I could have sent her back...

by MandaloreDash

Rating: mature
Tags: Dark, Alternate Universe, Human, Sad, Gore, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Rainbow Dash, Other
Length: 15540

A dark, Evangelion-esque deconstruction of My Little Dashie.

Author's Note: Formerly known as "I'm Here, Dashie." Name changed and description reworked to be less subtle because people were kinda missing the point.

Presented in a diary format from the perspectives of both lead characters, this dark, Evangelion inspired deconstruction of My Little Dashie will explore the real life implications of a man, with no parenting experience, assuming sole responsibility for the care and development of a child that is not his own, and one that he can never let anyone else know about.

A depressed brony, living in an equally depressed city, one day stumbles across a discovery that will change his life forever. Somehow, through some fluke of magic, Rainbow Dash has found her way into our world, and into his care. But try as he might, perhaps the idea of him fathering Rainbow Dash wasn't as good an idea as he had thought.

A/N: Removing the "Sex" tag for two reasons:

1. It was embarrassingly getting the fic listed in FIMFiction's "Clopfic" directory, even though sexuality plays only a very, very minor role in the story's proceedings.

2. The sexuality in question, while more than a passing reference, is definitely more on the side of "implicit" than "explicit." In its finished state, there will be no nudity, no graphic sex scenes, and there will certainly be no clop. Rather, sexuality is occasionally used as a character-development technique, and descriptions will only be strong enough for the audience to get the "general idea," as it were. My goal with this story is to make the characters feel realistic, and sexuality is a part of any "real" character. It falls well within the grey area between "shipping" and "graphic sex" described in FIMFiction's FAQ. Sexuality can be depicted without it being graphic, and it makes me wish that FIMFic had separate ratings to distinguish between "R" and "Triple-X" rated stories.

Bear in mind, though, that the story is still Mature. It tackles adult themes in a way which is not suitable for children, so the story's "Mature" rating is not going anywhere.

Published 2014-01-30 01:20:04 UTC
Last updated 2015-11-12 23:54:22 UTC

Year 1, Day 2

Dear Diary,

I could swear the rail was about to break this time. Perhaps it would have, but I gave up on it when I saw Jenny walking over, and decided to talk to her. Now, I'll admit, I've had a thing for Jenny for some time now. She just doesn't know it yet. So, she was walking by, saw me staring off the bridge, and decided to stop and chat. We talked about sports, the weather, usual stuff. Nothing really interesting, honestly. But something about her eyes, her face, her body, talking with her just made me feel like I had to keep on walking. So, the two of us did just that. We walked, and we talked. It was a very happy moment for me. I don't get many happy moments these days.

When I got home, I had some stress that I needed to let off. I took about another half-hour to flip through a dirty comic that my brother had sent me as a joke. It was a dumb book, but it served its purpose. After that, I had to get something to eat. I put a bowl of soup in the microwave, and smiled when I realized what time it was. I hurried over to the TV, just in time to catch a rerun of My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic. It was the episode where Winter was coming to an end, and Twilight had to figure out how she could help everypony else usher in Spring. Besides Jenny, My Little Pony is the only thing in this world that really makes me happy. The show is just so bright, and innocent, and optimistic. It's impossible not to be overjoyed while you're watching it.

The new season's premiering tomorrow. It's a Saturday, so I don't have work. Perhaps I'll do something different after the premiere. Perhaps I'll take a drive instead of walking. Perhaps I'll even call Jenny and ask her out. Then perhaps she'll say yes, and we can go to that nice Italian place around the corner.

Perhaps.

Year 1, Day 3

Dear Diary,

Driving was a bad idea. I couldn't have known it at the time, but driving was a very bad idea.

I had decided against calling Jenny up, and decided instead that I would surprise her at her house with a big bouquet of tulips. She loves tulips. I figured that if I was going to tell her how I felt, that would be the way. But when I arrived at the florist's office, something surreal happened. I noticed some kind of strange creature just lurking in the alley to the side. Some kind of big, bright, blue rat. At the time, I didn't know what to think of it. I figured my eyes were simply playing tricks on me.

I shrugged it off, and I walked into the store. I told him I wanted a dozen tulips. He cut the flowers, and they set me back about $20. A half a week's spending money, when you factor in cost of living.

So, I left the florist, flowers in hand, and gently placed them in the passenger's seat of my car. I didn't know it at the time, but what I did then, at that very moment, would end up changing my life forever.

Driving was a bad idea.

I checked my rear-view mirrors, and I slowly backed up and on to the road. But I came to a full stop after hearing perhaps the most horrible noise imaginable. A loud, hearty BUMP. It didn't seem possible. I had checked my mirrors, there were no people behind me, and I know for a fact there were no cars behind me. The only other thing it could have been was an animal. I quickly got out of my car and ran to see what I'd hit. I'd thought it was a stray cat, or a dog. But it wasn't. At that very moment, I could swear I had lost all semblance of sanity I once had, because right there, lying on the pavement unconscious behind my car, was the one and only Rainbow Dash.

Year 1, Day 5

Dear Diary,

I never took the tulips out of my car. They just sat there and festered for the last two days. What a waste of $20.

My work day went as expected. Customers lined up, I took their orders, and they got their burgers. Jenny came in around 2 PM, and she even made sure to order from my register. She smiled, said hi, asked me about my day, and then ordered a milkshake. She didn't even stay to drink it in the store, she just said "Take care of yourself," and walked back to her car with it. Her pants fit nice and tight around her waist as she walked out the door. It suited her.

Before I left, I used my employee discount to grab myself a chicken sandwich, and a small salad in case Dashie was awake. I fought the urge to take a long walk today, because I needed to get back home to check on Dashie. So, I drove straight home, back to the ramshackle sardine can I call an apartment.

I opened the door to find Dashie rummaging through my fridge. As soon as I took my first steps through the doorway, the room immediately went silent. The fridge was still open, but she apparently wasn't using it. Perhaps she didn't trust me. Understandable. She blacks out on the side of the road, wakes up all alone in a strange room, and now someone just came home to catch her with her hoof in the cookie jar.

As I approached to close the fridge, I heard a cabinet close, and the muffled sound of pots and pans clanging together. She definitely didn't trust me, and that was perfectly understandable. Gently, I placed the salad on the kitchen floor, and then slid it over towards the cupboard I deduced she was hiding in. After a few moments, the cabinet door opened, if only slightly, and out poked the nose and muzzle of an adorable blue filly. She pointed her nose to the salad, took a few quick sniffs, and then retreated back behind the safety of the wooden door. A few seconds later, the door swung open completely, and out tiptoed a suspicious filly, her eyes darting in every direction, and a frying pan grasped in her muzzle. She noticed me quickly, at which point she and I locked eyes. She held tightly onto the frying pan and spread her tiny wingspan as far as it would go.

Perhaps she didn't want to konk me on the head, but she was ready to. And that's totally understandable.

She continued her imposing dance for about 20 seconds, then, perhaps realizing that the salad was getting cold, she gently placed the pan beside her, where she could grab it in a pinch, and carefully took a bite. Then another. Then another. And then another. And then yet another, until there was no more salad left to bite. Perhaps I should have gotten her a larger salad.

Noticing that she was still hungry, I took one last bite of my chicken sandwich, and then put it down in that frying pan she seemed to love so much. She seemed to enjoy it, even diving straight into the chicken, which frankly bewildered me.

After she finished the sandwich, she looked back at me, this time not with mistrust, but with curiosity and bewilderment.

"Who are you?" she asked me.

Smiling, I took a knee, and pet her on the mane.

Year 1, Day 6

Dear Diary,

I bought her a large salad this time. It was only a dollar extra, and I wanted to enjoy my chicken sandwich today.

While we ate, I talked to Dashie about why she's here, and what she can remember. She said that she was in the alley because she was hungry. She was eating the flowers they would throw away, as well as the occasional rat, when she was desperate. I tried prodding her about where she came from, but she doesn't seem to remember anything from before the alley. As far as she knows, she was born in this city.

I know I've written before about how "impossible" isn't a word I'd like to use anymore, but that just didn't click with me at all. The idea of an obviously two-dimensional, fictional creature simply existing in this world somehow sounded far more outlandish to me than the idea that she came from a parallel dimension. Call it a hunch, call it insanity, call it whatever you want, but I feel that some way or another, she came here from Equestria.

I've been thinking about getting her a diary of her own. After all, she has to go back to Equestria some time or another. May as well have something to remember her by. She already seems really interested in reading the books I have lying around the house, so I figure she'd have fun writing in one as well. I'll see about getting her one tomorrow.

