A Man out of Place

Chapters

Chapter 1: The World's Most Interesting Bookstore
Chapter 2: First Contact
Chapter 3: Fear is the Mind-Killer
Chapter 4: Your Plotline is in Another Castle
Chapter 5: Enter, Crazy Purple Book Pony
Interlude...
Chapter 7: Sacramentum
Chapter 8: Good Grief...

Chapter 1: The World's Most Interesting Bookstore

The sound of my alarm clock clawed me from Hypnos's comforting embrace. I checked the time sleepily. 7:30 a.m., Sunday. It was my day off, and I had forgotten to mute the alarm the night before. Untangling myself from the sheets, I silenced the infernal alarm clock, using all of my willpower to keep from hurling the thing across the room. Having spared the timepiece from my early-morning wrath, I shambled my way to the Land of Milk and Cereal that more wakeful mortals call a kitchen.

After sleepily making a bowl of cereal, I settled down at the cluttered dining table and began to appease the growling, cavernous pit that had replaced my stomach. I dutifully ignored the pleading eyes of my pet dog, knowing full well that my landlady had fed him before leaving for work earlier. "Go lay down, Strider, you know Mom already fed you," I said at him through a mouthful of cornflakes.

I referred to my mother as my landlady whenever conversation turned towards living arrangement. I loved my Mom to death, but telling people that you're twenty-one years old and still living with your parents is embarrassing, no matter how much rent you pay. After finishing my meal under the watchful eye of my labrador mutt, I placed the used bowl in the dishwasher and moved to my small bathroom to see to my daily grooming.

"Christ I'm a sidewinder,
I'm a,
California king..."

The shower was warm; it soothed my cramped muscles and made me feel a bit less like a disheveled corpse. It was also an excellent place to recite some Red Hot Chili Peppers, my tone-deaf voice free from scrutiny. Rinsing shampoo out of my hair and straightening the cowlicks, I reviewed my list of plans for the day. "Let's see, I need a new speaker for my iPod, finally got Arkham Knight, gonna play the crap outta that, need to do some laundry... might as well start that, then head over to the bookstore for the speaker, maybe pick up something new to read while I'm there..."

It always seemed pleasantly strange that a bookstore would have so much else besides books. Never really bothered with the mini-Starbucks, though. There were enough of those around already.

I finished washing myself before the warm water ran out, dried myself off, and wiped off the mirror above the sink to examine my face. English-American features with a Roman nose. Stubble on my jaw, emphasizing my cheekbones. I was pale from all the time I spent indoors, not that I minded. My eyes were brown, the same shade as hazelnuts, with thin gray rings just before the sclera. They were alert now, the last traces of sleep had been scrubbed away moments ago. My hair contrasted my complexion; it was a brown so dark that it seemed black under the right lighting. Gonna need another haircut soon, I mused, noticing the way my bangs nearly reached my eyebrows. I liked my hair longer, but my usual mop made the summer heat that much worse. Overall, my face was what some folks would call "grumpy". I preferred the term "contemplative". I brushed my teeth, flossed, used mouthwash, and generally did everything I could to avoid having to sit through one-sided small-talk with a person intent on drilling holes in my face. Cavities aren't fun. Once the last traces of morning breath had been exterminated in Dalek-like fashion, I returned to my bedroom to swap the towel at my waist for more appropriate street clothes.

My room had little furniture, most of the cramped space being occupied by my twin bed and my desk, which was only slightly smaller, if more unwieldy. The rest of the floor belonged to my dresser, a table-lamp combo, a hamper for my dirty clothing, a swivel-chair, and my bookshelf- stocked nearly to bursting with comics, novels, movies, CD's, even a few textbooks, not one of them unread, unwatched, or unheard.

I almost felt bad about wanting to add another book or two to the overtaxed piece of furniture. Almost.

I tossed the used towel into the hamper and donned a fresh pair of underwear, followed by denim jeans and a belt. I picked out my favorite shirt, a dark gray tee with a Batman emblem on the chest, the one from the 90's animated series, and pulled it over my head. Next, I grabbed my phone, keys, wallet, a comb I never used, and my iPod (I'd need it with me to make sure the speaker I bought was compatible), and pocketed everything but the keys. With my inventory almost fully gathered, I laced up my nearest pair of shoes, threw on my hoodie, placed a pair of sunglasses over my eyes, and headed to the kitchen for one last stop before venturing forth.

As I stepped outside, the sun beat down on me and the small, plastic tub that was rapidly cooling in my hand. The tupperware container I had plucked from the kitchen and filled with ice-water wouldn't venture with me very far; its destination was the largest, shadiest tree in my front yard. Its quest: to create a humble respite for any squirrel, bird, or stray animal that happened across it. Even cats, allergy-inducing, needle-toothed monsters though they are.

Obviously, I'm more of a dog person than a cat person.

But regardless of my possibly irrational dislike for the feline species as a whole, the homeless critters of the area shouldn't have to suffer through this ungodly heat any more than I had to.

The sun's persistent waves of fiery death were already making me sweat in my jacket, so I set the vessel of life-giving water down on the most level patch of ground among the old oak's roots, then hurried quickly to my car and the promise of A/C. Once in the safety of my Chevy Cobalt, I shed my coat, roused my faithful four-wheeled steed, and cranked up the climate controls to the coldest setting as the radio sprang to life in the middle of the station's obligatory news spiel. "... delays on the highway until late this evening. See folks, this is why you shouldn't text and drive! In other news, today, June 21, 2015, in case you just woke up from a coma, is the summer solstice! Don't know what the heck that is? Well, for those of you too busy with your social lives and your girlfriends to study obscure astronomical events, don't worry, I've got yer back. Basically, it means that the summer's half-over already."- a booing soundbite -"I know, I know, but hey, try to think positive! There's still a whole half of a summer left! Plus, the solstice is the longest day of the year, so plenty of time to hit the beach, or the bar, or both. Also seems like today's tryin' for the hottest day of the year, too! I mean, can you feel that sh*t? Definitely beach weather. So, get out, work on your tan, and try to stay hydrated out there. Yeah, it's humid, but it doesn't really help if the water's not in your body-"

I switched the station and tried to coax more frigid air out of the A/C. I hated the weather in Florida. I never liked heat to begin with, but I had a personal vendetta against the climate of the Sunshine State ever since the first summer my family moved down here. That summer brought with it the hottest week in decades, a hundred and five degrees Fahrenheit at one point. That was also the week the house's A/C broke down, which was just wonderful. It wasn't so terrible for my sister or my landlady-mother, as both of them had indoor jobs to go to in their comfortable, climate-controlled cars. As for myself, unemployed and only eighteen at the time, I had to suffer in heat-ridden lethargy with my loyal canine compatriot on the tile floor of the kitchen beneath a blanket of bagged ice and freezer blocks.

Once my car was sufficiently chilled, I buckled my seatbelt (safety first) and rolled out on my way to the local bookstore. As I did, I thought of everything I could to distract me from the fact that I had neither a girlfriend nor a "life". The fact that Billie Joe Armstrong was singing about lonely roads and broken dreams through my radio didn't help matters.

"Dammit, forgot to start the laundry" I said to myself, parking in the nearest space that wasn't a handicap, "Ah, well. I'll start it when I get back." As I climbed out of my car, I glared balefully at the cloudless, sunny sky, challenging it through my shades for being so unbearably muggy. Satisfied that the miasma of incandescent plasma my favorite planet orbited around had been sufficiently cowed, I headed to the store, catching sight of my reflection in the glass doors.

I looked for all the world like an ill-prepared tourist. Five-foot-six, pale, thin, with dark clothes and hiking boots, my chestnut-colored fleece jacket draped over my left arm and fluttering in the breeze like the cape of a Florentine Assassin. You wouldn't think someone who looked like me had lived here for as long as I had. That was the point. I liked mountains and snow, not beaches and daily rainstorms. Dress for the environment you want, not the environment you have, right? Something like that.

I reached the door and held it open for an old woman and her grandson. I was born American. That means my ancestors bled for my right to spell color without a "u", be a stubborn ass towards the immutable forces of nature, and put ice in my tea-flavored sugar-water if I really wanted to. It does not mean, however, that I have the right to disrespect my elders or ignore the rules of common courtesy, no matter what some other members of my generation might say.

Upon entering the sacred halls of that storehouse of ink and paper, I inhaled deeply through my nose. I could almost smell the knowledge and imagination in the air. It was probably just stale coffee.

There was a display for ebook readers just inside the door; I didn't give it a second look. A wise old guy once said, "Comics are like boobs. They look great on a computer, but I'd rather hold one in my hand." Oh, Stan Lee. What a card. I moved to the front desk and flagged down the cashier, a cute girl my age with blonde hair and glasses.

"Good morning," she said in a false-happy tone I recognized from my own experience behind a cash register. I looked at her suspiciously.

"What do you mean, 'Good morning'?" I said in my best Sir Ian McKellen impression. The blank look on her face told me she didn't get the reference. No respect for quality acting. I continued regardless. "Do you mean to wish me a good morning, or do you mean that it is a good morning, whether I want it or not?" Still nothing. I coughed awkwardly into my hand.

"I'd like to check on an order I placed a while ago, Spider-Man and the X-Men, Vol. 1, it'd be reserved under John Chambers." The X-Men books were my favorite comic publications, and Spider-Man was one of my top three fictional heroes. Putting the two of them together was like mixing chocolate and peanut butter. I'm surprised Marvel didn't try it sooner.

"Hmm," she said after a moment of checking, "Doesn't seem like we've gotten it yet, you should get a call from us when it does come in."

Yeah, I thought, but when I ordered the latest book of The Dresden Files I never got a call, and they would have sent it back if I hadn't asked about it.

"I just like to be thorough," was all I said.

"Alright. Well, is there anything else I can help you with?"

"H-how about one of those speakers?" I asked, pointing to the row of boxes behind the counter, each with a circular device secured to it by lengths of wire coming from the device's base. I suspected they were security features. Take the product out of the store with the thing still attached, and the wires would retract, crushing the item into uselessness. I thought that was cool. A very all-or-nothing security system.

"What brand?" the girl asked, glancing at the display behind her.

"Whatever will work for an iPod touch," I replied as I pulled from my pocket the little white rectangle containing nearly every song I had ever heard. I liked music. All music. I still had preferences, but more often than not, if you played it, I would listen.

"So basically, any of them," she deadpanned.

"Uh, yeah, I guess. Which has the best audio quality, do you think?"

"Probably... this one'" she picked up a box and handed it to me. It was sleek, modern looking, and had the name of a famous rapper on the side. It also looked very expensive. Better get the extended warranty.

"All right. Do you mind if I hang on to this while I browse? You've already got my name and all my contact info in your system if you think I'm going to walk out."

"Mmm," she pondered that for a moment. "Eh, why not? Just to verify, your name is John Chambers, C-H-A-M-B-E-R-S, right?"

"Yep," I nodded. She asked me to recite the rest of my info, checking it against what was on file.

"Ok, since you check out, I don't think it'll be a problem, just don't open-"

"Don't open the product before you pay for it, yeah. I'm a cashier, too. I hate when people do that."

"Oh I know," she gushed. We retail folk know each other's pain. Granted, I worked at a convenience store, but it's close enough. "Well, looking for any book in particular?"

"N-not really, just whatever catches my eye." A line was forming behind me.

"Okay, well, hope you find something you like!" Obviously waving me off so she could deal with the growing number of customers. I thanked her and turned, heading deeper into the store.

As I scanned the shelves for a Batman comic I hadn't bought and read, I thought back to the girl that helped me. She was pretty; nice hair, nice smile, nice attitude, and she had glasses. I have a thing for girls who wear glasses. I don't know why. I palmed myself in the forehead when I realized I never learned her name. I'd have to ask her when I paid for my stuff. Maybe even ask her out for coffee, or something.

Yeah right, a voice in my head scoffed, like you could even work up the nerve to ask her favorite color.

Not with that attitude, jackass, I growled back, switching my train of thought before I began arguing with my own mind. I stalked to a different section of the store, as if trying to physically walk away from my own low self-esteem. I found myself in the poetry and literature section.

Modern reprints of classic tales stretched before me. My eyes gravitated naturally to the shelves dedicated to Shakespeare, The Bard of Avon himself. I had watched a modern-dress production of Hamlet on DVD the other day; the performances of David Tennant and Sir Patrick Stewart were phenomenal.

I also admired the young prince's ability to insult people to their faces without them realizing it.

My hand wavered over the "store-brand" edition of the world-famous play. "Edited by?" I said to myself, scanning the cover. "How about no. If it was good enough for Globe Theatre, it's good as it is." I picked up a different version, this one claiming to be the complete play, no editor in sight, with a translation I didn't really need included, and flipped through until I reached a certain piece of dialogue. "Heh. Country matters," I chuckled to myself at the four-hundred-something year old innuendo. If more people realized how violent and vulgar Shakespeare's plays were sometimes, they sure as hell wouldn't be having elementary school kids study them.

Which would be a crime against Literature and all of Humanity, so, thank God for ignorance, I guess.

I juggled the speaker and the book in my hands until they were in a neat pile in my arm, then added a copy of the Sonnets (who knows, maybe I'll learn something about talking to women) before starting back towards the front desk again.

Okay, so how do I start? "Hi, didn't catch your name before"? Good, good- wait, what if she has a name tag? Uh, Okay, we'll come back to that. How do I move the conversation to going out with me? "Hey, do you want to get coffee with me?" No, no- she's working right now, stupid. "What time do you get off?" Gah! No! That sounds way too stalker-y.

My pace slowed and I began to meander through the aisles, frantically trying to determine the best way to ask the girl I barely knew if we could hang out and talk sometime. I stood staring at a wall of cookbooks, a neutral look on my face, while internally, I quaked in apprehension as doubt gnawed at me and the list of reasons why this was a terrible idea began to pile up.

Just as I was about to give up, I heard something. It was hard to describe. I had never heard anything like it before, but the closest thing I could think of was a metal wind chime. Like the instrument, but instead of the notes ascending or descending in scale, they moved seemingly at random, and reminded me of waterfalls and forests. Overall, it just sounded very mystical.

My downward emotional spiral abated, or at least postponed, I moved towards where the strange sound seemed to be coming from.

As I moved past the world history section, I thought I heard voices coming from the same direction as the tinkling chime, though I couldn't make out the words.

One sounded male, a baritone that commanded respect, even in the soft tone its owner was using.

The other was definitely a woman's voice, melodious and full of passion, responding to the first voice with a tenderness and affection that almost couldn't seem real.

I passed through an aisle full of texts about theoretical physics and quantum mechanics, and I wondered if this was some kind of audio ad, the voices belonging to paid actors shilling some product I wouldn't care about.

But the more I listened, the more it sounded like a secret conversation, maybe a reading of some scene from Romeo and Juliet.

As I stepped quietly between shelves packed with fantasy and adventure novels, I managed to pick out a few words.

Oddly enough, they didn't sound like the Early Modern English that Romeo and Juliet was written in; whoever was talking still sounded like star-crossed lovers, they just sounded modern.

Part of me wanted to turn away; this conversation was private and I had no business sticking my nose into it.

But that damn shimmering sound was hypnotic. It compelled me to move forward, to find its source.

I turned the last corner, back into the poetry section and found-

Nothing.

No people standing there, no talking displays that I had missed, not even so much as an overhead speaker."Quod the fuck?" I whispered, borrowing a line from Eddie Izzard. The voices and the sound seemed like they were coming from the air in front of me, clearer than ever before. I walked down the row, thoroughly confused. "The Hell's going on, here?"

I took one more step towards Shakespeare's works, and then it happened.

The world around me was ripped away, replaced by a swirling, cascading torrent of every color imaginable and more. My ears were filled with piercing noise, six kinds of laughter, quiet music, and the deafening sound of silence all at once. I felt like someone was repeatedly ripping me apart and putting me back together the wrong way, with little bits left over each time because they were too stubborn to read the manual. I felt the urge to vomit, but my stomach couldn't tell which way was out any more.

Barring the sensory overload, it was surprisingly painless. Go figure.

Somewhere between a nanosecond and a century later, the barrage of sound and fury ended, replaced with a feeling of forward momentum. I had no time to process that, as I was immediately hurled into what felt like every hard surface in the universe, before coming to rest with my head on something large and mercifully soft.

My head felt rattled and my mind was numb. The rest of my body had yet to report in, beyond stating its presence and that whatever the Bloody Blue Hell that was, I never wanted to do it again. I dully noticed that the large something my head was resting on was actually two large somethings, were warm, and were rising and falling in a rhythmic fashion. On an average day, I would have been astute enough to make certain logical assessments and respond to this obvious situation in a respectful and timely manner.

This was not an average day.

When my battered mind finally figured out that I was atop a living thing, I managed to get my deadened arms beneath me and push myself up. I cracked open my eyelids, unable to see anything but colors and blurred shapes.

I looked first at what my head had been resting on and saw mostly white, the blurs forming a curvy shape that I would have found both alluring and very embarrassing had I the ability to do so at the time. What wasn't white was a shade of red that I knew was supposed to be disturbing, but couldn't remember why. I kept it in the back of my mind as I looked to either side of me.

I found more white there, long shapes forming... arms? Yes, arms, but also something else. I imagined they were a giant pair of dove's wings, cradling around me and the fuzzy-feeling white thing beneath me. I missed the fact that I had regained some of the feeling in my arms as I looked up at this strange creature's face and into her eyes.

Her eyes were a light magenta, and deep in a way I failed to grasp. A rainbow of soft colors formed a halo around her countenance, like the corona of the sun. To my addled mind, her expression seemed surprised as we stared at one another.

"You're bleeding," I stated, trying feebly to stand up and find help for her.

I had finally figured out why the red on her chest was troubling, and had assumed the blood was hers.

My limbs began sending signals again, reporting all sorts of injuries.

My head began to pound, warm red liquid pouring from somewhere above my eyes as darkness swallowed my sight.

My fading consciousness still refused to link me to the blood that was ruining the elegant dress of the creature I had fallen upon.

I gave voice to one final thought before I fell into oblivion.

"...Didn't know angels could bleed..."

Chapter 2: First Contact

* * *

I woke from a deep, deathlike sleep to the sound of beeping. I hesitated when I realized this beeping wasn't coming from an alarm. It was quieter, more rhythmic. Like the sound of a heart monitor. I tried to move my arms, but they were sluggish and unresponsive. I opened my eyes and was met with a world of gauze. When I tried to sit up, a feminine hand pressed against my shoulder, guiding me with gentle firmness back to a reclined position.

"Don't try to move yet," came a woman's voice from my left, opposite the hand. "You've been in an accident. You're in the hospital."

"I am?" I tried to remember everything I could from the day before and what might've led to my current state. Boring breakfast, boring to-do list, chickened out of talking to a pretty girl again... and that wind chime sound, followed by that dream about the angel. I tried to guess which hospital I was at. Not the one downtown, I hope. It'll take forever to get home if I have to call a cab.

"Yes, you are," the voice replied in a soothing but clinical tone. "You've got lacerations on most of your limbs, bruised ribs, compound skull fracture... you won't be moving around for a while."

"Why are there bandages over my eyes?" My voice cracked from the dryness of my throat. The hand left my shoulder and a cup of water met my lips. Either I was thirstier than I thought or the tapwater at this hospital was drugged with something; it tasted as fresh and cool as newly fallen snow.

After a moment, another voice on my right said, "Concussions can sometimes cause light sensitivity. The bandages are to protect your eyes until you get acclimated." That didn't sound right. The part about concussions sounded true, but the voice that said it... It was familiar. Melodious. Like the voice I heard in the bookstore. Was that...

No. I had to have been dreaming.

"Uh. Okay," I flustered, not sure what to make of that. I probably just heard her talking to someone while I was asleep. The voice on my left, who I had assumed was the doctor, started again.

"I'd like you to tell us your name, as well as everything you can remember from before waking up here," Dr. Doctor said.

"John. John Chambers. My friends call me Jack. Should I start from when I last woke up, or...?"

"From wherever you feel is best, Jack," Dr. Acula replied. I walked the doctor and her nurse with the calming voice through my day, leaving out the part about the internal debate and stopping just before the weird sound had started.

"And you can't remember anything else?" Dr. Bad-Case-of-Loving-You asked.

"Besides a weird dream, no," I shrugged. Or tried to, anyways. My shoulders were stiff and I could feel a dull ache over most of my body.

The nurse placed her hand on my shoulder again; the action comforting instead of directing this time. "Please, go on. Anything you can remember might help us determine what happened to you."

"Well," I began, unsure of how to phrase what happened next without sounding childish or insane, "I was in the bookstore, and I heard this... sound."

"What kind of sound?" Dr. No asked.

"Sort of like a wind chime made of crystals, I guess? It's hard to explain. Anyway, I tried to find where it was coming from, I think. When I got closer to it... I remember a voice."

"Do you remember if it said anything?" the nurse asked. Now things get awkward, I thought.

"No, but I remember what she sounded like," I angled my head towards where I thought she might be standing. "It, uh, sounded like you, actually."

There was an uncomfortable silence after I said that. I imagined the nurse shared a look with the doctor before returning to me. "What do you remember next?"

Call me paranoid, but her tone made her sound more suspicious than curious. "Well, I kept looking for where the sounds were coming from, but I couldn't find anything. What hospital did you say this was?"

"The closest one available," the increasingly dubious doctor evaded, "What do you remember next?"

"Which hospital was closest?" I continued undeterred, anxiety over my situation mixing with the irritation at being jerked around. The beeping of the heart monitor sped up a bit.

"Jack, please calm down," the nurse implored, giving my shoulder a gentle squeeze. "We only want to help you, alright?" Her voice was warm and sincere. Motherly. The heart monitor slowed back to a normal pace. I weighed my options.

"... Okay. But I want a straight answer." I would play along, but I still wasn't convinced that everything was as it seemed.

"You'll get one," she said. "You have my word. But first, please. Can you tell us what happened to you?" I admired her manners. You don't see enough politeness nowadays.

I thought back to just after my return to the poetry section. To the psychedelic hellstorm that I had stumbled into. Bile rose in my throat and I fought back the urge to be sick. I swallowed before starting again.

"Remember when I said that sound was hard to describe? Whatever happened next was ten times worse. At least ten times worse. I think the accident itself came after that. I remember a whole lot of momentum, and being thrown into things. And then... uh..." the Angel I had fallen and bled upon flashed in my memory. "... I think I might have seen someone."

"Can you describe her?" the nurse asked.

"I don't know... beautiful? I was really out of it. I might have just been dreaming."

"Please try," she touched my shoulder again.

"I kind of thought she was, y'know... an angel." I said the last part softly, as if that would lessen the embarrassment.

"Really?" the nurse said. Her voice was surprised, with a hint of... amusement? I felt my face flush.

"Uh, yeah," I said quickly, trying to get this over with as soon as possible. "Like with wings and stuff. Halo around her head. Not like a ring, but this... rainbow-colored cloud behind her..." Something clicked in my mind. The monitor sped up again. "Her."

"Jack, please-"

"You said, 'describe her'."

My hands started sweating.

The doctor tried to cut in. "You told us you had seen someone-"

"Someone. I never told you it was a woman."

The nurse tried again. "You mentioned a woman's voice-"

"Get these things off my eyes."

"But the light-"

"Remove. My bandages. Please." I was tired of this facade. I was angry at being led by the nose. I was scared as hell of why they might be lying to me. I'm not the nicest guy when I'm scared and angry.

After a moment the nurse spoke again. "... Alright. We're going to remove the gauze but you must try to remain calm."

"But Ma'am-," the doctor started.

"He's told us everything we've asked throughout this entire conversation, Doctor, he has a right to some answers himself."

"Yeah, Doc, what she said," I chimed in, agreeing with the strange woman who was apparently not a nurse.

"Alright, fine," the doctor sighed after a moment. "But only the eyes. You do still have a compound fracture in your skull, young colt."

Young what? I thought, noticing the sound of hard soled shoes as the doctor moved from the side of my bed to the end and stopped.

