Gray and dreary.

That was the swiftest way to describe Joan’s average life.

The whole day just seemed bland and ordinary, flat and boring.

Joan hated the city life, what with its constant repetitive bustling and looming steel skyscrapers, their eternally watchful gaze following her wherever she went. It was like she didn’t even really exist anymore; just another insect in the anthill, steadily shuffling forward toward her next objective, never really gaining any momentum.

Joan always felt the same. Like there was something not quite right, like there was just something missing. A hole in her heart, something that was wrong, but she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

She promised herself that she’d solve the problem eventually.

All she had to do was save up money, first.

That was all.

She’d do it, too. Joan already had a small nest egg set aside in her bank account, one that she carefully added to with her every opportunity. It was her travel fund, her next big objective. She was going to save up enough money, and then she would travel the globe. France, Egypt, Africa, England, Spain. She’d collect postcards to add to her small collection, even. Joan would see them all, and she could at last escape this monotonous life and build something better for herself.

No more gray and dreary for Joan. No, sir.

Even though she picked up her feet at the thought, other things hadn’t exactly picked up as quickly as she’d expected after college. But at least she managed to keep the rent paid by designing websites.

Joan took another sip of her thin coffee through the Styrofoam lid, keeping up her even pace as she traveled down the sidewalk back to her apartment. Pulling her scarf a little tighter around her neck to stave off the early November chill after a morning rain and thankfully hugging the cup of hot liquid a little closer, Joan almost missed the strangled cry.

At first, she thought she’d been mistaken.

A freshly wet and nearly empty sidewalk, aside from herself. Joan began walking again just a moment before she heard it once more.

It was the wail of a baby.

Curiously, Joan peered about for the source of the noise, but found nothing. It took her nearly a full minute of listening intently to the crying before she finally discovered that it was coming from a rain gutter along the sidewalk.

In panic, Joan quickly placed her cup of coffee on the concrete and dropped to her knees, and stared into the gutter.

Silently, Joan’s mouth dropped open in surprise at the impossible sight before her.

There, dangling in terror from the gutter grate, sopping wet and hysterical, was a little yellow pegasus.

The stunning realization of what was happening almost paralyzed her for a moment. Of course, she’d seen the show. She was a fan of My Little Pony for years. Something like this didn’t just happen – well, right up until this point, obviously.

The filly Fluttershy screamed again as she slipped, and Joan darted into the grate to grab her. The little filly almost slipped from her cold fingers, and Joan slithered halfway through the grate before she managed to grasp Fluttershy in both hands.

“Easy, it’s okay, it’s okay!” Joan huffed soothingly as she carefully retracted, cradling the filthy pony in her arms. Fluttershy stared up at her in fear and confusion, which Joan greeted with a warm hug and holding her close to her chest. She wrapped her tightly within her jacket, softly rubbing her head and speaking in what she hoped was a calm tone in order to quiet the weeping filly.

“You’re gonna be okay, honey. It’s all right, I’ve got you now. You’re gonna be okay,” Joan said over and over again, her coffee long forgotten as she carefully hid Fluttershy and swiftly made her way back to her apartment.

The poor thing.

Joan picked a bit of filth out of Fluttershy’s pink mane, gently scrubbing with a wet cloth as the filly sat uncomfortably in the warm sink water.

She could only imagine what would have happened to Fluttershy if she hadn’t been there to pull her out of the grate in time. Then again, she didn’t particularly want to imagine it.

Thankfully, Fluttershy had stopped crying after a while, resorting only to small sniffles and miserable hiccups. A pang shuddered through Joan’s chest as she watched the filly try to rub her eyes, and promptly began crying again when she accidentally got soap in them.

“Hang on, baby,” Joan rinsed the filly quickly, proceeding to dry her off and clear her eyes. “Don’t cry, baby. Don’t cry, I’ve got you. It’s okay.”

She rocked Fluttershy back and forth slowly as she paced through the kitchen, trying her best to be consoling. It didn’t matter how she cooed or hummed, Fluttershy still wound up crying again eventually.

