“I’m waiting for you!” called out through time and space and eternity.

I am Rarity.

Today is Saturday.

I am alive.

The motel room was in total disarray that morning. Newspapers and magazines and pamphlets across every surface. Rainbow Dash was dozing peacefully in a chair, a copy of the Appaloosa Bugle draped across her chest in place of a blanket. The morning sun fell over her face, dappled not by leaves but by the busted-up Venetian blinds which clung to the window with unprecedented tenacity.

Her face was so delicate now. The face of an entirely different pony than I had spoken with the day--the night--before.

I shifted under the covers of the motel bed, stretching first one hind leg, then the other. The sheets were rough and frayed, stained with Celestia-knows-what kinds of disgusting foods and drinks and bodily fluids. I did my best not to think about it.

“How long have you been here?” Rainbow asked.

“I’ve told you, Rainbow,” I said. “I’ve been here a year.”

“But how many days do you actually remember?”

I remember things, yes. Trends and traditions. I remember days feeling monotonous and endless. I remember… dreams. But days? Only three days; Thursday, Friday, today. How can that be?

We had left the shopping center quite soon after our discussion, still early morning (had time been telling the truth), and yet when we left the sun was setting.

“It should be morning,” I said. “I only just woke up!”

“Do you remember waking up?”

Rainbow Dash stirred under her newspaper, her hooves rustling its creases with a sudden and jolting sound.

She rolled over. The paper drifted to the floor and exposed her tiny racer’s body, curled up in the armchair like a foal against their mother’s warm stomach.

I lifted the paper with my magic. It was dated nearly four years ago. This wasn’t nearly as strange, of course, as the paper from about seven years in the future.

“What about the mayoral election. Remember that?” Rainbow asked. She held up a local tabloid with a picture of a unicorn mare standing at a podium.

“Of course I do. That’s Misty Shores.”

Rainbow chuckled a dry, humorless chuckle. “That was six years ago.”

Facts I could recall. Useless, meaningless facts about events and ponies who lived here before me, after me. It was experiences that were fuzzy, even nonexistent. I knew the facts of the election, but I could not remember being present for it, hearing of it, even reading about it.

I sat up, flattened the paper, re-read the headline at the very top of the front page: “Shores Found Dead, Police Suspect Dusk Guardian Resurgence.”

I blinked, rubbed my eyes.

“Shores Found Dead, Police Suspect Political Motivation.”

I gasped lightly, then leapt out of bed and began to search in the drifts of paper for anything to write with. The name was already slipping from my mind faster than I could chase it. Dawn something? Day…

As I darted about in a frenzy, papers and bedding flying in every direction, there was a sudden clatter and smash.

I froze up, whirled about. The lamp from the side table now lay on the floor, its light bulb shattered. The cord was looped around my hoof.

Rainbow Dash was now sitting straight up in her chair.

“Good morning?” she murmured, unsure of the exact state of my day thus far. “Everything okay?”

I heaved a great sigh. Why had I jumped up like that? What had I been looking for?

“I…” I swallowed hard. “I’m not quite sure…”

Rainbow cleared her throat, settling a bit. “Was there a reason you smashed the lamp, or were you just really feelin’ it?” A tentative smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.

I ran a hoof through my hair, tugged at the loose curls. My self-care routine now waning, the curls hung slack against my neck, rather than snapping back against my cheek as usual. “I don’t remember.”

Rainbow’s brows twitched. I could see the little shadow of a wrinkle starting between them. Was that because of me? A worry wrinkle?

“We should get you some food,” Rainbow said, standing up. “You’re lookin’ a little, uh…”

I lifted my chin and looked down my snout at Rainbow, eyes narrowing ever so slightly.

“Radiant,” she finished. Her eyes darted to the floor. “But also a little woozy. You hungry?”

My goodness, food. When was the last time I had eaten? I couldn’t remember eating at all in these past few days. How could that be?

I shuffled my hooves, tried to start a sentence, failed miserably.