"Thank you, doctor," the not-nurse said to her before turning back to me. "Now, I need you to promise me that you will stay calm and lie still; none of us want you in any more harm than you've already been. Can you promise me that?" She sounded like my mom telling me not to touch things in an antique store when I was a kid. I huffed and said "Okay" in that tone children use when their parents tell them to do their chores. She chuckled musically at that, then moved to join the doctor at the foot of the bed.

Is everyone around here wearing tap shoes or something? I thought, noticing that my shoes, along with the rest of my clothes, had been replaced with a loose patient's gown and a wool blanket.

"Hey, I thought you were gonna take these bandages off. Why're you both down-" before I could finish my question, I heard the shimmer-like chime that had gotten me into this whole mess ring from the same spot where both of the women would have been standing. As it did my bandages glowed a pale blue, and began moving on their own. When the glow touched my skin, it tingled with a localized feeling of synesthesia. It felt like medical shows and physician's journals and happy, healthy people thanking their doctors for saving their lives and all kinds of things that the sensory neurons of the skin shouldn't have been able to relay. Finally, the feeling ended as the bandages removed themselves from my eyes and tucked themselves into the folds of gauze surrounding other parts of my head. "There..." I finished lamely, too stunned by what I saw to hold on to my apprehension. They were humanoid and female, but that's where the similarities to homo sapiens ended.

The one on the left, the doctor, I assumed from the lab coat and scrubs she was wearing, looked to be of average build and maybe an inch shorter than me. That was the part I noticed last. What I noticed first was that she was covered in light blue fur, and had cotton-ball white hair that was cut to a pragmatic length. The colors looked cheerful and calming, like the kind you'd find in a hospital room; not the kind you'd find on a doctor. I briefly wondered if she'd think that was racist before I took note of the rest of her face. Her eyes seemed cartoonish, much larger than any human's, with irises the color of Post-it notes. They rested behind a pair of wire frame glasses perched on the bridge of her slight muzzle. Her long equine ears did not support her glasses; they were positioned near the top of her head instead of the sides. A horn with a slight spiral, the same shade of blue as her fur, extended to about a hand's length from her forehead at an angle that was mostly vertical, but still would allow her to wear most hats. She also had no shoes, or even feet. Her legs ended with round blue stubs that must have been hooves.

As unusual as she was, the one on the right was far more eye-catching. She was tall, taller than me and certainly taller than the doctor beside her. She looked around six and a half feet; fur the color of fresh snow on a cloudless morning covered every inch of her. Her dress was like some Greek toga, loose white fabric trimmed with gold starting at her collarbone, cinched at her waist with a belt of woven gold. It ended halfway between her knees and the floor, revealing that instead of having calves and shins like humans do, her lower legs bent backwards forming a joint similar to the human ankle before ending in a pair of hooves. The dress also had no back, her shapely arms and voluminous wings bare except for white feathers and like-colored fur. I recognized the wings and marked her as the "angel" that I landed on. I looked to her chest, half-expecting to still see my blood there. The pair of breasts I found instead were larger than any I had seen before. Ever the gentleman, I looked away before my gaze could be classified as leering and focused on her face, becoming enthralled for an entirely different reason.

Her beauty was as undeniable as it was alien. She too had a horn and muzzle, but unlike the doctor, her horn looked sharper and twice as long, and her muzzle was more graceful along the jawline and around the cheekbones. Her magenta eyes watched me with a long-suffering calmness that I had only seen briefly in the eyes of veteran soldiers and people far older than me. Her hair, if it could be called that, made the small part of my brain that was still rational flip an imaginary table. Each individual strand seemed to shimmer, the locks shifting through the the colors of a soft pastel rainbow as they drifted loosely around her face. I don't mean to say that her hair was wispy or thin; it was longer and more voluminous than the doctor's while still defying the laws of gravity. It almost looked as if her head was underwater, her iridescent curls and tresses moving like an ethereal cloud. Taken all together, the sights before me were so strange that I had to wonder if I was hallucinating or having an allergic reaction to whatever drugs I was on. Eventually the little hamster in my brain found its way back to the exercise wheel and my cognitive abilities rebooted.

"You're... You're a horse."

Regular Sherlock Holmes, ain't I?

This comment earned me a snort of derision from the doctor. It also made the identical twins in golden centurion armor that I hadn't noticed standing by the door take a threatening step forward. They stopped when the horse-woman with the wings started chuckling mirthfully, like I was a pre-schooler that had said something silly and wildly inaccurate.

"The proper term is 'pony', my young friend," she chided once she had finished laughing. "Many of us don't enjoy being called 'horse'." The other three 'ponies' in the room seemed surprised to hear the tall one say 'horse'.

Does that mean it's some kind of swear here? Did I just curse at this lady? I blinked. "Uh, sorry Miss. I didn't mean any offense."

She smiled pleasantly. "I didn't think you did. Since we already know your name, I think it's only fair you know ours as well. My name is Princess Celestia, Ruler of Equestria," she said before gesturing to the pony beside her with a furry hand. "This is Dr. Panacea, my royal physician."

"Pleasure to meet you," Dr. Panacea nodded.

The words "Princess", "royal", and "Ruler" bounced around in my head like a SuperBall. I noticed Celestia's golden "hoof-shoes" and finely crafted shin guards. The gem-studded vambraces on her forearms with delicate patterns etched into the gold. The large collar made of of enough gold and purple gems to feed all of Rhode Island for a day and a half. The golden, hairband-like crown with the most resplendent amethyst I had ever seen resting behind her horn. It looked almost plain on her.

Did I just insult royalty? Did I just throw a slur at alien royalty?! A pit formed in my stomach. This could be all kinds of bad.

I thought of all the stories I had read, all the fantastical beings and powerful rulers the protagonists would encounter. I thought about the Greek goddess Panacea, whose domain was universal remedy. This led my mind to another Greek myth these ponies reminded me of: unicorns. Fair-featured horses that would gore any who approached them besides young virgin women. I was immensely relieved that myth hadn't proven true yet.

I thought of the Sidhe from The Dresden Files. Immortal, capricious Fae to whom magic was like breathing. They often made deals with mortals that could make selling your soul to the Devil look like a good investment. If Princess Celestia was anything like Queen Mab, heck, even if she was anything like Queen Titania... then I was so many kinds of screwed that I had probably invented some new ones accidentally.

I would need to tread carefully.

I mustered all of my half-learned politesse in the pursuit of not having my soul laid to waste.

"The pleasure is mine, Your Royal Highness; Doctor," I said, remembering the proper way to address a princess and bowing my head to both of them as much as I could from my bed. "Please excuse my earlier offense. I have never seen beings like you before, and I am afraid I spoke without thinking. Please accept my apology, Ma'am." Dr. Panacea moved to check the machines around my bed while Celestia smiled lightly and gracefully lowered herself into a nearby chair. The smile looked real enough, but something about it reminded me of my work smile; friendly but forced.

"No offense taken, Jack," Celestia said, "but thank you for the apology. Now, I believe I promised you some answers, hmm?" That worried me. She had given her word. When a Sidhe makes a deal or a law, they follow it to the letter, not the spirit. If you try limit how they can act, force them into giving you their word, you can expect them to look for any way possible to painfully and horrifically end your life. Celestia had given me a promise, which for the Fae is like a binding contract. I knew there had to be strings attached.

"Well, Ma'am, my first question would be... 'What do you want?'" I phrased it as a statement. If I didn't ask her a question, then I hadn't accepted her deal.

"You know, that's exactly what I was going to ask you," Celestia said, tapping a finger thoughtfully against the opposite arm's vambrace.

Yeah, but I asked you first. "Speed before Beauty, I suppose." A little flattery never hurt anyone. "You didn't answer, I notice." Still no questions.

"You didn't ask, I notice," she smirked. Crap. She had me. "Why is that, I wonder?"

The monitor behind me blipped, and I realized I was basically strapped to a lie detector. I sighed. No point in trying to hide things now. "Thing is, Ma'am, there are stories where I come from. Stories about beings called the Sidhe."

"Go on," Celestia nodded. She leaned forward to listen, her pose doing interesting things to the front of her dress. I looked away from her to the ceiling to avoid embarrassment. I was starting to miss my pants.

"Uh, well," I stammered, trying to focus on my lecture and not the alien royal beside me. "The Sidhe are immensely powerful beings, obsessed with making deals and bargains with mortals, these deals usually turning out pretty bad for whoever the Sidhe make them with. They're masters of lying, even though they can never knowingly speak a falsehood."

"And you think I'm one of these 'Sidhe'?"

"I think it might be possible, Ma'am. I've never met one before. They're supposed to be fictional." So should anthropomorphic unicorns with wings and the proportions of Aphrodite, but here we are.

"Would it help if I told an obvious lie to prove myself?" My blood turned to ice and the monitor beeped rapidly. A Sidhe that could lie was scary enough on paper; the thought of being in the same room as one made a part of my mind start gibbering in fear.

"That-" my voice was squeaky. I cleared my throat and tried again. "That wouldn't be a good idea, Your Majesty. The falsehood thing's as much a safety measure as it is an identifying trait."

"I see..." she said. After a moment she spoke again. "Well, then-" she took my hand in hers and drew my attention back down to her face "-how about this? I give you my word as a Princess." Those eyes looked at me. Into me. "I give you my word that I am only trying to help you while maintaining the safety and prosperity of my little ponies."

I saw much in those eyes, but could grasp the meaning of very little. They were sincere and noble. Not haughty, but truly of noble character. I don't know how long I stayed trading gazes with her before I responded.

"Why?" I asked. "Why help me?"

"When I found you, you were terribly wounded, and yet you were more concerned with my well-being."

"Honestly? I was so shaken up that I didn't even know I was hurt."

"Even so, you were hurt, and in dire need of medical aid. I would have had your wounds treated regardless of how you acted."

"Plus the fact that I thought you were an angel helped too, right?" I smirked.

"It didn't hurt things," she smiled. "You believe me then, I take it?"

"You tell me, Ma'am. I've been asking you questions, have I not?"

"Indeed, you have," she said as she released my hand and leaned back into her chair. "And please, call me Celestia."

First name basis with an alien princess? Wow. "As you wish, Princess," I said, simultaneously being polite and a smart-ass.

"Please, Jack," she rolled her eyes as she spoke. "I get that enough from my guards. Now, I suspect that you have many questions."

I nodded once. Oh, just a few billion. I closed my eyes for a moment to sort out the most important. "Okay, let's see," I counted the questions on my fingers as I asked them. "Where am I? How did I get here? What exactly are you all? What was that earlier with the bandages? And lastly, maybe most importantly, where are my clothes?"

"I believe I can answer that last one," came Dr. Panacea's voice from the opposite side of my bed. I started and grinned at her sheepishly; I had forgotten she was even there. "We had to cut away most of your clothing to get at your injuries. Your overcoat and the things you wore on your... paws?" She looked at me expectantly.

"You mean the hiking boots I was wearing on my feet," I amended, wiggling my toes for emphasis.

"Ah, so they're called feet," she said, "interesting. Anyway, we were able to get them unlaced and set them and your socks aside. Everything else, we had to cut through. We'll have some replacements ready when you're well enough to be released."

I could only guess why she knew about socks but not shoes. "OK, tha- wait, replacements?"

"They did have to cut open your old clothes, Jack." Celestia said.

"What about my shirt? With a bat inside a yellow oval on it?" I asked.

"Cut it off, same as your pants and undergarments," Dr. Panacea said.

I furrowed my brow that. "I liked that shirt," I said. "That was my favorite shirt."

A small part of my mind reminded me that it was "just a shirt, dude," and that I could "get another one just like it at Wal-Mart for like, twenty bucks".

A larger, broodier part of my mind shouted "I AM THE NIGHT!", then swooped down from a gargoyle and punched the first part in the face.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Chambers," the doctor said, "but it was either cut the shirt off or let you keep bleeding internally."

"If you'd like, I can have a shirt tailored to look like your old one," Celestia offered.

"No," I said, "don't worry about it, Celestia. I'm just being silly."

"Very well," she said. "Now then, the rest of your questions. You are currently in the medical wing of Castle Canterlot-"

"Castle what?" Did I hear her right?

"Castle Canterlot," Celestia repeated. I did.

"Canterlot?" I echoed.

"Canterlot," she confirmed. I resisted the Monty Python reference. Barely.

"Canter. Like what horses-" the guard to the left of the door snorted angrily. "-uh, ponies do often. You could even say they 'canter' a 'lot'."

Celestia remained silent.

"Your castle's name is a pun."

"And," Celestia said, "the city around it. And the mountain it sits on."

"OK, then," I said. "Just checking." I couldn't keep the smile from my face.

"Hmm," Celestia nodded, her own grin much more restrained.

I started laughing. It started small, no more than a chuckle, but grew as it dawned on me just how surreal it all was. Celestia joined me, and we both giggled like children. Not long after, I was laughing so hard that my head felt light and my ribs ached terribly. Dr. Panacea laid me back and had to check my bandages and such to make sure I hadn't hurt myself further.

"That's enough excitement for today, I think," the doctor said. "My patient needs his rest, Princess."

"Of course, Doctor," Celestia said as she stood. "It appears we'll have to continue this another time, Jack. I'll be back again sometime tomorrow. Get some rest, alright?"

"Will do," I said, sides still hurting.

She nodded before turning to leave. "It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Chambers."

"The pleasure's all-" I stopped and stared when her back turned towards me.

"Hey! Eyes forward, punk," barked the guard on the left, same one from before. He had obviously thought I was checking whether or not Celestia 'got dat royal booty', but in reality I was looking at what sprouted from her tailbone, just above her rear. It was a tail made of just the same cloud-like, multicolored hair as the nimbus around her head. Celestia turned back towards me with an inquisitive look.

"You have a tail," I stated bluntly.

She turned to look at it over her winged shoulder. "Why yes, it appears I do," Celestia said as if she had only just noticed her own floating appendage.

What I asked next may have been the dumbest and most easily misconstrued thing to ever come out of my mouth. "Does... how do you sit down on that thing?"

"That's it," the angry guard said as he clenched his fists and stalked towards me.

"Down, Fido!" I exclaimed, my mouth moving before I could stop it.

Celestia stopped him before he reached the foot of my bed. "Captain Armor, stand down, please."

"But Your Highness-" he began. I noticed a horn sticking out of his helmet as he looked towards the princess.

"I'm sure our guest didn't mean anything by it. Did you, Jack?" she looked at me pointedly.

"No, Ma'am," I shook my head, "nothing at all. I'm just not very bright sometimes." I gave a self depreciating smile. Really need to work on that brain-mouth filter, Jack. I thought to myself.

Celestia smiled. "Well, we all have our moments. Captain, now that this little misunderstanding is all cleared up, would you return to your post, please?" she said in a patient tone.

"Yes, Your Highness," he saluted the princess with his right hand, fingertips to the side of his brow and the back of his hand facing forward.

As he was returning to the door, back turned to us, Celestia bent closer to me and whispered "Very carefully" with a wink. It took me a moment to realize she was referring to my question about her tail.

I blushed. Stupid, stupid question.

Standing back up and acting as nothing had happened when the Captain turned back around, Princess Celestia spoke again, loud enough for the whole room to hear her. "If that will be all, I think I'll take my leave for now. Captain Armor, please assist Dr. Panacea in any way she asks until your shift is over."

"Yes, Your Highness," he said, before fixing me with an icy look.

Celestia turned to me. "Get well soon." And with that she left, the less chatty guard following after her.

When she left, the doctor caught my attention again. "Now, then." She pulled a medical chart from somewhere and started flipping through papers. "Mister Chambers..."

"Uh, Jack," I said.

She blinked and looked at me. "Hm?"

"I like my friends to call me Jack, Doctor."

She smiled. "In that case, please call me Dr. Pan; it's much easier."

"OK, then Dr. Pan," I said, testing out the nickname.

"Now," -she glanced at the chart again- "I believe I've gotten a good grasp on your species's medical needs..."

The next half hour was spent discussing medical procedures, biological functions, and what I could and couldn't eat safely. Dr. Pan had just left to get me something to eat when the guard from earlier spoke up again. "I've got my eye on you pal."

"Come again?" I asked.

"I said you had better stay in line, buddy," the Captain glared. "If you don't, I'm gonna have to take you down a peg."

I can understand a guy needing to be intimidating to do his job. I can understand being unnerved around a strange being and feeling the need to make a show of force. But unless there was some cultural thing I wasn't aware of, I had done almost nothing to earn this kind of treatment. What's more, I was confined to a hospital bed and could barely laugh without coughing up blood. I was no threat to this guy or anyone else. As far as I could tell, this guard was just a bully.

And I don't like bullies very much.

"Sorry Captain Fido," I said, cementing this douchebag's new nickname in my mind, "you're going to have to speak up. It's real hard to hear you with your head that far up your own ass."

He scowled at me and took a step forward. "You listen here, you little-"

"Ooh, big bad Clone Trooper's gonna lecture at me. I'm so scared," I said mockingly

He snarled at me and his horn glowed purple. That was new. It was also bad news for me. "You better be, you smart-mouthed pile of-"

"Oh, you're gonna beat up a guy in a hospital bed, huh? Bet you're boss'll be super happy about that. What, there aren't any nearby babies to kick or old people to push into traffic?"

Captain Fido halted his advance toward me and his horn stopped glowing.

"You know what, alien?" he said after a moment. "You're not worth it." Then he turned and stepped outside the room, slamming the door behind him.

I let out a sigh of relief. That was way too close. My tongue's too sharp for my own good, sometimes. That guy could've killed me. I spent a moment just letting the adrenaline wear off and my heart rate return to normal.

Then everything hit me. I was on an alien planet, maybe even in an entirely different dimension. I had become the first human in history to make contact with sapient extraterrestrial life. I had even met a princess!

As all the bizarre, downright impossible facts started to overwhelm me, I was reminded of a line from Hamlet.

"O day and night, but this is wondrous strange!" I said to myself.

I grinned toothily as I remembered Hamlet's reply.

"And therefore as a stranger give it welcome.

There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio,

Than are dreamt of in your philosophy."

Chapter 3: Fear is the Mind-Killer

I laid in the hospital bed, mildly having a mental breakdown.

It was the day after I had become the first human in history to hold a conversation with intelligent, non-human life, and I was fighting a losing battle against my worst enemy: my own mind.

I've always been fairly quick-witted. I'm able to see things from multiple perspectives, understand other people's viewpoints even if I don't share them, and I have a very active imagination.

The downside of this is that I'm most able to see my own mistakes. I would say or do something awkward, notice it immediately, then over-analyze it until it felt like there's a big flashing neon sign pointing right at me, when in reality my slip-up would be something so small that anyone who might have noticed it wouldn't really care.

I've gotten better about it in recent years, thanks to my sister. She may not have been the easiest person to get along with sometimes, but she helped me adopt the philosophy that, as long as I wasn't harming anyone, if someone had a problem with who I am as a person, then that's their problem.

This is great, except when I convince myself that someone who might have a problem with me, can also make a problem for me.

I taught myself a trick, learned to focus on whatever else I could to keep my doubt at the back of my mind so that it couldn't scare me out of living my life.

But as I lay in that hospital bed, with nothing to distract myself but the dots on the ceiling above, it became harder and harder to keep that doubt locked away.

~ * ~ * ~

You're screwed, Jack.

'It's not that bad.'

You can barely move, and you're trapped at the mercy of an alien race. Did you ever stop to ask why Celestia's so keen on helping you?

'She said it was because I was hurt-'

You believed that? You believed that the alien politician would help you just because? That there isn't some ulterior motive here?

'Well, maybe she just wants to establish friendly relations with Earth. Like a cultural exchange.'

A cultural exchange? You work at a gas station! You count change and mop floors! You aren't qualified for this! You're not qualified to represent the country, let alone the entire human race!

"Jack..."

'Well then, they can send someone who is qualified when I get back-'

What makes you think she'll let you go back?!

'What makes you think she won't?'

Wake up, Jack! You're in Wonderland! What's stopping Celestia from going 'Queen of Hearts' on your ass?! Decapitation isn't as fun as it looks!

"Jack, listen to me..."

'Why the hell would she want to execute me?'

Let's see, hm? You insulted her, ogled her, accused her of being a monster, and made fun of the name of her home!

'I apologized-'

Oh yeah, 'cause that worked so well for Guy Fawkes and his buddies. "Sorry for trying to blow up Parliament, King James. Please don't have us tortured in the Tower of London and then publicly hanged"!

"Jack!"

~ * ~ * ~

Dr. Panacea stood over me, her hand clutching my shoulder. I was drenched with sweat and my breathing was erratic. The heart monitor's screen was flashing red and couldn't seem to keep up with my racing pulse.

"Wh-wha-"

"Calm down, Jack. You're going to be fine," Dr. Pan soothed.

I clenched my eyes shut and tried to get my breathing back under control. After swallowing a few times, I spoke. "What just...?"

"You were having a panic attack, young man." We had shared the proper terms for our species yesterday evening: man and woman, stallion and mare. "I had to administer a mild sedative. Are you feeling better now?"

I nodded. My breaths were still a little shaky, but my heart had stopped its impression of a jackhammer in my chest. "Yeah, just... It all just hit me, y'know?"

"I see," she nodded as she moved to occupy the chair Celestia had sat in yesterday. "Well, I'm no psychiatrist, but if you'd like to talk about it, I'd be willing to listen."

"It's just..." I laid my head back and sighed. "I am in way over my head, here."

"How do you mean?"

"I mean- did you hear what I said to the Princess yesterday?" I ranted. "I acted like an idiot. No wonder that guard wanted to beat the crap out of me. I'm surprised Princess Celestia didn't just let him."

"Hmm," Dr. Panacea mused, interrupting my tirade. "It seems that Ms. Sparkle isn't the only one that suffers from over-reactive tendencies."

"Ms. who?" I asked.

"Hm?" she said. "Oh, just thinking aloud, young man. Never mind that. Now, regarding what you said, I wouldn't worry too much about it."

"Why not?"

"Members of my family have served as the royal physician for generations. I've known the Princess for most of my life. She is far less severe than you seem to believe. In fact, I think she found your conversation refreshing."

"Really?"

"Oh, yes," Dr. Panacea nodded, "I believe she found it a nice change of pace. If not, would she have laughed with you or given that last question of yours such a silly answer?"

Oh look, I'm blushing again. "So... she's not mad at me?"

"Not at all," Dr. Panacea smiled.

"But what about the other thing, with the guard?" That guy looked all kinds of pissed.

"Ah yes, Captain Armor's little outburst," she said as she removed her glasses and wiped them on the hem of her scrubs. "First of all let me assure you; Celestia may run the country, but this med wing is my kingdom, and you are my patient. As long as you remain in my care, you are under my protection, and Faust help anypony that tries to hurt my patients.

"Furthermore, the Captain has been reprimanded by both Princess Celestia and myself for his actions. That kind of behavior is unbecoming of a stallion of his rank, and I've known him long enough to know that he was raised better than that. Believe me, you have nothing to fear from him so long as you don't intend to harm anypony while you are here."

I shook my head. "I don't like seeing people hurt, doctor. You don't have to worry about that."

"That's good to hear," the doctor said, placing the glasses back on her muzzle. "You know, I was told a small bit of what was said between you two after I had left yesterday."

I smiled sheepishly. "You did, huh?" I said as I scratched the back of my neck.

"Yes, indeed," she smirked. "I believe it was something about 'Captain Fido' having his head stuck up his own plot?" She gave me a look over the frames of her glasses and quirked an eyebrow.

"I may not like hurting people, doc, but I like bullies even less."

"Believe it or not, you and he share that sentiment," she responded. I didn't believe it. "You see, the good captain isn't normally that... abrasive."

"So he's normally all sunshine and bunnies?" I asked sarcastically.

"He has always taken his work very seriously, and has always been passionate about the guard, but-" There was a trio of sharp knocks at the door. "Ah," Dr. Panacea said, moving to open it, "that must be him now."

She opened the door, revealing the stone-faced guard that had wanted to knock my block off.

"Speak of the Devil," I said. Both Dr. Pan and Captain Fido looked at me quizzically. "Speak of the Devil, and the Devil shall appear," I explained. "It's a human saying."

"Fascinating," the doctor stated. "Now, Captain Armor, I believe you have something to say to our guest?"