Think, Joan. Think.

She blinked, and felt like kicking herself.

Baby. Crying. Food.

“Duh,” she said aloud, rolling her eyes. “I’ll bet you’re hungry, aren’t you, Fluttershy?”

Upon saying her name, the foal quieted her loud cries. Fluttershy stared with wide, brilliant blue eyes at Joan tearfully, but said nothing. Although it was more likely that she simply couldn’t speak yet, she wondered if Fluttershy might just be too afraid to do anything other than cry.

“We’re going to get you some food, okay, Fluttershy?” Joan said deliberately, her eyes lingering on the filly before she began to root about in the refrigerator. The filly showed no sign of recognition of anything she was saying, so Joan set about warming some milk.

She couldn’t just toss her back out into the street.

“Here we go,” she said finally as the milk was warmed, and she fished about the cabinets for a small cup or bowl. Joan lived alone, and she didn’t have any baby bottles…

What would she do to make sure Fluttershy had enough food?

The thought struck her rather hard as she ever so slowly cooled the liquid with her breath, giving small bits of it to Fluttershy at a time and dabbing up what was spilled with the cloth. She was going to need bottles, obviously.

What would she do about other necessities? What about diapers? For some reason, this Fluttershy was the equivalent of a baby; how was Joan expected to take care of her?

A little sense of panic crawled through her as Fluttershy noisily struggled with the milk. She didn’t take very much of it, and much of it wound up accidentally spilling onto Joan’s shirt; although at this point, Joan wasn’t particularly bothered by clothing. Thinking, Joan continued rocking her back and forth until she finally fell asleep.

With furrowed brows, Joan quietly placed the little filly on her sofa and covered her to her chin with a thin sheet from the linen closet. It didn’t take long for her to resume her pacing in the kitchen, so as to avoid waking the filly.

Occasionally, Joan would poke her head in through the doorway, as if to check if Fluttershy were really still there. Every time she did so she felt a little silly, but Fluttershy didn’t move from the couch.

Fluttershy.

Just a little foal.

A pony.

In her house.

What was she supposed to do now?

Joan mentally kicked herself, her thoughts heavy. She didn’t know how to care for a baby. She was barely out of her teens, for crying out loud.

But who was she supposed to turn to? Where was she expected to go for help – or even advice – on raising a talking pony?

Joan paused for a moment, taking a seat at the table and rubbing her eyes.

Ridiculous. She was already considering raising Fluttershy.

But what other option did she have? She couldn’t simply throw the foal back onto the street.

Well, technically, she could, but it would be almost certain death for Fluttershy. Joan simply didn’t have the trust for her fellow human beings to keep Fluttershy’s best interests at heart. There were an entire slew of dangers out there, and Joan shuddered at the thought of exposing the filly to even a single one of them. Her head clasped in her hands as she thought, Joan let out a heavy sigh and let her forehead fall against the cool table, where it rested for a long while. She had to do something.

Joan once more peeked into the living room at the small pony, curled up pathetically beneath the thin sheet. Her tiny breaths made the sheet rise slowly every now and then, but aside from that, Fluttershy finally looked somewhat… peaceful.

… No.

No, Joan couldn’t bring herself to abandon her.

She was going to take care of this filly.

And as Joan watched the sleeping foal in front of her eyes, she made a silent vow to herself watch over Fluttershy; to do more than that, to do more than provide. She knew that the risk of exposure to the outside world was dangerous enough. Joan had to do exactly what she’d done when she’d pulled the crying foal from the gutter.

Joan was going to give Fluttershy another chance at life.

“Butterfly.”

That was Fluttershy’s first word.

Joan remembered how she’d grown nearly hysterical when the winged insect had fluttered in through the open window, carried by a warm spring breeze. The little butterfly had flittered inside, bright blue wings flapping about as Fluttershy stared at it in wonderment.

It twirled about for a couple of minutes as her gaze followed it through the room, until it eventually settled on the tip of her muzzle. Fluttershy gasped in awe of the tiny thing, crossing her eyes to look at it more carefully and stood stock still.

