"Go away, Pinkie Pie."
Pinkie stopped in her tracks, a hoof still raised a few inches off the floor, and she stared at the man who had spoken to her. He was sitting on a small, barely-padded chair facing away from her, looking out a window. It was a spot that he often occupied whenever Pinkie visited.
"Oh. Hey, Jesse." Pinkie's voice cracked slightly. It was difficult to predict what kind of mood the old man would be in at any given time, but she tried to shrug off the abrupt command. "How did you know that I'd come to visit?" She feigned a gasp. "Do you have eyes in the back of your head?"
Jesse laid a rough, gnarled hand upon his knee and slowly twisted his body around to look at Pinkie. His face bore many wrinkles, most notably around the brow that was lowered into a frown. Age had been kind to his hair, which was mostly intact even though it was white as the snow that was falling outside. It was his eyes that Pinkie stared at though, unable to look away. As clear, blue, and cold as ice were those eyes of his. The old man grimaced and wrinkled his nose.
"Could smell you," he muttered. He turned his back on Pinkie again and resumed his window watching. "Coming in here. Middle of the night," he continued in short, clipped sentences. "Stinking up the place. Once was a time a man could retire in peace. Not have to smell horse everywhere he goes!"
Pinkie stared at her reflection in the tiled floor. "I do bathe regularly, you know," she mumbled. She had experienced friends like Jesse in the past, most notably Cranky Doodle, a donkey who had wanted nothing to do with her or her friendship the first time they had met. They were good friends now, but Jesse could sometimes make the old Cranky seem like a shining beacon of friendship and kindness.
"Mmhmm," the old man said in a tone that suggested he didn't believe a word of it.
Pinkie sighed and looked away. It was getting to be like this every time she came to visit; she wasn't sure why she thought it might be any different now. Four months ago, Pinkie had finally been convinced by Princess Celestia to return to this world, a world much different from their own. "There are those in this world who are in desperate need of friendship," the princess had said. "Those who have no one else to turn to."
At first, Pinkie had refused, and she was grateful that Celestia had not pressed the issue. Her last journey to this place had been... difficult. Sarah, her first and only friend here, had connected with Pinkie from the moment they'd first met. The bond they shared was one Pinkie would always cherish. No, becoming friends with Sarah had not been difficult at all.
It was what had come after that had kept Pinkie from returning to this place for just over a year.
"You haven't left yet."
Jesse's words broke Pinkie off from her thoughts and brought her back to cold reality. She looked up to see the old man's piercing blue eyes staring at her.
"Well?" he said.
That single word was all it took. Pinkie stood up, hung her head, and walked past Jesse to the window. After a moment's struggle, she opened the window and climbed out, landing deftly in the snow. She did not look back as she walked into the nearby woods and disappeared.
..o0o..
The patient's symptoms are, at this stage, few and far between. Mr. Roland's daughter notes an increase in mood downswings. Specifically, he is reported to have become quick to anger, something I can personally attest to, having witnessed this in person. Still, there is no indication that, save the one incident, Mr. Roland is any danger to himself or those around him. With continued treatment, I see no reason why the patient can not be released within the next few weeks.
- Dr. Khoury
..o0o..
Fourteen days later...
Pinkie sat down in the snow and mentally prepared herself for the day's visit. Just ahead, facing away from her on a small wooden bench overlooking a half-frozen pond, sat Jesse. He was bundled up in a thick coat, and a brown woolen beanie covered his ears. Despite her trepidation, Pinkie couldn't help but give a small smile. Jesse Roland was not the kind of person to allow the snow or cold to keep him from his favorite bench. She carefully took a step towards him.
"What do you want?"
Pinkie froze in mid-step and looked up. Jesse hadn't moved, but it was clear to whom he was addressing. There was no one else in the area; Pinkie had made sure of that before making her approach.
"Oh!" she said with a nervous laugh. "I was that noisy, huh?" She took another step forward, taking note that Jesse still made no move to look at her. "I just want to, um... talk?" She mentally kicked herself for stumbling over her words. The old man had never done anything to threaten her, and yet her heart beat rapidly as she drew near.
