When The Past Is A Present (You'd Like To Return)

Avalon and her brother Zeamus sat at their mother’s bed side, their faces grim. Their mother still had no change through the night. Zeamus hung his head slightly, fearing the worst. Avalon had been refusing to speak about it at home, for fear of Obreon hearing anything. He was already a broken man. Still, they were alone with her now… “Av,” he said hesitantly.

She looked up at him, surprised at the quietness of his voice. It dawned on her that he hadn’t spoken these past few days. “Yes, Zeamy?”

“… What if she doesn’t wake up?”

Her eyes widened as he said this. “Zeamy, you can’t say stuff like that! She’ll wake up, I know i-“

“Av, I’m serious!” He stood and walked over to Diane, laying his hoof on hers. Pinkies face was blank as ever, her eyes shut and a peaceful smile on her face. Zeamus hadn’t seen her smile like that much in the past. For some reason, seeing her smile like that was horrible in his eyes. She shouldn’t be smiling like that when things had gone so wrong. “What if she doesn’t? We need to keep in mind that our mother may be DEAD for all we know. She hasn’t responded to any treatment, she hasn’t…” He cut off, trying to hold back his tears.

Avalon stood and walked up to him, hugging him tightly. She could feel tears stinging at her own eyes. “P-please, Zeamy, just… calm down.”

Zeamus finally caved in, sobbing into his sister’s chest as she held him. All of the emotions he had been holding back these past few days broke out of him like a dam. Seeing her, lying there, had shook him up. The fact that she looked so pale or the fact that through it all, she kept on smiling… Seeing her, just lying there…

Avalon gently stroked his mane, feeling her own tears roll down her face. “Zeamus… It’ll be alright… She WILL wake up. H-hell, she’s the one who DIED on us, Zeamus.”

He couldn’t help but laugh slightly, tears rolling down his face. “Y-yeah… G-guess she HAS died a few times…” With a small shaky sob, he laughed a somewhat broken laugh. “W-w-what’s a coma to a corpse?”

Avalon didn’t respond, instead just holding him. He kept crying, allowing himself to be held. Avalon was all he had at the moment – the only family there for him right now.

Finally the tears seemed to slow, both Zeamus’ and Avalon’s. They both dried their tears as best they could, glancing once more at their mothers limp form. Mum… Please, come back Avalon thought. Zeamus sighed slightly. “Come on, Av, we should get on back. Dad hasn’t had food in awhile.”

Avalon simply nodded and walked out with him, keeping a protective hoof around her brother.

~*~*~*~*~

It had been Blues birthday. Pinkie could remember it clear as day. Her sister, Blueberry, was turning 8 that day. That was the day Blueberry had been diagnosed.

Everything had been going so well. Pinkie had helped her mother bake a nice cake with blueberry icing. Dad had taken off work to set up a small party, having Blinkie and Inkie help him. Blue had spent all day in her room for some reason, but Pinkie didn’t mind. She loved making parties for her sisters. It was the only time each year when her father seemed to be in high spirits, and everypony else was happier because of it. Finally the sun set and Pinkie went to go get Blue.

She opened the door lightly, hearing the door creak. The room was dark and Blue was curled up on the bed, it looked like. How could she still be asleep? Pinkie slowly walked up to her, concerned. “Blue… you alright?” She gently went to lay her hoof on her sisters side to shake her awake, yet paused. The bed… why was the bed red?

Her eyes widened as the scent of blood reached her nose. Blue coughed softly and weakly, opening bloodshot eyes. Pinkie did all she could and screamed for her parents. Her mother got there first. She turned on the lights as Pinkie backed away to the wall. There was blood all over the sheets. Blue had been bleeding all day, but had been too weak to get up. Her father ran in, his eyes wide as well.

They had gotten her to the hospital fairly quickly. There, the nurses did what they could. They put her in a bed and talked to her parents. When they came back out, Inkie, Blinkie and Pinkie took one look at their faces and knew the worst.

“B-Blinkie… Inkie, Pinkie… Blue has cancer.”

The words stung. Pinkie didn’t understand death very well. None near her had died. Yet, the concept did not seem so hard to grasp at the moment. A bitter emptiness of which her sister would be taken harshly from her for no reason… yes, that sounded like what death was. Or maybe that was just the sadness talking.

Pinkie was allowed to visit her sister every so often. Her sister had lost her mane in the treatments, but she still smiled slightly as her sister walked in each time. Pinkie couldn’t believe it herself. How could somepony still smile when everything had gone so horribly wrong?

Pinkie thought about her sister a lot. She grew steadily older as Blue grew weaker. She also became determined. She would not let her sister go easily. She noticed Blue looked healthier when she was happy. She made it her goal to always make Blueberry smile and the plan seemed to work. Blue lived long enough to see Pinkie the day before Pinkies next birthday.

