Chapters For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
“The universe hangs by such a delicate thread of coincidences…”
-Paul McGann, the Eighth Doctor
A train whistled once, steam pouring from its funnel as it chugged gently into the station. Several ponies bustled forth, carrying luggage and postcards and sundry souvenirs of their time spent in Vanhoover. One lone maroon stallion, however, sat apart from the madding crowd, apparently electing instead to read the daily news with an idle eye. In reality, his eye was anything but, flicking frequently between one pair of ponies and another, and then to a spot on the floor where a hole had developed.
The pair of earth ponies that he had been observing stood up a little straighter as the train pulled in, hauling up their bags and trunks. Bright Macintosh and Pear “Buttercup” Butter. They were about to be saved from their certain death.
This would, admittedly, come at some cost. Always, there was a cost, the maroon stallion mused idly.
The other couple, a pegasus husband and wife, were arguing with the ticket-seller. Well, technically, they were pleading. “We can squeeze in,” the mare said, her voice tinged with desperation. “We can ride on the roof!”
“Or a boxcar,” the stallion added. “I can probably put all our luggage into a bindle!”
He looked at the two large, stuffed suitcases behind him. “I’ll need a tablecloth and a broom handle. Actually, can you make that two of each?”
“I’m sorry!” the stallion at the counter said, sounding almost as though he was referring to the situation, rather than the fact that he was involved in it. “But the train is full. There aren’t any seats left! You can catch the next one, though, it’s leaving in--”
“We know!” the stallion interrupted. “We checked all the schedules. The 4:37, the 5:58, the 7:13, and then there aren’t any more until tomorrow. But all of those are too late!”
“Well, where are you folks going--”
“Our daughter is having a race tomorrow,” the mare explained. “At flight camp! We only just got the letter.”
“So we cut our vacation short,” the stallion continued. “We wouldn’t want to miss our daughter’s first official flying race, would we?” Something seemed to strike him. “Say. Say! Could we exchange the tickets we planned on using for tickets on this train?”
“Sir, I’m really very sorry,” the ticket-seller said. “I’m afraid there are simply no tickets left to sell. You’d have better luck asking around, seeing if anyone would trade you their tickets.” His voice was flat and a little sarcastic, but neither pegasus noticed.
“I’ll go this way, you go that way,” the mare said.
The stallion snapped a mock salute. “Dear, yes, dear!”
She gave him a quick peck on the cheek and ran off, while he scanned the station for anyone who looked like they were about to give up their tickets.
“I say, are you alright?” he asked, his voice plummy. “Terrible accident, terrible. Shame the way they keep these stations, what?”
Buttercup wheezed. “I think,” she muttered. “I’ve stepped on a nail.”
Bright Mac’s eyes went wide. With a gentleness that belied his size, he lifted his wife’s hoof out of the hole. Sure enough, there was a sharp iron nail at least three inches long sticking into the frog of the mare’s hoof. “Oh, Celestia,” he muttered. “Oh, dear sweet Celestia. Buttercup, don’t panic. Yer gonna be okay, Ah promise. Don’t panic. Don’t panic.”
The frizzy-maned mare stared at her husband. “How about I don’t if you don’t, Brightie?”
The maroon stallion winced at the wound in the mare’s leg. “Best get that to a hospital, as soon as possible,” he said seriously. “Might get infected, you know.”
Bright coughed. “Well, uh, we have got a train to catch…”
Over in line, a pair of ears pricked up. A dusky blue stallion with a rainbow mane turned around. “For this train?” he asked loudly.
The yellow stallion glanced up. “Um, yessir.”
He held up his own tickets. “These are for three days from now. Swapsies?” He grinned, wide and desperate.
The apple farmer’s face lit up. “Well! Isn’t that swell? Sure thing, pardner.”
***
Quickly, tickets exchanged hooves. Then, one couple was on their way to the train, and the other one to the hospital, Bright Mac and Pear Butter bidding a hasty goodbye to their new friends, Windy Whistles and Bow Hothoof. The maroon stallion smiled as he watched the last few stragglers board the great engine on what was destined to be its last voyage. Now all he had to do was settle back and watch the show. It was bound to be a good one, the Monk thought to himself.
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
Ponyville, Summer of 7 BAT : It was a gloomy, drizzly sort of day. The rain wasn’t light enough to go outside, but neither was it heavy enough to turn into a nice thunderstorm. One might think that this was the sort of weather that must be the pinnacle of ennui. Then, worn out from all the exertion of thinking, one would likely lie down in a heap and wait for death to arrive.
This weather did not sit well with Apple Bloom. The seventeen-year-old sat at her parlor window, muzzle pressed against the glass. “‘Tain’t fair,” she sighed for what must have been the twelfth time that day.
Applejack rolled her eyes. “Ah know, Ah know. Ya wanted t’ go out Crusadin’ with yer friends. But y’all can do that tomorrow, can’t ya?”
“No,” Bloom said gloomily. “We were gonna try for weather control cutie marks, make a storm or summat. Now all the rain’s bein’ used up.” She stared out the window. “Slowly.”
Applejack made a mental note to tell Rainbow Dash to look out for the Cutie Mark Crusaders. She wasn’t sure how earth ponies or unicorns could try for weather control marks, but she really didn’t want to find out. “Well, anyway,” she said, changing the subject, “Ya can’t spend all day mopin’ at that window.”
“Ain’t much else t’ do, an’ Ah’m filled with teenage angst. Or summat,” Bloom replied muzzle still firmly pressed to the glass.
“Teenage angst?” Applejack asked, frowning. “Since when? Seemed pretty happy yesterday.”
Bloom stewed. “Ah dunno. But Ah can be all angsty if Ah wanna! Anyway, Ah’m feelin’ a bit under the weather today.”
Granny Smith looked up from her knitting. “What’s th’ matter then? Sore throat? Cold? Flu? Ah’ll getcha some tea.”
Bloom shook her head. “Nah, it ain’t nothin’ like that.”
“Sure y’all ain’t jes’ upset ‘bout the rain?” Applejack asked.
Bloom shook her head. “No… It’s like… Ya know how Granny’s hip gets bad when there’s snow a-comin’? Or when Pinkie Pie gets a twitchy tail? It’s kinda like that.”
Applejack raised an eyebrow. “Ah see. An’ what do y’all see in mah future, Madame Bloom?”
The younger mare frowned, turning to face her big sister. “Ya don’t believe me?”
Applejack chuckled. “Well, ya can’t jes’ see into th’ future like that! Ah mean, Pinkie can, but that’s Pinkie.”
Bloom stewed. “What about you, Granny? Ya always know when it’s gonna start snowin’.”
The old mare grinned. “Well now, youngun, that’s less t’ do with any fancy fortune tellin’ than it is t’ do with mah bad joints.”
Bloom crossed her hooves. “Well, Ah can feel somethin’! Ah ain’t sure what yet, but there’s somethin’!”
“O’ course, sugarcube,” Applejack agreed, a patient grin on her face. “Ah’m sure ya feel somethin’.” She grinned. “Maybe that extra hunka apple pie ya thought Ah didn’t notice last night.”
Bloom stomped a hoof. “Quit makin’ fun o’ me! It ain’t even mah stomach, it’s like a headache.” She paused. “An’ Ah did not take any extra pie! Maybe it was Mac, I dunno.”
The stallion glanced up from his armchair where he had been peacefully reading. “Hm?”
Apple Bloom glared at him. “Did you take any extra pie last night?”
He shrunk back under the glare of his littlest sister. “Uh, eenope!” he replied.
“Oh, ya noticed th’ pie,” Granny said, disappointed. “Shoot. Ah thought ya wouldn’t be able t’ tell Ah took any.”
Applejack winced as her younger sister flung out a hoof. “See? SEE? It ain’t always me, Applejack! But whenever somethin’ goes wrong, ya always ask me first! Whenever Ah say somethin’, ya act like Ah ain’t even there!”
“Now, simmer down there,” Applejack said, but Apple Bloom would have none of it.
“Simmer down?” she seethed. “Simmer down? Ah’ve been simmerin’ a long time on this, an’ right now Ah’m ‘bout ready t’ boil over!”
Mac very quietly rose from his chair and slipped away. It was a survival instinct that he had honed to a science over the years. He could tell when one of his sisters was about to blow their stack as easily as he could tell a Red Delicious from, well, a Macintosh. He glanced back into the parlor. Perhaps now would be a good time to return this book to the library, he thought. The fact that he would be able to see Miss Twilight was just an added benefit.
Applejack had risen to her hooves now. “Now listen here, young filly—”
“No!” Bloom shouted. “You listen t’ me! Ah’m seventeen now, Applejack! Ah’m practically an adult! Ah’m sick of bein’ seen as the young one all th’ time! Ah’m tired of bein’ the baby!”
“You are th’ baby!”
“No, Ah ain’t! Ah ain’t been for a long time now! Ah jes’ want a little respect now and again! Is that too much t’ ask?”
Applejack took a deep breath. “Go to your room.”
Bloom stared at her in blank shock. Granny Smith cringed. Mac gave up looking for his galoshes and just galloped out the front door.
Apple Bloom exhaled softly. When she spoke again, all the fire was gone, replaced by ice. “Fine,” she said. “Ah’m goin’. Ah’m leavin’ mah problems behind, jes’ like when y’all went t’ live in Manehattan.”
It was dead silent. Applejack looked like she’d been sucker punched. Granny’s eyes darted from one grandfilly to the other. Bloom stormed out of the room. “Sometimes Ah wish ya hadn’t come back!” she shouted.
***
Big Macintosh galloped through the drizzle as fast as his hooves would carry him, eager to get as far away from the conflict inside as possible. Mud splashed over his legs and sides and rain blurred his vision. Suddenly, he paused. What was that bright light up ahead? He squinted through the rain. It looked like it was coming closer. Cautiously, the big stallion backed up a couple of steps, but the light still grew closer. He could see something inside of it, could almost make out forms. It grew brighter and clearer, and Mac could see… himself.
Oh, his mane might have been a little spikier, like it had been when he was a teenager, and his stance might've been a little more sure, but the other’s identity was undeniable. And behind him... Mac’s eyes went wide. “Ma? Pa?” he whispered. The light grew brighter and brighter still. Mac did not look away. The light enveloped him.
The same blinding light grew and spread from Manehattan to Appaloosa, from Griffonstan to the Crystal Empire. It closed in on the final piece. The central piece. Sweet Apple Acres. The world wobbled on its axis as everything suddenly stopped. When it resumed its normal rotation, it was as though nothing had changed. In reality, everything had. The world hangs by a delicate thread of coincidences. One that had just been snapped.
***
Apple Bloom stopped at the top of the stairs. The floor seemed to sway and heave under her. She shook her head to clear it and frowned. What had she been doing? There was a ringing in her ears, and her teeth were ground. She loosened her jaw slightly and relaxed her oddly tense muscles. Why did she feel so angry all of a sudden? What had she been doing?
“Bloom?” a familiar male voice called. “Apple Bloom, where are you?”
The filly shook herself once more. “Coming, Pa!” she called, trotting back down the stairs.
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
The parlor was cheery and bright. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and faint music echoed from a phonograph in the corner. Granny Smith dozed in her rocking chair, a half-finished, amorphous knitting project in her lap. Mac Jr. lay by the fire, doing a crossword. A petite peach mare with an orange mane that frizzed over her eyes sat under a quilt, snuggled next to a larger yellow stallion whose mane was red as Apple Bloom’s own. The stallion grinned as Bloom trotted into the room. “There’s mah girl,” he said with a grin. “Where’d you run off to?”
Bloom opened her mouth to respond, but faltered. Her brow furrowed. “Funny,” she said. “Ah plumb forgot what Ah got up t’ do.”
“Can’t’a been that important, then,” her brother chuckled. “What’s a seven-letter word for ‘impossibility’?”
Bloom thought. “Got me,” she admitted.
“Starts with a ‘P’,” Junior added.
“Puzzles?” his mother suggested.
Macintosh Jr. frowned at the crossword. “...No. No, Ah don’t think so. Never mind, Ah’ll jes’ move on.”
Bloom looked up at the duo on the couch. “Somethin’ ya wanted, Pa?”
“Well, Ah know it’s rainin,” he replied, scratching the back of his head. “But Ah jes’ remembered that th’ library books are due back today. You wanna go take ‘em back for me?”
Bloom nodded. “Sure thing, Pa. Wonder if we can have some Twilight Time today…”
Her parents exchanged confused looks. “Twilight Time?” her father asked. “What’s that, sugarcube?”
Bloom furrowed her brow again. What had she been talking about? “It’s, uh, a book,” she said quickly. “Yep. New book. Heard about it from Sweetie Belle. Sounds real good.”
Junior glanced up from his puzzle. “Sweetie Belle? That a new friend o’ yours?” he asked.
“Uh?” Bloom asked, frowning. “What d’ya mean, new? Ah’ve known Sweetie since…” she trailed off. She could remember vague shapes and colors. A voice, sweet and pure, if a little squeaky. “Well, Ah’ve known her fer years,” she said.
Her father looked at her askance, but nodded slowly. “All right,” he said. “Well, th’ books are by the door, an’ th’ umbrellas are all in th’ stand. If ya see this friend of yers, tell her not ta be a stranger.”
“Right,” Bloom replied slowly. “Right. See y’all later, then!” She trotted for the door, her head throbbing with a strange double pulse. The world seemed to wobble slightly for the briefest of moments, and Apple Bloom wobbled on her hooves as the strangest sensation of vertigo washed over her. She shook herself. What had she been thinking? Nothing too important, surely. Off to the library.
***
The rain was less of an obstacle than the mud. It was only a mild drizzle, but it had been going on for long enough that the grime clung to the young mare’s hooves, slurping and squelching as she walked. She scowled down at the ground. She felt… oddly angry. And sad. Why? Something was missing, something important. So absorbed in thought was the mare that she didn’t even notice the pegasus until they collided. “Hey!” the other exclaimed. “Watch where you’re going!”
The orange mare gave Bloom a quick glance. “Oh. Hi. Apple Bloom, right?”
“...Yeah. What’re y’all doin’ out in the rain?” A vague memory floated across her mind. “Watchin’ fer Rainbow Dash?”
Scootaloo squinted. “Who? I’m looking for Thunderlane, obviously.”
“Rumble’s big brother?”
“Huh? Oh. Yeah, I guess. But that’s not the important thing. He’s way cool! He’s the head of the weather patrol, and a reserve Wonderbolt! Plus, y’know, he’s the Element of Honesty, so that’s pretty neat, too.”
Bloom’s eyes crossed for a moment and the ground underneath her seemed to ripple like Jell-O. “Element… of Honesty?” she muttered through her daze. “No, that’s… that ain’t right.”
Scootaloo looked at the other mare with concern. “You alright? I didn’t think we crashed that hard. Hey, I’m sorry, I’ll get you a coffee at Sugarcube Corner, alright?”
Apple Bloom shook her head violently to clear away the fuzz. It worked, for the most part. Not entirely, though. “Yeah,” she said. “Thanks, Scoots.”
The pegasus gave a crooked smile. “No problem, uh, Bloom.”
Sugarcube Corner was fairly quiet that day. Mr. Cake stood behind the counter, humming contentedly as he arranged the pastries in their cases. He glanced up and smiled as the two mares entered his shop. “Morning,” he said with a nod. “What can I do for you ladies today?”
“Two coffees,” Scootaloo replied. “One with two creams, three sugars, and a shot of caramel, and one…” she trailed off, glancing at Apple Bloom.
“Milk,” the mare finished. “A lot of it, please. Chocolate.”
“Uh-huh. Lyra? Get the coffee machine, please!”
“Sure thing, Mr. Cake!” a voice called from the back room. Moments later, a mint-green unicorn strolled out of the door, followed by a large, clanking, clattering machine that spat out columns of steam periodically. It was pulled along by a tiny, perspiring, purple baby dragon. Once it was sat in the center of the workspace, he collapsed against it, panting heavily. Lyra grinned. “Thanks, Spike! You’re the best!”
Bloom’s eyes went wide. “What in Celestia’s name is that?” she asked.
Lyra glanced up, a wide grin plastered across her face. “You like it? It’s my own invention. I call it the Boolean Automated Beverage Yspenser, or ‘BABY’ for short.”
Apple Bloom furrowed her brow. “Yspenser?”
“She would’ve called it a ‘dispenser’, but we couldn’t fit that into an acronym,” Spike explained, mopping his brow. “So, Scoots, the usual?”
“Yep! And just milk for my friend here.”
“You got it!” Lyra replied, pulling a pair of punch cards out of a pouch and inserting them into a slot in the side of her machine. Mr. Cake, quick and silent on his hooves, trotted into the back room.
BABY hissed and whistled like a kettle, steam the color of cream rising into the air. The smell of coffee and vanilla filled the shop, and Bloom noticed that the temperature had risen a few degrees. Scootaloo merely stared at the machine expectantly, and Spike sighed and sat back on the counter. “Just wait,” he said, holding up a claw. “Three… two… one…”
There was a sudden ringing in Apple Bloom’s ears. The steam emanating from BABY had been replaced by caramel-colored smoke. It also appeared to be slightly on fire. Lyra sighed and patted the massive steam machine. “Next time,” she said. Then, she levitated two cups over to the counter. “Six bits, please,” she said.
Scootaloo hoofed over the cash. “For a second, it really looked like it was gonna make it,” she said.
“Yeah,” Lyra agreed, drooping slightly. “I just can’t get it to let out all the heat fast enough. Maybe I need to try a more conducive metal…”
“Maybe you should get Applejack t’ look at it,” Bloom volunteered. “She’s pretty good about fixin’ stuff.”
Lyra squinted. “Apple… Who?”
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
Apple Bloom frowned. “What d’ya mean, ‘who’? Applejack! Mah sister! Orange coat, Stetson, rodeo champ? Pretty annoyin’ sometimes?”
Scootaloo made a faint noise of recognition. “Oh, the one that lives in Manehattan,” she said, nodding. “Right, I remember her. Didn’t look much like a rodeo mare, though. Or a repair mare, for that matter.”