"I'm busy."
Pinkie carefully made her way down the slope to the bench and sat beside it. Upon hearing Jesse's agitated sigh, she got up and moved a few paces away, then sat down again. It was another minute or so before she spoke.
"If you're too busy to talk, is it alright if I just keep you company for a while?" She looked over in Jesse's direction, trying to make eye contact.
Jesse closed his eyes and let out a long sigh through his nostrils. When he was finished, he opened his eyes and resumed his vigilant watch over the lake. He did not bother to look in Pinkie's direction or acknowledge her in any other way. Pinkie took it as the closest she might ever get to receiving an answer, and decided to stay.
Pinkie had to admit that the view was spectacular. The sky was brilliant blue, dotted with big, puffy clouds here and there. Ice within the lake shone bright as it reflected the sun's rays. Wind blew gentle waves from the unfrozen parts of the lake to the shore. Somewhere in the distance a few birds added their calls to the sound of the waves. It was all a peaceful kind of beautiful, and even Pinkie Pie could appreciate that.
There were more than a few moments where Pinkie made to speak, but then thought better of it. She had known Jesse long enough to know when he wanted to be left alone. Actually, he always wanted to be left alone, but this was different, somehow. She was determined to respect his wish.
The two spent a few more moments in silence before Pinkie quietly stood up and shook the snow off her hooves. Then, without a word, she made her way back up the trail. As she reached the top of the slope, she stopped and turned back. Jesse's eyes locked with hers for a brief moment before he turned back around and resumed his watch over the lake. As Pinkie turned back and headed toward home, she allowed herself a smile. They'd get there eventually, she thought. One small step at a time.
..o0o..
We have run into some complications with the patient, as Mr. Roland has recently begun exhibiting early symptoms of both insomnia and depression. As such, signing off on his departure from the facility at this time would be irresponsible with regards to the patient's health and well-being. It is therefore my determination that Mr. Roland remain under our care until further notice.
- Dr. Khoury
..o0o..
Thirteen days later...
The steam had stopped rising from Jesse Roland's dinner a long time ago, and yet the food remained untouched and the tray forgotten. The old man sat motionless in his chair by the window, an elbow propped on one knee, his eyes distant. He had been that way for more than a minute, and Pinkie had been prepared to leave when he finally spoke.
"Freedom."
The hairs rose on Pinkie's back and neck. When she had idly asked Jesse if there was anything she could get for him, she hadn't expected that answer. She actually hadn't expected any answer, but the way he said that single word frightened her in ways she couldn't even begin to explain. Her mind struggled to think of some kind of response, but her mouth refused to form words, and instead she was caught staring at the old man.
"Don't," Jesse said in a whisper, his eyes on Pinkie now. "Don't look at me like that. I don't need sympathy from anyone, and especially not from you." He turned his gaze away and stared out the window. "All I need is freedom. From this place." His fist tightened on his knee and his next words came out strained. "From these people."
Pinkie could only continue to stare. It hadn't taken many scoldings for her to learn that Jesse's situation was an unwelcome topic at best. For him to speak so openly about it meant that something had changed, and she wasn't so sure that it was for the better. Jesse Roland had always seemed to Pinkie as if he were made of ice and steel. Cold, sharp, and unbreakable. The kind of man who might never in his lifetime shed a tear or crack a smile, and who would set straight anyone who dared suggest otherwise.
What scared Pinkie—terrified her—was that the man sitting in the chair by the window looked, for the first time she could ever recall, frail. His shoulders slumped. His back, normally straight and rigid, was bent. He even looked thinner, somehow. Perhaps he had always been thin and Pinkie had never noticed. At that moment, she wasn't sure which it might be.
"They want to keep me here," Jesse continued suddenly, startling Pinkie. "Say my mind's no longer sharp." He rubbed his hands together as he spoke. Perhaps from the cold air that managed to invade through the old window. Perhaps for other reasons. "Even got my family buying into this nonsense. Still, I wonder..." Pinkie took an involuntary step back as Jesse turned his body and looked her straight in the eyes. All of the earlier signs of weakness she had noted were gone, replaced with steel once more.
