The City

Chapter Two

Vinyl Scratch awoke to a dark room, shivering slightly. It wasn’t that she was necessarily cold, but rather she was missing a particular kind of warmth – namely that of the body which had rested next to her as she drifted off. Emotional arousal burned the sleepy fog from her head as she panicked for the second time in the last twenty-four hours, wondering if it had all been a dream. Sharp breaths carried with them a familiar scent, and her nerves calmed as sensory evidence began to contradict the wild theories that were racing through her mind. Despite being prone to anxiety in her waking hours, Octavia had always been a heavy sleeper, so the fact that she was now absent was somewhat unsettling. Vinyl briefly wondered how the mare had slipped off unnoticed, seeing as she recalled holding her in a four-limbed vice grip as they had fallen asleep. Rolling toward the far edge of the bed, she grabbed a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand, igniting one with a quick incendiary spell. She had half a mind to just go back to sleep, hopefully waking up in the morning with the gray mare once again in her arms, no questions asked. Still, she had a suspicion that not everything was as different as it seemed, and years of experience had taught her that the times when Octavia attempted to isolate herself were the ones in which she most desperately needed company.

Vinyl trotted down the hallway, which was dark save for the flood of moonlight pouring through a single window. She found the various pictures that hung along its length a bit unnerving at night, the smiling portraits of family and friends taking on strange casts when the sun went down. Once, she’d tried turning them all around, only to find the thought of those eternally happy faces hiding behind their frames and staring unblinkingly at the wall infinitely creepier. She could’ve sworn one of them was missing, but didn’t feel like stopping to think on it. When she reached the stairwell, she listened for any hint of music drifting down from upstairs, but heard nothing.

Vinyl felt a mounting tension in her chest as she descended to the ground floor; she’d spent far too many nights alone in this house’s vast expanse not to have developed a certain degree of paranoia. She figured her younger self would’ve laughed at her, but then again, her younger self hadn’t known that ponies could vanish into the night…or return from the dead, for that matter. Why did we have to buy such a big house? She lamented internally. Because you were young, stupid, and rich, a different corner of her mind answered sagely. Then again, she reflected that the large home had – at least in her mind – carried with it the distant but heavily implicit promise of some kind of family. She found it hard to believe Octavia hadn’t been thinking the same thing. Either that, or she had been planning to form a small, private orchestra and offer them all living accommodations. It was not out of the realm of possibility. Still, Vinyl didn’t think that was the case, and she wondered what the empty mansion might be like if life hadn’t decided to be so thoroughly cruel to its owners. Would there be wedding pictures hanging from the walls? Possibly toys strewn about the living room? Maybe the odd, out-of-place possession of a visiting relative or a guest? Would her echoing hoofsteps be drowned out by the muffled throbbing of music that was supposed to be off at this hour? Or…could things be exactly the same? Worse even? Might memories of lonely nights still fill her mind, carried not by the vain hope of reunion, but the crushing finality of black veils and caskets? Or might it instead be Octavia who wandered sleeplessly through the corridors while she herself rested in the earth? One had to admit, Vinyl realized as her hoof met the first step, that they were both alive, and however broken a world might be, it can still be rebuilt, provided all the pieces are still there.

Vinyl was jarred out of her introspection when she noticed her hooves climbing stairs instead of descending them. Stopping in her tracks, she realized her hypothetical musings had carried her through the living room, through the kitchen, past the dining table and the foyer, and part way upstairs again. A chill ran up her spine upon realizing that, though she hadn’t exactly been paying attention, she was quite sure she hadn’t run into Octavia anywhere along the way. Wild thoughts from earlier returned, this time without the benefit of seemingly concrete evidence to contradict them.

Now mentally present, Vinyl Scratch wandered into the living room to find everything as it had been left the night before – an empty bottle of bourbon sat on the coffee table, accompanied by two tumblers that denoted the relative positions of the ponies drinking from them. As she surveyed her surroundings, a ray of light caught her eye, and she noticed a disused electric lantern casting its glow upon a bed of flowers in the back yard, beyond the threshold of the sliding glass door that dominated the far wall. She realized, upon closer inspection, that the door was unlocked and slightly ajar, cool air licking her face as she drew closer.

Vinyl stepped out into the night, finding that not one, but many of the garden lights had been turned on for the first time in Celestia knew how long. The garden had always been exclusively Octavia’s domain; when she was there, Vinyl hadn’t cared about it, and when she was gone, Vinyl hadn’t the heart to look upon it. She followed the well-lit path, eyes drawn to-and-fro by moths that flitted about the lamps. The flagstones had been encroached upon over the years by untended hedges, and though she knew where they lead, she had no idea how it would look upon her arrival.

The path opened up into a small clearing, encircled by wild overgrowth. At its center sat a wrought iron table with matching chairs, and in the closest chair sat a gray mare, her back turned to Vinyl. One of her ears twitched, but she didn’t move or say a word. Cautiously, the unicorn made her way to the opposite chair and sat down. Three items sat upon the tabletop: a bottle, a glass, and a picture frame. Not taking her eyes off the latter object, Octavia poured some of the contents of the bottle into the glass, and slid it over to Vinyl, who, upon taking a sip, wondered for the thousandth time in her life how anypony could like scotch. Being a mare with a certain reverence for alcohol, she downed the rest of it as quickly as she could, refusing to let it go to waste, then magicked the pack of smokes out of her bathrobe’s pocket, hoping she could erase the woody taste from her palate. Wisps of smoke curled in front of her vision, illuminated here and there by the lamps that rose from the ground. Octavia’s eyes shifted from their current resting spot to meet her own.

