Author's Note

Sergeant Visovic story continues. We also get a look at how things shaped up from Fluttershy's perspective. No clop yet, sorry.
† Meganekko, for the uninformed, is a Japanese term meaning "glasses wearing girl." It's a moe archetype.

2 Despair & Longing

Summer Grasses Are a Soldier's Dreams
A Vogonverse story featuring Fluttershy

Time: 15:00 hours (3 PM EDT), Thursday, June, 13th, 2058

Location: 800 Poly Place, Brooklyn, New York

Place: Group Therapy Room

Session Conductor: Dr. Vanessa Ozbourne, PhD., Psychotherapy

"Good afternoon," greets Dr. Ozbourne, "it's good to see everyone back. Please, take your seats. Ms. Fluttershy, would you like the Barcalounger brought over for you?"

"Oh, yes, please," the buttery Pegasus mare says, "the subway ride over here was rather jarring."

"No kidding," says Sergeant Visovic, "you'd think that a pregnant lady would merit a seat. Oh no, not in New York…"

"It's fine, Ark," says Fluttershy, "I can handle it. But I could use a good chair right now."

"Corporal Higgins," orders Dr. Ozbourne, "could you move the lounger over here."

"Yes, ma'am." replies the Corporal. He picks up the chair with almost no effort. He places to the left of Sergeant Visovic and salutes the pair.

"Sir," he addresses the Sergeant, "Ma'am."

Corporal Higgins then returns to his post by the door to the Group Therapy room. As he does so, Fluttershy settles into the Barcalounger. Considering that her condition is rather delicate, the Pegasus sidles into the seat with little trouble. After adjusting her position to better get comfortable, she let's a smile crawl across her muzzle. Her right hand reaches out for Sergeant Visovic's hand; it finds it and the two lovers clasp hands.

"Aww," coos a young woman with a prosthetic left arm and leg.

"We get that a lot," Fluttershy says, "most ponies say we're a cute couple."

"And we're gonna be a cute couple of parents, too," Ark says, pointing to the Pegasus' swollen belly, "once those three get born."

Fluttershy giggles, saying, "Getting anxious, are we?"

Ark nods, "Yeah. I'll be the first to admit there's a lot of anxiety up here," he points to his head, "Not unlike any other man in my position. No plan survives contact, right?"

Fluttershy's smile grows wider, locking eyes with her lover, "You'll be a fine father, Ark. I just know it."

The two share a tender nuzzling, the human soldier and the pregnant human/equine hybrid. The moment is sweet until it's broken up by a fellow soldier in the circle.

"Sarge," the young man says, "I know you told us where you lost your legs, you never said how. Do you think tell us about that?"

The two lovers share a look.

"It's okay if you don't want to," Fluttershy says, to which Ark replies, "maybe it's time I told somepony else."

He receives a nod from his mate and he answers the young man, "I was in a patrol, sweeping for ISIS renegades on the outskirts of Damascus. My squad and I were in an area already cleared by ODU and the place was supposed to be clean. We had guardian angels on the rooftops and an older Abrams tank rolling as mobile armor in case things got hairy. I was rolling as defense for the tank and a good buddy of mine, Joey, was walking point. We stopped at an intersection to a neighborhood were Intel said there were some ISIS troops holding out. Mission parameters said we couldn't hit mosques for fear of causing a riot with the local Muslims, but it didn't say we could shoot near them. Well, the place where these idiots were holed up was next to a neighborhood mosque; we started making potshots in front of the building next to it."

"When nothing happened, Joey trots up the house, peers inside and says the building's empty; nobody home. We march on for a bit, until we see this box in the road. It's a perfect cover for an IED, so the Abrams blasts it. There's no explosion, so we think it's safe to proceed. One minute Joey's in front of me, the next, I can't hear squat because my ears are ringing so badly. There's smoke and dust and fire and I don't know why I'm on back. Then Lieutenant Geller tells me that there was a bomb in the road. I can barely hear her; my ears are still ringing."

