The City

The clatter of broken glass snapped Neon Lights out of his drunken stupor. He looked over from where he sat in his easy chair to find that his drinking companion had dropped her tumbler of whiskey and it had shattered on the tile floor. This, in itself, was not unusual; nothing good ever came of the nights that he and Vinyl spent drinking together – nights that had steadily increased in frequency as the years wore on. No, the unusual part was his friend’s posture. Far from her usual drooling recline, she was sitting bolt-upright, her eyes wide as saucers and her body rigid.

“Heh,” he chuckled, “you havin’ a stroke, Scratch?”

Vinyl Scratch said nothing, her eyes remaining wide and her face going positively ashen.

“Oh man,” Neon breathed in alarm, watching as her lips repeatedly tried and failed to make an ‘O’ sound, “you are having a stroke! H-hold on! I-”

“Go home, Neon,” Vinyl said suddenly, staring straight ahead. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but she spoke with a firmness that was entirely uncharacteristic of the happy-go-lucky DJ.

“What’s wrong with you, Scratch?” he demanded, indignation rising in his chest as he began to feel there was some kind of party foul taking place. He followed her unwavering gaze over to the main entrance of the plush living room, where he saw a mare. At first Neon thought he could figure why Vinyl was upset; this pony had a very threatening look about her, to say the least. She was tall, lean, and hard, with a rough coat and many scars, the most notable being the sizeable chunk of her left ear that was missing. She also had some pretty interesting taste in fashion; a heavy leather coat with a high collar completed her menacing persona. This was the type of mare that only showed up when you were in trouble, and in the back of his mind, Neon began to wonder what kind of business dealings his friend had been engaged in of late.

Then he saw her eyes, and they were wet. Her jaw was set, and the rest of her face gave away no emotion, but those lavender eyes were shimmering with tears. Lavender eyes…and a gray coat…with a charcoal-black mane. Suddenly Neon understood, and his face went whiter than a sheet, because he was seeing a ghost. This was impossible, but if they were both seeing it, then there was a decent chance that it was happening.

He was about to mumble something, but stopped himself. Neon Lights was not a genius by any stretch of the imagination, but he was empathic, and realized that whatever he might be feeling right now, Vinyl was feeling it a thousand-fold. Without a word, he slipped out of his chair and exited through the sliding door at the back of the room, silently resolving to go home and drink himself insensate.

Vinyl Scratch remained unmoving, eyes locked with those of the mare before her. All the practical parts of her mind – which were few and far between – sang in agonizing chorus that this was just another drug-induced fever dream, but her heart told her it wasn’t. Every time she’d dreamt of this moment, she’d imagined her looking just the same as the day they’d been parted. Vinyl knew that she herself certainly didn’t look any different, besides being older. She’d never given much consideration to what Octavia might look like if she ever actually came back. What she saw before her was out of the realm of her wildest imagination, but then again, just the fact that she was seeing anything at all was an equal, if not greater stretch.

Animated by nothing other than sheer force of will, Vinyl compelled her body to move, getting up from where she sat on the couch. With meticulous deliberation, she forced her hooves to move forward while her eyes remained unblinkingly connected with the altered memory before her. She couldn’t close them, not even for a second, lest the image of her former lover disappear and rip her heart out one final, fatal time. She had to know this was real, and when she drew close enough, reached out a hoof. She ran it down Octavia’s face and neck, across the hard-corded muscle of her chest and leg.

“Tavi?” It was a question, and a very tentative one.

“Yes.”

Vinyl let her hoof linger upon that gray coat for a few more seconds before she slumped down onto her haunches, exhaling slowly and finally blinking, allowing the tears to stream down her cheeks. There were so many emotions raging within her heart, she didn’t know which one to feel. There were so many thoughts and questions swimming in her head, she didn’t know which one to say. As was her wont, she let the dumbest and most pedestrian one slip out.

“How…how ya been?”

Octavia seemed to relax suddenly, and a small smile crept onto her face. “Less than ideal,” she replied, “but I’m feeling better now.”

The voice. The tone was less melodious and more even than Vinyl remembered. The sound was less smooth and more ragged than she remembered. The accent was less practiced and more subdued than she remembered. But it was unmistakable. Vinyl shuddered, her body threatening to go into shock from sheer emotional confusion.

“H-how…?” She stammered, tensing up. Any movement threatened to throw her into a fit of sobs from which there would be no return.

“Shhh,” Octavia stroked her electric-blue mane soothingly. Vinyl whimpered piteously, leaning into that long-forgotten touch, her whole body shivering. The gray mare removed a heavy black jacket from her back and slung it over the white unicorn’s shoulders. “Let’s just go sit down, and catch up, alright?”