Joan, having finally managed to sit down for a while, watched in bemusement. Fluttershy’s utter bewilderment at the insect made her smile, although she didn’t quite know why. It took Joan nearly an entire beat before she realized what had just happened.

“… Fluttershy!” she stuttered. “You – first word!” Joan blathered, sitting up suddenly. “I – prepared for – camera!”

Joan scrambled for one of the drawers, giggling. “I should have thought ahead, baby – I wasn’t thinking!” she rambled, digging out the old disposable camera and giving it a couple of useless shakes before managing to finally get it working again. The flash startled Fluttershy, making the butterfly flap away from her.

Fluttershy laughed when it flew upward, dancing around her head.

It gave them both a much needed smile; after the long winter Joan had experienced, trying desperately to raise a filly without anyone knowing. As it turned out, taking care of a baby wasn’t quite as simple as ‘give it milk, rock it to sleep’. Joan spent many a wakeful night, tending to the seemingly constantly crying Fluttershy.

The amount of short term research and work it had taken to find out exactly how to take care of a filly had been difficult enough, but at least Fluttershy managed to stay healthy and warm throughout the winter, even though the walls were thin. She mostly regretted taking on an extra job as a nurse’s assistant, as that meant leaving Fluttershy alone for longer periods of time. However, as she grew, the extra money helped to cover proper food expenses cleaning materials required for Fluttershy.

The smile on Fluttershy’s face slowly faded as the insect silently departed through the open window, and she watched it go with an outstretched hoof and a pained expression.

“… Fly away, butterfly,” she said rather sadly.

And watching Fluttershy staring forlornly out the window, ruffling her own wings unhappily, Joan almost thought that her heart would break all over again.

Joan was very careful about Fluttershy’s education.

No sooner had Fluttershy discovered the ‘wonder’ of speech that the questions began. Honestly, Joan had been dreading them for quite a while; however, the majority of Fluttershy’s questions seemed to be benign.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, Fluttershy?” Joan replied sleepily, taking a sip of her morning coffee. She hadn’t slept well the night before, as she’d been up looking for newer lodgings. It seemed like she’d never find anything at this rate…

“How come fishies don’t come out of the water?”

“Because they have gills, Fluttershy. They can only breathe underwater.”

“Mommy?”

“Yes, Fluttershy.”

“How come the bears don’t have houses, too?” she inquired as she clambered upon the rickety wooden chair opposite of Joan.

“… You were watching Animal Planet again, weren’t you, Fluttershy.”

It wasn’t so much of a question as it was a statement, and Fluttershy’s distracted shuffling gave her all the answer she needed. Joan smiled, however. It was good that she at least had some questions, and wasn’t simply drooling in front of the television.

That didn’t mean she wasn’t going to try to regulate it more often, though.

“Mommy?”

“Yes, Fluttershy.”

“How come the other ponies don’t have wings?”

Joan actually stopped mid-drink on that one, and very, very slowly placed her slightly cracked mug of coffee on the table. She quietly rubbed her eyes, and pensively placed her fingers together in the form of a steeple. Joan took a long, steady breath, and took her time answering Fluttershy’s question.

“Well. I’m going to assume that you saw that on television,” Joan began gradually, and Fluttershy nodded.

“They look real funny, too. They can’t fly like that. And how come they never talk?”

Joan took in another deep breath, steeling herself.

“… Honey, those ponies you saw are… different.”

“Different how?” Fluttershy asked curiously, tilting her head slightly in confusion.

“Um, you see…” Joan said, uncertain of how to go about answering delicately. “They aren’t, uh… intelligent ponies, like you are. They’re wild animals.”

“Wild?”

“They only have basic, simple animal instincts and intellect. They’re not actually… you know. Self-aware.”

Fluttershy sat at the table for a while, thinking.

“… What does that mean?”

“They don’t really understand or comprehend or question. They’re kind of like cows, but run faster.”

“What’s a cow?” Fluttershy asked. Joan mentally kicked herself for thinking that the television was a suitable source of education, and vowed to rectify that.