"She tries to hold me down while a medic comes over to wrap me up. I don't know why the medic is gauzing up my legs then it hits me: I can't feel my legs. Lt. Geller is still trying to keep me on my back, but I get my head enough distance off the ground to see where my legs have been, there's now two stumps. The medic is also pumping some larger wounds of mine with biofoam. Never in my life have I been more happy to see elastic protein polymers and been less willing to have them in me."

"Anyway, I pass out that this point and when i'm awake again, I'm on a C-130 enroute to Rammstein. They outfit me there with some standard issue cyberpros and offer me the option of going back in or tasking a medical discharge. Then I ask about Joey. I get told there wasn't enough of Corporal Tribbiani to fit in a hatbox let alone a shoe box. So, I take the medical and get shipped back here. End of story."

"Fascinating," says Dr. Ozbourne, "and would you say you were traumatized by that incident, Sergeant?"

"Hay yeah, I was," affirms Ark, "for weeks afterward I'd wake in the dead of night, screamin' about fire and explosions and waking up my family. Things went on like that for two months… Even happened during Sacrament one Sunday. It got so bad that my father was looking into havin' me tranquilized for sleepin'. I've been on tranquilizers before and I was not havin' it. I moved out within days of that revelation, but I'm still affected about it. Joey had three kids and a fourth on the way. I dunno how his girl is gonna make it without him…"

"Damn, Sarge," says the young man, "that's rough."

"Yeah, it was for a while…" Ark replies.

"What changed?" Dr. Ozbourne asks.

Ark points to his lover and the mother of his children, "She came along."

Arkady's Perspective

I remember the day this all started because it was a day where I was seriously considering taking a nine mike-mike round to the brain pan. I was stalling before actually doing the deed when this ad pops on me. I hated ads on the Internet, but since the death of Net Neutrality, the corporations hit the World Wide Web with all the advertising they could afford to produce. This one was a little off, seeing as it came up as I was opening my Fluttershy playlist. It was almost like it was lying in wait…

A disembodied voice floods my thumpers, sounding lot like those late night infomercial salesmen, "Imagine that perfect someone, or perhaps you prefer somepony. Imagine them being ready for you, waiting for you, loving you. Well friend, imagine no longer! Vogon Biotech has the answer for you today. And our answer is simple: order your very own Help Mate®! Fully functional, completely reliable, and the moment you touch them they bond with you for life. That's right, they bond with you for life. How much more perfect can they be? If you're interested please, click the order button!"

"Huh," I murmur, "what in the doodlyfuck is this shit?"

So I click the button…

An anthropomorphic, sierra-coated stallion with a shock of blond hair emerges on my visor. Clad in a simple waistcoat of fine red velvet, and sporting trousers in a similar material, his mannerisms reminded a little of the late, great Billy Mays. He holds a lightly furred hand out to me, which I grab with my haptic glove covered paw. Despite being a digital character residing in the digital ether, his handshake is firm and cool.

"Mr. [Vie-so-vic]," the stallion states, mispronouncing my name horribly, "thank you for choosing Vogon Biotech! According to our records, you are looking for one of our Help-mates®. Our tracking algorithm of your Hulu, Crackle, and Netflix accounts has lead us to believe you are mostly heterosexual, within a ratio of 92%, plus or minus six percent."

"Okay, let's get somethin' straight," I start, "the name is [Ve-so-vich]. You'd be surprised how often people murder the name."

"It is Slavic?" the stallion queries.

"Russian, actually," I reply; the stallion flickers for a moment and the returns to an opaque state, "second, what do you mean 'mostly heterosexual?'"

"You've viewed a variety of movies and television shows over the last twelve months. Most of which are, on average, considered to be most appealing to the heterosexual market. However, there was a three week period in which you watched several movies aimed directly at the homosexual market. That is a statistical anomaly which gives the short gap of uncertainty," the sales pony stated.