Captain Fido moved forward to the foot of my bed and removed his helmet. He wasn't as tall as Celestia, but he was taller than me and in much better shape. He was built like a linebacker and had a square, arrogant jawline. His hair, which I had learned was actually called a mane, was multiple shades of electric blue. Ponies must have different regulations, because it was longer and shaggier than any human military would allow. His blue eyes held a look of resignation and his mouth was scrunched up as if he had eaten something sour. Obviously, whatever he had to say to me, he wouldn't like it.

"I came to apologize," he began, closing his eyes, "for my behavior yesterday. I was rude, hostile, and threatening towards you without provocation." He looked aside. "The reason behind this is because I recently experienced some... issues in my personal life, and they negatively affected my judgement on-duty," -he actually sounded sincere about that part- "causing me to believe that you were acting hostile and inappropriate towards the Princess. I ask that you... forgive me, and hope that we can both put this misunderstanding behind us."

I studied him for a moment, pondering something.

"They ordered you to say all that, didn't they?" I accused.

The way he blinked once and worked his jaw told me all I needed to know.

"Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Look," he said, gripping the bed's footboard, "I don't like you and you don't like me. I lost my head and acted rashly-"

"This is true," I cut in.

"-but that doesn't change the fact that you are a disrespectful punk-"

"This is also true." Hey, I have my moments.

"and I will not let the ponies I protect be endangered, by anyone or anything."

See, I can respect that. I can respect the need to keep the people you care about safe, even if the way you have to do it doesn't earn you any friends.

I still hate this guy's guts. You can respect someone and still despise them.

"Tell you what, Fido," I said, "you stay in your yard and I'll stay in mine, deal?"

He scowled at that. "I'll be watching you."

"Oh, so you're like the Warden Morgan to my Harry Dresden, huh?" I taunted with a reference I knew he wouldn't get. "Gonna keep expecting me to go all Darth Vader, no matter what I do?"

He placed his golden helmet back on his head, the plume on top was the same color as his mane. "If you ever hurt anypony..."

"Captain Armor!" Dr. Panacea warned.

"Don't let the door hit you in the ass on the way out, Mr. Lawful-Stupid."

The Captain gave me a curious look at "lawful-stupid", then shook his head and turned to leave.

He... He didn't just recognize the phrase, did he?

...Nah. Ponies can't have tabletop gaming. That's just silly.

Doctor Panacea blocked the door and gave the Captain a baleful look. "Armor, you will not threaten patients in my infirmary again, or there will be Tartarus to pay, come time for your annual check-up," she threatened quietly. "Do I make myself clear?"

The big meathead gulped in fear of the shorter mare in front of him. "Yes, Surgeon General. It won't happen again, Ma'am."

"Good," she said simply and moved aside. Captain Armor hurried along and left without another word.

As she returned to the seat beside me, I had to stare at the older mare that had just threatened a fully grown stallion with such surgical precision that it made him cower in fear.

"Wow," I said finally. "Remind me to never get on your bad side."

"Yes, well," she smiled and blushed as she looked away. Strangely, when she blushed it only made her fur look a darker shade of blue. "He had been warned yesterday." She turned back to me with a reproachful look. "That said, he was apologizing; you didn't have to antagonize him like that."

I crossed my arms. "He's the one who brought his baggage to work," I huffed. "And besides, if he really wanted to apologize, he would have done it on his own, not because he was ordered to. But..." I sighed and leaned back, "I can get where he's coming from, though. If Princess Celestia asks, I'll tell her we made nice and agreed to stay out of each other's business."

"You intend to lie to the Princess?" Dr. Panacea questioned.

"It's not lying," I said defensively, "it's... selective information. Totally different."

The doctor deadpanned and rose an eyebrow.

"I intend to inform Celestia that Captain Armor apologized, I offered a deal wherein we limit our exposure to each other, and then he left. I will also refrain from mentioning that we were still at each other's throats. And then everybody's happy."

"Right," she said, obviously not buying it.

"So, uh," I said, looking to change the subject. "Surgeon General?"

Gracefully, she let the topic change instead of grilling me further. "Yes, my rank. As Surgeon General, I am not only the royal physician, but also head of the Equestrian military's Medic Corps."

My eyebrows shot up. "Wow. Go you. What do you mean 'Equestrian'?"

"Equestria is the name of the country, therefore it's military would be the 'Equestrian Armed Guard'."

"... Everything on this planet is named with puns, isn't it?" I deadpanned.

"Well..."

"... That's awesome," I smiled. I am a very silly man, sometimes.

"So... magic," I said as I munched on a tuna sandwich.

"Yes, Jack. Magic," Dr. Panacea sighed as she used the fork in her telekinetic grasp to pick away at a salad.

It was lunch now, and according to the doctor, ponies weren't the only civilized species on the planet Equus. It wasn't strange for the castle to host diplomats from a meat-eating species, so the kitchens were stocked for herbivores and carnivores alike, which meant that the food on hand was varied enough to suit my dietary needs as well.

The doctor and I had talked for a while about various things: the pony races, Greek myths, an embarrassing discussion on how our species' reproductive methods differed...

The usual things you'd discuss while eating.

Eventually my unanswered questions from yesterday came up. When I asked how my bandages had moved on their own, Dr. Pan had explained that unicorns possessed magic, and, after I had accused her of pulling my leg, had given me a small demonstration, levitating the tray both our meals had been brought in on.

Considering how casually I had seen the laws of physics be defied, I handled it pretty well.

A lot less "panic attack, part two" and a little more "holy crap, do it again".

Which brings us to now. "So you just, think about it, and then it happens?" I asked.

"It's much more complicated than that, but yes, essentially."

"And every unicorn can do it?"

"More or less," she responded.

"What do you mean?"

"Well," she began, "every unicorn learns telekinesis during adolescence, but most of the spells in their repertoire relate to their special talent."

"Meaning..."

"Meaning that most unicorns only know a handful of spells that connect to their cutie mark."

"Their what?" I said with a bemused expression.

"Their cutie mark," the doctor clarified. "It's an area of fur on either side of a pony's flanks that discolors via magical fluctuation during puberty. It resolves itself into a definite shape, usually after a pony has had some life-changing experience or revelation about herself. It's a custom for the pony's parents to then have an armband bearing their new cutie mark crafted for them, which is presented at a coming-of-age party called a 'cute-ceñera'."

She turned to present the simplistic band of light blue on the right arm of her lab coat. At its center was the emblem of a wooden staff with a snake curled around it, laying within a pink cartoon heart.

"I received this when I treated my little brother's snakebite with Viperwood resin when I was fifteen; it combated the venom long enough to get him to a hospital..."

"Isn't that the Rod of Asclepius?" I said to myself.

"Asclepius..." Dr. Panacea had apparently heard my musings. "You mentioned him earlier, yes?" She examined the band herself. "Greek god of medicine?"

I nodded. "And father of Panacea, goddess of universal remedy."

"How strange..." the doctor hummed.

"It's probably just a coincidence," I dismissed. "I mean, we're members of an entirely different species, from entirely different dimensions, and yet we just happen to breathe similar atmospheres, speak similar languages, and have similar species populating our worlds? Who's to say that this isn't just another little similarity?"

"You're most likely right," she said.

"Did you really save your brother's life when you were fifteen?"

"The doctors at Canterlot General saved his life. I just helped."

"Still, wish I was as cool at that age," I stated.

"Well that's very kind of you, young man," she chuckled, before her expression turned inquisitive. "By the way, I've been meaning to ask; how fast do humans usually heal? For example, how long does it usually take to repair a broken bone?"

I had to think about that. "I dunno, doc, I haven't needed to go to the hospital since my tonsils were removed. It varies, I guess? Six, seven weeks? Ten at the most? Why?"

"It's just that-" she set her empty salad bowl aside and reached for my chart "-when you were brought in here, you were in much worse condition than you are now. I had expected you to remain unconscious for at least a week, not three days."

"I've been out for three days?" I asked. She nodded. I am so fired.

"You had multiple partial fractures, severe internal and external bleeding, you still have a fractured skull, but beyond a slight bit of memory loss prior to the incident, you no longer have any symptoms of a concussion, whatsoever. We've gotten to the point where we're mostly just mitigating the pain as your body heals itself, now."

"You're just that good, maybe?" I offered weakly. Hearing how messed up I had been unnerved me.

"No matter how good I may be, nopony should heal that fast," she said.

"So what, I'm Wolverine now? I've got a regenerative healing factor or something?" I wondered if I would sprout claws next and start calling people "bub".

"If your healing factor was 'regenerative' you wouldn't be in here, would you?" the doctor chided. "Your ability to heal is only slightly accelerated, if anything."

"Okay, but why?" I asked. "This doesn't just happen right?"

"I have a theory," Dr. Panacea said, setting the chart down crisply. "Your species has no magic whatsoever; your world is entirely without it, correct?"

"Yes," I said, "but why does that matter?"

"Most of the procedures used to treat you were magical in nature. Princess Celestia herself aided in the spell necessary to repair the damage to your cranium. I believe that the magic-free environment you grew up in, combined with the massive quantities of magic used on you, caused your physiology to become more receptive to healing spells, and more efficient at repairing itself in general."

"So what you're saying is, I heal faster than most humans?"

She nodded. "And perhaps twice as fast as most ponies. But,-" she said sharply, "-I don't want to hear about you taking any brainless risks, understand?"

"Ma'am, yes, Ma'am," I said quickly, remembering the way she had cowed Captain Fido earlier.

"Very good," she smiled, then stood and dusted herself off. "Now, I'm afraid this is where we part for today. Duty calls."

"Uh, doctor?" I called as she turned to leave. "Do you think you could get me a book or something? I'll be a lot less likely to have another panic attack if I have something to distract myself with."

"I believe that a pair of books were found with you," Dr. Panacea said, "I can arrange to have them and the rest of your things sent to you, if Twilight can stop obsessing over them for more than two seconds."

"Thanks Doc Pan, I'd like that." I had no idea who "Twilight" was, but I assumed he or she was whoever they had placed in charge of examining my personal effects. I would take offense to that back on Earth, but I let it slide here.

Having my pockets rifled through was a lot better than waking up strapped to a dissection table.

"Alright Jack. Try to get some rest in the meantime."

"Way ahead of you," I said, setting my own empty plate aside and pulling the blankets over me to take a nap.

"... But flowers distilled, though they with winter meet,

Leese but their show, their substance still lives sweet."

When I awoke, a mare in a yellow sundress was sitting beside my bed reading from my copy of the Sonnets. I took a moment to study her. She was a unicorn with a white coat and a long pink mane that curled slightly at the ends. I cleared my throat to get her attention, and she turned to look at me with a familiar pair of purple eyes. Her features were soft, and held far fewer signs of age than Dr. Pan's had.

"Oh! I'm sorry, I didn't mean to wake you," she said as she set the book aside. Her voice was gentle and friendly. "I was just returning your things and my curiosity got the better of me."

"No problem at all," I said. "Ms. Twilight, I presume?"

She smiled gently, the action seeming more natural to her than any other expression. "Not quite. My name's Sunny. Sunny Skies."

I shook the hand she offered. "Pleasure to meet you. So, how did you like it?" I asked as I nodded to the book. "I haven't read those yet."

Sunny touched the book's cover and smiled. "They're beautiful. Though, this 'Shakespeare' seems to focus quite a bit on the sun and summer, while using winter and the night as metaphors for age and ugliness."

"Winters in London four hundred years ago were difficult, I imagine. Especially at night. Still though, that's where Shakespeare and I disagree."

"Oh?" Sunny said, her eyes scrutinizing me.

"I like winter," I said proudly. "I like the cold, I like snow, I like being able to see my breath when I walk outside, I like winter holidays... I just like the season in general."

"And what of the night?" Sunny asked. By her expression, she was definitely searching for something.

"I don't know," I shrugged. "I used to stargaze sometimes, when I was little. I never took up astronomy, though; there's always been too much light pollution in the places I've lived. I still like to look at the moon though, especially when it's full."

Sunny gave a small, almost relieved smile. "I see. You know, now that I think about it, I don't think I ever asked what your name was."

I smirked. "Yes, you did. Did you forget already?"

"No," she frowned, "I never asked, and you never gave it to me."

"I told you my name yesterday."

Sunny quirked an eyebrow. "But I wasn't here yesterday."

And now, to test my theory. "I'm fairly certain you were... Princess."

'Sunny' blinked once. "I'm sorry?"

"I know it's you, Princess Celestia," I smiled.

'Sunny' pouted. "How did you figure it out?" she asked as she got up.

You don't act like a guard, you're not dressed like a nurse or doctor, and no one's that nonchalant talking to an alien for the first time.

"Lucky guess," I grinned. "But why?"

Sunny's horn glowed gold as she was enveloped in a soft white light. When it dissipated, Princess Celestia's taller, more intimidating figure stood in her place. She was wearing less finery today, just her crown and a golden band on her right arm. At the band's center was a large stylized sun made of a yellow diamond with a corona of orange fire opals.

"I was told about your episode earlier today. I thought you might feel less nervous speaking to 'Sunny Skies' than you would be speaking to 'Princess Celestia'," the princess said. "Was I wrong?"

"N-no, Your Highness," I stuttered.

"Well, then for now," -Celestia's horn glowed, the light returned, and Sunny Skies stood before me again- "how about we just talk like this?" she smiled and sat down again.

"Works for me," I said. Sunny was as tall as me, with a comfortably average figure, at least in comparison to the Princess's normal appearance. "So how does that work? It's magic, right?"

"Yep," Sunny nodded. "It's a collection of high-level illusion spells to alter the caster's voice and outward appearance. The rest is just good acting."

"Uh-huh," I said. "So, speaking of acting, I noticed that most of your regalia is missing today. Was all that jewelery yesterday just a show?"

"Yesterday evening was a national holiday, which means that as Princess I had to give a number of speeches and attend a dinner party hosted by Canterlot's nobility."

"So basically a lot of smiling and waving at folks with far too much money and ego?" I said playfully.

"They're not all bad," she defended.

"But..." I prompted.

"Okay, some of them can be a little silly," she giggled. "My duties for today are done, though, so I can dress a bit more casually."

Casual for where, the Oscars? "Right," I said simply. "Also, I noticed that trick from yesterday. Very clever."

Sunny looked puzzled at that. "What do you mean?" she said, her head tilted.

"The trick with the heart monitor and the questions while my eyes were still covered?" I said.

"Care to elaborate?" Sunny asked.

I took a breath. "You see, Princess, on my world we have something called a polygraph test. It's basically a machine that measures heart rate, temperature, respiration, things like that, and uses those readings to determine whether or not someone is lying. When you asked me my name and had me go over what happened, you were recording my responses when I told the truth. You used the medical equipment as a polygraph and had Dr. Panacea monitor my readings while we were talking. It's ingenious, really; you interrogate the strange alien being while staying in a non-hostile environment that reduces the risk of an international -or interdimensional- incident. Like I said, very clever," I finished.

The Princess-in-disguise held me in a pensive stare.

"Am I wrong?" I asked. "I'm not mad about it either way."

Finally, Sunny spoke again. "How did you come up with that theory?" she asked.

"Practical application of logic, reason, and paranoia," I answered. "I have a very active imagination."

"So you admit that you're paranoid?" she half-smirked.

"Just because you're paranoid doesn't mean there isn't an invisible demon about to eat your face." Wise words from a wise-ass wizard. "So? Right or wrong?"

"Right, actually," Sunny blushed and looked down. "I'm sorry for the deception, but you must understand-"

"It's cool," I said offhandedly. "I didn't wake up in a cell or something, so, Hakuna Matata." Great, now I'm going to have The Lion King in my head all day.

"You really aren't upset?" she asked, shocked.

"Nope," I said.

"... I see," Sunny smiled. "Now, speaking of forgiveness, was Captain Armor in to see you earlier?"

C'mon, Jack, poker face. "Yes, he was. In fact, he apologized for yesterday."

"That's good to hear."

"Yeah. We agreed to leave each other alone from now on."

"I see. Did anything else happen?"

Moment of truth. "No, not really," I said, smiling a bit too wide. "So, what happens when I get out of here? What do I do then?"

Sunny blinked once before answering. "Once you're well enough to be fully released, you'll be given one of the guest rooms reserved for diplomats and treated as a foreign dignitary. From then, we'll see," she said formally.

My eyebrows shot up. "Wait, me? A dignitary? I don't even know what a dignitary does."

"Oh, Jack," Sunny laughed, "don't worry so much. It just means you'll be given a small measure of diplomatic immunity. You won't be expected to actually do anything."

"Oh, thank God," I gasped.

"But," she said firmly, brandishing a finger at me "I had better not hear about you causing any trouble, understand?"

"Yes, Ma'am," I said, sitting perfectly straight and answering like a well-behaved child. It wasn't sarcasm, it was a knee-jerk reflex; I have no idea how she made me do that.

"Good. Now, two more things before I leave," she held up the box for the speaker I had unintentionally shoplifted. The safety device had been removed, and it looked like it had been opened. "Firstly, we've determined that this speaker can run on the same power as our technology, so you should have no problems using your music player."

"Awesome," I said as she handed me the box and my iPod.

"And lastly, once Dr. Panacea has cleared you, and if you're feeling up to it, there's someone I'd like you to come meet with me in a few days. I'm sure the two of you will have much in common."

"Sure, why not?" I shrugged.

Sunny smiled again and stood up. "Oh, one more thing. Can we keep this 'Sunny Skies' thing between the two of us? Please?" she looked sheepish.

I mimicked zipping my lips shut. "Your secret's safe with me."

"Thank you, Jack. See you again soon," Sunny said as she walked to the door. The light returned for a split-second, and then Celestia exited.

I watched her until she left. When she was gone, I took a deep breath, then exhaled. "... She do," I said resignedly, ashamed of myself.

I looked over the items Celestia had brought me. My wallet and car keys were useless now; I set them aside. Next to them I placed my comb and my sunglasses, which by some miracle were completely undamaged. I checked my phone- zero reception, no surprise there, but at least it had some games if I got that desperate. I made sure to turn it off since I had left the charger in a parallel universe, then set it aside along with my copy of Hamlet.

With the last three items still in front of me, I quickly unboxed the speaker and plugged it into a conveniently placed wall socket. It was an awkward fit, but the plug stayed in the wall and the speaker lit up. I attached my iPod to it and hit random. As Rodrigo y Gabriela's "Ixtapa" came forth from the speaker base in crystal clarity, I laid back and let the sound of Spanish guitars wash over me. Ahh, I thought, Much better.

After a moment of musical meditation, I picked up the Sonnets and began to read.

Author's Note

Disclaimer, bub:

Viperwood does not exist and therefore cannot be used to treat snakebites. I came up with it after five minutes of Google research.

Also, there are no varying degrees of diplomatic immunity; you either have it or you don't. Celestia knows that, and she knows that Jack doesn't know that. She said "a small measure" to help calm him down, and discourage him from abusing his immunity and having to be shot in the head by Danny Glover.

Chapter 4: Your Plotline is in Another Castle

Three days later, and I was thumbing through Shakespeare's fifty-first sonnet, my music system still running tentatively on whatever ponies used to power their machines.

♫I'm your only friend,

I'm not your only friend,

But I'm a little glowing friend,

But really I'm not actually your friend,

But I am...♫

Shakespeare and They Might Be Giants. Strange combination, but it works.

I was growing restless, the Early Modern English had begun to grate on me and the only interaction I had with anyone was the half-hour each day when 'Sunny' would visit me, or when Dr. Panacea came to check my IV drip or help me through some light physical therapy. I was getting better; I could walk around the room ten times without feeling sore now, which I did as often as my body would allow. Pacing helps me think, more importantly it helps me work off the need to go outside by thinking on what I've read, or what I've learned from the doctor and the Princess.

They had told me that not only did they have the same method of keeping time as humans, they also had the same twelve months we did. It was December 29th today, which made my day of arrival December 22, 998th year of the "Celestial Era", whatever that was. The most important fact that I drew from that was that I had left my world on the summer solstice, and had shown up in this world on it's winter counterpart. It felt like too much of a coincidence, so I mentioned it to Celestia, hoping that it could help her or whoever she's commissioned to find a way to get me back home.

I also learned that I had just missed Hearth's Warming, which is like a pony version of Christmas apparently, but with more emphasis on the day before it. I had no idea why. I would probably ask later.

But what really had me climbing the walls was the fact that I was on top of a mountain, in the middle of winter, there was snow outside, and I was stuck in here twiddling my thumbs! I hadn't seen snow in years, and with it sitting right outside, it was all I could do to keep from trying to limp my way out there, propping myself up with my IV stand.

I knew that my lack of proper clothing would mean hypothermia the instant I stepped outside, but a man can dream.

I shut the book and set it aside, rubbing my eyes. If something didn't change soon, I was going to start playing Fruit Ninja again, which would eat into my phone's battery even more. I had already shut my iPod off multiple times to let it charge through the speaker base, but for some reason it wouldn't hold the charge. Either the battery was giving out or the alien power source had a seriously small shelf life.

I laid back and hummed "Frosty the Snowman", replacing every word with "bored" in my mind and tapping out a faster, directionless beat on the guardrails of my bed.

Just as I was about to get up and start pacing again, Dr. Panacea came in pushing a wheelchair, followed by Princess Celestia.

"Good morning, Your Royal Highness. Hello, doctor," I said formally, inclining my head. I may not have been a real ambassador, but in a way I was still representing humanity, so I figured it was best not to step on anyone's toes, excluding a certain numbskull guard.

"Good morning, Mr. Chambers," Dr. Panacea said. "And how are we feeling today?"

"Like I'm going to go loco in the co-co if I'm cooped up in here any longer, doc," I said. Talking to 'Sunny' had helped me become comfortable enough around Celestia to act more like my normal self. "Is that wheelchair for me, Ma'am?" I directed at Celestia.

"Yes indeed, Jack," Celestia said, using my nickname to subtly let me know that I could speak to her informally. The rules for talking to royalty are weird, but I'm glad I looked them up way back when; if Celestia were less laid-back, I'd be making a total fool of myself without them. "Do you remember when I asked you to meet somepony with me?"

"Ah, so this is them?" I said, motioning to the wheelchair. I turned towards the inanimate object and mock-bowed. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance, Mr. Chair. You have very lovely wheels," I put special emphasis on the silent 'h', just to add comedic effect.

The Princess chuckled behind her hand, while Dr. Pan snorted and rolled her eyes.

"It's good that you're feeling well enough to clown around," Panacea said amicably, lifting a box out of the seat of the chair and levitating it over to me. "It makes me that much more confident about letting you go for the day."

"Great. So, what's in the box?" I said, shaking it to try and see what was inside. "It's not Gwyneth Paltrow's head, is it?"

"What?"

"Movie reference," I said automatically as I opened the flaps. There was a stack of folded clothing inside. "Huh. Merry Christmas to me."

"The pony we will be meeting today is in another building, across the courtyard," Celestia said as I examined the clothing, "so you might need something a bit warmer than a hospital gown."

Whatever remark I had planned fell away as I pulled out the shirt that was sitting on top of my hiking boots at the bottom of the box. The shirt was dark gray, with a yellow oval on the front. Inside the oval... was the iconic shape of a bat. The material was thicker than the original, and the symbol was less faded, but it was clear what Celestia had done. I looked to the Princess, turning the shirt to show it to her. "You got me a new Batman shirt?"

She smiled. "You seemed so torn up over your old one..."

"You didn't have to do that for me, Princess."

"No," she said, "but I wanted to. Ponies shouldn't need a reason to be kind or generous."

"Thank you," I said, feeling the fabric in my hands. "Really. This means a lot to me."

It's amazing how such small things can have such a big impact on a person. Having my shirt back was like having another small piece of home. It made my worries and doubts gnaw at me a bit less.

It made me feel... safer.

"You're most welcome, Jack," Celestia said.

"So, am I supposed to get dressed now? What about this?" I asked, holding up my left arm with the IV in it. It would be awkward trying to put on a shirt with the tube and needle attached to just below the crook of my elbow.

"The catheter we've used on you has a release near the base," Dr. Panacea said, "so we can just take the tubing off until you get your shirt on, then re-attach it under the sleeve of your jacket. Do you think you can dress yourself without help?"