“I liked her,” a flat voice said from behind Apple Bloom. She jumped and spun around to find herself face to face with a heavy-lidded expression of purest apathy.
“O-oh, hi, Maud,” Bloom said, struggling to get her pulse back under control.
“Hello,” the older mare replied. She glanced behind the counter. “Your coffee machine seems to have exploded. Again.”
“Yeah,” Lyra said, rubbing at an ear with a hoof. “It’s getting better, though. It actually made the coffee before going out with a bang.”
“That is progress,” Maud agreed. “Would you like help repairing it?”
“Yeah, sure, that’d be great,” Lyra agreed. “Anyway, what can I get for you?”
“A rock cake,” Maud replied.
“The usual it is!” Lyra proclaimed, taking several large, lumpy objects out from under the counter and popping them into a bag.
“How much?” Maud asked, reaching for her bit bag.
“For you, no charge,” Lyra said breezily. “I’ll pay for you. After all, loyalty works both ways, eh?”
“I can’t make you do that,” Maud said, a slight frown gracing her features.
“No, but you also can’t stop me!” Lyra replied with a broad grin. “Look, you come over after work and help me fix BABY, and we’ll call it even, okay?”
The faintest of smiles flickered over Maud’s face. She nodded. “I’ll bring the other elements, as well. I’m sure we can work it out together.”
“Other elements?” Apple Bloom asked, squinting. Her ears were ringing again, and it had nothing to do with the exploded beverage yspenser. There was something terribly wrong with the world, but she didn’t know what it was. Thinking deeply, she took a long sip of her chocolate-milk coffee. She glanced at Scootaloo, who still hadn’t touched hers. “Too hot fer ya?”
“Huh? Oh, no. I hate coffee. I buy it for Thunderlane.” Her eyes sparkled. “Someday, maybe he’ll take me under his wing and help me learn to fly better,” she said dreamily.
This all sounded oddly familiar to Apple Bloom. Had she heard Scootaloo talking about this before? Her head was beginning to throb again. “Thank y’all kindly fer th’ coffee,” she managed. “Ah best git goin’ now, though. Got t’ take back mah library books, an’ that…”
She stumbled out the door. The other mares and Spike watched her go. “She seems unwell,” Maud observed.
“Or she’s just tired?” Spike suggested.
Scootaloo spread her wings nervously. “I thought she was just dazed from running into me.”
Lyra frowned, her mouth a line. “Mr. Cake? I’m going on my lunch break!” she called.
“But it’s only a quarter-past eleven!” the lanky stallion protested, peering out from the kitchen.
“I know, and I’m sorry, but I think something’s just come up,” Lyra replied anxiously. “Can I? Please?”
Mr. Cake’s eyes softened. “Alright,” he said. “Pound and Pumpkin are getting to be old enough to learn how to run the counter anyway. Just be back in an hour, okay?”
“You got it!” the unicorn said, vaulting over the counter and galloping out the door.
Mr. Cake smiled, shaking his head. “That mare,” he sighed as he trotted up to the counter, scooting the BABY back with one hoof. “You two want to help me get this back to her workshop?”
***
The rain had relented at last, and the sun was beginning to peek through the clouds, shining down on Apple Bloom as she meandered distractedly through the streets. Everything felt off today. A reelection sign for Mayor Filthy Rich? An advertisement for the one-night-only performance of DJ C3ll-0 and glam rockstar ‘Cheers’? A ‘wanted’ poster for the criminal known as Starlight Glimmer? Bloom scuffed at the ground with a hoof, her mouth a tight, twisted scowl. What was she missing? Blurred memories swam through her mind, warped and bent like funhouse mirrors. The mud under her hooves gave and bent like putty. Pressure built up in her head like her ears were about to pop. She sat down heavily in the mud, her eyes wet and threatening to spill over. “Apple Bloom?” a cultured voice exclaimed in surprise. “What are you doing?”
The mare looked up. An alabaster unicorn, her violet mane tied back in a tidy bun, looked at her in concern. “Oh. Howdy, Miz Rarity,” Bloom said, rising to her hooves. “How’re you today?”
“I’m fine. You, however, obviously aren’t.” The unicorn pulled out a hoofkerchief out of her saddlebag and held it out to Apple Bloom, who accepted it gratefully. “Whatever is the matter?” the unicorn asked gently.
“Oh, ya know,” Apple Bloom said, dabbing at her eyes. “Ah’ve jes’ been havin’ one o’ them days.’
“One of those , days, darling,” the unicorn corrected. “You may not be in my class any more, but I certainly will not allow you to flaunt the rules of grammar so thoroughly.”
Apple Bloom blinked slowly. “Your class.” Something seemed to echo hollowly in her head.
Rarity looked at her askance. “That’s right.”
“Miz Rarity, d’y’all by chance happen t’ know a mare named Cheerilee?”
The unicorn raised her eyebrows. “Well! There’s a name I’ve not heard in a long time. We went to college together, and we were even in the same teaching course. Unfortunately, the stress grew too much for the poor dear and she dropped out. And now…” she gestured to the Cheers/Cell-0 poster.
Apple Bloom’s eyes went wide. “Serious?” she asked.
“Quite,” Rarity said with a sharp nod. “I suppose she’s done alright for herself, all things considered. It is a pity though; she really was quite good with children. Why do you ask, darling?”
Apple Bloom didn’t meet the teacher’s eyes. “Oh, uh, no reason. Jes’... heard ‘bout her from mah folks. They knew her from when she was younger.”
Technically speaking, this was only half a lie. Cheerilee was, in fact, a distant relative of the Apple family: her mother’s second cousin’s daughter, more closely related to the Cherry branch of the Berry family. There was a story about how Cheerilee had been the only one who could calm the squalling infant Apple Bloom at the funeral.
The gears in the mare’s head ground to a stop. Funeral? What funeral? Whose funeral? She couldn’t remember. Why couldn’t she remember?
Rarity was not oblivious to her former student’s sudden silence. “Are you sure you’re alright, darling?” she asked gently.
“Fine,” Apple Bloom said waspishly. “Jes’ a headache.”
Rarity made a sympathetic noise. “I’m sure Dr. Fluttershy could give you something for it,” she suggested.
“Mighty fine idea,” Bloom agreed. “First, though, Ah gotta get t’ th’ library. See ya ‘round, Miz Rarity!”
The schoolteacher watched her go, a thoughtful expression on her face. “You can come out now, Lyra,” she said idly.
The mint green unicorn peeked out from a row of rosebushes. “How did you know I was here?”
“The night vision goggles rather gave it away, darling,” the white mare replied drily. “Might I ask why in the world you were spying on that young mare?”
Lyra stepped out of the garden, shaking petals and leaves from her mane. “I was worried about her,” she said with a shrug. “I don’t know if you’d noticed, but she was kinda out of it.”
“No,” the schoolteacher drawled, “Really?”
“Yeah. Earlier, it was like she’d never seen BABY before, or Maud, or the Elements. I dunno. It’s weird, and I wanna know if this is a problem that we’re gonna have to deal with.”
“You don’t buy her story about the headaches, then?”
Lyra shook her head emphatically. “Definitely not. I dunno what’s going on here, but it’s more than that.”
“Aliens again, then?”
Lyra shrugged. “It always has been. Don’t see why not.”
“Oh, lovely,” Rarity sighed. “Honestly, I’ll never understand how you all deal with it. Particularly the Doctor! He’s like some sort of unearthly child, half the time.”
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
Apple Bloom trotted into the Golden Oaks Library, still a little unsteady on her hooves. It was a fairly quiet building; only a few other ponies sat around the room. Caramel and his marefriend, Sassaflash, were quietly making out in a corner. Trixie, the mayor’s chief of staff, was lost in a trashy romance novel, her eyes wide and dewy. Zecora was idly paging through a cookbook. Apple Bloom strode up towards the main desk, when she was suddenly hugged tightly from behind. “Gah!” she yelped, dropping her umbrella.
“What’s the matter, Bloom?” a teasing voice asked from behind her. “Afraid of your own friends?”
Apple Bloom turned around and found herself face to face with a smiling pale pink mare about her own age, whose purple and white mane were neatly brushed. “Oh. Hey, Diamond,” Apple Bloom said, relieved. Faintly, in the back of her brain, she felt hackles rising, but she wasn’t quite sure why. The mayor’s daughter had been one of her closest friends since before they could talk. Tiara’s father and Apple Bloom’s parents had known each other for a long time, so it seemed only natural for the two of them to grow up side by side. Yet, there was something wrong once again! Bloom squinted at the pink mare.
Tiara’s smile faded. “Bloom? What’s wrong? Is there something in my teeth?”
The yellow mare shook herself from her reverie and smiled. “Aw, ev’rythin’s fine, DeeTee. Jes’ a li’l headache. So, what’s up?”
“Oh, just working on Daddy’s reelection campaign,” Tiara replied. “I can count on your family to vote for him, of course?”
“Remind me, who-all’s he runnin’ against?”
Diamond’s face screwed up. “Davenport,” she spat. “Y’know, the rich furniture guy? I mean, what does he know about politics?”
Bloom chuckled. “Probably not a heck of a lot,” she agreed. “Ah wouldn’t worry. Yer daddy’s run this town darn well as long as Ah can remember. So, other’n that, what else you been up to?”
Diamond shrugged. “Oh, this and that,” she said casually. “Homework, of course. Trying to get a summer internship job up in Canterlot. Planning the best way to ask that cutie Rumble on a date…”
Bloom raised an eyebrow. “Didn’t figure he was your sorta colt,” she observed. “Not much of a go-getter.”
Diamond shrugged, smirking. “Let me worry about that. I’ll have him twisted ‘round my hoof like so much putty.” She stomped on the floor emphatically.
Bloom chuckled. “You get ‘im,” she said with a grin.
“Other than that…” Diamond trailed off. “Silver Spoon’s coming back to town soon.”
“Nice. Where’d she an’ her folks go this time?”
Diamond looked up at the ceiling in thought. “...Someplace in Bactria, I think. No, I tell a lie, it was a dig in Acacia. Some ancient giraffe king.”
“Is that near Timbucktoo?”
“Not really. I mean, they’re in two different countries. Why?”
Bloom shook her head. “Oh, no reason. Jes’ popped into mah head. We should try’n throw her a ‘welcome home’ party.”
Diamond grinned. “Already got entertainment planned, refreshments arranged, and invitations written.”
“Sheesh,” Bloom said, shaking her head. “Well, Ah guess yer on top o’ it already.”
“I like to think of myself as ruthlessly efficient, but in a friendly way,” Diamond agreed, teeth glimmering in her broad smile. “Your invitation should arrive later today. Gotta run, but I’ll see you later!”
“Catch ya later, DT,” Apple Bloom agreed. “Good luck with Rumble!”
She’ll need it , a voice murmured at the back of her mind. Bloom pointedly ignored it, and instead trotted up to the desk. “Mornin’, Twilight.”
“Twilight?” an unfamiliar voice chuckled. The librarian set down the book he had been reading, revealing a bright blue stallion in a bow tie. “Sorry, none in. Lot of rubbish, anyway. Vampires don’t sparkle. They shimmer a bit, or at least the Saturnines did.” He smiled down at the yellow mare. “How ‘bout some Harry Trotter?”
Apple Bloom backed away. “Uh, not today, thanks… Doc Ragg’dy.”
“Sure? Well, alright then,” the librarian said, leaning forward in his chair. “What can I do for you today?”
“Uh,” Apple Bloom said, feeling oddly wrong-hoofed. “Jes’ came to return these.” She removed a few books from her saddlebags and placed them on the desk.
The Doctor watched her carefully. “You feeling okay?” he asked quietly. “You seem a little... “
“Out of it?” the mare suggested.
“I was thinking ‘Doo-lally’, but that works too,” the Doctor agreed brightly. “Not been sleeping well or something?”
“Nah, nah,” Bloom replied, shaking her head. “Jes’ feelin’ a bit off today. M’ mem’ry’s playin’ tricks on me.”
“Bit of the ol’ deja vu?”
Bloom squinted. “Uh, somethin’ like that, Ah guess. That’s when it feels like you’ve seen somethin’ before, right?”
“That’s it, yeah.”
Apple Bloom looked up at the ceiling. “There a phrase for seeing something that shouldn’t’a existed?”
"Ah, jamais vu ! Never a pleasant sensation..." The Doctor paused, then frowned. “Why do you ask?”
She didn’t know why she asked. She didn’t even know what she had meant. What had she been thinking about? “Ah should go,” she said.
“Hold on,” the Doctor protested, but she was already dashing out the doors. The Time Lord made no move to follow her. A cold trickle of fear ran down his spine. Seeing something that shouldn’t have been? That could be… well. That could mean any number of things. Something had been preying on his mind for some time now. Something was wrong with the world, and somehow the youngest Apple in town had gotten tangled up in it.
His youthful expression faded for a moment. Suddenly, he seemed to have aged centuries in an instant, and his eyes… In the next instant, he had brightened up once more, cheerfully smiling at the patrons of the library. But if anypony were to look closely, to see what hid in his hazel eyes, they would see the truth. The Doctor was scared.
***
Apple Bloom galloped through the muddy streets, uncertain of what, exactly, she was running from. A train whistle, long and loud, echoed in the distance. Ponies became blurs in the rain as she raced past, melting into one another until finally she halted atop the hoofbridge, breathing heavily, her legs burning. Fear, unrelenting and illogical, filled her. She didn’t know why she was scared, or even what she was afraid of. A small, rational part of her noticed that she had left the umbrella at the library, but the bulk of her mind elected to ignore that for now. Her eyes went narrow. She wasn’t sure yet just what was going on, but she intended to find out. And she would start back at Sweet Apple Acres…
***
The screen door of the farmhouse slammed open and Apple Bloom rushed through. Granny frowned at her. “Slow down there, young mare,” she warned. “Ye’ll do yerself a mischief, crashin’ around like that.”
“Sorry, Granny.” Apple Bloom replied vaguely, eyes darting around.
The elderly mare frowned as her grandfilly quickly trotted up the stairs. There was something odd about that filly today. Thoughtfully watching the swish of the retreating red tail, Granny slowly trotted toward the kitchen. As her hooves clattered against the wooden planks, a pair of ocean green eyes— not pear green, Granny reminded herself, not anymore. There were green apples too— turned from their work to glance at her. “Something the matter, Granny?” Buttercup asked lightly, glancing back to her work, her autumn-colored mane swinging towards the older mare like a mass of cotton candy. She was cutting an apple into paper-thin slices, favoring her good hoof, then arranging them in a pie crust.
Granny eased into a chair, idly picking up an apple and tossing it from hoof to hoof. There was a moment of silence. “Ah’m worried ‘bout Bloom,” the green mare said after a moment.
The silence became rather more tense. At length, the other mare turned from her pie crust. “And why might that be, Granny Smith?”
The matriarch’s eyes shifted, unable to meet the penetrating gaze of her daughter-in-law. “She’s been actin’... mighty odd, today. Like she ain’t sure she fits in right. Ah ain’t sayin’ no more’n that, Buttercup.”
The pale peach mare said not a word, but redoubled her speed and force with the small knife in her hoof. Granny pursed her lips tightly. “Jes’, Ah’d look into it. Afore she goes an’... does summat.”
Light teal eyes went wide for a moment, then narrowed to slits as the face they were on contorted into a scowl. Buttercup nodded slowly. “You mean before she becomes an Orange. Or a Pear.”
“Ah didn’t say that.”
“You didn’t have to,” Buttercup returned. Then she took a deep breath in and let it out in a long sigh. “We’ll all have a family meeting. We can all talk to her.”
Granny nodded back. “Ah’ll fetch Brightie an' Junior. Where are they?”
“South orchard.”
The elderly green mare nodded, and trotted purposefully out the door. Pear Butter watched her go, then sat down heavily on the floor. She slumped forward and buried her head in her hooves, her eyes closed and her mind spinning with memories.
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
Apple Bloom lay on her bed, staring through the ceiling of her bedroom with a vague scowl furrowing her brow. She was so close, she could feel it tingling at the back of her brain like fizzing cider. An orange coat. A stetson. Shouting. Regret? Yes. Regret. If she closed her eyes, she could almost remember. She squeezed her eyelids shut, concentrating. If she could remember what she had been doing just before she had found herself at the top of the stairs, she felt sure that everything would fall into place. There had been an argument. But who had she argued with? And why? Certainly nopony else appeared to particularly upset. Bloom groaned and rolled up into a sitting position. Nothing. It was as though her memories had been stolen from her mind. Worse still, she couldn’t even remember what she had forgotten.
Suddenly, Bloom saw red. She let out a cry of rebellious anger and defiance and hurled her pillow at the bedroom door. What was going on? Why couldn’t she remember anything? She held down her other pillow and punched it with feverish rage and intensity, growling and snarling like a wild beast. A throat cleared behind her and she froze. Slowly, the mare’s head turned to the door.
Bloom saw red in quite another sense, now. Her brother scuffed his hooves on the floor and coughed. “Uh, Bloom? Ma, Pa, an’ Granny want a word. That is, if yer decent.”
The yellow mare took a long, deep breath in and let it out slowly. “How’s mah mane?”
The large stallion eyed his sister’s red locks. They were wild and stuck out every which way. “Not great. Want Ah should getcha a comb?”
Bloom shook her head and merely pulled the pink bow from her mane, letting it flutter to the floor. Then, without a word, she trotted past her brother and down the hall. Mac hesitated for a moment before following after.
***
Thunderlane stared broodingly into space. “Could you be a little more… specific, Doctor?” he asked at length.
The tropical blue pegasus in the rather fetching fez merely sighed. “You can’t really be that specific about temporal anomalies, ‘Lane. Just look for something that shouldn’t be there, something that makes you uncomfortable.”
Thunderlane gasped in mock shock. “My parents are a temporal anomaly?”
“No! Well, maybe. Probably not. Hopefully not, since then you wouldn’t exist. Well, at least, I don’t think you would. You can exist without having parents, sometimes. I had a friend like that. Which reminds me, if you see a crack in a wall, one that sort of looks like it’s grinning in a really angry, world-consuming way, run. Really, just run. I think I closed them all up, but you can’t be too careful.”