"Huh," I wondered, "a three week period? Was there a time stamp for that?"

"Indeed there was," the sales pony states, and shows me the data. Okay, I'll admit it, I did catch a series called Loveless which was actually pretty interesting. The animation was crisp, the character designs were beautiful and the story, while a little on the "boys love" side, was very intriguing to me. That, and I did have a fleeting crush on Shinonome Hitomi-sensei. Sue me, the meganekko† thing kinda turns me on.

"Okay, I get it," I say, "so, you said somethin' 'bout a help mate. What exactly do ya mean by that?"

"It's just that simple," the stallion answers, "you will create, from a stockpile of characters we have license to generate from, a individual that will remain at your side at all times. They will assist in any capacity you can and will be the embodiment of the character you choose."

"Well, fuck me," I state, "sounds awesome. So, whatcha sellin'?"

Lighting up in a thousand watt smile, the stallion snaps his fingers. The static scene the commercial started as rearranged itself into something akin to a car dealership. He beckons me to follow him into a corridor that says, "Client Access." I do so, seeing but not feeling my legs carry me forward and listening to both his clopping hooves and my stamping feet, down a corridor lined with a lush, royal blue silk carpet and a matching wallpaper. The corridor ends with another door, which the stallion opens and inside the next room is a window, covered in red velvet curtains and cordoned by a similar color rope. He pulls on a tasseled chain and the curtain falls away. Beyond the window is a stage occupied by almost every single character from Friendship is Magic. I notice that Pinkie Pie, Applejack, Applebloom, and Big Macintosh are missing.

"This is what we're selling Mr. Visovic: is a living fantasy. A living, breathing, fantasy that will not end when you shut off your computer. It won't disappear when a television show goes off of the air, and it will grow with you. Think of it, Mr. Visovic, think about what it would mean to have that perfect somepony. That one special somepony to spend the rest of your life with. Isn't that something worth considering?" he asked.

"Yeah," I answer lazily, noting the figure of Fluttershy in the lineup, "that's pretty goddamn epic. I'd be the envy of every brony I know."

The Element of Kindness was standing next to her other Element Bearers, including two versions of Twilight Sparkle: original Flavor and Alicorn Twiley. I began to wonder who would had taken the Pinkie Pie, Ay Jay, Ay Bee, and Big Mac figures already. A part of me was saddened that Flutters was separated from her other friends. Although, if Vogon could make good on the offer they were selling, she wouldn't very lonely long. I walked up to her digital figure, her image growing bigger as I "walked" up to her. I touched her visage and in an instant, her form transmogrified into an anthropomorphic shape. It was rather fetching, I must say, seeing as she appeared to be lithe but not bony in this form.

"There's a catch, though, ain't it? What is one of those babies gonna set me back?"

"Aye, that is, as it it is said, the rub. It doesn't matter how much an artist loves their work; at the end of the day it's about how much money it's worth. They are twenty-two thousand credits a piece. It might sound steep, but consider what you are purchasing. It's not a machine, but a living breathing fantasy. She will eat, sleep, sweat, and even bleed. Everything she feels when she wakes up is real. There is no preprogrammed emotions in her. Oh, she'll have memories, slightly altered to match her new body, of her world, friends, and family. Everything ever written by the creators of the show, and of course any of the fan based content you would like us to consider, will be added to her memories. But beyond that all of her experiences and new memories will be completely of your and her making," he said.

"Yeah, steep," I parrot, remembering my Chase account still registering just below one hundred thousand due to tight monetary budgeting, "okay, I'm sold. I want Fluttershy."

"An excellent choice, sir! Just tap her image again," the sales pony instructs.

I tap the anthro Flutters image; her figure glows gold, her eyes open, and she smiles serenely. After quick blink, her figure is gone.

"The fuck just happened?" I ask.