Her salad really didn't last as long as I'd hoped. I ended up having to give up my sandwich again. Two salads next time. Seriously, how much can one filly eat?

Year 1, Day 7

Dear Diary,

My name is Rainbow Dash, and this would be my first entry. Not really sure what I should put here, but the big man went through all the trouble to pick me up this diary from the local market, so, I figure I should write something.

I just call him "big man" because for some reason he still refuses to tell me his name, for some reason. I don't think I've ever seen anypony be so secretive, especially towards somepony that they claim to care about.

Whenever I ask, he always just tells me his name is "daddy." I may be young, but I think I'm old enough to know when somepony's pulling my tail. At least I think I do. Huh... Maybe I was living with those rats in the alley for longer than I thought, or maybe I'm some sort of zombie pony with memories from a past life. I unno.

(NOTE TO SELF: That would make a totally radical idea for a Daring Do book! A reanimated zombie pony, who was a treasure hunter in his past life, must team up with Daring Do to help her find the Scepter of Infinite Wisdom before it falls into the clutches of the evil Ahuizotl! I am SO writing that!)

And another thing, I am sick to death of salad. I'm gonna ask the big man if he can get me some nice daffodils, or maybe some kind of burger with rat meat. Strangely enough, I didn't even know I liked rat meat until... well, I dunno. But it's so tasty! I can't wait to sink my teeth into another one of those!

Ah horseapples, I think I just drooled on the paper. I think I'd better cut this entry short before I end up ruining it.

Year 1, Day 104

Dear Diary,

I guess what "daddy" doesn't know really won't hurt him.

Darn it! Even as I write this, I'm biting my pen so hard I think I chipped a tooth! While the big man was out painting the town red with that Jenny chick, I finally got a chance to spread my wings for the first time in... Well, for the first time I can truly remember. For the first time in my memory, I felt alive, and I felt AWESOME!

I can still remember it so vividly. There he was, standing in front of me in some $40 tee shirt with a bottle of cologne in his hooves. He's giving me some kind of speech about how I need to be quiet, and how the outside world is still this really dangerous place that can never know about me. And there I am, nodding along. He made me promise that I would be quiet as a mouse; that I wouldn't let a single living soul know I exist. All things considered, I think I kept my word.

He turns, checks his watch, and heads right out the door. Just like that! And just like that, I've got the whole apartment to myself. I play along for a little bit. I grab a bag of chips out from the pantry, plop down in front of a rerun of Dan Vs, and just laze around for about five minutes with my ears perked up. We live on the third floor, so I had to wait and listen through quite a few stairs, but it was worth it. For five intense minutes, I could feel my chest tensing, my heart pounding in excitement as each successive step slowly got quieter and quieter, but they never just faded away. When the big man got to the ground floor, he walked straight out the door and shut it behind him. Only then did the footsteps finally shut up.

From there, I skulk over to the window and keep a keen eye on the driveway. I swear, he may as well have been crawling his way to the car. I have no idea why these particular five minutes felt so ridiculously long compared to all the other five minute I've experienced, but it was worth it. As soon as he swung that car door closed, as soon as he turned the corner on Stanton, I breathed the loudest sigh of relief in history. I was home free.

And not a minute had passed since he left, when I decided to crack a window for no real reason. I guess you could say it was more than a bit stuffy in that place. So, I opened that itsy bitsy sliding glass window just a pinch, then I added a pinch on top of it, and a few more pinches, until it was just pinchy enough to fit a pegasus through. Funny how these things work out.

We were near the top of the building anyway, and there were no passers-by on the street below, so I helped myself through that open window and took a big, long huff of the cool, night air. It smelled awful, but c'est la vie.

I'd been planning to do this for a while now, and even thought about doing it while the big man was out at work, but it was always just too bright outside. I'm adventurous, but I'm not an idiot. I get his reasoning when he says I need to stay indoors, and that's exactly why. Going out in broad daylight would be suicide, but this late at night, I think it's okay.

There weren't too many people walking the streets. A massive traffic jam had materialized a couple blocks away, but I don't think any of those drivers really cared enough to look up.

And so, I flew. Not just in place, or even in a straight line. I flew like I had always wanted to. I dodged and weaved between the buildings, I ran up and around the sides of a skyscraper, I did a loop-de-loop around the Central Bridge, I flew an inch above the river and skimmed my hoof through the surface. I dove underneath an incoming boat and swam the full length of it, and then I took to the skies to do it all again.

Heck, I looked right at that stupid traffic jam, and I flew straight over it. I was only about a hundred feet above that mess of cars, but they all looked like ants just the same. I had never been so exhilarated in my life.

For a grand finale, I parked my butt on top of a building overlooking the big man's date, and I just watched. There he was, so lost in Jenny's eyes that it never crossed his mind to just look up. I came closer to getting caught in those nerve-wracking few minutes than I had the entire rest of the night, and I liked it. That was the thrill I was missing, and It felt better than words could ever hope to describe.

But, as the moon neared the edge of the horizon, the sun goddess somehow saw fit to bring this wonderful night to an end. So, with the warm rays of the sun on my back, I made one last pass across my favorite skyscraper, and flew straight for the apartment. I even caught a glimpse of the big man's car going the same way I was, and challenged him to an impromptu race.

He never stood a chance!

But, as I arrived back at the building, I stopped dead in mid-air and my mane grew a grey strand. That window I had climbed out of was closed, and opening it from the outside with hooves just wasn't going to work.

And right at that moment, as if on cue, there's slowpoke rounding the corner and pulling into the driveway. I had to get into that room, and I had to do it immediately. And luckily enough, divine providence granted me a replacement open window just two stories down.

The guy inside was still asleep. It was pretty early, after all. I landed in that room as gently as a bird in a nest, and I tiphooved as quickly and softly as I possibly could to his door. I could swear I heard him stir as I left, but he probably just had gas.

From there, it was just a matter of going up two flights of stairs, and I wasn't shy about using my wings. The big man was literally one floor behind me the whole way, and I only outpaced him by a hair, but there at the end, there it was, our wonderful apartment door. I had to struggle with myself to keep from opening it too quickly, and thank the goddesses that he had forgotten to lock it, but as those horrifying footsteps got ever louder and louder, I slowly swung the door shut and plopped right back down in front of the couch. And just in time for Transformers Prime, too.

So yeah, what the big man doesn't know won't hurt him. I had the time of my life yesterday, and not a soul in the city even caught wind of me.

I am SO doing it again!

Year 1, Day 280

Dear Diary,

I've been going out to fly for at least an hour every night while the big man sleeps. As far as I know, nopony's caught me yet. And that's the problem.

When I fly, I can see the outside world plainly, but I can never interact with it. I can soar to the top of the tallest building, and just stare down at the pedestrians walking the streets, but I can never just fly up to one and say "Hi." I'm still technically a filly, but I can't go to school and make friends. I'm growing up fast, but I can't go to work and meet my co-workers. I can't even sit next to a colt and eat a slice of pizza.

It isn't just friendship that I need. Well, I guess that's a huge part of it, but I feel like I need something more than that. I got my first period a few weeks ago, and ever since then, I've been having these strange thoughts about colts.

One colt in particular I even had a dream about. What's strange is that I'm absolutely sure I've never seen him before in my life, but his image was so vivid, so lifelike. He had a light, greyish blue coat, green eyes, and a spiked-up mane that was as blue as the central river. I remember in the dream, we met up at the same restaurant that the big man took Jenny to on the first night that I snuck out, and then it... escalated from there.

Maybe it has to be him, maybe it doesn't. Actually, I'm pretty sure I just dreamed him. I've seen other ponies on TV, but none of them ever look anything like me, much less like him. They're all brown-coated earth ponies who can only talk in high-pitched whinnies, and their muzzles are all longer than I even thought was possible.

I don't know why I was so surprised, though. The big man keeps me locked up for a reason. Apparently, I'm such a massive freak that nopony in the entire world would ever even think of accepting me.

And so, I'll never find my special somepony, I'll never make any friends, and I'll probably never even get my cutie mark. C'est la vie.

The river looks more and more appealing every day.

Year 2, Day 1

Dear Diary,

I found another pony that looks like me.

