Exitus Acta Probat

by Saint Kartano

Rating: mature
Tags: Adventure, Sex, Profanity, Violence, Death, Human, Main 6, Gore, Original Character, My Little Pony: Friendship is Magic, Dark, Spike
Length: 14726

Andras - an enigma who has arrived in Equestria with no concept as to who he is ... or was.

Andras Dyrnwyn has spent what amounts to the first three weeks of his entire life living in Equestria, at the beck and call of the medical establishment.

He has no recollection of his real life, where he came from, nor what he is capable of doing.

The only hints he has to his former existence stem entirely from his recurring nightmares.

Grappling with a race condition between his own sanity and a burning need to find himself, he has a nagging suspicion that who he was may prove catastrophic to his new friends.

One of the characters in this story is Max

For what amounts to a prequel to Max's involvement in this story, please read the rather emotional and very poignant story by Hudson Hawk!

Just Once

Hudson, you are a true friend and a wonderful writer. Thank you for allowing me to bring your character into my own ... somewhat disjointed world.

Published 2018-10-14 16:20:01 UTC
Last updated 2019-01-26 07:15:44 UTC

01 The failing grasp of Tantalus.

PROLOGUE

"These two things must be cut away: fear of the future, and the memory of past sufferings. The latter no longer concerns me, and the future does not concern me yet." -- Lucius Annaeus Seneca

“You know you don’t belong here,” growled the deep, scratchy voice from within the darkness. The man’s feverish mind tried to find some kind of reason, some pattern or logic within the floating dank of his dreamscape. His psyche took the nothingness before it and began contorting it into shapes, patterns, fractals.

He could sense, barely feel something hidden just beyond his insensible grasp. It was there, he knew it - and he continued to fight hard to achieve this seemingly forbidden knowledge. The creature hiding in his subconscious cackled. “Ah, so you feel it, too. You know it’s there. I wonder what your colorful friends would think … if they knew what you’d done?”

‘Fuck you,’ he growled defiantly.

The banshee of his nightmare guffawed obscenely, mocking his braggadocio. “If they had an inkling of the deeds you’ve yet to be held accountable for? Do you think you they would love you still, you pathetic louse?” it accused.

‘They don’t love me, you shit,’ the sleeper growled in spite. ‘I don’t understand what they have to do with this anyway,’ the angry man haltingly ended his reply.

“Oh, you understand. You just haven’t allowed yourself to … break that wall ... “

‘Wall … what wall. Where is this?’

“Where?” the malignancy hissed. “It is who, when … and what …” it tapered off with an obscene, moist chuckle.

‘No, not again,’ the dreamer trembled. It was the same, each night. The darkness, the formlessness of his imagination. Devoid of all save for the noise … those voices. Always that teasing, that gut feeling that he knew who they were. And yet the void denied him any closure, any solace - if indeed solace lay beyond his noncomprehension.

“No?” mocked the demon within his mind. “But this hidden tragedy is you … it is your calling … were you only following orders? … Was there any … reluctance on your part?” He could feel the wet fingers of the demon stroking his mind, as one would caress a pet or a plaything. Those greedy, hate-filled demonic fingers digging into his mind between the gyri of his consciousness. The fingers greasy, all-hideous and pestilential.

‘No! I can’t hear it again!’

A dark, gurgling laughter echoed through the darkness that his sleeping world confronted him with. He knew it was going to happen again. It always happened - and he was always powerless to stop it. The torment, the teasing. As if the phantasm was dragging him towards his fate, yet again. He struggled harder … fought to awaken … and yet the waking world fled further from him, the harder he tried.

“You pathetic, treacherous, disgusting fool,” growled the hideous thing in his dream.

Through the cold darkness came a slow roar. Distant at first, but slowly rising in volume, climbing to a crescendo that lingered threateningly close to his threshold for pain. He knew it was coming - that scream. It came to him each night. He tried to paw his way back somehow, to distance himself from what was now all too familiar to him.

Over the top of the ceaseless roar, there came a singular voice that seemed to be overcome with terror, “Andras! Please, not HERE!”

A terrified gasp shook him awake, and as his eyes slowly adjusted to the gentle light entering his room from a small opening in a curtain over a nearby window, he panted and continued to stare wide-eyed at the ceiling.

It was another nightmare. The same one that had been haunting his sleeping hours now since his arrival. He followed through with the tasks given to him by his physicians and tried to recall as much of the dream as he could, even while his chest fought for air and the fear of the night terror still flowed coldly through his veins.

“Wha- … what the fuck?” Andras whispered in vain to himself. “I know it’s there, it has to be. The voice … I know that voice!” he growled angrily, again to the empty room he lay in. He struggled to force his labored mind to reach for those missing details.

Andras had been here in this place, this town, for what he was told was twenty-one days, while this morning marked his twenty-second. He’d had to take their word for it - these creatures he seemed to be sharing this reality with. As his breathing slowed, he gave up finally on his attempt to recall what he could from the dream. There had been nothing new - just the same theme. The voice, the taunting, the knowledge of where he had come from seemingly hidden from his view, just outside the reach of his mind. He slapped his gnarled hand over his forehead, and slowly slid his hand down to cover his eyes. The frustration he felt at again being so tantalizingly close to being able to determine what had happened to him made him smirk bleakly.

Pointless. As it was night followed night: futile.

He took stock of what he did know. He was all too keenly aware that his name was Andras, or Andras Dyrnwyn specifically. He knew he was human, he knew he didn’t belong wherever the hell he was, and he knew his dreams were the key to filling in his history. As far as he could tell, his entire existence up to that moment had consisted of these past few weeks. Any part of his life prior to that and his time spent in the hospital remained a complete mystery.

He slid his hand down over his face and cupped his chin firmly. “She’s going to be really pissed off at you about this again,” he noted. She had made it a point to see him each weekday, at precisely ten in the morning - the intense pony that called herself Princess Twilight Sparkle. He frowned in puzzlement at the ceiling and remembered the two of them being introduced.

She had entered his room while he had been in a state of psychosis on one of the wards in the medical center - following another of his fetid dreams. He’d demanded to know where he was, what was wrong with him, and why he was surrounded by ponies. She’d been the first one of them to actually comprehend that he was a human being, a fact that he’d latched onto. She’d at least been able to impart to him that she was familiar with humans. It may have been a small mercy, but it at least gave his madness a fleeting chance to stand upon the solid ground of reason. Prior to that moment, he’d had to be chemically restrained several times as he had fought between terror and rage … but for what reasons he felt such extremes of emotion he could not ascertain.

Fear, deep and profound … horror and an intense stab of regret that threatened to shatter his uneasy sanity at any instant … and yet he had no idea why.

His arm flopped back to his side and a smile chased the frown off his face. “Welp … you’re in deep shit, sonny. She will be forced to write in her journal today with a rapidity that shall be blinding to thy vision! That damn quill of hers is going to set the paper on fire, my friend, mark me on it.”

He turned his head to the window, or what he could see of it. The ponies of this place he found himself trapped in had been exceptionally generous. After the medical staff at the hospital had cleared him and he had agreed to a stringent routine with the rather astonishing Princess Celestia, Twilight had taken up his plight and made him a research subject.

On his first night in this small house, he had discovered a desperate need to be defensive. He found that he was incapable of sleeping with the window open, or the door to his back. He’d managed to seal the window closed, at least enough for his tired brain to allow him to sleep - but that he was still unable to do so without being free to move at will. He had also required silence to rest, but he had determined the silence was necessary only for him to hear any activity around him as he rested. Any rustling of the curtain, any creak of a floorboard and he would find himself on his feet, his fists clenched and his heart racing.

And a need to reach for something other-worldly, which only left him after he’d quietly checked his surroundings.

Yet he could not wake himself from the dreams. Once they began, he was a prisoner of his own mind. Knowing that during his dream sequences he was effectively paralyzed - that he was incapable of being on his guard in the waking world - was another source of fear. This hypervigilance did not seem like it was a new thing to him - it felt old somehow. It was something that had followed him around, he supposed. It was something he needed.

More to the point, it felt … practiced.

He sat up from under the sole sheet that lay over him and turned himself around to sit on the side of his bed facing the window. He let his gaze pass around the room with what objectivity he could muster. The room was sparse - basic and devoid of decoration where possible. This was another of those odd things that he’d noticed when he moved in. He found himself unable to tolerate anything decorative or furnishings that did not speak to him solely of practical use. To that end, he had removed all pictures from the walls and had only been stopped from tearing off the delicately carved trimming within the house by a horrified Twilight. A simple chest of drawers sat near his bed, and a book sat on the top of it, with a quill positioned next to it.