Thunderlane shook his head. “Some days, Doctor, I think your Magic and Lyra’s Laughter must’ve gotten mixed up after all.”
The Doctor grinned. “And how ‘bout you, eh? By all rights, you ought to be kindness, or maybe loyalty. Certainly to hear Rumble tell it.”
“Nah, nah. Zecora and Maud deserve those way more than I do,” Thunderlane chuckled. “Alright, off to look for whatever’s trying to ruin the universe’s day. Anything else?”
The Doctor’s expression collapsed like a poorly-made souffle. In a much softer voice, he asked, “Do you know Apple Bloom?”
Thunderlane squinted. “I know of her,” he replied carefully. “And I know her brother pretty well. We’re drinking buddies. But no, I don’t know her personally. Why, how is she mixed up in all this? I mean, she’s just a kid.”
“I think she knows something,” the Doctor said quietly. “I don’t think she’s the cause of any of this havoc being played in the time vortex. I’m not even sure if she knows that she knows. But somewhere in her brain, there’s something she remembers, and that could be dangerous.”
“So you want me to keep an eye on her?”
“Keep a lookout for her, any rate.”
Thunderlane regarded the other pegasus for a long moment. Then, he nodded. “I trust you, Doctor,” he said, and then flapped off.
The bright blue stallion watched his friend go. “Oh, Thunderlane,” he whispered. “I wish that I could believe in me as much as you do.”
***
The parlor held none of that morning’s conviviality and good cheer. Granny and Pa were sat on the couch, while Ma took one of the armchairs. Apple Bloom took stock of the room. Nopony was smiling. On the contrary, they all looked rather stoic, Granny most of all. The phonograph sat silent in a corner, and the fireplace was full of ashes and smoldering embers. Oddly enough, they all seemed to be staring at her mane. Self-consciously, Bloom ran a hoof through it before sitting down in the other armchair. Quietly, Mac Jr. entered a moment later and, seeing that there were no upholstered seats left, took the rocking chair.
For a long time, nopony said a word. At length, Bright Mac cleared his throat. “Ya changed yer mane.”
Bloom blinked. She wasn’t honestly sure what she had been expecting, but that certainly wasn’t it. “Uh… eeyup,” she agreed. “Th’ bow got tangled, so Ah took it out fer a bit.” She ran a hoof through her mane again.
“Were ya thinkin’ of… keepin’ it like that?” her father continued hesitantly.
“Uh… dunno. Might do, Ah guess.” Bloom rose to her hooves to catch a glimpse of herself in the mirror. Her eyebrows rose. “Huh. Yeah, Ah could make it work,” she said slowly. “Mebee a nice braid, or a…” she trailed off. ‘Ponytail,’ she didn’t say. ‘Like Applejack.’
“Ah dunno, maybe Ah’ve grown out of that bow. Ah’m bettin’ ya got more t’ talk ‘bout than mah mane, though,” Bloom said brusquely, sitting back down in the armchair.
The silence was deafening. “Ya’ll’ve been a bit… distracted, of late,” Granny said slowly.
“We’re worried about ya,” Bright added earnestly.
Apple Bloom glanced around. Stony faces on all sides. Mac Jr. looked distinctly uncomfortable. She chuckled. “Well, shoot. It’s nice y’all are so worried, but it ain’t no more’n a headache. Jes’ ain’t m’self today.”
Granny glanced for a moment at Buttercup, who looked away. Bright Mac Sr. shifted in his seat. Junior looked like he wanted to run, but the act of rising from the rocking chair would attract too much attention. Instead, he merely shrunk into himself as best he could.
At length, her mother cleared her throat. “Baby, you remember Applejack, don’tcha?”
Apple Bloom blinked. “‘Course Ah do. She’s ma sister.” She leaned forwards, eyes growing wide. “What’s wrong with her? Is she okay?”
Granny let out a huff of indignation. “Not s’if we’d ever know,” she grumbled, crossing her hooves across her chest. “Bin weeks since she last wrote us.”
“Granny,” Ma said, a note of warning in her voice. The old mare glared at her daughter-in-law, but sat back in her rocker, grousing softly.
Bright Mac glanced at his mother and then at his wife. Neither seemed willing to speak. “Apple Bloom, we’re just a little worried ya might do something… rash.”
His daughter cocked her head. “How d’ya mean?”
Mac Sr. coughed and glanced away. “Well, something like… leaving the farm.”
She was staring intently at Bloom’s mane. At length, she turned to look at her daughter-in-law. “Comb,” Granny said shortly.
Buttercup quickly rose to her hooves and trotted from the room, keeping off her right forehoof. Bloom watched her mother go, confused. “What—”
A glare from her grandmother silenced her. There was a long, tense contest of wills. Mac quietly closed his eyes. At length, Bloom glanced down. The green mare smiled tightly and gestured her over. Slowly, cautiously, Bloom hopped off the armchair and trotted over, eyeing her granny warily. With a gentle but firm hoof, Granny Smith guided her granddaughter into a sitting position in front of her. Buttercup reentered the room, a hairbrush and a strip of pink ribbon clutched in her teeth. She lay them both on the arm of Granny’s chair. “There y’are, Granny,” she said, backing away, not looking at the old mare or at her own daughter.
“Thank ya,” the old mare replied with a nod, pointedly returning the lack of a look. She picked the brush up and ran it firmly through Bloom’s mane.
“Ow!” Apple Bloom yelped, taking to her hooves. Quick as a whip, a hoof pressed down on her tail, forcing her to sit. The bristles scraped across her scalp once more, taking more than a little skin with it. “Granny, stop!” she protested. “Ah can fix mah own— Ouch!”
The brush was relentless. For the next five minutes, occasionally protesting, Apple Bloom winced through the indignity. Finally, finally, the abrasive bristles stopped and the young mare breathed out in relief. She tried to rise, but the hoof was still on her tail. Her mane was firmly tugged upwards, and she felt something being wrapped up in the strands. Finally, her grandmother let her go. Bloom stumbled away, unsteady on her hooves. She regarded her Granny for a long moment. Then, she dashed over to the mirror. She stared at her reflection for a long moment. The bow was back. Her mane was styled the same way it always had been since she was a filly. Apple Bloom’s eyes slowly narrowed. “Ah can fix mah own mane,” she said flatly, glancing at her assembled family.
Pear Butter glanced away. Bright Mac chuckled. It sounded terribly forced. “We know ya can, sugarcube. It’s jes’ well…”
“Mighta put it back wrong,” Pear Butter said, voice rough.
“Wrong?” Bloom repeated. “How d’ya mean, wrong? It’s mah mane.”
Nopony said a word. At length, her grandmother spoke. “Ya always had yer mane like that. That there’s yer… yer sister’s ol’ bow.”
Bloom let out a huff of annoyance. “Ah know that. But it ain’t me no more! It’s too… young. Too childish.”
“You are young,” her father said.
“Not that young! Give it to some li’l cousin or summat. Ah’ve had it long enough.”
“Apple Bloom.” Her grandmother’s voice was the voice of the earth itself, ancient and powerful and deep. “You leave that bow in.”
Bloom’s cheeks begin to grow hot. “Why? Ah’m old enough t’ make mah own choices, Granny! An’ Ah don’ wanna—”
“Do as yer tol’,” Pear Butter said, her voice rising slightly, not so much out of anger as out of worry.
“Bloom, sugarcube, ya don’ know what yer sayin,” her father said gently.
“I’m not a li’l filly no more!” Bloom exploded. “Ah’m old enough—”
Her grandmother rose to her hooves. “Go to your room,” she said, voice like the shifting plates of an earthquake.
Bloom stopped, stunned. Her eyes went wide. “Go… to… your… room…” she whispered. She stared straight at the wall, eyes unfocused.
Both Bright Mac and Bright Mac Jr. exchanged uncertain glances. “That’s what she said,” Buttercup agreed, uncertain.
Apple Bloom took a step back, her eyes wide. “No. No. This ain’t happenin’. This can’t be…”
Bright Mac blinked in surprise. “Well, it ain’t worth that much fuss, child. Here, come have a lie-down, ya look peaky.”
Bloom stared at him. “Pa,” she said slowly. “Yer here. You an’ ma— ya ain’t meant ta — Ya can’t be here. An’ Applejack!” She turned her head wildly, as though following the path of a pesky insect. “Where’s Applejack?”
Granny Smith stepped forward slowly, concern quickly replacing anger. Bloom backed up a few fearful paces, then turned and bolted from the room. “Where’s Applejack?” she shouted. The sound of squeaky hinges echoed through the house, followed by the short, sharp, slam of a screen door.
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
Thunderlane circled over Sweet Apple Acres like an eagle, keeping his eyes peeled and his ears pricked for any motion from below. On a pass over the west orchard, he spotted a splash of red making its way over the ground. The pegasus tilted into a steep dive, slowing down and pulling up just in time to make a soft landing. Mac glanced over at the pegasus and nodded. “That was mighty impressive there, Lane,” he said idly.
Thunderlane grinned. “Thanks.”
Mac grinned mischievously. “Now, iffin y’all put half as much work inta makin’ sure these crops got rain on schedule…”
The charcoal stallion chuckled, turning his eyes heavenwards. “Yeah, yeah, I know. Crush the Flim-Flam Brothers! Conquer the fruit trade! Unlimited wealth! Unlimited prosperity! Unlimited applesauce! Et cetera! Et cetera!”
“Well then,” Mac chuckled. “Why don’tcha?”
“Alas, my schedule is set in stone by far greater powers than I,” Thunderlane sighed dramatically. “To go against it would spell my demise, or worse yet, my pink slip.”
Mac grunted, still grinning slightly. “What brings yer lazy flank round these parts then?”
“Uh, Doc sent me. Have you seen your sister lately?”
The red stallion wheeled around to stare at the pegasus, who fluttered back in surprise. “Why d’ya wanna know?” Mac asked.
“Uh, she…” Thunderlane trailed off, desperately racking his brains for something other than ‘she might be the source of a breach in reality’ to say. Sometimes, being the Element of Honesty really sucked. “I didn’t really understand a word of it. You know how he can be.”
Well, that was true enough, anyway. Doctor Raggedy was well known for his technobabble, and frankly, Thunderlane still wasn’t certain what was going on.
Mac eyed the other stallion for a long moment. “Huh,” he said. “Well, as it happens, ya ain’t th’ only one lookin’ for her. She ran outta th’ house ‘bout a quarter of an hour ago, yellin’ her fool head off.”
Thunderlane felt a sinking feeling begin to develop in the pit of his stomach. “What… what was she saying?”
Mac shook his head. “Summat ‘bout how Ma an’ Pa ain't meant ta be here, an’ wonderin’ where Applejack is.”
Thunderlane squinted. “Oh, yeah. How long has it been since she went to live with your aunt and uncle?”
Mac let out a huff. “This time? On ‘round fifteen years, now,” he said shortly. “Never even came back t’ visit. She an’ Granny had…” he trailed off. “Words.”
Thunderlane frowned. “What about?”
“She tried t’ cut some kinda trade deal with Mayor Rich. It went south, an’ she tried t’ hide it. Things jes’ got worse from there, an' she went off in a huff t' Manehattan.”
The two sat in silence for a long moment. Then Mac started trotting away once more. “If ya see her, tell her she needs t’ come home. Tell her… tell her we’ll love her. No matter what.”
Thunderlane nodded. “I will.”
He watched Mac amble off down the path for a moment, then turned and walked the other way. “Okay,” he said aloud. “I’m seventeen. I’ve just realized that something is fundamentally wrong with my world. Where do I go?”
Instinctively, he glanced up at the clouds before shaking his head. Not a pegasus. No wings. That said, there was something to be said about first instincts. Most pegasi would tend to hide in the clouds if they wanted to be alone. Unicorns would likely hole themselves up in books, or work. Where would an earth pony be likely to go? He glanced around. Trees. Okay, he could start there. Keeping a careful eye on the treetops, he started through the orchard.
***
Lyra’s workshop was a slightly cramped basement beneath Sugarcube Corner, half machinery and half confectionery. Robotic arms and clamps scraped the ceiling. Gears and wires were scattered across the dusty floor. Along one wall, bags and bags of flour and sugar were stacked, because even Princess Celestia’s personal student only has so much sway. Lyra didn’t mind this too terribly, though. It was amazing what technological marvels could be made with sugar.
The Doctor didn’t like Lyra’s basement lab. Whenever he blinked, he could see an army, smiles fixed permanently on faces, the pink uniforms of the Happiness Patrol standing in stark contrast to a city’s grit and grime. One time, the unicorn had actually tried to make a robot out of candy. That was, thankfully, a failure, and the Doctor had taken a certain vindictive pleasure in breaking up the prototype with a pickaxe. He tolerated the fact that most meetings between the Elements took place here only because Mrs. Cake would often come down from work to bring them cookies, and he always insisted that a large pitcher of sticky-sweet lemonade be at the table. Just in case.
Maud and Lyra were busy tampering with the Yspenser in a corner. Idly, the Doctor watched them work. He turned to his compatriot and asked, “Do you suppose that we ought to help?”
The Element of Kindness merely shrugged. “When it comes to the problem of the BABY, too many cooks would spoil it, maybe.”
“Hm,” the Doctor said, shrugging. “What say you, Spike?”
The purple dragon glanced up from his comic book. “I think they’re both workaholics, and if you try to interrupt them now, you might just lose a hoof.”
“That, too, is very true,” Zecora agreed.
“Fair enough,” the Doctor decided.
“From your laissez-faire attitude, might I derive that you aren’t really sure when the others will arrive?”
“Our good Honesty is out looking for a breach in reality,” the bright blue pegasus replied breezily. “As for Generosity… Actually, where is she?”
“Here!” came a voice from the stairwell. A cream-colored mare cantered down into the basement, rather out of puff. “Sorry I’m late,” she gasped. “Buncha customers arrived. Busy day.”
“That’s alright, Thunderlane’s not here yet,” the Doctor replied idly. “Here, take my seat.”
He rose, and the mare all but dove into the chair, letting out a deep moan of contentment. “You have no idea how much I needed that,” she murmured. “I’m on my last wings.”
“Whatever happened at your store, you needn’t worry anymore,” Zecora said, patting her friend’s hoof comfortingly.
The two mares exchanged smiles for a moment, but quickly spun forwards at the sound of a small explosion. Lyra swore loudly, shaking out a soot-blacked hoof as she regarded the carbonized wiring. “That roasted the sugar container,” she groaned. “Now I’m gonna have to take it out, dismantle it, and clean off the layer of burnt caramel blocking the exit valve.”
Maud regarded her for a moment, then selected another wrench and began to undo the bolts holding the container in place. Lyra held up a hoof. “Leave it,” she sighed. “I’ll get to work on it later.”
Spike coughed. “Can I…”
Lyra smiled weakly despite herself. “Yes, Spike, you can eat the caramel.”
“Score!” the little dragon shouted, pumping his claw.
“Well, if you aren’t going to do any more with that, you may as well draw up some chairs and join us,” the Doctor said brightly. “I don’t expect Thunderlane will be too much longer.”
“What did you say he was doing?” Lyra asked, pulling over three more chairs.
“Hunting down a potentially catastrophic breach in the fabric of reality itself.”
“Same old, same old, then?” the cream pegasus asked, chuckling.
“It is my belief, you’re not wrong, Maple Leaf,” Zecora agreed with a grin.
***
Thunderlane sighed and slumped against a tree. Still no sign of Apple Bloom. Sweet Apple Acres was a pretty massive area to cover, and the filly certainly knew the orchards better than he ever would. There wasn’t even any guarantee she was still here; for all the pegasus knew, she could have run to a friend in town, or (Celestia forbid) stumbled into the Everfree.
Somehow, though, he doubted it. If the Doctor’s idea about the ‘broken timestream’ was true— and he had no reason to believe otherwise— she would likely try to escape to someplace she felt safe. Somewhere as unchanged as possible. Somewhere private… He frowned. Was that… singing?
He turned slowly, trying to get a fix on the sound, but it was faint and halting. Hesitantly, he set off in the rough direction of the music. Slowly, it grew stronger and stronger, and he could just about make out words. “We are… Cutie Mark… questing to…”
Drawing nearer still, he could hear choked sobs interspersing the words. His wings fluttered out slightly, but he resisted the impulse to take flight. Instead, he merely increased his gait over the wet, muddy ground to a quick trot. Through the post-rain mist, he began to make out a roughly rectangular shape. A treehouse? Why hadn’t the Apples looked there first?
It was only when he drew up next to it that he understood. The structure was dilapidated. Spots of mold and mildew and rot dotted the boards, and the paint on the roof was almost all peeled away. And there was singing coming from inside. Thunderlane’s wings fluttered out again as his mind raced. “Uh. Hi?” he said, shuffling a hoof against the ground. The singing stopped, replaced with tense silence.
“...Thunderlane?” a small voice whispered.
“Um. Yep, that’s me,” the pegasus agreed. “I’m guessing you’re Apple Bloom.”
“Ya mean you don’t remember me neither?” the voice asked, rising in pitch.
Thunderlane crossed one foreleg behind the other. “No. Should I?”
“Ah was one o’ Rumble’s best friends! Ah still am, actually, Ah think. But Ah don’t know! Scoots didn’t recognize me, Ah ain’t seen Button, an’ Sweetie and Dinky ain’t nowhere t’ be found!”
Thunderlane rolled this around in his head. “Scootaloo’s the kid that keeps stalking me, right?” he asked cautiously.
“Yes! But she ain’t supposed to be stalkin’ you!”
“Try telling her that,” the pegasus muttered.
“She’s meant t’ be obsessed with Rainbow Dash! But Ah can’t find her nowhere either!”
“Rainbow Dash…” Thunderlane frowned. “That name… actually sounds familiar.”
“... It does?”
“Yeah, I just don’t remember why… Look, the Doctor sent me. He thinks he knows what’s going on, and apparently, you’re right in the middle of it. So, do you want to come with me, or do you want to hide in your tree fort for the rest of the afternoon?”
There was a long moment of silence. Then, a pink bow poked out of the doorway, followed by a red mane atop a yellow mare. Orange eyes regarded him grudgingly. “Can ya help make things right again?”