About an hour ago, I came home from a late-night flying session, and tip-toed into the bathroom to brush my teeth. Problem was, we were completely out of toothpaste. I took that little tube to the task, I stomped on it with my hooves, I gnawed it with my teeth, I even tried sitting on it, but nothing worked. That toothpaste tube was empty. I could have just gone to bed right there, but I may have... kinda... stolen and eaten a few chocolate chip cookies from a bakery while I was out flying. Sorta. Dental health is its own reward.

I knew the big man keeps spares in his bedroom, but it was almost 2 in the morning, so waking him up was out of the question. Instead, I got sneaky. I cracked open his door and, not wanting to put any stress of the creaky floorboards, hovered inside with a few steady flaps of my wings. The room was completely pitch black, but I checked around anyway, hoping my eyes would adjust. After about five minutes of hoofing around dresser drawers and cabinets, I was more than able to make out what I was looking at, which made my search for toothpaste all the less painful.

But sadly, even after another 10 minutes of looking, I still was no closer to finding any. So, at last, I figured to check under his bed. If the big man keeps toothpaste anywhere in this apartment, that, by process of elimination, would have to be it.

Thankfully, I was still small enough to fit under there, even if I bumped my head on the frame while I was trying to wriggle my way through. I was scared that I might have woken him up, but perplexingly, he just started snoring. I could still see pretty well under there, and I'm sure that by then, my eyes had been fully adjusted. But instead of finding what I was looking for, I stumbled across something... else.

It was a book. Paperback, to be exact, but much thinner, and taller than the books I read. I pulled it closer to see what it was, thinking I might want to read it later, but could only stare in bewilderment when I got a good look at the cover.

I found another pony that looks like me. Or, similar, at least. She was a unicorn, with a bright, purple coat, and a mane to match. I was sure I had never seen her before in my life, but for some reason, she looked oddly familiar. I felt as if she was my sister somehow, even though I couldn't recall ever meeting her. If the oddness about this book ended there, I would have not complained, but it didn't. No, this pony that I recognized, she was posed rather awkwardly. Her head faced forward, and her eyes looked straight into the camera, but it positioned very low to the ground in comparison to the rest of her body. The rest of her body, while anatomically correct, was positioned in such a way that her flanks were raised up higher than any other part, and her forelegs bent at the knee to accommodate the position naturally. Her face looked... odd. She had a very playful grin on her face, and eyes that just seemed to... beckon.

In the background, standing maybe 10 feet behind her was another pony. A stallion this time, but he was still a unicorn. He also looked familiar, but not as much as the mare did. His face conveyed a look of shock, but his face wasn't the important part.

Don't ask me how I know, but he certainly looked like he was glad to see her.

The book had far more pictures than I was used to in my books, but that wasn't too jarring. I was able to follow the story just fine.

For the first few pages, the book looked normal, but when I turned to the page after that, it took a rather jarring turn. My eyes couldn't even be forced to focus on the beginning panels, because they had been inexplicably drawn to the middle.

I recalled my dilemma from a few months ago. I was right. Friendship is not the only thing I'm missing in my life. The urges I've been having are far more primal, and it was about time that I acted on them. But as I did, the big man was still asleep, and snoring loudly, a mere foot above my head. I was closer to getting caught than I had been at any other point in my life, and I liked it.

I had seen dogs do this before while I was out flying, but they most likely did it solely out of hygiene concerns. One thing was for sure: toothpaste was no longer optional.

Via clever positioning, I was able to flip through the pages and keep my eyes focused on the book. The purple one wasn't the only pony I seemed to recognize in here. As I flipped through, I also saw similar depictions of a white one, a pink one, and an orange one. Each one of them looked incredibly familiar, but I was still sure that I had never seen a single one of them in my life.

But as I flipped to the final page, that stopped. The two ponies on this page, I knew for sure, and I knew from where. The one on the left was Daring Do. She was my favorite literary character, even though I just realized that I can't remember a single one of her books. I had had my suspicions before, but now I knew for sure. There is something horribly wrong with my memory. Little bits and pieces of who I am are always floating to the top, but the majority of Rainbow Dash is trapped; buried under goddesses-know how many false and suppressed memories.

But that wasn't the worst part.

The worst part was that I recognized the pony on the right even more than I did the pony on the left.

The pony on the right was me.

This... is how "daddy" looks at me.

Year 2, Day 2

Dear Diary,

I haven't been back to Marty's house since we watched the movie. I left the disc there, sitting on his shelf by the TV. I haven't seen him try to return it, so I guess it's safe to say he doesn't care.

I decided to catch back up on My Little Pony to see what I'd missed. There were a couple new things that happened in season 3, but no bombshells like that mirror business. I should be on the lookout for Dashie maybe wanting to join the Wonderbolts, or the Blue Angels, or something.

Actually, come to think of it, Dashie has been quite distant lately. I could hardly find her at all yesterday, and when I walked in on her eating a bowl of cereal in the kitchen, she didn't say anything to me and just took the bowl into her room.

At least she's apparently been keeping up with her diary, which I promised her I wouldn't read, but I might end up having to if this keeps up. Her pencil is getting full of bite marks, and I have no idea why. I get that she holds it in her teeth, but she shouldn't be squeezing hard enough to leave marks so deep. Not unless there was something seriously wrong.

I need to get my mind off of all of this, and come back to it tomorrow with a clear head. I think I'll take a walk.

Year 2, Day 124

Author's Note

I highly recommend listening to the embedded music while reading this chapter. Don't worry, it's just a light piano piece.

Year 2, Day 124

Dear Diary,

I had a dream the other night. Myself and the other ponies I recognized in daddy's "book" were all walking in some grassy field in Europe. And far from it being just any field, it was perhaps the greenest, lushest field I had ever seen in my life. The grass was so alive, so rich with color that you could almost smell it, like a massive, well-watered lawn that stretched for miles upon miles in any direction.. Though, perhaps the green only stood out so well because the sun had been blotted out entirely by clouds. The entire visible horizon was dominated completely by massive, impenetrable layers of grey. Tiny droplets of rain splashed onto my back every once in a while, but it wasn't exactly a storm just yet.

Aside from the grass and the clouds, the field had more than enough hills to keep you company. They weren't very big hills, maybe about a meter or two high, but there were so many of them, all placed so randomly that it felt as though I never set a single hoof on level terrain.

But aside from the hills, grass, and clouds, the field was entirely empty. Not a single building, or tree, or any sort of landmark for as far as the eye could see. It was just me, the other ponies, and the hills. It was one of those dreams where I had no idea where I was going, but I felt like I did. I had an amazing sense of direction, and I knew for sure that I'd be able to see my destination right over the next hill, never once getting discouraged when it only revealed several more hills.

"Are you sure this is the right way, Dashie?" the purple one asked me, as she craned her head in an attempt to look between two hills, "We've been walking for miles."

"Sure, I'm sure," I reassured, as I looked back at her with a smile. It was then that I noticed that she, myself, and everypony else in the group were all wearing green combat uniforms. From our helmets to the trousers on our flanks, it was solid green from head to hoof, with exceptions made for our faces, boots, tails, and the guns slung around our necks. "The Germans won't know what hit 'em!" I continued.

"But we still haven't seen any. I really don't think they actually have a base around here, or even any buildings to put it in," she surmised, "Maybe you could fly up and get the lay of the land so we at least have an idea of what we're dealing with."

I promptly refused, "We need the element of surprise here, or they'll just overwhelm us. I can't believe I'm saying this, but slow and steady wins the race."

Just saying the word "slow" made me want to wretch.

"Ah reckon we might be headed fer a minefield, sugarcube," the orange one chimed in. For some reason, it just felt natural that she talked like that. I don't remember the first thing about this pony, but for some reason, I knew for absolute fact that she had a southern accent. "Y'all think we might wanna turn around and mosey on back?"

'Back where?' was my first thought, but I didn't dare vocalize it. Instead, I looked forward to notice that I was no longer wearing a gun around my neck, but a minesweeper instead, which I promptly clenched in my jaws and started waving around the hills.

"Thought of that," I mumbled back, with the sweeper in my teeth.

The rain was starting to pick up. We weren't exactly drenched yet, but we were getting hit a lot more regularly than we were before.

The sweeper beeped slowly, just enough to let me know it was on, but apparently it wasn't picking anything up.

It was wrong.

BOOM!

A deafening explosion went off right underneath me, tearing my left hind leg completely off at the hip, and stranding me in a small, shallow valley between two hills.

At this point, the rainstorm started in proper. Millions of teensy tiny droplets all seemed to fall down and aim right for the hole where my leg used to be. I screamed out bloody murder as each and every last one of them stung at my wound as if it were a swarm of bees, each one washing away just a little bit more of my blood and leaving me weaker and weaker.

