William trudged through the drizzle miserably, arms clutched tightly to his side.

The misty rain fell lightly over him, cold enough to give him a chill. He shivered and pulled his wet clothes tighter around himself, bitterly cursing his lack of foresight for not thinking of an umbrella. Such a thing was unheard of for William; he did not forget easily.

He sneezed quietly, stumbling toward his home.

William was glad that he had decided to leave the Cutie Mark Crusaders early, despite their protests. Had he remained behind, he likely would have been caught in the rain much longer. Scootaloo kindly offered to let him stay in their clubhouse with them until the rain blew over, but he was adamant; he had a schedule to keep, and had promised Rainbow Dash that he would return before long.

But mostly, he found Sweetie Belle’s voice nigh intolerable.

And besides; with as much as he had heard about these ‘Elements’, he was surprised that nobody had mentioned them to him before. If anything, it only reinvigorated his desire to discover more about the innermost workings of magic.

William sneezed into the crook of his arm more forcefully, and wiped water from his face as he approached the quaint little house that had been constructed such a short time ago. He looked forward to pulling himself inside, making himself cozy and sitting down with a good book or two before filling his journal once again; however, something he heard made him stop at the doorstep.

“Because, Dashie – that’s insane!”

William recognized the voice of Pinkie Pie rather easily through the rain; he didn’t think that he had ever heard her quite so distressed, though. He pressed his ear carefully against the door, screwing up his eyes in concentration and cupping his ear to catch every word.

“No, you don’t understand,” he heard the unexpectedly quavering voice of his adoptive mother. “He’s back, Pinkie. He’s back…!”

“Dashie – Dashie, put that down! – Dashie, look at me. Look at me, baby. It’s over – it’s over, okay? I’m here. I’m here for you, Dashie. It’s okay.”

“No, Pinkie – you don’t get it!” Dash’s voice grew louder, more upset.

“I got better; you have to, too! You promised, Dashie! You promised me!”

“The eyes, I’m telling you, he’s back!”

“Put that down! It’s over, Dashie. They’re different; you have to know that they’re different… right?”

William slowly peeled away from the wooden door in confusion, the cold rain long forgotten.

What was over? If he didn’t know any better, he could have sworn that he heard the sound of…

Crying.

William felt a sudden, unexpected twinge of worry for his adoptive mother’s wellbeing coupled with a tingling sense of dread, and he slowly pushed the door and allowed it to swing silently open.

“Mother, are you well?”

Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie froze, heads snapping toward him.

Tears were plainly streaming down Dash’s muzzle, and as Pinkie Pie held her as they stood in the small kitchen, William noticed that her own eyes appeared nearly as wet as Rainbow Dash’s.

“… Is everything alright?” William asked slowly, suddenly feeling highly uncomfortable.

“Fi-fine,” Pinkie Pie cleared her throat suddenly, giving Rainbow Dash one last careful squeeze before furiously rubbing her face. She forced a large smile, beaming at William. It was a false, hollow thing; like looking upon a glass dove.

“Everything’s fine,” she laughed humorlessly, pulling Rainbow Dash into another hug. “Dashie and me were just-just going over the good ol’ days. Right, Dashie?”

“Pinkie.”

“Good times, I tell ya’. Good –”

“Get out, Pinkie Pie.”

William internally cringed at the sight before him as Rainbow Dash quietly shed herself of the pink mare. In that moment, William had never thought that he had ever seen anyone, pony or otherwise, look so completely and utterly heartbroken.

Pinkie Pie ever so slowly slipped away, hurt eyes still locked on Dash as she did so; and when she did, William almost could have sworn that a disturbing physical change had suddenly overcome her. She paused for the longest time, conflicted.

“… Okay, Dashie. I-I’ll go.”

Pinkie Pie wordlessly slid over the floor toward the door like a phantom, her face pale and pained. Her expression only grew sadder as she approached the sopping wet boy, and she leaned in for a quick little hug before leaving.

“If you ever need anything – anything – at all, you know where to find your Auntie Pinkie Pie… okay?” she asked tonelessly.

William’s first instinct was to sullenly inform her that she wasn’t really his aunt, but by the tired, suffering expression on her face, William merely nodded.

Pinkie bit her tongue and did the same, the door latching almost noiselessly behind her as she vanished into the rain.

For a while, William simply stood silently in front of the door, dripping water onto the floor as he struggled to process what had just happened. He sneezed into the crook of his arm again, and shook his head.