Rainbow smiled timidly. “I’ll take that as a yes?” She chuckled. “How about that weird diner place from yesterday?”

I managed to laugh a bit myself. “I suppose it’s true what they say: ‘weird’ is a relative term.”

Rainbow rolled her eyes and turned to leave. “No, no, I just mean-- well, who in the hay named that place? ‘Open Doors?’ It’s a diner! The doors should always be open!” She let out an exasperated sigh. “I think Twilight’s been rubbing off on me a little. I didn’t used to care about junk like that.”

Rainbow’s wings were tucked tightly at her sides. They moved in a steady, wave-like pattern with her shoulders as she walked into the desert. The light of the rising sun ringed her head and vibrant mane with an angelic glow, a shimmering aura which should have washed out her color entirely, yet somehow made them shine all the brighter.

I trotted to her side. “Oh, you’re just growing up, darling. It’s a good thing.”

Rainbow Dash stopped, turned back to look at me. As she did, the radiant halo fell away, exposing the scorchingly bright sun. I winced at the sudden pain of it.

“You think so?” Rainbow said softly. She was guarding her own face from the sun with one hoof.

“Of course I do,” I said, doing my best to match her own softness. “Growing and changing is always good. As long as you’re changing for your own sake, that is.”

“Hm.”

The irony was not lost on me.

“That’s all we ever did before, isn’t it?” I pushed. Stop digging yourself in deeper, you fool. “Did our best to grow and change on our own terms, and worked together to be accountable to each other.”

Rainbow scratched her head. “I mean, I guess. I always just thought of it as learning not to be such little shits all the time.”

I chuckled. “Close enough.”

We continued on our way.

The soft crunches of our hooves in the sand and the low moan of the wind. I was finding it easier to hold onto where I was, who I was, when I hung onto these little details. The past few days seemed to be nothing but brief and confusing conversations in my shattered memory, but even that was more than anything of the past few weeks or months.

I had never had to work so hard to make memories before. It was a strange feeling.

For the most part, the buildings in this little non-town town could be seen from each other’s doorways. That few, that close. The diner wasn’t far; just far enough to shimmer in the heat.

Rainbow left neat hoofprints as she walked. For a little while, I tried to walk in them precisely. She may have been small, but her hooves were a little bigger than mine-- great big things for mighty takeoffs. I felt fragile in comparison as I stepped carefully in the depressions she left.

She stopped in front of Open Doors. I nearly bumped into her, my focus was so fully on that shadow of where she had been.

“Dang, Rares.” She laughed, knocking the sand out from under her shoe against the doorframe. “I’ve never seen you so out of it.”

With that, she gave the door a shove and pushed into the diner.

The bell tinkled. The place was mostly empty. I suppose there weren’t many ponies passing through this early on a Saturday. Most liked to get a slow start.

“Gosh, I’m starving,” Rainbow said. “Let’s get a seat!”

She trotted to her right, picking out a booth under a large windowpane.

I followed her haltingly. It was hard to ignore what my mind’s eye so desperately tried to remind me of; decay, overgrowth, confusion.

MISSING

GODDESS

Rainbow ran her hooves in wide circles over the tabletop. “Pretty nice, if you ask me! Come sit, Rares.”

I shook myself out of the daydream and slid into the seat across from Rainbow. I remembered what she was like at that time, too. Nothing like this. Yesterday, she had been wound tight and panicking. Today, she seemed like her old self.

Her eyes were so clear and bright. Such a striking shade of magenta there as she scanned over my face, flicking from curl to curl, from tip of horn to tip of ear, from eye to eye with speed and vivacity.

How could she change so much in a single day?

“Mornin’, fillies,” a waitress said, sidling up to the table. “What can I get for y’all?”

I looked up at her. A tall pony, her mane done up to be even taller. I didn’t recognize her in the slightest. She didn’t look at me, just slid two menus onto the table, silently and with greater concentration than was needed.

“Could I have a hot tea?”