“It’s what goes in a hamburger.”

No sooner had she said it that Joan instantly regretted it.

Fluttershy’s mouth dropped open in horror, a look of disgust flittering across her small features.

“They put animals in food?!”

“Baby, some people are, uh, omnivorous. That means that they eat vegetables like we do and meat. They aren’t bad people for eating meat,” Joan said nervously. “I promise.”

“… Is that how come you won’t take me to the food place with the clown?”

Joan massaged her temples, thinking. So many questions, every single day.

Seeing that her makeshift mother didn’t immediately answer her question, Fluttershy surprised her by falling silent. It was obvious that she was troubled, but Joan really didn’t know how to console her.

“… Mommy?”

Hoo, boy.

“Yes, Fluttershy?” Joan sighed, taking another drink of her now-cold coffee.

“When do I get to fly, too?”

Joan didn’t answer for a long time.

“… I’ve got to get back to work, Fluttershy,” Joan said deliberately as she eyed the small clock on the wall. “I already made you a lunch, it’s in the fridge. Are you going to be okay by yourself?” she asked for the umpteenth time.

“Yes, mommy.” Fluttershy hung her head a little, and the sharp pang jolted in Joan’s heart again, seeing her so distraught.

As she slipped her jacket on, Joan knelt down in front of Fluttershy to give her a goodbye hug.

“Hey. Tell you what,” Joan pressed her forehead against Fluttershy’s lightly. “How about after I get off from work, me and you go to the park today?”

“Really?” Fluttershy perked up immediately. “Today? Really? You mean it?”

“As soon as I get home. Okay?”

Fluttershy nodded furiously, her smile widening.

“Okay! I’ll make you a postcard, so that you can put ‘nother one on the refridgerator when you get back!”

Joan gave her a smile and a light kiss on the cheek, and set about leaving.

“Bye, mommy. I love you.”

Joan’s fingers trembled slightly over the doorhandle.

“I love you too, Fluttershy.”

“I’m doing it! Look! Look, mommy! I’m doing it!” Fluttershy squeaked in excitement as she flapped strenuously.

“You go, baby!” Joan cheered her on as she struggled to stay airborne for a full five seconds. “You got it!”

Of course, Fluttershy barely managed to keep in the air any longer than that before she panicked and clutched her wings tightly to her sides, sending her spiraling into the ground. She cried out as she landed, scraping her legs.

Joan rushed to her side, scooping her up and carefully inspecting the damage. Fear blasted through Joan at the thought of her little Fluttershy accidentally breaking a leg or wing.

“Did you see that, mommy?” Fluttershy asked breathlessly, her wide grin completely overriding the pain of having fallen. “I was flying! I was flying, mommy!”

“I know!” Joan half beamed, wiping away the tears of panic. “A-all by yourself, too!”

Of course, Joan was equally glad that Fluttershy hadn’t collapsed into a puddle of tears as she’d expected her to from scraping her knees. She felt a small sense of pride at her brave little filly.

The time they spent at the wooded park felt far too short for the both of them, but especially to Fluttershy. Joan was especially careful to make sure that nobody else was around, and made Fluttershy hide in her jacket both to and from the park.

She occasionally wondered what she would do when Fluttershy began getting even bigger. Joan hated seeing Fluttershy so unhappy about so rarely being able to stretch her wings and really fly.

Of course, that was what taking on the extra workloads were for.

Fifteen years.

It had taken Joan fifteen years, constant trials and struggles to keep Fluttershy hidden from the world and well provided for. After a while, Joan had finally managed to obtain a doctorate through classes and courses, in addition to her other jobs. It wasn’t what she’d planned on doing; she’d even stayed in the same city for over a decade and a half.

However, it helped to provide for Fluttershy.

And that meant more to her than anything else.

Joan and Fluttershy traveled down the dusty dirt road, silently watching the world turn past them.

It had taken so much work, and it had taken so long, but Joan had finally done it.

She finally found a little home out in the middle of nowhere, a place where Fluttershy could fly unimpeded.