“I missed you,” Vinyl whispered through quivering lips, letting the second dumbest, second most pedestrian thought in her mind escape.

“And I you,” the earth mare assured her. It wasn’t that her tone was emotionless, it was just tempered, like hot steel quenched in icy water. She stepped closer and knelt down, lifting Vinyl’s chin so they were face to face. “Please,” she entreated, “don’t cry. I…” she paused, closing her eyes and breathing deeply, “I’ve done many things so that I could see your face again. Is it too much to ask that you might smile for me?”

Vinyl Scratch began to crack. As much as she wanted to smile, she threw her legs around Octavia’s neck and began weeping. “I c-can’t,” she choked out, each syllable punctuated by one or more sobs, “I forgot…how…” After that her speech became indecipherable. She had no idea how long it lasted, but was constantly and acutely aware of the hoof that held her in those throes of sadness and relief, a strong and rigid grasp that felt so familiar and yet so alien at the same time. Octavia wasn’t supposed to feel hard, she was supposed to be soft and delicate. Octavia wasn’t supposed to have scars, she was supposed to be the pretty one. Octavia wasn’t supposed to go away, she was supposed to be there to love Vinyl every day of her life. But she hadn’t been.

And it had been Vinyl’s own fault.

Vinyl only realized she’d fainted because she woke up, and you can’t wake up from being conscious…at least not without the proper medication. Hesitantly, she cracked an eyelid and cautiously surveyed her living room. Everything seemed in order, except the mare inhabiting the easy chair that sat perpendicular to the couch where she now lay. Normally Neon sat there, slumped over and clutching a beer. But now Octavia – or some version of Octavia – occupied it, legs crossed, posture immaculate as always, raising a cup of tea to her lips. She took a sip and smiled blissfully.

“Heavenly,” she said, relaxing back into her seat.

“T-Tavi…”

“Give me just a moment, Vinyl, it’s been a long time since I’ve had a proper tea.” She took a few more sips, savoring each drop, and then cast a soft glance upon her stricken companion. “So,” Octavia asked, “how’ve you been, love?”

Vinyl Scratch shuddered involuntarily, wrapping herself tightly in the coat that had been draped over her shoulders. She’d spent countless, lonely nights longing to hear that voice, to be called ‘love,’ to see those lavender eyes gazing back into hers. Now that it was finally happening, the situation felt so surreal that her brain was threatening to sauté itself inside her skull.

“How…how have I been?” She stammered incredulously, “how have you been? Where have you been? What happened? Wh-”

“Vinyl, please,” Octavia cut off the string of questions, “I’m a bit tired. I know you have questions, but for right now, if it’s not too much to ask, could you just tell me how you’ve been?”

Vinyl’s jaw danced a conga as her mind attempted to fire off about fifty different responses at once, not succeeding in producing a single syllable. She wanted to scream, then she wanted to say something witty, then she wanted to cry, but finally she just hung her head and mumbled.

“Bad.”

“I’m…so sorry to hear that,” Octavia said. There was no sarcasm whatsoever in the utterance, only genuine sympathy, as if the most concerning aspect of this entire situation was that Vinyl had been depressed. The gray mare put down her empty teacup and then reached for the partially-drained bottle of whiskey that sat on the coffee table. “Do you mind?” She asked as her hoof hovered over it.

“You don’t drink bourbon,” Vinyl told her flatly.

“I’ve learned to take what I can get,” Octavia replied serenely. No sooner had Vinyl begun to nod her head than the amber liquid was being poured into Neon’s abandoned glass. She watched with detached discomfort as her long-departed paramour knocked back one tumbler, then poured herself a second. Octavia took another long draught, then sank once more into the easy chair with a sigh, eyes closed. She rested for a moment, her breathing so ponderously slow it sent a spike of panic through Vinyl’s body every twenty seconds as it appeared she was expiring each time her chest fell. “It seems you’ve had company, at the very least,” Octavia spoke again at length, “I hoped you wouldn’t be lonely. You haven’t been lonely, have you?”

“Well, no,” Vinyl admitted, “in a sense. Lyra and Bonnie were really cool. I mean, they actually stayed here for a while, just so I wouldn’t be alone. I owe them a lot…they just left their lives in Ponyville to come be with me, and they never asked for anything back. And, well, you remember Neon, right?”

“Yes. Just saw him, in fact.”

“You know what I mean,” the corners of Vinyl’s mouth twitched upward. “He’s been…he’s been the best, actually. I’d barely talked to him since college, but after you…after what happened, he just crawled out of the woodwork and started helping me out wherever he could. In the beginning I thought he had some kind of agenda, but he really doesn’t. He’s a moron, but…well, he’s a sweet guy. I guess we kind of have that in common.”