"What are you?" he asked coldly. He stood from his chair and Pinkie retreated once more. "And don't for a single moment even think about lying to me," he warned as he advanced. "You're no pony. You think me some kind of fool idiot?"
Jesse's voice was neither loud, nor angry, but Pinkie's heart sunk further with each word spoken. She feared if he were to have some kind of episode, someone might take notice and investigate. She stumbled as she scurried backwards, and her mind raced as she tried to figure out what to do. Jesse was between her and her only exit: the window. She wouldn't dare try to leave out into the ward. She'd be caught for certain. The old man stopped, then. His face wore a look as if he'd just found the answer to some long-abandoned question.
"It's your fault I'm here," he said quietly, pointing an accusatory finger at Pinkie. "You. You're not real, you're up here." He jabbed his finger at his temple, then looked around the room as if confirming he wasn't in some kind of dream. His eyes fell upon the window. A cold gust of air blew in as Jesse opened it. He then turned to Pinkie, and she saw in his eyes not anger, but something worse. A look of pleading.
"Get out," he whispered. He stumbled backwards, as if afraid to be near her, and fell back into his chair. "Go away. Never come back."
Pinkie stared at Jesse with wide eyes, but the old man was no longer looking at her. A hand was pressed over his face, and his other arm was wrapped around himself.
Eyes downcast, Pinkie slowly made her way to the window, leaped onto the sill, and pulled herself through.
..o0o..
It is my opinion that the patient's recent hallucinations are a manifestation of guilt based upon the unfortunate situation Mr. Roland and his immediate family endured over the past year. They are not entirely uncommon, particularly at this stage of the disease. What Mr. Roland described very strongly suggests youth, innocence, and femininity. Mr. Roland's daughter, while obviously distraught, agrees with this interpretation, though it would be unprofessional to assume this theory to be correct without further observation. The factors involved are complicated and many, and I fear the worst is yet to come.
- Dr. Khoury
..o0o..
The next day...
A warm, yellow aura enveloped the teacup. It rose from its saucer and hovered in front of Pinkie, who sighed and resigned herself to studying the fine detail of the hoof-painted flowers on its outer surface. Each tiny violet petal was shaded with striking precision. Each leaf and stem painted with gold. A moment later the teacup, now filled with steaming amber liquid, was returned to its saucer.
"I understand your concerns, Pinkie Pie," Princess Celestia said in her soothing, motherly voice. She breathed in the aroma of her own cup of tea before taking a sip. Her eyes closed, and she let out a long breath before opening them again and giving Pinkie an empathetic smile. "How do you plan to proceed?"
Pinkie lowered her head to the table and went back to studying her teacup. She tried speaking several times before finally saying, "I... don't know. I don't even know if I should." She glanced at Celestia, then quickly looked away. "He clearly doesn't want me around. Everything I do makes him angry or upset. If my mission is to bring joy and friendship, I'm afraid my presence isn't bringing us any closer to that goal." She spoke the last sentence with a hint of sarcasm that she somewhat regretted.
The princess didn't seem to mind. She leaned back in her chair and regarded Pinkie thoughtfully. "Your previous visits to the other world proved to be complicated as well," she said. Her words were like a dagger in Pinkie's heart, and it took a moment for her to recover. It wasn't Pinkie's visits to Jesse the princess had referred to.
Pinkie took a sip of tea and closed her eyes, but she knew it was too late. A moment later she felt the warm dampness of tears on her cheeks. She swallowed, set her teacup down, and wiped her eyes, then stared at the kettle for what felt like several minutes before saying, "That's what I'm afraid of."
"The effort was well spent," Celestia said.
The princess would never know just how much effort Pinkie's visits with Sarah had been. To build a friendship and grow a bond with someone so special, knowing all the while that it wouldn't last. Knowing hadn't done anything to lessen the pain of her loss, or the grief that followed.
"I don't want Jesse to be another Sarah," Pinkie said joylessly.