"Applejack!" I called out. They were all just standing up there on the hilltop, looking down at me with blank expressions.

"Rarity!" They started to walk away, continuing through the endless mess of grassy hills and valleys.

"F-f-f-fluttershy!" I screeched. By now, they were barely visible through all the hills, and the rain was starting to form a bloody pool in the valley I was stranded in.

"Pinkie Pie..." I no longer had the energy to scream, with each name I shouted conjuring horrible mental images of each pony sprawled out in various sexually compromising positions. I turned my head to the side, and watched as the pool filled up to my muzzle. I could see my own reflection in the water now. I watched as my own bloodied body slowly sank deeper and deeper into the abyss.

"Twilight?"

Suddenly, a cage came down around me. I looked around to find the water gone, and my leg bandaged, but my friends were still nowhere to be seen.

The rain still poured, the hills still extended infinitely in every direction, and the grass was still beautiful. But I could no longer fly in the rain, I could no longer trot over the hills, and I could no longer smell the grass. All I could do was sit there, in my cage, knowing that no one would ever come for me.

It was then that I woke up. I checked to make sure my leg was still attached, then trotted somberly into the kitchen to get something to eat.

Daddy was out on another walk, even though it seemed to be raining in real life just as much as it was in my dream.

I need to get out of this place. But I can't. Not even for a couple hours. Everything is locked up tight.

So, I resigned. I grabbed the TV remote, I grabbed my diary, and did the only two things I could do.

Year 2, Day 128

Dear Diary,

Dashie has stopped flying altogether. She just sits on the couch in front of the TV all day, only even getting up to walk when she needs to use the restroom. Aside of that, she does nothing but sit there, even sleep there. Her bed has just been sitting in her room, perfectly made and gathering dust for the past three weeks.

Last night, I was met with the shock of my life after I came home from pulling overtime at work. No sooner had I walked through the door than I was assaulted by a noise that I had once seen as a source of joy:

"...I used to wonder what friendship could be..."

I froze in place. I'm not sure what I expected to happen from there. Dashie was just sitting there, basking in the glow of her birthplace, her original home. I'll be honest, I was rendered completely speechless. I couldn't muster anything, not even something cliche'd like "I can explain." I just stood there like an idiot for maybe five minutes, all the while, Dashie paid me no notice, and just kept munching her chips and watching the show.

Before long, an extended scene came on where Rainbow Dash found herself in a race against Spitfire. I'll confess to never having seen this one... it must have been brand new. Dashie put down the chips when this scene came on, and just folded her forehooves behind her head. Her expression didn't even change, she just stared at it without a hint of a care.

"Is this me?" she finally said, blankly, as the on-screen Rainbow Dash powered through several rings, clouds, and the sound barrier all at once.

"I'm pretty sure," I eventually replied, the little frog in my throat croaking on every syllable, "Yeah."

Dashie said nothing, she just took another bite of her chips.

I had to say something. Anything. I tried desperately to look for the right words, but the only thing that came out was "I'm sorry..."

"Don't be," she promptly, stoically replied, as she munched down the last chip in the bag, "It's not your fault."

The Rainbow Dash on-screen was wearing a gold medal around her neck and crowd-surfing in an audience of adoring fans who all chanted her name, "RAINBOW DASH! RAINBOW DASH! RAINBOW DASH!" Meanwhile her best friends, the other five ponies of the mane 6, traded hugs and hoofbumps as Pinkie Pie did her best to keep the confetti flowing nonstop.

In her shoes, I would have been moved to tears. But she just stared.

"Kind of a relief, actually," she deadpanned, crumpling the empty bag into a ball and tossing it over her shoulder, where it joined several other bags that had met a similar fate. "Could you grab me another bag?"

I walked to the pantry and opened it up. "Cheetos or Funyuns?" I asked her, nervously.

"Cheetos."

I took the Cheetos bag, and slowly walked it over to her. This wasn't exactly healthy behavior, but now wasn't the time to worry about that.

I half expected her to hungrily snatch the bag out of my hands when I walked close. Instead, she just patiently waited for me to plop it in her lap. Only a year ago, Dashie was so small she wouldn't have been able to see over the bag. Now, she was basically full-size, but where her flanks should have been adorned with the imposing symbol of a cloud and a bolt of multicolored lightning, instead there was nothing but a cheesy, yellow smudge.

She halfheartedly accepted the bag. By now, the MLP episode was almost over, and the mane 6 were all gathered in a group hug.

"Thanks, daddy." She switched the channel over to Cartoon Network, cutting off the last moments of the episode.

Shame. It looked like a good one.

Year 2, Day 200

Dear Diary,

I don't care.

I don't care if Equestria is real or not.

I don't care if that's really me on the TV screen, flying around and doing all those amazing tricks, or if it's just coincidence and some animator made the whole thing up.

I don't care if I was born in this world or not. It's where I am, and I'm not going to change that by whining about it.

I don't care about my memories. Not anymore, the bad dreams just sorta went away.

I don't care if I ever fly again, I'm never leaving this apartment again anyway, so what's the point?

I don't care about this stupid diary, but Daddy said he'll stop buying soda if I don't write in it at least once a day.

I don't care about making new friends, and all the junk food hasn't exactly been wonderful for that sex drive I was developing.

I don't care about Daddy. Sure, he's been cool overall, I just can't find the energy to give a solid horsefeather about whether he gets hit by a truck or not.

I don't care if I fit into this world, nor do I care if I ever will. I'm stuck over here in this apartment 24/7 anyway, so it's not like President Obama is just gonna come knocking on my door for no reason.

And, honestly, I wouldn't care if he did. I don't care if they drag me off to Nevada piece by piece in seven different trucks taking seven different routes. That's not me being suicidal or anything, I'm just past the point where I really care about anything anymore.

Whether I like it or not, this is my life. I sit on my plot and watch TV, occasionally turning it off when Daddy brings home a good book. In a couple years, assuming the government doesn't find me, I'll get to be as fat as a cow and eventually just explode all over this stupid apartment. It's just how it is. It may not be riveting, but it's life. C'est la vie.

At least I'm not back in the alley. Every once in a while, I start to think back to the alley and whether or not I'd be better off if I was still living there, if Daddy had never rescued me and brought me here.

But then, in the midst of all that deep, soul-searching thought, I eventually run into an inevitable conundrum:

I just don't care.

Year 2, Day 228

Dear Diary,

Yesterday was a very bad day, and because of it, today I felt pretty stressed. More so than usual, you could say. I checked under my bed for that comic, but when I found it, it had apparently been ripped in half by "whomever" had last used it. I'm not exactly mad, but the stuff Dashie saw in there couldn't have been good for her. On the bright side, foals grow up a lot faster than human children do, so maybe she at least understood it?

Or maybe I should have just thrown that smut away the day I found her, and I shouldn't be trying to rationalize. Yeah, that's probably it.

But, long story short, I took a walk. I wanted to just go around a couple blocks, but that kinda changed. I walked to the baker's and bought a few cupcakes to munch on, then I took a turn at the intersection of Columbus and Jade and just kept on walking. Heck, I can't even remember if it was a right turn or a left turn. I made so many turns today that there's no telling where I was at any given moment.

I walked quite a bit. Again, more so than usual. Much more. Typically, my walks would last about two or three hours. Today, I started bright and early, and just walked until the sun went down. It wasn't good for my feet, but I wasn't exactly doing this for their benefit. Instead, in my time walking these streets, I discovered something that perhaps I should have discovered a very long time ago. This city really didn't suck, when you looked at it from the right angle. All my life, I've pretty much just stayed in Central, with the occasional trip downtown to see movies and stuff, but until just now, I'd never really explored the marina, or the financial district. There's a massive plaza in the middle of town with a statue the size of my apartment building, and before today, I've never paid it any mind.

And it really was a pretty good statue. You could argue that the subject wasn't the most special thing in the world, since it was just of a man who used to be mayor in the 1950s petting his dog, but the craftsmanship was amazing, and the sheer height of the thing could easily leave you just staring blankly at it for hours.

But, realistically, I moved on after about ten minutes. I still had a lot of city to see. A statement like that would have killed me inside on any other day, but I guess I'd grown up a bit in the last few hours.

I passed a very neighborly residential district, where dozens of friends were all gathered around a barbecue grilling burgers and complaining about politics. I guess it takes a fry cook like myself to see the irony in cooking hamburgers for fun.