"Fluttershy is being prepared for you right now," the salespony states, "There is a two month process to accurately grow and implant her memories. I should also state that she will be one of a kind. We here at Vogon pride ourselves of ensuring that our customers get exactly what they are paying for. You are getting Fluttershy, not a Fluttershy, but the Fluttershy. There will be no other versions of her made."

"It looks like I wasn't the first," I say, pointing to the gaps in the lineup.

"Well, what we offer is something of a niche product. There can be more than several dozen reasons why somepony does or does not want to buy. It could be cost, uncertainty, remote location, any number of factors," the stallion rapped, "however, all of our customers who have bought characters from other television series and movies have had nothing but praises for our work!"

"Okay, I'll take your word for it," I stated, "how is she gonna arrive?"

"Your Fluttershy will be arriving in a custom built Vogon Biotech transport. She will be dressed in a tailor-made the suit of clothing which you can choose at this time," the salespony said.

With another snap of his fingers, the window was replaced by turnstile set of images,. each depicting Fluttershy in various pieces of attire she was seen in from the show. There was her Dangerous Mission Outfit from "The Duel," her Grand Galloping Gala gown, the Mare-Do-Well costume from "The Mysterious Mare Do Well," her Private Pansy armor from "Hearths Warming eve," her Saddle Rager costume from "Power Ponies," the Admiral Fairy Flight uniform from "Testing 1,2,3" as well as her Princess Celestia costume from the same episode, her Bee costume from "It Ain't Easy being Breezy," a significantly modified work out getup based on the the episode "Hurricane Fluttershy," her Crystal Empire Jousting costume, the Pony Tunes outfit from "Filly Vanilli," the Ponyville uniform form "Equestria Games," and several outfits from "Green isn't Your Color."

A few of the "Green Isn't Your Color" dresses were catching my fancy, but the Pony Tones outfit was simply calling my name. tapping the image caused it to morph into something a woman would, complete with skirt, stockings, and some leather pumps. Then the image blinked out of existence.

"Very good, sir," the salespony said, "we hope that you will be pleased with her!"

The stallion snapped his fingers again and the scenery changed again. This time it wasn't the anthropomorphic stallion standing there, but rather an anthropomorphic Discord, standing at a kiosk in front of an old scroll type cash register. The god of chaos grinned, and handed me a receipt.

"Take good care of the former Element of Kindness, Arkady," he said, "she is my best friend and I would hate to visit upon you some calamity if I find out she's been mistreated. Although, I do admit, that might be fun!" Then he disappears.

I get redirected to Netflix and the first tagged episode of Friendship of Magic started playing. Go figure, it was "Filli Vanilli." I got through the intro and the theme song before pausing the video and taking off the haptic gear. After a quick survey of my domicile, I realized that this place was in no condition to receive a female boarder. Having been a bachelor for a great deal of my adult life, a certainly all of my returned civilian life, my brownstone was a shambles. I think my mother would faint due to the uncleanliness of the place. Having not much else to do and with both my cyberpros fully charged, I began to straighten up. I was really living the life of a slob, something my drill instructors would have beaten out of my through strenuous exercise and drilling.

I needed to plan this so I could get everything ready for when Fluttershy arrived. She would need a room and there were a few in the house that would suffice. She would also need clothes, hygiene products, linens, and sundry other niceties. The cleaning supplies and personal effects I could get at Krogers; I would need to wait on the clothing until Fluttershy was actually here, as I didn't know her size or anything. The house would also need sprucing up; the litter of pizza boxes and Stolichnaya bottles on the floor could not be healthy. I would also need to make sure the guest room was properly furnished; Uncle Sergei often used this place as a rendezvous for his mistresses. It was likely that the rooms were already furnished, but I had no idea how unkempt that furniture was or the last time it was dusted. With this basic strategy in mind, I went to work.