“We’ll do our best,” Thunderlane said, then winced. The curse of honesty strikes again , he thought to himself.
Apple Bloom eyed him for a moment longer, then shrugged. “Good ‘nuff. Ah don’t reckon it’s safe t’ stay here much longer, anyhow.” She leapt down from the clubhouse. “C’mon, let’s get a wiggle on, afore any o’ mah kin spots me.”
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
Pegasus and earth pony walked in stoic silence along the muddy road into town. Only by skirting the boundary between the orchards and the Everfree had they left Sweet Apple Acres undetected. “So,” said Thunderlane, with cheer as bright and synthetic as neon light, “you want to talk about… this?”
Apple Bloom said nothing. She merely stared at her hooves as she trudged along. Thunderlane frowned slightly. “What’s wrong?” he asked, a little more gently.
“Tain’t natural,” Bloom muttered.
Thunderlane frowned. “Um. Gonna need you to be a little more specific.”
“This… broken universe, or whatever ya call it. Tain’t right. Ah mean, on th’ one hoof, Ah know yer th’ Element o’ Honesty.”
Thunderlane puffed up slightly. “Well, y’know, I do my best…”
“But on th’ other hoof, Ah know that mah sister’s meant t’ be doin’ that!” Bloom explained. “An’ ev’rything else is all topsy-turvy too! Th’ Golden Oaks weren’t destroyed! Lyra’s replacin’ Pinkie Pie! Mah parents are—” she faltered.
Thunderlane waited for a moment. “Your parents are…” he prompted. “Different? More reserved? Er… Apple farmers, as opposed to… whatever they were in your world?”
Apple Bloom kicked at the ground. “Ah’d sooner not talk ‘bout that,” she said coldly.
“Right, gotcha,” Thunderlane said with a nod. “Dunno if it helps, but I’d rather not talk about my parents, either.”
Bloom smiled, but there was no humor in it. “They still kicked out yer brother, then?”
Thunderlane stopped. “How did you know about that?”
“Round ‘bout th’ new year, Rumble tol’ us ev’rything. Said he didn’t wanna hide no more. Ah reckon th’ Doctor had a hoof in, there.”
Thunderlane smirked. “Yeah, he usually does. I guess our universes aren’t all that different, then. Celestia raises the Sun, and Luna raises the Moon.”
“Cadence runs th’ Crystal Empire, Twi’s busy bein’ magic in-carnate, an’ Discord’s runnin’ round tryin’a throw a spanner in things, eeyup,” Bloom agreed, a smile beginning to form on her face.
Thunderlane froze. “Wait. You never stopped Discord? But that’s horrible! I remember when they broke out. I… I…” he trailed off. “It was bad,” he said quietly.
“Couldn’t stop lyin’?”
“...Yeah. Something like that,” Thunderlane agreed, staring down at his hooves.
“They ain’t like that no more, though. They've been reformed! Except… I guess they ain’t been, here.”
Thunderlane snorted. “Reform that monster? I’ll believe it when I see it. Actually, no. No, I wouldn’t.”
Bloom cocked her head. “Why not?”
“I don’t want to talk about that, either,” Thunderlane replied stiffly, staring straight ahead. The duo walked in silence for several more minutes. The mud was sticky, but not terribly so. The rainwater dripped off the vibrant green leaves of the trees that lined the path. The faint scent of petrichor filled the air.
At length, Apple Bloom spoke once more. “So. What did th’ Doc think happened?” Her voice was tight and controlled.
Thunderlane merely shrugged as they walked into Ponyville proper. “I dunno. It’s all technobabble to me. He was pretty vague about it, too.”
Bloom frowned. “So he don’t know what’s goin’ on, neither?”
“I didn’t say that,” Thunderlane replied, furrowing his brow at the younger mare.
“He doesn’t, though, does he.”
Thunderlane’s neck slumped forwards. “No, probably not,” he admitted. “You’ve travelled with him before, then?”
“Couple times,” Bloom agreed with a nod. “Went t’ Timbucktoo, once. Nearly got killed by an angry stormcloud.”
Thunderlane stifled a snort. “You ran into a storm? That’s it?”
“A livin’ storm with a mind of it’s own and a plot t’ take over the world,” Bloom corrected.
“Oh. That’s a little more impressive,” the pegasus admitted. “Try being an Element sometime, though. Nightmare Moon, Discord, Chrysalis, Sombra, Tirek… plus whatever time-travelling bug-eyed monsters from outer space come around trying to ruin Gaea’s day.”
“We don’t get many o’ those where Ah’m from.”
Thunderlane shrugged. “Maybe the Doctor just takes care of them all himself or something.”
Bloom shrugged. “Might be,” she agreed. Inside, however, she wasn’t quite convinced. That, however, was a mystery for another day, and another world. Right now, there were more pressing matters to deal with. So, she turned her eyes forward and continued through the streets of Ponyville with Thunderlane.
***
The Doctor peered at Maple carefully. “Alright… I’ll see your three, and raise you… five.”
“Call,” Lyra scoffed, pointing a hoof accusingly at the Time Lord.
The Doctor smirked, flipping over his cards. “Straight Flush,” he said triumphantly. Zecora, Lyra, and Maple all threw down their cards in disgust.
Maud silently turned her cards around. “Royal,” she said. Everypony groaned.
Lyra shunted the pile of chocolate coins over to Maud. The earth pony regarded them stoically. “I’ll trade you all of them for rocks,” she offered.
Before anypony could leap on that offer, the basement door swung open. “Sorry I’m late,” Thunderlane said, trotting down the stairs, Apple Bloom hot on his hooves.
The yellow mare glanced at the assembled. “Huh. Ah’ll be honest, this weren’t what Ah was expectin’.”
Zecora frowned. “We’d not normally have a poker party, but we were bored, and you were tardy.”
“...That ain’t what Ah meant,” Bloom replied absently, staring at the assembled. None of the Elements— none of her Elements— were seated around the table. She felt vaguely disoriented, all of a sudden. “Never mind,” she said, shaking her head.
The Doctor frowned. “Something the matter?”
“Nothin’,” she replied forcefully. Then, she paused. “Wait. How come yer a pegasus?”
“Ah, well, that’d be what Time Lords call regeneration. When we’re about to die, every cell in our body just sort of goes FWOOSH! ” He threw out his forehooves in an explosive motion. “And then we… don’t die, exactly. We just come back a bit different than we went in. Luck of the draw, you know, and I’d have to say that I lucked out on this one.” He struck a pose, hamming it up and grinning broadly.
Apple Bloom took a moment to process this. “Wait. Y’all died?” she asked slowly. “That never happened…”
Lyra frowned. “I thought you always looked like that.”
“Right,” the Doctor agreed. “I regenerated before I came here.” He looked at Bloom with interest. “Which me did you see, then?”
Bloom blinked, nonplussed. “Uh, he was tan… earth pony… real spiky mane.”
“Ah. My predecessor, I imagine,” the Doctor nodded. “Well, that’s an interesting piece in the puzzle!”
“What puzzle?” Apple Bloom asked. “What’s goin’ on?”
The Doctor bit his lower lip and furrowed his brow. “Umm. Well, basically, it’s like… It’s a bit like if an author went back to rewrite his book, and changed something, which meant a bunch of other things had to change, too. Except, it wasn’t really the author, it was just a random guy with a red pen. And he didn’t really know how things would change from there. And, um…”
Apple Bloom held up a hoof. “Enough! Ah get it, Ah get it.”
Zecora grinned. “I’ve yet to find a way to prevent the Doctor from going on a tangent. But worry not! I am still looking. And soon, I’ll have a cure a-cooking.”
The Doctor stuck his tongue out at the zebra, but everypony else chuckled. Even Maud smiled faintly.
Then, Lyra cocked her head. “Wait. So how do we find that first event? I mean, if everything’s been changed, how can we find the cause?”
“Ah,” said the Doctor. “Well. Well well well well well! That is where Miss Apple Bloom here comes in. You see, she’s still got her old universe in her mind, all the bits and bobs and memories whizzing about the noggin. And if something can be remembered…” His face went suddenly lax. “If something can be remembered,” he repeated absently, “it can be brought back…”
He fell silent, staring into space. Apple Bloom watched him with concern. “Ignore it,” Zecora advised. “It’s just his strange interlude. Soon he’ll be back with his regular attitude.”
Indeed, no sooner had she said this than the Doctor seemed to blink awake. “Sorry,” he said, grinning broadly. “I was in another world.”
“...Right…” Bloom said slowly. “So, uh, you were sayin’?”
“Ah!” the Time Lord replied, pointing a hoof at her. “Yes, right. Basically, you sort of know how this is meant to be. You can remember how it was all meant to turn out. That means we can get back to the root of the problem, and see if we can’t fix it there.” He smiled happily.
Bloom stared. “What?” she asked, staring around the room. “Y’ain’t serious. That ain’t a plan, that’s half a catastrophe!”
“Yeah, he is,” Maple replied. “That’s pretty much his M.O., really. Find the source of the problem, run headlong into it, screaming loudly, and figure out the rest as you go.”
Spike glanced up idly from his corner. “We’d probably have done something about it by now if it didn’t work so well,” he said, lazily flipping the page of his comic book.
“So,” said the Doctor, grinning. “You in? You can say no.”
Apple Bloom regarded him for a long moment. Then, with a single fluid motion, she pulled on the pink ribbon in her hair, undoing the bow and tossing it aside. “Ah’m in.”
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
A few minutes later, Bloom found herself strapped to a large chair. The Doctor gently lowered a colander over her head. "Uh, are ya sure this is necessary?"
"Oh, yes. Can't let you leave out even a tiny detail. Far easier to just read your thoughts."
"An' it's safe?"
The Doctor hesitated. "...Pretty safe. Only one person's ever actually died in it, and that was only because of outside causes."
Apple Bloom made to rise, but Maple held up a hoof. "You'll be fine. Promise," she said "I can hold your hoof, if you like."
Bloom's face contorted into a deep scowl. "Thanks all th' same, but Ah'll be fine," she replied, shoving herself back into the device.
Maple shrugged. "Suit yourself," she replied, hopping up to sit on a lab bench.
Bloom's scowl lessened as the colander settled over her mane like a beautician's chair. Thunderlane settled himself in front of a crystal sphere and peered into it. "Ready?" he asked, glancing at Bloom.
She took in a long breath and puffed out her cheeks as she exhaled. "Ready," she replied eventually.
Zecora pulled a large red lever on the side of the device. For a moment, nothing happened. Then, suddenly, fireworks exploded behind Bloom's eyes and everything went dark.
***
Apple Bloom embraced her best friends as they fell, laughing and merry, into a joyous group hug. "Thank you," Rumble whispered, tears in his eyes.
"Come on, dude, did you really think we were going to hate you?" Scootaloo grinned.
"Well… I…"
"What I can't believe is that you didn't tell us earlier," Sweetie commented. "I mean, Crusaders forever! We were never just gonna abandon you!"
Apple Bloom patted the colt on the shoulder. "Congrats on gettin' yer mark, by th' bye."
"And congrats on finally coming out," Button grinned, softly punching Rumble on his other shoulder.
Dinky gave a slight, lopsided smile, which was quite a lot, coming from her…
Snow fell softly on the ground, dusting the trees and burying the earth.
...Romana...
...Timbucktoo…
...the TARDIS…
Applejack sighed and let her head fall gently against the side of the apple cart. Thunderlane just stared, mouth agape. Summer was torn between laughter and concern. Sweetie chuckled nervously from the top of the pine tree. "Um," she said. "I bet you're wondering what we're all doing up here…"
The elder ponies remained silent. Finally, Thunderlane sighed. "I'll bite. What was it today?"
"...Cutie Mark Crusader Maenads," Rumble replied, eyes downcast. "We needed pinecones for the staffs."
Applejack frowned. "May— what now?"
"Maenads were a group of warrior maidens from the ancient Minotaur kingdoms," Summer replied absently. "Picture Pinkie Pie as a battle-hungry lunatic, and you'll have a rough idea." Then, she frowned. "Scootaloo. Did you come up with this idea?"
"No!" the pegasus protested.
"It was me," Dinky said, raising a hoof. "Mom gave me some history books to look through. I think a few of them were yours."
Summer brightened slightly. "Oh, how nice!"
A flat look from the other two caused her to wilt slightly. Applejack sighed. "Alright. Mac'll be back in a few with th' ladder. Meantime, let's talk 'bout what y'all did t' Rarity's cat…"
The Crusaders collectively winced.
...Cutie Mark Crusader ballet dancers…
… game designers…
… firefighters…
… hoofball players…
… Yay! …
"What?" Scootaloo exploded. "You tried to stop Rainbow Dash from doing the most awesome stunt in the history of ever?"
The pale pink mare looked uncomfortably at Twilight, who merely shrugged in the universal gesture for "sorry, nothing I can do."
The pint-sized pegasus practically blew steam out of her nose. Rumble and Apple Bloom exchanged a knowing glance. Then, in unison, they both leapt on the orange filly just as she was about to jump at Starlight's throat.
"Keep goin'," Bloom encouraged as Scootaloo struggled to get free. "What happened next?"
"Well," Starlight said slowly. "Um. I kept going. I ran into a world ruled by Discord, Tirek, a couple of guys named Flim and Flam…"
Bloom stopped in the middle of putting Scootaloo into a headlock. "Flim. An' Flam?" she echoed hollowly.
Quickly, Button and Dinky leapt on top of her before she could do anything she'd regret. Starlight just watched in stunned silence. Quietly, Sweetie Belle sidled up to her. "So, um, I heard you knew a spell for stealing cutie marks," she said casually.
"Okay, Twilight Time is over for today!" Twilight said quickly, ushering Starlight out of the room.
..."Good luck at yer first day o' school!"...
..."Wake up, Bloomers! Granny made apple pancakes!"...
..."Eeyup!"...
Green. Lots of deep, wet green. Apple Bloom stared up, entranced at the sea of green in the orange. She kicked her hooves in the air futilely as she tried to grab them. "Didja miss me, Bloomers?" Orange asked. "Ah missed you."
Apple Bloom stopped. Orange sounded sad. Maybe she had lost her teddy bear? Maybe. Orange opened her mouth again. "Ah was stupid. Ya can't run 'way from yer problems like that. Granny needed me. Mac needed me. You needed me. An' Ah left. Stupid."
Apple Bloom scrunched up her face. What did Mama and Papa and Greeny and Red call Orange? "Aba," she said. "Abbak."
The green got bigger. "Abba, Abba, Abbajack!" Apple Bloom said triumphantly. "Abbajack Abbajack Abbajack!"
Orange hooves wrapped around the little filly, picked her up and hugged her tightly. "Thank ya," Orange— no, Apple— said roughly.
..."Peek-a-boo… Peek-a-boo…"...
..."Such a big filly!"...
..."Congratulations, Buttercup! It's a filly!"...
***
Apple Bloom snapped back to consciousness, gagging. "That's somethin' nopony oughta have t' see," she groaned, rubbing her head. "That there is how folks get complexed."
She glanced up at Thunderlane, who was peering into the crystal ball. "See anything useful?"
"...Maybe. What did Starlight Glimmer try to do in your world?"
Apple Bloom frowned. "Uh, well, there was th' whole 'force ev'rypony t' be equal' thing," she said slowly. "But I'm guessin' ya mean th' 'time travel revenge' part."
"Yes. That," Thunderlane agreed.
"Time travel revenge?" the Doctor asked, eyebrows raising. "So that's why she keeps trying to get her hooves on the TARDIS…"
"So where did she go?" Lyra asked, furrowing her brow.
"Well, see, back home, the elements belonged to a totally different group of ponies," Bloom began. "Mah sister, fer one. Anyhow, they all got their cutie marks on th' same day, when Rainbow Dash did a Sonic Rainboom."
Maple frowned. "A what, now?"
"Broke th' sound barrier. Big loud noise, lots o' pretty colors," Bloom summarized. "Anyhow, Starlight tried t' go back, keep it from happenin' sos th' elements wouldn't arrive t' stop her li'l town. But she didn't do it! Twilight stopped her!"
The Doctor frowned. "Well. The power of bad literature, I suppose—"
"No! Twilight Sparkle, th' Element o' Magic an' Princess of Friendship!"
The Doctor paused. "Twilight… Sparkle?" He struggled to stifle a snicker, but to no avail.
Lyra frowned. "Huh. I think I actually know that name…" Her eyes widened. "Oh, right! We were at school together! She was kinda an introvert. I think she moved to Trottingham to be a librarian."
Bloom paused. When she spoke again, her voice was slightly strained. "D'ya… d'ya remember her cutie mark?"
"Oh yeah," Lyra said. "Open book, right Spike?"
"Uh-huh. Makes sense. She was always reading."
Bloom looked at Maud. "What's Pinkie's cutie mark?"
Maud faltered for a moment. "It... a lump of basalt. Why do you ask?"
"Fluttershy?"
Maple looked confused. "A red cross, I think."
Bloom looked around in horror. "An' none of y'all ever heard of a sonic rainboom… She musta done it! Starlight Glimmer stopped Dash!"
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
The group had rapidly made for the TARDIS immediately following Bloom’s declaration. It had been cleverly hidden in the basement of the Golden Oaks Library which, Bloom was surprised to realize, was still standing. “Come on, come on, no time for dawdling,” the Doctor declared imperiously. “If there’s been a disruption in the time stream of this magnitude, there’s no telling what might happen!”
So, Bloom had been bundled along down the stairs by the crowd and eventually jostled through the doors of the old blue police box. She glanced around in astonishment. The Doctor paused a moment, looking at her expectantly. At length, the mare found her voice. “Did y’all redecorate in here?” she asked, glancing around at the high, gothic ceiling which contrasted sharply with the sleek glass floor and bright yellow lighting. “Ah don’ like it.”
The Doctor’s face fell. “Oh. Right. Already been through the whole… never mind. Coordinates! I need coordinates!”
Apple Bloom screwed up her face. “Ah can remember the date…” she said. “Same day Spike was born, ‘less that’s been screwed up too…”
“Close enough,” the Doctor decided. “And the place?”
“Well, that’s th’ trouble. All Ah know is it was at some flight camp!”