I walked through Chinatown and bought a splendid bowl of noodles from a nice old Japanese lady. This was about the only time the whole day when I took a break, but I just had to sit down and savor every bite.

And then, at long last, around sunset, I somehow found myself at the bus depot. In a stroke of luck, a bus leaving right then and there was scheduled to make stop at Central (about a block from my apartment) in less than two hours.

I figured, "Why not?"

So, I paid the fare, took a seat next to a gentleman in a green t-shirt, and we just talked about video games the whole way back. At least until the last twenty minutes, that is. The second to last stop was where he lived, and when he got off, his wife and children were right there waiting for him.

The last leg of my journey was made in complete silence, except for the constant whir of the bus's engines. When I got home, there was Dashie, like I expected, just relaxing in my chair, watching TV. I guess I felt kinda jealous. There I was, hating the very essence of this city for my entire life for no good reason, while Dashie has just gotten here, and had already experienced far more of the city than I probably ever will in my life. And from the sky, at that.

I feel like such a jerk.

Tonight, the lock came off, and the window came open. Being as the TV was right next to the window, Dashie couldn't help but take her eyes off the idiot box for a few seconds just to look at it. For the first time in months, those curtains were flapping in the breeze again. Dashie looked at it, then at me, then at it, then back to the TV, and then finally back to me.

"I've changed my mind," I said, apologetically, "Just don't stay out too long, don't fly too low, and stay away from helicopters."

Dashie locked her eyes with mine, clearly pondering what I had to say, then, without a word, turned back to the TV and just kept watching.

Too little, too late? Perhaps. Either way, I propped the window open with an empty soda bottle to let her now it was an open invitation.

I realize now that I haven't been the best father. I was so preoccupied with safety that I hadn't thought about anything else. And some of the things I think, say, or do when I'm angry are... unacceptable. Like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, except even Jekyll is a spiteful idiot in this case.

I could have sent her back, and I still can. But I'm going to give parenthood one more shot. Maybe I can change myself, and in the process, change the way that Dashie's life is heading.

I've never even given any thought to her future. I'm not going to be around forever, so do I just tell her about the mirrors on my deathbed, had her off to someone else I trust, or is she just supposed to sit around and starve after I die?

There are a lot of things I need to rethink in my life, and in hers. I just hope I can find some answers.

Year 2, Day 229

Dear Diary,

I screwed up bad. Dashie refuses to leave the apartment, and now she won't even talk to me. I don't even think she's been writing in her diary, but after what happened last time, I'm not about to invade her privacy to find out.

I think I need to distance myself from her just a little. Everything I do seems to just backfire horribly. I just need to leave her with an open window and some food, and let her decide for herself what she wants out of life.

In the meantime, Marty told me that Jenny broke up with her boyfriend. Perhaps I could ask her out again, and perhaps I won't completely blow it this time. I'm not going to dwell on what-ifs, or on ways I could have salvaged our first date. I'm just going to try to make the second time the charm. I'm going to take her somewhere that isn't in Central. Maybe I'm lucky and she hasn't explored much of the city either, but even if that isn't the case, it sure couldn't hurt.

She might like Chinatown. She and I can sit down for a bowl of those wonderful noodles, then I can take her shopping for a nice vase to house the full bouquet of tulips I'm gonna give her. I've saved up about $600 over the last year, not enough to take her to Paris, but for a pleasant date in a lesser-known area of the city, it should do just fine.

Year 2, Day 230 (Part 1)

Dear Diary,

This whole time, Daddy's been lying to me. About everything.

I suppose the TV show starring myself should have been a tip-off, but I'm apparently so stupid that I just completely ignored it.

Yesterday Daddy went out with Jenny again. History repeats. I just sat there thinking about whether I'd been too harsh on him. Foolishly, I started to think that he was just trying to help me. I thought that the only reason he ever closed the window in the first place was to protect me, and that he opened it back up again because he saw that seclusion was fucking me up.

He told me that I was stuck here forever. He told me that I could never make friends. He told me that he was my only hope, and that anyone else would send me to Nevada.

He lied to me. Everyday, everything he ever said, it was all a lie. He made it a habit to look me straight in the eye and lie straight to my fucking face.

And I just sat there, and I felt sorry for him, and he made me hate myself for doubting him, and I decided to give him another chance.

So I trotted over to the window, and I looked out of it, and what I saw was a shot at a brand new life. I saw a future where Daddy and I got along perfectly, where I would be allowed to fly where ever and whenever I want. I'd still only be an observer, but I'd be able to see anything in the world that I wanted to see. I could fly to Paris at the speed of sound, spend the day there, spend the next week in Rome, Moscow, Beijing, and Tokyo, and I'd always have a home to come back to when it was over. That's what I saw when I looked out that window. And who knows? Maybe his intentions were earnest when he gave me this bit of freedom. It still wouldn't change a damn thing.

A wise man once said to always look before you leap. So I looked, and I leapt. About now, I feel I should confess that I told a little fib of my own earlier. I had said that if my unhealthy lifestyle kept up, that I would become as fat as a cow. In truth, that had already taken place. I weighed as much as two ponies, and my wings were barely strong enough to lift one.

I aimed up, towards the skyscrapers, but gravity had other plans. I didn't exactly plummet, thankfully, it was more of a slow, barely controllable descent, but rapid enough that I had already passed an entire floor before I realized my mistake.

I wasn't flying, and I sure wasn't getting back in the same way I got out, but I wasn't screwed just yet. The next window I passed just so happened to be open, in fact, it was the same window I had escaped through the very first time I went flying. Without thinking, I thrust myself through it, and started thinking of how I was going to go back upstairs.

Or, I would have, anyway, had there not been a man in the apartment with me, holding a bowl of cereal in his hand, and staring right at me.

Three guesses what happened to that cereal.

But, though I was taught all my life that this man, and any others like him, would have freaked out and either called the police or taken advantage of me, no such thing happened. As the milk seeped into the carpet, this man passed up multiple opportunities to rape and murder me, and instead handed me a paper towel and asked me to help him clean up.

After we finished up, he poured himself (and me) another bowl, and asked me questions that must have been on his mind for ages. I felt ashamed when I barely had answers for a quarter of the things he asked me, and how half of those had to due with my weight, but the silver lining was that I got to grill him about a few things next.

I asked him his name (Marty), some general things about this world, and life, and friendship, and he seemed to have answers for everything. Sometimes, they were a little abstract, or cliche'd, but it's much more than I ever got out of Daddy.

It was at about that time when that I finished my cereal, and trotted over to the TV to see what kind of reception he had. Turns out the one thing I had forgotten to ask him was whether or not he had any at all. You see, Marty is a man with more sense than money. Instead of investing in a costly cable or satellite package, he prefers to keep a tidy blu-ray collection and go online to get his TV shows.

So, he let me take a look through his blu-rays to find something to watch while he went and brushed his teeth. Marty appeared to be quite the fan of action movies, which is why one particular movie in his pile did not fit there at all.

Year 2, Day 230 (Part 2)

I came into this world through a magic mirror. Through a portal that has long since closed on me, and which I have no way of knowing when or where it will ever open.

I spent months in the alleys of this god-forsaken city, just trying to claw out a meager existence in the vain hope that my friends would come rescue me.

I was hit by a car and kidnapped by a deluded brony who wanted to play daddy with his favorite fantasy creature.

I was locked in an apartment for a year and a half, inching further into Stockholm Syndrome with each passing day.

I was lied to every day, convinced that the entire world hated me, and that I could never make a friend for as long as I lived.

I became socially and sexually repressed; a fat, worthless, suicidal recluse who couldn't even fly.

I lost everything that made me who I was. I'm not half the pony I used to be, and now I know why.

He could have sent me back, and he knew it. But he didn't want to.

He toyed around with a life that wasn't his to control. He fucked around with serious matters that he didn't understand.

And I am the result of his experiment. A shadow of a far better pony. A worthless blob of flesh that used to be great.

But I know how I'm going to get my revenge. I'm going to take him down with me.

Bronycon's coming to this town in November, and I wouldn't miss it for the world.

To whom it may concern,

To whom it may concern,

I have grown up substantially in the past two years, in no small part thanks to Dashie. I took her in, I saved her life, I fed her, housed her, clothed her, and raised her. But I didn't do it for her, and I realize that now. At the time, I thought I was a saint among men for helping her, and that was how I justified the things I did. I locked her in my apartment for two years, stunted her development, and stuffed her with junk food until she got fat. Instead of doing the rational thing and sending her back, I kept her for myself. I took advantage of her in a different way, and for this, I don't expect anyone to forgive me.