Octavia took another long sip of her liquor and opened her eyes, the slightest hint of strain in the smile that graced her worn, but still-delicate features.

“Does he make you happy?” She asked with carefully measured inflection.

“Well, yeah, I guess…I mean…” the little color that had returned to Vinyl’s face drained again, her cerise eyes training on Octavia’s in disbelief. “Wait, what are you asking?”

“Vinyl,” the earth mare breathed, taking another sip and then leaning forward to rest her glass on the table, “it’s okay.” She rose and reseated herself on the couch, right next to the distraught unicorn, stroking her cheek with a rough, callused hoof. Vinyl could smell some recently-applied perfume, the same elderflower that lingered in Octavia’s old room to this day, but there was something underneath it, something dark and smoky, like mahogany and pipe tobacco with a hint of sweat. “Vinyl,” Octavia said again, gazing at her with expertly restrained emotion, “I didn’t come home with any expectations. I didn’t expect this place to still be here, I definitely didn’t expect my key to still turn the lock, and I certainly didn’t expect you to be here waiting for me. It’s been over a decade. I was gone longer than we were together, now that I think about it, and if you think I’d begrudge-”

“Twelve years, three months, and seventeen days.”

“I…what?”

“Twelve years, three months, and…” Vinyl gasped raggedly, her tears flowing freely once again, “and seventeen days. That’s how long you were gone.”

“You counted, did you?”

“How…could you think I wouldn’t?”

“Viny-” Octavia’s placation was silenced, her vision filled with electric blue hair. She tasted a distant memory, thousands of willfully repressed desires exploding into her psyche as she relished the nearly-forgotten combination of whiskey, cigarettes, and blueberry lip gloss. Some things never change, and she found the familiar flavors to be far more emotionally evocative than the sight of Equestrian shores or the gleaming spires of Canterlot. The passionate onslaught was fierce and desperate, almost angry, as if questioning Octavia’s very existence and daring her to disappear once more. She answered the challenge, wrapping her forelegs around her lover’s head and pressing their faces together still harder. She collapsed back into the soft cushions, pulling Vinyl on top of her. After a brief eternity their lips parted, eyes locked, foreheads touching.

“I never stopped hoping,” Vinyl breathed, her heart pounding against Octavia’s, “never.”

“Nor did I.”

“They all…everyone told me to give up, to move on and live my life, but I didn’t. I couldn’t…n-not without you.”

“I’m here now,” Octavia kissed her tenderly on the cheek, “I’m home, and we can both get back to living.” She could feel the white mare’s body quaking in her arms, breaths short and shallow, still trying to hold back for some misguided reason. “You don’t have to hurt anymore, love,” she said delivering a few more kisses and stroking that unruly blue mane, Vinyl’s face now buried in her neck, “you can let go now.” She felt another tremor, then a sudden pressure as a pair of limbs seized her like a vice. “Just let go, I’m here to catch you.” The shaking and sniffling abated for a moment – the calm before the storm. Then the dam broke, and Vinyl cried out with the same pain and relief as someone finally removing a steel bar that had impaled her through the chest. It was not a chaotic emotional reaction as the tears that had fallen before, this was a tribute, long-overdue. It was a tribute to years upon years of vacant halls and solitary nights – to empty beds, quiet mornings, and the cruel echoes of the music and laughter that once rang through a silent house. It was the song of a thousand memories that they should have shared – but never would – singing their collective chorus through the wails of one. Gently but firmly, Octavia held her beloved close, face contorted with sorrow. Her own voice threatened to join the song, but she didn’t let it, because she didn’t need to. For the first time in a long time, someone else was speaking for her, a wonderful feeling she hadn’t known she’d missed until she felt it again. Many years ago, two souls that were inextricably intertwined had been pulled apart, and their reunion was as cataclysmically painful as their separation, wounds long scarred-over ripping open so that they might be knit back together again.

As Vinyl’s cries slowly subsided, her body went limp, an occasional whimper or spasm being the only sign that she was still conscious. Octavia rocked her back and forth, cradling her head and murmuring soothingly into her ear, promising over and over that everything would be okay. She didn’t know if it was true, but she hoped, and hope had gotten her further than she’d ever imagined. When at last the storm had passed and both bodies were calm once again, she heard a whisper, hoarse but forceful.

“I love you, Tavi.”

“And I you,” she sighed, “my dearest love.”

When Vinyl awoke and attempted to open her eyes, it felt like scraping chewing gum off of asphalt. She’d been on more than her fair share of benders, but she couldn’t recall ever feeling so spectacularly dehydrated.