I went to clear the guest rooms. I had never been in them before, seeing as I resided in the master bedroom. I didn't want to seem unprepared for Fluttershy, so I attacked those first. The good news was, it seemed Uncle Sergei kept his house in prime order. Each room was fully furnished and well kept. Not a speck of dust could I see in any of the rooms. That was probably because each room was locked from the outside; the air in each was stale and old. That would mean a trip to Krogers the next morning, but I didn't care. I needed to get outside anyway.

I made a list of all things I needed for this mission. A Swiffer Duster, some unscented Pledge, toilet paper, sponges, light bulbs (a few of the light fixtures in those rooms had gone out), some Kaboom spray to handle any lime and rust stains, and garbage bags, to throw out any refuse. I also needed to charge my cyberpros. During my cleaning session earlier in the day, I managed to almost completely drained the batteries on those things. All I did were catcher's squats and crab leg runs, but still, I was looking at 18% charge for only two hours worth of work. I called up a Yellow Cab to pick me up at nine in the morning. I would have asked for earlier to avoid traffic going into and out of The City, but the Krogers in town didn't open until eight and I wanted to a quick breakfast before that.

The next morning, promptly at nine, I lept into the waiting Yellow Cab and headed into town. Traffic was a major bitch; it's the price you pay for living in the most densely populated city in the western hemisphere. I finally go to the supermarket at ten after ten the morning. I grabbed a cart from the cart cue and went inside. I'm no stranger to supermarket's, but the dizzying amount of aisles and shoppers can make anypony's head spin. After stocking up on my list of supplies, I crept out Krogers through a self checkout kiosk. There goes two hundred bucks of my hard earned cash, I thought ruefully.

I get back home roughly about half past one. As I'm hefting up my bags, I see my neighbor down the street, Katya. She is a pretty young thing at nineteen, with a cascade of fine blonde hair, the most brilliant green eyes, and the figure of a Fifties bombshell. I had once entertained the idea of dating her, but it was never to be. She was deep into BDSM culture; she once showed me her collection of whips, crops, and chains. I had nightmares of ISIS troopers dressed in leather and latex, smacking me up with cat o'nine tails for days afterward. She was nice enough besides and offered to help me get my gear inside. That was good because between my shopping expedition and the ride back into the Village, my cyberpros were running low on juice.

Once inside my house, I plant my purchases on the kitchen counter. Katya asks me what I have all the cleaning gear for. I tell her I have a guest coming, a long term guest. She asks me when this guest is coming by and I tell her that she should be here in two months time. She gets a quizzical look in her eye before confirming that my guest is female. I do confirm that fact and then she sets off on a monologue of what I could use to better accommodate her. Truth be told, her suggestions actually made quite a lot of sense. Given that I'm a guy, I have very little knowledge of the female grooming habits and Katya's wealth of information was simply staggering.

I eventually had to ask her if she had anything planned tomorrow in case I needed any assistance in girling up the brownstone. She said she was free in the afternoon, so we made plans to go to Krogers and maybe hit a Walgreens for all the feminine needs Fluttershy could use. She also suggested I fill up my pantry with foodstuffs. I had been living on take out so long, I rarely, if ever, had a filled fridge. So we also planned to grocery shop; she said she needed some eggs and milk, so she needed this expedition as well.

The next day, I went to check my email to and lo and behold, there was a message form Vogon. It was a questionnaire about which fan works I wanted added to Fluttershy's memory. Most of the fanfiction stuff I'd read was actually really pitiful. A great many writers didn't seem to have much use for Flutters or she was the subject of rape or grim-dark/torture fics. Still, there were a few I liked. We Live In a Kind World, When Opposites Attract, Her Angel, and Open With Myself came to mind. I also added in the Fluttershy from Friends With Benefits. L0rd0f7hund3r's depiction of the Element of Kindness was the one I considered definitive.

I was still sorta iffy about how all those stories would integrate into her psychology, but I bet Vogon had some top notch neuroscientists making the effort to seamleesly integrate them into her persona. Her memories from the show would carry the greater weight of her recollections, but those stories would give her depth.