He leaned forward and stood up from the bed, crossing to the chest and opening the top drawer. It contained a few basic items of clothing - the ones that he had been wearing on his arrival here. This consisted of what seemed to be a uniform of some kind. He drew out the shirt - it was a ripstop weave and he could make out the few places that it been patched by a rather dramatic seamstress - Rarity. She’d been another of Twilight’s ‘team’ he supposed, although ‘friends’ was a more apt term. The confusing set of garments was all he really had in this world. Having retrieved his clothes, he steeped down to collect a pair of boots from under his bed.

He crossed the room to a mirror that stood fixed to the far wall. He slid his arms into the sleeves of the shirt, pulled on his underwear, trousers, and fixed his belt. He sat back onto the bed and pulled on the tan colored boots, then sat there motionless for a while. His elbows rested on his knees with his hands under his jaw, and he stared down at the curious footwear. 'These things are certainly tough, and very practical … what was I doing before … well, here, that necessitated clothes like this? This … uniform.’ Another of his curious yet automatic recollections was how he’d been able to thread the laces in his boots - a vertical and diagonal pattern.

He stood and returned to the mirror to tidy his uniform and to make minor adjustments. It felt important and again held that sense of a well-practiced activity. Though precisely why anyone would care how he bloused his pants into his boots or the particular pattern of the laces that held them seemed utterly mystifying.

Finally dressed and feeling that his uniform was at least in an adequate state, he looked at his reflection in the mirror with his dark, tired eyes. He was exceptionally tall, given that the main residents of Ponyville were rather compact equines. The Doctors had measured him at six foot three inches tall, and he had a lean build. He was not especially muscular, but his musculature was tight. Veins protruded strongly from his firm arms. His hair was long and dark yet well kept, and a neatly trimmed mustache and goatee festooned his gnarled face. His face also held a few scars, his arms still more. He’d taken note of several old and well-healed wounds on his legs each morning as he dressed. His hands were firm, strong, calloused and likewise sported the signs of old injuries and abrasions. He brought his right hand up to his face and clenched it into a fist, staring at it … wondering what tasks it had fulfilled wherever it was he came from. What had he been doing in his ‘previous life’ to have gained so much trauma? He wondered if he really wanted to find out.

Turning from the mirror, he faced the journal and quill that were still sitting there and exuding an odd combination of menace and hope.

One of the requirements of his release from Ponyville Hospital was that he keep a record of his thoughts through each day, and in particular any details he could recall from his nightmares. He had attempted to enter as much detail as possible but found that there was very little to report on. Any recollection of his former life, of who he was beyond his name, remained closed to him. Twilight had given up after he’d finished fourteen days worth of reports, starting each day with an entry that simply read ‘another day dawns’.

He’d meant the habit to be comical, but Twilight hadn’t quite understood the joke. She had greeted this first reference to being in prison with a ‘tsk-tsk’ and suggested he should try harder since it was in his best interest that she learn more about his presence there. He had shrugged and told her again of the same nightmare - and the same outcome, his bolting awake but being utterly unable to fathom what was hiding inside his skull.

That scream. Always the same scream. Always the same inner demon that dragged him forcefully toward that conclusion and his being utterly unable to stop it.

He had taken to referring to her as his therapist - something that had made her frown at him in exacerbation. That she’d only had to raise one eyebrow while doing so was something he’d found truly endearing. She was academic, stoic, analytical, and these were traits he thoroughly enjoyed - traits he would even have found attractive had he not been engaged in discourse with a pony. That she lacked humor or had difficulty allowing for it made her the more interesting to him.

On her third visit, and finding he had yet again entered the same banal statement in his journal, she had actually just covered her face with one hoof and growled. He’d spent the remainder of that morning just smiling at her, an act that had only served to increase her frustration.

The memory of that moment hung in the air, as he nonchalantly crossed once more from the mirror to the drawers and to the waiting journal. He opened the leather cover with an exaggerated flourish and in the neatest cursive script that he could muster, added his first entry for the day.

Day 22 07:30, local time

Another day dawns.

He could tell that he’d been a man of habit, for he spent each morning making a check of his humble home, room to room. Looking and feeling for anything that may have been changed, for signs of anyone having made an attempt to break in. Satisfied that his abode was indeed as he had left it before his slumber - what little time he seemed to be able to spend in Elysium in between the nightmares - he would make a round of the outside of his dwelling.

He would carefully trace his way around the outer walls, looking for any suggestion that anyone, anything … anypony, he corrected himself, had been sneaking around the residence during the night. He paid close attention to leaves, the grass, sticks, patterns in the dew on the ground, signs of anything having been moved. Even a slight change in the direction of an ant trail would catch his attention.

He felt driven to perform these checks each day. It was an odd, unsettling compulsion that pushed from within his mind. There had been one day where he had tried to force himself not to make these ‘rounds’ as he called them and that had proven to be a disaster. When Twilight had arrived to meet with him, he had spent the entire encounter in a state of high anxiety. In the end, he’d had to beg her to allow him to check the property. She had been confused, but acquiesced to his frightened request, and then proceeded to drive him half mad with a plethora of impertinent questions as he tried his best to scratch the compulsive itch that sat within his tortured mind.

Stopping to examine the dirt, grasses and dew patterns directly under his bedroom window, he had squatted silently and carefully, allowing a smile to stretch his mouth as he imagined just how confused his adorable therapist must have been.

“What is it you’re looking for?” she had asked in a flat, academic voice.

He had rolled his eyes, something he’d felt safe to do as he had his back to her at that moment. “I’m looking for mushrooms, Twilight.”

“Why would you be looking for mushrooms, Andras? If you’re hungry, we’d be happy to …”

“Twilight!” he’d exclaimed, the exacerbation naked in his voice as he turned to face her. “I … have no idea why I’m doing this! It’s like everything else, the windows, the doors, the … the … decorated furniture, the way I keep reacting when the … the sugar fiend turns up … “

“You mean Pinkie.”

“Yes! She exploded out of the ice box a few days ago and I very nearly lost my Goddamn mind!”

“She’s … energetic, Andras, but she means well!”

“Twilight … I have an urge to make absolutely certain that I am safe here. I cannot … I can’t … I just … “ he spluttered as the frustration he had tried thus far to curtail began to take free rein. “It’s something I have to do, Twilight! I wake up in the morning after yet another of those bloody nightmares, and I just cannot begin to allow myself to do anything else until I am satisfied that nobody has … “ he managed, stopping mid-sentence as the words he was reaching for flew from his grasp, leaving him looking bewildered.

Twilight had taken a few steps forward at that moment. “Satisfied that nobody has what, Andras?”

He cocked his head at her, all his annoyance in plain view on his face as his hands shot up to rest on his hips. “My toothpaste, Twilight. My boots. My mustache.”

“Andras, please, you don’t need to … “

“My teeth, my breakfast, the shirt off my back, my life savings.”

“Andras, there is no call for you to … “

“Or! It could be something far more sinister,” he implied. He’d leaned forward a little and fixed eye contact with the now nervous Twilight. “It’s my vocabulary you want, isn’t it? You want to hang my words on your laboratory wall, to amuse your guests and improve the value of your property!” Unable to keep up the facade, he’d smiled crookedly at her.

She’d just closed her eyes and growled in that adorable way that she did. “Andras … augh. Why can’t you take these things seriously?”

He was able to shake himself from his reverie of that day to the present time. He completed his rounds of the house for that morning in solitude and walked back up to the front door. He unlocked it and made his way indoors, making sure to lean over far enough so as to avoid striking his forehead on the door frame yet again. This appeared to be the only new skill he’d acquired since getting there.

He turned back to the street, watching as the town folk began their day’s activities. One or two of the ponies who passed by would notice as he cautiously watched them, before nervously moving a little further from his door. A few would stop and greet him, to which Andras would respond with a nod and a smile. He was still unsure how best to handle interactions with other ponies, at least beyond the few he’d been able to spend time with so far. Having completed his meager greetings, he closed his door and locked it, checking the lock mechanism twice for good measure.

He made his way to his simple kitchenette. It was tricky to do anything in this small space, but he did find that sitting on a chair alongside the cooking facilities allowed him easy access to the crockery and stove without the constant need to bend over to avoid striking his head on the roof. He reached into the icebox and produced a bowl of eggs that the rather delicate one calling herself Fluttershy had offered to him. He’d been grateful and tried to extend his appreciation … but she’d been terrified. She’d stepped away from him, hidden her face behind her astonishing mane and squeaked a few words he’d not been able to interpret. Somewhat mortified, he had turned back to Twilight Sparkle who had explained that this particular pony was shy and had trouble talking to newcomers or strangers.