“I don’t suppose you have another one of those?” Vinyl’s only response was to levitate a cigarette up to Octavia’s lips. The gray mare took it with her hoof – the logistics of manipulating any object smaller than a bowling ball with one’s bare hooves were still baffling to the unicorn – and extracted a  battered lighter from the pocket of the curious black jacket that Vinyl had been examining earlier that day.

“Where’d you get the neat coat?” The DJ inquired, trying her best to make the question sound innocent.

“I know it’s hideous, love,” Octavia smiled, running a hoof over the myriad scuffs and scars that crisscrossed the aged leather, “but I’ve gotten rather used to it. It was a gift from a friend, and I think it suits me to a certain degree at this point.”

Vinyl kept her expression noncommittal, but felt a pit begin to form in her stomach. There had been an implicit statement in those words that caused her no small amount of distress. As if responding to unspoken thoughts, Octavia returned her attention to the framed picture resting on the table, the one Vinyl now realized had been missing from the wall upstairs. Though her features remained stoic, a transient flash of sadness flitted across the cellist’s eyes.

Vinyl sat up and leaned over to glance at the photograph. It was something she hadn’t really looked at in years, and her mind was suddenly flooded with hazy memories. They sat side by side in a booth seat at some restaurant that she only vaguely recalled ever being in. The cracked plastic of the seat and dented lacquer of the tabletop suggested it was not a particularly high-class establishment. Vinyl’s eyes were drawn to her own image, and she couldn’t see many physical differences from what she saw in the mirror each morning. Maybe her past self was ever-so-slightly more fit, but she’d always been one of those lucky types who could put whatever she wanted into her body and count on her metabolism and lifestyle to sort it out. Maybe her mane was a bit more vibrant and spiky; maybe that electric blue popped just a little more than it did now, but that could’ve been a trick of the light. No, the difference was not in the way she looked, but in how she carried herself. A huge, exuberant grin was plastered on her face. One hoof was gesturing toward the camera, the other wrapped around a gray earth pony. There was a jovial redness in her cheeks, and her eyebrows were arched jauntily, framing a pair of trademark shades that sat upon the bridge of her nose. She still wore them to this day, but back then they had been a necessary part of her face, not just a barrier used to shield herself from the rest of the world. The mare in this picture was filled with the vigor of youth, and a kind of defiant confidence that only radiates from those who know they are truly loved. This version of Vinyl was preserved in time, bearing none of the fragile humility that age and grief had thrust upon her living, breathing counterpart.

“Did I really used to look like that?” She wondered aloud.

“I’m pretty sure you still do, Vinyl,” Octavia answered quietly, “I was about to ask the same question about myself.”

Vinyl’s eyes wandered over to the other mare in the photograph, the one her past self was half-hugging rather roughly. She was gorgeous. Everything about her was pristine. Not a hair of her long, flowing charcoal mane was out of place, save for the ones that her obviously drunk companion had ruffled. Her coat was well groomed and had a rather impressive luster to it. The silk bowtie around her neck was slightly askew, but that was only due to present circumstances. Her figure was enviable; long, svelt, and well-maintained, yet still possessing that feminine softness where it counted. Vinyl’s admiration for Octavia’s single-minded dedication to her musical career had always been augmented by the fact that Octavia could’ve very easily been a model, or simply married some rich stallion and had the world served to her on a silver platter. Her face, though, was the most beautiful thing of all; delicate features – accented by a modest amount of makeup – formed a mirthful and slightly exacerbated smile, suggesting she had very recently given up trying to be annoyed and finally admitted she was having a good time. Her wide, lavender eyes were trained not on the camera but on Vinyl, and the elation and reverence that emanated from them lent better context to the situation than the rest of the photograph combined.

These were two stupid kids who loved each other to death. They hadn’t a care in the world, because the present was perfect and the future was only going to be better. There was no doubt or apprehension amongst them – they knew everything was going to work out. After a long minute Vinyl looked up into her partner’s eyes, and her head jerked back reflexively at how different the face she saw was from the one she had just been looking at. Octavia smiled forlornly, the expression made slightly lopsided by the jagged scar that ran across one cheek to the corner of her mouth. Her remaining ear drooped almost imperceptibly. Almost.

Vinyl silently vowed to invent some kind of device that would allow her to kick herself every day for the rest of her life until she had atoned for what had just happened. Her shame and mortification must have been apparent, because Octavia reached out a hoof and lifted her chin up.

“It’s okay, love,” she said softly.