Pinkie had been very excited that day herself. She had woken up with her frizzy hair, not even caring if her father saw. She had been unnaturally happy that day as she went about planning a birthday party for later. She had everything prepared when she felt a flash at her side. She turned her head as her eyes widened, seeing on her flank a beautiful cutie mark of three balloons. She had been so happy, knowing that her true talent had been making ponies smile through parties and laughter. She went straight to the hospital to tell Blue…

… The body had already been moved from the hospital. Pinkie had always assumed her father had picked her up earlier without wanting to tell her. No need to ruin her special day, after all. Pinkie had come home and put away the things for the party, in no mood now. Her parents said nothing to her about Berry’s death, and Pinkie preferred it that way. Remembering how happy her sister used to be was painful. Anything reminding Pinkie of her was painful.

Pinkie walked to her mirror, brushing her mane flat once more that day. She looked into her own eyes, seeing her own broken heart in them. They said the eyes were the gateway to the soul. If that was true, then Pinkie didn’t like how her soul looked. Pinkie was 8 now… she felt older than 8. No 8 year old should have to go through what she has.

She brushed her mane out, trying to get the grey dust out. It sat on her hair like a plague, never leaving. She sighed and put down the brush, unable to tear her eyes away from her reflection…

She looked at her cutie mark. Another reminder of her… Pinkie despised her cutie mark now. It was another reminder of how happy Berry had been before…

Silently Pinkie moved through the still house. She had grown stealthy in her years here, able to navigate the house without making a sound. Her family was asleep, grieving for their loss. Pinkie walked to the kitchen and opened the cutlery drawer, pulling out a glistening knife.

Pinkie took the knife back to her room, strangely calm. For some reason, what she was about to do made perfect sense. It hurt her to see the mark now. It was another reminder of what she had lost. It had to go. She looked in the mirror, her eyes drifting between the knife and her bright, happy cutie mark. Slowly she began to bring the knife down to her skin, cutting it lightly.

Pinkie wasn’t ready for it. She winced and let out a small gasp as the cool silver touched and pierced her coat. She felt the warm trickle of blood down her flank, slow and small. She felt a small burning around the cut, annoying and angering. She just wanted it to go! She began to cut away more at her skin, roughly sawing at her coat. She couldn’t see what she was doing now, her tears blinding her. The pain was becoming unbearable. Finally she dropped the knife, her flank bleeding. She sunk down, sobbing, unable to complete her mission. Her cutie mark was still there, but now had numerous cuts through the balloons there.

Pinkie sobbed as quietly as she could, not wanting to wake her parents. What was she doing? Her cutie mark was all she had left of her sister and she was trying to cut it out of her life – literally. She weakly stood, wincing as her flank seared with pain. She felt blood splatter down her hooves as she walked to her dresser. She pulled out an old shirt and tore it up, using it as bandages. She wrapped up her flank and looked at the bloody knife. Well, that wouldn’t do.

She walked over to the blood pile, thinking. She needed some way to clean this up… There was no chance she could turn on the water. Somepony would hear… Gently she leaned down to the puddle. It could be worse… Slowly she began to lick up the blood, knowing this was the quickest way to get rid of it. At first shuttering from the taste, she soon grew to actually enjoy the metallic flavor. Something about how sweet it was rang alarms in her head that she couldn’t shut off. For some reason, her blood reminded her of… strawberries. Or maybe cotton candy? She quickly licked up all of the blood, leaving just a small stain on the floor where some had dried. She easily covered it up with an old rug she had.

She licked her lips as she glanced in the mirror. Her lips were stained ruby red from her blood… She rather liked the look of blood on her. It seemed to suit her. She gently poked at her bandages, testing the wound. It still burned and the bandages were already beginning to turn red from blood. That would hurt like hell for a few days… She could easily explain the cuts as a fall in the rocks. She would go out tomorrow and fall into the quarry, leaving the bandages somewhere. They’d take her to the hospital and get her sorted out. Yes, that was a good plan. Nopony had to know.

Gently she lay down on the rug, exhausted. She realized she had stopped crying… strange. She didn’t feel as sad anymore. She was alive… Blue was with her forever now. Berry would be with her forever, always at her side… Or, more directly, her flank. There was no need to frown… Everything would be fine… Slowly she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep.

In the background of it all stood the real Pinkamena, tears in her eyes. She had forgotten this. She had forgotten what she had done in her grief and misery. It hurt her to see her do this to herself. She hadn’t quite expected this when she had gone under… “Please,” she whispered, surprised to feel tears staining her eyes. “P-please, Pinkie, be alright…”

~*~*~*~*~

In the hospital room the heart monitor beeped away as it had all night. The lights were flickering slightly, giving the coma ward a very grim light. The patients were silent as ever, and everypony had gone home for the day. In the third room on the right, down the hall, there was a single pink pony lying in a bed…

And that single pink pony wept in her dreams.