"Yeah, I'll be- wait, catheter?" I interrupted myself.

Dr. Pan examined the machinery I was hooked to and pointedly avoided my eyes. "When you were first brought to me, I used a more invasive method of intravenous therapy meant for longer-term treatment, before I knew you could heal so quickly."

I gaped. "You... you popped a cath in me, doc," I said incredulously.

No wonder my arm felt stiff since I got here- there was a freaking tube inside it!

The doctor stood straighter and narrowed her eyes at my readings. "At the time of your admission, I believed you would be recuperating for at least a month, not seven days. What's more, I had to adapt medical techniques designed for ponies to a being whose physiology I had never encountered before, and furthermore I had to make several educated guesses about your medical history to avoid exploratory surgery." She turned to me with a determined look. "I did what I believed would be best for you at the time. I stand by my decisions, Mr. Chambers."

I was speechless for a moment in the face of such a passionate, logical argument. "Um. Okay. Sorry," I fumbled, apologizing without knowing why.

Her gaze softened as Celestia spoke. "Don't be, Jack. You have no reason to."

Dr. Panacea nodded. "The Princess is right. If anything, I should be apologizing to you."

"N-no, you did what you thought was best. Let's call it water under the bridge."

The doctor smiled in assent. "If it's any consolation, we'll be removing it in a few days- while you're asleep, of course," she added quickly upon seeing my alarmed look.

"Uh, all right then. Can I get dressed now?" I said, trying to get things moving as quickly as possible. I wanted to go outside and see that snow.

"Of course," Panacea said. "Do you need any help?"

"I'm a big boy, doc. I can tie my own shoes and everything," I joked.

I held out my arm and watched with squeamish fascination as she removed the plastic line from the base in my forearm. Despite what I said, I let her help me out of bed and to the bathroom.

Not that I needed her to, or anything.

I was just being polite.

After about twenty minutes of Dr. Panacea doting on me while somehow still being clinically professional, we were on our way.

The doctor had insisted that I be tangled into a spare blanket like a makeshift straightjacket, but I talked her down to letting me drape it over my legs and zipping up my hoodie.

She also wouldn't let me push myself around, which was kind of a buzzkill.

No wheelies for me today, I guess.

As Dr. Pan wheeled me down the corridor, I pulled the black beanie I had been gifted over the bandages around my head. "How do ponies wear beanies, anyway?"

"On our heads," Celestia answered me.

I resisted the urge to facepalm at royalty.

"Okay," I said patiently, "How do ponies wear beanies without their ears or horns getting in the way?"

"We cut out holes for them," Celestia said simply.

I gave her a look. "Really? Simple as that? Well then, there are no holes in mine, where did you find it?"

"The same tailor I commissioned to make the rest of your clothes," Celestia replied.

"... Either you're messing with me, or I'm an idiot and it really is that simple."

Celestia said nothing.

I narrowed my eyes. Well played, Princess. Well played.

I turned away from the Princess, murmured something from Macbeth about equivocators, and examined the architecture of the hallway. The floor looked like marble, but I wasn't familiar with fancier building materials, so I couldn't be sure. The walls were made of stone, that much I could tell, but I couldn't for the life of me think of any stonework that was so naturally pastel-colored. Exquisite tapestries hung from the walls, interspersed with hand-painted artwork. Sculptures and the like sat atop pedestals at regular intervals along the hall. Overall, the place tried to give an air of wealth, prosperity, and royal sophistication.

To me, it all just looked hard to clean.

I looked out one of the vaulted windows and my jaw dropped.

Celestia had told me that Canterlot was on a mountain. I had thought she meant into the side somewhere, or maybe around a cliff at the base, like Minas Tirith.

I wasn't expecting it to be built all over the mountaintop.

Let me clarify: Minas Tirith looked pretty large in the movies, maybe the size of a modern city's downtown area. That's pretty big for a fantasy setting where indoor plumbing may-or-may-not exist yet.

Canterlot, by comparison, was massive.

I had been to New York once before, walked around the Big Apple, and become thoroughly convinced that Times Square itself was trying to kill me.

From what I could see, Canterlot looked as big as New York City. All five boroughs.

That is, if NYC was thousands of feet above sea level and built like an architect's wet dream.

And all of it, every inch, was covered in pure, perfect, powdery snow.

A feeling of giddiness bloomed in my chest the more I looked out at the winter wonderland before me.

A moment later, I became faintly aware that Celestia had been calling my name.

"I'm dead..." I muttered.

"Jack?" she called, sounding perturbed.

"I died, there was a clerical error, and now I'm in snowy heaven," I smiled, looking out the window.

The ponies chuckled.

"Do you see this?" I asked, gesturing outward.

"Every day, Jack," Celestia said. "Now, if you're done admiring the wonderful view, there is a pony waiting to meet you."

I might have protested, but Dr. Panacea rolled my chair away from the window before I could.

"Aww," I groused.

"You'll get to see it up close when we move through the courtyard," Dr. Pan said.

I perked up immediately. "What are we waiting for, then? Lead on, Your Highness."

Chapter 5: Enter, Crazy Purple Book Pony

The further we traveled, the more populated the hallways became. At first it was just a few guards here and there, each one looking like a fuzzy Roman Clone Trooper, but eventually there came the serving staff. Butlers dressed like Alfred Pennyworth with barely a fraction of the awesome, maids wearing frilly uniforms- actual uniforms, not the impractical Halloween costume kind, and mostly younger-looking ponies in what looked like a combination of a bellhop uniform and a busboy's apron.

Each of them would salute or bow respectfully when they saw Celestia, and the princess would in turn greet each of them by name.

When they noticed me, some of them would stare slack-jawed with those big, cartoonish eyes, and others would try too hard to not stare. This led to more than a few collisions because of ponies not watching where they were walking.

It was kind of funny at first, but it got annoying after the third time a butler walked face-first into a wall.

"G-good morning, your Highness," said one particularly thin butler with a green coat and flame red mane, who had been walking in the opposite direction.

"Good morning, Spiffy," Celestia replied. "Oh, and watch out for that-"

*wham*

"...wall."

Actually, nevermind.

It was still hilarious.

After an incident involving an dumbstruck young maid and a faulty window latch, in which Celestia had to catch the poor mare in her magic to prevent her from taking a nasty fall, I decided to pull up the hood of my jacket in an attempt to draw less attention.

It worked, for the most part, and the number of accidents on our journey dropped considerably.

It also made me feel a bit like Emperor Palpatine, and I couldn't help but spend the rest of the trip humming "The Imperial March" to myself.

Eventually, we came to an ornate set of wooden doors, like the kinds in an old gothic church, only these looked brand new, and were as pastel as everything in the hallways that had led to them. Around the doorway were more guards, and other than the fact that one of them was a mare, they were completely indistinguishable from every other guard I had seen.

I let out a sigh of relief. It felt like we had been in the same few hallways for months.

We stopped there long enough for Dr. Panacea to check my IV and make sure I was bundled up as much as possible.

I had a remark ready about how I was a grown-ass man and didn't need help.

...But then I remembered that I was a grown-ass man in a wheelchair with head trauma and recently mended bones, so I bit back on my pride and instead asked about something that had been nagging at me for a while.

"Hey, Celestia? Is it just me, or do all these guards look... similar?" I asked.

“They do indeed,” she smiled, as the doctor did something to the bag of medicine hanging behind me.

“Okay, so I’m not crazy.” and/or racist. “Why is that?” I asked.

"You seem like an intuitive young man," she said as her smile turned a bit sly, "why don't you take a guess?"

Take a guess? I thought, What's that about? Is it because I called her out on the polygraph thing? Is she testing me or something?

As Dr. Panacea did one last check on my catheter, I used my free hand to scratch my chin. I noted my 5 o'clock shadow had grown into a true beard after a week without shaving, and made a mental note to ask for some grooming supplies later. Might as well start with the obvious answer. "Is it a kind of uniform? Every guard looks the same, so everyone knows what Equestria's soldiers look like?"

"Close," she said with an annoyingly knowing smile.

"I'm sensing a 'but' there," I said.

"While the Equestrian Armed Guard does have standard uniforms for most of its branches, only members of the Royal Guard wear armor that alters mane and coat color," she explained.

"So... all the guards in the castle are Royal Guards," I said.

"Most of them, yes," she nodded. "Can you tell me why the Royal Guard is issued this equipment in particular?"

Well little Billy's had his hand up for a while, Miss Teacher, maybe he knows. "I couldn't say, Princess," I shrugged.

"Take a moment to think, Jack," she pressed. "Tell me what you see."

I looked towards the guards and hummed in thought. I noticed that the guard on the right, the mare, had a pair of white things jutting out from the back of her armor. It took me a moment to realize that they were wings, curled up so tightly that they were barely noticeable. So she's a "pegasus", and he's an "earth pony", I thought. Other than that and the obvious gender difference, the two guards were practically twins. Come to think of it, all of the guards we passed on the way here looked like they could have been related, but Celestia called them each by their names... and ranks...

An image popped into my head of a Vietnam War-era army helmet, with the gold bars of a Captain's insignia displayed proudly on the front... and a bullet hole drilled neatly in between them.

"It's like camouflage," I said. "You make everyone look the same and keep rank insignias subtle to make it harder for someone to take out the guys giving orders."

"An excellent observation," Celestia said. "Very astute." She fixed me with a patient look, waiting for me to continue.

I examined the guards again, trying to find something else to comment on, but no matter how much I looked, no details stood out enough for me to make an observation about. After a moment I decided that I might be looking at the problem in the wrong way, thinking along the lines of modern military conventions when I should be thinking a bit more medieval.

I closed my eyes and sighed to switch my train of thought, then rested my chin in my hand while I dredged up everything I could about military practices from before the invention of gunpowder.

My eyes went back to the guards' armor, taking in new details. The shape of the plates, how much surface area the armor covered, the designs carved into the gold-colored metal, the way the guards could have been carved from stone for all the emotion they displayed... It all added up to one thing:

"Intimidation," I muttered absently.

"Come again?" Celestia said. I hadn't meant to say that out loud, but since she heard me, I decided I may as well run with it.

"The armor's all ornate and expensive-looking to imply Equestria's rich, but it also looks dangerous enough to make potential thieves think twice about trying anything," I explained. "The armor, the plumage on all the helmets, the way the guards don't show any emotion... It's all to intimidate people."

Celestia regarded me silently.

"At least, that's the way I see it," I said, scratching my ear with my left hand in a nervous gesture. Dr. Panacea had finished checking my IV and stepped away at some point while I had been focusing on the guards.

"And do you feel intimidated by my guards?" Celestia asked with a mildly hurt expression.

"Pff, what? Noo..." I answered with what I hoped was a cocky grin.

"... I see," she said. "Well Jack, those were some very fine observations, but I feel that I should clarify a few things. While the design of the Royal Guard armor and the attitude of the ponies wearing it is intended to discourage hostility and criminal behavior, they were never meant to be intimidating."

Guess Captain Fido must've missed that memo, I thought.

"Instead," Celestia continued, "They are meant to instill a feeling of safety and protection for my subjects, and to carry themselves with honor and professionalism. Also, your reasoning behind the armor's coloration enchantment was partially incorrect."

"What?" I said. "But earlier, you said... Why didn't you tell me I was wrong?"

"Because you weren't wrong. Not entirely," she replied, smiling an infuriating smile.

Right, wrong, neither- make up your mind, lady! I thought. What is this, The Pop Quiz from Hell?

"The answer you gave is indeed one of the reasons behind the standard colors of the Royal Guard," Celestia said, "but it isn't the original reason. It's a tradition amongst the guard, dating back to the founding of Equestria, to emulate warriors of great renown as a sign of respect. Squires would wear the colors of the knights they served, soldiers would bear the emblems of their commanding officers and so on.

"Here in the modern day, every branch of the guard carries this tradition in one way or another, and for the Royal Guard, it's by mimicking the natural colors of the Captain-Commander, the pony in charge of all of Equestria's armed forces. The exact color scheme changes whenever a new Captain-Commander is promoted. For example, Royal Guards used to wear armor that turned their coats charcoal and their manes silver-blue, in homage to Captain-Commander Solemn Blade, until his retirement almost five years ago."

I gave her lecture my full attention, sitting in a state of laser-like focus that I hadn't experienced since my school days. My job (which I've probably lost, thanks to the week I missed without warning) isn't exactly rocket science, and while all the stories I read keep my imagination healthy, I haven't had a chance to flex my academic muscles in over a year. It felt good, like slipping into a favorite old jacket that's just as comfortable as you remember.

One little detail about this whole scenario stood out, and it made that scholarly feeling even better, like finding a twenty dollar bill in the pocket of that old jacket. I'd like to buy a vowel, Ms. White.

"But wait... If every suit of armor turns the wearer's coat white, wouldn't that just make it easier to infiltrate the Royal Guard?" I asked, already running scenarios in my head on how someon- somepony, who was most definitely not me, might try something juvenile and blame it on a certain asshat.

Just as a mental exercise. That's all.

...You can't prove anything.

Shut up.

"Very good question, Jack," Celestia said, and I felt a rush of pride. "The answer lies in the spellwork itself. Instead of magically changing any wearer's pigmentation, each suit is enchanted to only achieve the desired color scheme when altering the base colors of the guard to whom it is specifically assigned. For example, Lieutenant Hammer." -she turned towards the pegasus mare- "What color is your coat, normally?"

"Green, Ma'am," the Lieutenant answered crisply.

"And Corporal Fragment?" Celestia looked to the other guard.

"Currant red, Ma'am," The Corporal stated. The LT glanced at him with a raised eyebrow.

"...My mother's an artist," he muttered when he caught her look.

"So you see Jack," Celestia turned back to me, "the end result may be the same for every guard, but the way these results are achieved are quite varied. Add to this the fact that every suit of Royal Guard armor is custom-fitted, as well as several other security measures, and you'll find that impersonating a Royal Guard is actually quite difficult." She paused. "Unless of course, you're the Captain-Commander," she added offhandedly.

Doctor Panacea cleared her throat, and my followup question evaporated. She had managed to sneak up behind me again, like some sort of Doctor Ninja.

"I do believe I've done all I can here, Princess. Despite a great deal of fidgeting," the doctor said as she shot me the kind of stern look that only the best doctors can pull. "I've got other patients to look after, so if that will be all...?"

"Thank you, Doctor," Celestia nodded. "And by all means, don't let us keep you."

"Good day Princess. Oh and if you could, please tell Spike to watch his quartz intake. He really should learn proper dieting and exercise if he ever wants to shed that baby fat," Doctor Panacea said as she turned and walked back into the labyrinth of hallways from whence we came.

...Did she say quartz intake?

"Are you ready to head outside?" Celestia asked me.

Outside? Snow! Outside! Yes! All of the Yes!

"What are we waiting for?!" I said, grinning ear to ear. "Uh, Ma'am."

Mind those manners, now. That's a Princess you're talking to.

"These two will be joining us from here out," Celestia motioned to the Lieutenant and Corporal. "You don't mind, do you?"

"Uh-huh, sure. I mean, no. I don't mind." Can we go outside yet? I haven't seen snow in... Five years? Six? Too long. I was starting to get a bit hyper.

Well, about as hyper as a guy in a wheelchair can get without hurting himself.

"Excellent," Celestia said.

Cpl. Fragment moved into position behind my chair, and the LT opened the door. A wave of cold wind met my face, and I closed my eyes against the half-forgotten sensation. They rolled me past the archway and into fresh air.

I opened my eyes again, and before me lay a world of wintry wonder.

A pale stone pathway stretched out ahead of us like Dorothy's Yellow Brick Road, turning here and there for no discernible reason, leading to a tall structure in the distance. On either side of the path were what I assumed to be gardens of various kinds, judging by the statuaries, the maze-style hedges, and the curious assortments of plants. The path must have been shoveled recently, but everything else was covered in at least a foot of snow.

I can't believe my eyes,

I must be dreaming,

Wake up, Jack, this isn't fair!

I'll say this now, I did not squee.

I most certainly did not squee like a fangirl.

Nothing of the sort happened, and anyone who tells you different is a dirty liar.

"*squee!*"

...Okay, I'll admit it. I was excited.

No. I was past excited.

I was downright giddy.

I was so giddy that I would have gotten up and danced, were I ambulatory.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Celestia said from... somewhere. I wasn't paying attention.

"*whimper*..."

"Glad to see someone is enjoying himself," she said.

I am going to have so much fun! Snow angels, snowball fights, snowmen, sledding- sledding! Ye gods, I haven't gone sledding in forever! I wonder how hard it'll be to get my hands on a sled... Oh. Right. I'm still hospitalized. Dammit Mr. Chair, this is why we can't have nice things!

A stray breeze brushed by, chilled air biting into me. I shivered. Normally, I'd call a breeze like that bracing and take it with a smile, but as anyone will tell you, a stay in the hospital can make you a bit more fragile than you're used to.

"Have you finished sightseeing?" Celestia asked gently.

"Just getting ready for the moving tour," I said, only just noticing the way my breath turned into fog. I missed this. I really did.

Celestia gave a soft, gentle laugh, and we set off.

After a little maneuvering on the steps, we were moving down the path; a surprisingly smooth ride for my wheelchair, considering the fact that the road was made of cobblestone. I suspected more magic of some kind.

Despite my "moving tour" comment, there wasn't much else to see yet. Instead, I spent the time taking in huge gulps of air, enjoying the chilled feeling in my lungs, then exhaling a great puff of fog like a Tolkienian dragon.

"You haven't had a winter in quite a while, have you?" Celestia asked.

"I live in a place called Florida," I said. "It's close to my planet's equator, so there are only two seasons there: humid and raining."

The proper terms are dry season and wet season, but believe me when I tell you that "dry" is a relative term.

The path opened up to a circular ring around a water fountain. Spaced around the ring were a number of benches that looked like perfect spots for enjoying a cup of hot chocolate. And curiously enough, the ice in the fountain had formed in such a way that it looked like the fountain was simply frozen in time, from the spouts of frozen water hanging in defiance of gravity, to the motionless ripples in the frozen pool at the base.

I could see the building up ahead more clearly, now. It was a tall thing, with white towers and Disney-esque architecture. A castle unto itself. "Is that where we're headed?" I asked. "What is it?"

"That building is a place I am quite proud of," Celestia said. "It's official name is 'Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns', but-"

"Wait-what?" My Nerd-Sense is tingling.

"Celestia's School for Gifted Unicorns," she said.

I blinked. Twice.

"Is something wrong?" Celestia asked.

"... Back home there's a comicbook about a team of superheroes called 'The X-Men', who have their headquarters -and their home- in a mansion in upstate New York that was originally called Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters."

Celestia blinked.

"... And it is one of my favorite comicbooks."

"And the headmaster of this school..." Celestia trailed off, a strange expression on her face.

"Professor Charles Francis Xavier." Yep, I'm so much of a nerd that I even know his middle name.

"And are he and I... similar at all?" Celestia asked. Surprise. She was surprised. It seemed so foreign to her features.

"Well, you're not bald... or paraplegic... or a telepath, as far as I know..." Or currently dead.

"Well... this is certainly... food for thought," Celestia said.

"I'll say," I replied.

"Perhaps we should continue moving," Celestia said. "You're looking a bit chilly." I noted that all she was wearing was a sleeved version of the same robe-dress thing I had seen her in every time before, but I guessed her fur must've kept her warm.

"To me, my X-men," I said by way of reply. Celestia raised a dainty eyebrow at me. "Uh, nevermind. Aprés vous."

"Merci," Celestia said, and we continued on.

There's snow everywhere, the natives are mostly polite, and they speak both English and French? Where am I? Space-Canada?

A minute or so later, we crossed a stone bridge over a frozen stream, Celestia's school was now only a stone's throw away. I could see an open courtyard at the mini-castle's base, with the obligatory statue in the center. This statue in particular was of some kind of astrolabe, showing the movements of the planet, sun, and moon. Something about it seemed off to me, but I was more concerned with the two purple figures heading toward us, one of them looking very excited.

I turned to Celestia. "Friends of your- Yah!"

The chime of magic interrupted me, and I suddenly knew exactly how that maid felt as I was bodily lifted out of my chair in a sparkling purple haze. I jerked involuntarily as my senses were assaulted in impossible ways.

My nose itched at the scent of fresh parchment. My mouth went dry with a thirst for knowledge. In my ears was a sound like waves of information crashing against the shore. My eyes watered from images of libraries and lecture halls. In my mind's eye, I saw things I could scarcely imagine.

It was similar to the event that brought me here, but where that tunnel of insanity had been full of sound and fury signifying nothing, the visions in my mind were precise, meticulous, and almost compulsively ordered. Points of thought formed into lines of power, which made shapes of pure will that changed the world around them. It was like touching the mind of Merlin. This was magic. There was no other way to describe it. But there was something beyond all of that.

Beyond the mountain of knowledge, beyond the vast sea of power, I could sense something greater.

It wasn't much. Just a speck, barely there at all. But it was impossible to ignore. Like a tiny, glowing kernel of incredible potential. The potential for True Magic. It wasn't loud, or boisterous. It sat there calmly, patiently, waiting for a spark to set it alight.

And then, all of it was gone.

Imagine having your mind assaulted by all of that. Imagine all of that hitting you in the span of a second, and then vanishing as if it was never there.

Hoary Hosts of Hoggoth, Batman.

"Oh my gosh, look at you!" a female voice gushed. "Is your species carnivorous, herbivorous, or omnivorous? What type of government do you have? Does your species have a universal form of currency? If so, is it backed by goods, services, or simply the fact that it's universally accepted? What are your most prominent historical-"

Bad touch helphelpHELP! Being mind-frayed by Doctor Strange and then manhandled like a life-size action figure had left me gaping like a fish out of water, but luckily, mercifully, Celestia took action.

"Twilight Sparkle!" Celestia said firmly, interrupting the insane list of questions.

"Eep!" my attacker yelped, and turned to the princess. Celestia gave the madwoman a stern look, then glanced pointedly at where I floated.

The Equestrian Psycho looked at me and blinked. "Oh. Oh! Oh my goodness, I'm so sorry!"

I was turned and shifted like a Rubik's Cube and set into my wheelchair like a Tetris block. The aura around me faded, and Little Miss Crazy took a step toward me, trying to say something. I warded her off with a finger. "A-ta-ta-na na na! ...No."

She stepped back with her head ducked down while her little cohort giggled into his purple hands like a ten year old.

I took stock. I had lost the blanket when Assault n' Pepa played Pinocchio with me. My limbs were trembling, either from the cold or the adrenaline. My legs were tense, ready to run, not that I could get very far. My heartbeat was so heavy you could dance jumpstyle to it, and there was a strange feeling in my left arm as I gripped the armrest of my chair hard enough to turn my knuckles white.

Hell of a first impression.

Lieutenant Hammer picked up the blanket and brushed off the snow, then held it out to me. I snatched it from her, glaring at both guards with all the frantic anger I could muster. AND WHERE THE FUCK WERE YOU TWO!?, I screamed at them with my eyes. They at least had the decency to look sheepish.

I smoothed the blanket out over my legs and took a number of calming breaths, trying very hard not to yell at anyone. Luckily, working in customer service teaches you a great deal about controlling your emotions. 'The Customer Is Always Right', even if they lack the brain cells required to grasp the concept of 'This Register Is Closed'.

Cashiers, man. We've got some stories.

Once I was sufficiently less panicked, I got a better look at the pair of purple people.

Crazy-Pants McGee turned out to be a unicorn mare, roughly my height, maybe a little shorter. She was decked out in full winter gear; beanie, scarf, heavy jacket, the whole nine yards. Even a pair of weird, snowboot-legwarmer things. I assumed she had a tail, but I didn't look for it, lest another guard accuse me of staring at rear bumpers. Her beanie had holes for her ears and horn, and I noticed that her ears were splayed back in embarrassment like a dog's; a fact I would never point out to anyone that wasn't human. Her mane was mostly covered, but I saw dark purple with streaks of pink and red in the long strand she was fiddling nervously with. The exposed fur of her face was a light shade of purple, lighter than lavender but darker than the pink blush in her cheeks. She couldn't have been much older than me, judging by her youthful features- at least, as far as I could tell based on what I had learned about pony appearances. Her eyes were bright and inquisitive, stealing glances at me with irises like rings of amethyst before looking away.