Still staring at the eggs, he broke his remembrances with a shrug. He cracked some eggs into a bowl, added some spices and some other herbs that had been recommended to him by that rather effervescent ‘Pinkie Pie’, and proceeded to cook himself an omelet of sorts on the stove. He found that his mind wandered off and latched onto obscure observations as he continued to cook up some protein. Whilst the ponies were obviously sapient - very much so - he was puzzled as to why the chickens in this … reality? Universe? Prison? Why were the fowl less enlightened than the other animals?

He completed his breakfast and washed the handful of dishes he’d used as he was presently not well stocked with cooking implements. Drying them casually, he’d stacked them neatly on the kitchen bench and returned to the living room. He glanced at his clock. “Five minutes to ten,” he noted. He looked back to the fresh cup of tea he’d made. He could tell that tea was not a drink he preferred, but since these ponies did not seem to consume coffee, it was the next best thing. Sitting back in the lone chair he had, he’d stared up at the bare wall in front of him, raising the cup again to his lips and taking another small sip of the steaming hot brew.

His journal rested on the arm of his chair. He gave it a comical pat, smiled again to himself and continued to imbibe his tea.

He turned his gaze once more at his clock.

“And the festival of fun continues in four … three … two … one!” He directed a long pointer finger from his free hand directly at the door. At exactly that moment, a determined sounding three knocks echoed through the front entryway. ‘Always exactly three knocks, and always on the precise strike of ten o'clock,’ he laughed. ‘I suspect if she missed a meeting she would quite probably lose her mind!’

He placed his cup back onto the single table in the living room next to the teapot and rose from his chair to cross to the front door.

“Yes? Who is it? Who could possibly be paying the humble subject of a protracted clinical study a visit at such a time!” he called melodramatically. There was a slapping noise from the other side of the door, one that he knew very well. It was the slap of a hoof over a pony's face. Suppressing a laugh, he creaked the door open and peered through the crack. Looking down in mock consternation, he threw the door open. “My goodness, Princess Twilight Sparkle! What brings you here to visit one such as I? Forgive my uncouthness! Please, enter my house and dispose of us as you will!”

She slapped her hoof onto her face yet again.

After further silly dramatics from Andras, he had finally brought Twilight and her rather impressive dragon friend Spike into the living room. He seated himself into his chair once more and offered tea to his ‘therapist’ and to Spike.

“Would you care for some tea, my dear Twilight? Or you, dear Spike? It has the taste of freshly mown grass, but it is green and hot and as such, it can at least offer succor to the soul?” he chimed, raising the teapot and smiling as pleasantly as he could.

“Andras … I know you don’t like having to do this, but it’s very important! If we’re to ever find out where the two of you came from, it’s very important that we … “

‘The two of us?’ he wondered. “Twilight … what do you mean ‘the two of’ us?” He caught what seemed to be an expression of self-annoyance which flashed across her face. It was there but briefly and gone again. Spike threw Twilight a worried look. Andras didn’t know what had just transpired. ‘There’s something here she’s not telling me,’ he thought nervously.

“No,” she stumbled. “I mean, you, Andras. If … well, you and I are ever going to find out where you came from, you must start to take these things seriously. There is nothing any of us can to help you in your situation unless you can try to be as forthcoming as you can.”

He returned the teapot to the table, picked up his own cup and leaned forward in his chair. “So … sharing my somewhat eclectic sense of humor with you isn’t providing you that insight into my psyche that you seek.”

“Andras, it’s important that you tell us as much as you can. Any small detail could prove to be extremely important.”

His shoulders slumped a little. He swirled the remainder of his tea, before lifting the cup to his mouth and draining the remainder of the now lukewarm drink. He reached out and firmly rapped the cup onto the top of the table. “Twilight, we’ve had the same discussion now every damn morning, at exactly this time, since I got out of the hospital. Nothing changes, it’s the same thing every night.”

“Do you remember any further details? I asked you to write down in your journal describing anything … “

“No, Twilight. I keep telling you, it’s the same thing every night. The darkness, the sounds, the voices in my dream that … sound like I know them. It’s always so painfully tantalizing. I know the voices, I know them, but I cannot … I cannot reach for the source. It’s like it’s just outside of my grasp. And that same demonic voice that torments me. It’s always there, it’s always provoking me, humiliating me. Hinting at things I’ve supposedly done, or places I have come from, and yet recollection of any kind remains just … agonizingly close, but utterly unobtainable,” he finished, as his brow furrowed and he concentrated as hard as he could. To try and bring forth anything he could from his revolting nighttime hellscapes had begun to bring on painful tension headaches.

Spike watched Andras and noted how tired and how embittered he sounded. “Ah, Twilight? Why don’t you try going a bit easy on him? I mean, he sounds like he’s trying as hard as he can.”

“Spike, anything at all he can tell us could solve all of our problems. Andras, the voice you heard, where have you … “

“I’ve told you, Twilight! My mind tells me I’ve heard it before, but … but I’ve told you, I have no idea who it is, or where it’s from!”

“Maybe there’s something in the tone of his … “

Andras lifted his eyes from staring at the table and met Twilight's own gaze. “Again, Twilight, I have told you. It’s always the same tone. The scream that jolts me awake is always the same one.”

“Did the scream sound any clearer ...“

His head began to throb. A voice at the back of his mind chuckled. ‘You fool, you have no idea,’ it smirked. He flinched a little. “Twilight, I … it’s the scream. The same scream! Every night! It … does … not … change!!”

“Andras, please try and think back, was there any part of … “

“NO, Twilight!!! I keep telling you it’s …. “ His mind felt as if something within it had exploded. His vision flickered, his hands seized the side of his head, and he curled forwards, growling in pain. The throbbing continued apace and grew in intensity, and he fought back an urge to void the contents of his stomach over the living room floor.

“Andras?? What’s wrong, what’s happened?” called Twilight, the concern profound in her voice.

“I ... Fuck! It’s … “ he managed, rocking gently back and forth on his chair, his hands clasping his throbbing skull like a vice.

“Andras? Do … do you need to lie down or go to the hospital?” asked Spike, likewise taken aback by Andras’ obvious pain.

“No … I just need … a moment … “ he grimaced. The throbbing slowly subsided, and he could no longer feel his pulse seemingly inside his own ears. He ceased rocking in his chair, opened his eyes and sat back gently, letting his breathing slow once more.

“Andras … what was that? That’s not happened since I’ve been coming to visit you?” asked Twilight.

He sighed. “I don’t know, Twilight. I was trying to recall anything new from my nightmares, and the harder I tried to think back ... the more I concentrated on it … it’s just tension, I guess. My head started pounding, it hurt to have my eyes open.”

Twilight frowned at him. He could sense her concern within her expression but suspected it was vying with her unending quest for intelligence on his situation. “Andras … “ she began, breaking off with a sigh. “I am a little afraid to ask, but did you make any observations from this morning in your journal?”

“Actually, Twilight, yes I did,” he admitted. “I trust you will find my notes enlightening in your quest to ‘solve’ me,” he quipped. ‘Solve? Am I a parlor game to these ponies?’

He handed his journal with solemnity to Twilight. “Oh! Thank you, Andras! I told you that these things can help, it’s great to see that you’ve … “ she stopped, arriving at his entry from that morning. She flopped forward, hiding her face once more in her hoof and emitted a low, guttural growl of despondency. “Auuuugh. Andras … “

“I knew you’d be pleased!” he managed, sarcastically. “I made sure to use my neatest cursive script and everything.”

“Andras … “ she started, a hint of anger in her voice as she trotted closer to him. “I know this has all been very frustrating for you. But please listen to me. It’s important we know anything at all, no matter how trivial, if we are ever going to find out where you came from and who you are.”

"You sound like a broken record this morning, Twilight."

"A broken what, Andras?"

“Twilight, my dear analyst,” he joked, noting how her frown deepened. “If I could remember any further details from my dreams, you can rest assured I would share them with you.” He lapsed back into a serious train of thought. “I keep waking and doing what you’ve requested. I try very hard to notice any small thing at all in my recurring night terrors but … there’s just nothing. Nothing more than what I have already spoken to you of.” He remembered that morning’s episode when a curious thought came to him. “Although … it’s not directly related to the dream, but I know this morning when I awoke, I had these … feelings.”

In a flash, Twilight drew her quill and brought her own journal immediately to her side with the magic that he still found fascinating. The ability to levitate objects did not strike him as unusual - an acknowledgment that was in itself a puzzle. His reason ought to inform him that being a witness to telekinesis should be a source of amazement. Yet it wasn’t, it had that queasy feeling of familiarity.

“What sort of feelings, Andras?”