Well, maybe once…

She groaned as the world slowly shifted into focus through half-cracked lids, noting as she glanced around that she’d at least had the foresight to leave herself a glass of water. She sat up, her aching back objecting furiously, and lifted the vessel from its spot on the coffee table with a quick spark of her aura. She nearly choked several times as she drank it down greedily. Vinyl cracked her neck and then scanned the room for her discarded shades, which were resting by Octavia’s teapot. She magicked them into their proper place on the bridge of her nose and then yawned loudly, like a bear stirring from hibernation.

Vision filtered once again through familiar magenta, she found the world much more manageable. Surveying the previous night’s wreckage, she noticed the broom and dustpan in one corner of the room, indicating that she’d broken something last night. Or Neon had. Yeah, it was probably him. As her gaze drifted lazily about, she noticed one entirely unfamiliar item resting on the arm of the couch. She removed her shades and set them atop her horn, squinting slightly as her eyes adjusted to the light, then reached over and picked it up with her hooves.

It was a jacket – thick, black, and made of leather, which was a rather uncommon and somewhat taboo material in Equestria, considering where it had to come from. It was extremely heavy; the hide was double-layered and all of the seams had been further reinforced with overlain strips. Every inch of it was scraped, scarred, and stitched. It had two collars. The first flared out like the normal collar of a jacket, except much larger, like a throwback to the era when everybody was listening to disco and bellbottoms were an acceptable fashion choice. The second, however, was hard and stiff like a belt, even having a brass buckle in the front. The more Vinyl looked it over, the more confusing she found it. This garment was some bizarre cross between a light suit of armor and a costume one might see at the theatre. It had a musky smell about it, and when she inhaled, she tasted smoke, hardwood, and…

In a flash, the veil of morning amnesia was ripped away, and memories of the previous night came flooding back. The broken glass…the teapot…this coat. She remembered them all now, and why they were there.

Ignoring her body’s protests, she jumped to her hooves, looking around frantically for any sign of Octavia. She dashed into the adjacent room, which happened to be the kitchen. Nothing seemed overtly different, but the smell of batter and syrup lingered, and there were a few freshly-washed dishes in the drainer by the sink. She darted back through the living room, down the hallway on the other side, and up the stairs. Before even reaching the first landing, she heard it: music. The rumble of a grand piano, muffled by walls and closed doors, met her ears. Vinyl’s heart began thumping in her chest as she dashed past the bedrooms and up to the studio on the third floor. She hesitated a moment after reaching the entrance, attempting to compose herself just a bit, not entirely sure what awaited her on the other side of that door. After a few deep, even breaths, she reached for the handle, only to find that it wasn’t even latched. The door creaked open, and her ears were flooded with sound.

The studio was massive and occupied the entire third floor of the house, and fittingly so considering the chosen professions of the two mares who owned it. It was decked out with state-of-the-art recording and mixing equipment, as well as a vocal booth on the left, while the right side was something akin to a lounge, hosting an aesthetically pleasing arrangement of couches, chairs, and tables. A full bar, complete with cushy seats, lined the wall behind them. This was not only where they recorded all of their music, but also threw parties and entertained guests in times past. The far wall, however, was the real crown jewel of the place. It was true that Octavia preferred her cello and Vinyl her turntables, but between the two of them, they were more or less capable of playing every instrument known to ponydom – at least in some capacity – and the staggering collection of musical devices that resided there was a testament to that fact. When they had met all those years ago in college, each had been beholden to one form of music, but by their late twenties, a never-ending string of collaborative efforts had sent them into a constant game of one-upsmareship, each vying to be the first to master an increasingly eclectic list of instruments. Guitars, both acoustic and electric, violins, violas, cellos, a double bass, all manner of brass and reeds, unnecessarily elaborate drum and percussion kits, as well as some more obscure offerings such as a lap steel and a harpsichord, were all gathered together in a display that one could only hope to see either in a music exhibit, or in the home of two mares who were both extraordinarily talented and obscenely rich.

Her gaze was drawn to the ebony grand piano situated next to a ludicrous assortment of keyboards. There sat Octavia, her back turned, body swaying slightly, playing a forceful ballad. When Vinyl’s first hoof finally crossed the threshold to the room, the playing suddenly became softer, and for a moment she thought she’d disturbed the engrossed musician. Then the tune began to pick up again, and she heard the shift in time signature.