Her companion, was a lizard.

A bipedal, purple lizard.

Some might say that there was a passing resemblance to a very young European-style dragon, but Komodos look more draconic than this kid, and Komodo dragons are still freaking lizards.

Judging by the rounded baby-face, this was either a girl or a very young boy. I went with the latter.

He (still guessing here) couldn't have been taller than four-foot ten, with stubby limbs. He was chubby, like the kind of kid in school that gets picked on by everyone until he gets fed up and bodyslams someone. He wasn't wearing as much as the mare, just jeans, a sweater, and a pair of dopey-looking rubber boots. His clawed hands, boyish face, and spade-tipped tail were all exposed to the elements, but he didn't seem to mind overmuch. A portion of his face, from the hemline of his sweater up to the corners of his mouth, was a smooth layer of skin, like the underbelly of a crocodile, colored in a soft green. The rest of his mug was a coat of soft purple scales, with the slightest of ridges above his emerald, reptilian eyes. In place of ears, he had greenish fin things, and instead of hair or a mane, he had a ridge of green scales, like a stegosaurus with a mohawk.

He breathed green fire into his hands to warm himself up, and I was a half-second away from calling him "Barney the Dinosaur".

Then I realized that he just breathed green fire into his hands.

Whoah! I thought, Okay, do not meddle in the affairs of dragons, for I am crunchy and good with ketchup.

Maybe he is a dragon, after all.

Hooboy.

Hope he doesn't have an older brother named Alduin. That's not an apology I'm looking forward to making.

Once I felt properly in control of the situation, I broke the awkward silence that had fallen.

"So," I began, "do y'all know what a handshake is, or... is invading personal space just how you greet people here?"

"Yes!" the mare said, her voice strangely familiar. "I mean- handshakes are- I mean-" she clenched her eyes shut, shook her head, then held out her hand. "My name is Twilight Sparkle, and I'm sorry for, um... that," she gestured.

Don't say it.

"So..." I started, trying to keep a straight face.

Dammit Jack, don't say it.

"...How 'bout them vampires?"

...You schmuck.

"What?" Twilight said, tilting her head to the side in a manner that was admittedly kind of cute.

"Uh, nothing," I backpedaled. "It was... nevermind." I took her hand. "Name's John. John Chambers. It's... nice to meet you." In a very broad definition of the word...

Twilight smiled widely. "The pleasure's all mine. And again, I'm really sorry for that. I just got a bit... carried away."

"Hm," I said. "So did I."

Twilight gave me a blank look while her companion giggled again. She looked to him questioningly.

"Get it, Twilight?" he asked with the voice of a young teenager. "He got carried away."

She gave him a flat look, ears down. "That isn't funny Spike," Twilight said, which just set the kid off again.

"It kind of is," I said with a gesture. My arm still felt strange, even though everything else had returned to normal. "Right, Celestia? Back me up, here."

"It's always good to laugh at our mistakes," Celestia said, "as long as we learn from them, as well."

"Of course, Princess," Twilight said. "It won't happen again."

"I doubt that," Spike said with a smirk. He withered under the glare Twilight gave him.

"Twilight Sparkle is my personal student," Celestia said to me, "and young Spike here is her assistant."

"Sup?" I said to Spike. He seemed grateful that Twilight was no longer focusing on him.

"Hey," he said. "Are you an alien?"

"I guess so," I said, as Celestia took Twilight aside. "Are you a dragon?"

"You bet," he said, puffing out his chest.

"Cool. You're kind of like Lockheed," I said.

"Lockheed?" Spike asked, quirking a scaly ridge. "Who's that?"

"Comicbook character. He's a little dragon-thing from space that lives with the X-Men and follows Kitty Pryde around."

"...He's not the comedic relief character, is he?" Spike asked, nonplussed.

"Heck no, Lockheed's awesome," I said. "He even beat Ord of the Breakworld once, in Astonishing X-Men."

"Cool," Spike said, "but can he do... this?" He turned to face the frozen water. He breathed in deeply, then let out a short gout of green flame, catching Twilight and Celestia's attention.

"Impressive," I said. It wasn't, really. I had seen performers at the circus breathe pillars of fire at least three feet tall when I was a kid, but I wasn't going to burst this kid's bubble. "Yeah, Lockheed can breathe fire, but his isn't green. Why is yours green, anyways?"

"Oh that's an easy one," Spike said. "It's because I'm-"

"Aaah!" Spike was cut off by Twilight's panicked scream.

We turned to her.

"Y-y-your arm..." she pointed at me with a trembling hand, eyes wide and fearful.

"My arm? What do you-"

Blood.

There was blood dripping from my left hand, its heat melting through the snow as it landed.

Movies, television, games... None of them portray large amounts of blood properly.

They make it too watery. Too bright.

The real color of blood is darker.

It's a dull, deep, sickening shade of red.

I know this, because it was staining through the sleeve of my hoodie at the crook of the elbow.

"What the f..."

I pulled the sleeve back with a shaky hand.

Blood isn't like wine or paint.

It has a sticky, almost sludgy consistency.

It's made of thousands of oxygen-engorged, life-carrying parts of you.

I know this, because it was pouring from the tear in my arm like an open faucet.

I can't feel it. Why can't I feel it?

My breathing became shallow, my heart sped up and Oh God it's making it worse!

I looked up.

Spike was backing away, terrified.

Twilight was babbling with tears in her eyes, shifting between 'this is my fault!' and 'what do we do?'.

The Corporal had produced a first aid kit from somewhere, and was moving to my side.

The Lieutenant's wings were spread to their fullest, ready to take flight, her eyes locked on the princess.

Celestia Spoke.

"Enough."

I doubled over.

It felt like someone had punched me in the brain stem.

Then, it got worse.

I felt millennia of bloodshed.

Centuries of self-torment.

Soul Crushing Guilt.

And Power.

The Power Of A Sun.

Explosive. Fiery. Torturous.

Make it stop. Oh God, it burns- God, Please, Make It Stop!!

I had to escape from it.

I had to.

So I did, and welcomed unconsciousness.

Interlude...

It was hot.

Like really, really hot.

Hotter than it's been in Florida for years, they were saying.

And boy was I feeling it. Hottest week of the year, highest recorded temperature in decades, and of course it had to be the week that the air conditioning breaks. I would be cursing God, or the universe, or Murphy's Law if I could, but it was just too damn hot to do anything at all except lay about.

"Kind of like a reverse cryostasis," I slurred to the pile of fur next to me. "Hibernating through the summer."

"Rawrf..." Strider answered in a groan that could maybe be construed as a bear impression.

"You said it, buddy," I mumbled to the doggy-shaped puddle.

Black fur coats and Florida heat do not a happy dog make. I had opened almost every door and window available, turned every fan in the house up as high as they would go, and taken refuge with my dog on the cool tile floor of the kitchen. Even still, he looked like a half-melted lump of misery, so I shored up his sides with freezer blocks and baggies of ice to keep him from completely liquefying and getting stuck under the fridge.

I was feeling a bit like a semisolid myself, under my own bags of ice and frozen vegetables, but I didn't have a heavy coat to deal with like Strider did, so I had no room (or energy) to complain.

I realized there were sounds coming from the living room. Must've left the TV on. No point in wasting the effort to turn it off. It gave me something to listen to while I counted the dots on the ceiling, at least.

"What did Forensics say?" I heard a raspy, youngish voice ask.

"Is that Steve Blum? Judas Priest, the guy's in everything."

"Vic's under sedation," an older voice answered. "Lost a lot of blood. Luckily, one of the officers on-site had medical training, and they weren't too far from the hospital."

"Huh. Old Cop sounds like Commissioner Gordon. Who voiced him, again?"

"Any ideas about the motive yet?" Young Cop asked.

"Oh, right, Bob Hastings. Wait, didn't he...?"

"I don't think there was a motive," Old Cop said.

"Don't think there was- you goin' blind, bub?" Young Cop's voice sounded indignant.

"Yeah, Bob Hastings died last year. Was it last year? Ugh, too hot to think."

"You saw everything I saw, kid." Old Cop's tone made me think this was a familiar sort of argument between them. "Victim was startled, the morphine drip tore loose, the painkillers did their job and the jacket hid the blood until the situation got out of hand. It was all an accident."

"Those freaks assaulted him," Young Cop growled.

"Wow, racist much?"

"Those people are the reason he's still breathing," Old Cop stressed, and I could hear the glare he was leveling. "And I wouldn't exactly call what that girl did 'assault'." Young Cop tried to say something but Old Cop cut him off. "Aw come on, kid. Was there really anything about that girl that screamed 'dangerous assailant' to you? Honestly?

"Well no, but-"

"But nothing," Old Cop cut in again. "Hell, the girl looked like she needed a copy of Social Interaction for Dummies."

"Okay, smart guy," Young Cop said. "Fine. If this is an accident, then how do you explain those mind games or whatever the hell they were?"

"I've been thinking about that," Old Cop said.

"Of course you have," Young Cop drawled.

"First off," Old Cop said harshly, "I'm thinking the Lady did us a favor, knocking Victim out like that-"

Young Cop scoffed. "Favor my pasty, white-"

"And if you took that chip off your shoulder and actually used your head for once, you'd see where I was coming from," Old Cop finished. "Think about it. With the state Victim was in, heart rate up in the triple digits, there's no way they could have gotten him to a doctor before he bled out. But the Lady knocks him out, his mind stops stressing his body, his heart rate lowers, and he's that much more likely to survive."

"Since when is 'victim' a proper noun?"

"Right, okay, so maybe bein' unconscious saved Victim's life," Young Cop said. "Maybe. But they coulda' put him to sleep easier than that. No way it was intentional."

"My point exactly," Old Cop said evenly.

"Whatcha talkin' bout, Willis?"

"Mind dumbing it down for the audience, hoss?" Young Cop said.

"Man, Steve Blum's a real jerk in this show."

"Am not."

"Wait whu?-"

"Look," Old Cop said. "According to record, Victim experienced something like the incidents in question once before, to a lesser extent. On his first day in the hospital."

"...So?" Young Cop might have shrugged.

"So, that's three different times that something like this has happened. Now, of the things that each incident had in common to explain how or why they happened, only one is making much sense right now: Victim's exposure to our hosts'... 'unusual abilities'."

"And suddenly whatever I'm listening to switches genres from Starsky & Hutch to Supernatural."

"Right, so, where does that leave us?" Young Cop asked.

"In the dark with a wet match," Old Cop sighed. "And a lot of questions. We don't have enough information to act on. There are too many things that are still unclear here. We need to start getting some answers, one way or another, before we can-"

~)O(~

"Wait. What was that?" Young Cop said.

"What was wh-"

~)O(~

"That!" Young Cop shouted.

"Something's coming. Go, wake the kid up! We have to get him out of here," Old Cop was starting to sound pretty nervous. "Hurry, we don't have much-ksssshhhh---

Whatever Old Cop didn't have much of was swallowed up by static. "Aw. It was just getting good, too."

Someone shouted at me from less than a foot away. "Get up!"

"Glah!" I sat up quickly, sending a half-open bag of peas rolling across the tile. I whipped my head around, looking for whoever had walked into my house, but the only ones there were me and Strider. Who was looking me in the eye. And talking.

"You have to get up," Strider said. "Now!"

I laughed. I laughed right in his furry face.

"Ruh-roh, Raggy!" I giggled, "Looks like I'm havin' me some fever visions."

"This isn't a hallucination," Strider said, "it's a dream. And you need to wake up!"

"Like, Zoinks, Man!" I chuckled. "Maybe I should lay off the Scooby Snacks before bed."

"What, are you dense?" Said the very same animal I had seen lick carpets for fun. "Are you retarded or something? There is something bad out there that wants to do bad things to you. GET. UP. AND. LEAVE!"

"Hey, this is my dream," I said with narrowed eyes. "I don't have to sit here and be insulted with an All Star Batman reference, by my own freaking dog no less."

"It's almost here, you don't have time for this!" Strider barked. (Ha, get it?) "WAKE--"

"My, My..." The sound of static dropped away, replaced by a woman's smooth, terribly fascinating voice.

I suddenly felt very small and alone. I looked around; my talking not-dog was nowhere to be found.

"S-strider? Here, boy..." No answer.

One by one the light from each window was suddenly, almost violently, rendered absent. It was as if some giant, nebulous hand had covered my entire house, ready to crush it like a robin's egg.

I was left in the darkness; cold, alone, and too scared to even breathe.

"... What an interesting little creature you are," the voice purred... an inch from my left ear.

Chapter 7: Sacramentum

I woke up, which inexplicably seemed like better news than usual.

...Aaaand I'm back in the hospital. Oy.

Man, I'm getting my ass kicked so often it's practically turning into a damn superpower. Feast your eyes on the Amazing Destructible-Man! Gaze in awe as his incredible powers of Horrible Misfortune transform him into a magnet for serious personal injury! Villains and insurance rates, beware!

"All I need is a catchphrase and I'd totally be Super Friends material. After all, I am Created from the Cosmic Legends of the Universe!" I said to the air, slipping into an overdone TV announcer's voice at the end.

I gave myself a once-over. They had me in a hospital gown again, but this time I got to keep my pants. Looks like I'm moving up in the world. My shirt and hoodie were on the nightstand next to me, both apparently free of bloodstains. Somehow. My left arm had been bandaged up pretty heavily, and a line had been stuck into my right, instead. The IV looked like a thinner and less invasive doohickey than the one from before.

Highly advanced medical term, doohickey. Very technical.

I leaned on my bed's call button for a minute, and Dr. Panacea walked in.

"Welcome back to the land of the living, Mr. Chambers," she greeted.

"Eh, what's up, Doc?" I quipped, and I am a disgrace to wiseasses everywhere for not making that joke sooner. "Say, can you help me brainstorm a catchphrase? All I could come up with so far is 'Jinkies' or 'Sweet Christmas', and both of those are taken."

"It's nice to see that your recent escapades haven't dulled your wit," she said amusedly, moving to check my bandages.

"Yeah, but I think it might have scrambled my brain a bit," I responded. "I dreamed I was watching Mystery Science Theater 3000 riffing a Ben Stiller movie with special guest Jensen Ackles."

Doc Pan looked at me like I had started speaking Punjabi. "Perhaps I should schedule you an appointment with a psychiatric colleague of mine..."

"Doc, I'm a twenty-one year old from the Internet Age," I replied, while she changed out the wrappings on my arm. "Where I come from, I'm still well within the standard deviations of sanity."

"Of course," she said with a level look, not entirely convinced.

"What would really be worrying is if I dreamed I had a meeting of the minds with my subconscious, and he looked like me but with better clothes and an 'evil twin' goatee," I rambled.

"Jack... are you feeling alright?" Dr. Pan asked, concerned.

"I feel fine," I answered.

"Are you sure?" she pressed. "You have, after all, had an... unusual set of days, recently."

"I said I'm fine," I insisted.

"You've been through a number of stressful experiences. Nopony would blame you for asking for help--"

"Is this going to be one of those things where telling you 'I'm fine' is just going to make you think I'm not?" I asked. "Because if it is, let me know so I can save us both the trouble. I hate repeating myself over and over-- ow!"

Dr. Pan tied off the new bandage tighter than was probably necessary, then closed her eyes and exhaled through her nose, frowning slightly.

"Alright," she conceded. "But if you ever feel unwell, physically or mentally, please, don't try to handle it by yourself. Reach out to somepony." She laid a hand on my arm. "Doctors help heal, Jack. Please don't shut m-us out."

"I won't," I said without much heart. I was too busy not thinking about other things to ponder her little slip of the tongue.

There was a knock at the door.

Who could that be? I wondered. It opened, and Princess Celestia walked in. There were no guards this time, but Spike and Twilight lingered just outside the door. Twilight looked terrified and guilty. Spike just looked curious.

I adopted a carefully neutral expression. "Your Majesty," I said without inflection. I bowed my head as low as I could and kept it there.

A silent moment. Then: "Doctor, could I have a word with our guest alone, please?"

"Of course, Princess." The doctor's hand left my arm, and I heard her walk out into the hall, closing the door behind her. I didn't move an inch.

I watched the Princess take a seat in my peripheral, and only then did I lift my head again. I examined her as best I could without looking directly at her. She was sitting differently than she had before; not quite facing me, but not quite turned away. She wasn't looking directly at me, either. Her face was carefully blank. Something between us had changed, but I knew that already. Now I knew that she knew it, too.

"How are you feeling?"

I stayed quiet.

"... Jack?" the Princess glanced, not quite at me.

"I'm thinking," I said finally.

"What are you thinking about?" she asked gently.

"I think you haven't been entirely honest with me," I stated, keeping my voice neutral. "I think you've been keeping secrets. A lot of them. But, you run a country, so that's not surprising."

The Princess said nothing.

"I think you are far more powerful than I had been led to believe. I think you could kill me if you wanted to, and-- even on my best day-- there's not much I could do to argue with you. I think, relatively speaking, killing me is as easy for you as lifting an arm is for me."

The Princess stared at the floor.

"I think you don't want to kill me. Or anyone, for that matter. I also think that, if you felt you had to, if you thought you had no other choice, you wouldn't hesitate to take my life. Or anyone else's. I think you would feel terrible about it later, sure. But you wouldn't hesitate."

The Princess didn't move.

"I think you're older than I first assumed as well. The other day, Doctor Panacea mentioned that she had known you most of her life. I had assumed that she meant she had delivered you, or at least had been present for your birth, and then watched you grow up over the course of her tenure. Now I think that it's more likely the opposite is true. That you watched her grow up. And then watched her grow old."

The Princess remained silent.

"I have to ask-- and you must understand that, among my people, it's considered rude to ask a woman this question-- but under the circumstances, I have to ask. For context. To get a grasp of the-- of the scope of what's in front of me. So. Celestia..."

The Princess took in a slow breath through her nose.

"...Just how old are you, exactly?"

The Princess was silent long enough to make me think she wasn't going to answer. I was about to speak again when she raised her head, looking at nothing, and said: "...Several Millennia."

Millennia. Plural. Thousands and thousands of years. I needed more clarification.

"How many?" I asked. "Three? Four?"

"More than five," she answered in the same tone.

Five thousand years. Five thousand years.

"You're older than the English language," I said, stunned. "You're older than the languages that became the English language."

The Princess said nothing.

It was a few seconds before I found my voice again. "Now I'm thinking of something I saw yesterday. Or earlier today. Whatever. I thought something seemed off about it, but I didn't realize what at the time. The statue. The one in front of your school. An astrolabe?"

The Princess dipped her head slightly, just barely a nod.

"It's wrong. It's geocentric. The planet is in the center, with the sun and moon orbiting it."

After a moment, the Princess spoke. "No. And yes."

"What do you mean?"

"No. It is not wrong," she explained. "Yes. The sun and moon orbit the world."

Again, I was left speechless. "That... that flies in the face of everything, everything that my people have learned and understand about the universe around us." I paused, shaking my head. "I shouldn't believe you. But, at the same time, I don't think you're lying to me."

The Princess said nothing.

"How?" I asked tersely. "God above, how? How is that in any way possible?"

"... Every dawn," the Princess intoned, as if speaking had become a great burden, "I use my magic to lower the moon and raise the sun, and every dusk, I raise the moon and lower the sun."

I believed her. "You're a goddess."

"I am not a goddess," she almost cried, hugging her stomach with both arms, hunching over in her chair and staring at the floor. I could have stabbed her and likely gotten less of an emotional response than what was put into those words.

"Okay," I flinched.

"I'm not."

"Okay." I let it stay like that for a moment. "But, you do move the sun and moon."

"The sun is my charge," she murmured. "My duty."

"But not the moon?" I asked quietly.

She folded her wings over her shoulders, wrapping herself in them like a blanket.

"If not yours, then whose?" I pressed.

She turned her head so that I couldn't see her face. "I don't want to talk about that. Please."

"Okay," I nodded, relenting. "Okay. I'll drop it."

"Thank you," she half-whispered.

I waited a minute to speak again. "You're not a goddess," I stated. "Okay. So what are you?"

"I am an Alicorn," she began. "Unicorn, Earth Pony, Pegasus... The strengths of three tribes lie within me, greater together than the sum of their parts."

"Are there others?" I asked. "Other alicorns?"

"...Yes and no," she responded.

"I don't know what that means."

"There have been others, but they were not born as alicorns," she explained. "I am the only True Alicorn in Equestria."

"I... can't imagine what that's like," I admitted. "It must be lonely."

"Sometimes." She looked away again.

We both were silent for a while. "I-I think... I think I should be afraid of you," I stuttered. "I think I should be terrified, just thinking about what you're capable of. I think maybe I'm in some kind of shock, and I've just gone numb to everything. O-or maybe I am having a nervous breakdown, and it's just so intense that it's gone full circle and made me calm again."

Celestia didn't say anything.

"I'm not afraid of you. I should be. Princess Celestia; older than the Roman Empire, leader of an entire nation full of beings with fantastical abilities, powerful enough to shape the heavens to her will... But I'm not afraid. How can I be when here you are, and instead of being this, this terrifying thing, you're-you're benevolent, and vulnerable, and you talk to me like I'm not just some kid who literally fell out of the air and into your lap. You treat me like I'm somehow your equal, like a-- like--"

"Like a friend?" Celestia offered, and our eyes finally met.

"I'm..." sorry. "...exceptionally bad at having those," I said weakly. "If I'm being perfectly honest."

"That's alright," she smiled.

"I mean it," I insisted. "My best friend back home once thought I was dead for six months."

Her eyebrows rose, and there was a warmth behind her gaze. "I'll have to hear that story some time."

"Yeah. Okay," I said. "So, um. About what happened. How long was I..."

"Not very long," Celestia told me. "The morning has passed, and we are well into the afternoon. Sundown is a good three hours away."

"Okay. Right. And everything's okay with...?" I lifted my bandaged arm.

"You'll have to ask the good Doctor," Celestia replied, "but I believe you'll be perfectly fine."

"Good, good," I nodded. Then, after a moment: "Uh, Celestia? One more thing," I said, not sure how to proceed. "I think... I think there's something wrong with me."

"What do you mean?" she asked.

"I've been... feeling things, I guess," I faltered, looking at my hands. "For lack of a better word."

"Feeling what?" she asked, tilting her head slightly. "Physical discomfort? Unusual emotions, perhaps?"

"No. More like ideas," I explained, sitting upright. "Concepts, maybe. Like random thoughts, but on my skin somehow instead of in my head. It happened a few times around Doctor Panacea. Something would just, pop up, over my eyes or in my ears, and then it'd be gone before I could even react to it. Just random flashes. I ignored it at first, thought maybe it was just my mind playing tricks on me or a reaction to the drugs, but...

"But earlier today when Twilight picked me up, it happened again. And it was worse than before-- not worse in a bad way, I mean. Just more intense. I think I almost could have enjoyed it. And that worries me. That worries me a lot.

"And then, after the whole arm-thing, you said something and it happened again. It happened so hard that it actually knocked me out. A-and now there's all this stuff about you that I couldn't have found out on my own and I just-just know it, out of nowhere, and... Ugh!" I buried my face in my hands.

"I think I need help, Celestia," I moaned through my palms. "I think I'm losing my mind. Maybe I already have."

"Jack," Celestia said gently as she touched my elbow. "Jack, look at me. You are not insane."

I looked up at her, full of weariness and disbelief. "Says the talking pony woman who apparently breaks the laws of physics twice a day," I replied.

"I understand that what you've experienced this past week has been jarring, by any definition," she said, an undertone of compassion in her voice. "In your current, unique situation, it may even be true that the only one who can properly judge your mental state is you. But know this: these flashes you've been having, these visions... they are not a symptom of insanity of any sort."

"Yeah?" I responded. "Ever heard of schizophrenia?"

"I have seen madness before, Jack," she replied. "Of every kind. I knew the markings of schizophrenia before it even had a name."

I huffed out a mirthless laugh and fell back onto my pillow. "Right, because you're older than dirt, somehow," I jibed. She smiled lightly.

"Okay," I figured. "So maybe I'm madder than the Hatter, maybe not. But, Devil's advocate, sake of argument and all that, how can you say that what I've been 'feeling' or whatever isn't related?"