A small smile touched the princess's lips. "From what you've told me of Jesse Roland, I find it very difficult to imagine many similarities between the two."
"Well, Sarah thought I was imaginary, too. So there's that," Pinkie glowered. It was a cheap shot, and she knew it.
One of the castle servants came over and replaced the kettle with a fresh one, then left with a bow. The princess was still smiling when Pinkie looked up at her.
"The affection you and Sarah shared for one another was more than worth the hardships you both faced, of this I am certain," Celestia said. "Just as I am certain that you do not truly feel that Jesse Roland isn't worth the effort." She leaned over the table and wiped away Pinkie's tears. "Nobody will ever replace Sarah. That's not why I sent you out again. I sent you because there are still those who are in desperate need of joy and laughter." She leaned back in her chair once more and regarded Pinkie with a serious look. "But I will never force you. If you feel it is too difficult, too painful, and you truly wish to stop, you only need ask."
Pinkie considered the princess's words. It had been difficult. It had been painful. Jesse Roland had made sure of it. But as she thought about her hardships, she imagined Jesse sitting out on his favorite bench, alone. He was often bitter and resentful, but surely he had not always been like that. What had happened to harden his heart in such a way?
She knew what she had to do. She just wasn't sure how she was going to do it.
..o0o..
Three weeks later...
Pinkie pushed aside a snow-covered branch and stepped out onto the path to see that Jesse was again seated at his favorite bench overlooking the lake. At the sight of him she paused, her hoof still hovering above the snow, as she took a moment to compose herself. It had been several weeks since her last visit, and she wasn't sure what to expect.
Not that Pinkie could say she ever really knew what to expect with these visits anyway, but she was certain that she didn't want a repeat of what had happened the last time.
With a bit of effort, Pinkie managed to put on a big smile. She stepped forward to greet the old man, and as she drew closer he tilted his head slightly at the sound of her hooves breaking through the snow. A moment later he turned around and set his clear blue eyes on her. Then he did something Pinkie didn't expect at all.
He smiled.
Pinkie found herself again frozen in mid-step. She had been prepared for the possibility of being dismissed, or even shouted at. She had prepared herself to be ignored. But she could not, in any possible way, have been prepared to be greeted with a smile. Her mind tried to make sense of it. The immediate instinct was to shout with glee, go hop onto the bench, and give the cranky old man the warmest hug ever.
But she knew better. There was no conceivable way that Jesse Roland would ever smile at her in such a fashion. Not yet, anyway. She raised her head and looked up into his eyes, and what she saw wasn't quite right. Something was different about the old man, and it wasn't just the smile.
Then, suddenly, realization dawned on her as to what was wrong—what was missing—and she closed her eyes. Her throat grew tight, and she was eventually forced to exhale after she forgot to breathe. She couldn't bear to look at what had become of Jesse, but some unknown force compelled her to open her eyes and look at him once more.
There was no recognition in his eyes.
She was not ready to face this. She found herself hoping that Jesse would scowl at her. She wanted him to tell her to go away, or to find some new way to put her down. She wouldn't even mind if he lashed out and kicked at her.
Instead, he beckoned her near.
"Come on over," he offered, his voice rough but kind. He patted the bench next to him. "Come on, no need to be shy. I ain't going to hurt you."
Pinkie again closed her eyes and willed herself to breathe more slowly. It wouldn't be fair to run away from this. She was here for a reason, and she was ashamed of herself for thinking that the man in front of her wasn't truly the Jesse she had always known. Of course he was. He couldn't help what he was going through. He couldn't help... all of this. She inhaled slowly, opened her eyes, and smiled back.
"Oh, hello there!" she said, and the delighted look of surprise on Jesse's face nearly broke her, but she pressed on. "My name's Pinkie Pie. Pleased to meet you!" She trotted over to the bench and hopped up onto the seat beside him.
"Oh!" Jesse said, putting a hand over his heart. "You speak?" At Pinkie's nod he looked back out at the frozen lake and a small smile touched his lips again. "Imagine that." He looked back down at Pinkie and studied her for a moment before saying, "Name's Jesse Roland. Pleasure's mine."