…one…two…three…one…two…three…

Vinyl counted off the beats, realizing that the piece had transitioned into a waltz. She slowly approached the piano, her gait stuttering as she unconsciously attempted to step in time to a song that could only be properly followed by two sets of hooves working in tandem. Drawing closer, she heard something else – a soft humming that followed the melody, dancing around it. Not five feet away, she sat back on her haunches and listened as the humming that emanated from Octavia’s chest grew more audible. The accompanying notes became a thundering staccato, before the piece fell into a smooth diminuendo. It kept in time while softly reprising and reworking the tune she had heard upon entering. She shivered as it was joined by a voice once again, not humming now, but singing wordlessly along. Ponies often wondered why Octavia’s cutie mark was a treble clef when she was primarily a cellist. Vinyl, however, knew exactly why; that mark had not come from her ability to play the cello, but from her voice. After a moment, the waltz sped up ever so slightly, and being intimately familiar with her partner’s way of structuring songs, she waited for the inevitable lyrics.

“Good morning, Vinyl.”

The music stopped and Vinyl Scratch was snapped out of her reverie, jumping a good six inches into the air, which was rather impressive from a sitting position.

“I-I’m sorry,” she stammered, “I didn’t mean to interrupt. I thought I was being quiet.”

“You were,” Octavia said simply. Slowly she turned around, and Vinyl’s heart sped up for a moment as she half expected to see something terrifying instead of a face. But no, it was Octavia. Not the same soft, youthful Octavia that she remembered, but it was undeniably her. In the sober light of day, it slowly dawned on her just how dissimilar this mare was from the one she knew. The basic structure was there – long limbs and a sleek body – but supple curves had been replaced by toned firmness. She wasn’t bulky by any means – in fact she was slimmer than Vinyl remembered – but it was as if every superfluous bit had been trimmed away, leaving only the raw, lean necessities that survival demanded. Her mane was cropped short in the back, as was her tail, the only remaining vestige of her former style being her bangs. Most of her left ear was missing, while the right one was thrice pierced, sporting three rings of brass. But most noticeable of all were the scars. Her entire body – mainly her legs and chest – was crisscrossed with a haphazard lattice of healed wounds. There was a massive one that reached in a diagonal from her right shoulder down to the top of her left foreleg, as well as a jagged one that started at the corner of her mouth and ran nearly all the way across her hollow cheek to the damaged ear.

It was only when a small, melancholy smile began to creep onto Octavia’s face that Vinyl realized – to her horror – that she was staring with a slackened jaw. She shut her mouth and blinked, opening it again to fumble an apology, but a raised hoof silenced her.

“It’s okay, love,” the gray mare said with a nonchalance that didn’t sound entirely forced, “I must be quite a sight.”

“I-”

“Fancy a drink?” Octavia asked, her voice just a bit too high, “all that playing’s made me thirsty.” Without waiting for an answer, she stood up, trotting across the room to the bar on the other side. As she rummaged through the shelves, Vinyl sat down at one of the cushy stools that lined the counter. The clanking of bottles went on for a good two minutes before the earth mare finally turned around with a look of disdain. “You have every variety of flavored vodka under the sun, and not a single bottle of scotch?”

“Oh, you know me,” the unicorn said, a grin suddenly lighting up her face, “I’m just a ‘classless, plebeian piece of rave-trash who wouldn’t know fine liquor from the sweat dripping off her abundant backside, were she not so obviously familiar with the latter flavor’.”

There was a sharp bark of laughter, followed by a stifled snickering as Octavia sat down on the spot, covering her mouth. Her attempts to maintain composure were fruitless, and soon both mares were joined in raucous mirth. After a minute she calmed down a bit, rubbing her sides and wiping a tear from her eye. “Oh dear,” she sighed with a chuckle, “you really aren’t ever going to let me live that one down, are you?”

“Live it down?” Vinyl asked incredulously, “it’s like you’re saying you should be ashamed of it! That was one of the most eye-opening moments of my life; I realized that insults could be an art, and I realized that I had to go out with you so you could teach it to me. You could’ve just panned my taste in music, but you really went the extra mile.”

“I didn’t have to, love, your taste in music was self-evidently horrible.”

“Snob,” Vinyl deadpanned.

“Punk!” Octavia retorted, turning up her nose, then went back to pawing through the shelves.

“Look under the sink, babe.”

Still unable to entirely shake the giggles, and more than a bit giddy from being called ‘babe’ for the first time in an eternity, Octavia leaned down and opened the cabinet under the basin, pretending to look around, but really concentrating more on swaying her hips back and forth suggestively. This was an odd situation, to say the least. There was a vestige of their old relationship that remained alive, and they still loved each other – last night had proven that beyond a doubt – but now that she and Vinyl were trying to resume some semblance of the menial, day-to-day interactions that all couples relish in, it was as if – due to lack of practice – they had simply reverted back to the kind of flirting they’d engaged in upon first meeting. It was objectively different, seeing as they were playing upon a long, shared history, but in some ways it felt the same. Amidst these musings, she spotted a familiar label. Curiously, she reached back and grabbed the bottle, examining it and confirming her suspicions – Griffidich, one of the finest single malts in all of the Equestrian territories, and her personal favorite.