He thought back to the moment his clarity of thought returned to him earlier that morning. “When I awoke, I had these … feelings of … “ he paused and looked up at Twilight. “It was, I could swear, an intense feeling of fear. Fear about something that I needed to do, but what I cannot tell. There was a sensation of horror, horror about … I don’t know! It was horror, but … it felt … personal. Again, I have no idea why. But the worst of them was this … gut-wrenching sense of … “ He looked back to Twilight, meeting her eyes again in a fixed, frightened stare. “It was guilt, Twilight.”

Twilight looked genuinely surprised. “Guilt, Andras?”

He sat forward once more, raised both hands into the air in a perplexed shrug. “Guilt. As if I’d done something unforgivable, a deep-seeded, powerful, all-consuming guilt … but again, for what reason, I just don’t know. I just remember feeling so guilty, so … so dirty. Like I’d done something that was … disgraceful. But … again, I just could not determine why.”

Twilight began madly scribbling into her journal, her quill little more than a blur over the pages.

He motioned at her journal and turned to Spike. He at least seemed gifted with a sense of humor and he’d learned to find Spike’s company reassuring more than once. “Has she ever set a book on fire before?”

Spike looked up at Andras. “Um … set a book on fire?”

“Yes. The way she scrawls across the paper so quickly, has she ever done so at a speed that has caused the paper to ignite?”

Spike giggled to himself. “There’s always a first time, Andras. The way you’ve been going, I thought it would be her face that would ignite first.”

Andras shared a brief chuckle with Spike until Twilight looked back up at him. “Andras,” she began. “How have you been handling it? I mean, when you wake in the mornings after these nightmares … I know the first few days were especially hard on you, but have you been … well, feeling any better, when the nightmares finish?”

He let himself slump gently back into his chair. “Twilight. In the dream, I keep trying so hard to just break free and wake up before that … that hideous scream, but I can’t. I know each night, I’m not going to wake until that creature, that whatever ... has forced me to hear it. I’ve become accustomed to it now, but it still hurts. These other feelings … they’re somewhat new. I hadn’t really noticed them before. But the past few days it’s been draining. Like swimming with lead weights hanging off my feet.”

Twilight gave him a look that was very nearly sad. “Andras, have you thought about maybe taking a look around town? Going out, getting some fresh air, maybe even meeting a few other ponies? Who knows, you might even make a friend?”

“Friend?” spat Andras. “Twilight, I have nothing beyond my name! What am I going to do, spend hours holding a solid discourse with another equine about … what? The fucking weather?”

She winced. “Andras, it’s up to you, but you could try not being so profane all the time? Please don’t be angry at me, I’m doing everything I can do try and help your situation. The least you could do is … well, try and curse a little less?”

Andras’ shoulders sank and a deep sigh escaped him. “God, Twilight. You’re right, I know. I don’t have an excuse for my behavior it’s true,” he mumbled, tiredly. He raised his eyes to meet hers. “But cut me some slack here, Princess. At this point, I have nothing to my life, beyond odd sensations devoid of sources, and … well, an intense paranoia that I can’t explain. I have a small army of medics checking up on me, I have you writing down … “ and he gesticulated towards Twilight’s journal, “... whatever it is you’re writing about me.” He managed a small smile. “I wonder if you’re just drawing silly cartoons of me in that tome of yours.”

Twilight tilted her head to one side. “Andras, you know full well that I … “

“You are, aren’t you? Cartoons of me, drooling, foaming at the mouth.”

“Augh. Andras!”

“You’re not denying it?”

“Because you keep changing the subject!”

He smiled at her and gently shook his head. “I know, Twilight. I just … worry. I worry about going out there, amongst the lovely folk of Ponyville and making either an idiot or a nuisance of myself. I keep discovering odd things I know how to do, without understanding how I learned those skills. What happens if I end up doing something … well, dangerous? What do you think Princess Celestia and Princess Luna are going to think about that?”

Twilight herself managed a small smile, a smile that carried a certain amount of empathy. “Andras, I know you have this strange sense of humor.”

“I do, indeed. All of the fun I have in this … this universe, Twilight, extends from my using it on you!”

She fixed her eyes on him with a mixture of compassion and sadness and took a step closer to him. “Andras, I think you do that as a means to hide.”

Andras was taken aback, it was not an observation he’d been expecting. “Hiding, Twilight?”

“I think you’re afraid to push too hard, for fear that you’ll find out more about what you can do, more about yourself … and that you’re scared you won’t like what you find.”

The silence in the room was now almost total.

“You are sharp, aren’t you, Twilight,” he whispered finally.

“You’re changing the subject again.”

“You’re also persistent.”

“Andras … “

“And patient,” he said softly. He leaned back again, thrust his arms into the air and all but yelled. “So what if I AM afraid of finding out who the f- …. Who the hell I am?? Have you considered that I could very well be exceptionally dangerous?”

Twilight raised her voice a little to meet Andras' own volume, but there was no animosity in her tone. “Because I’ve seen many creatures with dark backgrounds find their way to redemption, Andras! Even if you turn out to BE a monster, I cannot believe you are incapable of being saved!”

The subject and the therapist looked at one another. There was a connection there, for a brief moment, that neither of them had expected to find. “Well,” whispered Andras. “You can add philosophy to your list of virtues, Twilight.”

She smiled warmly at him, walked over and gently rested a hoof on his knee. “Andras, please try to remember - we are all here to help you. I’ve met many humans in my travels, and I am certain there is a way to help you. Just … please be patient? Please try and open up to me, in any way you can? Whatever you may think, Andras, we all care.”

He smiled sweetly down at her. “All of you, Twilight?”

She rolled her eyes. “Andras, it’s just her nature to … “

“She called me a monster.”

“She’s been known to … “

“A suggestion about being placed in prison was made. She wanted to carry me to a vast height and release me, allowing gravity to become my executioner!”

“It was an overreaction, Andras, Rainbow Dash gets very protective of … “

“She nearly broke my ribs, because I startled the … the quiet one.”

“Fluttershy, yes. She wasn’t expecting an explosion and then a mysterious human standing at the back of her cottage.”

“Twilight, if I head out there, what are the chances of any of the others taking a similar action?”

‘He has a point, I guess,’ thought Twilight to herself. “How about I accompany you? If they see you with me they’re more likely to be accepting. Besides, Andras … there’s somebody I would like you to meet. Somebody you might share a little more in common with than we ponies.”

“Another prison inmate?” he asked, trying to hide the annoyance in his voice.

“No, Andras. I think you’ll find this particular somebody to be interesting. I’ve been avoiding introducing the two of you until I was sure you would be at least a little more amenable.”

“Amenable. That's a funny way to say 'polite'. It’s not another Doctor, is it?”

“No, Andras. If you want to find out, if you really do have any faith in me, please join us.”

Andras, having spent a brief moment considering this odd puzzle, finally acquiesced. “Fine! Fine. Lead on, my gentle therapist.”

“Augh.”

Author's Note

This prologue took a few days to write, and whilst I appreciate it is not a good literary piece? I had a great time getting it down. It's been a long time since I enjoyed writing, and I'm going to make the most of it!!

Music I spent time listening to whilst authoring this one:

Ministry - NWO

Sgt MacKenzie - We Were Soldiers Soundtrack

Tool - Parabol + Parabola

Mozart - Confutatis Maledictis

I wish to dedicate this particular chapter to two people, both of whom I had in mind whilst writing.

Beetlebootboot - whose story "A Time To Think" first encouraged me to write again.

Lady Q. For better of worse, you have taught me more about life and about myself these past two years. I will always love you, even if you've forgotten who the hell I am.

02 Bloodied secrets and surprises.

Something has gone wrong. We don't seem to have an archived copy of that chapter.

03 Be careful what you wish for.

"I like beautiful melodies telling me terrible things.." -- Tom Waits.

The silence in Andras’ simple living room was not the kind of peace that he’d been seeking. A tenseness and a plethora of unasked questions from Twilight hung in the air. He lay back in his chair, his eyes closed, trying to steady his breathing. He allowed his hands to unclench and his other muscles to relax, in an effort to keep his fight response under control.

Minutes passed and the weight of the unasked questions blended with the anxiety within the room, and the pressure of it finally urged Andras on to speak.

“Twilight … the voices I’ve told you about in my dreams. That one voice in particular.”

“The one that you keep telling me keeps trying to humiliate you?”

Andras managed a sigh. “The very one. It had been confined to my nightmares, Twilight, but for some reason, starting the moment we left earlier today to head to Sugarcube Corner? That voice started to … well, intrude on my waking thoughts a little.”

Twilight’s head bolted upright as if she had been slapped across her flank with something rather firmly, very hard and utterly unexpected. “These voices have what, Andras??” she gasped.