The white unicorn recoiled, indignation rising in her chest, and part of her wanted to scream – to say that no, it wasn’t okay, none of this was. A larger part of her, however, recognized that she had no right to. Conflicting emotions boiled within her chest, threatening to overwhelm as her breathing became erratic. It took every ounce of fortitude she possessed to resist another complete breakdown. Now that the particulars of how the two mares used to relate to one another had been at the forefront of her mind for a day, Vinyl suddenly felt pathetic. She’d always been the laid-back, easygoing, unflappable one. Octavia had been the anxious, neurotic bucket of barely-contained emotion that threatened overflow at any given moment. One side of her mind reasoned that nopony could be expected to remain calm under such extraordinary circumstances, yet the other side pointed out that the mare across from her – who clearly had legitimate things to be upset about – was doing a fine job of it. Whether because the two arguments canceled each other out, or because her brain had decided to shut down rather than suffer further identity crisis, Vinyl felt unexpectedly numb.

“Vinyl…?” Came an uncertain whisper.

The invitation back to reality made Vinyl realize that externally, her mental anguish had produced little more than a rigid posture and a thousand yard stare, both of which were probably exacerbating any insult created by her earlier reaction. “I’m sorry,” she said weakly, “I’m just…” she trailed off, and after one pause too many, gave up on attempting to finish the thought.

“Don’t be,” Octavia spoke gently, “it’s not your fault.”

Vinyl didn’t respond, because she couldn’t. She felt the liquor burning in her stomach. She felt an ache in her lungs from too many cigarettes. Her head weighed a thousand pounds. She was so tired, as if she hadn’t rested in years. Her vision swam, spattered with light from distantly-remembered garden lamps. The flickering candle of will within her extinguished, and as her tearing eyes closed, she exhaled its fumes in three words.

“Yes it is.”

However unlikely it may have seemed, physical prowess was something Octavia Melody had come to pride herself upon, and the fact that carrying Vinyl upstairs had elevated her heart rate to this degree was perturbing. The last few months of her journey home had been lean times, but she hadn’t realized just how out of shape she was…relatively speaking.

She pulled a ratty comforter over the slumbering unicorn, but hesitated to actually climb into bed. She didn’t want to sleep. She didn’t need to sleep. Her body was accustomed to running on whatever it could get, and the four hours of rest she’d caught before venturing out into the night was more than enough to sustain her for the next day. She wanted to return to the garden; she felt pensive at the moment, and it had always been a place of reflection for her, whether tending it or simply enjoying its beauty. However, she feared what would happen if Vinyl awoke again, seeing as she’d just fainted for the second time in less than two days. There was something very backwards about all this. Of course they were both mares, but Vinyl had always adopted the more masculine role in the relationship, and she the more feminine. While Octavia had undeniably run things from day-to-day, being the decision-maker and orchestrator of the pair, in times of crisis she could always count on her partner to be strong for her – to comfort, reassure and protect. To make her feel safe. Vinyl was an emotional rock. She didn’t get worked up, she didn’t get angry, and she never panicked. She was the slow, steady bassline to the soaring highs and dangerous lows of Octavia’s lead. Or at least that was how it was supposed to be.

The gray mare sighed into the dark, staring at the sleeping form on the bed. She watched it shiver despite the thick covers, and the realization that she’d been on the cusp of for the past day or so finally set in; Vinyl had as many scars as she did, one just couldn’t see them at first.

“Cheers!” Octavia smiled warmly, raising her glass. The train car jostled slightly, and a bit of her champagne escaped, but she hardly noticed, far too busy gazing at the mare across from her.

“Word,” Vinyl grinned, the response punctuated by a clink.

Octavia gave her a questioning look.

“What?” Vinyl demanded, “do you not get how dumb ‘cheers’ sounds without a Trottingham accent? When you say it, it sounds like a top hat full of monocles; when I say it, I sound like an idiot!”

Octavia giggled and took another sip. “You’re a ridiculous pony, Vinyl,” she smirked.

“Oh yeah, that’s me,” the DJ moaned with mock sarcasm, “the comic relief in this outfit! When do I get to be the sexy one?”

“Oh Vinyl…” the gray mare cooed sympathetically, playing along.

“No!” The unicorn cried in indignation, “it’s not fair! Every time you open your mouth, it’s all sultry accent and seduction. Clean-shaven stallions sprout moustaches! Fillies become mares! Meanwhile I’m just standing there going ‘Oh yeah, and I’m her fillyfriend, Vinyl Scratch. Most ponies think I’m a dude.’”

Octavia struggled to swallow her gulp of champagne, fearing that it would be redirected through her nose and ruin everyone’s day. She gasped a few times after forcing it down, trying not to let it turn into chuckling.

“But oh no,” Vinyl soldiered on, “you can’t stop at sexing ears and causing spontaneous facial hair. You have to go and be a classier musician than me, too. Every time you play, they demand an encore. My encores come a year later in the form of blame for illegitimate children.”

Octavia covered her face, her whole body trembling with restrained mirth. She would not admit defeat.

“Your concerts create a new generation of aspiring musicians. My concerts just create a new generation, and most of them don’t know their fathers.”

That was the tipping point. “Vinyl…” Octavia spluttered through fitful laughter, “that’s…absolutely awful.”

“So is hearing the words ‘and for you, sir?’ every time we go out to eat.”

“That never even happened!”

“Okay, I’m done,” Vinyl snickered, leaning back into her seat and downing the rest of her champagne in one gulp.

