Chapter One: Falling For You
Author's Note
Content Warning: There is an attempted suicide near the start of this chapter. It is not overly vivid nor will it be a running theme in the story so I didn’t feel comfortable tagging the story as such. However I still felt a warning should be given.
Chapter One: Falling For You
Canterlot was a city divided. Not in the literal ‘giant wall that cuts the city in half’ kind of way, rather in the uptown downtown, oil on water kind of way. Well almost like that, there were still ponies who would trek into the other side, and one of those was Intriguing Schemes.
Intriguing Schemes was a stallion whose mind always whirred a mile a minute. Even now, on a jog through the absolute silence of uptown Canterlot at midnight, he was running through his plan for the most important day of his life. Tomorrow.
‘First,’ He thought to himself. ‘I shall prepare to take my train in the morning, of course, but I must not arrive too early. To seem eager would mark me apart. But I must not be on time, that would leave me exposed at the back of the crowd. I shall arrive, instead, five minutes prior to boarding. I shall pretend I was rushed to get there and double check my luggage. Then, moments before the train departs I will run off quickly to collect something. I shall retrieve my written schemes from the trash can where they are stashed even now and then I shall return just on time, some kind pony having saved my spot in line, and I will depart. It will be so easy.’ For the upteenth time that night he retrieved a train ticket from the pocket of his jogging coat to double check and make sure it was there, then he ran through the plan once again.
Or would have, had the silhouette not caught his attention.
His train of thought and thought of trains both ground to a halt as he stared at the pegasus that stood upon the Wall of Canterlot. The Wall of Canterlot, while extremely dramatic sounding, was in reality simply a two pony high wall made from solid masonry that prevented any accidental falls. Intentional falls however... well a pony would always find a way. Schemes looked to the wings of the pegasus and saw the tight cord that prevented them from opening, just as he expected he might.
Schemes had heard, through the rumor mill of uptown Canterlot of course, that if a pegasi wanted to commit suicide by falling they had to bind their own wings or else they would flick open at the last moment and save them from collision. This, some of the gossipers had said, was proof that nopony actually wanted to commit suicide. Schemes thought it pretty obviously proved that they desperately did, they simply couldn’t overcome the primal desire to live.
The buzzing of Schemes’ thoughts died away slowly as he looked at the pony on the wall. It was a figure set apart from the whole world, outlined by starlight. He was… beautiful in the half light of the waning moon. Schemes watched as the coat and mane of the pegasus lightly waved in the chilly midnight breezes of Mt. Canter. He felt those same breezes carry the scent of the pegasus upwind to him, where he could make out the scent of absolute terror and hesitation that you would expect to find in anypony at the end of their rope. He felt… connected to the stallion on the wall. He felt like, for some reason, if he died than Schemes would as well.
Neither of them had moved a step from the moment when Schemes had spotted him on the stonework, but Schemes could see the draw and release of breath in the barrel of the pegasus, he could feel his own inhales and exhales. He wondered what the delay was. Had the pegasus heard him jog up? Was he waiting for his spectator to leave so he could jump without anyone watching?
Then, like a starting gun had gone off, the pegasus started a dash over the edge.
“Wait.” Schemes said, his voice was barely more than a whisper, but in the absolute silence of the night it roared. Schemes shocked himself silent, not having planned to say anything at all, but it was nothing compared to how the pegasus himself reacted. The would-be jumper flailed in shock, hooves scrambling for purchase as some instinct forced him to turn and look at Schemes. His wings fought to regain balance but bound as they were they only set the Pegasus more off kilter. Then, without much aplomb, the pegasus did fall off the wall.
In the wrong direction.
Or right, depending on your point of view.
Schemes heard the heavy thud and watched as the head of the stallion connected with the stones near his feet. Then, for a moment, waited in the returning silence until a spark of action ignited in his mind. The tinder that had kept his earlier mental processes running still had plenty more to burn and was now being repurposed for a plan to help the stallion.
