Fluttershy lived in a quaint little cottage, just on the outskirts of Ponyville over an old stone bridge. Frankly, he really would have preferred to stay back at the Apple family’s farm, even if he were roped into doing some kind of manual labor. From looking around at the full fields, that would probably be the case. Ryan really wasn’t too surprised that, similar to Purple’s library, Fluttershy’s home was also part tree. He didn’t feel particularly comfortable about sleeping in the same building as Fluttershy, but if it got him a bed, then things couldn’t be too awful.

The poor, poor bastard.

For a moment, Ryan wondered how in the hell said tree-houses were made. The ridiculous notion struck him that there were possibly trees running about, humping buildings.

And that’s how baby tree houses are made.

He stifled a snicker, though it did very little to distract him from the sheer terror he felt. As they neared the cottage, he could swear he felt the eyes of the Yellow Menace boring into the back of his skull. Outside, there was an elderly tan pony in a straw hat, tending to a small garden in the front.

“Huh. Nice place.” Ryan said conversationally, stopping to get a decent look at the place.

“Why, thank you very much, Mister Gorilla,” Fluttershy said without stopping. She opened the front door and trotted inside, not stopping for Ryan to catch up. He started after her, but as soon as the gardener saw Fluttershy leave his sight, he crept over to Ryan.

“Oy! Laddie!”

“… ‘The fuck do you want.” He responded, crossing his arms. Quite frankly, he was tired enough to stop caring about whatever trap Fluttershy potentially had planned.

“I’ve got a name, lad.” The Scottish sounding pony said to him, and beckoned him closer so he could whisper. Ryan leaned down, listening closely. The pony drew himself up, and spoke dramatically.

“There are some who call me…” he paused for effect. “… Tim.”

Ryan shoved the pony out of his face, flipping him off as he did so. Besides, his breath smelled like onions. “That’s all you had to fuckin’ say? Seriously?” However, it was nice to find somepony who actually had a normal sounding name.

The tan earth pony facehoofed, drawing Ryan closer to the window, where he pointed. He briefly wondered if perhaps Fluttershy were some kind of psychopathic serial killer, and the gardener was trying to give him some kind of cryptic message. Heart racing, Ryan peered into the dark room, but he couldn’t see much aside from some furniture and a small white sleeping rabbit.

“… What?”

“There he is!” Tim the gardener whispered in fear.

“Where?” Ryan asked, cupping his hands around his eyes and staring into the room.

“There!” and he jabbed a quivering hoof at the sleeping rabbit.

Confused, Ryan asked “What? Behind the rabbit?”

Tim facehoofed again, groaning. “It is the rabbit!”

Ryan slapped him in the back of the head immediately. “Frickin’ retard!”

“What?” Tim asked, rubbing the back of his head. He sounded hurt.

“You got me all worked up!” he whispered furiously, clenching his fists.

“That is no ordinary rabbit!” Tim said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then again, considering his current predicament, something new and strange really wouldn’t be all too new and strange. He was talking to a Scottish pony, after all.

“Oh,” Ryan replied, gazing over at the sleeping rabbit again. It took nearly a full moment of the enormous level of stupidity of the entire situation to settle on him. He’d just agreed with a talking Scottish pony about dangerous rabbits. He was beginning to get angry at himself for rolling with it in the first place.

“That’s the most foul, cruel, and bad-tempered rodent you ever set eyes on!”

“Bullshit!” Ryan muttered angrily. “I almost crapped myself; you had me so freaked out!”

“Look that rabbit’s got a vicious streak a mile wide!” Tim insisted, stomping the soft ground. “It’s a killer!”

“… Get bent.” Ryan said, rolling his shoulders and standing up to go inside after Fluttershy.

“He’ll do you up a treat, mate!” Tim the gardener quietly called after him, trying to keep his voice down.

“Oh, yeah?” Ryan responded, waving flippantly over his shoulder as he opened the door.

“I’m warning you!”

“What’s he gonna do?” Ryan chuckled. “Nibbwe at my widdwe bottom?”

“He’s got huge, sharp…” Tim tried to warn him, waving his two front hooves about. “… er… He can leap about, and… haven’t you seen the bones?” he sounded quite desperate.