“Coffee.”

“Hm?” I looked over at Rainbow.

Rainbow chuckled. “She’ll have a coffee. Me, too.”

I looked past the waitress. I couldn’t see any other waitresses working.

“Miss?”

“Mm?”

“This may sound strange, but could you do me a favor?” I asked.

Rainbow studied me from across the table.

The waitress smiled a thin-lipped smile. “I sure can try.”

“If you see Moss, could you tell her I said hello?”

The waitress stiffened. Her jaw tightened, and she seemed to be struggling not to roll her eyes.

“For your own sake, miss, you’d best be seriously confused,” the waitress said. Her nametag caught the sun as she shifted her position: “Blue Moon.”

I blinked. “I suppose I must be.”

Rainbow leaned across the table slightly, squinted at me.

Blue Moon sighed deeply. “Mossy Bridge has been missing since Wednesday. Or hadn’t you noticed the posters up all ‘round town?”

MISSING

“I just talked to her yesterday,” I said. I’m not sure why.

“That’s not a very funny joke, miss.”

I blinked. “I--”

The waitress turned and left without another word.

“I-I don’t understand…” I stuttered. “I just talked to her yesterday!” I repeated, hitting the tabletop with my hoof just hard enough to make a sound.

Rainbow squinted. “Are you sure it was yesterday?”

I closed my eyes, bowed my head. Yesterday-- yesterday I had woken up and made it to the diner… somehow. For some reason. And Mossy Bridge had served me coffee. I was certain, absolutely certain that this had happened.

“I’m not sure…” is what I actually told Rainbow.

She grimaced. Said nothing.

“I saw the ‘missing’ poster the same day…” I murmured.

Rainbow’s hooves dragged back across the tabletop, and she dropped them into her lap. “The what?”

I shook my head. “It’s silly. I saw a ‘missing’ poster the same day I talked to Moss. It was far away, though. Could have been anypony’s poster.”

Rainbow squinted at me.

I struggled to meet her gaze. “Let’s order some food, alright?” I lifted the menu, holding it between us like a shield.

Rainbow’s head peaked around my improvised guard. “Did you maybe see anything else weird over the past few days I should know about?”

GODDESS

Not at all smoothly, I shifted the menu to block her face once more. “I don’t think so, dear.”

Her hide squeaked against the pleather seat as she leaned around to the opposite side. “So you’re saying there’s absolutely nothing else you want to tell me about?”

I retreated further into the booth, the menu coming with me, effectively creating a neat set of blinders. “Ooh, they have yogurt parfaits. Do you think--”

The edge of a blue hoof crept over the top edge of the menu and pulled it down. Rainbow’s other front hoof was in the center of the table, her wings and one back leg artfully outstretched as a counterbalance.

“Darling, please get off the table.”

“Not ‘til you tell me the truth.”

I sighed, gently folded the menu and placed it on the table in front of me. “Rainbow, the honest truth is that, as it stands, my memory is less reliable than a single-stitch seam. Everything is frayed and falling apart… it’s not worth me overcomplicating things for some notion of integrity and openness that I’m honestly not certain I owe you.” I shot her a look over the top of the menu, which she expertly ignored.

Rainbow’s wings drooped. “Damn. Been quite a while since you talked to AJ, huh?”

“Very funny,” I said, lifting the menu again. “I’m not you, and you’re not me, and you can’t know what it’s like to be inside my head right now. Any number of inconsequential things could be important, but could be equally useless. Recalling things is quite the emotional task right now. I’d rather not dredge it up before I’ve even had breakfast.”

Rainbow said nothing. She slid slowly back down into her seat.

“Speaking of, how do you think the Early Bird Tofu Scramble sounds?”

Rainbow lifted her own menu. “Gee, I dunno… I’m more of a flapjacks gal.”

We both fell silent after that. Rainbow took several starting breaths, ever so quietly, as though she were about to jump in and say something. She never did, instead releasing the breaths in a steady, hissing stream.