“Vinyl!” Octavia protested, “that’s ridiculously expensive! At least pretend to enjoy it!”

“What made you think I’m not enjoying it?”

“You know what I mean.”

Vinyl shrugged and poured herself another glass. “Anyways,” she resumed, “yeah. A toast to us,” their glasses met once again, “I think we deserve it.” She took a slightly more ladylike sip, a bemused smile crossing her face. “I gotta admit,” the unicorn’s eyes surveyed the lush private car, “if you’d told me all those years ago that we were gonna be here right now, I’d have asked which Canterlot noble family we murdered and suggested that we keep a lower profile on our getaway.”

“You didn’t think we could earn it?” The gray mare asked in earnest.

“There’s a difference between earning *it and *getting it, Tavi.”**

Octavia remained silent, staring out the window at the vibrant green of rapidly-passing countryside. “None of that matters now,” she said finally, “I think we can declare success at this point.”

“Not quite,” Vinyl chuckled slightly, “there are a couple more things I intend to do before I claim victory.”

“Oh?” Octavia smiled slyly. They both knew exactly what they were dancing around, but it was their mutual ability to simultaneously see the end and yet still enjoy going through the motions that was one of the strongest points of their relationship. Their decade-long romance had evolved into an extravagant stage play, and this little vacation marked the final scene of its first act. These mares were performers, literally and figuratively, and they both not only knew the script, but knew that the real art was in its execution.

“Want something stronger to drink?” The DJ asked, sending the conversation into an intentional anticlimax.

“Vinyl,” Octavia sighed in exasperation, “I think you should lay off the hard stuff a bit. You’ve been drunk for the past day.”

“Taviiii,” Vinyl whined, “I’m bored. What else is there to do on a train?”

“I can think of one thing…”

“No!” The white mare held up a hoof, “I never thought I’d say this, but if we do any more of that my heart’s probably going to give out. I don’t have your earth pony stamina. I need a less physically-taxing form of debauchery.”

Octavia snickered and rolled her eyes. “Very well then, go fetch us something to drink and some proper glasses, but just know you can only hold me off for so long.”

“And may Celestia have mercy on my soul,” Vinyl mumbled as she trotted off toward the amply-stocked liquor cabinet.

“I’m totally gonna do it, and you should, too,” Vinyl Scratch grinned.

“Vinyl…NO!” Octavia responded emphatically, the combination of her accent and incredulity putting about five unnecessary vowels into the last word.

“What’s the matter?” Vinyl feigned nonchalance.

“Vinyl Scratch,” the gray mare began, attempting ire, “I will admit that you’ve had me try more than any mare’s share of strange things, and,” her cheeks turned slightly red “I will admit I’ve liked more than a few of them. But this? This is madness! It’s sick!” She tried to keep her voice as low as possible, so as not to draw attention to the only two ponies sitting in a restaurant full of griffons. “Besides, it’ll make us ill!”

“Nah,” Vinyl waved a hoof, “I looked into that. Our stomachs can totally manage it as long as we don’t go overboard.”

Octavia spluttered indignantly, searching for a retort. The only thing worse than tangling with Vinyl’s stubbornness was tangling with Vinyl’s stubbornness when she actually knew what she was talking about. Just as the earth mare was about to resort to a few choice expletives, the dark-feathered griffon waiter sauntered up to their table.

“May I take your orders, mesdemoiselles?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Vinyl practically cackled, “two orders of the steak frites.”

The waiter’s eyebrows scaled his forehead and attempted to migrate to the back of his scalp before he caught himself and resumed some modicum of professionalism.

“And…how would you like those cooked?” He asked the obligatory question with mounting amusement.

“Rare,” Vinyl smirked as Octavia stared on in abject horror.

“Very well,” the griffon took their menus, clearly trying very hard not to laugh, “I hope you enjoy your stay in the Griffon Kingdoms.” He hurried off, obviously afraid of losing his job.

“Vinyl Scratch,” the gray mare hissed under her breath, “I am not eating…that!”

“Chicken?”

“Wait…” Octavia stumbled, “I thought steak was from co-oh, how dare you! This has nothing to do with me being afraid! This is a matter of principle! My cousin’s best friend is a cow! How could I ever look her in the eye after something like this?!”

Vinyl breathed on her hoof and brushed it against her chest, doing such a good job of feigning disinterest that that most ponies would have no idea that she was cracking up internally. However, Octavia was not most ponies. “Fine,” the unicorn shrugged as she watched her partner’s fury begin to reach a boil, “just admit you’re too scared and I’ll order you a salad.” The twofold implication in that sentence – both that Octavia was a coward and that she wasn’t capable of ordering for herself – practically made steam shoot out of the earth mare’s ears. This was one of Vinyl’s favorite things about her fillyfriend: screwing with her – in several senses. If you knew which buttons to push, not only was it absurdly easy and immensely gratifying to get Octavia riled up, but the make-up sex was always a special kind of amazing. Even so, she knew this particular scenario had gone too far, and it was at the point that anything further could legitimately ruin the evening. With an expression that said something to the effect of “okay, okay, I give,” she hailed the waiter.