Which, of course, only made it funnier to Ryan.

“Pfft.” He sniggered, marching inside the dimly lit cottage. “I’ll make fuckin’ rabbit stew out of him.” He wasn’t the least bit worried about some cartoon rabbit going on a killing spree. Especially not when he had a potentially dangerous Fluttershy to deal with. Speaking of which…

“Hey, Yellow! You in here?” he asked, peeking his head around a corner. Seeing no one, he continued into the same room he’d seen the rabbit sleeping in. As a matter of fact, the last time he’d seen the rabbit, it was sleeping like a baby on a comfortable looking sofa. It wasn’t there anymore, however. His hands fumbled over the wall for a light switch, before he remembered that ponies probably didn’t even have electricity. Frustrated, he reached into his pocket for his handy Zippo lighter, which he kept right next to his phone-

“Fuck, don’t have those.” He grumbled. The inside pockets of the new pants Rarity made for him felt oddly silky – he was starting to miss his jeans, filthy, ripped and grimy though they may have been. Instead, he felt about in the dark for some kind of match. Ponies had matches, right?

After a couple of minutes of finding nothing, and since the moonlight streaming in through the window wasn’t enough to really see by, he gave up and started toward the doorway when an oil light flickered into life.

“Oh, good. Thanks, Flutter – bunny?”

Fluttershy was nowhere to be seen. Instead, the small white rabbit from earlier was standing atop a desk, next to the oil light. How the hell he got it lit was beyond Ryan.

“Oh, it’s you. Uh… hi.” Ryan said lamely, lifting a hand.

The rabbit simply glared at him, crossing his arms temperamentally and tapping one of its feet. From the looks of it, Ryan had just ruined its sleep, and it wasn’t too happy about it.

Kneeling down in front of the desk, Ryan looked right into the tiny black eyes of the rabbit. What followed was, quite possibly, one of the stupidest things Ryan had ever done.

And that’s a pretty big list to top.

“Aw, hewwo dew, wittle fewwo!”

The rabbit’s foot stopped, mid-tap. For a second, it just stared at him, as if it couldn’t believe the events transpiring nearly a foot in front of it.

“Awen’t yew a cuddwy widdew fart? Aw, is yew angwy? Yew is angwy, awen’t yew!” the baby babble continued from Ryan, and he could clearly see that the rabbit spent a lot of time around Fluttershy from the familiar dangerous eye-twitch. The rabbit made no other moves aside from that. It simply stood stock still.

Ryan, the genius that he is, took this as a sign of inhibition.

The poor, poor bastard.

“See, yew isn’t gonna hewt anybody, no yew isn’t! ‘Cause yew is just a widdwe bitty wetawd, yes you is!”

“… widdwe bitty wetawd, yes you is!” and that was the last thing that Tim the gardener heard as he was trotting away, before the sounds of shattering glass and splintered wood reached his ears. Shortly following the two was the sound of a squishy human body making heavy and painful impact at high speed with the ground, which, in turn, was followed by a rather large study desk and more broken glass.

“I warned you,” Tim the Scottish gardener muttered darkly to himself as he trotted away beneath the dim moonlight. “but did you listen to me? Oh, no, you knew, didn’t you? Oh, it’s just a harmless little bunny, isn’t it?”

The sounds of more heavy objects came out the window behind him, landing with heavy thuds atop a rather squishy human body.

The poor, poor bastard.

Chaos. Why is it always chaos?

Ryan found himself drifting in a half-sleep, whorls of color spinning about him. He couldn’t tell if he were inside Da Vinci’s drug fueled nightmares or a massive pile of vomit created by a child that had eaten too many different types of Play-dough.

“Ah, there you are. You certainly have a nasty habit of-“

“Nope,” Ryan answered immediately, and although he couldn’t seem to feel his body, his voice drifted ephemerally out from the direction he was looking in.

“… Excuse me?” the voice answered back, and for a split second, the whirling twirling whirlwind of chaos slowed, and through the gap Ryan could have sworn he saw a garden full of statues. A split second later, however, it was gone.