In the meantime, I cleaned up the house to the best of my ability. katya did offer her services to get the place ready, so I would cash in on that when the opportunity developed. At the appointed time, I met Katya on the stoop of her brownstone and we entered a cab heading back into town. Once at Krogers, for the second time that week, she and I zipped down to the feminine hygiene aisle. I don't think any man knows what lurks in this forbidden zone, but the sheer scope of all the products that lined the shelves intimidated, I shit you not.

Katya gathered everything she could think a female guest could need, from sanitary pads and tampons, to scented oils and bath salts. There were even a few things I didn't know existed. Eyelash curlers, what the hell are those? Feminine wash? I had an idea of what that was but Lord forbid I ever seen a lady use one before. We loaded a cart and a half of that stuff before moving on to the groceries. It was here that Katya and I parted ways. She would be getting a separate cab back home because she only needed a few things. I, on the other hand, was stocking up for a months on end of indoor living!

By the time I left Krogers, I was heavy burdened and nearly a thousand dollars poorer. The cab ride back was made more uncomfortable because all the goods I bought wouldn't fit in the trunk. I really should have rented a minivan or something… Worse still, my cyberpros were drained again; I had just a little over 10% left. Katya was a lamb and helped me get inside with all my gear. She was also kind enough to fill my ice box and stock my pantry. It was then that she decided the old brownstone needed a "feminine touch." I watched from my La-z-boy as she rearranged the living room, kitchen, dining room, and study to be more presentable to a lady's eye.

Even after all those various tasks were done, I still fought back depression. My regular shrink just wasn't cutting it and I was feeling severely drained. I also was getting some demented auditory hallucinations, most likely brought on by the antipsychotics I was on at the time. Couple that with the sudden onslaught of flashbacks form Afghanistan and Syria and I was hanging by threads. It came to head one night, three weeks prior to Flutters arrival, when I mixed up my antipsych meds with a large helping of vodka. My overdose was thankfully load enough to catch my neighbors ears; the ambulance they called up got me to the hospital in the nick of time. After that, my regular shrink got swapped out for a new guy, a Doctor Randy Pullman. This guy really knew his stuff. He was loads better than the old guy. He even got me started new meds that worked far better than the old stuff I was using.

I was still having issues, two weeks to arrival. Some of the shit I did during battle would come to haunt me at the worst of times and even though the meds were working for me, I still had some wicked hallucinations. Thankfully, they were coming with less frequency and weren't nearly as severe as they were before. I did have to swear off alcohol for a while. Strong spirits and antipsychotics do not mix. At the insistence of my family, I went to confession for the first time in years. In my family, I'm something of a black sheep; I broke away from the church as soon as I was on my own. I wish I hadn't; the old priest that heard my confession practically damned me to hell. I came away from the exchange more convinced that organized religion was mind control…

I was till teetering on whether I should snuff it or not. The day of Fluttershy's arrival was fast approaching and I didn't really believe Vogon could pull off what they promised. False advertising was the chant in my head the night before her stated delivery and I got very little sleep that night with all the worry in my head. But I was gonna give life one last shot; it couldn't get any worse than it already was. Could it?

Dr. Ozbourne stays through Ark's recount of his life until now. She was making notes about things she found pertinent and occasionally making as comment about certain things he said. By and large, the specialist was the most talkative in the group; he also exhibited a sizable measure of charisma, keeping the entire group mesmerized by his tale.

"Miss Fluttershy," Dr. Ozbourne said, "we have to hear form you about all of this. Care to share your thoughts?"

The buttery anthropmorph took a deep blush to her cheeks and stammered for a few moments. When her lover's hand squeezed hers, she came to an understanding that she could speak only if she were comfortable with doing so. Sergeant Visovic gave her a warm smile, and she visible became more confident with his assurance.

"Well, okay, Doctor," she whispered.

