into his head, which surprisingly didn’t cause his brain to explode. He chewed it over slowly as they walked, sorely wishing he hadn’t agreed to help Fluttershy without finding out what she was expecting first.

“What is it with you guys and clothes?” Ryan grumbled, jamming his hands in his pockets.

“Um… why do you ask?” Fluttershy asked, and he could detect a hint of nervousness in her voice.

He let out a breath of air, puffing his cheeks. “Half the time, y’all don’t even wear clothes – Whitey don’t even need ‘em, and she sells that shit. And what the fuck is up with socks?”

He glanced down at her, expecting a reply; instead, he saw that her face had begun to match her mane.

“W-well…” she cleared her throat, and spoke deliberately. “I-well, you see, um…”

“Spit it out.”

“Do you remember when we met?” Fluttershy asked quickly, ruffling her wings in discomfort. He marveled again at her refusal to fly; she could probably get from point A to B a lot faster if she did. Scratching the back of his greasy head, he grinned as their first encounter rose to his mind.

“Kind of,” he chuckled, although his smirk was quickly replaced with a scowl when he remembered how Twilight had attempted to solve the problem. Trapped inside that horrendous pink bubble – bwu-huhuhuhuhuh. “I think you was, uh… kinda freaked.”

“That’s… one way of putting it,” Fluttershy nodded. “You know, at first, I thought you were some kind of escaped animal that had managed to break into Twilight’s home and eat her.”

Ryan snorted, picturing it. Pony meat probably tasted bad, anyway. If only his stomach would stop growling…

They passed a small white picket fence, a tired but concentrating mule working in a small garden.

“Nah. I ain’t an animal.” Ryan shook his head, brushing off memories like dust. “And I didn’t break in, neither.”

“I know that, now.” Fluttershy said somberly. “But, still. You came out of there, lumbering right into me; and you had on – I mean, you still – I, well, um…”

“Fuck, spit it out.” He groaned, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

“You had on a lot of clothing,” she said breathlessly.

“… I don’ get it.”

“W-well, um…” she stopped in the middle of the road, almost as if paranoid that there were something on her shoulder. “I-I mean…When a special somepony... I mean, you see, um-I-I-well, the bedroom is a very... never mind.” Her head drooped, and she shrank back behind her mane.

Ryan, noticing that she’d stopped, pondered it for a long minute.

“… Are... are clothes, like… like lingerie to you?” he asked incredulously as it dawned on him.

It would make a lot of sense; most of the time, he’d seen ponies walking around with only a single article of clothing or none at all – perhaps to ponies, the more clothes you had on, the more appealing you were trying to be.

His hunch seemed to be fairly close to the mark, as Fluttershy began turning a deep shade of red.

“Oh. Oh, hell no,” Ryan shook his hands back and forth in front of himself, almost as if he could dismiss the very idea with the gesture alone. “That is not – ain’t no way in hell – fuck me!” he grimaced, rubbing his temples. No wonder Fluttershy had become so defensive of her friends; from her point of view, the situation probably must have seemed more than a little odd. And then, to top it all off…

“Hang on.” he stopped rubbing his temples to look hard at the pegasus.

“… You… you didn’t know that clothes are normal for, uh… humans.”

“Um… no?” Fluttershy said uncertainly. “I certainly didn’t. I’ve, er… actually talked to the others about it, a little…” she admitted guiltily, continuing her walking beside him. “I don’t think any of them knew, either.”

Twilight knew.

She had to have. From as many questions as she’d asked him, all the inquiries, she knew about the clothes; more specifically, how uncomfortable he was walking around without them. Twilight knew, and she never dissuaded the idea from the others. He even slept in the same house as her, and he could only begin to imagine just what was going through all of their minds.

Ryan didn’t know for certain, but he guessed that if he asked, Fluttershy would probably answer that Twilight told them that he’d landed in the Everfree Forest instead of in front of the library.

Why all the lies?

To what end?

“Ryan?”

His head darted up, too late – with a dull thunk, his nose hit the front door of Carousel Boutique.

“… Ow.”

Monster.

What had he done to her?

Pinkamena stared in horror at her own grim reflection, the dim bathroom lights burning into her eyes. She had taken care of the human long ago; when he first fell, and he stumbled blindly into her hooves. He had been easy to kill, and fun to play with.

Fun.

Monster.

She threw up again, clutching her head in agony. After taking a few minutes to breathe heavily, the sweat weighing on her, Pinkamena dared to look at her own reflection again.

She looked precisely the same as she always had. The straight, conservative pink mane and bright, bubbly blue eyes.

Inside, however, she had obviously undergone a drastic metamorphosis.

Perhaps it had been a ghost, coming back to haunt her? Such a thing wasn’t impossible – for a while, even the dreams of what she’d done to Dashie had lingered. But this… this was unbearable.

The human hadn’t invaded her mind; what he’d done was so much worse.

He forced her to see herself as she truly was.

Monster.

Pinkamena cringed, a pitiful whimper escaping her throat. No matter how tightly she squeezed her eyes, no matter how many tears were shed, the horrible new perspective refused to leave. Worse still, it was as if her very mind had been solidified, reinforced – she was being forced to remain sane, forced to remain cognizant of her very nature.

Monster.

What kind of friend was she? No, what kind of pony was she, that would so willingly, so eagerly mutilate her friends? It wouldn’t stop. The sinking horror, the sudden insight and self-consciousness wouldn’t leave her in blessed darkness anymore.

Pinkamena cowered on the floor, clutching her aching head. She eventually forced herself up, with some effort. It wasn’t like any of her friends were going to show up to help. Not now.

Another pathetic moan brushed her lips, and she shook her head. Maybe she wasn’t going sane – maybe she was just sinking deeper into madness. After all, she hadn’t had an ‘episode’ since… so, maybe she’d finally cracked even further. After all, what kind of hallucination comes back from the dead, with a doppelganger?

She was desperately struggling with herself, tossing back and forth like a tiny ship caught in a tempest when she saw it; a tiny, insignificant sliver of light.

For a moment, Pinkamena thought that it was just another hallucination – but she hadn’t had any of those since the Spark had burned into her mind. When she glanced at it, her first reaction was to brush it off as a trick of the light. However, the longer she stared into the mirror, the tear-caked and unwashed image of herself slowly began to fade, and Pinkamena’s eyes widened as she strained to understand the bizarre sight before her.

It wasn’t a reflection.

It wasn't a reflection at all.

It was a crack.

Author's Notes:

I GET KNOCKED DOWN
BUT I GET UP AGAIN
YOU'RE NEVER GONNA KEEP ME DOWN.