“William,” Rainbow Dash said quietly, her voice carrying through the air to him with an odd tint to it. Her face was emotionless as the walls themselves.

He almost jumped at the noise, and silently scolded himself for doing so.

“Yes, Miss Dash.”

“… You’re dripping water all over the floor, William,” she said quietly after a few seconds, the hard tinge in her eyes replaced with a softer look.

“Yes, Miss Dash,” William swiftly began struggling with his shoes, straining to empty them of water.

He almost didn’t notice when Rainbow Dash knelt beside him with a large towel, and he fought the urge to jump again.

His fears were unwarranted, as she gave a low chuckle.

“Strip.”

“… I’m-I'm sorry?” William said uneasily.

“Your clothes,” Rainbow Dash nodded toward his dripping clothing. “You’re soaking wet. Strip,” she said again, and began to assist him in removing the wet articles. She tilted his arms high over his head with her wingtips, using her teeth to slowly peel his clothes piece by piece. She wrapped him in the towel comfortably, rubbing the top of his small head to clear the dampness from his hair.

“There,” she said finally, giving him a small hug. Dash pulled him close to her, holding him tightly for a long, long while, to the point where William began to grow antsy from the sheer length.

Eventually, she released him, and patted him lovingly on the head.

“You go get a hot bath, mast-mister,” she corrected herself, and William noted the plastic smile so similar to Pinkie Pie’s.

“Yes, Miss Dash.”

He tottered off through the house quietly, pattering across the floorboards at high speed.

Rainbow Dash sighed to herself, giving herself a little shake.

Maybe she shouldn’t have been so harsh on her friend. After all, Pinkie had always been there for her; maybe she really was just trying to do what was best. Rainbow Dash rubbed her red and puffy eyes, and cleared her throat again as she put things away. Perhaps she should give Pinkie Pie the benefit of the doubt.

Her sudden mood change hadn’t just come for no reason, and even she knew that.

It had taken her a while for it to truly sink in, and the moment it did so, all of her anger that she so desperately clung to slowly began to slip out of her grasp. Eventually, she was left feeling tired and sad… probably much like Pinkie Pie did right now. Rainbow Dash shook away the sliver of regret, a small smile tugging at her lips regardless as she listened to the sound of hot water running.

He had called her Mother.

Journal of William Zachariah Klaskovsky

Day 15 –

It only goes to show how very little I truly know about this new world and its inhabitants.

I have failed.

Whereas I had been so sure of myself previously, so confident in my affirmations that I possessed the intellectual foothold to accurately and efficiently handle anything and everything tossed my way, it would appear that I have been once again knocked down a peg.

Perhaps this is a good thing, ultimately. I have been reading over my previous entries, and I am loathe to admit that my overwhelming egotism brings a modicum of disgust to me. To become overconfident is to become placid and weak; and this is something that I simply cannot allow if I wish to remain sharp.

As of this point forward, I shall attempt to maintain a semblance of humility the likes of which the world has never seen.

Carrying on.

Following the themes of debasing humility, I must also state that I fully intend to apologize to the girls.

Looking back on this sentence, it repulses me slightly that I have already begun referring to them, those octave-confused witches, so cordially. I am normally not so quick to make friends with anyone.

Actually, in hindsight, aside from Ronald, I technically had no friends. I suppose that this is a greater likelihood for my recent small changes, rather than my underlying phobia that these creatures are slowly beginning to condition me with putrid amounts of love and friendliness.

I am not, nor have I ever been accused of being, a sentimentalist.

I digress; this fever causes my thoughts to wander.

I sincerely do feel a shred of regret for the way that I treated the girls. I am a supposed gentleman, after all. I positively dashed that reputation against the rocks by this point, but there may be a small chance of salvaging what I may and reinforcing my alliances.

Carrying on.

I have always been rather frail, but I wonder if the atmosphere here may be affecting my immune system. It appears that I can barely manage to make a single trek in the rain without succumbing to the vicious whips of the common cold.

Yesterday, I happened upon a rather bizarre occurrence. I believe that Miss Dash and Miss Pie may have had a falling out at some point or another during my absence, but for the life of me, I cannot decipher the reason. I again attribute this to my clouded head.

Out, damned cold!

Out, I say!

In conclusion, I believe that Miss Dash may perhaps be suffering from some form of depression or anxiety attacks, but I could be wrong. In retrospect, her symptoms bely forms of post traumatic stress disorder rather than anything; in some ways, this is cause for more fear.