Thunderlane puffed out his cheeks and stared up in thought. “This mare… her name was Rainbow Dash?” he asked slowly.
“Yeah?” Bloom replied.
“Pale blue coat, rainbow mane?”
“Yeah! Why?”
Thunderlane broke into a grin. “I think I remember her! She must have gone to flight camp the same year I did. It was, uh, Little Cirrus, that was the name. Just a few miles south of Cloudsdale.”
The Doctor broke into a grin. “Alrighty, then!” he flipped a few levers, and Lyra selected a couple of digits on a separate console. “And off we go!”
There was a wheezing, groaning sound, and the TARDIS shook violently. The Doctor’s face fell. “Oh, that’s not brilliant.”
“What’s going on?” Maud asked, her eyebrow ever-so-slightly raised.
“We’re flying into a very, very muddied piece of the timeline. Hold on, it’s going to get rough!”
Zecora groaned as she began to turn black and white and green all over. “I intensely dislike this temporal turbulence. It makes my head hurt, and my stomach a burbulence.”
“That’s not a real word,” Maple objected.
“If you want to try rhyming under these conditions, gladly I’d hear your poetic renditions,” the zebra snapped waspishly.
Slowly, the TARDIS settled back down, much to the collective relief of its occupants. “I hope nothing like that’s going to happen when we try to take off again,” Spike groaned, rubbing his tummy.
“Shouldn’t do,” the Doctor replied. “Come on then, if you’re coming.” Apple Bloom rose to her hooves.
“Not you,” the Doctor said. “You’ve not got wings!”
“But Ah’m th’ only one who actually knows what Rainbow Dash looks like,” Bloom protested.
“How many fillies with rainbow manes can there possibly be?” the Doctor asked, raising a brow.
Apple Bloom flapped her mouth open and closed like a fish before clamping it shut. “Ah jes’ wanna help,” she pleaded. “Let me help ya!”
“You’ve been a tremendous help,” Maple assured her, pulling the young mare into a quick embrace. “Right now, though, you need to stay here.”
“Ah’m big enough t’ come, too,” Bloom said petulantly.
“Well, that’s the problem, isn’t it?” Lyra said, nodding. “You’re too big for us to carry, and you can’t fly. QED.”
Bloom’s lips tightened into a line. “Ah suppose,” she said stiffly. “Ah’ll jes’ stay here, then.”
A firm, friendly hoof wrapped around her shoulders. “Chin up,” Thunderlane said cheerfully. “At least you’re in good company, eh?”
The young mare’s lips twitched upwards. “Yeah, Ah guess,” she admitted, ducking her head to hide a smile.
“Excellent,” the Doctor said with a slight grin. “We’ll not be a moment.” With that, he stepped out onto the cloud layer, Maple and Lyra just behind him.
Zecora pursed her lips for a moment, glancing around the console room. “Our number is four, and not a bit more. I propose a card game— do you all feel the same?”
***
Lyra cantered along behind Maple and the Doctor as best she could, though her progress was hindered by her lack of experience with walking on clouds. “I swear, I should be able to do this,” she said, blushing fiercely. “The spell should limit sinkage as I walk. I just don’t know why this is such a problem.”
Spike shrugged from his seat on the unicorn’s back, popping another piece of rock candy into his mouth. “Well, it is only your first time casting it,” he said.
The Doctor and Maple glanced back at the pudgy dragon sitting atop the struggling unicorn and shared a smirk. “Never mind, Lyra,” Maple said comfortingly. “I don’t think there’s any particular rush. Which makes a bit of a pleasant change, frankly,” she added, cocking her head.
“Oh, I don’t know,” the Doctor said, frowning slightly. “I like a good run, me. Clears the head.”
“Okay, yeah, maybe jogging,” Maple conceded. “But not running for your life from sodding CENTAURS every day.”
“Well, I don’t know about you, but I eat practically a whole cake every day and burn it all off while we’re travelling,” Lyra said with a shrug. “My metabolism’s faster than a jackrabbit on rollerskates, and I am loving it.” She bounced on her hooves, sending ripples through the clouds and jostling Spike.
Maple’s mouth twisted into a half smile. “Fair,” she said amiably. “Now, come on, let’s find this filly so we can get all this settled.”
The Doctor, however, didn’t move. His brow was creased slightly, and his frown was tight. Silently, he flapped off toward a group of foals at the edge of a cloud. Lyra, Spike, and Maple exchanged perplexed glances, but followed their friend.
“P-please,” the yellow filly whimpered. “Leave me alone…”
“Not so brave without Rainbow CRASH here to protect you, huh?” sneered a tan colt with a darker mane.
“Not that brave when she was here, either,” agreed his chocolate-coated friend.
“Hey, where d’you think you’re going?”demanded the third colt, catching sight of their victim attempting to sneak away..
The filly squeaked and attempted to hide behind her own mane as the three colts moved to circle her. “Please, just leave me alone,” she repeated, her voice high and frail.
“No prob,” said the tan colt, his smile filled with the sort of vicious glee in suffering that only the mind of a child could conjure. “Just fly away, and we won’t even come after you.”
“Oh, wait,” said the third colt, putting a hoof to his jaw in mock thoughtfulness. “You CAN’T!”
The trio burst into guffaws of malicious merriment as the smaller filly attempted as best she could to hide behind herself. “Fluttershy can hardly fly, Fluttershy can hardly fly, Fluttershy can hardly fly…”
Tears began to run freely of butter-yellow cheeks, and with a faint squeak of protest, the filly turned tail, facing the edge of the cloud, spread her wings, and jumped.
And
Fell
Down
Down
Down
Oh, the filly thought idly as the ground rushed up to meet her. This was a mistake. She closed her eyes, silently preparing herself for the impact.
None came, however. Instead, she felt a pair of hooves wrap around her barrel, turning her freefall into a gently controlled glide to the ground.
Cautiously, she peeped an eye open. A blue pegasus gave her a massive gappy grin. “Hello,” he said. “I’m the Doctor. What’s your name?”
She stared up at him in honest amazement as they finally touched down on the soft grass. He set her down gently and his smile relaxed into something more real. “What’s your name?” he repeated, a little more softly.
“Fluttershy.”
“Nice to meet you, Fluttershy,” the blue stallion said with a nod.
“Not s’posed talk to strangers.”
“Ah, well, we aren’t strangers anymore, are we? You know my name, and I know yours. Besides, I think I might’ve just saved your life, which has to count for something.”
“I… guess.”
“That’s the spirit,” the stallion said, breaking into a wider, goofier smile. “So, tell me, what drove you to jumping off clouds, huh? I mean, I can see the appeal, but it’s probably best you make sure there’s somepony there to catch you first, rather than trusting in chance.”
The filly whimpered and hid behind her mane. The Doctor winced. “Alright, sensitive subject. But really, are you OK?”
There was a moment of silence. Then, the mass of pink hair wiggled from side to side.
“Was it those colts?”
“A little.”
“Hm. What else, then?”
“My friend is gone.”
“Gone? Gone how?”
“She had to go home. Her parents…” she made a distressed squeak. “Died.”
The Doctor’s grin had been slipping from his face for some time, and now it fell completely. “Oh,” he said quietly. “I’m sorry to hear that.”
“And she was the only one who protected me from the bullies and scared them away and made me feel better when they made fun of me.”
“Hm,” said the Doctor. “You know, when I was in school, I had a friend like that.”
“You did?”
“Oh, yes. His name was Koschei,” the Doctor said, a warm smile spreading over his face. “Thick as thieves, we were. But one day, we… well. We went our separate ways.”
Here, the author interjects, the Doctor is depreciating the truth, a phrase which here means that he refrained from mentioning that said separate ways were 1. Becoming a world-dominating megalomaniac and serial killer, and 2. Running away from all responsibilities and making incredibly poor fashion choices.
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
“Oh, that’s alright. It’s been years now,” the Doctor said nonchalantly, a word which here means that he disguised his true emotions with false breeziness. “When we first split… well, it was terrible. I felt awful about leaving him behind. I was a right grump!” He chuckled, remembering. “Oh, yes. But then, my granddaughter introduced me to… well, a whole new world, new friends, new adventures. It was brilliant. If it wasn’t for her, I probably would’ve just stayed shut up in a box my whole life! Ha!”
“Granddaughter?”
The Doctor’s grin fell. “Yes… it’s been awhile since I saw her, too.” He sat down, brow furrowing in thought.
Cautiously, Fluttershy trotted toward him and rested one hoof on his foreleg. “Are you okay?”
The Doctor stared up at the sky for a long moment. “No,” he admitted.
The word ‘no,’ it is often stated, is a complete sentence. This, like many things which are often said, is untrue. “No” is, in fact, a myriad number of complete sentences, virtually infinite in meaning but dependent solely on context. Contrast the “No” that is said in response to the question “Will you go out with me?” to the one in response to “Is it cancer?” or to the “No” that responds to “Tell us where you hid the documents.”
In this instance, the Doctor’s use of “No” translated to “I have been exiled from my home universe, fallen through a crack in time and space into a body which is not mine, in a world which is not mine, in a universe that is not mine. My presence is, even as I speak, being erased from time and space, and my old friends already have lost their memories of me. This universe is safe, for now, but not for always, and soon my presence here will be as though it never was. Now, my only hope is that Apple Bloom will be able to reset the universe and return the timestream to how it is meant to be, which may return me to my reality or, possibly, put me into an even worse situation.”
The Doctor said none of this. Fluttershy had no way of knowing this. Nevertheless, the little pegasus filly hugged the blue stallion’s leg tightly. “I’m sorry,” she murmured.
The Time Lord looked down, startled. Then, slowly, a warm smile spread over his face. “Thanks,” he said. “Thank you. Y’know what, here.” He took his red hat off and placed it on the filly’s head. “Have a fez. Fezzes are cool. Might help you make more friends.”
Fluttershy looked dubious, but she pulled the hat over her head a little more tightly. “Can you fly me back to camp?” she asked tentatively.
The Doctor’s smile grew and he crouched low to the ground. “Hop on.”
Author's Note
Did I write this exchange because I wanted to give you the mental image of filly Fluttershy wearing a fez that's a few sizes too large for her?
...Perhaps.
You're welcome.
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
The three colts watched with round eyes as the butter-yellow filly plummeted toward the ground. “Catch her!”
“You catch her!”
“I can’t go that fast!”
Moments later, a streak of blue shot over the trio, racing toward the plummeting pegasus. The bully colts watched in silent amazement as the figure matched Fluttershy’s speed, gently pulling her into a beautiful parabolic curve toward the ground. “Let’s get out of here before they get back,” one squeaked.
“Good idea,” another agreed fervently.
As one, they turned tail and strode directly into the cream-colored barrel of a very unamused looking mare. A mint green unicorn and a baby dragon stood just behind her. “Stratus,” the tan colt whimpered.
***
When the Doctor returned with Fluttershy, Maple was still berating the three colts. “—and what’s more, you scared the poor thing so bad she jumped off a cloud just to get away from you! Does that make you feel good about yourselves? Hm?”
The Doctor stared as his friend continued to lay into the bullies, whose tails were now tucked firmly between their legs as they stared studiously down at the ground.
Lyra trotted over, smirking. “You don’t need to bother about those three, Doctor. Maple’s been putting on the Oncoming Storm since she clapped eyes on them.” She glanced over at his passenger and groaned. “Oh, Doctor… really? The fez?”
“Hey!” the Doctor protested. “Don’t diss the fez. Fezzes are cool. Besides, she looks adorable.”
Spike peered over Lyra’s head. “He’s got a point.”
Fluttershy glanced up and her eyes went wide. “Oh my. Are you a baby dragon?”
Spike looked mildly discomforted. “Well, uh, maybe less of the baby,” he said awkwardly. “I mean, I am—”
In an instant, Fluttershy had hopped off the Doctor’s back and fluttered up onto Lyra’s. “Hey!” the unicorn protested, though with no real rancor. “I’m not a sofa, y’know.”
The little filly ignored her. “Um, what’s your name?” she asked shyly.
The purple dragon brightened as the conversation turned to his personal favorite topic: himself. “I’m Spike! This is Lyra, and you’ve already met the Doctor. Over there, that’s Maple Leaf.”
Fluttershy looked at the indicated pegasus and shrunk back. “She’s very, um, loud…”
Spike shook his head. “Only when she’s angry, which isn’t very often. Most of the time, she’s really nice. But kinda bossy…”
Fluttershy giggled. Maple glanced up and looked at the smiling filly, and her face softened slightly. “I believe you three have something to say to our young friend here?” she asked, her face turning sterner once more as she turned to the three colts.
“Sorry, Fluttershy,” the trio groaned in a dissonant chorus.
The yellow pegasus squeaked in surprise. “O-oh… um… thank you… I forgive you… but please don’t do it again…”
“Don’t worry,” Maple said. “They won’t. Will you.” This last part, directed at the trio of troublemakers, was not a question.
“Noma’am, wewon’ma’am.”
Maple nodded once, an obvious dismissal. “Alright then. You can go.”
“Excuse me,” said a new voice. “But who, exactly, are you?”
The three adults turned in surprise. A rotund grey mare in a camp counselor’s outfit looked at them with a mixture of concern and self-righteousness. A pair of young pegasi, one of whom was immediately recognizable as a young Thunderlane, hovered beside her. “Ah,” said the Doctor.
***
“So,” said Maud, placing a card in the center pile. “Apple Bloom. How is my sister?”
The yellow mare blinked. “Uh, what?”
“In your universe. How is Pinkie?”
“Oh. Um, well, she’s pretty much got Lyra’s job,” Apple Bloom said awkwardly. “Element o’ Laughter, an’—” she trailed off. “Well, no. She had t’ give that up after th’ Plunder Vines thing.”
“Plunder Vines?” Thunderlane asked. “Also, got any threes?”
“Go fish,” Bloom replied. “Didn’t ya have ta fight th’ Plunder Vines? Big thorny fellas. Discord planted ‘em afore he got stoned th’ first time. They woke up a little after he got paroled.”
“Discord? Paroled?” Zecora asked, eyebrows raised. “That claim is most bold.”
“Yeah, Fluttershy reformed him. Maud, got any eights?”
The earth pony silently hoofed over a card. And Bloom, grinning triumphantly, set down four eights in the center. Thunderlane looked stony. “I can’t understand why that monster would ever be let go,” he muttered.
“Aw, he ain’t that bad,” Bloom replied. “Well. Not no more, anyhow. He’s just kinda weird.”
“Not that bad?” Thunderlane asked, incredulous. “Not that—” he fell silent, turning away from the group and fuming.
Bloom looked at Zecora, nervous. The zebra shook her head and drew a hoof across her lips in the nigh-universal sign for “Shut up.”
Maud’s eyes flicked from one pony to the others. “Shouldn’t the others be back by now?”
Thunderlane nodded, not turning around. “Something must’ve happened. I’ll go and look.”
Bloom frowned. “But what if you run into yourself? Ah thought that's why y'all stayed back ta start with.”
“I’ll be careful,” the charcoal pegasus said abruptly as he pushed through the TARDIS doors.
The filly glanced around. “Was it somethin’ Ah said?”
Zecora glanced at Maud nervously. The grey mare stared firmly at her cards. “Apple Bloom, you claim to be/ the sister of your world’s Honesty? In that case, surely you know/ Discord’s trick to bring folk low?”
Bloom worked through that in her head. “Y’mean the whole… personality reversal whatchamacallit?”
“Yes, that, if you call it such. Thunderlane hated it very much.”
“Well, y’know, Ah ain’t surprised…”
“While Discord’s curse forced him to tell lies most bitter, he ran across Rumble Cloudchaser, and Flitter.”
Bloom frowned briefly, and then realization dawned. “Oh… An’ he couldn’t explain himself after?”
Zecora looked distinctly uncomfortable. “That story is… unpleasant, and not one that’s mine to tell. I urge that you leave the subject, child, and curiosity you quell.”
Bloom’s jaw tightened. “Ah’m not a child.” she ground out. “Ah’m seventeen, near ‘nuff t’ bein’ a grown mare, and Ah am sick of bein’ treated like a li’l filly!”
She stormed out of the room, leaving Zecora with her mouth agape. The door slammed shut behind her. Maud snorted softly and hauled herself to her hooves. “Let me talk to her,” she said, monotone.
***
Thunderlane pressed himself flat against the wall, silently willing himself invisible as he heard his younger self trotting by with Fluttershy and Sassaflash. “So,” he heard himself say. “Who d’you think those guys were?”
“Well,” Fluttershy began in a murmur, but Sassaflash interrupted her.
“They were superheroes,” she said with all the conviction and surety that a seven-year-old could possess. “They beat up the bullies an’ made ‘em leave you alone. I bet if the counselors hadn’t turned up, they woulda zapped ‘em with laser beam eyes.”
Fluttershy had gone ghostly pale. “L-laser beam eyes?” she squeaked.
Sassaflash, oblivious, continued. “Yeah, or else they’d’a just picked ‘em up an’ chucked ‘em around,” she said with childish relish.
Young Thunderlane, as his future self mentally labelled him, looked at the other two pegasi with an appraising eye. “Uh, Flash?”
“Yeah?”
The colt nodded at Fluttershy, whose eyes had gone wide and slightly teary.
Thunderlane peered around the corner. I remember this. This was the day I met Fluttershy for the first time. Man, that hat looked good— he choked as he suddenly realized that the filly was wearing a fez, and that the three were discussing the weird adults that had helped the filly with her bully problem. The adults who had, the last Thunderlane remembered, been having a very intense discussion with a counsellor.
...How did I never notice that my friends looked exactly like— no, never mind, I really don’t wanna think about that. Okay. Okay. Stratus. The Doc, Lyra, and Maple… where would they be?
“Hey, who’s that?” Sassaflash asked.
Young Thunderlane swivelled his head around to follow his friend’s pointing hoof, but his older self had already ducked back into the shadows. “I don’t see anypony.”
Fluttershy shook her head. “Me, neither.”
Sassaflash squinted more closely at the alley. “Huh. Trick of the light, I guess.”