But if you're reading this, you don't care about how I got here, or why. I'm not putting this in my diary, though you may read it if it completes the story for you. All you want to know is what happened after I opened that window.

The answer is nothing. Nothing happened when I opened that window. She sat and pondered and ate her chips, but ultimately went right back to watching TV. I can still remember the last time I saw her. She was fat, weak, unsanitary; a heart attack waiting to happen, and it was all my fault.

But I just couldn't bare to look at her anymore. I had a new lease on life, and I wasn't about to squander it by thinking about how much of a horrible person I was. I was ready to turn it all around.

And to start it off, I literally turned around. I turned around and left the apartment. She had food, she had water, she had an open window. She could stand me being away for a few days. I called Jenny and apologized for everything that happened last time, and asked her for just one more chance. There was an old, nostalgic Disco still running in the north side. I guess the place just opened shop in the 70s, and never got the memo when the fad passed. But more importantly, it was as far from Central as we could possibly go.

I drove her there with $600 in my wallet, and I kept her beside me for as long as I could stretch it. We danced, we bowled, we ate, we went to the movies, and we did everything I'd never gotten a chance to do before. I even brought her to Chinatown and bought her a souvenir: a giant, green dragon made of pure Jade. Well... tinted glass... but it looked like Jade. By the time the night was over, Jenny even let me spend the night at her place. Nothing happened, but I didn't care. I just needed to be away from my own apartment for a while.

The next day, I headed into work with a swing in my step. For the first time in months, Marty wasn't there. At the time, I just thought he was sick. I tried calling him, but there was no answer. I thought he was just taking a lazy day. We all need one of those every once in a while.

So, when I left work, I decided to check on him. I knocked on his apartment door, but he still didn't answer. Nothing from his cell phone either. I gave up, and just went up to my own apartment to see if Dashie had taken my offer. As soon as I opened the door, I felt relieved. The TV was off, the window was open, and Pegasus was nowhere to be seen; though her mess remained. While I waited for her to come back, I put away the groceries. No more chips and sodas, just leafy greens and other things that a horse is supposed to eat.

With the fridge stocked and the mess cleaned up, I saw that there was still one bag of Funyuns left in the pantry. Rather than let Dashie slip back into old habits, I cracked them open myself and sat in front of the TV. Dashie had been watching alot of World War II documentaries, but I had a different idea in mind. I clicked over to a show about homes and gardens, and started noting the addresses and prices of the better houses. I didn't want to live in Central forever. I wanted to move somewhere else. San Diego, maybe. I wanted to send Dashie back to Equestria, and rebuild my life without the guilt. Maybe with Jenny, maybe not. The specifics weren't the point, I just wanted to start over.

I ended up falling asleep with the notepad in my hand. The Funyuns fell to the floor and spilled out everywhere. When I came to, the carpet was a mess, the TV was still showing houses, and Dashie still hadn't come back. I turned off the TV and peeked out the window, trying to look out for anything blue and airborne. In the sky, I saw nothing. On the street, I saw nothing. Among the buildings, I saw nothing. Below me... I saw something. A dainty little blue feather, smashed in a windowsill two stories down.

What I did next was far from wise, but I did it anyway. I tied my bedsheets together to make a rope and secured it to my heater, then lowered myself down two floors until I reached the open window. A wee bit of monkeying, and I was in.

The inside of the apartment was alot more familiar than the outside. It was Marty's apartment, and he was still nowhere to be seen. The feather in the window looked to be from Rainbow Dash, but that only made less sense. I thought the worst case scenario here was that Marty and Dashie had met. But Marty was cool. He would never do anything stupid with that. But why wasn't he answering my calls?

On Marty's nightstand was the case for the Equestria Girls Blu-Ray. The disc was on the floor, shattered into dozens of tiny pieces, but the case itself was left wide open, with a tiny slip of paper stuck in place of the disc.

"...I wouldn't miss it for the world."

On the front of the cover, the signature had been circled repeatedly in red. Rainbow Dash was up to something, and Marty was helping her.

But Bronycon wasn't until November. I still had time. I ran out of the apartment and into my car. I started calling Marty repeatedly, this time leaving messages with every try. Still never any response. I drove all over the city; anywhere I could conceive of them going. I had to refuel my car three times, and never found a single, damn thing to point me in the right direction. And I'd missed work.

Bronycon wasn't until November. I slumped back to my apartment and plopped down on my mattress. The only thing I could do was show up to work tomorrow, and hope that Marty came in.

For the next week, that was the plan. I showed up and did my job. And Marty didn't come in. Same thing the next day. And the next. And the one after that. And the one after that. Everyone I asked just said that Marty had vacation days saved up, and was taking a break. I knew better, but I wasn't about to let the cat out of the bag. So, I kept calm. I did my job.

"You want an order of fries with that?" I'd say to one customer.

"Is that to go?" I'd say to another, as I wasted precious time that I should have been using to look for Dashie.

Five days into my scheme, Jenny came in and asked if I was on for tomorrow. She had bought concert tickets, and wanted to give me one. I accepted, perhaps foolishly, but even though finding Dashie was important, I had to think about my life after this was over. This was something that I had to do, for my future.

And then Marty came in. Just as suddenly as that. He walked in, already in uniform, and stood behind the counter like nothing was wrong. He didn't ignore me, either. It was the height of business hours, and we had orders to fill. In public, I didn't even bother nudging him yet. I would ask him later, after our shifts were over.

But his ended an hour before mine, and he knew it. As soon as he had a chance, he hung up his hat and said his goodbyes. He was out the door in seconds.

Not even bothering to clock out, I ran outside and caught up to Marty. Now he was ignoring me, and fastwalking too. But, refusing to take a hint, I followed and pestered for the next block and a half. I had said alot of things to him in that timespan, but apparently none so outrageous as "She's my friend."

Marty socked me with a right hook that could crack a brick. I was on the sidewalk before I could flinch. I will never forget what he told me afterwards.

"Is that how you treat your friends!?" he yelled. People on the other side of the street just turned their heads and kept moving. "You lock them in your apartment for two years, fatten them up, brainwash them, estrange them from their friends and family, and lie to them about who they really are!? Is that how you fucking treat your friends, you pervert!?"

I could only lie there on the pavement, and listen in abject horror.

"I thought I knew you, man. And I knew that you were fucked up. But I didn't think this was what you were capable of. Making her call you 'daddy' for food; keeping porn of her under your bed... you sick, fucking pervert!" He stopped ranting for a few seconds. Long enough for me to get a word in edgewise.

"I fucked up," I admitted, "And I deserved that. I deserve even worse." Marty turned and looked like he was leaving, until I stopped him. "But we can make this right. We can still save her."

"Like you 'saved' her last time, you prick?"

"You saw the movie. It's a mirror. The portal is a mirror. We just have to send her back through it."

"She doesn't want to go through the mirror anymore. She wants to go to Bronycon," Marty countered, then paused for a moment to think about what he had just said.

"Listen to yourself, Marty. That's ridiculous. Rainbow Dash is a..." We stopped when we realized that people were staring now, and had been for the last minute or so.

We continued our talk in a nearby coffee shop. Hopefully alot quieter this time.

"If Rainbow Dash shows up at that Con, she'll be caught for sure. And not just by fans. Police... soldiers... She'll be sent to Area 51, or wherever they keep something like her. But if we can find her before that happens, and send her back through the mirror, she can have another chance at life."

Marty thought about what I had offered him, and eventually nodded his head. All that he wanted to know was which mirror it was. And that was as legitimate as concerns got. Where would we even start looking? The flower shop? The alley? There are a million different mirrors in this city, and it could be any one of them.

And so, as friends, we just searched them all. We decided on starting near the alleyway where I first found her. The one with the rat skeletons. It wasn't long until the shop owner asked what we were doing rummaging in his trash. It turns out that he's a very religious sort, and when the mirror he used in floral displays started to make weird noises, he had it taken to the city dump.

I ended up missing the concert. Jenny forgave me, but I never got a chance to ask her out again. After a few weeks, she got another boyfriend. All the meanwhile, Marty and I searched the city dump every day after work for the next several months.

It was Halloween when we finally found it. Only a few days left before Bronycon. As mirrors go, this one was fairly unassuming. Simply a flat pane. No decorations, or frame of any kind. About the only strange thing about it was the fact that it remained uncracked to this day.

