A Prayer Unanswered

His last thought is not for her. The mare he'd loved... well, that hadn't turned out like he'd planned. She was beautiful. Hell, she was sexy. Every stallion thought so. At the stable's Hearth's Warming Eve party, every eye was on him when he'd finally gotten the courage (it had been starting to feel like too much of it had been the liquid kind) to ask her for a dance. It had worked. They had grooved like they were at a party, a real party. Not just some depressing yearly ritual the Overmare forced on everypony just so they all, “Never forgot where they came from.” It was real and it was fun. The whole time, every eye was on them.

Another night, after work and some more drinking (this time he knew he'd had too much) and talking, he began to realize how well they were getting along. She felt it, too. Suddenly, the time for drinking, talking, or just about anything else was gone. They barely made it to her room before all hope would have been lost, all eyes knowing what was really going on. Where had those prying eyes gotten off to, anyway?

She had been everything he thought she was, and more. And for some small space of time, he actually forgot he was locked below ground in a stable. He forgot that they were all buried under Celestia knows how many tons of dirt and rock and metal, in some technological sarcophagus meant to preserve life, when all it did was suck the soul right out of you. He did his best to help her forget, too. It sure seemed like she did.

Had he died then, he would have died happy, but missed out on some of the truly wonderful things in life. Would his life have an impact after he was gone? Did it have meaning now? Could anypony who was stuck in a stable, sealed from the fire and death that raged above? Surely it was gone now, or at least better. Besides, how would they ever know if they never tried?

He decided that a pony's impact was what was important. How those around you are affected, for good or ill, dictate what kind of legacy you leave. Will that legacy help or harm? At the end of the days of our lives, it can be some comfort to know that we have done the best we could to do good and change the lives of those we touch. Take those chances, for they may not come again. He had, and felt like a new pony. What happened next, however, was not so good.

A few nights later, Ratchet, some of the other stallions, and himself had gathered for some cards and ale.

“You won’t believe the night I had.”

“Uh-huh.” Ratchet wasn’t much for conversation, but something in his tone was off-putting.

“No really, it was amazing!”

“Uh huh.”

“What? I think we’ve really hit it off.” A few chuckles circled the table. “Hey, c’mon, haven’t any of you ever been in love before?” Quick glances followed the earlier chuckles.

Ratchet put down his cards, looking up at another pony at the table- Boiler. Boiler was magenta unicorn who worked in water supply. He rubbed his black mane nervously. “Nopony’s gonna say anything? Why me?” Ratchet simply raised an eyebrow. Boiler sighed “What Ratchet’s too polite to say is that you might not want to get too excited.”

“Why not? What’s that supposed to mean?”

Boiler gave the room another scan, his eyes pleading for help. The game continued around them. “Seriously?” All eyes, even his, put a terrible pressure on Boiler. “I’m just saying… uh… your feelings may not be unique.”

“You’re right,” he swelled up, a little proud, “I think she’s got them, too.” That drew laughs. Looking back now, he can see how painfully naive that was. But he felt it- he had. The two of them were the only two not laughing. He hadn’t got the joke- not then. Boiler looked like he was in pain.

“That’s enough guys, now come on. You don’t understand. You’re not… special,” he still didn’t get it, “you’re… not her first.”

That was when he’d started to get angry. “And why not? None of us is a saint, no one’s ‘pure’ or whatever the hell.” He had started to feel hot then, whether from anger or embarrassment, or perhaps both. “And I don’t think I like what you’re implying. Matter of fact, I know I don’t.” Somepony coughed.

“Cool it, buck!”

He got to his hooves, losing his composure. “What you’re saying about her-”

“What I’m saying is you don’t want to go watering crops that ain’t gonna grow!” Boiler bellowed. “I’m trying to help you out here!” Silence killed all other sound around the table. “Nopony? None of you are stallion enough to help set him straight?” All looked away except him. “I’m not talking about a normal pony here! I ain’t talking about a used farm, I’m talking used up! Exhausted, and it’s being sold as brand new. Shit, no it’s worse than that. You’re selling it that way to yourself! Don’t believe me? That’s on you!”

He’d almost started a fight then. It would’ve almost been as big a mistake as what he’d done next. Instead, he put down his cards. “Lost the taste for the game, boys. Especially when I hear talk like that behind a mare's back.” He slammed his winning hand down, "You oughta be ashamed." He stormed off.

“Gutless, all of you!” He heard Boiler scowl at the room.

Instead of a fight, he would put things right. He stormed straight up to her room. After giving himself a moment to breathe, to cool down, he pushed the call button. Maybe he should have brought flowers. The door opened after a minute.

It opened on a mare who looked disheveled. He didn’t care, matter of fact it made her look cute.

She also looked surprised. “What are you doing here?”

“Hey, I,” why hadn’t he thought of what to say? The boys and I were talking about you, what a disaster! “Uh.. uh,” he smiled, “I was thinking about you. I… well it’s been a couple days since we last saw each other and I thought maybe you’d like to go for a trot!” Sweet Celestia, could anypony be so cheesy?

“Oh, that’s sweet,” she smiled a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. Not that he’d seen that though.

What a foal I’ve been, he thinks.

“Now’s not really a good time.”

“Maybe later?” he smiled.

“Sure, uh maybe.” She started to close the door.

“Hey! I had a good time.”

She nodded dully. “That’s nice.” The door closed.

Not great, but not bad right? That was how complete his delusion had been.

He had returned a hooffull of times. Once was with newly pressed Stable uniform and flowers.

“I’m sorry, not now, the kids...”

“Shoot, bring them along! It’d be fun.” He’d even called ahead, planned it out this time.

She apologized again, but was in between work and needed to get some sleep.

Time can pass strangely locked inside a stable. Already two months were gone when he had heard some mares excitedly talking in the cafeteria. He had to see her again.

The mares had been talking excitedly about how her- how his love was pregnant.

Her face was slack when the door opened. If possible, it slackened more she saw him. “Waith, r-really?” her breath was soured with apple whiskey.

“Are- are you drinking?”

“Shure. Domn’t you?”

“You can’t do that!”

“Why th hell not? I’fve got… rashions!”

“I…” he was aghast, “You’re pregnant!” She started to laugh.

“You should try… it shometime.” She continued to giggle. “G-getting d-drinking, ya know, you can’t get pregnernt.” She chuckled at her joke.

“B-but our child, I came-”

“Oh shit!” her eyes became aware for a moment. “I rembember you. Oh shit,” she rubbed her temple with a hoof, “Look. You should shtop.”

“I… we have a child together.”

“No, you need sto shtop!” She swayed, “You’re embarrasing youshelf,” steadied, and looked sternly. “It’s not yours!”

“You don’t know that, they probably-”

“Oh I do! Trust trust me!”

“Look!”

“Nmo, you look! You stay the hell away from me and my child. Else Bravsh-” Brash was the security pony tasked with keeping the Stable's peace, “h-hell the Overmare’s getting involved.”

Yes, there it is, he thinks of the face he made. The understanding as it finally washed in.

And there it was, the pain, the shame. The fear that he would have to tell Boiler, face all the stallions knowing that they had been right. That was when he’d started drinking too much. Not often enough to get in trouble, but often enough to risk getting caught sleeping on the job.

He never said anything and the other bucks let it drop. Perhaps his newfound laziness had been apology enough. How do you talk about something like that? Had he died then, he would have done it in agony.

Later he’d tried- the stable had a designated counselor after all. She had been understanding enough, trying to get him to leave the past in the past and focus on the contribution to the Stable he could make today. A few more times he tried with other mares. He tried to put things behind him. In the end, though, none of it had amounted to much.