Pinkie struggled to maintain her composure. She had always imagined the old man finally cracking a smile and speaking to her with courtesy. But not like this. Never like this. She looked out at the lake as flurries began to drift down from the sky.
"It's a beautiful view," Pinkie said quietly.
Jesse looked down at her again thoughtfully. After a while he said, "You know? You remind me of my granddaughter, Poppy."
Pinkie blinked, taken aback, but she recovered and went along with it. "I do? In what way?"
"She was very happy," he said and, after a pause, added, "and sometimes very sad."
Pinkie's ears perked up and she found herself watching Jesse out of the corners of her eyes. Her curiosity piqued, she asked, "What else can you tell me about her?"
Jesse turned his whole body around to face Pinkie, and when he spoke his eyes were distant. She knew he was with his granddaughter at that moment.
"She used to visit with her folks. Often," he said, and his smile was genuine as he revisited days gone by. "Ah, her eyes would light up. 'Grandpa, grandpa, we missed you!' she'd always say. Would jump up on my lap. 'Tell me a story,' she'd say. And tell her I would. Tales of knights and princesses and the like. Cowboys and bandits and magic. All the wondrous things we tend to forget when we're older."
Jesse now had Pinkie's full attention, and she felt herself start to relax as he continued his tale.
"Some days she'd spend the whole visit lying on her stomach, her face propped up by her hands, just listening. Her head up in the clouds. Liked to draw, too. Had an entire corner of her room dedicated to art. Paints and crayons and the like. Loved to show me her latest masterpiece when she visited. She could write, too. Sometimes she'd come over and tell me stories."
A smile appeared on Pinkie's face as she tried to picture old rough and rowdy Jesse Roland being told fairy tales by a little girl. Poppy seemed like someone Pinkie would easily get along with.
"What kind of stories would she tell you?" Pinkie asked.
Jesse raised an eyebrow. "Well, it was almost always the same with her. Stories about princesses and ponies, of course!" He laughed, and Pinkie couldn't help herself. She joined in, laughing along with him. For the first time, she felt completely comfortable just sitting there, listening to the old man. He continued. "'Course when it came time to leave Poppy'd grab onto my daughter's leg and say 'We can't go now, we haven't gotten to happily ever after yet!' Naturally, they'd have to stay just a bit longer. A visit wasn't complete until Poppy'd had her 'ever after.'"
Pinkie saw the pure joy on Jesse's face and couldn't help but feel that perhaps this was the Jesse Roland that she could have been visiting all this time. Happiness, kindness, love. She'd seen him express them all during his little story, and she was genuinely enjoying herself for once.
Yet... this wasn't how Jesse usually acted. This was some dreamlike vision of what could have been, brought about by his disease. Something had turned Jesse from what she was seeing now, to what she was used to. There was something about his story that she was missing, and it bothered her. Deeply. But she had a sinking feeling that it was the key to everything. She looked up at the old man.
"So," she said, carefully choosing her words. "When is Poppy coming around to visit next?"
Jesse put a hand up to his mouth, as if in deep thought. He remained that way for some time, and when he finally spoke, his voice was just above a whisper. "Poppy... she's—she died. A year ago." He grew quiet a moment, then added "She's dead. She... she didn't get a happy ending. Her ever after never came."
Pinkie put a hoof over her mouth as she stared wide-eyed at Jesse. This man had been full of love and laughter, and he had suffered a loss so terrible that it had turned him to ice and steel. She wanted to say something, anything that might make him feel better.
Jesse stood up from the bench and took an unsteady step back from Pinkie. After a moment of hesitation, he removed his beanie, stared at the ground, and said, "Sorry. Been acting a fool. I... I need to go." With that said, he turned on his heel and started marching back toward the facility.
"Wait!" Pinkie cried out. He stopped, and she hoped for a moment that they could go back to the way they had been just short while ago. That she could turn back time, say something else. Anything else.
Jesse looked back at Pinkie, and she saw recognition in his eyes once more.