The three foals fluttered on. Slowly, Thunderlane raised his head up, peering around. He let out a breath of relief and pulled himself free from the dumpster he’d hidden behind. Okay. Okay. So his friends had been taken somewhere. Where? Three grown ponies and a baby dragon sneaking around flight camp was more than a little suspicious, particularly when half the party didn’t even have wings. Stratus, would the counselors call the police? Tartarus. They probably would. He had to find them, fast.
He trotted out of the alley, squinting in the sudden sunlight. Where would they be? Probably the counselor’s office. He just had to find the counselor’s office. There, he’d have to subtly enter, find his friends, and then break them out.
But how could he do that? Pretending to be a police officer was out. He couldn’t act to save his life.
“Thunderlane?”
Similarly, he couldn’t just lie to get them out. Oh, Element of Honesty, thou art a cruel mistress.
“Thunderlane.”
Therefore, the only option was a good-old-fashioned jailbreak. It would be tricky, particularly in keeping Lyra and Spike from falling to a grisly death, but if he tunneled in at enough of an angle…
“Thunderlane!”
“Who-hah-wha?” He whirled around. Maple was staring at him. “What are you doing?” she hissed. “The timestream—”
“Where were you?” Thunderlane interrupted. “How long does it take to—”
Maple shoved a hoof over his mouth. “No. No talkie. We’re treading a thin, delicate line. The Doctor’s managed to convince the counselors that we’re here doing a surprise health inspection.”
Thunderlane resisted the urge to facehoof. Psychic paper. Of course. “How did you manage to explain away Spike?”
“Internship program. Anyway, now you’re here, screwing everything up, so now you’re the fifth member of our group of inspectors. Try not to mess up our covers or run into your younger self.”
“Don’t worry, I just saw him go that way,” Thunderlane said, waving an idle hoof. “I don’t remember this day very well, but I think as long as we stay away from the cabins, there won’t be much risk.”
Maple chuckled drily and gestured over her shoulder. “Good luck explaining that to the Doctor.”
The stallion winced and glanced in the direction her hoof pointed. The tropical-blue Time Lord’s brow was furrowed, and his mouth formed a tight line. His bow tie was askew, and his tail was swishing back and forth with restless energy. His eyes met Thunderlane’s and in their hazel depths, a storm swirled and rumbled like howling clouds of sand. The Doctor was Not Happy. “Ah, Cysies,” Thunderlane swore under his breath.
“Don’t go taking names in vain. You’re in trouble with enough ponies as it is,” Maple smirked.
With a heavy sigh, Thunderlane trotted over to his group of friends.
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
Apple Bloom didn’t know where she was. Well. That wasn’t quite true. She knew she was still in the TARDIS, but that wasn’t much of a help, really. She was certain that she had run at least enough to have crossed the south orchard twice over, and the corridors showed no sign of stopping. At last, she sat down against a wall, her heart racing and sweat trickling down her brow. Her coat had grown matted with perspiration, and her hooves felt as though they were about to fall off. She stared blindly at the wall, registering nothing as her mind began to slow down from its violent whirling anger. She had yelled at Zecora. She had YELLED at Zecora. For what? Because the zebra had called her a child? She felt her face heat up. Then she had stormed out of the room without another word, thus thoroughly proving the zebra absolutely right. She slumped back, banging her head against the wall. She squeezed her eyelids together tightly. They were right. They all had been right. As salty tears began to mingle with the sweat on her face, faces and figures began to swirl out of the darkness. Diamond Tiara strutted out first, Silver Spoon not two steps behind her. Their smirks were almost identical. “Well, well,” the pink mare stated with a sneer. “Looks like the little baby’s crying.”
“What’s wrong?” Silver cut in. “Couldn’t get your cutie mark in throwing tantrums? Try napping. Or maybe playing with your rattle. I’m sure you’ll get one eventually.”
“Not!” Diamond added with a malicious grin.
Apple Bloom took a shaky breath. “No. This ain’t real. We made friends…”
“Like we’d ever be friends with a baby blank-flank like you,” Silver snarled.
Their faces melted and swirled, reforming into Zecora and Maple. The pegasus looked at her with anxious eyes. “Does ‘oo want me to hold your li’l hoof?” she cooed.
Zecora nodded, eyes full of mock concern, though a smile flickered over her face. “It would not do for an accident to befall/ one earth pony filly, who is so small.”
“Ah can take care o’ mahself,” Bloom snapped at the phantasms.
“Can you?” Maple challenged, eyes hardening. “I seem to remember that Thunderlane found you hiding in your little clubhouse, bawling.”
Bloom colored, half in embarrassment and half in fury. “An’ so what if Ah was?” she asked, indignant. “Mare can cry if she needs ta, can’t she? An’ what business is it o’ yours, anyhow?”
“Don’t talk to your mother like that,” he father interjected. The two elements had been replaced by her parents.
Apple Bloom scowled, beginning to catch on. “This is some kinda dream, ain’t it? You two are dead. Ya died a long time ago.” She swallowed thickly. “Yer meant t’ be gone.”
“We don’ have to be,” her mother replied.
Bloom’s mouth pursed to hide her trembling lower lip. “Ah reckon ya do,” she said firmly.
“Aw, c’mon now,” her father coaxed. “Wouldn’t it be somethin’? All us Apples back together again… Ah reckon that’d be somethin’ t’ try…”
Apple Bloom hesitated, and was lost. The images of her parents swirled away in the darkness. “Wait. Wait! Don’t go!”
“Apple Bloom.”
The yellow mare’s eyes flew open and she sat bolt upright. Maud Pie stood over her, regarding the younger earth pony with what could only be called dispassionate interest. “You were having a nightmare.”
Bloom swallowed and blinked back tears. “Yeah. Yeah, I reckon Ah was,” she said hoarsely.
Maud nodded once. “Tell me about it.” Despite the abrupt nature of the request, Bloom felt oddly reassured.
“Well,” she began, and then described the series of apparitions that her mind had conjured up. When she was done, Maud nodded, and the intensity of her gaze lessened slightly.
“I see. So you fear being seen as childish.”
“Well, Ah dunno ‘bout ‘fear’...”
“Fear,” Maud repeated, slightly more firmly. “An interesting one to have. Most ponies are more afraid of change than they are of constancy.” She stared at Apple Bloom. “Why do you not wish to be a child?”
Bloom’s face grew drawn and hard. “Because Ah can’t get no respect. Because nopony thinks Ah can do nothin’. Because whenever Ah do somethin, Ah get a pat on th’ head and nothin’ more! An’ it’s real patronizin’! Ah don’ wanna be a kid ‘cause Ah wanna be a grown mare!”
She stood there for a long second, panting slightly. Maud blinked slowly. “I see. That seems reasonable.”
Bloom was nonplussed. “It— it is?”
Maud nodded assent. “Yes. It is an eminently logical enthymeme. You desire respect. Children do not command respect. Therefore, you wish to not be a child. Thoroughly logical, though the premise is flawed.”
“Flawed? What’d you mean?”
“You assume that you have no respect simply due to your age. This is not necessarily true. I respect you.”
Bloom blinked. “You do?”
Maud nodded. “Yes. You have been thrown into another time stream, separated from all you know to be true. Yet you continue to function. The lack of respect given to you is not due to your age.”
Bloom scowled. “Why, then?” she demanded. “Explain it to me. Be sure t’ use small words, so’s Ah can understand.”
Maud nodded. “That.” she said simply. “That is the reason ponies do not respect you as much as you wish.”
Bloom’s brow furrowed. “Come again?”
“Before you obtain respect, you must first give it,” the Stoic elaborated. “Being rude to those who are trying to help you, shouting unnecessarily, storming away in the middle of a conversation… these are not how respect is earned.”
Bloom winced. “That was kinda stupid of me, weren’t it.”
“Yes.”
Bloom snorted in faint amusement. “Boy howdy, you sure don’t pull punches. Y’sure y’all ain’t really Honesty?”
“Yes. Honesty concerns saying what is true. Loyalty simply concerns saying what somepony needs to hear.” Maud rose to her hooves. “I would say that what Zecora needs to hear right now is an apology.”
Apple Bloom nodded. “Ah’d say yer right.”
“One more thing.” Bloom glanced at the grey mare. Dull, cool, violet eyes seemed to soften slightly. “Don’t grow up too quickly. You can only be a child once. Make the most of that.”
Bloom studied the older mare closely. “Ah will,” she said slowly. “Ah most certainly will.”
Maud stood still and silent as she watched the yellow mare trot away toward the control room. How much she was reminded of her sister at that moment, pink and bright and never quite fitting in with the world. None of them had, really, but Pinkie was something different. She never seemed to fit in with herself, not even quite knowing what was missing. She never had a chance to learn. She closed her eyes. “I miss you,” she whispered.
***
Zecora stood idly at the monitor, regarding it vaguely and with only half a mind focused on it. The other half was pounding on her skull with drumsticks. You fool, she thought gravely. There was no real need to be so secretive. She managed to adapt to an alternate universe. How much more troubling would she find Thunderlane’s inner struggles?
And yet, there was no need to burden her with such knowledge, she argued back. Regardless of how mature she is, it was not my place to say.
Always the riddler. I can never quite bring myself to say quite what I mean. She sighed heavily and gently let her head bounce off the screen, her mane splaying every direction.
“Uh. This a bad time?”
Zecora’s eyes popped open and she lifted her head from the screen. “Apple Bloom? Back so soon?”
“Uh… yeah.” The yellow filly scuffed her forehoof against the floor. “Ah came t’ say Ah’m sorry. I shouldn’ta jes’ stormed out on ya like that. You didn’t do nothin’ wrong.”
A faint smile crossed Zecora’s features. “I thank you for that, my dear young mare. To call you a child was most unfair.”
To her surprise, Bloom shook her head. “No. Ah reckon ya hit th’ nail on th’ head with that one. Ah ain’t grown up jes’ yet, an Ah don’ think Ah will be fer a good while. But Ah’m gonna try.”
Maud slunk in through the double doors that whooshed gently closed behind her. Zecora glanced up. “Excuse me, Bloom, for just a second— There’s something I would like to check on.”
Bloom nodded once, a smile fluttering over her face as she trotted over to the exterior monitor. Zecora leaned in close to Maud and murmured quietly, “This about-face is quite absurd. How do you always know what needs to be heard?”
A faint smile formed on the grey mare’s face. “I grew up with three little sisters. One went into hysterics if you looked at her wrong, one didn’t say a word until she was eight, and one tried to dig a tunnel to the center of Gaea when she was nine. After that, this is nothing.”
Zecora let out a light snuffle of amusement. “Well, thank you for saving me from despairing. Now, how do you suppose the others are faring?”
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
“—And if you’ll follow me, here are the fillies’ cabins,” the counselor droned on, waving a hoof in the general direction of a group of cloud buildings.
Spike resisted the urge to smack his head into the nearest wall. “How different from the colts’ quarters can they be?” he muttered to Maple, whose back Lyra had eventually shifted him to. “Perfectly neat, beds are made, suitcases put away…”
Maple snorted. “Yeah, sure. Anyway, this is exactly what we need. We’re looking for little Rainbow, remember? A filly?”
Spike grunted in reluctant agreement. “Then can we go back to the TARDIS?” he whined.
“We’ll see.”
Spike sunk back, arms folded over his chest. “That’s just another way of saying ‘no,’” he griped.
Thunderlane was beginning to flag as well, but he hiked himself up the steps into the cabin. Passing over the threshold, he was immediately struck by just how messy the room was. Bedsheets were rumpled, if they were on the bed at all. Flight suits and sundry other clothes were strewn around, kicked into the corners of the room. Posters were taped haphazardly all over the walls. The charcoal stallion nodded. This was more or less what he’d expected.
“Wow,” Spike said, staring around. “This is—”
A golden aura quickly glued his lips together. “Very nice,” Lyra interjected smoothly. “Particularly considering that this is a surprise inspection.”
Maple’s eyes fell on one bed in particular, with the covers wrapped around themselves. “You have a griffon here?”
The counselor blinked mildly. “Why yes,” they said. “We actually have quite a few, along with the pegasi. We don’t discriminate; Why, if a changeling showed up and wanted to learn how to fly, we’d let it in so long as it was between the ages of seven and sixteen.” They frowned. “How did you know?”
Maple blinked in surprise. “Oh, well, uh, just… the nest, you know… and the…” she waved a hoof vaguely at the wall. “Griffish sports stars…”
There was only one small picture of a griffon attached to the wall. The counselor looked at the cream pegasus oddly, but said no more.
“I’m more interested in this bed over here,” the Doctor interjected suddenly. All heads turned. The blue pegasus was examining a neatly-made bedspread, its covers tucked and the sheets a sparkling white. “Who’s the odd filly out, then?”
The counselor’s mouth drooped at the corners. “That camper is… no longer with us,” they said quietly. “She went home two days ago. Her parents… passed away in a train wreck.”
The Doctor’s eyes widened slightly. “I’m very sorry to hear that,” he said slowly. “Where will she stay now?”
“I’ve no idea,” the counselor said with a shake of their head. “Her uncle came by to pick her up. I don’t think I ever so her so still… poor, dear Rainbow Dash. She may have been a daredevil, but she had skin like tissue paper and a heart of marshmallow fluff. Destroyed her as sure as if she had been on the train herself.” They stared into space for a long moment, their face unreadable. Then, snapping to, they turned back to the others. “Well. Onto the kitchens, then?”
“T-that won’t be necessary,” Maple stammered. “I believe we’ve seen everything we need to, haven’t we, Lyra?”
The mint unicorn twitched. Maple nudged her with a wing. “Haven’t we, Lyra?” she repeated, slightly louder.
“Hm! Oh! Yes, yes, all very good. Grade A all around,” the mint unicorn said, shaking herself. “Thank you. You’ve been very helpful. Do have a nice day. And a nice evening! And perhaps a nice cup of coffee…”
Maple rolled her eyes and draped a wing over Lyra’s back, gently guiding her out of the cabin.
“Somehow, I don’t think that was part of the original timeline,” Spike muttered.
“Not to hear Apple Bloom tell it, no,” Maple agreed.
Lyra shivered. “Let’s get back to the TARDIS? Please?”
“Of course,” Maple said with a nod and a faint smile. “Been a bit of a busy day for us all, hasn’t it?”
“Aaaand there’s also the fact that I can feel the cloudwalking spell starting to wear off,” the mint mare continued sheepishly.
Maple looked down. Lyra’s hooves were indeed beginning to sink into the cloud layer. “Stratus! Why didn’t you tell us— never mind. Move!”
The two mares set off at a gallop, Lyra stumbling along as best she could and Spike clinging on to Maple’s neck as though his life depended on it.
“Where did we park?” Maple shouted.
“I thought you knew!”
Spike gestured wildly. “Left here!”
“What did we leave here?” Lyra asked, glancing around.
“No! Turn left here!” Spike shouted.
“Left?” Maple asked, tilting her head so she could hear better.
“Right! I mean— correct!” Spike replied.
Lyra shrieked as one of her forehooves punched through the cloud layer. “No!” Maple shouted, wrapping her hooves around the unicorn’s barrel and pulling her back.
Lyra struggled for a moment, then shakily managed to raise herself up and balance on her hind hooves. “I’m good. I’m good,” she gasped. “I think I can keep the spell stable on two hooves. Minimize surface contact. Spike, help hold me up as I walk.”
The little dragon managed a passable salute and grabbed the mare’s forehoof. “Okay,” Maple breathed. “Left, you said?”
***
There was a firm rap at the blue doors of the TARDIS. Apple Bloom glanced up from her book. “They back?” she asked mildly.
“Let us in, you big blue jerk!” Maple called angrily. “Lyra’s about to fall through!”
Quickly, Zecora leapt to activate the door switch, and rays of sunshine illuminated the room. Lyra immediately fell to the floor. “Oh, sweet solidity! I’ll never take you for granted again,” she gasped, spreading her limbs eagle as if to give the ground a hug.
“Didja find li’l Dash, then?” Bloom asked eagerly. “Was she alright? Didja find Starlight?”
Spike coughed. “Well… no…”
“Maybe we should wait for the Doctor and Thunderlane,” Maple suggested.
“Why?” Bloom asked, her face falling. “What happened?”
Maple bit her lower lip. “I… we should wait for the others,” she repeated.
“Oh, come now, don’t keep us in suspense,” Zecora wheedled. “What news? What happened? Tell us the chain of events.”
Maple glanced at Bloom for a moment, then glanced away. “We’ll wait,” she said firmly.
The yellow mare felt a hot rush of blood flowing to her face. Did Maple think that she couldn’t handle the story? She started to open her mouth, but then she caught sight of Maud. The grey mare was observing her quietly. Bloom breathed out slowly. “Ah think we’d all really like t’ know th’ whole story,” she said. “An’ th’ sooner ya tell it, th’ sooner we can work out a plan ta try an solve whatever happened.”
Maple opened her mouth to reply, but no words came out. Her lips flapped like those of a fish. “Well, I,” she started, but nothing followed.
“She had to go home,” Lyra said from her position on the floor. “Her parents died.”
Bloom’s eyes went wide and her jaw popped open like a steamer trunk. Zecora looked at her with evident concern. “That— Ah mean, that’s terrible!” the yellow mare said, blinking rapidly. “Uh, did they say how?”
“Their train crashed, I think,” Spike said, clambering down from his position on Maple’s back. “Did that happen in your world, too? ‘Cause, right now, that’s probably our best bet for where history came undone.”
Apple Bloom’s eyes flickered for the briefest of seconds. “Ah never met Dashie’s folks,” she said slowly. “Ah reckon Ah don’t know much o’ anything ‘bout ‘em.”
Maud’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t say a word. Bloom regarded her warily. “Ah’m jes’ gonna… go… t’ th’ library…” she said, slowly backing out of the room, faltering under the combined gazes of the assembled. As soon as she hit the hallway, she took off as fast as her legs would go.
Maud stared at the closed hall doors dispassionately. Stiffly, she turned and sat facing the main door.
Lyra peeled herself off the floor. Glancing around, she frowned and leaned over to Zecora. “Did something happen while we were gone?” she murmured.
“An slight attitude problem from Apple Bloom. Maud thought she’d managed to banish her gloom,” the zebra replied in an undertone.