“Mom?”

“Hmm?” Joan hummed, rolling down the window a bit further. It was significantly warmer the further south they traveled, but at least it was better than the constant cold.

“Are we almost there?” Fluttershy stretched awkwardly, the seat of the car pushing uncomfortably against her back.

“It’s… right up there,” Joan pointed out on the left, squinting at the brick farmhouse.

It took them a few more minutes to drive out to the empty place, and a few extra to begin unpacking. However, their new home was unlocked and almost ready when Joan spotted Fluttershy edging about nervously.

“So… can I do it now?” the pegasus asked finally, head flickering back and forth over the clear fields of waving green. “Can I fly now?”

Joan gave her a small hug, and said “Remember – don’t panic! If you fall, tuck and roll; and be careful of altitude! Rem-”

She barely spoke before Fluttershy squealed in excitement, darting into the air and flapping mightily to gain height. Worriedly, Joan watched her rise and soar at last through the air, listening to her laugh as her warnings of caution died on her lips.

Even though it brought a smile to Joan’s face to see her little Fluttershy flying free and happy at last, it still made her heart ache. She’d fought against it for a long time, but there came a time when one simply had to stop worrying so much and begin cutting the apron strings.

Her little Fluttershy was growing up.

They had a fun night.

“And then-” Fluttershy said breathlessly, “and then, the whole flock of birds just came out of nowhere! Did you see, Mom?”

“I did, Fluttershy,” Joan grinned, rolling the last bit of paint over the new living room walls. “You certainly looked like you were having fun.”

“It was so exhilarating!” she said quickly, wiping her face and accidentally getting a few specks across her cheeks. “I mean, it was scary, at first, but I was doing it! I was really flying! Can we do that every day?”

Joan used a damp cloth to clean some of the paint from Fluttershy’s face.

“Of course, hon. Every day. Now, what do you say we go wash up and treat ourselves to some veggie pizza?” Joan stretched, dusting her own hands off and admiring their handiwork. It had taken some effort, but the place was looking more and more homely.

Fluttershy nodded enthusiastically, helping Joan put away the remaining paint.

And, for one of the few times in her life, Joan finally felt a modicum of satisfaction.

The healthy glow on Fluttershy’s cheeks, the roomy and spacious new home that had taken so much work to obtain. More than that, it tickled Joan pink that Fluttershy seemed to smile so much more.

Of course, all good things must eventually come to an end.

It started quietly, at first. The two of them paused simultaneously as all of the lights flickered at once, and a high-pitched buzzing filled the air.

“… Mom?” Fluttershy whispered uncertainly.

Before Joan had time to reply, a rippling violet spark burst through the air, giving the impression of a large bubble temporarily forging its way into existence.

And there, standing before her with a sudden flash, stood Twilight Sparkle.

Both Joan and Fluttershy stood stock still, mouths hanging agape in fascination and shock.

“… Well,” Twilight finally coughed into her hoof nervously, straightening herself up. “That went better than expected.”

“Twilight Sparkle?” Joan blabbed incredulously.

“She’s… she’s like me!” Fluttershy stuttered, staring at the light purple unicorn. The first other talking pony she'd ever seen.

Twilight, looking thoroughly confused, gave Joan a hard glare.

“How do you know my name?”

Fluttershy stared up at Joan as well, and asked “Do… do you two know each other?”

Joan fumbled against the wall, sitting down in the old armchair. It felt like her legs were about to give out beneath her.

Twilight shook her head, and said “Come on, Fluttershy. The others are waiting.”

When the pegasus wasn’t forthcoming, Twilight’s confusion only grew.

“… Fluttershy?”

“How do you know my name?” Fluttershy narrowed her eyes suspiciously, moving closer to Joan. Joan, however, was holding her head in her hands, and barely even registered it.

“… Oh, no.”

A pained expression flittered across Twilight’s face for a moment as she looked back and forth between Joan and Fluttershy.

“I was afraid of this,” Twilight hung her head sadly, and Joan finally looked up.