She held his gaze for a few seconds, then just gave a small, understanding nod. Jesse stared at her for what felt like several minutes, then gave a small nod of his own and left without another word.
..o0o..
The patient's condition has deteriorated to the point where Mr. Roland may, on occasion, experience episodes of total memory loss, inability to recognize faces known to him, and loss of basic motor skills. Despite some early successes with his treatments, I fear that progress has come to a complete standstill. It is with deep sorrow that I find myself again at a point where I must prepare the immediate family for the inevitable.
- Dr. Khoury
..o0o..
Nine days later...
Jesse was at his usual spot by the lake when Pinkie arrived, but this time he turned at the sound of her hoof-steps. He stared at her a moment, then turned back to watch the lake.
"Well, you coming?" he asked when she didn't make a move to come any closer.
Pinkie jumped slightly, then approached cautiously. Unsure of what else to do, she said, "Are you...?"
The old man looked down at Pinkie and gave a small nod. "Yeah," he said. "It's... me. For today, at least." He moved over to make room for her on the bench, and she jumped up and took a seat beside him. Somewhere out in the woods, a bird called out its song.
"I, um... guess it's going to be Spring here, soon," Pinkie said. She wasn't sure if she should look at Jesse when she spoke to him, or if he'd get upset with her, so she just stared at the ground beneath her. "It's heading into Autumn back in Ponyville, so I guess we'll be doing the Running of the Leaves soon. That's where we ponies run through the forest to help the leaves fall. It's one of Applejack's favorite times of the year. She's the one with the farm if you... um, do you remember when I told you about her?"
Jesse closed his eyes, and Pinkie feared he might tell her to leave, but he opened them again and slowly said, "Yes. Yes, I... I remember her."
Pinkie chanced a smile. "Great! Well, she used to compete with Rainbow Dash like, every year, but lately those two have been teaming up to out-race the other competitors. Let me tell you, those two are unbeatable when they decide to actually work together." She looked up and gave a little laugh. "If I ever get the chance, I'll introduce you to them. I'm sure Princess Celestia would allow it, if only just once."
"Thank you," Jesse said.
Pinkie looked over to see he was watching her. "Um, for what?" She asked.
"For this," he said. He waved a gnarled hand around. "For talking. Treating me like I'm a human being. Somewhere along the line folks stopped treating me like one." He looked back out to the lake, and the casual nature of his next words shook her. "I'm dying, Pinkie Pie. Mind's fading. Won't be long there won't be anything left, and everyone knows it." He gave a bitter laugh. "To them I'm already gone. But you... you show up and you talk to me like nothing's the matter. I can appreciate that. Respect it. And while my mind's still my own... in case I—forget things, I want to apologize for how I treated you." When he finished speaking, Jesse hung his head as if in shame, his eyes unable to meet Pinkie's.
There were many things Pinkie was still unsure of, including what she was about to do, but she was absolutely certain of one thing: everyone deserved joy and laughter in their lives, regardless of their circumstances. Slowly, Pinkie moved close to the old man, put a hoof around his back, closed her eyes, and placed her head against his chest as she held him in a warm hug. A moment later she felt his hand on her back as he returned it.
..o0o..
Attempts to contact the patient's daughter have been unsuccessful, and she is still unaware of the accelerated rate that her father's condition has worsened. In her absence, Mr. Roland has requested all monitoring and life support to be removed, and that he be left alone to face his end in peace. It is regrettable that the patient will have nobody to speak to, but his wishes will be respected. I will only check in on meal delivery.
- Dr. Khoury
..o0o..
Four days later...
The moment Pinkie entered the room, she knew this was it. Today was the day she would be saying goodbye. Jesse was not in his favorite chair by the window, but instead was lying in his bed, his head propped up with several pillows. His eyes had been closed when she first arrived, but they opened and he turned his head her way.
He mumbled something that sounded like "Pinkie..."
His voice was so weak. Just four days earlier he had spoken with vigor as he gave her thanks. She walked over to his bedside and gave him a sad smile, though it disappeared when she noticed his condition. His hair, usually well-kept, was uncombed and disheveled. Bits of food from a previous meal lay forgotten where they fell on his chest and shoulders. But it was his tongue that caused her to give a small gasp. It had become swollen and dry, even bleeding in parts.