Andras opened his eyes and allowed them to turn slowly to his right, to meet hers. “Yes, Twilight. I don’t know why, but when we left to go to Sugarcube Corner, that voice came to me while I was standing there.”

“Andras! You didn’t think that it was important enough for you to mention that to me at the time?”

He managed another sigh, a deeper one that held a heavy note of guilt. “That’s not all, Twilight. I started to … well, hallucinate.”

Twilight’s jaw dropped a little and her expression was initially one of horror. However, the realization that Andras had in fact kept this vitally important information from her served to throw her first expression into one of outrage. “You started hallucinating?!? And after you spent so much time lecturing me about hiding things from you, you turn out to be hearing voices and halluci- … Andras!! What is it you’ve been hallucinating, can you tell me that much? And what is this … this voice saying to you?”

He allowed his eyes to close again, and slowly shook his head. “As always, Twilight, you’re only too right. I cannot possibly explain away my own hypocrisy,” he admitted. He took a deep breath and he leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees and turned to face her. “When I opened the door, the voice started to … ask me if I knew ‘which one’ of the ponies out there knew.”

Twilight’s angry frown deepened, but she kept tighter control over the volume of her voice. “Knew what, Andras?”

“I don’t know. The voice in my head just sort of … suggested that some pony out there knew wha-...” he began, stopping very suddenly. He lifted his eyes to meet Twilight’s. “If any of them knew what I was,” he finished softly.

Twilight was genuinely confused. “Don’t you mean who you are, Andras?”

“No! I mean, what I am! The way the voice sounded, the intonation, the … the patronizing way it asked the question! It was driving at what I am, it wasn’t a question of who.”

“But what does that even mean? You’re a human, Andras!”

Andras covered his eyes with his left hand and groaned a little. “The thought had crossed my mind, Twilight.”

“Andras! This isn’t a joke this time! If whatever it is that’s wrong with you is now starting to affect how you are able to function during the day?” she intoned, leaving the possibilities of danger unspoken. Shaking her head violently, she continued with her upbraiding. “And what do you mean by hallucinations, Andras? I am assuming whatever you experienced was similar to what Spike and I witnessed when we got here just now?”

“Twilight, I’m not entirely sure you’re going to like what I … no, I take that back. I know for a fact you’re not going to like me describing what I saw. I’ll warn you now it wasn’t … pleasant.”

Twilight’s angry scowl softened a little, her mouth lopsided and one eye upraised. She stared at him intently. “Given how I observed you acting when I came in through the door, Andras - which I had to use magic to force open - I am eager to find out.”

“Just … blood, Twilight.”

She looked a little stupefied once more. “Um … blood? You mean, you … what? Thought you’d been cut?”

“No, it was far more than that, Twilight. It was a rather significant amount of blood.”

“Andras … I …”

He began to feel himself trembling a little, as the words describing his earlier vision started to come to him. “Blood - someone else’s blood! Splattered all over my hands, over my clothes, over the floor … there were … chunks of flesh spattered over me as well, Twilight. I could feel the warmth of it! It felt fresh, I could almost taste it, I could smell the warm, metallic scent of it!” His hands were now visibly shaking and his breath came in quick, half-gasps, and he looked across at Twilight with an expression that was very nearly one of terror.

Twilight and Spike stared aghast at Andras shaken form. Twilight lowered her head a little, and the compassion she had so recently forgone returned once more to the tone of her voice. “Andras, please don’t get mad at me for asking, but was there anything familiar about that image?”

“No, Twilight! Nothing at all! It was just … out of nowhere. And what scares me the most, is not so much that I was suddenly faced with that manner of gore … it … the sight of it … it didn’t bother me, Twilight! It was as if it was nothing new to me! Nothing like that should be so familiar to anyone. Such a vision should be off-putting if one is confronted with it suddenly. It was more the fact that I was hallucinating that alarmed me - the blood and the gore weren’t so unsettling! Don't you think that the fact you are staring at what amounts to an abattoir in your home should be sickening? So why the hell was the fact that I was hallucinating the source of my worry, and not ... what I was seeing?”

Twilight drew her journal from her saddlebags and once more began rapidly taking notes. Andras rolled his eyes and collapsed back into his chair. “So it was another hallucination you had? When Spike and I made our way in?”

“Broke into my house, you mean?” Twilight opened her mouth to give what he knew all too well was going to be a royal dressing down, but he stopped her. “I know, I know, I’m sorry - but it was worse that time.”

“Worse??” she exploded.

“I came back from Sugarcube Corner and I’d taken some pain medication. I made my way back in here to the living room and I was, well, feeling a bit pissed off at myself about how I’d behaved when ... well, when the second episode happened.”

“What happened, Andras?”

“That voice, again. It just … croaked at me. It came from the back of my mind and … God dammit, it mimicked me! I just sat here staring at the wall and muttered something about needing to act with more decorum and then that voice just … “ Andras stopped, grit his teeth and felt his arms growing tense. “It started to do the same thing it does in my dreams. Hint at things, humiliate and tease me, and it …” He stopped sharply, his eyes flew open as he recalled a single word that the thing in his mind had shared with him. “Milwr!” he exclaimed.

“Milwr? What does that mean, Andras?”

“I don’t know! But it’s a word the voice threw at me! It called me milwr!”

Twilight continued to scribble madly in her journal. “Then what, Andras?”

Andras stared at the living room wall, where what seemed like moments ago he had witnessed the horrors of his waking torment. “That’s when the second hallucination started.”

“And … this second hallucination, wha-”

“It started with tiny red specks on the wall. They just grew bigger, until the wall was just the one large cascade of blood, Twilight.” The gasp from Twilight and Spike did not register with his ears. “It just kept flowing. Faster, thicker, the same metallic smell, only now I could hear things, too. Horrific things.”

Twilight shuddered a little. “What sort of things, Andras?”

“I could hear screams! People screaming for mercy! I could hear … I could hear … “ he felt himself unable to continue.

Twilight slowly approached him, stood before him and looked up at his terrified face. “Andras … it’s okay, you’re safe here with me, now … it could be important, so I need you to please try and tell me wha-”

“The sound of flesh being torn! The sound of bones being broken! Screams, horrible screams! The same ones from my nightmares, Twilight! And the whole fu- … the whole … the whole time, that voice was goading me!" He pointed a shaking, accusatory finger at the wall which had so recently been a source of dread for him. "It kept calling me milwr! Until I just couldn’t stand it, I just got out of the chair and screamed at it to stop and …” His panting slowly subsided and he fought to regain his composure. “That’s when you turned up, Twilight.”

“Andras, none of this was anything you think you actually did?”

“No! I can’t ever see myself doing such horrific things! I mean, that’s why I was screaming at the fuc-” he started, before noting Twilight’s disapproval. “I mean, why I was screaming at the … the wall, that whatever I was looking at, just wasn’t me!”

“Andras, I have an idea that might help us with your dreams at the very least,” Twilight suggested.

He tilted his head at her, his face gaunt and the fatigue clearly visible on his face. “Does it involve hitting me in the head repeatedly with a blunt object, Twilight?”

"Andras, no. I doubt that would help."

"It would be fun for you though, I'm sure?"

"Andras!"

"And it would be a lot less painful for me than being conscious. It certainly couldn't harm my psyche any more than it already is."

She weighed her desire to reprimand him again, but the sad, wearied look in his eyes stopped her. “You remember meeting Princess Luna when you were still in the hospital?”

Andras thought for a moment before recollection came to him. “Ah, yes. The fluffy blue one, right?”

Twilight grimaced, knowing full well that Princess Luna deserved a lot more respect than he seemed capable of granting to anypony at this time. “Yes, Andras. Princess Luna - Princess Celestia’s sister. She is indeed … well, blue in color.”

“And she has that moon tattoo on her flank, from memory.”

“Her cutie-mark, yes.”

“And that intense … mane? Does she have a mane? It looks more like a cloud to me.”

“Andras, just stop changing the subject and listen to me? Princess Luna has the power to be able to see into other ponies dreams and to help them sometimes. I’m wondering if this is something she could …”

“See into my dreams? Twilight, do you really think she needs to be rummaging around in whatever the fuck … sorry, whatever the hell is left of my mind while I try and sleep?”

“Andras, it’s worth attempting. She may be able to find out what that voice in your mind is hiding from you, she may even be able to protect you from the worst of the horrors you see each night!”

Andras glared back at Twilight in disbelief. “Princess, do you really think that’s going to work? As you’ve so helpfully pointed out, I’m a human. I do not have a reference guide handy and I must apologize that I left my reference materials with respect to human anatomy in my other suit, but I would hazard a guess that my neurophysiology and yours are quite possibly different.”