“Is this…mine?” She asked, sitting back and cradling the bottle in her hooves.

“Nah,” Vinyl replied, “I went through…I mean, I was pretty down for a while and I took this place to the cleaners. But I bought that a while back. Just, you know…just in case.”

“Oh,” the gray mare whispered distantly. She gave one short, sharp shake of her head and then stood, placing the bottle upon the counter, along with two glasses from underneath it. Once the cork was popped and the libations poured, she raised her glass. “Cheers.”

“Yeah…cheers,” Vinyl answered after a moment of deliberation, her response punctuated by a clink. The room was suddenly very quiet, the levity that had permeated it only moments ago draining so rapidly it was almost audible. As the minutes dragged on and they both became increasingly adept at avoiding eye contact, she finally took it upon herself to break the silence, even if it was with the most uncomfortable topic possible. “Sorry I like, freaked out on you last night.”

Octavia swirled her glass and then took another sip, eyes suddenly snapping up to meet her counterpart’s, wearing what may have been the world’s most perfect poker face. “I think it was warranted, Vinyl,” her tone was hollow and equally unreadable, “do you?”

Feeling her hold on the situation slipping, the unicorn attempted backpedal, stammering. “What I meant…wait…I’m not sorry that I was...I mean…I love you, you know?” she blurted out suddenly. Octavia blinked. Vinyl, sensing that there was only one way she was both going to stop herself from saying anything stupid and soothe the disquiet that had gripped her since she woke up, cut her currently useless brain out of the equation and opened up a direct channel between her voice and her heart. “I missed you, Tavi,” she said, cerise eyes locking on the lavender ones in front of her, “and I won’t say ‘you don’t know how much,’ because I get the feeling you do. I’m scared, because I’ve been fantasizing about seeing you again for twelve years, and now that you’re here, I’m not even sure what we are anymore. I know we said things last night, but honestly, I was really drunk, and I’m not sure how much of it was real and how much I dreamed. I’m still afraid that I’m just gonna wake up again on that couch and find this room empty when I run upstairs. Part of me feels like I finally have you back, but the other part of me feels like we just met, an-” the increasingly frantic speech was silenced by Octavia’s lips meeting hers. Vinyl tensed for a moment, then melted into the kiss, her body slowly relaxing. The tension that had been building in her chest all morning released, and she sighed gratefully. It was an awkward embrace, seeing as there was a counter between the two of them, but neither party seemed to care. A small whine of discontent escaped Vinyl’s throat when Octavia finally broke away, but she calmed again when she felt two smaller kisses follow, one on the tip of her nose and another on her forehead.

“Since when did you worry so much?” The earth mare asked, her shimmering eyes accompanied by the slightest hint of a smirk.

“Since…a while,” Vinyl stared at the bar top a little too intently. She felt a hoof brush against her cheek, and she looked up to see an affectionate smile.

“Do you remember what I said last night, love?”

“Maybe?” She felt no small amount of guilt at being so ponderously intoxicated during their reunion.

“I said you don’t have to hurt anymore,” Octavia kissed the tip of her muzzle once more, “neither of us do. If you’re worried about me leaving again, then don’t, because I’m not going anywhere. I never will, I promise you.”

“Okay,” Vinyl whispered. Silence once again fell, but it was of an entirely different sort this time, and neither mare felt any need to break it.

Octavia paused at the door to the master bedroom, wondering why Vinyl was continuing down the hall.

“Where are we going?” She asked.

“I told you,” the unicorn answered, stopping and looking over her shoulder, “I’ve got something for you.”

“In the guest rooms?” Octavia reached out to turn the door handle, only to find that it was locked. Vinyl turned around and trotted up to her, resting a hoof on her back and nodding her head toward the end of the hall. After a short, wordless exchange of facial expressions they continued in their original direction.

“The bedroom felt a little…empty with just me in it,” Vinyl explained as they reached the final room on the corridor, “so I moved down here.”