The unicorn pursed her lips. “Well. I guess she was wrong.”
The TARDIS doors swung open and the Doctor trotted in, sprightly as ever. Thunderlane slumped in right behind him. The Time Lord glanced around and raised an eyebrow. “Well, aren’t we a lot of Gloomy Gusses. Gussies? Gertrudes, perhaps. Lovely name, Gertrude…”
“What’s up?” Thunderlane asked. “Where’s Bloom?”
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
Bloom was, in fact, in the library. This was not out of any desire for knowledge, but simply because it was ultimately where her wandering hooves had taken her. She suspected that the TARDIS had heard her tell the rest of the party that she intended to go there, and the labyrinth of corridors had arranged to lead her there. Who was she to argue with a transdimensional spaceship? She was, therefore, floating on her back in the swimming pool, staring at the library ceiling, feeling very small.
She vaguely wished that she had told the truth. Maud knew that she hadn’t, she was certain of it. That look on her face had spoken volumes, at least to somepony who had learned how to read it.
And yet, how could she? She knew that the world ran on coincidences, Celestia knew she’d seen too much evidence to argue against that. The fact that Dash’s folks had died in a train wreck and the fact that her own parents were alive and well rather than dead in a train wreck spoke volumes. The timeline fit like a sock. She had only just gotten her parents back, something she’d dreamed of ever since she could remember. She had only gotten to spend a few minutes with them, and most of that had been her mother’s abrasive hair styling. Was it so wrong not to want to let that go? Was it so wrong to want to hold these few precious moments tight? Was it so wrong to desire to spend some time with the parents that she had never known?
She took in a deep breath and submerged, closing her eyes and holding a hoof to her nose. Once she was completely submerged, she opened up her eyes to stare at the light glinting off the water’s surface. Her eyes stung and burned with the chlorine, like an unpleasant, unscratchable itch. The beauty was breathtaking— fortunately not literally. She could hold her breath for longer than any of her friends, unless Dinky cheated and used an air bubble spell, a fact that Applejack had always attributed to her good farmpony stock. She watched the light dance on the water for a few moments more, then resurfaced, rubbing fiercely at her eyes.
It was wrong, she knew. At fundament, she could recognize objectively that her parents had already passed away. They had been gone for all her life. In her more sentimental moments, Granny would often state that they had gone on to Greener Pastures, though Bloom wasn’t certain if that was a metaphor or some idealized afterworld. It was hard, looking at their headstones, to believe that they had gone anywhere at all. Looking at pictures, hearing stories, it was hard to believe that they had ever really existed in any meaningful sense. Yeah, she’d heard all the stories; Mama teaching Big Macintosh how to make the most perfect apple pancakes you ever did taste, Applejack winning her first blue ribbon after months of training with Papa, even Granny Smith’s tales of her parents’ courtship (and more frequently, stories of Papa’s misspent youth).
But those stories and pictures could only go so far. Fictional characters had stories and pictures, and thus her parents shared mental shelving space with Babe Blue, minotaur lumberjack, or the Power Ponies, or How-Now Brown, the unassuming bull detective. To some extent, they had never really existed for her. Now, though… she had met them. They existed. They were real. So, while she knew intellectually that the only thing that she could do was to let them die, emotion had hijacked intellect several miles back and was even now caroming around the inside of her skull. She didn’t want to let them go, not now that she had only just gotten to meet them. Yet, the longer she stayed in this strange, different world, the harder it would be for her when she had to leave. It was a puzzle. After a discontented sigh, Apple Bloom took another deep breath and slipped beneath the water’s surface once more.
***
The Doctor’s face had turned grave. “You don’t think she was telling the truth?”
Maple snorted. “Not a chance. She had guilt written all over her face.”
“But for what reason did she evade? From her expression, I thought she looked—” Zecora halted momentarily. “Afraid,” she concluded, eyes darting from face to face.
That brought the cream pegasus up short. “Y’know, I think you’re right,” she agreed, nodding meditatively.
“Afraid of what, though?” Spike asked, raising an eyebrow. “Trains?”
Thunderlane’s forehead wrinkled. “Why do you say ‘trains’ specifically?” he asked, turning to face the dragon.
Spike blinked. “Uh, I dunno. She asked us how Dash’s parents died, I said ‘train wreck,’ and then she really started acting weird.”
Gears started to turn over in Thunderlane’s mind. “Parents…” he murmured. “She said something about her parents… but then she stopped…” he stared into space. “You don’t suppose…”
Maple’s eyebrows shot into the air. “Impossible. She’s too young, and we’re too far back.”
“No, no, she’s seventeen. She’d have been very young, but it is possible,” Thunderlane said, eyes growing wide.
Maud glanced up from the spot on the wall that she had been sullenly staring at for the last five minutes, eyebrow raised.
Lyra just glanced around. “Okay, somepony want to explain this to me?” she asked.
Maple was trotting quickly through the door that Thunderlane had already burst through. Lyra rolled her eyes. “Come on then. Geronimo!”
“Hey,” the Doctor protested. “That’s my line!”
***
“Apple Bloom!” Thunderlane shouted as he burst into the library. “Where are—” He cut off abruptly as he saw the yellow form at the bottom of the swimming pool. He gasped, briefly too shocked to do anything, but then plunged into the water, swimming down with all the power he could muster. He grabbed Bloom around the barrel and— was met with a hoof to the face. Intense orange eyes glared at him reproachfully. Oh. Oops.
Gasping and hacking, Thunderlane dragged himself out of the water, Apple Bloom stepping out just behind him, hardly the worse for wear. She sighed and patted the older pony between the wingblades. “S’awright,” she said consolingly. “Ya thought Ah was drownin’, Ah get it. But… d’ya’ll even know how to swim?”
“I… yes,” Thunderlane sputtered. “It’s just harder to do with wings.” He glanced back. “Aw, Tartarus, these are gonna take forever to preen…”
“Well, Ah don’ reckon y’all jes’ came in here ta work on yer back crawl. What’s th’ matter?”
“Why don’t you tell us that?” a different voice said from the doorway.
The yellow mare froze for a second, and then slumped. She turned to see the rest of the Elements watching her closely. “Oh. Howdy.” She coughed nervously. “Uh, Ah reckon y’all wanna talk ta me ‘bout summat.”
The Doctor stepped forward. “Apple Bloom,” he said quietly. “What happened to your parents?”
The young mare breathed out slowly. She looked down at the ground, biting her lower lip. “They… died,” she said slowly. “Long time ago, when Ah was jes’ two or three.”
Thunderlane’s face fell slightly, as though he had just missed a step in the darkness. Maple nodded sadly and Maud’s eyebrows cinched slightly. Lyra’s eyes went wide. “Oh my gosh, I’m so sorry!” she gasped. “How? If that’s… not too personal…”
Bloom stared. “Uh… hasn’t she worked it out?”
Maple shrugged. “That’s Lyra for you. Brilliant engineer, but sometimes just a little slow about things that aren’t mechanical.”
“Hey!” Lyra protested. “That’s… okay, that’s more or less true, but still. Rude.”
“Lyra,” Bloom said kindly.
“Present, Miss!” the unicorn said, her head snapping forward.
“They died in a train crash.”
Lyra’s eyebrows rose. “Wow.. First Dash’s parents, then yours. What a way to run a railroad.”
Bloom glanced at Zecora, but the zebra just shrugged. “You’ve helped her begin it. Just give her a minute.”
Lyra’s jaw dropped. “Oh. Oooh. Right. Your parents aren’t dead, so they weren’t on the train, so somepony made sure that your parents and Rainbow’s parents were switched. So… somepony’s been deliberately interfering with history!”
“Question is,” the Doctor said, frowning slightly, “who?”
“Can’t we jes’ go back an’ find out fer ourselves? Watch how things pan out, then go back an’ stop ‘em?”
The Doctor shook his head. “No, no. Definitely not. We’ve only got one shot at this. Once we’ve seen events unfold, that’s it, kaput, stuck. We’ve only got as much wiggle room as we have because you can remember the way the universe is supposed to be. If you see the events that lead to the current universe occurring, they’ll become fixed in your personal timeline, and nothing you can do will change them. First Law of Time, don’t muck about with your own past or future.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “And you’re so good at following the Laws of Time. How many times have we met other versions of you?”
The Doctor waved a hoof. “That’s different, I was fulfilling a closed timelike curve. Anyway, I’m a professional, I know what I’m doing. Will do. Have done. Will have done. Si-would haven-did. Whatever. Point is, we need to figure out what happened from an outside force, some kind of account that doesn’t require us to have to see the events themselves unfold…” He trailed off, seeing a determined look cross Apple Bloom’s face.
“Ah know who ta talk to,” she said soberly.
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
Leaves rustled on the apple trees as a breeze kicked up, accompanied by the peculiar whooshing sound that denoted the fabric of space and time being rent. Lyra pushed open the doors. “Well now, here we all are back at th’ ol’ homestead,” she crowed.
Apple Bloom stared. “Please, never do that again.”
The unicorn crossed her eyes and blew a raspberry at the yellow mare. “You coming or not?”
Bloom hesitated. “Ah’m comin’, Ah’m comin…”
The Doctor looked at her cockeyed. He leaned in close to her ear. “You can stay in here, if you like,” he said quietly. “I understand if you… don’t want to get attached…”
Bloom’s upper lip stiffened with resolve. “No. Thank ya kindly, but Ah gotta be there. Ah need t’ explain.”
The Doctor gave her a small, honest, smile. It was far more earnest than his big gappy grins and somehow much more comforting, as well. “Come along then, Bloom. Let’s go meet the parents, hey?”
***
Macintosh Jr. glanced up from his crossword as a sharp rapping echoed through the house. He pulled himself to his hooves and ambled toward the front door. Before he could get there, however, it had already swung open, and a tropical blue pegasus was peering in. “Hallo, Mac! Mind if we come in?”
“Um,” said Mac. “Could Ah stop y’all?”
“Not really, no.”
The large red stallion nodded philosophically and gestured the Doctor in. “If you could get your parents, I’ve a few questions for them?”
Mac’s brow furrowed. “Oh, don’t worry, they’ve not done anything,” the Doctor hastily clarified. “There’s just a couple of questions I’ve got about family history.”
“Well, Granny might be able t’ help ya better…”
“Not fer this.”
Mac spun to face the new voice. “Bloom?” He grabbed her in a tight hug. “Where’d y’all run off ta?”
“The ol' treehouse,” Bloom replied. Technically she wasn’t lying. She’d just run off somewhere else a little later.
“Y’all ‘bout gave Ma conniptions,” Mac scolded before hugging his sister even tighter. “Don’t you run off like that again.”
Bloom coughed. “Mac… crushing…”
“Oops.” He released his grip on Bloom, who winced and rubbed at her ribs.
“Now, what’s all the commotion?” another male voice asked. A yellow stallion poked his head out through the door. Green eyes fixed on a red mane. “Bloom!”
In the next instant, the young mare was swept up in another embrace. This one, she returned with interest, making sure to pay attention to everything that she could. The lemon-yellow of her father’s coat, the coarse stiffness of his fur, the particular smell of dirt and apples and tree sap. Shortly after that, another, thinner pair of peach-colored hooves wrapped around them both, and the precise feeling of this embrace would remain with Bloom for the rest of her life. She would make sure of it. She would never, ever forget the first and last time she could remember being a filly in her parents’ hooves.
Eventually, though, they let go. And though part of Bloom wanted to cry ‘No. No. I have a whole fillyhood to make up for, one hug will not do,’ the rest of her knew that that one hug was far more than she had ever reasonably expected in her life. She had had her moment, her memory. So, she took a deep breath, pulled herself upright, and looked her parents dead in the eyes. “We need ta talk.”
“We most certainly do,” her father replied, raising an eyebrow. “Fer a start, we-all’d like ta know what gotcha runnin’ off like that.”
Bloom took a deep breath. “Well.”
Honesty was, her sister often said, the best policy. However, Applejack had been wrong before, and it looked like she was wrong again now. Instead, she thought that she would have to try Maud’s approach. What did her parents need to know?
“There’s been… somethin’ of an accident,” she said slowly. Almost immediately, her father’s face grew grey with worry and her mother positively blanched. “Ah’m alright,” she hastened to add. “But somepony’s been messin’ with time.”
Her father frowned. “How d’y’all know that?”
“Well, I don’t quite know,” Bloom admitted. “But Ah do. The world's been changed.”
“Applejack,” her mother said slowly. “Earlier, you said... This has something to do with Applejack, doesn’t it?” Bloom almost collapsed with relief.
“Yeah,” she said. “Yeah. Applejack was meant to come back from Manehattan jes’ a couple weeks after she left. An’ that means a buncha other stuff changed, too. Like, Miz Rarity was meant to be a dressmaker, not a teacher. An’ there’s a bunch o’ my friends that never even met me.”
“Ah-huh,” her father said, nodding slowly. “So, what do we need t’ do?”
Bloom blinked. “Wait. Y’all believe me? Jes’ like that?”
“Bloomers, yer our daughter. O’course we trust you.”
And that just makes this even harder , Bloom thought grimly. Fortunately, at this point, the Doctor swooped in to take over the conversation. “Well, what we really need to know is a list of events leading up to your daughter’s exodus to Manehattan. I’m given to understand you were both in Vanhoover for a few days not long before the young mare’s departure. Perhaps we could start there?”
What ensued was a ten-minute explanation of GrowerCon, the main event of the farming, gardening, and landscaping worlds. By the time Pear Butter and Bright Mac had finished reminiscing, Lyra’s jaw had a sag in it, Spike was asleep, and Thunderlane’s eyes had grown bloodshot. The others were spared by the virtue of being genuinely interested (the Doctor, Zecora), by never being interested in almost anything (Maud), or by having actually attended GrowerCon and been made to sit through the same spiel several times already. (Bloom, Maple).
However, not even the Doctor’s patience was infinite, and at length, he gently prodded, “Well, what about your trip home? Was that uneventful?”
Ma snorted and Pa shook his head. “Not hardly. Buttercup here put a hoof through the boards at the train station and got a nail stuck right through her hoof.” He held up a forehoof for emphasis. “Had t’ get t’ hospice right away. Lucky for us, there was a nice coupla pegasi bought our tickets off us, and a fella that called us an ambulance. Insisted that we couldn’t travel today.”
The Doctor stiffened, and the other Elements perked up. The expression on his face was unreadable. “That fella. Did he give his name?”
Pa frowned. “Well, yes. Can’t for the life of me remember it. M— summat.”
“Matins?” Ma said. "Somethin' like that."
“No… No, but yer close. Matinides , that was it.”
“And I’m guessing his cutie mark was some kind of timekeeping device?” the Doctor asked grimly.
Ma and Pa exchanged confused glances. “Candle, I think it was,” Ma said.
“With little lines down the sides? Yes, a traditional timekeeping device, before the discovery of clockwork.” The Doctor sighed, closing his eyes. “Of all the people that could’ve made it through to Equestria, it had to be him. I mean, the Master made it in once or twice, but at least he had style. Even the Rani would’ve been better! Or Drax! The Corsair, perhaps? Romana? But no, it had to be Mortimus…” He shook his head. “Right. I’m heading back to the TARDIS. Thank you both, you’ve been very helpful.”
Apple Bloom made to rise, but a Look from her mother pinned her back. “Not so fast,” she said. “I think there are a few more things that need saying, aren’t there.”
Maple glanced at the younger mare worriedly, but Bloom waved her on. She could tell Family Business when it came up.
The cream-coated pegasus closed the door behind her. Bloom regarded her parents. They looked back at her. “Applejack,” her mother began. “Do you know why she left?”
Bloom bit her lower lip. “No, ma’am.”
Pear Butter nodded. “She thought we were too... old-fashioned. Too stuck in our ways.”
“Ah believe the words she used were—” Bright shut up under the combined force of the glares of his wife and daughter.
Ma returned her look to Apple Bloom. “You can bring her back?”
“Yes.”
Ma rolled this over in her mind. “Is she happy, in this other timeline?”
“Very.”
“She got herself a colt?”
“A mare.”
“Good for her?”
“They’re happy.”
Ma nodded solemnly. “I love you. Your father loves you. Junior loves you, and Granny Smith does, too. We love Applejack, too, and your brother. We would do anything— ANYTHING— to keep you safe. Do you understand?”
Apple Bloom understood. She was being told what she needed to hear. Tears prickled at her eyes. “Ah’m sorry,” she whispered. “Ah wish there was some other way. But Ah don’t reckon there is.”
Her mother leaned forward and smoothed back Bloom’s mane, lingering over where the bow had once been. “It suits you,” she said quietly. “Be safe.”
Bloom could not say anything. She merely nodded, then turned toward the door. The filly exited the room. The mare entered the hallway.
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
The doors of the TARDIS hummed closed as Bloom passed through them. The others didn’t ask if she was okay, not while she so blatantly wasn’t. The yellow mare sat down in a corner. When nopony else moved, she glanced up. “Well? Let’s git.”
Maple pursed her lips. “Well,” she said slowly. “We don’t actually… have to.”
Bloom frowned. “Well, o’ course we do. Don’t we?” She glanced around. “We can’t just leave things the way they are… can we?”
“I don’t see anything wrong with it,” Lyra said with a shrug. “The universe is still in one piece, and the world’s getting by OK.”
“But… my friends,” Bloom said slowly.
“Well, you should know, if you wish we can go,” Zecora said. “But think of both the gains and cost. For everything won, something else must be lost.”
Apple Bloom’s eyes grew damp, but her upper lip remained stiff. “A-Ah know. That fella— he killed Dash’s folks by savin’ mine. If Ah wanna git ev’rything back…”
“You’ll be responsible for sending your parents to their doom,” Thunderlane finished.
Maple shoved him. “Nice one, idiot,” she muttered.
“What? I’m honesty! That’s my thing!” the stallion protested.
“Perhaps there’s one choice more? Some clever trick to save all four?” Zecora asked, glancing at the Doctor.
The Doctor’s face was grim. “No. Not this time,” he said quietly. “This crash is going to happen either way, and one set of parents is going to get on while the other two stay behind.”