“It’s worth a try, Andras.”

"Worth a try? So would drilling a hole into my head to let the demons out, Twilight."

"Andras, even you have to admit that's appalling logic! Princess Luna is not going to go cutting holes in your head - she has the ability to observe and to intervene in your dreams. Not your physiology!"

He nodded his acquiescence. “This entire concept of having an equine invade my subconscious whilst I sleep didn’t occur to you until now, princess?”

“Well, no, Andras. I generally don’t go around asking Princess Luna to just look into some other pony’s dreams. As you’re a human, the idea hadn’t actually occurred to me, oddly enough.” She felt inwardly angry that she’d not thought to ask Princess Luna about such a concept earlier. “I really think that it would be worth trying, and with your permission, I’ll ask the Princess to help you tonight. There has to be some way to figure out what’s going on with you.”

Andras allowed himself to sink back into his chair and exhaled. “Okay, Twilight, fine. I will acquiesce to allowing a blue, cloudy, equine Princess to go foraging around inside my head whilst I sleep. I hope this won’t involve her trying to obtain any other form of intelligence? You know how closely I like to guard my vocabulary.”

“Augh! Andras, I am certain you can trust her. I’ve kept Princess Celestia informed about your dreams, I’m sure she can get Princess Luna to try.”

Andras looked down at the floor and nodded in agreement. As bizarre as it sounded having a supposedly immortal equine exploring his dreams, by this stage, he was willing to try almost anything. “Well, then I’ll see what happens this evening,” he muttered, before throwing her an askew, silly smile. “She’s not likely to, you know, join forces with this thing in my brain is she?” Twilight glowered at him, and he held up both hands defensively. “Kidding, Twilight, I am kidding!”

“There is just one other thing I want you to do right now, Andras.”

He smiled, shook his head and turned to face her. “Please tell me it isn’t about the journal, Princess.”

She grimaced but chose to let his silly remark slide. “No. I want you to go back to Sugarcube Corner and apologize to Max.”

Andras locked eyes with Twilight and frowned a little in confusion. “Go back to Sugarcube Corner now? Twilight, do you really think that’s a great idea?”

“Max is a wonderful person, I think after the way you behaved towards him - without any cause - the least you can do is go back and apologize,” she stated matter-of-factly. Her firm gaze softened after a moment and she took a step closer. “Andras, he meant no harm and he genuinely wants to help you. I think it would really be in your best interests to do the right thing and apologize to him.”

Andras turned his face back towards the wall. He allowed a small groan. “Yes, Twilight, I know you’re right. I overreacted and it was in poor taste. I’ll head back there now. I guess it will at least give me a chance to figure out precisely where Max came from. Wherever he’s from, it’s certainly not from anywhere I’m familiar with. Or at least I imagine so, given how differently he seems to act.”

“Thank you, Andras. Spike and I will let Princess Celestia and Princess Luna know about what we’ve decided to try. I think tonight I’ll try and keep you company if you don’t mind? I want to observe your behavior for myself.”

He gave a bitter laugh. “I would ask if you had a two-way mirror in my bathroom, Twilight, but I’ve already checked for that.
Although, since I’m being dragged over the hot coals of your demands for me to bestow apologies, Twilight, do you think it would be okay if I wrote a small apology at the same time for Fluttershy?”

“Fluttershy?”

“I mean, I scared her when I arrived here, and I’ve startled her once or twice since then. I thought it would be a good idea to send her a small explanation and to say … well. Sorry for scaring her so badly and so often. Do you think she’d mind?”

Twilight was surprised by the request, but she thought it was a reasonable one. “I think that would be a great idea, Andras!”

“I’ll see if I can do that without that friend of hers trying to carbonize me whilst I am about it.”

“You mean Rainbow Dash? Andras, honestly, I think she’s just angry at you for scaring Fluttershy. That’s all.”

“Twilight, if she catches up with me and scorches my arse by firing lightning into my mouth? You should realize I am going to go and see you and say ‘I told you so’, right?” Twilight offered him yet another flustered scowl. “Don’t worry, Princess, I’ll have the staff at the hospital deal with the damage if it does come to that.”

After finalizing the plans for Princess Luna’s attempt at intervening in his dreams that evening, Andras performed a careful check around the inside of his small house, before nervously approaching the front door. He was on his own this time; Twilight and Spike had left a few minutes earlier. He reached out with a strong hand and grasped the door handle. He opened the door slowly and allowed it to swing inwards just enough for him to peer outside. ‘The last time I did this, it didn’t go so well,’ he thought to himself.

He once more surveyed the passage of the ponies past his front door. It was inevitable that he would perform the same analysis of them as he had done the last time. His eyes darted from one pony to another, judging distances, determining which of them would most likely be a threat. It took him a moment to realize his teeth were clenched again. Slowly stepping outside into the sunlight, he allowed himself to take a few deep breaths, and to try to unclench his muscles.

He managed to stand outside the door, his arms at this side, and let his head continue to scan left-to-right across the throng of ponies in an almost robotic fashion.

“See? No obvious threats here, what are you so worked up about,” he remonstrated quietly to himself.

There was a sudden, almost indiscernible change in the temperature on his back, as a shadow suddenly crossed the rear of his uniform. In a blur, he twisted on his left foot, threw both hands out, thrust outward with his right foot, catching his attacker mid-pounce. Hurling what his senses noted as being blue and airborne to the ground, he rolled over on top of what he supposed was his assassin, and crushed them there against the track outside his door. The nearby ponies screamed or yelled in shock.

Andras found himself glaring downwards, staring into the eyes of a very angry, very surprised Rainbow Dash.

Andras, not having raised so much as a sweat, fixed his eyes down at Rainbow Dash’s - unblinking. His mouth skewed to the left of his face, his arms and legs pinned her to the ground, on her back. From her angry, red face, he determined she had clearly not been expecting things to turn out quite this way.

“Get off me, you disgusting talking monkey!” she spat at him. Andras didn’t say a word - he, in fact, didn’t move a muscle, and gave no indication at all that he’d even heard her. She continued to struggle, but his hold on her was too strong. “Just wait ‘til I get out from under here, I’m going … “

“Rainbow Dash,” began Andras, with a dry, clear, no-nonsense tone in his voice. “I’m going to let you out of this predicament which is entirely of your own making,” he emphasized with a momentarily raised eyebrow. “But when I do that, we need to talk.”

She ignored the cold request he’d made and tried to twist her way free. Finally, allowing her head to flop back onto the ground and squinting her eyes back up at him, she stopped her futile struggle. “Gah! Fine! Just … get off me!”

Rolling deftly to one side, he sprang back to his feet and was ready for anything else she might try before she’d had a chance to right herself. “Okay, so … aside from the confusing manner of your greeting, do you think we might able to talk without having to - oh, I don’t know, try and beat the shit out of each other?”

“Beat the what?”

“To clarify my former utterance, Rainbow Dash, is there any chance at all that we could discuss things without actually needing to get physical about it?”

She took up a stance that all but screamed her determination to try and somehow get in the last word, at whatever point in the proceedings that would be. She leaned forwards and glared upwards at Andras, mustering all the disapproval her facial features could muster. “Okay! Fine! It’s a truce, for now! You can start by apologizing!”

“There’s that word again - apologizing. I seem to be hearing that an awful lot today. Apologize for what, Rainbow Dash?”

“For what you did to poor Fluttershy!”

“For the awful way in which I shocked her when I arrived on? Or the unquestionably obtuse manner in which I startled her once more when she was trying to deliver consumables to me within my humble abode?”

“When you how-ed her when she was what-ing?”

Andras again allowed himself to exhale, picturing his frustration leaving with the contents of his lungs. “Rainbow Da- … look, for a start, do you have a shorter name? It’s hard enough to make myself understood when I have to keep repeating your full name all the time,” he suggested. The fact that her only response was to squint a little harder at him suggested ‘no’. “Okay, fine. Rainbow Dash. You do realize that I had precisely no intention of being here in this … universe, this place, this renaissance festival, this whatever-it-is , to begin with? I may not know where the hell I came from or why I’m here, but one thing I am utterly certain of is that I did not just materialize on top of Fluttershy unannounced and with malicious intent, and set her screaming like that.” She bared her lips a little, showing a hint of surprisingly white teeth. “In point of fact, Rainbow Dash, the first memory I have of my existence at all, is of her screaming and running from me.” He carefully leveled a pointer finger at her. “I did not do so on purpose! I don’t even know how I got here, let alone frightened her so badly!”

She allowed her lips to close and return to their original frown and just stood there staring up at him. “You don’t … remember how you got here?”