“Just point me toward the exit, buddy. I don’t have time for bullshit.” Ryan said to the voice. “I’ve had my fill of weird shit for one day, thank you. Unless this is hell, I mean. Because if it is, tell Satan he has got a lot of work to do. I mean, just look at this dump.”

The colors danced back and forth, and Ryan suddenly got the impression that he was the only one that could see them. Not only that, but they were obstructing his view. Of something… larger. The echoing voice laughed again, but not a cruel laugh. It sounded mildly amused, really. Whimsical, and yet…

There was something sinister about it.

It seemed like the laughter echoed on forever.

Laughter was the last thing Ryan heard as he was violently shoved back into consciousness. And, judging from the massive headache, he’d have preferred being sent to hell.

He tried prying open his eyes, only to find that an oil lamp had been placed near his head. He quickly closed them again, as the light was bright enough to blind him. He could still hear laughter; it sounded like someone far away, but it was quickly fading from his ears. From what he could tell from his single glimpse, it was still nighttime, although quite a bit of time had passed.

He found himself lying on his back on a rather comfortable sofa, and feeling his head with his fingertips revealed that there was a bit of blood on his hands. It felt like he’d gotten some nasty cuts on his chest and the back of his legs, too.

And after all the trouble he’d gone through getting the damned bandages off, he was going to need more.

He started to sit up without opening his eyes, only to find a hoof pushing him back down. “Now, now, Mister Gorilla. We wouldn’t want you hurting yourself anymore, now would we, Angel?”

At the sound of Fluttershy’s voice, he nearly emptied his bowels.

His eyes jerked back open, despite the pain. “Shit!” he exclaimed, struggling to get up, but the small rabbit launched itself onto his chest, knocking him back down. It stood on top of him like a conquered hill, pointing a half-eaten carrot in his face like a sword. It glared venomously at him, before Fluttershy shooed him away with a smile.

“Oh, now now, Angel,” she said softly. “I think it knows better than to go getting up again after I did my best trying to help it.”

Sweet Jesus, she named that demon?

“After all,” she continued, looking directly into Ryan’s eyes. And, needless to say, he suddenly felt more than a little vulnerable with her hoof still planted on his chest. “If it were to try to run away, Mister Gorilla might mysteriously find it’s legs broken, hmm? Then we’d have no choice but to take care of the poor thing, now isn’t that right?”

“… Hey, Flutter-bitch.” Ryan strained to say much more bravely than he felt. It was a little pony, for fuck’s sake. Then again, he was wrong about the rabbit… “You wouldn’t happen to be friends with a guy named Steven King, would you?”

He felt a sudden pressure on his chest, and they screamed out in pain. From the force with which he’d been chucked out the window, he guessed that the vorpal bunny might have fractured one of his ribs.

He slowly blacked out, the edges of his vision blurring, despite his best efforts to remain conscious. After as much damage as he’d just taken, though, it simply wasn’t possible. Darkness filled his vision, and he soon knew no more.

Ryan groaned, refusing to open his eyes.

What greeted him was the most wonderful, amazing smell in the world.

Freshly brewed coffee.

He felt the mattress underneath him shift as he moved. So nice of Clara to be making coffee, this early in the morning… after the little spat they had last night, he figured he wasn’t even going to see the morning. Arguing with a previous mental patient is never a good idea, really.

How did he end up in bed, anyway? After she tried to poison him, he could have sworn he remembered police and nurses involved…

No, it was just a bad dream. That call to Carlos had never happened. Victor still needed him today, he had so much to do… if only he could remember what it was. Tim would probably remind him…

Tiny Tim, in Children’s, or Tim the Gardener?

He didn’t know any gardeners, that was just a bad dream. Clara was making coffee, she wasn’t trying to kill him, everything was going to be fine. Just as soon as he could get to his cousins, maybe after that-

“Sleep well?” Fluttershy’s voice drifted to him. His eyes jerked open, and everything came flooding back to him in a – JESUS CHRIST SHE WAS STARING RIGHT AT HIM.

“FUCK KNUCKLES!” Ryan screamed, jerking away from Fluttershy, who had been mere inches from his face. And who knew for just how long she’d been watching him…? He soon discovered that leaping away was a bad idea, as he was still on the sofa, his legs dropping over the edge. His ribs burned in pain, and he grabbed them and tried to slow his breathing to ease the pain.