"Because I believe I know exactly what you've been experiencing," Celestia said, grasping my hand with both of hers. "And, I know how to help you."

Her hands were warm, the light fur of her coat almost like velvet. They held the same subtle strength as any parent's hands; softer than clouds when cradling a sleeping infant, strong enough to hold on even in a hurricane.

There's a reason that the holding of hands has been a symbol of unity and peace for longer than we can remember. There's a reason that siblings, friends, lovers, parents and children all hold hands. Human beings crave the touch of another. It has nothing to do with sex, or even intimacy. The simple act, the genuine assurance that you are not alone, is nothing short of a blessing.

"You... you do?" I asked, hopefully.

"Experience is one of the benefits of being older than dirt," she said playfully.

I looked away, embarrassed. "Sorry," I murmured.

"You have nothing to apologize for, my young friend," she said as she squeezed my hand.

"Heh. Guess I've been off my game, recently," I joked.

"Nothing you need to apologize for," she clarified with a knowing look. "Yet."

I chuckled as I gently pulled my hand from her grasp, and we both settled into better positions for conversation. The tension between us was gone, and while things had been turbulent for a moment, I felt that I had found a true, genuine friend in Celestia.

"I'll try to keep any hijinks to a minimum. No promises, though," I smirked, earning a gentle chuckle from Celestia.

"Alright," I continued, dropping most of my bravado. "What's been happening to me?"

"In order to explain that properly," Celestia began, "I'll need to make certain you're aware of certain other concepts first. You obviously know about magic, and you know about the three pony races; unicorns, pegasi, and earth ponies. Right?"

"Yeah..." I nodded, stretching the word out in a 'what's-your-point' tone.

"Despite what some believe," Celestia continued, "each of the pony races is able to manipulate magic in different ways, individual special talents notwithstanding. Not just unicorns. Earth ponies' abilities are mainly physical, pegasi often show greater spatial awareness and perception of details during high-speed movement, and unicorns use their horns to sense and manipulate magical energies in the environment. There have been cases where this isn't entirely accurate, say perhaps a pegasus with incredible strength, or an earth pony with almost extrasensory perception. However, these individuals are the exception, rather than the rule. With that said, the manner in which an individual pony's 'racial traits' manifest can be equally as varied.

"Unicorns, for example. Again, training and special talents notwithstanding, one unicorn could have an incredibly diverse range of spells to choose from, but be unable to put much power behind any of them. Another could have a single type of spell- such as shielding magic- and could be capable of creating a defense more powerful than almost anything else, but find it very difficult to adjust or modify their spells as needed once cast. Yet another unicorn may only be able to use telekinesis, the second most basic spell, and be unable to move anything heavier than he or she could lift with one hand, but have control so precise and accurate that they could use a pinhead to carve their cutie mark into a grain of rice. And there are some unicorns who, for whatever reason, are able to sense magical energies far more effectively than others, regardless of training, or even their own natural power. Do you understand?"

"I think so," I told her. "Basically everyone's different, right? What's this got to do with me?"

"There is a spell called 'Aura Sense' that is exceptionally difficult to master," Celestia responded. "Its difficulty isn't due to the power required to cast or maintain it. In fact, just as the five natural senses don't involve much physical effort, Aura Sense requires little to no magical effort on the part of the caster. The real difficulty is in mental effort; the focus and concentration needed to single out one aura from the surrounding ambient magic can be quite taxing for some.

"However, for unicorns that already have a heightened sense of magic, Aura Sense is incredibly easy to learn. So much so, that some have learned it on their own rather than being taught."

"Wait," I stopped her, "are you saying that every time I have one of these flashes... I've actually been... sensing auras?"

"Exactly," Celestia nodded.

"But wait... That... How can..." I spoke in a few more sentence fragments while the logic train chugged along at full speed, my eyes darting around in time with the mental connections I was making. "I can do magic?" I asked incredulously.

Celestia shook her head. "Not exactly," she explained. "Beyond Aura Sense and your accelerated healing, you've shown no magical ability. You don't even have an aura of your own. But, as I said earlier, Aura Sense doesn't require any magical effort on the part of the caster, simply the ability to 'listen'. Because your world is without magic, being brought to Equestria may have caused you the same sensory overload as being brought into a brightly lit room would have on a pony who's eyes have acclimated to darkness.

"Furthermore, a unicorn's horn acts as a receiver for magic, similar to a radio antenna. And a unicorn's brain is designed to interpret these signals in ways that the brains of other types of ponies, or humans in this case, couldn't. Without a horn to receive the signals, your mind is most likely interpreting the information however it can, using your other senses."

"...Huh," I said, dumbfounded. I stared at her like an idiot for a minute, putting the pieces together. "So... when Dr. Panacea used her magic to take off my blindfold way back when..."

"You came in contact with her aura," Celestia confirmed.

"And then Twilight," I realized, "and then... you."

"An alicorn's aura is so potent that even earth ponies and pegasi can sense it when we exert ourselves," Celestia explained. "I normally keep my aura suppressed for the sake of my subjects, but I have needed to use a bit of it in order to gain the attention of a panicked crowd. Or a hysteric student," she smiled slightly, then grew remorseful. "Jack, believe me; if I had known beforehand that you were this sensitive to magic, I would never have done something so heavy-handed."

"Honestly?" I responded a moment later, "You probably helped me out. I wasn't exactly calm, cool, and collected back out there." I lifted my left arm to present the bandage. "Sleepy-Time Jack has a much lower heart rate than All-Out Panic Jack." A funny thought crossed my mind and I laughed. Celestia gave me a curious look. "Y'know, if this is all in my head, then this 'Aura Sense' thing's got to be my brain's way of getting back at me for EV training my Lucario until four in the morning."

"I... don't follow," Celestia said uncertainly as the joke zoomed over her head.

"Meh, nevermind," I said holding my hands up in defeat. "It'd take too long to explain the concept of video... wait, hold up. You said 'radio antenna', right? You guys have radios?"

"Is that so surprising?" Celestia asked, tilting her head.

Considering the massive castle we were in, plus all the guards in plate-mail, I had assumed that Equestria's level of technology was a ways behind Earth's.

Then again, my room in the medical wing looked like one you'd expect to see in any hospital, plus it had power outlets in the walls and what looked like fluorescent lighting, so maybe everything else was just an aesthetic choice.

"Uh... I guess not," I replied. "So, you've got portable radios, right? Ones that play music stations?"

"Yes," Celestia nodded.

"Do you have television?" I asked. Another nod. "What about video games?"

"I believe we do, though they're a fairly new concept," Celestia answered. "Why?"

"...I had to count ceiling tiles twenty times just to entertain myself yesterday, and you're telling me I could've been playing games designed by an entirely different species?" I asked, entirely unamused.

"You never asked for anything besides some books and your personal items," Celestia smiled.

"Ugh!" I shouted, throwing my hands up, then cupping my face with them. "Uuugghh... "

Phenomenal cosmic powers, all the living space she could need, and she spends her time trolling aliens.

"If I didn't have a serious head wound, I'd facepalm so hard right now..." I mumbled. Celestia tittered in a very regal manner that I found incredibly annoying. I lifted my head half an inch and gave her my most withering glare.

"Alright, point made," she half-chuckled. "We'll see about getting your room some entertainment later on. How does that sound?"

"I... suppose that sounds adequate," I said begrudgingly, adopting a mock-snooty posture and examining my nails.

I didn't know if Celestia had ever had children herself, but either way, five thousand years was more than enough time to master that over-the-glasses look that mothers can somehow give, even when they aren't wearing glasses. Her glare was way more effective than mine. I chuckled nervously.

"You suppose?" the royal alicorn questioned.

"It-- uh, it sounds great," I backpedaled quickly. "Great idea. Yes. Excellent. Thank you, um... Yeah."

Then, like a switch being flipped, Celestia's mood dissipated. "Wonderful," she said cheerfully. "I'm glad we could come to a mutual agreement."

I narrowed my eyes. "Touché, Sunny. Touché."

Played me like a damn fiddle...

She tittered again, and despite myself, I smirked as I rolled my eyes.

"So, this Aura Sense," I began, trying to get the conversation back on track. "What do we do about it? Can you get rid of it, somehow?"

"I'm not quite sure, I'm afraid," Celestia replied. "Your body is reacting involuntarily to forces that we have no proper way to insulate you from. It's possible that, in time, you will become acclimated to the environment and your Aura Sense will fade, but it's also possible that your sensitivity will only increase wildly if left alone."

"So either it'll be like getting used to a bad smell, or it'll be like an audio feedback loop that just gets louder and louder until the speaker blows out," I said numbly. I wasn't too excited at the prospect of maybe becoming so sensitive to magic that it overwhelms me and I basically turn into a vegetable.

"That is the gist of it, and if you do decide to try and remove your Aura Sense in this manner, I'll do everything in my power to aid you," Celestia promised. "However, there is an alternative."

I almost said "It can't be worse than the first two choices," but thankfully, I was genre-savvy enough to catch myself at the last second.

"Aura Sense is an incredibly useful spell," Celestia explained. "With training, you could learn to control your new ability, and through it, gain insight you might never have found otherwise."

"So it's... like a superpower?" I questioned.

"If that's how you want to look at it, I suppose," Celestia chuckled.

I heaved a sigh. "Okay, that sounds a whole lot better than Options One and Two."

"Are you sure?" Celestia asked.

"Well, since my choices are either 'superpowers' or 'possible death via sensory overload'," I replied, "I'm gonna go with 'superpowers'."

"It won't be that easy, Jack," Celestia warned. "You'll be learning to use an entirely new sense, being trained with methods suited for an entirely different species."

"If complaining and worrying actually accomplished anything, I'd be a billionaire with a solid gold space-mansion and a Swedish, bikini-modeling girlfriend by now," I told her.

She blinked. "... Solid gold space-mansion?" she repeated.

"It could happen," I asserted, crossing my arms.

She laughed openly. It was a very pleasant sound. The motion also did pleasant things to the front of her dress, and I looked away, shifting uncomfortably. At least I had pants this time.

"Oh, oh dear," Celestia tried to say as her laughter petered out, "I'm sorry. The mental image... Oh, I needed that," she chuckled.

"S'what I do," I said, preening.

"You seem to be taking this exceptionally well, I must say," Celestia told me.

"I think the ability to joke in the midst of a stressful situation is an excellent coping mechanism, and the mark of a clever, quick-witted individual," I replied. "Well. That, and I'm a huge Spidey fanboy, so I might just be emulating."

"I think it's a rather admirable response, given the situation," Celestia agreed.

What I didn't say was that focusing on jokes, even accepting this training in the first place, were just excuses to keep from focusing on my real problems. I was in completely uncharted territory, face-to-face with a being that probably had religions built around her, and now just being too close to someone at the wrong time could leave me a wreck. Not to mention the fact that I had racked up more hospital time in one sitting than I had before any time in my life since the day I was born.

"So, Mr. Miyagi, when do we start the training thing?" I asked.

"Oh, I won't be teaching you, Jack," Celestia shook her head. "I'm sorry, but I'm simply too busy to oversee your instructing directly. However, there is a pony who is just as qualified to help you as I am. And, she has already expressed the desire to speak with you, at length."

I suddenly had a very bad feeling. "Don't tell me... Twilight Sparkle?"

"Well... Yes."

I took a deep breath in through my nose, and held it for a moment. I exhaled, staring hard at Celestia. "Oh-kay..."

"I promise, my student isn't nearly so... excitable, normally," Celestia assured.

"Oh-kay..." I responded, in the exact same tone with the exact same expression.

"Honest," she said.

... I'm going to die, aren't I?

After a moment of awkward silence, Celestia cleared her throat. "Well, now that that is settled," she evaded, "I'd like to ask you a few questions about what you've sensed so far, to get a grasp of how your new ability functions."

I let the topic slide; it's not like I could've won the argument, anyway. "Alright," I sighed. "Ask away, Sunny."

"Very good," she said, collecting her thoughts. "It's safe to assume that your new opinion of me is based off of what you gleaned through Aura Sense, correct?"

"It feels like it was staring me in the face before, but yeah," I answered. Pretty much every point I brought up earlier had been something I had sensed in Celestia's aura. There had been other things I sensed there, too. Things obviously not meant to be seen by anyone. I felt guilty for knowing them, even if I didn't entirely understand what they were.

"I expected as much," Celestia nodded. "Now, Can you remember what Dr. Panacea's aura felt like? What's the first thing that comes to mind when you think of it?"

"She's good at her job," I said immediately. "Like, crazy good. And she loves helping people, or ponies, or... whichever. And..." I sighed. "And I think I owe her an apology. I was kind of a jerk to her, earlier."

"It's very big of you to admit that," Celestia said, "so long as you follow through."

I grunted in acknowledgement. Apologies weren't my strong suit; if I insulted somebody genuinely, it was because they had proven they deserve it. I avoided accidentally offending anyone as much as I could. Then again, would I know if I was unintentionally offending someone if nobody pointed it out?

Great, something else to worry about. Like there wasn't enough on my mind.

"Now, can you tell me what you remember about Twilight's aura?" Celestia asked. It might have been my imagination, but it seemed odd how intently focused she was on my response.

"Well, she's a nerd, definitely," I mused. "Or maybe a book geek. Heck, maybe she's both. And she wants to know everything. Her social skills need some serious work, though," I said dryly. Celestia gave me an apologetic smile. "Let me guess: she's a wallflower?"

"As much as I've tried to change it, yes," Celestia confirmed wearily.

"No problem with that," I reasoned, "some people just don't need as much interaction as others to feel content. Heck, it's not like I'm a social butterfly, myself," I shrugged.

"I don't know about that," Celestia argued. "You seem quite open and outgoing, Jack."

"Crime of necessity," I grinned sardonically. "Besides, she doesn't flat out hate peopl-- uh, ponies, right? No hissing or growling at the mention of anything that involves interacting with other ponies?"

"No, not at all. In fact, she's very polite," Celestia replied, probably still trying to warm me up to the fact that Twilight would be teaching me soon.

"Well there you go," I said. "She's asocial, same as me. It's like looking in a mirror. A fuzzy, purple mirror."

I then realized that now I was the one trying to convince myself to accept Twilight as my teacher. I sent a glare at Celestia, knowing full well that she had played me again. She just sat there and smiled serenely, the Machiavellian little...

"What else did you sense?" Celestia asked.

"She's smart," I told her. "Genius level intellect. And creative, too. She's practically a magic Carl Sagan. And speaking of magic, she's got tons of that. I mean, I don't really have a point of reference or anything, but still, Holy Diver does she have a lot of magic."

"I see," Celestia nodded. "Was there anything else? Anything at all?"

"No, that was..." I paused. "Wait. Actually... maybe? There was this... thing? I guess? Underneath it all. I mean-- I don't exactly know how to describe it. When I try to think about it, all that comes to mind is 'Magic', like that should explain everything."

"Magic?" Celestia leaned forward intently. "Are you sure?" She was definitely paying special attention now. I nodded. "Can you remember any details about it? Was it... doing anything in particular?"

"Not... really?" I shrugged. "It felt like it was... incomplete. Like it was waiting for something."

Celestia sagged just a fraction of an inch, an expression of relief that I wouldn't have picked up on before I sensed her aura.

"I see," she said once she had masked her expression. "Thank you, Jack."

"For what?" I asked, shaking my head slightly. "What did I sense?"

"Something very important," Celestia replied cryptically. "What you sensed was the very reason that I took Twilight on as my personal student. I had suspected it was there, but to get a second opinion... Thank you for that."

"That doesn't exactly explain what that was," I said uncertainly.

"I can't tell you that. I'm sorry, but it's just too important," Celestia stressed.

"Uh... 'kay," I replied, eyebrow raised. Again, it's not like I could have made her tell me.

"Jack, may I ask a favor of you?" Celestia took my hand again, her expression somewhere between grave and pleading. "Please, whatever you do, please don't tell anypony else about what you sensed within Twilight's aura. Especially not Twilight herself. Nopony can know until everything is ready."

"Uh... until what's ready?" I fumbled.

She looked away, her eyes distant. Were those tears welling up? "Something I've been planning for nearly a thousand years, now," she murmured so softly I almost didn't hear it. She looked to me again. "Promise me, Jack. Promise me you won't tell another soul."

I don't know what came over me then, but something in me decided that a simple promise was insufficient. I overlaid her hands with mine, looked her in the eye, and spoke my next words with utter graveness.

"I swear, upon mine honor and integrity as a human being, that I shall not reveal, discuss, or allude to the secret thou hast asked me to keep, except to those with whom thou grant permission to do so. From now until my dying breath, or until I am released of this oath, thy secret is safe with me. 'Pon integrity and honor, this do I solemnly swear."

Chapter 8: Good Grief...

An expression of subtle surprise formed on Celestia's features, replaced by recognition, then gratitude.

"I offer my sincerest and most heartfelt thanks to thee, young human," she said to me, "May thine oath, freely offered and gratefully accepted, never bring thee misfortune."

We nodded and let go of each other's hands, and the moment passed.

"Well, I guess that's that," I announced, but something was nagging at me. I furrowed my brow. "Wait..."

Thee... singular in Old English, with you being plural... Early Modern English mimics French "tu" and "vous"... both thee and you become singular... used to distinguish between social classes, conversations between inferior and superior, with thee being...

"Oh, motherf-- Foreigner," I scowled, nearly breaking my self-imposed rule about swearing in front of the ponies.

"Hm?" Celestia tilted her head.

"I was using 'thee' when I should have been using 'you'," I grimaced, pinching the bridge of my nose. "Of course I was. I try to make something meaningful, I put effort into it, and of course, of course I end up sounding like a pretentious idiot." By this point I was in full-on rant mode, gesturing angrily into the air as I berated myself. "That's practically a metaphor for my whole life, right there. I mean, I read all this Shakespeare and the first time I try to use Early Modern English in a situation, I screw it up! The first freaking time! I'm like Charlie Brown trying to kick the football, except I trip over my own feet before I get anywhere close enough for Lucy to yank the ball away like she always will! I'm such a blockhead that..."

I went on for a few moments more before I was interrupted by the sound of someone politely clearing their throat. I looked back at Celestia again. She sat with her chin resting on the heel of her hand, smiling patiently.

"Did you get it all out?" she asked calmly. "Need to keep going?"

"Um. Yeah," I mumbled. "I think I'm okay now." I shook my head and let out a sigh. "Listen, I understand that we're... friends... now, but still, I shouldn't have ignored the difference between our statuses like that. I guess maybe it's because 'thou' isn't really used anymore, and my country's never really had a 'noble' class anyways, so..." I shook my head. "Whatever the reason, I'm sorry."

"Hmm... No," Celestia said simply.

"Uh. What?" I blurted, surprised.

"No, I don't accept your apology," Celestia explained. "I won't even acknowledge it. Do you know why?"

"...No?" I answered weakly.

"Because it is unnecessary," she stressed. "Because in my eyes, you weren't making a promise to a Princess of Equestria, or to the Alicorn of the Sun, but to me. I believe that on some level, despite your reservations, you truly do see me as a friend, and were only speaking as such."

Celestia folded her hands in her lap with a graceful smile. "And I could never fault a friend for that."

"Oh..." I mumbled lamely. I didn't trust myself to respond any other way.

As she was speaking, it dawned on me that my choice of words was most likely influenced by my upbringing. My mother is agnostic, but picked up some things from growing up in a Jewish neighborhood, which later rubbed off on me. However, my... other parent's family was almost entirely Catholic. In fact, my first exposure to Early Modern English as a kid was in a King James Bible.

Aye, there's the rub. See, in the King James Bible, "Thou" is used to address God; something that is supposed to be both polite and intimate at the same time. Without thinking, I had fallen back on what I used to believe was the proper way to address a being greater than one's own understanding-- I had spoken as I would to a goddess.

But for a reason I wasn't quite sure of, I couldn't let Celestia know that. Was it because I feared the displeasure of some god-being? Was it because I was wary of her as a sovereign ruler?

No, I realized. If I told Celestia that what she thinks was a gesture of friendship was actually a leftover from that part of my life, it'd make her feel terrible.

I remembered how she reacted to my "goddess" accusation. I couldn't put her through that again, whether it was true or not.

...In which case, maybe I did see her as a friend after all.

"A bit for your thoughts?" Celestia ventured, breaking me from my internal monologue.

"Huh?" I said ever-so-intelligently, "Oh, it's nothing. Just, uh, thinking about lunch. Or dinner, I guess, because, y'know... Yeah."

Have I mentioned how good my poker face is? Better than any other human's in Equestria.

Hardy-har.

Celestia was kind enough to pretend to have bought my act, and took my words at face value. "It is getting to be about that time," she nodded. "I'll have your dinner arrangements sent to your room. And while I'm thinking of it, do you think you could do me a small favor?" At my nod, she continued. "Twilight and Spike are most likely going to be eating here with you. Do you think you could see to it that Twilight eats properly? She has a habit of skipping meals when she's focusing on a major project."

I winced. "Nasty habit to fall into," I said from experience. Missed meals were one of the main reasons I ended up almost looking like Christian Bale in The Machinist. "I'll see what I can do."

"Wonderful. Thank you." Celestia leaned towards me conspiratorially. "And for the record, I never much cared for the way Old High Equestrian began using different pronouns between social classes. In fact, I was one of the first ponies to begin using 'you' exclusively."

I snorted. "Y'know, if it were anyone else who said that I'd call shenanigans, but it makes sense coming from you since you're so ol--" Mayday, Mayday, Mayday! Abandon ship! "ol-or-r-royal?" I stammered through a string of phonetic syllables to change "old" into something a little less insulting.

Not even my legendary poker face could save me that time, but I gave it the old college dropout try. Apparently Celestia's limit was one freebie a day though, because by the level look on her face, she was having none of my antics.

"... I'm going to pay for that. Aren't I?"

At that Celestia smiled again, and although it looked no different from her other smiles on the surface, I suddenly had a very bad feeling in the pit of my stomach.

"Meep."

Celestia nodded, satisfied with my reaction. "Well, this has certainly been an interesting conversation," she said, rising, "but once again I must return to my duties. Before that though..." Celestia gave the bed's call button a quick telekinetic press, and Dr. Panacea returned.

The doctor gave my vitals a quick glance as soon as she entered the room, then turned her attention to the Princess and I. "Well," she began, "I take it everything is cleared up between you two?"

"For the most part," Celestia responded. "Our young friend had something to say to you as well, though."

"Oh?" Dr. Panacea focused on me.

"While you two talk, I'll step outside and give Twilight the news," Celestia announced. "Oh, and Jack?" She fixed me with a sly, worrying smile. "I'll hold off on your punishment... at least until the good doctor has released you." With that mild threat, she turned and headed for the door. "Goodbye for now, you two," she called over her shoulder.

When she was gone, I leaned toward the doctor, still glancing at the door. "Uh, what exactly is Celestia's usual definition of 'punishment'?"

"I suppose it depends on the seriousness of the misdeed," Dr. Panacea mused. "Why? What happened?"

I scratched my ear nervously. "Well, I might have... maybe called her old... a couple times..."

The doctor's gaze at that was not encouraging. "Oh, my."

That's not a good response. "Okay, on a scale of one to Bender Rodriguez harmonizing with himself, with one being the lowest, how doomed am I?"

"Don't worry," Dr. Pan patted my shoulder with a smile, "I'll be sure to speak kindly at your funeral."

"Ooooohh good."

Dr. Pan chuckled. "Oh, hush. I'm only kidding, of course," she assured. "Not many know this, but Her Majesty is an incorrigible prankstress. My advice? Just let her have her fun. Keep a thick skin and a strong sense of humor, and you'll be fine. Now, what did you want to discuss?"

"Right, uh..." I paused a moment, deciding where to begin. "Remember earlier when you asked me if I was feeling alright? Y'know, mentally?" At her nod, I continued. "I realized I was kind of a jerk to you about it. The thing is, there actually was something going on with my head. There still is, sort of. I guess I was, I dunno... afraid to admit it, and I ended up snapping at you trying to deny it."

