Fallout Equestria: Building Bonds

Chapter 2: Down the Rabbit Hole

The world flicks in and out of focus in varying shades of orange, grey, and blue. A ticking sounds from somewhere faint, but there, like it’s trying to force its way through a thick soup. Every time I try to focus on it, my head gives a terrible spike of pain between my ears, as though someone is trying to stab me with a knife through the backs of my eyes.

The blurry world shifts, and I feel someone or something rolling my body over onto my back. I clench my eyes tighter while a surge of nausea rolls from my stomach. Something pushes my head back while a light flashes into my eyes, causing that stabbing to return with a vengeance.

“...sion...mov...ive?” The figure who shines the light in my eyes comes into focus, just a fraction. My eyes meet ones with an interesting cyan. We’re so close I can see the small rings of white that interlock and spread throughout them.

“Pretty,” my hoof tries to rise to touch them. I’ve never seen such eyes before in all my years of the wastelands. The world begins to dim, and dull darkness creeps in around the edges. My last sight is of those cyan eyes.

The world goes dark again, blissfully quiet, no more lights, no more stabbing, no annoying ticking wreaking havoc in my head—just sweet nothingness.

The next time I open my eyes, the world isn’t orange, and grey, and blue. However, it is of a dull, sickly yellow. I’m sure at one point in time, it might have been bright and cheerful, meant to help brighten spirits wherever I am. Instead, my whole body spasms in pain, and the muscles in my legs start twitching, legs kicking out, and a dry shuddering breath surges into my lungs.

“She’s waking up.” My ear twitches, yet that tiny movement brings forth a whole new wave of pain and shock. Beeping sounds beside me are getting faster, and the pitch climbs higher.

“It’s far too early. Give her another dose of the potion,”

“If we give her any more, she could go comatose. After that, who knows when she’ll wake up again!”

“Then that simply makes Procedure One easier. Give her another dose. I’m not losing this veritable gift that’s landed on our doorstep,”

“It’s your funeral,” I try to croak out a response to a question. What’s going on, what procedure, what potion? The click of hooves comes to a stop beside me, and I force my eyes to focus on something besides that pale dull yellow—cyan eyes with interlocking white rings. A hoof comes up and brushes through the mess of my mane.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be something special that the world has never seen before. Something we all need to remember, and you’re our one shot at it.” Ticking begins in the back of my head, small at first, but then it gets louder, sharper, stabbing me in the backs of my eyes and my body wracks with another spasm.

“We’re losing her!”

“Give her the potion and up the stream of healing potions while you’re at it!”

“He..l..p..” I croak out, forcing the words. I feel a trickle streak down my cheek, heavy and sluggish. A burst of cold comes from somewhere, and darkness creeps in around the edges. The ticking slows and quiets, the pain recedes, and once again, the last thing I see is cyan.

The last thing I hear, though.

“Why do you even think this is the one that’s going to work?”

“I’m not sure myself, but...There’s something to be said about finding her near death, yet she still fought to live.”

Tick…

I force my eyes tighter, trying with every fiber of my being to ignore the incessant ticking inside my head.

Tick…

It gets louder each time I ignore it. The pain spiking when I attempt to keep my eyes shut, vainly trying to fight through the noise. It’s a lost cause, my body violently protesting the shudders that startup, the twitching in my legs, and it lunges up from where I lay until my eyes shoot open and I heave in a gulp of air. Too fast for it to process, and I curl up while my body goes through a coughing fit. Spittle flying lose, and I all but choke on the next time I try to cough out the fluid built up on the back of my throat.

Something cold presses against my forehead, and the last body-wracking cough finishes with just a simple bit of drool dripping off my lips. I look up into cyan eyes ringed with white, and for a moment, I feel like I recognize them.

TICK…

“Ouch,” the word rasps out of my throat, sounding like I smoke a pack a day. The eyes wince in sympathy before brushing their hoof through the mess of my mane.