“Afraid of what?” she inquired slowly, protectively hugging Fluttershy more closely to her body.

“It’s a long story,” the unicorn responded, sitting down heavily. “And I guess it’s a good thing you’re sitting down.”

Twilight began her tale of how Fluttershy had been accidentally caught in the experimental spell conglomeration of Starswirl the Bearded’s time travel spell and teleportation. Her friends, and nearly all of Ponyville, had been in a near hysterical panic when Fluttershy vanished off the face of Equestria. Even Princess Celestia had personally stepped in to help track her down.

In return, Joan told her of how she had discovered Fluttershy as a foal, freezing and struggling to stay alive in a rain gutter. She told her of how she’d raised Fluttershy as if she were her own, of how they’d stayed low-key, and how they’d finally managed to have their own home out in the countryside.

After all was said and done, Fluttershy looked uncertainly between the unicorn and Joan, as if unsure of what to believe.

“Mom?”

Twilight blatantly cringed when Fluttershy spoke, but didn’t speak.

“… Yeah, Fluttershy.” Joan answered quietly, hardly able to raise her voice above a croak.

“What’s going to happen now?”

Thankfully, Twilight intervened. Joan really didn’t know what would happen next, but she had a pretty good idea. And she didn’t like it at all.

“Fluttershy,” the unicorn said with some difficulty. “You – you can’t stay here.”

“What?” Joan looked mortified. “No! You can’t just… just take her away!” she insisted, fighting back the stream of hot tears stinging her eyes.

“Miss… Joan,” Twilight said very seriously, unfamiliar with the name. “I understand that you’re considerably upset-“

“Upset? Upset?!” Joan cried. “You can’t just – I can’t…!”

Twilight looked horribly uncomfortable in front of the openly weeping woman, but continued regardless.

“Fluttershy’s disappearance caused a rip in the space-time continuum,” she explained. “that she was translocated in conjunction with a specific point of singularity.”

“I-I don’t understand,” Fluttershy looked at her ‘friend’ in confusion, trying to fight back her own tears as she comforted her crying mother.

“That singularity point,” Twilight went on, “introduced an entirely alternate timeline to a previously nonexistent sector. The only possible way to prevent a collision of the two timelines, and possibly the end of your universe itself, is to return to the point of singularity and remove the alternating variables.”

“… You can’t be serious,” Joan choked, feeling like a golf ball had lodged itself in her throat.

Twilight hung her head, and simplified her explanation.

“We have to make it so that this never even occurred.”

There was a long, painful silence, in which Joan could only hold Fluttershy close as the two of them cried miserably.

“Don’t worry, Mommy,” Fluttershy forced a smile, giving Joan one last hug. “… I’ll send you a postcard.”

France.

Egypt.

Africa.

England.

Spain.

Joan traveled the world, as soon as she saved up enough money after college.

It had taken a lot of hard work, but she’d finally done it.

However, with each new country and every new sight, Joan couldn’t help but feel… off.

Joan always felt the same. Like there was something not quite right, like there was just something missing. A hole in her heart, something that was wrong, but she just couldn’t quite put her finger on it.

But she swore she’d solve the problem eventually.

Along her travels, Joan met many people. However, the empty feeling never left her, and she always wound up sabotaging her relationships, incapable of keeping anything steady for longer than a little while.

But at least there was always somewhere new to travel.

Before long, Joan began to feel as if she were simply running out the clock, doing the same thing over and over again. Joan grew old in her travels, and eventually settled down in a rickety little farmhouse out in the middle of nowhere.

And every day was the same.

Cold. Gray. Alone.

However, Joan managed to keep upbeat, regardless of how life seemed.

Any time she felt down, Joan would hobble over to a little drawer that she’d filled to the brim with postcards, and with trembling hands, slowly rifle through them all one by one.

Every single one of them were signed by someone named ‘Fluttershy’, and for the rest of her life, Joan had no idea why seeing them made her cry so hard.

Author's Notes:

I don't do sad stories very often, and I greatly appreciate your feedback.