The moment the door opened, the smell of stale tobacco assaulted Octavia’s nostrils, as well as other smoky odors that raised a few questions. She’d always enforced a strict policy of no smoking in the house, but supposed she couldn’t penalize infractions during such a long absence. It was pitch black, and she reached for the light switch, but nothing happened when she flipped it. Vinyl stepped into the room, sparking her horn for a moment as she made her way over to a small night stand and turned on the lamp that sat there. What its light fell upon could only be described as a modern museum of slackerdom. The small bed in the far corner was surrounded by a veritable mountain range of beer cans. There were no sheets on it, and the bunched-up comforter had no cover. Comic books and trashy romance novels blanketed the bed and the adjacent floor space. The desk that stood against the wall by the door was littered with sheet music and cigarette butts, the waste bin next to it overflowing with crumpled paper and empty bags of various snack foods. All in all it was a near carbon copy of Vinyl’s college apartment.

“Yeah,” the white mare began sheepishly, “I, uh, should probably clean this up at some point.”

Octavia smiled. Being the borderline obsessive-compulsive that she was, she’d always found Vinyl’s ability to be content amidst complete chaos oddly charming in a very reprehensible way. She often envied it. “So, what is it you wanted to show me?” She queried, a small smile creeping onto her face at the sight of her partner’s obvious embarrassment.

“Oh, right,” Vinyl opened the cabinet underneath the night stand and magicked a small cardboard box from its depths. She stepped over the blockade of cans and presented it to the gray mare. Octavia sat down and undid the small knot of twine that held it closed, using her teeth with a dexterity and finesse that only earth ponies are forced to master. She removed the lid and examined the item within.

Her gaze fell upon a silk of soft pink and white cotton underneath. It was a bowtie. It was her bowtie, the one she used to insist on wearing no matter what the occasion. It was that indispensable accessory that had once been her stylistic signature. Yet it couldn’t be; her bowtie had been lost a long time ago. Her brow furrowed and the corner of her mouth turned down, but her eyes glistened.

“I had that made a little while ago,” Vinyl said quietly, “just in case.”

Without a word, Octavia fastened it around her neck with practiced ease, and walked over to the large sliding mirror on the far side of the room. She saw in her reflection the face that she’d grown so accustomed to over the years, but now it was accented by a remnant of times past, something from when she was young and frivolous and beholden to dreams. The tie looked distressingly out of place on the current landscape of her body, and for a moment she wondered if it had ever really looked as dignified as she once thought.

The minutes passed. Octavia just stared at herself, and Vinyl just stared at Octavia, whose expression was mute, the perfect face of non-emotion. Vinyl’s anxiety began to mount, and finally she attempted to relieve it in the only way she knew how: by opening her mouth.

“Tavi, you oka-”

“Let’s have lunch, Vinyl,” the gray mare interrupted. Her words weren’t aggressive, but they were sharp and final. She trotted briskly out of the bedroom and down the hall, her unicorn counterpart following a few paces behind.

Octavia was a mare of many talents; her singing was enchanting, her playing elegant, and she could waltz, tango, or even square-dance with the best of them. However, one domain she had absolutely no talent in whatsoever was cooking. That being said, she was an excellent cook, yet it was not because of some natural aptitude she had for the craft, but rather from years upon years of trial, error, and constant failure. Never in any of her music-related endeavors had she experienced as much crushing defeat as she had in her quest to learn how to make edible food, but her mother had instilled in her from such an early age the idea that a proper mare must know how to cook for her stallion – or other mare, in this case – that the drive to improve her work in the kitchen had been ingrained into her very subconscious. When she’d met Vinyl – who couldn’t make a grilled cheese sandwich without committing felony-level property damage – the urgency had only increased, lest they go broke from dining out all the time.

“So, what would you like?” She asked her partner, any lingering melancholy disappearing from her demeanor as a smile lit up her face.

“Aww, c’mon Tavi, you don’t have to make lunch, we can go out or order something.”

“I insist.”

“Well,” Vinyl sat down at the small table and tapped a hoof to her chin, “I’d could use a-”

“Don’t say grilled cheese.”

“B-but that’s what I wanted!” The unicorn protested with mock anguish.

“Oh, very well,” Octavia chuckled, “I was just hoping for more of a challenge.”

“I don’t think we even have anything besides bread and cheese,” Vinyl admitted.

“Actually,” the earth mare countered, “I went out for groceries this morning, but never mind that. If it’s a sandwich you want, a sandwich you shall have.” She made her way across the white tiles of the lavish kitchen and opened the refrigerator, pulling out a block of aged cheddar. “Pan-fried or flat-pressed?”

“Wait,” Vinyl furrowed her brow, clearly contemplating something, “you know that thing…like, your mom used to make it…the thing with the rice and the cheese and the mushrooms?”

Several reactions danced through Octavia’s mind at once, but she recovered fast enough for a timely response. “You mean the mushroom risotto?”