Unable to resist the temptation, I of course poked my head through it. I'm not sure what I expected to see, it was just some old cellar surrounded by barrels. Equestria it was, but I'd have to be a fool to go there now, with so much at stake.

When Bronycon finally arrived, Marty and I were ready. We parked outside the venue, and staked it out all day and night. For what seemed like eternity, it was coffee and binoculars. The festivities went uninterrupted, for the most part. Some idiot got kicked out for showing up roaring drunk, but that was the worst of it.

"I still think you're an awful human being," Marty told me, breaking the silence. "keeping her trapped and brainwashed for so long... nothing can make up for that."

"I don't expect to. I just want to fix this mess."

"And how do we do that? We can't just force her through the mirror if she doesn't want to go."

"Then we talk her through, Marty. Remind her of everything she left behind in Equestria."

"Remind her of what? She has amnesia. You hit her with your car!"

"Something! I don't know! Something!" I finally shouted out. "If you hate me so much, don't worry. First chance I have, I'm moving. I can't stand me either."

I had to get out of that car. I asked Marty to call me if he saw anything, and ducked into a taco shop for a quick meal. It was fast food, sure, but it was okay. A greasy, meaty burrito with extra sour cream. Just what every growing manchild needs.

I figured Marty could hold the fort without me for a little, and was in no rush to see him again anyway. I decided to spend some time in the bathroom to clear my head. I splashed a good deal of water on my face and sat down to think. It's amazing the kind of things your mind jumps to.

you suck

you are worthless

you are selfish

too little, too late

you are the reason rainbow dash wants to kill herself

you killed rainbow dash

she trusted you, and you drove her to suicide

she trusted you

...

The burrito didn't stay with me for long. I was hungry again; and the sour cream smelled even more pungent than when I was eating it. I thought about ordering something else, but found myself short of time when my phone rang. The con was wrapping up, and Marty needed me.

I arrived back at the car, and Marty handed me the binoculars. It only took me seconds to see her standing on the roof of the venue. She hadn't crashed the party. Not yet. It was like she was there for the same reason we were.

She was waiting for someone.

As the fans started to pour out of the building, Rainbow looked down on them with a watchful eye, scanning everyone in the crowd. She picked through every plushie, cosplay, and art print without bias. Every friendly face, every John and Jane Doe, every nerd and every happy soul. Of all these thousands upon thousands of people, she was only waiting for one. And she hadn't found them yet. This continued for a few minutes, though she occasionally ducked her head back to avoid being seen, or retreated briefly into the shadows.

But then her head suddenly jerked up, and back. Her wings came out as she flew out of my sight, and behind the building. She was probably in the parking lot.

"Let's go," I called. Marty and I grabbed the mirror, got out of the car, and sprinted to the lot. We had to slow down to wade through an enormous crowd, but they were a nice enough bunch. We had made it to the lot within minutes.

And there, we saw Dashie just standing out in the open, her eyes fixated on a woman in a car, as she looked back at the pegasus just once and drove away. Rainbow saw us as we approached, but she didn't try to run, or fight. She only acknowledged us.

"I'm not going back to the apartment," she said, stoically.

Marty showed her the mirror, and told her that she didn't have to. "You can go home, Dash. Your real home. You can get back to your life."

"What life? I don't know who I am, who I was, or what I'll do. I can barely fly, I'm stupid, I don't even have my cutie mark, and I've only spoken to three people in my whole life. All I have to go on is some stupid cartoon that tells me I'm a world-famous athlete. How am I going to live up to that?"

She collapsed on the pavement in tears. If she had more to say, I wasn't going to hear it. Not a single intelligible word left her mouth. I crouched beside her, and offered what little advice I could.

"I feel the same way, too. And I guess through this whole debacle, I've just been trying to prove that I wasn't. I tried to prove I could raise a child. I wanted to prove that I was a better man than everyone always told me I was. And I failed." This wasn't helping her, but I continued, "But I know why I failed. I failed because I tried to prove something that wasn't true. All my life I've been resenting other people, even the whole city, and trying to pin my failures on them. All my life, I thought that I was better than anybody else in this city, and just needed a way to show it. And that's why I failed. I couldn't prove that I was a good man when I wasn't."

Rainbow started to cry even harder.

"But I'll tell you what I could do. I could be better. I could take responsibility, and fix things myself. I could stop blaming other people, and learn to get along with them. I could make myself the man I'd always wanted to be. I could even take the worst mistake I've ever made in my life, and do everything humanly possible to make it right." She stopped sobbing, and looked up to listen to me. I finally had her attention. "The world dealt you a bad hand, Dashie. And alot of that is my fault. But if I could change my life, then so can you."

Marty leaned the mirror against a brick wall, and threw a pebble through it to prove that it worked. The glass shimmered briefly as the tiny stone passed through it unhindered.

"You have friends waiting for you in Equestria, Dashie," I reassured her. "Show them you're still alive."

Rainbow Dash sighed, then climbed back up on all four hooves, and walked toward the portal. She stuck one hoof through the glass to prove that it was real. The hoof disappeared into the other world as tears of joy ran down her muzzle.

"Bronycon's a heck of a place," Marty interrupted, "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes," Dashie stated simply, never breaking eye contact with the mirror. Without wasting another moment, she took several steps forward, and her head disappeared through the portal, followed by her forehooves, her torso, her rearhooves, and finishing with the very tip of her tail. One of her hooves stumbled on the edge of the mirror as she walked through it, and the entire thing fell and shattered on the pavement. Bits of broken glass littered the parking lot, a final remnant of what had just transpired here.

It was finally over.

And that's how I sent her back. I am writing this final word from the middle of the Central bridge. It's looking to be a very cloudy day, but I thought I should say something. I still haven't heard a word from Jenny. And Marty, true to his word, still hates my guts, even if he won't acknowledge it publicly. That's fine. I'm not going to change minds if I don't change myself first. The houses I want are still way out of my price range, but I might be able to finish my degree if I move to Miami. I have an uncle who lives there, even though we rarely spoke.

Perhaps I'll do that. Perhaps.

Author's Note

It's long overdue, but I finally finished this fic. It's not the original ending I had planned in 2014, but it's one I am more proud of. Originally, I had the narrator chasing Dashie through Equestria as they both ran through the mirror during Bronycon. The narrator then got told off by Celestia and sent back home, where he threw himself into the river.

That was a dumb ending. I'm glad I went with this one.

Year 1, Day 1

Dear Diary,

This is very much a coming-of-age point for me. My entire life, I've spent in this city. And I'm beginning to realize that that's all that it is. A city. Concrete, metal, and flesh for as far as the eye can see. We have a park, but no park service. When squirrels choke to death on litter, or little kids put toilet paper all over one of the trees, it's all just... left there. Much like the rest of this town. The police don't even bother doing anything about the rampant crime in my area anymore. One of them even told me to "buy a gun, and stop complaining."

And assuming I don't get robbed on the way to work, every day of my life is basically the same. I wake up, I get dressed, and I work eight hours at a burger joint. Then, with another eight hours left until I go to sleep and have to repeat the process, I'm in no hurry to get home. I find that taking long walks every now and again really helps to make me feel better.

I'll often just pass right by my house and keep walking. I'll just walk until I feel like I've had enough. No pedometers, no exercise regimen, not even any real point. I just enjoy walking, if that makes any sense.

Sometimes, I'll find myself stopping to catch my breath, or just collect my thoughts. Way too often, I find myself standing in the middle of the Central Bridge, just staring down into the water. Just zoning out and getting lost in my thoughts. I'll just lean into the guard rail for about a half an hour, and do absolutely nothing productive. I'll think long and hard about my life, and where it's going. Then I'll start to lean in further, and then further, and further still, perhaps with a subconscious hope that the guard rail will break away, and I'll find the answers to my troubles at the bottom of the river.

Perhaps.

Year 1, Day 4

Dear Diary,

She still hasn't woken up.

I took her back home after the accident and had to cannibalize one of my old shirts to make a bandage for her head. I think I stopped the bleeding, and I know that she can breathe, but she still hasn't woken up.

What do I do? Do I take her to a doctor? A vet? What would the vet even say if I brought him a bright blue cartoon pony? Even as I type those words, I feel the need to pause, and look back at the unconscious filly on my couch. Bright blue coat, a mane and tail representing all the colors of the rainbow, a face with... that shape... I'd know it anywhere. I know for a fact that that is Rainbow Dash. But even as I look at her, even as I run my fingers through her fur, even as I know that she is here and this is all real... it just feels impossible.