Part of myself, the illogical and emotional lower brain, wishes it true that Miss Dash honestly does have my best intentions at heart.

But the rationality staring me in the face as to precisely why she insisted on sleeping in the same bed as me whilst travailing with a cold and stark naked leaves me confused more than anything else.

Again, I suspect that Miss Dash may not be completely in command of her every mental faculty, but I dread so much as touching the subject.

To my knowledge, she is (hopefully) unaware that I observed her putting away the knives.

Regardless –

Fluttershy knocked against the front door yet again, patiently waiting. A tiny bit of hope remained that Rainbow Dash wouldn’t open the door, and Fluttershy could simply go home and say that she gave it her all, and then there would be no fear of confrontation. But then she would be breaking her promise…

Fortunately, before long, a slightly disheveled Rainbow Dash tugged the front door open, and she was silently thankful to see that the pegasus was smiling peacefully and holding a cup of coffee in one hoof.

“Morning, Fluttershy,” Rainbow Dash said quietly after a single sneeze, taking a sip of her black brew.

“O-oh, um, good morning, Rainbow Dash,” Fluttershy began anxiously, tugging at the tips of her pink mane. “I-I was just, um, you know… stop-stopping by to see how, um, how you were doing…” she slowly petered off, and stood silently beneath the suddenly cold gaze of Rainbow Dash.

Rainbow Dash wasn’t stupid.

It didn’t take her very long to guess that Pinkie Pie had sent her.

At first, Rainbow Dash made to close the door on her friend, but she slowly took in a deep breath, reciting lines from her training. Plus, it would have just been rude. She failed to give Pinkie Pie the benefit of the doubt the day before, and this was the fallout; she would simply have to deal with it and talk sense into Pinkie later.

If one could talk sense into Pinkie Pie, that is.

“Come on in, Flutters,” Rainbow Dash nodded eventually, not noticing the tiny breath of relief that Fluttershy let out. “Mind your step; or it might just be me, I’m still not used to living ground level, if you know what I mean.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Fluttershy said enthusiastically, secretly glad that Dash was already appearing in a better mood. Maybe Pinkie hadn’t sent her into the lion’s den, after all.

She made to shut the wooden door behind her, only to find it blocked by the hoof of one very out of breath Scootaloo.

Surprised, Fluttershy blanched as the filly stared up at her through the partially closed doorway.

“Ouch,” Scootaloo grinned breathlessly as her hoof was caught in the door, and Fluttershy quickly reopened it.

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Fluttershy pulled the door open even faster, as if that could undo it. Scootaloo merely smiled wider, ignoring the butter colored pegasus’s profuse apologies.

“Hi, Rainbow Dash!” Scootaloo waved ecstatically to the unkempt and clearly unamused blue bathrobe clad Rainbow Dash, who took another sip of her coffee as reply.

After a few seconds of silence, Scootaloo awkwardly asked “Um… can-can I come in?”

From the look on her face and the sound of her voice, Rainbow Dash almost suspected that she was attempting to do a poor imitation of Fluttershy. Again, she fought the urge to usher the filly from her home, but simply let out a long sigh. It was never quite as simple dodging the little fan, and it was certain to be harder now that she had moved to the earth instead of the convenient cloud house over Ponyville.

“Sure,” Rainbow Dash said dryly, taking another sip. “But just so you know, he’s sick.”

Scootaloo was in the process of wiping her feet on the front mat and closing the door excitedly behind her.

“Hmm?” she tilted her head. “O-oh! Oh, uh… yeah,” Scootaloo’s cheeks lit up a little. “H-here to see, um… William. Yeah.”

“Oh, the poor dear is sick?” Fluttershy suddenly asked concernedly. “I wish I would have known; I know this great natural remedy for a lot of fevers. You see, you start with willow bark –”

Scootaloo drowned out the voice of the elder pegasus with a quiet groan as she traveled down the hall toward what she suspected were bedrooms. What she really wanted to do was spend some time with her idol, but it would just make her look selfish again if she didn’t at least say hello to William. Her suspicions proved to be accurate, as at the end of the hall, one of the doors stood slightly ajar, and she could hear a light snuffling within.

She didn’t bother knocking, barging directly in.

William, who was half unclothed and partially tucked beneath several layers of blankets, jumped as she entered. Scootaloo had to fight back the urge to snicker at his wide eyes as he panicked and attempted to jam a small black book and pencil beneath his pillow.