‘Why?’ asked some part of his mind. ‘He was going to kill himself, why save him? Isn’t it his decision?’ Schemes was ready for this part of his mind, he disliked it immensely. Schemes was reminded of the trolley problem. It went like this:
You can pull a lever to save three ponies and kill one. Or you can be a coward and kill three ponies through inaction. Well, that’s how Schemes remembered it anyway. The philosophy professor insisted there was more to it, but Schemes was too busy failing his way through a history class to care too much about it.
The point was that, in his mind, if he left the stallion to die it wasn’t suicide anymore, it was murder through inaction. Schemes was still too busy riding the thrill of seeing a handsome stallion who had actually turned to look at him when he spoke that he didn't delay a moment longer.
Acting quickly, Schemes hoisted the pegasus onto his back as gently as he could and found it all too easy to do. A sickening feeling dropped into his gut and worry flooded his mind anew. The pegasus was terrifyingly light. Schemes knew that even an earth pony like himself shouldn’t feel like he was lifting a box of feathers when carrying a pegasus. Sure, they had light bones so they could fly but they still had flesh. They still had fat and muscle and tissue. This pegasus felt like little weight more than a starving sparrow.
Schemes knew where to go next, the hospital was nearby, the E.R. could be a bit pricy but it was the only option. As he ran to the building he began to plot out the costs. Now assuming that the stallion had insurance it would probably be decently cheap and if he didn’t than all that Schemes would need to do was lie and claim him under “Family”. Surely it wouldn’t be too expensive, and he had a small fortune in bits that he had saved up over the past couple of years. True he had been planning on using the funds to establish himself after his train ride but what did a few more months of work mean really? A new train ticket would be required, of course, and there was little chance of selling his current one so close to the departure. All he would have to do was lay low for a couple more months, collect a few more payments and THEN head to Ponyville.
He heard a stirring by his shoulder and dared a glance to the head of the stallion by his side as figures of potential losses and long-term income swam in his head. The pegasus seemed to be slowly swimming his way up through his own pool of delirium, eyes foggy with the effort of it. “Where…?” Came the soft lost voice. The pegasus watched the buildings that passed by in a blur and Schemes wondered how much of what the pegasus was seeing was actually being processed by his brain.
Schemes kept an easy, but urgent, jog. He’d been exercising every night for the past couple years, maybe he couldn’t grow a plant worth a damn but at least he had good ol’ earth pony fortitude. “I’m taking you to the hospital, you took a nasty fall and-”
The pupils of the pegasus contracted to pinpricks, the fog that had lain heavy over them disintegrating in the intensity of the stare that he leveled at Schemes. “No you mustn't! No! please!” The pegasus began to meekly try and force himself off of Schemes back, but Schemes had the ingrained stability for this sort of thing and the pegasus seemed to have all the physical aptitude of a malnourished rat. Still, it did make running difficult and the look in his eyes…
“Alright. I won’t take you to the hospital.” Schemes said suddenly, his decision already swayed. His trot swung immediately onto a nearby road and started to pick up the pace as he began heading for his own house. Some part of his brain made a vague note about the pegasus stopping his struggle but it was drowned out by the roar of thoughts that screamed to the surface. A new plan had sparked and was burning the old plan for fuel. At home he still had the leftover medical equipment from his ill-advised attempt at university learning. Schemes was out of practice in his medical training, of course, but he could still diagnose the severity of a concussion surely. It wasn’t too difficult from all that he could recall. Best to use the book anyway.
Schemes continued to talk, not realizing the relief of not going to the hospital had comforted the pegasus back to troublesome sleep. “I’ll run some checks and if you aren’t about to die then I’ll let you sleep it off at my house.” Schemes explained to the unconscious stallion on his back. “But if you are about to die than I’m taking you back to the hospital and they’ll take care of you and then, when you’re feeling better, you can go back to jumping to your death, just like the old days.”
When Schemes spoke it was as if the words were being squeezed out of his mouth as more words fought their way into his head, making room for themselves. One corner of his mind was exploring the memory of his house, finding where his discarded book on pony anatomy had ended up. Another composed a frantic schedule about reclaiming his stashed plans given that he would not be able to leave Canterlot on his train the next morning.
Another was pointing out that he could leave on the train, he would just have to leave the handsome stallion on a park bench somewhere. This part of the brain was shushed very suddenly by all the other parts. Schemes still hadn’t forgiven it for earlier.