“No, Rainbow Dash, I don’t!” Andras exclaimed, raising both of his arms to the sky. “I’ve spent the past few weeks trying to convince Twilight of that as well! I need to get a shirt made with the words 'I AM LOST, PLEASE HELP ME' printed on it! I just know I … turned up there, that day. It wasn’t a planned assault, I promise! If It had been a deliberate attack I would’ve brought … fireworks, or streamers, or really bad poetry or something!”

“You didn’t mean to scare her like that?”

“No!” He fought hard to obscure his escalating frustration and failed.

“She is one of the most caring ponies I know and she would literally never hurt a fly!”

“I’m not a fly, Rainbow Da-”

“And you really did a number on her when you … just … exploded next to her like that!”

“Well, I realize that. But whatever that was, it wasn’t intentional and I didn’t mean to explode!”

“If that’s the case,” began Rainbow Dash, taking a seat on her hindquarters and crossing her forelegs, “how do you know? If as you say you can’t remember anything before that?”

Andras lowered his hands to his sides. “Well … you have me there. But look - seriously! I have no knowledge of this world of yours beyond what’s happened since then! I didn’t mean to frighten anyone! Anypony, any … whatever! Really! All I want to do, frankly, is figure out who I am, where I’m from, and-"

“And what? Is there anypony else you plan on scaring half out of their minds?”

“No, I was going to build something really, really big and explode it in the town square, just to see how pissed off I could get my therapist!”

“You w-”

“Rainbow Dash! Listen to me - ignore my stupid habit of being sarcastic. I want to apologize to Fluttershy. I really do. Even after I scared her so badly that first day, she has been sweet enough to bring me all kinds of things for me to eat and I really appreciate the way she does that. I agree with you, I owe her an apology - and yes, I would say that she certainly does seem to be one of the most caring ponies of you all that I’ve met.”

Rainbow Dash sat for a moment, before shrugging and getting back onto all four hooves. “Oh, you’ll be apologizing to her, alright, Andras. Even if I need to drag you over there myself.”

“But you already tried that, Rainbow Dash.”

“Pfff, you got lucky, that’s all!”

“Gaaah!” he rumbled, before finishing with a laugh. “Dammit, now you have me growling like Twilight! Seriously, you don’t need to try and drag me there. I have every intention of making amends to her for having panicked her so badly. Not to mention so frequently. You don’t need to drag me anywhere, no matter how curiously entertaining that might sound!” Her mouth shot open to castigate him, but Andras raised his hands and stopped her, managing a laugh. “I’m kidding, Rainbow Dash! I would much rather be self-ambulatory and make my own way to wherever it is she lives than to have you toting my person around in an egregious and embarrassing fashion!”

“Andras, I’m not sure what half of those words mean? But when you apologize to her, you better make it a great one!”

“I promise, Rainbow Dash, it will be heartfelt and genuine,” he responded, with all of the sincerity he could rally. “I might come across as a cynical, sarcastic, long-winded idiot at times,” he admitted and noted that Rainbow Dash smiled smugly in agreement. “But I’m all too serious about this. She’s been … well, she’s been an angel, for want of a better superlative.”

“Okay. Fine. I’ll take your word for it. But I’m going to have both eyes on you, Andras, and if you screw any part of this up?”

“Since apologizing is all the rage today, it so happens I am about to embark on a trip to Sugarcube Corner to make one to Max and to Pinkie Pie.”

Rainbow Dash shot high enough into the air to be at eye-level with Andras. “HEY! What do you mean apologizing to Pinkie Pie and MAX? Max is like the nicest human in existence anywhere, and he certainly makes you look …”

“Pathetic?”

“Yeah! … Okay, yeah!”

“Repugnant?”

“Stop that!”

“Huh, now you sound like Twilight.”

“Stop that, too!”

“Well, whatever the case, I am on my way to see him to redress and make amends for some behavior I showed towards him earlier today. To that end, I’m sorry that I need to get going - I’m not trying to be rude, I just really need to see him and sort out a few things before this evening.”

“In that case, I’m coming with you. I want to make sure your word is actually worth something.”

Andras smiled back at her. “Given the circumstances, Rainbow Dash, I think that’s a pertinent move. Besides, I could use the company.”

“Company? Let me make this straight, I just want to make sure you don’t upset anypony else!”

“How many bits do you suppose my word is worth anyway, Rainbow Dash?” She looked at him in confusion. “Don’t worry about it, you should ask Spike sometime.”

Andras began retracing his steps from earlier that day across the town center and on towards Sugarcube Corner. He managed to greet some of the ponies they crossed with a casual wave. The steady beat of Rainbow Dash’s wings close to his right ear reminded him that he was very much on probation as far she was concerned. ‘I can’t begrudge her that,’ he thought to himself.

Having traversed the town center without further incident, he found himself once more at the door to the spectacular edifice wherein which Pinkie and Max were employed. He turned to face Rainbow Dash, who finally alighted next to him. He offered her a grin. “Well, let’s hope I can manage this in a far more gentlemanly fashion than I regret to say I exhibited earlier.”

“Enough of the big words, Andras. If I know Max, he isn’t expecting you to say sorry for anything - but I’m going to make sure he gets an apology, no matter what the reason for it is!”

Andras opened the door to the store. His instincts again took hold and he immediately scanned the room.

He was able to take in the location of the clientele, the positions of chairs in the room, along with any possible escape routes should the door not be accessible. His comprehensive analysis was automatic - his mind performed it without his having to consciously order it to do so. The scrutiny to which he’d subjected the room - of individual ponies - took but fractions of a second. Thoughts, calculations, counter-plans, contingencies, all such concepts bolted through his cortices quickly and efficiently.

The highly skilled task borne of self-preservation had already been completed by the time he had placed his boots within the establishment. Whilst he was accustomed to his mind doing this for him, this particular time he felt guilty for its having done so.

Mr. Cake was the first pony to actually notice the two of them. “Oh! Hey, er, Andras! Rainbow Dash!”

Andras made his way to the counter. “Greetings again, Mr. Cake,” he managed, with a smile. There was a brief moment of silence, at which point Andras felt a swift kick from Rainbow Dash to the back of his right leg. He turned down to face her. “Alright, alright, give me a moment!” He returned to face the confused Mr. Cake. “Mr. Cake, I know that my behavior here earlier today was … well, disgusting, just frankly.”

“Oh, Andras, I know it’s been hard for you …”

“I know, but that’s … that’s not really a very good excuse for the way I acted. I should have cooled my heels a bit and acted with a good deal more decorum than I did, and for that, I’m really very sorry,” he managed. ‘Deeecoooooorrrruuuuum!’ hissed the thing inside his mind. Andras grimaced and closed his eyes tightly. The thing cackled at him. ‘Not so easy is it - milwr! How can you atone, do you suppose ... for what you've done?’ Andras felt metaphorical straps tighten across his brain. “Gnnnn!”

“Andras?” asked Mr. Cake. “Um, are you okay?”

Andras unclenched his teeth and his fists and allowed his eyes to open once more. “Yes, I’m sorry. It’s just these tension headaches I get all the time. Anyway … look, I really am mortified about how things turned out. I certainly won’t allow my temper to get the better of me in such a fashion again.”

“Thank you, Andras, I know it can’t be easy for you to be here this way and I can tell that you’re still in a lot of pain after this morning.”

“Listen, is there any chance I could go and see Max? Is he here, or could you tell me where I could find him?”

“Well, sure! Max is in the room he shares with Pinkie. I’m sure he’d be delighted to see you? It’s just the door on the right, at the top of the stairs.”

Andras pointed to the stairwell. “Just … up and knock on the door? You’re sure he won’t mind?”

Mr. Cake offered a laugh. “Who, Max? Not in the least!”

Andras lowered his hand again, smiled and nodded to Mr. Cake. “Thank you.” He turned and walked to the bottom of the stairwell. “Are you coming too, Your Honor?” he asked, smiling at Rainbow Dash.

“Just try and stop me.”

"I would never presume!" he replied, making as much of a pretense of modesty as he could. Taking a deep breath, Andras made his way up the stairs, being careful to keep his head clear of the ceiling. He arrived at the door to Max’s room, and after allowing a brief moment to compose himself, knocked solidly on the door. There was a rustling from inside and Max’s familiar upbeat voice called out.

“Come on in, it’s unlocked!” Andras carefully opened the door and tried to ignore the way his mind scanned the room. “Oh hey!” exclaimed Max, with some surprise. He was sitting at a desk against the far wall, next to a bed that had been clearly adjusted to fit a human. “Andras, I wasn’t expecting to see you? Hey, Dashie!” Andras was perplexed that anyone would be able to sit in a room with their back to a door, and an unsecured door at that.

