Pinkie knew she shouldn't be here.

Sat on the cold, damp ground, staring up at the last pinprick of light in a darkened world – even when she closed her eyes, she had the image burned upon her eyes, playing over the inside of her eyelids. The window itself seemed to glow, sharing the radiance of the pony within with the world outside.

At least, that's how it seemed to Pinkie now. A mere few days ago, she'd never have been thinking that - she'd probably just be laughing at the pony at the window for staying up so late, or trying to plan her way up to the window so that she could jump out at her friend as a prank. She might even be feeling worried, wondering what could be keeping the pony awake so late at night, when everypony else had already left the darkened world behind in favour of the light of their dreams.

Tonight, though, she was only thankful. Thankful that it provided her with the brief glimpses of the silhouette of the object of her desires as she passed by the glass pane.

Was this selfish of her? Probably. For all she knew, the pony could be desperate for company, craving shelter from a problem in the comforting openness of a friend. It was possible that Pinkie was exactly what the pony needed right now, and instead of sitting and staring, she should be trying to help. She could just call up to the window, right now, and be the good friend she knew she should be.

She wouldn't, though. At least, not for that reason. If she went in, it would be only to satisfy those selfish desires - the desires that had plagued her mind in recent days, that kept her up at night, and that had brought her here tonight, and the night before, and the night before that. She wanted to see more of the pony than anyone else; to say she had more of her than anypony else could claim. It was selfishness, pure and simple.

Was friendship not enough anymore? She had always wanted to be friends with everyone, to make them feel the same warmth she did when presented with a smiling face. When she became the element of laughter, those friendships grew ever stronger – she had a purpose, one she’d always felt but never understood; she brought joyful light into the lives of others.

A small frown crossed her face as she considered a certain donkey. Well, she at least tried to bring the light.

Throughout their various adventures, five friendships in particular grew into bonds she wasn't sure could ever be broken. They were connected in ways none of them could comprehend, not even now – they had been united since the day they had gotten their cutie marks, before they had even met. It was far more then regular friendship in her mind, a tier above the hundreds she counted in that rank.

Somehow, this feeling now, this new connection to the pony at the window… it felt like a level above even that. She wanted to be there when a friend couldn't; to tell and hear and do things that no friend could; to hug and to touch and to feel, when it would be awkward for anypony else.

Well, she already did that part anyway, to be fair. But she wanted it to mean more. She wanted those little contacts to give the pony the same tiny, electric thrill that she herself had recently started feeling. That little buzz, the one that told her it was right, so right, for them to touch, like they were meant to be connected.

She wanted so much to do it. To take the plunge. All she would have to do is call out - but the first step is always the hardest.

She knew full well that she cared for the pony at the window, just as much as she cared for any of her friends. The problem was that she didn't know if it was any more than that. She didn't think she even could know, not until she asked. What if all she wanted was to fulfil those selfish desires? What if she felt no more for the pony than she did for anyone else? She imagined herself on the other side of the story, feeling her heart shatter as she found out that she had never been special in her partner's mind.

It almost brought her to tears. She could never do that to anypony.

That wasn't the real reason she was afraid to go in, though. She felt sure that, given time, she would truly care for the pony, come to love her. It wasn't even a fear of rejection; she knew that it could make things awkward for a little while, but their friendship was strong. They had overcome so much together - they could overcome this.

No, what she feared was her own nature.

Pinkie was frivolous, impulsive, goofy, changeable. Some saw these as her bad features; when she was a filly, bullies used to try and use them against her, to set her apart from other ponies. Pinkie, for her part, just accepted these aspects. They were a part of who she was, and she would never want them gone – she just didn't think she could be Pinkie without them.

But what if that’s all this was? What if everything she was feeling was all just another impulsive reaction, a mere extension of her Pinkie-ness? Something that seemed life-threateningly important to her one moment could be meaningless the next. Hay, for that matter, she never felt like this during the day. She loved all her friends, loved spending those little moments together – but it was only when darkness fell, and she was alone, that these feelings surfaced. Wasn’t that just a clear indication that this was yet another fleeting moment of change? Maybe tomorrow, she’d be back to regular old Pinkie Pie, joyful and energetic, with no cares or worries.

Maybe tomorrow, she’d stop hurting.

She sighed, pressing her hoof back through the wilderness of her mane – it was the perfect expression of her personality, really; unkempt, uncontrollable. Was that really something she thought somepony else would want in her life?

She was a little startled when her hoof bashed into something solid and scaly, and bringing her hoof in front of her face revealed a pair of purple eyes staring back at her, blissfully unaware of the world as their owner softly gummed her leg.

Pinkie giggled to herself. She’d been so caught up with all these feelings that she’d never even noticed her alligator clinging to her as she had trotted through Ponyville to begin her nightly vigil.

“Oh, Gummy,” she muttered softly, a small smile quivering on her lips. Wordlessly, she clung to the alligator, pulling him into a hug that could have crushed any pony’s bones. Gummy, for his part, merely stared at her – perhaps seeing and understanding everything, or perhaps nothing.

Eventually releasing her blankly staring captive, Pinkie stood up, shaking off some of the moisture her flank had picked up from the dewed ground. With a soft grin slowly spreading, she raised her hoof back up to her mane.

“Come on, Mr. Silly-gator,” she whispered, chuckling lightly at the pet name, “Let’s get you home.”

Silently, Pinkie Pie and her expressionless pet made their way back to Sugarcube Corner in a small bouncing trot, less exuberant than normally seen from the party pony, but present nonetheless.

She never saw the face at the window, watching her fade back into the gloom.