"Oh my goodness! Here," she said, grabbing a glass of water that had been left on the bedside table. She gently, carefully lifted it to his lips and he drank. Much of it spilled onto his neck and pillow, but he did not stop until the glass was empty. When he was finished, Pinkie set the glass down and reached out to take his hand into her hooves. It felt so fragile.
"Thank you," he managed to say. He looked up at her and gave a small smile. "Just like my Poppy, always wanting to care for me." He gave her a peculiar look. "She... she told me about you, you know."
Pinkie tried to keep her composure. She had suspected that he might say some odd things toward the end, so she brought herself under control and smiled down at him. "I'm sorry, I don't think I ever met Poppy. Though from what you've told me of her, I think we would have been great friends." Jesse laughed, and came under a coughing fit as he did so. Still, he was smiling when he looked up at Pinkie.
"Oh you were," he said. "Poppy... she—" he coughed again. "That was just—" another coughing fit. His breathing suddenly became shallow, but he managed to say, "Nick... name." His eyes then became unfocused, and he suddenly looked scared and confused. "W-what's happening. Where am I?"
Pinkie swallowed hard and did her best to suppress her tears. It was time.
"You're with a friend," Pinkie said, her voice quiet.
Jesse's eyes looked to Pinkie, and they slowly filled with recognition again. The most genuine smile she'd ever seen him give soon appeared on his face. He looked at her hopefully, and after a moment's hesitation, he whispered, "Poppy?"
Pinkie's legs threatened to buckle. She blinked rapidly and tried to look away, but the genuine love and affection she saw in Jesse's eyes somehow gave her strength. She tried to smile, but failed. She cursed her weakness, and tried again. This time it held.
"Poppy?" he asked again. Pinkie was about to answer when he added, "Sarah?"
Pinkie's legs gave out this time, and she stumbled backwards away from the bed until she was backed up against the far wall, staring wide-eyed at the dying old man in the bed before her. Tears fell rapidly onto the floor as realization dawned on her.
It was always the same with her. Stories about princesses and ponies!
She died. A year ago.
She told me about you, you know.
Pinkie tried to blink away the tears, but they would not stop flowing. Images came unbidden of a pretty, young girl laughing and hugging Pinkie close as they told jokes and stories. Of Pinkie comforting her when she was in need. Of a life that was cut entirely too short, and the bitter grief she had felt afterward.
"Sarah?" Jesse called out again.
He was becoming distressed, and Pinkie knew time was short. She wiped her eyes, took a shaky breath, stood up, and slowly made her way back to the bedside.
Celestia, give me strength, she thought.
She arrived at the bed and stared at Jesse, who was looking straight ahead. Finally, she managed to say, "Y-yes. It's me." He turned his head toward her, but his eyes remained unfocused.
"I can't see you," he said. "Sarah?"
Pinkie shut her eyes tightly and summoned all of her strength. "I'm here," she soothed. "It's Poppy."
He began to smile, but it faltered. "I... you've come to guide me?"
"Yes," Pinkie said.
His face relaxed, and he fixed his blind stare in her direction. "I'm... I'm ready."
Pinkie couldn't take it any longer. She jumped onto the bed, wrapped her hooves around the old man, and buried her face in his chest. As her body trembled, she felt him return her embrace.
"I love you..." he whispered.
"I love you, too," Pinkie replied through tears.
A moment later, she felt his grip on her relax, and knew that Jesse Roland had passed on.
..o0o..
I called the patient's time of death today. I can only hope Mr. Roland found the peace he sought. Some say things get easier with time, but it never does. But what a world it would be to have a little pink friend to talk to from time to time as the patient apparently did. Though it was clearly an internal manifestation of Mr. Roland's late granddaughter, I admit I find it curious that the patient was found with a lock of curly pink hair in his hand.
- Dr. Khoury
Author's Note
For some more insight into this story and the real-life events that inspired it, click here.