Roughly two hours later, the couple was heading back to their hotel room along a rather empty stretch of road in the Griffic capital. The city was divided into two tiers – one on the ground and one in the clouds – and while Octavia was admiring the moonlit beauty of the latter, Vinyl had her eyes firmly trained on the former.

“Ugh…” the DJ moaned, her head hung low, “I don’t feel so hot.”

“Sounds like your research regarding the effects of meat on the equine gastric system may not have been as thorough as you thought,” her companion said with a smirk, “also the eight drinks probably didn’t help.”

“If that’s your way of saying, ‘I told you so’ then point taken,” Vinyl responded, feeling far too ill to muster any annoyance. Suddenly she began to salivate profusely and a wave of nausea washed over her, something she recognized as the familiar point of no return. She made a mad dash for a nearby alleyway, her stomach finally deciding to empty itself next to the dumpster at the back. It was dark and getting darker as all the alcohol finally caught up with her. Vinyl lost consciousness, the world spinning sickeningly around as Octavia’s shouts rang in her ears.

When Vinyl awoke, it was not in an alley or a hospital, it was in her own bed in her own home in Canterlot. She wasn’t surprised; she’d had the dream a thousand times, maybe more. Upon attempting to move, she found the sheets to be soaked with sweat, most likely due to the dream as well as well as the stack of comforters piled on top of her. Flinging them off, she rolled over to the nightstand and found her cigarettes. She looked for something to drink, but it seemed her various bottles had either been consumed or misplaced. Considering the jackhammer pounding away at the inside of her skull, she was inclined to believe the former.

As smoke curled out from between the DJ’s lips, she reflected on her dream. Actually ‘nightmare’ would be the appropriate word – a recurring nightmare, one she’d been tortured by for the past twelve years. Though at least this time it had ended before the worst part, she knew the rest of the story, and now that she was awake, she couldn’t stop her mind from simply playing out the rest of it.

Vinyl awoke to a hangover that could slay gods. She tried to lift her head, and her entire body screamed out in rage and misery, prompting her to remain still for a little while. When she tried to swallow, it felt like someone had replaced the entire inside of her mouth with vomit-flavored sandpaper, and it took every ounce of willpower she possessed in her weakened state not to retch. Her vision was blurry, but she was able to make out the form of her shades lying about a foot away. However, her attempt to use magic to return them to their rightful place was met with a sharp pain at the base of her horn, sending her already torturous headache into rapidly-throbbing overdrive. A small moan escaped her lips, rattling the dusty tunnel that was once her throat.

It took a few more moments for the unicorn to realize something: she was freezing cold, as well as soaking wet. It appeared to have rained sometime during the night, which made sense considering the entire lower city was covered by clouds that supported its other half. Fear of hypothermia overrode her reluctance to fight the stiffness in her muscles, and Vinyl rose like a reanimated corpse, grunting and coughing as she battled gravity, knowing that if she collapsed again, she probably didn’t have a second attempt in her.

Once upright, a whole new set of sensations threatened to overwhelm her. She was dizzy and still very nauseous, and she could feel the all-too-familiar discomfort of what she affectionately called “gut rot” in her stomach. Her throat burned with a powerful thirst, and her lungs felt as though they were coated with fiberglass. After moving about for a minute or two and standing in a ray of sunshine that pierced the alley, the shivering of her frigid body subsided somewhat. She noticed her reflection in a nearby puddle, and realized with faint disgust that one side of her face was caked with her own sick. She used the water to wash it off as best she could, having to look away from the ripples, as they made her woozy. After cleaning up and sorting her mane out a little bit, she slumped back on her haunches, mouth hanging open, eyes glazed.

Dear Celestia, she begged with her thoughts, if you just take this hangover away, I promise I’ll never drink again. It was a fruitless prayer, she realized, because either the sun goddess couldn’t hear her, or she could, meaning she’d also heard it the previous thousand times Vinyl had thought it, and knew it was a flat-out lie. She felt slightly indignant that Octavia had simply left her there, but her mind dismissed it as one of her fillyfriend’s attempts to teach her a lesson – a lesson she was fairly certain she was learning right now. After centering herself somewhat, the exhausted mare picked up her shades, having to fumble with her hooves rather than use magic. Upon donning them she noticed one lens was cracked, but at this point she hardly cared. Taking a deep breath, she trotted out into the street and joined the bustle of griffons and various other creatures, heading off toward her hotel where she would find Octavia and a hot shower.

She found the shower, and used it with reckless abandon, but Octavia was nowhere to be seen, nor were her saddlebags. The unicorn began to worry, wondering if she’d done something so offensive that Octavia might have actually left for home or gotten a different room. That didn’t seem likely though; her luggage and possessions were still there. Even if she’d left and would send for her things later, Vinyl had to believe she would’ve taken her makeup and instruments on her person. Her anxiety began to mount, realizing that the cellist might be lost somewhere in the city. Vinyl was a city mare, but Octavia was not, having grown up in the outermost suburbs of Trottingham. Things started to make sense. She realized there was no way Octavia could’ve carried her, fully unconscious, back to the hotel; she’d likely gone to find help and gotten lost, and was now wandering the streets of an enormous, foreign metropolis, probably having a massive panic attack.