Much to his surprise and general discomfort, underneath his shirt, he felt fresh bandages. Not only that, but his head had been wrapped in clean bandages, much more neatly and carefully tied than the ones he had before. But that wasn’t what made him uncomfortable.

No, he was uncomfortable because he simultaneously discovered that he had bandages on his legs, beneath his makeshift pants.

He felt his face flush, and he glared at her. He wasn’t giving her the satisfaction of seeing him in pain. “Just fuckin’ dandy, thanks.” He said, peering around for the rabbit. As soon as he found that little bastard, he was going to mangle him. All the bunny had was the element of surprise, that’s the reason the little bunny kicked his ass. And nothing else.

It creeped him out, how she just continued about like nothing had even happened. A sweet, serene little smile on her face, and she occasionally whistled a happy tune. It took Ryan a while to figure out that he didn’t have to worry about Fluttershy springing any kind of trap.

He was pretty sure he’d already walked right into it.

When I get my hands on that guard-bunny… he thought vehemently. After a few minutes, he struggled to get to his feet and dragged himself into the dining area of the cottage. It was neatly lined with pots and pans, all sorts of vegetables and spices. Seeing a couple of metal pans of coffee simmering and steaming on the stove, Ryan grumbled and grabbed a tiny china cup. Fluttershy watched him from another room, but said nothing.

So, Fluttershy was going to play the nothing out of the ordinary, here card, then. Fine. Let her pretend things were normal. He was getting the fuck out of here, before he got killed. He dropped into one of the small wooden chairs, chugging back hot coffee as he did so.

Ryan almost immediately choked, spitting it out with a sputter.

He gagged at the taste, shaking his head violently to get it off of his tongue.

“Oh, my. Is something the matter, Mister Gorilla?” Fluttershy asked innocently as she trotted into the kitchen, wings tight at her side. Angel was still nowhere to be seen, which didn’t help matters.

“Hack! Blech! Christ, ‘the fuck do you think?” he spat, dropping the cup with a tink! “What kind of coffee is-“ he stopped short, looking into the bottom of the cup and finding a clump of tan fur. On further analysis, however, he discovered that it might have been originally white.

“Oh, now I see,” Fluttershy said quietly with a little grin. “you probably tried drinking Angel’s bath water. He likes hot baths in the mornings.”

It took all of Ryan’s strength not to vomit on the spot.

“Oh, ew.”

I couldn’t have said it better myself.

“Why the fuck didn’t you warn me?” he demanded, towering over her.

“Well, Mister Gorilla,” she said defensively, “maybe I might be more inclined to give warnings to those who aren’t such jerks to my close friends!”

He felt a rush of anger, and he clenched his fists before it hit him like a ton of bricks.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh.

So that’s what all this is about.

Ryan sighed, unclenching his fists and drooping a bit. He gingerly lowered himself onto one knee, stooping down enough to bring himself to eye level with the Yellow Menace. He looked her dead in the eye, and he insisted to himself that he’d never seen a stare so fierce as the one she was giving him. It took all his effort not to flinch from it.

“Look.” He said, staring right back. “No, I mean look at me.” and he placed his hands on her shoulders, trying to think of the best way to express himself.

“I know you don’t like me,” he started uncomfortably. “and as a matter of fact, from what your friends have probably told you, they don’t really like me much, either.”

Fluttershy was starting to look a little uncomfortable as well, and her wings pulled in tighter as she nervously stepped back and forth lightly.

“But I’m going to ask you to do one – one – thing for me. I will promise; you have my word, that I will never – never – hurt one of your friends. So long as you quit trying to make my life miserable. Okay?” he said, continuing the small staring contest the two were having. By this point, it wasn’t so much a staring contest as it was an awkward truce.

“How… how do I know you can keep your word?” she asked mistrustfully, standing her ground.

At any other time, Ryan would have laughed. She had a damned good point; his word wasn’t worth anything at all. However, Ryan meant what he said. He had absolutely no intention whatsoever of hurting any of these little ponies. He vowed that, the moment he knelt down in front of her.