His hoofbeats ran staccato over the roadways of Canterlot. He’d made it to mainstreet as early as he could in the uptown where it wouldn’t be crowded but now as he approached his housing in downtown the late night party goers were beginning to flood out onto the streets. Drinking their way from bar to rave to club and back again.
The part of his brain that had told him he could just leave the stallion somewhere realized it had some debt to make up to the rest of the brain and began to set out courses through the crowd. Schemes followed the paths, his hooves dancing through traffic in the mad cacophony. There were a few close calls as his hooves scrambled for purchase on surprisingly slick stones, but he never fell. The sound of the clubs and ponies was deafening, but had nowhere near the volume of the shouting of his own mind as it corrected his hoof placements mid-stride.
He checked his back multiple times as he ran, the pegasus was so light that Schemes wasn’t sure he would’ve noticed him going missing in the crowd. But each time he was still there. A small trickle of blood had stained his dark blue muzzle, but the wound had already scabbed over and dried blood was not the hardest of things to clean out of a coat.
He turned abruptly down a side row, leaving the pushing crowds of main street behind, even as the roiling wave of audio cloyed at his ears. It was only short steps now to his house, nondescript when compared to the neighbor’s houses. His hooves covered the remaining roadway in easy steps and then he cleared the stairway to the door in one leap, already pulling his keys from his saddlebags. Schemes sailed easily over the distance and felt the wings of the pegasus struggling against the cord still binding them. Some ancient instinct in the pegasus trying to catch the air that was rushing past.
Planting his forehooves on the cement in front of his door, Schemes halted all his momentum and ran the key into the lock, clicking it easily. Than, with almost as much ease, did the same to the three other keys and locks he’d installed on the door.
The last lock popped open with a click and Schemes was pushing his way into the small front room of his house while he was still struggling to get the keys put away. Absentmindedly, Schemes kicked the door shut behind himself and maneuvered his way past the three blackboards that were resting between the door and the couch. Schemes carefully turned and used his tail to sweep the collection of trash off the couch before laying the stallion down onto the cushions.
Immediately Schemes set to work on the next two steps of his current goal. First, reacquire discarded medical textbooks for reference on a matter of most dire importance. Second, acquire food and drink for the pony who felt light enough that they could have been a figment of his imagination.
Schemes had been filling a glass with water when this thought struck him and he paused for a moment, not beginning to move until the water was pouring all over the table. Cursing, Schemes righted the water jug and placed it back on the floor, closing the lid with one hoof while he tossed a dirty rag onto the table to soak up the puddle. Then, glancing to the stallion on the couch, he moved into the restroom.
Carefully, Schemes opened up the dual purpose mirror cupboard and retrieved an orange bottle from the shelf inside. Schemes flicked his hoof to unscrew the lid and shook out two tablets from the bottle. He ingested one, washing it down with a little bit of the water and then tossed the second down the drain. Schemes inhaled slowly. He leaned against the door and started his breathing exercises. He’d had hallucinations before of course, usually after several days of forgetting to sleep, and he’d been given medication to help wind him down. But he’d never talked with one before. Surely he hadn’t slipped that far.
He stared at himself in the mirror as he counted out a full minute of time. He looked into his eyes and focused. He held the staring contest for as long as he could, focusing the disparate parts of his thought processes.
He breathed.
Then, hesitantly, returned to the front room of his house.
The stallion was still there.
Schemes’ mind rocketed back up to full speed. He grabbed his textbook from the trashcan by the couch and pulled a tinfoil packet from the fridge, opening it to reveal half a sandwich inside. He’d made it just the day before for his lunch but hadn’t had much of an appetite, now he took his collection of items to the stallion on the couch. He laid the sandwich down next to his head and began to prod him with one hoof absentmindedly while beginning to flip through the book.
It wasn’t until the fifth ‘ow’ that Schemes realized he’d succeeded in awakening the pegasus. Reading from the book, Schemes began his examination. Quickly obtaining a flashlight from its spot on the floor he pointed it into the pegasus’s eyes and flicked it away, noting the dilation of the eyes and how they tracked the flashlight. “What’s your name?” Schemes asked, checking memory.