“Hiya, Will!” Scootaloo beamed overly cheerfully at him, showing more teeth than a hungry shark.

For perhaps the first time in her life, Scootaloo actually saw William rather flustered.

He spluttered a measly defense on how he had been recording very important data, mumbling incoherently as he pulled the blankets over himself in embarrassment. He did not turn red as she had expected him to, but his pale cheeks did turn a rather vibrant shade of pink.

“Heard you were sick!” Scootaloo grinned, plopping down beside him on the bed with a fwump.

“Evidently,” William replied drolly, snagging yet another tissue from the small box on the bedside stand. He blew his nose loudly, glumly honking into the tissue a couple of times before dropping it into a small wastebasket.

“Sucks to be you,” she grinned, her wings ruffling excitedly. “What’cha got there?” she pried, intent on seeing him blush again.

Instead, William gave her a deadpan worthy of a block of wood, because not even an inanimate object could have looked at her with less expression.

“Pertonal objects which do dot cohcerd yourself,” he struggled through his cold.

“Jeez, you sound awful,” Scootaloo said happily, kicking her hind legs off the edge of the bed.

William blew his nose again miserably, repeating the tissue dropping process and straining to clear his nose.

“And you, my dear,” he tried to say more clearly. “Are the embodiment of heartlessness; sadism incarnate.”

“I’m not sadistic!” Scootaloo defended herself. “I just think it’s hilarious that karma bit you in the rear so hard, mister ‘there is no such thing as cosmic intervention’,” she mimed his previous statement word for word, bobbing her head in mockery.

“Come to kick me while I’m down, is that it?” William scowled, but a tiny smile of his own was beginning to pull at him. The filly’s constant good mood was obviously infectious. And speaking of infectious…

He pulled the blankets a little closer around him, simultaneously moving quietly away from her.

“Actually,” William said pensively after a moment. “I think you might have saved me a bit of walking.”

“What for?” Scootaloo asked curiously, continuing to kick her legs and not quite looking at him.

He struggled with himself for a few moments, taking his time to blow his nose again and dragging it out for as long as possible. If he was expecting Scootaloo to get bored during this and leave, he was sorely disappointed. Finally, he managed to speak again in a low tone.

“I wanted to aplgzzzrs.”

“… Sorry, what?” the pegasus made a show of cleaning her ear with her hoof. “Didn’t quite catch that.”

William cleared his throat, and said “I wanted to apologize,” he frowned. “I realize that you and your friends were merely attempting to convey a level of companionship toward myself, which I threw back in your faces and slandered you for. I –”

“Lemme stop ya’ right there,” Scootaloo shook her head with another grin.

She stretched her stunted wings, turning to face him more evenly until each of them sat at opposite ends of the bed.

“First,” she said slowly, tapping her hoof with the other. “You don’t have to apologize for that. We’re cool; you’re new, even Apple Bloom thought that you might need to take some time adjusting.”

William tried to retort, only to be cut off again.

“Secondly,” Scootaloo said more seriously, tapping her hoof again. “secondly, you’re gonna have to be a lot bigger of a jerk if you want to out-jerk Diamond Tiara. Seriously,” the filly chortled. “That was so funny.”

Again, William opened his mouth to retort, but was silenced by Scootaloo.

“And finally,” she tapped her hoof again, “you’re a Cutie Mark Crusader now. That means we stick together, no matter what! We work together to find out who we are, and what we're supposed to be; that’s the whole purpose of a Cutie Mark Crusader!”

William rolled his hand through the air, expecting her to continue. She shook her head, taking a breath.

Thankful that she had finished her tirade, William snuffled “I believe you ran off on a tangent, Miss Scootaloo –”

“Call me Scootaloo!” she said warmly. Her face suddenly returned to the serious demeanor, and she added “But only my closest friends call me Scoots. If you call me Scoots, you die.”

“Very well, Miss Scootaloo,” he nodded astutely. “Are you quite finished?”

Scootaloo nodded wholeheartedly.

“Good,” Rainbow Dash stuck her head in through the doorway, scaring the living daylights out of both of them. “Then get out of my son’s room before you catch it, too.”

Author's Notes:

Many, many views have been expressed over the content matter of this story, and have questioned whether or not this story is even being taken seriously.
I assure you, the mods have already beaten you to the punch, and all subject matter contained therein is intended to be touched upon with the utmost delicacy (regardless of my unfortunately heavy handed tactics).