Rabbits, on the other hand…

“… Okay. Here. Take this,” Ryan said, gently pulling out the small faded photograph as he dropped to the ground. The pain was making it unbearable to stay upright anymore, so he just sat and leaned against the kitchen wall, his legs sticking out oddly.

She held it in her hoof, as if it were a butterfly she were scared of frightening away. It puzzled Ryan to no end how she managed to open it with her hooves, but she did it with apparent ease.

“… Oh, my.” She said softly, and her eyes slightly less hard for a moment.

“… I want you to keep that.”

She gave him a confused look, gazing back at the photograph, then back at him.

“That’s… all I have left of them. Those two kids, in that picture? That’s my family, man. They’re all that’s left. And I gotta protect them,” Ryan said slowly, and the words felt alien passing his lips. Old memories resurfaced painfully, and he forgot the cuts and lacerations. Old wounds hurt the most.

“… I promised her I’d take care of her kids. And I did a damned poor job of doin’ it, too. And they’re a really, really long ways away from here. And right now, they need me to help them. That promise that I made you?” he said, taking her empty hoof in his hand and giving her a serious look.

“That promise means just as much to me as the other. And I promise, that I will do whatever it takes to protect those kids. Not just my family, but the ones here, too.”

Ohana means ‘family’, and all that jazz.

And family means nobody gets left behind, Twilight had finished for him.

For a while, the strange pair simply stared at each other before Fluttershy dropped her head. At first, Ryan thought that Yellow had some other snide comment, but when she brought her head back up, he saw that her eyes were glistening with tears.

Aw, crap.

Yes, it might be some stupid macho thing. But Ryan had never been able to tolerate seeing people cry, and especially not a girl. Pony or not. Hell, real or not. And he’d never forgive himself if he were the one that caused it.

She quickly rubbed them away with her free hoof, and folded the picture back up. After a couple of seconds, she unfolded it again and tacked it to the wall. She cleared her throat, saying, “This… this is really all you have left?”

“Aside from the clothes on my back, but really, I’d kind of like to keep those.”

Fluttershy let out a rare giggle, the wings on her side shivering a bit. He couldn’t figure out why her Cutie Mark was butterflies, and it hadn’t occurred to him before now.

“Well, you see…” she began slowly as she opened up one of the kitchen drawers. “Angel found this lying around not too long ago, and brought it back to me. I’ve never seen anything like it, so, maybe…” she left the end off, pulling out the last thing Ryan expected to see.

It certainly wasn’t cigarettes, but it was one step closer.

“My Zippo!” he cried happily, reaching out for it. “Aw, sweet!” he gave it a couple of flicks, and after a few tries, the familiar flame sprang up. Fluttershy jumped at the sight, surprised, but seemed to get over her initial shock after he closed the lid and stuck it in his pocket.

Fluttershy cleared her throat again, prancing back and forth a little uncomfortably, although she had a small smile on her face. And this time, Ryan wasn’t terrified of having his legs broken. He started to get to his feet, though he dropped back down again, letting out a grunt of pain as his hand shot to his ribs.

“Oh, careful!” she said, helping him to his feet. He placed his hand on her back for support, and gently lifted himself up.

“Nah, I’m good.” He said forcefully, clenching his teeth. “I’ll be fine. ‘Sides, I’ll bet Ora- uh, Applejack could use some help with that orchard of hers.”

Fluttershy quickly shook her head, her eyes hardening again. “Oh, no you don’t. You’re in no condition to-“

“Yeah, and whose fault is that?” Ryan said automatically, and seeing her drop her head in shame gave him a flare of guilt.

“… The fuckin’ rabbit, that’s whose.” Ryan chuckled, cracking his knuckles. “Just wait till I find that little bastard; I’ll give him a run for his money!” he said overoptimistically, punching the air like a boxer. Of course, that had to be the precise moment that a familiar little white rabbit stalked coolly into the kitchen, a tiny wet brown towel thrown over one shoulder.

Of all the stupid things Ryan had ever done...

“Uh… Hi, Angel.” Ryan said weakly.

The poor, poor bastard.

Author's Notes:

Another special thanks to all the likes, comments, favorites, and recommendations. You guys are awesome.