“Shhh, you’ve been through a lot of surgeries, and I need to ask a few questions before we can let you go.” I think it might be a mare; the voice is so soft and sweet and cool. Can a voice be cool? Her hoof continues its soft strokes, gently untangling knots of mane. I press up as much as I can into the chilly touch. Her hoof feels like a cool drink of water on my hot fur and skin.

“Where?” The word breaks over the air, a question I try to finish before I drop into another coughing spasm. Cyan drops her gaze from me, looking off to the side before a straw is held before me.

“Drink, you’ve been unconscious for a while. You need water before we get to the questions.” I struggle to lift my hoof towards the glass, barely a quiver above the mattress. She tucks her hoof behind my head to help lift me towards it. The water is blissful relief against my dry tongue and throat. She pulls the straw away and sets the glass down, tenderly putting me back against the pillows.

“Our first question is simple. Do you recall your name?” Her hoof goes back to stroking my mane again, and I nearly drift back off to sleep. She boops my nose, and I go cross-eyed trying to look at it.

“No sleeping, I need you to answer the question.” I huff and try to wiggle away from her, but that just shifts me up against the pillows, and another twinge of pain shoots through my back. I think of the question. Wracking my brain for any sort of name that I might have, which seems odd, of course. I mean, I clearly have a name...don’t I? I try to focus on anything when a large echoing:

TICK!

Stabs through my head, and I burrow my face into the pillows biting down to keep from shouting in pain. I grind my teeth against the fabric, soon tasting old cotton and a sour rancid taste, probably my own sweat from however long I’ve been laying here.

“Do you-”

“No, all I hear is a loud ticking noise whenever I try to think.” Finally, I force the words out, despite the ticking now dimming but still there. Waiting, lurking even, I hope it will just stay quiet. Pulling away from the pillow, I meet that cyan gaze again before she looks away.

“Procedure One, successful. The patient does not recall her name.” The gentle scribbling of paper comes from her direction before she turns those intriguing eyes back on me. I give a small smile in her direction; her shoulders have pulled up a bit towards her neck. Come on, give it another try.

“Now for,” her words cut off as I manage to get my hoof to get off the damn bed though not to where I want it to. I do manage to land my hoof on top of hers. Her eyes drop down, and for a moment, I think she’s going to blush, but she turns away again though she takes my hoof off of hers and puts it back down onto the bed.

“Is there anything you remember from your life?”

“What’s your name?” that stops her in her tracks. Those cyan eyes look back at me, and I offer a small smile again.

“Your name. If you’re going to ask me mine, I feel like it’s only fair you give me yours. I know I don’t have a name to give you, but I thought maybe you have one? Otherwise, I’m just going to keep thinking of you as Cyan.” I think she stops breathing because she just freezes. Nothing moving, not even a hint of her chest puffing with air. Until she surges up and immediately makes a bolt for the door.

“Pro...Give her another dose of the potion.” Is her parting words to who I’m not sure, since I see nopony else in the room. I struggle to sit up, try to call out to her, and while a blissfully cool sensation surges through my head, I catch a glimpse of cyan eyes watching me. With the most baffled torn look in them…

Then the darkness takes over.

Tick…

Cyan eyes watch me from a distance, and I struggle to reach for them though I’m not sure why. Something in them calls me to help, and I want nothing more than to do so. Yet, each time I manage to get within reach of her, coldness takes over than shadows.

“Do you remember anything of your past?” I try to remember:

Tick!

Pain surges again, my body spasms, and my breath chokes in my throat. Cyan eyes watch me again, this time colder, closed off than they were...or were they? I feel like they once held a gentle warmth.

“No, I don’t remember anything except your eyes.”

Tick!

Another dose of cold bliss spreads through me. The parting words said:

“Procedure Two complete, subject remembers nothing of her past…Proceed to Procedure Three.” Darkness slips in, familiar and cold.