I was secretly furious at myself over that. I had known better than to take my frustrations out on others. I had known better than to lash out at the people trying to help me. No matter what I was going through, I had no right whatsoever to behave like that. That isn't the person I want to be, and even if the doctor forgave me, it would be a while before I could forgive myself.

"What I'm trying to say is, I'm sorry, Dr. Pan."

"Apology accepted, young man." She gave a warm smile, which I returned.

"Right," I concluded after a moment, "well, um... that was it, I guess. So... what now?"

"Now," she began as the door opened, "... Now I believe it's time for you to greet your dinner guests."

We turned our attention to Twilight and Spike as they entered the room. Twilight had shed her winter gear in favor of slacks and a purple sweater vest, reinforcing the 'nerd girl' image. On her right arm was a band of purple fabric, her cutie mark represented by a six-pointed star of deep purple and outlined with silver embroidery.

Spike still wore the sweater from earlier-- or so I assumed. It was hard to see him behind the enormous stack of books and papers in his arms. I was a bit surprised that he was able to manage them all, but he balanced the pile as though it were something he had done a hundred times before. He didn't appear to have an armband; either he was too young for one, or it was a pony-only tradition.

"Has Celestia left already?" Dr. Pan asked them, noting the absent alicorn.

"The Princess had a meeting with the Railway Committee, so she couldn't stay," Twilight answered while Spike attempted to transfer the load in his arms to a nearby table. "But, she did tell me to ask you something, Mr. Chambers."

"Yeah, but it was kinda weird, though," Spike commented, dusting off his hands. "I mean, why would Princess Celestia want to know if you like bananas?"

Dr. Panacea gave a short, almost unladylike laugh. We all looked at her, confused. "Oh, dear me. I'm sorry, that's something of an inside joke. Though it's... likely for the best if you don't answer."

I eyed her with mild worry. "Wow, that is... Hey Twilight, what's the opposite of 'reassuring'?"

"Upsetting?" she answered immediately. "Unnerving? Troubling? Dissuading? Depressing? Disheartening? Discouraging? Dispiritin--"

"Yeah, that," I cut her off.

"Pay it no mind," the doctor replied, checking her watch. "Well, I have rounds to make and paperwork to finish, so this is where I'll take my leave. Good evening, you three."

After a "Goodbye, Doctor" from Twilight, and a "Bye" from Spike and I, Dr. Panacea left the room.

With just the three of us remaining, I looked to Twilight, waiting for her to direct the conversation. She fidgeted nervously and kept trying to straighten a lock of her hair. Every so often, she looked ready to say something, but no words came. Spike rolled his eyes at her and went to organize the pile on the table.

Since it didn't look like Twilight was going to speak up, I decided to take charge. "So, correct me if I'm wrong," I started, "but I've got this... hunch that you've been beating yourself up over what happened."

"Um... well... yes. A little," Twilight admitted, ears splayed back. Without looking, she used her magic to pull a particularly large scroll from near the bottom of the pile Spike was working on.

"More like a lot," Spike muttered, then yelped in surprise and scrambled to keep the suddenly unstable mound of paper and writing supplies from tumbling to the floor.

"In fact, sir," Twilight stated as she opened the scroll, which unraveled until it hit the floor and rolled under my bed, "I've dictated an apology to Spike, then read over the first draft for spelling and grammatical errors--"

"Uh, Twilight?" I tried to say.

"--then re-read it to make sure that every topic of the apology was in the proper order--"

"Twilight."

"--then re-re-read it to check if the apologetic tone was consistent, then--"

"Hey Twilight!"

"Eep!" Twilight jumped slightly. I hadn't really shouted, but I had raised my voice a bit in exasperation. Spike giggled as quietly as he could behind Twilight's back.

"Look," I told her, "I get that you didn't mean for what happened to happen, and the fact that you put so much effort into an apology means a lot to me. Really. But it doesn't sit right with me, blaming you for something you didn't mean to do, so can we just call it water under the bridge and skip ahead to the next scene?"

"Oh. Um... Of course, Mr. Chambers," Twilight answered, magically rolling the scroll back up. "But... you're really not mad?" she asked, head tilted downwards and eyes wide and puppylike.

"No, Twilight, I'm not mad," I reassured. "Little annoyed right now? Sure. But not mad. Okay?"

"Oh, thank goodness," Twilight exhaled, wiping her brow. "I was so worried that you'd hate me, and that I'd ruined diplomatic relations with the first alien species in history. Celestia would be so disappointed in me that she wouldn't let me be her student anymore, and I'd be thrown in the dungeon and..." She shook her head violently. "Never mind. That doesn't matter now."

I stared at her for a moment. "Y'know, I think I'm starting to see why everyone keeps telling me we're going to get along..." Again it struck me how familiar Twilight's voice sounded, but I couldn't quite place where I heard it before.

"You see, Twilight?" Spike called, "I told you you didn't need that big old apology letter." He set down a box of pencils and preened. "Maybe you should've listened to your number one assistant after all, huh?"

Twilight just rolled her eyes, then clenched them shut in concentration as her horn lit up. Suddenly, a zipper appeared over Spike's scaly lips and zipped his mouth shut. As Twilight grinned smugly, Spike sent her an unamused glare and a muffled grunt of annoyance.

Upon seeing that, my eye twitched involuntarily. "Okay-- first off, that seems a little abusive," I told Twilight, counting off my fingers and nodding in Spike's direction. "Secondly, wow, you just gave 'zip it' a whole new layer of meaning. Thirdly, what in the what??"

"Huh?" Twilight asked, totally oblivious. "What's wrong, Mr. Chambers?"

"What's wrong?" I repeated, "What's wr-- seriously? Okay, that zipper thing that just happened? That. That is what is wrong. Explain for the non-magical being, s'il vous plait." I crossed my arms and waited, my fear that my 'Aura Sense' might flare up again losing out to my indignation on behalf of physicists everywhere.

"Oh, that? That was just a simple Localized Transmutation spell," Twilight explained.

"...Transmutation," I replied, staring.

Twilight nodded. "It's the branch of magic that involves changing--"

"--Changing the attributes or physical properties of an object or person," I finished for her.

"You've heard of it?" Twilight asked excitedly, countless questions sparkling behind her purple eyes.

"Read it out of a Pathfinder rulebook," I answered. "A game. With virtually no basis in actual, human reality. You know what does have a basis, though? The Laws of Conservation. 'Matter and energy can neither be'--"

"--'Neither be created or destroyed, only changed from one form to another'," Twilight recited. " 'The amount of matter and energy in the universe is constant.' I read that out of a physics textbook," she stated with pride. "Something with total basis in 'actual, equine reality'. And you'll note, using magical energy to temporarily rearrange the physical structure of a rough handful of matter isn't so shocking when entire beings can pop out of thin air from a point of extradimensional origin." She crossed her arms much as I had, pleased with herself.

She had a point. "Yeah, well... warn a guy next time, would you? I'm new at this."

Spike pulled open his mouth-zipper, which promptly vanished with a small flash of light. "Wait, I'm lost," he said once his mouth was finally free. "How did Twilight win that argument?"

"It was more of a debate," Twilight corrected.

"Okay, so basically everything's made out of stuff, see, and there's only enough stuff to go around," I explained. "I'm made out of different stuff from somewhere else, and that shouldn't be possible. So, the fact that I'm not from around here means I make less sense than the fact that she can change how stuff's put together with her mind. Make sense?"

"Uh..." Spike scratched his head.

"...Her science-fu is stronger than my science-fu."

"Oh," Spike replied. "Okay. I get it."

"Did you just use the words 'stuff' and 'science-fu' to explain a debate about advanced physics?" Twilight asked, mildly offended.

"I am a man of many talents," I conceded.

"Obviously explanations aren't one of them," she shot back.

"Maybe, but I can cook a mean Pop-Tart."

I am the Kanye West of witty comebacks.

And by that I mean massively overconfident in my skills and prone to making questionable life choices.

"Cook a mean what? No, nevermind. Forget I asked." Twilight shook her head in annoyance, and I let myself enjoy the little victory of getting under her skin. "You say your world doesn't have magic, Mr. Chambers--"

"Hey, look," I interrupted, "can we just, like, stop with the whole 'Mister Chambers' thing? I'm pretty sure we're the same age."

"But... but you're a diplomat," Twilight reasoned.

"Ha. Only 'cause I was the only guy available." I rubbed at my eyes as my stomach reminded me that I hadn't eaten since this morning. "Look. I'm not important, alright? I'm not special. I'm not a diplomat, or a scientist, or a hero from some adventure story. I'm just a guy. Just some kid who was in the right place at the right time, and now I'm here. I'm not-- I'm just me. Okay?"

"I... I see." Twilight seemed unsure of how to respond. "This... must be pretty hard for you," she realized.

"I'll probably need to see a shrink when I get back home, but I think I can hold it together until then," I half-lied.

Twilight took a seat beside my bed. "I'm sorry."

"I already told you--"

"No, I mean I'm sorry this is happening to you," she clarified. "Getting tossed into a whole new world, getting... well, getting attacked by a madmare..." she flashed a wry smile. "Honestly, I don't know if I would react as well if I were in your place."

"Me neither," Spike added as he pulled up a desk chair and sat in it backwards. His chin just barely reached over the top. "Plus, who cares if you're not an action hero or whatever? You're still one of the coolest guys I've ever met."

"Wow," I said, "Thanks, Spike. Coming from a talking dragon, that's... actually, that's one of the nicest things anyone's ever said to me."

"Aw, don't mention it," he replied, trying to act as though my approval didn't matter, but he couldn't quite keep the happiness out of his expression.

"So," Twilight said, drawing our attention, "if you don't want to be called 'Mr. Chambers', should we just call you... John?"

"Actually, just... just call me Jack," I told them. "So uh, what were you saying before, Twilight?"

With a flash of Twilight's horn, the pile of paper and writing utensils Spike had organized took to the air, forming around the unicorn like an obsessive-compulsive tornado. When it settled, Twilight sat at attention with a clipboard and pen in her hands, while around her floated pencils, notepads, parchments, quills, inkwells, and a machine that I could only assume was an audio recorder.

Ladies and gentlemen, behold... Twilight Sparkle: professional übernerd.

"I was saying," Twilight began, "You know about transmutation, but you claim that your world doesn't have magic. Ignoring the fact that you read it out of a work of fiction, it's uncanny how similar your information is to a legitimate field of study we have here in Equestria. My question is: is transmutation as you've read about it an entirely new concept to your world, or does it draw inspiration from other practices or beliefs, either real or fictional?"

I glanced at Spike for help. He merely shrugged and said, "Meh. You get used to it."

Thanks, kid. Suuuper helpful.

Looking back at Twilight again, I gathered my wits and answered. "That's a good question. The idea of transmutation has been around for centuries, but not as a 'branch of magic' like it is in most fiction today. The term 'transmutation' was originally used to refer to attempts to turn base metals like lead into gold-- which is impossible, by the way-- and was one of the goals of a tradition called alchemy. Alchemy, you see, was all about examining different materials and seeing how they react under different conditions, and eventually it came to be the basis for modern chemistry and medicine." As I spoke, Twilight's pen (and pencils and quills) moved frantically.

"You know," Spike said, "I think we've heard of alchemy somewhere before. Right, Twilight?"

"It was a form of primitive healing arts practiced in Zebrica before the introduction of Equestrian medicine," Twilight answered without looking up from her notes. "Totally pointless. All those 'natural remedies' and 'cure-alls'... It was almost as dangerous and idiotic as drinking quicksilver to cure a failing liver. I'm sure human medicine has never been that stupid." She looked up at me. "Right, Jack?"

"Of... of course not," I replied. "I mean, mercury? Really? They might as well stick leeches all over themselves. Or drill holes in their heads."

...How has the human race not exterminated itself yet?

"Anyway," Twilight said, returning to her notes, "back on topic. Do you know about any other mystical or magical practices that began as something else, or were turned into something else later?"

"Well, there was this card game called Tarot that was played in France and Italy centuries ago," I explained. "It was turned into a form of fortune telling, and I think it had some influence on modern playing card games."

"Tarot?" Twilight asked, "Silent 't'?" At my nod, she continued. "Tarot is an actual form of divination in Equestria. Most practitioners are frauds, but a rare few ponies can actually use it to predict the future to some extent."

"Wait. You have actual fortune telling?" I questioned. "Like actual, proven predictions of future events?"

"The gift is incredibly rare, and most that have it usually keep to themselves," Twilight responded. "It can be a serious burden, what with everypony expecting you to warn them of impending danger."

"Right," I said, lifting my leg. "Now pull the other one."

"It's true!" Spike protested. "Twilight even wrote a paper about it last year."

"You know what? I want to read this paper," I told them.

"I'd be happy to let you read it but... it's a bit complex," said Twilight. "Wouldn't you rather I lend you some introductory books on magic, first?"

"Hey, I'll take whatever I can get my hands on," I shrugged.

At that moment there was a quick knock on the door, swiftly followed by the entrance of a servant leading a cart of food and drinks.

"Looks like room service is here," I announced. I mimed checking my pockets, then said to the servant, "Sorry, looks like I left my wallet in my other hospital gown. I'll tip next time, I swear."

The pony had begun to stare as soon as he caught sight of me, but at my joke he quickly recovered and nodded with a grin.

"Alright! I'm starving," said Spike, licking his chops.

"You're starving? The only thing I've had to eat today was a hospital breakfast," I complained, as the various dishes were set in front of us.

"But we're in the middle of a discussion," Twilight protested. All the objects floating around her made it difficult for the serving pony to set out her meal, but he handled it well enough. "I was just about to ask you--"

"Objection!" I yelled. A normal yell, not the Phoenix Wright version. I save those for special occasions. "Here's what's going to happen: the three of us are going to eat dinner, and maybe, maybe make conversation. If you try to ask me questions or interview me or whatever, then you better have been eating, because if not I will stare uncomfortably at you until you do. Believe it or not, I am awesome at the quiet game. Are we clear?"

"All right, fine. But if that's how you're going to play it, then maybe I should ignore all of your questions until you finish eating," smirked Twilight, eyes narrowed.

"That'd be a lot more effective if my stomach wasn't trying to consume itself," I replied smugly. "Now you finish your broccoli young lady, or no dessert before bed!"

"Oh, and whatever happened to 'we're the same age', Mr. Chambers?" she retorted.

"Wow, look who had her sense of humor removed," I shot back.

"Wha-- You-- I--" Twilight stammered, "I do too have a sense of humor."

"Oh, they let you keep it in a jar afterwards? Like tonsils?"

Twilight blushed. "I am plenty of fun. Right, Spike?"

We both looked to Spike. He leaned away as far as he could, hands up in surrender. "Don't look at me, dude. I know better."

Smart kid.

Twilight groaned in annoyance, then took an angry bite of her sandwich.

A sandwich made out of flowers. Should I be surprised?

Dinner was a mostly uneventful affair, despite Spike bemoaning the lack of quartz in his food. Apparently dragons could eat gemstones, along with everything a carnivore or herbivore could stomach, though he stayed away from meat for obvious reasons.

Twilight decided that it was best to hold off on teaching me about my new ability until after I had been released from the hospital. This would both give me time to learn the academic basics of magic, and give her time to put together a curriculum. The rest of today however, was devoted to Twilight's endless list of questions about everything human.

I had to make good on my 'uncomfortable stare' threat a few times, but after the third instance Twilight got fed up and began shoveling food into her mouth, cleaning her plate quickly and fixing me with a sour look. I contemplated giving her a snarky lecture on the dietary importance of chewing, but thought better of it. After that, the questions came in force.

I made it clear early on that a lot of my answers were going to be either 'I don't know' or some variation of 'You'll have to ask so-and-so when we find my world again', but even still, she managed to take pages and pages of notes on what little I could answer.

Every now and then Spike would cut in with a question about human movies or video games, or ask me to explain a certain comicbook character. As these were far more in my area of expertise than Twilight's questions, I was more than happy to answer them, lecturing on everything from Star Wars to Star-Lord, The Elder Scrolls to Tolkien's works, and everything in-between, much to Spike's enjoyment.

We talked for hours, but eventually exhaustion caught up with us. Or at least, it caught up with Spike and I. Twilight looked ready to pull an all-nighter, but with some childish whining from me, and some practiced wheedling from Spike, we finally managed to sway her.

As I readjusted my bed into a horizontal position for sleep, Spike tiredly dragged Twilight out of the room. She left with a promise of finding me plenty of material to study up with, but I waved her off with a sleepy grunt and focused on getting comfy.

I hadn't even turned off the lights when I fell asleep; my exhaustion so great that not even the strange tingling at the back of my skull could stop my descent from the waking world into the realm of slumber...

~ * ~ * ~

"Nineteen dollars and sixteen cents is your change," I said, handing the money to the man talking on his cell phone, who had barely even registered my existence throughout the whole transaction. He took it, and without so much as a nod in my direction he left, still chatting away.

"Thank you, and have a nice..." as soon as he was out the door, I dropped the act. "...Step on a Lego, you oblivious prick," I said under my breath.

It was bad enough that he couldn't be bothered to hand me his payment like an actual human being, instead tossing it on the counter right next to my open hand. Or, that he was paying with a twenty for a soda that cost less than a dollar, siphoning what little change I had in my drawer like everyone else who was apparently allergic to small bills.

But, I figured, at least he wasn't asking me to--

~)O(~

"Can you break a hundred?"

I can break my foot off in your ass, if you don't take that shit to the bank that's right next door, I thought.

It's annoyed me to no end how, when there are no less than four different banks within easy walking distance, people will still come in to my gas station, expecting my coworkers and I to break hundred-dollar bills. Like they think we can just squat down and crap out a wad of fifty's and twenty's on demand, like modernized versions of the goose from "Jack and the Beanstalk".

Fridays, Saturdays, and Sundays are the worst though, with people buying a couple buck's worth of junk food as an excuse to break their payday money before they go raving, or playing beer-pong, or... whatever people with free time do on the weekends.

I stared at the offending bill for a moment, then quickly masked my disgust and looked up at the man holding it; a lanky, sweaty individual. The derpface-y look on his mug was so natural that I had to assume it was his resting expression.

"Do you have anything smaller?" I asked politely.

"This is all I got," he shrugged in response, not even bothering to conceal the folded stack of more sensible bills in his other hand.

"I just don't have the change for it in my register," I told him, trying for an apologetic tone even though I knew it wouldn't change the outcome.

As expected, his reaction was reminiscent of a subdued, adult version of the buildup just before the tantrum we've all seen some bratty kid throw in the middle of the toy department at Wal-Mart. He made no move whatsoever to offer the smaller bills.

With some effort, I hid the angry eye-twitch that situations just like this had caused me to develop, and said,"I'll have to get it out of the safe." ...a-fucking-gain. That appeased him, somewhat.

I looked away, lest my focus on him allow any of my accumulated anger and annoyance creep into my expression. Instead, I focused on the incredibly tedious juggling act of withdrawing money, recording it, change-making, depositing money, and recording it again, that was so inconvenient only a bureaucrat or a masochist could find it entertaining.

All because this schlep couldn't walk seventy feet from here to the bank.

I knelt down next to the stupid safe to vend the stupid money so I could make his stupid change--

~)O(~

--and took a few calming breaths. I stood, bringing the absurdly heavy bag-in-box of soda syrup with me. I heaved the unwieldy box up onto my shoulder, then loaded it into its place in the soda dispenser's hidden workings in the back room.

"Way to go," cheered my coworker Wilson; a semi-retired former railroader and one of the friendliest guys you'll ever meet. "Say, thanks for doing this for me, John."

"No problem, Wil," I huffed from exertion. "Besides, you probably shouldn't push yourself too hard this soon afte--"

"I would have gotten it myself, but I didn't want to push too hard so soon after my surgery," he continued, indicating the leg he had been favoring all day.

See that's the thing with Wilson. He did his time on the railroad back in the days when safety regulations were still fairly new, and seen more as guidelines than hard rules. Apparently, it used to be a "joke" to blow the train's whistle when a worker was standing next to it.

As a result, Wil's hearing isn't that great even with hearing aides, and he often misses what people say.

With that in mind, I just nodded in affirmation. "No problem," I said a little louder, making sure Wilson could see my lips moving this time.

Technically, since my shift had just ended and I had already clocked out, I wasn't supposed to be doing anything work-related or else I'd be a "liability", legally-speaking. But, it's just not in my nature to see a man who's at least three times my age struggle with a heavy box and not offer to help. Besides, I was lucky enough at the moment to have bosses who wouldn't give me flak for not being clocked in when helping a coworker who recently had surgery.

"So, did you hear what happened to Hannah?" Wilson asked.

"Yeah," I said, "Rob said earlier they let her go bec--"

"Well, they had to let her go," he said in a disappointed tone. "Apparently when first shift came in this morning, they found her getting a Tarot reading-" he pronounced the word like 'carrot' "- from a customer, with a giant line backed up nearly out the door! I mean what was she thinking? It's just plain unprofessional."

Another thing about Wilson, he always had a story to tell... whether you wanted to hear it or not.

"Right. Hey look," I said quickly, motioning to the clock above the rack of spare coats, "I'm already clocked out and I'm uh, meeting some friends in like half an hour, and it's getting kinda late, so--"

"Well, would you look at that!" he exclaimed, just now noticing the time. "Where did the evening go?"

"Wherever it went, it can stay there..." I muttered.

"Did you clock out already?"

I sighed, holding up my time slip. "Just on my way out," I said tiredly.

"Well, don't let me keep you. Until next time!"

"Yeahsureseeya," I rushed, snatching up my jacket and hurrying to freedom.

I felt bad about lying-- I had nothing planned besides grabbing some dinner and derping around on Netflix until I fell asleep-- but Wilson's storytelling lost most of its charm after the umpteenth random tale about him scheduling an oil change. Besides, I was never one for gossip, especially when I had already gotten all the actual facts from the assistant manager.

I made it outside, and took a deep breath of the night's warm, humid air. Looking up, the stars were unusually bright tonight, standing out in the sky despite the ambient glare of the city lights. The moon was abnormally large too, the shadows of its craters forming in an unfamiliar way. They almost looked like...

"Weird..." I muttered, then promptly forgot about it.

Keys in hand, I headed over to my car. I opened the driver's side door--

~)O(~

--and slammed it roughly, scowling at the empty parking lot and everything in it. It was still dark; the sun hadn't even risen yet, and I was already back at this stupid place.

I took a bitter gulp of the drink in my hand, something called "coffee". I knew the word from somewhere, but I was too deep in Way-The-Hell-Too-Early-Ville to remember where from. Every sip was like a finely-crafted "Fuck You" to my taste buds, but for some unfathomable reason, I didn't stop drinking it.

I spat irritably into the bushes by my parking space, then found myself back inside the store. I don't remember walking in.

It was so early that not even the canned, crappy radio system had woken up yet, showing that apparently even a thoughtless machine had more sense than me.

Hannah was there, a customer giving her a Tarot reading, of all things. There was a woman waiting in line behind them, her perma-scowl matching my own. I caught her eye, nodded, and gestured with my cup to the next register in the row.

As I moved to my place behind it, I had to wonder where the hell the other overnight worker had run off to. Probably picking up Hannah's slack on the side work. Apparently that happens a lot, from what I'm told.

I helped the lady as best I could, though I think the both of us were communicating through grunts and gestures. She left, and I directed my tired glare at my coworker.

She was leaning over the counter, obviously not paying attention to her work, while some guy dressed like the villain from that Disney movie with the frogs shuffled some cards.

It was ridiculous. This, on top of how little effort she puts into her job... I wouldn't be surprised if she gets herself fired within the week.

I kind of feel sorry for her. She's definitely going to have a bad day when the manager comes in with the morning shift.

But it's not really my concern. I'm on the evening shift; it'll all be over by the time I hear about it.

...

...Wait.

I'm evening shift.

I don't come in until the afternoon.

What the hell am I doing here now...?

"Hm-hm..."

~)O(~

"We meet again."

The voice came from a woman seated in across from me.

She looked slightly familiar. In a way, she looked like the bookstore cashier girl I had talked to before... before something... but she was far different.

Her hair, once blond and short, was now a dark black that fell in waves to her shoulders, framing her features like a curtain of starless night made tangible. Her face had changed, too. Its shape and expressions were more mature, more sensual, more... Just more. Her glasses were gone, and her smoldering eyes were a shade of blue-green, the odd darkness about them doing nothing to diminish their vividness.