“Anthelion.” Answered the pegasus immediately, then paused and said “Wait.”
Schemes spared a worried glance away from his book. Changing your mind about your name probably wasn’t a good thing.
“Well that’s my real name. What was the fake name I was using it was uh…” Schemes noticed the delirium was still hanging around as Anthelion tried to remember his alias. “Ah I can’t remember.” Confessed the pegasus. “My name is Anthelion, but don’t let anyone know. I’m not supposed to be here.”
Schemes nodded, technically the answer to ‘do they remember their name’ was a yes, he supposed. “I won’t tell Celestia on you don’t worry.” Schemes said idly then saw a grateful but still somewhat confused look come over Anthelion’s face. “Your name,” Scheme said, ignoring the book for the moment. “It means 'opposite the sun'. So you see… because she’s the princess of the… you know what forget it. How old are you?”
“Twenty two in pony years about I think.” Answered Anthelion immediately.
“Couple years behind me then.” Schemes said factually. “You look miles better than me though.”
“I like your mane, though.” Said Anthelion, his vision wandering. Schemes flicked the light again and the eyes refocused on it. “It’s a nice color.”
“It’s… black.” Schemes said, with a frown.
“I like black. It’s a handsome color.” Anthelion announced, sounding righteously indignant about it.
Schemes glanced through the rest of the list. Technically thinking black was a nice color wasn’t evidence of a concussion it seemed, only bad taste. So then memory was fine, eyes dilated fine, words weren’t being slurred, attention could be maintained for an extended period of time. It seemed that everything was… alright? Schemes looked to Anthelion again and saw him drinking the water and ignoring the sandwich.
“You can have the sandwich too.” Schemes offered casually as he double checked the book. He still remembered how light Anthelion had felt on his back and was surprised he hadn’t tried to devour it whole.
“Oh. I don’t eat.” Anthelion said in a guilty tone.
“Then you must be starving.”
“I am.”
“Then you should eat.”
“No one has any food for me.”
“There’s a sandwich right there.”
“Oh, I don’t eat.” Anthelion squinted as he said it then continued. “I don’t eat… normal food.” Schemes waited for further explanation, but didn’t get any. “Can I have more water?”
Schemes nodded and returned to the water jug, refilling the cup and giving the dirty towel a half hearted push to try and sop up the spilled water before returning to the stallion, who had fallen asleep again. Schemes prodded him awake again and gave him the cup. It seemed likely that it was at worst a minor concussion, but it was probably best to avoid unnecessary bouts of unconsciousness for the time being.
All the while as Schemes treated the pegasus, another part of his brain was spinning up, trying to piece together facts and what they added up to. First, didn’t eat ‘normal food’. Second, was starving but didn’t look like it. In fact Anthelion looked like one of the healthiest stallions he’d ever seen. Third, was very light even for a starving pegasus. Fourth, didn’t want to go to the hospital after being perhaps lethally wounded. Fifth, was somewhat interested in Schemes. Schemes thought about adding 'uses multiple names' to the list but decided against it, who didn't hide behind an alias once in a while. Still, there was something going on.
Eventually, it was the fifth fact, compounded by Schemes’ own crippling self-loathing, that led him to the truth. Why would a healthy handsome stallion be interested in the psycho planner who lived like a raccoon? Because, it wasn’t a healthy handsome stallion, it was someone or something pretending to be a healthy handsome stallion, stood to reason. So then, who or what would do something like that?
A smile crept onto Schemes’ face as he untwined the threads in the back of his mind. Anthelion fell silent at the look of strange happiness that slowly spread over the face of the stallion. “Hey Anthelion? Want to help me with a diagram?” Asked Schemes suddenly, launching himself to one of the nearby blackboards and spinning it from a clutter of lines and arrows to the blank side opposite it, but not before Anthelion caught a glimpse of what might have been Celestia's cutiemark in the upper right hand corner.
“I guess?” Anthelion answered, his mind still swimming in confusion.
Schemes retrieved a stub of chalk from a nearby table and smiled. “Excellent.”