“Hi, Max!" greeted Rainbow Dash. "I followed this bozo here to make sure he’d come through with his apology to you.”

“Uh … Dashie? His apology to me?” Max repeated, slowly getting up from his desk.

“Yeah, I wanted to say sorry for the way I acted when we met this morning,” started Andras.

“Hey, bro, it’s … okay, really? I mean, I’ve been there, it’s not an easy thing to come to terms with.”

“No, but that still doesn’t make the way I treated you in any way a decent thing to do. I really just didn’t expect to see another human here at all. I overreacted and I should have been far more rational, and a good deal more respectful than I was. I mean, you went out of your way to try and help me somehow and all I was able to do in return was act like a fuc- … well, like a moron.”

Max managed a snort. “I see that Twilight has been onto you about the whole profanity business, too.”

Andras smiled back, looked down at the floor and nodded. “Yes, she has indeed.”

“Well, ah … hey, bro, don’t stand outside, come on in! I’m sorry the room isn’t designed for the talking monkeys like us.”

“Did Dashie call you that as well?” asked Andras.

“Well no, but there are ponies who did, and a few who still do."

Rainbow Dash glared at Andras. “Only my friends call me Dashie, you overgrown-”

“Hey, Dashie, it’s okay. Andras is confused about everything, but he means well. I think you’ll find his heart is in the right place,” interrupted Max. He noticed the way Andras was staring at the MP3 player, which had been sitting on Max’s writing desk. “Oh, ah, ponies here don’t have music players like these. I mean, the earbuds are too small for a start! But they do have one hell of a DJ,” he chortled. “Er, I guess you have music where you’re from?” he asked Andras.

Andras tilted his head slightly to one side and continued to stare at the player. “Well, I think so. I understand the concept of music, but I do not recall anything that one would wear in order to listen to it in a personal fashion like this.”

“Well, why not stick the earbuds in? Give it a try! I’m sorry about my playlist, bro, it’s eclectic but I hope there’s something on there that you'll like. There may even be something that sounds familiar to you? Just stick the earbuds in and you’re away. Just press here to switch to the next song in the list.”

Andras picked up the earbuds and placed them into his ears, and took a seat carefully on the bed nearest the desk. The music that permeated his inner ears was not what he was expecting. Glancing down at the music player, he frowned in a certain degree of consternation as he caught the name of the song. “Heaven Sent You, by one Stanley Clarke?”

“Huh, yeah, great song! I told you I had a weird music collection.”

“Uh huh,” muttered Andras non-committedly before he returned his attention to the MP3 player and began advancing through the selection of tracks, finding each piece of music to be a mind-opening experience. “Max, I really doubt we had music at all like this where I was from. It just feels different, it’s like there are parts of my mind that have been asleep until now.”

“Well, I’ll take that as a compliment, bro!”

A flash of pink exploded through the doorway, and Pinkie Pie leaped onto Max, placing a kiss directly onto his cheek, throwing her forelegs around his waist in a powerful embrace. “MAXIEEEEE!” exclaimed Pinkie. “Sorry I was out so long, I had to deliver the birthday cake, you know the one that I used a blowtorch to melt the marshmallows into-” she began, before noticing Andras sitting on Max’s bed, seemingly transfixed by the music player. “Oh my goodness! Is he okay? Why is he listening to that silly music thing of yours, is he upset too? How long has he been here?”

“Relax, Pinks! He actually came by with Dashie here to say he was sorry about how uncomfortable things were when we all met this morning.”

“Yeah! And I’m not convinced he did a good enough job of saying sorry, either, for whatever it was he did,” growled Rainbow Dash.

They all turned to face Andras who was now sitting on the bed, his face contorted deeply in concentration at the wonders of the various forms of music that he found himself discovering for what he felt to be the first time in his existence.

“He was just shocked to meet another human here, Dashie,” reported Max. “I gather nopony had thought to tell him about my being here and he pretty much got knocked on his … backside. I could tell the dude was just really uptight and pretty angry about everything. Then, of course, he left early and Twilight took off after him. I think most of the ponies in the town square could hear them going at each other hammer-and-nails after that,” Max finished.

“Why that ungrateful, mean …” Rainbow Dash began, fumbling for any appropriately derogatory term she could bring herself to use.

“Dashie,” sighed Max, through a broad smile. “The dude has no idea how he got here, he’s confused, he’s alone, he doesn’t know where he is - and then from out of nowhere he discovers he’s not the only one of his species trapped here!”

“Maxie, you feel trapped?” Pinkie asked softly.

“Not anymore, Pinks. But when I first got here, yeah. I really did! It took you to really break me out of that mindset and help me out. But this guy?” Max glanced across at Andras, who remained transfixed by the flood of sounds his mind was processing. “It’s almost like he’s been … I don’t know. Born again but in the wrong place. He’s honestly doing the best he can, I’m sure of it. I mean, think about it, he did come back here to say sorry? It isn’t like Twilight chased him here?”

“I guess I have to give him enough credit for that. I mean, he did actually apologize when he got here. Even to Mr. Cake,” observed Rainbow Dash. She, Max and Pinkie stood in the room and watched the intensely focused form of Andras, who held the music player firmly in his hand and continued to switch between tunes - seemingly oblivious to the three of them.

“Huh. I guess he’s really keen on that silly music thing of yours, Maxie. I remember when you first got here and you used to listen to that strange thing the same way.”

“I did? I mean, really? Sit there and stare at it like this?” asked Max, gently running his hand over Pinkie’s head.

“Well, yeah! I mean you used to just sit in the store and stare at it and play songs on it over and over, and even after you’d been here a while you would sneak up here to our room and play it when you felt, well … lonely,” continued Pinkie.

Max could only manage a soft smile. “It was a pretty rough time in my life, Pinks. But, that’s all in the past now. I’ve got you and a new life here in Ponyville and I could not possibly be happier!”

Andras finally found himself stopping on one particular song, and the three watched in surprise as his shoulders slowly slumped. Staring directly into the screen of the music player, he remained utterly motionless - as tears began to slowly form in the corners of his eyes, and began to stream down the taught features of his face. He did not appear saddened, just exhausted.

“Whoa,” whispered Rainbow Dash. “Whatever it is he’s listening to, Maxie, it looks like it really trashed him.”

Pinkie managed a small sniff. “Oh ... goodness. Maxie, what’s wrong with him?”

Max watched Andras’ form with concern. “I don’t know, Pinks. I really don’t. The dude looks … well, like he’s resigned. Just given up. I really don’t know. I wonder what song he’s listening to?”

Max carefully walked over to Andras and looked down. It was that copy of Adagio for strings, by Albinoni that he’d had sitting on the device. In truth, he’d not played the song for a long time - but he could understand why it would make Andras appear to be emotional. He walked to the far end of the bed from Andras and sat down himself. He didn't feel right interrupting this experience somehow. “Dang, I wish Twilight was here. She’d have a better idea of what to do,” he mumbled.

The piece finally finished and Andras reached up and removed the earbuds. He looked up slowly, his expression almost unreadable. It took him a moment to register that there was a stream of tears flowing from the corners of his eyes. He reached up suddenly to his face with surprise, wiped the tears away and held his hand out before his face - looking at the salty wetness in stunned silence.

“Andras? … Bro? … Are you okay?” asked Max finally.

Andras stared a little longer at the moisture on his fingers, wiping away the tears between his thumb and pointer finger. “Yes, I think so. That last piece of music just seemed to resonate emotionally with me somehow. I could feel the same regret and the same frustration that I feel after I have my nightmares, but again … fuck knows why.”

Pinkie gasped. “Max, I think Twilight needs to have that talk to him about-“

“Yes, Pinkie, I’m sure she needs to remind him,” smiled Max quietly. “Bro, are you sure you’re okay? You seemed pretty tense and messed up there for a while. I’m sorry, I forgot I actually had that song on there at all.”

“No no, it’s okay, Max,” affirmed Andras, placing the music player back onto the desk. Resting his left elbow on his knee, he raised his hand and held the side of his face. “I don’t understand why I should’ve felt that way. But I just did. I know there’s a reason why I should feel this kind of regret and pain. But I’ll be fu- …” he blurted, before looking across to Pinkie and managing a sad smile. “But I’ll be darned if I can remember what it is. And you want to know something, Max?”

“You can tell me anything, bro?”

The smile disappeared from Andras’ face. “I don’t think I want to remember why I should feel guilty.”

Author's Note

It's a wordy chapter with a lot of dialogue. But it's something I enjoy doing - it's a release, I guess.

The song that pulls Andras' sense of guilt, regret and pain is Adagio for strings by Albinoni, which you can listen to here:

Tomaso Albinoni - Adagio