Tick…

I wake up groggy, body wracked with shivers, but my hooves lift up easy as can be. I take a look around, the lights are dim, and I don’t see anypony around. My throat scratches when I try to swallow. Finally, a glass appears before me, condensation trickles down the sides, and I take it pulling it close and savor the sweet sensation of water easing the glide of saliva.

Looking up, I catch cyan eyes in the darkness. Once again, I get the oddest sensation I’ve seen them before. I try to think, try to remember.

Tick!

The glass shatters on the floor, and I whimper out in pain while I clutch my head. I force my eyes open to catch cyan eyes full of something, I feel like she might be crying, but I’m not sure why.

“Give her another dose of the potion.” I reach out to stop her, but blissful cold radiates through my body, the ticking dimming down once again as shadows cover my sight. Cyan is gone again.

Tick…

I wake up to a dull, sickly yellow ceiling. The ticking is back, slow and quiet behind my eyes. Not stabbing this time. I look around and spy cyan eyes watching me from beside my bed. They’re still ringed with white, and I think they’re the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen…

“It is time for our final question.” her voice sounds dull, monotonous. I feel like that shouldn’t be right. Somethings wrong, off.

Tick!

I flinch away from her. Eyes squeezing tight until little stars explode behind them. My own personal little galaxies...It doesn’t help. If anything, it makes the ticking worse. When I open them, her hoof is extended just a fraction away from my mane. My chest aches, and I lean forward, trying to nuzzle into it, but she yanks it away. Her head turns to look at the clipboard held in her lap, a pen beside her in reach.

Quiet reigns and I open my mouth to ask her a question, but she beats me.

“Do you remember the wasteland?” My head tilts to the side while I ponder a response. She looks back at me, and I’m not sure what I expect to see or what she’s hoping for me to say. So I think, scrunching my nose, trying to think if I know anything about a wasteland.

Tick!

Tick!!

The ticking returns loud, incessant, my eyes flinch, and I shove away from her hooves, reaching up to grasp my head tight. It feels like it’s going to split apart...

Instead, gentle cold presses just behind my ear, stroking my mane and easing the cacophony of ticking. Green meets Cyan, and a small tiny whisper reaches my ears.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What for?” it’s the first question I get out. I want to know, I want to know why it feels like I know this cyan-eyed mare, even though it’s my first time seeing her. I lift my hoof to hold hers and press it harder against the back of my ear. Flicking it in an attempt to see her smile.

For a small tiny moment, it’s there a gentle beam, cyan eyes meeting my own before she asks the question again.

“Do you remember the wasteland?” I’m not sure why, but I know the answer she’s looking for, and I hesitate to say it. I bite down on my lip to hold it in, but I really have no idea what she’s talking about.

“What is the wasteland?” and there it is, cyan averts, pulls her hoof out of my own, tracing down my jaw and pausing a tiny fraction on the bottom of my chin before finally pulling away. Again, the pen is put to paper, wrapped this time in a gentle white-blue glow.

“Procedure...Three complete...Give her the final dose. She’s ready to enter.”

“Enter what? What procedure? Why do I feel like I know you!” Her shoulders hunch and she trots away. Coldness creeps in, but it’s not comforting, darkness fills the edges of my eyes, but I struggle to try to get out of the bed. Reaching to her, trying to get answers to something, but I don’t know what. My heartbeat slows, my legs stop twitching, and my breathing gets deeper.

The last thing I hear and see is a cyan-eyed mare in a barely-there whisper.

“My name is-” but shadows cover me, and I don’t catch her name.

Author's Note

Hello Everypony, I hope you all are strapped in and ready to read. This is a major undertaking and something that I hope will let me grow as both an author and reader. Please let me know any grammar, spelling, or other errors that I might not have caught in the comments. I am also fully supportive of any Constructive Criticism that you all might offer, but please be aware that I will not accept outright hatred or an unhelpful criticism.

I look forward to reading what you all put, and I hope you enjoy the story and characters of Fallout Equestria: Building Bonds.

Sincerely,
Witch Way