Fluttershy's Perspective

I remember waking up in the back of a moving carriage. It was closed up, with no windows, and only a set of kissing doors at the end. The only sound in the thing came from upfront, but I didn't know what the noise was. I sounded like a blender in operation. I looked at myself and I saw I dressed in my Pony Tones uniform. This made me nervous; I didn't know if I had the courage to sing in front of a crowd today. At least the skirt did a good job of covering me up. I can thank Rarity and her excellent designs for that. That's when I looked in front of me; I saw two stallions in dark gray suits. They wore sunglasses over their eyes and I saw something like a microphone attached to the lapels of the jackets. They wore earwigs in their left ears; I don't know how I knew that. Such things just didn't exist in Equestria.

"Um, excuse me," I asked, "but, where are we going?"

The gentlecolts said nothing; they just stared at me. I think; with the sunglasses, it was hard to tell if they were looking at me at all. Even though it was quiet, it was still a relaxing drive. I may have been a teensy bit nervous, but I was going to be seeing Arkady for the first time. I found it weird that I had fond memories of a stallion I had never met. I could remember the color of his eyes, the shape and style of his mane, the prosthetic limbs he wore, the cut and color of his clothes. And I felt- love for him. Nothing romantic yet, I hadn't even seen him in pony. Still, I liked him and I knew he liked me, too.

The the carriage came to a stop. One of the gentlecolts in gray suits put a hand to his ear, the one with the earwig. He spoke softly to somepony; I couldn't tell what was said. Then the other dark suited stallion rose from his seat. He took a hoof to a lever in the kissing doors and opened it. A cacophony of sound assaulted my ears; wherever Arkady lived, it was a noisy place. The other stallion in the carriage with me held out a hoof. I took it and he hoisted me from my seat and brought me out of the carriage. My wings fluttered as I stepped away from the vehicle; I may not be a good flyer but the gentle breeze just asked to flown into.

It was a bit darker than I expected. Celestia's Sun was still high in the sky but the shadows from nearby buildings and a mild overcast made it appear like it was almost evening. The breeze was warmer than I expected, too. I had trouble keeping the skirt of my uniform from exposing me. Then I hear a gasp coming from my right. I turn to the noise and there he is, my Arkady. He looks just like I remember him, although a bit sadder. He wears a beige thermal Henley under a light gray hooded sweatshirt. His legs are clad in a pair of faded blue jeans; his feet are clad earth toned hiking boots. Despite the overcast in the sky and the darkness emanating from the buildings all around, he's wearing dark sunglasses. I'm certain his chocolate brown eyes are waiting behind them, though.

"Oh. My. Faust." he says, a look of both surprise and confusion awash on his face, "you- she's- buck-!"

"Arkady!" I exclaim, and rush towards him. As I wrap my arms around him a very affectionate hug, one of the stallions in gray speaks to Ark. I tune it out; what they have to discuss is not really all that important to me. What is important is that I finally, finally meet my good friend, Arkady! I can't remember when I have been happier. The tears of joy I shed are the same ones Ark has; he can't seem to believe that I'm here now.

"Oh, Arkady, I missed you!" I squeak, "Let's go inside. I have so much to tell you."

"Oh my Lord, look at the time," Dr. Ozbourne declares, "That will end this session. Sergeant Visovic, Ms. Fluttershy, would you both be comfortable with telling us more in the next session?"

"I'm good," Ark says, "возлюбленная, what do ya think?"

"Um," the pony girl starts, "I wouldn't mind telling more. Is that alright with you Doctor?"

"It's fine," Dr. Osbourne says, then adds, "next week, our schedule changes. We'll be meeting on Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, as well as every other Saturday. Be sure to mark your calendars and don't be late."

With that announcement, the circle breaks up and leaves. Fluttershy doesn't stand up immediately, given the burden she bears, but Ark gives her a helping hand and the lovers leave. Unbeknownst to them, Dr. Vanessa Ozbourne watches them jealously…