The clatter of dishes from the kitchen, the light kicking of Rainbow’s back hooves on the seat. Even with constant noise, I couldn’t help but realize the once-overpowering buzz of fear and confusion had been reduced to a dull hum of vague uncertainty, only there when I thought about it. Or when I thought about the things I wasn’t supposed to think about.

GODDESS

Dusk Guardian

My heart skipped a beat with the memory. I clawed at it, tried to hold onto it, failed miserably. Keeping my mind on topic was a nearly impossible task as of late.

The waitress came back. I barely heard Rainbow’s voice as she ordered. A few words tumbled out of my own mouth, I suppose. My mind was elsewhere, remembering the way that poster blew across the desert and into the distance.

So strange, how I had only just noticed it before it disappeared.

Stranger still, how I had such a perfect picture of Mossy Bridge in my head, a portrait, when all the world seemed to think I shouldn’t know anything about her at all.

“How did you get here?” I asked.

Rainbow looked up at me, eyes wide. “Gee, I thought you were phased all the way out.”

“You didn’t answer me,” I said. “How did you get here? You’re from somewhere--or when--or something, aren’t you? So how did you get here?”

“Does it matter?”

“It does if it’s what caused all this trouble, don’t you think?” I tucked my hooves into my lap, sat up very straight and tall. “If you caused something so catastrophic as the universe itself crumbling to bits, I should think you would want to take at least a little bit of responsibility. Isn’t it your job to clean up your messes?”

Rainbow tucked her ears down close to her head. “I already was trying to fix stuff, Rares. Trust me, in the grand scheme of things this is way better than what actually happened.”

I squinted hard at her. She was being expertly evasive, but she couldn’t elude me for long. “So then you are from the future?”

Rainbow was quiet for a long time. She dared not meet my eyes, would rather trace the marbled pattern of the tabletop with her lingering gaze.

Blue Moon came back, this time with two dishes, and slid them onto the table in front of us.

“Fruit parfait and flapjacks. You gals let me know if you need anything, alright?”

Rainbow looked up into her face. “Thank you.”

I kept my eyes trained on Rainbow.

She lifted, with some difficulty, the small cup of whipped butter Blue had provided her with and began to spread it quite generously over her pile of pancakes.

“I’m from a future.”

I perked up.

Rainbow kept a laser focus on her pancakes. “I’m from one of many futures that could happen. For whatever reason, this is the spot when all the different futures happen. At least, all the differences I care about.”

“What do you mean?”

“I came back because something bad happened, and I was able to trace it back to here and now. I just want to fix it,” she said, ignoring my question. “It’s like…”

Rainbow tilted her head back and looked at the ceiling for a while. Then, as if from a sudden burst of inspiration, she grabbed the syrup dispenser from the other end of the table.

“It’s like this: when I first start to pour, it’s all together, I know where all the syrup’s gonna go.” She demonstrated for me, pouring it out and watching it fall slowly through the air. “But then it hits the top of the pancake, and everything breaks apart and goes off in weird directions. We’re right at the spot before it all breaks apart and time starts going different ways. Y’know?”

I smirked a bit. “We’re at the threshold.”

Rainbow’s eyebrows knit together.

“It’s that point just before you embark on a journey. The little strip of wood at the bottom of your door that divides home from everything else.”

“Damn, that’s a way better way to put it.” Rainbow chuckled sheepishly. “But… yeah. You get it.”

I looked away from Rainbow, out into the desert. The sun was up. The sky so light a blue it was nearly white. There were no posters today, only a feeling that something else entirely was about to happen.

The threshold. Everything before now a dull and predictable monotony, everything after a mystery. All I had to do was take a step.

“We need to find out more about Moss.”

Author's Note

Just so everyone knows-- the rest of the part is NOT complete. I won't be updating weekly since I'm swamped with work, but I have a dedicated hour ever week to write, and during that hour I can manage to chip away at this pretty significantly.

Keep an eye out for more updates!