“Yeah, I think.”

“Now that,” she clapped her hooves together, “is a proper meal. You’ll have to wait a bit, though.”

“I’m in no hurry to be anywhere but here, Tavi,” the white mare said warmly.

Octavia giggled, trotting over to the table and planting a kiss on Vinyl’s cheek. “You’re such a sap,” she teased.

“I know,” her lover replied, nuzzling her neck.

As Octavia set about preparing the requested dish, a single nagging thought kept chipping away at the idyllic normalcy of her domestic endeavors. Finally realizing that sooner was better than later, she paused amidst dicing up the mushrooms to ask a dreaded question. “Vinyl…”

“Yeah?”

“How are my parents? Are they…well?”

“Yeah, I think so, I actually haven’t spo-wait…you haven’t seen your parents yet?”

“No, love,” Octavia confessed, “I stopped at the bank to retrieve my extra key and then came straight here.”

“Holy Luna, Tavi, I didn’t even think about it,” Vinyl’s posture straightened abruptly, her hooves gripping the edges of the table, “they would’ve called me! They would be here! How have…you need to call them now! We need to call Lyra and Bonnie too!”

“Vinyl, please…”

“Tavi, who knows you’re here?”

“Well,” Octavia reflected for a moment, “You and Neon, obviously, and whoever saw me when I went out this morning.”

“Forget lunch,” Vinyl stood up and rushed over to her, cerise eyes frenetic and distressed, “we have to go see them now.”

“Vinyl, calm down, I-”

“Tavi,” the white mare entreated, “do you want them to find out from some random acquaintance who saw you walking around town?”

“Nopony recognized me, love,” Octavia assured her, taking a deep breath. “I just have a lot of things on my mind I need to sort through before I deal with anyone.”

“Babe, they’re your parents. They deserve to know.”

“Vinyl…”

“If we had a daughter, and she suddenly came back from the dead and didn’t tell us, how would you feel?”

“Vinyl, stop…”

“How long are you gonna wait? A day? A week? A month? They think you’re dead, Tavi, how can y–”

“Enough!” Octavia roared. She rose to her full height – which was substantial for a mare – and bore down on the frightened unicorn, shoving a hoof into her chest. “You listen to me, love,” her voice was low and dangerous, simmering with anger, “you cannot imagine the things I’ve done to return to this place, or at least I sincerely hope you can’t.” Her face was twisted into an inferno of warring emotions barely contained, and Vinyl was suddenly acutely aware of just how easily this new version of Octavia could hurt her if she wanted. “Don’t you dare make me feel guilt. I will do things as I see fit, and I will not be pushed or coerced ever again. I will…” her tirade trailed off when she noticed Vinyl’s entire body shaking. She hadn’t backed down, but she was shuddering, her eyes wide and wet.

“I’m s-sorry,” came the trembling apology.

Octavia sank down onto her haunches, blinking a few times. She’d hardly ever raised her voice against Vinyl before; she loved the spiky-haired DJ too much. “No, Vinyl,” she breathed, barely above a whisper, “I’m sorry. I’m so very sorry.” When she reached out to touch her beloved, the white mare flinched ever so slightly, and in that moment Octavia felt a guilt more profound than that which had incited her ire. She grabbed Vinyl roughly and pulled her into a desperate embrace, feeling tensed muscles against her own. The seconds ticked on in silence, and both mares relaxed. Octavia could feel the rise and fall of her distraught counterpart’s chest gradually slowing down. “I’m so sorry, love. I’m terribly sorry.”

“It’s okay,” Vinyl croaked, the utterance followed by a few very audible sniffles. Octavia released her vice-like hug so that they could look at each other face to face. Their eyes met once again, and she brushed away a few errant strands of electric blue that were obstructing the view. For a while there was only silence as she stroked that wild but beautiful mane.

“I didn’t expect this,” Octavia said at length, her words slow and deliberate. “I thought everything would be different. I came home expecting to find a family in this house, if the house was even still here. I thought you would’ve moved on and found someone or…somepony, rather, to live your life with. I didn’t expect my parents to still be alive. And yet,” she inhaled a bit sharply, but released her breath evenly, “here you are. Here it all is. You’ve just been waiting for me. I feel like the world just paused itself in anticipation of my return, and it’s more wonderful and welcoming than I ever could have hoped. I just…I need some time.”

“Tavi,” Vinyl caressed her lover’s face with a reassuring hoof, “I love you.” Octavia closed her eyes and sighed.

“I love you too,” she murmured, “I never stopped, and I never will,” after a few blissful moments, she let her gaze meet Vinyl’s once again. “I need some time to figure out how to be me again.”