Suddenly Vinyl felt much less hung over. She grabbed a quick drink to steady herself, then dashed out the door, determined to find the gray mare before she fainted or had a heart attack, if one or both hadn’t already happened.

Vinyl’s heart was pounding in her chest. She hadn’t slept since passing out in that darkened alley – which had been three days ago – and she was now running on nothing but caffeine and terror. After twenty-four hours of relentless searching on her own, she’d gone to the local police. After another twenty-four hours, the police had begun coordinating with their state guard, as well as the Equestrian embassy, and Vinyl had been told the last thing she ever wanted to hear: this was now officially a missing person’s case. Her eyes darted back and forth nervously across the Equestrian Ambassador’s office, waiting for his return and any piece of information regarding Octavia.

Vinyl jumped when the door latch clicked, spilling the coffee that she had been sipping absent-mindedly. She hopped to her hooves, frantically searching for a towel as two ponies entered, one of them approaching her.

“It’s all right, Miss Scratch, just sit down,” the ambassador – a stately-looking earth stallion with a salt-and-pepper mane and beard – told her. Vinyl stared at him wildly for a moment, wide eyes bulging as her fatigued mind struggled to comprehend the words. After an indeterminate length of time, his gentle gaze soothed her somewhat, and she sat back down in front of his desk. He sat down as well, straightening his tie and the collar of his suit jacket. The other pony, a golden-colored pegasus mare in some type of uniform that may or may not have been military, stood next to him.

“Miss Scratch,” the ambassador began, “this is Chief Searchlight, head of the investigations division of the Equestrian Royal Guard. She and her team are personally handling this case, and she would like to ask you a few questions.”

“I already…told you everything I know…twice,” Vinyl said, practically gasping for air.

“Miss Scratch,” Searchlight’s gaze was intense, yet deeply sympathetic as she spoke, “I’m not going to ask you any questions you’ve already answered, I’ve read every one of those reports. Trust me, I am treating this case with the utmost seriousness and urgency; we’ve not had an Equestrian citizen go missing domestically or abroad for well over fifty years, and it’s been even longer since we’ve had an unsolved case. The reason I need to speak to you is that we may have found something, and I need your confirmation in this matter.” With no fanfare or further ado, the chief reached into her saddlebag and produced a clear plastic pouch, setting it on the desk. “Do you recognize this?” She asked.

“Yes,” Vinyl said breathlessly, blinking in disbelief, “it’s hers.” Though it had clearly been trampled, Octavia’s pink bowtie was unmistakable. The distraught unicorn glanced back and forth between the bag and the two ponies across the desk, wondering why their expressions had only become grimmer. “This means you’re close to finding her, right?” She asked, voice cracking multiple times, her tone practically begging for some form of reassurance.

“That’s all we need to continue our investigation, Miss Vinyl,” Searchlight evaded the question, “and I highly recommend you get some sleep while we do so.”

“What aren’t you telling me?” Vinyl demanded quietly.

“Miss Scratch…” the ambassador attempted to placate her, but was cut off.

“What aren’t you telling me?!” Vinyl roared, slamming her hoof on the desk and rising to her full height as her horn began to glow.

“Just sit down,” Searchlight spoke evenly, holding up a hoof, “and I will tell you. Just understand that you might not like what you hear, and if you threaten me physically again, I will not hesitate to make you regret it.”

“I’m sorry,” the enraged unicorn deflated, slowly sinking back into her seat, “I’m just…I’m sorry, just go ahead.”

“The scene outside that alley where you last saw her had been destroyed by the time we got there,” the chief explained; “that’s a busy street during the day, and anything we could’ve learned from it had been stomped and brushed away by hooves and claws. But I had a hunch, and it was something I didn’t voice at the time so as not to cause undue alarm. Now, however, I believe my suspicions to be confirmed; when we found this,” she put her hoof atop the bowtie, “there were pretty clear signs of a struggle. I have two mares there right now confirming that, but what this looks like to me is an abduction.”

Vinyl’s heart sank, but within this new revelation was a ray of hope. “So, if she was fighting back, that means she’s still alive, right?”

“I don’t doubt it, murder was clearly not the intent here,” Searchlight replied.

“So…” the DJ said, heart rate increasing again in anticipation, “that means all you have to do is just keep combing the city until you find her, right?” The other mare sighed and then continued after a moment.

“The problem…is where we found it.”

“What do you mean?”

“We found it on the edge of the East District, right by the water.”

“You th-think,” Vinyl stammered for a moment before forcing the full question out, “you think they drowned her?”

“No I don’t. Like I said, I would bet on her still being alive. However, the East District is a port. What I think is…Miss Melody is no longer in the Griffon Kingdoms.”

“What do you…?”

“You have to understand, Miss Scratch, that these kinds of incidents are not unheard of here,” Searchlight told her plainly; “though these griffons are our allies and just as cultured as Equestrians, the Kingdoms are the literal edge of the civilized world. To the north are lawless lands, and to the east is the sea, beyond which lie the Zebrahara and other nations of whom we have only a basic knowledge. Pirates, raiders, thieves, and slave traders – threats that don’t exist back home – are a reality here, and once they’re off the mainland, there is little we can do to track them a-”

“Chief Searchlight,” the ambassador interrupted, clearly for Vinyl’s benefit, as her face had gone positively ashen, “is it your opinion that our resources would be better spent searching the waters?”