She's a cartoon. Even in the real world, she still looks like a cartoon. And come to think of it, why is she so young? In the show, Rainbow was at least twice this age. I know there are some weirdos out there who would just have something like this fall into their lap and never question it. I'd like to think I'm not that hopeless yet.

As soon as Rainbow Dash wakes up, I am going to ask her how she got here, and just what exactly she was doing behind the florist's office. I just hope she'll be okay here on her own for the day. Tomorrow's Monday, and I have to be at work.

This is very much a coming-of-age for me, just not how I had planned it. The way I'd planned it, I would have had a child with Jenny, and retired to the countryside to raise him in peace. Now that I think about it, that seems strangely unrealistic. Where would I get the money? What would I do about income? How would I convince Jenny to marry me? How was I so sure it'd be a he?

In retrospect, my plans seem farfetched. But, then again, the pegasus on my couch would indicate that we use the word "impossible" just a tad flippantly.

Either way, I guess I'm a father now. I mean, I can't exactly just boot her back onto the streets, can I? Someone's got to look after her, and it's either me, or Area 51.

So don't worry, Dashie. I'm here for you.

Year 1, Day 102

Dear Diary,

Went on a nice, long walk for the first time in months. I stopped on the Central Bridge just to get a whiff of the sea air. The guard rail felt fairly sturdy this time, I think they've reinforced it since the last tine I was there.

Dashie's been making progress with her flying. As it stands, she's easily able to reach any cabinet or drawer in the house, and can easily outfly any insect. Poor dragonfly learned that the hard way. She keeps begging me to take her outside to fly in the park, but like I keep telling her, it's not safe. Anyone sees her, even for a second, and it's off to Navada. I'm not taking that risk.

I've decided to try asking Jenny out again. No elaborate flower proposal this time, for fear of running over Bugs Bunny, or some other treasured childhood character. I'm just going to call her up, and ask her if she wants to hang out. It doesn't even have to be the Italian place, I heard they closed down anyway. Really, anywhere but the burger joint is fine in my book.

If things go well, I'll probably be away all night. I'm pretty sure Dashie can handle herself while I'm gone. I try not to mention the alley, but the fact is that she really held her own in there. I'm confident she'll be able to live on her own for at least one night in this apartment. I've made sure to remind my landlord to cancel the maid service for tonight. I just hope she doesn't make any noise, because that would be hard to explain.

And speaking of Dashie, after I caught her peeking in my diary, I kind of had to set up a quick ground rule. But I made it fair. I don't look at her diary, and she doesn't look at mine. Simple. All things considered, I think she took it well. Only trouble is, now she's asking for more books to read. If she's good, maybe I'll pick her up a nice Star Wars book tomorrow, after work. She'll probably get a kick out of Star Wars.

Year 1, Day 105

Dear Diary,

I'd rather not talk about it. Suffice it to say I missed my shot. I'll never forget that dress she wore when she rejected me. That stunning green dress with a little window for cleavage. She was easily a C, or maybe even a D cup, and for one night, she was all mine. But I blew it, and now Jenny wants nothing to do with me.

I went into work the next day, and apparently some kind of UFO meme had blown up on the internet overnight. The whole day, all anyone would talk about was how the latest alien spaceship hoax apparently flew over the city last night, spooked some really sleepy drivers caught in a traffic jam on 9th, and then landed somewhere in the projects to refuel. I will never get why people find this malarkey so interesting.

And to end the day, I got Dashie her Star Wars book on the way home from work. She seems to be enjoying it. I might have to get her another one soon, since she looked really excited while she was reading it. Good to see one of us had a good day at least.

I need to take a walk tomorrow.

Year 1, Day 278

Dear Diary,

It's my birthday today! Marty and the guys all threw me a surprise party at work. They pulled that stupid old dim-the-lights-and-then-jump-out-and-yell-surprise-when-he-goes-for-the-switch trick. I'll admit, they caught me off guard.

Overall, it was a great birthday. The folks at work knew I was a brony, even if I haven't had the time to catch a new episode since the season 3 premiere all those months ago (I'll catch up eventually), so they got me a Pinkie Pie cake, Twilight Sparkle balloons (har har), and Betty even dressed up as the titular party pony and led a full chorus of Smile Smile Smile. It was both embarrassing and heartwarming at the same time, but mainly the latter.

Jenny even dropped by with her new boyfriend and gave me a copy of Equestria Girls signed by Ashleigh Ball herself. It was a Blu-Ray, though, and all I have at the apartment is a DVD player. I'll have to take this over to Marty's house on the weekend and watch it with him. He lives like two floors down from me anyway.

Jenny had to leave, so she gave me a quick kiss on the cheek and told me to "take care of myself." But right before she left, our eyes locked for but a moment. For only a matter of five... maybe six seconds, Jenny stared deep into my eyes, and I into hers. But, strangely, it didn't feel like a romantic moment or anything like that. No, it felt more like she was afraid.

In fact, I was almost certain that she was afraid, with the only remaining question being "of what?" She soon moved to rejoin her boyfriend and walk to the car, but still turned subtly to look back at me while she did so. Whatever was on her mind, it wasn't just a passing feeling.

Unfortunately, that kind of killed the party. It just kinda fizzled out over the next hour and Marty told me to take the rest of the day off. I finished my slice of cake, and happily obliged.

Year 1, Day 282

Dear Diary,

I could have sent her back.

This whole time, I could have sent her back, and I still can.

I sat down and watched Equestria Girls with Marty. He pretty much laughed through the entire thing, but I wasn't really laughing.

Mirrors. That's how Dashie got here. Which mirror, and why she didn't transform into a human are beyond me, but that's it. That's been the answer this whole time.

But you can't blame me for my ignorance, can you? I had no way of knowing this until right now. All I did was try to help her make the best of a bad situation. I have no need to justify myself, if anything, I'm a hero! I threw caution to the wind and put myself out there just to help a poor soul in her time of need. What could possibly be more selfless than that?

But even as I squaredance around it, the burning question eats away at my skull like a little, white worm:

Now that I know the truth, what do I do with it?

Do I send her back? If so, how? Do I just shove her through the mirror in my bathroom? Does it have to be a specific mirror? How long until the cycle of thirty moons comes to an end? How would I actually do something like this.

Or... why?

Why would I do this? Why would I just... give her back? I have dedicated nearly a year of my short life to this pony, and I intend to dedicate many, many more. I found her on the streets and took her in and provided her with free food and shelter when no one else would! So what gives this world the gall to tell me that it it has any right to my daughter!?

I could have sent her back, and I still can. But that would be the lazy way out. The cheap way out.

I am Dashie's father. It is a title I have earned, and it is a title I am going to keep.

Year 2, Day 3

Dear Diary,

It's been a full year today since I found Dashie lying there by the side of the road.

I think I've been a good father so far. I've kept her safe and fed, I've given her books to read, I spend every single day with her, and I never ask a thing in return. I just let her do her own thing, as long as she does it safely. No chores, no school, nothing. Unlike my own daddy, I've never even touched her. I'd never ever ever ever touch her.

And I believe that's important. There are a lot of weirdos out there who would jump at the chance to sully her. After all, what sort of cop would listen to a talking horse? If she tried to talk, she'd just be hauled up to Nevada and experimented on by the government. Then, when they're done with her, they'd just toss her in some ditch and no one would find the body. They don't care if the specimen had been mistreated or not, they just wanna take her apart and see what makes her tick.

There are a lot of weirdos that would take advantage of this fact. A victim who could never talk to anyone, because if she talked to anyone, they'd kill her. Some men would see this as a source of power. Carte Blanche to do whatever they wanted to the poor filly. She could be their slave. Day after day after day of the most horrible kind of servitude, until the poor thing finally snaps and they find her body floating face down in the central river with scars all over her arms and an illegitimate child in her womb.

I don't want that for her. And I've done all I can to protect her from that.

So imagine my surprise when I find out that she's been sneaking out at midnight to fly around the city. Yes, I read her diary. I had to. She was betraying me, and I never would have found out about it otherwise.

Does she not appreciate a single thing that I do for her!? Does she WANT to get taken away by the government!? I know that she understands the consequences of her actions, so I am bewildered by her brazen disobedience.

She's been stabbing me in the back for months now, and she knows it. But no more.

I've locked the windows, and they're staying locked. There's no way she's getting out. There's no way I'm letting my little Dashie out into that cruel, heartless world for even another minute.