“Can’t we jes’, Ah dunno, make th’ train break down?” Apple Bloom asked desperately. “Then nopony has t’ die!”
The Doctor shook his head moodily. “That sort of thing has consequences, massive and unforeseeable. It affects hundreds of lives, changes personal timestreams, everything Mortimus did, but without the planning. The sheer amount of possibilities that could spring from that… We mustn’t.”
Apple Bloom breathed in slowly and let it out. “So… it’s mah parents or th’ world.”
“It’s your choice,” the Doctor said quietly.
“What choice? Ain’t no choice Ah can see.”
Maud stared at Bloom. “If you choose your parents, it will make little difference to the world.”
“Gaea will keep on spinning,” the Doctor agreed, “and we’ll be here to keep it safe. You can choose your parents or your sister, Apple Bloom. But you do have to choose.”
It was tempting. It was sorely tempting. Apple Bloom gazed at the train station for a long moment. If her parents had lived… she allowed herself to think what that would have been like. Her father being there to help her learn to bake the perfect apple pie. Her mother teaching her to buck apples. She could see her grandmother sitting on the porch with her beloved son, feeling years younger once more as her daughter-in-law played guitar in the background. She could see her brother with his mother, quietly doing a jigsaw puzzle together in comfortable silence. Her parents being part of her life, rather than grainy old photographs in an album. Her family being whole.
But it wouldn’t be whole. Applejack would be in Manehattan, and that was only the tip of the iceberg. If she stayed in this world, she would lose Sweetie Belle, Button, Dinky, Rainbow Dash, Twilight, Pinkie Pie… the list went on and on. Bloom pictured a life without any of them. She ground her teeth and set her jaw firm. “Let’s get ‘im,” she growled.
The Doctor smiled at her, but made no motion. Bloom cocked her head. “Uh, Doc?”
“Hm?” The Doctor snapped to, surprised. Then, his face settled into a proud smile. “Oh, don’t mind me. You just reminded me of a Song.”
***
The Monk was a proud Time Lord, and not a little vain. However, he would be the first to admit that he had, perhaps, one slight fault. He would be the first to say so only because most others would be rather busy listing his myriad other failings, but that should still count for something. He was reflecting on that flaw now, sitting on a bench outside the train station and pretending to read a newspaper, waiting for the expected guests to arrive. That was, in and of itself, the trouble.
Strictly speaking, he knew that he should be doing his utmost to avoid any sort of connection with the upcoming event, but he simply couldn’t resist staying to watch and intervene directly. He chuckled slightly to himself. That fatal attraction, that desire for inclusion, for the sheer act of being present at an event which would alter history itself, was, as ever, his fatal flaw; his desire to see his handiwork fall into place. Or rather, he mused, ‘hoofiwork’. He stared absently at the rust-colored appendage that had so recently become a part of him. Then, something caught his eye and he gasped in delight. “A sale on tea?” he murmured, staring earnestly at the coupon in his newspaper.
There was a faint disturbance in the air currents as the TARDIS materialized into existence between a photo booth and a rack of postcards depicting beautiful downtown Vanhoover. In accordance with the laws of the universe, the postcards were all liberally sprinkled with brightly-colored captions which seemed to have been written by someone whose sense of humor had been surgically removed. The ‘fun’ facts written on the reverse side were likely written by the same individual.
The doors creaked open and Maple peered out. “All clear,” she called back, trotting out.
“Now, Mortimus is a very tricky fellow,” the Doctor said, leading the rest of the pack out of the TARDIS. “Alias, the Monk . The Meddling Monk, I call him. Always upsetting the ol’ apple cart, just for the thrill of watching it tumble over. Except, not so much an apple cart as perhaps a war. Or a sinking ship. Or a peace conference. Anything major in history, really. And when I say ‘upset’, I mean ‘alter’. Y’know what, let’s just stick with the apple cart.”
“Thematically appropriate, if nothing else,” Thunderlane commented drily.
“So basically, we need to be on our guard? That shouldn’t, I think, be too hard.”
The Doctor sighed. “Right. Meantime, we need somepony to fix whatever trap the Monk set up for Bright and Buttercup. Anypony up for that?”
Maud nodded solemnly and Maple raised a hoof. “Great,” the Doctor said. “Now, everypony else, be on the lookout for a red stallion with a candle cutie mark! We mustn’t let him get away, or he might try something else. Spread out!”
Thunderlane and Bloom trotted along, eyes carefully peeled for candles or suspicious red stallions. “Ah meant t’ apologize,” the mare said suddenly.
“Huh?”
“Ah din’t mean t’ make ya feel awkward. Sorry.”
Thunderlane was quiet. “Not your fault. You’re all right.”
“Are you?”
“Nah.”
Bloom glanced up at him in surprise. Thunderlane raised an eyebrow. “What? Like I said, honesty’s my schtick.”
“Well… yeah… but…”
“It’s alright not to be alright, yanno.”
“Ah mean… Ah guess.”
“You gonna be alright after all this is over?”
“Bout as likely as a pig joinin’ th’ weather patrol.”
“Good. Well. Not good. But I’d be way more worried if you thought you were going to be completely fine.”
“Uh-huh. Well, you got a point. But you gotta let things go sooner or later, too.”
Thunderlane paused, then nodded slightly. “I guess I’m just going to go with ‘later’.”
“If Ah understand th’ Doc rightly, the whole world’s gonna blink out once we stop that Monk feller. D’ya really wanna go out with that on yer chest?”
Thunderlane hesitated. “We’ll have twenty minutes, our time, before anything shifts back. I dunno why, but that’s time travel for you. Wibbly-wobbly.”
“Timey-wimey,” Bloom agreed. “Heh. He still says that?”
Thunderlane rolled his eyes. “All the time.”
“Bananas are good.”
“Fezzes are cool.”
“Well…”
“Oh, brilliant! We’re about to get killed in a really interesting way!”
They shared a look and burst into laughter. “He never really changes, does he?” Bloom gasped.
Thunderlane shook his head. “You have no idea. Once, we met his fourth self?” He chuckled. “That was a wild ride…”
Bloom smirked. “Scarf guy?”
“Scarf guy. So, where do you think this guy’s going to be?”
The yellow mare scrunched up her nose. “Well… he’d prob’ly want t’ be pretty near th’ train, so’s he could make sure ev’rything went like he’d planned. So, we should look over…” she trailed off, staring at a figure on the bench. Proudly emblazoned on his flank was a candle marked off with lines at regular intervals. “Huh. Don’ look now, but Ah reckon that’s our guy.”
Thunderlane followed her line of sight. “Huh. I’ll be honest, I wasn’t expecting him to be so…”
“Old?”
“Yeah.”
The stallion was what one might kindly call ‘venerable’. He looked more than anything else like somepony’s beloved grandfather. “Shoot,” Thunderlane muttered. “Well, we can’t exactly just tackle him. The police will be here before you can say ‘elder abuse’.”
Bloom rubbed her chin. “Ah may jes’ have an idea…”
For Want of a Horseshoe Nail
The Monk rubbed his hooves with wicked glee upon seeing the pair of Apples entering the station. Right on time. Perfect. Now he simply had to ensure that they fell into his trap, and history would tilt off kilter! The world would be changed, and the unexpected would—
“Grandpa?”
The Monk’s train of thought was promptly derailed. He turned to see a young yellow mare staring at him with a mixture of love and concern. “Grandpa, oh thank Celestia!”
She flung her hooves around him with surprising abandon— particularly surprising given that the Time Lord had never met her in his life. He pushed back. “Get off of me! Off!”
The filly stumbled backward, an expression of hurt shock on her face. “Oh, Grandpa, don’cha remember me? They tol’ me you’d gotten bad, but Ah didn’t… Ah couldn’t…”
The Monk was utterly nonplussed. “Young lady, I am not your grandfather. Furthermore, I am not senile. My mind is as sharp as it ever was!”
“Now, Mr. Matinides, you know that isn’t true,” a gentle male voice chided. The Monk spun around to see a charcoal pegasus smiling down at him. “I think it’s about time we got you back home, don’t you?”
“What in the world—” the Monk sputtered. “Are you implying that I am some kind of invalid?”
“Of course not, Mr. Matinides,” the stallion soothed. “But Miss Bloom and the rest of your family are terribly worried about you. Wouldn’t it be nice to get back to them?”
The Monk frowned. What was happening? Who were these peop— ponies?
“Nurse Lyra? Dr. Raggedy? We’ve found him!” the charcoal stallion called. From the crowd, a minty green unicorn mare and a tropical blue pegasus stallion glanced around. The unicorn looked vaguely perplexed, but the pegasus grinned gappily.
“Well, well, well, how are we then?” the pegasus plummily, trotting over to the increasingly befuddled red stallion.
The charcoal pegasus’s smile slipped and he pulled the apparent doctor into a whispered conference. When the two pulled apart, the doctor’s smile was undimmed. “Oh, come on now, Mr. Matinides,” he wheedled. “It’s custard day back in the cafetorium. Or do I mean cafeteria? I’ll let you have fish fingers as well if you don’t make a fuss.”
By this point, the eyes of the entire station were upon them. Mortimus glanced around and swallowed nervously. “Oh… alright,” he said irritably. “But can’t we stay just a few moments more? I want to watch the train leave…”
“I don’t see any problem with that, do you, Nurse Thunderlane?”
“No, indeed, Doctor Raggedy, I don’t see any problem with that at all. Nurse Lyra, have you any objections?”
“I shouldn’t think so, Nurse Thunderlane. And you, Miss Bloom, have you any objections about letting your grandfather watch the train?”
“No ma’am, Nurse Lyra,” the young mare said with a shake of her head. A smirk slipped over her face. “In fact, mebbe he’d like a ride on it…”
The Monk went white. “No, no, no,” he said hastily. “That won’t be necessary.”
“I have some reservations to that, Miss Bloom. Don’t you have a few reservations, Dr. Raggedy?”
“Oh, most certainly, Nurse Lyra. Have you any reservations, Nurse Thunderlane?”
“Oh, definitely, Dr. Raggedy.”
The Monk fumed silently. Had his moment of glory really been interrupted by this crass recreation of Are You Being Served?
Well. At least those two earth ponies were on a direct course for his nail trap. The pair of pegasi were already arguing with the ticketmaster. He would get his amusement soon enough.
Yet, even as he watched, another pegasus, wheeling a large suitcase, moved to block the path that the Apples would have taken. “Oh, excuse me,” she said with a small smile.
Bright Mac smiled. “Quite alright, ma’am. ‘Scuse us—”
The Monk watched with barely contained horror as the duo sidestepped the rotten wood that he had carefully cultivated. In the next instant, a rock fell down on the trap instead, smashing through the wood. “Oops,” a grey earth pony said flatly.
“No,” the Monk breathed. “No… NO!”
He had been discovered. He didn’t know how, or why, but he knew it as surely as apples were apples, and as surely as he knew who was behind it. He turned around. “Doctor,” he snarled. “Back to thwart me once more? Even here, can I not escape you?”
The Doctor’s smile faded. “It’s over, Mortimus,” he said softly. “Come quietly, and it’ll go easy for you.”
The red earth pony sighed, dropping his head. Then, with a vicious strike forwards, he butted the Doctor in the chest and ran like the wind. “Catch him!” Thunderlane yelled.
Maple and Maud started after the elderly villain, but Bloom stayed stock still. Quietly, she watched her parents collect themselves once more.
Thunderlane struggled to get off the ground, but in these crowded conditions it was virtually impossible. “He’ll be trying for his TARDIS!” he yelled.
“Then why,” Lyra gasped, “Is he heading for ours?”
“I guess we parked closer to him than we supposed,” the Doctor said, eyes squinted tight.
Zecora, with Spike upon her back, glanced around for the most likely TARDIS in sight. “There!” Spike pointed. “The photo booth!”
The zebra and dragon leapt in front of the curtained booth, but the Monk neatly sidestepped them. “Hard luck,” he chuckled. “Try again next time…” He dove toward the rack of postcards. Just for a second, it opened out to form a doorway, and then the portal, much like the Monk himself, was gone. The rack faded gently in and out of existence before disappearing entirely.
The Elements stared. So did the rest of the station. Spike quickly glanced around and gave his most charming smile. “Thank you very much, ladies and gentlecolts, for attending this rehearsal of the Ponyville Players’ latest performance! Get your tickets now, before they’re sold out! We are accepting donations…”
Quickly, the rest of the station returned to going about its business. Spike smirked. Equine nature.
***
Hurriedly, Buttercup picked up her luggage. “Come on, Brightie. We’d best get gone.”
“Uh,” Bloom said. “‘Scuse me.”
Bright Mac glanced back. Bloom swallowed. “Sorry ‘bout th’ trouble. Jes’ wanted to wish you safe travels.”
The yellow stallion broke into a grin. “Why thank you kindly, young lady. Y’know something, you look just like my daughter. Ah hope she turns out jes’ as nice as you.”
Buttercup glanced back, and just for a moment, her eyes went wide. Then, her normal smile won out. “C’mon. Train’s fillin’ up,” she said. “You keep well, young lady. An’ congratulations.”
Bloom could hardly speak for the lump in her throat, but she nodded. “Yes’m. Ah will. Ah surely will.”
She didn’t move from her spot as she watched her parents board the train. She didn't move as the Elements gathered around her, then one by one, returned to the TARDIS. She didn’t move until long after the last puff of smoke off the train had disappeared into the air.
A figure sat down next to her. “Hey,” said Maple.
Bloom said nothing. Maple nodded. “Don’t wanna talk, huh? I get it. Do you want me to stop talking, too?”
Bloom hesitated, then shook her head. Maple nodded again. “I lost my parents when I was young, too,” she said. “It’s not something I really like to talk about.”
“Ah can imagine.”
Maple breathed out. “I don’t say that I can understand what you must be going through.”
“Mm?”
“But I wasn’t as young as you were. I had memories of when they were there, and when they were gone… It was like somepony had plunged a knife into my stomach.”
“An’ now Ah got a couple memories m’self.”
“Hurts, doesn’t it.”
“Like crazy.”
The cream pegasus nodded. “What I’m saying is… you can talk to me. At least, you can talk to me until your timestream reasserts itself, which is going to be in maybe ten minutes. So, if you need to talk…”
“That hoof-holdin’ thing still on th’ table?”
Maple smiled sadly and took the yellow filly’s hoof in hers. Together, they stared out at the setting sun over the tracks.
***
“Three minutes,” Maple said quietly. Bloom relinquished her hold on the pegasus’s hoof.
“Back ta th’ TARDIS?”
“Yeah, probably.”
They walked back past the photo booth and the place where the rack of postcards had been, entering the big blue doors of the time-travelling box. The others lounged around the console room, patiently waiting for the last pair of stragglers. Thunderlane looked up. “Cutting it close, aren’t you? We’ve only got…” he glanced at the Doctor.
“One minute, twenty-one seconds,” the Time Lord replied from his chair.
“Yeah, that,” the pegasus agreed. “So, when the universe restarts… Flitter and I will be back together?”
“Ya weren’t never apart, far as Ah know,” Bloom replied.
The dark horse smiled. “Well, that’s a weight off,” he said. Then, he peered a little closer at the mare. “Oh, hey, congrats.”
Bloom frowned. “What am Ah bein’ congratulated for? Ma said just the same thing afore…” she trailed off.
“Check your flank,” Maud said.
Bloom blinked. No. Surely not. Slowly, she turned her head around to look at her flanks, now adorned with a hammer and nail on each side, Her jaw dropped. Tears began to well up in her eyes, and she clapped her mouth closed, her lip quivering. The TARDIS began to dissolve around her, and she wasn’t sure if it was just her eyes or if the timeline was finally fading out of existence. She closed her eyes and started to cry.
Once they had begun, the tears would not stop, choking and suffocating. Bloom’s whole body shook, wracked with sob after sob, as unstoppable as hiccups. Mucus ran down her face, turning her muzzle into a disgusting crusty mess. She fell onto her side, weeping, not sure if she should be happy or sad. She was utterly overcome with this flood of contradicting emotions.
A pair of hooves wrapped around her barrel, and a muzzle rubbed at her mane. “Shh,” Applejack consoled. “Shh, now, Bloomers… It’s gonna be alright.”
The orange mare was shocked with the speed at which her little sister’s hooves wrapped around her, and the tightness of her grip. Whatever happened must’ve been some kinda doozy, but questions could wait. Everything could wait for now. Yellow and orange— no, Apple— embraced as the storm outside finally abated.
Author's Note
Hey, all.
Next Time On Doctor Whooves
The anglerfish, Rarity’s father had told his daughters, was an ugly, misshapen fish that lived at the bottom of the ocean, where it was so dark, not even Celestia’s light could illuminate your hoof in front of your face.
Ditzy’s brief romp among the flowers was suddenly cut short by Rose’s scream of abject horror, as she collapsed into a heap. The postmare broke off from sniffing a particularly delightful daisy and hastened over to the mare. She had fainted dead away.
My dear sisters,
And then, out of complete blindness, light. Welcoming. Comforting. Beckoning.
Then, the crab’s eyes, glowing bright red, shot open. “Aaaand hello to you, too, Murphy,” the pegasus sighed.
The commander, dazed from the backlash, stumbled backward. The sergeant pulled something shiny out of her saddlebag and prepared to throw it, but Fancy leapt up and bodychecked her to the floor. The object went flying and landed on the table. It sprung up on a dozen little scuttling legs and spun to face the Doctor.
Ditzy glanced up from the wiring. “What do you—” she paused. “Do you two smell something funny?”
Then, a motion caught Rarity’s eye, and she turned. A smile split her face as she saw who was hovering in the alleyway. “Rainbow Dash!” she called. “Thank Celestia! You have no idea how worried we’ve been, what’s going—”
“Okay, time to go,” Ditzy said quickly, spinning quickly in the direction of the Stick and Carrot . She stopped when she saw the ponies blocking off the street ahead of them. The ponies blocking off the street behind them and to either side of them. Macintosh, Rarity, Carrot Top, and too many others to count. Each one had a blank expression and empty, empty eyes…
Curiosity killed the cat, they say. More often, it kills the fish. And the angler swims on…