I could notice no detail about her figure, but the way she spoke, the way she moved, even the way she held herself were all... hypnotic...

"It was most unfortunate that our first encounter was cut so short," the woman said. "You are far too intriguing to simply ignore."

I opened my mouth to protest. "Intriguing" was definitely not a word people would use to describe me, especially not attractive women with beautiful eyes.

"Shh..." the woman hushed me. Her full lips formed into a smile that promised all the right kinds of mischief. "Who are you to decide what interests me, hmm?"

I stayed silent, simply taking in the woman's presence.

"Tell me, have you ever experienced a Tarot reading before?"

I shook my head.

"Truly?" she purred, producing a deck of cards. "Then I... am to be your first."

The innuendo was heavy, but I was too enthralled to react. The woman's expression was pleased. And predatory. And very very alluring.

"Consider yourself fortunate," she said as she shuffled the cards. "I rarely do this. And never on a whim."

She cut the deck and dealt out three cards on the table between us, face down. "This will be a reading of your Future," she explained, then indicated each card individually. "The Immediate, followed by the Imminent, followed by the Eventual."

She flipped over the first card.

XVI

On it was a tower decorated with imposing gargoyles in the middle of a dark forest, furious stormclouds raging in the sky above. An enormous bolt of lightning had struck the tower, snapping it in half just above the middle. Fires could be seen raging in all the windows. Not-quite-human figures were fleeing from it in all directions, some even throwing themselves from it's heights. Some of the figures had horns, though they were snapped in half, much like the tower. Others had wings, but all were broken and bloodied, their primary feathers ripped out. If the scene were real, few of them would survive, if any.

"The Tower in the upright position," the woman said. "It signifies danger, crisis, and destruction. A tragedy is soon to befall you. Or perhaps, one already has..." Her knowing smile was no less enchanting, no less ominous than any before it.

She turned over the second card.

XIII

On this card was a feminine equine figure, tall and powerful, standing before a field full of the dead and dying. Kings, clergymen, paupers... All were equal in their deaths, their blood intermingling, churned into the earth under the mare's hooves. The mare was pitch black, from the tip of her wickedly sharp horn to the feathers of her outstretched, hawk-like wings. In the distance, two massive doors of some unknown material hung open, the chains across them shattered. The darkness within those doors was a physical thing, seeming to swallow the light around it.

Next to the mare was a figure. Not a man, but something far more immutable. He was covered in dark armor with silver filigree, the plates like obsidian scales that reflected no light. His head was mostly shrouded by a hooded cape that fell to just below his waist. His face could barely be seen, and I wasn't sure if his skin was merely pale and his eyes merely deep-set... or if his countenance was that of a skull. At his side hung a sword, and in his hand he carried a heraldic banner. But instead of a coat of arms, the banner was blank; the unbroken black flag waving with an air of finality over the grim scene.

"Death, in the upright position," the woman said, as if the terrible image on the card had little consequence. "How very macabre for your 'first time'. Well, I never did promise to be gentle, did I?" She smiled again, eyes flashing and canines showing. "The Death card normally symbolizes an end. But in your case the end of what, I wonder? The end of an interest? The end of a relationship, perhaps? The end of your..." She stretched languidly, leaning forward. "...Innocence?"

Everything about this woman was equal parts seductive and terrifying. In a way, I felt as if I was sitting before some kind of predatory jungle cat, waiting for her to decide how much she wanted to play with me before shredding me to ribbons.

"Hm,hm,hm..." She leaned back, picking up the Death card again. "In readings, this card rarely signifies a physical death, but taken with The Tower? Tut, tut. You should tread carefully from here on. After all... you never know what others might be hiding from you..." The woman smiled as though she had just told some kind of joke, my lack of a reaction causing her to smile ever more.

"Now, one more card, and we'll see what path Fate has set for you."

She began to turn over the final card... but paused.

"Oh...?" With a mildly curious expression, she picked up the card and examined it, keeping its face hidden from me.

Her expression changed to one I wasn't expecting, but nevertheless found familiar:

Surprise.

I wasn't expecting it, because surprise simply didn't seem like something that happened to a woman like this.

However, that's the very reason I found it familiar; her expression of surprise was nearly a mirror of Ce--

"My... my... my," she breathed, that beautiful and ominous look of pleasure once again present, "You are far more interesting than I had anticipated. I'll be keeping this to myself, for now." She slid the card back into the deck, then collected the other two. "After all, you should never know too much about your future."

I almost began to protest, but suddenly she was standing at my side, her finger over my lips.

"Hush..." Her finger trailed down to my chin, lifting it with ease until my gaze met hers. "Rest assured, we will be seeing each other again. But for now, a parting gift..."

"Close your eyes," she commanded, and I did

With my eyes closed and her finger still under my chin, I felt rather than saw her lean forward until her mouth was by my ear.

"Knowledge is Power," she whispered. "Think of this as... a hint."

~)O(~

I opened my eyes to an empty room with walls made of stone.

There were no doors, no windows, and nothing in it but me. I wasn't even sure how I was seeing anything, as there were no light sources, either. I turned and moved to the nearest wall, looking for a hidden switch or something similar. As I ran my hands over the masonry, I heard a sound from the empty room behind me.

It was a familiar sound, like wind passing through a crystal wind chime--

Magic.

I whirled around and threw my back against the wall, facing the source of the sound that had suddenly appeared in the middle of the room.

There, on a raised dais stood an archway, its shape like that of a horseshoe. It looked to be made of tarnished bronze, with various diamond-shaped gems of one kind or another at regular intervals along the arch. The inside of the arch was a reflective surface like a mirror, but as I drew closer the reflection darkened. By the time I was only a few feet away, the mirror had become an empty void, the darkness broken only by a jagged line of white; a small crack in the mirror's surface.

The ringing sound of magic was definitely coming from the mirror, but I was unsure of how to proceed. Part of me wanted to touch the mirror's surface, but something made me hesitate. On impulse, I spoke aloud to the empty room.

"Uh... H-hello?"

As soon as the words left my mouth, everything shifted.

It felt as though a fog in my mind had cleared up, and a veil over my senses had been lifted.

I suddenly noticed just how wrong the room was.

The stonework of the walls had felt entirely smooth, even over the parts that looked like grooves.

Whole sections of the far wall were fuzzy, like a low-resolution texture in a game.

Even the air was off, and I felt a strange sensation of weightlessness, despite having both feet firmly planted on the ground.

"What... in... the... hell?" I wondered, staring at the "half-rendered" walls around me.

The magic chime cut off abruptly, and I focused on the mirror again.

It hadn't changed in the slightest, but I suddenly felt as though I were being watched by something in the mirror's void.

I watched it intently, backing down off the dais. The surface of the mirror didn't lighten or change in any way.

My eyes started to ache from staring at the empty space for so long, and I began working up the nerve to speak again.

Before I got the chance, a pair of slanted, angry eyes opened within the void.

The eyes' sclerae were off-white, almost a shade of green, as if their vertically-slitted pupils had cut holes in their blue-green irises, allowing the color to seep out.

They glared at me with the same expression abusive owners give misbehaving pets, only multiplied.

Before I could react, an unseen force bodily gripped me, and I was wrenched forward.

I didn't even have time to scream as I was flung into the mirror, into the void, into the eyes...

~ * ~ * ~

...Round, bright eyes the color of an amber sunset only inches away from my face--

"Aaghck!" I screamed.

"Waahgh!" the eyes yelped.

Wait, scratch that.

The mare yelped.

We both reeled away from each other, nearly causing me to fall out of bed.

"Buck!" someone grunted, and a strong pair of hands caught me just before I tumbled over the side.

The green mare wasn't so lucky, stumbling backward over the guest chair and landing head-first on the floor, hooves in the air and wings sprawled awkwardly.

"Celestia damn it, Flow!" hissed the stallion that caught me, easing me back into place with red-furred hands. "What did I tell you? Huh? What did I just say?"

"Nngh. 'Don't mess with the hospitalized diplomat'? ...Ow."

"And what did you do?"

"...Exactly what you said not to?"

"Exactly what I said not to!"

"Y'know, Fraggy..." The mare shifted around on the floor, then used the chair to pull herself up to a sitting position, blowing a tuft of mane out of her eyes. "...You're no fun at all, sometimes."

"Fraggy" palmed himself in the face with an audible *smack!'*, and I felt a glimmer of sympathy as he went through some obvious anger control exercises.

"Ambassador Chambers, sir," he started, (It took me a moment to realize he meant me.) "I am so sorry for her behavior. She was dropped on her head a lot as a filly--"

"--Hey! One time!--"

"--and she's not exactly capable of impulse control, but I swear she won't do it again--"

I was waaay too out of it for this shit. "Hey-- No-- Just-- Shut up. Both of you just-- Fuck-- Just, stop...doing shit. For like... five seconds. Please."

They did.

As I tried to gather my frayed wits, I reflected for a moment on how it felt to tell people to do things and they actually do it.

It's kinda nice, actually.

I managed to get my bearings, remember where I was-- and who I was, and focused on pulling the last things I remembered up out of my brain.

Let's see... Twilight and Spike were here... we ate dinner... they left... and then I went to sleep.

Okay.

So where did these assholes come from?

"Hey!" the mare protested.

"No! Bad!" I scolded. "Nnnno talkie!"

...Did I say that out loud?

"Respectfully, sir," the stallion said, "you are mumbling. Loudly, in fact."

"...Well, crap." I breathed a heavy sigh, then said to the Abbott and Costello wannabes, "Okay. Who are you, what are you doing in my room, and why in the name of Kevin Conroy's vocal cords were you standing over me like that?"

"Aww. Ya don't remember us?" pouted the green mare.

I studied her. A pegasus mare, with an olive drab coat. Her mane was messy, but relatively short. It was a dark, grayish-blue, a nighttime color, but turned bright orange at the tips. Her figure was toned and athletic, though I couldn't guess her height from her place on the ground. She was dressed in fatigue pants and a loose, white tank top. So loose, in fact, that the way she was resting her... self... on the arm of the chair beside her made it apparent that she wasn't wearing a bra.

She caught me looking, and gave me a leering grin in response that I found mildly disturbing.

"Uh..." I turned to the other pony.

He was a wine red earth pony, slightly above average height, with a soldier's build. His mane was a two-toned, no-nonsense cut, like a palette swap of Mr. Fantastic's 'do. The majority of it was a light sandy brown, but the sides were a contrasting vivid blue. He stood at attention, perfectly still, his sunrise purple eyes fixed on an invisible point straight ahead. Like the mare he was also wearing fatigue pants, but with the corresponding shirt. I couldn't quite make out the name on the patch above the breast pocket.

"...Should I remember you?" I asked.

"We weren't formally introduced the first time, sir," Earth Pony said. With a crisp salute he recited, "Corporal Fragment of the Equestrian Armed Guard, Royal Guard Division."

I snapped my fingers in recognition. "Painter-Mom guy!" He looked a lot different without the armor.

His salute faltered a little, and he looked at me with a sheepish gesture of acknowledgement.

"*Snrk*-- 'Painter-Mom guy'?" repeated the mare, now standing, mirth evident in her tone.

"Wait, so if he's him," I reasoned, "then you're..."

"Lieutenant Flow Hammer. Or 'that incredibly stunning mare that airlifted you aaaall the way back to the medical wing in time to stabilize you'," she smirked, buffing her nails on her tank top.

Her loose, low-cut tank top...

"But you can just call me Flow. You know~..." she crossed her arms under her chest, causing her décolletage to become even more pronounced, "I had you in my arms for a good couple 'a minutes, snuggled up all comfy to little old me." She sighed dramatically (and distractingly). "It's such a shame you were conked out... most colts would kill to be where you were."

I could hear Fragment facepalming behind me.

I do not like this olive mare. I do not like her, Yogi Bear.

"...Y'mean bleeding profusely with a face-full of cold plate metal?" I deadpanned.

"Hey, if that's what you're into," shrugged Flow, smirk still present.

I turned to Fragment, who was massaging temples. "I need an adult," I said.

"I am an adult," Flow quipped, interrupting whatever Fragment was about to say.

"Celestia's Beard, Flow," Fragment... swore? I think? "You do realize we're in the medical wing, right? I can have the Surgeon General come and spay you if you don't leave the Ambassador alone."

Flow snickered. "Nice try, Fraggy. Buuut~..." She placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward, grinning smugly. "I outrank you, remember?"

"Only because they haven't demoted you this month!" Fragment argued, "Again!"

"Semantics, Fraggy-old-buddy-old-pal!" Flow dismissed, plopping down into a chair and kicking her hooves up onto the foot of my bed. "Point is, right now you gotta do what I say! And Flow says, 'wait outside in the hall', Fraggy-boy!"

"Flow, I'm warning you--"

"That was an order, Corporal," she drawled, reclining with her eyes closed and her hands behind her head. After a pause, she reopened one eye to smirk at Fragment. "You're not gonna disobey a direct order, are you?"

Around his face, the Corporal's red coat managed to turn an even deeper shade, veins sticking out on his forehead and neck as he shook with rage. Through clenched teeth, he managed to seethe out a "No, Ma'am", then stormed his way out of the room.

Wow. I mean, I thought I was annoying, but damn. Wait, where's he going?

I was impressed with-- and slightly envious of-- how easily she had gotten under his skin, which distracted me from the fact that I was being left alone with the psycho hose-beast until it was too late.

...Crapbaskets.

"Pfft... Bwa-ha-ha-ha!" Flow burst into a childish fit of snickering so intense she had to use her wings to stabilize herself. "Did-- ha-- did you see the look on his face? Priceless! I'm gonna get an earful from him later, but it was so worth it!"

As her laughter died down, she caught my wary look. "Oh, what? It's fiiine, he'll get over it! Besides, I wouldn't bother him so much if he wasn't such a stick in the mud."

When I didn't respond, she rolled her eyes, sighing petulantly. "Look, for what it's worth, I'm sorry for startling you like that," she said with sincerity. "I had no idea you were gonna wake up when you did. Total mishap." Then, with an impish grin, she toyed with the straps of her top in a teasing manner. "Is there any way I can... make it up to you?" she asked with a very false innocence.

"That depends," I answered indifferently. "Can you slap yourself with a restraining order for me?"

"Hah!" With a bark of laughter she dropped the charade, slapping her knee. "Good one, Ambassador. Are all humans this fun?"

"...We vary. And I'm not an ambassador."

"Meh," she shrugged. "No fur off my coat." She gripped the arms of her chair and flapped her wings once, propelling herself forward until the chair was right up against the bed. "Sooo," she began, leaning uncomfortably close to me, "does the not-Ambassasor have a marefriend back home? A coltfriend, maybe?"

"N-no," I leaned away.

"Ooo, so you're available~?" She batted her eyes.

"Not to you, lady," I frowned.

"Oh, I see. So you're..." she trailed off, smirking devilishly.

"Not attracted to folks that sleep in padded cells? 'Fraid so," I said mock-apologetically.

"Oh!" she exclaimed theatrically, bringing a hand to her forehead. "Oh, woe is me! How will I ever find a date? Will I be forced to pester poor Fraggy until the end of his days? How will I ever survive? Ooohh..." She pretended to faint, hamming it up as much as possible.

I snorted, rolling my eyes. "Is this Canterlot or Broadway?" I muttered. Aloud, I asked, "So why're you in my room, anyways?"

Flow recovered, scooting her chair back with the same wing trick before responding. "Twilight Sparkle needed some stuff delivered to your room and Fraggy volunteered even though he was off duty, the workaholic. I tagged along for the fun of it. I can never resist a chance to mess with the big red sourpuss."

I glanced at the nightstand. Sure enough, there sat a modestly tall stack of books, along with a rectangular box.

"You just live to annoy people, don't you?" I said to her, a smile forming against my will.

"What can I say? I love getting a rise out of ponies," she grinned, waggling her eyebrows at the innuendo.

"S-so, uh, you and Fraggy-- Fragment known each other long?"

"Went through basic together, been friends ever since," she replied, leaning the chair back on two legs. "Though if you ask him, he'll probably call me a 'constant pain in his cute, red flank'. Or something like that. I dunno. I paraphrased. Oh, before I forget..." She reached over and pulled a manilla envelope from between the last two books in the pile. "...A scaly friend asked me for a favor, so I smuggled you in some real entertainment."

I opened the folder to find a number of comicbooks encased in plastic. They had all been well cared for. There was also an index card with a list of titles-- a reading order, courtesy of Spike. "Huh. When you said 'real entertainment', I thought you meant dirty magazines for a second."

"What, like Playcolt?" she asked, blowing a tuft of mane out of her eyes. "That'd just be weird."

"Which is exactly why I was expecting it from you," I retorted.

"Ha!" she barked. " Y'know someting, kid? You're alright. In fact, since I like you so much, I think I'll let you in on a little secret or two." She leaned forward conspiratorially, eyes glimmering. "The first is my cup size--"

"OH-KAY! We're done here. Check please!" I reached for the call button, but she caught my hand.

"--Kidding! I'm kidding! No need to sic the brass on me, okay?" She let go of my hand. I eyed her warily, but didn't reach for the button again. "Okay. All jokes aside, scuttlebutt says they're giving you one of the diplomatic guest rooms once you're outta here. One of the super ritzy ones, too. I'm talkin' walk in closets, a jacuzzi bathtub, a balcony with a stunning view, the works. Aannnd... A Cowlifornia king-sized bed, so you'll have plenty of room for 'sleeping', wink-wink."

I looked away in exasperation. "Hell's Bells. You never stop, do you?"

"Not when I'm conscious," she chirped. "S'part of my charm."

I didn't bother looking at her again. I assumed that, like an animal, eye contact would only provoke her. Instead, I skimmed over the covers of the issues Spike had lent me.

"Anywho," she continued unabated, "if that wasn't enough, the Boss-Lady's even assigning you your own bodyguard."

"Please tell me it's not you..." I groaned.

Flow gripped the railing of my bed. "Hey," she said, her tone suddenly serious.

I looked at her. Gone were the playful looks and the careless posture. Now her eyes were hard, and her mouth had formed a thin line, downturned into a frown.

"Watch yourself around this guy, alright?" she said by way of warning.

Her sudden change had caught me off guard. "...What?"

She started to say something but stopped, shook her head, and stood. "Look, there's something going on, here. There has to be, if they're assigning him to you."

"Who?" I asked. "Him who?"

Flow shook her head and started walking away, heading for the door. "I don't know much about the details. Hay, I might'a said enough already to get myself canned for real this time. But..." She stopped with a sigh, looking back at me. "My gut's telling me that you're alright. Whatever happens, I just don't want there to be a misunderstanding that could'a been avoided."

...you never know what others might be hiding from you...

I shook my head, feeling momentarily dazed. "Uh... Thanks, I guess. But that... doesn't really explain anything."

"Meh," she shrugged coolly. "You're the smart guy. You'll figure it out."

I threw my hands up in defeat. "Fine, whatever," I sighed. "...Can you at least explain why you were standing directly over me when I woke up?"

Flow's serious expression faded as she returned to her usual petulant self. "Well, Fraggy told me not to, so of course I had to do it to mess with him. Plus, you just looked so adorable, I couldn't help myself! Like a cute widdle puppy. It just made me want to snuggle in close and cuddle up!" She hugged herself tightly and shook her shoulders, knowing exactly what the motions were doing to her chest and hips.

I brought a hand to my face and groaned in exasperation.

"Look at that! You and Fraggy are practically twins," she snickered. "Also, did you know you twitch in your sleep?"

"I'll give you a twitch," I growled.

"Ooo, kinky, but at least buy me a drink first--"

"AAUGH!" I yelled, throwing the nearest solid object I could reach (Magic and You, by Princess Celestia) in the general direction of the green menace.

Unfortunately, my aim with my offhand was shaky, and my target dodged easily.

"What the Hay, Flow--" *THWAP*

More unfortunately, that was the moment Fragment decided to return, catching a textbook to the face as soon as he opened the door.

Flow ducked under his arm while he was stunned, bolting into the hall and away, all the while cackling like the psycho she is.

"Restraining order!" I yelled after her. "I swear to God, woman!"

Fragment groaned, rubbing his snout. For a moment, he stared in the direction Flow had fled, likely debating whether or not to chase after her. He decided against it apparently, stepping fully into the room and picking the book up from where it had fallen. "She'll be long gone in a minute," he sighed. "I heard you shouting, sir. Are you alright?"

"Fine," I growled. "Just... peachy. Does she have, like, an off switch or something?"

"I wish, sir," he groaned, coming closer. "I've known her for years and I still haven't found one."

"Sorry about that, by the way," I said nodding to the book in his hand. "I was aiming for her head."

He snorted. "No problem, sir. Believe me, I get it."

"Also, you can stop with the 'sir' stuff, if you want. I don't get paid enough to be a 'sir'."

"Fine by me," he grinned, setting the book on the nightstand. "So should I call you 'John', or do you prefer... what was it? 'Jack'?"

"Jack," I confirmed, sticking out my hand. "Nice to meetcha."

"Fragment," he replied with a shake. "Same." The manilla envelope and its contents caught his eye, and he smiled. "Heh. So that's why she offered to carry the books..."

"Wait, you mean she wasn't kidding about smuggling these from Spike?"

"Looks like it."

"Bu--... Wha--... Why?"

He shrugged. "From what I heard, Miss Sparkle wants you focused on studying, not 'distracted by glorified picture books'."

My eye started the angry twitching.

"Glorified... Picture... Books?"

Rrrrrright in the jimmies.

Fragment put up his hands. "Her words, not mine."

I took a deep breath in through my nose.

Held it.

And let it out slowly.

"I can deal. I'm okay with this-- I am in... my happy place. Woosaaaahhh..."

"...You good?" Fragment asked.

"Getting there." I held up the comics. "These'll help."

"Glad to hear it," he replied.

"Guess I should thank the crazy lady next time I see her?"

"Probably not. Knowing Flow, it'd probably just provoke her."

"So you've had to put up with her for a while, huh?"

He grunted in affirmation. "Been a pain in my flank since the day we first met in basic training."

It's nice to know that the "secret" man language of grunts and gestures is cross-species.

"It's a shame, though," Fragment sighed, looking to the door.

I grunted questioningly.

"She may not act like it, but Flow Hammer is one of the best soldiers I've ever seen," he explained. "She gets almost as many commendations as she does reprimands. She could be the Captain of an entire Division, or Hay, even one of the Elite Guard if she wasn't so... so..."

"Bat-shit insane?" I offered.

"Hah! Yeah, pretty much." He started to say something else, but stopped to stifle a yawn. "Sorry about that, I didn't expect to be up this late. Or early, depending on how you look at it."

I checked a nearby clock. Three thirty in the morning.

"Yikes," I said. "I forgot it was even possible to be awake this early."

"Sorry again about that," Fragment winced.

"Hey," I waved him off. "What can you do, right?"

"I hear you. Welp, I guess I'll get going, now. Get out of your mane," he said, heading for the door.

"Take it easy," I called.

"You too. Get some rest."

"...'It just made me want to cuddle up'," I mocked once he left. "Pff. Right, like I'm getting to sleep after that."

I reached for the pile of books, grabbing one randomly from around the middle. Surprisingly, it was about Tarot. Unfortunately, my brain doesn't work after a certain time of night, so by the middle of the page I caught myself reading the same line over and over again. I set the book aside, and picked up the box instead.

Inside was a deck of Tarot cards. I drew one and examined it.

XVIII

On it were two large, foreboding pillars of grey, a winding path running between them. In the foreground, on the foot of the path were two animals; a black dog and a white wolf. They stood opposite each other, their muzzles turned upwards in simultaneous howls. Above them, a glowing silver moon hung in the night sky, its craters forming the head of a pony. It was as if the pony in the moon were gazing down on the earth below, silently watching...

I shivered, suddenly cold.

"Huh," I muttered, losing the card in the deck and thinking nothing more if it. I looked over a few other cards, then put them away.

I was finally tired enough to hopefully get to sleep again, as long as nobody else came by to screw with me.

I laid back, blowing out a breath.

"... All the ponies on this planet are crazy..."