“Yes, it is. If she’s still on land we can track her down eventually. If she’s on a ship, we have a limited amount of time. We need to mobilize now”

“Very well then. Miss Scratch?” He prompted.

“Y-yeah…?”

“I must speak with the griffon officials at once. They have offered Equestria all assets at their disposal in this matter, and the chief has made it clear that time is of the essence. I bid you good day and I will personally see to it that you are kept in the loop.” The ambassador gave a quick bow and followed Searchlight out of the room, pausing at the door, “there’s a guard waiting outside to escort you when you’re ready to leave. Oh, and Miss Scratch?” There was no response. At length he finished the thought, his voice much softer, “do try and get some sleep, would you?”

The door closed, and Vinyl Scratch was alone.

“Vinyl?”

She blinked once but didn’t move.

“Vinyl?”

Nothing.

“Vinyl!”

“Tavi!” The DJ snapped out of her trance-like state, wild eyes suddenly trained on the gray mare before her. Disoriented, she lurched forward off the edge of the bed and clasped her hooves on Octavia’s shoulders. “Tavi! They foun…I mean hey…” present circumstances began to flood back into her memory, “I was just thinking about some…stuff.”

“You alright, love?” Octavia asked with a knowing look of worry.

“Yeah, just thinking about…stuff?”

“It’s alright, Vinyl, I’m not demanding an explanation,” the cellist smiled. It was a warm, empathetic smile with only a hint of sadness. “I made you breakfast,” she continued, much more brightly, “I hope you still like your hash browns burnt beyond all recognition.”

“It’s called crispy,” the unicorn forced a pretty convincing laugh.

“No,” Octavia rolled her eyes, “I’m the one who can actually cook, and I assure you it’s called burnt.”

Vinyl suddenly noticed the tray that was balanced on her fillyfriend’s back in the way that only earth ponies can manage, and took it in her aura, setting it on the bed next to her. Her stomach jumped at the sight of the food, and she suddenly realized how desperately hungry she was. In short order she demolished half the plate, only realizing how uncouth she was being after Octavia began to chuckle. “Uh, sorry,” she said sheepishly, ignoring the provided napkin and wiping her mouth with the back of a hoof.

“It’s just good to see you haven’t lost your appetite,” the gray mare giggled, resting on her haunches beside the bed. “Go ahead, eat up if you need to.” Vinyl continued to eat, but with a bit more civility this time. When she was done, she magicked the tray out of the way and lay back, rather comfortable save for the fact that the sheets were still somewhat sweaty. Octavia climbed in bed with her, seemingly unconcerned by the dampness, wrapping both sets of legs around Vinyl and kissing her on the cheek. For the first time in what felt like years, the DJ exhaled slowly and felt herself relax, and it was not the intoxication that typically brought her some measure of peace. She had many things to sort out in her mind, but for once they didn’t seem to matter so much at the moment. She took another deep breath, and closed her eyes.

thump thump thump

Vinyl Scratch cracked her eyelids, but saw nothing; it was dark.

thump thump thump

“Oh, hold on, why don’t you?” She shouted towards the door to her room, where the offending noise was emanating from.

thump thump thump

The only pony it could conceivably be was Neon

She flung it open angrily, greeted by the sight of a golden pegasus in uniform. Eyes widening, she stumbled back. “What?” The DJ asked in confusion, “why are you here? How did you get in my house?” The other mare stared at her quizzically, taken aback.

“Miss Sctratch, I got to your hotel room because the concierge told me where it was. I came to speak with you about Miss Melo-”

“Octavia?” Vinyl interrupted, “Octavia’s right here with me, in my room.”

“Are…are you serious?” Chief Searchlight asked incredulously.

“Well yeah!” The unicorn used her magic to flick the light switch and pointed a hoof toward the bed, not breaking eye contact. The pegasus simply stared at her in bewilderment. Slowly, Vinyl turned her head and surveyed her surroundings, realizing with horror exactly where she was. This was not her room at home in Canterlot; it was her hotel room, the one she’d stayed at while in the Griffon Kingdoms. Everything was exactly how she’d left it. The liquor bottles were still on the nightstand, the cigarette butts were still strewn about by the side of the bed, and Octavia most definitely wasn’t here.

“Miss Scratch,” Searchlight spoke up, genuine concern in her voice, “I think I may have showed up at a bad time. I wouldn’t wake you so early in the morning if it wasn’t important, but we need to discuss the case.”

“No!” Vinyl shrieked, “I just saw her! She was right here with me! She brought me breakfast!”

“Miss Sc-”

“Shut up! Stop calling me that! You’re not real!”

“Vinyl Scratch,” the chief investigator addressed her sternly, “I can assure you that I’m quite real, and I need to talk to you about Octavia.”

“I-I already told you everything I know!” The blue-maned unicorn stammered weakly.

“It’s not that,” Searchlight pressed on, “I came to inform you that we found her.”

“You…you did?”

“Yes.”

“How is she?”

“I…” the pegasus mare sighed, “I regret to inform you that she is deceased.”

Vinyl went as white as an already white pony can go. She collapsed, slowly sinking down to the ground. She wanted to cry, but couldn’t; all her tears had been spent in the last few days after her world had been turned upside-down. Her chest heaved, but she could not weep. At some length, after waves of emotion gave way to numbness, she spoke.

“Do you know who…?”

“I think you know the answer to that question, Miss Scratch”

“What?”

“We know you killed her, Vinyl.”

“I…what?”

“Please, this will be easier if you just confess.”

“No! It’s not true!”

“Vinyl!”

“No!”

“Vinyl!”

“No!”

With a sharp cry, Vinyl Scratch burst back into another waking world. She sat bolt upright, breathing fast and ragged, tears streaming down her face. She felt somepony touching her and recoiled, backing up against the wall next to her bed, pushing sheets and blankets off of her body,

“Vinyl?” Came a gentle voice, “it’s me, love, it’s Octavia.”

Blurred vision and adrenaline allowed no confirmation, and Vinyl shouted into the hazy oblivion.

“How do I know it’s you?!”

Octavia felt an ache in her heart when she heard the desperate, pained confusion in those words. There was nothing she could say that would allay such profound terror and doubt, and so rather than speaking she seized Vinyl’s head and kissed her. She guided one of her lover’s hooves along her mane and down her back, over the curves of her body, showing her what was true. Slowly Vinyl’s panic seemed to subside.

“I’m here,” she breathed as their lips parted, “I’m here, and I won’t ever leave you again.” She gave what she hoped was a comforting smile, feeling the scar tugging at one corner of her mouth.

“I…I don’t know what’s real anymore,” Vinyl whimpered piteously, “sometimes I wake up and you’re here, sometimes you’re not, and sometimes I’m back in that hotel…I don’t know which part is the dream.”

“Vinyl?”

“Yeah?”

“Do you dream of me often?”

“Every…every night,” the unicorn replied between anxious breaths.

“Did my face ever look like this?” Octavia raised an eyebrow.

Vinyl responded with something that sounded like a mixture between a laugh and a sob, nearly which was followed by a raspy cough. “I need a drink,” she managed to choke out.

Octavia simply eased her back down onto her pillow and whispered sweetly.

“Shh, no you don’t,” she breathed, “you don’t have to hurt anymore, love. I’m not going anywhere, I promise. I’ll be right here when you wake up, and I won’t leave until you say I can.”

“What if…” Vinyl yawned loudly, her exhausted mind and body rapidly propelling her back into unconsciousness, “what if I never say you can leave?”

“Then I won’t.”

“Who do you love?” The griffon asked through his syrup-thick accent. It was possibly the simplest question Octavia had ever been asked, and she didn’t know how to respond.

“I…wha-?” Her reply was cut short as she felt the sting of a wet cloth against the wound on her flank, causing her to suck a sharp breath through her teeth.

“That griffon was bigger, stronger, and more experienced than you.”

“I…ah…heh…” Octavia tried to answer, but found herself laughing due to a mixture of overwhelming pain and the sheer absurdity of the situation, “I’m…urngh,” she grunted as the alcohol-soaked rag touched her flank again, “I’m fairly certain he was drunk.”

“It doesn’t matter, you knew that, and you took advantage of it,” the beast told her. “You were scared – believe me, I could tell – but you took him down with wits and ferocity, and you killed him without hesitance.”

“He…” she gasped, “he was going to kill me if I didn’t!”

“Aye, that’s exactly my point, lass,” he said, “there’s a difference between fighting for your life, and fighting to keep yourself alive. You come at it harder and dirtier than creatures that’ve been at this for longer than you’ve been alive. Nobody – not a pony, nor a griffon, nor a goddess – fights that viciously if they’re not livin’ for something. So I ask you again: who do you love? Who do you love so much that you simply refuse to die?”

“Her name…” Octavia hissed as a needle bit into her skin to mend the gash on her hip, “is Vinyl, and I will see her again.”

“Hah!” he barked, pausing in his stitching to clap her on the shoulder, “that’s it, lassie! That’s it!”

“Why are you helping me?” She demanded

“Because you’ve got something I don’t.”

“And what…” Octavia shuddered as she felt her broken flesh being knit back together by careful needlework, “pray tell, is that?”

The hulking, tan-colored griffon snapped the thread with his beak and then leaned down into her face with frightening speed, grabbing her neck with one of his claws. He looked her right in the eye and answered.

“You’ve got the will to get out of this place.”

Octavia’s eyes snapped open, and for a moment the gaze of an old friend lingered in her vision. The heat under Vinyl’s comforter was stifling, so she gently attempted to extricate herself from the slumbering mare’s embrace to cool off. However, the second she tried to move away Vinyl whimpered in her sleep, body shuddering. Octavia pulled her close with a squeeze, more than willing to endure a bit of discomfort on her behalf. She’d endured a lot more than that simply to be back in this place with this pony once more. As she kissed the love of her life on the forehead, a single, melancholy thought danced in the forefront of her mind.

If you knew what I’d done to return to you, would you still love me so?